More about the islands in Rips
The early years at Duck Island
At left are images of Duck Island going back to 1943 as recorded in Harold V. Owens' log. The top two images show ducks hanging after a hunting expedition. In the second row are photos of the camp being rebuilt in 1945. In the third row, the finished camp and at right "The Bluebill," the first big boat my grandfather purchased. Boats were both essential and an on-going headache. They seemed forever under repair and often failed at crucial times. Because the river was nearly four miles wide in the Lake St. Francis area, it was crucial to have able boats and a requirement of my grandmother Nellie Owens, who was not eager to be drenched in rain or overwhelmed by storms. My grandfather was proud of the Bluebill, but it consumed may hours of my father, Jack's and Joe Hart's time. Being handy with tools and motors was essential, and power boats of that era were a bit like today's computers. You need to be part mechanic and a practicing engineer to keep them going. The Owens' family lived north of Utica and visited frequently during the year starting in early May, ending in late November or just before the river froze. The camp was heated by fireplace and was often very chilly.
Above: Peter at Duck Island, 1953. My first trip to the island was in 1951. My grandfather wrote: "Peter baptized himself at Duck Island by falling into the river the first day. Went in all over and was one wet kid. No harm done, otherwise, and he got his lesson quickly and good. Never shed a tear."
It was May 17, and the water was cold! The perch fishing was good, however!
These were rugged sportsmen who loved to hunt ducks and catch fish. But during the summer, families and friends came to the island to swim, fish, and enjoy the often hot weather. Joe was a fine cook, especially of fish dinners which he served with his famous "whipped potatoes," mashed with onions and gobs of butter. When the men traveled alone for hunting trips, they enjoyed raucous times, good whiskey, and rose at 4 am to set their decoys before first light.
During two trips in 1949 they shot 171 ducks. It was a time when the St. Lawrence was a major flyway and offered excellent hunting. Thirty years later duck hunting would decline drastically, and today two dozen ducks would be considered a remarkable "shoot" during an equivalent stretch.
Each of these men lived into their eighties but are now dead. I continue our tradition, as do my children, on Deschamps' island where I built a camp in 1981. Though I don't hunt and I fish only sporadically, I brought kayaks to the island long before they were common in the area and built a sailboat which I've used there for nearly twenty years.
During the 1940s and 1950s, the shoreline was largely undeveloped, and the bay where Duck Island was nestled was quiet. But by the mid-sixties, the shoreline near Duck Island became lined by summer houses and camps. Boat traffic in the bay increased, and on summer weekends, the once quiet river churned with recreational boat traffic. Harold and Jack began looking for more remote islands, and in 1967, the year of my grandfather's death, my father moved to Kit-Kat Island further upriver near a major wildlife area. Duck Island was sold, but the island tradition in our family continued.
More about islands...later years
Copyright Peter Owens, 2000
Contact: Peter Owens, powens@cape.com
Last revised: 8-25-2000