If someone asked, what would you say is the most dangerous, scary or even combative bird in the North?
While you mull that question over, I have a tale to tell. I was out in the bush in March. It was sunny but cold. I was on snowshoes putting in a trail so I could spot some drill holes, while the rest of the crew was getting camp set up. I came over the white expanse of a hill and started down its leeward side, where the snow had really drifted.
Breaking trail on snowshoes can be a slow and laborious process. Meaning it’s a lot of work. My mind was on that. One step at a time. Suddenly the world in front of me exploded into a turmoil of motion, noise, chaos, and confusion. Was it an explosion, an eruption of some sort, an earthquake or maybe even a meteor impact? My mind was racing, then I saw that a dozen ptarmigans had burst out of the snow and headed off in all directions like super-charged missiles. My heart was racing, and a shot of adrenaline was coursing through my veins.
In cold weather, ptarmigans will literally bury themselves in soft snow, making their own snow caves and will sleep there in peace unless they get disturbed by some poor unsuspecting soul. As I trudged back to camp I did wonder: “How many people have died of a heart attack because of those wily ptarmigan?” By the time someone finds the deceased, all indications of a ptarmigan attack would be snowed over, so officially it would all be blamed on poor health.
They don’t warn you about this in any of the bird or wildlife books I have read but believe me they can give you quite a fright. A fellow I worked with had an even better tale. He was trudging back to camp with a very heavy packsack, one winter’s day, following a snowshoe trail. A flock burst out of the snow and gave him quite a fright. He lost his balance and fell over into the deep snow off the trail. Luckily, he landed on his side and not face down or he might have choked to death on a mouth full of snow.
Now, if you have ever fallen over into deep snow with snowshoes on, you will know it is no easy task getting back up. First, he had to squirm around for a few minutes trying to get the heavy pack off. Then he couldn’t get his feet that were strapped into the snowshoes under him. So he had to lie on his back, bend his knees up and with the snowshoes over his head reach up to undo the bindings. Once that was done, he could get up. He had to put his snowshoes down on the trail, step into them, redo the harnesses, then sling his heavy pack back up. That’s when he lost his balance again and fell down on the other side of the trail. It took him close to an hour all told to get back on the trail heading to camp.
He described it as a major ordeal, and I believe him. So, if you are out snowshoeing or skiing be warned that at any moment a flock of ptarmigan might erupt in front of you. It is not just in the bush you must watch out for them. One year a vehicle driving down the Vee Lake Road, suddenly had a flock of ptarmigan come racing right at them. One even bounced off their front windshield. Ptarmigans aren’t the most graceful or agile flyers so a flock coming right at you can be quite scary. The driver swerved and went off the road, into the snow and hit a small tree.
In the field, I have been chased by an angry Canada goose and been dive-bombed by terns and gulls. Had a snowy owl strike my head to warn me away from its young. So yes, some birds can be aggressive or ornery, but those clever, innocent-looking ptarmigans probably gave me a real fright simply by bursting out of the snow.