Got this one pic of Mr. Grouse. Seems everyone wants to paint things brown or green when trying to camo them in the woods. But gray seems to just blend in and disappear. And it looks like he's used that drumming log before by the missing moss where he's doing his thing. Also, you can have them whippoorwills. They're almost as noisy to me as a blue jay. At two in the morning sitting in a tree above the cabin. I went out one year with a flashlight and a .410 looking for that bird. It managed to disappear before I could silence it. Their call is supposed to mimic their name, but I'm hearing 'HEY WAKE UP STUPID-HEY WAKE UP STUPID'.

Years ago I had a grouse sneak up on me. I was hunting around the side of the mountain, stopped to watch across a bench for a while. I was sitting there watching, I'd hear a little something in the leaves, I'd look and there's nothing there. Little bit later I'd hear something again, I'd glance that way and there's nothing there. It's hard to pinpoint one little sound.

I guess it jumped off of a rock or log and took about 3 steps, I put an eye on it that time. It was out about 25 yards, just feeding along. Once I found it, I could keep track of it, I sat there watched it till it walked out of sight. They do blend in very good.

One of you guys ought to start up a new company and put out a line of digital "grouse-o-flage" camo.

They do blend in quite well. The only ones I've ever killed were while I was squirrel hunting.

The grouse around here are not as wary as those more south. It is a lot of fun when you spook a covey and then you hunt them in the trees. They can be tough to spot.

You guys that have a good population of grouse are fortunate. It's been years and years since I've seen more than 3 together.

Above Frank was telling us about his "drumming log". I'll tell you a story that Dad told me/us years ago. I've heard the story more than once.

Dad was just a kid, living out on the farm with his parents and all. (my brother lives in Granddad's house now) Dad said there was a grouse drumming over on the next ridge, across from the house.

Dad set off with intentions of killing the thing. Dad said the grouse could hear him in the leaves and before he could get within range or get a shot the bird flushed.

Dad went back to the house and got a rake or a broom?, went back over there and made himself a little trail up to the where he needed to be.

I forget, a day or 2 later the grouse was over there drumming again. Dad said he went up the new path and slipped right up on it, and killed it that time. Figure back in the 1930's, I'll bet that grouse looked pretty good on the table.

Smooth. Did the same rake trick while bow hunting years ago. Short grass hill thick with fallen leaves leading up to trees. Raked a swatch a couple feet wide. The guys thought I was nuts. Two days later, I slowly, quietly, snuck up on a white tail. The guys didn't think I was nuts when they helped me drag her back to camp!

Frank.

I once met a guy with a lawn mower in the bush. He was mowing a trail smooth so his 80 something year old father could walk to the blind safely.

I remember that you told us before about the young man trimming out his Dad's trail. That just shows how much he cares for his father, and realizes that his hunting days are coming to an end.

That brings back lots of memories. I think about my Dad, back when I was a kid, he'd do about everything for me. There for a good many years (not nearly enough) we were about even up. Then it got to the point where I was doing pretty much everything for Dad. The "circle of life".

It's about the same with my buddy Wardney, he'll tell you that he can't walk, he'll pitch and fall and stumble around. After all of the fun hunts we've had together, it's Wardney's turn to take it easy. I've done it lots of times, I'll tell him "You drop me off here, and take take the truck down to so-and-so and watch. If he kills something, that's fine, if he doesn't that's fine too. At least we got out.

I do not know if the old guy is still alive. I have not seen him or the son in a couple of years. The last week end of moose season and the opening of trapping coincide quite often.

One time partner and I were going down the road setting marten boxes and we come across the dad who had just shot a moose on the road. It wasn't kicking anymore but almost. We dragged it to the side so we could pass. No sooner than we did that, his family started arriving as they were going to their spots.

Very happy family because the old dad had killed.

Well, sounds like the old Dad hammered the moose pretty good, or broke it's spine to drop it in the road. I've heard rumors that moose can be very tough animals.

Wardney is about 25 years older than me, and we've hunted together off and on for years. This past season we didn't get to go out together, cause of the virus and the unknowns. Season before last Wardney and I were sitting up here along the river doe hunting one evening.

A little before sundown a big doe came into the field we were watching, Wardney squared-up and fired a shot and dropped it. I poked him on the shoulder and told him that was a very nice shot. We ranged it, I forget exactly but it was well over 200 yards.

Anyway, we got the truck, circled around the field, up along the river and drove right to the deer. Wardney made a grab for his knife and told him "here, hold up this leg for me". I gutted his deer, we loaded it up and took it to the skinning shed. We had it cleaned up, hosed off and hanging and the steam was still boiling off of the carcass. You know, stuff like that is no big deal, but Wardney is better than 80 years old.