Now, a year later, it was sunny and crisp. The leaves were down for the most part and it was a grouse hunting day if there ever was one.  It was Sid’s turn to hunt and we worked to the east between a beaver flooding and the trail. She found birds and while she was doing her best, none were holding for her until we reached a distinctive place where the cover changed. The trees became a little more open and the fur tree thickets slightly more scattered. It was the kind of spot that almost yelled “get ready!” to a grouse hunter.

Sid was just to my right when she locked up in a point only thirty or forty feet away. I moved in front of her and a big red-phase grouse flushed from nearly under my feet and crossed the opening in front of us giving a classic straight away shot, easy, except when I pulled the trigger the shell went “poof” and the shot charge followed by the wad lobbed out the barrel like a kindergarten baseball throw. Obviously there was no powder in that shell and only the pressure of the primer firing cleared the barrel.

The bird showing brilliant color with the afternoon sun behind us disappeared into the thickness.

I saw that same grouse in that spot more times that fall. He never ventured outside his half-acre as far as I could tell. His skill in avoiding being held by the dog or caught in the open beat us every time.

The following year, 2010,  found us back in the Coyote again and I remembered the big red bird and wondered if he had survived. We hunted the cover just like we had the year before moving from west to east and when we got to his home turf he was there. I don’t remember the exact circumstances of how he beat us that day or on a couple of more occasions that followed on other days, but the red bird always won.

On the final hunt of the year I circled the Coyote going counter-clockwise following some pasture land away from the beaver flooding first. Coming from the east was different, not that it should have made a difference. The red grouse heard us and wild-flushed ahead and we followed.  My guess on where he went was correct and again he wild-flushed ahead this time breaking hard to the left, leaving the thickness and going into a more open young aspen area. Birdie, swung wide left and I arced to the right as we entered the aspen stand. Either the grouse had flown a long way and crossed the road to security, or he was here somewhere near.

Birdie’s beeper started sounding in a slightly thicker brushy finger that stretched across in front of me. The bird had to be there. I slowed down and eased forward to the right knowing that the red bird was smart and would walk quickly away from the dog on the left. With Birdie pointing sixty feet away the red bird flushed in the open near me.

This year I hunted the Coyote cover several times and each time I remembered that bird and how good he was at being a grouse. The struggle that wild animals have to survive isn’t all that different that what we go through. Maybe the stakes are higher for the grouse, but then again maybe they aren’t.

Lot of chickens - no eggs for this hunter today. Here a couple of shells that have been reloaded a number of times with one ounce of 7 1/2 shot pushed out the barrel at 1250 fps. Now if the birds would fly in the open and give me fair warning not to be in some awkward position I might do a little better with these loads.

About the time I start thinking that this grouse hunting game is easy I get a lesson in the reality of the sport. Today I had 18 grouse flushes, four shots, and zero grouse  in the bag. At least the woodcock were good to me, although I missed quite a few of them too on the way to a limit of three birds.

The bright side was the great dog work and classy points. Birdie ran hard for almost five hours this morning and didn’t quit, but when  at the end of the day I opened the dog box for her to jump out of the truck she looked at me pleadingly and I gently lifted her and set her on the ground where she walked stiffly to go get a drink.

This afternoon Birdie and I were exploring good looking grouse cover when she went on point facing a clump of spruce in an aspen area. It looked like a classic grouse set-up. With Birdie on one side I carefully circled the cover expecting at any moment for a grouse to blow out. Stopping in the best position I waited knowing that a grouse would loose its nerve before I did and flush.

Standing there I heard a rustle in the leaves on my right and looked down to see a woodcock walk by only five or six feet away. It was flash-fanning its tail, showing off the white tips of its tail feathers as if to say he knew I was there and wanted me to know that he was in charge. The woodcock moved into the spruce thicket  and Birdie stood her ground on the other side.

I walked in an the bird flushed and flew off without a shot being fired; I already had my limit of three.

A limit of woodcock and seven grouse give meaning to the words blessed and perfect.

While we didn’t see big numbers of grouse today, I did see nearly twenty and a sack full of woodcock.

Tonight the northern lights are pulsing down on the north woods in pink and pale colors and I’m wondering how they will affect hunting tomorrow. It looks like a good day ahead.

A typical red phase grouse tail is held next to the unusual grouse for comparison.Notice the red ruff on the grouse on the left compared to the traditional black ruff on the right.

I shot an unusual grouse this morning. while looking like a ruffed grouse in every way, its coloration was different than any I had seen before. Generally grouse are either red or gray phase birds with some being a mixture of the two. It is always part of the grouse hunting game to look at the bird and appreciate their unique colors. But almost always they are either red or gray with grey being predominate.

Six of us, all serious grouse hunter looked at the bird and wondered how it got its plumage and no one had a definitive answer other than it was a most unusual bird.

Sid's lips get all puffy and so do her eyebrows. And both dogs legs and chests have the hair worn off, but if you ask them if they want to go to the woods the answer is always yes!

The dogs have four days off, much to their dissapointment. They need the rest time and I suppose I do too. Our yard needs its first raking and the to-do list is long, but if I get cracking and get it done  we’re going back to the woods soon.

Keeping a dog in shape is a challenge. They lose weight, get scratched, gouged, and bug-bit. They start the season a little on the fat side and end it looking like  bone bags held together by muscle and cord. For some reason they don’t eat as much and I have to tempt them with fancied-up dishes. In the morning they get what I call a protein treat, which is a home made meat ball bigger than a golf ball. I make them by mixing their high protein dry dog food with burger and then cooking it on a cookie sheet in the oven. As it cooks the juices from the meat get soaked up in the dry food and not much is lost.  The dogs love them and it helps them I think.

Because they hunt so hard, for hours on end I’ve found a pattern that helps extend the number of days they can go. Here is how it goes. Dog one starts its turn in the afternoon, usually a shorter two hour hunt. Then, after  nights rest they go again in the morning for up to three hours before getting 24 hours of rest. Dog two then starts in the afternoon for its turn, and follows the same pattern. It works, except that the one who is resting complains bitterly about being left behind.

In the evening Sid snores loudly and Birdie heads for her dog box where she listens carefully to what is going on. Let something drop on the kitchen floor, or have her hear me sit down to read and she’s out of her box like a rocket looking for a snack or a pat. And if  I don’t pat her  like she wants she just bats me with her nose until I do.

An speaking of noses, I wondered why Birdie’s nose was all swollen on the bridge. Then one day I saw what she was doing. When running at high speed she has learned to lift branches in her way with her nose so she can go under. Not all branches are small and she’ll take on limbs as big as a broom handle and some don’t budge easily and that explains the banged up nose.

Get out and enjoy what you can, so when you look back someday when you no longer can, you don’t see a trail of opportunity lost.

Travis and Mark and some dandy steelies.

Here is what these two guys who know the fall fishing ropes wrote.

“Mark and I caught these in just a little over three hours of fishing on Sat. Oct. 8th out of Glen Arbor, Mich.  The bigger fish are steelhead trout while the smaller ones are two year old king salmon.  Mark’s fish was right at 12 lbs. and the one I have was 10.5 lbs.  The “little” steelhead was a shade over 9lbs.   We also caught a couple little one year “shaker” salmon that we got back into the lake. “

I get to meet a bunch of over-the-top fishermen like these guys and feel lucky for it. All of you, thanks for sharing your successes.

If the weather gives you a break go catch some more. The fish are there.

A small bear track.

Despite hoowling wind yesterday, I got lucky with these grouse.

The wind was blowing so hard that I was surprised that the dogs could find a grouse yesterday. We walked the two-tracks where we were safe from falling limbs and trees.  The  forest roads had lots of limbs and trees in them and we had to double back in the car at one point when we couldn’t get around a tree.

In the morning Birdie was on fire with her style of hunting. She found nine grouse and I had shots at three, bagging two. We were in a cover we had not hunted this year and I chose it because it seemed the safest. In the afternoon after listening tothe Detroit Lions on the radio we took Sid to another cover that always looks like it should be great and has yet to produce more than a flush or  two and struck out there. Her style of moving fast looks like she would just race by birds, but that is not the case. I often ask myself if I had to choose one of them which one would it be and I can’t find an answer and I glad I don’t have to answer the question for real. Different styles of hunting produce.

Finally, late in the day we went to pick up two rocks that Lucy had spotted and wanted for her garden. As we pulled onto the trail where they were four grouse flushed in front of us, three going left and one right. After we got the rocks I had to see if I could find those birds and making a big circle to put the wind in the dog’s nose I guessed where they might have gone. BIrdie locked up in a for-sure-the-bird-is-right-there-point and I moved in. The grouse flushed and  I thought I missed, but Birdie said I didn’t and brought it back to me. It was a great way to end the last day of our UP hunt.

BIrdie is like putty in your lap and lets you turn her any direction you want and just stays limp in your arms, but when she is in the woods she is not the same dog.

How does a dog get the feathers out of its mouth? Beats me....

Bird dogs that love you are going to hunt for you and bird dogs that don’t love you are going to hunt. If its in them to hunt they will, but I like it when they are my partner and want to have their ears rubbed later. The best part of grouse hunting is the dog work, not the kill.

Birdie and Sid are anxious to be hooked to the stake-out chain in the morning and run to it knowing that good things will soon follow. First, they get to look for squirrels and second they know they are going in the truck to go grouse hunting.

Yesterday was a miserable day with rain and wind making for rough conditions. Late in the morning we decided to get the dogs out for some exercise so they would be better citizens when they came inside the cabin. We went to the Hut  cover and that is where I made two mistakes. First I didn’t take my shotgun because I didn’t want to get it all wet and of course there was a woodcock encounter right away. Then I made my second mistake, which was the  same as the first. Birdie found a grouse in some thick, thick cover; too thick in fact to walk in. We waited for the grouse to get tired of having the dog stare at it and when it flushed it was wide open for me – no gun.

We loaded the dogs back into the truck and headed for Mrs. Walker’s cover which was close, easy walking and not muddy. This time I took a gun. The dogs found two grouse in a thicket and honored each other and when the birds flushed they didn’t give me a chance.  Later, Sid swept in from the right toward the old logging road we were on and chiseled into a point  thirty feet ahead. Unlike the photo of her in an earlier post where she was head-up and relaxed, this time she was streached out, paw up, and tight. I took a few steps, the bird went out, and Sid made a retrieve. It was great.

Now this morning the rain has stopped, and while the wind is still blowing hard the dogs are on the chain and waiting for me to load them up. And with that, I think I will.