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Saturday morning I ended up what I was doing for last 3 years – hanging around one of the nastiest corner of my hunting grounds looking for Him.
He was an old chamois goat that eluded me for so many times – I managed to see him 3 times but either it was out of the season or I managed to get just a glimpse of him on departure.
Till this Saturday – I was passing regular chamois pastures – actually I didn’t expect to find him there, but one never knows. There was a small herd of females with kids and a medium aged goat (it is rut time now).

So I went on – approaching His favourite region, when suddenly I have heard something on the left – down the slope. I took a peep over the ridge in the dark pine wood dotted with some rocks. Down – some 60m on a steep slope, behind an old stomp I have noticed chamois hump with tuft stating it is a goat – further more being brownish instead of black indicating it could be an older animal. I waited till he raised his head and I instantly knew - its him – faded whiskers with thick and pitchy hooks – hooo. I shouldered the rifle and waited for him to move out of the stomp so I would get a clear shot. But as he would expect something he just stood still. Minutes dragged into what seemed an eternity. But suddenly a lone swirl of the wind just whispered over my back – sending a clear message to Him. In two jumps he was on the edge looking back at me – fast – cross on his hump and – boom… first thing I have noticed after the shot was a falling branch some 5 meters in front of Him – chamois leaving the scene with stiffen gallop – not the way he was supposed to when reasonable hit with 9,3x62 19g TUG bullet – bad, bad…

At the spot I found way too much of hair and way too little of blood…I knew I was in the poop – just how deep? Time was 9.30 AM – I waited for half an hour – and put my dog on trail. Trail was going directly down the 250m steep slope, cross the water creek and up on to next slope – bad, bad…up for 150 m and over the ridge – dang there he is – ill in bed - looking at me – trailing sling down – step on it - rifle off the back - up the shoulder…baaaah - to late - he is already up and disappearing with long jumps down to canyon - bad, bad…Dog is off – baying on the way – disappearing down, barking is getting quiet till I cant hear anything but roaring water down the canyon – bad, bad…fast descent and up the next slope on the ridge to get better audible point. Slope is steep – breath taking – reaching the top – finally.

Oh and behold there I can hear an echo of low baying – she is there with Him – but down – way down – oh dear – bad, bad… Down the slope we go – again, across the creek – no way to follow the water it is obscured with fallen trees – up the next slope, not too high there is a rocky wall – just beneath – clayey, slippery – careful…no go – down some – here is the passage over the ridge – down, up…and down again – for the last time – there she is – baying at the waterfall...

But where is He? Easy now – I don’t want to flush Him now – what is that black blur beneath the waterfall – rifle shouldered peeking over cross – yes it is hairy – its him – on the shoulder – boom – he falls into pool…

It is over…after 1.5 hours…

Well not quite – there is a song ringing in my ears – it is by Yazz:

The only way is up…

Oh dear…

“Now we may not know, huh,
where our next meal is coming from,
but with you by my side
I’ll face what is to come

The only way is up…bad, bad…

To cut it short – if you have read “The old man and the sea” – well that’s the way it was…4 hours later I was out.

Was at the bottom - but in fact it was a peak…

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