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The snow was getting heavier, it went from flurries to a full blown blizzard.
I was walking east on the tracks.
You had to get up the energy to bushwack up the hill and actually do the hunting.
I thought about last week when Bob Ott joined me on my hunt. We had a crow fly into a tree near us and land. Bob brought his shotgun up to his shoulder and sighted in on the crow.
“Should I shoot him?” he asked.
I studied the sleek black plumage and the inquisitive eyes. I wasn’t really fond of crows at that time but I
said, “No, let him go Bob, we’re looking for grouse.”
He let the gun down and we continued on our walk.
The snow was sticking to me and visibility was poor. I peered up the hill and felt uninterested in going after ruffed grouse. It was hard in the snow anyway and they tended not to flush.
I was working myself into a dark place and I turned my shotgun around and held the end of the barrel in my mouth. The metallic taste was not pleasant. The safety was on. I lowered the gun and treated it as an exercise in curiosity.