I took my son and youngest daughter out to do a quick walk hunt in our neighborhood today, not really expecting to bring home anything other than some exercise and taking in the colored leaves of Fall. My daughter wanted to hunt squirrels, so she brought her Ruger 10/22 and my son wanted to hunt birds, so he brought his Mosberg 835 with long barrel. I took my single shot H&R 20 guage.

We got on the "rail-trail" and headed east. After blowing the crow call a few times and getting no reply I wasn't hopeful that we'd have anything to shoot at. Then we almost walked right over a doe. Hey, I was looking up. I didn't have my bow with me, and I don't have an archery license for this year anyway. She got up and my son saw her and alerted our little group. She quickly lit out jumping a new split rail fence on her way out of the area.

As we walked on we reached the magic point. I blew the crow call and the trees in the area came alive with nasty calls and the crows started to cruise over us to see what was up. I got one in my sights, but he was almost hovering. Clear miss as he headed for the next county. So we walked on.

We met a woman walking the opposite way and had a polite talk with her. She said it was probably time fo her to start wearing some orange and we agreed. She has nothing to fear from us, but we're not the only people who hunt on that trail. A little further we went into a nice hardwood stand to find some squirrels, but they weren't there either. A poor little girl was getting more upset by the minute.

As we came back onto the trail there were two other people headed our way, but when they saw three hunters they decided to go back the way they came. That's fine with me. Less people to worry about scaring up game. As we walked back past the place where she'd been, I tried to explain that the doe probably would have stayed right where she was if one of us hadn't taken notice of her until we passed out of sight.

A little further down the trail we stopped to see if we could find any squirrels for my daughter to shoot at again. That's when we found a poorly set up illegal tree stand set up. The joker didn't even have his drip bottle high enough that it wouldn't be tripped over. We were reaching the end of the trail, and the hunt, when my son said, "Look dad a crow on the trail". At first glance it looked a bit like a crow and it was just standing there.

That's when I realized. "It could be a partridge," I said. That's the local term for the Ruffed Grouse. As we got closer I saw the neck feathers. Sure enough it was a Ruffed Grouse. My son and I both went on point giving each other some space. My daughter stayed put. I decided to rush forward to get a flush but the bird just sat there. So I said, "take him." My son fired and he flushed and I shot next and he disappeared.

We went immediately on to the ridge in the direction the bird had started to fly. Nothing. I told my son to search he front while I went around back. I had decided it wasn't on the back side and I was headed back when I heard a squeel and thought my daughter had gotten scared by something. When I crested the ridge my son was holding up the bird. It doesn't matter much to me whose shot brought it down. I've shot at my share of these rugged little birds in my life and at age 45 I finally got to hold one.

My daughter was upset, but I had her help me with cleaning the bird and she was soon celebrating our harvest as well as learning something I'd never learned at the side of my father. He was a hunter, but we never did get one of those pesky birds while he could still hunt. Sometimes we forge our own paths in life and get to share in the experience. Thank you Lord for this days hunt. Thank you St. Hubert for your prayers.

Good hunting friends.

Tags: Hunt Birds Ruffed Grouse Crow Squirrel Deer Partridge