The Great Escape: Six Goats
A History of the Black Hills Mountain Goats
A factual story of the Black Hills mountain goats—history, management, and the legacy Six Goats Tavern exists to honor.
In the granite heart of the Black Hills, where ponderosa pine gives way to sheer stone and the wind seems to speak its own language, there is a herd that does not belong here—yet fits the cliffs as if it always has. Rocky Mountain goats are not native to South Dakota, and that single truth is the spark behind one of the most unusual wildlife stories in the region.
The beginning: an early-1900s conservation era meets an unexpected outcome
In the early decades of the 1900s, South Dakota was in the middle of an ambitious conservation movement. Senator Peter Norbeck—a key figure in the creation and development of Custer State Park—championed wildlife restoration and public access to wild places. In 1924, as part of that era’s well-intended (and very common) approach of introducing species for viewing and recreation, six Rocky Mountain goats (Oreamnos americanus) were obtained from Alberta, Canada and placed in an enclosure at Custer State Park.
The plan was controlled. The outcome was not.
On their very first night, two goats—reported as an adult female and a yearling male—escaped. Over the next few years, the rest found their way out as well. By 1929, all of the goats had left captivity behind.
That escape wasn’t a short sprint into the trees. It was a decisive move into the kind of terrain mountain goats are built to own: the granite outcroppings around Black Elk Peak (formerly Harney Peak), roughly 10 miles northwest of the original enclosure.
And that is the first truth at the core of “The Great Escape”: the goats didn’t wander into the Black Hills by accident. They escaped—and they chose the rock.
Why the Black Hills worked (and why it still does)
Mountain goats are specialists. They thrive where steep, broken terrain gives them a constant advantage—places where a predator’s speed means less than the goat’s balance and nerve. The Black Hills have a craggy granite core that mimics parts of their native mountain habitats, and that compatibility is why the escape became a settlement.
The Black Hills herd established itself around the highest, most rugged landscapes—areas that today overlap with iconic destinations: the Black Elk Wilderness / Black Elk Peak region, parts of Custer State Park (including the Needles area), and even viewing areas near Mount Rushmore. The herd’s visibility became part of the Hills experience: hikers, climbers, and early-morning visitors learned to scan the rock faces and spot white silhouettes against dark stone.
By the early 1950s, estimates suggest there were 300–400 goats in the Black Hills core range—evidence not only of survival, but of real adaptation.
Growth, management, and the “working herd”
Once a non-native population establishes itself, wildlife managers have to make hard decisions that balance multiple interests: habitat limits, public safety, viewing opportunities, hunting demand, and interactions with other species. South Dakota’s own management documents describe the Black Hills goats as a resource that requires ongoing coordination among agencies and the public.
Starting in the mid-20th century, South Dakota began using the Black Hills goats as a source population—not only for local expansion, but to help stock herds elsewhere.
From 1954 to 1968, 40 goats were transplanted from the Black Hills:
1954: goats moved to Spearfish Canyon (within the Black Hills)
1960: goats sent to Wyoming
1961–1968: goats sent to Colorado
These were not “random moves.” They were a reflection of how well the goats had established—and how the Black Hills herd had become, in effect, a working foundation herd for broader regional goals.
Hunting enters the story (and consequences follow)
Mountain goat hunting in the Black Hills became part of the management toolkit. South Dakota’s 2024–2028 action plan notes that the first season was held in 1967, and that modern season dates have typically run from early fall into late December in recent years.
But management is never a single lever. While the herd remained stable through the 1950s and 1960s, records indicate the population declined in the 1970s, likely due to a combination of overharvest and continued transplants.
By the early 1980s, the drop was stark. Hunter observations and department surveys from 1981–1982 indicated a substantial decrease, and by 1983 the herd was reported at roughly 80 animals.
That’s the second truth behind the legend: the Great Escape didn’t end with a thriving herd forever. The herd needed stewardship, restraint, and science to persist.
Recovery—and why “today” is never a single number
The herd rebounded. By the 1990s, estimates ranged around 150–170 goats.
Then, in the early 2000s, the herd began declining again, and South Dakota Game, Fish and Parks responded with additional reinforcement translocations:
2006: 19 goats captured in Colorado and released in the Black Hills
2013: 21 goats captured in Utah and released in the Black Hills
In other words: this herd is not “set and forget.” It is actively managed, monitored, and—when needed—supported.
Modern monitoring has become increasingly technical. South Dakota’s planning documents describe the use of aerial surveys (including helicopter surveys), radio-collaring, and modeling approaches to estimate abundance and occupancy trends. The 2024–2028 plan notes that occupancy growth was positive from 2013–2018, followed by declines in occupancy estimates from 2018–2024.
And while the exact count varies by year and method, federal park information for the region states that the population in the area is now over 200—a reminder that, despite fluctuation, the descendants of those original escapees remain a defining presence in the Black Hills granite.
The goats and the people: an unwritten partnership
The Black Hills goats are not only managed—they’re watched, celebrated, photographed, and argued about. That’s what happens when a wild animal becomes part of a place’s identity.
Tourism intersects with wildlife in a very real way. Custer State Park draws enormous visitation, Mount Rushmore receives millions, and Black Elk Peak is a major hiking draw—all of which overlap with mountain goat habitat and viewing opportunity. South Dakota’s management plan explicitly acknowledges the value of viewable wildlife to local communities and businesses, while also calling attention to the challenges of disturbance in sensitive periods like kid rearing.
Public engagement has also taken the form of “citizen science” in the broad sense—locals and dedicated observers who track sightings, share photos, and help increase awareness (and sometimes help agencies understand what’s happening on the ground). South Dakota Magazine has described this dynamic in Spearfish Canyon and beyond, including the importance of not habituating goats to close human contact.
A factual timeline: key milestones in the Black Hills goat story
To anchor the legend to reality, here are the major milestones supported by published sources:
Early 1900s: Conservation development era in SD; Norbeck is instrumental in CSP and wildlife initiatives.
1924: Six Rocky Mountain goats obtained from Alberta, Canada; placed in an enclosure at Custer State Park.
1924 (first night): Two goats escape (reported as an adult female and a yearling male).
1929: Remaining goats escape captivity; the herd moves into the Black Elk Peak range.
Early 1950s: Population estimated at 300–400.
1954–1968: 40 goats transplanted—to Spearfish Canyon, Wyoming, and Colorado.
1967: First documented mountain goat hunting season in the Black Hills.
1970s: Declines; likely tied to overharvest and transplants.
1983: Population reported around 80.
1990s: Population rebounds to ~150–170.
2006 & 2013: Reinforcement translocations from Colorado and Utah.
2013–2018: Occupancy growth positive; 2018–2024: occupancy estimates decline.
Today: Regional population described as 200+ in federal park information; management continues with multi-agency coordination.
The legacy: resilience, movement, and the ethic of the herd
When people talk about the goats, they often talk about what they represent. The goats are tough, yes—but the more important characteristic is their instinct to keep moving, to seek the high ground, and to stay connected to the herd. That combination—freedom and fidelity—is exactly why they’ve endured in the Black Hills for a century.
They also represent something else: the complicated inheritance of early wildlife management decisions. The goats were introduced, escaped, and adapted. Then they were managed—sometimes too aggressively, sometimes with restraint, often with learning in real time. Their history is a reminder that conservation isn’t just romance; it’s monitoring flights, season setting, habitat work, and sometimes hard decisions. South Dakota’s own planning documents emphasize the need for collaboration between state agencies, the National Park Service, and the U.S. Forest Service, and for public education around ethical viewing and stewardship.
Bringing it to today: why Six Goats Tavern exists
Six Goats Tavern sits at the human end of this story—the place where the day’s adventure ends and the herd gathers again. But honoring the goats can be more than a name or a logo. It can be a living commitment to conservation, education, and responsible stewardship.
That is why Six Goats Tavern intends to support the Rocky Mountain Goat Alliance (RMGA)—a registered 501(c)(3) organization whose mission is to support and conserve Rocky Mountain goat populations across North American habitats. RMGA’s work includes citizen-science goat counts and habitat monitoring in partnership with wildlife agencies, education initiatives, and conservation grants supporting research and solutions for goat health and habitat challenges.
The Great Escape, continued
A century ago, six goats stepped out of captivity and into granite. They did what mountain goats do: they found the steepest ground and made it home. Their descendants still move across the Black Hills rock—proof that an unexpected beginning can become an enduring legacy.
Six Goats Tavern is built to honor that legacy in the way a community can: by gathering people, telling the true story, and turning admiration into action. When you dine here—when you raise a glass after a day in the Hills—you’re not only joining a table. You’re joining a century-long thread that runs from wild stone to warm light.
That is The Great Escape: not myth, not rumor, not marketing—history still alive on the cliffs above us, and a legacy worth protecting for the next hundred years.
