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S P O R T I N G C L A S S I C S 1 4 6 I hadn't talked to Cousin Dean in a while and wanted to know how he and his crew from East Tennessee—all veteran Smoky Mountain grouse hunters and setter men—had made out on their trip last fall to northern Minnesota. "Oh, we killed some birds," Dean allowed, "but it was pretty tough—not like it was when we were there a couple years ago. "Of course," he continued, "it didn't help that we couldn't hunt our favorite spot. Last time it was just crazy good." "What happened this time?" "When we got there," Dean replied, "the biggest wolf you've ever laid eyes on was standing right where we wanted to park. Tom Davis u n d o g s G We figured he probably had some buddies in the neighborhood, too, so we just turned the trucks around and got out of there." If you hunt grouse and woodcock in northern Minnesota, the Upper Peninsula (UP) of Michigan, or northern Wisconsin (and if you're a serious grouse and woodcock hunter, chances are you do, at least on occasion), you're almost undoubtedly hunting in timber wolf country. That's simply a reality—one that's increasingly troubling to those of us who'd just as soon eat biscuits without butter as hunt grouse and woodcock without dogs. And as much as I'd like to be able to say that up-close encounters similar to Cousin Dean's are still the exception, my sense is they're growing more common. A friend who has a small kennel of pointers saw a wolf literally at the end of his driveway; an acquaintance hunting with his German shorthair had a wolf pop out on the trail 75 yards ahead and Minnesota, Michigan's Upper Peninsula, and Wisconsin have some of the best grouse and woodcock covers in the country. They are also home to wolves, which can pose a threat to gundogs. Kissing cousins? Hardly, so stay close to your bird dogs when hunting in wolf territory. Photo Courtesy MitChPhotos/thinkstoCk