Mountain goats, little plants, and a view

 A guest blog by Grand Canyon Trust volunteer Roy H. May, Jr. 

Conservation is an uphill climb. For a bunch of us volunteering with the Grand Canyon Trust in early September, “uphill” meant hiking up to 11,500 and 12,000 feet three days in a row just to reach our work sites. We were in the La Sal Mountains of southeastern Utah to monitor damage caused by mountain goats. 

Four years ago, over the objection of the U.S. Forest Service, the Utah Division of Wildlife Resources introduced mountain goats, which are not native to Utah, into the La Sal Mountains, in the Manti-La Sal National Forest. The goats immediately headed uphill to the Mount Peale Research Natural Area. This research natural area is a cluster of three mountain peaks, all of them above the timberline. 

Earlier, the Utah Division of Wildlife Resources had introduced the white, shaggy-haired animals to Utah’s Tushar Range, where the goats became overpopulated. So the state decided to move some of them to the La Sals. Since hunting was a stated purpose for introducing the goats, I believe that Utah mostly wants to serve hunters’ desire for the once-in-a-lifetime permits to hunt male mountain goats (the ones with big horns) and increase revenue from hunting permits. But Forest Service regulations require exotic animals to be removed from research natural areas in order to leave them as they are naturally. So introducing exotic animals — in this case, the goats — is contrary to Forest Service policy. 

The trouble with goats

The trouble with mountain goats is that they eat alpine vegetation, close-cropping even the smallest plants and shearing off chunks of sod. The Mount Peale Research Natural Area is full of little plants: wildflowers, cushion plants, grasses, lichens, and mosses. One of these plants lives only in the La Sal Mountains. Our job, working with botanist Marc Coles-Ritchie, was to document that mountain goats really are present in the Mount Peale Research Natural Area and are damaging the fragile alpine ecosystem. Specific research plots, representative of the whole area, had been established and assessed by the Wild Utah Project in 2015. In these plots, we looked for evidence of trampling and wallowing (goats create dust bowls in which to roll around), close-cropped plants, mountain goat droppings, and mountain goat hair caught on plants and rocks. We especially searched for five plant species that the Forest Service deems “sensitive” and that mountain goats could harm.

Marc had to help us a lot. We’d never even heard of the five sensitive plants Marc needed us to identify.

The La Sal daisy?

“Low-growing,” Marc informed us.

Erigeron mancus, La Sal daisy. MARC COLES-RITCHIE

Sweetflower rock jasmine?

“Small with very small leaves” that are artichoke-shaped.  

Sweetflower rock jasmine (Androsace chamaejasme). MARC COLES-RITCHIE

Spotted saxifrage?

A “small flower,” but at this time of the year there weren’t any flowers to go by.

Spotted saxifrage (Saxifraga bronchialis). MARC COLES-RITCHIE

Dwarf mountain ragwort?

“Medium-size,” meaning you could actually see it without being on hands and knees.

Dwarf mountain ragwort (Senecio fremontii). MARC COLES-RITCHIE

And, finally, Baker’s alpine parsley.  

“Small.”

You can see our problem. 

Baker's alpine parsley (Oreoxis bakeri). MARC COLES-RITCHIE

We had picture guides to these plants and Marc was always nearby to confirm (or reject) our identification. He’s a patient guy. We also took photographs. All was done according to established protocol. Our data adds to data gathered in the same plots in 2015. The accumulation will show clearly that the growing mountain goat herd (the Utah Division of Wildlife Resources is aiming for 200 goats) is damaging this small, fragile alpine ecosystem. The Trust believes the goats must be removed.

As we worked, pikas watched us from the talus slopes and serenaded us with their metallic, twangy buzzing. We watched a black bear savoring red currants in a valley below. We spotted mule deer along forest roads. In the wee hours of the morning, I heard coyotes yipping in the distance. Flocks of wild turkeys roamed the woods. Several times we watched a northern harrier cruising over the alpine terrain. We even saw it catch another bird. There were a couple of peregrine falcons. We came across an alpine meadow filled with mountain bluebirds and American pipits. Grey jays flitted through the Engelmann spruce. There were red-shafted flickers and chipping sparrows. We sometimes spooked dusky grouse along forest trails. (Marc knows plants, but birds have been my favorite for decades.) And yes, we observed mountain goats on slopes above us.  

Needless to say, we learned a lot about alpine plants and ecology, environmental destruction caused by invasive animals, and the importance of scientific protocols. We learned to use a compass, follow GPS coordinates to specific locations, and fill out forms. We even learned to use the scientific names for those tiny plants.

I also learned that national forests and public lands are not to be taken for granted.

Every day we passed mountain bikers and campers. We frequently came across herds of cattle. In the absence of predators, hunting to cull over-populations may be necessary, but I’m not a hunter, so it distressed me to come across off-road vehicles filled with hunters brandishing high-powered rifles. For me, national forests should be places of well-being for native plants and wildlife. We humans should respect that, learning to live convivially with them — for their sake as well as our own.      

The last day took us above 12,000 feet on Mount Mellenthin, a bald scree-and-talus-blanketed peak that gives way to expansive views: The Needles District of Canyonlands and beyond were laid out to the west. The rugged escarpment marking the valley of Moab ribbed below, with Arches National Park, Castle Valley, and the Colorado River surrounding Moab. Directly below us, perched as we were on its upper edge, the mountain, a volcanic intrusion, has been molded by glaciers, and accentuated by a collapsed salt dome. The deep green forest of Engelmann spruce, subalpine fir, and quaking aspen spread out below. The view was, literally, breathtaking. When the Mormons first saw these landscapes, they thought they had come to Zion. Early geologists like Clarence Dutton, and the painters Thomas Moran and William Henry Holmes, referred to the Colorado Plateau as sublime. And so it is. 

The view from Mount Mellenthin is beyond our ability to grasp. It calls forth a sense of awe, a kind of fear of that which is far greater than us. I felt humbled by its vastness, and resolved to defend it. The view made me glad that conservation is an uphill climb.

Environmental ethicist Roy H. May, Jr. has also volunteered with the Grand Canyon Trust surveying springs across northern Arizona.