When the day arrives that the nearby thundering flush of a partridge doesn’t jump me a little and excite me a lot, I’ll hang up my scattergun. After two score years of hunting ol’ Ruff, I’m still mesmerized at the ease that a going-away grouse weaves its flight around and through the trees and brush. My shot pattern can’t seem to do that, if I even get a shot.

Born and raised in Aroostook County, I’ve hunted partridge about every way imaginable from walking to riding to floating, and with two-legged friends, four-legged companions, and all by my lonesome. Let it be understood here and now that I’ll shoot at a bird flying, running, or standing hen- house dumb on a stump. I’ve yet to meet a deer hunter who was smart enough to sneak up on a bedded or feeding buck, and then felt the need to alert the whitetail, and get it running to assure a sporting chance.

I enjoy the challenge of wing shooting, which is probably why the tally book is heavily lopsided in favor of the grouse and my game pouch is often light. In all practicality, however, I’ve yet to taste the difference between a fast-flying fowl and a slow-walking one. They are all superb tablefare. Over the years a few peculiar partridge hunting tactics have proven productive in supplying this delicious wildfowl main course, and perhaps these methods might interest some of you.

Paddle for partridge

Quite by accident many years ago, I learned that floating along forest-lined waterways was and is a fairly dependable way to spot and bag grouse. Mike Wallace and I were making a stealthy float on the Prestile one early October morning when this revelation occurred. Mike was stern man, quietly maneuvering the canoe along the bank and around each bend while I sat in the bow, shotgun at port arms. I scanned every bogan, scrutinized each backwater and the eddies around every curve, ready for a fast-rising duck.

A poke in the back with the paddle kind of jumped me, but I managed not to tip the boat over, and I turned to see Mike pointing to the tree line. There on two parallel limbs of a leaf-bare tree just ahead sat a brace of very fat grouse, oblivious to our presence. Mike quietly picked up his shotgun and we each shifted position in the canoe to face shore. The plan was obvious and after years of hunting together, no words were necessary, only gestures.

As the slow current drew our craft even with the tree, I aimed left, Mike right, and an instant after I said “Now,” both birds toppled from the tree at what seemed like a single shot. The peculiar part of this hunt was that the report of the gun had just faded when frenzied quacking, getting louder by the second, was heard.

Around the corner, no more than three feet above the water and less than 30 yards away, a quartet of fast-approaching mallards appeared. Only one departed around the upstream bend. Apparently our shots at the partridge jumped the ducks from an S-curve ahead, but they were confused at where the sound came from and flew the wrong way, for them anyway!

Floating at dawn and an hour before dusk is a great time to spot roosted grouse or birds that are budding along the stream. Although more difficult to spot, I’ve taken a fair number of partridge feeding along the bank. Late October and November are prime grouse float times, since few leaves remain and the birds stand out in the thin foliage. Also the cold weather keeps them in the roost trees longer in the morning and budding well before dusk.

Mixed-bag floats for waterfowl and grouse are great fun and very productive. Slow and quiet canoe work is the key, and one sport watches the brook while the other scans the tree line and bank.

Snow birds

December partridge hunting has been legal for five years, yet it’s still ignored by many outdoorsmen, especially those in the Crown of Maine. For some reason, after deer season ends, there seems to be a letdown in the desire and need to get out and beat the brush. I used to be that way until a strange rabbit hunt two years ago.

There was more than a foot of snow on the ground, but walking in the woods wasn’t that tough. Three of us were wandering a Fort Fairfield wood lot bisected by a power line right of way that has always been a hare-hunting hot spot.

Let me prepare the following scenario by saying that certain ingrained ideas are difficult to overcome. I had stopped my slow stalk to scan the immediate area for a hunkered-down rabbit when motion caught my eye and a grouse came pussyfooting along the top of the snow and hopped up on a blowdown. Pretty soon another one appeared and then a third biddy joined them on the log, and I stood quietly and watched them pick, peck, and strut.

Then one of my hunting partners called out from about 25 yards away to ascertain my location in the heavy cover, and the trio of partridge suddenly turned into road runners and disappeared at a hasty pace into the brush. As I stood there grinning at their antics, a small, somewhat dull light bulb finally went on and it dawned on me that grouse were still fair game.

I called my partners to me and sheepishly told my tale, and then weathered the storm of verbal abuse regarding age, memory, and other possible shortcomings. From that point on, however, we were on alert for feathers as well as fur and as it turned out we saw and bagged more grouse than rabbit that morning.

Since then, I’ve regularly pursued December grouse on foot and on snowshoes. Often I’ve needed a snowmobile to access certain locations, but it’s worth it. When you hunt three or four abreast through a cover, someone is going to get a shot at partridge or hare. Hunters must remember to change focus from a ground search to scanning logs, stumps, and tree limbs for resting or feeding birds.

Single grouse are common in late October and November, but for some reason they bunch up when snow arrives. Pairs are very common, and I’ve found as many as six in a group. Also, the partridge tend to run rather than fly when there’s snow. Activity levels are highest early and late in the day, which is also the case with snowshoe hare, so enjoy a combined hunt in November or December as soon as the snow arrives. December hunts have the added incentive of fewer outdoorsmen in the woods. Put snow birding on your list of outings this season.

An apple a day

During hunting season, the daily grind known as work seems far more of a burden than an asset and interferes greatly with my October priority of bird hunting. Perhaps some of you have the same dilemma. My solution is a prework hunt. Fortunately I live in rural Maine and can be knee deep in grouse cover after a five-minute drive or 10-minute walk. Truth be told, there are few locations in the Pine Tree State that don’t have a productive grouse cover within a 20-minute drive.

Small wood lots and hedgerows along agricultural land and old farms reverting to second growth are prime for partridge. Any location with mature softwoods for roosting, young firs and poplar for winter food, and nearby water is ruffed grouse heaven. Most important of all, look for fruit trees, berries, wild cherries, and most of all, apple trees, which are sure to attract partridge.

I have no less than a dozen spots, each with from one to four wild apple trees, that I visit on a rotating basis during morning outings. With driving from farm to farm and walking field edges and sneaking up on each tree, I can check three to four locations before work. Without fail I’ll see a grouse or two, occasionally I’ll take a limit, and the great thing is, within a week more birds will move in.

Some partridge are flushed from the fence rows and hedges or along the field edges near the fruit trees, but most are in or right under the apple trees. Slow, quiet sneaking is the key to getting within range, and if you flush or shoot one grouse, be ready, because there’s often one or two more at hand.

Last October I snuck up to a single tree full of reddish-yellow fruit and, spying a perched grouse, I took a shot. Two more birds flushed from right under my gun barrel going left and right. I swung to the left, took a going-away shot through brush, and was pleased and a bit surprised to see the partridge fold and fall. As I turned to retrieve the first bird from under the apple tree, there sat the other grouse that had flown. Three shots, three partridge, and at the third blast a fourth one was airborne, causing me to jump and begin to swing an already-empty gun.

I won’t mention the many times there’s been an empty gun and no grouse on the ground. In this case however that “apple a day” theory was certainly healthy for this hunter.

Partridge season lasts for three months, so take full advantage of every opportunity and try some different tactics to avoid the crowds but not the birds. Peculiar partridge predicaments aren’t always a bad thing.

Outdoor feature writer Bill Graves can be reached via e-mail at bgravesoutdoors@ainop.com