THOUGH MODERN management has provided greatly improved hunting and fishing as well as more outdoor recreation facilities, according to Game Commission Vice Chairman Robert H. Hall, the Commission faces still a bigger job of developing all facilities and resources to cope with a burgeoning population that is hungry for the outdoors. One immediate task, says the 58-year-old Omaha insurance executive, is to acquire additional recreation lands before prices become prohibitive.

Hall is serving his fourth year on the Commission and first year as its vice chairman. During this period, he has developed an intimate knowledge of department operations and properties.

A lifelong sportsman, Hall has been actively associated with both outdoor and competitive forms of recreation. In addition to serving on the Commission, he is a past president and director of the Omaha Fish and Wildlife Club and past president of the Omaha Amateur Baseball Association. He also helped reorganize the Western Baseball League in 1947 and served as treasurer of the Western League and president of the Omaha Cardinals.

The vice chairman has taken an active interest in civic affairs. He has served as treasurer of Catholic Charities, past president of the North Omaha Kiwanis Club, a member of His Majesty's Council of Ak-Sar-Ben, and first president and member of the board of Directors of Children's Memorial Hospital. Also, he has served on the board of directors of the YMCA, Camp Fire Girls, Omaha Chapter of the Red Cross, Salvation Army, and Omaha Zoological Society.

Of all his many outings afield, Hall most remembers a cold, blustery day when Canada geese settled into his blind on the Platte River near Lisco.

WHERE THE WEST BEGINS

PALLADIN, Seth Adams, Sugarfoot, Bronco, Maverick, and Shotgun Slade, the parade of rooting, shooting cowboys, card sharks, good guys, bad guys, wagon trains, river boats, longhorn herds, and Indian tribes in full regalia spill out in a cloud of dust and gore—America's daily television dose of the good old days when the West was young and a man all man.

The entire world, wherever a coaxial cable paves the way, is addicted to the Old West craze. And Nebraska, uniquely, has a whole world of western history. Here's where it all happened, and some of it, still happening today.

No, the Sioux aren't planning a raid on Crawford. Nor is Wild Bill Hickok's counterpart ready to trigger a shotgun at Rock Creek. But today's brand of Nebraskans will be happy to show you how it all happened in colorful pioneer and centennial celebrations. Cowboys will break broncs and wrestle steers as they ever have in state rodeo arenas and on the range. Feathered Winnebagos will dance their age-old ritual for a successful hunt.

Nebraska is where the West begins, and you'll find mementos of the frontier epic at every turn. Minden's Pioneer Village, Hasting's House of Yesterday, Chadron's Museum of the Fur Trade, Nebraska City's Arbor Lodge, Scotts Bluff National Monument Museum, Omaha's Union Pacific and AUGUST, 1960 3   Joslyn Art museums, and of course, the State Historical Societv museums in Lincoln and at Fort Robinson are all prime spots to get a whiff and feel the exciting tempo of a rip-roaring past.

In short order, and with just a pinch of imagination, you'll follow the trail of countless prairie schooners grinding out the trail to the setting sun, sweat westward with track-laying crews pushing end-o-track into the wilderness, ride shotgun on a stage hurtling down the Pants Butte road, eat dust with a Fort Robinson cavalry unit galloping to its date with the warring Sioux, and drink in the magnitude of a Sand Hills cattle empire.

The Historical Society Museum in Lincoln gives you the opportunity to stroll back, through time, from the nostalgia of a Gay Nineties shivaree to the stark ordeal of survival on the trail. At Pioneer Village on U.S. Highway 6, some 20,000 items relate a tale no history book can match. Fort Robinson is unique among such attractions. In this former army outpost near Crawford, you can eat, sleep, and drink the past since the entire post, in a sense, is a museum, with former officers' quarters and enlisted men's barracks renovated to accommodate visitors.

A visit to Fort Robinson helps you to appreciate Nebraska's rich western heritage. You'll want to get out to the state's many historical sites, see the lay of the land and how it served as a place of ambush or as a campground for travel-weary emigrants. There are plenty of these areas, each with its own story to tell. Some may only be remembered by a simple monument. Others will show the telltale markings of back-breaking work, rusted relics of battle, or rotting logs that were once the house of an early homesteader.

Hit the Nebraskaland historical trail at the verdant Missouri, setting your sights on Chimney Rock in the rolling plains of the panhandle. Its spindly shaft has ever been the adventurer's landmark on the road West. Nebraska City, Brownville, and Omaha will serve as jump-off spots. Each is steeped in the exciting history of the exodus.

Only 100 years ago now-sleepy Brownville was a bustling river-front town. Wagons and carriages pounded its streets, swarming to and from the river where dazzling-white river boats disgorged products and passengers. The town was the center of territory society, and many of the old brick homes being renovated today as museums and quaint antique shops once echoed the music and laughter of our early pioneers.

Nebraska City also had its date with history, and during the exodus mushroomed into a major commercial center. Its port was jammed with a host of paddle wheelers. The famed Russell, Majors, and Waddell freighting outfit made its eastern terminus here, and the giant Conestogas ground up the hill from the river behind straining yoked oxen. In its heyday, the company that conceived the Pony 4 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   Express needed 16,000 yoke of oxen and 1,500 men to carry out its vast operation. Otoe County Courthouse located in Nebraska City is the oldest still in use in the state.

Omaha, selected by the Mormons as their eastern gathering point for the trip to Utah in the 1840's, really stepped into the whirl of western development when, in 1862, the then small town, stepchild of Council Bluffs, was selected as the kickoff point for the first continental railroad, the Union Pacific. Nebraska Territory, established for this one giant endeavor, again assumed the role of the natural and the only route to the setting sun.

Mormon Cemetery in Omaha is a must-see spot. Winters ago, Mormons from all over the world assembled in what was Florence. Come spring, they pushed off to the promised land—those of means by wagon, the near destitute by foot, pushing cumbersome two-wheeled carts. Many died along the trail north of the Platte.

All trails led to the easy grade of the Platte River Valley. Oregon and California-bound wagons arced out over the bottom lands, littering the trail with goods and graves. In just 25 years, from 1840 to 1865, almost 2% million came this way, pummeling the early-day trappers' slight path into a ribbon of ruts, parts of which can be seen today.

Nor would the exodus stop. Great freighters brought needed material, the overland stage and Pony Express promised "fast" mail, Western Union lines assured better communication with the isolated populace, and finally, the Iron Horse, to carry even more fortune seekers West. The Indian, first curious, then frightened, threw himself into the path, only to be obliterated with its passing.

Relics still linger. Fort Kearny, the emigrants' last touch with civilization, is now being renovated as a state historical park. Famed Pony Express stations at Gothenburg and Cozad still stand, their pocketed logs remembering other days and other battles. Fort McPherson, frontier outpost established to guard emigrants, is now a national cemetery where ancient headstones name troopers and scouts felled in battle. Ash Hollow, famed pass on the Oregon Trail, still bears the scars of countless wagons lowered down its dangerous grades.

Chimney, Jail, and Courthouse rocks, and Scotts Bluff, the emigrants' harbingers of the mountains that lay ahead, stand today to check your passing as you leave historic Bridgeport for the heart of the panhandle. Once there, you can't escape your date with history. It is at every turn, every rutted pass.

Here, the Sioux and Cheyenne exploded in revenge. The treaty at Horse Creek, approved by over 10,000 Plains Indians in 1851 on the rolling prairie 23 miles west of Scottsbluff, had been written on the winds. Sioux, Cheyenne, Assiniboin, Arapahoe, Blackfeet, Arikari, Gros Ventre, Mandan, and Crow, the largest assembly of Indians in American history, saw their trust betrayed as too soon the white-topped wagons abandoned the Holy Road.

And the wagons kept coming, through Robidoux, then Mitchell Pass. The latter, when excavated by troopers, proved a quicker route, though no safer from Indian ambush than its predecessor.

The Sioux gathered at the Pine Ridge, there to plot new but ultimately futile (continued on page 22)

MODERN-DAY PROSPECTORS

A HOST of pick-wielding prospectors, circa 1960, are invading Nebraska's panhandle in search of semi-precious stones. In the process, they're discovering a new form of outdoor recreation.

Entire families have been bitten by the gemstone bug, prospecting for agate, jasper, and chalcedony with the same zest as the 49er's. The fortunes reaped are small, but the enjoyment of getting out in this exciting land is richly rewarding.

The Cornhusker State has more than its share of fine quality gem stones. Though found throughout the state, there are regions that have a concentration. Agate is found in good gem quality in the Pine Ridge country, especially in the area north of Crawford and eastward to Chadron. Better areas for petrified wood, quartz, and other quality stones are in western Nebraska. Jasper and chalcedony are found in quantity in the Orella country near Crawford.

Although the rock hound may find large quantities of gem stones in his forays, only a small number of quality gems are taken. Most beginners will usually start with a broad selection of minerals, and then, after becoming better acquainted with them, specialize in a particular field. Actually the rock hound could be termed as an amateur mineralogist, in that his collection of rocks and minerals, if to be worth-while, must be identified.

Equipment for collecting minerals is basically simple. A hammer or pick and a sack are sufficient for most. A prospector's pick is the best. It has a small tapered head, and the back is drawn out to a point. The pick is used for chipping off the edge or outer layer of rock to check specimens. A word of caution. Don't split the rocks or kndck out big pieces; you may by your banging cleave a prize stone in two.

Many collectors carry a small pail of water. Agate and others of the chalcedony group show their colors and patterns much better when wet.

The hobby of rock hounding usually starts with just finding and indexing the different minerals. But sooner or later, most seem to lean towards the gem stones of the chalcedony group. Many collectors OUTDOOR NEBRASKA 6   just clean the stones and store them. Others, however, get the urge to "open the package", so to speak, to see what is inside. Once the cutting and polishing bug takes hold, they begin to invest in saws, polishing wheels, and jewelry to set their cut gems in.

A tumbling machine that rough polishes small rocks is used widely. Filled with an abrasive, it tumbles rocks 400 hours to complete the polishing.

Stone of gem quality can actually be of many kinds. There are a number of requirements to be met, however. Hardness is a big factor. Another is color. Combine this with a stone's cleavage or cutting characteristics and rarity and you have some of the many complex facets that go to make up gems.

Minerals of the silica group are found in profusion throughout the state. Quartz, a mineral of this group, is very common, and some varieties are used in custom jewelry. Rose quartz is widely sought.

Most of the gems found here come under the quartz family. The term chalcedony embraces an extensive group of crystalline quartz gem stones such as agate, chert, jasper, and wood. These gems are by far the most popular with the collector.

Mineral names used by the amateur gem collector will vary from those of the professional, but specific names have evolved from these. As mentioned, the name "chalcedony" covers a broad field, but it is being applied locally to stones of this group that cover the light gray, blue, and milky white varieties.

Even the layman has heard of agate. It is the most highly prized of Nebraska's gem stones. Proper use of the term "agate" is restricted to chalcedony in which the colors are laid out in a wavy, concentric band.

The Fairburn agate, found in the Chadron-Crawford area, is to the rock hound as the trout is to the fisherman. The colors are in the red hues, interlaced with white. Cut and polished, this beautiful stone is widely used in making costume jewelry. Larger pieces are highly prized as collectors' items.

Most beginners find it difficult to detect the different types in the field. Experience is, of course, the best teacher. Agate is found in various stones, and the collector looks for the evidence of agate by the appearance of the rock. A friend of mine aptly put it this way: "Agate-bearing rock most often reminds me of a potato, in that it is usually eyed and often has the same shape and color."

Constant or recurrent changes in the nature of the impurities mixed with the silica deposited give the agate its color. Thus, the concentric bands can be any color. Usually, however, the agate follows a color phase such as the reds of the highly prized Fairburn.

Agate comes in many patterns and names, such as the banded, ribbon, and fortification agates. These are formed the same way as the Fairburns, but the bands or layers of silica are in such a pattern as to give them their popular names. The fortification agate, for instance, has angular bands. The pattern forms an outline resembling the ground plans of a fort.

Jasper is another much-sought gem stone. It is a type of chalcedony and comes in many varied colors. The most predominant in Nebraska is the reddish-brown-hued variety. This stone is used in all kinds of costume jewelry.

Petrified wood is wood that has turned to stone, oftentimes to gem stone. Usually, the wood changes by the same method as agate, and it is of the chalcedony group. Specimens are found throughout Nebraska with better pieces taken in Orella country.

Regardless of name, most petrified wood is of ample hardness to be used as gem stones. The blacks and browns and other deep, rich colors are used widely in rings and other jewelry.

Calcite is found in profusion in northwestern Nebraska. This stone of the carbonate family is used to some extent in gem cutting. Cut and polished, the stone is used for cuff links, bracelets, and settings for other jewelry.

Agate or jasper, onyx or petrified wood; all hold a special fascination. Join the host of modern-day prospectors in a hobby that promises a bonus in gems and a Mother Lode of fun.

CATCH AS CATCH CAN

A FUTILE DAY streamside tells on even the most ardent of anglers, and in the most peculiar v ways. I know. I've seen and heard plenty bemoan their bad luck. They'll take out their wrath on a poor-functioning rod; cry about the lousy minnows that show no life. But most of all, they'll cut loose with a broadside on the unproducing stream.

"All fished out," is their rallying cry. Plant more fish so we can have some action."

Don't get me wrong. I've had my bad days, too. And I can't deny that on more than one occasion I've added my wrath to a stream gone bad. But the "fished out" cry has caused me and a lot of other people in the business to wonder just when a stream becomes fished out, or indeed, if it is fished out at all. What type of angler gives forth this angling "Uncle"—the tyro, fair-to-middling, or veteran angler? Or all three? How much fishing pressure can a given stream take, and what per cent of the population can actually be creeled by even the most experienced fishermen?

There was only one way to answer these questions. Pick out a given body of water, fish it under different conditions with several fishermen of varying talents using different techniques, record and return the catch, then census the pond to determine what percentage of the population was taken when compared to time and technique.

Earl Kendle and Larry Morris, Commission fisheries biologists, and I set up such a fished-out project. Picking a particular area to use for the test site was 8 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   governed by a number of facts. First many rivers were at flood level and turbid. Under these conditions, they were not suitable to use the shocking method of recovering fish. We finally set our sights on one of the bayous along the Cedar River near Erickson.

One particular bayou six miles upstream from Erickson fitted our requirements. Beaver had already provided one barrier. All that was needed was a fence across the other end to give us our test sight.

Once the pond was enclosed, we began a two-day fishing marathon. Earl handled spinning; Larry fly fishing. Ed Booth, Erickson mail carrier, lent a hand in the bait-fishing department, while Walt Meyers, wildlife student and summer employee of the Commission, went fishing with spinning gear for anything that might hit. My job was to try the usual methods of catching fish on both bait and artificials, and at the same time take pictures and notes.

Fishing hours were to be totalled each day and then fit into each of the different fishing methods and fish sought. Earl, Larry, and I began the day working artificials. Earl and I were after bass; Larry hoped he would get a lot of action from bluegill and sunfish.

Having walked the edge of the pond before fencing it, we had an idea of species present. Bass, bluegill, and carp had all been spotted. Shocking after our fish marathon was over showed that the pond held other fish as well.

Ed Booth joined the party in late afternoon and fished a total of four hours, using worms for bluegill. He succeded in catching 16 in the six-inch class. Walt Meyers, an admittedly inexperienced angler, flailed the water with everything from spoons and spinners to floatfishing with worms. His net catch for three hours fishing was zero. Walt's tyro technique was most revealing. He helped bring to light the fact that the inexperienced can sometimes catch fish, but when the chips are down, it is that 10 per cent of the fishermen who have the knowhow to catch 90 per cent of the fish.

Earl and I fished a total of three hours each, using spoons, plugs, and surface lures. Our catch: one 15-inch bass which hit Earl's surface plug. Larry failed to turn up many bluegill on flies and could show only five for his three hours on the pond. Both Earl and I felt we should have taken more bass. We had long matched wits with this fighter. Larry with flies had to take a back seat to Ed Booth, the worm fisherman. This could more or less be expected.

The second day dawned with a slight drizzle, but we suited up in rain gear and once again assaulted the pond. Earl and Walt left to attend to other business during the forenoon so Larry and I went to work on the bluegill.

I rigged my spin outfit with a small float and No. 10 hook. Using worms, I managed to catch 12 bluegill in approximately three hours of fishing time. Larry ran into the same trouble that he had the previous day. His varied flies, such as the Royal Coachman, Coachman, Cahill, and Ibis netted four bluegill and one green sunfish. While fishing, he used a number of variants such as the wooly worm, Michigan hopper, and many of the small popping bugs

Rain curtailed fishing until midafternoon. When the sun finally broke, four of us returned to bombard the small pond. So far, (continued on page 23)

FIRST LADY OF THE UPLANDS

THE LIGHTS of the tractor stabbed into the darkness over the alfalfa field, paused, then leaped forward as the hay chopper began its singsong. The noise aroused the nesting pheasant hen, but the nodding lavender blooms over her head screened out immediate harm.

The tractor swept back and forth, snatching up the luxuriant hay and spewing out a thick spray of chopped wet stems. As it came closer, the hen began to feel the panic of small, fleeing animals. A whitefooted mouse clawed blindly over her nest. A garter snake whipped by into the uncut hay, followed by a striped skunk and her kits. More pheasants, young meadow larks with their first flight feathers, ground squirrels with flattened tails, all fled into the tall and sweet alfalfa.

Only when the lights of the tractor became two white eyes boring down at her did the hen flush, sailing on set wings out into the cut hay where she settled among the stiff bleeding stems. She never returned to her nest, and the four olive eggs within it.

For the next few days the hen sauntered through the fence rows and roadside ditches, picking up scattered corn kernels, nipping off the buds from the prickly lettuce, and occasionally darting after a grasshopper. The nest in the alfalfa had been her second attempt this spring to raise a brood; the first had been in a grassy roadside ditch. At the time it had been the only cover she could find, and after dropping and abandoning a few eggs, she had arranged a few blades of brome grass in a depression. It was early April, and the new green spears of wheat were just beginning to dip and prance in the freshening winds, the alfalfa field was thin and uninviting. Patches of gray snow covered other grassy and weedy areas she might have chosen.

But the heavy snows last winter had flattened the long grasses into a thick carpet with few of the hiding places the hen liked, and skunks and other predators were attracted to the only available travel lanes in the area. A crow had watched the young 10 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   hen select a hoofprint for her nest, and had taken a fence-post perch not too far away while she laid her first eggs. There was nothing to shield her from his patient scrutiny.

Discouraged by the broken shells she found upon returning from feeding one evening, and by the frequent sniffing visits of the skunks and ground squirrels, the hen deserted the slovenly little nest. The alfalfa was rank and shadowy now, and the hen noticed many other pheasants strolling through it. The easy hiding afforded there appealed to her, and she began her second nesting. It ended the night the farmer decided the hay was ready for cutting.

Although she was homeless again something drove her through the roadsides and the fields for another nesting site. Around her were the young of the year — timid cottontails tucked into their forms, white-faced calves with a gamboling step often dangerous to a nesting hen. Yet there were many others like her, other pheasant hens still broodless.

By now it was mid-June, and the wheat field was nodding with stiff-awned green heads. The hen sensed that her enemies, the skunk and house cat among them, would not easily range this far from more lucrative hunting areas. Eleven days later she completed her clutch of eight eggs. The combines came, but the hen did not abandon this nest. A little over three weeks later the first egg pipped and a wet, downy chick labored out. Seven of the eggs were successful.

Because she had completed her clutch the pheasant hen remained at her nest although her cover was denuded. The wheat heads above her had ripened from green to white gold, and the earth steamed with the swelling harvest. When the combines and the trucks came they were careless of many ripe heads, and left a wide fence row. But they drove the hen from her nest and the straw windrow dusted down onto her clutch. When the combiners stopped for lunch they watched her rummaging between the windrows peering for her nest. After kicking the straw away, she eased down on her eggs. She stayed there through the rest of the harvest, and the trucks gave her room. When the baler came to pick up the straw, she led her seven downy young to the safety of the fence row.

Her chicks already were carrying their first flight feathers, and the hen had little to do other than show them how to catch grasshoppers, the protein-rich fare of the week-old brood. But one day a stray cat dumped from a strange car smelled the brood. Although the hen clucked six of the gangly-necked chicks to safety, the cat captured one.

When the nights turned cold and it rained for two days the hen lost another chick—it wandered too far away, became separated, and chilled to death. A skunk got a third.

But she had not lost an unusual number of chicks, for she had four left, fully feathered now at six weeks. At nine weeks they feathered again, and four weeks later when the brood broke up, the cocks carried bright red breast feathers.

The cold spring rains that had taken an earlier toll of the pheasant's brood and of other wildlife would now benefit her through the fall and winter. Cover was abundant, and the panicgrass stood high and feathery above the pheasant's head, while the short scratchy foxtail gave her ample food. Spilled wheat and corn became available. The hunters didn't even see the hen in the center of a cornfield and complained of a lack of birds because of the high cover.

With the advent of colder weather the hen began to feel a pleasure in the company of other pheasants, and she took up with a flock of five other hens. Although snow covered the ground for most of the winter, the hen and others of the flock scarcely noticed it; weedy and brushy draws sheltered them, and the drifts lifted them to the hanging pods of the sunflowers, or bared spots in the nearby cornfield.

But one day after a warm south breeze had softened the ground and most of the snow had trickled or gushed away, a biting north wind tossed the branches of the shelter belt in which the hen was loafing. The temperature dropped rapidly, and scudding clouds brought rain. By (continued on page 22)

McCONAUGHY

ALTHOUGH LAKE McCONAUGHY holds undisputed "purples" in Nebraska fishing circles, an antelope trophy, or a full bag of pheasants or mallards could be almost as much a symbol of the area as a stringer of 20-inch walleye.

In short, the area enjoys total utilization and year-round outdoor fun.

This year, for example, McConaughy's walleye explosion put more fishermen on the lake than ever before. And this year, for the first time, an antelope hunting unit opens up north of the lake. The quail population around the shores is zooming, and the heart of ringneckland is not too far from the mammoth reservoir.

Total utilization, however, doesn't mean that McConaughy is at its visitation saturation point. Far from it. An estimated 100,000 people visited McConaughy last year. Yet one of its biggest drawing cards is the elbow room sportsmen can find—on the busiest days you may see a solitary fisherman on a rocky point or a single boat trolling in a bay.

Lake McConaughy's big—it features 105 miles of shore line, and its 3 1/2-mile Kingsley Dam is one of the largest earthen fills in the world. The lake itself backs 23 miles up the North Platte River Valley, and is about 4 1/2 miles wide and 143 feet deep at the dam.

And, if you bothered to take the trouble, you could scoop the water held at capacity out over the state of Nebraska, and cover the 77,000 square miles of Nebraskaland with about one-half inch of water.

Lake McConaughy, nine miles north of Ogallala on Highways 26 and 61, is the king of the Central 12 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   Nebraska Public Power and Irrigation District's development plan, which includes irrigation of 110,000 acres of land in the Tri-County area of Gosper, Phelps, and Kearney counties; hydroelectric power production by three 18,000 KW power plants and a 26,000 KW plant; flood protection, and groundwater recharge.

C. W. McConaughy and George P. Kingsley began the formation of the Central Nebraska District in 1913, motivated by the drouth that robbed southcentral Nebraska farmers of land and livelihood while the Platte River flowed by unharnessed. The Dust Bowl of the '30's brought the matter to a head, and, in 1933, the Nebraska Legislature enabled a public agency to utilize the irrigation and hydroelectric potential of the Platte. Kingsley Dam was closed in 1941.

The Game Commission took over recreational development on most of the perimeter in 1959 on a 25-year lease that permits almost unlimited facilities.

As for the fishing—"I've taken them bigger, but never faster," just about covers the walleye picture.

Fisheries biologists haven't exact data from McConaughy, although they've kept pretty close tabs on "Big Mac" for the past six years. They're sure the boom is due to increased population. McConaughy is unique for still another reason; it's doing just about what no other lake can do— producing smallmouth bass. The lake holds the state's current smallmouth fish record, along with six others—white bass, brook, brown, and rainbow trout, walleye, and yellow perch.

But the trout-lake supreme is just over Kingsley Dam. One-and-one-half mile Lake Ogallala is Nebraska's finest trout water, three years running. Eight to 10 inchers have grown 7 inches in a year.

The Game Commission controls all the perimeter area on Lake Ogallala, and has just installed playground equipment there. Roomy camping sites are available, and fishing, hunting, and boating are allowed. Drinking-water wells are spotted over the picnicking grounds.

All bays on the north shore of Lake McConaughy have access roads, and the Game Commission has leased two areas, Otter Creek and North Shore, to private concessionaires who have rental cabins and other facilities for the comfort of the angler. Four others are on the south and east sides. Boat docks and ramps at choice localities around the lake are in the planning stage. Boats may be launched easily from Omaha Beach near the mud flats at the shallow western end. At Omaha Beach also are some of the lake's best duck and goose shooting. Acres of ducks have bobbed on McConaughy's whitecaps during migration.

Landscaping and beautification attempts have been made in several areas along the north shore, nearly 8,000 conifers—pine and cedar—were put in this year, along with considerable shrubbery plantings. Some native cottonwoods and cedars have also been moved out onto the points jutting into the lake.

Lake McConaughy is rich not only in goldensided walleye and white or smallmouth bass for the fisherman, but in ducks, geese, pheasants, and quail for the nimrod, deer and antelope for the big-game hunter, and sights and pleasures for every outdoorsman and his family. It's truly Nebraska's and the Midwest's finest.

GONE TO THE DOGS

FROM THE PRAIRIES of northern Mexico to the plains of southern Saskatchewan, the prairie dog barked a greeting to the first men—red or white —who entered any part of this vast domain. Abundant beyond belief, this colorful American mammal was as much a part of the "shortgrass country" of our continent as endless prairies, azure skies, and crimson sunsets.

John Russell Bartlett, member of the U.S.-Mexico Boundary Commission, in his official report, told how his party rode for more than two days through one continuous prairie-dog town in north-central Texas.

That was more than 100 years ago. Today the prairie dog is greatly reduced in range and numbers, and the rate of decimation accelerates steadily. In truth, the prairie dog will eventually vanish from the American countryside—this native of our high plains and arid tablelands is even now listed among vanishing species which include the whooping crane, grizzly bear, mountain lion, mene goose, trumpeter swan, and big horn sheep.

In Nebraska, the prairie dog was very abundant west of the 100th Meridian, and is still a well-known animal in the range. But, here as elsewhere, the prairie dog is on the way out, and sooner or later will be erased forever from the Nebraska scene.

This is true because the prairie dog is readily controlled via the poison route, and complete extermination through this particular method is quite 15 AUGUST, 1960   possible. The toxin used is a material known as "1080", one of the deadliest poisons known to man. Its unrestricted use leaves no doubt about ultimate results.

No fair-minded person can object to justified control, but mass extermination and considered control are as far apart as the poles. Before the propaganda and fanaticism of the "poison peddlers", we have reached that stage in Nebraska where it is not even legally possible to preserve this species on a state-owned wildlife area, dedicated through the majority will of the people to the preservation and perpetuation of Nebraska wildlife.

I repeat, the prairie dog is easily controlled. That is the sole reason the poison technique is so effective. But the prairie dog has been an undesirable only because of his numbers—a few pitiful remnants of this species can pose no threat to anything or anyone.

But we are determined to exterminate the last Nebraska prairie dog. This we do in the name of progress.

No wonder the youth of America are quietly saying to each other, "What price progress?" They have good cause to wonder about the wisdom of their fathers.

OUTDOOR ELSEWHERE

MISSOURI . . . Wrens are notorious for selecting odd nesting sites, but Conservation Commission Field Agent J. Lewis Berry has a new one for the books. While examining a tractor on a farm near Bourbon he found a wren nest inside the brake and clutch housing. Moss said that the tractor is in daily use and mother wren follows it to feed her young, entering through the clutch and brake pedal holes. Berry said the young wrens were hatched precariously amid all the moving machinery, but apparently are doing well.

WASHINGTON, D. C. . . . An urge to travel but a love for home led a steelhead trout to pick out his own Oregon river after a 2,400-mile round trip through the Pacific Ocean. Points of interest along the trip included Kodiak Island in the Gulf of Alaska where the steelhead was captured and tagged. At this time, five months after his 1958 release, he had grown to 14 inches from 5. When recovered again in 1960 in the same Alsea River in Oregon in which he had been liberated, he measured 22 inches.

PENNSYLVANIA . . . Want to kill deer? According to Pennsylvania Game Protector William Schaffer, driving heedlessly past a "Deer Crossing" sign can start you on your way. "Within 10 days last month I picked up nine deer hit on highways in my district. Three of the animals were bucks. The other six were does, each was carrying two unborn fawns. The result—a 21 deer loss. Seven of the nine adult deer were struck and killed at points marked by warning signs where deer are known to cross."

CANADA . . . The world fish catch is increasing at a whirlwind pace, with impressive gains in South America, Asia, and Africa. According to the Food and Agriculture Organization, the total world fish catch in 1948 was 19 million tons; by 1957, it reached almost 30 million metric tons. The International Yearbook, "Pacific Fisherman", cites the growth of various areas from 1950 through 1958. South America leads, with gains of 181 per cent. Next is Asia, not including Russia, with a growth of 129 per cent. African nations gained 82 per cent, the Soviet Union, 61 per cent, Europe, not including Russia, 23 per cent, and North America, 9 per cent.

MISSOURI ... If a certain horned owl tries again to snatch a turkey from a Higginsville farmer, the bird is almost certain to be shot at with a rifle. The farmer caught the owl sitting on a freshly killed turkey and blasted away with a shotgun—killing three turkeys. The owl flew away. The bird hasn't returned yet, and the farmer hopes the owl received a painful lesson.

IOWA . . . An ice fisherman at West Okoboji landed an 18-pound northern pike which put up quite a struggle. First, it was too large to be pulled up through the hole in the ice. Then, when brought out, it thrashed about in the angler's shelter and refused to be manhandled. Finally subdued, the big fish clamped its teeth on the door jamb and had to be pried loose.

TEXAS . . . Rattles, and not the babytype, were worth $4,000 to Coke Countians last year. The County bought some 5,842 rattlesnake rattle sets from bounty hunters for $3,921. Many individuals became professional snake hunters during the year-long hunt. One collected some $737 in three months time.

NEW MEXICO . . . When a hunter fatally wounds another person, the Department of Game and Fish is required by law to revoke the hunter's license privilege "forever." This happened recently in the case of an Army man with a "previously spotless military record," who pleaded guilty to the charge of fatally shooting another hunter afield. Also, he was fined for careless handling of a firearm and failure to come to the aid of the victim. Panic was his excuse for not helping the wounded man. He admitted hearing the call for help and the threeshot signals for assistance.

HOW MANY?

IN JUST a few short weeks, big-game hunters will match wits with that eagle-eyed speedster of the prairie, the pronghorn antelope. The three-day event will take place in the northern part of Sioux County (300 permits) and a large area of the western Sand Hills, including parts of Arthur, Box Butte, Garden, Grant, Keith, Morrill, and Sheridan counties (250 permits).

Here are some of the events leading up to this year's open season, the seventh since antelope were returned to the hunting list in 1953.

As many old-timers remember, antelope once ranged over most of Nebraska. The advance of civilization took its toll of the herds, and it wasn't long before a mere remnant remained in the western portion of the state. This decline was largely a result of uncontrolled hunting and the conversion of native prairie to cropland. The pronghorns had, in a sense, been evicted from their ancestral home. In 1907, laws were passed which gave complete protection to antelope and other big-game animals.

Under complete protection, antelope gradually increased. In 1953, the first controlled hunt was held in the southern portion of Cheyenne County, motivated by crop-depredation complaints. It was the first legal hunt in 47 years. With the exception of 1958, antelope seasons have been held every year since.

Antelope presently occupy most of the range land in western Nebraska. Recent trapping and transplanting operations have established small herds in various portions of the Sand Hills area, but more about that later.

There are two basic objectives that must be considered in the antelope-management program. One is to provide Nebraskans with the maximum amount of hunting without seriously reducing the herd. The second is to maintain the herds at a level where they will not seriously compete with other land uses. Having a huntable population is not all peaches and cream. It is possible for antelope to cause damage to cropland adjacent to antelope range.

The most important phase of any game-management program is to determine "how many?". A proper harvest must be based on a reliable census. This is not too difficult since pronghorns, ranging in wide-open, treeless plains, are easily spotted from the air. Each summer, Game Commission technicians take to the air to census the major antelope range in western Nebraska.

The plane flies at low altitude, crisscrossing the range. All pronghorns observed for one-quarter mile on either side of the flight path are counted. Technicians can calculate the approximate total population from this sample. In addition, they can determine the reproductive success by comparing the number of kids to does. If reproduction is poor for a year or two, the population may be greatly reduced.

Reproduction has caused some concern in recent years. Since 1955, the ratio of does to kids has been 18 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   dropping steadily. In 1955, the ratio was 100 does to 83 kids; in 1956, 100 to 76; in 1957, 100 to 66; in 1958, 100 to 62; and in 1959, 100 to 52.

Until last year, reproduction has been coupled with a general decline in population. In 1957, the survey indicated a decline of 18 per cent, and in 1958, a drop of 45 per cent, bringing the antelope population to an alarmingly low level. Consequently, antelope were given complete protection in 1958, and a very limited season was held in 1959. The pronghorns responded well to protection, and populations are again on the upswing in most areas.

There is an indication that population movements occur both within the state and between Nebraska and bordering states. The best antelope range is adjacent to Wyoming, Colorado, and South Dakota. There appears to be considerable movement between states, complicating the picture here.

Maintaining the pronghorn herd in balance with other land uses was the primary consideration in allowing 550 permits this season. Some landowners had a serious problem last winter when antelope banded up on their alfalfa and winter wheat. Removal of some of these "free-loaders" was necessary. In the process, Nebraskans will have a chance at bagging a real western trophy.

Game Commission checking stations provide a host of information on the speedsters during the open season. Every successful hunter is required to bring his antelope to an official checking station. Here, the animal is weighed, aged, and examined to obtain biological information important for management. It also gives personnel a chance to talk with hunters and discuss many things of importance pertaining to the hunt.

Since the first open season in 1953, Nebraskans have enjoyed a high success score. Highest success occurred in 1953 when 88 per cent of the hunters bagged pronghorns. The lowest was in 1957 when 74 per cent were successful. This was the year when antelope populations were at a low level. In 1959, it was 87.6 per cent. A large portion of last year's kill was composed of adult bucks, indicating that many hunters are after trophy animals. Few game animals make a better trophy head than the pronghorn. It is truly a unique animal. Hunters who successfully stalk the big, wary bucks have a great feeling of accomplishment, and this type of hunting should be encouraged.

What about the future of Nebraska antelope hunting? It's true that landowners will never tolerate a large number of antelope in western Nebraska. It's also true that antelope will never be able to occupy much of their former range due to changes in land uses. But something can, and is being done to return the pronghorn to the vast 20,000-square-mile Sand Hill country.

In 1956, the Game Commission initiated a project to trap antelope from western Nebraska and transplant them in the Sand Hills. This region makes an ideal home for pronghorns. There is plenty of food and water, vast areas of wilderness, and most important of all—very little cropland. The public has enthusiastically accepted the program, and many thousands of acres have been signed up under cooperative agreements between individual ranchers and the Game Commission.

Already, over 700 antelope have been trapped and transplanted. As a result, the gray ghost is now a common sight in areas where he had not been seen since the days of the early settlers.

If all goes well, the pronghorn will one day rank as one of Nebraska's major game animals. This can't be too soon to countless Nebraska outdoorsmen who are waiting for the day when they can match wits with this prized trophy.

THE END

BEAU BRUMMEL WITH WHISKERS

SPORT FISHING for channel catfish has not reached the popularity it deserves in Nebraska. However, a growing band of anglers is beginning to see the light, finding that "cats" are just as tricky and scrappy as most other game fish.

These Beau Brummels of the whiskered "set" can be taken by various methods, with jugging, set line, and rod-and-reel angling showing the way. Catching cats on light-action spinning rods and even fly rods provides the kind of action that even seasoned anglers dream about.

My outfit—a 3-ounce spinning rod, spinning reel loaded with 8 or 10-pound-test monofilament, and a No. 2 hook—has brought in plenty of fighters. I use an oval sinker, called a sliding sinker. It slides up and down the line, allowing the fish to run with the bait without feeling the sinker's weight as the line runs freely through its hole.

The Cornell Power Dam on the Niobrara River near Valentine is a favorite haunt of mine. I like to wade out below the dam, casting my bait close to its base. Then I allow the current to drift the bait as it would any normal food coming downstream. Here's where patience pays off. If I don't get a strike or bite in a few moments, I move the bait about a foot and let it rest for a short time, doing this until a complete retrieve has been made. The slower the retrieve, the better the chances of attracting a fish. I cover an area similar to the face of a clock,

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Gray perched on rocks wrestles with cat in lug-of-war. He won this round

OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   casting from 9 to 3 o'clock. For instance, if I begin at 9, I work my way gradually toward 10, 11, etc., after each unsuccessful cast. Using this technique, I manage to cover a broad expanse of water. This system has rewarded me with some fine channel catfish.

Channels are just as unpredictable as other game fish. From past experience, I've found it almost impossible to predict what lure the catfish will hit. Tops in my book, however, is the soft-shelled crayfish. Pierced through the tail and out the chest, like stringing a worm, it presents an irresistible morsel.

Fishermen look twice when they see me using soft shell crayfish in early fall, and early spring when catfish become active again, since they aren't available then. Here's my trick. In the summer, I catch an extra supply of soft-shells and store them in the deep freeze. Then when fall or spring rolls around, I'm still in business. And the channels show their appreciation with rod-bending action.

Other good baits are live and dead minnows, chicken and turkey livers, worms, salamanders, frogs, grasshoppers, soap, stink bait, doughballs, cheese, liver, and other commercially prepared baits. A favorite on the Elkhorn River is coagulated beef or chicken blood. In the fall, winter, and early spring, the entrails of gizzard shad work well, too.

To obtain the ultimate in thrills more fishermen are going after channels with artificials. The channel is a fish that prefers to move about in swift, clear waters, and lures properly presented will produce business galore. The channel's cousins, the blues and yellows, show less response to artificials. They inhabit more turbid waters.

Once a cat's feeding area is located, the fun begins. Strikes will be hard and fast. Underwater battles in the swift currents and rough rocks provide exciting duels between fish and fisherman. True, a few hooks and sinkers may be lost in the process, but it's a cheap price to pay for such top action. Most any area below the Cornell Power Dam is good for catfishing during the summer months. Full of rocks, rubble, and holes, it's an ideal hangout for cats waiting for drifting food.

The Niobrara is by no means the only spot where channel cats can be caught. Other prime waters are the Little and Big Blue rivers, Little Nemaha, TriCounty Canal from North Platte to Johnson Lake, Beaver and Cedar rivers (Boone County), Loup River systems, Elkhorn River, Loup Power Canal between Fullerton and Columbus, Republican River, Spencer Dam, Logan Creek, (continued on page 24)

WHERE WEST BEGINS

ways to salvage their prized hunting grounds. Fort Robinson served as a reservation to carry out the white man's guarantee of goods and good times. Instead, it was a hornet's nest of hate. Crazy Horse struck out, garnishing sweet vengeance at the Little Big Horn, then returned to Fort Robinson and peace. Instead, he was murdered, stymied from escape by his own people.

But after the Big Horn, it was all over. Buffalo Bill stepped into the picture, gobbling headlines from a hand-to-hand battle with Yellow Hand at Hat Creek north of Fort Robinson. Bill, being realistic, smoked the peace pipe with the defeated Sioux, offering them a part in his Wild West Show from his headquarters at Scout's Rest Ranch at North Platte. Then, as today, people the world over relished Nebraska's brand of cowboys and Indians. The state soon hopes to restore the famed scout's home.

The spoils of the Indian wars were here for the taking. Great longhorn herds moved in to munch the grasses of dwindling buffalo herds. Ogallala, where over 100,000 head were shipped annually to Chicago during the 1870's, not only lived up to the tradition of the wild and woolly West, it helped make it—a tradition that lives today.

Homesteaders claimed the land as soon as it became available, long before the Indians gave up the ghost. Daniel Freeman was the first to stake out a piece of fertile Nebraska soil, the first homesteader in the nation. His home, now a national monument five miles west of Beatrice, is seen by thousands.

Nebraska's rich lands are now a patchwork symmetry of lush cropland. Longhorns have been ———— replaced on the wide prairies by Angus and Herefords. Big cities have swallowed up what were struggling frontier towns. But the frontier spirit lives on, the Old and New West blended in an exciting offering that has the same appeal that Buffalo Bill long ago exploited. Nebraskans not only have the opportunity to enjoy but reap the bonus of a heritage so many others relish.

FIRST LADY

By the following morning sleet was rattling on the corn stalks, followed in the afternoon by a driving snow. Two of the flock with which the hen had stayed failed to return to the roost in the draw that night. One had run before the wind into the wheat field, there crouched into the storm, ice had collected in her nostrils, and her tail had fastened to the ground.

The next morning the sky was sullen but quiet, and the hen joined other pheasants moving out across the road into the cornfield. As she picked and searched down the rows, many strange pheasants flew into the field. Already there were several squirrels, and a few rabbits ventured out from the plum border. The hen soon was feeding next to a cock from a hedgerow a mile away.

Already the cock fed and preened with increasing vigor. By late February his wattles were bright and his manner toward other males more contentious. He was among the first to leave the draw, and he took up his crowing territory in a shortgrass pasture.

When the daisy fleabane and spiderworts began to open their blooms in the native pastures, the hen wandered through the farm restlessly. When she found a duck nest she paused long enough to drop two small eggs in it, then continued working through the cover. Another pheasant's dump nest served as depositary for three more eggs. Finally, under a clump of dropseed, she collected a few bleached leaves and began again the endless reproduction effort that is the survival of all life.

CATCH AS CATCH CAN

some 37 bluegill had been fin clipped and returned to the pond along with one lonesome bass and one green sunfish. Walt decided to try some more bluegill fishing and the rest of our party assaulted the bass population.

Our efforts were not very rewarding, even though we each fished a three-hour period. I managed to catch two bass; one about nine inches, the other in the one-foot class. These were clipped and returned. Walt remained in the no-hit category and readily admitted that he wasn't much of a fisherman.

The third morning found us stretching a trammel net in front of our fence barrier to help in the capture of the fish that ran ahead of the electrical field of the shocker. This done, we began working the pond from the beaver dam toward the barrier.

Walt and I recovered shocked fish with dip nets, while Earl and Larry worked with the electrodes of the shocking device. It was exciting to see the invisible force turn up fish.

The fish population became more concentrated as we moved upstream, and the job of picking up the stunned fish was a real chore. Larry and Earl worked logs, undercut banks, and beaver runs that cut into the banks.

Counting and releasing the fish was the next project. Some 99 four to seven-inch bluegill of which eight were fin clipped had been taken. Using this figure along with our knowledge that there were 37 fin-clipped bluegill in the pond, we placed their population at 458. Twelve bass were collected. One was fin clipped. As we had marked three bass, total population was figured at 36. The population of other fish was projected through percentages.

The little pond, less than one third of an acre, was actually loaded with fish. It had, in addition to the bass and bluegill population, 75 carp, 18 white suckers, and 21 green sunfish. One bullhead was recovered, indicating the population was almost nonexistent. The same held true with the one threeinch crappie taken.

Our study showed when evaluated that even though fish are abundant, there are times when even better fishermen harvest very little of the population. In our total trolling time, the 10 hours fishing bait netted 28 bluegill for a success ratio of 2.8 fish per hour.

Fly fishing for panfish totalled six hours with nine fish taken for a success of 1.5 fish per hour. Bass fishing (3 fish in 17 hours) was low on the success ratio with a figure of hours per fish rather than fish per hour. It added up to approximately 5.5 hours per fish.

What we had expected was proved in the test. Sport fishing any particular area has very little effect on the population. The so-called fished-out or unproductive areas are not fished out, they merely require a higher degree of fishing know-how.

Some of the interesting sidelights are well worth remembering. The bass were all taken from good hiding places. This was true both from the angling and the shocking standpoint. Getting to know a fishing area is of prime importance as our success showed.

As we left the pond we all felt quite satisfied with the results. We had had fun fishing. Maybe more important, we had found that even though Larry, Earl, and I judged ourselves fair fishermen, we, too, had something more to learn about catching fish.

THE END

BEAU BRUMMEL

North Fork River, Box Butte and Whitney reservoirs, Crystal Lake, Cedar Creek, Platteview sand pits near Louisville, Carter Lake, Turkey Creek, Indian Creek, Sandy Creek, and last but not least, the Missouri River below Gavins Point Dam.

Finding good catfishing spots is only half the battle. You should be familiar with their habits and habitat. In daylight, they normally remain hidden under logs, cut banks, in deep water below riffles, or most any quiet hole that offers seclusion and shelter. Though primarily a nocturnal feeder, they do dine in the daytime, especially when there's an increased flow of water carrying a fresh supply of food. This, of course, happens after a heavy rain. As a rule, the fishing subsides as the stream's water level recedes to normal.

Prior to and during spawning there is considerable migration of cats. This is one of the best times to go after them. However, there is a lull in their movements during and after spawning. If the channels don't come after your offering, you have to go after them. Catfish will spawn in either clear or turbid waters. They prefer obscure places to deposit their eggs, such as in rock ledges, undercut banks, hollow logs, and even large tin cans. The water's temperature must rise above 75° before spawning begins, and the length of incubation is usually completed in 6 to 10 days.

When the summer heat slows most fishing, you can still bank on getting catfish action. However, they are most pugnacious in early spring and fall, and it's during this period when you can really rack them up. When chilly weather arrives, though, don't put up your tackle too soon. Often there will be warm days in late fall when the cats will leave their holes and go on the prowl. That's the time to get in some extra licks.

If you haven't the patience to try your hand at angling for channels, give trotline fishing or jugging a whirl. Almost all trotline enthusiasts have pet ideas regarding the best baits. A good lively minnow is a sure-fire producer. Frogs and salamanders also are excellent enticers. Experienced bank-liners select their fishing areas as carefully as they select their bait. This system is a good method of harvesting large cats which are more difficult to take by sport fishing. The most productive time for this kind of fishing is at night when movement and feeding is at a peak.

Jug fishing has many avid followers. August is usually one of the peak months, since jugging is generally best at low water. Gear is quite simple a large sealed can or a big block of wood. Glass bottles are illegal. Attached to this is a suitable length of line with large hooks. Some of the new, bubble-filled synthetics make light, almost ideal floaters. Those that have followed the bobbing jugs in a "John boat" agree that it's enjoyable sport.

Sport fishing has a couple of advantages over set-line fishing or jugging. For example, one day last spring I drifted my crayfish bait into a hole containing 20 set lines. Five minutes later I headed for another spot on the river, but my creel was richer by two channels. The trotline enthusiasts would swear no fish were biting, but I had mine, and in probably less time than it had taken to set the lines. Sport fishing makes a fisherman more mobile. Where juggers and set lines are stationary, I move up and down the rivers with my spinning rig covering more areas. I go after the fish.

Some anglers have difficulty identifying a channel from a blue catfish, and vice versa. An intensive study was made on the Missouri River during the past five years and turned up only 15 blues, indicating a scarcity of that species. Although both species are similar, there are telltale differences. For instance, channels have larger eyes that are near the top of the head. Blues have smaller, lower-set eyes. Also, the anal fin of the channel is definitely more rounded and has fewer rays while the blue's anal fin is distinctly angular. Channels are sleekshaped; blues are somewhat like bullheads, and more squatty. Channels are silver gray; blues are blue or slate-gray and light below. And channels are profusely marked with dark spots which the blues lack.

Channel catfish don't run as heavy as their "yellow" cousins. A 31 1/4-pounder, though, is nothing to sneeze at. That is the weight of the present staterecord channel caught by Bob Nuquist of Broken Bow. I know there are lots of larger-sized channel cats at large in Nebraska waters. Some persistent fisherman is bound to break the record soon. I hope it's me.

THE END

SPEAK UP

"I have a spring-fed pond that I stocked with fish I purchased. Do I need a license to fish, and do my guests? Could you tell me where I can purchase fingerling channel catfish?"—Leon Shaw, Falls City.

Glen R. Foster, fisheries chief, advises that inasmuch as your pond is privately owned, you may fish there without a permit, as may your guests, providing: (1) the fish were not stocked by either the state or Fish and Wildlife Service; and (2) these fish were not taken from another pond which was initially stocked by the state or federal government. Also, it is your obligation to prove that you purchased these fish from a private fish hatchery either in or out of Nebraska. If you meet these conditions, you may not assess a fee to fish your pond. If fish are caught by your guests, you must give them a receipt stating the fish were taken in your pond. You must also indicate the different species taken and numbers of each caught. Fingerling channel catfish may be purchased at Hartley Fish Farm, Penalosa, Kan.—Editor.

"There is a new hook out for fishermen called "Trigger Hook". A drawing is attached. I am curious whether such a hook is legal in Nebraska fishing waters. Please advise."—Clarence Gugat, Pierce.

According to Glen Foster, fishery division chief, the hook is legal on Nebraska fish. Incidentally, let us know if it does the trick. —Editor.

"I have been wondering if it is possible for a common, ordinary dog without any sporting bloodlines to be trained into a good hunting dog. If it can be trained, would it be suitable to use some of the training methods mentioned in your past articles?" —Allan Kleeb, Broken Bow.

Only by luck can a common dog without any sporting bloodlines be trained into a capable performer afield. With so many reliable hunting strains available, I don't deem it wise to invest time, money, and effort into such a chance proposition. Of course, if you are determined to pursue this venture, you could apply the training mentioned in some of our past articles, but you could train this dog for 10 years and never obtain a competent hunter. Training only intensifies the natural hunting instinct a sporting dog possesses from birth. You can't teach it to hunt. Sorry, I can't be more encouraging.—Editor.

"In addition to being an archery addict, I am tied in through the NRA as a confirmed handgun devotee. For clean, clear, and concise coverage of a fine sport—Hunter's Bonus Guns by "Al" Mart in the June issue is well nigh perfect. In addition, I enjoyed the entire issue."—J. W. (Andy) Anderson, Editor, "TAM"

"I've been considering buying a Model 1891 Mauser that has been rebuilt, "sporterized", barrel cut to 24 inches, and completely refinished. Since it uses 7.65 mm rifle cartridges, would it bring down coyotes? And what's the bullet speed of a military shell of 185 grains and a soft-nosed shell of 175 grains for this rifle? Which would be better for coyotes? Can a scope be put on this rifle?"—John A. Cander, Humboldt.

The Mauser should do the job on coyotes, provided you hand-load your shells; otherwise, stay away from this one. Your main problem would be ammunition availability. The 7.65's are not too common, and most of the available shells are surplus and were made in the 1930's by Belgian and Argentinian manufacturers. Your best bet for coyote shooting would be with a .220 Swift or .243 or .244. Ballistics tables don't cover bullet speeds of the 185 and 175-grain loads. However, the 154-grain factory-load has 2,880 feet-per-second muzzle velocity, and the 215 grain pill has 2,050. Stay away from fulljacketed shells; these ricochet dangerously. Any reliable gunsmith can mount a scope on the Mauser.—Editor.

"With the June edition of your good publication before me, I want to tell you how thoroughly I enjoy reading each edition of OUTDOOR NEBRASKA. Being an avid angler and interested in the true spirit of conserving our natural resources, I read each new edition from 'kiver to kiver' and admire your editorial stand on the important conservation issues, as well as the tasty stories dished up in printer's ink each month. It is my sincere wish that one of these days I can find time to fish in Nebraska—it sounds prolific for bass fishermen."—Bill Potter, managing editor. The Frankfort Morning Times, Frankfort, Ind.

"After reading the big-game regulations for 1960, I fail to locate any mention of fallow deer. Please advise if fallow deer may or may not be hunted this year. Can they be taken by bow and arrow only, or can rifles be used?"—Charles V. Carhart, Neligh.

According to the official regulations which are sent to all county clerks, conservation officers, etc., only mule and white-tailed deer may be taken by rifle hunters. Archers though, may take either mule, white-tailed, or fallow deer.—Editor.

Notes on Nebraska Fauna

LEAST WEASEL

BOUT AS BIG as your trigger finger, the least weasel is one of the fiercest fighting machines in the wild today. The deadly executioner answers to the scientific name of Mustela rixosa.

The least weasel is the smallest member of the Mustelidae family, which ranges in size from the tiny weasel to the husky, 35-pound wolverine. Nearly all are killers.

To say the weasel moves like chained lightning is putting it mildly. His long, sharp teeth transform the jaw into an instrument of swift death. Back of these casehardened teeth lies a brain that is quick and cunning. As a result, the weasel fears no man, bird, or beast, and has been known to attack creatures many times his size.

The weasel has a disposition only a mother could love. Once, a man tried to thwart one's attempt to kill a chicken. The tiny terrorist, scarcely six inches long, flew at the man in rage. Another bit a man's hand so viciously it couldn't be dislodged. The demon kept biting deeper "and deeper, as the farmer tried to pry it off. Finally, the man ran to a nearby creek where he dunked the weasel into the water, forcing it to release its death grip.

Possessing a long, slick, limber body, the small animal is a perfectly co-ordinated mass of muscle and nerves. He is so strong he can overcome animals several times its size, and so slender he can follow meadow mice into their tiny burrows. In a blinding display of dexterity, the weasel can outmaneuver most snakes. Once, two cowboys released a weasel from a trap, planning to use the animal's escape for target practice. To their dismay, the weasel was gone before the pokes could even cock their guns.

His presence sends other animals into a frenzied state; rabbits have died of fright when confronted OUTDOOR NEBRASKA 26   by the diminutive terrorist. Although the weasel's eyesight is poor, his keen-scenting nose works with exquisite precision in stalking game. Once on the quarry, the weasel half-sits, hypnotizing the victim with beady eyes as he weaves his long, snaky neck.

One factor alone controls and regulates the weasel population—abundance of food. Whenever mice are plentiful, the species increases. When scarce, weasels become rare.

Range extends from the Alleghanies to Alaska. The animal is not considered common in Nebraska. The species is known to range as far west as Cherry and Phelps counties, but is more common in the eastern third of the state. State records reveal that one was caught in Stanton County, and another, as recently as 1959, in Grand Island.

Home building is not one of the weasel's talents. Instead, the sly animal picks out a ready-made home by simply killing its occupants. If the nest is not comfortable enough, the weasel lines it with the hairy remains of its former occupants as well as those of other prey. If he builds a new bed, rat skins and bird feathers provide downy comfort. Sometimes, after the weasel has wiped out a mouse family, he will move into the nest, using it as a base for further operations.

The male weighs twice as much as the female and is two inches longer. Tails are about IV2 inches long. In the summer, the animal is dark brown with white or brown-splotched under parts. The weasel molts in the fall, and the new pelage is white throughout, except for a few scattered black hairs at the tip of the tail.

Mating occurs early in the summer, but there is a delayed gestation period, and the young are not born until April of the following year. In his mating ceremony, the adult male is nearly as violent as in hunting.

In spite of his bloodthirsty pursuits, the weasel father is domestically inclined and devoted to his offspring. He brings food, disciplines when necessary, and shows the young how to fend for themselves.

One to 12 youngsters come into the world pink, wrinkled, toothless, and naked. At three weeks, they are still blind, but surprisingly, have been housebroken. When their eyes open, which is usually around the fifth week, the young weasels are weaned. At seven months, males are often much larger than their mother.

Compared to a rat, the farmer's most deadly enemy, the least weasel is a piker. Although he may destroy chickens when he gets into a hen house, the animal doesn't come close to a rat which has been known to kill as many as 190 chicks in one night. More farmers are beginning to realize that the weasel is their most effective mouse and rat trapper and does a marvelous job in checking small rodent populations.

Although a flesh-eater, the weasel shows a remarkable diversity in eating habits. For example, he may feed for prolonged periods on fruits and berries. There's no disputing, however, that the weasel is truly a carnivorous eater. Though he will eat whatever meat is handy, the animal prefers fresh kills.

Less hungry than the shrew, the weasel still eats about one-third of his weight each 24 hours. Young and growing weasels consume more than half their own weight every 24 hours. If a human baby weighing 30 pounds had the same appetite, he would demand 15 pounds of meat every day.

Once trapped, the weasel learns a lesson he never forgets. If this crafty fellow escapes a trap, it is almost impossible to recapture him again. One escaped at the University of Michigan, and it took 21 days and 32 traps to recapture the killer. The weasel was so clever, he even escaped with the bait without springing the trap.

Pelts are soft and durable, but their skin is tough as rawhide. In medieval times, commoners were forbidden to wear the white winter pelts, for ermine was the badge of royalty. In the coronation ceremony of King George VI of Great Britain in 1937, 50,000 ermine pelts were used to create his robe of splendor. Today, the pelt of a weasel still enjoys a place of high esteem in the fashion world. Fur prices average 25 to 50 cents but a good skin brings $1. "Gray-backs", those changing from brown to white, are almost worthless.

Sportsmen have unjustly accused the weasel of being a game hog and wanton murderer. They neglect to give him credit for courage. And when it comes to courage, no one can top this white bundle of fury.

APPLICATIONS for deer and antelope permits are accepted on a "first come, first served" basis. Nonresidents have been eligible for both deer and antelope permits since July 1 in those areas where permits are still available. Resident applications have been accepted since June 13.

The resident deer or antelope permits cost $10 each; the nonresident, $25. Permits are available from conservation officers, county clerks, and permit vendors. Make your remittance payable to the Nebraska Game, Forestation and Parks Commission, State House, Lincoln 9, Nebraska.