When it’s good, take the credit.

When it’s bad, blame the weather.

– Biologist Robert Lange

As this season draws to a close, and hunters look back over the past four months, everyone is asking: What happened? Where were the ducks?

These are not new questions. For the past several years the numbers of migrants have steadily and starkly declined. Hunters asked the same questions and debated the answers at the end of last season – and the season before that. It has become an annual ritual.

But this autumn’s migration was especially bleak. From north to south, from east to west, hunters reported success ranging from “worst ever” to “spotty.” The problem wasn’t that hunters were shooting noticeably fewer ducks, although this factor can never be discounted, or that they experienced fewer banner days afield. The alarming concern was that hunters reported seeing far fewer ducks than they had been led to believe would wing southward. This was especially true in the Mississippi Flyway.

What could cause the great disparity between what hunters anticipated and what they witnessed?

To answer the question, we begin on July 19, 2004 – the day the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service issued its first news release based on the annual spring survey of the North American breeding grounds. Director Steve Williams stated, “The ‘duck factory’ in the prairie potholes was much drier this May than last.”

Williams’ comment can charitably be described as an understatement. With the number of potholes totaling only 3.9 million, a 24 percent decline from the previous spring, ducks returning northward to the breeding grounds last spring spring faced genuine drought conditions.

And this was only the tip of the iceberg. Field biologists reported early nesting mallards and pintails that managed to find suitable prairie water faced a further setback because “snow and low temperatures during May probably had an adverse impact on young broods.” In addition, the less fortunate mallards and pintails “that over-flew the dry prairies encountered winter-like conditions and nesting may have been curtailed.”

Later nesting species such as gadwalls, shovelers and blue-winged teal fared no better. Even though the prairies received “abundant rain” after the May surveys, service biologists reported “this water likely did not alleviate the dry conditions because much of it soaked into the ground.”

In short, breeding conditions were abysmal. This was coupled with an 11 percent decline in numbers of breeding ducks. One did not need a biology degree to predict juvenile production would be minimal, resulting in a very, very thin fall flight.

The service’s initial assessment failed to warn hunters they faced a very bleak hunting season, but was nonetheless reasonably straight-forward and honest – to the mortification of many who set about to reverse the grim news.

Sugar-coated analyses soon drowned out the harsh truth.

Director Williams reversed course in less than two weeks. He announced that liberal hunting regulations would remain in effect for the upcoming season, saying, “While breeding habitat conditions in some of our survey areas are not as good as we have seen in recent years, overall the habitat and populations of key waterfowl species are sufficient to justify the hunting opportunity the regulations afford.”

Ducks Unlimited ignored the fact of widespread drought, describing breeding habitat conditions as “unusually variable.” Chief biologist Bruce Batt reassured waterfowlers that “the widespread improvement in habitat conditions that took place after the May survey assured that duck production wasn’t a bust this year.” (This contradicted the service’s assessment.) DU executive vice president Don Young wished everyone “a great opening day and a wonderful fall season.”

Delta Waterfowl, traditionally the most biologically honest of the major waterfowl-conservation organizations, declared, “It’s difficult to find any good news in this year’s waterfowl breeding population and habitat survey.” Delta president Rob Olsen observed that “it appears that duck production this year will be below average.” But the organization made no fall-flight prediction.

Madduck pulled no punches. It flatly stated “the fall-flight would be the smallest in more than a decade.”

The disingenuous reassurances of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service and Ducks Unlimited prompted many hunters to look forward to a decent – if not spectacular – fall flight.

The season opened along the U.S.-Canadian prairies in early autumn. Initial reports from veteran hunters suggested something was amiss. Most found ducks – often with difficulty – but big duck concentrations of the past were rarely seen.

By mid-season hunters in mid-tier states began asking, “Where are the ducks?” They were soon joined by their southern brethren. Internet chat rooms filled with reports of empty skies. Some hunters blamed northern states for short-stopping ducks. Some complained rains caused ducks to scatter. Some said increased hunting pressure caused ducks to gather on refuges

The chorus of complaints grew so loud by late November that Ducks Unlimited felt compelled to offer an explanation. Had DU stated in late summer the fall flight would be very, very thin, it might have retained its biological trustworthiness. But now it faced a credibility crisis.

The organization resorted to Lange’s Law, named after Robert Lange, a New York state fisheries biologist. Lange exposed for all time the underlying public relations modus operandi of every federal and state fish and wildlife agency, and a significant number of conservation organizations. It works like this, Lange said: “When it’s good, take the credit. When it’s bad, blame the weather.”

Ducks Unlimited blamed “abnormally warm temperatures” that caused the birds to hold up north, saying, “We need a cold front on the prairies to push a big migration south.”

This explanation ignored the field observations of many northern hunters. The late freeze-up afforded northern-state hunters several more weeks of hunting, which many enjoyed, but few reported being inundated with late-migrating ducks. Minnesotans saw so few ducks they are planning a protest rally on the steps of the state capitol later this spring.

The DU explanation further ignored the fact that many species – pintails, widgeon, blue-wings and shovelers – migrate ahead of winter’s cold weather. These warmth-loving species were as noticeably absent in the South as the cold-tolerant mallards that were reportedly holding up north.

Then, days after Ducks Unlimited issued its explanation, winter struck the upper Midwest with a vengeance. Snow blanketed fields. Ice locked small and large waters. But the hoped for big migration of ducks failed to materialize.

Mid-winter surveys in early January found 531,477 ducks in Missouri, down 17 percent from the previous year. Arkansas reported 566,088 ducks, a significant increase from the previous year, but still below the five-year and long-term averages. (The mallard state wintered a record 2.5 million ducks in 1991.) In Louisiana, biologists counted 2.5 million ducks, down 26 percent from the previous year.

Hunters continued to grumble about few ducks as the season drew to a close. But neither the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service nor Ducks Unlimited admitted the biological truth.

The ducks that comprised the hoped for fall-flight were not holding up north. They were not scattered by late autumn rains. They were not gathered on refuges in record numbers. The truth was more profound. The ducks did not exist.