How to tell the story of Louisiana’s fading coast? This one started with some wooden ducks.

The tale of Louisiana’s triumphs and tragedies along its fading coast could begin in a million different ways. It just so happens that this one started with some wooden ducks.

It became something much larger, providing visitors with a wide-angled exhibition of where coastal Louisiana has been and how it will disappear if nothing is done — all from within a historic building in the heart of the French Quarter.

But first there were those ducks — carved throughout the decades in line with tradition in south Louisiana, telling their own unique story about the state’s disappearing wetlands. They were donated to the Historic New Orleans Collection on the condition that some would always be displayed.

Renovations to one of the collection’s buildings in the Quarter forced curators to ponder how to do that in a different space across Royal Street.

The answer, said chief curator Jason Wiese, was to zoom out and tell the whole story of the coast — at least as much as could fit in the relatively tight confines available in the 19th-century building. That would allow the ducks to be displayed in their “cultural and geographical context,” he said.

“These really come out of coastal communities and traditions of coastal communities, so maybe begin there and tell a bigger story about Louisiana’s coastal region,” Wiese said as he showed off the new exhibition. “So that was kind of the beginning of this idea.”

The result is “A Vanishing Bounty: Louisiana's Coastal Environment and Culture," a permanent exhibition recently opened at the organization’s building at 520 Royal St.

'The hero's journey'

It happens to be both timeless and timely. Since taking office in January, Gov. Jeff Landry has provoked worry among many concerned about the land-loss crisis over his approach to the issue.

One of Landry’s proposals is to merge the state’s coastal authority with its energy offices, which many feel would force decades of restoration efforts to take a back seat.

He has also sent mixed signals over support for the biggest-ever coastal restoration project, the Mid-Barataria Sediment Diversion, which is opposed by commercial fishers in the area where it is being built. Many scientists and coastal advocates say the unprecedented project is vital, calling it a solution that works with nature to build land.

The concept for the collection’s exhibition began to take shape before that and could not be considered political. But Wiese acknowledged the concerns, and noted that the end of the show includes a nod to the state’s Coastal Protection and Restoration Authority.

But before it gets there, a complicated story unfolds, beginning with a video montage of scenes from coastal Louisiana, including the obligatory alligators, pelicans and shrimp boats.

Along the way, there are some literal moving parts, for both kids and adults to learn from, conceptualized by exhibition designer Cecilia Moscardó. A native of Spain, Moscardó said she was able to envision it as an outsider unfamiliar with Louisiana’s coast might, an important consideration given that lots of visitors to the collection are tourists.

Her designs include a playful exhibit allowing visitors to trace the life of a crawfish — “like the hero’s journey,” she says.

'Not really on land'

One highlight is a display of a large folio of a rare second edition of John James Audubon’s “The Birds of America," encased in glass and protected from ultraviolet light as much as possible to preserve it, notes head preparator Joseph Shores. The oversized pages are turned occasionally to display a different bird — a process that requires two people to do carefully.

There are also some coastal curiosities, including one of the bowling ball-sized globs of pine needles that Hurricane Camille’s winds created in 1969 and a nutria cookbook from 1963.

Near the end, the ducks make their appearance. Such wood-carved ducks, some extraordinarily lifelike, originally had practical purposes as decoys among hunters in Louisiana’s wetlands. Decoys are now usually cheap, plastic models, but the tradition of craftsmanship remains, now mostly for artistic reasons.

The ducks on display date to 1925, and while duck hunting may not seem directly connected to coastal issues, the link is strong. Ducks have always been attracted to south Louisiana due to the state's expansive marsh habitat — which has now been disappearing for decades.

A final section in the exhibition notes projections of extreme land loss in the near future and the history of hurricanes that have wrecked the coast. But it also seeks to end on a positive note, highlighting the contributions to salvage what’s possible to save by a range of organizations, including the state’s CPRA.

“We wanted to talk about things like climate change, like coastal land loss, and bring those into the picture, because coastal communities are going away, unfortunately,” Wiese said. “Just to begin to build awareness about that stark reality we thought was very much part of the story.”

One visitor to the exhibition on a recent day said it helped tie together why there is so much attention to land loss in Louisiana.

“We’re not really on land,” said Regie Eastman, 57, who was visiting from Scottsdale, Arizona. “We’re on silt from the river, which is scary and I think explains the concerns about land.”