Breaking From The Pack Despite Reputation, Goats Make Wonderful Pack Animals, Man Says

Bred to climb the craggy rocks and sheer cliffs of the Himalayas, Arnie appears amused by the bumbling human struggling up the loose basalt hillside.

Arnie and his buddy, P.B., are waiting for the human to catch up, glad to be out after a long winter in the barn. They trot up to the edge of the cliff on top, a hoof-width away from a 40-foot drop to the rocks below, then peer down at their master still shuffling up the grade.

The two goats don’t seem to notice the saddles covering their reddish brown backs or the packs hanging over their shorthaired flanks.

But then, why should they? Arnie and P.B. are pack goats, born for the back country. The rougher the terrain, the better.

Roger Slack, owner of “the boys” and a goat ambassador of sorts, finally scrambles over the crest.

“Show me a horse that can walk up that,” Slack said, out of breath and pointing down to the steep rock slide dotted with boulders and crevasses below.

Playing the part of proud parent, Slack can’t understand why more people don’t use goats as pack animals or why goats in general have a bad rap.

But their reputation as sneaky, stinky or cantankerous animals isn’t entirely justified. Or entirely unjustified.

“People think that goats stink, and the bucks certainly do,” Slack said. “During rut they get pretty rank.”

Even in the Bible, sheep sit at the right hand of God while goats are relegated to the left. And Slack says goats are curious, not sneaky.

But to Slack and thousands others across the United States, goats are amiable beasts of burden willing to help share the load for hikers, campers or hunters.

“People need to see what they can do and where they can go,” he said. “There’s real opportunity here.”

Slack, who owns a 5-acre farm in Finley and is a maintenance worker at Lampson Stadium and Fuller Auditorium in Kennewick, started raising goats for pack animals 10 years ago, about the time he decided to give up flat track motorcycle racing for a more family-oriented hobby.

“I started with one goat as a 4-H project for my oldest son and I got hooked,” he said.

Slack once used horses to pack his gear into the Blue Mountains for camping trips. Now, he takes a string of goats.

“With horses, you have to pack the feed in,” he said. “Goats are ruminate feeders, like deer, only goats will eat just about anything.”

Even the bark off trees and sagebrush.

Despite their appetites, Slack said the environmental impact of goats on wilderness areas is significantly less than with larger animals such as horses or llamas.

“There’s no trail erosion because these guys prefer not to walk on the trails,” Slack said.

And goats tend to stay close to their human handlers. The castrated males, called wethers, make the best pack animals. And wethers - unlike rams or bucks - don’t exude the infamous and malodorous rutting scent.

“They’re curious, but they’ll gladly follow you along just like the family dog,” Slack said.

The trick to raising a good pack goat is to bond with him immediately after birth. That means bottle-feeding when the kid hits the ground.

“Once they bond with you, 90 percent of your work is done,” he said.

Slack said he picks about one out of every 100 goats born on his Finley farm to become a pack animal.

After breeding goats for several years, Slack said he knows what sort of animal he’s going to get well before conception. In fact, he has a clear idea of what he wants when he selects a specific frozen straw filled with goat semen out of his liquid nitrogen tank to impregnate a doe.

The tank, by the way, is insured for $25,000 and holds the semen of hundreds of bucks, including past grand champion goats that have been dead as long as eight years.

Slack said he’s sold pack goats to people in Alaska, Colorado, Idaho, Utah, Wyoming, Canada and around Washington.

“It’s a strange business,” he said. “Three years ago, I sold 50 for pack animals. Last year I didn’t sell any.”

He said once people realize the benefits of pack goats, they usually start breeding their own.

Slack sells a newborn pack goat, usually of Oberhasli or LaMancha stock, for $50 and then adds $25 to the price for each month he raises the goat.

In the mountains, Arnie and P.B.’s superior breeding is evident in the loads they can carry - about 50 pounds each - and their disciplined, friendly demeanor.

Arnie, a 5-year-old Oberhasli, weighs 230 pounds. P.B., who is 4, weighs about 210.

Because they can’t carry as much as a mule or horse, Slack simply brings more goats when he heads into the hills.

“Not only can I feed six goats for what it costs to feed one horse, I can pack more on six goats than I could on one horse,” he said.

For packing, Slack attaches a miniature version of the old crossbuck saddle used on pack horses and mules. The crossbuck has a nylon cinch, breast strap and a rump strap to hold the load in place.

The saddle bags, or panniers, hang from the crossbucks with loops. It’s essential to weight each side equally, Slack said. When he heads into the hills for a camp trip, he usually will place a sleeping bag between the sawbucks as a top load.

When goats are in shape, they can cover about 15 miles a day, depending on the terrain and the physical limitations of their human handlers.

In the wilderness, goats are a source of curiosity for other hikers and the indigenous animals.

“Whenever I meet someone on the trail, I end up explaining that, yes, these are goats, and yes, I use them for pack animals,” he said.

“People always say ‘What a good idea, I never thought of that,”’ he said.