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I have been sneaking along this fence line for about three weeks. The season started mid September like always and without any early frosts the summer grasses and leaf on condition was completely in the ruffed grouses favor.

After several trips through this stand of cover I had flushed an unseen grouse over the past few weeks without seeing the bird but I got an earful each time. As the sneaking on my part got sneakier the bird took to wing quicker.

During the week I thought about the bird and how crafty it was. My heart shock at the birds flush was in his favor. Sometimes the bird would run giving me a quick glimpse and then whirling aloft before I could shoulder the gun became a teasing that almost got him ground swatted. Now I am one of the best ground swatting grouse hunters Minnesota ever produced so why I let him fly, instead of die, I cannot explain.

Fall was taking its toll on leaves with the intermittent frosts. Splitting wood kept me from hunting him on a regular basis. The wood pile break probably helped my nerves also. I was having an average autumn with respect to bagging my share of the ruffies so this was a fun bird in my head to know I was sure would be there to hunt. When I stopped to think about grouse hunting this one bird, the feathered fowl became my nemesis and oddly a woods chicken I was starting to respect.

I got off a shot last Saturday and saw some hazel brush take the shot pattern and watched and listened as the bird sailed into a stand of balsam. Following up the bird I got half way to where it went down and it flew away unseen. I felt better just knowing I got the lead out for a change.

So today with Carmel sumac leaves barely stirring in the crisp air I slowly parallel the fence. Up ahead I can see how the frost has crinkled and punked the skin on the crab apples still clinging to the branches. Under the fruit tree the arrowed cuts from deer tracks catch my eye. Biting one of the crabs the tartness makes me spit it out and contorts my eyes.

My second step and the bird roars from only feet away and is cresting at the top of the crab apple tree. Only this time the fruit is there in bunches but the leaves are almost completely gone. My eyes track the bird through the branches and I get my lead. At the shot the bird tumbles. I mark it down. Bird fever sets in and I start to vibrate.

I walk to where it should have crash landed and there on the forest floor it lays. In my hand the bird is warm and regal. What a sash of dark neck hackle this bird sported. I stand still trying to make a memory that will last. The sky color and the earthy smell of wet fallen leaves. I sniff my empty shotgun shell and pluck a tail feather for my hat.

I pose my over under twelve with the grouse across the shotguns stock. The empty shell is below the ruffed grouses beak. It’s all back dropped with maple, birch and poplar leaves against a crab apple tree trunk.

Now what’s the odd feeling I’m having? I have the bird in my game pouch and I miss that ruffed grouse not in bird shot but my minds eye because next Saturday I know he will not be there. This one grouse has still got me flustered.

The trout whisperer

Karl "Trout Whisperer" Seckinger is a respected JustNorth author and outdoor adventurer. His guide service, DuNord Guide Service, and the trout waters that he fishes in the Superior National Forest, are some of the most tightly guarded secrets among Trout enthusiasts in Minnesota and Wisconsin.

Contact Karl at 218 - 525 - 0442 or write to him at:

DuNord Guide Service - 6999 Culbertson Road, Two Harbors, Minnesota 55616