Check the crop of the first grouse you kill. The food within might reveal clues that lead you to more birds.

Just as important as finding foods favored by Southern grouse is finding suitable habitat. Virginia has about 1.4 million acres of national forest, but only a tiny fraction contains quality cover.

Finding those larger pockets of suitable habitat isn't that difficult, but too many neophyte grouse hunters simply think of a Southern grouse hunt as a stroll through the open woods. It's not. The thicker and nastier the cover is, the more a grouse is going to like it.

"One mistake newcomers make is that they hunt the open, mature hardwoods," notes Henson. "You might find a bird around a pocket of cover in the open woods, but that's not the place to concentrate your efforts. You have to think like a grouse and learn what makes good habitat."

I stumbled into my ace-in-the-hole hot spot on a drive in the country with my wife. As we crunched our way down the busy forest service road, I looked up the mountain and noticed an end-less procession of cascading grape-vines and greenbrier thickets. A thick canopy of overhead cover protected grouse from avian predators--their number one killer--and an enormous amount of grapes, greenbriers and raspberry thickets provided not only a steady supply of food, but plenty of places to hide. The place just looked birdy, even though I had never hunted grouse before.

We pulled off the road, grabbed our shotguns and headed up the thick mountainside. In two hours, we flushed a dozen birds, fired three shots and killed nothing. I left the woods shaken from the adrenaline rush that follows the thunderous rush of wings, frustrated by the lack of open, easy shots. My thighs were scratched and my hands bloodied from the endless supply of thorns. But I was hooked.

Typical Dixie grouse country isn't for the weak-hearted or weak-legged. The terrain is rough enough to give a veteran elk hunter a run for his money, and the best cover is thick enough to discourage all but the most persistent hunters. The only things you can count on are a few bruises, maybe a busted shin, and plenty of gouges and scratches from the briers and berry thickets that comprise quality habitat.

So how do you find your own piece of grouse hunting heaven? Don't ask a fellow grouse hunter. Most are willing to offer advice, but trying to get in on his slice of action is like trying to get a date with a farmer's daughter.

Both Henson and Norman suggest hunters should decide where they want to hunt and then pay a visit to the local national forest office and talk to the staff biologist. He or she can quickly point you toward clearcuts and areas that have been deforested by gypsy moths, fires or storms and are now quality grouse cover. Don't bother with newer cut-overs and, as Henson insists, forget about the vast stretches of mature hard-wood. You simply won't find a concentration of birds, which is what veteran grouse hunters look for.

"Take a map into the office and have a biologist or another staff member mark some clearcuts that are between seven and 20 years old," says Norman.

If you feel claustrophobic, you know you are in the right place. Southern grouse favor an abundant food source as well as a good canopy of cover for protection from avian predators.

When it comes down to it, finding birds isn't the most difficult aspect of a Dixie grouse hunt. Getting a shot at a bird racing for the mountaintop is the biggest challenge. Henson says the hunting is easier up North, simply because the cover isn't quite as thick as it is in the early successional forests of the southern Appalachians. That leaves Dixie ruff hunters less time to mount a gun, find the bird and squeeze off a shot. You might get a straight-away through clear air--it happens now and then--but, typically, most shots are through a veil of twigs, vines and, in the early part of the season, leaves. It's not unusual to have a bird explode at your feet and offer you nothing but a dose of frustration.

If a Southern grouse hunt sounds too hard, it probably is. You're better off sticking with the flat country of a Southern quail hunt or the rolling, open fields of a Kansas pheasant hunt. But if you don't mind working your tail off for the chance of a shot at the king of game birds, head for the mountains of Dixie.