I was after snowshoe hares with my beagle Jupp back in 1983 behind my father-in-law’s place north of Malone, NY on a sunny but cold day in January. “Cold” in the St. Lawrence Valley frequently means daytime highs in the single digits with well-below 0°F temperatures at night.
Ruffed grouse, or “partridge” as we call them in the North Country, long ago adapted to surviving in frigid weather by burrowing into the snow. Back in 1983, I hadn’t learned about this behavior. I was wearing old-fashioned ash and rawhide snowshoes on this hunt, and, standing still for a moment, was straining to hear beagle music from Jupp who was trailing out of sight. Suddenly, literally out of nowhere, a partridge erupted from the snow just inches in front of my ‘shoes. I was so shook up by the feathered missile launch that I took a tumble a$$ over teacup. Regaining your footing after flopping into 3 feet of fluffy snow with two 3’ snowshoes twisted underneath you is a time consuming jiu jitsu match in which you paradoxically dig yourself deeper into the powder with every clawing effort to extricate yourself. In the future I’ll leave the deep powder to the grouse.
Here’s a photo of a snow roosting partridge, and two short video clips of grouse flushing.
