Winston Morton boats the Grande Ronde River every year with friends and family, camping on the riverbank along the way. When he recently set out for the 40-mile float, he didn’t expect to be rushing to the canyon’s take-out area just a day later with a bloody dog in tow.
But that’s what happened when his family’s dog, Palmer, a German Shepherd-Belgian Malinois mix, suffered a puncture wound from the horn of a mountain goat that approached their camp between Meadow Creek and Alder Creek in northeastern Oregon, about halfway through the river route.
Palmer survived. It’s been three weeks since the encounter, and Morton said that by now the four-year-old dog has probably forgotten it ever happened. But it’s still fresh in the minds of Morton and his family, who spent the days after the trip debriefing. The encounter was a powerful reminder for Morton, a fish habitat biologist, about the importance of being prepared to interact with animals and prevent conflict.
“Wildlife is exactly that — it’s wild,” he said. “We need to be respectful of it. … That’s their place. We are very privileged to be near them.”
It was around 4 p.m. when two mountain goats approached the camp, where Morton, 52, was chatting with his friend, Kris Fischer. Morton’s 19-year-old daughter, Alsea, was reading a book, while another friend, Andre L’Heureux, was napping. It wasn’t the first time that day the group saw the mountain goats; the pair had approached the camp twice that morning, but Morton had earlier been able to shoo them away by waving his hands and yelling.
But now, five hours later, they were back. The group stood up and shooed together, and the goats dispersed — one went up the river and one went downstream. After around five minutes, Morton heard his daughter call out that one of the goats had returned.
“This time, the goat did not leave,” Morton said. They let Palmer off leash to try to scare off the goat, though Morton said the family didn’t generally condone chasing off wildlife with pets. Although Morton couldn’t see the goat at this point, Alsea told him that Palmer and the goat “had a standoff,” Morton said, with the goat separating Alsea from the dog.
The goat tried to butt Palmer, who ran away into the brush, Morton said. Neither Alsea nor Morton could see Palmer in the vegetation, but Alsea heard him yelp. Then, the mountain goat ran down the trail toward Morton, who said he quickly jumped out of the way. Morton then hurled rocks at the goat to ensure it left the camp.
In hindsight, Morton wishes he had thrown rocks the first time he had seen the goats that morning. He also wishes they had kept the dog on leash, and that they packed up and headed to a different campsite after the first encounter. When he first saw the goats, he noticed they were smaller than the billy goats he’s seen outside his home in La Grande, and assumed they were two young males. But he later learned from a district biologist at the Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife that they were two nannies, or female goats, who were likely trying to protect their young.
At first, Palmer didn’t appear to be limping. But then, “he started bleeding a whole lot,” Morton said. “He had been gored with one horn. … At that point in time, we didn’t know how bad it was.”
Morton said the puncture wound was between Palmer’s hind legs. Although the group was shocked, they moved into action mode. Morton applied pressure on the wound with his hands as they discussed their options. There was so much blood that he couldn’t tell where the wound was or what it looked like.
“I saw it enough to know that it just didn’t look good,” he said.
They began to worry that they could lose Palmer. Although they hadn’t planned to complete the 20 remaining miles of their float for a few days, Morton and his daughter decided to set out with Palmer to exit the canyon, starting around 4:15 p.m. He didn’t have cell service, so he used an inReach satellite device to reach his wife, Mika.
Morton rowed the metal drift boat, focusing on avoiding rocks and managing rapids. Alsea, meanwhile, sat at the front of the boat with Palmer, keeping pressure on his wound with gauze and bandages from a first-aid kit. The other two campers remained behind to pack up the camp and return the next day. Around 30 minutes into the ride, Morton said, “There was blood all over the place.” But he noticed the bleeding had slowed, and felt confident that Palmer would survive.
They made the 20-mile trip faster than ever before. It was less than three hours before they arrived at the take-out location just upstream of Troy, not far from the Washington border. Morton’s wife arrived shortly after, and she and Alsea drove Palmer to the veterinarian clinic in Enterprise, arriving around 9 p.m., Morton estimated.
Morton contacted Holly Tuers Lance, a district wildlife biologist with the Oregon Department of Fish and Wildlife. Tuers Lance said the department posted signs around the area, and the U.S. Bureau of Land Management last week posted a warning on Facebook.
When encountering goats and other ungulates such as sheep and elk, Tuers Lance said campers should always keep pets leashed, and should give the animals space. She recommended staying at least 50 yards away and urinating in rivers to avoid attracting wildlife. If a mountain goat approaches or displays aggressive behavior, it’s best to slowly back away while keeping your eyes on the goat. If it continues approaching, try to scare it off by yelling, raising your arms or throwing sticks or small stones.
Morton said he’s had close encounters with wildlife before, including bears, bighorn sheep, rattlesnakes, deer and moose.
“We go to this place because it is so special,” he said. “You do have to be aware. It’s so beautiful, and you do get to see wildlife regularly.”
Palmer received stitches to close an inch-wide wound, Morton said, then wore a cone for two weeks. Now, the dog is back in action.
“We’re grateful he’s OK,” Morton said. “We definitely thought when we put him on the boat that we might lose him.”
As they floated down the river — Morton rowing, Palmer bleeding, and Alsea holding him — Morton was mostly focused on keeping their boat safe. But in moments of stillness on the water, he took in the canyon around them. He had never floated the river at this time of day, closer to sunset. They saw seven bald eagles, a raccoon, and other wildlife, he said. They talked about what they did right and where they went wrong in their encounters with the goats. Despite the crisis at hand, Morton wondered at the wilderness around him, and at the boundless capacity of the animals who live in it.
“I actually commented to my daughter how beautiful it was,” Morton said. “And she said, ‘I was just thinking the same thing.’”
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