'24 Ruffed Grouse

 

 

 “It is always darkest before dawn.” ~ Unknown

 

Geoff and Rory Celebrate in the Cabin

 

I have a great Rory bird dog story to tell. As always, if you find hunting offensive, please go find somewhere else to be.

As I talked about any number of times, come the Fall, I’m totally invested in hunting for Ruffed Grouse with Rory, my best doggy buddy. This year, Rory really got the big picture and he loves him some Ruffed Grouse. He found birds for me almost every day we went out.

 …And I missed them all. I’ve probably run through a box of shells alarming but not harming the majestic Ruffed Grouse.

 Last summer, the Grandsons were visiting and I was talking about Ruffed Grouse with Brody. He waxed enthusiastic and said he couldn’t wait to eat one. I told him we’d sure save him some when he came to visit next.  I was really confident I'd get him a bird.  I always get grouse for the last 4 years or so.

Which is why my inability to harvest one this year was really starting to weigh on me. I really didn’t want to have to tell Brodz that I didn’t get any birds.

 This brings us to today’s story.  I have great little short quarter mile walk along a fire road that borders Loon Creek. It always has birds. Rory and I set off today and he was doing a great job working the woods trying find birds. It had warmed up today and it was somewhere around 34F with a light snow/rain mix falling. Nothing a hat couldn’t protect my bald head from.

 Suddenly, Rory went birdy and lunged several feet to his left into a patch of fallen oak limbs next to the fire road. There’s the unmistakable “whirrrrr!” and the bird erupts from the pile, Rory hard on its heels. It’s all a blur of memory as my muscle memory takes over.  Safety off, shotgun mount and I’m swinging through the grouse as it enters the woods to the right of trail and I shoot and swing. I honestly thought I was behind the bird and missed. Despair.

 Rory does the curious and unmistakable kangaroo like stand on his back legs as he tries to see into the brush. His ears are up. He’s in predatory mode. Then he’s off and I let him go. Half a minute later, I call him in, pretty much in deep despair because I’ve missed again.

 Rory breaks the cover with the grouse in his mouth and I’m completely dumbfounded. 

 

 

 Finally, I remember I'm the boss and I get all dog handler again. "Heel” and he makes a great deliver to hand. That’s when I started screaming like a happy little kid. It was the best feeling ever!

 

This is the first time Rory's found a bird I thought I'd missed.  

Rory knows he’s done a good thing. To celebrate, he runs down the bluff and belly flops into Loon Creek - which has to be mere degrees above freezing. He paddles around lapping the water then runs back up to me, shakes and then breaks into the greatest minute and a half of celebratory zoomies a dog has ever had.

The bird is all cleaned and butchered and in the freezer, waiting for the Brodz. I feel like the mighty hunter!

I poured a glass of Woodford Happy Water to celebrate while I cleaned the bird. I thought it might be clever to include Rory but he really does not appreciate the bouquet of a great whiskey!

On that happy note, I remain,

Dad/Geoff