Nov 2, 2024 5 min read

Glenn, Bob and I returned from our yearly grouse hunt in north central Wisconsin. The question that I’ve answered more than a 100 times since I’ve been home is, “How was it?” By that, some friends mean “Did you kill a lot of birds?” To others, it means “Did you flush a lot of birds?” To some it means “Did the dogs work well?” Maybe more succinctly they’d inquire, “Did the dogs get some good points?” To the rugged individual who marks the miles of boot tracks left on the ground, they might ask, “How many miles did you walk per day?”

To each of their questions I’d say, well, quite frankly, it was amazing. It was awesome. It was the trip of a lifetime. And it’s probably not what you’re thinking.

We drove 13½ hours and probably came closer to 16 on the way there, considering all the stops we made to fill the tank (which really means too many restroom breaks for old guys who drink too much coffee). But we had three guys to share the driving, so while one was behind the wheel and the guy in the passenger seat was navigating, the third man could sleep for a few hours in the back and wake up refreshed to take the wheel for the next shift. I’ve done the cross country thing dozens of times by myself and can tell you that the way we did it this trip is by far, the best. The drive up was sunny and around 68 degrees. No rain and we made it around Chicago on a Saturday morning without too much traffic. On the way home, we looped outside the city and avoided the downtown traffic. We shared a meal or two and caught up with each other and generally enjoyed being together. So I guess you could say the trip up was great.

When we got to the cabin, we each had our own room and didn’t have to listen to the other guys snoring all night. We went to bed early and we woke up early and I can only speak for myself, but I felt better than I have in ages, save the bumps and bruises that go along with an intensive grouse and woodcock hunt. The view from the cabin’s living room was gorgeous at sunrise and only became more incredible as the sun set over the lake in the western evening sky. Then it became almost indescribably beautiful. A touch of the northern lights was visible at times. At midnight, with the hunter’s moon at full throttle, the scenery was like nothing I have ever experienced. So I guess you could say it was, indeed, great.

The first couple of mornings we hunted in a steady rain. I wouldn’t call it comfortable but we put up more grouse on those rainy mornings than we did when the skies cleared and temps rose into the 50s and 60s for the rest of the trip. So I guess you could say it was great.

While the flush count wasn’t at an all-time high, we flushed enough birds to remind us of the good ole’ days. I can recall days of 40-plus flushes of a mixed bag of grouse and woodcock but that has been 20 years ago. There were certainly more birds in the air than we would see in Greene and Washington counties, these days. More birds were flushed than in my treks to Smethport and Port Allegany.

The leaves were just about at peak color and there was a steady shower of falling leaves in some of the brightest foliage imaginable. The smell of rotten leaves and dirt is still with me. We shot some and missed some. The dogs worked well, but then again, they are not grouse dogs. They are used to the stocked pheasants of our State Game Lands, so we can probably cut them some slack. They didn’t point any worse than we shot, so I guess you can say “Yeah, it was a pretty incredible time.”

As we took our all to frequent breaks on the tailgate, the coffee was hot and tasted good. The Devil Dogs were even better and Bob made up a poke of deer jerky for the trip that was the real deal. Maybe it was just me but as I looked around the tailgate of the truck, everyone seemed pretty content. The pictures I took registered smiles on all faces and seemed anything but disingenuous. So I guess you can say the trip was great.

Each night was capped with a great meal at Marie’s on Fayette. Our local caterer cooks supper for us nightly in her little parlor. The filet mignon was exquisite, the pork roast was superb and the spaghetti and meatballs were exceptional. The beer was cold and the conversation was great. I didn’t hear too many complaints so I guess you could say the entire trip was pretty dog gone great.

Could we use some shooting lessons? Sure. Are we going to be mistaken for world class dog trainers? Probably not. But if I could go back for a second week I’d start packing the truck right now. Maybe next year.

Dave Bates writes a weekly outdoors column for the Observer-Reporter. He can be reached at alphaomegashootingsolutions@gmail.com