There’s a kind of stillness that only exists on a ranch at five in the morning—when the world hasn’t yet decided what kind of mood it’s in. The horses shift in their stalls, the occasional whinny punctuating the quiet, while the mountains loom silently in the distance like they know something you don’t. That was where I learned to start paying closer attention to the strange. And that instinct for chasing after odd moments is exactly what landed me halfway up a wind-blasted mountain last year, baiting an amorous male grouse with my best attempt at a seductive bird call.

Yes, that is, to date, the weirdest thing I’ve ever done for a story.

But as anyone who writes about relationships will tell you, inspiration can come from anywhere. In this case, it came from my former life tracking Montana’s wildlife and a conversation with a friend who complained about how courting rituals these days feel just as baffling as animal mating dances. I told her she wasn’t wrong. By the time I described a sage grouse’s puffed-out chest and frantic strut to impress a mate, we were both doubled over laughing—and an article idea was born.

The Setup: First Dates and Grouse Dances

I had this grand idea to draw parallels between animal courtship and human dating. The concept was simple: study how animals work to connect and compare it to how we, as humans, overthink every word of a text or rehearse icebreakers in front of a mirror like we’re auditioning for a Netflix rom-com. Sounds fun, right?

Except for one small snag: I’d never actually gotten close enough to one of these sage grouse to see their whole flirtation game in action. They tend to hang out in the less accessible corners of the state—think sagebrush plains that stretch forever, interrupted only by the occasional deer or a stubborn barbed-wire fence.

A sensible person might have settled for researching YouTube videos on the subject. I, however, am wired for immersive experiences. A holdover, perhaps, from days spent waist-deep in rivers counting trout or camping under skies so black they swallowed you whole. If I was going to write about bird flirting, I had to see it for myself. Anything less would have felt like cheating.

The Fieldwork: How I Almost Ended Up a Matchmaker for Birds

Getting to a sage grouse lek (the bird equivalent of a singles’ bar) is easier said than done. For starters, these feathery Casanovas are early risers, strutting their fancy moves at dawn to avoid predators and the midday heat. That meant I needed to stake out a spot before first light—a real commitment for someone who is, let’s just say, not a morning person unless coffee is involved.

Determined, I packed up my gear: binoculars, a camouflage poncho that doubled as a blanket (highly necessary for the negative temps that chill even the hardiest Montanans), and, of course, a small notebook. The notebook was aspirational. I envisioned myself scribbling profound observations as sunlight cracked open the horizon. Spoiler alert: my handwriting was later deemed indecipherable.

After a bumpy hour-long drive and what I can best describe as a highly undignified scramble over a barbed-wire fence (pro tip: jeans do not always protect you from snags), I arrived on a windswept stretch of land dotted with sagebrush. And about 50 feet ahead, there they were: grouse, performing the avian version of “Hey, girl” in their puffy-feathered glory.

Watching them was both mesmerizing and painfully awkward. The males, clearly compensating for something, inflated the air sacs on their chests, producing a low pop-pop sound while strutting like they owned the joint. The females? Entirely unimpressed. They milled around, occasionally glancing at the display like a bored audience at an amateur stand-up night. The whole scene felt so human it almost hurt.

The Twist: I Became the Third Wheel to Nature’s Awkward Romance

Here’s where things got interesting. To delve deeper into the dynamics—and admittedly, to entertain myself—I decided to mimic their courtship calls. Now, let me clarify: I am not a trained biologist anymore, nor do I have any business attempting bird impressions without adult supervision. But armed with sheer curiosity and a fair amount of hubris, I gave it my best shot.

Turns out, my call was a little too effective. A particularly confident male sauntered straight toward me, feathers fluffed and chest popping. My first thought: Wow, nature is so cool. My second thought: Oh no, nature thinks I’m single.

For several minutes, it was just me and this overly enthusiastic grouse, locked in an increasingly awkward game of chicken. I didn’t know whether to laugh or run. In the end, I backed away slowly, whispering a string of apologies as though I’d just rejected someone on a bad blind date.

The Takeaway: What Grouse Can Teach Us About Dating

Reflecting on that surreal morning, I had to admit my friend was onto something: dating today does have a lot in common with animal behavior. The more I thought about it, the more parallels popped up:

  • The Over-the-Top First Impression: Just like the male grouse performing his strut, we often overdo it when we’re trying to win someone over—wearing our flashiest outfits or crafting the “perfect” joke. But here’s the kicker: genuine connections often form when we dial back the theatrics. Not everyone appreciates a metaphorical chest puff.

  • Reading the Room: The grouse’s dance is only half the equation. The females are actively assessing, choosing partners based on something deeper than a show. In human terms? Pay more attention to how someone makes you feel than how impressive they seem on paper. Attraction is as much an instinct as it is a choice.

  • Persistence vs. Desperation: Not every audience is yours to win. That male who kept approaching me? Bless his heart, but I wasn’t buying what he was selling. Some lessons in dating—and bird watching—are about knowing when to gracefully retreat.

The Conclusion: Letting the Wild Guide Us

That experience didn’t just make for a decent story—it transformed the way I think about human connection. Funny, how what started with sage grouse courting rituals ended with me walking away with a notebook full of notes (finally deciphered) and a heart full of appreciation for nature’s wisdom.

So, whether you’re out there on the apps, meeting people at farmer’s markets, or simply trying to figure out how to make the most of the love you already have, take a page out of the grouse’s book: Be willing to show up and be seen. Just, you know, leave the “pop-pop” sounds to the birds.