Taking aim at waterfowl committee

The Migratory Waterfowl Art Committee knows it is being laughed at.

It has heard the snickering. Seen the heads shaking in disbelief.

"We have a Migratory Waterfowl Art Committee? What do they do — paint decoys?"

That's usually followed by: "What a waste of taxpayer money."

It's OK. Water off a duck's back to them. They've heard it all since 1984, when three duck hunters sat down over coffee in Richland and agreed that what this state really needed was its own official aquatic fowl art.

Only now it's the governor blasting away at them like a shooter in a blind.

"It's time, past time, for us to mess with the status quo!" Gov. Chris Gregoire declared the other day (which as a side note was roughly her 14,600th day working in state government.) She handed out a plan to kill off 154 state boards and commissions — including the Migratory Waterfowl Art Committee.

Once again, laughs all around.

"Some of these commissions, no one knows what they do," Gregoire taunted. "That ought to be a red flag right there."

It's a "no-brainer" to get rid of the Migratory Waterfowl Art Committee, a newspaper editorial scoffed, "in these tough times."

So who are these butt-of-jokes? What do they do?

And how did they react to news they were being put to death?

"Again?" said Johnny Walker, 57, a call-center worker from Monroe, when I told him the duck-art committee he'd founded was on the kill list.

"I'd say this is the third or fourth time in 20 years we've been on this chopping block," said Don Kraege, waterfowl-section manager for the state Department of Fish and Wildlife.

Turns out the waterfowl-art committee is a bunch of Ducks Unlimited and Audubon Society types who turn a profit for the state. Nearly $2 million has rolled in to state coffers from the sale of duck art and collectible stamps since the mid-1980s.

The all-volunteer committee meets three or four times a year, usually by phone. Annual expenses are $1,000. The members choose a waterfowl painting to be featured on Washington state duck stamps. Then they negotiate deals with art galleries and publishing companies for the sale of larger, limited-edition prints.

Last year the waterfowl-art sales brought in $23,000. One year the committee enlisted the famed nature artist Robert Bateman and raised $350,000. None of this money is from the purchase of duck-hunting licenses; it's purely from duck art lovers and stamp collectors.

The profit goes to preserving wetlands and wildlife habitat.

So why kill an all-volunteer program that helps make the state money?

"That's what we ask every time they try to eliminate it," Kraege said. "I think it all comes down to the name. It's an unusual name. It's not obvious what they do. People hear it and say 'oh, that's ridiculous. Why do we need that?' "

Walker, who has served on this committee for all 24 years, shrugs it off. Warding off foaming politicians appears to be part of his unpaid job.

"I guess I'll drive down to Olympia again to explain what we do," he said. "That's worked in the past."

Gregoire made a big deal this week about how reforming government ain't easy. It takes courage, she said.

The state employees' pension system is $5.9 billion in the hole. Dealing with that would be hard.

But going after the volunteers for the Migratory Waterfowl Art Committee? That's duck soup.

And pretending it means something? Chicken ... poop.

Danny Westneat's column appears Wednesday and Sunday. Reach him at 206-464-2086 or dwestneat@seattletimes.com.