September 2020: The More Things Change, the More They Stay the Same

As summer evolved to "Indian Summer" and eventually full-fledged autumn, the seasonal cycles continued to play out at Standing Rush, independent of a vastly changed outside world.

I'm struck at how many of our 2020 photos are like the one above, void of people. Site tours were put on hold for all of 2020 unless absolutely necessary, school groups did not assemble for field trips, and even contractor activities were minimized unless we were absolutely sure we could operate safely given the backdrop of an ever-changing public health crisis.

I was lucky to have averaged a trip to the marsh every month in 2020, as opposed to the 50+ times per year I averaged for the first five years of the project. I deer hunted once (for an hour), duck hunted a grand total of three evenings, and had specific need to be on-site for work no more than a handful of times -- although I came up with excuses to make it out maybe twice as much. Roy became my eyes and ears even more than before (the vast majority of 2020 photos were taken with him on the other end of the camera). I focused on strategic planning, grant administration, financing, supporting Roy . . . and keeping myself, my family, and my immediate circle healthy. 

One habit I tried to keep was taking a short walk every time I made it to the marsh.
This image was captured on the lane behind our bunkhouse. It is wild asparagus loosing its photosynthetic green for the season. Like so many things in 2020, I found myself appreciating it in a different way -- pausing to notice rather than just walking by.

One silver lining of autumn was that duck hunting could carry on amidst COVID,
a familiar ritual and a seasonal bookend for those who live to rise early and keep eyes to the sky.
As this double-limit of teal attests, things started off strong and
-- fortunately for everyone's collective and individual morale --
stayed that way throughout the 2020 waterfowl season.

Off to the blind . . . 

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.

Teal Opener with the Kids

Three people I always enjoy sharing company with;
we all laughed often and with plenty of birds in the air,
it didn't take a camera to make us smile

While last week ended just as it began from a work perspective, fast and furious, it seems only appropriate that I start this morning's entry with a quick recap of a quiet evening in the marsh -- our first duck hunt of the 2017 season. Opening day of the 15-day teal season was yesterday, and while I opted to defer to the lease holders for the morning hunt, one of my best buddies and I took my two oldest kids out for an evening in #15 (the name for a blind on the West Marsh; an artifact of a numbering system I'm honestly still trying to figure out).

Our son enjoyed time in the blind (and John's company) last season, but this was a first for our daughter. We had plenty of food, drinks, and bug spray packed just in case things went quiet after what was reported to be a pretty active morning of shooting. But as it turned out, we had plenty to watch in the sky and on the water.

Teal season is unique for a lot of reasons. The weather is often warm -- if not downright hot, especially when in waders. Sunrises and sunsets are still pushed relatively early and late. The marsh is still green, and the bugs are still active. And by law, hunters can effectively only shoot two species of ducks in Ohio -- the blue-winged teal and the even more pint-sized green-winged teal. (As an aside, Canada geese are also open for an early season.)

Teal are among my favorite birds. Not only do they fly like fighter jets -- often screaming through the sky in tight, fast formations -- but they are absolutely beautiful both on the wing and on the water. They are extremely tasty, too! Whether I have a shotgun in-hand or not though, they are an adrenaline rush in feathered form. I just love seeing them.

A photo is one of the only ways
to slow down a blue-wing

As it played out, John and I (the only hunters shouldering guns) only had three chances at teal, and one was a solo blue-wing that buzzed the decoys about three feet above the water. I only had time for one trailing shot and John didn't even see the bugger! We ended up empty handed in terms of a harvest, humbled by rusty shooting. But we must have seen several hundred "big ducks" (e.g. mallards, wood ducks, pintails, widgeon, gadwall, etc.) in addition to a few flocks of geese fly directly or nearly directly overhead.

The kids were all smiles. In addition to the ducks and geese, they enjoyed watching thousands of swallows feeding on the bug bonanza, chattering kingfishers and Caspian terns, and maybe a dozen trumpeter swans, as they all flew and fed unknowingly past the blind.

The morning hunters had fair to good success throughout the holiday weekend. My phone was filled with excited texts and photos from the field by noon each day. The recurring themes: a few teal around, lots of big ducks (by some accounts, more than have been seen in this marsh in a long time at this point in the year), and genuine excitement for how the marsh is looking. "The table is set."

Teal season is seen as a bonus or warm-up to the "real" duck hunting season for many. To me, it is an experience all its own. But I have to say, it gets the juices flowing for all that a full transition from summer to fall to winter can bring. Few things are better than autumn in the marsh!