2 Outdoor Nebraska—1947

Clyde A. Colley, of Fremont, has taken over the duties of State President of the Izaak Walton league. Mr. Colley was elected to office during the state convention last fall. He came to Nebraska from Joplin, Missouri, six years ago, and is now the manager of a Kresge store in Fremont. A keen observer of wildlife conditions, Colley has lived in eleven states. This has enabled him to obtain an accurate picture of game conditions on a national basis. In an interview Mr. Colley disclosed that he believes the greatest need of conservation in Nebraska is for sportsmen to be educated to the idea that the Game Commission cannot accomplish the entire function of wildlife conservation. "The Izaak Walton League offers an opportunity for serious minded persons to actively participate in constructive conservation work by helping to provide more game and fish under sound and intelligent management practices."

Dr. C. C. Lillibridge, of Crete, retiring State President of the Izaak Walton League has been an active member of that organization for 22 years. Dr. Lillibridge declined the position as state president due to his election last fall to the Unicameral. He is still an active Waltonian, however, being a member of the Executive Board in the national organization. He was president of the Crete chapter for four years and served as state president for three. During his administration as state president Dr. Lillibridge was instrumental in the organization of 16 new chapters in the state, and saw the state membership grow from 500 members to 3,350. An ardent sportsman with a keen interest in conservation of wildlife, Dr. Lillibridge will serve the conservation cause by promoting beneficial legislation in the Unicameral.

THE COVER FOR THIS ISSUE

Persons who attended the State Fair last fall and visited the Game Commission's exhibit will recognize the scene on the cover. The mounted specimens on the book cover, reading from left to right are: Sora rail, pintail, and mallard. On the front are a sandhills muskrat and a paid of wood ducks. Small frogs placed in the pool between the miskrat and the male wood duck tried to jump into the sandhills lake painted on the background. Under flood lights real marsh vegetation grew during the exhibition and the sagittaria (at back of male wood duck) blossomed.

CONTENTS

Open Letter to Nebraska Sportsmen Levi L. Mohler P 4 From Pelt to Penthouse Editorial P 7 The Fabulous Pelican Rod Amundson P 9 Center Spread: Winter Game Trails Photos by H. Elliott McClure Better Pictures Editorial P. 14 Hunters Do the Darndest Things Duke Lamster P 17 Dear Joe: Rod Amundson P18 Why and How to Protect Our Birds Bill Laux p 21 Prairie Dogs as Pets H. F. Dale p 22

STAFF

PAUL T. GILBERT Executive Secretary SUPERVISORS John S. Burley, Accounts and Supplies Glen R. Foster, Fisheries Division Lloyd P. Vance, Game Division Levi L. Mohler, Pittman-Robertson SUPERINTENDENTS Gerhard Lenz, Gretna Hatchery H. C. Howard, North Platte Hatchery Frank Weiss, Rock Creek Hatchery Jack Mendenhall, Valentine Hatchery S. E. Ling, Norfolk Game Farm Grant McNeel, Arbor Lodge Park D. C. Short, Chadron Park H. E. Jones, Niobrara Park Paul R. Heil, Ponca Park Geo. Markhofer, Stolley Park C. O. Williams, Victoria Springs Park John J. Tooley, Supt. Forestry L. M. Snodgrass, Supt. Construction Paul Todd, Supt. Fish Salvage CONSERVATION OFFICERS H. Lee Bowers, Benkelman Loron Bunney, Ogallala Edward M. Cassell, Steele City L. J. Cunningham, Hay Springs *William R. Cunningham, Lincoln A. O. Edmunds, Grand Island H. B. Guyer, Niobrara Lee Jensen, North Platte Rudy Johnson, So. Sioux City A. G. McCarroll, Cody Harold Miner, Allen *Roy Owen, Crete *George Rishling, Benkelman Ben Schoenrock, Grand Island William G. Schultz, McCook C. W. Shaffer, Columbus George Weidman, Gering * Special Investigator. BIOLOGISTS Walter Kiener, Aquatics James Ager, Minden, Restoration Project Leader Don Davis, Holdrege, Restoration Project Leader Edson Fichter, Lincoln, Fur Resources Survey David Damon, Lincoln, Quail Survey John H. Wampole, Grant, Waterfowl and Deer Survey.

4 Outdoor Nebraska—1947

DEAR NEBRASKA SPORTSMAN:

December, 1946 This morning we have been reading the remarks on hunters' report cards from today's mail, and we found one remark which should be answered in particular. This particular hunter, who killed eight pheasants and ten ducks in 1946, remarks, "Pheasants and most birds decreasing terribly; I favor an investigation," etc.

The Nebraska Game Commission, charged with the responsibility of running the state's game and fish affairs, realized years ago that investigation of such affairs was needed, but that's as far as such thinking went until about six years ago. At that time the Commission hired three men and gave them the specific assignment of getting the facts on game birds—pheasants in particular. (Pittman-Robertson funds made such work possible).

These three men, plus a half dozen others who have had similar jobs since the work began in 1941, have been busy the past five years doing the job to which they were assigned. It's true that the war interrupted the plans for some of this investigational work, but from one to six men have been on the job at all times since the beginning. That they are still on the job is an indication that the Game Commission believes game management should be based on sound information rather than upon pressure, politics, and guess work.

Writing long letters isn't my dish— I'd much rather flush sharptails along the Dismal river, watch pheasants in the early morning sun or check bobwhites in the hedgerows. But, since you and thousands of other outdoorsmen are vitally interested in what makes a hunting season "tick" I'm going to set down a few points which game investigators in Nebraska and other states have brought to light.

You'll understand recent developments better if we first understand the past, so let's take a peek at Nebraska's pheasant history, stocking, population changes, kill records and open seasons.

1. Pheasant Stocking in Nebraska

A few pheasants, probably from Kansas stocking, began showing up in southeastern Nebraska in the period 1900-1904. About 1909, and for years afterward, private individuals raised and released a few pheasants. Then, from about 1915 to 1925, the state brought in small shipments of pheasants and released them. None of these early releases were large and it appears, from what the early records show, that not more than 500 pairs of pheasants were brought into Nebraska from the outside.

In 1926 and 1927 the game department moved about 45,000 wild pheasants from central Nebraska to other parts of the state. An additional 13,156 wild birds were moved from the same area in 1934 and released in six southeastern counties where pheasants were, and still are, quite scarce.

The state game farm released its first stock after the 1937 open season and during the ten years from 1937 through 1946 has raised and released over 110,000 pheasants. Sportsmen released over 40,000 birds which they raised in cooperative pheasant rearing units in the period 1939-42.

Early in 1943 the Game Commission moved over 800 wild pheasants from the Valentine National Wildlife Refuge and released most of them in Dodge and Cuming counties.

2. Population Increases, Estimates and Trends

After the introduction of pheasants into central counties the birds increased quite well locally and, of course, began to spread or occupy new areas. Pheasants were plentiful enough in the early 1920's that hunters and farmers began to consider the possibility of an open season on these birds.

In 1933 the pheasant population was estimated in millions. Then in 1934 and 1935 the drouth came along and pheasants became less plentiful in some areas, and "OUTDOOR NEBRASKA" in the summer of 1935 mentioned that while pheasants "are not as numerous in the central part of the state as they were several years ago, they have greatly increased in other sections."

In 1936, after the roughest Nebraska winter in over sixty years, the Game Commission asked conservation officers to check the spring breeding population  

as closely as possible. March and April estimates placed the breeding numbers at 1,300,000. In the fall of 1936 the state's pheasant population was estimated at 3,300,000. In 1942 field studies indicated that in good areas the population exceeded 300 pheasants per section of land.

While 1942 is generally regarded as the top pheasant year, 1943 was even better in some areas, but for the state as a whole the pheasant population has probably declined from 1942 to the present.

The drouth was blamed ten years ago and everything under the sun has been blamed in 1946—but serious consideration of all known facts makes one doubt whether man could have prevented either the increase of the early 1940's or the decrease of 1946. However, intensive land use in recent years of high prices and good rainfall coupled with fast-moving power machinery for working summer fallow ground, cutting of alfalfa hay, etc., was undoubtedly detrimental to pheasant nesting success in many areas.

3. Open Seasons

Twenty consecutive pheasant seasons are now history. The open area increased from two counties in 1927 to state wide just ten years later, and seasons have varied in length from three days in 1927 to 80 days in 1944 and 1945, with all counties having either 45 or 52 days open in 1946. Only cock pheasants could be taken legally in the 1927-28-29 seasons; one or two hens were allowed in the bag in the seasons of 1930 through 1941; from 1942 through 1946 only cocks have been legal game.

4. The Kill by Hunting

Estimates of the annual harvest were published for 1927, 1933 and 1937 and hunters' report cards have provided kill records for the past six seasons.

In 1927 the first open season yielded an estimated 25,000 pheasants in the 3-day season in Wheeler and part of Sherman counties. In 1933 the Game Commission estimated the annual kill around 200,000 and this jumped to 450,000 for 1937. The calculated kill was about a million annually by 1941 and by 1945 it was about two million. It will probably approach two million again in 1946, the increased number of hunters making up for the smaller number killed per person. By filling the gaps between the early estimates it is possible to estimate the all-time kill for 20 seasons and this adds up to over 13 million. And that, my friend, is a lot of birds whether they are placed end to end, piled in the bag, or skinned at high noon.

5. Where Do We Go From Here?

So far so good, but what about the future ? That is where we can make use.   6 Outdoor Nebraska—1947 of the information picked up in the past several years. Put everything together —past increases, stocking, harvesting, plus the 1946 season and its headaches, plus all that is now known about how pheasants get along, and we get a summary of the situation something like this:

1. Nebraska's millions of pheasants came from introduction of a small number of birds.

2. The natural increase from these birds was great enough to provide statewide pheasant hunting within a few years after the first local areas developed high populations.

3. Until perhaps 15 years ago pheasants were increasing in areas already occupied and were spreading into new areas not previously occupied. This continued even later in some areas.

4. Natural spread was so phenomenal that local set-backs went practically unnoticed.

5. The game farm wasn't put into operation until pheasants had became statewide residents. Several good pheasant counties in the state have never received pen-reared birds of record.

6. Whether open to hunting or closed to hunting, and whether birds were released there or not, the pheasant population improved in most of the state in favorable years and fell back some in poor years.

7. Until the last few years the number of pheasants harvested made little more than a dent in the wild population, and before 1946 hunters in central areas almost always found all the birds they wanted and more too.

8. The supply of cock birds in Nebraska has never been depleted to such an extent that there was a shortage of breeding males. The moderate harvest in most areas, the high losses of hens from causes other than shooting, plus the fifty-fifty sex ratio in the new hatch, keeps the sexes surprisingly well-balanced.

9. Nobody has yet brought in a pheasant egg which proved to be infertile and which was known to come from an area lacking breeding males.

10. With adequate cover, tests in other states have shown that it is impossible for sport hunting to harvest enough cock pheasants to interfere with breeding and reproduction in the following year.

11. Early returns of 1946 hunters' report cards show that the average bag was about 10 or 12 pheasants in the 45-or-52-day 1946 season compared with 16 to 19 pheasants in recent 70 and 80 day sessions. This is a most interesting return and shows that pheasants not only could be taken but were taken in 1946. But, the hunter who expects more and more birds every successive year got the surprise of his life!

12. The length of the season is a convenience for harvesting and does not influence the next year's pheasant crop so long as only male birds are shot.

13. The bag limit does not determine the total kill so long as it is somewhere above the number usually taken in a day's hunt. The average day's hunt gives the average hunter three pheasants or less no matter whether the bag limit is 4, 5, or 7. (The bag limit may have a good or bad psychological effect but hunting time and bird supply still determine the actual bag).

14. When Pheasants are plentiful hunting pressure goes up, and when they are scarce it drops off sharply.

15. Future pheasant regulations should attempt to do two things: (a) Insure the carry-over of adequate breeding stock to produce the next year's crop, and (b) permit the harvest of surplus stock by recreation hunting.

16. Given a break by the weather and by land use pheasants will probably pick up again in areas where they have slumped recently. Not being a prophet we could be wrong in such an expectation, but don't give up on pheasants just because of one slump. After all, ups and downs are typical of wildlife populations and since they can't go up forever, we'll have to expect a "down" occasionally.

This has been a long letter, but your pals can fit their pheasant hunting problems into the above and receive some consolation even if they didn't kill seven birds per day in 1946. So long until next season, and remember, the Gtame Commission will be watching things all along, but even the Commission can't control natural conditions in the outdoors nor dump pheasants into a road hunter's back seat!

Yours for happy hunting in 1947, Levi L. Mohler Director of Investigations

Outdoor Nebraska—1947 7

From PELT TO PENTHOUSE

(Photographic materials and models courtesy Cadwalladers, Lincoln.)

Walk into a Park Avenue fur dealer's in New York, or a fur house in Chicago, Los Angeles, Hollywood, Omaha, or Lincoln, Nebraska, and ask to see a mink coat. You will be shown some of the less expensive numbers hanging on racks on the sales floor, or higher priced models on shapely manikins, or you may be invited into the recesses of a fireproof, moth-proof, moisture-proof, air-conditioned, burglar-proof vault where you will see row upon row of elegant garments made from rich man's fancy and poor man's dreams.

If you have entered this den of luxury with the intention of buying, be prepared to make with an air of hardened nonchalance when you hear prices quoted in the realm of five, ten, fifteen, and twenty-five THOUSAND dollars. Mink coats are expensive, with a reason.

During last year's trapping season 824 Nebraska trappers caught 14,120 mink whose pelts brought about $353,000 into assorted hip pockets and billfolds. When you consider that a good mink pelt brings from $25.00 to $30.00, and it takes 75 of these to make a standard size coat, you begin to see why the price tag runs into four or five figures. Assume that a good mink coat is made from 75 pelts Which netted the trapper $30.00 each. There is an original cost of $2,500.00—just for raw materials.

A substantial hill for labor and processing must be added after the local buyer has bought and sold again, at a profit, the raw furs. They must go to a tannery which specializes in the treatment of mink furs. The tanners bill will amount to over $100.00. Comes now a process which makes sorting, grading, and tanning seem elementary. When the garment manufacturer receives the tanned furs they will measure from 16 to 20 inches long. Cutters and sewers, who have spent years learning their delicate art, take a single 18-inch pelt and transform it into a beautiful, color blended strip of glamour 36 to 42 inches long. The cutters slice the pelt length-wise into strips one-eighth to one-fourth inch widths. These are then staggered and sewn together again with a delicate stitching machine. Carelessness in this operation by taking up too much margin in the stitching would result in expensive waste. The labor bill on cutting and sewing can add up to $1,000 of well earned money.

Now, a few incidentals. Buttons or fastenings, for instance. These probably won't come to more than three or four dollars. The coat must be lined. Now that pure dyed silk is again available you   8 Outdoor Nebraska—1947 can count on a lining bill of about half a $100 banknote. It takes three and one-half yards of this expensive material to line a coat. And who would want a mink coat lined with shoddy material?

Although mink coats are usually associated with pearl necklaces, diamond shirt studs, theater foyers and penthouses, the market for them is nationwide and ever expanding. So the price is high. There are few garments more exotically beautiful than a mink coat. Beauty alone is not the reason for the value of mink. Because of the animal's year around activity and aquatic habitat, it develops a thick, water-proof underpelage and beautiful silken guard hairs which make the garment look and wear like the Rolls-Royce of motordom. When you consider that a good mink coat, properly cared for, will last a lifetime—well, perhaps you could consider it an investment.

The trapper who purveys his fall catch of mink hides to a local fur buyer may never see the day when the little woman will flaunt these furs in the form of an evening wrap, but who knows—those rather smelly, wrong-side-out skins may some day grace the glamorous shoulders of a Garson or a Grable! Moreover, the pocket money from the sale of the skins is not to be snubbed.

Despite the glamour and high finance of the mink industry, the muskrat is even more valuable as a fur bearer. 3,869 Nebraska trappers last year caught 304,500 muskrats whose furs sold for more than $600,000. The total value of muskrat furs equals the value of all other furs put together. This may be said of the entire fur industry in the United States.

Muskrat skins go into garments after processes which rival those of the mink. Here again labor is a costly item. A coat made from muskrat fur does not have to give a lot of shoulder room to a mink coat in any powder room. The aquatic habits of muskrats make their fur resemble that of the mink in beauty and wear. The same idea applies to the beaver, the seal, and the rare otter.

The darker, longer-haired river muskrats serve womanhood in the form of natural-colored muskrat coats, while the cinnamon colored sandhills cousin of the river muskrat, with its thick, waterproof underpelage, is sheared, plucked, and dyed to produce Hudson seal, a beautiful imitation of the true seal.

Federal law now requires that the accepted name of the animal from which the fur is made to be incorporated into the trade name of the fur garment. If the wool is to be pulled over your eyes in the form of a fur coat, the wool must be labeled as such. The skunk, for example, has been de-perfumed, sheared, plucked, rubbed, dyed, and glamorized into a host of different garment varieties, yet the label on the garment must needs end with the word "skunk." Examples of this are: "Sable-dyed Skunk," "Martin-dyed Skunk," and so on. A skunk, by any other name . . smells . . . but not in a fur garment. Modern processing has almost altogether removed the odor from skunk fur, even in damp weather. That is an achievement when you consider that mercaptans, the product of the animals' scent glands, is detectable by the human nostril in the proportion of one part to several billion parts of fresh air.

The rabbit, or coney, as the fur trade calls it, may well be called the great imitator of the fur world. There are four general categories into which rabbit furs are divided, and each of these contains infinite possibilities of imitation and nomenclature. The Lapin type is sheared close and dyed or printed to imitate leopard skin. Fancy a rabbit being mistaken for a leopard! The Seal type is sheared to a medium length and dyed to resemble sealskin. Beaverette is medium sheared coney dyed to resemble beaver fur. The Sable type is left unsheared and colored to mimic rare sable.

All in all, the trapping and sale of raw furs in Nebraska alone add up to well over a million dollar industry, and each step in the processing from pelt to penthouse involves untold millions more. Well worth some intelligent management these fur-bearers of ours.

Outdoor Nebraska—1947 9

THE FABULOUS PELICAN

By Rod Amundson Illustrated by Dick Van Horn

There is a small island about an acre in size in the middle of Medicine Lake, Montana, that is aptly named Bird Island- Here I watched a colony of nesting white pelicans rear their young from hideous downy bumpkins to full grown adults. There is something fascinating about these great birds. They certainly are not beautiful. Sitting on the water or waddling along the land they are ridiculous clowns. The droll beak, with its huge mandibular pouch doesn't add to the dignity of the bird. It seems always to be held in an uncomfortable position.

To get back to the island on Medicine Lake—the islet is at least two miles from the nearest shore, and for that reason it is a veritable nesting paradise for waterfowl. In the spring it was literally impossible to step anywhere on the stony soil without infringing on the property rights of a tern or a gull, a cormorant, or a pelican. The deafening noise of the old birds, and the young, screaming for food, or just screaming, could be heard for miles over the water on a still day.

My first visit to the island was with the idea in mind of banding as many young birds as could be caught readily. The terns and gulls had completed their nesting season and were using the isle for a resting place. Unfortunately none of the bird bands we had were big enough to go around the enormous tarsi of the young pelicans, and we had to settle for a dozen or so young cormorants that had gotten a late start in life.

We could smell the island for some distance before our outboard nosed up to the gravel shore, and by the time we stepped out of the boat the stench was revolting. It took several minutes for our nostrils to become deadened to the smell.

I shall never forget the sensation of handling a young pelican. They were in the downy-pinfeather stage, and the mixture of immature plumage felt not unlike the skin of a newborn lamb. The amazing thing, though, was the feel of the bloated, spongy skin over the back and under the wings. It made a squooshing sound under pressure of our hands. Since the birds smelled strongly of fetid amphibia, and we couldn't band them anyway, we didn't handle them very long.

To add to the riotous odor of the island, the young pelicans performed an act that made our senses reel. Apparently the youngsters had been well fed not long before, because when we stepped ashore from the boat they were so gorged with partly digested salamanders that it was literally impossible for them to get the front part of their bodies off the ground in an effort to escape. That condition was short lived. Without further ado, all of the fifty-odd birds began   10 Outdoor Nebraska—1947 disgorging the contents of their gullets in reeking piles on the ground until they had jettisoned sufficient cargo to enable them to get the front part of their bodies off the ground and make for open water. With a pinched nose and an eye to food habits research, I counted 85 immature salamenders in one reeking mass.

A similar ballast-heaving activity occurred several days later when we encountered the bevy of young pelicans out on the water a half mile from the island. We circled the boat around for a closer view in order to take a count of the birds. This caused them to stretch their ridiculous beaks out over the water and try to out-maneuver the boat. We noted that the birds lay singularly heavy in the water with a sharp forward list. When we got close enough to them to give them cause for real alarm, all of the birds repeated the disgorging we had observed on the island. Riding at least two inches higher in the water, the young birds set out to break all speed records for webfoot swimming.

White pelicans fly through Nebraska spring and fall during the migration periods, and hundreds of them spend the summer in the sandhills lakes, notably on the Valentine Lakes Waterfowl refuge. There is no recent record of these great birds nesting in Nebraska, the summer residents probably being non-breeders who like to feed in the shallow lakes of the sandhill area. I spent no little time observing pelicans during the summer of 1936, and was rewarded with two sights fantastic beyond description.

Being very gregarious, pelicans are known to cooperate in community fishing projects. One forenoon on a narrow bay at Pelican Lake I watched a flock of about 200 execute a very adroit fishing maneuver. The birds formed a continuous line from one side of the bay to the other, and began swimming slowly toward the end of the bay. As they approached the shore in a semi-circular formation the whole troup began swooping the water with their huge beaks, scooping up hundreds of salamanders and minnows. This was accompanied by much splashing and flapping of wings until either the pouches were filled or the prey had escaped to deeper water. The whole operation was carried on much as a seine is pulled in to shore with a haul of fish.

Late that same summer Dr. Ward Sharp, then manager of the Valentine Lake Refuge, and I saw another pelican phenomenon which neither of us will ever forget. One breathelessly still afternoon in late August we were walking along the shore of Marsh lake watching the flock of pelicans which had been summering on the refuge. We noticed a rushing, whispering noise high in the air, much like the sound one often hears in a hail-bearing summer cloud. After considerable searching we were able to discern hundreds of pelicans soaring at an almost invisible height. The whirring sound must have come from their wings. A moment later all of our summer flock of pelicans took off from the water and began a circling flight to gain altitude. As they gained height they began to soar with the birds above them. By the time they reached the flock of newcomers the whole aggregation had drifted'off to the south. That was the last we saw of our pelicans that season.

Although an awkward, ridiculous bumpkin on the water or on the ground, the pelican becomes a thing of beauty in the air. With his huge, five-foot body and nine-foot wingspread, it is not amazing that he has a rough go getting into the air. A couple of pounds of fish in the forward hold doesn't decrease the difficulty.

Headed into the breeze, the pelican begins his flight with outstretched beak and ponderous Tieaves of his huge wings. This gets him into forward motion, and as his speed increases his body lifts from the water enough to permit the wide, webbed feet to be kicked backward into the water in perfect rhythm with the wing beats. Each kick sends him a little faster into the wind. Finally, leaving a series of splashes behind him where his feet have kicked the water, he is airborne. Once aloft the pelican ceases to be a ridiculous clown. He takes on the easy grace of the soaring eagle.

While stationed on Cat Island, off the   Outdoor Nebraska—1947 11 coast of Mississippi, I used to watch the white and brown pelicans that were spending the winter in the warm gulf waters. Most of them were quite tame, and seemed to spend hours sitting asleep on piling and fishing wharfs. At feeding time, which seemed to be anytime during daylight hours, the birds flew along over the water at an altitude of about fifty feet, turning,their pendulant beaks this way and that in search of fish. On spying one the birds simply quit flying and plummeted straight down into the water with a resounding splash. More often than not the dive was successful.

Often the birds followed the Army Q-boat which transported us to and from the island. Chunks of bread or candy bars brought on a vivid closeup demonstration of dive-bombing pelican style, which was a never-ending source of delight to the GIs aboard. Yes, a wonderful bird is the pelican.

According to federal figures, the bullsnake destroys more duck eggs annually on waterfowl refuges than all other predators put together. Crows, coyotes, skunks and raccoons are especially fond of duck eggs, fresh or incubated.

Most predatory wild house cats get that way by being turned loose as kittens by kind-hearted people who drop them off along the highway rather than kill them.

E. Sidney Stephens, chairman of the Missouri Conservation Commission, in an address to the North American Wildlife Conference in New York, pointed out that foxes living alongside deer do not rob chicken roosts. Deer, Stephens said, shed their antlers, from which moles and mice extract lime, and once saturated with calcium, these rodents, which are the choicest food of the fox, satisfy Reynard's craving for calcium and leave him content not to risk his life in a hen house raid.

    READING CLOCKWISE FROM TOP LEFT. PHEASANTS DIG OUT EAR OF CORN PRAIRIE CHICKENS ROOSTED BEHIND THIS RUSSIAN THISTLE GROUSE MAKES 3' THREE-POINT LANDING IN SNOW COCK AND HEN PHEASANT LEAVE CHARACTERISTIC TAIL MARKINGS AS THEY ALIGHT IN SNOW LACK OF FOOD AND COVER KILLED THIS BIRD PHEASANTS AND RABBITS BEAT DOWN THE SNOW NEAR A PLUM THICKET PHEASANTS PACE BACK AND FORTH LOOKING FOR WAY THROUGH WOVEN WIRE FENCE PHEASANTS CAME TO THIS PILE OF CANE TO SCRATCH AND FEED

BETTER PICTURES

Here Are a Few Down-to-Earth Rules Which Will Help You Make Better Snapshots in the Field.

There has never been any accurate estimate made, but if all the snapshots taken during hunting and fishing trips were laid end to end—there'd be miles and miles of film stretching across the landscape.

One reason why so many pictures are taken here in Nebraska, as well as in various other parts of the country, is that picture taking's fun. Another is that snapshots help keep pleasant memories alive by enabling us to show the big fish that "didn't get away"—or, possibly, that ten-point buck we nailed down in Halsey Forest.

But when it comes to picture taking, most people who take their camera afield make a number of basic mistakes. Some of these are technical and concern exposure, focusing, camera steadiness, etc. But from the standpoint of picture interest and pictorial values, there are other mistakes which are more frequently made and which, in some cases, are more serious. These include:

1. Lack of proper composition. 2. Failure to select a suitable background, . or camera viewpoint. 3. Picture taking from too great a distance. 4. Allowing the subject to always look directly at the camera.

How can these pictorial faults be corrected? Here are some tips that may help you to get better pictures:

Composition All other factors being equal, composition is the trick that lifts a snapshot out of the ordinary into the unusual. Proper focus and correct exposure are fundamental. Without them no picture can hope to be good. But, given proper focus and correct exposure, two pictures of the same subject may vary from mediocre to excellent, depending on how they have been composed.

  Outdoor Nebraska—1947 15

To rush into a subject on which books have been written, pictorial composition depends largely on arrangement. The position of your subject, first in the camera's finder and then on the film and in the print, determines your composition. You, yourself, control this either by moving the subject or by changing the camera position to vary the viewpoint.

To get good composition in your snapshots, give your main subject the dominant point of interest in your picture. You can do this without much trouble if you can imagine two horizontal and two vertical lines which will divide your picture area into horizontal and vertical "thirds." By arranging your picture so that the major element falls where any two of these "third" lines cross, or, in other words, by arranging your picture so that the center of interest is located a little off-center, you'll be almost certain to produce better than average compositions.

But don't spot your main subject, or anything else, directly in the center of your snapshot. That doesn't lead to good composition. You'll get a snapshot, of course, but pictorially your picture will be weak.

Backgrounds and Viewpoint How you picture a subject is, of course, almost as important as what you picture—and that's where backgrounds and viewpoint come in. The choice of a bad background or a poor viewpoint can easily offset the appeal of a fine subject.

The best backgrounds, of course, are the simplest. The sky, a plain stucco wall, are good examples. By choosing a low point of view to show your subject against the sky, or by posing your subjects before a plain wall, you can be certain that you'll center all interest in your subjects themseselves.

If you don't watch your backgrounds —or if you choose a poor viewpoint which contrasts your subject with a jumbled background—many strange effects may result. In some cases telephone poles, trees, or branches may appear to be growing from your subject's head or shoulders. In others, criss-cross lines or a jumbled pattern may upset your entire composition. So, for better pictures, get into the habit of always looking beyond your subject and of choosing a point of view which will make your subject stand out clearly and simply against the background.

If you can't avoid a jumbled background, focus critically on your main subject, and then use a large lens opening—with, of course, a commensurate shutter speed—to throw the background out of focus and concentrate all interest on the major subject.

Picture-Taking Distance Chances are that if you're like most amateur photographers you do your picture taking from too great a distance. When snapping your friends you probably stand 10 to 12 feet distant—and sometimes more.

Well, that's all right in some ways, but from the standpoint of really good photography it's bad business on several counts. First, your camera is almost certain to take in lots of unessential landscape in which you have no particular interest. Second, you're standing so far away you're missing the expressive little details in face and features that make your friends interesting to you. And, finally, you're not able to create as dramatic and interesting pictures from such distances as you can if you work somewhat closer.

Circumstances may, of course, differ from time to time and subject to subject, but in general a good picture-taking distance for informal snapshots of people is five to six feet. You'll have to focus your camera sharply on the subject, to be sure, but then if Jeff is exhibiting his pheasants, or Jim is showing off his big fish, you'll be able to clearly see what he's doing and how he's doing it, without having to guess or explain.

Two good rules to remember in this connection are these: (1) Close-ups are   16 Outdoor Nebraska usually more interesting than long or medium distance shots; and, (2) the proper picture-taking distance is that from which you can make your subject fill the frame of your viewfinder and look exactly as you wish to see it in the finished print.

Posing Your Subjects Most people, when preparing to take pictures, ask their subjects to "stand over there and look at the camera." As a result most snapshots look as if they were featuring the hapless victims just a moment before the firing squad cut them down.

That's acceptable on occasion, of course, but for the most part your results will be far happier if you avoid such "firing squad" poses. In fact, your snapshots are pretty certain to be better pictures if you make a conscious effort to avoid such obviously posed and stilted groupings.

To improve your pictures, do this: first resolve that each of your snapshots will tell a story. Second, either picture your subjects while they are in action, or pose them so that they look as if they're in action, or as if they are unaware of the camera.

For example, if you and Jim are fishing, picture Jim while he's casting, netting a fish, or battling a big one. If you and Jack are pheasant hunting, picture Jack as he brings out his dog, prepares to shoot, moves in while the dog is on point, and as he accepts the bird the dog has retrieved.

That's a simple thing to do, but by doing it—-and by making the pictures you take in this fashion either close-ups or medium distance shots—you'll be taking a big step forward photographically. That's because pictures that tell stories, and present a dramatic point of view, and are also well composed, are of interest to everybody. But just a straight snapshot of somebody standing and looking at the camera is of interest to very few.

So don't limit the interest of your pictures. Take the time to plan and compose them—to make them the best you know how—and you'll get a better record of your hunting and fishing trips and you'll have better snapshots, too.

Editor's Note: Amen to all of this. And when you get that story-telling picture, send it in arid we will use it!

Outdoor Nebraska—1947 17

HUNTERS DO THE DARNDEST THINGS!

By Duke Lamster

Hunters are a sub-species of the two legged mammals which inhabit this earth and are called men. They come in assorted sizes and colors. Their range is from the South to the North Pole and back again. They are good and bad, big and little, thin and fat, rich and poor and their skins are red, white, black and yellow. In certain respects they resemble ordinary human beings, but don't let that throw you, there is a difference, a big difference.

When a man grumbles and mumbles at buying a car license, but happily digs down in his jeans and deposits a fistful of greenbacks on the counter for a hunting license, he is a hunter. His dress suit may be a little tight and somewhat frayed and threadbare here and there, but his hunting clothes ? Ah, they are the best, the very best. Five dollars for a white dress shirt is downright robbery, but ten bucks for a hunting shirt? Well, that is different, that's all just different.

Getting up at 6 o'clock in the morning to mow the lawn or hoe in the garden is ridiculous. Didn't Lincoln free the slaves ? But rolling out at 4 a. m. on a frosty morning to go duck hunting, now there is some sense to that.

He picks up a little sparrow with a broken wing and tenderly nurses it back to health. Florence Nightingale had nothing on him. Then he grabs his terrible instrument of destruction, the 12 gauge shotgun, and goes utterly berserk, murdering pheasants, ducks and geese and what - have - you that are unlucky enough to get within range of his weapon. It isn't Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, it is just Mr. Hunter.

The little woman's washing machine is in pretty bad shape. Should have a new one by all means. However a little welding here and there and a new part or two puts it in fairly good shape again. At least she can use it for a while yet. But when the old shotgun begins to go haywire, plunking down $75.00 for a new one is just a matter of course. A fellow has to have a gun doesn't he?

Mr. Hunter, you rave and tear your hair at the sight of the meat bill. Those butchers should carry blackjacks and wear masks. Just think of the saving on the meat bill when you bring home game birds to eat! Beefsteak at the local market is fifty cents a pound, but, brother, those ducks cost you at least five dollars a pound and you know it!!!

The little wife has to beg you on bended knees to go down to the corner grocery store, it is only four blocks, and get a loaf of bread. Yet you tramp through a jungle of weeds, in mud and snow, rain or shine, out hunting and think nothing of it. In fact it was great sport, and you had a swell time. Why? Because you're a hunter.

Fixing a flat tire on the highway in the rain is a swell way to catch double pneumonia and you mutter a lot of things you didn't learn in Sunday school while doing it. Yet you sit for hours on end in a cold, damp duck blind with a raw northwest wind blowing down your neck and call it sport.

Your better half brings home a silly little hat with a five dollar price tag on it and you voice your disapproval in no uncertain terms. Something about people who go around throwing away hard earned money for such doodads. But when you return from a two day hunting trip that set you back twenty-five dollars and proudly lay two little wet, bedraggled Blue Winged Teal at her feet, you expect her blue eyes to open wide and words of praise and flattery to pour forth upon your waiting ears.

The children really have a job on their hands when they try to get you out of your easy chair for a walk through the park on a nice sunny Sunday afternoon. But you yell with delight and skip madly over a couple dozen mountains hunting for deer. Shucks, nothing to it!

See what I mean? Hunters do the darndest things. God bless 'em!—South Dakota Conservation Digest.

What Happens Here Shouldn't Happen Even To A Dog Like Brownie

By Rod Amundson

Dear Joe: I promised that I would drop you a line about the duck hunting trip you missed out on and you missed a good one. If you had been along I hope you wouldn't have missed as many good ones as I did. Good shots. I mean.

Well, Joe, I always did say that you can't hit 'em if you can't see 'em and it is very hard to see 'em in a fog. Thanks for letting me use your field glasses and also your double-barrel. The glasses are still in the repair shop, and I think you can still use the gun, although you may have trouble getting the shells out of it. The safety catch sticks a little too, but it will work if you force it.

H. C. is out of the hospital now, and the medics think that they have got all the shot dug out of him, but he doesn't think so, and it doesn't pay to argue with the sawbones as I found out when I got the bill. But I had better start from the beginning, having gotten the worst of it off my chest.

H. C. picked me up about four o'clock Wednesday morning and it was still dark when we got out to the blind. It had stopped snowing but it got foggy by the time we had the decoys set out, and we could hardly see more than two rods in any direction. We figured that there wouldn't be much shooting on account of the fog would keep the ducks pretty well grounded. H. C.'s dog Brownie kept sniffing and wagging his tail as if something were coming in and we both got our guns in position and waited but nothing happened until Brownie ran growling out of the back of the blind and came back yelping. He sure looked whipped when he came back, because what he smelled must have been a skunk, and he smelled something awful. Brownie, I mean. I wanted H. C. to send Brownie back to the car, but he said that Brownie was a good dog even if he didn't know a skunk from a tomcat, and we would need him when the ducks started coming in. I figured that the ducks wouldn't be coming in unless they were equipped with radar and could fly blind.

About that time some characters in a blind about a quarter of a mile away started opening up with everything they had as if they hadn't heard that the war was over, and pretty soon we heard the whistling noise that pintails make with their wings and about six pintails came sizzling by. Brownie had been sort of keeping himself off in a corner of the blind like he was ashamed of his terrible smell, but when the pintails came by and we didn't shoot, Brownie looked at us as if we didn't smell so good either. Those birds came out of the fog and flew back into it so fast that we didn't have a chance to shoot. But we were ready the next time they came by and we both let go. We must have both shot at the same time at the same bird, because only one fell and he was pretty well shot up. Brownie brought him in and dropped him down on the floor of the blind and we both grabbed for him and both let go at the same time. It was a merganser instead of a pintail so H. C. said it was my bird and I said it was his, and while we argued about it a nice bunch of mallards started to land among the decoys but our talking scared them away again.

Well, Joe, we got in a few more shots apiece after that but no more birds came in and so H. C. said that we ought to get the boat and try to scare up some birds in the clumps of bulrushes. He figured that the fog was so thick that we could get in shooting range by the time the birds would see us.

So we got in the boat with Brownie in the middle, smelling a little better for being in the water after our birds. We rowed out toward the middle of the lake but we didn't see anything so H. C. said he would row for a while. When we   Outdoor Nebraska—1947 19 came around the edge of a big clump of rushes there was a lot of squawking and splattering and a big flock of mallards got up. H. C. was in the back of the boat when I stood up to shoot. I got one the first shot, but I forgot about how tipsy the boat was and the recoil sent me over backwards and as I spun around the other barrel went off and H. C. let out with an awful yell that was partly muffled by cold water. Brownie went after the duck I hit and was trying to get into the boat with him but couldn't because the boat was upside down and H. C. was cussing and blowing water out of his mouth and nose. He held on to the seat of his pants with one hand and was fishing around in the shallow water for his gun with the other. I am sorry that I got your gun all wet but as you can see, it wasn't really my fault, although H. C. hasn't said a word to me yet even when I brought flowers to him in the hospital and had the night nurse fix roast duck for him the other night.

Well, Joe, I hope you can go with us next year, although H. C. will probably want to go by himself or with someone else. I can't figure out why he is so sore as it could have happened to anybody. I will pay you back the shells I borrowed as soon as I can get some. Well, you missed out on a good hunt, eh, Joe ?

How many, What kinds of Duckus, Geese Bagged? f = How many Cripples lost? 1 I Compared with Last Year Waterfowl Numbers were: 1 1 More Less Same I E Shooting Grounds (Check One) 1 1 Public Commercial Private S 1 Where you hunted How many days I (State) (County) I Comments: Date I Name Address.. ATTENTION DUCK HUNTERS! The U. S. Fish and Wildlife Service needs information on last fall's waterfowl kill in order to more efficiently manage these species. Clip the form shown above, fill it out and send it to: U. S. Fish & Wildlife Service, Merchandise Mart, Chicago. If you need more space accompany the form with a letter.

20 Outdoor Nebraska—1947

IN THE MAIL BAG

Grand Island, Nebraska Mr. Paul Gilbert Chief Conservation Officer State House, Lincoln, Nebr.

Dear Mr. Gilbert: I am enclosing three pictures I took of my old dog and a blue goose cripple that I picked up. The dog was forever wanting to play with the goose, but the goose didn't seem to see things that way. I would talk to the dog and not let him harm the goose, and the old Blue soon got so he about ruled the ranch.

Picture I shows the dog just going up to the goose, with me doing plenty of talking to keep him from hurting it. No. 11 shows the dog just about as close as he could get without starting something, and No. Ill shows that something has started. It was a lot of fun to watch, but it took a lot of talking on my part to keep the goose from getting hurt. As you can see, the dog is backing water, though he apparently does not like the idea of not being allowed to close in and make the feathers fly.

Yours truly, Art Edmunds

Outdoor Nebraska—1947 21

WHY AND HOW TO PROTECT OUR BIRDS

By Bill Laux

Throughout all seasons of the year the birds of Nebraska have many difficulties to battle against in order to survive. In the spring when the young are being hatched rainy weather, winds, and cold snaps cause the death of many young birds. Probably at this time of the year the common house cat accounts for the lives of more young birds than all of the hazardous weather conditions put together. It is estimated that, on the average, they destroy about fifty birds apiece each year, and that there are at least 25,000,000 cats in the United States.

During the fall and winter, life is probably the most difficult, even for our winter birds. When food is already scarce and snow and ice covers up what is left, thousands of birds have been known to perish during a single storm.

We now have found that our birds have many problems to face in order to live, not to mention the destruction which parasites, diseases, droughts and man's ability to build or destroy their environments.

Surely we should take it as our duty to protect our little feathered friends. The helping hand they give us by destroying weed seeds, rodents, and insects is difficult to estimate in dollars and cents. It is reliably estimated that throughout the farmland of the United States more than three hundred weed seeds per square foot are eaten by birds in the course of a year.

Birds are no less valuable as destroyers of harmful insects. Moths, caterpillars, army worms, plant lice, stink bugs, and many others are eaten in large quantities by one species of bird or another. It has been observed that a nest of robins or bluebirds by a garden spot will keep the garden almost entirely free of insects. Birds are of great importance in protecting trees from insect pests. They also make life much pleasanter for all of us by their beautiful colors and cheery songs.

There are many opportunities open to all of us to aid our little feathered friends. In the spring a few bird-houses set out will do much toward increasing the present bird population. Probably the most helpful work we can do is to feed our winter birds, thus increasing their scant diet. Illustrated are plans for a simple bird feeder which has proved very successful. The feeders should be placed several feet from the ground, preferably in a sheltered spot. Start feeding in late October and carry through until early spring. Never stop feeding after you have once started for if you do you will receive disastrous results. As the diet for different birds varies, different foods should be used. Suet makes a good substitute for insect-eating birds and should be tied to branches with wire, string, etc. Nuts, seeds, crumbs, cracked grains can all be put in feeders for weed-seed eaters. In return for whatever we do in this worthwhile cause we should receive a reward of satisfaction for having done a deed which will benefit Americans for years to come.

22 Outdoor Nebraska—1947

PRARIE DOGS AS PETS

By H. F. Dale Illustrations by the Author

Prairie dogs make the best pets of any animals he has ever owned, so says F. Hiner Dale, District Judge of Guymon, Oklahoma. The Judge has always been a lover of wild life and has had many pets from bears to guinea pigs. He has come to the conclusion that the Prairie Dog of the Plains is the most interesting of all and he speaks from experience. For over 40 years he has owned and dealt in prairie dogs. During the dry years, to make a living, he organized the "Great Western Prairie Dog Company" and sold prairie dogs in the east for pets at $5.00 a piece.

It is a common belief that owls and rattlesnakes live in dens with prairie dogs. This is untrue as they live only in abandoned holes of the dogs. If a rattlesnake intrudes into a den where prairie dogs are living, he is immediately entombed alive.

Judge Dale now ftas a colony of prairie dogs established on his beautiful Bermuda lawn, one-half block north of the post office building in Guymon, Oklahoma. They lie down by the fire and warm themselves. They will even crawl up in your lap and go to sleep. After the day's work is done, the last job of the Judge before retiring has always been to "Put out the cat." Now, before going to bed, the Judge's wife leaves him a parting admonition, "Be sure to put out the cat and dogs before you come to bed." The prairie dogs on the Dale lawn are pugnacious little animals and run off cats and small dogs that seem to interfere with their activities.

 

In a few more weeks the ice will be gone from the waters of the state and there will be hungry fish awaiting anglers who are already becoming impatient to get out with the rod and reel. The season is now open on all but trout. Devotees of trout fishing will get the go-ahead signal April 1. But for other fish that first whiz of the reel, that first "plunk" of the bait into promising water must wait only until the ice is gone and they start biting. Our next issue will be devoted to fish, fishermen, and getting the two together.

YOUNG NEBRASKA NIMRODS