Got Your Goat
A wild-animal encounter threatens a young relationship.
In Montana, where the land teems with big mammals that can gore, stomp, trample, and even eat those who trespass in their natural environment, knowing what to do during a wild-animal encounter can save your life. It might also save your relationship.
My girlfriend, Parker, and I were locked in a standoff with a mountain goat, and neither party was budging. The billy was stopped dead in the middle of the trail, just off Sacajawea Peak, and we were faced with a dilemma: slip by, or back down. I’d heard of every trick in the book for handling a bear encounter, and same for navigating run-ins with mountain lions or moose. But a mountain goat? Crickets.
Mountain goats don’t often turn violent, but when they do, it can be deadly.
Up close, the horns sitting atop his narrow, satyr-like face looked formidable. His forelegs were ripped from a lifetime of scaling mountains, and a fluffy mohawk along his spine gave him a certain meanness, the same way a mohawk on a middle-schooler implies a kind of sadism. But still, it was just a goat. I didn’t think they were fighters, and figured he would just scamper away when confronted by a six-foot-three human. After all, if nobody had bothered to describe the correct way to deal with a mountain goat, it couldn’t matter that much. Right?
Parker and I put our heads together, “Should we try?” she asked?
“I feel like he won’t care at all,” I replied.
“Same, but do we want to risk it?”
I decided to risk it. First, I raised my voice and clapped my hands a few times to see if the mountain goat would take the hint and leave. No dice. So then, acting the big, brave boyfriend, I stepped forward and tiptoed around the goat’s right flank, cooing at him as I went. A few steps further to the right and I would have tumbled down a few hundred feet of loose rock and shale, but old Billy decided not to shorten my trip to the bottom of the mountain and I passed by unscathed.
At the time, I didn’t think I’d done anything wrong. It wasn’t until later that I heard her side of the story.
I put a healthy distance between myself and the goat, trying not to fence it in from two sides, and waited for Parker to pass. But this time, the goat was on edge from my intrusion into its personal space. It watched her warily, its body language cagey. She took a few tentative steps, and the goat’s beady eyes followed her. She took another, and the goat tensed, put his head down, and charged.
Mountain goats don’t often turn violent, but when they do, it can be deadly. In 2010, a 63-year-old man hiking in Olympic National Park was killed by an aggressive mountain goat after it charged and gored him in the thigh, then stood over his body while he bled out and his wife looked on in horror. Another mountain goat, this one in Yoho National Park in Canada, killed an attacking grizzly bear by stabbing it in the neck and both armpits.
Fortunately, this goat lost its nerve. He veered off at the last second, wheeling across the trail in front of Parker and allowing her to rush by. It was only a bluff charge, and the poor guy pooped himself a few seconds later, probably as scared as my girlfriend was.
At the time, I didn’t think I’d done anything wrong. It wasn’t until later that I heard her side of the story.
Parker told me, during one of our first real fights, that I had abandoned her on that trail. Apparently, I hadn’t told her my plan and had just walked away without a word leaving her alone on the trail with a big, wild animal. Even worse, between her first steps to get around the mountain goat and her eventual escape, apparently I’d drifted even further down the trail rather than rushing to help when she appeared to be in danger. So maybe I wasn’t the brave boyfriend I thought I was.
On the first count: guilty as charged. But there was a reason I’d “run away”: I was worried that if I had needlessly entered the fray, it would’ve aggravated the mountain goat and unleashed an angry hill-climber with pointy head-spears onto two squishy humans.
The more I thought about it, however, the less sure I was of my own logic. When the mountain goat had charged and she’d stood there imperiled, I hadn’t made a move. In the heat of the moment, my impulse had been for self-preservation. Maybe I’m guilty as charged on the second count, too.
Regardless, I’m happy to report that Parker and I are still dating, although she won’t let me live down our fateful encounter with the mountain goat. All I know is that if we ever run into another, she’s going first.
