Seceda, the 2500 meter mountain in the Italian Dolomites, is home to two goats called Billy and Gregory (although they likely have many names). 

On a sunny day, we hiked through a valley in our t-shirts that brought us to the treeless, open-air incline stretching to the summit. Half way up, we heard them before we saw them. There was a jingle jingle of bells that echoed out from the cliffs above. We headed towards the noise and soon made the source: Two goats, each with bells around their necks, observed us as they stood motionless some couple hundred feet ahead. From our lunch bags we grabbed our apples, held them out, and cautiously inched towards them so as to not scare them away. On a steep tract of grass, we reached them, and broke off bites of the apple to offer. At first hesitant, they quickly gave in to the sweet temptation of the apple slices. 

Gregory, we called the reserved, wiser-looking goat with brown hair and an old man’s beard; Billy, we called the more aloof, excited-to-eat of the two, who sported a black and white coat of fur and small horns. Having fed them the entirety of our apples, we pressed on to the summit, and though they trailed us for a while, perhaps concerned by our lack of nimbleness and goat hooves, we eventually said farewell, and listened as their bells jingled on behind.

Story by: Max White

Photography by: Matthew Kirven