A recent newspaper article that caught my eye reported scientists have found conclusive evidence of an “alarming” decline in the diversity of fish species in the world’s oceans. One of the scientists said that he thought the marine ecosystem may be “falling apart before our eyes and we don’t realize it.” Strong words and perhaps over-stated? Possibly. But scientists have long known about dramatic declines in the abundance of many individual species of fish, and now the decline is evident in the number of species, too.

A few weeks later I paddled around the island in the St. Lawrence River where I grew up and began hunting and fishing. I wondered if a loss of diversity also could be happening to North American ducks. Fifty years ago my outing would have revealed ducks of a dozen species. Now it is rare to see anything but mallards and Canada geese. And this is not my isolated observation. It was confirmed by experienced locals.

This should be cause for concern to anyone interested in the future of traditional duck hunting.

The concept of species diversity is a basic tenet of ecology, relating to and reflecting stability within ecological systems. It’s a simple concept based upon reducing risk and hedging bets against future, unpredictable change. There are analogies in many aspects of our lives, but they all focus on the risk of “putting all of one’s eggs into one basket.” For example, one might do very well by investing in one source of income. However, for peace of mind and to reduce risk, a diverse investment portfolio makes greater sense. In an ecological sense, a predator, for example, is usually better off if it has alternative prey options and is not dependent on one food source. The prey, too, benefits because it isn’t the only item in the predator’s diet. In general, there is a direct and positive relationship between stability, by definition something that is good, and diversity within an ecological system.

I reflected on the changes I had witnessed on my area of the St. Lawrence. Black ducks once were the gold standard of local dabbling-duck hunters, with teal, widgeon and some other species available but viewed as options. It is uncommon today to see dabblers other than mallards.

The big change has been with diving ducks. Redheads and canvasbacks once were relatively abundant, with scaup the mainstay, the bread and butter of diver hunters. Layout and scull boats, sink boxes and big decoy rigs were common in my youth, a time when it was considered worthwhile to go to all the trouble and work to set up for these ducks. However, by the 1960s cans and redhead decoys were showing up at yard sales. The ranks of the diving-duck fraternity began thinning in part due to declines in cans and redheads, although for a few years scaup numbers held up rather well.

Indeed, scaup and goldeneye of either sex once were offered to hunters as bonus ducks along the river after mid-October. They provided increased opportunity to hunters without, in the view of regulators, jeopardizing the recovery of populations. This was also true elsewhere across the continent where scaup were used to “take the heat” off cans and redheads. I remember feeling uneasy about the 10 scaup limit during the 1960s. Nonetheless, my companions and I frequently shot our limits. I have pictures of our scaup hunts on the Delta marsh that are reminiscent of pictures one sees of market hunting days. All our birds were legally killed.

Two decades later scaup declines were beginning to cause concern among a few conservation-minded biologists. The 1985 fall flight was a low point for ducks of almost all species. A deep and lingering prairie drought reduced lesser scaup production, but some of us wondered if liberal regulations also contributed to the decline of this species that once was second in abundance only to the mallard. Interestingly, habitat conditions on the northern breeding range of greater scaup had not dramatically deteriorated.

The continuing decline in scaup began to get the attention of managers when they did not recover as expected after the return of water to the prairies in the 1990s. Though most managers were unprepared to implicate hunting mortality in any serious way, talk of bonuses was rarely heard. A few began wondering if scaup might need additional protection.

The concept of a bonus duck is a curious one. It’s based on the assumption that there are surplus ducks in the population, ducks not needed for future breeding stock. Managing a population to sustain a harvest is based on this assumption. It also seems reasonable to allow hunters to kill that component of the population that will inevitably die before breeding, regardless of whether or not there is hunting. Hunting regulations designed to selectively kill males, which typically outnumber females, might seem especially useful in protecting breeding stock. The problem is that doing this effectively probably requires a level of precision that is beyond management’s capacity. We do know that former bonus ducks like scaup and pintails, birds highly sought by hunters, have declined more dramatically than other species.

The concern over the declining trend in scaup today is officially recognized. The scaup limit was reduced this year by one bird, reducing the daily bag to two in the three eastern flyways. This action once would have been almost inconceivable for waterfowl management, especially in the Mississippi Flyway.

The Mississippi Flyway always has been blessed with a diversity of ducks, both dabblers and divers. Unlike their counterparts in the Atlantic Flyway who shot any species that crossed their rig, Mississippi Flyway hunters not only had preferences, they also had options. Even when redheads and scaup numbers were down, they had scaup. Shooting a bufflehead once was greeted with derision back at the boat ramp, but not any longer.

Increasingly, hunters are losing their options, choice has become a thing of the past. The trend in numbers of ducks in general has been downward and now this applies to diversity. In many places shooting or even seeing significant numbers of species other than the mallard is becoming increasingly uncommon. Indeed, if it wasn’t for mallards and geese, hunters across much of North America would have little opportunity to shoot waterfowl, much less have a choice.

The diving duck hunter is becoming a rarity. The diversity of species hasn’t declined as such – no species is even remotely threatened with extinction. But the diversity available to hunters certainly has declined. Decreased abundance of those species preferred by hunters has meant that they’ve become unavailable to hunters, either because they are rarely seen or because they have been given protection.

A valid question to consider is whether liberal hunting regulations have contributed to this decline. Will the widgeon, for example, be the next dabbler to become “a species of concern?” It is probably not a species that can absorb much additional pressure.

On a larger scale, we must ask whether a misguided attempt to provide hunter opportunity will further jeopardize the future of traditional duck hunting with its many species? Will waterfowling in the future mean essentially mallard and goose hunting?

Some argue that the reduction in the scaup limit is premature. They say there is no scientific evidence that the reduction will lead to a significant increase in breeding ducks. Perhaps, but what else can authorities do to try to build populations or halt the decline? Management cannot meaningfully increase natural production without a massive effort.

We know from research that initiatives on the prairie can potentially increase lesser scaup production, but no major initiative is in the works. How likely is it that we can ever meaningfully augment the natural production of greater scaup, which breed in remote northern habitats?

To date, management and its science have not been able to stabilize much less reverse this alarming trend. Relying on hunters voluntarily restraining themselves has not worked sufficiently well. Even though a good many have embraced the concept, there are practical hurdles that are unlikely to be overcome. How, for example, do hunters protect female scaup when it is almost impossible to distinguish between males and females under many hunting conditions?

The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service deserves commendation for further restricting the kill of scaup. If the downward trend can be reversed by more restrictive regulations, this can be a positive step toward maintaining waterfowl diversity and the future of diving duck hunting.

But lesser and greater scaup only represent two species. Across much of the continent, hunters will have to learn to live with less opportunity to protect beleaguered species.

A valid question to ask is whether the service’s policies have adequately protected species that are vulnerable to over-shooting. Has the strong reliance on mallards in setting regulations for all duck species jeopardized other, less resilient species? Has “mallard management” reduced species diversity and the future of traditional duck hunting?