The Northwood's most terrifying beast
Posted by Zach Johns on Thursday, October 11, 2012 Under: Ruffed grouse
I
woke-up this past Sunday on the bank of the Baptism River. It was one
of those perfect autumn mornings in northern Minnesota. The tent was a
little frosty and my nose was cold, yet I was snug and warm in my
sleeping bag. On either side of me both my boys were fast asleep in
their little mummy bags - I could have lay there forever listening to
the sound of the river, the chickadees and two little snorers.
Alas, nature called. So I got out of my bag, threw on another layer and went out to meet the day. Boy, was it beautiful. The only thing that could have made it better was a toasty fire to eat breakfast near, so I began to collect twigs and birch bark. After a summer of campers, birch bark gets pretty scarce near campsites. Just as I was reaching under a small balsam for a nice strip of birch, a loud explosion made me nearly jump out of my long underwear! I had been surprised by the most fierce of all northwoods fauna: The ruffed grouse.
Any person who spends time in the woods of northern Minnesota would be lying if they said they have never been startled by a grouse. REALLY startled. Just think about it - those stupid birds almost always let you get within inches of them when, “Boom!!!” An explosion of feathers with the sound of an AK-47 goes off right beneath your feet! I swear I’m going to have a heart attack every time I run into one!
Actually, one spring morning, I actually thought I WAS having a heart attack because of a grouse. I was laying in my tent at the Leveaux Mountain beaver pond just waking-up when I felt a peculiar thumping in my chest. “Thump … thump … thump … thump … thump-thump-thump-thump-thu-u-u-u-u-u-u-mpppppp…”
“What the heck was going on with me?” I thought. After a couple of minutes it happened again. Then again and again. I lie there on my stomach about ready to freak-out when finally the cobwebs cleared out of my early-morning brain. I realized it was just a grouse drumming on a nearby log! I would live to hike another day!
(When he wasn't running from grouse, Zach also enjoyed more fall colors this weekend. Check them out HERE)
That was nothing, however, compared to another encounter I had. One sunny July day, I was hiking the eight-mile Cascade River Loop on the Superior Hiking Trail. I was only about two miles from the trailhead when I encountered a grouse in the middle of the trail. I stopped for a minute and admired it, and when it walked off into the woods I continued on my way.
Suddenly, the bird came running out of the brush, screaming at me at the top of its lungs! “Cuck-cuck-cuck-cuck-cuck-cuck!” I had never seen anything like that before. So I backed up and gave it some space. After giving me an evil stare, it went back into the brush.
I waited a minute and set off but once again it came charging out into the middle of the trail when I approached. “What the heck!?!” I thought. We did our dance a few more times with me backing-up and the bird running and screaming. Eventually, I picked-up a rock and threw it trying to scare the bird. It only seemed to make it more angry.
I surveyed the landscape to see if there was another way around, but I was on a steep hill covered with impenetrable brush on one side and a river on the other. There was no was I was going to hike back the six rugged miles I had already covered. It was time to do something drastic.
So I tightened my pack straps, lowered my hat and picked-up a good stick. Then after taking a deep breath I lowered my head and charged forward screaming like General Pickett at Gettysburg! Suddenly there was an explosion of feathers and squawks and what must have been five hundred birds (three) dive bombed me as I ran by. After probably a quarter mile (50 yards) I slowed down and found myself victorious. I had ran the grouse gauntlet successfully! Good hike - funny story.
But here’s where it gets weird. The next day as I was getting my lunch ready for work in my Virginia apartment, I heard a loud bang on my window. I walked over to take a look outside an found A STUNNED GROUSE LAYING ON THE GROUND!!!!! Honest truth!!! It was like that grouse had followed my scent one hundred miles and was still seeking revenge!!!
I got a lot of mileage out of that story over the next year - my mom especially thought it was funny. But it was about to get even funnier.
The next summer, about the same time of year, my mom and I went for a hike from Crosby-Manitou State Park to the Caribou River. It was a gorgeous day, and at one point something very large crashed through the woods just off the trail. Thinking it was a moose or a bear I ran towards it excitedly, but unfortunately did not catch a glimpse of the animal.
A few miles down the trail, however, I DID catch a glimpse of something. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something move. It was small. It was brown. It had feathers. Now, you should know that up to this point in my life I had never, EVER, uttered a swear word in front of my dear mother. Not one time. But that day she saw her innocent son whirl around in terror and scream, “Oh @&#%! A GROUSE!!!!!” and tear down the trail like the devil himself was after him.
It was. After my exclamation of profanity, I sprinted down the trail with a crazy bird flying right on my tail! My mom nearly peed her pants laughing - to this day she claims it was one of the funniest things she has ever witnessed.
So to all you grouse hunters out there - I wish you the best of luck. Hungry bears, rabid wolves, phantom mountain lions, moose in rut, heck even Sasquatch - they don’t scare me at all when I’mout in the wilderness.
But the ruffed grouse - please - shoot all you can!
Alas, nature called. So I got out of my bag, threw on another layer and went out to meet the day. Boy, was it beautiful. The only thing that could have made it better was a toasty fire to eat breakfast near, so I began to collect twigs and birch bark. After a summer of campers, birch bark gets pretty scarce near campsites. Just as I was reaching under a small balsam for a nice strip of birch, a loud explosion made me nearly jump out of my long underwear! I had been surprised by the most fierce of all northwoods fauna: The ruffed grouse.
Any person who spends time in the woods of northern Minnesota would be lying if they said they have never been startled by a grouse. REALLY startled. Just think about it - those stupid birds almost always let you get within inches of them when, “Boom!!!” An explosion of feathers with the sound of an AK-47 goes off right beneath your feet! I swear I’m going to have a heart attack every time I run into one!
Actually, one spring morning, I actually thought I WAS having a heart attack because of a grouse. I was laying in my tent at the Leveaux Mountain beaver pond just waking-up when I felt a peculiar thumping in my chest. “Thump … thump … thump … thump … thump-thump-thump-thump-thu-u-u-u-u-u-u-mpppppp…”
“What the heck was going on with me?” I thought. After a couple of minutes it happened again. Then again and again. I lie there on my stomach about ready to freak-out when finally the cobwebs cleared out of my early-morning brain. I realized it was just a grouse drumming on a nearby log! I would live to hike another day!
(When he wasn't running from grouse, Zach also enjoyed more fall colors this weekend. Check them out HERE)
That was nothing, however, compared to another encounter I had. One sunny July day, I was hiking the eight-mile Cascade River Loop on the Superior Hiking Trail. I was only about two miles from the trailhead when I encountered a grouse in the middle of the trail. I stopped for a minute and admired it, and when it walked off into the woods I continued on my way.
Suddenly, the bird came running out of the brush, screaming at me at the top of its lungs! “Cuck-cuck-cuck-cuck-cuck-cuck!” I had never seen anything like that before. So I backed up and gave it some space. After giving me an evil stare, it went back into the brush.
I waited a minute and set off but once again it came charging out into the middle of the trail when I approached. “What the heck!?!” I thought. We did our dance a few more times with me backing-up and the bird running and screaming. Eventually, I picked-up a rock and threw it trying to scare the bird. It only seemed to make it more angry.
I surveyed the landscape to see if there was another way around, but I was on a steep hill covered with impenetrable brush on one side and a river on the other. There was no was I was going to hike back the six rugged miles I had already covered. It was time to do something drastic.
So I tightened my pack straps, lowered my hat and picked-up a good stick. Then after taking a deep breath I lowered my head and charged forward screaming like General Pickett at Gettysburg! Suddenly there was an explosion of feathers and squawks and what must have been five hundred birds (three) dive bombed me as I ran by. After probably a quarter mile (50 yards) I slowed down and found myself victorious. I had ran the grouse gauntlet successfully! Good hike - funny story.
But here’s where it gets weird. The next day as I was getting my lunch ready for work in my Virginia apartment, I heard a loud bang on my window. I walked over to take a look outside an found A STUNNED GROUSE LAYING ON THE GROUND!!!!! Honest truth!!! It was like that grouse had followed my scent one hundred miles and was still seeking revenge!!!
I got a lot of mileage out of that story over the next year - my mom especially thought it was funny. But it was about to get even funnier.
The next summer, about the same time of year, my mom and I went for a hike from Crosby-Manitou State Park to the Caribou River. It was a gorgeous day, and at one point something very large crashed through the woods just off the trail. Thinking it was a moose or a bear I ran towards it excitedly, but unfortunately did not catch a glimpse of the animal.
A few miles down the trail, however, I DID catch a glimpse of something. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something move. It was small. It was brown. It had feathers. Now, you should know that up to this point in my life I had never, EVER, uttered a swear word in front of my dear mother. Not one time. But that day she saw her innocent son whirl around in terror and scream, “Oh @&#%! A GROUSE!!!!!” and tear down the trail like the devil himself was after him.
It was. After my exclamation of profanity, I sprinted down the trail with a crazy bird flying right on my tail! My mom nearly peed her pants laughing - to this day she claims it was one of the funniest things she has ever witnessed.
So to all you grouse hunters out there - I wish you the best of luck. Hungry bears, rabid wolves, phantom mountain lions, moose in rut, heck even Sasquatch - they don’t scare me at all when I’mout in the wilderness.
But the ruffed grouse - please - shoot all you can!
In : Ruffed grouse
Tags: grouse hiking biking camping superior national forest baptism river birch bark sleeping bag
Zach Johns is an alpine skier, backpacker, paddler and all-around nature lover who lives on Minnesota‘s Iron Range. Originally from Osceola, Wis., Johns attended the University of Minnesota-Duluth so he could ski every day and be close to the trails of his beloved North Shore. There, he earned a degree in Communication and was editor of the student newspaper. However, the real education he gained at UMD was in honing his outdoor skills. He took courses in subjects such as backpacking, winter camping, rock climbing and canoe tripping. By the time he graduated, that was all he wanted to do. In January of 1997, he moved to the Range where he met a group of die-hard skiers dedicated to making turns at Giants Ridge every single day of the winter (when they weren’t out skiing the big mountains of the west.) Throughout the late nineties he built a very impressive ski resume, taking several trips to Utah, Montana, Wyoming, California, British Columbia and Alaska. During the off-season, he took to the hiking trails. In 1997, he hiked the entire Superior Hiking Trail during the single season (what had been completed until that time) and in following years, took trips to Yosemite, Glacier and the Grand Canyon. He also made two attempts to climb King’s Peak, the highest mountain in Utah, but failed to summit both times. In 1999, he attempted the infamous 43-mile Kekekabic Trail through the heart of the BWCA and limped out after only ten miles with a hernia. He did finally complete the Kek in 2005, during one of the hottest weeks on record. Besides hiking, he also continued dabbling with paddling, making several canoe trips to the BWCA and became an enthusiastic (yet very novice) whitewater kayaker. He is now a father of two sons, Nick and Jackson, who accompany their father on nearly all his adventures. Both were skiing fairly soon after they could stand and from 2006-2011, the three hiked in every state park in Minnesota, 195 miles of hiking in 65 parks. Since becoming a dad, Johns has suddenly realized that you can’t just be out there skiing, hiking, paddling, etc. without also working to protect the very things you love. With that in mind, he founded an adventure club at work to get co-workers outside who might not otherwise be inspired to go. The club has gone on hiking, paddling, winter camping and cycling trips and annually go on a trash pick-up hike to celebrate Earth Day. He believes that once you get people out into beautiful wild places, the more likely they will be to protect them. He has also done a lot of volunteer work for the Superior Hiking Trail Association including adopting a backcountry campsite which he and the boys maintain twice a year. It is of extreme importance, he believes, to introduce children to the outdoors early. Not only is it good for them, but they will be the ones protecting these places once we are gone. Future plans? There are a few local goals to check-off including hiking the Border Route Trail in the BWCA and Isle Royale. Mostly, it’s just to take the boys hiking and camping in more of our national parks, skiing the big western mountains, and more of their usual seasonal cycle: Giants Ridge in the winter, Superior’s North Shore in the spring, South Shore in the summer and back to the North Shore in the fall.
