High hopes and sore seats: A horseback hunt for Canada’s elusive dusky grouse

Dusky grouse have oversized bodies, dark plumage and large feathered feetI slept the sleep of angels that night in my little tent perched on the ridge and awoke eager to hunt, as did Troy. After a quick cup of coffee and a bite to eat, we were prepared to set out, and once again chose to head off in slightly different directions.

As I walked along the slope edge, I hadn’t gone far when I heard two shots. I immediately reversed direction and soon met up with Troy, who was grinning crazily and holding aloft two dusky grouse. He excitedly told me how he’d spotted them feeding in the open grass, completely unaware of his presence, then made no mistake when they finally flushed.

Looking at the birds, I was struck by their oversized bodies, which were considerably larger than the ruffed, spruce and sharp-tailed grouse I’m more accustomed to hunting. They were robust birds, with dark plumage and outsized feathered feet. It was my first time seeing a dusky grouse up close, and holding one in my hands only made me more intent on collecting one of my own. After taking a few pictures, we again split up to resume hunting.

Not long afterwards, some movement in the grass caught my eye. Reaching into my pocket I grabbed a couple of shells, dropped them into the tubes of my over/under and walked cautiously onward. Almost instantly, I noticed a head pop up through the long grass. It was clearly a grouse, and upon seeing me it immediately flushed, heading for a little stand of pines. I swung on the bird and squeezed the trigger, but at the report it continued to fly away, totally unscathed.

The grouse soon settled, however, sitting just above head height on a limb on the far side of a pine tree. I carefully circled to my left, but the now-nervous bird flushed again, this time headed for the thick timber. Again, I swung on the bird and squeezed the trigger. It was an easy shot I should have made, but the grouse carried on without so much as a ruffled feather.

For the rest of the day and the following Sunday morning, Troy and I hunted the ridge back and forth, covering a few kilometres in each direction and down into the thick stuff wherever conditions allowed. As it turned out, however, my missed bird would be the last dusky grouse we’d see on our hunt. I was a little disappointed, but tickled for Troy’s good fortune. In that respect, at least, our hunt had been a success.