Dennis Anderson: It's another masterpiece for the Hautman brothers

NEAR BUFFALO, MINN. – Armed with binoculars and cameras, as well as shotguns, the brothers Hautman — Joe, Jim and Bob — settled in Saturday morning, bulrushes concealing their location.

Among the three, they've won the federal duck stamp contest 10 times, a feat unequaled among family members elsewhere, and as light gathered across the eastern treetops, casting willy-nilly a shadowy panoply of subtle colors, each could have imagined the scene someday being rendered on canvas.

Minnesota's most famous wildlife artists were now comfortably in residence on this opening morning of the state's waterfowl season, with their eyes to the sky, on the lookout not only for birds but for inspiration.

"Out front,'' Bob said, and he and Jim crouched low in the dank marsh foliage.

A short distance away, on a small, shallow lake, a dozen or so decoys bobbed; attractants, the brothers hoped, for a first-morning flight mix that would include blue-winged teal, wood ducks and mallards.

Distinctive by their large size and methodical wing beat, the birds approaching now were mallards.

The Hautmans needed no one to advise them when to shoot; they've spent a lifetime of autumn mornings together, and each is well-practiced in the fine art of distance assessment.

Rising as the birds appeared overhead and touching the triggers of their 12 gauges, Jim and Bob targeted the bird whose flight path angled nearest them.

Cartwheeling, the duck arched to its demise.

This was a drake mallard whose eclipse plumage made him barely identifiable from a hen.

Yet to the trained eye, the bird was distinguishable enough.

And the Hautmans have no shortages of trained eyes.

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The sons of an ardent duck hunter — Thomas "Tuck'' Hautman, who died in 1995 — Jim, Bob and Joe are as comfortable dressed in camouflage, cradling Benellis, as they are in their studios, flanked by easels.

Or in Washington, D.C., being feted by federal officials and waterfowl painters nationwide.

The brothers' talents — their paintings have also appeared on some 50 state wildlife stamps — can be traced to their mother, Elaine, a professional artist who nurtured creativity in all seven of her children.

But it was Tuck, a hunter whose passion was Leech Lake in autumn and the rafts of migratory bluebills it once hosted, whose 1950s-era oil-on-canvas painting of five canvasbacks in flight hinted early on of the career path three of his sons would follow.

Career paths from which each has played hooky in recent weeks, camping and hunting in Montana instead of painting.

"We've been hunting out there every year for about 15 years,'' Bob said. "A friend got us started, and now we make it an annual thing.''

Sleeping in tents, the brothers hike the mountains, bows in hand, hoping to arrow an elk or deer. To fill the camp pot, they hunt grouse. For relaxation, they fish trout.

This year, Joe killed a bull elk, dropping it at 40 yards, his angle of aim perhaps aided by the doctorate in theoretical physics he holds from the University of Michigan.

Now on Saturday, as light gathered fully around the brothers' blind, a smattering of ducks was airborne. Some were wood ducks, some mallards.

But remarkably, no teal, not a one.

"There's some more hoodies,'' Jim said, referring to the many hooded mergansers that had taken wing after sunup.

To some, the mergansers — which are legal to shoot but technically aren't ducks — might appear to be wood ducks in flight, or maybe fowl of another species.

Perhaps confused identification of these birds accounted for the considerable gunfire the brothers heard soon after dawn Saturday.

Or maybe more ducks flew over other hunters than flew over the Hautmans.

Which was fine by them.

Though practiced competitors — few contests of any type are as head-to-head challenging as the federal duck stamp contest, which each year draws some 200 entries — the brothers' demeanors afield suggest a natural humility; reflective, perhaps, of their appreciation of nature's complexity, and their roles in it.

In the distance, a pair of drake wood ducks pitched and wheeled as they bee-lined for the brothers' decoys.

As one of the woodies passed overhead, Joe peeled it off.

When the partner bird banked for a second look, he dropped it as well.

The morning ended with six ducks in the bag, three mallards and three woodies.

Each was retrieved by Del, a black Labrador who volunteered his services to the Hautmans for the opener, his splashings into the small lake and returns with the brothers' downed birds part of the morning's good hunt, and therefore also a work of art.

Dennis Anderson • danderson@startribune.com