Michigan’s outdoor landscape is constantly shifting. While we tend to think of evolution as occurring over thousands, or even millions of years, a lot has changed since I started hunting and fishing in the 1980s. During that brief period, certain species have flourished, while others have diminished or disappeared altogether.
For instance, only a few decades ago, white-tailed deer and wild turkeys were a rare sight in my neck of the woods, and bald eagles were almost unheard of. And predators like wolves, bears, and cougars? They were nothing more than tall tales in the back pages of Outdoor Life.
Fortunately, that’s no longer the case.
Everyone loves a comeback story, and the Eastern wild turkey offers a fine example. In the early 1900s, unregulated hunting and habitat loss reduced them to near extinction in Michigan. Then, in 1954, the DNR trapped 50 turkeys from Pennsylvania and released them into the Allegan forest. The transplants thrived, and now over 200,000 of their descendants roam the Michigan woods.
As a gamebird, Meleagris gallopavo silvestris is both fascinating and frustrating. He’s wary, reclusive, and incredibly tough, and thus, difficult to hunt. I say “he” not because that’s the pronoun he prefers, but because toms are what we pursue in spring. In autumn, it’s open season on hens, too.
Bald eagles are another tale of triumph here in Michigan, but back in the mid-1900s, a pesticide called DDT caused populations to plummet. The chemical bioaccumulated in the fatty tissues of prey species, like salmon, and ascended the food chain into raptors – most notably, eagles and ospreys. DDT didn’t so much harm the adults, but it softened their eggshells, which led to chick mortality. By 1961, biologists counted only 52 breeding pairs of bald eagles in Michigan.
We were the first state to ban DDT in 1969, and since then, eagles have rebounded to the point that seeing one these days is almost an afterthought. They’re common along rivers and lakes here in the Mitten, and their numbers have multiplied to over 300,000 nationwide, with over a thousand breeding pairs living across our state. If still you’re struggling to see one, drop me an email and I’ll point you in the right direction.
To the untrained eye, an osprey looks a lot like a bald eagle. And like eagles, Pandion haliaetus populations were spiraling in the 50s and 60s due to DDT. After the pesticide was abolished, osprey numbers rebounded, and in 2009 they were removed from threatened status. With their barbed feet and dagger-like talons, ospreys are nothing short of fish-killing machines. Keep a sharp eye along rivers and marshlands and it’s easy to find one hovering and diving for prey.
In this era of ungulate plentitude, white-tailed deer are easy to take for granted, but back in 1900, Michigan’s population hovered at a paltry 45,000 head. That’s hardly the case, now. Today there are between 1.75 and 200 million of Odocoileus virginianus distributed across the state, and antler point restrictions (APRs) mean many of the bucks are wearing bigger racks than ever.
However, if you’ve ever experienced a car-deer accident, Michigan’s – ahem, bounty – may feel like too much of a good thing. Besides colliding with cars and trucks, the booming cervid population means a prevalence of diseases like CWD (chronic wasting disease), BTB (bovine tuberculosis), and EHD (epizootic hemorrhaging disease).
Black bear populations have risen 37% since 2012, with the latest estimates putting them at 12,000 strong, which has led to an increase in bear encounters. When I owned a cottage near Ludington, the bird feeders and trash receptacles always took a beating in spring, when bears were emerging from hibernation and establishing new territory.
Ursus Americanus preys on fawns, carrion, berries, and also scavenges for food in dumpsters along roadways. If you haven’t yet witnessed one in the wild, just give it time. Recently, a young boar wandered through my southern-Michigan subdivision on its nomadic journey downstate. As a kid, I never would have anticipated that.
Wolves are a heated, controversial topic. Some Michiganders call their resurgence a success story; others don’t want them anywhere around. Canis lupis was removed from the endangered species list in 2020, and at last count, the DNR estimated there were approximately 764 wolves statewide. That’s a sharp departure from the 1950’s census, when they were nearly extinct, aside from a spartan population scattered across Isle Royale.
Since this is my column, here’s my take. Like so many conundrums in life, the wolf issue isn’t black and white. As with politics, I see both sides of the coin. On one hand, wolves were here first, and they contribute to the wild feel of Michigan’s outdoor landscape. On the other hand, they’re fierce predators, deserving respect and caution from hunters and pet owners.
I’m not in favor of killing them off, but managing their numbers through hunting seems like a good idea. It’s a precarious balance, but wolves should view humans as a threat, not dinner. We can cohabitate, but we don’t need to cuddle.
Some Upper Peninsula residents insist that wolves are decimating the deer populations. That may be true locally, but as far as the situation is concerned statewide, please refer to the section above about whitetails. Remember, context is critical, and local statistics can skew an overall outlook. It’s food for thought, anyway.
Moving on to waterfowl, in the early 1900s, wood duck numbers had spiraled so low that hunting them was outlawed. By 1941, Aix sponsa was on the upswing, and the ban was finally lifted. Today, thanks to nesting boxes and habitat restoration, nearly 700,000 woodies call Michigan home. The wood-duck rebound is another amazing example of how local and federal funding can change the trajectory of a dismal situation when allocated correctly.
Woodies vocalize with squeals and whistles, but they aren’t known for responding well to calls. That said, floating quietly down a river in a canoe is a great option. That’s exciting news for jump shooters like me, who enjoy floating rivers and marshes for a chance at these colorful ducks. The limit on woodies nowadays is three per hunter, whereas years ago, it was two, which is great, because they’re some of the prettiest and tastiest waterfowl around.
The Kirtland’s warbler, or “jack-pine bird,” is rare, partly because its range is confined to the Upper Midwest and Ontario. We’ve inadvertently contributed to its decline by reducing forest fires and mismanaging jack-pine stands. For over 50 years, Setophaga kirtlandii was classified as endangered, but they were delisted in 2019 thanks to cowbird suppression and alternative forestry practices.
Lake sturgeon are also on an upsurge after decades of decline. Huso fulvescens can live between 50 – 150 years, attaining lengths of 4 — 7 feet long and tipping the scales at over 300 pounds. Better use braided line! Counterintuitive to their size, these prehistoric-looking fish vacuum small insects and crustaceans off the bottom. Thanks to recent conservation efforts, Lake St. Clair and the Detroit River system support some of the best self-sustaining sturgeon fisheries in the world.
As the saying goes, the only constant in life is change, and it’s a mantra that applies to hunting and fishing, too. Fortunately, there’s no shortage of success stories to celebrate these days, so head outdoors and enjoy.