Whether you’re a duck hunter or avid birder — or like me, both — April is arguably the best time to observe waterfowl. Longer days and retreating lake ice trigger that migrational urge northward to breeding grounds from here to the Arctic Circle. And just like spring turkeys gobbling or November bucks rutting all hours of the day, waterfowl don’t mind being seen, as the males of each species put their moves on any would-be mates.
As I’ve mentioned many times, there is far more to our hunting and fishing sports than shooting and catching, and a better understanding of these animals and their biology enhances the overall experience, not to mention improves our chances of putting a few in the freezer. For the duck hunter, it’s time to learn a thing or two you wouldn’t have otherwise observed through the goggles of tunnel vision when focusing on an incoming bird to make an ethical shot. For the photographer, it typically provides the best opportunities of the entire year, as ducks and geese sport their adult breeding plumage and are, for all intents and purposes, oblivious to our presence while they concentrate on making little baby ducks.
Let’s begin with America’s most popular waterfowl, the mallard. Driving along the bay this time of year can be dangerous for a guy like me. At certain times, the mallards seem to buzz around in numbers that would have made Hitchcock proud. But ever wonder why they seem to fly a little differently nowadays, and often in groups of three?
Normally, male and female mallards form their pair bonds from late fall through the winter, and when spring breeding begins, females (with their male suitor trailing behind) start looking for nesting areas. As this pair flies over a potential homesite, a male already there will fly up and either attempt to win her over or fly them off before hurrying back to his undefended female by the nest, creating what’s not-so-surprisingly called a “three-bird flight.”
Ducks are typically monogamous until after their mate has begun incubation of the eggs, so temporarily (maybe seasonally) monogamous might be a better description, though some males will wander, looking elsewhere for what is called “extra-pair copulation.” These flights can become very erratic and aggressive, appearing non-normal as males nip at each other and change speeds and directions. And they’re often comprised of more than three birds. I’ve witnessed a single female hounded by a dozen or more males as they spare her not a moment’s rest, occasionally forcing her to the ground and attempting to breed so forcefully as to result in her death. The reproductive urge among wild animals is unforgiving, at times.
Common goldeneyes are plentiful in our area and throughout the Great Lakes, often not migrating much farther south in the fall than necessary to find open water and food. Their stark white breasts contrast with dark green and black heads and bodies, making them stand out at great distances. Males employ more than 10 courtship moves to attract a mate, with the most noticeable being the head throwback, which then is thrusted up and forward while emitting a strange, shrill-type call that once heard, you’ll always remember, sort of like a woodcock peenting.
Many species exhibit close and aggressive swimming by both sexes, as well as versions of the head throwback. Hooded mergansers constantly swim by the female while bobbing their heads back and forth and erecting their large head crest to display a quarter circle of white outlined in black. But it’s their call during these times that is most interesting to me, as it again is something you’ll never forget where it came from. Try your best to imitate a large frog croaking in the lowest possible voice you can make, and draw it out for several seconds, and that’s the male hooded (I’m laughing if you all just did that).
A duck not so common to our area, the ruddy duck, swims around the female with his stiff tail straight up in the air as he pounds his wide, bright blue bill against his chest several times until it hits the water. Redhead pairs will mirror each other while swimming, heads down, until the male begins throwing his head back. My favorite part of their courtship behavior is also the call. Courting redheads on the water sound like a bunch of stray cats meowing. And if you’re lucky to see a flock of drake pintails chasing one brown female, you’re in for a treat as they acrobatically fly as close to her as possible, shaking their tails. When on the water, there is plenty of head bobbing followed by a tipping up of their long “pin” tails straight in the air, all accompanied by trilling whistles.
The overly abundant Canada goose is more truly monogamous, forming a pair bond that lasts a lifetime. Their courtship involves many forms of neck and head twists and bobs accompanied with raucous honking. Just before copulation, both sexes will repeatedly bob their heads under water until the female presents herself to be bred.
It’s easy to observe a turkey strutting and gobbling in April and know what’s behind it all, but the same courtship behaviors are going on among many other species of our local wildlife, some of the most noticeable and flamboyant being waterfowl. Spend some time in the marsh this month watching, listening, and snapping photos. Before too long, molting and brood-rearing will take over, and these beautiful animals will go from wanting to be seen to the exact opposite.