Canada

Take the Canadian Firearms Safety Course for stress-free border crossings.

by Michael D. Faw

American hunters traveling to Canada often encounter long lines, confusing firearms regulations, and hidden fees. But if you hunt in Canada often, there's a way to avoid all of that.

Now you can prepare ahead, and cross into Canada with a firearm while dealing with less paperwork and fewer hassles. The key to easier border crossings is to complete a Canadian Firearms Safety Course (in Canada), pass a written test, and then file an application for a possession and acquisition license under the Canadian Firearms Act. After you pay a $55 test fee, and then a $70 application fee (at the time this was written), you'll receive a card that will permit quick processing through lines when you reach the border and want to cross with your firearm. The at-the-border fees will also be waived.

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One last chance for a trophy Dall sheep on a lonely peak in Canada's Yukon.

by Diana Rupp

I had taken only a half-dozen cautious steps down the ravine when I realized it was a lot steeper than it looked. The loose rocks were the real problem; they rolled under my feet with each step. I also had to balance the new weight in my pack. The fresh, boned-out meat felt warm against the small of my back, and adrenaline still coursed through my bloodstream.

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A hunt in the unspoiled British Columbia wilderness.

by Ron Spomer

A moose wallow will fool you, first time. It looks something like a whitetail scrape, just a muddy patch stinking of urine, sometimes with a track in it, more often smoothed by rolling shoulders. We found plenty of them in wet meadows and willow sloughs on the mountain flanks above camp. That first afternoon the British Columbia sun beamed happily, if uncharacteristically, on October woods, the willows already naked, the dwarf birches barely clinging to their last rusty leaves, the sedges yellow. It was late fall at this latitude, but the temperature suggested summer. It wouldn’t last.

“Lots of sign. Let’s try a call,” Dustin whispered. The twenty-two-year-old carried himself like a seasoned wilderness guide, but he looked like he should be dating someone’s teenage daughter.

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A snowy adventure high in the heart
of the Canadian Rockies

Story and photos by Diana Rupp

“The trouble with goats,” said Ryan Damstrom, “is you have to kill them where they live.”

Ryan, a thirty-year-old veteran sheep and goat guide, made the comment cheerfully and mostly for my benefit, since he moved up and down mountains almost as easily as his quarry. He had set up his spotting scope atop a snow-covered boulder and he rested a gloved hand atop it as he spoke, studying the peak that loomed above us. Shin-deep in snow beside the boulder, clutching my binocular, I let my eyes travel up the spruce-timbered slope, then on up the open, snow-blanketed face that loomed above timberline to a small cave nestled in the base of a sheer rock cliff that jutted straight up to form the peak of the mountain.

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