My friend Gene accepted my invitation to go with Bruno and me for a few days of ruffed grouse and woodcock hunting near our cabin in NE Lower Michigan. Gene hadn't bird hunted in several years, so he was eager to join us on our adventure. For most of the 7-8 hours that we hunted, we were in Presque Isle, Cheboygan, Otsego, and Montmorency Counties.
Wednesday afternoon, 10/22, we arrived at the cabin. We hunted first in a large, dense aspen stand in Montmorency County, where Bruno beautifully pointed two woodcock and one grouse in 1.5 hours. Gene made a splendid shot on a woodcock that initially refused to be flushed from its thick aspen cover. I saw where the timberdoodle lay hidden as it tried to blend in with the ground cover eight feet ahead and to the right of Bruno's nose, but when I stepped into the thicket, it tweedled and launched straight up over Gene's head, then zig-zagged through the aspen boughs. Gene twirled, shot, and smiled as he watched his first woodcock in years tumble to the leaf-littered forest floor and my GSP Bruno retrieve it splendidly to my hand. Our upland bird hunting trip was off to a great start!
We continued our pocket-hunting strategy and traveled north to another consistently-productive aspen-oak covert in Cheboygan County. Immediately, Bruno became birdy, and within fifteen minutes, he pointed three ruffed grouse and I flushed another while he scouted for more birds 20 yards to our right. I shot one of these grouse, which Bruno retrieved happily to hand. Nothing is more joyful, more beautiful than watching your bird dog perform as trained.
As sunset approached we hunted still another pocket of promising cover consisting of tag alders, white birch, scattered oaks and pines, and bright red grouse-berry bushes, where two weekends earlier in the middle of the tag alder swamp we encountered fresh bear scat that was still steaming. This time, however, we found neither birds nor bear.
Thursday morning, 10/23, we hunted one hour in one of my favorite coverts in Cheboygan County. Within four minutes of our arrival, Bruno pointed a grouse, but the sly bird sneaked ahead of Bruno a few yards and flew out from behind a medium-sized red pine before we could position ourselves to shoot. A few minutes later as we approached an always productive aspen stand, Bruno again snapped into point. His staunchness and squared and lowered head just inches off the ground indicated that he had located a woodcock. As I stepped ahead of Bruno to flush the bird, it exploded into flight farther ahead than I had anticipated its location to be. I quickly fired twice then watched closely as the bird continued its flight to escape. It showed no signs of being hit. I analyzed my hurried shots and suspected that I hadn't snugly placed my right cheek to my o/u's stock to view the bird well along my o/u's ventilated rib--it seemed that my shots were close but apparently not close enough to down the bird. Anyway, I marked the vicinity to where the woodcock had flown some 50 yards away. As we approached that aspen thicket, Bruno again pointed statuesquely. While I crept ahead of him, I thoroughly searched the leaf litter for the bird. There, three yards ahead of me lay the dead woodcock that I had shot with both its wings symmetrically outstretched as if it had fallen directly to the ground in mid flight. I ordered Bruno to fetch the dead bird, and he obediently complied. The valuable lesson we learned here is that although none of us had seen any indication that the bird had been hit by my shots, we followed up to check just in case. And the reward was one beautiful bird in the bag. For the next 30 minutes, we continued our hunt in this covert; Bruno, Gene and I encountered three more grouse and one more woodcock, but the cover was too thick, so we didn't get shots.
The next few hours we toured the vast Pigeon River State Forest wilderness. We stopped to hunt briefly along one attractive segment, where Gene shot a fine grouse. We then returned to hunt a place where another friend, Paul, and I have banded woodcock in Presque Isle County. There we encountered two grouse and two woodcock in one hour but couldn't connect. We returned to the cabin where I made Gene some bear chili, which he hadn't eaten in decades.
I challenge you to think of a more splendid way to spend and end a joyous day in northern Michigan's autumn woods.
On Friday, 10/24, after the rained had stopped, we hunted for 2.5-3 hours grouse and woodcock in three different coverts in Presque Isle County. In the first covert, we encountered one wily grouse who sneaked just ahead of us in an alder thicket, then jetted away as we neared the end. The second covert that I took Gene to has always been productive for both woodcock and grouse. Just as we locked my Explorer and commenced our hunt, Gene observed a grouse streaking through the trees in front of us. We certainly hadn't flushed it and suspected that it hadn't seen us. We noted the location to which it had flown, then proceeded to a ridge overlooking a marshy creek valley. I asked Gene to walk along the top of the ridge and stay even with me as I hunted with Bruno below in the dense tag alders that stretched for hundreds of yards along the creek's edge. My plan was to have Bruno locate and then I flush woodcock and grouse that frequented the excellent bird habitat along the creek toward Gene atop the ridge . It would be very difficult for me to get a clean shot at any of the birds that I expected to encounter for the dense cover along the creek would prevent me from swiftly mounting my shotgun and taking a shot. Gene, on the other hand, was strategically situated and significantly more likely to get a good shot.
My plan worked: within minutes Bruno was tracking a grouse, which catapulted itself through the dense creekside cover and up the slope toward Gene. Surprisingly the grouse didn't level off upon reaching the ridge' top; it continued its ascent virtually straight up 35 yards before Gene. It looked as if it wanted to fly over a tall red pine tree, but before it could safely escape, Gene fired. The grouse fluttered, then lingered momentarily in mid air near the peak of the pine, then dropped 40+ feet to the earth. From creekside fifteen feet below, I yelled to Gene that he'd shot the grouse for I suspected that he couldn't have seen the bird fall from his shooting position. He hadn't seen the bird drop, but it didn't matter; Bruno witnessed the entire event and raced to retrieve the fallen grouse. After politely showing Gene that he had successfully shot the grouse, Bruno proudly ran downhill and delivered Gene's prize to my hand. Gene made the most spectacular shot on a ruffed grouse I had ever seen! Never before have I seen a ruffed grouse fly as high as this one did (nearly 45 feet!) in its attempt to escape. This bird hunting moment will last among my cherished hunting memories the rest of my life--thank you, Gene!
Tweet, tweet! Where do you think you're going? Get back here... We're not done with our bird hunting adventure yet. With Bruno searching before us, Gene and I continued our bird hunt along the top of the pine ridge. And within minutes, Bruno located and finely pointed another bird that was attempting to hide among the mixed pine and tag alder thickets. As Gene tried to move ahead of Bruno to flush the bird, it launched up, tweedled, and flew straight away. Gene quickly fired once but was uncertain whether he had hit the bird. But Bruno was certain that Gene had hit his mark, then trotted several yards through the thicket in the direction of the woodcock's escape flight. We next heard splashing sounds as Bruno swam into the woodland pond that was still hidden from our view. By the time Gene and I arrived to the pond's edge, Bruno was climbing out from the water holding Gene's downed woodcock in his mouth, which he then delivered gently to Gene's hand. Nice shot, Gene, and atta boy, Bruno!
For our final hunt, I took Gene to another aspen stand in Presque Isle County. There we quickly encountered one ruffed grouse and three woodcock. I bagged one of the woodcock, which Bruno finely retrieved, and we called it a day. We returned to my cabin, ate a quick meal, then packed up our gear and drove to Gene's cabin for a quick inspection of the premises before driving home to lovely Leelanau. A good dog, a good friend, a great hunt, and several tasty wild game meals made memorable moments for all. Do your mind, spirit, and soul a favor:
get outdoors and enjoy life!
