Fellow Forum Folks; Good morning to you all, I hope wherever and whenever this finds you reading my hunting tail/tale that you and yours are well.
Yesterday morning I was up on the local mountain with my neighbor in the pursuit of protein. Now he has tagged a mulie already and I've managed a small whitetail buck so we were looking for a mulie for myself, a whitetail buck for him or an elk for either one of us.
Anyways as things go sometimes, after we'd split up while I only managed to see 2 or perhaps 3 Spruce Grouse, he of course saw a couple mulie bucks - one a 2x4 which I'd gladly have invited home for dinner, but as well he saw a good number of Spruce Grouse.
All those grouse sightings reminded me of an excursion into the Telegraph Creek area back in '87 for mountain goats where my hunting partner and I were able to fill to legal capacity my sister's freezer with grouse and as well experience what to this day has been the most bizarre grouse hunting experience ever.
It should be said before going further that my sister and her husband as well as their eldest daughter who was perhaps 4 or 5 lived there in Telegraph, so were able to provide us with a warm place to crash and a base for our daily expeditions west of town for mountain goats.
There were that year and in that area, so many Spruce Grouse that if I begin to suggest numbers seen I'd be immediately taken for at very least a Federal politician or used car salesperson.... at very least.
The daily limit up there that year was 10 per day and after the first day where we returned with 20 birds we felt more than a little convicted of something akin to unsportsmanlike behavior. Sometime during that first evening then, "The Rules" were envisioned, the details of which I'll share now.
A points system of sorts was developed, since we were both very much males and young males at that and what is life without competition of some kind, you know? The arm of choice was a reasonably accurate Ruger 10/22 - but certainly not Brno or Tikka T1X level accurate arm, just a good example of an early '80's 10/22 running a 1" Bushnell 4X Sportview that had been purchased on sale at Prince's of Oroville for $29.95!
- A single point would be awarded for each Spruce Grouse shot "in the head or neck".
- A single point would be deducted for a miss.
- A single point would be deducted for a hit anywhere other than the head or neck of the grouse.
- The participants would take turns, so it didn't matter who spotted the grouse first, it was either your turn or not.
- The participant whose turn it was to shoot, had to wait until the participant who was not shooting, hopped out of the truck, loaded a single round into the magazine of the 10/22 and then handed the arm to the shooter who could then chamber a round and take his turn.
- If a miss occurred, the shooter then would be responsible for taking out the magazine, loading a single round into it, replacing it into the arm and then turning the arm over to the shooter whose turn it now was.
- If a hit was made, the loader's job was retriever since sometimes we'd have to wade through the Devils' Club for that task and it was agreed that would be standard procedure.
Now of course the perceptive and gentle reader can already ascertain that despite a presumably fair set of rules being established, the speed at which the loader proceeded with his task had a marked bearing on the success rate of the shooter....
Now to be clear, there were ample opportunities for each participant to maintain some semblance of balance when their respective turn came about... turnabout being fair play and all that.
So it was into this game of high stakes grouse points, my good friend and hunting partner took his turn and potted a Spruce Rooster from it's perch on a poplar tree, whereupon it fluttered to the ground.
Since the rules demanded I be retriever, I scrambled over the bank and looked down at the Spruce Grouse as it looked up at me.... whereupon I reached out and grabbed it and seeing as it was struggling greatly to be elsewhere in a great hurry I dispatched it by manual decapitation.
As I was walking back to the pickup, looking for the evidence of the hit - as we always did of course to both see how we were shooting and to ensure the rules were scrupulously being followed - I asked, "Where'd ya shoot him?"
He replied, "The eye most obviously, why didn't I hit there?"
Well, we then had the grouse undergo the most thorough field necropsy we were able to perform and finding no evidence of a hit anywhere on the head or neck of the bird, pronounced in our best coroner's inquest voice that the bird had in fact died of stupidity...
Now for those of you who may doubt this tale and my voracity, I can assure you that my friend and fellow Canuck forum member who occasionally visits here knows the shooter very well and perhaps has even heard this tail/tale from his lips as well. But anyways friends, true story, that's how it all went down.
Why the grouse fell out of the tree is still a mystery to us, but so help me there were no holes in it when I grabbed it.
I hope at very least some of you smiled a wee bit when reading the hunting story, thanks for doing so and allowing me to relive a grand hunt from long ago.
All the best to you all this fall.
Dwayne
PS; Added a quick video of the road into Telegraph Creek to give you a flavor of the country up there.
Last edited by BC30cal; 09/24/20. Reason: added video of road in
wabigoon; Good morning to you sir, I hope harvest is going well for you folks.
As a quick aside, when we were coming down the mountain yesterday we saw a bunch of ravens take off and went to see what was up. It turned out some idiot had hit a range calf and killed it, so I took some photos of the calf, the momma cow and then phoned my rancher buddy last night to see whose calf it was.
The rancher had already been contacted when I called him, but he was grateful that I did, even though he's likely out at least $1200Cdn.
To answer your question, yes unless it's part of a First Nation's settlement area of which there are some up there, then it's BC Crown land. There's apt to be timber leases, mining claims and down here grazing leases or permits on any and in fact most Crown land which at times does affect access.
The Grand Canyon of the Stikine is truly breath taking country though wabigoon, most especially in the fall when the leaves are turning.
We've been fortunate to kick around 4 western provinces and at least 10 western states - and Texas too now that I think of it - but would rank the Grand Canyon of the Stikine up close to Yellowstone and Kananaskis Country for pretty to look at.
Anyways, as always beauty is always such a subjective thing and truly when one is say on the top of the Shoshone National Forest pass - Dead Indian Pass, I believe it was - well then that's the most beautiful one has seen because you're there, you know?
wabigoon; Well sir, that's actually an understatement of some size....
We went in with my '80 Toyota 4x4, which was loaded to the top of the canopy with apples.
When my sister found out we were coming up, she asked if we could bring some apples for her and some of their friends as fresh fruit is unheard of up there for the most part. Further, she said that she'd pre-sold the apples for pretty much whatever we wanted to get for them, again because in that remotest section of an already remote land, there were no apples - ever...
Since buddy and I worked at a government test orchard at the time, we got permission from the manager to pick whatever we wanted of some experimental varieties that the local packing house didn't want/couldn't sell and were only worth a few cents a pound for juicing.
I'll note that juice apples don't cover the cost of picking them up off the ground wabigoon...
So then for the price of the apple boxes and our time we loaded the long box Toyota up, leaving room at the back for our camping gear for a week.
Fast forward to the bottom of the first 20% grade where we stopped the pickup to let the brakes cool down wabigoon.
We had a very serious discussion about leaving the apples on the side of the road, but in the end didn't and continued on very, very slowly and carefully.
Back then there was spots that two small pickups could just so pass each other, but not two full sized ones.
When the school had some industrial trailers brought in a few years previous to our hunt, the first driver in simply stopped his truck at the bottom of the first switchback, left the keys in and walked back to Dease Lake whereupon he phoned his employer and resigned.
The story went that a local contracted taking them in after that - at a much more inflated rate of course - but then they have yet to print enough Canuck colored money to induce me personally to drag even so much as an 8' utility trailer on that stretch of road.
Maybe it's better now, I can't say, but that's the way it was in '87.
Again all the best to you all.
Dwayne
PS; The locals simply loved us for bringing in the apples.
We sold them for what the grocery stores charged in Williams Lake or Quesnel and made enough to pay for gas for the expedition.
Have never been invited out for supper by so many strangers in my life wabigoon - they were some happy to see fresh fruit.
I have gotten three grouse which were untouched. The most memorable was one which I had thrown into the back seat of my 1971 Subaru. Halfway home, I looked over to see it perched on the back of the passenger seat. Adhering to the rules of double jeopardy, I stopped and tossed her out. There is still a little wild country up there. GD
I was just up in that country for nearly 3-weeks..Took a float plane ride out of Dease Lake, hunted Mt Caribou with my bow . 10 days later I connected, then spent 5 days packing it out. My buddy and I doubled and we were 17 km from where we were dropped off. Three trips each mad for 50 km with heavily loaded packs before we got back to our starting point. The caribou is home and cut-up and some very fine eating. My knees, hips, ankles and leg muscles are starting to feel better too, 12 days after the epic pack trip. Anyway, northern BC is certainly a great place to spend time every year!
I watched a ruffed grouse flush from the side of a road one time as I was driving down it (grouse hunting as a matter of fact), and wouldn't you know it? That grouse flew directly into a tree and either knocked itself out, or broke its neck and died. I pulled to a stop, laughing uncontrollably. I didn't know if it was dead or not and wanted to make sure I got it so I tried to ground sluice it (I tried to steady my shotgun a few times, but failed due to laughing so hard). Finally I gained my composure, blasted it and walked up and rung its neck because it was still fluttering.
I later regretted doing that, as I have ever since been curious if it died from the impact or just was knocked out.
I watched a ruffed grouse flush from the side of a road one time as I was driving down it (grouse hunting as a matter of fact), and wouldn't you know it? That grouse flew directly into a tree and either knocked itself out, or broke its neck and died. I pulled to a stop, laughing uncontrollably. I didn't know if it was dead or not and wanted to make sure I got it so I tried to ground sluice it (I tried to steady my shotgun a few times, but failed due to laughing so hard). Finally I gained my composure, blasted it and walked up and rung its neck because it was still fluttering.
I later regretted doing that, as I have ever since been curious if it died from the impact or just was knocked out.
T Inman; Good almost afternoon to you sir, I hope this finds you well, warm and dry.
The same neighbor and I just now got back from the same spot looking for the same things, but wind and rain drove us to warmer places - mainly the pickup cab and coffee for me and then home and dry clothes which feel most luxurious I must say!
Your story made me chuckle, thanks for sharing it.
Honestly I've come to believe that if one spends enough time afield they will experience enough oddities that of course folks who have not find difficult to conceive. Nonetheless they happened!
One time I had a ruffer flush and run into a Doug Fir at speed, but it was able to fly away after the fact, though it's flight pattern more resembled a bat in flight so I'd guess the navigation system had taken a beating in the collision!
Your story reminded me of one more grouse tail/tale which I'll share now, the theory being either the gentle reader has branded me a liar of Baron Von Munchausen proportion already or will be okay reading just in case it's amusing, you know?
In the fall of '96 there were grouse everywhere here in the south Okanagan.
It was nothing noteworthy to go up in the morning and have one's limit of 5 before lunch.
A now passed on shooting buddy of mine had told me about the amazing number of grouse he was seeing on a particular mountain which divides us with the valley to the west, so I took a drive one morning to see what I could see.
If memory serves I'd already taken 4 grouse - mixed Ruffer, Spruce and Blue - when what to my wondering eyes should appear but a large Blue rooster flying down the middle of the logging road towards me, more gliding than flying actually but coming straight at me.
It veered to the left at the truck, landed on the bank beside me perhaps 20' away and then tumbled backwards down into the ditch!
To say I was nonplussed would not adequately describe it T.
Being me, I was already attempting to craft both a reasonable explanation AND AS WELL a good hunting story in my mind as I stared at the defunct bird laying beside me. Initially I postulated that I had been witness to a grouse heart attack or perhaps brain aneurism, I mean what other explanation could there be.
Presently however, over the brow of the hill came my friend who had recommended the area to me. He was getting on in years, had a heart condition and had in the past had both hips replaced so most all his hunting was "road trolling" as its known in BC.
As he recognized me and I him, we acknowledged each other with the requisite wave given to someone you know when passing on a mountain road. There are of course rules you know!
He rolled up to me, rolled down his window and before his usual salutation in hunting season which was, "What's ya kill?", instead he asked, "You didn't happen to see a big Blue headed this way by any chance? I hit one up the road and it flew off in this direction."
Of course I burst out laughing as I exited my pickup and retrieved the Blue for him, telling him the first and freshly minted version of a hunting story which has been a staple in my repertoire for all these years.
All the best to you T, thanks for sharing your story again and all the best to you this fall.
Twice, I have put "dead" grouse in the milk crate in the back of the pickup, only to find out later, they weren't as dead as I wanted 'em to be.
The fist time, upon arriving home, I opened the tonneau cover on Joe's truck, to be greeted by a grouse perched on the top of the milk crate !
To say I was surprised, would be an understatement !
New 2 99's; Thanks for the reply and adding your grouse stories as well, I appreciate it very much.
Your story reminded me of another buddy of mine who is gone now too - seems more and more of that happening to me Paul and I can't say I like it much.
Anyway Harry was a local trapper and told the following story to me, which I'll repeat as close as semi-old guy, foggy memory will allow.
Harry had checked his traps down south of town and found a couple muskrats as well as a coyote, which he dispatched with an axe handle blow across the nose as usual - which didn't wreck any fur and was typically a sudden, painless exit for most animals.
He then put the coyote on the back of his pickup beside his snowmobile, finished checking the rest of his sets and on the way home stopped at the corner store for some factory rolled cigarettes - which he could now afford with the bounty of morning furs.
As he was paying for the smokes, the clerk commented to him, "That's a new dog you got there Harry? I've never seen it before, interesting colors on him."
Harry was about to tell the clerk he had no new dog... but as the words were forming in his mouth, he looked into the parking lot and saw a bleary eyed, disheveled coyote standing on the seat of his snowmobile, front paws on the bars!
Naturally Harry tried his best to complete the tobacco transaction in haste, then hopped in his truck and drove into the nearest back alley - where he grabbed his axe and proceeded to do the job a tad better than the first time.
'When Harry told us that story, there were a bunch of us having coffee at a local place and my buddy from the story above was there as well. I can still see my buddy Willy shaking as he laughed about the "new dog" and of course, when we'd go coyote hunting for some time after, Willy would ask if we'd shot Harry's new dog or not.
Thanks again for your participation sir and for allowing me to wander down the path of some very pleasant memories from a time now passed and like as not, never to be seen again. It was I must say, a grand thing indeed for me to be able to rub shoulders with some of the old time BC mountain folks.
All the best to you and your fine family this season sir.
Friend and I out driving the lease roads, shot a grouse with the 12 gauge, the grouse was maybe 20 or 25 feet away so aimed above the head figuring the shot pattern would not have much spread at that distance and didn't want to spoil the breast with too many pellets. Bang, the bird did the typical flapping of wings a fatally hit grouse often does. Picked it up and put it in the truck box. Drove around for a while and buddy says lets got to town and grab some lunch. Half hour later we pulled into a restaurant, parked in front of the big windows. Halfway through our meal the chatter in the diner suddenly picked up and someone pointed at my truck. Here was the grouse sitting up on top of the side of the box somewhat alert but a bit wobbly. What the heck, I go outside grab the bird and twist its neck with everyone peering out the windows in amusement. Walked back in the restaurant to lots of laughter and comments about great white hunters killing things with their bare hands and such. It was all good as this is a small rural community where most don't take offense to such things. A post mortem examination showed no wounds except for a slight mark on its head. We figured the shot column passed above its head and it got a good slap from the wad knocking it senseless for a while.
Great video Dwayne! I just got home from a week plus in similar country here in Alberta. 10 hour derive from where I live in SE Alberta. Gorgeous, big country NE of Jasper NP. It was my first trip to the area in 25 years. We were hunting elk, Black bear and White tail deer. No tags were filled as game was sparse to say the least. We did dine well on fresh Ruffed grouse baked in the coals then smothered in a wild blue berry sauce I made. I left the Spruce grouse alone this trip as I didn't have any Granny Smith apples with me. (There is a trick using them and bacon to make them delicious)The blue berries are absolutely everywhere this year. I saw one Black bear, a yearling sitting in a berry patch alongside the logging road. Massive piles of bear scat with a blue tinge were scattered through the cut blocks, likely from Grizzlies. As always, it was a grand adventure. We will be going back in 2 years. Next year, my hunting partner plans to hunt monster mulies near my place on the Prairies. Jeff
My brother once brought home a pile of mallards. He and his bud had jumped them off a farm pond that was literally coverd with them. There were dead and dying birds everywhere, and they ran down the on land cripples and wrung their necks.
I picked one and couldn't find a hole anywhere, including neck and head. Unless the bb went up it's bung, we think it was asleep and never woke up until it got it's neck rung.
On a very windy day we were hunting sharptail. The only one we saw was was high and sailing downwind as it passed over us. a half-mile away it ran into the power line, and we , even upwind, heard the thud. Its brestbone was completely shattered. Solved the mystery why there is a predator game trail down every power line....
Just back from 3 weeks at our remote cabin in Interior. This bird considered our river-bend location its home turf. Within a couple days, it would fly down within 6 or 8 feet of me, no concerns. It also knew exactly how far in front of the Dachshund it could safely land. It would sit in a tree outside the cabin for hours, watching me.
I could have killed a hundred or more in the time we were there, even tho the flocks this year seemed smaller than in the past. singles to 6 birds or so. Lots of 2,3,4. We had plenty to eat, so they got a pass.
las; Good evening to you sir, I hope you and yours are doing acceptably well tonight.
Thanks for the photo and stories, I appreciate you taking the time to post them.
The fact that the little rooster decided to take over your camp is really interesting. Somehow they seem to know where they're safe or not - or perhaps he's just a lucky guesser?
We've seen a fair few grouse this season so far, which is a surprise considering how wet the spring was.
Somewhere along the way I quit shooting grouse, preferring to leave them for folks who like to eat them more than we do, so unless our daughter who is my usual hunting partner decides to shoot one occasionally, we just shoo them off the road and continue on our way.
Thanks again and all the best to you all this fall.
Dwanye - Your tale of the truck full of apples reminds me of my early days in Arctic villages 30-40 years ago. Anyone who had a clue, packed as much greenery and fruit into their suitcases as space would allow when coming out - especially if they were depending on your couch or floor to sleep on. Better transportation/availability now. Still spendy.
When i left Kotzebue a couple years ago, someone was growing hydroponic lettuce and kale in several truck containers (Conex) and marketing them thru the village store. Pricier than that flown in from Anchorage, but one knew it was fresh.
Man that video has me Jonesing for the North Country. Its been Exactly 4 years since I was up there. I have never been to a more Beautiful place. I really felt at Home in BC and I will be back sometime. Could go for some fresh of the bush Berries as well.
I've always been different with one foot over the line.....
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