Dokken: Northwoods ‘partridge’ and ‘chicken’ vernacular stirs lively debate between buddies

A cousin who grew up in the Twin Cities but spent a lot of time in rural Roseau County of northwest Minnesota – where he still visits at every opportunity – called the other day asking me to help him settle an argument.

Mike lives in Dunedin, Florida, near Tampa these days and is heading back to Minnesota in a couple of weeks to hook up with a buddy from the Twin Cities for some ice fishing on Lake of the Woods.

In advance of the trip, Mike was telling his buddy, who has never been to Roseau County, about the game birds he hunted during visits “up north,” especially “partridges” and “chickens.”

That’s where the debate started. …

Much of northwest Minnesota, including Roseau County, lies within the transition area between prairie to the west and big woods to the east. As a result, many areas offer the best of both worlds when it comes to upland game bird species such as ruffed grouse and spruce grouse – both forest-dwelling birds – and more prairie-dependent species such as sharp-tailed grouse and Hungarian partridges.

It’s not unusual for some people up there – especially old-timers – to take liberties with the species’ actual names: “partridge” for ruffed grouse and “chicken” or “prairie chicken” for sharp-tailed grouse, for example.

Why that is, I have no idea, but the local vernacular definitely rubbed off on my cousin Mike.

“I said, ‘We used to go partridge hunting a lot,’ ” Mike said. “Same with chickens.”

That didn’t sit right with his buddy:

“What do you mean, partridge?” he asked Mike. “What do you mean, chickens – wild chickens?”

No, Mike replied – ruffed grouse and sharp-tailed grouse.

“Then we had a debate because I knew I was right, because that’s what the elders called them – chickens,” Mike said. “And then I’m like, ‘Dude, you know the partridge in a pear tree is really a ruffed grouse.’ And he’s like, ‘absolutely not.’ ”

As Mike tells the story, his buddy then proceeded to send several screen shots from the internet in an effort to settle the debate and claim victory.

Mike wasn’t having it.

“He was just a stern advocate that he was right and I was wrong,” Mike said. “So then he sent me these pictures, and I just didn’t reply.

“I just let it lie, thinking, ‘I’ve got to call my cousin.’ ”

Alas, I had to tell Mike he was wrong and that his buddy won the debate this time around.

I still catch myself referring to ruffed grouse as “partridges” from time to time, but calling a sharptail a “chicken” never caught on with me. And while Roseau County definitely has a decent sharptail population (and even the occasional Hungarian partridge), I can say with near-absolute certainty that there isn’t an actual prairie chicken within 70 miles of the county line.

As for the mythical “partridge in a pear tree,” it most likely was a European partridge, and neither a Hungarian partridge nor a ruffed grouse, based on what I could find on the internet.

Mike received this revelation with grudging acceptance.

“I always grew up thinking partridge in a pear tree was a ruffed grouse,” he said. “I never saw a partridge in a pear tree except for in pictures. I just assumed it was the same bird, but I never analyzed it.”

Considering how many people up north refer to ruffed grouse as partridges, that’s a reasonable assumption.

So there you have it: Ruffed grouse aren’t partridges and sharp-tailed grouse aren’t chickens. That might not have been the answer Mike wanted, but I thanked him for the idea and promised to share my column with him.

“Yeah, do that, because then I can forward it to (my buddy) and let him know,” Mike said. “He can beat his chest and know that he was right.”

Ouch.

Whether the fish cooperate when the two debaters converge on Lake of the Woods remains to be seen, but one thing’s for sure.

The conversation most definitely will be lively.