The Thump of Feathers

"It feels like ages ago when I first crossed paths with Gary, the friendly grouse. His feathers were a blend of soft browns, beiges, and light grays—not as vibrant as Penny the Partridge, but he had something special—he loved to chat. While Penny was always friendly, Gary was a bit more reserved at first—like someone unsure about making a new friend."

"Over time, though, he warmed up to me, and I decided to call him Gary the Grouse. Now, whenever I venture into his part of the woods he’s there, eager to chat and showcase his trademark shenanigans! He doesn’t mind me getting close either. Sometimes, I can get within a foot of him before he hops up on a rock or heads down a path, his tail feathers flicking in the breeze. His curiosity is endless, his gaze locked on me with deep, dark brown and amber eyes that seem to pierce right through me—as if he's silently trying to decipher the very essence of who I am."

"While not the best at long-distance flight, Gary excels at short bursts, especially when making dramatic take-offs. At times, he perches on a twisted, gnarled branch of an old oak, his keen eyes fixed on me as I split firewood for the approaching winter. I can't help but think he's there simply for a better vantage point. With a sudden flap of his wings, he launches into the air. His flight is quick—almost a flash of motion—before he lands with a perfect thud just a few feet from where I stand."

Now let's go back to that memorable day when I met Gary for the first time. 

It was a chilly autumn morning as I made my way across the main ridge and descended toward a beaver dam below.  As soon as I placed my backpack on the ground, I heard it—a sharp thump. The sound emanated from the thick ferns ahead, a spot I knew well but had never really focused on.  Then, I heard it again, an unusual sound that always makes me stop and listen intently.  It was the soft yet unmistakable thump of feathers, resonating from deep within the trees.  I crouched low, peering into the underbrush, but saw nothing.

"Then, suddenly, out of nowhere, there it was—its feathers perfectly blending with the soft sunlight filtering through the canopy. The bird was still, only its tail feathers twitching now and then. But each time it shifted, there was that thump again, like the soft landing of something heavy. I watched for a while before deciding to circle back to the other side of the pond, where I planned to set up trail cameras, hoping to capture more activity over the coming days."

"To my surprise, Gary appeared on my camera the very next day and continued to show up throughout the following week. Over time, I was able to identify him by his unique song and dance."  

"Over the next few years, I carefully earned his trust, and now, without fail, he seeks me out whenever I step into the wild, as if our encounters have become an unspoken ritual of the forest."  Gary and Penny both react the same way when I start heading home—they get excited and even chase alongside my ATV, as if they believe I might never return.

Dedicated to Whitey Shaw

Photography by Bill Hilly