Big gets more attention than small. For the most part, that’s just the way things are. Doesn’t mean big is better than small. Just means that what’s big is hot and what’s small is seen somehow to be less hot. And sometimes in our rush to celebrate the biggest and the hottest we overlook small.

Preference for big game and big fish probably makes a whole lot of evolutionary sense. If you’re a hunter-gatherer intent on putting food within reach of your offspring and your extended family, would you prefer to bring home big game or small game? In most cases the early hunter would opt for the most protein possible — the monster mastodon over some tiny bird — even if it meant moving the family to the food rather than bringing home the bacon.

But you and I no longer hunt for food alone. We hunt for a wide web of reasons, from social to spiritual, but few of us have abandoned the pursuit of big game: moose, deer, bear, caribou and (according to my way of thinking) wild turkey.

Those big game animals get the bulk of our attention.

Waterfowl and such small game as grouse, woodcock, rabbit, hare and squirrel seem somehow less important. It’s easier to share the meat of a 1,000 pound moose than the flesh of a grouse that weighs in at a pound or so.

Big game hunting is rarely a spur of the moment activity. It generally requires more planning, more gear, more groceries and, not surprisingly, more time.

Until recently, though, most of us came to hunting through the pursuit of small game. And most of us are destined to return to some form of small game hunting as we age.

An afternoon in the grouse woods takes little planning, organization or gear. Just toss the shotgun into the trunk — encased and trigger-locked if you please. Grab a sandwich and a pocketful of shells, a hunting dog if you own one, and head for the nearest grouse covert either on huntable Crown land or on private property where you have permission to hunt.

My earliest hunting afternoons were spent as a small boy hunting rabbits and hares (depending upon where we were living at the time). My hunting tools were curved throwing sticks and personal spears: straight saplings stripped of bark and pointed with a pocket-knife. Deluxe spears where charred in the ashes of a small fire: fire-hardened we called them.

Certainly I spent hundreds of hours in pursuit of cottontails, but I have no recollection at all of having ever scored a hit on a rabbit with either throwing stick or spear. When I got a little older a .22 and eventually a shotgun came along as distinct improvements in my hunting gear.

Today, I rarely, if ever, hunt with a .22. I now prefer the pattern of a shotshell to the single .22 calibre bullet  and the risk of ricochet. In fact, I really recommend a shotgun for a young hunter’s first firearm. Given today’s barrels and ammunition, shotshells, slugs and sabots, a single shotgun fitted with a range of barrels, chokes and sighting devices can be used for virtually all hunting in Ontario.

The two gamebirds I prefer to hunt are the grouse and the woodcock. The ruffed grouse is an edge bird, preferring the transition zone between thicket and clearing. Its cousin, the spruce grouse, is more a northern forest creature. It’s easily distinguished from its ruffed cousin because of its darker colouration and a distinctive red stripe over the eye.

The ruffed is the warier of the two birds, flushing with a startling thunder of wings when it feels threatened. The spruce grouse, often called a fool hen, tends to huddle on its spruce perch when frightened. These were the birds that might have fallen to the throwing sticks and spears of my boyhood. I can remember watching native boys my own age capturing them with a wire noose fitted to a four or five-foot willow wand. The noose was simply lowered over the head of the roosted bird and tightened with a snap of the wand.

Where you find grouse among alders and poplar hillsides, plus water, you’re likely to come across woodcock, a bird seemingly thrown together with all of the spare parts the Creator had left on hand after all the other birds were created.

The woodcock, with its large wings, compact body, shoe-button eyes and long bill appears to be a shorebird that has migrated to the uplands. Migrated is, by the way, a crucial word when it comes to woodcock. This is indeed a migratory bird that may only be hunted under the authority of a migratory game bird permit.

On the ground, its normal habitat, the woodcock is so well camouflaged as to be almost invisible. Its habit of holding tight and not flushing until just before it is stepped upon means the hunter without a dog (flushing dog, pointer or retriever will all serve provided that they’ll work tight) is handicapped.

The best firearm for both these birds is a well-fitted, short-barreled and open-choked shotgun. The short barrel makes the gun easier to snap into position at the flush. Both grouse and woodcock fly so erratically that it’s rare to be able to catch up on them with a sustained swing and follow though. Snap-shoot is the order of the day and you have to be certain your shotgun is shooting where you’re looking. And remember to keep your head down.

Pattern, pattern and more pattern is the answer for catching up to these birds. My favourite upland scattergun is an over/under double with 24-inch barrels bored skeet and skeet. Standard loads of number 6, 7 or even number 8 shot are favoured loads. No need for high brass.

Grouse and woodcock season is coming soon to a cover near you. Pick up your shotgun, whistle up the dog and while away an afternoon hunting small game. If you target grouse and woodcock, you’re likely to flush a rabbit or hare to add to the bag.

Don’t overlook small game hunting. It’s a real pleasure.