Frank Jezioro and his dog take a moment to admire one of several ruffed grouse that the duo worked together to bag in the hills of West Virginia. Photo by Ron Sinfelt

For such a lean overall grouse situation, last December's encounter with old ruffed grouse seemed just too good to be true. A scant 15 minutes out of the truck, and Logger, the 6-year-old male English setter was staunchly pointing. What's more, the covert was fairly open, a hardwood swag with just a wee bit of log slash. I moved in anxiously, port arms, eyes straight in measured steps.

We were just above a fairly well-traveled mining bench, so common in the coalfields of southern West Virginia. Some minimum diameter (high-grade) timber cuts had been made here and nearly everywhere else in these parts over the past decade or so.

Just adjacent was a 10-year-old underground coal mine reclaim lined with autumn olive plantings. Some older thickets of multiflora rose draped the steep, rock-laden down slope of the road below. The treasured olives all being gone by now, it was no doubt the mini-apple, rose hips were the closest grouse-attracting victual.

Had I not missed a bird or two in the general area on previous hunts, this open wood lot point may have been discounted altogether. I could hear the echoing voice of the late, great grouse fanatic and West Virginia author George "Bird" Evans as I began to get skeptical: "When will we learn to always trust our dog's nose?"

A little closer now and this was to be one of those times that I could see the bird crouched in the open brown leaf litter just 10 yards ahead of Logger's nose. The bird was looking away but on a slight angle, so perfectly camouflaged yet exposed at the same time.

Evans also spoke of ingloriously missing such oddly pinned birds, especially if he had looked them in the eye. Luckily for me, this bird's eye view was averted. It was having no more of these nostalgic shenanigans as it rocketed from its crouch of reality in a slightly rising, right quartering angle. The stock-scarred and bluing-rubbed vintage Ruger Red Label 12-gauge over-and-under barked crisply from its fixed (prior to choke tube) improved cylinder barrel. The feather poof, bird fall and the dog being upon it seemed almost instantaneous.

No need for retrieving, since I joined the celebration just as fast. That's rationalizing a bit, since Logger is a little slack on the retrieving end sometimes. But it doesn't get any better than this. A first-shot hit. A bird in the bag, and what a beautiful male of the species with one of the longest and widest tail fans ever!

Taking any grouse in the lean years of late is a very special moment. Some good old grouse days of just a few years back could mean hunting without dogs and oft the inability to stuff enough shotshells in your pockets! Of late, it's been a grouse of a different color.

One advantage, however, is that you don't encounter nearly so many hunters in the winter woods. This is particularly true in late December, January and February when the best hunting conditions often prevail. On several occasions, I've run into folks who ask me what I am hunting and what season is open.

This lamenting for the Appalachian grouse has not gone unnoticed. And the problem is not only apparent in West Virginia. Our DNR and Natural Resources Commission share the same concerns for the species as its hunters. Senior DNR Commissioner and grouse fan Carl Gainer has been particularly concerned over grouse.