OUTDOOR Nebraska

IN THIS ISSUE:

OUTDOOR NEBRASKA of the Air

Paddlefishing the Missouri

THE ROD was more like a billiard stick than a fishing pole, looking and feeling like it could take anything the bottom had to offer. The same was true of the line, 200 feet of 50-pound-test. Its business end was tipped with four ounces of lead and two treacherous-looking treble hooks. The reel, straight out of a Florida sport shop, was capable of whirring off 150 feet of line with business-like ease. All added up to the most impressive fish-getting outfit I'd had in a long time, one especially designed to snag giant paddlefish from the fabled Missouri River.

I was fishing in the Gavins Point Dam spillway on the Nebraska-South Dakota border northeast of Crofton with two "pros", Archie Prather, a retired sport-shop operator, and farmer Archie Elsberry, both of Wausa. The water below the dam was clear, and according to the two Archies, the place to take paddlefish. They knew what they were talking about. One day last July, they snagged four "spoonbills", with three of them pushing 45 pounds. Continuing on into the fall, they recorded similar lunkers, all just below the dam. When we tied up at a ring sunken into the dam's concrete wall a couple of Saturdays ago, I knew I was in the hands of experts.

For all practical purposes, we were deep-sea fishing, only difference being that the paddlefish, DECEMBER,1959   a plankton feeder, has to be snagged instead of hooked. And once snagged, the big slate-gray fish, with all the appearances of an ocean-going tacklebuster, takes off like a fast-moving freight. As a matter of fact the paddlefish, a throwback of the Stone Age, looks a lot like a shark.

As suspected, the paddlefish leads a rather docile life at the bottom of the river. His mouth revealing an intricate array of filters, the fish grows to tremendous size on minute water life. Bait or lures are out of the question. You have to snag them to creel them—no easy job as I was soon to find out.

We had been casting in deep water about an hour on the Nebraska side of the spillway. As long as we didn't go ashore on the Dakota side, our Nebraska permits were good. The same applied to the South Dakotans; their permits were good as long as they didn't set foot on the Nebraska side.

My shoulders were beginning to ache from making endless casts with the heavy rig. Two hands were required to manipulate the big glass rod. The cast, not unlike swinging a baseball bat, was child's play compared to the retrieve. Once the four-ounce weight had carried the line out and to the bottom, I began hauling it in, making a swift sidearm jerking motion everytime the line became taut. I knew now why Archie Prather had chuckled when I said that snagging would be easy. The treble hook that looked so big and capable in the boat was nothing but a small pin in a great big puddle.

I was able to reef the line about six times after each cast before the current carried it under the boat. With each jerk, I'd haul in line, then let the hook sink to the bottom before jerking again. Once, I thought I had the biggest spoonbill in the river. The two Archies had told me that it would feel like I had half the river at the end of the line when I latched on to one. That's what this felt like—until I found that I'd snagged the bottom, hooking on to a cable that had just enough give to tease me into believing I had a good-sized paddlefish. But snags like this were uncommon on the concrete apron of the dam 50 feet below the waterline.

No sooner had I cleared my treble than Prather had a big one going. But luck seemed to be against us, as his hook pulled loose. My treble bounced off the armored sides of two other fish. Once, after making a vicious snag, I found an inch-wide carp scale impaled on my hook. Having bounced off several fish, I began to realize why the rod was built like a billiard stick. With little play at its tip, it carried up vibrating messages from the taut line on the bottom.

Another hour of casting, and Elsberry and I needed a rest. Not so with Archie Prather; pushing 70, he was a perpetual motion machine, using only one arm plus body leverage to work his line. He did take time out for a cup of coffee before going at it again.

During the rest, Prather said that casting could be a pretty tough proposition since the hook is in a horizontal snagging position for only 30 or 40 feet of the retrieve. From there on in, the hook comes up at an angle, tending to turn the fish over without snagging it. He suggested that we try trolling, since the additional line dragging out behind the boat would place the hook in a better snagging position. There was one thing for sure, we would be covering a lot more water, and if we were going to get a spoonbill, we would have a much better chance zigzagging the 200-yard-square spillway area. Archie Elsberry wanted to get in a little bait fishing for pan-sized fish, so we took him down to his boat before moving out again.

Trolling, I found was 10 times harder than casting. It never ended till you either caught a fish or hollered "Uncle", and with Archie, that was out of the question. You had to keep reefing line everytime it became taut. The only time it was slack was when the weighted hooks sank back to the bottom. I began feeling like a Roman galley slave, with Archie as the taskmaster. He wanted a spoonbill and wasn't to be denied.

By 1 p.m., I was completely bushed and hungry as a bear.Comparing notes, Archie had added a 4 OUTDOORNEBRASKA   gar, a two-pounder, and a six-pound carp, and I two carp. Still no paddlefish, and Archie was worried that they'd moved out of the spillway. Both in need of grub, we headed over to Archie Elsberry's boat. Gilled at the end of his chain were six fish, including crappie, sauger, and channel catfish. We tied the two boats together and settled down to a muchneeded rest. There were quite a few people on the river, mostly older folks who came out for a few quiet hours of fishing that cool November day. A lot of them had houseboats, a fantastic array of floating shanties in all sizes and colors. A few were in outboards, and about 20 lined the South Dakota side of the spillway. A few had snagging outfits, but Elsberry said that few paddlefish had been taken there. Fishing there was mighty tough, though, since shore fishermen were snagging almost straight up. We hadn't tried the area yet, and Archie, gulping down the last of a sandwich, was anxious to see what it had to offer.

Once we beached Elsberry's boat, we headed straight for the Dakota side, and about 130 feet from shore, began trolling. All three of us took up the pumping motion with renewed vigor. My back didn't ache quite as bad and I was reefing the line in hard-swinging back thrusts. Prather, at the motor, continued his same steady pace. Halfway down on the fifth pass he cut the motor, and with a swift backward motion, set the hook on what was to be the biggest fish we would catch all day—a 27-pound paddlefish.

Landing the fish was a 10-minute battle. Archie was extra cautious, not wanting to lose what he knew was a big one. One look at the rod told that, for it was arced stiffly toward the water. The spoonbill made a break down-river, humming off larger chunks of line. In time, Archie began hauling in line, but when the spoonbill was halfway to the boat, it bolted again.After that run it was spent.

The big fish surfaced 20 feet from the boat, its 14-inch paddle piercing the water as Prather hauled it in. Archie had snagged the spoonbill in the back, the barb firmly planted in an inch of soft flesh. When the lunker got close enough, Prather told me to grab the bill and then get a firmer grip in the gill. Together, we hauled it over the side of the boat. Archie tied a rope through the scaleless critter's gill and dumped it in the river to trail behind us.

We weren't about to give up now. We lit out again, lines trailing out 200 feet behind the boat. It was my turn to snag a big one—a turn that wasn't long in coming. After our second pass in the same general area I hooked on to a 16-pound buffalo that took 15 grueling minutes to boat.

Elsberry, satisfied with his mess of pan-sized fish, was hungry for a big one. No matter how hard he tried, however, he couldn't connect as he had in past outings. Prather took the day's paddlefish honors an hour later when he snagged a 20-pounder in the tail.This one, though, didn't put up a fight.

We'd had enough. The sun was beginning to lean heavily toward the West. Three men were leaning a little, too, exhausted after 10 hours of fishing. We landed the boat about one-half mile below the dam on a smooth beach, and got the fish out where we could dress them. The boneless spoonbill is easy to clean. Prather cut a good portion of the tail off first, and allowed the fish to bleed thoroughly. Next came the head, cut far back behind the gills. Archie then got out a pair of pliers and pulled out a white, rubber-like tube from the back. It was fully twice as long as the 50-inch spoonbill. Once gutted, our 27-pound fish was a neat 17-pound package of tender-sweet white meat.

By 5:30, we were ready to head home. Believe me, we were three mighty stiff but satisfied fishermen. We didn't get our limit, but that really wasn't important. We had had a good day of deep-sea fishing in the middle of the prairie. What more could we ask for?

A Boy's First Gun

THERE IS something fascinating about the way a gun gives new meaning to a youngster's outlook on life. If you've ever watched the magic transformation on a boy's face as he handles someone's gun, you know what I mean. But even that look takes on added delight when he receives his own gun from his parents at Christmas.

The youngster's first moments of gun ownership are treasured ones. Eagerly, his young hands test the strong blue barrel. His happy eyes mirror future hunts as he smacks home the slick bolt mechanism. The heft of the gun feels good, the solid weight and balance of a treasure he had dreamed of are his.

Wrapped up in this neat package of wood and steel is something more than a piece of hardware. He knows, and you know that the gun is a symbol of responsibility and trust that are the makings of a man. He feels nine-stories tall. This gift, unlike the electric train and even the football that he had received in other years, is the magic instrument that opens a whole new world to him. It is his down payment on a heritage and a right to bear arms.

When was this boy old enough to own a gun? When is any boy old enough to take his place with others afield? Age in years is no yardstick. This boy could have been 8 or 18. Age in trust and age in responsibility are the real measures of gun ownership. One fact must be realized, however. A gun isn't given through trust alone. Responsibility is a two-way street, and is fulfilled only when you show the young man how to handle the gun safely. Anything less than this is a half a gift, one that could ultimately deny him all of the enjoyment of sports afield.

Safe gun habits and an appreciation of a gun's potential when developed in youth last a lifetime. And the time to train a youngster is when he receives a gun. Take him afield during Christmas vacation. During these sessions explain why safe backdrops are important. Show him how ricochets onhardsurfaces,especiallywater,canleadto 6 OUTDOORNEBRASKA   trouble. Tell him that a .22 is dangerous up to one mile.

Take him to a secluded spot and show him the frightening damage a lowly .22 can do by bursting a can of water with a bullet. Do it at close but safe range to emphasize the point dramatically. Show him how deep a .22 can penetrate a pine board.

Give the lad an intensive course in safe gunhandling procedures. Show him how the gun's safety works and how important it is to remove the shells when leaving the hunting area, or before putting the gun in the car. Tell him how guns stacked against trees have a habit of falling down and going off accidentally. Teach him to unload the gun and to lay it flat on the ground when he pauses to rest.

Once he becomes skilled in these basics, prepare him for hunting. Using your shotgun, show him how to lead game on the wing, but do this with an empty gun. Let him take a crack at clay rocks, again with an empty gun. When he's ready to fire, throw close but easy "bloopers" for him to hit. This builds up his confidence. In a matter of a few weeks you will have a skillful and confident gun handler.

There are ways for the non-shooting dad to set his son on the right path of being a safe gun handler, too. Local gun and sportsman clubs in your community will bend over backward to help. They'll explain, answer questions, and demonstrate safe gunhandling techniques. Maybe a local National Rifle Association instructor lives nearby; he'll be glad to help. Other good bets to contact would be the town's recreation director, the school's physical education director, a scoutmaster, or 4-H leader.

Owning and handling a gun in a safe manner is only part of the lesson. Teach the beginner that buying a hunting license doesn't give him the privilege to hunt anywhere he chooses. Tell him of the rights of others when he is afield. Again, by actions, show him that a high standard of conduct is demanded from him when he goes afield.

Whether a lad becomes a true sportsman or a game hog, a menace afield or a safe shooting companion, depends on you. Don't make the mistake of giving him a gun and letting it go at that. Make it a whole gift by giving him the know-how of handling the gun safely.

Turkey Timetable

NOTHING CAN quite match the thrill of sighting-in on the bobbing head of a wild turkey after a long painstaking stalk. Those that have hunted the bird are unanimous in classifying the wild turkey as the most cunning game bird going, game that one day may be taken in Nebraska.

The eastern and Merriam's, or western, turkey are native to North America. The eastern originally inhabited the hardwood forests of the country, its range extending along the river courses into the plains region which included at least the eastern part of Nebraska. But as settlement moved westward, the turkey soon became extinct.

The original range of the Merriam's turkey was in the southern portion of the Rocky Mountains, extending from central Colorado to the boundary of Mexico.Transplanting wild-trapped birds in 8 OUTDOORNEBRASKA   states such as Wyoming, Colorado, Utah, and South Dakota have been successful, and breeding populations have been established in each. South Dakota and Wyoming, states outside the Merriam's historical range, now allow hunting.

The eastern and western subspecies differ in size and coloration. The two can be readily distinguished by the color of the tip of the tail—white in the Merriam's, rusty in the eastern. The eastern is also a bit larger.

A mature gobbler in mating conduct almost defies description. When strutting before his harem of hens, each emotional phase is mirrored in the coloration of his head. The pale red of a relaxed torn is changed to a flaming red, followed by a pale blue around the eyes that deepens into a deep purple as he attempts to impress the hens. Sometimes he becomes so involved that he loses all sense of danger and can be approached closely.

The hens usually place their nests in fairly open spots, often at the base of a tree. Some nests are destroyed by predators, but the hen is usually quite clever and covers her nest when she leaves it. She escapes detection while incubating by remaining perfectly still, blending in with the ground cover.

Brood time is late spring. During the first week or so the young poults cannot fly well and must depend on dense vegetation for protection. But once their flying improves, they usually take to the trees when danger threatens. The attentive mother hen warns her brood of danger and calls the young birds together when they become separated.

The size of wild turkeys varies considerably. Average weight of mature gobblers is about 14 to 16 pounds, of adult hens 6 to 9 pounds. Merriam's turkeys are usually associated with ponderosa-pine forest but are adaptable to food and cover available. Pine trees are used for roosting, and the pine mast, or seeds, are important in their diet. A great variety of weed seeds and grass seeds are also eaten. Waste grain assumes importance during winter when other food supplies are short. Insects are the main bill of fare during the summer.

Wild turkeys are highly sociable. During the summer, hens and their broods are always found together, and the hens remain attentive to their broods for almost a year. During the winter, turkeys may be found in large flocks composed of both sexes and all ages. The mature gobblers act as lookouts, and the slightest noise or movement indicating danger is responded to with a warning call that sends the whole flock into hiding.

For many years attempts have been made to establish the eastern turkey in Nebraska. The Game Commission, sportsmen's groups, and individuals have released eastern turkeys throughout the state since the 1920's. Unfortunately, though, most of the birds were mixed with domestic strains; they lacked the wild traits necessary for survival. Some became little more than glorified barnyard fowl. Some semi-wild populations of eastern turkeys still persist in Nebraska, however, and whether these will prove to be valuable as game birds remains to be seen.

It is clear now that the best insurance for establishing a truly "wild" turkey population is to release birds that have been obtained from a source that has proven to possess the wild traits essential for "gaminess". This has been accomplished in Nebraska with the Merriam's turkey.

During the 1958-59 winter, Merriam's turkeys were captured from wild flocks in Wyoming and South Dakota and transplanted into the Pine Ridge in western Nebraska. A group of 20 was released near Crawford in the vicinity of Cottonwood Creek and another group of 8 was released near Chadron in the Deadhorse Creek area. The results of these two releases are encouraging.

Reproduction was highly successful in both flocks. Field observations during the summer indicated the average brood size to be about seven young per hen. The Merriam's turkey population in Nebraska is now estimated at 75 to 100 birds in the Crawford vicinity and 30 to 40 in the Chadron area.

Birds will be transplanted into other areas of the Pine Ridge if their numbers continue to increase in the two initial transplants. Eventually, should turkeys become abundant enough to afford an open season, the project will be considered successful.

All would-be turkey hunters want to know when they can hunt the birds. The answer depends largely on Mother Nature. If she's kind, the turkeys could increase at a phenomenal rate. Experience in other states has shown that it's possible to have a limited season five or six years after the initial release, perhaps sooner. Right now, we can only wait and see.

DEER Knickknacks

THERE'S NO denying it, you and most other sportsmen, including the authors, become intolerable bores in the winter. Caged like a wild animal, you stalk around the house, trying to find something to keep mind and hands occupied. You've probably told your favorite hunting tales so often that even you are tired of them. Your gun is probably beginning to show signs of wear from continued cleaning. There's only one answer when you reach this impasse—get on the do-it-yourself kick, in this case, if you're a deer hunter, making all kinds of handy items from the antlers, hide, and feet of the deer you bagged.

Mounting antlers takes a minimum of imagination, time, and tools, and in return provides you with a handsome trophy for your den. Your first step is to remove the rack from the skull. Take enough of the bone from the head to give a good base to the rack, and saw this flat on the back to fit smoothly against the block to which you will fasten it.

It isn't necessary for you to spend much energy on the antlers. All you need to do for a natural-looking rack is to wash it; no waxing or polishing is needed. Drill two holes through the base of the rack where you will insert wood screws into a small flat block of wood. After anchoring the base firmly to the wood, drive a few nails helter-skelter into the block below the bone and bend them at various angles. These nails serve as a form for the papiermache which you next spatula over the block. Build up the papier-mache (it's slower-setting than pure plaster of Paris, therefore easier to work with) over the base, covering the board and bone completely.

Let the mold set for at least three days to allow the dampness to come out. Otherwise the covering material will be stained by the moisture. Buckskin is an elegant and appropriate material to use. Velvet will also do. Stretch it over the form and cut out a slot for the antlers. Pull one end of the material around and tack under the front of the board, then 10 OUTDOORNEBRASKA   stretch the other end down over the front of the mold and tack on the backside.

Cut a long narrow strip of the material about 10 inches long and 2 inches wide. Fold about three times so the ends are tucked under, and tack one end underneath an antler on one side. Stretch it back and then around over the forehead, and off behind the block. Tack it on the other side. Repeat with the other antler. These strips add a finishing touch and hide ragged edges. After the material is well tacked on the back of the board, trim off the excess.

You can buy a stained and polished plaque on which to mount your rack, or use your imagination for a novelty treatment. Simply mount your block by means of two wood screws inserted from the back of the plaque.

Individually mounted deer feet or a pair as a gun rack, tie rack, or pipe rack require more time and effort, but add a conversation piece to any sportsman's wall. Obtain from a hardware store a pair of 1/4-inch stove bolts, 8 or 10 inches long. Cut fresh deer feet at the first joint and skin out from the back. Scrape the surplus flesh from the bone. Pack the bone, with the hide still connected at the hoof, in finely granulated salt for about two weeks to dry it out.

Now prepare a pickling solution of white alum and salt which tests out with a saltometer to 50 per cent salt. Leave the feet in this about two weeks. Next "break" the flesh side of the hide over a draw knife or file to remove surplus flesh and tissue. Saw off the leg end of the bone so that the length from the end of the hoof is the same distance as from the joint to the end of the bone. Bend a stove rod into a right angle so the threads start at the end of the bone. Wrap string tightly around the bolt and bone. The more string you use and the tighter you wrap it, the stronger your foot will be.

Next use potter's clay to build up and smooth over the string. Use enough so that the leg will mold up well. Stretch the hide over it, and sew with an over-and-under stitch, using fine thread. Set the hoof aside to dry for at least a month. The drier the hoof will be, the better it will polish up.

When you're ready for the finishing touches, wrap a rag or towel around the shank and put it in a vise. With a sharp knife, scrape the hoof and then sandpaper it smooth. Now use a mixture of alcohol and bolted whiting to polish with a soft cloth as you would buff a shoe.

Since you used a 1/4-inch bolt, use a 1/4-inch drill to make a hole in the panel (a limb is a decorative effect) on which you wish to mount your deer feet. Bolt the rod to the back of the panel. The panel will lie smoother against the wall if you first countersink the back of the-panel about 1/4 to 3/8 inch.

Make two hangers on the panel, one above each foot for better balance. Use a 1/2-inch bit and hand brace; a motor works too fast and would buzz through your panel before you even started. Drill two holes one above the other about three-fourths the way through the board. Chisel out the wood between the two, and tack a wire over the space. Your gun rack is ready to hang.

A small board with holes in it between two feet mounted close together makes a dandy pipe rack. Or the ensemble is readily converted to a tie rack. A foot can also easily become an ash tray. Simply buy the receptacle and insert it into the bone just above the hoof. A paperweight is similar.

You may want gloves or a coat from the hide. The leather is supple and durable and fashions well into this apparel. The antlers or legs make handsome lamp bases. These more ambitious projects may take an expert. Ask him to make a birchbark lamp shade to match your fine base.

You've had your thrill from the chase and the kill. The venison is in your freezer. Turn the other parts of the deer into enjoyable reminders of your 1959 hunt. If you're dubious of your results, send the makings to a taxidermist. If you want a fine hobby, do the simpler operations yourself.

Alias a River

THE YEAR was 1720, the man was Pedro de Villasur, lieutenant colonel in the service of Spain and the church. Behind him lay the footsore miles from Santa Fe. Before him was a broad glistening stream which he would follow through the low hills and wide plains to his death at the hands of raiding Pawnee Indians. The expedition's priest intoned a few words, Villasur knelt briefly, and a new river was born, "Rio Jesus Y Maria". Today Nebraskans know that river as the Platte.

Confronted by a wide wild land, Nebraska's early day citizens prized the meager streams that ran between the prairie grasses. Around them the Indians burned their campfires, the traders spread their bright trinkets, and the settlers built their cabins. Water was precious, and every stream was remembered by Indian and white man alike in legend and in fact.

Water is as valuable to present-day Nebraskans as it was to earlier residents. The Platte Valley is still the finest road to the setting sun. The flashing streams of northwestern Nebraska offer a retreat for man from exhaust fumes and clamoring machinery. The streams of the central part of the state, harnessed by irrigation pumps, grow verdant crops.

In 1714, an adventuresome Frenchman, Etienne Veniard de Bourgmont, wrote of his extensive travels along the Missouri River. His is the first recorded use of the word Nebraska.

"Higher up the river, one finds the Large river, called Nibraskier by the French and Indians."

Two other Frenchmen, the Mallet brothers, exploring Pawnee territory south of the Loup River, came upon the same broad ribbon of water that Villasur encountered.

"Kits Katus," growled the Pawnee guide, motioning out over the infinite prairie to signify flat water.

"La Platte," agreed the Frenchmen in their own language.

"Ni bthaska ke," spoke the Omaha Indians of the sprawling Platte River, while the Oto used "Ni brathka," meaning flat water.

"Moonshell" was the name given to the Platte River by the Dakota Indians. In ancient times, according to Nebraska historians, the Dakotas obtained shells to string around the necks of their squaws 12 OUTDOORNEBRASKA   from traders of other tribes whom they met at this stream. Both the Kiowa name of "Kodabation Pa" and the Cheyenne name of "Minniohe" mean necklace shell river.

A mad Sioux squaw or a crazed white woman left her imprint on a tiny stream in Sioux County named Crazy Woman Creek. The old Indian squaw haunted the place on moonlit nights according to one delightful story. Old-timers swore they saw her skimming over the water, leaping from Indian village to village in her light canoe. Her comings were viewed as good medicine, and hunting parties often brought home much good meat after she cavorted in the moonlight. The other Indian story tells that a white woman was crazed after an unsuccessful scalping attempt with a tomahawk.

It has been said that the Elkhorn River in northeastern Nebraska was named for "Ta ha zouka", or Elk Horn, the first Omaha chief to enter into treaty with Spain. The name appears to be from a French translation descriptive of the river's branching resembling the antlers of the stag elk. The Dakotas knew the stream as "Wamnuka ota Wakpa", or many snails river, referring to the ornaments they either found or traded for there.

Bloody Creek in Rock County was named for the bloodshed that didn't occur. An unarmed surveying expedition in the area observed Indians covertly watching them. Instead of panicking, they picked up a few corner stakes and marched about with them. The Indians retired, and Robert Harvey, the group's leader, jovially marked down Bloody Creek on his surveyor's map. Tepee Creek he named because he found some of the skin dwellings while surveying the stream. Along another water course he cached his provisions and named the stream Cache Creek. While surveying in Holt County he ordered a general cleanup when the clothes of his party became infested. Since then the water bears the name Louse Creek. Lillian and Victoria creeks he named after his nieces.

One of the most common explanations of the word Missouri is that it stands for "Big Muddy". However, the name was originally applied by the Indians of the Lake Michigan region to the tribe living between the Mississippi and the Missouri rivers, and meant "the people who use wooden canoes". The Lake Michigan Indians used birchbark canoes while the latter tribe used canoes dug out of logs because there was no birch there.

To the Omaha, the Missouri was "Ni shude ke", smoke river, because of drifting clouds of dust near the sand bars. "Mini shoshe" (muddy river) was the Dakota name. The (continued on page 24)

SACRAMENTO

THERE IS no other word to describe Sacramento —it's a hunter's Mecca, the fabled but real spot where a hunter can blast away at wave after wave of winging mallards without being disturbed by another person. Each fall an average of 50,000 ducks settle into the 2,300-plus-acre marsh area. But ducks aren't the only game at the Game Commission-managed wildlife-development and public-hunting area. A host of ringnecks live there the year around, and every thicket is busy with rabbits. Although game abounds, hunters are few; they just haven't made use of the area.

Sacramento was acquired by the Game Commission in the early 1950's with funds apportioned to the state through the federal excise tax on firearms and ammunition. Up to 1958, the area served primarily as a refuge, wildlife-habitat development site, and game farm. Public hunting has been permitted on a large portion of the area since it was purchased.

Sacramento is located in the southeast corner of Phelps County, approximately 2% miles west of Wilcox. It is accessible by gravel road from Holdrege and Axtell, which are located on U. S. Highway 6. The area encompasses 2,313 acres of rich game land, with approximately 40 per cent of the acreage consisting of lake or lagoon. The remainder is in diversified cropland. The topography is typical of the rain-water-basin country—miles of relatively flat tableland, draining finally into a lagoon.

The refuge serves two primary functions—as a resting place for shot-weary waterfowl, and as a concentration point for birds so that hunters may enjoy fringe shooting on open areas. An average of 50,000 ducks visit the area each fall. Numbers, though, may range from 10,000 in a poor year to 100,000 in a good year, depending upon water supply. Mallards are in abundance. Pintail, teal, baldpate, and scaup are also common—occasionally geese will stop off there.

Pheasants, too, are plentiful. This is not hard to understand, for Sacramento is in the heart of prime pheasant country. Intensive habitat development has provided a wealth of food and cover to support even greater numbers.Jack rabbits and 14 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   cottontails are plentiful in thickets and weed patches. Jacksnipes, gamy targets for anyone, are commonly found along the lake's edge.

As mentioned, Sacramento has experienced little hunting pressure, especially in regard to ducks, for only one to two parties per day hunt ducks there. Pheasants are subjected to more hunting, but this occurs only on the opening weekend of the season. Figures on hunter harvest are not available, but it is known that they would be well above average.

Farmland on the area is leased to local farmers on a share-crop basis, and tenants are required to use farming methods compatible with good soil-conservation and game-management practices. In the fall, a portion of the grain crop is left standing in the fields to provide both feed for wildlife and better hunting cover. Grain raised on the area is also used to feed pheasants which are held on the game farm through the winter.

The Commission has worked closely with the Soil Conservation Service in applying sound conservation practices to the land.Miles of terraces have been constructed, and a large area has been returned to grass and trees. Approximately 160 acres of trees and shrubs have been planted on the tract. Wind erosion is curbed by shelter-belt plantings while block plantings protect game from killing storms. Single-row plantings have been established to provide travel lanes and thus protect desirable game species against predators. All provide scenic beauty.

Approximately 1,600 acres are open to public hunting; the balance has been set aside as a game refuge. Boundaries of these respective areas are plainly marked with metal signs, but persons in doubt may learn the exact locations by checking at area headquarters.

Sacramento's game farm serves to hold captive pheasants through the winter months until they can be released the following spring.

In 1958, a development plan was initiated, aimed primarily at improving waterfowl production. A major problem in the past had been instability of water in the lagoon area due (continued on page 25)

BOATING comes of AGE

THE SKYROCKETING popularity of boating in recent years has brought about the need for up-to-date boating legislation. Boating is the nation's fastest growing outdoor sport, and on any given weekend you can find an endless variety of craft on our congested waterways.

There has been an increase in the average horsepower of each outboard along with the growth of boating popularity. More horsepower usually means more speed, and more speed adds up to more hazards. Most boaters are sensible and considerate of others, but there are always a few careless and reckless operators who know no rules or manners. Laws and regulations have been passed to corral such trouble-makers and to make boating a safe and enjoyable sport for all.

How will the new boating regulations, passed recently by the Nebraska Game Commission, affect your boating? The regulations are based on the boating law passed by the 1959 Nebraska Legislature. This law, closely following the basic provisions of the Federal Boating Act of 1958, has been approved by the U. S. Coast Guard. Basically, the state and federal laws set up a system of numbering all inboard and outboard craft, and call for a more uniform system of accident investigation and reporting.

The Nebraska regulations are based on the first section of the law which states, "It is the policy of this state to promote safety for persons and property in and connected with the use, operation, and equipment of vessels, and to promote uniformity of laws relating thereto."

Required equipment such as safety gear and lights were established in accordance with U.S. OUTDOORNEBRASKA   Coast Guard, American Red Cross, and Outboard Boating Club of America standards. The Game Commission included still others.

Sailboats, rowboats, canoes, and rafts are required to display lights from sunset to sunrise when under way or anchored. The lights must be visible from at least one-half mile. This is designed to protect the boater-fisherman. Along these same lines, the law states that any vessel, which is anchored or not operating under mechanical power, will have the right of way over any vessels under mechanical power. Operators of moving motorboats shall give the anchored or non-powered vessels reasonable clearance so they will not be disturbed unnecessarily —or endangered—from wash or wake. Swimmers have the right of way at all times over all vessels. This is just courtesy and common sense.

Excessive speeds will be illegal at all times in or near harbors, landings, piers, anchorages, bathing beaches, drifting or trolling fishermen, or anchored boats. In all cases speed must be reduced so that the wash or wake will not cause discomfort, hazard, or damage to other persons or vessels. Speeds in certain areas will be posted or charted.

Children 12 years of age or under must wear life preservers at all times while aboard motorboats. Boat operators must provide them with life preservers and must see that they keep them on at all times.

No person under 16 can operate a motorboat of more than 10 horsepower. And children under 14 cannot operate motorboats of any class at any time whether accompanied by an adult or not. The boating problems concerning children are the same as those facing lawmakers who adopt motor-vehicle legislation. A few youngsters are capable of handling a boat, but there are many more who are not. A line had to be drawn.

Water skiing, and the use of surfboards and similar devices has also been included in the law. A towing boat must be equipped with a wide-angle rear-view mirror, properly placed to provide maximum vision of the skier or skiers being towed. There must be an observer in addition to the operator if the boat is not equipped with a mirror. The observer must be a responsible person of at least 12 years of age.

The Federal Boating Act of 1958 made it mandatory that states set up a registration and numbering system for boats. Otherwise, the Coast Guard will enforce the act in those states that have not passed an approved boating law by April 1, 1960. Nebraska has passed such a law.

Block figures four inches in height and two inches in width, with a three-quarter-inch stroke will be used in numbering and lettering boats here. These will be purchased by the boat owner. Numbers on the boats will be divided into three groups: the first to be capital block letters NB to designate the State of Nebraska; the second section will be a maximum of four digits used in numerical groups. The first digit shall indicate the class of motor as provided by law. The third section shall be a maximum of two capital letters of an alphabetical group.

Applications for registering boats will be available from permit vendors and county clerks throughout the state beginning January 1. A receipt showing that all personal taxes have been paid on the boat must accompany the application. All applications will be sent to the Nebraska Game Commission, State House, Lincoln 9, where registration numbers will be issued.

The principal objective of the law is safety. In its enforcement, the Commission will be concerned primarily with safe equipment and safe operation. The law, however, includes a provision that income not used for administration and enforcement should be used for access, parking lots, launching ramps, and other facilities for the safety and convenience of the boating public.

Commission Director M. O. Steen has said, "The boating public will have a great deal to do with this, for if they conscientiously observe safety regulations, our enforcement costs will be at an absolute minimum. This will permit more money to be channeled into the development of the boating facilities so urgently needed in many places in the state."

Nebraskans are taking to the water as never before, and the regulations set up by the Game Commission, enforced by conservation officers and all state peace officers, should solve some of the boating problems. The regulations are not set up to harass the boater, but to afford safe and enjoyable recreation.

Angling Roundup

SIX MUST be a lucky number to the Nebraska angling fraternity. Last year, fishermen established six new state fish records. This year, their efforts involved six more records—wiping out five previous state marks and tieing another. During one hot spree, three new records were set in the span of four weeks.

The Game Commission also achieved several marks. It initiated the use of special creel-census reports by all conservation officers for the purpose of keeping Nebraska fishermen informed up-to-the-minute on fishing conditions throughout the state. Information included number and kinds of fish caught, size, number of anglers, method of fishing, and kinds of bait used. Nearly 17,000 anglers were checked during the survey.

The fisheries division of the Game Commission was busy throughout the year improving sport fishing. Many water areas were rotenoned to remove rough fish and subsequently restocked with game fish. These areas included Burchard, Cowles, Fish, Rock Creek, Grove, and Ravenna lakes, and Verdigre Creek.

The onslaught on fish records began in May, when Tom Kinder and Larry Reid of Goodland, Kansas, hauled a 48-inch, 25-pound, 12-ounce northern pike out of Enders Reservoir. The former record pike weighed 25 pounds.

In June, an oddity occurred when another Kansan, Harry L. Oswalt, Jr., of Garden City, broke his brother's Nebraska record for smallmouth bass. McConaughy Reservoir produced the new mark, a 3-pound, 8-ouncer.

Late June found Don Hein of McCook landing a 16-pound, 1-ounce walleye from—you guessed it McConaughy Reservoir. This impoundment has produced seven of Nebraska's current record fish. Trolling between Martin and Arthur bays, Hein hit the lunker while using a minnow for bait. The walleye, 341/4-inches long, with a 20-inch girth, took Hein 30 minutes to land.

The record-tier was logged in by Morris Sweet of Crete in July. Using a secret bait, Sweet pulled a 32-pound buffalo out of the river near the lower dam on the Blue.

Phil Cornish of Lincoln has the distinction of erasing the oldest Nebraska record. His 9-pound, 14-ounce largemouth bass, caught in a sandpit near Louisville, topped Wentworth Clarke's record 9-pound, 3-ounce bass in 1943. Cornish needed 45 anxious minutes to land the mossback.

Barton L. Andrews of Omaha completed 1959's record barrage by fishing Carter Lake to the tune of a 19-pound fresh-water drum. His feat was remarkable as he used a six-pound-test spinning line to land this lunker.

All in all, it was a red-letter year for fishing. Among the top producers were McConaughy, Medicine Creek, Whitney, Maloney, Harlan, and Johnson reservoirs. Trout enthusiasts fared best in Chadron and Big and Little Bordeaux creeks while cat-fishermen excelled in the Missouri, Blue, Platte, and Elkhorn rivers, Fremont lakes, Turkey and Logan creeks, and Maloney Reservoir.

NEBRASKA RECORDS

LARGEMOUTH BASS: 9 pounds, 14 ounces by Phil Cornish, Lincoln, in sand pit near Louisville, 1959. (World Record: 22 pounds, 4 ounces).

SMALLMOUTH BASS: 31/2 pounds by Harry L. Oswalt, Jr., Garden City, Kansas, in McConaughy Reservoir, 1959. (World Record: 11 pounds, 15 ounces).

WHITE BASS: 4 1/4 pounds by Barbara Hombach, Grand Island, in McConaughy Reservoir, 1952. (No authentic world record, but catches up to 5 pounds reported).

BLUEGILL: 2 1/2 pounds by party of Walter Beckman, Carl Buck, Bill Adams, and Ervin Krueger, all of Garland, in Monroe power canal, 1949. (World Record: 4 3/4 pounds).

BULLHEAD: 3 pounds, 3 ounces, by Mrs. Garnet Fanning, Alliance, in Spade Ranch Lake, 1958. (World record: 8 pounds).

BLUE CATFISH: 58 pounds by O. P. Nielson, Bloomfield, in Missouri River near Bloomfield, 1954. (World record: 941/2 pounds).

BROOK TROUT: 4 1/2 pounds by Vernon Zimmerman, Ovid, Colorado, in McConaughy Reservoir, 1953.(World record: 14 1/4 pounds).

BROWN TROUT: 1114 pounds by L. B. Eby, Sidney, in Otter Creek, 1950. (World record: 39V2 pounds).

CHANNEL CATFISH: 31 3/4 pounds by Bob Nuquist, Broken Bow, in Lake Ericson, 1944. (World record: 55 pounds).

YELLOW CATFISH: 56 1/2 pounds by Herbert Meyer, Grand Island, and Ivan Drewer, Hampton, in Loup River power canal, 1958. (No world record available).

CRAPPIE: 3 1/4 pounds by A. E. Hueppelheuster, Lincoln, in McConaughy Reservoir--> across from Otter Creek, 1957. (No world record available).

FRESH-WATER DRUM: 19 pounds, by Barton L. Andrews, Omaha, in Carter Lake, 1959. (No world record available).

NORTHERN PIKE: 25 3/4 pounds by Tom Kinder and Larry Reid, Goodland, Kansas, in Enders Reservoir, 1959. (World record: 46 pounds, 2 ounces).

WALLEYE: 16 pounds, 1 ounce, by Don Hein, McCook, between Martin and Arthur bays in McConaughy Reservoir, 1959. (World record: 22 1/4 pounds).

BUFFALO: 32 pounds by L. Ashbaugh, Wilber, in Blue River near Wilber dam, 1944. Record tied by Morris Sweet of Crete in Blue River, 1959. (No world record available).

YELLOW PERCH: 1 pound, 10 ounces by Mrs. Ethel Engle, North Platte, in McConaughy, 1957.(World record 4 pounds, 3 1/2 ounces.)

RAINBOW TROUT: 12% pounds by J. C. Wickard, Brule, in Sportsmen's Service Bay in McConaughy Reservoir. (World record: 37 pounds).

SAUGER: 7 pounds, 14 ounces by Archie Prather, Wausa, in tailwaters of Gavins Point Reservoir, 1958. (No world record available).

CARP: 25 pounds, 2 ounces by Bernard Carter, Lincoln, in East Oak Creek Lake, 1957. (World record: 55 pounds, 5 ounces).

STURGEON: 18 1/2 pounds by Ernest Petsche, Hartington, in Gavins Point Reservoir, 1958. (World record: 360 pounds)

TRAPS to an Empire

Men dealt in furs, toyed with destiny

A BABBLE of languages flooded the room in an abandoned talking, taling, free-for all. Frenchman, Englishman, half-breed, Oto chief, Pawnee brave, and mountain man alike had come to the Missouri Fur Trading Post at Bellevue to bargain—their plush beaver hides and other pelts for the trader's traps, flour, trinkets, raisins, rifles, knives, blankets, and whisky. Now, the first day's bickering done, fellowship prevailed.

All Bellevue was alive in a drunken orgy. White and red man were swallowed up in the swigging, carousing frontier bedlam that would continue until, furs and constitutions spent, they would return to the wilderness to recoup their lost fortunes. The melting-pot settlement of never more than 50 whites was rooted on the west bank of the Missouri, exposed and insecure. Bellevue of the early 1800's was only an excuse for a civilized community. Civilization was over 200 miles down-river at St. Louis. The settlement and its neighboring counterparts were outposts of the fur trade.

North and west of these trading posts was mile upon countless mile of unknown wilderness where few had trod. Somewhere in the vastness where the Platte and Missouri were spawned lay a fortune in furs to those brave enough to turn their backs on an easier life.

Bellevue's mixture of humanity was made up of such men. Each year found more of them heading farther upriver.Spaniards had long ago explored 20 OUTDOORNEBRASKA   western America, but never to its northern extremities. They sought gold and the dreamed-of water route to the Western Sea. The French, who along with the Spanish owned the land of the transMississippi on an on-again, off-again basis, also had sent explorers into the expanse. Neither made a dent. The French, however, did carry on successful trading operations with the Indians from their base at St. Louis.

Pelts taken by tribes in what is present-day Nebraska contributed dramatically to the early trade. Later, when the traders penetrated farther west, the Platte and the Missouri served as highways. Following them, the traders ultimately mapped the west a map that was traced on a beaver skin.

All furs had their price, but none commanded more than a prime beaver pelt. Worth $6 on the frontier, the hide was fabricated into a hat that became a mark of social distinction in the East. Ironically, this bit of male vanity pushed men farther into the mountains, and to a great degree was responsible for the opening of the West.

It goes without saying that those that traded their furs weren't too concerned about social distinctions. Theirs was one of wondering how much they could get out of the trader. Prime beaver pelts bought such items as sugar at $1 a pound, beaver traps at $9 each, gunpowder at $1.50 a pound, scarlet cloth at $6 a yard, looking glasses at 50# each, tobacco at $1.25 a pound, and fourth proof rum at $13.50 a gallon.

Bellevue was ideally located to carry on such a trade. When Ft. Atkinson was abandoned in 1827, having showed the British that America stood ready to protect the trade, the Indian agency for the Otos, Omahas, and Pawnees was moved to the settlement. The "no holds barred" atmosphere of Bellevue had a profound effect on the Indian. Watered-down whisky flowed freely. Disease spread unchecked. In only a whisper of time, the trader brought about an almost complete breakdown of the native's way of life. The same pattern held true wherever the trader came in contact with the Indian.

Missionaries, concerned with the Indians' plight, swarmed into Bellevue. One, appalled by the situation, said that the settlement's inhabitants "were very low and debased . . . and not far removed from heathenism."

The trader was no saint. He was in business to make money, a competitive, risky business that saw fortunes wiped out overnight. Traders such as Manual Lisa, Lucienne Fontenelle, Peter Sarpy, and Andrew Drips in the free spirit of competition, dealed and double dealed, amassing fortunes for their companies. Nearly all married into one or the other of the tribes, assuring a close tie that would pay off at the trading table.

The top hat that had sent such men into the wilderness also played a part in the trade's downfall. Silk took the place of beaver for those who wanted to be socially styled. Beaver prices tumbled as a result. It was fortunate that these pelts were no longer needed, for few beaver were left. The trappers had "killed the goose that laid the golden egg", and after a half-century of dominance over the Nation's western empire, the trade dwindled almost into obscurity. The American Fur Company, for example, sold Fort John on the North Platte River in Wyoming, and built a new Fort John near Scottsbluff. But it, too, was abandoned a few years later as the trade went steadily downhill.

Posts along the Missouri in Nebraska were literally plowed under as civilization pressed steadily westward. The complex of trading posts surrounding Bellevue disappeared. The famous names of Fontenelle, Lisa, Sublette, Cabanne, Drips, and Crook, DECEMBER,1959 21   for whom the posts were named, were destined to become but mementos in state history. Bellevue itself was beginning to show signs of mellowing, ultimately making a bid for the new territory's capitol site.

The free-wheeling traders and trappers found themselves surrounded by hordes of people migrating to the West. The untamed wilderness that they had loved was busy with white-topped prairie schooners. Now old, the mountain men were left to talk about the "good old days". Some settled down; others persistently trapped. Still others were chosen to scout for army expeditions.

And what of the beaver? Territorial governments, realizing that they were on the verge of extinction, passed laws to protect them. In time the hardy beaver began reinhabiting the streams of its hapless ancestors. Today, beaver are found throughout Nebraska and other western states. Beaver have been trapped here for many years, first on a special permit basis, and, as they became more abundant, during annual open seasons. In 1956, 16,830 were trapped with the price of pelts ranging from $8.22 up. Last year, with prices down, 6,700 were taken.

Today it is difficult to understand the great importance that the fur trade played in early North American commerce. Thomas Jefferson long eyed the Louisiana country and the furs it contained. When President he pushed through the historic Pacific expedition, directing that Lewis and Clark determine the feasibility of collecting and transporting furs downstream from the source of the Missouri. The fur trade was second only to fisheries, making titans out of such men as John Jacob Astor. His American Fur Company invested great concentrations of capital and manpower in this single enterprise, comparing in complexity and magnitude with the large corporations of today. His was an international business, depending on America's sound relations with countries such as Germany, England, Russia, and China if his company was to succeed.

It should be said that Bellevue is no longer a center of "heathenism". Omaha long ago engulfed the settlement that was given to nightly drinking orgies. Now it is a pleasant suburb. Manual Lisa's name for it still remains, however—a memory of a beautiful view that was the unsettled Missouri 150 years ago.

Outdoor Elsewhere

PENNSYLVANIA . . . Some 125 Pennsylvanians are about as eager to enter the cloistered grounds of their state penitentiary as its many inmates are to get out. The only crime of the 125 against society is an avid interest in biggame hunting, even to the point of going to jail to do it. Object of their interest is the deer herd housed on the grounds of the state penitentiary at Graterford. The grounds will be open to a one-day controlled deer hunt on the opening day of the antlerless deer season, December 14, to 125 hunters.

NEW HAMPSHIRE . . . Sunburn, that reddening of our noses and peeling of our skin from sitting too long in old Papa Sol, affects fish as well. When fish are exposed to excessive sunshine the "burn" is comparable to that suffered by humans. In salmon, sunburn results in discoloration, peeling skin, and sores. Sloughing off of skin results in open lesions which may become infected. Mortalities then occur. The New Hampshire Fish and Game Department has initiated a research project to develop means of protecting salmon from sunburn and to develop hardier and less susceptible strains of fish. Or perhaps fishy sun-tan lotion?

WISCONSIN . . . Whoever dreamed of trucking live fish around in cardboard boxes?It's a common occurrence in Wisconsin. The secret is a plastic bag liner. The bag (and box) is first filled half full with water; then fish are introduced and air is squeezed out of the bag. Then the essential pure oxygen is substituted for air before bag and box are sealed.

The method is good for trucking small fish fry, especially northern pike and walleye destined for restocking winter-killed and rehabilitated waters. A pickup truck can do the job, handling 66,666 fry per gallon of water. A small truck can haul 4,000,000 fish.

PENNSYLVANIA ... A persistent beaver tried the patience ofGameProtectorJohnMiller sorely when he continued to claim his rights as a home owner. Says Miller, "At 5 p.m. on a recent day I finished tearing out a beaver dam that flooded a road in Crawford County. At 7 p.m., I returned to find the dam completely repaired and the road again flooded. While pulling down the structure the second time I saw one of the industrious engineers of the wild swimming, holding a branch in its mouth. Obviously the animal was waiting for me to leave so that it could get back on the repair job."

The tear-down-and-rebuild contest waged for three days. Finally the beaver gave up and went elsewhere, where a respectable animal can live peacefully without having a nuisance tear down his house every few hours.

NEW MEXICO ... A hungry coyote who had his eye on a pair of antelope fawns recently was forced to change his dinner plans when mama antelope decided not to admit him to the family circle, says the New Mexico Department of Game and Fish.

Austin Roberts and Jim Peckunm, both of the New Mexico department, were flying antelope survey when they spotted the coyote stalking the fawns. When he had ventured too close the mother antelope jumped him, striking him with her sharp hooves. The intruder took off, with the doe in pursuit. Every time he slowed down she struck him. This happened three times before he slowed down at a fence, where the doe bowled him over. The coyote, with the doe still after him, got through the fence, but again she knocked him over and continued the chase for a total of three miles.

WASHINGTON, D. C. . . . German beetles and Canadian flies are being introduced into the United States in an attempt to control the balsam woolly aphid. Approximately 20,000 beetles will be imported from West Germany for use in a pilot control test in Maine, and for establishment of a colony in North Carolina. Severe losses of fir trees due to balsam woolly aphid have been recorded in Washington, Oregon, Maine, and North Carolina.

Alias a River

Pawnee name meant holy river. The Cheyenne name translated into "it gives us fat". It is said that when the Cheyennes first found the river, they saw on its banks many drowned buffalo which they turned into a welcome food supply. Southern Cheyennes gave a different story. They say that when they first saw the river the water was rising, and that masses of froth were floating down it. The froth resembled the foam which formed in their kettles when boiling pounded bones to extract the grease:

The Dakotas originally named Hat Creek, found in Sioux County, War Bonnet Creek. The whites later shortened it to Hat, and named another stream in the same county War Bonnet Creek.

Soon after the Custer Massacre, it is said that Buffalo Bill Cody, in a hand-to-hand battle with Chief Yellow Hand, killed him and took his scalp and war bonnet, giving the creek at the battle site the name War Bonnet. But others say that at the time of the conflict, the stream already bore that name.

Woman's Dress, a Sioux who was a government scout during the Indian outbreak and battle of Wounded Knee in the winter of 1890-91, gives this explanation of the naming of War Bonnet Creek:

A closely pressed band of Indians during the uprising were driven to the banks of the stream. In desperation they killed their ponies and made ropes from their hides, letting themselves down from the rocks. Left behind was only one old squaw whose duty was to tend the fires, thus delaying pursuit. In traveling down the creek the fugitives lost a war bonnet which the cavalry later found.

Squaw Creek in Dawes County, it is said, is named after Squaw Mound upon which the Indian women watched their braves battle other tribes. Soldier Creek in Sioux County is the place where Fort Robinson soldiers spent much of their off-duty time. Sowbelly Creek in Sioux County commemorates the side pork a rescuing party brought to a half-starved and Indian-besieged party of soldiers.

Dead Horse Creek was named in an 1873 blizzard. Compelled to abandon its mounts near a small stream, a troop of cavalry struggled on foot to safety. The horses froze to death, and the next spring their carcasses floated down the creek.

Whistle Creek suggests an incident in the lives of the Dakotas. According to tradition a party of Dakota hunters was overtaken by a sudden snow storm near the head of the creek. They had found no game and were hungry. While huddled under a little bluff they heard someone whistling their war song. The whistler was one of their own tribe, crazed and numbed by the cold. While dragging him into their shelter they stumbled over the half-decayed carcass of an old bull buffalo. The party ate the meat, was taken violently ill, and all but two died.

The French named the Loup River from the Pawnee word "skidi", signifying wolf. The Omaha tribe termed the stream "river where apios abounds". Apios are commonly called the wild potato. The Pawnee name was similar.

Spottedtail commemorates a famous chief of the Oglala. In 1876, General Crook titled the chief "king of all the Sioux" for his co-operation with the white men. Several years later, Spotted Tail was killed by his sub-chief, Crow Dog.

Bordeaux, Chadron, Brazile, and Larrabee creeks were the home streams of four early French trappers.

Ten streams are named Deer Creek, one is Whitetail Creek, and one is Buck Creek. Buffalo Creek is borne by thirteen, Beaver Creek by eight, and one is Sapa Creek, taking the Dakota name for beaver. There are six Antelope creeks.

Two are termed Cow Creek, and one of these has a little Calf Creek running by its side. In the same manner, Mare and Colt creeks were named because of their proximity to Horse Creek. Dismal River signifies the desolate appearance of the surrounding Sand Hills to soldiers newly arrived in the area. Medicine Creek in Frontier County was supposedly named by the Sioux because of the large number of medicinal plants and herbs found growing along its low bottom.

Bone, Birdwood, or Bloody—the names are the same to fish lurking in Nebraska's rivers and streams. But in the moments when they spurn the hook, a few minutes' reflection by the angler on the reason for the stream's name will fill the idle time. Nebraska's history is vitally linked to its stream courses, and a study of her waters gives the modern Nebraskan a closer bond to the land of his forefathers.

SPEAK UP

"Ripley's 'Believe It Or Not' recently stated the squirrel uses its tail as a sunshade, an umbrella, and a blanket. Just as a friendly check up, is this correct?"—Wayne Harbour, Bedford, la.

Commonly when in a den the squirrel will curl its tail, forming more or less of a blanket. Personally, I do not believe there is a conscious effort on the squirrel's part to use his tail as a sunshade or umbrella. Probably the greatest use he obtains from it is as a balancing agent as he moves through the trees. Since Ripley's caption is 'Believe It Or Not', I choose not to believe it, other than the possible use as a blanket.—Editor.

"I have an Irish water spaniel that has a bad odor. As I keep her outside and cannot bathe her in cold weather, I was wondering if you have some information on other ways of combating this odor."—Robert L. Little, Lyons.

A dog should be bathed as little as possible and usually only when excessively dirty or contaminated, as this seems to be the case, with an offensive odor. Don't let your animal become chilled if you do bring her in to wash her. A dog such as yours, with its tight curly coat, entails many problems. You probably would do best by taking her to a veterinarian. If you use a commercial odorremoving pressure can, first check to see if it is harmful to her skin. A few squirts might help temporarily. She might even have skin maggots, and this could cause a very disgusting odor. Again, talk to a competent veterinarian.—Editor.

"On our way across country we drove across the Great Plains, and were thrilled to view the immense expanses we'd always read about. When we reached Chadron a pleasant surprise awaited us. A large group of Camp Fire girls from Scottsbluff were camped in Chadron State Park (which, incidentally, is one of the most beautiful and well-kept state parks we've ever seen), and we were invited to share a wonderful dinner with the girls and their leaders. To make our visit complete, that night we slept in comfortable cabins as guests of the Nebraska Game Commission."—Senior Girl Scout Troop No. 4, Albion, Mich.

We are proud to have played a part in making your stay in our state such a pleasant experience. Come back and enjoy our hospitality again.—Editor.

"I just finished the October issue of OUTDOOR NEBRASKA, and want to tell you that it's the best hunting season edition I've ever seen in a state magazine. You, your staff, and all contributors to this issue are to be sincerely commended for a hot production." —John Madson, Chief, Information Service, Conservation Department, Olin Mathieson Chemical Corporation, East Alton, 111.

Sacramento

to excessive evaporation and lack of runoff. A network of dikes was built which divided the lagoon into six separate pools to compensate for this. Tubes and valve structures were laid in the dikes so that water could pass from one pool to the other. Water can be stored in one and let out into another at a later date. In this way evaporation is minimized. Six irrigation wells were drilled at intervals around the rim. of the lagoon. These wells are used to pump water into the various pools when water is needed.

Approximately 350 acres of land are being benchleveled for irrigation to make full use of the wells. This work will be finished by spring of 1960. Grain crops raised will help defray Sacramento's operational and maintenance expenses, and will provide feeding grounds for waterfowl and upland game.

A system of graveled roads was constructed to give better hunter access throughout the year. The main east-west road has four graveled parking lots situated along it at regular intervals. Each lot can accommodate 15 to 20 cars.

Construction of duck blinds is in progress. Various types will be tested in an effort to find those suitable to Sacramento. At present, four panel and two pit blinds are available to hunters; more will be built as hunting pressure demands. Sacramento has a 20 to 25-blind capacity. No charge will be made for blinds in the immediate future, and decoys may be rented for a nominal charge.

Headquarters were established adjacent to the existing game-farm facilities at Sacramento to as sure better management and operation. An administration building, residence for an area manager, and large parking lot were constructed at this site. A portion of the large 32 by 100-foot metal administration building serves as a waiting room for hunters. The structure also houses an office for the area manager, sleeping quarters for Commission personnel on assignment in the area, and a workshop. The waiting room is outfitted with benches, drinking fountain, pop cooler, and modern rest rooms.

Hunters are allowed to roam freely on the public hunting area at present. But as hunting pressure increases, it may become necessary to regulate hunting. In this event, all roads will be closed except the main access road, funneling traffic into the headquarters area. Hunters would be required to check in at the office before hunting and to check out when finished. Blinds would be reserved. Up to now, such procedures have not been necessary because John Q. Hunter has not taken full advantage of the tremendous hunting opportunities available at Sacramento.

Notes on Nebraska Fauna

PRONGHORN ANTELOPE

AT ONE time the pronghorn antelope ranged the length and breadth of what we now call Nebraska. As settlement advanced, with native prairie giving way to agriculture, the pronghorn was pushed farther and farther west until he was almost eliminated from the state. But after a long period of complete protection, he gradually increased in numbers, and now Antilocarpus americana occupies a large area in the western part of the state.

Although he is called an antelope, he really isn't, reports the zoologist. The true antelope occurs only in the Old World. Our pronghorn has characteristics of the giraffe, goat, deer, and true antelope. His horns set him apart from other hoofed mammals. They are composed of an outer sheath and inner bony core. The sheath, which is shed in the fall, is formed by hairs glued solidly together. Both sexes have horns, but those on the female are quite small and lack the prong and backward curve characteristic of the male.

Although smaller than both white-tailed deer and mule deer, the pronghorn is much more striking in appearance. His beautiful tawny body is marked by an immaculate white belly and rump patch. His black horns, dark facial markings, and bands around the throat are distinctive accents. His eyes, with long black eyelashes, are bigger than those of the much larger horse. He's terribly curious and falls to many hunter tricks.

Mother Nature has provided the pronghorn with certain characteristics that have adapted him well to the wide-open country. He is equipped with keen eyesight and tremendous speed. His eyes are said to equal a set of high-powered binoculars. They are set far out from the skull, giving him an extremely wide angle of vision.

The twin white disks on his buttocks are controlled by special muscles which can raise the hairs at an instant's alarm. These flaring patches reflect much light, and other antelope can spot the signal several miles away. These rump patches have earned the pronghorn the distinction, "heliographer".

One of the swiftest mammals on earth, the pronghorn has been clocked at 60 mph, although this is exceptional. At long distances an antelope can travel at 30 to 40 mph, characteristically with mouth open and tongue hanging out. An unusually large heart and lung capacity help to make him a marathon runner. In every sense of the word, he is built for speed.

Western Nebraska's hot summers and cold winters would make life miserable for the pronghorn if nature hadn't provided him with a special type of hair—hair constructed like a thermos bottle with a dead air space in the middle. This insulation helps to keep body heat in and cold winter air out. A special set of muscles beneath the skin allows the antelope to raise or lower his hair at will. This comes in handy during the hot summer months by allowing air to circulate next to the skin.

In the spring when the prairie bursts into bloom, the does begin to leave the large winter bands to look for secluded places to have their young. The young antelope, commonly called kids, are usually born in early June, and twins are common.

The kidding season is a very critical time. During a kid's first week of life, a drenching shower or an unseasonal cold snap may be fatal. Also at this time the kid's arch enemy, the coyote, is looking for a meal. The kid's best protection against coyotes is his ability to lie perfectly still and to blend in so well with the surroundings that he escapes detection.

Within a few days the young antelope are able to outrun a man. At one week they can run like adults and delight in romping with other kids. As the summer progresses they depend less and less on their mothers' milk for nourishment and begin eating the lush prairie vegetation. Studies of thfeir eating habits show favorite foods to be weeds, sagebrush, cacti (thorns and all), and agricultural crops, mostly wheat and alfalfa. Only about 1 per cent of their diet is grass. In some parts of their range, antelope may become a problem to ranchers because of their fondness for alfalfa.

When fall approaches, the bucks, most of whom spent a solitary summer in bachelorhood, begin to gather their harems. This keeps them constantly on the go since there are always other bucks anxious to pick up a stray female. The buck will usually settle for a harem of three or four does.

After the mating season, antelope begin to congregate in large winter bands. It is not uncommon to see bands of over 100 antelope in western Nebraska during the winter.

Due to changes in land use, antelope will never be able to occupy much of their former Nebraska range. There is one area, however, that has remained essentially unchanged by man—the Sand Hills. This 20,000-square-mile area could support a large number of antelope without causing crop depredations. The Game Commission is attempting to re-establish the pronghorn in the area by trapping from concentration areas in western Nebraska. An airplane is used in such an operation, driving antelope into a large corral-type trap made of heavy netting. The antelope are then transferred to trucks and hauled to the release site. During the past two years, over 100 antelope have been captured and transplanted in the Sand Hills region. Trapping will be carried on this winter and in future winters, until a good breeding population is established.

With the exception of 1958, Nebraska sportsmen have had the opportunity to hunt antelope annually since 1953. Check stations are maintained during hunting season by Game Commission technicians to determine the number harvested as well as the age, size, and condition of each animal. The Game Commission keeps tabs on the antelope population by an aerial census of the major range during the summer months. Survey results indicate reproductive success and provide a total population estimate.

The pronghorn is truly American, a unique product of the western plains. Depending on the success of trapping and transplanting operations in desirable areas such as the Sand Hills, the species could once again become one of our top game species.THE END

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