Oct 9, Crex Grouse

Success is a pile of failure that you are standing on." ~ Dave Ramsey

 Gentle Readers and Loved Ones,

So…after a week up north, Rory and I drove home today. He’d found us a bird or two every day, but we’d only had a clear shot a few times. I was feeling kinda down about grouse hunting.  I considered driving the long way home and seeing if I could buy a bottle of Ol Ruff Rye but I decided instead to spend a few hours driving the complex of trails and firebreaks from Danbury down to Grantsburg through the Crex Meadows area.

 

I didn’t have the GoPro running so you’ll have to do with my meager descriptive skills. …again, if hunting stories bug you, please go elsewhere.

We were traveling down a narrow little sandy two-track firebreak in public land east of Crex. Experience says our success rate in moving a grouse in the area is around 60%.

Suddenly, I saw a ruffed grouse run across the road up ahead and hide in a bramble patch on the left. Rory was in the back seat, head stuck between the seats, peering acutely down the trail. He’d seen the bird too. “Sit. Stay.” I got out of the truck, left the door open, opened the tail gate and slid out the gun. Loaded up two shells. Did a quick inventory that I had Rory’s whistle and the e-collar transmitter. Took a couple of calming breaths.

Then I walked up and opened the back door holding up my hand to make Rory stay. He’s about to jump out of his skin. Step back, “Heel.” He jumped out and obediently heeled and we walked down the two-track towards the brambles thirty or so yards up ahead. I stopped at my best guess of where I should be based on where I thought the bird might be hiding. “Rory, hunt.” He’s off.

He ran down the two track until he got down-wind of the bird. The wind was left to right. He went all birdy, made a hard left bat-turn and hurled himself into the brambles. I’m bringing up the gun.

“Whirr!… the grouse erupted from the brambles flying hard left, Rory behind him. I finished mounting the gun, swung out in front and slapped the trigger just as the bird passed behind a scrub oak thick with brown leaves. The shot pattern was all over the leaves right where the bird disappeared.

Rory went crazy running through the woods, looking for the bird.  After 5 minutes or so he was still hunting. I called him in, which took some work and calmed him down a little.  I'm not very confident I hit the bird but we have to check a little more. 

“Heel”. We heeled back down the two-track towards the truck.  I could see into the woods better - especially the base of the oak scrub I’d shot into. We lined up, “Dead bird,…Shhhhh…Back!” Rory took off hard left ignoring my cast. “No! Heel!” He came back reluctantly but I still haven’t touched the e-collar. I took a little more time to calm him down and cast him again. He went straight to the base of the oak scrub twenty or so yards away. Success! “Tweet! Sit!” He sat at the base of the oak partially visible through all the scrub and then got birdy again. There was scent out there.

So, I took a chance and changed him over to trailing the scent. “Find it!” He did a 180 and disappeared into the woods. I hear him crashing around some time and then silence. Then I heard the measured tread that he has when he’s returning on a retrieve. I was beginning to think “Did I actually hit that bird....?” when he hove back into view with the bird in his mouth tail flagging proudly.

That’s the best feeling ever! “Rory heel! Good Dog!” He heeled and I felt in my pockets for the phone to a get a picture. It’s still in the truck still so I had to trudge back, get the phone and then get this picture. Rory sat steady holding the bird all through this. “Good boy.”

Then we completed the retrieve and he delivered to hand. 

Rory holds the grouse.

On that happy note, I remain,

 

Dad/Geoff