The Drift - The Weekend We Ditched Everything Else
Author: Jackie Ressler
With sunshine in the forecast, our oldest off work and grandma available for backup, we decided at the last minute to make a run at some sharp-tailed grouse and get our 9-month-old pup, Sammy, a little work in the field.
We packed in a hurry, booked an Airbnb and headed out of town. Doing so meant we were also bailing on soccer, volleyball and flag football. None of which is dire at our kids’ ages, but we also didn’t want to make light of our commitments. However, I am not going to lie – it felt good not having the weekend tied to an activity schedule.
We started by walking a familiar stretch we trek during deer season; on those cold, early mornings we find grouse sitting on sunflower heads. We often joke they are ratting us out with their little calls. We knew it would look different this time of year but nonetheless a place to start.
About 20 minutes in, we came up on a dead deer, likely an unfortunate casualty of EHD. It was a nice 4x4 buck and the kids had lots of questions. The carcass was still pretty odorous, so we kept moving but all the chatter spooked some pheasants up ahead, a good reminder to try to keep things a little more stealthy. Nevertheless, good to see some birds in the area.
Not long after, a grouse flushed on my side. It was a low-flyer and it just felt like Sammy was possibly in harm’s way, so I didn’t take the shot. I switched sides with Jack, my oldest, in hopes he would be on the “good side” and would get the next opportunity. About 100 yards up, I had the easiest “gimme” you could ask for – and nope, two shots, two clean misses. I was again frustrated with myself and bummed I had switched sides with Jack.
At this point I should mention, embarrassingly so, that my track record was made up entirely of misses. I’ve had plenty of opportunities, plenty of time in the field, and yet somehow I have misplayed every single one. Too long to identify, too long to find the safety, too long to decide that it’s my bird, too fast on the aim – I have felt like giving up on more than one occasion, but I guess it’s the stubborn German in me that won’t give in.
Needless to say, I really, really, wanted to hit a bird.
As we moved through the windy day, Sammy was repeatedly getting too far out in front of us, and the grouse were getting up way too early to make any play. Things weren’t looking great.
We decided to circle back to the truck. Jack took a bit longer route and then we heard the familiar pop-pop of a shotgun. We headed over and sure enough he had found a covey of Huns and knocked one down.
This was Sammy’s first bird! She was hilarious to watch, unsure of every move, bird in the mouth, and out just as fast. She was nervous and excited. But there was no doubt we were her biggest fan club, cheering on her every move.
We ended the evening with a couple unsuccessful coyote sits. They were most certainly not buying what we were selling, so we packed it up and headed into town for some grub. We found the way to the cabin, settled in for the night, and realized we were all a bit hoarse from yelling “NO BIRD!” as Sammy was determined to chase every tweety bird in the county.
Sunday was another gorgeous day, but with a lot less wind. We started with a piece that we knew held pheasants and figured, if nothing else, it would be nice to know what was hanging around for the upcoming opener. Jack happened to notice a grouse sitting on a hillside, and that little fella cooperated ever so nicely. Sammy’s second bird! Same fan club response.
I decided to turn towards the hilltop, and this is the part where it feels like it all happened in slow motion.
A grouse flushed in front of me, I shot, but this time it dropped. It dropped! My mind was screaming “NO WAY!” I turned around in shock to see if my crew knew what just happened and they returned with, “Mom you did it!” and came running.
How could this one little grouse bring me so much joy? Maybe it was all the countless misses, all the miles logged in vain, the fact that my family was so happy for me, or the combination of it all. Whatever the case, I will never forget the moment. I will forever love that hilltop and Sioux County’s unluckiest grouse.
Of course, we had to take some pictures, which included lots of laughs, and Sammy shenanigans. But during all that time, little did we know there were more grouse just hanging out, taking in the show. Two got up, then a third – the third ending up in Jack’s vest to no surprise.
I missed two more times on Sunday, but nothing could have dampened my spirits. It was one of the best weekends I could remember in a while. And even though I did feel somewhat guilty about ditching town and all responsibilities, it also created wonderful space for time as a family.
As for the rest of my fall, I am now officially addicted to chasing birds and hoping a little luck keeps flowing my way.