Tracking the illusive ruffed grouse.

Ruffed grouse

I had the pleasure of snowshoeing yesterday by Lake Nakamun, Alberta.  The snow was about eighteen inches deep beside the trail I was on, which fortunately was moderately compressed and easy to walk on.  It was quiet, sunny, and just above freezing.  A beautiful day in a beautiful place. 

Trekking through a woodlot of poplar and aspen trees, I witnessed signs of wildlife everywhere.  Tracks attesting to the presence of rabbit, deer, and coyotes were present, and the songs of various bird species filled the air.  I was about halfway through the journey when movement caught my eye off to my right visual field.  There, on the snow, was a covey of three partridge-like birds.  I managed to get off a photograph of one of them, but the thicket surrounding them rendered the image unusable.  I had to go off-trail if I was to do any better.

Determined to obtain at least one decent image, I headed off in their direction.  The snowshoes disappeared in the soft, white stuff; each step requiring the expenditure of significant energy.  The underbrush was dense enough that each footfall required planning.  Each step brought me closer to my quarry, which suddenly realized that they were being pursued.  The group broke up and I lost visual contact with two of them.

The third one though was still moving, heading up the hill.  It did not have the same problems I was, as its light weight was supported by the snow's surface.  Around some trees, through a thicket, I found the impressions of its footsteps.  I followed them in anticipation of finally getting the image I was hoping for.  Then, the trail disappeared; it just ended in an open patch of snow.

The only explanation was that it had taken to wing.  I did not hear any evidence of that and was surprised by its sudden departure.  Into the open I plodded, disappointed because any chance of achieving my goal had fled with it.  I searched in vain - it could be in a thousand places.  It seemed to me that these birds were not strong fliers; it couldn't have gone far.  So, I stuck to it.  The bird had to be close.

Backtracking, I went to where the bird's trail had ended and looked up.  Not eight feet off the ground the beast was there, watching me as I gazed back at it.  It was clearly a species of grouse, although which one wasn't certain.  I brought my camera up to bear and took a few shots.  Branches occluded much of the body; a change in position was required.  After moving I had a clear shot with minimal obstructions. 

Once my goal was achieved, I set off and reacquired the path I previously left.  The day was as pleasant as ever.  To add to my accomplishment, I later found a white-breasted nuthatch; I posted on that one yesterday.  What a super excursion it turned out to be.