Or could it be that since the farmer was no longer tending to his farm because he was too old, and since there was so little going on there anymore, that the grouse decided to reclaim a great perch with a view?

I once pitched a tent somewhere in the deep forests of Sweden, on a trip with my mother and my sister. I sat the tent up on some natural cushions of dry peat, so the ground was nice and soft to sleep on. As it became darker I suddenly heard a large CRACK about fifty metres away as a big twig was snapped in half. The sound was followed by the deep sniffing of air and loud stomping, so I popped my head out of the tent to take look.

Atop the closest hill was the King of the Forest (that would be a moose), looking like he was pondering some deep mystery while on his evening stroll, his mighty antlers brushing away big branches like they were toothpicks. He wasn't too worried about his surroundings until he noticed my scruffy old head. He stopped dead quiet and opened his eyes wide in surprise. Then he snorted heavily in disappointment, like he was muttering a curse, and then he shuffled his heavy body around and walked the other way.

I got the distinct sense that this proud being had a very sincere distaste for people...