We made it out of Saskatoon driving north east out of the parkland heading for the Pre Cambrian schist. Jack London's would have felt at home up here where Moose and Elk are everywhere as is their nemesis the wolves. The rut is over but the grunt for Moose is on and they must be given deference as they are ornery and seem not to care if they run you over. There are plenty of Plenty of wolverine, lynx and bobcats to keep the grouse in check and their foot prints leave the tell tale signs in the soft snow. The past several years the grouse populations have been spotty with some terrains exploding others crashing.

We make camp near a lake filled with pike, and walleye. There is trace of snow but we have quads and winches to extract us from the bush if a storm come through. Here I will deploy my Woodward O/U with extra full chokes for brush cutting to reach deeply embedded ruffed grouse that flush at your feet and quickly put obstacles between you and the flush. These birds flush so well and with great vigor that the sounds of their wing beat are rumored to cause men to suffer momentary heart failure. I find my first flush after the lab locates a scent on a cut trail where there are several tall black spruce trees.

Camp is simple and out of the winds. Each night the wolves come in close to welcome and serenade us. Their songs remind me of Gregorian chants from my Seminary days. The northern lights dance and the air are still with their songs but I know that killing by these packs is almost at nightly task. My dogs are a sleep inside and seem not to heed their accessorial calls. They are so removed from the gene pool by the domestication that they have little in common although I see the yellow piecing eyes from the German Wirehair that sometimes can raise the hairs on my back