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.