Encouraged by this success, we continued uphill in search of more prey. I found that my initial fatigue from the steep climb had been forgotten now that the adrenaline kicked in and I was caught up in the thrill of the hunt. We entered a shallow gill and Bjössi suggested that we should scout along opposite sides of it because the ptarmigan were most likely among the rocks on either side. As I walked on, I noticed one of the snow holes that these birds create to shelter from the frost and icy wind at night. The entrance was fairly large – big enough for me to insert my head for a closer inspection – and led off sideways to left and right with two tunnels long enough to accommodate several ptarmigan. I don’t know whether they cluster together for warmth, but it would seem the logical and instinctive course to take. Resuming my scan of the landscape, it occurred to me that our prey could well be lying quietly in the middle of the gill and laughing at us as we passed by on either side. I remembered my military training from long ago - scan carefully, looking for any unusual shapes - and was rewarded by the sight of one bird’s head reverse-silhouetted in white against a darker rock about thirty metres away.
Eventually, at last light, we got back to the car. We had bagged eight birds in all; not a particularly impressive day’s shooting but, as another shooter had said to me, “It’s not about the bag; it is about the fun of looking for the ptarmigan and having a good day’s walk in the snow.” I felt mildly exhilarated and very tired, and I remember that I slept very soundly that night.