By Nick Simonson

If you’re in the field frequently, it doesn’t seem like it, but on the average, October is one of the calmest months of the year when it comes to wind speed.  The gales don’t really start ramping up until November and on into the winter months when things peak with the whipsawing jet stream that readjusts in spring and the overall average velocity of the breeze is at its annual height.  In fall however, the numbers don’t lie.  Things are pretty calm.  That being said, it often feels that on the plains and prairies of the region, the wind is always blowing and can be a major factor in finding upland game in the grasses and other cover bending to the will of the wind.

So it was this past weekend as my lab and I trekked a recently-added favorite parcel of public access land in search of some scattered sharptailed grouse.  A light but increasing northwest breeze kept things dry and pleasant after southerly gales pumped in some early fall warmth sending temperatures into the upper eighties in the days before.

“North facing hillsides” I thought to myself as I answered the unasked question about where the birds would be that was held in the eyes of my dog as he looked back to check in on me as I readied my gear, obviously too slowly.

But I’d save those spaces on the far end of the PLOTS land for the final turn back toward the truck to explore further the areas I had left untouched on the full section of land made available by the LLP owning the nearly 360 acres.  Through the grass we went, prematurely flushing the cackling rooster pheasants in pairs and trios from the tree rows along the cut wheat field; making the mental notes for where we’d return in a couple of weeks to pursue them as well after their season opened.  At the end of the line of elms, we dipped down into the rolling hills on the south end of the property and wandered the small draws, all south facing, warming with the morning sun, and protected from the breeze that blew over the small valley formed by the rills that drained to the river a few miles away.  Even a couple hours into the morning, things were warming quickly, especially just off the calm cusp of the rise.

Winding through the western side of the parcel, we rattled the dried black berries of the forbs and whisked through the lightly waving grasses and worked our way north, spotting our first pair of grouse from a distance as a flock of pigeons rose from a cut field edge and the sharpies used them as a smokescreen to escape. We rousted two more rangy birds as we crested a small hill and I excitedly eyed the north end of the property and the tall rise that led to the steep brush-covered bluffs that served as our final bend homeward in the morning’s expanding heat.  Sweating, I removed my long-sleeved shirt and walked in a tee under my vest for the first time in many seasons.  Despite the temperature reading 62 on my watch, it felt like 75 as my dog and I panted up the incline.

A lichen-clad rocky outcropping with sparse grass abutted a tangle of buffaloberry bushes on the decline to another creek which bounded the north end of the parcel, and I paused to catch my breath and feel the cooling breeze.  That was all the opportunity the birds needed.  From all points on the windward side of the hill, laughter broke out as grouse scattered in a cacophony of gurgles and wingbeats.  So startling were the sounds of sporadic flushing through the rattling branches of the bushes that even a large white-tailed buck took to the hoof and crashed through the cover, its long, thick antlers curling up and outside its ears.

By the time the grouse were done flying off in all directions, I tallied 14, in addition to the four we had seen earlier, bringing the morning’s walk to 18.  While I mustered a few long shots, I knew the range of my little 20 gauge would be challenged by the distance and was content with the sight of the birds being right where I’d expect them in the growing breezes.  Noting it once again in both my mind, and the small journal from the truck door as my dog rehydrated with his metal bowl in the shade by the front passenger tire, I scribbled the reminder to perhaps consider starting in that spot the next time the wind is blowing in on it and I set out for such a hunt…in our outdoors.