I came to Altay for the skiing. Everyone does. The powder at Koktokay and the night runs at Jiangjunshan are why this corner of Xinjiang is suddenly on ski maps from Tokyo to Zurich. But on my second trip, a local friend in Burqin tossed out a line that changed the week: ‘You ski in the morning. In the afternoon, come watch the eagles.’ I had read a line or two about eagle hunting in Xinjiang, but I had no idea the tradition sat right next to the resorts I was paying to ride.
That February afternoon is still one of the stranger and better things I have done in the region. This is a practical write-up of what winter eagle hunting in Altay actually is, where you can see it, the awkward ethical questions nobody puts in the brochures, and how to bolt it onto a ski trip without wasting a day.
Why it pairs so naturally with a ski trip
Altay markets itself as the cradle of human skiing, with rock art near Altay city showing figures on rudimentary skis that archaeologists date back thousands of years. So the eagle hunt is not a random tourist add-on; it is part of the same winter culture that produced the slopes you came to ride. That continuity is why a ski trip here feels different from, say, an Alps trip where the mountain and the village below are culturally separate. Here the hunt, the herding, the skiing, and the cold all come from the same root. I found that framing made the afternoon land harder than a standalone activity would have.
What eagle hunting in Altay is
The practice is called burkitshi in Kazakh: the hunting of small game using a trained golden eagle. It is not a Xinjiang invention. The broader tradition of falconry was listed by UNESCO as intangible cultural heritage, and the Kazakh form has been practiced across Central Asia for generations. In China it survives most visibly in the Altay Prefecture, especially in Qinghe County and among Kazakh communities around Altay city and Burqin.
The birds are golden eagles, caught as juveniles from the wild and trained over a couple of years. A female golden eagle can carry a wingspan over two meters and weigh more than six kilos, which is why the hunter’s glove has that thick padded palm and why his forearm develops a permanent set to it. A skilled hunter works an eagle for roughly a decade before releasing it back to breed. The hunt itself, in winter, targets foxes and hares across open snowfields. The spectacle a visitor sees is usually a demonstration: the eagle launched from the glove, sweeping low and fast to a lure or a trained animal.
Where you can actually see it
Don’t expect a ticket booth. This is not a theme-park show. The realistic options:
- Qinghe County (青河) — the heartland. It sits northeast of Altay city, nearer the border, and its Kazakh communities keep the strongest living eagle-hunting tradition in the prefecture. Some guesthouses and local guides can arrange a visit to a hunter’s home or a winter demonstration.
- Around Altay city and Burqin — easier to reach if you are already skiing Jiangjunshan or basing in Burqin for the Koktokay transfer. Ask at your guesthouse rather than hunting online, where listings are thin and often stale.
- Seasonal festivals — occasionally held in winter, these draw multiple hunters and are the best chance to see several eagles at once. Dates shift, so confirm locally a week out.
The honest version: you will see the real thing only if you go through a person, not a website. I arranged mine through the guesthouse owner in Burqin, who called a cousin. That is the pipeline.
The afternoon I remember
We drove maybe forty minutes out of Burqin to a frozen valley. The hunter, a man in his fifties who had worked eagles since he was a boy, wore a fox-fur hat and a coat stiff with cold. His eagle weighed more than I expected; the glove he used had a thick leather pad because, as he put it through translation, ‘she does not know her own strength.’
He released her toward a lure dragged on a rope across the snow. She came in low, wings barely moving, and the speed was the part that silenced everyone. Then he fed her a scrap of meat and let us stand close. He did not perform for tips. He answered questions, laughed at my terrible Kazakh, and packed up when the light went flat. I paid him directly, through the guesthouse, a few hundred yuan. No receipt, no drama.
The part the brochures skip
I will not pretend this is uncomplicated. Taking wild juvenile eagles and training them is contested, even inside Kazakhstan and Mongolia, where debates about welfare run hot. China’s registered hunters operate under cultural-heritage protection, and the released-bird tradition is real, but ‘heritage’ and ‘animal welfare’ are not the same sentence.
My own line: I am comfortable watching a demonstration run by a registered local hunter whose bird will be released, and I am not comfortable with anything that looks like a photo mill or a bird that looks underfed or tethered in a way that reads as distress. If something feels off, leave. The skiing will still be there.
What to wear and what to bring
Because you stand still in extreme cold, dress for a colder day than you would ski. I wore my full ski base layers, a down mid-layer, a windproof shell, and insulated boots, and I was still glad of the chemical hand warmers I had stuffed in my pockets. Bring a thermos; the hunter will likely already have brick tea going, but your own is welcome. A small gift of tea or fruit for the household is a polite touch and costs nothing. If you plan to photograph, bring spare batteries and keep them inside your coat — lithium dies fast at minus twenty.
On photographing it without being a pest
Ask before you raise the camera. Use a long lens and shoot from a respectful distance; don’t crowd the bird or use flash, which spooks eagles. And don’t post the hunter’s full name and phone number online afterward. The point of going through a person is a quiet local arrangement, not the start of a tourist pipeline that turns a heritage practice into a conveyor belt. I took maybe a dozen frames and showed them to him on the back of the camera, which he seemed to enjoy more than the photos themselves.
Pairing it with a ski trip
The clean way to do this: base in Burqin or Altay city, ski Koktokay or Jiangjunshan in the morning, and reserve one afternoon for the eagle visit. Burqin works especially well because it is already your transfer hub for Koktokay. If you are skiing the Jikepulin side of Altay, the same Burqin base applies.
Keep the eagle hunt to a half day. The cold is serious — we are talking minus twenty or lower — and standing in an open field watching birds is colder than riding a lift. Dress as if for the mountain’s worst day, then add a layer.
Practical notes that matter
Best months: December through February, when the eagles are in winter condition and the fields are frozen solid.
Cost: budget a few hundred yuan paid to the hunter via your guesthouse; treat it as a tip-plus-gift, not a ticket price.
Language: you will need Chinese or a translator. English is rare out here. Our about page explains how we run trips in the region if you want help lining this up.
Camera: bring a long lens if you have one; phones struggle with the speed and the low light.
Respect: ask before handling anything, and don’t crowdsource the hunter’s contact online afterward.
Is it worth a ski-day?
For me, yes, because I had already skied the region twice and wanted the texture of the place, not just the runs. If this is your first Xinjiang ski trip and your list is already full, skip it and come back. But if you have an open afternoon near Burqin and a tolerance for cold and ambiguity, it is the most memorable non-ski thing I did in Altay. Plan it through a person, keep your expectations modest, and you will likely come away with a story rather than a staged photo.
For more on the wider region and how the pieces fit together, start at our Xinjiang skiing category or reach out through the contact page and we can point you to a reliable local guide.