Spoonies Lives Matter: From Delta Waterfowl

Posted on April 11, 2016, 12:25 pm
32 secs

The horizon was a sea of amber marsh grasses concealing a seemingly endless array of small wetlands. My first trip to North Dakota — indeed my first time hunting the Central Flyway — was a stark contrast to the creeks, rivers and lakes to which I was accustomed in Pennsylvania. And as the sun rose, the teal flew. We’d already laid into two flocks when a third gathered across the grassland, dipping and diving as a single unit en route to us.

But when the birds banked, offering a perfect angle for the morning’s gentle rays, their greenish-black heads and white breasts revealed that these weren’t teal at all. No, even better: I was about to get a crack at my first northern shoveler! I picked out a drake, attempted to subdue the “first duck” shake coursing through my fingertips and swung ahead of its black, oblong bill. My first drake spoon tumbled to the marsh.

“I’m going to mount that spoonbill!” I exclaimed like a child to my companions, my excitement overwhelming any sense of humility.

 

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