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51 °F Forecast | Road Cams Thursday, November 25, 2004 Today's News | Classifieds | Autos | Homes | Jobs | Tempo | Health | Community | Home Delivery SECTIONS Home Page Local News Sports Business Obituaries Life Opinion - Politics Tempo AP News Weather Classified Archives Site Map SPECIAL SECTIONS Since We Asked Outdoor Journal Menu Guide How To Guide Wellness Connection Readers' Choice Real Estate Showcase Joy Magazine Homelife Magazine Wedding Guide Passport to the Rogue Valley EXTRA Newspaper in Education Personals Movie Times TV Times E The People MARKETPLACE Find a Car Find a Home Find a Job Classifieds Place an ad eSouthernOregon Automotive Communities Entertainment Publications Recreation Calendar CUSTOMER SERVICE Frequent Questions Advertising Information Home Delivery Employment Contact Us Media Kit Network Affiliate Oregon Road Conditions & Cams Email Story to a Friend November 18, 2004 Hooking a duck on a fly By MARK FREEMAN Mail Tribune PORT ORFORD — It was simply one of hundreds of casts meant only to flick a little green fly into the Sixes River for its fresh fall chinook salmon last week. Cast after cast after cast. Just one moment in the careful combination of speed, timing and power needed to haul a weighted line, leader and fly the necessary 60 feet through a coastal breeze in hopes of hooking a chinook. But this particular cast generated the best tug on my fly line that day, yet the fly never hit the water. A raft of ducks, flying low like fighter jets strafing an enemy supply train, came charging downstream just as I sent that one cast forward. As my line unfurled, it whacked one of the ducks in the flock. The line wrapped around a wing and a leg. The reel’s drag lurched forward as the bird’s inertia yanked on the line. The remaining ducks continued their flight downstream, but this one flopped instantly to the water. Advertisement I had hooked my first duck on a fly. "Oh, man," moaned fellow fly-fisher Bob Staysa, who was casting 10 yards downstream. "That’s the second time that’s happened down here this year." Thankfully, the fly didn’t stick. The line somehow untangled from the bird, sagging safely into the river. And the duck bobbed in a soft river eddy, with that AFLAC look on his face trying to comprehend just what the heck was going on. "He’s lucky," Staysa says. "You’re lucky." After a few moments of confusion, the duck fluttered its wings and kicked its legs, like some pre-flight check. Then, with wings flapping wildly, it beat feet across the surface of the Sixes, running and flapping on top of the water about 100 yards upstream. It’s amazing that encounters like this aren’t more common. Ducks, by nature, tend to soar when migrating. They most often are out of shotgun range, let alone fly-rod range. But they act differently around rivers, regularly flapping just a few feet over streams as they skip between holding and feeding spots. The low flight-plan is more than simply conserving energy, says Pepper Trail, an ornithologist at the U.S. Fish and Wildlife’s National Forensics Laboratory in Ashland. Trail says hugging the water helps ducks avoid predators, particularly peregrines that will pluck a duck from the sky much like my fly did — with a single, violent burst. "Peregrines are unlikely to hit a duck that’s a few inches over the water," Trail says in a later interview. "If they hit it, the duck goes in the water but the peregrine does, too, and they’re not equipped for that." And the lower Sixes, where the small stream meets the sea on the north end of Cape Blanco, seemed like a perfect hunting zone for peregrines. I spied one earlier that morning, perched on a Cape Blanco State Park sign not 20 feet from the road. It sported the tell-tale hood, large body and piercing now-that-you-see-me-I-have-to-kill-you eyes. I rolled up my window. A week earlier, Staysa says, he and a few other fly-fishers watched two peregrines dive-bomb kingfishers along the same beach where we were fishing. As Staysa recounted the scene, my duck remained in the upstream still-water. He appeared to be pondering how he got separated from his universe, where his buddies were and how he could somehow make everything go back to the way it was. "Ducks don’t strike us as being highly intelligent," Trail says. "They probably do pretty well with instinctive behaviors. "There’s book smart," he says, "and then there’s life smart." The duck’s whacked wing apparently stopped smarting a few minutes later. Time to make his move. He broke into a downstream sprint, the water’s surface his tarmac. He quickly popped airborne, remaining just a few feet over the river’s surface. For 80 yards, he kept his water-skimming profile while heading back into casting range. At 20 yards away, the duck pulled back on the stick. He shot skyward, leveling off about 60 feet over my head. He soared by, his yak yak yak offering a distinct middle-feather salute my way. When he cleared the line of four fly-fishers casting in the pool, the duck dove back to his regular anti-peregrine altitude, eventually disappearing around a downstream bend. "Well," Staysa says. "Who ever said birds can’t learn?" Reach reporter Mark Freeman at 776-4470, or e-mail [email protected] Mail Tribune Home Local News | Sports | Business | Obituaries | Life Opinion - Politics | AP News | Archives | Site Map E Southern Oregon | Classified Copyright © 1997-2004 Mail Tribune. All rights reserved. Privacy Policy | Terms & Conditions Website Feedback ADVERTISERS A D V E R T I S E R S SPECIAL SECTIONS Auto Finder Job Finder Home Finder Joy Magazine Homelife Magazine Tempo Readers' Choice Real Estate Showcase Since We Asked Outdoor Journal Moving to Southern Oregon? Volunteer Opportunities