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It’s been a couple years since I’ve been able to get into the woods for birds.

Started yesterday after a 9 hour drive. Had to get dogs some run time so got up into a skidder trail with no luck. Back at the truck, I had just unloaded when a bird flushed. Smart bird, got into the spruce and never saw him again. Oh well, tomorrow’s a new day.

I’m hunting with the Sarasqueta, now refinished by Mark Larson. I normally only bring 2 guns, but this year it’s 5. The Sarasqueta, the Lightning Feather, the Flues (also refinished), the NID 2E (very new) and the number one, the White Lightning. Only the Flues and WL have been blooded since coming into the stable. This trip is to rectify that.

Decided to try my gated long road this AM. It borders the lake with a smattering of popple stands every half mile or so. It’s a nice hike and the wife is with me so I have company and she loves to walk. First stand two flushes, did not even see the bird. The pattern develops as popple with spruce near a water source, preferably running. Five miles in we hit Sapphire, one of my favorite covers.

Sapphire is so named because a. I found an old jug of sapphire oil from when they logged it years ago and b. Because it is a gem of a cover. Maple and spruce, with hobblebush and a trail running through it. You walk the trail and birds pop out of the hobblebush…normally. But they logged it again so the trail is now covered in slash mostly.

As we near it, the Labahoula dog runs into it. Up he goes with me and the old red Lab following. No flushes, not sure what he was scenting but he thought it was important. Back on the road, I’m ready for a break. I take my gloves off and open the gun. Brrrr…a bird goes up out of sapphire across the road, I drop my gloves, close the gun and fire off the left barrel. The bird flies on and into the wild part. This area is treacherous…moss covered boulders left by the glaciers and dead spruce littered everywhere. And thick with birch, maple and spruce saplings. It is fantastic bird cover…as long as you don’t break a leg. I hate going in there. Been there done that.

But follow up my shot I must. I pick my way through the cover, and as I circled around the old Lab puts up a bird as I am just getting through the spruce and into some 10’ high saplings. It’s a clear shot, and the bird is trying to climb over the saplings. The right barrel takes her with an ounce of #7 from a new load I tried on some Winchester CFs. She falls breast down and flaps her way to the great cover in the sky as I watch.

Life is good again. Pictures are taken, and smiles all around. So wouldn’t you know it, another bird flushes out of Sapphire into the wild part. I’m leaving it for seed.

[img] https://imgur.com/a/GkfSomQ [/img]

Joined: 04 Mar 2019 Posts: 2101 Location: Central ND

Keep it going. Not too many ruffies in this area, but I remember those birds well, when I lived in NE Connecticut. I had a wonderful Brittany back then, Maverick. He could handle ruffed grouse and woodcock, just fine. That was early on when I first started with the 16.

Joined: 22 May 2020 Posts: 333 Location: Ky

Great to hear of your success and wonderful pic! Thanks

Thanks guys, here’s some more.

Today was mostly about the number 2 somehow. The NID 2E, the 2 birds flushed, groups of 2 vehicles all over. And mostly the want of a second downed bird for the day that didn’t happen. But my bird count is up to two for the trip so far.

I promised the wife a picnic and so chose a direction to travel in that would allow me to hit some good territory while making way towards a scenic view. Working down towards the river I came to one of my traditional covers, the old road.

The old road is not its name but its real name would give away my location. In the past it was overgrown and winded its way through spruce, but the loggers deemed it ripe for harvesting. This was the cover of my first grouse kill; a quick point from my friend’s setter and a left-to-right flush that I somehow timed right. It was instinctual…bird up, mount and shoot. I can honestly say I was a better shot back then before I started over analyzing.

I passed many new cuts, and ventured into areas that were left alone. My thought was to see whether the birds were pushed into those areas between cuts. The Labahoula got very gamey a couple of times, but there was no flush. It was an odd feeling walking a road I had walked dozens of times but only vaguely familiar now. Like a skeleton where the rocks and trees are bones and the vines sinews. You know what it used to be, but it is devoid of the life you knew and the flesh is gone. It’s time for a name change…Yorick. Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him my brethren, a cover of infinite memories, of most excellent flushes.

At the truck, we heard a grouse drumming but could not place the location. Looking across the road the cover looked birdy, so we went in while the wife stayed at the truck. It was decent cover, and I had never hunted it before…maples and spruce with some birch here and there. But no flushes. Back at the truck, the wife heard the drumming 2 more times, and it was definitely down to the left. Good enough, I know where he lives. I’ll be back soon enough.

We make our way toward the picnic spot once again. A few miles down the road a bird flushes across. He had very striking plumage, bright whites and a dark band. I got out to follow up, but no reflush. No matter, I’ll mark the spot on GPS. There’s a reason why he’s there, I’ll find out why at some point. On towards the mountain; a couple rights past the cabins, and then a left. We will lose signal soon in the rough country until we get high enough.

Finally we are closing in on the mountain top. It’s nearly all rock and a steep climb in the truck…maybe we should have taken the other trail up. I look behind and see that my tailgate had dropped due to the uneven ground torquing my side panels. My truck hauls a lot of wood, mulch and dirt. The side panels have gotten out of sorts and a bit more flexible than when new. With truck in park and parking brake on, I grab all the stuff that had fallen out. I tie most of the things I need readily to the rear tie downs, keeps things from slipping towards the cab. Then I plan the final ascent. I’m not much of a 4 wheeler, I only do it to get places. The thought of rolling over so far from help sends my sphincter to level nine. But up we go in 4 low.

The views are spectacular, and aside from the wind blowing our 2 chairs around, it’s a nice picnic with Manchego cheese, Triscuits and precooked sausages…plus some wine. The dogs get a duck and blueberry treat my wife made. We head down the other trail and I begin searching the map for another cover named Two Bird.

Two Bird gots its name from a comical adventure involving my young friend Dan. We walked a strait stretch of road with alders and spruce drooping into it. Suddenly he saw a grouse and went in to flush it. As he neared it obviously it started slinking away, now hidden somewhere. As he waited for the flush, another bird flushed behind him. He wheeled around so fast, gun up, looking for the second bird. And then of course, the first bird flushed, so he wheeled around again. Never fired a shot. The look on his face was priceless. And thus he learned that a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. I still smile when I think about it, but I laughed so hard at the time.

We reach Two Bird and the dogs get gamey. Off they go, but it’s thick with alders and blowdowns, all uphill. As I wait, the second bird I’ve seen all day flushes into the tunnel of drooping alders, straight away. I drop him with the left barrel of the NID. He drops into some baby spruce and I can’t find him. I call for Zen, the old red Lab. She is mostly deaf now but still responds if she is within a certain distance and direction. She finds fairly easy, I’m so glad for her to be here.

[img] https://imgur.com/a/9PQSqBf [/img]

Citori 16,

Real nice to hear of your Grouse hunts, my Mac could not see your pictures however, just a back screen when clicking on your picture post. I love to hear that your old dog found the down Grouse, give the dog pat on the head for me. Great Grouse hunting stories! Keep posting them as you hunt.

all the best,

Pine Creek/Dave
L.C. Smith/Westley Richards Man

[img] https://imgur.com/a/GkfSomQ [/img]

Dave and all,

I’ve tried about 10 different ways to post photos like Lloyd3 does. I’ve done it before but somehow it just doesn’t work.

Day three. Well, three and a half. My backpack mentor Mike, God bless his soul, always told me that day 3 of a trip your body starts rejecting your pack, boots, socks and/or waking up in the morning. Sometimes it is day four. Regardless, looking back at my logs, that’s usually how it goes. I bought Fitbit a year or so ago when my other pulse monitor died. I only wanted it for monitoring my pulse when on the bike, but I’ve found it useful for all sorts of normal activity. I’ve been jogging up the 5 flights of stairs to my office for a year. All to avoid the day 3 or 4 slump for bird season. Nope, I had a hard time getting motivated this AM. Fitbit says I’m overtraining, logging 7.5 miles a day. Fitbit doesn’t realize my normal 1st day is about 15 miles. I’m taking it easy to last for 2 weeks and enjoy the surroundings.

My young friend Dan, of Two Bird fame, is chasing birds with his Brittany an hour south of me. I’ve invited him up to hunt Wednesday with me, and hopefully get his dog on some woodcock, and of course grouse, so I’ve been scouting some areas, leaving birds for later, etc. It’s been a long time since I’ve hunted over a pointer, and I’m looking forward to it.

So with Dan and Bear(the Brittany) in mind I head towards Woodcock Road. I named it after a woodcock who was in the middle of the road at a culvert. I stopped the truck and he started dancing his way across the road to safety. It was the first time I had seen it. I’ve since seen it a couple more times, once a half mile from my house. Just a grooving little woodcock, crossing the road.

The road takes a hard right and is a straight away dipping low for a bit then climbing again. On the left is heavy spruce and birch, on the right is patches of good cover with lots of edge. Either side will hold birds, but they usually come to the road for gravel and clover or young alder leaves. Not this year though, as it. Has been brush hogged. About 3/4 in Damian the Labahoula dog sees a Fisher cross the road…and off he goes. I’m envisioning a bloody mess but he heeds our calls. Crisis averted. In our relief the wife and I start chatting. Nothing calls a grouse as much as inattentive chatting. The bird goes up to my right, I fire off a shot from the Lightning Feather, but I’m pretty sure I did not have a good cheek weld.

I follow up and into a large patch of tall grass. For 45 minutes Zen and I search the grass, with Damian on spruce patrol. No reflush, and no bird down. At the end of the road are a couple of paths, so we hunt the cover along them. Back at the grass patch we try it again from the opposite direction. Nada. Hopefully it was a clean miss.

We put on a few more miles on a gated road then have a picnic again. No flushes for 3 hours, in all sorts of cover. Not even by accident. The outlook was bleak for today. Time to head towards some favored areas.

On the way to these areas I pass the entrance to The Pit. The Pit is a gravel pit with an abundance of trails and a wet spot in the middle. It was always good for a few woodcock and, in good years, anywhere from 2 to 5 grouse flushes. 20 years ago I used to park my truck in the entrance, fenced in by alders. Not anymore, the alders have drooped over the road, and now grow in the middle. There are no tire tracks at the entrance. I’m mulling it over. Pain is good. Park the truck and head in or go home. Ok. Fine. But I’m going to complain the whole time.

Once about 15 years ago I hunted it with my kids, my setter Bayberry and the black lab Katana. The kids took Katana and circled around the wet spot. They were to the right of me about 40 yards away and 45 degrees. They pushed out a grouse into my path. Instinctively I put the gun up to the left and fired. The grouse folded. Katana and Bay raced to the bird. As Katana picked up the bird, Bay whacked it out of her mouth with her paw and retrieved the bird to me. It was sublime. A great shot in front of my kids, and my setter showing the new pup who’s boss.

I stoop and bend and weave for what may be 100 yards…unceasing. Fitbit must not have a clue what kind of workout this is. Having had enough, I head to the left side and navigate through the spruce. Yes, that’s how bad it is, I headed into the spruce thicket. I come out on the trail again, bob and weave a bit, and come to a tame part where you can actually stand up and see the sky unfiltered by drooping alders. And I still don’t know whether I or the dogs pushed up the grouse.

It was one of the fastest flushes I’ve ever seen. Left to right, a blur about 10 yards in front. It lit on a tree branch as I was bringing the gun around. It then flushed away and I fired. I know I was off to the right a bit, having over swung. Then the bird flew into my first shot as I was about to press the trigger again. Down it dropped. A lucky shot, but I’ll take it.

So this is the second day in a row that I’ve only flushed 2 birds but took the second home. Not bad statistics. And now the Lightning Feather is blooded.

[img] https://imgur.com/a/n8XT1HZ [/img]

Citori 16,

Great story and congrats on a lucky shot and fine Grouse bird!

all the best,

Pie Creek/Dave
L.C. Smith/WR Man

Joined: 21 Jan 2019 Posts: 63 Location: Indiana

Thanks. I enjoyed that.

You should consider sending a copy to the Upland Journal.

BD

Thank you all for your comments. I have thought about Upland Journal, but for now I still have 10 days left.

Day four. It is significant to me for being more than half way through my first week bird hunting this year. I did not beat the slump but I did get out, though no kill today. It seems my 50/50 streak is over. Tomorrow Dan and Bear the Brittany will arrive, and I have much to prepare for. Namely my soreness.

Today started with a sleep in, an intentional late start, though it was meant to start sooner than 13:00. The wife decided to head out and get some provisions for us on Wednesday. Empanadas (pasties to the English crowd) are on the menu, and I bought the wrong kind of flour. We are going to use Mike Shaw’s recipe for the dough, but my wife’s recipe for the filling. It was intended to be grouse, but I opted to hang & pluck my first bird, so it will be chicken. I cleaned my guns, and oiled them in anticipation of some rain while she was out. Whatever camp chores I could do was done, but there was plenty of relaxing to prepare myself for tomorrow. I promised Dan a bacon and eggs breakfast with coffee to discuss the days plans before heading out. Lunch will be the empanadas, and then dinner at a restaurant nearby. It will be Bear’s day, and it’s Dan’s dog after all.

After the wife got back we headed up the road to hunt and scout for tomorrow. My old setter Bayberry, had a favorite cover, and I intended to find it again, for old times sake.

As I passed the gravel pit (not The Pit) I realized I passed by its entrance. Bay’s cover was originally named Hell for good reason. A side road would take you there with all of best intentions. I would park the truck, get a good slug of water then head into the spruce. Bay would stay by my side until we reached the alders. Then it was up to me to keep up. The last time I had been there was after she passed, and it was overgrown with grass and vines. We had many days of doodle glory, with a few grouse as well, over the years. With the Flues now refinished, it was time to head in one more time…hopefully not the last.

Remembering my task for the day, I pressed on, looking for alder swales that looked promising. I reached the bridge cover, which is also named the Doorknob for all the reasons you’d think. Everybody hits it, and with good reason. I have hit the bridge cover multiple times in the same week, each time taking migrant doodles and a grouse or two if I am lucky. It is a mix of alders and spruce, with the river bisecting it. Most people only hit the road section, taking their fill and moving on. But there is a back section across the river that when conditions are favorable you can hunt as well. Zen provided some entertainment by jumping into the river, grabbing an alder branch and goading me to play fetch. She sat at the bank looking at me for help. I told her “You got yourself in, now get yourself out” and walked away. She followed momentarily, and was much more biddable.

But today the road cover was bare, so I crossed the river and Zen flushed a woodcock almost immediately. The Lightning Feather barked, but it was not to be, despite a good search. I then noticed that there footprints and beaten down paths through the back part. A symbolic search then told me to move on, this cover is spent.

After many miles, I saw another alder swale worth investigating. It was raining so I opted to leave my prescription glasses in the truck. This is my first bird season using them, and since I only have one pair, I don’t want to lose them. Alders are no place for prescription glasses without straps. The last thing I want is to have my wife have to read each restaurant bill before paying. We’d never do this again.

The alder swale is challenging. I work the edge wher the spruce meets the floodplain and am rewarded with a grouse flush. I knew he’d be there, something just told me. After several futile minutes trying to locate him in the spruce I left. I can come back. I know his mile mark.

We head back towards the cabin and I am frantically searching for the entrance to Bay’s cover. I suddenly realize I found it but they have harvested the spruce trees that guard it. What this means is that every hunter now knows there’s an alder swale of epic proportions near the road. There’s even a path beaten down to it. The cover has changed drastically, but is very huntable. Almost too easy to hunt. We make a pass and I take note of all the doodle sign.

I do intend to hunt it with Flues, but I think it will only be symbolic.

When we get to the cabin we set about making the dough for the empanadas. I’ll let you know tomorrow how that turned out.

Joined: 09 Aug 2007 Posts: 503 Location: WI

Thank you, I’ll try that for next pic(s)

Citori 16 I'm really enjoying your reports this week, keep them coming, I'm now not getting to see the photos you guys are posting using imgur, I got to see Loyds photos last week but there gone now too , photo comes up sort of lavender coloured square with Content not viewable in your region , this is disappointing for me but keep the great reports coming in I'm really enjoying reading of your adventures.
Thanks and good luck WJ.

*Last edited by Citori16 on Wed Oct 22, 2025 11:07 am; edited 7 times in total*

I thank you all for the kind comments and help. Pictures to follow.

It’s been an exhausting couple of days. 9 miles on Wednesday, some brutal cover, colder temps with wind…and a porcupine.

Yesterday young Dan texted me 1/2 hour from the cabin. That was my cue to put the bacon on the stove. It was thick cut, true hickory smoked, and it was perfectly cooked by the time he arrived. Some fried eggs, using the bacon grease of course, and some toast completed breakfast. My dogs would stay with my wife while Dan and I took Bear the Brittany for some bird work.

We started by Yorick to try and get the drummer. I went in on the trail as a blocker while they went straight into the cover. I told him he would be in the thickest, darkest part of the area. Bear got birdy, but no flush. Bear had been introduced to grouse on Saturday, as Dan got him into a nice cock bird, so this would have been gravy.

I wanted to put Bear on as many birds as possible. It takes grouse to make a grouse dog. The long road seemed like the perfect choice, but there was a family of hunters just getting inside the gate. An older gentleman, a husband and wife, and two wee children, all in orange. I have a code; go a half mile past another hunter’s vehicle. The first day on the long road, there was a woman with a young girl coming in as we were walking out. I can forgive that. She had talked to the wife and apparently it was a good road for her last year. I know it’s hard to say you have a whole road to yourself, but getting shot, or shooting someone, or having dogs tear into each other is not fun. There are plenty of other spots.

We drive towards another gravel pit. The only name I have for it is Zen’s First. I had shot a grouse and wanted to get her on the retrieve. I sent her out and she tore of in the exact direction of the downed bird…and promptly ran over it. Before we got there I saw another spot that has produced for me before; The Wedge. It is simply the area between a merge of roads. It has hobblebush, maple, raspberries and a smattering of spruce. We work it and the surrounding cover across the road thoroughly. No flushes, on to Zen’s first.

Zen’s first is a gravel pit road that steeply descends down the hillside. On the left is decent cover with a high bush cranberry section on the left. On the right is maple and hobblebush. Both sides can hold birds. Before the gravel pit proper is a road that veers off to the left and into some decent mixed cover. We flush nothing. We walk back up the road and my heart is pounding at the truck. Young guy I am not, but I still make it up at the same time as Dan. Fitbit is probably frantic.

We make a decision; we need to get away from the spots close to “town”: away from the easy spots everyone has tried. We need to head north. So north we go.

Dan is driving his 4-Runner which has been decked out for outdoor adventure. His roof rack sports two gun cases from Harbor Freight stripped of their foam; he uses them for storage. In the back he has built a platform that Bear’s kennel sits upon so he can see out the back window. Underneath are two areas for storage bins that he keeps ammo and other provisions, including a 20 gauge Zabala. He is shooting a 28 gauge Franchi Instinct today. Dan is essentially my son’s best friend from home. I’ve known him since he was a 10 year old in my son’s Boy Scout troop, before DEI type stuff took over. I was his Fly Fishing Merit Badge counselor, Scoutmaster and hunting mentor. He has since gone far beyond my abilities to mentor, and is a true friend and hunting companion. While my son is earning E7 in the military, Dan is taking care of his parents and developing schemes for hunting upland and waterfowl with me. It’s as good as I could ever ask. I direct him to the northern bog and the mountain road.

We hit the bog first. At the end of the road there’s a culvert that’s been washed out, but the road continues on. Beyond are a couple of alder swales that could produce some woodcock. At the first one we bob and weave through the alders…both, not even sign. Back on the “road” we head towards the second alder swale. It’s been devastated by storms and time. Alders strewn about like gates to the netherworld, fallen spruce of the size of maples litter the landscape. Brutal is only a word until you experience it. One lonely woodcock flushes; I shoot and miss, the result of a bad mount. We follow up with Bear. No bird. Looking for a way out, we dive into the spruce. It’s very mature and after the obstacle course of alders it becomes easy walking. Somewhere ahead, a grouse flushes up into a mature spruce. We tag team the spruce, each looking for a glimpse of thunder poised to flush. But it doesn’t happen. We find the road again and head back to the truck. On the way we find a pile of grouse droppings and perform a sweep, but again we are stumped.

Back at the 4-runner, I suggest we eat some Chicken Pot Pie Empanadas. I ended up putting too much salt in the dough but Dan likes it. We each ate a whole one, half at a time. While eating we plan our strategy. Head back to the bog lower, perform a sweep of 3 Bird, and the alders before it. 3Bird is named for the 3 grouse I saw together one morning, one with fan spread and strutting while the other two watched. I thought I was going to at least get two but when they dispersed I made two shots and missed. At some point Dan and I had hunted it a few years ago and while he almost stepped on a grouse, it flushed while I was behind a tree. Today we make our sweep into the wind without a flush, and the same with the alders. Things are again looking bleak.

We make our way up the mountain road until an orange mesh blocks our path. It is blocked due to the culverts being washed out by a “storm event”. We have fun with that; not quite a storm but eventful. The road has a flat part with alders on either side of the road. Bear is working the road 35-ish yards in front, diving in to the cover every so often. Dan is concerned about the 35 yards. Bear is his first dog ever. I explain to him that Bear is working very well. 35 yards is enough to keep you in range and hopefully get a point and hold on a grouse. I truly like what Bear does. At the very least he should push some birds out to the road. I like hunting like that.

Just before the stream corner Bear dives in and a bird flushes. Dan gets in the cover while I block. No reflush (yet). We continue on the steep part of the road. There is a creek which runs to the road. Between it and the road is some cover which defies explanation. I have seen and experienced good amounts of flushes here. The cover is somewhat wide open with mature hardwood and little spruce. I tell Dan to be ready if Bear dives into the right part of the road, But of course we experience no flushes. At the top we head back. Again at the corner a grouse flushes, presumably the same grouse from before. Dan goes in again with Bear and I wait on the road. Same outcome. So we end the day with four hard earned flushes and nothing in the bag. Hard consolation but at this point, flushes is the name of the game. He remembers something I told him when we last hunted here. It is a numbers game. The more you flush, the better chances of downing a bird. That takes going far and deep this year.

We finish the hunt and head back to the cabin. 9 miles of walking. Even with the Lightning Feather I am beat. At the cabin I offer Dan a cigar from my travel humidor and a glass of wine before dinner at a restaurant south of here. I’m weird I suppose in that I prefer to smell cigar smoke from other people smoking one than my self. It’s like incense to me. I can say I thoroughly enjoyed the day, even without birds in the bag.

And with that I’ll have to leave the rest until tomorrow as I have fallen asleep 3 times writing this. The porcupine episode is dramatic, but everyone makes it home with a deep woods lesson, even the porcupine.

Joined: 04 Mar 2019 Posts: 2101 Location: Central ND

Keep it coming!!! Great stuff.