Posts Tagged ‘grouse hunting’
Happy Birthday Bird Dog
Monday, March 11th, 2013
Today marks the first birthday for my youngest bird dog, Izzy. During the standard “what’s for dinner” chat with my wife this afternoon, Meredith informed me she’d be late arriving home this evening. The delay – she had to stop at the “fancy” pet store on her way home to purchase Izzy a special birthday present. Truth be told, I hadn’t realized it was the pup’s birthday . . . or that we’d be celebrating said occasion.
After an initial scoff gurgled out of my clenched cheeks, I warmed to the idea of rewarding the newest member of our family with a minor indulgence. After all, this youngster has already played a sizeable role in answering our daily “what’s for dinner” question with pointed pheasants, grouse, quail and woodcock.
While I’m admittedly guilty of anthropomorphizing my bird dogs . . . and I’m guilty of posing this same question at Christmas . . . do you celebrate your bird dog’s birthday?

The author’s wife, Meredith, presents Izzy with her first birthday cupcake while the couple’s older GSP, Trammell, looks on.
The Pointer is written by Bob St.Pierre, Pheasants Forever & Quail Forever’s Vice President of Marketing. Follow Bob on Twitter @BobStPierre .
The 39-Year Old Pheasant Hunter Contemplates Growing Up
Monday, January 21st, 2013
Last December, I turned 39, which means that I will move into a new demographic bubble at the end of 2013. As I get older, I find myself doing a lot more reflecting on things; hunts, dogs, relationships, and my own life’s legacy.
Case in point, in years prior I’d hunt one field and move along to the next tract of public ground on the map. I lived in the moment asking “what’s next?”
This year, however, I’d get to the end of the field and contemplate how I may have been able to more effectively put the pinch on an extra bird here or there. Or, how I appreciated the work of a beloved bird dog, the beauty of a rolling grassland or the deepness of a rooster’s colorful plumage. In other words, I’ve found myself living in the moment asking “what have I learned?”
The same contemplative trend has greeted me in the New Year as I reflect on my hunting adventures of the past and future. While I’ve never been one to endeavor for a lifestyle filled with “resolutions,” I’ve come to recognize the invincibility approach of my younger days is impractical. I’ve found the compelling need to address my personal goals defining my own version of the meaning of life.
I’m guessing some readers have stopped and are thinking: “The meaning of life is pretty weighty stuff for a pheasant blog.” Perhaps it is to some. But, as I look into the future and think about the inevitable reality most of us will face of laying immobilized in a hospital bed reflecting on our lives, I believe my thoughts will gravitate to hunts shared with my family, birds missed over bemused bird dogs and wild game dinners toasted with hunting partners at pheasant camp. The very same things I cherish in my life’s prime.
It is with this spirit of renewed appreciation I look forward into 2013 and offer my own personal reflections for your consideration.
- Turn off the cell phone. Like cigarettes were to the Baby Boomers, smart phones will be the plague of Generation Xers. I hate my phone, and I don’t think “hate” is too strong a word for the disdain I feel about my inability to unplug and enjoy the outdoors in solitude. This year, I plan on doing a better job of disconnecting, enjoying the wonders of nature and personally engaging in the conversation of my friends.
- Go Hunting with Dad, Mom, Brother, Nephew, Wife, and Best Buddy. My dad almost died about 20 years ago after a sudden brain aneurysm. During those days spent praying alongside his hospital bed, I thought about the special times we’d shared. Most of those times revolved around hunting. Miraculously, my dad fully recovered and I’ve been blessed with hundreds of new treasured memories. Surprisingly, it’s easy to take the people we care about the most for granted, even after almost losing them. However, I know from first-hand experience, the times spent with my family chasing birds are the memories we all cherish the most.
- Bird Dogs Never Live Long Enough. Readers of this blog know I am guilty of treating my two pups like children. I love my dogs. They have brought greater joy to my life than I could have ever imagined prior to becoming a dog owner. My oldest pup, Trammell, will turn seven this spring. While I hope she’ll have another seven strong autumns ahead, I’ve already noticed the sands of time tilting to the other side of the ledger. As I look toward next fall’s hunting season, I’m tempted to embark on new adventures and new species of birds to add notches to her checklist. To chase those ptarmigan in Alaska I’ve always threatened. To swing through quail country for a grand slam. However, a part of me believes that’s missing the point. A truer, more meaningful, way of enjoying Trammell’s “salad” days would be to savor the pheasant fields, grouse woods and timberdoodle bottoms we’ve both come to cherish together. Either way, I realize Tram’s peak has passed, but she’ll shine bright enough this year for me to savor a few more glimpses of my first bird dog’s genuine greatness.
For those readers who’ve crossed the four decade mark, what sage advice would you offer me as I approach the big 4-0 as a bird hunter?
The Pointer is written by Bob St.Pierre, Pheasants Forever & Quail Forever’s Vice President of Marketing. Follow Bob on Twitter @BobStPierre and listen to Bob and Billy Hildebrand every Saturday morning on FAN Outdoors radio on KFAN FM100.3.
Strangers Aren’t Always So Strange
Thursday, January 3rd, 2013
I put four bottles of red wine and a few nips of brandy on the counter at our local liquor store. A voice behind me said, “That’s a good sized collection.” Turning, I saw a squirrely-looking guy, wiry, with a stubbly narrow beard and boney face, wearing a dark bandana on his head and a much-too-worn Harley t-shirt. Living in a small town, I recognize most the locals even if I don’t know their names. He wasn’t familiar.
“It’s for hunting camp,” I said.
“Oh yeah? Your husband’s heading to deer camp?” he asked with a chuckle, probably wondering why a bunch of manly men hunters would sip wine instead of bourbon or beer.
“No, it’s for girls’ hunting camp.”
“So you hang out, drink wine, take walks, stuff like that?” he continued with a smirky half smile starting on the left side of his mouth.
“No, we hunt,” I replied, loving the direction this conversation was going. He gave me a doubtful look that said, “Yeah sure.”
“Fourteen women, ages 39-73. We all have our own bird dogs that we trained ourselves. Actually, I think there’ll be about 19 dogs at the camp this year. We hunt. Hard. All day.”
His eyes lit up, “Really? What are you hunting?”
“Grouse, I mean partridge, and woodcock,” I answered, going with the local term – “partridge” – for ruffed grouse. “Up in northeastern Maine, in Eustis. Most of us have pointing dogs, but there’s a Lab or two in the group. Partridge are pretty good up there. We’re hoping some flights of woodcock come in.”
That seemed to convince him and flip a switch in his mind. He instantly pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and showed me a photo of his living room with handsome deer mounts covering the walls. I admired them. We launched into a conversation about how this year’s deer and bird seasons were looking, what the odds were he was going to get a buck during bow season, and how tough the Maine woods would be for bird hunting until more leaves came down. Then we moved on to the relative merits of duck hunting and goose hunting, my hunting dogs and his non-hunting dogs. Twenty minutes later, I picked up my double-bagged collection of bottles and turned to the door as my friend and I wished each other good luck and good times hunting. Expectations overturned, enthusiasms shared. Pretty cool.
Nancy Anisfield, an outdoor photographer/writer, sporting dog enthusiast and bird hunter, serves on Pheasants Forever and Quail Forever’s National Board of Directors. She resides in Hinesburg, Vermont.
What’s Tougher on your Body: Pheasant Hunting or Ruffed Grouse Hunting?
Wednesday, October 24th, 2012

Grouse cover may look like a tangle, but my small stature finds it easier to navigate than the thick grasses of a pheasant field.
Although most of my favorite outdoor publications annually run the same old tired stories about “getting into shape before bird hunting season,” I don’t think the non-hunter realizes the physical demands of a walk across the prairie, or through the forest, with a shotgun in tow. Similarly, I doubt most forest grouse hunters appreciate the exertion needed for a wild pheasant hunt and vice versa. It’s along these lines the debate in the Pheasants Forever offices last week commenced.
At 5’8” tall, some consider me relatively short . . . Okay, I’m really 5’7” and a ¼” . . . Anyway, I’ve always considered pheasant hunting to be far more physically demanding than grouse hunting. The resistance of the tall prairie grasses, cattails and brush against my short legs have always led to extreme leg fatigue and cramping, while ducking in and through alder swamps and aspen thickets have been relatively easy for me.
To my surprise, my taller colleagues Andrew Vavra, Anthony Hauck and Rehan Nana complained of finding the grouse woods to be far more difficult than the pheasant fields. They find the ducking out of the way of branches, climbing over deadfalls, and squeezing through poplar thickets to be much more of a physical workout than a sojourn across a pheasant prairie. I grew up hunting ruffed grouse in Michigan’s northwoods, while all three of these guys cut their teeth on the open pheasant prairies of Minnesota and Kansas, respectively.
So the debate has got me thinking about the classic nurture versus nature debate, from a bird hunter’s perspective. Are the physical demands of pheasant hunting and ruffed grouse hunting directly related to your height or to the type of hunting one is introduced to in the beginning?
How tall are you, what kind of bird hunting did you grow up on, and what type of bird hunting is hardest on your body?
The Pointer is written by Bob St.Pierre, Pheasants Forever & Quail Forever’s Vice President of Marketing. Follow Bob on Twitter @BobStPierre.
Wisconsin Welcomes Wingshooters
Tuesday, October 9th, 2012
I recently visited my local Gander Mountain retail location to purchase a Wisconsin small game hunting license in advance of a trip east in search of ruffed grouse and woodcock.
“Is this the first time you’ve purchased a hunting license in Wisconsin,” the Gander Mountain clerk asked.
I annually buy a fishing license during visits with my brother’s family in Rhinelander, Wisconsin, but this was indeed the first Wisconsin hunting license of my life.
It turns out Wisconsin has a fantastic promotion to help encourage hunter recruitment in which all first time hunting licenses are sold at a 50 percent discount. In other words, my non-resident small game hunting license cost me $42.75 instead of the normal $85 charge. In fact, Wisconsin residents buying their first adult small game license are only charged $5.
The following note appears on my license:
“Thank you for your license purchase. Wisconsin implemented a Recruitment Program that offers incentives to first time participants and the individuals who recruited them into hunting, fishing, and trapping. You paid a reduced license fee since it was either your first time purchasing this type of license or you haven’t purchased one within the last 10 years. This recruitment program also gives you the opportunity to recognize the individual who encouraged you to participate in this activity. If you would like to designate the person who recruited you, call the DNR at 1.888.936.7463. Enjoy Wisconsin’s great outdoors.”
Another nice nugget about Wisconsin is the fact their ruffed grouse hunting season remains open across the state’s northern range through January 31st. That’s an extra thirty days of late season bird hunting when compared to neighboring states Minnesota and Michigan’s grouse season. I’m already planning a snowshoe hunt in January.
Wisconsin can consider this bird hunter hooked for life.
NOTE: A pheasant stamp (resident or non-resident) costs an additional $10.
The Pointer is written by Bob St.Pierre, Pheasants Forever & Quail Forever’s Vice President of Marketing. Follow Bob on Twitter @BobStPierre.
Is It September Yet?
Monday, June 18th, 2012
That’s what I said to a co-worker this week as I passed by his office. His response, “Yeah, it’s a long time between turkey season and dove season.” You’re telling me.
Yes, the off season doldrums have set in yet again and I’m feeling the pain. My forlorn question was prompted by reading an amazing grouse hunting tale by Robert Murphy entitled “The Phantom Setter.” Find it if you can…it is worth the read.
I spend a lot of time outdoors whether its hunting season or not, but summer gardening, canoeing, outdoor art events (I don’t fish much) and the like here in the big city (Minneapolis-St. Paul) are fun, but pale in comparison to the adventure and heart pumping exhilaration of a dog pointing a rooster, rising to swing on a screaming flock of bluebills passing over the ‘coys or fingering the trigger on a .270 waiting for a white-tailed buck to come just a bit closer.
Yes, training my dog eases the anguish somewhat. But, breaking out the whistle and collar for a run around town in shorts under sunny summer skies is just a big tease compared to the real thing: the smooth metallic click of sliding some rounds into a 12 ga., the enthusiasm of a friend’s voice when calling out “he’s on a bird” or watching the sun break the horizon from my boat on a North Dakota duck hunt.
Like many of you, I’ve planned some fall hunts already. It’s exciting to imagine giddy phone calls with a hunting buddy, packing up the gear and loading the dog before putting the lever in drive and heading for points north, west, south or east. Alas, after penning in a hunting date on my schedule, I then must simply and grudgingly forget about it all and wait for the long, interminable passing of June, July and August…ugh!
This time of year, I’m jealous of the hawk, fox and even the earthly short-tailed shrew (a subterranean insectivore that hunts my lawn all summer) as they pursue prey each and every day in plain sight, mocking modern human’s soul-stomping halt to the chase.
I guess for now, I’ll just have to hang on until the first week of September and hold on tight to the words of Hungarian writer Sandor Marai who wrote in 1942 that, “In my whole life, I think I have loved nothing so much as the first light of dawn on the day of a hunt.” Amen.
The Nomad is written by Mark Herwig, Editor of the Pheasants Forever Journal and Quail Forever Journal. Email Mark at mherwig@pheasantsforever.org.
Ruffed grouse, big bucks and a bad joke
Tuesday, September 21st, 2010

The author with an early season ruffed grouse, courtesy help of his springer Hunter, right, and buddy Dave Riopel's wirehair griffon Vashti.
Ruffed grouse and archery deer season opened here in Minnesota Saturday, September 18. I partook of both. Fellow PF staffer Jared Wiklund put us onto a great spot near Duluth.
Since most the leaves are on the trees and shrubs, we did not expect great shooting (two co-workers also went out and didn’t bag a bird due to the leaves). We did have lots of action, however. Many flushes, five birds seen, four shot at and one bagged (see photo). The bird flew on a straight away in a tall aspen grove where I could see it for a good 25-yard shot.
My springer Hunter and buddy Dave Riopel’s wirehaired griffon Vashti did the flushing. We are returning Oct. 9 when the leaves should be down and the shooting up. My wife Terri and I dined on roast grouse with spuds and summer squash from the garden Sunday.
Grouse hunting humor:
What do you get when you cross a pointer and a setter? A flower…..the poin-setter!
Buck fever!
I scouted my archery deer spot 13 miles north of the PF office Saturday night and saw a big 12-pointer! I hunted from a ground blind Sunday as didn’t have help to put up a ladder stand – big mistake.
First, a big doe and two fawns came within 50 yards, but spooked, snorted and ran. At dusk, the buck and two of his buddies of equal size came out of the woods onto an adjacent alfalfa field. I got one to approach twice with a grunt call, but he stopped at 50 yards and then all three bolted…..again spooked by the unfamiliar ground blind.
I went Monday to pull the ground blind and set up my ladder stand. I’ll keep you posted on the results! Anyone out there have any better luck with the grouse or deer?
By the way, I heard a rooster crowing from the deer blind. His turn’s coming! The deer spot also had wild turkey, sandhill crane, mourning doves and giant Canada geese running and flying all over. What abundance. We are blessed. May it always be so — help keep it that way by joining Pheasants Forever!
The Captain, Two Shot & A Cold Front
Tuesday, April 13th, 2010
This weekend, I was reminded of the incredible value of friendship and how the outdoors brings people together.
Yes, I know, the cheese-o-meter on today’s blog entry is already off the charts and I’m only a single line in, but I will stand by the statement. Besides, today’s blog is intended as a bro-hug anyway.

"The Captain" Billy Hildebrand and his golden retriever, Tess, show off a Montana limit of roosters and a pair of mallards.
“The Captain” Billy Hildebrand
I met “The Captain” about six years ago as a guest on his radio show, FAN Outdoors. Over time, we began to establish a rapport. Pretty soon, we took our friendship to the field. A few years back, I was welcomed to the Hildebrand family pheasant camp for the Minnesota opener. Although my pup made herself at home on the furniture, I have been welcomed back every year since. About a year and a half ago, “The Captain” invited me to spend my Saturday mornings on the radio as his sidekick. We’ve visited Pheasants Forever chapters from Waseca, Minnesota to Fort Benton, Montana in the last few years. He’s pulled my truck out of a ditch after an icy accident and helped me navigate a two mile marsh in the pitch black of a pre-dawn morning. This weekend, he mentored me and my wife Meredith as we purchased our first fishing boat; a Crestliner he found, researched, and inspected for me. He loves pheasant hunting, bass fishing, and a good cut of venison. He’s passionate about conservation and committed to instilling the same land ethics in his two sons, Chad and Erik.

Anthony "Big Cat" Hauck and Matt "Two Shot" Kucharski pose with Matt's Lab, Lucy, during a U.P. grouse hunt.
Matt “Two Shot” Kucharski
Pheasant hunting also brought me together with Matt. As a senior vice president at the prestigious Padilla Speer Beardsley public relations firm, Matt’s passion for the outdoors and PSB’s commitment to volunteering in the community led to his donation of expert guidance on a wide array of complex issues. Like most of us, he’d rather be navigating a WMA in search of a wily rooster. So, that was PF’s original trade with Matt: public relations and marketing guidance for hunting adventures. Truth be told, that’s how it started, but our friendship has expanded well beyond those “work hunts” to annual grouse adventures in my home Michigan woods to his family duck camp in North Dakota. He earned his nickname as “Two Shot,” for being the deadliest shot I’ve ever hunted alongside . . . after he misses his first attempt. Matt has also helped me move into our first house, repair my deck, and fix my garage door (are you getting the picture that I’m not very handy around the house?). However it’s a shared devotion to our bird dogs that galvanized our friendship. His black Lab, Lucy, is as good a pheasant dog and retriever as you’d ever have a chance to spend a day in the field behind; although her fearless demeanor and lightning speed has led to her propensity for spendy mishaps. She had one of those mishaps on Easter Sunday, but thankfully things appear to be looking good for a full recovery. That’s great news for us, bad news for the birds!
“Cold Front” Mike Kurre
As Thursday night’s FAN Outdoors sidekick, “Cold Front” and I share the pleasure of following Captain Billy’s lead for two hours of fun-filled radio each week. This Saturday afternoon, fellow PFer Anthony “Big Cat” Hauck and I were treated to a day of crappie fishing on Kurre’s boat. Kurre easily took home “Fisherman of the Day” honors as he boated twice as many fish as his two pheasant comrades. And although the fishing wasn’t fast and furious, the conversation, fish stories and good natured jabbing was rampant.
The moral of the story, take someone hunting or fishing. You may end up with a fixed garage door, expert boat buying guidance, a pull out of a ditch, or even a radio gig. But for sure, you’ll end up with fun days afield with friends. Thanks guys, this bro-hug is for you.









