Bill Marchel: Woods still call in the grays of November

BRAINERD - Most non-hunters see the browns and grays of the November woods as lifeless and depressing. To a hunter, the same landscape foretells opportunity and chance.

Usually.

Last week, on what I figured was going to be the last snowless day of a thus far balmy November, I left the road and marched with shotgun in hand into the woods. The scene was, well, lifeless and depressing, even to this hunter.

Although it was early afternoon, it appeared as if sunset were near. Light rain was falling from a grayer-than-gray sky, and a thin fog hugged the ground. It was 39 degrees, the air deathly still. Hanging from each and every twig were numerous water drops, poised, ready it seemed to trickle down my neck at the slightest provocation.

My plan was to get in one last snow-free hunt for ruffed grouse ahead of a predicted Alberta clipper. I hoped, too, that I might secure a ruff or two for supper.

I also wanted my dog, Axel, a rather high-strung Deutsch Drahthaar, to burn off some energy.

Just minutes into the hunt I saw the first ruffed grouse, which flushed from at least 50 yards ahead. I caught only a brief glimpse of the bird as it flew low from one aspen clump into another. I directed Axel in that direction. Again the grouse flushed wild -- well out of shotgun range -- this time gaining more altitude. It arched over some distant aspens and finally disappeared above a watery lowland of willow and alder.

November grouse can be tough to find because the food sources attractive to the birds in October are now mostly gone, and so the birds have shifted to new areas. As I hunted through the dank woods, I noted the red stems of gray dogwood were barren of the small white berries grouse favor. I angled back and forth from alder lowland to oak high ground, concentrating on the clumps of hazel brush. The catkins of hazel are relished by grouse once the fruits of October have diminished.

Perhaps 20 minutes elapsed before I heard Axel's beeper collar signal he was on point. The sound emanated from a thick patch of hazel brush ahead and to my right. I walked quickly in that direction, gun ready. A grouse flushed even before I had spotted Axel. The bird angled back and to my right. I quickly swung by shotgun, briefly tracking the bird, and then touched the trigger. The grouse plummeted to the forest floor, dislodging a shower of rain drops in the process. Axel now appeared and ran to retrieve the soggy grouse.

I guessed the grouse Axel held in his mouth was not the bird he had pointed and sure enough, another bird flushed.

Axel is 9 years old and has long ago figured out that when I reach for a camera, our hunt comes to a temporary halt, much to his dismay. I took a few photos of Axel posing with the grouse. Then I examined the bird. I noted it was female, but more importantly, I discovered her crop was full, not of hazel catkins as I had expected, but of acorns.

Only occasionally do I find a grouse with a crop full of acorns.

Axel pointed one more grouse on the way back to the road, but this bird flushed before I could close to within gun range.

That night I had grouse breast for supper -- seasoned and grilled. I fed Axel, too, and he was then content to lie peacefully next to the couch, worn out enough to calm him through Thanksgiving.

At least that was the plan.

Bill Marchel, an outdoors photographer and columnist, lives near Brainerd.