I haven’t duck hunted in decades but this year my son took up the torch and his forays into the marshes have me thinking about ducks.

Everyone has their favorite duck. Most hunters consider the mallard the king of ducks because they are plentiful, large and near the top of the good eats list, at least as far as ducks can get up that list. Others would vote for the male wood duck because of his flamboyant coloration, though I think the hooded merganser gives the woody a good run for his money in that regard.

My hands down choice for the king of ducks is one you rarely hear about these days, His Majesty the canvasback.

I’ve only seen a couple canvasbacks in my whole lifetime but they are unforgettable. The large, all white body contrasted by the black breast and rump and topped with the rich, deep red head is nothing short of striking.  In flight the canvasback shows more white than any other duck.  Most of all, though, it’s the sleek profile of the head. All other ducks have a high, rounded forehead but the canvasback’s head neatly transitions straight back from the bill giving it the look of a rocket ship. And a rocket he is, having been officially recorded at 74 mph, the fastest of all waterfowl.

The canvasback hasn’t always been hiding in obscurity.  In earlier centuries he reigned undisputed king. His flesh was considered unequalled and topped the menus of all the high class restaurants. His wintering grounds were the coastal areas in and around Chesapeake Bay where single flocks were measured by the mile. Market hunters with their boat mounted, cannon-like punt guns slaughtered them by the millions to feed our insatiable appetite for them.

According to my ancient bird bible, “Birds Of America,” their superb flavor was due to the nearly universal winter diet of wild celery, an aquatic plant that bears no resemblance whatsoever to grocery store celery. They can dive thirty feet down to pluck this delectable.  According to the book, in their summer breeding grounds of the upper Midwest and far north they do not eat wild celery and their distinctive winter flavor is absent. In fact, there (back when ducks were hunted year around) the locals preferred mallards. The canvasback is so intertwined with wild celery that its Latin species name is a derivation of the scientific name for wild celery. The common name of canvasback comes from the fine, dark vermiculation on its white back feathers resembling the undulating weave and color of canvas.

Like so many others before and after, the canvasback could not stand the relentless hunting and by the end of the nineteenth century they were nearly gone. They’re a tenacious lot, though, and with the end of market hunting they began a strong comeback but it wasn’t to be. Their primary nesting grounds are the prairie potholes and sloughs of the northern Great Plains. Now our appetite was for land and we drained their nesting ponds. Canvasbacks were again in dire straits but they marched on, resettling in the vast river deltas of the sub-Arctic.

They just can’t get a break, though. Now the aquatic vegetation in the Chesapeake Bay region they so much depend on has all but disappeared. Some hangers-on in that area have switched their diet to clams, a most unlikely adaptation. Most, though, have changed their winter grounds to the large, plant rich lakes and rivers of the Lower Mississippi River Valley of the south central states.

By virtue of sheer tenacity the aristocrat of ducks is again staging a comeback. In the 1980s they had declined so severely they were on many states concerned species lists.  Now in the 21st century canvasbacks are once again wearily trudging up the comeback trail, all the while muttering, “Geez, what are they going to throw at us next?”

Over the last few years they’ve shown significant population increases, however, they still remain the least numerous of all our ducks. And with their shift to the Mississippi Flyway to the west of us it’s unlikely they’ll ever be a regular visitor here in Michigan.
Carpe diem.