Denial is a word used increasingly today in casual conversation. Its roots are psychological. It means to deny a problem exists. An example of this phenomenon is the tippler who refuses to admit he drinks too much. He is said to be in denial.

One consequence of denial is obvious. If you refuse to admit you have a problem, you will do nothing to solve it. It will only get worse.

Denial is mostly used in regard to human relationships and addictive behavior. I have never heard anyone address the issue of whether waterfowl biology is in denial. We shall, therefore, put duck biologists and waterfowl managers on our analytical couch and ask:

Are waterfowl professionals in denial? If the answer is yes, what are the consequences?

We will focus on one subject: potholes.

For the past 70 years biologists have stated that prairie potholes are the key to bountiful fall flights. In years when rains fill shallow earthen basins with water, the northern prairies sparkle with myriads of small wetlands. Millions of ducks descend on these potholes to nest and rear their young.

Biologists tell us an abundance of potholes produces a two-fold effect. Nesting intensity increases and prairie-breeding hens fledge larger broods. These result in great numbers of juveniles swelling the autumn migration, causing hunters to rejoice.

There is one problem. Millions of these juveniles will die over the winter regardless of hunting. Biologists tell us these young ducks cannot be “stockpiled.” Thus, we might as well shoot them. Interestingly, I have never seen a scientific study to document this claim.

Nevertheless, this belief is the biological foundation of our historical gunning regulations. In wet years, we have long seasons and high bag limits. In dry years, the seasons are shorter and bag limits are reduced.

Proof that biology still accepts this as gospel after nearly three-quarters of a century can be found in the current Adaptive Harvest protocol. It establishes today’s regulatory frameworks. It has five combinations of season lengths and bag limits that key in large part on the number of potholes counted each spring on the northern prairies.

At the same time, if you ask a biologist today why you are seeing thinner and thinner flights each autumn, especially during recent years of high water, he will tell you the problem is predation. Too many predators are destroying too many duck nests, resulting in fewer young in the fall flight.

A glance at historical mallard age-ratio data over the past four decades confirms the declining productivity of our breeding flocks. Age-ratios tell us the number of juveniles per adult in the hunters’ bag.

Mallard Age-Ratios

60s 70s 80s 90s Years

Figure 1. Average mallard age-ratios declined from 1.31 juveniles per adult during the years 1961-69 to 1.00 from 1990-99. This loss is attributed primarily to nest predation. Source: USFWS.

The drop from 1.31 in the ‘60s to 1.00 in the ‘90s represents a 24 per cent loss in productivity. It is cause for concern.

But to stop our analysis at this point would be a grievous mistake, because the above data does not take into account the water conditions on which our regulations are based.

We must break down the years by water conditions to compare the age-ratios from 1974 (the first year potholes were counted in both the United States and Canada) to 2001.

As you can see in the following graphs, the mallard data tells an intriguing story.

Juveniles Per Adult

Low Water                   Average Water

77 80 81 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 0      76 78 82 83 84 85 86 94 98

Year                                          Year

High Water

74 75 79 95 96 97 99

Year

Figure 5. Mallard age-ratios declined most sharply in the past quarter-century during years of high or average numbers of prairie potholes. The decline was mild in drought years. Source: USFWS.

The data tells us that in high-water years from 1974-89 the number of juveniles per adult averaged 1.51. It fell to 1.03 during the years 1990-2001, a decline of 32 percent. In average-water years from 1974-89 the age-ratio averaged 1.22. It dropped to 1.05 during the years 19902001, a decline of 14 percent. In drought years the age-ratio from 1974-89 averaged .99, falling to .92 during the years from 1990-2001, a decline of seven percent.

Thus, the productivity losses were not spread equally across all water conditions. Indeed, average productivity since 1990 has been remarkably similar under all water conditions, ranging from

1.03 during high-water years to .92 during low-water years – a difference of only 11 percent, compared to an average of 34 percent difference from 1974-89. This difference presumably was much higher in years prior to 1974.

How, then, can waterfowl professionals justify the longest seasons and highest kills in nearly half a century if the data tells us that during high-water years ducks no longer produce explosive numbers of juveniles that are doomed to die whether or not we shoot them? How, especially, can waterfowl professionals biologically justify the longest seasons in half a century during a drought year like this one?

The answer is they cannot.

Our waterfowl professionals deny the truth of their own data.

This suggests we do not need more statistical analysis. We need psychological analysis to cure our waterfowl professionals of the dreaded mental affliction known as denial if we are to restore duck management to sanity and rebuild our diminishing flocks. This prescription applies equally to most federal and state fish-and-wildlife directors, flyway council members, biometricians and field biologists.

Do you agree?