BRAINERD - Renowned conservationist Aldo Leopold once wrote, "One way to hunt partridge [ruffed grouse] is to make a plan, based on logic and probabilities, of the terrain to be hunted. This will take you over the ground where the birds ought to be. Another way is to wander, quite aimlessly, from one red lantern to another. This will take you where the birds actually are. The lanterns are blackberry leaves, red in October sun."
I counter that a better plan, at least if you are hunting ruffed grouse in northern Minnesota, is to wander from one "maroon" lantern to another. This will take you where more birds are than when chasing red lanterns.
The maroon lanterns are not blackberry leaves, as in Leopold's writing. Instead they are the leaves of grey dogwoods. You can't miss the head-high shrubs once September frosts have transformed the summer green leaves into a rich red-wine color. Look too, for the small white berries that hang in clumps on red stems. Ruffed grouse find the fruit irresistible. Thus the prudent grouse hunter should "wander quite aimlessly" from one maroon lantern to another.
I did just that one late afternoon last week.
It was nearly 4 p.m. when I entered the woods, a chunk of public land not too far from town. Accompanying me caninewise was my Deutsch Drahthaar, Axel. The dog is 9 years old, and he knows about the maroon lanterns, although I'm sure he labels the shrubs from an olfactory perspective rather than visually. Regardless, Axel has pointed and retrieved enough grouse from maroon lanterns -- many times on this very property -- that he usually approaches them with his senses on high alert.
A stiff breeze blew from the west and the sky was battleship gray. Despite the gloomy weather, the forest was aglow. Leaf color was at or near its peak, and it was spectacular. Few leaves had fallen and I knew a high percentage of flushed grouse would escape unseen. Axel, too, was obscured by the leaf cover, invisible even when nearby, so I followed his progress via an electronic beeper attached to his collar.
Twenty minutes into the hunt we had yet to find a grouse. This fall, the maroon lanterns are laden with fruit, good for the grouse but not so good for the grouse hunter since the forest birds can easily find supper and are therefore more spread out.
Just ahead, though, I knew there was a particular ruffed grouse hot spot. The location contained all the elements a grouse desires. A 15-year-old aspen clear-cut butted up to a stand of mature aspens, and where the two forest types transitioned grew a grousey-looking mix of hazel, alder, willow, chokecherry and, most important, grey dogwood.
Axel was about 30 yards ahead, working hard. Then I heard a grouse flush. Axel had not pointed; I could tell because his beeper changes tune when the dog is still. Then I heard another grouse flush. Axel barked several times, a trait he often displays when frustrated by wild flushing birds. Maybe it's a dog's version letting the obscenities fly.
Neither grouse flew my way, but I followed their departure via the sound of their wing beats and then hunted in that direction. I had traveled about 100 yards when a grouse flushed from about 10 feet to my left. I swung my shotgun, touched the trigger and the bird folded. Axel had been hunting to my right and at the sound of the shot ran in my direction. In short order he found and retrieved the grouse, a grey phase adult male.
It was close to sunset when I angled for the road. A light mist was falling. I had flushed eight grouse, fired three shots, but had only one bird in my game bag. I messed up on a chance for a double when Axel pointed along the edge of a meadow. Upon spotting the ridged dog I moved forward and to his left, but that was a miscalculation. Both grouse had run ahead to the edge of the meadow, and when they flushed a heavy clump of cover was between us. Had I chosen a different path I would have had a relatively easy chance -- if there is such a thing -- at two grouse crossing an opening.
Oddly, I saw only one woodcock. Axel pointed the bird in a stand of young aspen, and when I flushed it, it flew straight up, as woodcock often do. I pulled the trigger just as the bird topped the trees and was about to level off. Axel made the retrieve.
In the coming days, cold north winds will extinguish the maroon lanterns. The grouse will relocate, and then so must the grouse hunter. But that's another story.
Bill Marchel, an outdoors photographer and columnist, lives near Brainerd.
