by Rick Marsi
It happened again just last week. I got bushwhacked by another ruffed grouse. Darned bird nearly scared me to death; took two, maybe three, years off my life.
I wasn't doing much, either - just snapping twigs for kindling behind the house - when all of a sudden this land-to-air missile explodes from out of nowhere, roars by my nose at 90 miles an hour and leaves me standing there with my mouth flapping up and down but no words coming out.
Not very nice. I still get shaky when my doctor makes me talk about it. "Verbalize," he says. "Youíve got to verbalize the experience or you won't get better."
So I'm verbalizing, and I do feel a little bit better. But why do grouse have to do that? Why do they feel obliged to lie in ambush and then erupt in someone's face? Why can't they just sit in the trees and watch what's going on, or take a nap and crack an eyelid every 20 minutes to see how things are progressing?
The doc claims they tried that once in the 1600s. It didn't work out.
In those days, he says, America was a wilderness, and ruffed grouse were very tame. People didn't frighten them. There were Indian tribes about, but not many, and they didn't carry shotguns.
The grouse population, as a consequence, appeared pretty darned friendly when the first European settlers began showing up along the eastern seaboard. In fact, grouse would sit on tree branches when these people approached and not fly away.
"Look, here come some settlers," the grouse would say, and just sit there.
The settlers then bonked them with sticks and popped them in crock pots.
To the credit of ruffed grouse, relatives of the bonkees quickly realized that meaningful dialogue with humans was ill-advised. After only a few generations, grouse in populated areas became extremely wary. Not only that, they began devising escape strategies that would turn more than one great white hunter into a blob of jangled nerve endings.
These strategies have been collected under the title Diversionary Tactics for Ruffed Grouse in Combat Zones. They've become required reading for every grouse in the summer of its first year.
Tactic No. 42 is the one that gets me. The complete text follows:
"Tactic No. 42
- Surprise. Human approaches on path flanked by white birch and trembling aspen. Grouse hunkers motionless in leaves by the side of said path. Bird's mottled plumage of buff, gray and brown provides it with perfect camouflage.
" When human approaches to within 3 feet, grouse erupts with a great thundering of wings. Flight path carries it within 6 inches of human's nose. Human gasps.
"Noise, violent swirling of dry leaves and confusion ensue. Human turns a sickly off-white. Grouse disappears behind trunk of large aspen within .89 seconds. Human begins ranting incoherently about property taxes and tuition credits."
Now I like grouse, but is that any way to treat an innocent kindling picker? I don't even own a crock pot.
Naturalist Rick Marsi, a member of the Susquehanna Group, is a journalist, public speaker and leader of eco-tours.His book of favorite nature columns is Wheel of Seasons, available at www.rickmarsi.com. ©2011 Rick Marsi