Stocking Birds Solves Nothing

There’s no game bird more ubiquitous in the American West than pheasant. When I was a youngster, an iconic decal of a flushing, long-tailed pheasant seemed to decorate every camper or trailer. The West was thick with pheasant.

Which makes the bird a peculiar icon since they are not native to North America. It’s similar with rainbow trout — there was usually a decal of a leaping rainbow on the other side of the camper door —  which are iconic to, but not native, Montanans.

Both species are generalists introduced to new habitats by experimenting humans, and they took to their new homes. Since they aren’t native, the new Montana Fish, Wildlife and Parks plan to release captive-bred pheasants isn’t the disaster it could be, but is another disappointing move by a state wildlife agency that has long been regarded as one of the nation’s best.

I learned of the state’s non-stock policy for trout in Montana rivers while I was still just learning to fly fish in my native place: California. Phrases such as “wild trout” and “native species” were new to me when I learned of Montana’s no-stock approach. It forever reconfigured my thinking about wildlife conservation.

Wild is something special. Stocked? Not so much.

For as long as I’ve paid attention, Montana pheasant were also wild. They also seemed plentiful, and I say that having hunted mostly west of the mountains. Once, on a drive back to Kalispell from a Great Falls soccer tournament, I drove my passengers to distraction, noting aloud every roadside pheasant we passed as we hurled north through Fairfield and Choteau. 

I was somewhere north of 50 when I was asked to please count to myself.

On the west side, pheasant are harder to come by. That’s partially a function of the density of humans west of the mountains, which makes it tougher to find open land to hunt. 

I’ve hunted the public ground around Kalispell and it largely consisted of long walks carrying a gun. The dogs enjoyed the workout, however, and the Blasdel and Flathead waterfowl production areas were close enough that it didn’t matter. If I really wanted to kill birds, however, I had to either drive south around the lake to Ninepipe, or back over the mountains.

The FWP rationale is that these stocked birds will be easier for newbies, and that will mean better recruitment and retention in the ranks of hunters. That’s a load of hooey. The real rationale is that stocked birds are easy. Habitat and access protection are not.

Easy, however, does not translate into recruitment and retention. It translates into people looking for something easy. Getting up at 4 a.m. to drive over Marias Pass for a day’s hunting is the opposite of easy.

I’m sure some will be happy with the suddenly plentiful, but stupid, stocked pheasant west of the mountains. But I doubt these are the sort we can count on to reverse the trend of declining hunter numbers.

I’m not an anti-stocked-birds militant. I hunted stocked birds when I lived in Idaho, during the first season of my first bird dog’s life. We both learned some valuable lessons that fall. For instance, I learned to trust that dog’s nose. If Jack said there were birds, he was nearly always right.

I also learned that it was a lot more rewarding to watch Jack hunt up wild birds — sharptail in Idaho, pheasant in Montana, quail in Arizona. I’m on my third bird dog now, but if we spent all our time chasing stocked birds I doubt that would be the case.

Youth hunters probably benefit from a stocked bird hunt the weekend before the season, but otherwise, this is mostly a Band-Aid, one that will undermine long-term efforts to boost hunter numbers. The money is better spent on access and habitat.