The day, August 27, started off normally. I met our clients at the Paget Lookout trailhead. There was a lovely family of four from New Jersey - parents John and Jamie, 10 year old Sam and 8 year old Hannah - plus Bob and Jane Webb, an older couple from Texas. Everyone was thrilled to be heading to the lookout for chocolate fondue. The weather was sunny. Everything seemed perfect.

We started up the trail, learning that Bob was into chemical fire retardants and Jane worked for the company that launched the space shuttle. John was a lawyer and Jamie a psychologist. Hannah liked shopping and Sam was eager to use his new camera. Jamie warned me that the kids might not be into hiking, but by the time we'd made it to the Sherbrooke Lake turnoff, we'd dubbed them Hiking Hannah and Striding Sam.

My idea for the day was a "made for each other" hike. Paget-Sherbrooke is the ideal place to talk about relationships - goats and mountains, fire and aspen/lodgepole pine/douglas fir, lynx and hare (by the blowdown), fungus & algae (lichens), hummingbirds and paintbrush, glaciers and the Great Divide and, of course, the crowning story of the whitebark pine and the Clark's nutcracker! Little did we know that our group and a spruce grouse would shortly be, well, "made for each other."

Not long after the Sherbrooke turnoff as you head towards the lookout, the trail zigzags across an avalanche slope that has quite a few trees in it. At the far end of the switchback you are back into the forest for a brief time and it was here that the attack took place.

The grade was moderate, we were in single file, and as I rounded the corner I heard from behind, "Oh, look..."

I stopped, turned and looked down. There was a male spruce grouse right next to the path and the group was now divided on either side of it. My first thought was, "how did I miss that?" It was practically underfoot. I soon realized that I hadn't missed it. He had heard me and Hannah go by and had stomped out to see what was up.

The group was tickled pink; real wildlife and so close! Bob quickly got his camera out and snapped off a photo. The rest of the group was watching in rapt fascination.

But my spidey senses were tingling. This grouse was not acting normally. He was puffed up, had his combs up (this is August, remember) and was strutting and clucking. He could only be described as "pissed off."

"This grouse looks kind of upset," I said. "I don't want us to disturb it, so why don't we just take a short look and quietly move on...." But before we could move, the grouse launched itself into the air, directly at Sam.

I was so shocked that I couldn't move. The people around Sam pulled away in horror, Sam screamed and the grouse latched itself onto Sam's jacket with its bill. By the time I recovered from shock, the grouse was hanging off Sam's back, madly flapping its wings.

Now, I'll admit it. I was pretty afraid of that sharp little beak too, so I crossed my hiking poles in front of me like a shield and proceeded to try to manouevre the grouse onto the side of the path so the rest of the group could get by. The grouse escaped numerous times as I battled it first on one side of the trail and then the other. It kept launching itself at me again and again and again. For some insane reason, I kept shouting, "Down, down, stay down!" My voice only seemed to incense it more.

My now terrified group managed to go by one by one, with Jamie last. As she passed, she whispered, half laughing, "You've put my son off hiking forever." I didn't have time to feel guilty because the grouse attack was continuing and it was now time to save my skin. But how?

By running away, of course.

"Run... run... keep running! It's following us up the trail, don't stop!" I yelled. We put some distance between us and the grouse, but it continued to chase us, waddling along on foot, for another 50 feet or so. By this time I was horrified, but laughing too. After all, it's a pretty unique experience, a tiny ball of feathers forcing seven people into a full run.

A short way up the trail, we stopped for a debrief. Was everyone all right? No fingers or toes missing? I assured everyone, and especially Sam, that this was not a grouse in its right mind. I dubbed it the psychotic grouse. To this day I don't have a plausible explanation of its behaviour - maybe mad grouse disease!

Now you might think this story is over, but after we enjoyed a great chocolate fondue at Paget Lookout, we had to return.

"What are the chances the grouse will still be there?" I asked myself. "Surely, it can't still be there." But as we descended, my spidey sense was again tingling.

Luckily, just 200 metres before ground zero, a couple heading up passed us. "Did you see anything on the trail ahead?" I asked. "Like a bird, maybe?." Oh yes, they had. It was sitting by the trail. "Did it do anything as you went by?" Oh no, but it didn't run away. Well, that was enough for me. Two people might be able to go by, but I wasn't going to take any risks with seven of us.

"Who votes for a bit of bushwacking to avoid the grouse?" It was unanimous. We went a little ahead and then I indicated a good spot to make our way to the trail below.

Keeping watch down the trail to make sure the coast was clear, I sent the family down first, then Jane, then Bob. Finally, it was my turn. I took one last look at the trail, and couldn't believe my eyes. There was the grouse waddling up the trail with a mean glint in his eye. I jumped off the trail yelling, "Don't stop Bob, here he comes!"

We made it out alive. I can't speak for the others, but I hope they considered the day to be an adventure to remember, rather than an endless day of terror. At the very least, I will always be on the lookout when I reach a certain bend in the trail on the Paget Lookout hike.