Lost Snoqualmie goats go on lockdown

On Monday, July 9, Cheryl Provost woke up to an odd sight. Her family noticed that the trash can they kept outside, surrounded by a chain fence, was not in its normal place. Heading outside, the Snoqualmie resident saw that her fence had been pulled up and the trash can was on its side, garbage spilling out. It was clear what had happened: A bear had decided the fence was interfering with its breakfast, and had pulled it out of the way. A bird feeder was also pulled down, and when Provost went to investigate, she heard a goat bawling.

On Monday, July 9, Cheryl Provost woke up to an odd sight. Her family noticed that the trash can they kept outside, surrounded by a chain fence, was not in its normal place. Heading outside, the Snoqualmie resident saw that her fence had been pulled up and the trash can was on its side, garbage spilling out.

It was clear what had happened: A bear had decided the fence was interfering with its breakfast, and had pulled it out of the way.

A bird feeder was also pulled down, and when Provost went to investigate, she heard a goat bawling.

Running toward the sound, she found Ollie, the youngest of her five goats. But the other four were missing.

Provost spent days looking for the three she-goats, Cookie, Penny and Momma, and ram Blitzen, searching her five acres of land and nearby property toward Snoqualmie Falls. Her land abuts Weyerhauser property.

Provost talked to everyone she could, even strangers on the street, the mailman, and the local grocer. She put out an ad on Craigslist, and listened for them at night. After thinking she heard them one night, she decided to camp out on the land where she thought they might return, and if they came back, let them in.

They still didn’t show up, and Provost had to leave the next day. She called home to have her mom check that Ollie was still there, and when she checked, she was surprised to find that not only was Ollie there, but also the four missing goats, waiting by the enclosure to be let inside.

Now they are tagged and, Provost laughs before she adds, “on lockdown.”

They’re still scared, so they won’t go up to people, but they know their names, she said. They all have collars on, and Blitzen, the youngest, will come up if his name is called.