{"id":64296,"date":"2022-11-01T08:00:00","date_gmt":"2022-11-01T12:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.themainemag.com\/?p=64296"},"modified":"2022-11-01T12:16:09","modified_gmt":"2022-11-01T16:16:09","slug":"on-the-prowl-for-the-elusive-ruffed-grouse","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.themainemag.com\/on-the-prowl-for-the-elusive-ruffed-grouse\/","title":{"rendered":"On the Prowl for the Elusive Ruffed Grouse"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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On the Prowl for the Elusive Ruffed Grouse<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

A seasoned group of hunters and their dogs search for the ghost of the forest in Maine\u2019s North Woods.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

by Paul Koenig
Photography by Michael D. Wilson<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Issue: November \/\/ December 2022<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n\n

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Four English cocker spaniels are running in front of us, blurs of fur and flapping ears disappearing in the woods for a few minutes before reemerging to cross our path. The dogs appear to be following an invisible thread that weaves back and forth through the brush and bare saplings.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It\u2019s late November and barely over freezing. I move the 20-gauge over-under shotgun to my left hand so I can blow warm air on my right, trying to return feeling to my fingers and thumb. We\u2019re about an hour northwest of Bangor, walking on an offshoot of an offshoot that spiders out from Stud Mill Road, a well-maintained gravel logging road that runs parallel to Route 9 from Milford to Washington County.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jeff McEvoy, the owner of Weatherby\u2019s hunting and fishing camp in Grand Lake Stream, is guiding this trip. He doesn\u2019t have a gun, but he\u2019s armed with a whistle around his neck that he blows to give directions to his dogs\u2014one note to stop, two to move or change direction. McEvoy keeps his eldest dog, Molly, a chocolate cocker spaniel, close because she\u2019s lost her hearing. She isn\u2019t much help, but he still takes her out because this is what his dogs love most: hunting for grouse.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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A ruffed grouse flies in front of Carson McEvoy, Jeff McEvoy\u2019s son.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n
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Gus, one of Jeff McEvoy\u2019s English cocker spaniels.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

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Known by most hunters here as a partridge (or pa\u2019tridge), the ruffed grouse is a plump, brownish gray bird with a ruff of dark feathers around its neck, a black stripe across its tail, and feathers pointing up on its head. It\u2019s the most widely distributed game bird in the United States, but its population has shrunk across the eastern part of the country. Maine is still a stronghold for ruffed grouse, so people travel here every fall to try their luck at shooting the elusive bird.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We\u2019re joined by McEvoy\u2019s son, Carson; client-turned-hunting-buddy David Swayze; and photographer Michael D. Wilson. Swayze is running his own dog, Ellie, a blond English cocker spaniel that\u2019s the daughter of Gus and Curly Fry\u2014McEvoy\u2019s other dogs out with us today\u2014and granddaughter of Molly. English cocker spaniels are flushing dogs, meaning they flush birds, or drive them from their cover. When these dogs catch the scent of a grouse, their nose will be on the ground, and they\u2019ll stop, backtrack, and run in tight circles.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One of the dogs appears to smell something, and suddenly a whoosh of feathers and air shoots out of the brush to our left. Carson, who is walking in front, pulls his gun up and fires a shot, then another. But in a few seconds, the grouse is gone. On our drive in, McEvoy points out habitats that may contain grouse. The forest here is actively managed; trees are regularly harvested, creating early-successional habitat. We\u2019re looking for forests around 10 to 15 years old, with trees as wide as a fist, he says, as he holds up his clenched hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ruffed grouse depend on the food and cover provided by forests that have recently grown back after a disturbance like a cutting or fire. Early-successional species like aspen, birch, alder, and pin cherry tend to grow quickly in areas with a lot of sun, but over time they get taken over by shade-tolerant species like spruce and fir, McEvoy says.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

McEvoy has been hunting in this area for decades. He\u2019s seen the forest go through its lifecycles as it\u2019s cut and grows back, all the while waiting for the sweet spots when it\u2019s full of ruffed grouse. \u201cIn the moment, an area seems like it will be good forever, but in reality it will only be good for a few years,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Over-under shotguns like Swayze\u2019s Beretta allow hunters to take two shots at a bird without reloading.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

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Elsewhere in the eastern U.S., grouse populations have fallen precipitately\u2014at least 50 percent over the past two decades, according to a December 2020 report from the Association of Fish and Wildlife Agencies\u2019 Eastern Grouse Working Group. In the mid-Atlantic region, populations have declined by an average of 84 percent, according to the report, which blamed loss of young forests as the primary driver. Development has fragmented and eliminated habitat across the eastern U.S., while a reduction in forestry management, leaving only mature forest in some areas, has further reduced habitat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Another emerging threat is the mosquito-borne West Nile virus. States like Maine that still have quality grouse habitat (especially true in Maine\u2019s millions of acres of undeveloped North Woods) can rebound from years with high virus numbers, says Kelsey Sullivan, wildlife biologist for the Maine Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife\u2019s Migratory and Upland Game Bird Program.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

How you should shoot grouse is a matter of debate among hunters. Some believe that the only sportsmanlike way to kill a grouse is to shoot it when it\u2019s in flight, but there\u2019s a long tradition of driving logging roads in search of grouse and shooting them as they stand. The cultural divide extends to the nomenclature\u2014there\u2019s a saying that it\u2019s \u201cpartridge\u201d if shot on the ground and \u201cgrouse\u201d if shot on the wing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The stereotypes of the out-of-state wing-shooter, decked out in pricey gear with an expensive bird dog and expensive side-by-side shotgun, and of the flannel-shirted road-shooter, with an old 12-gauge and a pickup truck, are both grounded in reality, but most hunters don\u2019t fit neatly into those boxes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“You’re able to put your wits up against the king.”<\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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The writer and Jeff McEvoy walking on Stud Mill Road after seeing a grouse in a tree on the drive home.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

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Sullivan says the long-argued debate comes down to personal preference. He recently stopped hunting for grouse, but when he did, he would just hunt from the road. \u201cI\u2019m hunting for the food, so I take what\u2019s available to me, whatever means necessary,\u201d Sullivan says. \u201cIf you kill something on the wing it is no different than killing it on the road. To me, it\u2019s the same\u2014you\u2019re killing something.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

McEvoy doesn\u2019t have a problem with ground-shooting, but hunting for him is more about working with his dogs and being outside than killing birds. Most of the time he\u2019s guiding\u2014running his dogs for others\u2014and not hunting. \u201cRaising the dogs, living with the dogs, and sharing my passion with the dogs is what really works for me,\u201d he says. \u201cNow it\u2019s rare I even carry a gun.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sam Day, an avid hunter who recently joined the Natural Resources Council of Maine\u2019s board of directors, says he isn\u2019t a purist when it comes to grouse. He\u2019s fine with taking one off the road, but that\u2019s not how he usually hunts. Day grew up grouse hunting but didn\u2019t go more than a few times a year until he got his dog, a German wirehaired pointer named Hank, in spring of 2020. Since then, he\u2019s been hunting with Hank as much as possible, 100 to 120 days a year, for a variety of game, including rabbits, ducks, and upland birds. For Day, getting a grouse is just a cherry on top of a day outside working his dog.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

If driving down Millinocket logging roads and shooting \u201croad chickens\u201d is one end of the spectrum, hunting with pointing dogs is the other end. While flushing dogs like McEvoy and Swayze\u2019s spaniels try to get the birds to take to the air, pointing dogs find the grouse and then freeze, or point, with one paw tucked to the side and nose aimed toward the bird. The hunter then must approach where they think the bird is and put themselves in a position to shoot once the grouse takes flight. \u201cIt is by far the most technical,\u201d Day says. \u201cYour dog needs to be in their greatest state of critical thinking. To have success they need to analyze their senses in a more nuanced way than anywhere else.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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When a pointing dog finds a grouse it will freeze \u201con point\u201d and face toward the bird, like Sam Day\u2019s German longhaired pointer, Hank.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

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One of Maine\u2019s most prominent pointing dog experts is Jason Carter. His day job is teaching physical education for Regional School Unit 1 in Bath, but he also runs Merrymeeting Kennels in Topsham, which specializes in breeding and training German shorthaired pointers. He\u2019s a judge for the North American Versatile Hunting Dog Association and writes hunting articles for USA Today and other publications. When I told a friend I would be hunting grouse with someone who had German shorthaired pointers, he asked if it was Carter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The ruffed grouse season runs from the end of September to December 31; most hunters will stop once deer season begins, at the end of October or beginning of November. But, for many bird dog owners like Carter, grouse hunting is a year-round commitment. The hunters are training the high-energy dogs throughout the year, starting when they\u2019re puppies. They\u2019re scouting possible habitats before the start of the season. And, once the season begins, they\u2019re hunting as much as they can and for as long as they can.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cA road hunter is investing in one month,\u201d Carter says. \u201cWe\u2019re investing in 12 months.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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English cocker spaniels like these are flushing dogs, meaning they flush birds from cover, finding grouse by smell and forcing the birds into flight for hunters to take a shot.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n
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McEvoy is typically guiding grouse hunts five to six days a week from when the season begins in late September to the end of October.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

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Carter\u2019s passion for hunting is based on his love of the grouse, a passion passed down by his mother who, when he was a boy, would pull apart the feathers of birds they shot to show him how to identify the sex. Carter says grouse tend to live in a fairly small area, so they know every possible avenue to escape when you approach them. While the dog stays still as it points to where the bird was, the grouse isn\u2019t going to do the same. You must figure out where the bird most likely is and position yourself to have an unobstructed shot when it takes flight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re able to put your wits up against the king,\u201d Carter says. \u201cOne of the hardest birds to shoot is the grouse. They have amazing survival instincts.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That\u2019s why Carter feels shooting a grouse in any other way than in flight would cheapen the memory. He was raised to view shooting birds on the ground or in trees as taboo. \u201cThere is a lot of value in the process,\u201d he says. \u201cThe product of harvesting a grouse is just icing on the cake. We\u2019re more into the process than harvesting the game.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Carter\u2019s family has had a hunting camp in St. Albans for decades. On former paper company land, the property began as a deer hunting camp for his father, but once his mother and other women started visiting to hunt grouse, everyone else followed suit, and it\u2019s been a grouse camp ever since.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In early December, Carter invited me and Wilson there to hunt with other members of North American Versatile Hunting Dog Association\u2019s Yankee chapter, including Day, whom Carter taught how to train his wirehaired pointer, Hank.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Hunting for grouse in early December (from left): Jason Carter, the writer, Sam Day, and Andrea Black.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

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We head out to logging roads to hunt, but before we split up, another hunter, Sarah DeVan, joins us with her one-year-old daughter, Annie, and her German shorthaired pointer, Comet. DeVan and her husband, Stuart, own the 1774 Inn in Phippsburg, and she grew up bird hunting with her parents. When she says she\u2019ll put Annie in the stroller and then grab her gun, I think she\u2019s joking. She\u2019s not, and soon she\u2019s pushing the stroller down the logging road with her gun in hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

DeVan, who also has a three-year-old son, says Carter taught her how to hunt with her kids because he did the same. When her dog\u2019s collar beeps that he\u2019s on point, she\u2019ll park the stroller and go take her shot. \u201cBeing in the woods with them, that feeling of being with your friends and family watching the dogs work, I wanted them to have that from the beginning,\u201d DeVan says.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Carter, Wilson, and I split off to hunt with Carter\u2019s dog, Autumn. Hunting with a pointing dog is different from hunting with a flushing dog because where the dog goes, you go. Instead of running back and forth on the edge of the road like McEvoy\u2019s cocker spaniels, Autumn is going deep into the forest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The only path we\u2019re following is Autumn\u2019s, and the thick covert of this young forest makes for a challenging hike. After an especially difficult spell of bushwhacking, Carter points out that trees grow toward the sun and create natural corridors. We turn slightly to the left, and I discover he\u2019s right: a path appears in front of us from what was previously a dense mass of trees and brush. \u201cThe woods will tell you everything,\u201d he says. \u201cIf you walk right, it\u2019s easy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Shotgun shells in the door of a pickup truck.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n
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Sarah DeVan grew up bird hunting with her parents and now brings her kids, including her daughter, Annie, along with her German shorthaired pointer, Comet.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

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At one point, the trees open to an expansive bog. Yellow, elevated tufts of grass stick out from the frozen water and mud and spread out in front of us. \u201cThere\u2019s an allure to being out here,\u201d Carter says as he looks out at the landscape. \u201cYou\u2019re all alone, and you feel like the only one who\u2019s ever been here before.\u201d He\u2019s right, and as I catch my breath, I think about the journey that brought me to this untouched beauty: leaving my house in southern Maine before the sun rose, driving to Carter\u2019s camp and down logging roads, and following Autumn\u2019s nose through the woods.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We keep walking, and soon Carter\u2019s control beeps. Autumn\u2019s on point. When we move ahead, we see her facing the edge of a massive log\u2014more than 20 feet long and a few feet wide. Carter whispers to me to take a counterclockwise circle around the log so I\u2019ll be able to shoot when the bird flushes from behind it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As I walk around the log, I feel my heart beating beneath my jacket. My right thumb is firmly pressed against the safety, and my index finger is extended straight against the trigger guard, the shotgun pointed slightly upward, ready to mount it against my shoulder and swing toward the bird.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My ears are alive, and I hear every piece of underbrush and twigs crunching under my Muck boots. My eyes scan the widest field possible while minding the branches and trees around me and trying to keep a clear shooting lane. Then I hear it: the explosion of flapping wings as the grouse takes flight. But it\u2019s coming from behind my right shoulder, not the log in front of me. I spin as I raise the shotgun to my shoulder, sweep the barrel toward the flash of gray, and squeeze the trigger. It\u2019s too late. The grouse escapes by one of its numerous exit points.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Sam Day carrying a moose\u2019s skull found in the woods while hunting.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

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When, months later, I talk to Carter about the day, he recounts it as if it happened yesterday. He tells me that hunting is about the process, not the product. For me to have the opportunity to shoot at that grouse took years of Carter training Autumn, and Carter\u2019s decades of experience in the woods. \u201cSeeing that dog work that grouse so well and being able to put you in the position to shoot a ghost of the forest, that\u2019s everything,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A week after my hunting trip with Carter, I\u2019m walking my dog, a stocky black Lab named Moose, through a nature preserve in southern Maine. The scenery looks similar to the hunt\u2014smallish, bare trees, a thin layer of crunchy snow beneath my feet\u2014and there is no one but me and Moose on the trails.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I think back to that time in the bog and what Carter told me. Despite my years spent exploring Maine\u2019s outdoors, it\u2019s rare that I \u201cfeel like the only one who\u2019s ever been here before\u201d\u2014even now, alone in the woods with my dog. No one else is around us, but there are signs of the people who have been here before me: the worn path beneath my feet, the trail markers on the trees, and the cut logs along the trail.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I miss that time cutting a path through the woods with Carter and his dog. Walking through forests where no one has made a trail, guided by an animal\u2019s nose, following the scent of a bird. A feeling of being the first to discover a place. Except for, of course, the grouse.<\/p>\n\n\n\t\t

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