This is one of the last pictures taken of Rocky's pet grouse, named variously Bird, Grousy, Gomer, and Lover Boy. I may have written about him before. To summarize, in March 2008, this grouse, untrue to its nature, showed no fear of Rocky's truck, then generalized it to other trucks. Rocky started feeding him right away and for almost 2 years now has taken millet, one of the bird's preferences to scatter under a tree near the creek. Another of our friends, Jay, has been feeding him corn. Rocky was able to cluck for him and he would come out of the woods. He would make little clucking sounds when he ate and Rocky felt like they were having a conversation, in grouse language since Rocky couldn't understand it. Rocky could even take a twig and scratch Grousy's chest with it, but the grouse wouldn't tolerate anyone touching him with their hands. He didn't tolerate the chipmunks who came to eat the bird seed either, and would take aim and peck them on their heads.
Unfortunately, this past Monday Rocky was driving down our lane to feed Grousy and saw him running down an embankment and before Rocky could stop the truck, the grouse had run right under its wheels. I wondered why Rocky took so long to come back home. He was grieving, I am sure, because the grief continues. Needless to say, he is devastated and "can't get over it." He salvaged 11 gorgeous tail feathers before he buried him and gave them to me for my feather bouquet--I was always asking him to get a feather for me, but I really didn't want to get one this way.
