If I ever get the chance to kill one, I sure will not send it too Washington DC to get mounted
I have a name for it: Nerd Grouse. Can't dance, can't puff up it's neck, the chicks all think he's weird. Sigh... An evolutionary dead end because Mom Sage Grouse and Dad Sharptail got drunk and got their freak on.
I can only imagine the morning after: All Dad's sharpie pals saying ``dude you were so wasted last night, you bagged a sage hen...''
Then there's the awkward phone call from her: ``Hey, pal, remember that night a couple weeks ago?''