Grouse hunting for me was more about a nice walk in the woods than actually hunting for grouse. Though bagging a grouse or two was always a bonus. We had 40 acres of woods to explore and hunt grouse. Yet it was not enough. Our neighbor at our woodland cabin had a 40 acre section behind ours to the east. Beyond that 40 acre section was the Superior National Forest.
Many times I headed towards our eastern fence line. Beyond the barbed wire fence lay about thirty to forty yards of grass separating our woodland from a thick young stand of aspen and birch. I knew grouse to be in there. The trouble was swinging the shotgun around to get off a shot. It was so tight in there that the grouse simply ran ahead of me. At times, I managed to “push” the grouse eastwards to the next fence line to get off a shot or two.
The trouble with that forty yards of grass area was the bulls. Our neighbors kept their bulls in that back forty east of us. I typically crossed our fence line in silence and briskly and quietly and made my way into the aspen thicket. Yet, on one occasion, halfway through the grass, I heard a snort, then hooves beating the ground. I hightailed it as fast as I could wishing I would instantly evolve wings. I heard him grunting, snorting and trashing through the aspens behind me. Grouse were popping up like popcorn. I’d never seen so many grouse take to the air as the bull and I crashed through the thick aspen. Damn, I could have gotten a few if it weren’t for my Mr. Death chasing me.
He quickly gave up the chase, but I kept running. My being considerably more thin and my three years of High School Cross Country was my salvation. I made it across that forty acre parcel in record time. I rested after I crossed the final fence line where I was safe in the Superior National Forest. I then pondered a new strategy to hunt grouse in that aspen thicket; run like hell, stop, shoot, run again. If only that would work.
It was always a nice walk through this mature forest in the SNF. There were a few potholes of water and wetland I used to cross between. There were old remnants of roads. Further eastward lay the old gravel Mooseline Road. This day I was hampered again. The little potholes were now some sort of lake. Beavers must have been busy and created a larger lake. I noted this thinking this may be a nice private duck hunting area. But getting a canoe/boat back there would be impossible.
I have always enjoyed my walks back there. The National Forest seemed so calm and peaceful. It was much easier to see longer distances through the mature pines than in our 40 acres or the Aspen tangle. I knew there would be no ruffed grouse back there. But perhaps there were spruce grouse to see. Anyway, it was always an enjoyable walk.
After much procrastinating, it was getting late. More late than I had realized as sunlight was dimming fast. Reluctantly, yet, enthusiastically, I headed back. I needed to head west. Our cabin was on the North West corner. Rather than run the bull gauntlet, I followed the fence line to the South East corner and followed it West to our South East property line. That’s where I hopped the corner fence to our forty in twilight.
Regrettably, I left my flashlight in the cabin as well as my compass. The darkening shadows played tricks on me and I found myself in the Alder Swamp. At least that’s what I called it. Its more of a low wetland than swamp tangled with Alder. I kinda’ knew where I was and needed to go. And I wanted no part of being in the Alder Swamp. I got turned around an found myself surrounded by the Alder and started to panic. Trying to retrace my steps, I somehow got out but could not decipher where I was. I decided I was heading south or so I thought. The shadows moved mysteriously, our woods seemed more eerie.
I stood there in our woods trying to get my bearings as to where I was. I had a pretty good idea when to my left I heard a woman scream maybe fifty yards away. My heart stopped. Childhood Fairy Tails popped into my head. I stood there frozen with fright. One does not recover quickly when alone deep in the woods in darkness when one hears a woman scream. My mind raced, why was there a lone woman in our woods screaming. Then I thought Witches and scenes from Salem Witch Trials.
I heard it again, but behind me and closer. Images of Halloween horror movies danced through my mind. Then I heard it’s guttural growl. I ran. I ran straight forward, not really knowing where too. Knowing the layout where the Alder Swamp was after getting out of it, I figured I’d run to our road, the east fence line or the south fence line. Not caring which; one would tell me where I was. Yet I did not wish to tangle with that bull that may or may not have sent this witch to haunt me. Nor did I wish to stay put and be turned into a toad, or worse.
I crashed out of our woods onto our road south of where I needed to be. I kept my cross country pace to the cabin only to rest once safe inside. It’s a strange sound hearing a Bobcat. Especially deep in the woods in the dark. Yet, it was rather an awesome experience despite my pantywaisted fright. Though I only wish it were more light in order to see the Bobcat in the woods.
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