Night Show

100-150 ducks making their way back into the food and refuge of the West Rest Pond just before sunset
(click to enlarge)

People will often ask, what is your favorite time of year in the marsh? That's a difficult question to answer, because I genuinely love all four seasons. Yes, even winter! In fact, I love all different times of day (and night) within each season. [Sure, I could do without high noon on the 100 degree days with 98% humidity without a hint of a breeze to ease the relentless mugginess . . . but this is <1% of the experience.]

This habitat is about as dynamic as it gets. I always tell people how difficult it is to give one tour of the property. How do you best convey something that is ever-changing and so full of life in a single day -- much less in a single window of an hour or two? The marsh is different today than it was yesterday; different this evening than it was this morning. All I can share is a snapshot in time.

But if I had to choose one single shutter capture, we might be getting close to when I'd choose to have my camera ready. As September transitions to October, day length shortens (always a bummer), but I rarely feel more alive. Low to mid-70s in the dry sunshine still feels warm -- even hot -- on the skin, but a touch of shade (even from a passing cloud), an otherwise inconsequential breeze, and/or a low sun in the sky all hint at the cold to come.

Beyond general comfort of classic autumn, I'm always inspired by the wildlife. Seasons -- particularly spring and fall -- are about transitions. And we see so many alive in the marsh. Each evening this time of year, just as the sun is loosing its punch for the day, we can sit back and enjoy what Roy likes to call the "night show" -- a daily routine in the fall (and to a certain extent, the spring) that has become increasingly awe-inspiring over these last few years on this property.

If you have a ticket for the "show," you should be in your seats (in our case right now, somewhere on a West dike) at least an hour before sunset. Plan on it lasting till dark, and be prepared to see birds -- lots of birds. I've experienced a good number of recent viewings while working and playing in the marsh. I'm struck that even a person like Roy (who has seen a heck of a lot of ducks in his lifetime) is compelled to be in attendance. The fact is, he -- and often his wife -- are apt to take in the show multiple times per week.

But again, its almost a spiritual experience. Seeing hundreds, sometimes thousands, of ducks of a variety of makes and models all somewhat predictably descending on the same specific area of land and water at the same time -- it's just special. My hope is that if you haven't already, you get the chance to experience it yourself.

Close Encounter (Good Karma)

Another reminder of what a good purchase our Canon has proven to be
(click to enlarge to check out the detail; tongue is particularly striking)

Roy got up close and personal with a juvenile Red-tailed Hawk during a recent drive around the marsh. When I saw the photos that showed just how close, I thought it definitely warranted a share. 

The story started while Roy was checking on a pump. As he dropped a foot out of the truck, he noticed the nearby raptor struggling to gather a recent kill -- some type of a decent-sized snake. As the bird awkwardly lifted off the dike, prize "in hand," the snake slipped from its talons and fell into the nearby vegetation. Several quick attempts to right the ship (while simultaneously trying to rebound the juggled prize) resulted in the hawk on its back in a few feet of dense plant material . . . and in a few inches of water.

The thick mass of hibiscus, smartweed, and beggars tick may have provided a soft landing, but the young hawk
almost looked sheepish trying to regain its balance, its composure, and its meal

The plant growth was so dense that the bird literally couldn't get air under its wings; its posture suggests it was
feeling pretty threatened as Roy approached to try to help

Roy gave the hawk a couple minutes to find its footing. But with the snake now abandoned, the bird became more preoccupied with its own safety than its meal. Feeling bad that he disturbed an afternoon snack and that the hawk couldn't seem to get back on the wing, Roy gently extended the tines of a garden rake (protected by some rubber that he had just modified to slip over the end of the tool). The bird readily accepted the helping hand, and Roy was able to easily transfer the bird from the end of the rake to the end of a nearby cottonwood limb.

After another minute of sizing each other up at close range, Roy went back to his work. When he came back to check on his new friend a few minutes later, the hawk was gone. The bird may have lost some dignity, but the good news was (1) it seemed no worse for the wear, and (2) there are plenty more snakes in the marsh where that one came from!

Hunting in the Context of Conservation

This "punt gun" (photographed in July 1923), used in the United States to harvest ducks and geese into the 1920s, demonstrates how far conservation has come in the U.S. in 100 years
Photo courtesy of the Library of Congress

As we close out the first chapter of this year's waterfowl season on the marsh (teal season expired in Ohio tonight), I think it's worth dedicating a post to the general topic of hunting . . . and more pointedly, the topic of waterfowl hunting within the context of wetland conservation. [I'm taking a chance doing this late on a Sunday evening, as this is a topic that can quickly get controversial. Stick with me. I promise to add more of my personal commentary as the season progresses.]

At first blush, these two subjects -- hunting and conservation -- might seem diametrically opposed. Hunting undoubtedly serves as a flash point, conjuring debate relating to the ethical treatment of animals. "Why would you kill what you are trying to protect?" And while I would readily admit that there are those who pursue game merely as a sport with little regard for one's surroundings, there is a big distinction (in my mind, at least) between hunting and mere killing.

What began as a commercial pursuit to harvest food for the table
has evolved dramatically in the ~150 years since settlement in Ohio
Photo courtesy of York Museums Trust

In my mind, we owe the very existence to much of the wetland that remains on Lake Erie, the Great Lakes, and beyond to waterfowl hunting and waterfowl hunters. Like the native people before us, ducks and geese were first harvested on the Lake Erie shores (and elsewhere) based on a caloric need. That pursuit of course evolved with time, and in certain instances was reserved for those with a certain level of wealth and/or prestige.

Books can be and have been written about the history of waterfowling. But to me, at least as it relates to this specific project, the Bay View marshes would simply not exist if it were for the passion and dedication of specific individuals through the generations. And it is no coincidence that these individuals happen to all be duck hunting enthusiasts.

It all ties back to one of my favorite quotes of the modern environmental movement:

In the end we will conserve only what we love; we will love only what we understand; 

and we will understand only what we are taught. 

(Baba Dioum, 1968)

As I hope to portray in my writings here, duck hunting is much more than totting a shotgun into the cattails. It -- like most hunting pursuits -- is wrought with learning opportunities. It is experiential and often multi-generational. And when done with awareness and appreciation for all that surrounds the hunter, it can be conservation in the purest sense of the term.

One of last week's harvests

SIDE NOTE: Whether you choose to count yourself among the ranks as a waterfowler, you can support ducks, geese, and all related wetland conservation in Ohio by purchasing an Ohio Wetland Habitat Stamp each year. The $15 investment is a requirement for all duck hunters in the State, and coupled with the Federal Duck Stamp, helps duck hunters put some of their money where their mouth is.

POSTSCRIPT: Some of the punt guns like the ones shown here were known to harvest 75-100 birds in a single shot. Thankfully, techniques have become significantly more precise. We set property-specific rules for our hunters that are even more stringent than those established by our Federal and State governments. More on that later . . .

ONE FINAL POSTSCRIPT: Last Tuesday night, Roy and I enjoyed an impromptu teal hunt unlike any I've ever experienced. While humbled by dozens of passes at close range (for the first time in my life I went through an entire box of shells during one hunt!), I did manage to bag a handful of blue-wings.