Catch and Release Upland Style

	When training we do not feel any inclination to shoot. Photo by: Author

One day in October as I glimpsed the dark shadow of another ruffed grouse disappearing through the alders, I had the phenomenally brilliant thought that our local pa’tridge on the midcoast, as opposed to those less educated species of the North Woods, probably have a better survival rate with upland bird hunters than trout do with catch and release fishermen. I pondered the wisdom of the thought just long enough to remember it, and when I reached home with an empty bird bag, started doing a little research with home-style statistics.

When we take to the field during the season, my husband and I write on the calendar the number of birds the dogs point or flush, plus the wild flushes. We do this, (1) because we want to keep yearly records, (2) we like to compare what each dog produces, and (3) we have rotten memories. We also record any birds we bring to the table during the upland plus the waterfowl season. My son, the fisherman, does essentially the same thing.

Suffice it to say, the odds of my shooting then hitting a flying grouse (the only kind I shoot) are in the double digits to one. Now, I have more than fair dogs, I’m not that bad a shot, and I’ve been around the birds a few years now. That makes me wonder about the numbers for all the “sporting” grouse hunters out there who don’t have good dogs, and are not familiar with the bird or its habits. Their shooting ability doesn’t have to come into question; I KNOW their odds aren’t so hot either.

The Novice on Grouse
Last season my husband took two southerners, who had never hunted ruffed grouse, with him for a sun drenched late October day in the field. The New England sugar maples had shed most of their flaming leaves, but the shades of gold on the oaks and the bronze of the birch and aspen were still evident. A dazzling highland panorama brought the group to a halt when they emerged from the thick hillside cover onto an expansive wild blueberry barren. In the foreground, the entire hillside was blanketed with low berry bushes sporting tiny deep red leaves. In the background, distant hills resembled clusters of multicolored florets.

The odds were a little better with our liver and white shorthair. Photo by: Author

The three men soaked up the scene with one part of their minds, the remainder still focused on the woods behind them and the grouse the spaniel flushed only moments before. Neither southerner had time to mount his gun, but one did manage an exclamatory, “There’s one!” That’s catch and release upland style.

The liver and white spaniel had flashed through the cover pressuring anything on the hillside. He never exceeded gun range, but his speed and efficiency challenges the most experienced bird hunter. He produced the grouse, but the action was all too fast for the visitors. When the spaniel scented the bird, only his owner recognized the signs and he didn’t carry a gun that day.

When the men hunted behind the liver and white German shorthair their odds were a little better. The dog was easy to see, and the jingle of the Swiss bell he wore around his neck confirmed his location. When the shorthair encountered bird scent, he slowed his graceful gait, walking on tiptoe, quickly unraveling the mystery of scent that we inadequate humans will never solve. He gave an early tentative point and nervously glanced toward the men, his tail flagging a nervous twitch encouraging them toward him. He reestablished, then locked up tight with his head nearly touching the ground. Everyone knew a bird was there -- right there. He held the point as the closest gentleman moved in for the flush. When it happened and the grouse reverberated from hiding, the bird still had the advantage. Each visitor took a tardy shot and missed again. …Catch and release upland style.

	The sportsman may be content to leave the bird for another day. Photo by: Author

The grouse is the foremost candidate for this form of catch and release upland style and neither man bagged one that day, but they experienced everything leading up to it. They discovered their woodland habitat; they observed the skill of the dogs; they heard the flush, saw the flight; and even took a shot or two. Their reactions were in slow motion, but they learned. They acknowledged hunting pheasants or quail on preserves was a marvelous sport, but kindergarten compared to hunting the most wild of birds, behind dogs enlightened in their ways. At the end of the day they had a newfound fire in their bellies and were high on it.

The Months of Training
Twelve months of the year we train our dogs (or should), and for most of that time we carry nothing more deadly than a starter’s pistol. Handlers handle, dogs hunt, and birds fly, but nothing is shot. We’re thankful some game birds are still out there when we see them and it lifts our spirits when we see them flush. We don’t feel any inclination to shoot. It’s catch and release upland style every time we take to the field to train. We always see and learn something, and it’s during the off-season our gun dogs refine their skills.

The Experienced Upland Bird Hunter
And, what about those hunters, who have completed their doctorate on upland hunting? I’ve seen many an educated “gentleman” snap his shotgun to his shoulder, swing through the target, and softly murmur, “BANG” to a disappearing mark. These hunters don’t need a kill, many don’t want it, and that’s another form of catch and release upland style. They are content leaving the bird out there for another day.

A fisherman can have a magnificent day on the water and come home with an empty creel. He does his homework, evaluates his performance, and knows when he’s had an “A” kind of day. The bird hunter can do the same. An “A day” can exist without bringing home a bird -- catch and release upland style -- and there’s nothing wrong with that.