Yesterday, with the generosity of the Massapoag Sportsmen's Club where I am a member and regular skeet shooter, I hosted a Ruffed Grouse Society event. The event was something I'd been thinking about doing for a few years, inspired by the number of times I'd had conversations with hunters who'd wanted to, but never tried hunting Ruffed Grouse and Woodcock. Often they'd state that they just didn't know where to find grouse and woodcock. So I thought I'd find a way to educate some of the local sportsmen. I called the event Grouse School.
The idea of Grouse School was to give a sportsman who has never hunted grouse or woodcock enough info to confidently make a trip into the woods in search of them. Of course every RGS event gets a number of pretty loyal RGS members, so I had to also include enough of the more technical side of grouse and woodcock to keep them engaged. Habitat being the number one thing any grouse and woodcock hunter should really understand, it wasn't very difficult to build a program that would appeal to every experience level.
Naturally, I doubted very much if anyone would take my word that I know a thing or two about grouse and woodcock hunting, so I had to bring a few people in. After a few phone calls, and emails I'd put together a group of guys I felt could really deliver the goods. Regional RGS biologist Andy Weik would lecture on habitat. Massachusetts state biologist David Scarpitta would lecture on hunting opportunities in Massachusetts. Bruce Bennett, who hosts an annual benefit hunt in NY, would lecture on private land management. After Lunch I would give a brief lecture on grouse dogs before Andy, with his red setter, and I, with my springer, would take the group out into the woods where we would do a grouse dog demo on released quail. While on the trail we would discuss tactics a bit, and naturally habitat, as we were in it. Outdoor writer Tom Keer would then lecture on Guns, loads, shooting technique, tactics, safety, and equipment. The event would culminate with an open floor, round table discussion.
The day went pretty much as planned. Being the first time I'd attempted anything like this there were a few small snags, but if they weren't pointed out to you, you'd have never noticed them. All in all, I, as well as the others involved were very happy with the way the event turned out. I will certainly make some changes to allow future events flow more smoothly. I hope the attendees were just as pleased, and walked away feeling like they learned something.
I have a few ideas for other grouse and woodcock hunting educational clinics in the future. Hopefully they will go as well, if not better, than the Grouse School Debut.
And lest I forget; a big thank you to Andy Weik, David Scarpitti, Bruce Bennett, Tom Keer, Bryan Lehr, Paul Schwalbe, Ernie Foster Jr, and the Massapoag Sportsman's Club. I also need to thank paul Fuller of Bird Dogs Afield who generously donated several items for door prizes at the event.
Me starting the day with introductions
Captivated audience
Andy lecturing on habitat and scouting
David lecturing on hunting in Mass
Bruce lecturing on land management
(l-r) David, Andy, Myself, Tom
The Massapoag youth skeet team was on hand selling raffle tickets
Grouse camp has come and gone, without much fanfare. As is usual Ginger and I pointed the car north where I met with BK and his Labrador, Ruby. This year BK's father FG made a long trip to joined us in camp. Unfortunately, grouse are on the down side of their population cycle, so we didn't move as many grouse as we have in past years. Still, as cliche as it sounds , a day in the grouse woods is far better than a day in the office.
The weather didn't cooperate with our plans either. Of the 11 days I spend in camp the first 5-6 were quite warm. Actually, hot. The weather started out in the low to mid 60's, which will wear a dog down really quickly, not to mention what it does to us two-legged hunters following them. The warm weather also does not provide for good scent conditions for the dogs. poor scenting, and worn down dogs breathing through their mouths does not make for a good combination when the grouse cycle is low. Of course the warm weather didn't last, but rather than become the seasonal cool, dry weather we all love to hunt in, it turned cold,....and windy,.....and overcast,.....and it snowed. Now, cold isn't terrible, nor is snow, but overcast doesn't help, and windy just plain messes things up. All was not lost, however, as the cold wind delivered the Woodcock, which had been more or less absent. The arrival of the Woodcock made for a couple of fun, hot barreled shooting.
A rare glimpse of sunlight
Sadly, this was the first time I can remember, that I did not shoot a grouse at grouse camp. That is not to say others did not shoot grouse, but my shot opportunities were few and far between, and I did not connect. The first half of the trip we averaged 10 grouse flushes each day, and only a handful of woodcock flushed. The second half of the trip the balanced changed; fewer grouse flushes, but double digit Woodcock flushes.
Ginger with a couple of Woodcock taken with the 28g Gamba
On the plus side of things, my best day saw 35 flushes over the dogs. I also hit another milestone; I killed birds will all 3 guns I brought to camp. I usually bring two guns, because it's always wise to have a back-up gun when traveling. I couldn't decide which two guns to bring, so I brought three. I brought my 20g Citori, 20g Beretta SxS, and 28g Gamba O/U. I've struggled with my SxS over the years, but have recently changed my shooting style a bit, and have been shooting it quite well. In fact, I killed more birds with the SxS than either of the other guns, and have actually fallen in love with it.
Ginger with a couple of Woodcock taken with the 20g Beretta SxS
Being an avid Ruffed Grouse hunter I am always amazed at the speed with which they pick up, and fly way. I've always believed Ruffies to be the fastest of all grouse. Having now had the opportunity to see a Red Grouse flush in the North Yorkshire moors, I still believe the Ruffie to be the fastest of all grouse. Though, to be fair, I doubt the Reds are any easier to shoot with their low, ground hugging flight. I was fortunate enough to capture on video a Red flushing in front of me.
Sportsmen and women around the globe take to the fields and streams for a variety of reasons. There is a lot of satisfaction in dedicating the time, and commitment needed to meeting the challenge, and bringing home a hard earned meal. In some corners of the world the challenge of taking game is not enough, and a select few of a particularly sporting nature venture out seeking ways to make their time in the outdoors demanding. For some this additional demand is only satisfied by achieving a MacNab.
The MacNab is a sporting trifecta of sorts. In the UK there is the Highland MacNab, where a person bags a stag, a brace of grouse, and lands a salmon, all on the same day. I've also read accounts of what is called a Summer MacNab, which involve bagging a Roe buck, a wood pigeon, and landing a sea-run rainbow trout. These sound like fine challenges, indeed. I'd be happy with just a brace of grouse, and doubt my system could handle completing a MacNab.
Here in New England we too, have a MacNab, but few have heard of it, and even few have completed it. The New England MacNab is shooting a whitetail buck, a brace of ruffed grouse, and landing a brook trout. Unlike the UK where season greatly overlap each other, the chance of ever completing a MacNab in the US is slim; our season only slightly over lap. In most of New England Trout season closes shortly after grouse season opens, and the deer season during that time period usually restricts hunters to archery equipment, not fire arms. Even if you did manage to take your buck, early season grouse hunting is often challenging, grouse heard but not seen through the thick canopy of leaves. Of course some states make it impossible. In Connecticut, for example, there is a robust deer herd, and some fantastic trout waters. I have no doubt that a sportsman could take a buck in the morning, then land a brook trout by lunch, but the grouse would pose a problem. While grouse can be found in Ct the numbers are small enough that the state only allows hunters to take 1 a day. So much for the MacNab.
There are other challenges, too. In Maine you are recognized if you bag a deer, bear, moose, and a turkey (maybe coyote is included, too) in one season. That is a feat, and requires dedication. As a grouse hunter I enjoy shooting a mixed bag. While I've enjoyed a few heavy game bags in my time I've never had the pleasure of taking grouse, woodcock, and hares all in the same outing. I've had plenty of grouse/woodcock, woodcock/hare, and hare/grouse days, but never the trifecta. And while I always carry a separate supply of non-toxic ammo in the car, ready to switch our if I see ducks sitting in the rivers when driving around, I've yet to have the chance to mix fowl with upland species. Perhaps this will be the year I add an additional species to the game bag. No. Not the same wow factor as the MacNab, but not a bad goal, either.
Like hunting seasons, ideas come and go very quickly. Each off season brings new ideas of hunting destinations with the turn of of each page of a glossy shooting magazine. I've consistently planned out a grouse camp, often with friends, sometimes quite meticulously each year. Destinations varied, but were always within driving distance; New Hampshire, New York, Pennsylvania, Maine and Vermont have all been the scrutinized by the loosely organized syndicate with which I associate. In the early years, before children, mortgages, promotions, and moves we laid down a long term plan; every 5 years we would travel together to a more distant, exotic local to shoot birds. The plan was for each member to write down a destination on a piece of paper, toss them all in a hat, and then pick one. Members who's destinations had been pulled would not be allowed to drop another destination in the hat until all members had seen their dream hunt realized. Granted, travelling every five years meant it'd be a good 30-35 years until all the choices were exhausted, and we started again. We were young, and enthusiastic. Our plan never materialized, and our camps, due to external circumstances grew shorter each year, but we did still travel New England, and shoot grouse together. Recently, in an online forum I frequent the subject of a "bucket list" came up, and it got me thinking.
The "Bucket List" as a concept is a little grim, to be honest. Future planning sounds better, and is something I've been doing all along, though rather shortsightedly. Of course picking out a few destinations/quarry isn't hard. Everyone has a dream hunt, or hike, climb, visit, etc. Thinking about the outdoor things I'd like most to do came quite naturally. It's the realization, that I may actually be able to make them happen that is slower in coming. But it's coming to me. The more I think about my bucket list, or future plans as I'd prefer them called, the more I see a way of making them happen. Let's take a look at my "future plans".
Number one on my list is a shooting trip to the UK. I've for quite some time wanted to give traditional British game shooting a try. I particularly would like to try my hand (and eye coordination) at Red Grouse shooting. It's often said that The Red is the fastest, toughest game bird on the planet. As a die hard Ruffed Grouse hunter I find that hard to believe, and the only way to know for sure is to try it myself. Of course driven grouse shooting is the pinnacle of grouse shooting, and I'd be glad to spend a day in a butt on a moor, but to get a true comparison to Ruffed Grouse shooting it'd have to be walked up shooting with dogs. Second in line to the Reds is Woodcock. I'd love to get a European Woodcock in the bag. I've shot some surprisingly big woodcock here, but nothing close to the heft the European birds seem to have. Of course any opportunity to shoot in the UK would be a new experience, and the first deal I find will be booked, Reds of not.
Number two on my list revolves less around what I want, and more about enjoying a trip abroad (loosely defined) with a friend. I've never been very good at hunting or shooting waterfowl. I've had my moments, but all-in-all, my average on waterfowl sucks. BK however does well on waterfowl. BK has also been my number one hunting partner for a very long time. Bk and I have hunted together so long that we find it unnecessary to communicate much when traversing a grouse cover behind the dogs. I know he's drawn to blowdowns like a magnet, and he knows I'll pull a crazy Ivan, going out laterally, and back in again, on a whim. BK has long wanted us to go south to shoot ducks in flooded timber. He's right, we should. A trip like this may well bring my horrible life time average on waterfowl up, and I'd enjoy seeing BK fulfill his dream.
Third and fourth place on the list could be interchangeable. Both would be great, but for different reasons. Those destinations couldn't be further apart either; Argentina, and the Mid-West. It's hard to put my finger on what exactly it is about Argentina that makes me want to go there. It seems like a good time from every account I've read about it. The opportunity to shoot Perdiz, or high volume ducks or doves, and then follow that up with some serious steak, and a Malbec? Yup. That's it. The Mid-West, on the other hand, would be more Ruffed Grouse shooting. Sure I do a lot of grouse shooting, and I've even had some banner days with great flush counts, but it'd be nice to have a week of consistently high flush counts, and to really sling some lead. So Michigan, Wisconsin, and Minnesota are all earmarked for future travel.
Domestically there are some destinations and species I'd like to see. For the most part I'm species driven, but as I research a trip things may change. Anyway, to that end I'd like to hunt wild Pheasant one day, either in Montana, or Kansas. Chukar are on my radar, too. I've shot plenty of pen raised Chukars. They're quite tasty, and even pen raised birds have been enthusiastic fliers, so I imagine in the wild they'd be even tastier, and quite challenging on the wing.
Rounding out the list, for now, I venture into the big game arena. I'd long wanted to take a black bear with a bow. I seriously hunted bear here in Mass awhile back, and while I didn't manage to hang my tag off of one, I learned a lot, and even saw one. One day I'd like to give this a try again, only this time it'll be somewhere I have an honest chance at getting a shot.
Looking around the various states that offer grouse hunting you'll see that the season is well underway, and many hunters are going full bore. Here is Massachusetts the season closes in just a couple of short weeks, while in neighboring New York it hasn't even reached the halfway point. Where I do most of my hunting up north we're about at the half-way point right now. But I'm done. It's unfortunate, but true. Thankfully my season hasn't ended because of injury to either me of Ginger, but rather as a result of real life. I've simply got/had stuff that needed my full attention. So short and sweet I'd need to make the season, and I think I did a pretty good job at that.
Early October can be a difficult time to grouse hunt. I prefer to stay home until sometime after the second week of the month, after many of the leaves are down, and I can see to shoot. Being a shortened season for me this year I didn't have the liberty of being able to wait, so I planned a 5 day cast-n-blast early in the month. Regular readers of this blog know how that panned out, but I'll recap. A week before my trip Ginger ended up with an injury meaning she would be sidelined until the third week or so of the season; I'd be grouse hunting without a dog. I could still trout fish, though. Right? Well, that didn't exactly work out either; it rained a lot, so not only were the woods wet, but the rivers were swelled up, too. So my trip took on an different form. I hiked, and explored a lot of territory I had been wanting to see for some time. Of course I took my gun, and the dog along, and I even got to see Ginger retrieve a grouse I'd had the pleasure of flushing along side the trail I was hiking, so it wasn't a bad trip. In fact, it was a pretty good trip, as I made the decision to give Ginger a couple of short runs in some easy cover, and sure enough she did her job, and I did mine, resulting in 6 birds in the bag.
My regularly scheduled grouse camp was later in the month. Every year BK and I spend a week up north, and this year was no different. Well, it was a little different. I decided that a week wasn't long enough, so I headed up a few days early to make it a 10 day stretch in camp. Also, BK's father Frank joined us in camp for his first ever grouse hunt. We also got to spend the some time in the woods with Gregor McCluskey of Braeval clothing. As usual the food was splendid, the drink merry, and the company unsurpassed. The hunting was damned good, too, but the shooting,.....well, it's true that I am haunted by some of the easy shots I missed. But what would grouse hunting be without the occasional whiff at a slow pitch? The negative to this season's camp was the weather. It rained a lot. We often found ourselves starting late, or finishing early because of the rain. While it is true that grouse can be hunted in the rain, I don't like to do it. Grouse hunting is supposed to be pleasurable, and being wet and cold in a great north woods grouse covert is anything but. Of course, we did hunt a few days in the rain, because we were left with little choice. Most days, however, we only hunted a few hours between showers, and then enjoyed some good story telling in camp.
Like all camps there were memorable moment, and Frank getting his first, and second woodcock (on the same hunt, in the same covert) was just one of them. Early, before BK, and Frank got there I had the good fortune to kill 4 birds (1 grouse & 3 WC) in 4 rises, only needing my second barrel on the grouse flush. That doesn't happen very often and I doubt I'll forget it anytime soon. I also had the pleasure of seeing Gregor's young Red Setter, Laddie, point a grouse; something he's struggling to do like most young pointing dogs. I enjoy watching a young dog come in to his own, and Laddie was fun to watch. BK's Labrador, Ruby, put on a woodcock finding clinic one afternoon that I'll soon not forget, and on the last day, after everyone else had left I made a memorable shot when a woodcock flushed out of an edge, and tried to escape by flying across a clear cut top, and up a cut finger, only to be dropped stone dead at no less than 50 yards. But perhaps the most memorable event was an end of the day redemption walk. It had been one of those days when I just wasn't connecting. Early in the day I'd suffered some terrible shooting, and only had a woodcock to shot for 14 flushes. I hunted the last 2 hour of the day with BK and Frank, and while we were again getting birds in the air, none were coming my way, and BK and Frank were getting all the shooting. As we cut across a clear cut to get out to the road, having called it quits, I decided to walk the edge of the wood line perpendicular to the cut down the hill to a skidder I knew went out to the car where I'd meet them in a few minutes, it only being roughly 150 yards to the skidder and out to the car. What a great 150 yards that turned out to be, and by the time I'd hit the skidder I'd filled my woodcock limit, and killed a grouse. Not only was the edge holding birds, but BK and Frank got shots at woodcock out in the clear cut. It'll be a long time before I forget that short walk.
Returning home, I put away the guns and the hunting clothes, and turned my attention to the real life issues that cut my season short. But not before taking a good look at my notes. My season totals are as follows. Due to the weather I only hunted 22.5 hours. In those 22.5 hours Ginger flushed 163 birds, 87 grouse & 76 woodcock for a flush rate of just over 7 birds per hour. I killed 3 grouse and 15 woodcock, connecting on roughly 11% of the birds flushed. Considering that I (conservatively speaking) only ever get a shot at half of the birds that are flushed I probably connected about 20% of the time. Anyway, however you calculate it, grouse camp was fun, and I'm already looking forward to next year.
4 for 4
Ginger and Ruby
Ginger taking a break
A special bottle of whisky from Gregor's family cask
Sometimes it all seems to be happening at once, and the beginning of this month was one of those times. GW was off for a week of trout fishing in the Rangeley area, BB was in Arizona on an Elk hunt, and my father, like always, was in a tree stand with his bow. It was a good time to be an outdoorsman, and Ginger and I were up north for an early season cast-n-blast.
October 5th I pointed the car north, and headed up to my regular haunts to chase some early birds, and trout. In New Hampshire Grouse trout season closes on Columbus day, and Grouse season opens on the 1st, so I thought this would be the year I got after them both. Of course things don't always happen the way we'd like them to, and an emergency room visit, and several suture in the chest, for Ginger meant I'd have to call an audible. My cast-n-blast was renamed, and my trip north was now a 5 day cast-n-scout. No problem. I've had some ideas, and wanted to take a look at a few areas, so taking some time out to do some casual walking would pose no problem. Besides, there isn't much better than taking a nice walk in an area as beautiful as the great north woods.
The weather didn't cooperate, and I ended up spending a bit more time in camp reading that I'd anticipated, but when the sun was shining I made the most of it. I hit the river twice, and thoroughly enjoyed it despite never landing a fish. I was a bit unprepared for the increased water level, and can only blame myself. None the less, I was fishing in the fall, and my waders didn't leak. In fact, I enjoyed my time on the river so much that I'm planning to make a trip to the Westfield river later this month.
I learned an interesting, and somewhat disturbing tid-bit about the area. I bumped into a friend, Eddie, who shoot at the same skeet club. Eddie is an older gentleman I've known for some years now, and who I have always known to be humble, down-to-earth, a knowledgeable outdoorsman, and one who is not prone to exaggeration. Eddie swears he saw a wolf, and knowing Eddie, I am prone to believe him. Of course Eddie's wolf tale piqued my interest, so I approached Gary, an accomplished big game hunter, and Owner of Spruce Cone cabins, and inquired about wolves in the area. After a lengthy conversation with Gary it seems that wolves, though widely seen, are not new, having been several times over the last 5 years. And get this; Gary knows of a reliable Mountain Lion sighting, too. But I didn't follow up on that. I will be looking into the wolf issue more in the future.
The grouse and woodcock hunting proved to be exciting, and if the flush rate I experienced hold it should be a super season. Ginger being on the mend, I only put her on the ground twice, in cover I knew to be easy going, for short runs. We kept it short, and never strayed very far from the car, but I chose correctly; Ginger flushing 41 birds, in about 3 1/2 hours of hunting over 2 days. She put up 15 grouse, and 26 woodcock, of which I killed 6 birds. On day one I killed the only grouse I got a shot at, and a limit of woodcock. On day two I added a brace of woodcock to the mix. I was especially excited to get into good woodcock numbers, as I think they are the tastiest bird out there, and in the last few years I haven't gotten into them like as much as I would have liked to.
Hopefully our streak continues, and the flush rate stays high. I've come to expect a flush rate of about 4 grouse an hour, with an even better rate in good years, though I will admit that there are time when I have walked for an hour without a flush, before stumbling into a honey hole with 10 flushes in an hour to save the average. I guess we'll just have to wait and see what happens. But we won't be waiting very long; Ginger and I are off for a 10 day stint in grouse camp tomorrow morning. Stay tuned.
Shut Down/ Melt Down
The recent government shut down has created quite a buzz in the sporting communities. Across the country many hunter, and anglers are wondering if they'll be shut out of their favorite spots just because it happens to be federal public land. And in case you're wondering, many of the closures seem to be happening just because it is federal public land. It seems that in the infinite wisdom of our leaders that federal lands should be closed whether those lands have been manned by a federal employee or not. Yes, you are reading this correctly; The feds have closed areas where we've never seen a fed before, areas where we've never needed the assistance of a fed before. In fact, I'd be willing to bet that the effort they went through to chain up, hang signs, and erect gates cost more than what it would have cost to just keep the areas opened, and operating at the same level as the pre-shut down melt down. Hence, I am declaring this not a shut down, an operation which when done orderly usually makes sense to those around it, but rather a melt down. A melt down, as in when a child or an unstable person reaches their upper most stress level, and start doing things that make no sense in an effort to reduce said stress.
Fortunately, The nature of those most prone to spend a lot of time in nature is independence. Many sportsmen, without meaning to making them sound radical, really have no need for government assistance in their sporting endeavors. We've all landed nice fish, hiked scenic vistas, tracked deer, and stargazed without the government holding our hand. This is where the government needs to pay attention. Sure, we appreciate the laws, and the efforts to keep lands public, clean, and healthy, but the longer this goes on, the more the sporting public, who are the real stewards of the land, will realize we don't need you. It is evident everywhere a sportsman has ignored a closed sign, barrier, or gate, and entered into the Public land their tax dollars paid for regardless of the senseless closure. Just yesterday I drove past one of the public boat launches that access a federal wildlife preserve. There I saw business as usual, as the chain stretched across the parking lot entrance had been cut, and the closed signs piled in a corner. Boaters and anglers who've never seen, or needed federal assistance at the ramp were discovering that they still don't need any federal assistance. So, while I hesitate to endorse, or encourage any kind of protest or anti-social/anti-governement behavior, I whole heartedly hope that sportsmen refuse to let the melt down keep them from enjoying what is their's. While I hunt and fish quite a bit on public land, I only skirt the edges of some federal land. I doubt very much I'll encounter any "closed" signs, but I can assure you that I won't be kept out should I stumble upon one.
Secrets
The world of the die hard Ruffed Grouse hunter is filled with as many secrets as the CIA man. Among those secrets, the most valuable is the locations of one's coverts. I, too, hold my covert cards close to my chest, and hope that never will come the day when I stumble upon another's spent shell in one of them. Truth is, it happens quite frequently, and I know full well that others hunt many of the same spots I revere as my own. Even my honey hole. And amazingly there are always birds there.
Sometimes, however, it seems like elements are conspiring against me, and I don't like it. Several times I have opened an outdoors magazine to find an article detailing the wonderful grouse hunting in the exact town I hunt. Once I read an article that listed three towns in different states, two of which I travel to frequently. I've always found this to be distasteful, and a little hard to swallow. The truth is, however, other than a few more pickups on the road, and a bit of a longer wait for a beer at the pub, it's never impacted my hunting any more than just the cyclical nature of grouse populations. The birds were still there. In fact, I have been surprised on several occassions, when my hunting party has been doing quite well, to talk with another hunter, who'd travelled from afar, that wasn't doing well, and wasn't impressed with the area. Pondering this, I've come to the conclussion that magazine articles do little more than bring those who are interested in grouse hunting. Those who grouse hunt,...they know where to go, and how to find the birds. So in the future I'll be trying not to have a terrible knee jerk reaction to the articles. Still, somethings will remain a secret.
Sometimes it all comes together nicely. Like it has this fall. A young dog, some good friends, and a series of fortunate events meant writing got pushed to the back burner, and hunt moved to the front. And in moving it to the front burner I also turned up the heat, and kept it at a rolling boil for as long as I could. Now, however, I've begin to wrap up my grouse hunting season. It's not over, and I fully expect to spend a few more days in the woods with Ginger, but no more multi-day, no more camps.
I've been very fortunate this season, and went to 5 grouse camps for about 30 days in camp. With this being Ginger's first season 30 days in grouse camp is immersion learning, and she learned quickly having been given the opportunity to flush a few hundred grouse, a boat load of woodcock, and even a few hares. Naturally I was the week link in the process, my shooting suffering greatly. While I shot a few birds, and hares I should have pocketed double what I brought home. The sting of missing made worse by the fact that many of the misses absolute softball flushes, in the open, with few trees to intercept shot string, or obscure vision. None the less, my shooting percentage was high enough that Ginger was allowed to learn her trade, and begin to excel at it.
Both Ginger and I learned a lot this season. Ginger about hunting, and grouse behavior, and me about dog training. Ginger learned that the flush of a low flying grouse was much more exciting than the wind up toy like flush of a woodcock, and with that I learned that steadying a young spaniel on grouse wouldn't be as easy as I'd thought it'd be. So again it was off the the races, and back to a little dog training. As fate would have it, a little refresher yard work, and a little whistle work was all it took to her squared away.
Our travels took us to 2 camps in northern New Hampshire. The first camp with GW which I wrote about last month, and the second, a week long camp with BK and his Lab, Ruby, where we managed to put a dent in the local woodcock population. At one point BK and I found ourselves each with a limit of woodcock in about 30 minutes, and having to round up Ginger to hunt dead for 3 woodcock on the ground at the same time.
After a brief respite from hunting to attend some required training at work I was ready to go again when November rolled around. First Ginger and I made the long drive to Pennsylvania for our annual grouse camp with the ASO pro staff and some friends. While the area of Pa we hunted wasn't the best grouse cover, with 8 guys, 4 dogs, 3 bottles of whisk(e)y, and a huge fire place in the camp, we still had a great time. This, of course, goes without saying as anytime we get this crew together we have a great time.
Ginger and I soon found ourselves in the great north woods, thanks to the extreme generosity of some friends who allowed me open door privileges at their camp. It was then that I took a bit of time to do some refresher yard work with Ginger that quickly resulted in having a dog steady on not only woodcock, but ruffed grouse too. The open door policy of the camp gave me nine more days up north, and allowed me the opportunity to enjoy the company of some new people and dogs. More often than not dogs out numbered people in camp, and their variety was stunning. I was able to spoil and tease 3 English Setters, 2 Red Setters, 2 French Brits, 2 English pointers, 1 German Shorthaired Pointer, and a Lab. And as much fun as that was, sharing a beverage with their owners was equally enjoyable.
Ginger and I will be spending a day in the woods later this week. While we've got good grouse cover within driving distance of the house we know that it will pale in comparison to the camps we've had the pleasure to attend. But we'll make the most of it.
**A special thanks to Tim, Ted, Al, and Russ for letting me take over their grouse camp.
The great north woods are a magical place. Well, at least for me they are, though I doubt I'm the only sportsman who feels this way. Whether it's fin, fur, or feather there is game to be had in the great north woods. Its for this reason that I routinely make the long drive several times each season. Couple the great sport of the north with a young dog in need of a quality education, and my desire to go north increases dramatically. This year I had the great fortune of having my vacation from work fall right in the prime of grouse season, so off I went to spend 12 days wingshooting. The first five days would be accompanying G.W. who was headed up to cap off the trout season. Then, after a four day regroup I'd head back again to spend 7 days in camp with B.K. and his lab, Ruby.
If I was to experience any difficulty on my adventure it was of the nature that warrants no true complaint; traffic slowed my departure from the city. Before too long I was zipping past the multitude of leaf peepers clogging the roads. As the local traffic had put me an hour plus behind schedule I decided I stop and hunt at least one of my coverts near the halfway mark to camp. This would allow me to blow the dust off my reflexes, and serve as Ginger's grouse and woodcock debut. Mid-morning would be the prefect time to slip into the abandoned orchard, and it's surrounds. I did not regret this decision. Ginger quickly found her stride, quartering the thick under brush between the long forgotten trees. Soon she'd catch a scent she found irresistible and launch a woodcock skyward. It wouldn't be until the third flush that the 20gauge side by side would bark loudly, but it wouldn't register a kill, and Ginger would have to wait a bit longer to get her mouth on some feathers. To my surprise Ginger held steady, planting her but on the ground with each flushing bird as we'd trained for, not moving until sent on. We worked the edges, before moving deeper into the cover. A few more birds were flushed, and a couple of misses registered before my eye, hand, and the 20 found the rhythm needed, and knocked down a fleeing timberdoodle. The bird flushed late, pinched between me and the dog, requiring Ginger to be stopped on the whistle, and sent on a hunt dead for her first retrieve, as she'd not marked the fall. Enthusiastically she took the cast and scoured the area until nosing the bird, and looking at me quizzically with a "You want this?" expression. A moment of coaxing, and the bird was delivered to hand. Five minutes later the scene would be repeated only this time the bird would be flushed on her nose, the fall would be marked, and the retrieve made without hesitation. We would work our way deeper into the linear cover, and then around to our starting point with couple more woodcock flushes, but only a lone, distant grouse flush. With two woodcock in the bag Ginger and I continued our trek north.
The north woods would provide the action I was looking for, and the education Ginger needed. Woodcock were abundant and provided plenty of sport. Grouse numbers are up too, which presented Ginger with tricky situations. To that end I shot not only Ginger's first woodcock, but her first grouse, too. Ginger's first grouse came in the midst of some heavy woodcock shooting. As Ginger quartered, stretching slightly further to the windward side to my left a grouse was pinched between us. Like her first woodcock the grouse's flight and fall on the shot went unmarked by Ginger, so I whistled her to a stop, and moved her forward to hunt dead. The Grouse, with a broken wing put some distance between us, but wasn't able to avoid a keen nose, and was retrieved nicely to hand.
Sometimes, however, it's not a young dogs firsts that you remember, and proudly reflect on, but it's second that shows a dog's potential, and willingness to please. Ginger had begun making game on a thick stemmed hillside. I followed her to the edge of the cover where she continued to make game below me even though the cover had thinned and looked more of a likely place to flush a hare, than a grouse. Suddenly the young dog made a quick move to the base one of the few trees spread across the area, and a grouse flushed explosively on her nose presenting me with a left to right slightly quartering away crossing shot. My first shot failed me, but on my second shot the grouse dropped from the sky, and landed somewhere out of sight over the edge of a slight drop off. My attention then turned back to the young dog, who was sitting staunchly at the base of the tree the flush produced from, casting glances from me, to the mark, and back again. I walked towards the mark about 5 yards until I could see the area of the fall, then released Ginger on her name. She raced to the mark, where she ran a couple of quick, tight, high speed circles before picking the grouse from the underbrush and presenting it to me. My little girl had flushed a grouse on her nose, stayed steady throughout the entire flush, shot, and fall, marked the fall, and retrieved to hand as if she'd been doing it for years. I couldn't have been more proud. I'd learn later that not all birds would be handled as nicely, but we were off to a great start.
Woodcock would rule the day on my second trip to the great north woods. B.K. and I would find out quickly a number of woodcock could test a young dog, as well as multiple tricky grouse flushes could. For the most part Ginger's manners stayed intact thanks to the woodcock's nature of flushing skyward. Grouse were becoming a problem, as their tendency to flush horizontally before gaining altitude was too tempting for Ginger, on may occasion requiring me to steady her with the whistle. Thankfully through it all she still remembered what a long blast on the whistle meant, and heeded the signal.
On our second or maybe our third day in camp B.K. and I made a quick trip through one of our usual spots with Ginger. Right out of the gate we moved a couple of woodcock, and a grouse, but none were put in the bag. An hour in and things had slowed until we wandered into a cut thick with head high alders, and B.K. secured a woodcock. We'd moved barely 20 more yards and suddenly all hell broke loose. Ginger flushed (and failed to stop on) a woodcock that I rocked on the shot. Not being well hit, nor marked by my now out of control dog, I stood still and directed B.K. to the area of the mark so we could then reign Ginger in and have her hunt dead. We were soon to understand Ginger's unbridled excitement.
As B.K. reached the area of the fall another woodcock got up, but it's straight away flight line was no problem for B.K. who easily stoned it. With two down, and a seemingly unhinged spaniel I would surely be needed at the area of the fall to regain control of the dog and recover our game, however on my first step in that direction another woodcock flushed at my feet offering a straightaway in the opposite direction, and I killed it easily. Now with three birds on the ground and who knows how many holding around us, it was time to get busy, and I whistled Ginger in to hunt dead.
We elected to recover the last bird I'd killed first, as B.K. was already in the area of the other two. Ginger, now in control made short work of this bird, and we turned our attention to the other two. Working the area B.K. had marked Ginger began to make game slightly off the mark, and after a minute or two presented us with a winged woodcock. At this point I'd begun to think that I'd actually missed the first bird, and that the one B.K. had shot was a reflush of that bird, and that was what Ginger had just retrieved. But B.K. insisted that he'd clean killed his bird, and that the winged bird had to be the one I'd shot. So off Ginger was sent to find yet another bird. The search wouldn't last long as B.K. quickly notice that the dead woodcock was laying a mere 6 inched in front of his right foot as we stood there watching the dog. We now had 4 woodcock in the collective game bag. And while it took me a good few minutes to recount this story, and you a bit less time to read it, in real time it all happened real quick, with all three shots happening withing 60 seconds, and the recovery of the birds taking only a couple of minutes.
We weren't done. With Ginger reeled in we moved forward and killed two more well handled woodcock within 50 yards of where we'd picked the last three. Two limits of woodcock were killed and in the bag in about 20 minute of what was a 2 hour hunt. That many birds, that much scent, and that much shooting in such a small area did present a problem for the young dog, but nothing that couldn't be recovered from.
Throughout the week many woodcock were shot and retrieved by B.K. and I, as well as some grouse. Both dogs saw their fair share of birds, and time in the woods. Ginger and I both learned a lot about grouse and woodcock hunting, and what is expected. An additional highlight of my second trip north was sharing camp with a contingent of spaniel people. In total there were 19 springer spaniels spread between three cabins and an RV. It made for some interesting, enjoyable, and educational conversation. I was relieved to hear that I wasn't the only spaniel owner having difficulty with steadiness in a young dog when dealing with the excitement of a grouse's horizontal flush. In my opinion one of the most exciting thing in the grouse woods is when a dog flushes a grouse back at you, and several times Ginger did just that.
Life being what it is B.K. had to depart camp early because of a business trip he was required to make. On his last morning before heading south he and Ruby went out on a solo trip while Ginger and I explored a covert we hadn't touched yet. We returned to camp to find that Ruby had guided B.K. to another limit of woodcock. A nice way to part.
We did some things differently this year. Gone are the days of feeling the need to beat the brush all day long. Instead we hunted from about 9am to about noon, enjoyed a leisurely lunch, then got out again late in the day, hunting the last hour or two. This tactic showed us lots of grouse, however most often they were flushing from trees. Still, having multiple flushes, 10-11 grouse from two trees, is quite exciting.
Reflecting on the trips later I easily knew what I need to work on, and what the successes were. Like always my shooting proved to be a weak link, and birds that should have fallen flew on. The weather didn't cooperate, but over the years we've learned what we can handle and how to deal with rain. So we made the best of the opportunities we had, and had the right equipment for the times it was needed. Ginger was a success, too. Though there were moments when her youth, and excitement got the better of her, the work I've put into her was apparent. All in all I give her performance a B+, improving as her steadiness improves.
Last week I had the pleasure of sharing a camp up north with G.W. for 5 days. I was out with Ginger in pursuit of grouse and woodcock, and G. W. was getting in some quality fishing the last few days of the trout season. Naturally we ate quite well, grilling some woodcock I'd taken for an appetizer with our steaks, and eating an Oktoberfest type meal of kielbasa, and sauerkraut. Burgers, and cold cuts filled us during the day when we'd have rather not been in camp, but out in the sunlight. The last night it was decided that a fish and game feast was in order, so we set out to create a feast with our rewards. I had a brace of grouse to contribute, and G.W. a couple trout, but we'd not considered the possibility of cooking game in advance, so we were restricted to the meager contents of the camp kitchen. It was time to call a culinary audible.
I decided that the best thing for fresh grouse would be to take advantage of a couple of apples I'd brought along as snacks. Melting a 1/2 stick of butter slowly in a pan I sauteed the salted, and peppered grouse breast over a moderate heat, allowing the butter to begin to brown, When it was time to flip the grouse breast I added the pealed slices of two apples to the pan, and let them brown beside the grouse breast. After a few minutes and a few shakes of the pan I added about a 1/2 cup of white wine and simmered slowly while the white thickened. After about 5 more minutes with a slotted spoon I plated the grouse breast, and apples. Next I added more wine to the pan, raised the heat, and cooked it down until it was a thick syrupy sauce which I poured over the grouse and apples.
G.W. is no stranger to the kitchen, and has cooked up a few nice dishes in his day. His decision to poach the trout he'd caught came quite easily to him. Like my dish G.W. started by melting butter, and seasoning the fish with salt and pepper. He then proceeded to brown both sides of the fish in the butter before adding about 1/2 cup of lemon juice, 1/2 cup of white wine, and 2 tablespoons of chopped garlic to the pan. The trout was then left to poach over a medium-low heat until tender. During the cooking of this dish G.W. flipped the fish several times to insure it was cooked evenly, and even added more wine as it was needed. To say this dish was delicious is an understatement.
It doesn't take much to create a delectable camp feast if you've prepared and brought the appropriate spices and herbs along. Sometimes however, one must rely on a bit of cook sense.
Ginger stood on the edge of the weed choked pond, water dripping from her underside and a retrieving dummy cradled softly in her mouth, watching 5 mallards alight from the Lily pads just 20 yards from where she'd made the retrieve. We'd been doing a little preseason water work in a "ducky" looking section of the pond. I'd have sworn I'd heard an occasional quack to our left, but the well camouflaged ducks remained hidden until they decided they'd had enough of our drill. That they'd stayed put, and undetected for a half dozen retrieves somewhat amazed me. As I scanned the water, straining to spot more tight holding fowl, I was reminded of something a wildlife biologist once told me; Habitat is defined by the species that use it. I'm sure there is probably a lot of levels to that statement if we chose to dissect it, but I like to keep it simple, and in the context of finding game. Of course no one just goes out and finds game. A requisite amount of research and scouting are required, so let's take a peek at scouting, it's pieces, and many forms.
Scouting is nothing more than looking for clues that will put us closer to the game we are pursuing. Big game hunters probably get the most involved with scouting, relying on a variety of techniques and technology to help them amass as many clues as possible to put them on game. Small game, and waterfowl hunters scout with a bit less precision, but spend time doing homework, too. When it comes to scouting, seeing the actual species you are targeting, in your intended area is probably the best indication that you are in the right area. Deer hunters glassing fields at dusk, grouse hunters seeing birds along logging roads, and duck hunters seeing fowl fly into a marsh at dawn are all dead give-a-ways. You'd probably do well hunting in those areas.
Other times the clues aren't as obvious. Big game hunters will look for trails, scat, hair, and various calling posts left by game. Uplanders will listen for grouse drumming, of birds calling, as well as remnants of birds taken by predators. Yup, you may not be the only species looking for a meal in those woods and fields. With these clues the big game hunter has then got to work to get the bigger picture of what is going on, and piece together a plan. Unlike an uplander who goes to the game, usually a big game hunter will sit in ambush waiting for the game to come to them.
Identifying likely habitat is another way of zeroing in on game. In keeping the simplicity in the statement that habitat is defined by the species that use it, I look for habitat that I have learn my target species prefers. Primarily a Ruffed Grouse hunter, I have learned that the grouse have a preference, and my scouting is usually just a matter of finding habitat to fit that bill. Over the years I have begun to do the same thing with duck habitat. If I look at an area of habitat, and it looks like a place ducks would like, I label it duck cover and hunt it. I don't feel the need to get out early with a pair of binoculars and actually see ducks pouring in. Like grouse cover, my mileage has varied. Some spots have proven to hold lots of duck and grouse, and others not so many. But like the ducks at the beginning of this ramble prove, they are hard to see when resting in weedy, stagnant pools with cover.
So get out there, if you haven't already and do your homework. And in your travels, if it looks good, hunt it.
What is it, really, that brings us all to grouse camp each fall? It must be something truly special to motivate one to pack dog, gear and gun into a cramped car, and turn north to the farthest reaches of New Hampshire. I've got it easy, only driving up from Boston, but others make the trip from more southerly points; New Jersey, New York City, Pennsylvania,.....and in past years, even from as far away as Colorado. Perhaps it's the thrill of sneaking away from civilization, and staying in a rustic camp?
Or the view it provides?
Maybe it's the thrill of getting to hunt and share camp with this guy? But I doubt it.
I think it's about covers filled with potential,.....
and the vistas travelled between them.
But even more, I think it's about good friends, and gun dogs.
Sterling & Tim
Steve & Lula
Myself & Bryan
Lula
Often the surprises we encounter along the way become cherished memories,......*
Woodies flushed from a creek
but mostly, it's the birds that bring us together.
Special thanks to ASO Pro Staffers Bryan, and Sterling for providing the photos. * If you ever have a chance to meet Sterling, ask him about his cherished memory of a Black Bear surprise in Pennsylvania.
Last week while grouse hunting up north I found myself needing to buy a box of shells. No problem, I'll just pop into the local sporting goods store, and grab a box off the shelf. That's exactly what I did. But I was reminded of a conversation I'd had with my friend Sterling a week before while grouse hunting. I paid $17.50 for a box of 20 gauge, high brass 7 1/2s. But price isn't the subject of this rant. The fact that by next season any un-used shell which has been rolled in my pocket, thumbed, and been allowed to commingle with other shells will be indistinguishable from any other shell is my problem. For $17.50 per box, the manufacturers could at least mark their products with ink that doesn't wear off so easily. While I usually dedicate one pocket for 7 1/2s, and another for 6s, by the end of the season shells often end up mixed together some how. When it comes time again to use these shells, I sure would like to know that it's a 7 1/2 I'm dropping in the right barrel, and a 6 I'm dropping it the left barrel. Is that too much to ask? Rant over.
Another journey north, to the grouse woods of northern New Hampshire served to further expand my knowledge of this most noble bird. What did I learn? That's easy. I learned that grouse hunting without a dog sucks. Sure, grouse can be hunted without, and with some company to help move the birds forward you're sure to sling some lead. But solo, truly solo; no dog, no friends, it's a different, and much more challenging game. And the birds sure seemed to know the difference, preceding to flush behind me after I'd moved past them.
As I'm sure you could guess, my idea of accessorizing is a lanyard with dog whistle around my neck. And if you've been following my blog, you'll know I've got no one to blame for my dog less position but myself. I should have started a pup a couple years ago, and been prepared for the inevitable passing of Austin, my setter. But sometimes we don't make the best decisions, or think clearly, so I must resign myself to less intense grouse season, and a more intense dog training season. Happily, the latter is making up for the former, and Ginger, my springer pup is coming along grand.
All hope was not lost on this last trip north, however. I took some time to venture deeper into an area I'd hunted last year, and the trip proved out my suspicions. I moved quite a few birds in there. Of course this marks a growing understanding of the functions of my GPS. Now that I've had the GPS a couple of years, and experimented with it's functions, I've gotten to the point where I feel comfortable busting brush into parts unknown, and using it to navigate my way back. That was precisely what I did. Last year, in unseasonable heat, Bryan and I hunted this area for a couple of hours. We hunted it in the typical walk the trail while the dog courses the cover routine. The heat, however, sapped the energy of both dog and man, and we quit hunting quite early every day we were there. This year I felt the call of the wild, and went where the cover took me.
The birds in the cover often seemed, to my detriment, to not really care too much about my presence. Sure, they were sneeky, and flushed behind obstructions, but they flew as if they'd never seen a human before. This should have been a recipe for success, should your measure of success be a heavy game bag, but I found myself being punished in other ways. I'd decided I'd carry my 28 gauge Gamba over/under into that covert. That turned out to be a mistake. Not the result of bad shooting, so stop thinking it. But rather a more mundane, and foolish annoyance. Being a rather cold day, I'd elected to wear gloves. I say elected, as if I had a choice, but I didn't. It was about 22 degree in the morning, and had only warmed to about 32 degrees by the time I was in the woods. The Gamba, of course has a rather low profile thumb safety,.....yup. Safety trouble of the highest order. Three softballs go up, and three times I fail to switch the safety off. A dog wouldn't have helped in this case, but at least I'd have had a companion to bitch at. But I can't blame the gun, nor the lack of a dog, nor the weather. I can't blame anything, or anyone for my troubles afield. It is, after all, grouse hunting.
The autumn woods, alive with kaleidoscopic colors, and the moist earthy smells of composting leaves, religiously draw sportsmen, and their dogs to impenetrable tangles of thorn, and boot swallowing bramble in search of grouse and woodcock every year. Many of them, like myself, are prone to temporary bouts of amnesia, forgetting birthdays, names, and the where-a-bouts of the honey do list, as the humidity of summer passes, and the temperature slowly falls. It's a time of the year when a gundogs place in the family pecking order quickly rises, while shotguns of every imaginable configuration are cleaned, inspected, and cleaned again. Familiar grouse coverts, and tote roads worn with boot traffic bring a sense of relief like no easy chair and tumbler has ever provided during the off season. While the pleasure of watching ones dog course the woods in search of grouse scent is held in higher esteem than a first class upgrade, and the intensity of a bird well pointed holds more excitement than a Stanley Cup over-time game, the end result sometimes fizzles, rather than pops, because no extra hours on the sporting clays course, nor weekends working with dog trainers can take the survival instinct out of the grouse.
Pointing dogs, being the choice of most grouse hunters, can reveal the location of quite a few grouse in their life time, but making the most of the situation requires more than just a heads up dog, and a keen shooting eye. The Ruffed Grouse's compulsion to run requires dog and handler to form a partnership to put birds before the gun. Countless water-colors depict the lone hunter and his staunch dog, locked onto a grouse flushing straight away from the base of a tree in a long abandoned orchard, but it seldom happens this way. The idea of strolling behind your dog, and sauntering up to his point for a shot may work on plantations lousy with quail, but in the grouse woods, especially when hunting solo, it's better to be proactive. Not only will a little forward thinking put more birds in your bag, but it'll greatly improve the bond between man and dog. Here are a few tips that will help you and your dog to enjoy more grouse hunting success, no matter how you define it.
Trust your dogs nose- For the most part, the upland hunter uses a dog because it's olfactory system has the ability to detect and decipher the tasty smells of nature. As the scent moves from the dogs nose to it's brain, the dog communicates to us it's excitement through subtle changes in body movement. How we react to that movement can either break or seal a deal. While a dog should hunt for the handler, rather than going where, and doing what it pleases, it should be given some latitude. A dog that lifts it's head, and looks in a direction other than that being traveled might be telling you something, and encouraged to investigate. The same with a dog who, while running a beat, circles back and double checks an area behind you. Grouse are cunning, and will circle around on occasion. Though we'd like to think we're pressuring a bird, and moving it ahead, that's not always the case. A dog that checks it's back trail could well end up pointing a bird behind you.
Resist stopping the dog- The Whoa command is a great command. It ensures steadiness in a young dog, can re-enforce manners when running multiple dogs, and can be a great safety tool when near roadways. Used too often, it can give a running grouse a head start every time you use it. Once a dog has become grouse wise, and knows not to crowd birds, the whoa command should be used sparingly. Allowing your dog to reposition as the grouse moves on keeps both you, and the dog closer to the bird as it try's to make it's escape. A dog with good grouse sense will expertly handle all the repositioning on it's own, until pinning the bird. To build this grouse sense in your dog you've got trust him. Laying off the whoa command allow this to happen, and strengthens the bond you two share, as well as increase your enjoyment afield together. Refraining from using the command also keeps you from having to walk over and release the dog after it has complied with the command.
Get Ahead- Hand in hand with allowing your dog to reposition, and probably the biggest piece of the partnership puzzle, is knowing when to get ahead of your dog. I'm not talking about moving in on a point, but hustling well ahead and letting the dog work towards you. Once a dog has become birdy, and it is clear it's working the hot scent of a runner, make a big loop forward so as to end up between 30 to 50 yards ahead of him. Then either start working back towards him slowly, or move back and forth perpendicular to his path, as he herds the running grouse forward. Once the bird realizes it's between the two of you it'll find a hide out, and be pointed. This tactic is easy if you hunting along a tote, or a gated road, as you can get on the road and quickly move ahead. A word of caution, however. This tactic is for the solo hunter. When hunting with others safety is paramount; always know where your shooting partners are. It is best, if hunting with a group, to refrain from having someone circle ahead, but rather have two flankers, designated as shooters, move forward quickly, parallel to the track of the dog. This will cause a grouse to either hold until it can be pointed, or come unglued.
Silence is golden- keeping voice communications to a minimum will leave the wary grouse guessing as to your where-a-bouts until it's too late. When your dog is pushing a running grouse, your dog represents the imminent threat to the bird, and it's only thinking about escaping the dog. When you begin pushing in on a point, the threat changes, and you become the imminent threat. The bird is now focused of you. Why alert the grouse to your presents before it's absolutely necessary by giving commands, or encouragement? Letting your presence be a surprise might just be the thing needed to force the grouse to make a mistake in choosing it's escape path, putting right in front of your muzzles.
Know your coverts- Grouse can be predictable. If you are familiar with your cover, you'll have a better understanding of how the grouse move about in that cover. Some smaller covers will allow you to predict with stunning accuracy where, and which direction a grouse will flush. When this happens you can begin to dissect the cover by casting your dog in a direction you know will influence a birds behavior on the ground. By paying attention to the features In coverts you're intimately familiar with, you will begin to see similar feature in new coverts, and can adapt a strategy for you and the dog based experience elsewhere. Speeding up, or slowing down, based on experience elsewhere may well have you and your dog pinning birds quicker and easier.
Double the dog- Not only is it exciting watching two dogs working in tandem, but it's double the scenting power. Should you be lucky enough to have two pointing dogs this maybe something you want to try. Naturally, the dogs should hunt independently, and have different ranges. The wider, bigger running dog has as much chance of pressuring a bird to move towards you, as it comes around on it's beat, as it does away. When it does, the bird will find itself between the two dogs. You'll find this represents a different kind of threat to the grouse, causing them to hold sooner, ground routes cut off.
Next time you're in the woods, just you and the dog, think about these tips, and give one, or all of them a try. I think they'll help you get productive points quicker. Your dog works hard for you, and you should work just as hard for him. After all, your relationship is real a partnership, and the success of the solo wingshooter depends on the success of the dog, so help him out. You're game bag will appreciate it.
**This is a piece I wrote back in June and shopped around to some outdoor publications. While I recieved good feed back from editors who liked the idea, none wanted to spend money on it. Seems budgets are tight in the periodical world right now. Anyway, here it is now for your enjoyment.
