If there's one thing mankind should have learned by now, it's that importing and introducing foreign species into anywhere is a very very bad idea, and it seems a corollary to that is if the species is tasty and useful, it won't work anyway. I bet that over the decades there have been thousands of pheasant released into my birth area in the northern Appalachians, with zero long term survivals. Likewise, Hungarian (grey) partridge were released locally and for a winter a small covey of them showed up to shelter under under a BB homestead apple tree, reason they picked that spot totally mysterious, but then they were gone again and that was forever.
What if more than just a few of the many programs to introduce foreign species of gamebirds to North America had succeeded?
Hunters everywhere train and hunt over their gundogs in a manner that suits the game they pursue and the terrain in which the game is found. In North America, the way we train our dogs and hunt upland birds over them is mainly based on the behavior of native species like the bobwhite quail, ruffed grouse, and North American woodcock. Even when we hunt non-native species like pheasants, huns, and chukar, we tend to use our dogs in more or less the same way. But what if more than just a few of the many programs to introduce foreign species of gamebirds to North America had succeeded? How would we train and hunt over our dogs if, instead of pheasants, huns, and chukar, other foreign game bird species had taken hold in the US and Canada?
A Western Capercaillie (Tetrao Urogallus) on a log
The Western Capercaillie (Tetrao Urogallus)
You’ve been at it all morning and haven’t seen a single bird. It’s cold. There’s a fresh layer of snow on the ground and your dog’s been working his butt off, most of the time completely out of sight. But that’s par for the course this late in the season in northern Maine.
Another half hour goes by. Nothing.
Just as you were about to call it a day, your dog rushes back towards you, excited. You can tell by his wiggling butt and wide eyes that he’s giving you the signal: “I found one, boss, follow me!”
Together, you make your way through the forest, back towards where you first saw him emerge. Creeping along, side by side, you cover 100 yards. Your dog eases into a point just ahead of you. You take a step. Bird up!
A massive black bird explodes from the cover, its 40-inch wingspan creating a noise like a tractor starting up on a cold day. It offers you a crossing shot, left to right at about 25 yards
BANG! Nailed it!
You send your dog to make the retrieve. He delivers to hand. As you hoist the nearly 10-pound bird by the neck, the incredible plumage glistens in the warm light filtering between the spruce trees. It’s your very first capercaillie, Tetrao urogallns, the largest member of the grouse family.
Good boy! Let’s tag the bird and head home.
This is, of course, pure fiction. There are no capercaillie in Maine or anywhere else in North America–but not for a lack of trying. Over the last 250 years, dozens of bird species have been introduced to North America. Only a few managed to thrive. In a fascinating bulletin published by the U.S. Department of Agriculture in 1929, there is an overview of all the then-known efforts to establish breeding populations of game birds in the United States. Here is what the report says about the Capercaillie (spelled capercailzie with a silent ‘z’ at the time, the name comes from the Scottish Gaelic capall-coille meaning “wood-horse”).
What if more than just a few of the many programs to introduce foreign species of gamebirds to North America had succeeded?
Hunters everywhere train and hunt over their gundogs in a manner that suits the game they pursue and the terrain in which the game is found. In North America, the way we train our dogs and hunt upland birds over them is mainly based on the behavior of native species like the bobwhite quail, ruffed grouse, and North American woodcock. Even when we hunt non-native species like pheasants, huns, and chukar, we tend to use our dogs in more or less the same way. But what if more than just a few of the many programs to introduce foreign species of gamebirds to North America had succeeded? How would we train and hunt over our dogs if, instead of pheasants, huns, and chukar, other foreign game bird species had taken hold in the US and Canada?
A Western Capercaillie (Tetrao Urogallus) on a log
The Western Capercaillie (Tetrao Urogallus)
You’ve been at it all morning and haven’t seen a single bird. It’s cold. There’s a fresh layer of snow on the ground and your dog’s been working his butt off, most of the time completely out of sight. But that’s par for the course this late in the season in northern Maine.
Another half hour goes by. Nothing.
Just as you were about to call it a day, your dog rushes back towards you, excited. You can tell by his wiggling butt and wide eyes that he’s giving you the signal: “I found one, boss, follow me!”
Together, you make your way through the forest, back towards where you first saw him emerge. Creeping along, side by side, you cover 100 yards. Your dog eases into a point just ahead of you. You take a step. Bird up!
A massive black bird explodes from the cover, its 40-inch wingspan creating a noise like a tractor starting up on a cold day. It offers you a crossing shot, left to right at about 25 yards
BANG! Nailed it!
You send your dog to make the retrieve. He delivers to hand. As you hoist the nearly 10-pound bird by the neck, the incredible plumage glistens in the warm light filtering between the spruce trees. It’s your very first capercaillie, Tetrao urogallns, the largest member of the grouse family.
Good boy! Let’s tag the bird and head home.
This is, of course, pure fiction. There are no capercaillie in Maine or anywhere else in North America–but not for a lack of trying. Over the last 250 years, dozens of bird species have been introduced to North America. Only a few managed to thrive. In a fascinating bulletin published by the U.S. Department of Agriculture in 1929, there is an overview of all the then-known efforts to establish breeding populations of game birds in the United States. Here is what the report says about the Capercaillie (spelled capercailzie with a silent ‘z’ at the time, the name comes from the Scottish Gaelic capall-coille meaning “wood-horse”).
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