SUNDAY AFTERNOON:
I left the homestead at about 4pm, burning fuel to get up to the "Hill". Dropped off my gear and headed up to Rickett's to meet with Mike and Gary Ewell, my clients for the next too days. Right from the first meeting, I knew that Mike, Gary and I would get along quite well.Talk about two guys that are cut from same cloth as me. Senses of humor and funny stories that never ended.
MONDAY MORNING:
The next morning, I chose to take Briar and Ticket to hunt the first of many coverts. I decided on a piece of cover that had produced for the Steady Point bunch many times over. I casted the dogs out and began to feel the pride of a dog handler. Through conversation with Gary, I came to find out that he was a guide for quail and pheasants in Delaware many years ago. This did add a bit of pressure, as I wanted the dogs to perform well for my clients.
First bit of game that was made was a woodcock busted by Briar. The presentation of the bird was a sight to behold. A beautiful flight path from left to right, just above the swamp oak and cherry stands. Two shots were fired by Gary's Red Label, but misses were all that registered. We continued to pursue grouse and woodcock in the covert, but none were to be had. I quickly moved to the next location, which would be the "Slashings". Ticket made game straight off!
Ticket ground scented for a bit and a wild flushing grouse rocketed through the tangles. No shot was presented to Mike. Mike then saw how fast grouse really are! I took the guys down through a spring fed swamp, down in the hemlocks and swamp oak. Gary and Mike commented on the cover and how good it looked. They were right, the cover was exactly what the haunts of the ruffed grouse look like. Despite the dogs best efforts to locate and pin the birds down, the warmer weather was not working for us. The birds were running and busting wild. We had several trails, but the birds would escape undetected.
We worked back, against the wind. We even tempted fate and attempted to go thru a swamp that I hadn't traversed in about 3 years. After we entered, I remembered why! The swamp oak had grown in and amongst itself so much that, Gary spoke of it as cover he was used to hunting sika deer in Maryland. We finally made it through the cover and decided to push out to the old loggin road. You see although I enjoy hunting new terrain every once and a while, nothing beats pushing cover that you know every bend and fallen log. You see as we stubbled out on the road and I mean stubbled, a cock grouse busted and flew to the next swamp to the west. I promptly fell to my knees, partly from exhaustion and partly due to disappointment. If I had my hunter up by me, or had a gun myself, that bird would have or could have been brought to bag.
We quickly headed down the road to the Homestead for a bit of woodcock. Although none were seen, we did manage to bump out a lone hen pheasant from the homestead. Surviving the first day of pheasant season, this little nook must have been her only saving grace. She quickly ran and flushed to the adjacent swamp, where hunting pressure is usually nill.
From there I took Gary and Mike back to their cabin for a short lunch and the chance for me to switch out dogs. Ticket had earned his keep for some many years, I felt that he deserved the rest. Gunner on the other hand, hadn't made his first point and kill as of yet, so maybe today would be the day. I swapped dogs and Ticket made a bee line for my room. He quickly curled up on the dog bed and fell asleep before I kenneled Gunner. After some whining and moaning from the egar puppy, we were back off up the mountain.
When I picked up my hunters, Gary was a tad bit disappointed as I disturbed his afternoon nap. No time for that, we had birds to find and kill. I took the guys to a undisclosed piece of Game lands in 13, that has produced for me in the past. After some great work by the dogs and better work by the birds, we meandered back down the rutted up cindered road. The warmer temps were really screwing up my dog handling. I could see that Briar and Gunner, both, were making game, but the birds spend most of their days on their feet. Thus they run until they feel safe flying and they are off.
After that we made way for the dynamite shack. This spot has produced more birds for me then I care to think of. If you entered any of our local watering holes, were hunters are gathered and mentioned its name, you could expect one of two things. Absolute silence or some drunk spouting off about how the grouse love that place! You see it is a staple in the area we hunt. The birds always collect there, just to feed on the abundance of apples, tea berries and barberries. Even though the dogs and the hunters gave it a healthy go, it was not to happen on either side of the Dynamite Shack. As that result presented itself, I began to think that the flooding had really eliminated this spot for the first part of the season. A quick look at the banks of the often shallow Fishing Creek, an amature guide could see that the level of the creek had moved so high that log jams were seen 15 feet above the creek banks. Well time to move on.
We proceeded to make a run to Cherry Ridge in the hopes that the higher elevations would provide some action. Our first run was through a cherry stand with some sparse growth of beech, a favorite food of the ruff in these parts. The push its self was not fruitful. The ominous clouds made the late afternoon look as if it would soon be dark. Determined to get my guys some birds, I made another run up to Painter's den to see what I could. Stopping at Hogs Run, I could see that there were a bit more beech trees than anywhere else, so I strapped up the dogs and we began to walk. About 300 yards in, we moved into the mix of cherry and beech. The small saplings made great cover for all matter of wildlife. About 50 or so yards in, the first flush was heard, towards our 11 o'clock. Then another, but no shot was heard. I encouraged my hunters once again, that if they saw the bird, needed to shoot.
A few more steps, then another flush, then another. By this time, my hunters were seeing what this was all about. Flush after flush, shot after shot. Finally as walked up to the edge of a old overgrown logging road, I saw him. He was crouched under a cherry stand. Not having the wind and being in an area saturated with bird scent, the dogs were trying to make sense of the may lay and pin down a bird.
This bird was having non of that, I called "Bird" just as the grouse flushed. Gary unloaded two shots, then Mike. After a follow up on the bird, with no recovery we moved back to the road. 8 flushes in a beech stand was a great way to end the day.
TUESDAY MORNING:
I was greeted by more warm temps, in the morning. I packed up Briar and Gunner for the trek up Red Rock Mountain. I met Mike and Gary at their cabin for their last day of the hunt. Gary was so excited from the action the day before. I was just hoping that we could nail down the same birds for a repeat. It was not to happen. We must have put on 30 or 40 miles on my Dodge huntin rig and another 10 to 15 miles on our boots. We headed back to where the birds were the day before. To narrow down the possibilities, We ran both ends of the road. The dogs worked great, but the birds were running again, due to the heat. We left Hogs Run and headed toward Nordmont. We managed 1 wild flush back in the northern portion of 13. The cover looked so good I felt like I was getting birdy.
Lunch was had on the back of the Dodge where we laughed about our day, past hunts and family similarities. After lunch and hanging with the dogs, we headed out of Lopez to pursue the grouse we busted the day before in the "Slashings". It was not to happen. Either they were pushed in further or another hunter had hit it in the AM and busted them out. That's what happens in the outback.
We moved into 57 to the "Lakes". No sooner did we unload the truck, a grouse busted from the hemlocks and we were off. We ran that bird for a great distance, until Briar came to point under a pine, backed by Gunner. It was a sight to behold. Gary moved up for a shot, at a run. When both my hunters were in place, I commanded Briar to flush. She and Gunner moved in, but the bird had vacated the property prior to their arrival. I called "Running Bird", my hunters now accustomed to it, started off at a trot. Gary soon saw why we do that. Gary soon sees the running bird on a outcrop of rocks. We pursued it to no avail. A grouse can flush into a large Pine and sit all day. They usually just sit and watch you walk past.
We pushed till we hit the blue berry thicket and turned back. No more birds were to be had. As we walked back down the logging road, a point was made. Gary and Mike made ready for the shot. In a whirl of wings, the young grouse exploded from under a pine. Several shots were made. I was in location to judge the hit. Mike came down the hill with his first grouse! More so Mike killed the bird with his second shot from his Nova Pump. A feet for any grouse hunter that chooses to take a pump gun into the woods.
I got to watch the father and son embrace that I had been part of so many times as a youngster. Now it was Gary and Mike's turn. It was a good trip! Not because of the flush count or the birds brought to bag, but because of that moment. I will hunt with those boys from Va and Del any day and twice on Sunday!!!!
