The day a ruffed grouse moved in
Although sometimes regarded as “wilderness” birds, ruffed grouse have no aversion to living in close proximity to humans if the cover gives them adequate security.
Ruffed grouse exist in nearly every province and territory in Canada except for Nunavut. They are creatures of forests. When forests and woodlots are isolated – such as parts of the lower mainland of B.C. and southern Ontario farming country – the grouse disappear.
When I was a child, I heard my dad talk about grouse hunting in Hoard Woods. The grouse would be at one corner of the ten-acre woodlot. Dad would chase one up, either shoot it or miss. If he missed, it would fly to the opposite corner of the woodlot, and the sequence would continue until Dad ran out of time and energy or the grouse was bagged. Needless to say, by the time I was of hunting age, there were no grouse left in Hoard’s woodlot.
When I moved to the lower mainland of B.C., something similar happened: scattered undeveloped parcels in Surrey would have a grouse or two, but as suburban development turned alder, fir and cedar patches into houses, roads and yards, the grouse disappeared. The same thing happened in Delta, Surrey and Langley. We had to go “up the valley” or into the interior of the province to find ruffed grouse as a sustainable species.
When I moved to the lower mainland of B.C., something similar happened: scattered undeveloped parcels in Surrey would have a grouse or two, but as suburban development turned alder, fir and cedar patches into houses, roads and yards, the grouse disappeared. The same thing happened in Delta, Surrey and Langley. We had to go “up the valley” or into the interior of the province to find ruffed grouse as a sustainable species.
Farm grouse
When I moved to Central B.C., I found ruffed grouse around farms which had many sections of “bush” (i.e. forests) on them. Grouse were not something to be hunted in any serious way, but “potted” on the ground or as they sat in a tree using either a .22 rifle or .410 shotgun.
The farm we bought in Quick, B.C., had a large, almost impenetrable section of wetland and forest. There were two or three grouse families on one of the glacial eskers near the house. I soon discovered that I could shoot four grouse from each clutch and maintain the population. In years with constant wet weather in June (hatching time), the chicks often died. There would be no hunting those years.
Grouse are growing on me
As I got older and less mobile, I quit hunting ruffed grouse and took more pleasure from observing them. We have had great joy in seeing one to three ruffed grouse move into our yard, between the house and the chicken coop. There, we have one big spruce tree with branches sweeping the ground, providing perfect protection from avian predators such as northern goshawks. The first grouse that spent time under that tree seemed to have an injured wing and would just jump onto a lower branch when we got too near. I restrained Jeff the Dog from “hunting” in the yard by earnest entreaty and veiled threats.
As I got older and less mobile I quit hunting ruffed grouse and took more pleasure from observing them.
We threw some whole scratch feed on the ground for the grouse in case there were not enough berries or buds for it to eat. “It” turned into three grouse. How “it” called the others is not clear to me, but the message was clear: “These folks have habitat and even provide food. Their dog is either well-trained or really a useless hunter.”
I still think that breast of ruffed grouse is the best-eating poultry in the world, but after seeing a grouse strutting under the spruce, I’ll make sure to work on creating more habitat and maintaining protection for our own version of “a partridge in an apple tree.”
