By Joseph Robertia
Photo courtesy of Gary Todd. Gary Todd, of Kasilof, poses with a 1 1/2-year-old goat he shot in the mountains near Seward.
Redoubt Reporter
A moose hunt is challenging, especially if success comes far from transportation and the meat must be carried out.
Bagging a bear has difficulties, as well, particularly when the quarry takes to hillsides and brushy terrain.
But for hunters who want an experience that’s a grand adventure and a bit like dabbling into masochism at the same time, only a goat hunt will suffice.
“It’s definitely a bit of both,” said Gary Todd, of Kasilof, who recently returned from a successful hunt in Seward, after being “lucky” enough to draw a permit to pursue goats up the steep cliffs they call home.
Todd first attempted to take advantage of his permit about three weeks ago, but as is often the case near Seward, wet weather thwarted his hunting attempts. He spent six hours hiking through devil’s club and thick alders and climbing over deadfall along Fourth of July Creek. Near Mount Alice he got to a high point above the brush line where he could spot game from a bench ridge.
“We saw 10 goats on the other side, including a couple of billies, and we saw some other goats on our side, but they were way, way up,” he said. “With all the rain, we were already soaked and couldn’t get across the creek. It was too flooded. And the goats on this side, it would have taken another six hours just to get near them.”
Todd isn’t one to give up easily, but the hours, which turned into days, of wet weather seemed to be working against him. He packed up camp and headed for home.
He returned the next weekend under clearer skies, and again began fighting through dense brush, scrambling up steep, scree-covered mountain faces, and slowly post-holing through the fresh powder that had fallen at the highest elevations.
As he pulled out his binoculars and glassed the ridges around him, he realized all the sweat dripping from his brow had not been in vain. He saw a goat, head down and nibbling, but it was a little too far away for an ethical shot.
“I had my 300 Win. mag. with me, but it still would have been more than a 400-yard shot, which was farther than I wanted to shoot,” he said.
Luck was on his side, though, or so it initially seemed. While Todd had come to bag a goat, he saw a black bear roughly 150 yards nearer to him than the goat. It was a huge boar, fat from having put on weight all season, and with a glistening coat that looked thick and ready to keep the bruin warm during the winter months.
“It was one of the biggest black bears I’ve ever seen,” he said. “It looked like a big black barrel with a tiny little head on it that was down as it ate crowberries.”
Todd decided this bruin was too good to pass up and relegated goat hunting the to plan B status. He began stalking toward the bear, but a cool mountain breeze must have carried his scent downwind to the bruin’s nose.
“It got wind of me and took off, and when it did, it spooked the goat,” he said.
Hours of work had been for nothing, but Todd started the next day like the previous one hadn’t happened. Again, he crossed creeks, side-sloped mountains and climbed up moraines on all fours. And again his hiking paid off as he started to see goats.
“I saw some really nice big ones, too,” he said. “I saw a couple of billies that were a dark butter color they were so old.”
Todd started hiking toward them, but with calves and quads sore from hiking more than 20 miles during the past 48 hours, his progress was slow through the fresh summit snow, and the goats were much fleeter of hoof. By the time he got to the vicinity of where the goats had been they were long gone, but Todd noticed movement in his peripheral vision.
“I looked up and on the ridge, not more than 25 yards away, a billy was peeking over watching me,” he said.
Todd began plodding through the snow, hoping this animal wouldn’t elude him like the elder goats had done. But by the time he hit the top of the ridge, the billy was already two ridges away. Todd wasn’t giving up again, though.
“I followed tracks in the snow for hours,” he said, but as the day dragged on, the reality set in that he had better make his way back to camp. “I started hiking down, and that’s when I saw this little guy just sitting on a shelf.”
Todd felt his pulse quicken as the prospect of bagging a billy was back on the table. His energy reserves kicked in and he began climbing a snowfield toward the goat. The little billy started walking toward the safety of steeper shale cliffs, but not quickly enough.
“I was on a moraine ridge that paralleled the cliffs. He was about 250 yards away, but I thought I had a shot,” Todd said.
Todd unslung his rifle, centered the crosshairs and squeezed off a shot. He hit his target, but the shot was slightly off center for a clean, heart-lung kill.
“I got him in the shoulder and he rolled and slid about 25 to 30 yards,” Todd said.
When the animal came to a stop Todd quickly fired two more rounds and this time dispatched the animal.
“He slid way down after that, but caught on a big rock in the side of all the shale. It stopped him and made for a good spot to dress him out,” Todd said.
Getting to the goat to secure the meat and packing it out of there amounted to several more hours of up-and-down hiking. But back at home — with his pack off, a mindful of memories and, most importantly, enough meat in the freezer for a few good meals — Todd said all the hard work had been worth it.
“I ended up with 45 pounds of meat,” he said. “I pounded out and floured a few steaks and they were good, but it’s goat so it was still a little tough. I’m looking forward to burgers and chili with the rest.”
