Most of us who hunt waterfowl describe ourselves as conservationists. It gives us an identity. It provides us with a sense of belonging.

Conservation reflects our belief that individuals should be allowed to continue hunting, killing in a proscribed manner the game birds and animals that nurtured and sustained us throughout our tenure on earth. It reflects our belief in good stewardship, increasing and/or preserving an abundance of wildlife.

We view ourselves as distinct from environmentalists (who too often are overly protective of wildlife), game hogs (who believe individuals should be allowed to kill without restraint), and anti-hunters (who believe no wild bird or animal should be killed, especially for sport.)

In addition, calling ourselves conservationists allows us to wrap ourselves in the robes of the conservation movement’s celebrated founders, as if we are providing a human continuum advocating the revolutionary ideals of men like Theodore Roosevelt, George Bird Grinnell, Ding Darling, Aldo Leopold and H. Albert Hochbaum, to name a few.

But are we today truly conservationists within the historical meaning of the men who preceded us? Or are we delusional, believing what we want to believe and ignoring that which casts doubt on the true nature of today’s so-called conservation movement?

One thing is certain: we owe a great debt to our conservation forebears.

For waterfowl, conservation got its start along the Atlantic Coast in the 1840s, a time when waterfowl were hunted year-round. A steady decline in numbers of ducks prompted a few prescient individuals to periodically call for a ban on spring shooting, as well as raiding nests for eggs, a move designed to allow more ducks to successfully reproduce and sustain or increase their numbers.

These pleas were routinely rejected by state legislative bodies. The wholesale killing by both market and sport hunters continued unabated with predictable results – a steady, further decline in the flights of ducks that once darkened the skies. Interestingly, some noted a significant increase in numbers of ducks following the Civil War, particularly on the southern wintering grounds. Since many southern hunters (as well as northern ones) were too busy fighting to hunt, this should have suggested that unrestrained gunning contributed mightily to the decline of our once abundant flocks. But most failed to make or ignored the obvious connection.

By the 1880s, a few northern states had begun imposing laws giving migratory waterfowl some relief. Bans on spring shooting as well as the imposition of bag limits sought to reverse the downward trend. But these actions often were politically unpopular. Hunters in states with restrictive laws argued they were only preserving ducks for hunters in states where lawlessness prevailed. Why should a Connecticut hunter be prohibited from killing a duck that would only be shot a few weeks later in North Carolina? they asked.

At the same time, as sport hunting grew in popularity, conflicts arose with increasing frequency between sport and market hunters. The former blamed the latter for killing too many ducks and causing further declines in numbers of ducks that winged the length of the continent.

By the turn of the last century, the growing number of Americans concerned over diminishing wildlife had coalesced into what became known as the conservation movement. Their strident voices could no longer be ignored. For concerned waterfowl conservationists, passage of the Migratory Bird Treaty Act between the United States and Canada in 1918 marked the end of a campaign that had taken three-quarters of a century to reach fruition.

The treaty gave the federal government legal jurisdiction over all migratory waterfowl. The checkerboard of conflicting state laws was eliminated.

The treaty prohibited the sale of waterfowl, a move designed to put an end to market hunting. It banned spring shooting and the raiding of nests for eggs. The federal government imposed bag limits and season lengths throughout the nation.

These legal restraints formed the centerpiece of early waterfowl conservation and were imposed for one purpose – to increase the number of ducks.

Curiously, the numbers of ducks did not significantly increase. (This suggests that sport hunters were now killing the ducks once taken by market hunters.) Bag limits and season lengths were further reduced, but these actions failed to bring about a recovery. Then, in the 1930s, drought struck the northern prairie breeding grounds and duck populations plummeted to unprecedented low levels.

Alarmed waterfowl hunters thus began new initiatives. Biologists were sent afield to study the various species and find ways to increase their number. Habitat programs were launched to preserve the wetlands necessary to preserve or increase our flocks. The federal duck-stamp program and Ducks Unlimited were created. Refuges were established to give migrant and wintering waterfowl a measure of protection during the hunting season. More gunning restrictions were imposed. The scattering of grain to attract ducks to the gun, a practice known as baiting, was banned. Live decoys were prohibited.

These new efforts were undertaken under the banner of waterfowl conservation and designed for one purpose – to increase the number of ducks.

The biological investigations, interrupted by World War II, advanced slowly at first. But by the mid-50s we had not only learned the basic biology of several species, but had developed continental duck population surveys to allow us to measure the success or failure of our efforts to increase our flocks.

And then, in the 1970s, waterfowl conservation as envisioned by its founders suddenly collapsed. It had lost its moral force. It died a grotesque death, slayed by a cowardly government bureaucracy, a corrupt Congress and greedy commercial interests.

A new generation of waterfowl “conservationists” (They insist on calling themselves that.) had assumed command. They ignored the original goal of increasing ducks. Instead, the neo-cons focused on ways to increase the kill. Biologists became Death’s mandarins, creating “scientific” justifications for the point system, bonus ducks, special seasons, split seasons and zoning, all of which suddenly found their way into the regulations. All were designed to allow hunters to kill more ducks, although some neo-cons sought to disguise their true intent by describing them as ways to increase “hunting opportunity.”

Then, in the 1990s, the neo-cons embraced Adaptive Harvest Management. No longer did the self-styled, new “conservationists” labor under the false pretense of hunter opportunity. The Adaptive Harvesters flatly declared their purpose was to maximize the kill and, in the case of mallards, to reduce the breeding population.

So much for conservation’s original, noble goal of increasing numbers of ducks. Adaptive Harvest marked the final nail in conservation’s coffin. And yet Adaptive Harvest proponents still call themselves conservationists, a slanderous utterance if ever there was one.

By our silence we have allowed the music to die. We have allowed the neo-cons to escape censure by claiming to be part of the conservation movement. We have allowed them to wrap themselves in conservation’s  historic robes, as if they were the rightful descendents of  Roosevelt, Grinnell, Darling, Leopold and Hochbaum. We have permitted the cross-dressing neo-cons to profane our noble heritage. We have allowed confusion to reign. When we tell someone today that we are conservationists, what is that person to think? Do we advocate increasing our flocks or increasing our kill?