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Written by: Jeffrey WilkersonDecorah, IA Featured image provide by Art Fair entry “Woodcock” courtesy of Lisa Ann It’s possible, I suppose, that some people live their lives in such an ordered and planned fashion that fickle chance and unthinking habit play a minimal role, but I suspect these influences are more a part of most people’s lives than they care to realize. When we look back at the tapestry of our lives, it’s hard to decipher how much control we had over which threads. Twenty-five years ago, seeking a narrowly defined type of job in a miniscule slice of the employment world, I landed...

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Written by: Gary TunkavigeSparta, NJ “Thicket” It was October of 2002 and I was hunting in Western Maine with Thicket my then nine year old Ryman-type English setter.  We were working our way down an old logging road which paralleled a small river.  Thicket was working through the cover about 40 yards to my right when his bell abruptly stopped.  While I was heading in to find him I faintly heard wing beats.  I found Thicket at the base of  a large pine tree and he was looking up.  When I got to him, a grouse flushed overhead from a branch of...

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Written by: Curtis TaylorChagrin Falls, OH Featured image provide by Art Fair entry “Ruffed Grouse” courtesy of Angelica Wisenbarger The Upper Peninsula of Michigan is a remarkable place with its beautiful pine forests, spectacular shorelines along three of the five great lakes, and some of the best bird hunting in the nation. I grew up hunting there with my father, my uncles, and my grandfather. Every Fall we would take to the magical woods of the Upper Peninsula and do our best to bring home a few grouse. I was six years old when my dad took me along for the for the first...

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Written by: Rob BundayDelton, MI All hunters need a tutor; ours was a dog. Born near the shore of Lake Superior, George was a large Yellow Labrador who, for twelve wonderous seasons in the north country, taught two of us the art of hunting grouse. While some employ a finely tuned pointer or perhaps an athletic flusher as their dance partner in the upland thickets, George, an amiable canine chap, was neither finely tuned nor overly athletic. In many respects he bore a striking resemblance to those who hunted with him – fond of good food, a bit out of shape,...

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Written by: Nicholas HainenCarroll, OH December 29, 1979: Why do I recall events on that particular day with exceptional clarity? Ruffed grouse were plentiful in parts of Ohio then, in dramatic contrast to today’s exceedingly low populations. And the seasons were long, more than 4 months. Consider, for example, Ohio’s 1979-80 grouse season. My diary records that my partners and I hunted 14 days—for a total of about 74 hours. By our best estimates, we flushed 129 grouse, re-flushes not counted. And Mandy, my English setter, made 68 productive points. I’ve been privileged to hunt with my five English setters, along with a...

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Written by: Daniel RileyWinslow, ME I am in awe with the eb and flow of life.  To think my mid-life crisis would evolve into my greatest passion is sometimes even a mystery to me.  Imagination can be squelched by the complexities of life.  Yet, at almost 40, I was invited to go bird hunting behind a lab.  I think I mostly carried that Remington 870 pump shotgun in the woods watching others kill birds behind that nice dog.  My first bird hunting season helped me experience many magical moments in the Maine woods. Although bird hunting has been my greatest struggle, I...

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