That first hunt we got up at what I (somewhat) affectionately refer to as stupid-o-clock, which basically means anytime far earlier than usual, generally well before dawn starts to make the outside world visible. Rory was living at his old house in town, and I was down visiting. We had a 30 minute drive just to get to where we live now, then further still on the forest roads to get up to the good grouse spots.
There was nervous excitement in the pit of my stomach, and chilly wind blowing on my cheeks, in part to alleviate the foul air that I've come to accept as part of the Jeep experience. I quickly realized I was expected to peer sideways out my wide open window either upslope or downslope, depending on the road, and look out into the dawn light for grouse sitting on the ground, on logs, or on stumps, or perched on tree branches.
Grouse hunting is something we do as a family, usually just Rory, the girls, and myself, with the hunting dogs bringing up the sides. We drive around looking for grouse, go on hikes with beautiful views, and have so much time to bond as a family - experiencing nature at its finest, while bringing home meat for the freezer.