Yesterday was the opening day of the blue grouse hunt. There were eleven of us gas-filled happy grouse seekers: two non-hunting children (Wyatt and Cole), three hunting children (my son Ben, Trevor and Brooks) and six adults who often act as children (John, Richard, Scott, Danny, Justin and Brady). This is an annual trek that my brother-in-law, Danny, has organized for the past six or so years. We sometimes like to fish our way back down Logan River on the way home, but Danny one who shall remain blamed nameless, said that he had to be somewhere by 2:00. So we canceled the fishing for this trip.

I’m not much of a hunter, probably enjoying the walking and scenery more than pulling the trigger. But since I like grouse and pheasant, I do hunt those two birds. It’s also something I can spend time with Ben doing since he hasn’t been bit by the fishing bug yet.

The plans were to meet at a supermarket in Logan at 5:45AM so we could make it to our destination as close to daybreak as possible. We left the parking lot at 6:30 thanks to Justin another one who shall remain nameless. We loaded the two vehicles and headed up Logan Canyon with our goal being in the vicinity of Logan Peak. Google Map [new window]

It is only a 22 mile trip, but it would take around 1 1/2 hours to complete. The first 10 miles are paved road. The next seven miles are dirt roads that a two-wheeled drive truck could make. The remaining 5 miles are four-wheel drive only. I enjoy the drive and like to take it occasionally just for the scenery.

As we make our way onto the more rugged dirt roads, dawn breaks. The quaking aspen trunks begin to light up in the way they do when the light is coming in low. It is only about 45° F which is warm since it is often closer to freezing in this location (close to 9000′) at this time of year. Very few aspen leaves are turning yellow, but a few bigtooth maple have started to turn orange and red.

When we are still about three miles from where we want to stop, Brady spots grouse on the road ahead of us. We hop out and Ben and John get their shotguns. They walk closer and unload at the same time. They hit three birds, killing two and wounding one. The wounded bird flies off to the right and perches in a tree. Ben finishes that one off. The unhit bird flies off to the left and perches in a tree. John takes care of that. Four birds seen, four birds bagged. Seems like we’re off to a good start.

We find our spot, park, stretch and gear up. John and Brady head up to a ridgeline at about 9100′. Justin, Richard, Brooks, Trevor and Wyatt head south then plan on sweeping west into a hollow. Danny, Ben and I head north and plan on sweeping down into the same hollow.

We sweep through the trees and brush about 150 feet apart. This gives enough distance that it almost feels like I’m alone. I look over occasionally to make sure I can still keep Ben in sight to my left in case a bird flies between us. Danny is another 150 feet to Ben’s left and my right is free.

I have a secret hunt going on. The last time I was in this area hunting I came across some fossil beds, and I hope to find them again. I keep my eyes open for grouse through the brushy areas, but when the brush clears and there are bare patches, I keep a lookout for gray dolomite rock. With my nose to the ground more than anywhere else, I may have passed grouse and not even known it.

But I didn’t pass by some nice specimen of both horn coral and crinoids. [see pictures at the bottom]

It always fascinates me that these fossils are found at 9000 feet, because when they formed as living coral, they were below sea level. They have moved two miles into the air! Then again, they were living from 250-500 million years ago, so that’s only moving 3 hundred thousandths of an inch per year if they were 250MYA.

We made our way back to the truck and as we were walking up the road there was a shot from far away where Brady and John were working. A few minutes later we heard a couple of shots much closer. Apparently Trevor and Brooks shot at a grouse along the road as they were walking in our direction. Trevore wounded it and Brooks finished it off.

We all met back at the trucks, and John had shot one. Other than that, nobody else saw grouse.

We ate a few snacks, shot Brady’s black powder pistol and cleaned the grouse. Then headed home.

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