{"id":16870,"date":"2026-03-10T13:29:33","date_gmt":"2026-03-10T13:29:33","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/gpbookstore.org\/articles\/uncategorized\/how-a-ruffed-grouse-became-this-grieving-husbands-best-friend\/"},"modified":"2026-04-10T06:02:31","modified_gmt":"2026-04-10T06:02:31","slug":"how-a-ruffed-grouse-became-this-grieving-husbands-best-friend","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/gpbookstore.org\/articles\/inspiring-stories\/how-a-ruffed-grouse-became-this-grieving-husbands-best-friend\/","title":{"rendered":"How a Ruffed Grouse Became This Grieving Husband’s Best Friend"},"content":{"rendered":"

This may sound odd, but I\u2019m best friends with a bird. Not a pet bird either. Lulabelle is a ruffed grouse, a native game bird that\u2019s related to pheasants and partridges. Lulu is bigger than a pigeon, with a short crest on her head, a long fan-shaped tail and the most beautiful gold, beige and dark brown feathers. I used to hunt ruffed\u00a0grouse, but I quit for good after I met Lulabelle.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ll never forget that spring day in 2017. I was on my tractor, smoothing out a trail on our wooded land, when a grouse showed up. She parked herself on the ground right in front of the tractor and chirped. Wouldn\u2019t budge. Not even when I revved the engine. I hopped off the tractor.<\/p>\n

\u201cShoo,\u201d I said, waving my hands. \u201cGet out of my way.\u201d But that bird wouldn\u2019t listen. \u201cAre you crazy? Why won\u2019t you move?\u201d The grouse just gave me a beady brown-eyed stare and chirped some more. Finally she scuttled off the trail.<\/p>\n

Back at the house, I told my wife, Jeanne, what had happened. We both laughed. Critters of all kinds\u2014rabbits, squirrels, deer\u2014live on our 42 acres, so we have plenty of animal stories<\/a>. But a pushy grouse was a new one. I wasn\u2019t 100 percent sure if this bird was female, but I theorized that maybe she\u2019d been protecting a nest when she stood up to my tractor.<\/p>\n

A few days later I rode out in my golf cart. Not too far down the trail, there she was. I got out of the cart and walked slowly toward her. She didn\u2019t seem to mind. Step by step, I drew closer. She looked at me and made a funny call: quirt, quirt, quirt<\/em>.<\/p>\n

\"\"\u201cWell, well,\u201d I said, taking off my cap and squatting next to her. \u201cYou\u2019re quite the bird.\u201d I held the cap out to her. She pecked at it. Then she ruffled her collar of dark feathers and kept quirting<\/em>. When she fixed those brown eyes on me, I saw something I never expected from a wild bird\u2014trust.<\/p>\n

\u201cHi, Lulabelle,\u201d I said, settling on a name. \u201cNice to meet you.\u201d She fluttered her wings and sealed the deal with a quirt<\/em>.<\/p>\n

From then on, we were buddies. Whenever I\u2019d go out in the cart, I\u2019d stop and call for Lulabelle. More often than not, she\u2019d skitter out from the trees and run up to me, hopping onto the floorboard.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow are you today, Lulu?\u201d I\u2019d ask while she untied one of my shoelaces. \u201cAre you having a good week?\u201d She would chirp back and peck on my pant leg. From there, she usually jumped onto the seat next to me, then atop the seat back. While I talked, she\u2019d flit onto the steering wheel and stay a few minutes before fluttering back to the ground. For fun, we played with my cap. She never tired of pecking at it. Sometimes her quirts<\/em> turned into soft trills that reminded me of a cat\u2019s purr.<\/p>\n

Nothing bothered that grouse. If Jeanne came along, Lulabelle didn\u2019t mind. In fact, she cozied up to Jeanne. Crowds didn\u2019t rattle her either. Every summer, our two daughters and their families camp in a clearing in our woods. Boy, were they surprised when a wild grouse welcomed them that year! One evening, Lulabelle jumped into my son-in-law\u2019s lap while he was reading by the campfire. Another time she moseyed into their camper and perched on the couch for a while.<\/p>\n

Winter passed, and Lulu survived to greet me the following spring. I was happy to see her again. That summer, though, Jeanne got sick and spent a month in the hospital. The doctors diagnosed her with congestive heart failure and pulmonary hypertension. They said she had only a few months left. I asked God to help me stay strong<\/a> for Jeanne, even though my own heart broke into a million pieces.<\/p>\n

Jeanne wanted to be home, so I arranged for hospice care. She was so weak, she mostly lay on the couch. The one thing we could do together was visit Lulabelle. Two or three times a day, I wrapped Jeanne in blankets and rigged her oxygen tank to the cart. Not far down the trail, Lulabelle would greet us\u2014quirt, quirt, quirt<\/em>. Without fail, she\u2019d hop aboard the cart.<\/p>\n

\u201cHi, Lulu,\u201d Jeanne would whisper, holding out her hand. Lulabelle would lightly peck her fingers. She seemed to sense that Jeanne\u2019s time was drawing near. Lulu\u2019s company calmed and soothed Jeanne, and her pain ebbed. Every day, I thanked God for that ruffed grouse.<\/p>\n

Jeanne died in December of 2018. Grief hit me so hard<\/a>, I didn\u2019t want to go on either. We\u2019d been married nearly 50 years. Jeanne could read my mind. I could finish her sentences. Without her, I could barely drag myself out of bed in the morning. Or sit down at the kitchen table for coffee.<\/p>\n

Finally, after months, I forced myself go for a ride in the golf cart. Quirt, quirt, quirt!<\/em> Memories of Jeanne holding her hand out to the grouse flooded back. I broke down. You\u2019d think a big man like me, crying and carrying on, would scare off a wild bird. Not Lulu. Calm as could be, she cocked her little head and laid those bright brown eyes on me. Her trust broke me wide open.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, Lulu,\u201d I sobbed, resting my head against the steering wheel. \u201cI can\u2019t go on without Jeanne. It just hurts too much.\u201d Then I blubbered on and told the grouse things I would never tell another person. I\u2019d been taught that a man never cries or shows any weakness. You hold yourself strong and carry your burdens alone. Only this time, I couldn\u2019t.<\/p>\n

Lulu purred, keeping her eyes fixed on me. I\u2019m here<\/em>, she seemed to say. Let it all out<\/em>.<\/p>\n

\"\"Day after day I got in my cart and headed for the woods to meet up with Lulabelle. I talked. She listened and purred. I unloaded everything. She never flinched. Little by little, my heart began to heal<\/a>. God hadn\u2019t left me comfortless. He\u2019d brought me Lulu. Maybe I could survive.<\/p>\n

A year after Jeanne\u2019s death, winter weather set in again. I stopped going out in my cart. But I had come out the other side of my grief\u2014thanks to Lulabelle.<\/p>\n

Spring came around, and I wondered if my feathered friend had survived another harsh Minnesota winter. One day I went to check on her. Branches crackled one by one in the breeze as I stepped off the cart.<\/p>\n

\u201cLulu!\u201d I called out. \u201cLulu! Here, Lulabelle\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

Then a familiar quirt<\/em> sounded from the trees. I turned to see a burst of white-tipped brown wings flutter onto the trail. Leaning down, I gathered her gently in my hands.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, Lulabelle,\u201d I said. \u201cYou\u2019re still here.\u201d<\/p>\n

The grouse purred and lightly pecked at my fingers. I was glad to still have my best friend, the one who\u2019d helped me weather the darkest, coldest season of my life<\/a>. I know Lulu will leave me too one day, but I\u2019ll be okay. God always sends the right helper at the right time. One of mine just happened to have feathers and beady brown eyes.<\/p>\n

For inspiring animal-themed devotions, subscribe to\u00a0<\/em>All God’s Creatures<\/strong><\/u><\/a>\u00a0magazine.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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