Bird watching with a chain saw — revenge of the fool hen

Published 1:30 am Wednesday, June 24, 2026

IT WAS DAYLIGHT in the forest, my favorite time of day. A time to revel in the absolute silence of the wilderness — while you can.

Until the first trilling of the robin tells us another summer’s day has begun. Then the rest of the birds wake up and start making enough noise to raise the dead. So, forget about peace and quiet.

It would only give one pause to consider how I ended up in this god-forsaken brush hole in the first place, with a couple of dull chainsaws. One of them is broken, the other won’t start.

It’s the result of an intention to devote my life to my one true passion: bird watching. This can be tough in the forest, where you can’t see the birds for the trees. So, we knock down a few trees to get a better view.

Birds come around to feed on the bugs disturbed by the falling timber.

Bird watching with a chainsaw may appear unorthodox to the uninformed. But it offers even the most myopic birder sightings of such rare and colorful species as the scarlet tanager, ruby crowned kinglet and even a Clark’s nutcracker!

A low rumble disturbs the silence of the forest.

It’s the mating call of the hickory-shirted cat-skinner.

An unpredictable bird, given to bursts of kinetic energy accompanied by explosions of colorful language known far and wide in the woods as a rigging fit.

Which in no way explained the cat-skinner’s next move.

He launched from the tracks of his machine to land jumping in circles, screaming while trying to rip his clothes off.

An allergic reaction to bad moonshine, I presumed, but no. Just a little deer mouse, disturbed from its nest beneath the seat of the cat.

It ran up the catskinner’s pant leg by mistake.

People worry about being attacked by cougars and bears in the woods, but it’s the mice and bugs that will get you in the end.

The most terrifying encounter I’ve ever had with an enraged animal was the time I was attacked by a mother grouse.

Grouse are called “fool hens,” by people who don’t know any better.

Grouse are really a lot more vicious than most people give them credit for.

I survived the grouse attack, but the emotional scars may never heal.

I’d been walking through the forest, birdwatching with my chainsaw, when out of nowhere I heard a menacing clucking sound.

There she was, a big mama grouse with blood in her eye and all her feathers fluffed the wrong way.

A passel of downy chicks scattered in the salal.

There was no time to start the chainsaw before she launched an attack.

She flew by my head so close I had to duck.

She landed in a heap with one wing hanging limp.

It was the old broken wing act used by mother birds everywhere to decoy predators away from their brood.

Which might work on some dumb animal, but it takes more than that to fake me out.

Still, I was bird watching, but every time I tried to get closer, she would flutter away like she was wounded just a little further.

After a while I thought she might have really hurt herself. I thought it was my fault.

Before I knew it, I was so far back in the brush I couldn’t hear the cat working.

It was quitting time when I finally found my way back to the landing.

I was so happy to see the catskinner again, I didn’t care that he ate my lunch.

It was good to be alive.

Pat Neal is a Hoh River fishing and rafting guide and “wilderness gossip columnist.” He can be reached at 360-683-9867 or by email via patnealproductions@gmail.com.