Duck hunting ... with a camera

Commentary by Joe McWilliams

It would really suck if there were no ducks. Birds in general, of course, but ducks in particular. They’re a strong symbol of the health of our part of the planet. Spring without the return of ducks would really be bleak. I wouldn’t want to even think about it. There are millions of ducks. They spread out over the magnificent wetlands of the northern part of North America every spring, taking advantage of the abundant food and good nesting opportunities. There are so many of these birds, and so much habitat, one might be inclined to shrug off the death of 500 of them in a contaminated pond near Fort McMurray. But there’s good reason to be vigilant. Human activity can, and has caused great disruption in the habitat of birds, even to the point of extinction. During the period of settlement of the prairies, thousands of ponds were lost to the ducks that had called them home. Thanks to the dedicated effort of groups like Ducks Unlimited, some of that is being won back. Up here in the boreal, water is so abundant that it’s hard to imagine anything ever upsetting the balance – but all things are possible. We want to make sure the ducks always have a place to return to. I just love seeing ponds full of ducks. I like trying to identify them. I admit I’m pretty lousy at it. I also like to photograph them. Of all birds, ducks present the most tempting prospect for an amateur wildlife photographer. For starters, they’re big enough so as not to have to go into debt to buy a lens capable of capturing them. And of course the variety in plumage is fascinating and often spectacular. If only a fellow had more time. More patience wouldn’t hurt either. Ducks aren’t stupid – or at least they’ve figured a few things out. One is that moving vehicles don’t represent danger. As soon as a vehicle stops, though, the ducks take off. That canvasback, or blue-winged teal, or lesser scaup that was paddling so tantalizingly close to shore when you pulled up is now out of decent camera range by the time you get into shooting position. It happens every time. What a guy really needs to do is to hide out in the weeds and wait for the ducks to come to him. Somehow I never seem to have time to do this, or think I don’t. The best (or at least my favourite) duck photo I ever took was of a bufflehead on beaver pond near Assineau. Beaver ponds are great because they are usually quite calm and hence give great reflections. They also have good cover and more often than not allow the photographer a vantage point from above, which regular marshy ponds or lakes don’t. Wading through bulrushes to get close enough doesn’t work, I’ve found. I’ve since lost that damn bufflehead pic. I return to that pond once in a while to see if I can recapture it. But the last time I was there, the beaver dam, which is a good 12 feet high, had a hole blown in it, and the pond no longer exists. Oh well, there are lots of other duck shooting opportunities, not that I really have much use for the photos once I’ve taken them. You can only get away with putting so many of them in the paper.