Reader-Submitted Story
The Other Kind of Whitetail
by Ryan Derkson of Edmonton, Alberta
I was fortunate enough to harvest some mature bull elk and moose in my twenties, but I began to grow weary of some of the aspects of hunting such large game. The regulations that dictate the when, where and how for hunts of the largest game seem to always be very strict, when I would prefer a little more freedom. Typically, on such hunts you will also spend a lot of days afield before you finally get an opportunity to pull the trigger, which I found tedious. Lastly, the sheer amount of work it takes to get a big bull out of the field and processed took much of the joy out of the hunt for me. As a result, the last few years I have been focusing far more on game that is deer sized and smaller, which seems to offer far less restrictions, more shot opportunities and more manageable processing.
For the last decade, I’ve been on a slow quest to see just how many of Alberta’s species I can get with my Remington 870 Wingmaster. At heart, I’m a shotgunner, which is a weapon that is ideally suited for such small and medium game.
Here in Alberta, we are blessed with an abundance of very distinct habitats that also provide many distinct species to hunt. One day flipping through the hunting regulations, I settled on the page listing game bird possession limits and seasons and the row listing ptarmigan caught my eye. I knew very little about ptarmigan and couldn’t recall ever seeing any before, except for on road trips up in the Territories and maybe some while hiking in the national parks in the summer as a kid. But curiosity got the best of me and I decided to make it my bucket list species for the year.
It became clear shortly after starting to research hunting ptarmigan in Alberta that it certainly classifies as an obscure species, as I found basically zero information regarding how to hunt them apart from the fact that they were out there. The only reliable information I was able to find came from bird books. According to the bird books, we have two species of ptarmigan in Alberta. White-tailed ptarmigan in the alpine of the Rocky Mountains to the west and willow ptarmigan in the very north of the province. While on a road trip a few years ago, I crossed paths with an Indigenous elder in the town of Fort Smith, Northwest Territories, which is right on Alberta’s north border. I vaguely recalled him saying that far less willow ptarmigan came as far south as the border compared to a few decades previous. I also remember him saying that it was only in the dead of winter that they would make it down to Alberta.
While the ptarmigan hunting season is long, being from the start of September to mid-January, that left a rather tight window to pursue them. The white-tailed ptarmigan in contrast seemed to be a more reliable resident. The problem with them however was elevation. The bird books made it sound like they spent the summer and early fall in high alpine habitats, much of which I feared was within the national parks. I did get the sense though that early snows and cooler fall temperatures could potentially push them to lower and more accessible locations.
After some networking I was able to get some reported sightings of ptarmigan from sheep hunters. But even those reports were lacking in detail, inconsistent on the particular habitat the birds were in and I wasn’t confident the sheep hunters knew the difference between a juvenile blue grouse and a ptarmigan in their brown summer plumage. Even so, I had enough information that I was confident after burning a little boot leather I would be able to find my quarry.
After some more research online, I located an old road that should hopefully get me very close to tree line, so I booked a day off work in mid-October to make a long weekend hunt of it. I was planning on doing day hikes from the old road rather than trying to overnight up on the mountain in case I needed to hit multiple mountains in order to find the right habitat.
Morning of day one found me headed up the first mountain just as the sun rose above the peaks. The mountain range had been hit with a snowstorm earlier in the week, but below tree line the snow had melted and refroze in puddles during the overnight cold. I appreciated the cooling effect of the frosty air as I climbed the steep slope through tree line into the open bighorn sheep pastures. Because the slope I was climbing was south-west facing, it took until near the highest point of my climb that day before I hit snow that hadn’t melted yet. In the slight swale of a meadow, snow had accumulated a few feet thick amongst the stunted willows. In the snow there were clearly visible tracks of five ptarmigan walking from willow to willow. Sadly, the tracks were melted enough that I knew I was probably a day behind them. Still, I followed them until all the tracks disappeared where they had taken flight and flown to who knows where. At least it told me I was in the right habitat.
On my descent back down the mountain, I found an elk shed at tree line and some spruce grouse further down, so I had something to show for my day’s effort.
Day two I followed the old road to its highest elevation so I could begin my hunt right at tree line this time. Shortly after leaving my truck, I encountered fresh grizzly tracks in the snow. I was thankful that ptarmigan are supposed to be found above tree line so hopefully no surprise close encounters with bears would happen. Sure enough, not long after I spotted a grizzly sow and cub feeding up ahead at the base of a shale slope. Giving them a wide berth, I continued to climb. Suddenly, almost from my feet, a single completely white bird spooked from the snow caulked boulders and headed up the slope. I was prepared thankfully, and I dropped it with a single ounce of nickel-plated #7’s. At the shot another bird spooked and headed across the slope which I was able to drop as well. I had seen where both had dropped but I was shocked at how hard they were to find. I have never seen an animal whose camouflage so perfectly concealed them in their environment. Given the time of year, they had almost completely molted into their white winter feathers, only a few small brown feathers still peeked out from the plumage on their backs.
After that first successful hunt, I have since been able to find higher concentrations of white-tailed ptarmigan in areas accessible by designated ATV trails. But I feel so blessed to live in a place where white-tailed deer, white-tailed jackrabbits, and even white-tailed ptarmigan can all be hunted in such accessible areas. So much of what makes for an enjoyable hunt in my opinion has little to do with the size of the animal being pursued—it’s the habitat, the climate, the pursuit of an elusive prey and the other species you encounter along the way that contribute to the overall experience. I wasn’t stressing over whether or not a bighorn ram I was glassing after years of searching was of legal size. Or the dilemma as you have an elk in your crosshairs but you are a long way from your truck, and you know if you pull the trigger your next couple of days will be spent on knee-destroying, pack-out trips. Don’t get me wrong, I know I have elk and moose hunts in my future, but I have sure grown to appreciate the small things as well.
For the previous Reader Story, click here.
