Earnestly Missing Ernie, the Goat
Saying goodbye to an old friend
Earnestly Missing Ernie, the Goat
09.13.2024
Sometime early in the fall of 2016, I was working a long-term substitute librarian job on the westside of El Paso that had me crossing the Franklin Mountains via Transmountain Road early every weekday morning. The drive from my home to the elementary school where I was subbing was about 20 miles. While I often listened to books or music, there were some mornings when I chose to bask in the quiet of my car and enjoy the beautiful mountain scenery on either side of the road.
On one particular morning, I was running late. Which was actually not unlike many other mornings. Thankfully, traffic was light. Probably because everyone else had been early or on time for work that day. I remember climbing the steepest part of the road, approaching the summit when I noticed the car in front of me slam on its brakes. Likewise, I did the same. The driver didn’t change lanes or stop so I assumed there was nothing in the road in front of him. Then I looked off the road to my right and up on one of the tallest peaks was a big horned something…sheep? goat?... proudly standing tall surveying the valley and the cars speeding below him.
My first inclination was to pull off onto the shoulder to try to snap a picture of the creature, but I had passed him so quickly that I would have had to park the car and walk back down the road a bit in order to do so. Instead, I swerved to the left and was about to make a U-turn so I could go back down the mountain, turn around and come back up in order to take a photo. But the first place I could have turned around was probably a quarter mile back the way I had come. And I was already pretty late and still 20 minutes from school. Reluctantly, I did the responsible thing and kept going. But as soon as I could, I texted Paul to tell him what I had seen. He was skeptical. How I wish I had been able to take a picture for proof!!
It was several years before I saw the goat again, but I looked for him every time I crossed the mountain. I researched big horned animals – sheep and goats – and determined that what I had seen was most likely a goat so started referring to him as such.
Finally, a few years after my first sighting, on a hot summer day, I saw the goat again. He was across the top of the mountain peak where I had seen him originally, in an area of rock about midway down the other side of the peak where I had first encountered him.
He looked like he was living his best life, very laid back, stretched across the rock with plenty of cactus and yucca about to eat. From what I could tell, the rocks looked wet with a trickle of water running down the mountainside to keep him hydrated and cool.
We began seeing my new friend more frequently. Not every time we crossed the mountain but regularly. I would crane my neck both coming and going across the summit of Transmountain Road to look out the window for my goat. So much so, that Paul began saying I was always ‘earnestly seeking a glimpse of the goat.’ And from that point on, we began calling the goat, Ernesto or Ernie for short.
Lauren’s family began looking for Ernie when they would cross the mountain from the west going east to come see us. And always reported where they saw him when they did.
On one morning I was surprised to see Ernie standing right beside the road with only a concrete barrier he could have jumped over easily standing between him and traffic traveling west. I fumbled for my phone and called the non-emergency number for the police department to report that Ernie was in danger of possibly being hit. They reassured me that Ernie often wandered down to the roadside and had never been hit before. So, I let it go.
About a year ago, I began following Fit Fam El Paso on Instagram. Occasionally, there would be posts and reels featuring Ernie that other El Pasoans had sent in. For some reason, the rest of the city was calling him Bob. But we continued to call him Ernie.
One morning on our way to church, we noticed that Ernie was again beside the road hungrily attacking a fresh bale of hay that someone had tossed over the concrete barrier on the shoulder of the road. Another day, we saw Ernie nibbling the green leaves or fronds from a desert tree with such enthusiasm that the plant was nearly pulled over double.
With every sighting, Ernie always made me smile. I didn’t realize that goat watching was a thing. But apparently, folks everywhere are fascinated by goats. Fainting goats, playing goats, talking goats. YouTube is full of video clips all about goats!! While window shopping on Etsy one day, I came across a tee shirt that read ‘easily distracted by goats’. Couldn’t get it in my cart fast enough!! And have worn it proudly ever since it arrived.
I always felt like the days when I spotted Ernie were made better by just seeing him. Something about him always lifted my spirits.
And as if he knew that, one afternoon on my way home across the mountain, there was Ernie, standing very close to the barrier between the road and the mountainside. I had nowhere to be, so I pulled into the parking area of a scenic lookout and decided to see how close I could get to my old friend.
Climbed over the barrier, in a dress and good shoes no less – I was headed home from subbing and began climbing the rocks toward where Ernie was laying. He allowed me to get fairly close before he rose to his feet, ever a gentleman. Ernie kind of tapped his front foot – I want to believe it was in a greeting of hello, old friend. He looked at me for a moment and then retreated up the mountain and toward his favorite rocky resting place.
We hadn’t seen him for a few days before our trip to Ohio and Tennessee in August. Several days after we were home, me with my broken foot, we had to cross the mountain to go to the orthopedic specialist. As we neared where I generally saw Ernie, I said to myself that if I saw him that morning, it would mean my foot wouldn’t require surgery and would heal completely on its own.
I craned my neck. No Ernie. Paul even slowed down a little so I could look more carefully. Sometimes the dried yucca plants almost looked like my old pal and I would have to do a double take. But Ernie wasn’t in any of his usual spots. My heart sank a little…both for my recovery of my foot and out of concern for my old friend.
Despite not seeing Ernie on the way to my appointment, the doctor’s evaluation was encouraging. No surgery needed. The foot would heal on its own. Eight weeks with no weight on it. He gave us orders for a knee scooter and sent us home with crutches. Hallelujah.
We didn’t return home on Transmountain Road, so I didn’t have another opportunity to earnestly seek Ernie. But I continued thinking about him. Our highs had been in the triple digits with very little rain, and I worried that maybe something had happened to him.
On September 9th, almost a week after my doctor’s appointment, Lauren sent me a link to a story by FitFam on Instagram.
The post read:
“Tragic. There are strong reports that Bob the Mountain Goat — a legend in his own right — may have passed away within the last few weeks. Early reports indicate that he may have died during a relocation effort coordinated in conjunction with the scheduled October release of desert bighorn sheep back into the Franklin Mountains.”
Over the last 2 weeks, more information has come to light about Ernie’s death.
“News that will ruin your day. @ktsm and @texasparkswildlife have confirmed that Bob the Mountain Goat was killed during an attempt to relocate the local legend to another area. The Franklin Mountains are set to receive a huge herd of Desert Bighorn Sheep in an attempt to restore their once-extinct population.
Rest easy, Bob. It was always an absolute pleasure to see you.”
And finally this report.
“Multiple sources have reported that Bob tried to (understandably) run after being roped and was inadvertently asphyxiated.”
I have so many questions. Why couldn’t the sheep be reintroduced to an area away from Ernie? With all of the space in the Franklin Mountains, and with the worry about whatever bacteria officials thought Ernie might pass to the sheep, couldn’t they have kept them far apart? If Ernie absolutely had to be relocated, couldn’t he have been tranquilized and then safely moved? And finally, where are these big horn sheep anyway? Haven’t seen a one.
We have crossed Transmountain a half dozen times since learning of Ernie’s death. Reflexively, I still look for Ernie. And when I do, Paul reaches over and pats my leg as a reminder and a comfort to me. Would like to find a large metal cross to mark the area where Ernie often reclined.
Thank you, Ernie, old friend, for brightening so many of my days with your presence. Rest in peace. Praying that like kitties and puppies, goats also cross the Rainbow Bridge and wait for us on the other side. There will be so many El Pasoans who will be happy to see you again.
That is a beautiful tribute to Ernie (Bob). I only saw him once but have a couple of friends who saw him often. Like you, they always looked for him when crossing the mountain and were very grieved by his death.
Thank you for the memories and the pictures ❤️
What a beautiful story & love your connection to Ernie! Sorry he is no longer there...