After more than 10 years of chasing the ruffed grouse in West Virginia, Pennsylvania and Michigan, I finally put one in my game bag. Amazing.

Wish I could say it was an awesome shot on the wing, but I can't. Let's just say it was on its way up to a pine branch to avoid my springer and the bird never saw me.

I then proceeded to smoke it with Winchester 7 1/2 shot.

One thing I can laud myself for is how I diligent I was in ordering my springer into the thick stickers and pine. He had already decided he was done there and kept walking off.

But once he decided it was in his best interest to "get in there" -- something he hears probably a 100 times or more on any hunt with me -- out popped the partridge.

Now who says the dog's nose always knows best?

-- -- --

I've decided to lay low the next few days after a hunt got me a little hot water at work.

So I admit it, I was pushing it. I went to hunt deer at the Shiawassee State Game Area, where it's by permit only, but arrived around 12:30 p.m. I had to be at work at 5:30 p.m. This would mean I would have come down out of the stand at 3:15 p.m. and be on the road at 3:30 p.m.

Well ... it didn't happen. There's no way it ever could. I know myself too well that when hunting's involved, I'm unreliable when anything else has to be done or my presence is needed.

I arrived a little after 6 p.m. after encountering rush hour traffic on I-75 and I-696.

The work got done on time but the boss was silently steaming the whole shift laying in wait for an opening to give it to me good. And he did.

Can't say I didn't deserve everything I got, but can't say he was entirely right.

So now, it looks like Sunday is the next time I'll get out.

Back to the Shiawassee for the final day of my permit deer hunt. The only difference is that this time I don't have to work, and I can put my focus on bagging a monster buck.