SHOOTING TIMES & COUNTRY MAGAZINE • 41
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Extracting the goat carcase
from the hill is made easier,
and much less pungent,
with two pairs of hands
than 1,000 acres amid some of the
most spectacular scenery in Ireland.
Nestled at the end of the Black Valley,
in the foothills of Carrauntoohil, the
country’s highest peak, this rugged
and beautiful spot is one of the truly
wild places left in Ireland.Quick recon
Delighted at the chance to return to
one of my favourite spots, I jumped
at JJ’s offer, and he promised to
undertake a quick reconnaissance
and get back to me with the “goat
forecast”. He called a few days later.
“Plenty of them up here,” he said,
cheerfully. “And the forecast’s good.
Why not come up tomorrow?”
I drove slowly into the valley
early the following morning, meeting
nobody on the narrow track thatmeandered along the valley floor.
Pausing to admire a hare unhurriedly
completing his ablutions in a riverside
paddock fringed by riots of flowering
rhododendrons, it was hard to
believe that less than an hour away
the bustling summer tourist hub of
Killarney was waking up. This could
have been another planet.
It was scarcely breakfast time
when JJ met me at the farmhouse
door, accompanied by an enthusiastic
chocolate Labrador and the warm
scent of fresh soda bread. Pulling on
his boots, he gave me a quick update.“I’ve seen a good few groups around
this morning already, over on
the other side of the river.”
There was a light breeze at our
backs as we picked up the rocky
track that rose behind the house.
All around us the steep valley sides
were peppered with purple crags
and scattered sheep lazily beginning
their day. Crossing a stream, we
made tracks for the area where JJ had
spotted the goats grazing at first light.
Staying low and pausing frequently
to scan the hillside for our quarry,
we hiked up and along the valley.
A few hundred yards further on,
JJ stopped, his nose raised. “Smell
that?” he asked, inhaling deeply.
“We’re getting close.” I took a good
sniff and, sure enough, there was a
faint tang of something unmistakablycaprine on the breeze. Minutes later,
we rounded a rocky shoulder and
there they were, above us — a group
of seven dark goats grazing, well
camouflaged, in the shadow of a
rocky overhang around 400 yards
distant. We dropped to a crouch
to make an approach plan.
With JJ in the lead, we doubled
back and began an ascent that would
bring us up above the goats and to
the cover of a large rocky outcrop
within range of the group. Our steps
became slower and more cautious
as we clambered up the valley side,“Kerry’s non-native goats breed very
successfully in the absence of harsh
winters or natural predators”