Bill Marchel: Opening day of grouse season signals optimism

NISSWA, MINN. — No matter what your outdoor interests might have been, Saturday was a grand day to be afield.

Rolf Moen of Nisswa and I chose to hunt ruffed grouse. Archery hunting for whitetails could wait until evening, or another day.

Not long after sunrise, we took to the woods accompanied by our canine counterparts, Rolf's pudelpointer, Annie, and my Deutsch Drahthaar, Axel. A light frost -- the first of the season -- covered the grasses in the openings among the aspens. Fall colors have yet to peak, but there were enough reds, oranges and yellows to please the eye. It was 34 degrees, perfect for man and dog.

Early season hunting for ruffed grouse can be frustrating because oftentimes, due to the heavy vegetation, flushing grouse wing to safety without being seen and without a shot being fired. Only occasionally does a grouse hunter get a dream opportunity: an open shot at a retreating grouse.

That's just what happened about midmorning.

Rolf was 20 yards to my right as we navigated through a particularly attractive patch of grey dogwood, berry-ridden as they were. Both dogs were ahead, unseen, sniffing the various scents, interpreting the olfactory goings-on we humans can only imagine.

Then the whirr of wings.

"We can find that bird," I said to Rolf.

Men and dogs sloshed across the wet meadow stumbling now and then on the grassy hummocks. Some 40 yards into the woods, Axel's beeper signaled he was pointing. I spotted the dog, rigid among a clump of hazel brush, and approached him head on, gun ready. In front of his Axel's nose I discovered the now-dead grouse.

"Good boy, Axel," I said, and patted the dog on the head.

A few minutes later Rolf added a bird to his game bag when Axel accidently bumped a grouse. Axel is 10 years old. When he messes up and puts a grouse to wing without first pointing the bird, he often barks as if frustrated with his poor performance. Rolf heard Axel bark and then spotted a grouse darting among the aspens in his direction. At Rolf's shot, the grouse folded and fell to the forest floor.

And so the morning went. In roughly four hours of hunting, we had 26 grouse flushes, some of which I'm sure were reflushes. Four ruffs ended up in our game bags. Our dogs, a bit rusty after a long offseason, bumped a number of birds out of gun range. We also put up nine woodcock. That season doesn't open until Saturday.