This is Featherquest Rocky retrieving a grouse in either Massachusetts or Maine.
He was bred by Rachel Page Elliot, who was one of the first people to introduce golden retrievers to New England.
She was also one of the driving forces in the golden retriever breed in North America, and all the dog show people know about her work on canine gait and structure, which is called Dog Steps (1973).
This image comes from From Hoofbeats to Dogsteps: A Life of Listening to and Learning from Animals, her memoir of her life raising golden retrievers and Connemara ponies, as well as her research into canine gait.
This dog is only nine months old. Most likely, the dog flushed the grouse, for this particular species is unlike the various grouse species of the British Isles. It is usually solitary and is only found in the densest of thickets. The notion that one could drive them the like the British do red grouse is simple folly. To hunt one of these birds, most people use pointers or setters of some sort, but those who use a flushing dog use one that ranges in really close.
That’s because these birds will hunker down and won’t move until the very last second, and they are so well camouflaged that you can’t see them until you’re very close.
Some dogs are very keen about flushing them. My first golden retriever would always flush one if she could find it.
Miley has flushed only one and that was on accident.
I should note that one can tell this is a ruffed grouse by the banding on the tail feathers. In most of the Eastern US, the ruffed grouse is the only species of grouse one can find.
In my part of the country, it is the only native game bird that still exists in decent numbers. Wild turkeys, which are much more common, are actually considered “big game” by my state’s DNR, and they are regulated in much the same way that white-tailed deer and black bears are– very strict bag limits and a requirement that they be checked in at an official game checking station (which is usually a convenience store or gas station!).
The bobwhite quail that thrived during West Virginia’s agrarian age now exists only in very small relict populations. I’ve never seen a wild-born bobwhite quail here, and the only wild ones I’ve ever seen were coming out of a cornfield in eastern North Carolina.
My grandpa told me that the last ones he ever shot were in a sweet corn patch behind his parents’ house in the late 1970’s.
The late 70’s and early 80’s were years of harsh winters for most of the Eastern US, and when the fur market collapsed at about that same, raccoon and fox numbers shot up.
And there simply weren’t enough cornfields and old brushy pastures to hold the bobwhites.
A few years ago, my uncle tried to stock bobwhites on my grandpa’s property. He bought 96 of them from a breeder in Georgia. He turned them out, and we soon were surrounded by singing little birds that weren’t much larger than pigeons but tamer than virtually any domestic chicken.
The local foxes, feral cats, and hawks were very appreciative of this fine repast!
Ruffed grouse, though, are hardy survivors.
Natural selections has forced them to become very good at hiding in this mesopredator-infested world.
The decline of the bobwhite and its empire of fields has been met by the rise of the brushy redoubts of the thunder chicken.
They live like little avian outlaws, largely undetected until someone goes out in pursuit of them with a dog and shotgun.
