Ducks

Joe Meche is vice president of the North Cascades Audubon Society and is in his 10th year as editor of the chapter newsletter. Joe is also a member of the board of directors of the Washington Brant Foundation. He has been photographing birds and landscapes for more than 30 yea rs and has been watching birds for more than 50 years.

When I was growing up on the southwest Louisiana Gulf Coast, where the Central and Mississippi Flyways converge, the arrival of migratory waterfowl always signaled the coming of winter. Incomprehensible flocks of geese and ducks from faraway places — like Canada — gathered in the rice fields, coastal marshes and bayou backwaters that surrounded my hometown. The proximity of our home to all of these habitat types provided a young birdwatcher with ample opportunities to enjoy the outdoors and develop his skills in that long-ago time before computers and video games. As a matter of fact, I was almost 12 before a black and white television found its way into our home.

On the other end of my life here in the Pacific Northwest, the generally moderate winter climate and a variety of suitable habitats also attract large numbers of wintering waterfowl. At this time in early November, the bays and estuaries, the ponds, lakes and cornfields are already beginning to host large numbers of waterfowl, with more certainly on the way. Now, an older birdwatcher still enjoys being outside, honing his skills. Computers and cell phones are everywhere and the old black and white televisions are distant memories that have been replaced by high-definition monitors that practically cover the walls in many homes.

Technology even follows many birdwatchers into the field these days. Some feel that recordings of bird songs and calls and GPS systems are standard equipment to ensure a successful outing. And I say more power to them. I still prefer to go out with the basic tools that I’ve had all along. Although, I must admit that my present binoculars are far superior to the first ones that I purchased for $10 at a local surplus store. I do my best to stay away from competitive birding and I just appreciate the opportunity to be outdoors enjoying the fresh air and the birds.

Of all the birds that are out there to observe and study, I’m always eager to find large flocks of ducks. My own rule of thumb is to never assume that all the birds are the same species. Large flocks of American wigeons could well contain a few of the Eurasian variety. I believe that birders are seeing more Eurasian wigeons these days because they’re taking the time to scan the flocks for something different. Scanning large flocks of ducks is also a good way to observe behavior and the interaction between individuals.

Ducks belong to the family Anatidae, which includes geese and swans, and even though the larger birds are impressive in their own right, they don’t possess the speed and relative quickness of the smaller ducks. When they take flight, for instance, the larger birds need a good stretch of runway to take off. On the other hand, many ducks will simply leap into the air. Interestingly enough, the dabblers or surface feeders are the ones that have this ability, while the diving ducks tend to patter on the surface for short distances.

The capability that some ducks have to burst into flight comes from a unique bit of avian physiology. There are two principal muscles that make flight possible for birds. The supracoracoideus muscle provides the power to lift the wing while the pectoralis major muscle powers the down stroke. The large pectoralis muscle accounts for 15 percent of the total mass of a bird and it is this muscle that makes it possible for some ducks to virtually explode from the surface of the water or land to take flight. This feature also makes it possible for some species to nest in heavy cover, which in turns provides protection for the young birds.

There are sea and bay ducks that dive in search of food, while ducks that prefer freshwater over the salty variety are a mixed bag of divers and dabblers. A typical dabbler is the common mallard, with its bottoms up feeding technique, while the long-tailed duck will dive as deep as 180 feet in search of food. In another marvelous adaptation, the legs of the divers are set farther to the rear of their bodies to enable them to propel themselves underwater. And while most divers are swift flyers, their wings are smaller and more pointed, necessitating a short, running start to take flight.

From the large common eider to the diminutive bufflehead, when you’re in the right habitat you can usually find ducks. Borrowing from the old adage, if it looks like a duck, it probably is a duck. When you encounter ducks, it should be a relatively straightforward process to decide which particular duck you’re watching. While the males of most species are often easy to identify, lone females can present unique challenges in the field. Since the females tend to their broods more than the males, their coloration is designed to help them blend in with their surroundings during the nesting period. This is yet another example where nature provides the necessities for the proliferation of the species.

Ducks have a long connection with humans. They were among the first birds to be domesticated, and they have been hunted for centuries for food and for sport. Ducks are classified as migratory game birds and they are protected and hunted according to strict federal regulations. Duck numbers are monitored carefully to prevent over- hunting, and organizations like Ducks Unlimited have been extremely energetic in the conservation and restoration of habitat that is essential to maintaining healthy populations.

Most North American ducks can be found in Whatcom County in the right seasons, and many are year-round residents. The overall numbers increase substantially this time of year since many of the species that breed to the north and east find suitable wintering habitat locally, both on salt and freshwater. For a good day of duck watching (ducking?), just drive up to Blaine and work your way down the shoreline through Birch Bay and back to Bellingham. Take time along the way to stop at Lake Terrell and Tennant Lake. If hunting season is in progress, be aware of the restricted areas.

If you haven’t guessed by now, I might as well come right out and say it. I love ducks! And this isn’t a recent discovery. I’ve been afflicted with this problem for as long as I can remember. It’s easy enough for me to understand the origin of this affection, given that the scene of my formative early years has always been renowned for its large concentrations of ducks, especially in the winter. Also, when I was growing up, it wasn’t unusual for people living in our neighborhood to raise ducks. Mallards and mallard hybrids were the most common along with the ill-tempered Muscovy ducks. Ducks were certainly prominent in my grandfather’s backyard and even in the backyards of several neighbors.

Perhaps more than any other birds or at least from the perspective of humans, ducks even have a comical side. And which duck represents this side better than Daffy Duck? That outrageous cartoon duck came into the world just six years before I did. And Daffy was even preceded by the ever-popular Donald and his Uncle Scrooge and the three nephews with rhyming names. And everyone knows that ducks don’t fly upside down … because they might quack up! I digress, but this is just to demonstrate that I’m not the only one with a fondness for ducks.

Something else to keep in mind is that my grandfather’s nickname was Duck! A neighbor gave him that moniker because of the way he walked when he got older. He was the first person to enlighten me about bird migration, along with a lot of other valuable lessons, and he lived with us until he died at the ripe old age of 89. I’ve always been thankful that he did, and also thankful that his neighbor didn’t call him an old coot! §