Father and Son Alberta Horseback hunt - 2025

2rocky

2rocky

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In 2024 I accompanied my father and uncle on their first Alberta mule deer hunt where they both got respectable farmland mule deer bucks the week of Thanksgiving. My father was happy with his deer but really craved more of the backcountry horseback style hunting we had been doing since about 2001 in the West. With help from the folks at Hunting Fool, he booked them on a 6-day horseback adventure with Timberline Guiding based out of Sundre, Alberta.

A little background. My father is 83 years old this year and an avid horseback rider. He has served as the trail boss for an annual multi day trail ride in the Sierra Nevada mountains in California and is quite at home on the back of a horse. After a 30-year career as a dairy farmer, he enjoyed annual hunting trips out of state. Sometimes with outfitters or bringing our own stock to the mountains. He and my now 79-year-old uncle covered a lot of ground in Wyoming, Nevada, Montana, and Idaho for deer elk and antelope, adding North Dakota and Kansas for pheasants with their English Pointers over the last 25 years.

At their age, Western State point schemes were not in their favor for making the most of their time experiencing big game hunts annually. That is why Alberta mule deer held such an appeal. Outfitter allocated or over the counter licenses guaranteed a chance to pursue deer at a time of year that would require double digit years of preference points in their usual haunts. Paul Pierunek of Timberline Guiding had a 2-person opportunity in the first week of November that fit the bill.
 
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It was the spring prior to the hunt that my uncle broke the news he would be unable to make the trip because of another event he had scheduled at the same time, and he offered me his spot. After calculating my projected vacation time at work, I determined I could fit in the 12 days total of travel and hunting.

As we had many years before my father and I made our preparations and loaded up his pickup with all the gear we would need for an extended hunt in the backcountry away from roads, phone signals, and city lights. We road tripped over 2 days from our North Coast sea level home in California to Banff where we enjoyed the view from the top of Sulphur Mountain via the Gondola before continuing to the Pierunek Family home base a couple hours away.

We were greeted by a couple of sleek, athletic, well-mannered and friendly Bluetick lion hounds named Jinks and Jet. Paul showed us our cabin for the night before we went and caught our mounts to take to the trailhead the next morning, and his daughter Sidney joined us. Sid would be our cook and wrangler for the 6 days we were in camp. Paul’s wife, Sue served us dinner and we retired for the evening.

 
The next morning, we saddled up four riding horses, two pack horses, and harnessed a pair of draft horses that would pull the wagon which held some horse hay, feed and duffle. Sid’s Redbone hound Dillon joined the party as the head of cook shack security and trotted along side the procession for most of the 10-mile trek into camp (except the river crossings). We arrived at the well setup camp with tent cabins, cook tent, a generator, horse corrals and a heated tack tent. It was surrounded with a 5-strand electric fence to keep out big toothy critters. Shortly after arriving we had a fire in our tent stove and a hot dinner in our bellies. We noticed some clouds building and a north wind spit some raindrops and rain/snow mix as the sun set behind the mountain ridge
 
Day 1

After a night of wind and rain pattering on the tent, morning came before daylight with a hot breakfast and horses saddled and rain gear on. As we rode out for our 4-mile journey to the hunting area the horses walked with purpose and breathed fast as we ascended the ridge next to the riverside camp. After cresting the ridge and dropping into the drainage that would lead to our lookout point it became apparent in the morning light that the low clouds spitting rain and later snow were not going to let us glass effectively. We huddled around a small fire in the valley floor hoping it would lift, but by early afternoon we conceded the day to the deer and returned to camp wet and cold but quickly warmed by our tent cabin woodstove. After another hot supper we retired with snow and wind pelting the tent throughout the night.

 
Day 2

We left camp a little later due to the time change and alarm clocks not being adjusted. As soon as we gained elevation, we noticed that snow accumulation at higher elevations had made for some great tracking conditions. Upon tying up we set to glassing a distant burned ridge that Paul joked was like “trying to find a sleepin’ flea on the back of a porcupine”. Time after time Paul glassed up animals that my father and I struggled to see through our 10X binos. The cold and wind made it hard to sit still to glass, and so Paul made a fire to warm up our stiff hands and joints that were feeling the effects of 20 miles of horseback riding in the previous 48 hours. We spotted some distant bucks, but nothing that was big enough to go after where they were. Paul advised us that at this early pre-rut phase bucks were roaming over broad areas looking for does so a buck we saw today in an inaccessible place could be in a stalkable spot tomorrow. We rode back to camp as a nearly full moon rose over the glistening snow and illuminated our trail back to the inviting camp by the river.

 
Day 3

Dad decided that he was going to take a rest day in camp as Paul and I left in the dark and went up an adjacent drainage to glass a broader swath of country. The vistas that I viewed as we climbed up along the rugged peaks of the Canadian Rockies took my breath away (It could have been the 7800-foot elevation as well though). After glassing by the fire, we decided to ride cross-country back to our previous glassing spot. To get there we had to get off and lead the horses down through several downfall trees. The snow and the uncertain footing, while a challenge, was handled well by our riding and pack horses. I was amazed at how they maneuvered through tight spots, uncertain footing, ice and tree branches that clutched at our legs and saddles. We made it to our glassing spot unscathed and glassed our burned target area retreating to warm up at another fire on the backside of the hill when the wind and cold became too much.

One of the highlights of the day was finding the track of a cougar who had walked down our trail and melted the snow where he had lain on his belly. Paul surmised he could have been watching us as we rode home the night before. This combined with seeing a wide racked shooter buck in the distance just before dark buoyed our spirits as we rode back to camp in the dark, greeted by the waxing moonrise.

 
Day 4

Rejuvenated by his rest day, Dad joined us as we climbed back up our glassing hill on a bluebird morning. On our way up, we bumped into buck feeding, and in our surprise neither Dad nor I had a plan for how we would handle a surprise encounter. Paul counseled us on what we should be prepared to do, and my father instructed me to be the shooter in that case. He cited my faster reactions and better hearing for whispered instructions, and I mentally prepared myself for that opportunity.

Given the pleasant sunlight and calm wind, we explored other nooks and crannies around the ridge and made the most of the sun’s warmth. Paul showed of his mountain goat legs and made a broad circle, spotting a buck below the crest of the hill below my father and I . We never saw it, but Paul made a mental note for later. We glassed up a few smaller bucks in the late morning light, but the afternoon had few deer sightings. We surmised the growing moon had animals actively feeding at night and we all mentally hoped for over cast skies and wind overnight to keep the deer hunkered down in hopes of a morning lull to lure them out in to glassing and shooting range.
 
Day 5

With the day priors fumbled opportunity fresh in my mind I spent 4 miles thinking about how I would react if we rode into a buck again on our way to our glassing knob. My eyes scanned the horizon as the third horse in line behind Paul and his packhorse. Just like the day before Paul spotted a big bodied buck feeding just over the crest of the hill. In my excitement I bailed off and stepped into a snowdrift on legs that were fatigued from the day before and the hour ride in the cold. They collapsed on me and my full backpack with tripod and spotter pulled me off balance and I found myself on my back looking up at my startled horse.

I clambered to my feet as the buck fed out of sight and remounted sheepishly. We rode a few hundred yards more until we spotted the buck again and I climbed off more cautiously, handed Paul the lead to my horse and advanced towards the feeding buck. When he raised his head broadside at 150 yards I tried to steady my breathing and took the broadside shot off hand. I saw the buck flinch and he moved slowly out of sight. I advanced slowly up the ridge in the direction the buck disappeared in a few steps at a time, mainly from the effort to catch my breath as I climbed the incline. A few hundred yards further, I saw his white rump patch in the willows slightly below me, took aim and fired at him on a quartering angle. This elicited a dramatic reaction as he reared up, then stumbled, and collapsed and slid a few yards down the hill. The 165 grain Hornady CX bullet from my .300 Win Mag anchored him on the spot entering at the rear of the ribs and travelling into the chest cavity.

At this point, it was 8:00 am and my father and Paul continued up the hill to see if they could find any other bucks who may be out feeding or bedded in a visible spot. I went to work taking field photos and breaking down the buck until they returned, windblown and weary at 11:00 am. After a round of back patting and handshakes we loaded the quarters, back straps, ribs, heart, liver, tenderloins and neck meat in the panniers on Cisco the Pack horse. The head, antlers and cape made a top pack and Paul cinched it all down with a well-practiced sling and hitch combination for the load to ride off the mountain securely.

We spent some time glassing from a protected spot before finally heading back to camp early to celebrate the day and finish caping my deer.

 
Day 6

The final day of the hunt found us on the trail well before light again with the intention to continue up the drainage further and glass from below where we had spotted a bedded buck a couple days earlier but lost track of him. The clouds and sun created a spectacular sunrise as we glassed burned hillsides from the valley floor. Shortly after sunrise, Paul spotted a buck feeding up the canyon about 550 yards away. The goal was to move into 400 yards or less without spooking the buck, so we tied up the horses and my father and I moved to an angle out of the bucks view to make the advance. Since we were in the valley floor, the willow brush and snow made for challenging footing. Our progress was slow and frustrating as we tried to find the most accessible route. Finally we cleared the willows and saw Paul on his way to join us. He had kept an eye on the buck from our tieup point and directed us to a down tree to take a shooting rest and try to reacquire the feeding buck. After a few minutes Paul’s eagle eyes and binoculars spotted the buck further up the ridge and amongst the standing dead burned timber. After repeated directions from Paul, we finally caught sight of the buck as he stared at us from 300 yards. Dad took aim and fired as the buck quartered toward us. Paul and I both heard the bullet from Dad’s .264 Win Mag hit. The buck turned and went back towards the area we first spotted him; a few follow up shots later, the final lethal shot entered behind the right shoulder and the buck piled up on the steep hillside.

As Paul and I went back to get the horses, dad made his way towards the buck on foot. We caught him after he crossed through the creek and we rode as far up the steep hillside as the horses could make it before we got off and maneuvered up the steep and slippery face to the buck. Seeing Dad’s facial expressions of joy and fatigue as he reached down and held the heavy and symmetrical 4x4 antlers with tall eye guards is something I’ll treasure.

There had been times in the week where dad and I had silently doubted if we would be able to fill both tags. At 83 years old, Dad noticed the effect of the steep high elevation terrain, coupled with the cold that sapped energy out of both of us. We were thankful for the good mountain horses who carried us over the challenging ground for a total of just under 70 miles over the course of the week. I was proud of the way Dad persevered and remembered all the years of hunting together when I struggled to keep up with his confident stride as he was teaching me to hunt.

After pictures and handshakes, Paul went to work skinning caping and breaking down the buck. After a sack lunch looking out over the valley and mountain ranges in the distance we loaded up the deer and returned to camp in the midday light jubilant in our success and forever in love with Alberta and her majestic mountain muleys.

 
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