Late Fall

     It has been a great bird season for you, with two limits of ruffed grouse and plenty of excellent dog work. The real world called you home the end of the second week of October, but now you are back in the woods and the leaves are long gone. Things couldn’t be better.

     You hunt this same piece of cover that you did a little over two weeks ago when you found a dozen grouse. Today, with an inch of new snow on the ground and the weeds bent over, the forest seems to be shades of gray. Where are the grouse? What happened? Where did they all go?

     The ruffed grouse have moved. It happens every year. The edges of that clearcut, up high on the hill, where you found so many birds early in October now feel empty. For three hours you have walked and not found a single ruffed grouse…not even a track in the newly fallen snow. Your dog, Banjo, is working her butt off and is as enthusiastic as when you left your truck, but you don’t feel that way.

     You encounter a stream and follow it downhill to where it slips through a culvert beneath a logging road. Still, not a single bird. Crossing the road, you continue down the hill to where the hardwood stand peters out to mix with softwood trees. Banjo’s tail is a blur until she locks up on point.

     As you approach, a grouse steps off a small knoll and disappears down the hill deep into a darkness of the softwood trees, almost like a sky diver stepping out of an airplane. The precipitous drop-off discourages any attempt to follow, but seeing a single grouse has lifted your spirits. You turn to the left to follow the edge where the softwoods and hardwoods mingle, heading back towards your truck.

     Green ferns still poke up through the new snow.  In places a ground cover with roundish palm-sized green leaves shows through the white. A bird flushes from a little over head-high from a fir tree, startling both you and Banjo.

     And it brings a smile to your face.

     In a tight little valley someone has cut a couple of acres of hardwoods trees that abut a stand of hemlock. Alders cluster in a wet area. Poplar and maple sprouts are everywhere. Raspberry vines tug at your pants.

     Banjo goes on point, but before you can walk in front of her a grouse rockets up from the ground and another blasts out of a tree. With a prayer you swing on the one coming out of the tree and see it fold, not even aware that you pulled the trigger.

     Later, back at the truck, you will clean that bird and find its crop filled with buds, catkins from alders, and a few flecks of green foliage.

     The grouse had moved. With the cold weather coming they sought out the shelter of the softwood trees. The seeds and berries that they ate earlier in the fall, up higher on the hill, are gone. Catkins and buds will be their winter diet. When green ground-covers are available they will eat those too.

     It happens every year. As the colder weather settles in, ruffed grouse seek the shelter of the softwood trees. Look along the edge of a softwood swamp. The alders and birches supply plenty to eat with safety nearby. Pockets of dense softwoods around recent cuttings can be good too.

     The birds are there, you just have to work for them. Isn’t that what grouse hunting is all about.