Written by: Charles Few. Lancaster, PA
The day had been cold, dark and foreboding. It was now late in the afternoon. There was a front moving in and several inches of snow were predicted. Right now, however, the ground was clear and dry. If it did snow, this would be the first snowfall of the season. It was mid December in Pennsylvania. Rifle deer season had closed and the second season for grouse was open.
So far, I had missed the entire autumn hunting season. Major heart trouble followed by a particularly nasty gut infection had brought me close to pushing up daises. But, thanks to the Good Lord, great doctors and a loving wife and family, I had pulled through. Recovery had been slow, but the doctors had finally given me an all clear for an easy hunt.
My wife and I were at our cabin on the edge of the Sproul State Forest in central Pennsylvania. Our black Labrador, Dulci, and I were in the truck and heading for an area I’d been to only a couple of times. But, it was a place where we had kicked up any number of grouse and my dog and I were only too glad to be back chasing our favorite gamebird, bonasa umbellus, the ruffed grouse. With me laid up, my dog had also missed the entire hunting season, as well. I parked along the edge of an old logging road about five miles from our camp. Dulci jumped out of the vehicle, I grabbed a favorite little 20 gauge shotgun and we headed into the woods.
It was getting on towards late afternoon, but I had promised my wife we’d only be out for an hour or so. That would still give us enough daylight for a short hunt and we would be able to get back to the cabin about the time it was getting dark.
Looking up at the sky, the cloud cover was so thick that it literally was impossible to see even the faintest indication of where the sun was. That was unusual, but when a big storm front is moving in, it can happen. Even though I have been using the sun for direction for many years of outdoor adventuring, it was no cause for worry. I had always prided myself on learning the lay of the land after only a couple of times in an unfamiliar area. That turned out to be mistake number one and a lesson I should have remembered. No matter how experienced you are, it is easy to get turned around in the woods even under the best of circumstances. Today, however, I was simply just glad to be alive and back to grouse hunting. I really wasn’t thinking about anything else. It seemed like forever since my dog and I had been in the woods.
Dulci was just as excited as I was. Her tail and ears, the indicators of a dog’s mood, told the whole story. She was a happy dog and I followed her as she sniffed up all the scents in the swirling winds. That was the second lesson I should have paid attention to. Flushing dogs take scents out of the air and not off the ground like a hound. While it may seem like your dog isn’t paying attention to you at all, they always know exactly where you are. Even though your dog is in front of you, they are actually following you. They will move about but always in the general direction that you are walking. If you are following your dog, instead of your dog following you, it is easy to get disoriented and you can wind up anywhere. Unfortunately, that fact hadn’t even entered my mind.
As the light continued to fade and we slowly ambled through the woods, we saw no game whatsoever. Things were totally quiet and still. Eventually, the road I had parked along side of came up right in front of me. I have always prided myself on having a good sense of direction and started walking towards my truck. That was lesson number three that I should have paid attention to. No matter how good you are, you are never as good as you think you are. Call it arrogance, stupidity, false pride, call it whatever you want. But, when your mind has been focused elsewhere, it can be easy to miss things that are right under your nose.
I walked for what seemed like a long time, but my truck was nowhere to be seen. Eventually, the road came to a small clearing and simply stopped. Hmm, was I on the wrong road? Roads are scarce in this part of the forest and I was pretty sure I was on the right one. The truck should be directly south of me, but it wasn’t, and it was still getting darker. Now what?
Back when I was growing up in Michigan, I belonged to a Scout troop that went camping one weekend a month, twelve months of the year. We had some great leaders who taught us how to handle ourselves in the heat, cold, rain, snow and how to build a fire and cook on it. The list could go on. I had used almost all of those skills in my wilder, younger adventuring years. One I especially remembered at the moment was that when you think you are lost, stop a minute and take stock of the situation. Well, as much as I didn’t want to admit it, I did seem to be lost. It was time to do some thinking.
It was getting darker and darker quickly now and the snow storm would probably be moving in soon. I couldn’t find my truck and it looked like I might be spending the night in the woods. OK. What should I do? There were lots of dead-fall trees around. Using a big one as a main support, I could try to build a lean-to debris shelter using sticks, small logs, leaves and cut some branches off pine trees with the folding knife in my pocket. There were lots of dry leaves on the ground and if I gathered them before the snow started and piled them thickly, laying on them would help keep the damp and cold out. I was dressed warmer than usual since I wasn’t back to 100% from my health issues, but would it be enough to help me stay warm? At least I could pull my dog into the shelter with me for some combined body heat. Then, too, would I have enough time to get all this done before it was totally dark? Things weren’t looking too good.
In my hunting coat was a waterproof matchbox with strike anywhere matches, a disposable lighter and some hunks of birch bark. I was pretty sure I could start a fire, but could I keep it going in a snow storm and could I gather enough wood to last through the night? I had no food and we hadn’t even seen a grouse, let alone got a shot at one. I probably would have missed one of those rockets with feathers anyway. In my game pouch were two thirty-three gallon garbage bags I could use for something, plus the plastic tie strings that came with them.
Probably at this point I should also mention that although I had my cell phone with me, there was no reception where I was. Also, as far as my wife and I could tell, we were the only ones around for miles and miles at this time of year. Plus, I had our only vehicle and even if she wanted to come look for me, she would be on foot, in a snow storm and several miles from where I was. She also would have no idea of where to start looking.
The situation was looking worse and worse and darkness was fast approaching. In fact, things looked pretty bleak. I remember a friend of mine who is an old Navy salt telling me once that “if someone tells you they never get seasick, you know they have never really been to sea.” Maybe there was a parallel with being in the woods? “If you’ve never been lost, you’ve never really been in the woods.” Even Daniel Boone admitted to being “a bit confused” from time to time and right now I was beyond confused.
Fortunately, sometimes that guardian angel who sits on our shoulders senses it is time to pick up a stout stick and whack us along side our ears. It gets us to wake up and think and pay attention. Through all of this, it finally dawned on me that I had a compass in my pocket. In fact, it was the same one I used during my years in the Boy Scouts long ago. I took it out and looked at it and my first thought was that it was old and broken. It was pointing in exactly the opposite direction of that in which I had been walking. Then I remembered that on the dog whistle lanyard around my neck there was a small compass. I looked at that and, sure enough, it was broken, too. It was pointing in exactly the same direction as the other compass.
As I am sure anyone reading this has already figured out, it was me, not the compasses that were wrong. I had to relearn the biggest, most important outdoor lesson of them all; always trust your compass! I did an about face on the road and in less than a half hour was back in my truck and driving towards our camp. I don’t know if my dog was relieved, but I sure was.
It was dark by the time Dulci and I arrived at the cabin and it was great to walk in and let my anxious wife know that we were safe. A nice hot dinner was soon on the table and the warmth and coziness of the cabin felt wonderful. I slept like a log that night and in the morning woke up to about ten inches of fresh snow.
Epilogue: Since that time, I’ve been back to that area many times and have learned it well. Grouse remain the “king of birds” for me and it is my favorite type of hunting. However, it is now rare that I hunt alone, especially as I have gotten older. Hunting with a partner adds to the fun and is a great additional safety factor. I also have a much better supply of emergency items in my hunting coat at all times. I have regaled my family and friends with this story several times in spite of the ribbing they always give me about it. Hopefully, it will be a good reminder for them if they ever are in such a situation. Sometimes it is good that things we learned when we were young need to be relearned when we get older.
