High Bush

Cranberries earlier in the fall.

 A friend mentioned that a few years ago visiting bird hunters had found a parcel of grouse in windrows that divided several large rectangular fields beyond his home. His story went on to mention that the birds had been feeding on high bush cranberries. 
      Driving the rough town road that bisected some of those fields I noticed the bright red of high bush cranberries and made a mental note to give those windrows a try.
     My opportunity came along on a windy cold day when frozen snow covered the ground. My two wirehairs were wound up and oblivious to the wind chill. Big fields meant run big. A hundred yards from the first windrow I could see the red of the cranberries and headed toward it. The younger of the two dogs was two hundred yards away scouting a different line of trees.
     The windrows were made up of all sorts of weeds and trees. Some softwoods stood thirty feet tall along with maples and birch and alders and poplar. In the spaces between the larger stems grew raspberries, blackberries, and all sorts of tangles.     
     A ruffed grouse hopped up onto a branch while I was still forty or fifty yards away. My older wirehair had worked around the other side of the bushes and obviously the bird was aware of her. Then the dog froze. I hurried.

Maggie inhaling grouse scent.

     A grouse exploded out of the weeds over the dog and the one on the branch shot out right over my head. I twisted like a corkscrew, trying to mount the gun and see the bird. A late shot saluted the grouse as it disappeared into the trees.
     Breaking open the gun to replace the spent cartridge was timed, of course, with another grouse leaving out the back of the line of trees. It would have been an almost impossible shot anyway.
     By then the two dogs were working the windrow a bit downwind and I was about to move on. It was much too cold to stand still. Thinking there might be another bird hiding among the shrubbery, I took a couple of steps toward where the grouse had launched.
     A third grouse burst out the back of the trees and another twisted out over my head. Again, I gyrated and missed!
     I can shut my eyes and still see those birds flying over the wide open field, just like a painting.