Opening day of Grouse season was a little lonely. All three of my hunting companions bailed on this trip. I left the house on my own around 9:00 am. I chose to do a little exploring in a place I had never hunted before. From the car I climbed a steep ridgeline heading North. I was planning on dropping off the ridge to the North or East in search of Ruffed Grouse. As I neared the first peak at approximately 8200 ft. I turned on a switchback to see what had to be a Blue Grouse banking off the ridge only 20 yards away. She had flushed so quietly I would not have ever known she was there if I didn't catch that glimpse of her as she disappeared off the west side of the ridge. She seemed to have already peaked and was heading down as she dove out of sight. I had never killed a Blue with my shotgun. Though I have killed a couple with my bow as I stumbled onto them in the deer and elk hunts. I tried to contain my excitement as I followed her off the ridgeline trail and onto the Western face of the mountain. The cover was typical high Wasatch Western exposed. Sage and grass, that dried cabbagey stuff, and a thick brush similar to oakbrush but obviously a different plant. The brush was spotty and in clumps ranging from the size of a motorcycle to the size of a suburban. it was about 10:00 am and at that altitude the cool breeze and my sweaty shirt would have been a little chilly without the increasingly warming sunshine. I eased around onto the sidehill and carefully scanned the brushy clumps for the one I might dive into if I were an escaping grouse. No need because as I came just a few feet from the first bush it unloaded Blue Grouse in all directions. Not one but four of the big gray birds went up very quickly and then set their wings down the hill. Sometimes the visual of a flush sticks in your mind and this was one of those. I can close my eyes and see a still image of three of the birds lifting through an opening in the brush. I slapped my little twenty gauge to my shoulder and tipped over one of the birds just as it was about to disappear behind one of the suburban sized bushes. He hit the ground with his head up and about five minutes later I tackled him in a cloud of dust and sage and thought of how nice it would have been to have had Shane and his sweet wirehaired Bella to have helped with that one. The next thirty minutes are a little fuzzy. When I say I was into birds I mean I was really into them. These Blues didn't want to get up and go very far. I would flush a bird and not have a shot but I could tell where it would have gone down I would hustle over there only to flush two more birds on the way. They kind of had me doing circles in an area the size of a grocery store parking lot. At least three times I could see a bird on the ground as I approached but when I would move up to flush them they would crawl through to the other side and flush out of sight. I think I had about four more flushes and missed two quick shots. I followed one for a reflush and as I stopped to look or listen to try to hear him in the dried cabbage he jumped up an tried to cross way to big of an opening. My improved cylinder took him hard in the left flank as he crossed the opening from right to left. I tucked the big bird in my bag, passing him to the opening with my right hand and pulling him in head first with my left. Thinking to myself that every bird I've ever killed went into the bag the same way. First kills in a season always dig up some memories. I climbed back towards my ridgeline thinking about past hunts. Thinking about my three buddies who were going to regret missing this one. I was also thinking I would quit and leave a few "for seed" or for next weekend to watch Bella point these big Blue birds. I found a beautiful spot near the peak. I pulled off my bag and took some water. I smiled a very self-congratulatory smile. I opened up the birds an
d cleaned them knowing they taste better if allowed to cool quickly. I sat for a while looking down at some Ruffed grouse cover from my high vantage point. I looked at my watch and went through that weird planning or decision making process that one does when he has no companions and no where really better to be than the perch he's currently resting on. It was a successful hunt but it was short and I thought I needed a little more. Nah nevermind, I thought let's go home and save them for next time. Wouldn't you know when I turned home I flushed another grouse. I could say it was a difficult flush and a masterful shot but it was really a gimme. I was on the trail and she was in the open . She folded up only 20 yards away. I quickly cleaned her too and now I was headed home...but wait i guess i could drop down there and swing back to the south through that patch of Pine and Aspen and back to the car. How cool would it be to kill ol' ruff and round off a mixed bag limit. So down I went and up went more Blue Grouse three to be exact and only two of them came back down on there feet. I picked him up and pulled him into my bag head first just like the other three and walked off the mountain, thinking it was a pretty good opening day of the season and one I won't soon forget.
Opening day of Grouse season was a little lonely. All three of my hunting companions bailed on this trip. I left the house on my own around 9:00 am. I chose to do a little exploring in a place I had never hunted before. From the car I climbed a steep ridgeline heading North. I was planning on dropping off the ridge to the North or East in search of Ruffed Grouse. As I neared the first peak at approximately 8200 ft. I turned on a switchback to see what had to be a Blue Grouse banking off the ridge only 20 yards away. She had flushed so quietly I would not have ever known she was there if I didn't catch that glimpse of her as she disappeared off the west side of the ridge. She seemed to have already peaked and was heading down as she dove out of sight. I had never killed a Blue with my shotgun. Though I have killed a couple with my bow as I stumbled onto them in the deer and elk hunts. I tried to contain my excitement as I followed her off the ridgeline trail and onto the Western face of the mountain. The cover was typical high Wasatch Western exposed. Sage and grass, that dried cabbagey stuff, and a thick brush similar to oakbrush but obviously a different plant. The brush was spotty and in clumps ranging from the size of a motorcycle to the size of a suburban. it was about 10:00 am and at that altitude the cool breeze and my sweaty shirt would have been a little chilly without the increasingly warming sunshine. I eased around onto the sidehill and carefully scanned the brushy clumps for the one I might dive into if I were an escaping grouse. No need because as I came just a few feet from the first bush it unloaded Blue Grouse in all directions. Not one but four of the big gray birds went up very quickly and then set their wings down the hill. Sometimes the visual of a flush sticks in your mind and this was one of those. I can close my eyes and see a still image of three of the birds lifting through an opening in the brush. I slapped my little twenty gauge to my shoulder and tipped over one of the birds just as it was about to disappear behind one of the suburban sized bushes. He hit the ground with his head up and about five minutes later I tackled him in a cloud of dust and sage and thought of how nice it would have been to have had Shane and his sweet wirehaired Bella to have helped with that one. The next thirty minutes are a little fuzzy. When I say I was into birds I mean I was really into them. These Blues didn't want to get up and go very far. I would flush a bird and not have a shot but I could tell where it would have gone down I would hustle over there only to flush two more birds on the way. They kind of had me doing circles in an area the size of a grocery store parking lot. At least three times I could see a bird on the ground as I approached but when I would move up to flush them they would crawl through to the other side and flush out of sight. I think I had about four more flushes and missed two quick shots. I followed one for a reflush and as I stopped to look or listen to try to hear him in the dried cabbage he jumped up an tried to cross way to big of an opening. My improved cylinder took him hard in the left flank as he crossed the opening from right to left. I tucked the big bird in my bag, passing him to the opening with my right hand and pulling him in head first with my left. Thinking to myself that every bird I've ever killed went into the bag the same way. First kills in a season always dig up some memories. I climbed back towards my ridgeline thinking about past hunts. Thinking about my three buddies who were going to regret missing this one. I was also thinking I would quit and leave a few "for seed" or for next weekend to watch Bella point these big Blue birds. I found a beautiful spot near the peak. I pulled off my bag and took some water. I smiled a very self-congratulatory smile. I opened up the birds an
d cleaned them knowing they taste better if allowed to cool quickly. I sat for a while looking down at some Ruffed grouse cover from my high vantage point. I looked at my watch and went through that weird planning or decision making process that one does when he has no companions and no where really better to be than the perch he's currently resting on. It was a successful hunt but it was short and I thought I needed a little more. Nah nevermind, I thought let's go home and save them for next time. Wouldn't you know when I turned home I flushed another grouse. I could say it was a difficult flush and a masterful shot but it was really a gimme. I was on the trail and she was in the open . She folded up only 20 yards away. I quickly cleaned her too and now I was headed home...but wait i guess i could drop down there and swing back to the south through that patch of Pine and Aspen and back to the car. How cool would it be to kill ol' ruff and round off a mixed bag limit. So down I went and up went more Blue Grouse three to be exact and only two of them came back down on there feet. I picked him up and pulled him into my bag head first just like the other three and walked off the mountain, thinking it was a pretty good opening day of the season and one I won't soon forget.
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