Written By: Travis Deitrich. Elizabethville, Pennsylvania
A number of years ago I began hunting ruffed grouse. I was on break from school over Thanksgiving and had already taken an archery buck earlier in the season. I ran my beagles hard the day before, so they earned a day of rest and I was looking for something to do. Almost as a joke, I texted a friend proclaiming that I was going to go shoot a grouse. I didn’t know the first thing about hunting them or where to find them. Little did I know, that day would spark a passion that is still growing stronger 7 years later.
I chose an area to hunt that day based on the fact I had heard a grouse drumming during spring gobbler season. That was the only idea I had so I grabbed my gun, laced up my boots, and began the hike up the mountain. In just a few hours I had flushed 4 grouse, never once even pointing the gun in their direction. I didn’t come close to harvesting a bird, but with each flush my heart raced faster and my smile grew bigger. This wasn’t just going to be hard, this may be impossible. The difficulty is what drove me to continue my pursuit.
I immediately began reading as much information as I could about these birds. I watched videos, listened to podcasts, scrolled the internet, and bought a few books. Throughout every source of information I digested, I kept hearing the ruffed grouse being called “The King of Upland Game Birds”. I never looked into the history of the nickname. I didn’t have to.
As I continued to pursue these birds my respect grew. They were hard to find, they were fast, they always seemed to flush the second my mind wandered and I lost focus. When one did flush in range, they quickly darted behind trees and got out of range in a flash. They were clearly a difficult bird to hunt and well deserving of being called “The King”.
After a few years of not harvesting a bird, my passion and energy for hunting the state bird did not fade. I knew this was something I wanted do long term. My beagles, now 11, were getting older and their hunting days would be limited. The time was right and I began the process of searching for a well bred GSP to join me on these hunts.
This past summer I brought home my puppy, a German Shorthaired Pointer named Appa. We spent the summer and early fall doing bird introduction with pigeons. We worked on recall, took a lot of off leash hikes through the mountains, and did gun introduction. By the time PA’s grouse opener came around, Appa was pointing birds and not intimidated by the shotgun. He had a lot to learn but he was ready for the grouse to be his teacher.
I loaded Appa and all our gear into the truck and headed upstate on the first Tuesday of grouse season. Thanks to some virtual scouting, I had some regenerating clear cuts in mind and we headed out. Appa quickly went from being intimidated by the cover to ranging out to 50+ yards at times. Although we didn’t find as many birds as I hoped we would early in the week, the young dog was clearly using his nose as he ran in and flushed a few grouse throughout each day. He wasn’t pointing, but that was ok. We didn’t have much wind and I was hopeful that he may point once we did.
It all changed on Friday. The wind finally picked up and I finally put us in a spot that held a handful of birds in close proximity. Not long into our hunt, he went on point. It was brief, but distinct. He didn’t wait for me to walk in before breaking point and flushing the bird, but I took a shot just to let him know he was on the right track. He briefly pointed 3 more birds that day and made a ton of progress.
After a muzzleloader hunt Saturday morning, I took the dog back out in the wind and rain that afternoon. It was the last day of our trip and I was anxious to see if he would improve on the progress he made the day before. Less than 5 minutes from the truck Appa locked up hard, straight down wind from a blowdown. This time he held point as I circled from his right and flushed the bird. It was picture perfect, until I rushed the shot and missed. It was an easier shot than I imagined was possible on a ruffed grouse, and I was really kicking myself for not connecting. We pressed on.
We relocated to another clear cut and once again Appa went on point not far from the truck. I circled to his left and the bird flushed, but this time it took an escape route up and over the young timber instead of through it. I fired twice and hopeful that I connected, we moved in its direction. It didn’t take long to hear the flapping wings of a wounded grouse which I quickly dispatched. My first bird and Appa’s first bird all in one!
What took me 7 years to do, Appa did at just 21 weeks old. He has a lot to learn and a lot of training to complete but he showed potential and is well on his way to becoming a wild bird dog.
We may never see the “glory days” of grouse here in Pennsylvania like so many older hunters tell me about, but I am hopeful the future of grouse in Appalachia is not as grim as many believe. All week long we were passed by logging trucks and drove by many acres of high elevation clear cuts that were done in the last 2 years. We heard chainsaws running in the distance each day. A sign that more habitat is being created as others age out. The king has finally fallen, but I have hope that he will rise again.
