The Gost Cover
John Wesley Foster has been Grouse hunting for over 40 years and has noticed quite a few changes in his neck of cover in the central portion of Michigan's Upper peninsula.
Back when he was a much younger man he would tramp the woods without a dog with his Ranger 20ga pump that he bought for $50 very hard earned dollars back in the late 60's. He would leave the house with a box of Western Super X shells and come back with maybe a couple of shells and a Grouse and maybe a Woodcock. He would hunt from sunup to sundown and rarely saw a posted sign or another hunter or even a sign that he shared the woods with another human being.
With advanced age come advanced methods of hunting and John (JW to his friends) began to enjoy the hunt more than the number of birds in his game vest. He got a dog, a German Shorthair Pointer from a for sale sign tacked to a tree. At times he wondered who knew less about bird hunting him or the dog. He called her Gretta, her fancy name was Gretta Grey Grouse but Gretta never saw a bird as she was gun shy from the start. He found her a loving home for someone just looking for a pet and started over again. In his search for another hunting companion he asked around at the local gun clubs. He was introduced to several gents that regularly chased the Upland King and he found another GSP this time from a reputable breeder and he called him Sturm. JW also discovered the world of double guns and eventually bought a Parker Trojan 12ga. As Sturm grew into a seasoned hunting buddy and became an accomplished hunter in his own right he and JW began to explore more new territory. JW eventually traded the Trojan along with some more hard earned cash in on a VHE 20.
Sturm was about 10 now and slowing down and as JW was into his early 60's the time they spent in the woods was the most important part of the day. JW enjoyed the peaceful solitude of the Grouse cover, the dappled sunlight filtered through autumn leaves. As time goes by things change however and not always for the best at least as far as JW saw things. For one thing more land was posted as the family farm was sold to down staters or Trolls as the Yoopers called them. Increased logging meant increased access and the advent of four wheelers meant a person could go in a couple of minutes that would take an hour to walk to. JW tired of seeing tire tracks leading to the places he used to have to walk into. In the hallowed coverts there would be an empty cigarette pack, a water bottle or even a beer can. If you could carry in a full bottle of water he wondered why the empty bottle couldn't be carried out. Nothing was more discouraging to him than entering a favorite spot only to find empty shell casings on the forest floor. Invariably these would be 12ga filled with 1 1/8th ounces of 7 1/2 or 6 shot. He would wonder if these Nimrods were Grouse hunting or looking for Sasquatch.
He was bound and determined that this year was going to be different, he would find the solitude he and Sturm were looking for no matter what. Over the course of the summer he poured over Forrest Service maps, Ariel photos and topographical maps. He drove the back roads looking for cover and potential refuge from the encroachment of civilization. Towards the end of summer he thought he had found his utopia. In the western portion of the U.P. he discovered a thousand acres of paper company land which was open to hunting near the small town of Silver City. The land had been clear cut in sections over a 30 year period with the last cut nearly 15 years ago. There was a small feeder creek that transected the property which had hardwood ridges, low bottom lands and some conifer stands. To JW it yelled Grouse and just to add icing on the cake there wasn't a gravel road within three miles of the place.
Early Grouse season is a time all hunters wait for but the foliage is extremely heavy and most of the time a bird is only heard as it flushes and seldom seen. It was a time however for exploration and JW put the coordinates into his GPS and he and Sturm along with a new recruit Ben another GSP set forth to explore uncharted territory.
JW had a hard time finding his new "spot" but eventually an overgrown two track yielded entrance. He parked mile down a two track and began his hike into the promised land. It took him the better part of two hours to get where he wanted to be at the foot of the hardwood ridge and the creek. Along the way he and the dogs moved at least a dozen Grouse and more Woodcock. The worm eaters wouldn't be in season for another week but they would give Ben some very good training.
Mid October rolled around and JW made reservations at a small hotel in Silver City. The leaves had been artfully painted the Reds, Gold's, and Yellow's that only Mother nature can paint. Most had begun to fall but there were enough holdouts to add the bounty of Autumn's color to their quest. JW entered his new hunting grounds from a different section than he had used during his scouting trip, no need to leave any evidence after all. It wasn't long and Sturm had a Grouse pointed and JW and his little 20 with a 3/4oz load of #8 had his first bird of the year. Ben made several points on Woodcock but JW refrained from shooting them as he reflushed them as training for Ben.
It was down along the creek that they really got into birds. Sturm pointed a bird along the edge of an Aspen thicket bordered by the creek bottom. When the bird flushed six more flushed from the nearby trees. JW had collected three birds and was having the time of his life. There were no tire tracks, empty shells, bottles or other trash that said "I found this place first". No sounds of four wheelers tore apart the sounds of leaves rustling in the wind. It was just him, Sturm and Ben.
It was Ben that made the grizzly discovery. He had disappeared briefly and returned with a long bone. JW though he had found a deer carcass and didn't want him feasting on his newly found lunch. JW found more than he bargained for when he discovered the tattered clothing, a scattering of bones and a shotgun rusted beyond recognition. He knew not to disturb anything and marked the spot on his GPS.
It was dark when he reached his truck and he had to drive into town to get cell phone service. He called the State Police post in Houghton/Hancock and reported the discovery. He made arrangements with the trooper to meet at the restaurant in the morning and he would show the police what he found. Along the way one of the officers asked if he had any luck with the bird hunting and with true grouse hunters conviction he lied and said no, it was a long walk for nothing.
Several weeks went by and JW received a call from the State Police saying that they had identified the remains. His name was John Steele and he was from Grand Rapids Michigan. He was reported missing five years ago along with his Setter Belle by his wife Marge when he never returned home from bird hunting. It was several days before the police found his truck which was some 10 miles from where the remains were found. Perhaps John was seeking that same solitude that brought JW to this out of the way place.
JW has returned to his Utopia each year for a week or so. It's just him and Ben now as Sturm has passed on. Each time he enters a different way to leave no footprint, says nothing of the success he finds and still revels in the solitude that for him is the essence of Grouse hunting. As he sits on his favorite rock and shares an apple or a piece of sandwich with Ben he will tell you that on occasion the wind will carry the tinkle of a bell and a voice that says "hunt em Belle find the birds".
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There is no hunting like the hunting of man, and those who have hunted armed men long enough and liked it, never care for anything else thereafter...Earnest Hemingway
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10-14-2014, 01:38 AM
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