Ruffed Grouseby Vern Norbury
My first experiences with the Ruffed Grouse were when I was a boy in rural Saskatchewan in what is often called the dirty thirties, or better yet, the hungry thirties. Then, many a youngster, armed with a single shot .22 rifle and with a few cartridges {.22 shorts-50 for 25 cents but 25 cents weren't easy to come by then} provided the family with many a meal of "prairie chicken" or sharp tailed grouse and "partridge" or ruffed grouse in the fall of the year.
So it was that my first study of the ways of the Ruffed Grouse was over the sights of a rifle which is not a particularly good way to learn of the bird's personality.
So it was that when I began feeding birds at Hawkins Lake many, many, years later I was starting afresh. When Grouse came occasionaly to my feeder site I found them to be a very beautiful and interesting bird.
One spring a cock grouse began drumming nearby and I was able to watch him as, with tail fanned out and wings dragging and with his ruff extended and crest raised, he paced majsestically along an old log, pausing now and then to drum his message to any hens within hearing. I could see that the sound he made was at the down-sweep of the wings. I was later told by a local authority that it was caused by the bird "clapping it's wings together behind it's back".
Then in the fall of the year we met for the first time the grouse that was to forever change the way I would regard this bird. As it made it's "kut, kut " alarm call and started to walk away through the tall grass it became apparent that there was something wrong. At every second step it lurched to the side, almost falling over. The grass was too tall for us to see what was wrong and I wrongfully assumed that it had lost it's foot in some accident or in a trap. Then it flew and I had no way of knowing for certain what had happened to it.
A couple of weeks later , while I was busy with some task outdoors I heard a great thrashing of wings and crashing of branches in some nearby trees but I couldn't see the cause of the commotion. A short time later a grouse flew from the trees and landed in the yard where I had thrown out some popcorn for others of it's kind which came to feed.
As soon as it began walking I knew it was the bird we had met earlier with the lame foot. With the aid of binoculars I was able to see that it had not lost the foot but that the toes of the right foot were curled under like the fingers of a loosely clenched fist.
This represented a considerable handycap as I was to observe. When it came as a member of a flock of several grouse it had difficulty keeping up with them as they foraged. This was especially so after it snowed as it had lost the snowshoe effect of that foot.
Further difficulties became apparent. With only one foot to grasp branches with it could not climb about in rose bushes to eat the rose hips nor could it feed on the buds of Saskatoon bushes or other shrubs and trees. Perhaps that is why 'Stumpy' as I named it became a regular guest at our feeder site.
I noticed that it never came at the same time and came to understand that this might be a safety precaution. It was unlikely that a predator would lie in ambush if it had no idea when its quarry would arrive.
So it went until spring. Stumpy did not come to feed every day Sometimes several days would pass before it showed up again but there came a day in March when it ceased coming altogether. I wondered if some mishap had occured. After all almost every hand is raised against game birds, from weasels to wolves, from hawks to owls to eagles and , of course, humans and their pets.
With the beginning of a new season of migrants and pairings and nesting I forgot about Stumpy. The days passed, became weeks and then months and I found myself putting out popcorn in the feed area again. One morning, just as I had finished putting out the day's allotment of food there was a thrashing of wing above me and a grouse landed almost at my feet. It bounced once, recovered it's balance, looked up at me and then lurched away to begin feeding.
"Stumpy," I said, for this was undoutedly the cripple of the previous spring. So our acquaintance was renewed. As before it came at different times and sometimes missed several days at a time. Then, in early March, I realised that I had not seen the grouse for some time.
I wondered if some accident had befallen it but kept expecting it to come to feed. Then in late March, with the snow fast melting I noticed a small pile of feathers in the next lot. On investigating I found they were grouse feathers and among them were the wings and feet of the bird. The toes of the right foot were curled under like the fingers of a loosely clenched fist.
I remember Stumpy with great admiration. Despite a serious handicap it had lived at least the average life span of it's kind and had done so through great courage and determination. No grouse ever dies of old age and none can expect to. Stumpy, I decided had done exceptionally well.
Happy birding,
Vern
Information in the above table was obtained from: