During my time in the Pakihi Valley I had the opportunity to tag along on a wild goat hunt. Much like wild pigs in the States (which they also have in NZ) the ancestors of the goats we were after were escaped domesticates. Since New Zealand has no large natural predators the goat populations have grown unchecked and now pose a problem to ecosystem health. Mike, my host’s neighbor, works fulltime for the Department of Conservation as a goat culler. His job description: hike through the backcountry bush, kill as many goats as he can and bring back the tails as proof. I showed amusement hearing this so he invited me to join him on an outing.
To give me a taste of what it is all about he took me on a short afternoon hunt which he used as a training session for three of his young up and coming dogs. We went up a steep ridge behind my host’s house toward an area where a small group of goats had been working. Placing his hand to his mouth Mike let out a bleating sound across the ravine that sounded so unlike any goat I had ever heard I had to wonder if he was for real. But he was and it didn’t take long for us to lay eyes on the group in a grassy patch on the face opposite us, the rookie dogs circled about unaware of their presents. An animal could have easily been taken from our vantage but Mike wanted to give the dogs a chance to play the game, so into the ravine we went and up the other side. As we ascended toward their location the dogs picked up the scent and the chase was on. Back down the nearly vertical hillside scrambled with haste, though the thick vegetation in purist of the barks. Well trained dogs will bunch a group of goats into a “bale” until the hunter arrives but our young dogs managed to corner only one of the smallest goats in the creek below. One shot with the silenced .22 (noise suppressers are legal in NZ!) and the chase was over, Mike harvested the tail and took the animal home for dog chow.
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