Laurie Ann Gillcash, age 15, of Chilliwack, British Columbia, for her question;

What color are the eves of a Rocky Mountain goat?

This interesting question arose from a work of art. Laurie Ann's friend carved a Rocky Mountain goat for everyone to admire. But no one could admire the eyes because at present the ivory statue has none. They were not added because neither the artist nor his friends knew what color to make them. So Andy consulted several books and several experts and finally verified the answer. Color his round eyes golden yellow, accented with black pupils.

The Rocky Mountain goat surveys the world from the lofty shoulders of our north¬western mountains. Mr. Dignity is the name for him. From his harsh, wind blown peaks he can survey the slopes and the grassy meadows and forested valleys that fall away from his blustery alpine zone. Up there he is at home, on serene terms with nature. His bleak, hazardous range extends from the mountains above Vancouver on the sea east to Montana and north to Alaska, well within the Arctic Circle.

His color scheme is fleecy white, accented with black. His thick, all weather coat is white and its shaggy fringe brushes his sturdy knees. His snowy beard adds a scholarly note to his long, serious face. His skinny, 12 inch horns are black. So are his lips and his wide, two toed hoofs. His solemn, steady eyes are round and golden with large black pupils. In shadow, from a distance, the golden yellow may be hard to see.

Those steady, golden eyes, and almost everything else about him, remind you of a goat. But zoologists disqualify him as a true goat because he has straight horns and high bulky shoulders. He is an antelope goat, related to the acrobatic chamois of the steep European Alps. But our Mr. Dignity does not practice nimble acrobatics    though when pressed he can leap a 12 foot chasm. He prefers a cautious, deliberate pace, while testing each slippery foothold.

However, his life is spiced with intelligent, goatish curiosity and he loves to ex¬plore new trails    with care. No matter what comes, he keeps a cool head. If a narrow ledge leads nowhere, he may back up to safety. But if he spots a higher ledge, he may raise his front legs and hoist himself up. Or he may stand on his back legs with his tummy pressed to the cliff, inch himself around in a U turn and return back along the dead end trail. Never does he panic.

The vegetation in this cold blustery realm is sparse and stunted. The Rocky Mountain goat dines on tough twiggy shrubs, plus a few welcome mosses and lichens. He leisurely chews his cud, calmly surveying the scenery. He prefers peace, but when at¬tacked he proves that his slender sharp horns are deadly daggers. With a few friends he can rout a pack of wolves and a sturdy old male can cope with a cougar. Up there on those rock strewn slopes high above the timberline, the cruelest enemy is sliding snow. Sudden spring avalanches often sweep mountain goats down to their doom.

Mrs. R. M. Goat bears one kid, or maybe twins, in May or June. In ten minutes, the precocious infant stands up for his first meal. When finished, he leaps around on four stiff legs like a bouncing ball. Mamma leaves him in hiding, returning every two hours or so. In a few days, she takes him to join the flock and he plays with other bouncy kids. As a rule, Mr. R. M. Goat wanders off alone to explore a much wider range.