Cruisings in the Cascades / A Narrative of Travel, Exploration, Amateur Photography, / Hunting, and Fishing

by G. O. Shields

A few years ago an officer of the United States army and a party of friends were hunting goats in the Bitter Root Mountains, near Missoula, Mont. They followed two—a male and female—to the top of a rough and dangerous peak, when the game, before they could get a shot at it, started down the opposite side and took refuge from the hunters under a shelving rock. Here it was, owing to the nature of the rocks and ice, absolutely impossible for the hunters to follow them on foot, but the intrepid officer, not to be baffled in the pursuit, tied a long rope securely around his body, just under his arms, laid down, and grasping his rifle slid quietly down, on a bed of ice, some sixty or seventy feet, while his companions held on to the other end of the rope and controlled his perilous descent. Finally, when he had gone far enough to be able to see the game, he signaled his friends, who stopped him, and raising on his elbows he fired and killed both goats, and was then drawn up again in safety. Such, however, was the nature of the rocks between him and the carcasses that it was utterly impossible to reach them after he had killed them, and he was compelled reluctantly to abandon them. Several members of the party tried to reach them from other points, but were unable to do so, and they were all obliged to return empty-handed to camp.

In another instance this same officer, upon crawling out on the edge of a shelving rock and looking down over a precipice hundreds of feet below, saw two goats near the base, but they were actually inside of a perpendicular line running down from the edge of the rock he occupied, and he was therefore unable to bring his rifle to bear upon them without projecting his body out over the edge of the rock further than was safe. After discussing the matter for some minutes, one of his friends offered to hold his feet and thus enable him to extend his head and shoulders far enough out to get his aim. By this means both of the goats were killed, but a party had to go around and ascend the mountain from the other side in order to secure them.

The same party, while climbing the rugged and almost perpendicular face of Little Mountain to bring down some goats they had already killed, came suddenly upon a large buck in a narrow V-shaped fissure in the rock, from which there was no escape but by the opening at which they had entered, and across this they formed a skirmish line. The goat climbed upon a narrow projection on one of the walls of the fissure just out of reach of the tallest man in the party, and as they had no rifles with them (having left them below to lighten the labor of the ascent), they tried to dislodge him by throwing rocks at him, but their footing was so insecure and there was such great danger of their falling that they could not hurl these with sufficient force to bring him down though several of them hit him. If they had had a rope they could easily have lassoed him, but there was no such thing at hand. They finally decided to leave one of the men to guard their prisoner, and on their return to camp another man took a rifle, went back, killed the goat, and the two bore him triumphantly down to camp. The gentleman says: "Had I not been an eye witness, and had I subsequently been shown the place where the goat stood thus at bay, I could scarcely have believed it possible for anything larger than a fly to have found footing there."

Fortunately, however, the successful hunting of the goat is not always thus perilous, for though he habitually selects for his home the roughest and most inaccessible peaks to be found in the mountains, yet he sometimes ranges on more favorable ground, and if the sportsman be so fortunate as to find him there he may be killed and saved. They range somewhat lower in winter than in summer, but never even then venture down into the cañons or valleys, as do all the other large mountain animals. They only come down upon the lower peaks and ridges, and remain about the rocky walls, which are so precipitous that the snow can not lie on them to any considerable depth. Their power of climbing over and walking on these almost perpendicular rock walls is utterly astounding. They will walk along the side of an upright projecting ledge that towers hundreds of feet above and below them where a shelf projects not more than four or five inches wide. They will climb straight up an almost perpendicular wall, if only slightly rough and irregular, so that they can get a chance to hold on with their spongy hoofs here and there. And they seem to select these difficult passes in many instances when a good, easy passage could be had to the place to which they are bound by going a little further around. They seem to delight in scaling a dangerous cliff as a courageous boy does in climbing the tallest tree. I once saw where a goat had walked straight up over a smooth flat slab of granite ten feet wide, that laid at an angle of about fifty degrees, and that was covered with about two inches of wet snow and slush. I could not climb up it with moccasins on my feet, and no dog could have followed him there. This faculty is accounted for by the peculiar shape and quality of their hoofs before described.

The skin of the Rocky Mountain goat has never had any regular commercial value. The stiff, coarse, brittle hair that is mixed with the wool renders them unsuitable for robes or rugs, and this hair can not readily be plucked out. The only demand for them is for mounting. Very few white hunters and none of the Indians understand how to skin and preserve them properly for this purpose, and this fact, taken in connection with that of the rough and dangerous nature of the ground they inhabit, makes it difficult to secure good skins, or even heads for mounting.

The flesh of the goat is edible, but in the adult animal is dry and tasteless. When kids of less than a year old can be obtained, their flesh is tender and toothsome. They are not hunted, therefore, for meat, for in the ranges where they are found, deer, mountain sheep, or elks can be obtained much lower down and are much more desirable for the table.

During a sojourn of a month in the Bitter Root Mountains, near Missoula, Mont., last fall I had some very exciting, not to say dangerous, experiences in hunting this animal. We were camped in Lost Horse Cañon, through which flows a typical mountain stream. The walls on both sides are very abrupt and from three to four thousand feet in height. That on the north is covered from bottom to top with great masses of granite that have been broken loose from the cliffs at the top by earthquakes, the action of frost, or other agency, and have tumbled down, breaking into irregular-shaped fragments, of all sizes, lodging and piling on top of each other in such a manner as to form a gigantic sort of pavement from the top of the mountain to the foot. There were narrow strips of the mountain side that had escaped these fallen masses. Here the outcropping granite remained in its natural shape—irregular ledges with small patches of earth intervening. Pines, hemlocks, cedars, and various kinds of shrubs grew in these places as far up the mountain side as the timber line.

I ascended this north wall one morning and after a weary and toilsome climb of about two miles, and when in snow about six inches deep, I came upon the track of a very large goat. It was some hours old, but he had been feeding deliberately along the mountain side, and as they are not rapid travelers in any case, I knew he was not a great distance away. I took up the trail and followed it. It led over a succession of these vast rock piles, which, owing to their being covered with snow, made the traveling doubly dangerous. A slight misstep at any point, or an unfortunate slip would be liable to let my foot drop in between two of these rocks and throw me in such a way as to break a leg, an arm, or possibly my head. The greatest care was therefore necessary in picking my way over this dangerous country, and I was frequently struck with the wise provisions which Nature makes for fulfilling her ends when I saw where the animal I was pursuing had bounded lightly from rock to rock over chasms many feet in width; or where he had walked up the sharp edge of some slab of granite not more than three or four inches wide and lying at a high angle; or where he had walked up over a flat slab of it, tilted so steep that no other large animal in the mountains could have followed him. There were many of his passages in which I could not follow, but I had to make slow and tortuous detours, coming upon his trail again beyond these most dangerous points.

Had he traveled straight ahead I could never have overtaken him, but the time he consumed in frequently stopping to nip the tender leaves of the mountain alder or the juicy lichens that grow upon the rocks proved fatal to him, and finally, after a chase of probably two miles and when near the top of the peak close to timber line, I came in sight of him. He was truly a beautiful creature. There he stood, unconscious of approaching danger, looking calmly out across a neighboring cañon as if enjoying the grand scenery about him. Occasionally he turned to take a mouthful of some delicate mountain herb that stood near him. The pale creamy white of his fleece contrasted delicately and beautifully with the green of the cedars, the golden autumn-colored leaves of the shrubs, the dull gray of the granite rocks, and the pure white of the early autumn snow. The sunlight glistened upon the polished black of his proudly curved and beautifully rounded horns, and his large black eyes gleamed as with conscious innocence and pride. I contemplated his majestic mien for several minutes before I could nerve myself to the task of taking his life, but finally the hunter's instinct conquered my more delicate feelings. I put my rifle to my shoulder, pressed the gently yielding trigger, and in an instant more his life blood crimsoned the driven snow.

After making temporary disposition of his remains, I returned as rapidly as possible to camp to get my photographic outfit and some help to carry him in, for we were short of meat at the time. It was three o'clock in the afternoon when I reached camp, and, eating a hasty lunch, I started back up the mountain with three of my friends.