THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Saturday, December 9, 1995 TAG: 9512090006
SECTION: FRONT PAGE: A15 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Opinion
SOURCE: George Hebert
LENGTH: Medium: 62 lines
Some of our web-footed friends produced a pretty big news splash the other day. The story made for good - and environmentally hopeful - reading.
North America's duck population seems to have taken wing, figuratively, anecdotally and by scientific count. In connection with a fall migration so heavy as to jam air-traffic-control radar at three Midwestern airports (the anecdotal evidence of the moment), an Associated Press story quoted wildlife experts as saying duck numbers were up 36 percent since 1993.
The scientific estimate 10 years ago was 52 million. This had risen to 59 million in 1993. And for 1995 the figure is about 80 million. A couple of reasons for the spectacular spurt: above-average moisture in the prairie pot-hole areas of the Dakotas and Canada, and a federal conservation program which pays farmers to take land out of production.
Whatever the stimulants, ongoing or recent, duck multiplication is a welcome development. I was particularly pleased to hear about it because of the way the overall picture offset some news on the down side in my own little duck-observation project (which happens to be purely anecdotal, I might point out).
A cove in a tidal river hereabouts has been, for as long as I have visited it, a winter haven for a good-sized batch of canvasbacks, those perky little divers with the mahogany heads, gray-white backs (in the males) and Bob Hope beaks (both sexes!) - and once a very much endangered species.
In some recent years, the in-migration has numbered upward of 150 birds. With a sprinkling of their friends, the scaup, they have made quite a sight out there in that quiet cove.
But this year, a week or so after the first scouts arrived, there were still only about a dozen settling in for the winter. The entire group on hand was larger, but the big contributor seemed to be the scaup, and even so the aggregation was pretty small in comparison to those 150 to 175 of other years.
Something bad was happening, I concluded.
But when that report showed up about the big expansion of duck flocks elsewhere, I could speculate that perhaps my local concern was premature, that I could see too small a part of the picture, that maybe I was remembering wrong about the November congregation-time, that something in the weather or some other break in their routine has them straggling in over a longer stretch this go-round.
And sure enough, just a few hours before I wrote these lines, curiosity took me to the river again and I found my group of canvasbacks had doubled in size since I last came by. Now, two dozen or more of them occupied a fairly large expanse of water, handsomely augmented by those scaup, some buffleheads and at least one grebe. I now feel it's quite likely the rest of the old mahogany-heads will show up in due course, maybe even with additions.
So I guess that when it comes to wildlife populations, the good news is not only where it hits you in the eye (or in the radar) but where you look for it.
And when. MEMO: Mr. Hebert, a former editor, lives in Norfolk. by CNB