Outdoors
Rec
B
Saturday, October 16, 2021
The Observer & Baker City Herald
Fright in the forest
The sudden flight of the
grouse can spook even
the most seasoned hunter
BRAD
TRUMBO
UPLAND PURSUITS
A
heavy fog hung over the
ridgetop, cloaking both
hunter and elk in a drip-
ping haze. The ponderosa pines
wore a coat of white fuzz over
their somber, green needles —
the only green to be had in early
December. The mercury hung
around 35 degrees Fahrenheit,
leaving conditions somewhere
between miserable and tolerable.
Stalking quietly along an old
logging road, I stopped to gaze
upon a long-forgotten cable log
skidder perched on a landing
below the road. What was once
red or orange steel had been
replaced with a cancerous, dingy
rust and a variety of brown and
blue lichens. Imagining the logs
being transported to the ridgetop,
I turning to continue in the
assumed direction of elk.
The road began winding down
and cut deeply into the moun-
tainside. A young fir stood at the
toe of the uphill slope, flanked
by rose and elderberry, growing
in the opportune light of the
road opening. There was nothing
remarkable about this particular
spot; however, I recall the loca-
tion perfectly as the details of ter-
rifying situations either scar us
for life or become tucked into
the deepest, darkest corners of
memory, only to resurface with
the assistance of a psychologist.
A blue grouse exploded from
beneath the fir, nearly taking my
right leg out on its panic-stricken
flight to safety.
Nearly everyone who has
set foot in the major mountain
chains of this great nation has suf-
fered near cardiac arrest thanks
to our continental “King of the
Woods,” the ruffed grouse. The
vibration of wingbeats and leaf
litter left tussled in their wake is
enough to spook the most sea-
soned mountaineer, but add that
explosive power to a bird the size
of domestic chicken and you will
come to realize a terror rivaled
only by a charging grizzly, unless
you’re expecting the bird sitting
somewhere beyond the nose of a
pointing dog.
I am either an old timer or
nitwit because to me, blue grouse
are blue grouse, but ornithologists
recently suggested otherwise. By
recently, I mean blue grouse were
thought two distinct species —
the dusky and the sooty — in the
Lewis and Clark days. They were
then lumped into “blue grouse” in
the 1900s, and again separated in
2006, but are still referred to col-
lectively as blue grouse.
Current range maps of dusky
and sooty grouse show the sooty
grouse hugging the western Sierra
Nevada, Cascade, and Coast
Ranges, while the dusky grouse
occurs east of the Cascades
through the Rockies.
Physically, sooty and dusky
males vary in appearance. Our
local dusky males boast a solid
black tail fan, red neck air sacs
that are displayed during the
breeding season, and an overall
brown appearance. Sooty grouse
have a darker overall body
appearance, a lighter tail fan with
an ashen band on the tip, and
yellow air sacs. It is possible for
these species to overlap and inter-
breed along their eastern Cas-
cades dividing line.
While both species over-
winter in coniferous forest, their
breeding habitats vary and include
shrub-steppe, steppe, mountain
shrub, open coniferous forest,
clearcuts, old growth forest, and
alpine tundra. Both species nest
on the ground beneath the protec-
tion of plant cover and within one
mile of conifers.
Both species are managed for
hunting and big dusky grouse can
be found in Northeastern Ore-
gon’s Blue Mountains. Dusky
grouse typically occupy higher
elevations than ruffed grouse.
When you find dusky grouse,
continue to hunt that approxi-
mate elevation. Preferred hab-
itat includes timber edges, open
timbered slopes, and mountain
meadows with nearby water.
Insects and berries like currant
and chokecherry are good food
Jeff Foott/National Park Service
Male blue grouse with air sacs inflated during a mating season display.
sources in September. Later in
the season, dusky grouse move
higher in elevation into the coni-
fers for winter.
While I prefer hunting birds
with a dog, blue grouse can be
found by simply hiking along
the edge of clearcuts and other
changes in vegetation types and
densities, and can be found mid-
morning pecking soft greens on
the ridgetops under conifers. I
have never encountered more than
a couple birds at a time, but rumor
has it that dusky grouse can be
found in greater numbers in close
proximity to one another.
October is a fine month to hike
the grouse woods. I can think of
no finer grouse hunt than walking
semi-open ridgetops behind a
couple pointing dogs as the day-
time highs decline and the yellows
and reds of autumn foliage fleck
the conifer forests. The golden
hours of the shoulders of the day
are calling, as is the impressive
flush and humble beauty of our
big dusky grouse of the Blues.
National Parks Service/Contributed Photo
A sooty grouse in breeding display. Notice the gray band around the tip of the tail
fan and yellow air sacs on the neck.
Brad Trumbo is a fish and
wildlife biologist and outdoor
writer in Waitsburg, Washington
For tips and tales of outdoor pur-
suits and conservation, visit www.
bradtrumbo.com.
Exploring a remote ‘road’ amid fall colors
JAYSON
JACOBY
ON THE TRAIL
I
like to hike on roads that are
slowly ceasing to be roads.
The transition from main-
tained road to decrepit track typ-
ically is a process measured in
decades.
But the actual rate depends on
natural forces, particularly those
which belong under the category
of erosion.
A summer cloudburst, for
instance, can render a road all but
impassable, or at least sections of
it, in just a few messy minutes.
If the road runs through forest,
a powerful gale can topple enough
trees to cut off easy access, at
least until somebody comes along
with a chain saw.
Generally, though, a road left
alone, untouched by bulldozer
or grader, will only gradually
degrade, its decline defined by
the accumulation of many small
wounds.
A boulder dislodges a culvert,
allowing a stream to divert onto
the road and begin gouging ruts
where tires pass (or passed).
Scree from a tall cut sloughs
onto the grade, slowly narrowing
the tread.
The first encroachment,
though, on a previously pristine
road, tends to be from trees.
IF YOU GO
Drive to Pilcher Creek Reservoir west
of North Powder. From the reservoir,
drive west on the gravel road for about
a mile to a sharp left turn, just after a
cattle guard. This is the Porcupine Road,
Forest Road 4330. Follow Road 4330 for
two miles to a junction with Road 7312,
marked by a sign pointing to Anthony
Creek. Turn left and follow Road 7312 for
1.9 miles to the bridge over the North
Fork of Anthony Creek. Road 7312-150 is
on the north side of the creek.
Left to their own devices,
trees will relatively quickly take
over, either by way of seedlings
sprouting where vehicles once
went, or by growing tall enough
that their tops begin to form a sort
of tunnel of foliage.
Deciduous trees such as alders
are especially adept at the latter,
as their trunks tend to extend at
an angle, rather than the typically
straight boles of the conifers.
A line of alders can intrude on
a road in just a few years in the
absence of pruning.
You can often still drive a
rig on such a road — but only if
you’re not particularly concerned
about the sanctity of its paint job.
I find it intriguing to hike such
roads, to wonder when they began
to decay, to see a culvert that no
longer bears water and ponder
what force caused it to cease its
one simple function.
See, Road/Page B2
Lisa Britton/Baker City Herald
Colorful autumn foliage along the North Fork of Anthony Creek on Oct. 9, 2021.