Wayne Herndon, Rituals and Memories- Memories of Waterfowling are Built Upon the Traditions and Rituals of the Hunt

RITUALS AND MEMORIES

Memories of waterfowling are built upon on the traditions and rituals of the hunt

By Wayne Herndon

Suddenly, a darker blackness loomed. The shore, overhung by willow and maple, was like a cave within a cave; a blacker entity in the dark. Along this primordial river, long stretches of timbered banks still persisted despite mans’ tampering.

With a final oar stroke the old, wooden boat glided forward and nosed into the soft, gently sloping mud. Wisps of fog, acknowledged more by touch than sight, entwined around the trunks of trees. With an old strand of rope I tied the bow to a gnarled root and collected my paraphernalia: • A shotgun, some shells, thermos, sandwiches. • Clothing to protect me from freezing temperatures, waist waders and a rain coat completed my gear.

The short path between river and bottomland lake was negotiated without light. Prior knowledge of what existed was as familiar as the number of foot steps required. Passing the last thicket of dog hair willow, the feel of open water and the sweep of faint breeze on my check indicated my arrival. Sitting on the transom of a boat upon which a blind was built. I listened quietly to the murmur of a feeding chuckles from numerous mallards. They were rafting birds, over a mile away on the big, shallow lake.

A glance at my watch indicated 4 am, plenty of time to locate the blind in a good open water area. The sound of the birds and the damp smell of decomposing vegetation in the marsh provided a moment of solitude and reflection before the intense activity of setting up for hunting.

Pulling the willow stakes that held the boat blind was but the work of a minute. The shallow water, barely enough to float the Jon boat, bristled with chufa, millet and burr. Putting a shoulder to the corner of the blind, the boat made grudging headway against the riffle stirred by the gentle breeze. Ten yards, 20, 50, finally enough depth to push the blind using the antique hickory pole with the duck-bill end.

The wind was from the east, preceding a cold front with snow and sleet. A string of decoys was easy to set with wind pushing the boat at just the right speed. The placement of decoys was an individual thing. Each hunter has his own style. I would string several lines in a tight pattern and hook the end into a pipe bowl, placing the blind a few yards to the upwind side of the hook. The willow stakes, driven into the soft bottom held the blind securely. Another glance at the watch…5:45. I had time for a hot cup of coffee from the thermos before shooting time.

The unseen birds hurtled through the air above with a whiffling sound as wings beat the cadence. Now and again a soft whistle from a passing pintail or a chuckle from a mallard was distinct above the rustle of the winds through the will leaves on the blind.

The sky grew lighter by increments. In the east, lines appeared to rise from the dark water surface and bob erratically as they lifted higher. Individual formations of waterfowl on their early morning flights soon became distinct. In the distance, a soft rumble becomes a roar as thousands of ducks and geese, excited by contagious sounds of their brethren, began to lift off to continue on their path of migration.

How many times had I experienced this feeling of inner glow, in concert with all around me, senses tuned to every stimulus?

IDNR fisheries biologist Wayne Herndon weighs a large fish during TWI’s BioBlitz at the Dixon Waterfowl Refuge in June 2015. Thanks to: www.wetlands-initiative.org

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Wayne on the cover the Illinois Fishing Regulations & Information Guide. IDNR

The ritual of attending the last rites of a season, the death of a year? Such an intense experience cannot continue indefinitely. Perhaps the memories outshine the doing, but at least, they will continue. Even though opportunity declines with a dwindling resource, many more potential users are in the marsh each year. At what point does the inferior quality of the experience outweigh the philosophical need for a closeness with natural circumstance?

For those of us that have experienced the glory days of the fast fading waterfowl resource, perhaps that time is upon us. Even though I still revel in the pleasures derived from seeing waterfowl in natural surroundings, some tarnish is present when one considers what no longer is observable. As recently as 30 years ago, one backwater lake (Chautauqua) held three times saw many ducks in one day as were present during peak migration on the entire Illinois River in 1987.

What we have known in the past is what our expectations are built upon. Perhaps this is the reason that today’s waterfowl hunters are of a young median age. Those of us that have been around for a while have decided to hang up the old double barrel while we can cherish experiences of the not too distant past, and at the same time, encourage today’s waterfowl hunters to build their own memories.

IDNR Capitol Outdoors - Illinois’ waterfowl

IDNR Fisheries biologist Wayne Herndon has seen and done a lot during his 45-year career. Over that time, he has seen changes in technology and management strategies. IDNR is grateful to Wayne, and the other biologists like him, who devote their careers to the care of our natural resources.

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