Okay. I usually don’t fess up on my hooter hunting spots because it’s alot of work and not much in the way of sharing if both people like grouse. But today I’m making an exception. Drive out N. Douglas, past the False Outer Point parking lot about 1/3 mile until you come to the pull out for the N. Douglas trail on the right. Park there, and go across the highway and start up the hill. You should hear a hooter as you put on your pack. The first one is not far. When you get to the first one, you’ll be able to tell that the bird is in a tall ass spruce tree growing in a little gully between two little hills. Now, start the round de round. Go around the base of the tree, and slowly work your way away from the tree to get further away and gain all manner of different looks at the tree. Do this for about 2 hours and give up and try the next bird uphill another 1/3 mile or so. Repeat what you did for bird number 1. When you give up on bird number 2 and start downhill because your knees are so stiff and you forgot your ibuprofen, you’ll hear bird number 3 about a 1/4 mile to your right. That is up to you to write about. I just couldn’t do it. Of course, my course down hill brought me by bird number one. And now I had an even different perspective than the first 2 hours. I was on the uphill and looking into the tree tops. Surely I could see the bird now. Nope. Lots and lots of downhill on the way out. Now I know what people older than me used to say – it hurts more going down hill. Yikes. I’m stiff. Back to the house, grab the wallet, and head to the store by the bridge. 1 bag of ice and a little bottle of snake bite medicine. Fill a glass with ice, put in half th snake bite medicine. Then fill the magic cooler with ice and water. Struggle to get my socks off, jump into a hot shower. Get out, put the magic wrap from the ice water cooler on my knee, sip the medicine, and listen to Syracuse come back from 16 down to beat Virginia. Swear I’ll never hooter hunt again, and start planning for the next hunt. Anywhere but that spot out N. Douglas. It’s all yours.