HOW and WHY do they do this? | Mountain GOATS. Gravity Doesn't Work on Them

Imagine a concrete wall as tall as a 16-story building. The incline is almost 80 degrees. Not a single wide step, no railings, no rope, and in broad daylight, a goat is casually walking along this wall. It doesn't fall, it doesn't slip, it isn't nervous. It stops on a ledge the size of your palm, turns sideways, and calmly licks the stone. A second later, another one appears next to it. Then a third. After 10 minutes, a whole herd is hanging on the bare concrete dam, as if someone glued them there just for a picture. But it's not staged. These shots from the Singino Dam in Italy went viral all over the Internet, and people still write the same thing in the comments. It's photoshopped. That's impossible. It is possible. And the strangest part isn't even that they got up there. Something else is strange. Nobody herded them up there. They climb up here on their own for one single reason. Over and over again. They climb to a place where one wrong step means a fall from a height of several hundred feet. And there are plenty of places like this all over the world. Cliffs, precipices, dams, stone walls. Where it seems there's no food, no water, no reason at all to take the risk. But for them, it's just a normal part of life. So what is so valuable up there, where no other living creature would voluntarily go? To put it simply, mountain goats and their closest relatives just live where most animals wouldn't last long. High cliffs, scree slopes, narrow ledges, places where the wind cuts through you in the winter and the sun bakes the rock in the summer. For them, such places aren't a challenge. They're just home. And real mountain goats don't just live in the Alps. Similar masters of the cliffs can be found in the Himalayas, the Caucasus, the Rocky Mountains of North America, and even in Ethiopia. Each has its own habits, but their love for heights is surprisingly similar. From the outside, it seems like they've chosen the most inconvenient places on the planet. It's hard for a person to understand why you would voluntarily settle somewhere that's terrifying even to walk through. But animals have their own ideas about comfort, and they are very different from ours. If you look at a mountainside from below, it looks almost empty. Rock, sparse grass, cliffs. But for goats, it's a whole world. They know every crack, every ledge, every comfortable platform where they can spend the night. Sometimes the herd climbs so high that the clouds are below them. The wind whips through the rocks, and the only sound is the clatter of hooves on stone. And the young goats scamper across the ledges as if they were playing on a flat lawn. It's a little unsettling to watch. I caught myself a few times mentally looking for safety ropes for them. It's just so unnatural to see an animal standing calmly where a person wouldn't even want to get near the edge. The height gives them a good vantage point. It's easier to spot danger from up high. Plus, there's less competition here. Not every animal is willing to scramble up for the sparse grass and shrubs that cling to the rocks. But none of that explains the main question. Because on that one Italian dam, there are no bushes or lush grass, just bare concrete. And yet, the goats have been coming there for decades. The locals have long gotten used to these visits. But tourists, seeing it for the first time, usually just freeze and pull out their phones. The scene is just too weird. It's like the laws of gravity decided to make an exception. The secret here isn't about bravery or recklessness. It's much more down-to-earth, and at the same time, way more amazing. The secret turned out to be surprisingly simple. The goats don't go there for the grass. They need the rock. Or more specifically, the salt and other minerals left on the surface of the concrete. Water slowly leeches them out, and for these animals, it's like a natural, all-you-can-eat buffet. If you look closely at the footage from the dam, you can see that the animals aren't scrambling or running around. They step slowly, tilt their heads, and lick the surface for a long time. It's as if someone scattered their favorite treat all over it. From a distance, it looks almost surreal. For them, salt isn't just a craving. Their bodies constantly lose sodium and other minerals. This is especially true in the summer, when the animals are active and eating fresh plants. But in mountainous regions, these substances are often in short supply. They literally have to find them on the rocks. By the way, places like this are known all over the world. In Canada, for example, mountain goats can spend hours near areas where salt springs come out of the ground. Sometimes they lick the rocks until they shine. Hundreds of generations were doing this, long before humans ever showed up. There are old accounts from hunters that describe entire trails leading to salt licks. Animals use them for decades. The young ones simply follow the route of the adults. And one day, they start leading their own offspring there. But salt doesn't explain everything. Even if they need it badly, the question remains. How is it even possible to hold on to a nearly vertical surface? That's where some real engineering, created by nature, comes into play. When I started looking into how their hooves are designed, to be honest, I was expecting something incredible, some kind of hooks or special claws. But it all turned out to be much more interesting, because the real secret is hidden in the soft part that almost no one notices. A mountain goat's hoof is made of a hard outer edge and a softer center. The hard part grips the tiniest ledges, while the soft part acts like a spring and increases traction. You get something like a combination of a climbing boot and a rubber sole. What's more, each hoof can spread apart slightly. This allows the animal to sort of hug the rock. Even a small ledge becomes a reliable foothold. Where a person would see a smooth surface, a goat will find several points of contact. The most amazing part is watching them from the side. The animal walks up to a nearly sheer cliff face, places a front hoof, shifts its weight, then brings up its hind leg. It's like it has no idea it's at such a dangerous height. But the hooves are only part of the picture. There's another feature that allows even young kids, just a few hours after birth, to scramble after their mother to places that are terrifying for a person to even look at. It's also about weight distribution. Mountain goats have powerful shoulders and very strong muscles in the front part of their body. Their center of gravity is positioned in a way that helps the animal constantly maintain its balance. Even on a narrow ledge, it isn't balancing, but literally standing on 4 independent supports. Their joints have a wide range of motion. A leg can place a hoof at an angle that would seem unnatural to a person. Because of this, every movement is incredibly precise. Mistakes rarely happen because rushing in the mountains never leads to anything good. There is one more detail that is rarely mentioned. Their vision. The eyes of these animals are positioned so that they can monitor the space around them and the surface under their feet almost simultaneously. In the time it takes a person to shift their gaze, the goat has already sized up its next step. It's especially fun to watch the kids. Just a few hours after being born, they're already trying to follow their mother. At first, their movements seem clumsy, but after just a little while, the little ball of fur starts confidently hopping on rocks where an adult human would be scared to stand. Imagine an early morning in the mountains. The rocks are still cold from the night. A stream rushes below, and on a ledge narrower than a boot, an adult female lies calmly. A kid fusses nearby, occasionally nudging its mother in the side. For them, it's just another morning. When you watch footage like this, you get the feeling they have no fear at all. But that's not the case. They're just afraid of completely different things, not heights. For them, danger comes from below, from those who run faster on flat ground. Wolves, lynxes, snow leopards, and other predators are much stronger on flat ground. But the steeper the slope, the more the advantage shifts to the hoofed animals, where a pursuer is forced to be cautious. A mountain goat feels almost right at home. Sometimes their escape looks incredible. A pursued animal can literally press itself against a cliff face and freeze on a tiny ledge. The predator sees its prey but can't get any closer. One mistake would cost it its life, and not every one of them is willing to take that risk. Because of this, an unusual race unfolded in the mountains. Some learned to scramble up, others learned to give chase. And millions of years of this standoff turned the ordinary ancestors of goats into true specialists of the vertical world. By the way, it wasn't just alpine goats that went down a similar path. In Ethiopia lived the Walia ibex, rare mountain goats that can move along cliffs so steep. From below, it looks as if the animals are standing right on the wall, and in the Himalayas, their distant relatives choose slopes that are even higher. There are also some surprising neighbors. Chamois and ibexes often use the very same trails, and each group knows its own safe routes. Some of these paths have been around for so long that they've managed to turn into noticeable tracks among the bare rocks. One day I caught myself thinking that we're used to considering the latter a human invention. But if you look at the mountain trails used by the herds, you get a strange feeling. It's as if these routes appeared long before us, and people simply copied someone else's idea. And yet, even among such masters, there is an animal that makes mountain goats look almost cautious by comparison. We're talking about the snow sheep and their relatives, which are often called barrels. These animals live in Asia and sometimes choose slopes so steep that from a distance it looks like they're defying the laws of physics. And yet, living right alongside them are snow leopards, some of the most dangerous hunters in the mountains. Sometimes the chase ends right on a sheer cliff face. There's footage where the prey and the predator end up literally just a few feet from each other. And that's when it's not fangs and claws that decide everything, but the ability to hold on to the rock. In a world like that, balance becomes a matter of life. By the way, it's not just hoofed animals that have mastered the vertical world. In South America, similar rocky screes are favored by viscachas, large relatives of chinchillas, and in Africa, hyraxes cling to cliffs thanks to the moist pads on their paws. Nature has many ways to solve the same problem. But even among them, goats stand out for one particular reason. They don't just live on cliffs. They are constantly on the move. In a single day, a herd can cover several miles of the most difficult terrain. And for these animals, it's a light warm-up, not some extreme challenge. Imagine a slope after a rain. The rock is glistening, water is pooling in the cracks, and fog is rising from below. And across this wet labyrinth, animals weighing close to 220 pounds walk calmly. No fuss, no cautious test steps, just a steady, measured movement. What's interesting is that they rarely jump unless they have to. Movies often show them making these crazy leaps across chasms, but in reality, goats prefer to conserve their energy. Most of the time, they move in a surprisingly calm way and choose the most reliable path. Researchers have noticed something else too. In a herd, there are almost always experienced animals that seem to know the route ahead of time. The younger ones follow them and gradually memorize the safe passages. It creates a kind of memory that's passed down without maps or signs. When I was reading the biologists' reports, I was particularly surprised by how rarely they use the word bravery. It's almost always about habit, experience, and adaptation. What looks like a heroic feat to a person is just a regular Tuesday for them. But sometimes the animals run into things that have never existed in their world before. Things like roads, bridges, mines, tunnels, and massive concrete structures built by humans. And this is where a completely unexpected story begins. In the Alps, people noticed a long time ago that goats might show up at more than just dams. They're drawn to old stone buildings, bridge supports, and even tunnels where mineral salts come through to the surface. Without even meaning to, humans are creating new points of attraction for them. There have been times when a herd would appear near mountain roads and lick the asphalt for long stretches. The reason turned out to be simple. After winter, traces of salt used to treat the highways would remain on the surface. To drivers, this looked strange, but for the animals, it was a real find. Sometimes these encounters end dangerously. The goats get so carried away searching for minerals that they might walk right out to the cars. That's why in some mountain regions, drivers are specifically warned that unusual pedestrians might appear on the road. And yet, while I was gathering material, I couldn't shake the feeling that we're looking at this whole story the wrong way. It seems to us as if the goats are doing crazy things, but maybe it's all much deeper than just a love for salt or the skill of clinging to rocks. We're used to thinking of cliffs as a dangerous place. That's because our brain evaluates the world through human experience. But for a mountain goat, danger looks completely different. For them, the scary part isn't up high. It's scary down below in the open space where they can be surrounded and chased down. This creates an interesting paradox. What seems almost like suicide to us is the safest option for them. Over millions of years, natural selection gradually weeded out those that had a poorer feel for the rock, were worse at judging distances, and made mistakes more often. Scientists have long noticed that hoofed animals living in the mountains use less energy to get around than you would expect. Their bodies are literally built for constant climbs and descents. For a person, a day like that would be a grueling ordeal. But for them, it is just part of their daily routine. There is an interesting detail. If you relocate young animals to calmer places, they still seek out high ground. They climb on rocks, hills, and embankments. It is as if they already have a map of the world inside them, where elevation means safety and the natural order of things. While studying their movements, engineers became interested in something other than their horns or muscles. Their attention was drawn to the animals' amazing stability. Several robotics companies have openly admitted that they got ideas for their machines from watching mountain animals. This is how robots capable of moving over rubble, through pipes, and across uneven surfaces came to be. Of course, they are still a long way from being a real mountain goat. But the fact itself seems pretty funny. Humankind, having conquered space, continues to learn from an animal that is just looking for salt. And these animals also unexpectedly help people study the mountains themselves. By following their routes, researchers sometimes find old passes, hidden water sources, and safe passages. Locals have known this for centuries and often watch the herds for reasons beyond just idle curiosity. Imagine a shepherd somewhere in the Alps a couple of hundred years ago. He notices that the goats keep going to the same spot over and over. And one day, he decides to check out what is there. This is how people often discovered salt licks and convenient passes through hard-to-reach areas. What especially surprised me was that the animals do not consider their routes anything remarkable at all. They are not overcoming obstacles. They are not challenging nature. They are just going about their business. And it is humans who add the drama and a sense of the incredible to this picture. Maybe that is why the footage from the Singino Dam is so captivating. We look at it and see an insane risk. But the animals themselves do not think that way at all. They are just living in their natural environment, which to them is home. And as we look up from below, we are reminded time and again that the world does not have to be convenient for humans.