When we were climbing down the cliff I turned around to look at the gorals one last time. I noticed that there was something moving in the thick of the herd. It was a half-year-old lamb. It was just gazing at us with its big damp eyes.
Herbiveres have eyes that always seem as if they are dripping tears.
When we got to the bottom of the cliff, Jin Pao said: "This was the first time ever that I did not shoot … You university students are not easy to deal with. My grandfather once saw a Chinese goral stab a three-year-old bear to death."
The way down the mountain was even more treacherous, as the loose boulders would come clattering down the steep slope at the slightest touch. One strayed step and one would come crashing down the mountain in an avalanche of boulders. What would be left of one would only be an indiscernible mass of flesh and bones. This time the paths trodden out by the Chinese gorals once more came to our help. Upon closer examination, when we stopped for a rest, I discovered that these animal paths spread in a criss-cross pattern, almost covering the whole mountain side. At first look they seemed very disorderly, but in fact they were distributed according to logical principles. Not only were there separate paths for going up and down, but there were also several escape routes that lead to temporary hideaways such as caves and fissures in case of sudden enemy encounters. There were also seasonal paths that led to salt basins or high mountain pastures.
I think that these goral paths are the same as the transport networks in cities. Each path has its own use. Thinking about it like this, it would have been a great topic for a dissertation.
The days in winter are short, the nights are long. Winter days in the mountains are even shorter, as the high peaks hide the setting sun away. As we climbed on a peak opposite the Mogu Peak, I looked back at the Chinese goral mountain once more. It stood out against the dark purple sky, forming a vast boundless shape in the twilight. It appeared silent and desolate. Suddenly, a line of lively Chinese goral silhouettes emerged from the twilight mist that coiled around the peak. One after another they leaped down the steep mountain side, skilfully meandering around the boulders. One moment they would disappear in the thin mist, and the next they would reappear on top of a boulder. Watching them from afar, they looked like a group of mysterious phantoms with extremely good balance.
Jin Pao could not help himself but to praise their skill: "That's the way to go down a mountain."
I lifted up the binoculars to examine them and noticed that there were wisps of white fur growing at the back of their heels. As they were leaping down, their hooves looked like tiny flower petals on pure white snow. They were like a flock of low-flying white-winged terns dancing on waves of the sea. In a flash the gorals descended halfway down the mountain and got to the edge of a five metre or so deep gaping precipice. They stopped abruptly and stretched out their necks to explore. They stood still, hesitating. The lead goral whinnied twice and proceeded to examine the precipice, almost as if estimating the depth. It took a few steps back and then, like an arrow released from a bowstring, suddenly launched itself across the precipice. Just before its feet left the ground, it tucked its head and hooves in and cast its body into mid-air … I simply could not believe my eyes: it tossed its head and body violently from side to side in the same way that a bird would flap its wings. It soared along in this tossing and turning fashion, like a huge bomb spinning through mid-air, until it landed in a two or three metre deep snow heap, exploding in a spray of white.
Upon seeing this extraordinary sight, Jin Pao and I both let out a cry of surprise. Who would have known that the show didn't end here? The goral immediately climbed from the cloud of smoke-like snow dust and once more launched itself into mid-air. It soared high revolving and flapping its body. Immediately upon landing it rose again and leapt into the air once more … It carried on like this, one leap following another. The goral reminded me of a fish that has just escaped from a net, scampering around happily in a spray of white on the snow-covered mountain side. From a human's point of view the goral looked like a happy albeit slightly crazy child, playing around to its heart's content. This happiness had no particular reason; happiness is just happiness.
