The delegates have returned from the Flyway Council meetings, crowing with euphoria. The feds will announce a liberal framework and we will have a great waterfowl hunting season. The high adrenalin of expectation courses through the veins of the hunting fraternity, with all the usual symptoms of selective deafness to the numerous discordant notes.

Never mind that mid-continent mallards are down nine percent from last year –and we thought last year hit close to zero on the satisfaction meter. Populations of five out of the remaining nine species counted have declined and three out of the remaining four stand below their long-term average despite slight increase.

But it is late summer, memories are short and it is not uncommon at this time of year to have the pundits package a decline as an “improvement,” a promise, a portent of a good season, a satisfying season when the Tooth Fairy or some other metaphysical force will conjure ducks to fill the sky out of an inexhaustible reservoir of fevered hope and hype and statistical models distorted only somewhat by the political pressure from those who profit from expectation unrelated to reality. It is the season when we celebrate the triumph of hope over experience in our little waterfowl world – year after year after year at this time, just as surely as noses run during the halcyon days when ragweed pollen rides the winds of spring.

True enough, pothole counts rose on the strength of copious spring rains in the northern prairies. But the rains came late, and often in the form of frog-chokers – the type of storms that wipe out nests rather then nurture them. True enough, too much water beats the opposite in the prairie pothole country – but there are rains that encourage production and those that don’t. This spring’s frequently fell into the latter category. Maybe they will lay the groundwork for a better spring next year. This year, they produce only an expectation of ducks in the minds of those who live on hope – but not the real thing.

No matter how you spin the numbers – even regarding them through the prism of a large statistical error factor that inheres in all our waterfowl counts – and assuming that the “error” this year favors understatement rather than overstatement, we end up with the meter reading “no change,” or, at absolute best, negligible improvement. And that proceeds from the base of a season (2003-04) widely considered to be one of the worst in history in the mid-continent.

So once again, large segments of the hunting populace will discover that long seasons and high limits do not produce ducks in the sky, but only frustration in the hearts of those who thought they would – who thought that the people who set the regs did so with the well-being of the flight and the quality of the hunting experience as their guideposts and geared the framework to a reasonable flight prediction. Wrong again. But then, what else is new, Charlie Brown? Lucy jerked the football away after promising that she would not – and you fell on your butt as usual.

We have a different situation here on the left coast this season. As noted in these pieces, we produce 40 percent to 50 percent of the birds we take in California – and last year we took more ducks in this state than in any other despite a chorus of local whining.1 We produce most of the mallards we kill here and probably most of the woodies. Each spring, it seems that we see more cinnamon teal and gadwall nesting in the Central Valley, along with a smattering of pintail.

We enjoyed wet and warm weather this spring, near perfect nesting conditions – conditions that would in fact have been perfect but for a late storm that dumped a little too much rain and probably flooded out good numbers of nests. Even so, most field reports suggest that the birds have responded with robust breeding, particularly late. Predation seems very low, as though some sort of epidemic wiped out the usual suspects. I was disappointed at what I saw in the field during the weeks that would normally constitute the prime production period.

No longer. Some of conspicuous and startling brood concentrations evoke memories of the spring of ’98 when we had comparable weather and tremendous production, a great hunting season that fall and a dramatic increase in mallard breeding counts the following spring. In short, if the ’98-’99 period provides a relevant template, a liberal framework here probably will not hurt our primary waterfowl population or set back our efforts to increase the average by improving brood conditions.

With the feds offering a liberal framework, what should our Commissioners do? The answer, I submit, has relevance far beyond the borders of our state. Just as we invented the accursed rotoduck and inflicted it on the rest of the nation, nature has brought us an opportunity for redemption by example through responsible stewardship realistically geared to the situation, evaluated after discarding and stomping on all rose-colored glasses.

Specifically:

– “Liberal” for us means that the feds allow a seven bird daily bag limit on this Flyway, presumably to include up to seven mallards. Five is more than sufficient2.

Although the “experts” tell us that the difference between five and seven (or four and seven for that matter) does not materially add to the kill because only a small percentage of total hunter days result in a limit shoot3. But kill is not the issue. The quality of a hunting day does not turn on the right to take seven birds. Few hunters will find a four or a five greenhead day less fulfilling than a day that ends with seven green on the strap.

I submit that we should not structure our rules to satisfy the peculiar avarice of the few and possibly sacrifice even one potential breeder for the following spring.4 Just because the mallard breeding count went up dramatically in the spring of ’99 despite a seven mallard limit during the ’98-’99 season doesn’t assure us of such good fortune in the spring of ’06 for a larger reason.

In pondering the limit, our state commissioners should not get mesmerized by local conditions, a particular hazard at this time of year when hunters anticipate the coming season by clutching at any scrap of good news and magnifying it until it blots out the bad. Half or more of our kill originates from out of state where six of ten populations declined and the liberal framework derived from those numbers is more “bogus” than “justified.”5

It is worth recalling that the mid-continent counts were quite high in the fall of ’98. Our ’99 spring mallard counts may have reflected the fact that mid-continent birds took a little bit of the heat off the locals. We can’t count on any such phenomenon this year, nor should we. Nature has given us a chance for a satisfying season but that does not justify any possible infringement on the future that might inhere in the difference between a seven bird limit and something lower, more consistent with sportsmanship and the qualities of stewardship.

– With good production of vulnerable, juvenile birds, we have no excuse for allowing continued use of spinning wing decoys. We are overdue to follow Arkansas’ lead on this one. Our marshes are not the place for modern gadgetry that mesmerizes the birds and nullifies all the skills of waterfowling. It may be harsh – but hunters who can’t succeed with a conventional call out here this fall and winter should take a lesson and learn how to do it. We will have a large proportion of young and gullible birds among the local breeders who even the novice caller ought to be able to entice.

– Our commissioners – someone in authority – should remind the masses that good conditions this year do not add up to a birthright. We must work hard to improve breeding conditions, recognizing that there will be years when the hens simply don’t nest, regardless of what we do. In short, this year – years like this year – are a gift, a once in five to ten year phenomenon that we may not be able to replicate at will, despite our pretensions to omnipotence, our best efforts, the supposed wisdom of our scientists and the expenditure of huge sums. So enjoy it for what it is without seeing in plentiful skies a guarantee that the good times are back to stay. After all, we had such skies in the late ‘90s and managed them into frightening scarcity in a remarkably short time.

– This is the year when the practices of restraint as the essence of sportsmanship will cost the least and provide the greatest dividends in restoring our flight to the levels of bounty to which we all aspire. Minimize disturbance in the marsh by setting aside quiet days and limiting hours. Cut down on free-range hunting. If the ducks are landing a few hundred yards away, don’t go tramping over there in the hopes of picking up a late jumper. Let ‘em be. Sooner or later, a careless bird will fly in range – and if not, what is the loss?

Resist those insidious efforts to invade the sanctuaries in order to add a few transitory kills to the strap. Sanctuaries have lasting value – critical to the survival and the prosperity of the birds – only if they are sacrosanct, i.e., truly safe zones for the ducks.

With the contrast in conditions between the mid-continent and Pacific Flyway, we could learn quite a bit this year, particularly if we pay attention. Time will tell on that one. But in the meantime, I recommend that all you Mississippi Flyway hunters start shaking down your genealogies to find those long-lost whacko Californians on the mossy side of the family tree to see if you can wangle a hunt where there might actually be some ducks in the sky this fall. No promises, mind you – but the portents look good, worth the downside of hooking up with that eccentric uncle you have been avoiding for a few years.

1 1,480,700, a 46% increase. Arkansas was second with a kill of 1,127,444. These are the numbers the Service reports, derived by extrapolating from band returns and other scraps of evidence. Official though they may be, do not suspend your skepticism in pondering them, particularly when they purport to count down to the last dead duck.

2 Indeed, four greenheads used to be the “gold standard,” the hallmark of a great hunt. It took the excesses of the ‘90s to wipe out that concept. Now would be a good time to restore it.

3 I don’t buy this argument, by the way. The people who espouse it are looking at Refuge check station kill records. The kill records at many clubs tell a far different story.

4 In Malcolm Gladwell’s classic, “The Tipping Point,” he demonstrates the power of context – the surroundings that create an atmosphere conducive to certain types of behavior. A seven-bird limit carries a contextual message, out of keeping with stewardship, as the late ‘90s amply demonstrated.

5 The fact that spoonbills are the one species in the best shape, (i.e., above long-term average having increased 28% from last year) doesn’t do much to soften the hard edges of that observation – except of course for all those diehard spoonie specialists out there.