Yup, southern Maine. Late December. Nope, no snow. These fresh grouse tracks in the sand along a brook told us one was nearby, and Radar found it near the remnants of an old mill. The big bird had been through this sort of thing before: approaching hunter, shotgun ready, and an English setter with a plume tail and rigid body pointing it out. The ruff must have warily watched us the whole time before blasting out of there only five feet away, and putting cover between it and our intentions as the grouse escaped.