Another Season Ends

 

Yesterday, I took our two German wirehair pointers to one of my favorite out-of-the-way town roads to hunt. The road usually is unplowed during the winter, but this year the town is keeping that road plowed. We hunted on the uphill side in familiar country, 
        The woods starts out as spruce and fir trees, but then gives way to young hardwoods coming up in an old cutting. A storm earlier in the fall uprooted or broke off dozens big softwood trees. Scattered clumps of softwoods remain, left behind by the loggers and creating what I consider excellent cover for ruffed grouse. Red twig dogwood and an occasional wild apple tree grow in many of the openings. We worked through the cover up to my favorite little clearing, where there’s a field with several ancient apple trees. The previous fall my last bird of the season fell there in front of my Maggie's point. 
        We then dropped down into a steep gulley beneath huge softwood trees to cross a swollen brook. The plan was to hunt across the top of the field. and then down the other side of the brook. In the unusually warm weather, the woods looked much like it would in April, with eight inches of snow in places and bare ground beneath softwood trees. Melting snow had raised the brook, but not enough that it couldn't be waded in my Muck boots. Wearing long johns, I was overdressed for the forty degree temperatures. Just above where we crossed large fir tree trunks crisscrossed the stream like giant pickup sticks.

        On the other side of the stream the cover started out much the same, but at the top of the field the woods changes to old field-grown softwoods with apple trees spread out between them. Further up the hill is a ten year old clear cut. where we had found woodcock on other hunts, but they had long gone by the end of December. Maggie, my older wirehair, had a grouse flush wild ahead of her and she went into her usual high pitched excited yip-yip voice. It looked like great cover to hunt next fall when there still may be apples around. Rather than turn down the hill we continued to the east.
        When we intersected a logging road that runs uphill into a large piece of private property, we headed down it. Nobody had been up the road since the last snow and the few inches of heavy wet snow remained unplowed.
        While the dogs were working cover ahead of me and to the left, a gray phase grouse bolted from beneath two tall poplar trees on my right, disappearing into the forest to never be seen again. The droppings on the ground indicated the grouse had been eating buds in those poplars. The dogs worked the scent and I thought they might find another bird, but no luck.
        When we reached the town road, I took the dogs across to the low side, but someone shooting a twenty-two not far away made me decide to call it a day. The snow and soaked squishy  ground made difficult walking and I had enough. I’m sure the girls would have hunted longer, but they had a pretty good workout by then too.
        The day ended with no shots fired, no birds harmed.