By Mark Pfost, Public Lands Ecologist
This article originally appeared in Wisconsin Waterfowl Association’s August, 2023 Newsletter edition.
Do you remember the transitive property from elementary school? If a = c, and b = c, we know that a must equal b. While not similarly set in stone, ducks, wetlands, and duck hunting have their own transitive properties.
North Fork Flowage at the Crex Meadows Wildlife Area in Burnett County is a popular destination for both waterfowl hunters and wild rice harvesters. In good years, a majority of the flowage can be covered with wild rice, which is depicted by a light green coloration from aerial photos. Photo by Peter David, GLIFWC.
For example, if a plugged ditch backs up shallow water and mallards prefer shallow water, then a plugged ditch is beneficial to mallards. Or, if a hunter’s waders are 48 inches in height and the ditch the hunter is attempting to cross is 48 inches deep, then the hunter can get to the other side without over-topping his boots. Or, if ducks love wild rice and duck hunters love ducks, then duck hunters should love wild rice.
As a wetland biologist, I can attest that the first is true. As a duck hunter, I have proven the second false. And, as both a biologist and a duck hunter I argue that that the third should be.
My experience hunting ducks in wild rice is very limited; the first time was several years ago on some northern Wisconsin lake in October. The “rice” was nothing more than bare stems sticking out of the water; hiding our canoe among the stems was out of the question so my wife and I paddled beyond them and hid within shoreside vegetation. As we watched from our makeshift blind, puddle ducks and some divers frequently flew into the wild rice to feed. Although a few birds swung over us, the vast majority had their minds made up – they knew where the food was.
The next time I paddled my canoe through October wild rice stubble was at Crex Meadows a couple of years before Covid. As I quietly slipped through the thick stand of stems in the darkness, I could hear birds all around me. They got up as I neared but flew only a short distance before settling back down again. They were more intent on feeding than they were leery of me. As I moved through the rice beds, I was thinking ahead to what the dawn would bring and was already counting my day’s bag — until I realized that I left my shells in the truck. I never pulled the trigger that day but the importance of wild rice as a food source was seared into my consciousness.
Ricing sticks used in the harvest of wild rice
While still a “Partners” biologist with Fish & Wildlife Service, I worked with Clark County Land & Water Conservation Department to collect wild rice on one flowage and spread it on another. Caleb Meyer (then a Clark County employee) showed me how to use ricing sticks, and we collected six to eight inches of seed in our canoe. (Read past articles on volunteer opportunities and WWA’s collaboration with GLIFWC and the DNR.). Collecting wild rice isn’t hard work, but still, there is an expenditure of resources — primarily travel and labor that we don’t want to waste.
We want a large bang for our buck when investing time and money into waterfowl conservation, but when it comes to wild rice, we may unintentionally reduce that bang without realizing it.
For example, during pre-season scouting for early teal season, I may have found areas holding blue-wings. I paid attention to where the birds were, but didn’t give thought to the vegetation I’d pass through on the way to my hidey-hole. It was dark; I was anxious to be set up by shooting light and in a yank to throw out decoys. I was behind schedule, as usual, and took the most direct route to my destination — en-route vegetation be damned!
What might have been the effect if that vegetation was early-season wild rice?
- My outboard or mud-motor probably churned through stems and roots, leaving behind a trail of detritus in my prop wash.
- I’ve knocked immature seed off the stems — seed that will not germinate next year.
- I thumbed my nose at the efforts of those volunteers, biologists, and conservationists working to reestablish wild rice across its historic range.
- Later that morning, a wild rice harvester poling her canoe may note my earlier passage with the floating detritus and mutter “damn teal hunters.”
- I inadvertently showed disrespect to those with cultural and religious ties to manoonin.
Of course, I wasn’t intending any of this; the effect of my one day’s inattention is not measurable. But I’m not hunting only one day and I’m not the only hunter on the water — there are Bruces and Peters and Ryans and Kelcys everywhere. Results become cumulative.
I could have learned to identify wild rice and noted its locations during my scouting. I could have skirted the rice beds, I could have paddled or poled through them, I could have slowed down.
I have forgotten much of what I learned in math class, but simple relationships stick with me. The connection between wild rice, ducks, and duck hunters is one — it is as obvious as a equals b.