YUCCA AND GROUSE

Full house in sharptails, chickens ours in Sand Hills shooting spree

MAKING THE PATCHES of cover with express-train speed, the big pointer cast out across a narrow valley below. Satisfied that birds were not here, he swung swiftly up the opposite sidehill, quartering as he went.

A full eighth of a mile away, he started making game. His pace slowed. Cautiously stalking his quarry, he pussyfooted into the wind, drifted toward the hill, then eased into his point.

"He pinned them," Harold Ensley called enthusiastically. "It's your go, Gene. Make tracks before they flush on Sparky."

I half slid down the steep, grass-covered slope. Somewhere across the hills I heard shotguns booming as others in our SEPTEMBER, 1960 3   party of eight worked on prairie grouse. My companions were Randy Horsely, Lincoln businessman and owner of Sparky and a kennel full of topnotch pointers, and Harold Ensley, Kansas City TV sportscaster.

The remainder of our party, Bob Munger, Lincoln newspaperman, Bill Bailey and Pete Czura of the Game Commission, Floyd Roberts, Kansas City sportsman, and our host, Dick Shin, Thedford turkey ranch operator, had split into two teams to probe the rough Sand Hills for the elusive grouse. We had been working the hills since early morning.

My pulse pounded from more than the exertion of climbing the slope on the other side. I pushed harder to get into shooting range before the birds took wing. They were evidently moving on the dog.

Sparky gave me a look of encouragement as I stepped past him. A soft spoken, "Whoa," locked him up as he tried to move in with me.

A patch of yucca about 40 yards ahead suddenly came to life as four sharptails exploded into the sun­drenched sky. I slammed a quick shot at one of the birds, and he tumbled out of the air. The other three were beyond effective range for my modified 12, and I watched them sail toward Harold at the far end of the valley. He crouched low, hoping they would come within range. They did just that, gliding directly over about 35 yards up. Harold snapped a shot and one wavered, then sideslipped down into the valley with the Kansas Citian hot on his tail.

Surprisingly, the remaining two birds did an about face and winged back up the opposite side of the valley. Randy was square in their path. But his luck didn't hold. The sharptails evidently saw Skip, Randy's retrieving pointer, and flared back across the valley where I was spotted.

"This is one for the books," I thought, crouching behind some yucca. "Who would ever believe that these wary birds would make a complete circuit of three gunners?"

Once they were in range, I ramrodded into shooting position, taking the duo coming in. The first shot boomed past without touching a feather as I shot behind. The birds were not to be turned this time, and I swung around for a going-away shot. The pump clickity-clacked a fresh round into the chamber. I pulled on the lead bird, put about a foot of daylight between him and barrel, and jerked the trigger. The sharptail exploded, showering feathers like a punctured pillow.

Randy sent Old Skip in for the retrieve on my birds. The old warrior couldn't cover the ground in this big country, and he was most satisfied to leave the hunting to his young mate, Sparky. His job was keeping an eye on the boss and retrieving the downed birds.

Randy hadn't broken Sparky to the job of retrieving yet and wasn't too anxious to do so.

"I'll let him hunt for another year or two before breaking him to retrieve," Randy had said. "Right now he is the best ground-covering dog I have so I plan to let him run."

Sparky had shown his running ability the previous day as he ran for six hours in temperatures 4 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   near the 75° mark without faltering. The big dog was in splendid condition, fresh from winning the U. S. Amateur Pheasant Shooting Dog Classic at Hastings the previous week.

Skip cruised in to search for dead sharptails. He picked up my last bird and trotted past me to Randy. Skip was a one-man dog, broken by years on the field-trial circuit to retrieve only to his master.

Once the first sharptail was cached in my game pocket, I hurried over to meet Randy and Harold as they climbed the hillside.

"That was one of the finest bits of dog work I've seen yet," I said. "You boys sure played those birds just right. It was real thoughtful of you to make them swing like that for a second round of shooting. How do you do it?"

"All I can say," Randy said, "is that we'll all remember this one. It has never happened to me before and probably never will again."

Checking on the dogs, he added, "We had better move up with Sparky or we'll lose him in these hills."

The three of us hurried to catch up with the high­balling dog as he quartered a hillside 1,000 yards to the north.

"With all that buckbrush he should hit something hot pretty soon," Randy panted, as we hoofed across the meadow between the hills. "The grouse will be loafing in the brush with the temperature up as high as it is today."

"Why don't we split up and each take a section of that hill," Harold suggested. "That way one of us will be near Sparky when he pins birds."

Randy took the center route while we flanked him, ready if sharptails flushed wild. Just before we reached the sidehill Randy hollered, "Point." I scanned the hillside for the dog and finally saw him partially hidden by brush. Old Skip, seeing the young dog on point, loped up behind and eased into his loose but handsome point, honoring Sparky.

Our quick dash was to no avail. Over 150 yards divided us from four prairie chickens. They cackled out across the sidehill, glided up over the hilltop, and disappeared behind the rise.

Grouse in the Thedford area were primarily sharptails. These were the first prairie chickens we had seen. Their dark markings and square tail distinguish them from the sharptail. The beginner may have trouble telling the two birds apart in flight, but with a little experience, he soon becomes able to recognize them.

The dogs were off and cruising. They disappeared over the ridge and we trudged up the hill to keep an eye on them. About halfway up we heard someone call, "Point," and glanced up to see Floyd Roberts motioning us to hurry as the dogs had found birds.

Topping out on the hill we saw Old Skip had been the first to find the birds, and Sparky honoring the oldster. It was one of those picture settings. A long yucca-studded draw stretched its finger into the slope. An azure-blue sky formed a colorful back­drop with the two liver-and-white pointers standing like statues pointing the way to the bird's plum-brush hideout.

Randy and I stood back, allowing Harold and Floyd the honor of flushing the birds. They walked in ready for the exploding birds. "Chickens," Randy exclaimed as four prairie chickens came bombarding out of the brush in front of Floyd.

The Kansas Citian was on to the grouse and made a neat double with his autoloader. "Nice shooting Floyd," his cohort said, "You're the first to score on chickens."

Taking a breather, we asked Floyd how the rest of the party was making out.

"Bill, Bob, Pete, and Dick are pretty close to their limits. They've been flushing birds out of those rough hills to the south. I just filled my four birds with this double."

"What do you think of our grouse shooting?" Randy asked, mouthing a fresh pinch of his favorite chew.

"Let me put in a word for it first," Harold injected. "I've hunted the chicken in Canada and had some fine shooting, but this sharptail hunting in your Sand Hill country is the (continued on page 24)

SEPTEMBER, 1960 5

24 HOURS AND BACK

by Pete Czura Thanks to plane, I cram year's angling into a day

EVER TRAVEL over 600 miles, have a whale of a time landing 150 pounds of fighting white bass on light angling tackle, and be back home in less than 24 hours after you left? Think it can't be done? Take it from me, it can.

It all began one sultry afternoon last August when I was pinch-hitting in the darkroom for vacationing Gene Hornbeck. "Stuck in here," I thought, as I swished an 8x10 through the hypo. Suddenly a loud pounding on the darkroom door interrupted my reverie.

"Got your traveling shoes on?" came a muffled query through the closed door. It was Schaffer, my boss. "I want you to sub for me on a fishing yarn I was going to do. I can't get away. Can you make it?"

"Can I make it? Are you kidding?" I snapped back. I didn't know it at the time—nor did Dick— but right there he blew his best chance for some out-of-this-world fishing.

"Where do I go?" I asked Dick, and "who do I. . ?"

He interrupted with, "All the arrangements have been made. Just grab a bag, some fishing gear, and meet Don Green at the airport in 45 minutes." In 37 minutes I was waiting at the airport.

At exactly 4 p.m., Green pointed the plane west­ward toward Ogallala. Cruising at 10,000 feet where it was cooler, we covered the 300 miles in less than two hours. Taxiing toward the operation building we spotted Loron Bunney, area conservation officer, and Ralph Craig, reservoir manager, waiting for us.

After warm greetings from Bunney and Craig we headed into town for some chow and lodging. We struck pay-dirt at the first motel. Lounging in the air-conditioned room, Bunney told us of the big white-bass catches being made at McConaughy. Grinning through wind-chapped lips, he said, "I've got just the guy to take you fellows out."

"Who is it?" asked Don.

"Pooch," replied Loron.

Later, we found out that "Pooch" was E. J. Vaclavek of Grand Island, the genial operator of the concession at the Game Commission's Otter Creek Special Use Area.

"When do we go out?" I asked.

"Best time is around 5:30 a.m.," Loron said. "I'm going to Otter Creek tonight and make the final arrangements. I'd advise you guys to leave here 6 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   about 45 minutes before rendezvous time, as you've got 17 miles of gravelled road to cover."

Don and I assured Loron that he could set his watch the next morning by our arrival. This was one date we wouldn't miss.

In a dull, hazy manner I heard the angry and persistent buzz of the alarm clock. Four o'clock. It was time. We showered, dressed, and headed for the nearest restaurant for an early breakfast. That done, Don and I headed northward on State Highway No. 61 toward Otter Creek. As we rolled into the area, Bunney pulled out his timepiece and grinned out, "You're right on the button."

"I told you you could set your watch by our arrival," Don said.

"Where's Pooch?" I asked.

"He's on the point with binoculars," Bunney told us. "I'll give you a hand with your gear and he'll be here in a minute."

While stowing our gear aboard the boat, a rather small, thin, wiry man approached us. A pair of binoculars were dangling from his neck. I knew this was Pooch.

"There's not much stirring out there," Pooch said, "but we had better head out to be ready when action does begin."

At 5:50 a.m. we were skimming across the reservoir toward the south shore. With Don at the controls, Pooch scanned the area around with his powerful glasses. I sat at the bow enjoying the cool breeze.

Nearing a cove at the south shore, Pooch told us, "The gulls aren't moving as yet, so let's try our luck here." By the time he had said the last words, my silver spoon was flying out about 100 feet toward some scrubby plants protruding from the water.

I let my spinner descend a bit toward the bottom and before I had given my spinning reel two cranks on the retrieve, a fish was bending my rod like a wet noodle.

"Hey, Pete's got one," Don shouted.

Expertly I played the fish in and when it neared the boat it broke surface a couple of times and made several determined efforts to get away from the treble hooks which it had gulped. As I reeled it closer to the boat, I shouted, "Somebody give me the net."

"Sorry," laughed Pooch. "No nets. Most of us around here consider it more sporting if you land them without a net."

"I can play the same game," I remember saying, as I carefully reeled the white bass alongside the boat. When I reached over the gunwale to hoist it in by the gills, the fish broke away and was gone in a flash. "Aw for ..." I mumbled.

"Don't worry," Pooch consoled. "There's plenty more where that came from."

Pooch, meantime was busy jigging with his silver spoon alongside the boat. "Why don't you try this system?" We reeled in quickly to follow Pooch's jig lead.

I dropped my lure down and let it hit the bottom. To make the lure act like a (continued on page 22)

SEPTEMBER, 1960 7

DOVE DILEMMA

by Bill Bailey Game Division Project Leader Is songbird tag based on fact or sentiment? Look at record shows Nebraska gunners have been duped

THE AFTERNOON was warm. A gentle fall breeze rustled the leaves of a giant cottonwood standing at the edge of a wheat stubble field. Hunkered nearby in a patch of sunflower and tall wheat stubble was a man and his boy. A sleek, gray bird streaked across the afternoon sky—their target for today, the darting mourning dove, most popular game bird in North America.

Another dove approached from the south, flying low. As it passed, the swish of wings simulated a small-scale jet. The boy rose abruptly, swung his gun ahead of the fast-moving target and fired. A puff of feathers and folding of wings signaled a clean kill.

This scene is being enacted in most states south of here this fall, but not in Nebraska. State hunters are not quite so fortunate. For this sport they have to go elsewhere.

Though the mourning dove is recognized as a game bird under federal law and international treaties with Great Britain and Mexico, the Nebraska Legislature decreed in 1953 that the mourning dove be classified as a songbird. As a result, Nebraska hunters have been deprived of sport while gunners in Kansas, Oklahoma, Missouri, Texas, and other states are able to reap a bountiful harvest of birds produced here.

Sportsmen have not taken the legislation lying down. Efforts have been made at each session since 1953 to restore the dove to its rightful status as a game bird. Unfortunately, their requests have been to no avail. The dove is still classed as a songbird, regardless of the many facts supporting its classification as a game bird. And Nebraskans are still 8 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   being deprived of a resource which can be utilized annually as a crop.

The history of dove populations throughout the Midwest and Plains is tied closely to the history and progress of man. The bird has benefited by the works of man, and the large populations which we now have are relatively recent.

Population level of any species is determined by the ability of the environment and the land to supply all the necessities of life. Man controls and manipulates the land, therefore controlling the destiny of many wildlife species. His use may be detrimental to some and beneficial to others. For the mourning dove, man has unintentionally improved the environment, and the dove has been quick to respond.

Both man and dove are closely associated with the forest edge. In timbered regions, the land is cleared for cultivation of crops. Consequently, the environment is improved for the sleek birds. In the prairies and plains, man has a natural tendency to provide a forest-edge environment for himself. Crops are shielded by shelter belts and farmsteads by wind breaks. Ornamentals beautify towns and cities. All provide excellent habitat for the mourning dove.

More than 90 per cent of the bird's foods are weed and grass seeds and grains—foods produced by man's manipulation of the land. Native grasses have been replaced with cultivated crops and many weeds important in the dove's diet.

The dove population has responded well to this utilization of the land and will continue to do so. At a time when habitat is so critical for many other wildlife species, this is indeed encouraging.

Is there a chance of over-harvesting mourning doves, thus leading them down the path of extinction? Considering the factors mentioned and the present legal framework for managing wildlife resources, the answer can only be an emphatic no.

Migratory species are managed by the Fish and Wildlife Service. Its responsibility is not a political football. The agency is staffed with competent career personnel. Their decisions are based on sound resource-management principles and the most current information, always recognizing the long-term effects of decisions or programs on the status of a species. Their outstanding accomplishments in waterfowl management attest to their competence.

Maximum open seasons, bag limits, and other regulations necessary for restricting the harvest of mourning doves are set by the Fish and Wildlife Service. Its decisions are based on current surveys and facts, not opinion and fiction. Any state may prescribe stricter regulations, but they cannot liberalize them.

A legal framework for successful management exists. Under such a system, there is absolutely no danger that the species will be threatened by overharvest. It is a truth, evident to any willing to examine the facts, that no game species, either mammal or bird, has been threatened with extinction by the gun in modern times.

Perhaps there is another more basic reason why there is no danger of over-harvest under conservative regulations. Hunting is by no means the sole mortality factor operating on wildlife populations, including the mourning dove. It is only one of many affecting a wildlife population during a given year, and is considered a minor factor, in itself, under modern regulations governing wildlife harvests.

Approximately 70 per cent of the juvenile dove population is replaced annually. Adult mortality approximates 55 per cent each year. Populations have a characteristic average annual mortality rate through the exertion of natural forces. This remains relatively constant regardless of hunting.

A basic principle has also become evident, explaining the constancy of annual mortality. If one cause of mortality takes a heavy toll, fewer birds will be taken by other causes. Consequently, other mortality factors become less effective, and there is a tendency toward the same average annual mortality rate. Hunting tends to decrease the effectiveness of other mortality factors. And with or without hunting, there would still be the tendency toward the same level of mortality.

This is one of the basic principles governing wildlife management. Man's (continued on page 25)

SEPTEMBER, 1960 9

NO SNAG TO SNAGGING

by Glen R. Foster Chief, Fisheries Division

THERE ISN'T a fisherman who wouldn't admit that his quest for "finnies" offers the chance to get away from the hubbub of everyday life, or as the late Dr. Eschmeyer put it, "A dignified way of doing nothing." But such aesthetics are only a part of the picture. Catching is just as important, and we anglers have long taxed ourselves in one way or another to assure that fish would be around to creel.

Hook-and-line angling has been the true fisherman's forte for long before friend Walton set his ideas down on the subject. Here is a sport; the chance for the angler to pit his skill with even the most mossbacked of lunkers. Our unwritten rule book has long said that this is the way to do it, the odds almost on the side of the fish; any other form can only be a debauchery of fishing and a threat to fish.

Unsportsmanlike and a threat to fish populations, the critics cried. The facts tell a different story

At the turn of the century, dynamiting lakes and streams was common, but hardly a way to take fish. Nor was trapping or netting which gobbled up fat migrators on their way to the spawning bed any better. Even the nonsportsmen rebelled at such 10 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   unsportsmanlike tactics and joined in setting laws that would prohibit such shenanigans. Dynamiting was out. Netting received severe limitations. As other gimmicks came on the scene, they, too, were regulated out of the picture. Surprisingly, snagging, a form of hook-and-line angling, the sportsman's stand-by, was tagged as a nemesis in Nebraska.

Two years ago, snagging again became legal, the result of facts brought out through modern-fish management. Fish populations in many waters were at a point where even a legion of veteran anglers could not make a dent in their numbers. The truth is that in practically any water, and especially those supporting warm-water species, populations will be underharvested under common hook-and-line techniques. The fish get lure-wise, and there aren't enough experienced anglers to take them. Snagging, a way of getting fish prone to a baited hook, does not hurt populations.

This point has been brought out by a recent one-year study conducted at Harlan County Reservoir by department fishery biologists. When snagging was legalized, a minority of anglers there spoke out against this form of fishing, claiming that it would seriously threaten the fish population and fishing. Some even said that snagging was unsportsmanlike.

The fish nor fishing were seriously affected, as results of the study point out. Of some 574 fish tagged from Guide Rock on the Republican upstream to the dam's stilling basin where 200 were marked only two were returned by snagging. The small return indicates that the stilling basin where snagging is concentrated has a large number of fish. Snaggers were successful enough, taking fish at the rate of .48 fish per fisherman hour. The fish taken, largely channel catfish, were big. Pounds taken per fishing hour were 1.05.

NO FISHING

Further, it was found that the stilling-basin population was enhanced by migration from the reservoir through the dam's gates, not from the river. The study covered fishing under varying conditions, and when completed, showed that the loss of fish through snagging at Harlan's stilling basin was small and is not objectionable from the standpoint of fishery management.

Besides serving as a slick way of taking angling-wise lunkers, snagging gives Nebraskans a chance at a prize game fish that would otherwise be wasted. The paddlefish, often called the spoonbill cat and a fantastic throwback of the Stone Age, the state's closest look-alike of giant deep-sea varieties, is a plankton feeder. Only snagging will bring him from his Missouri River lair. The sport has developed as one of the hottest on the river, and countless outdoorsman have invested in the deep-sea rigs required to take the boneless giant.

Those that say that snagging is unsportsmanlike point to the way fish are taken. Snagging advocates are quick to show that a snag in the side is no more painful to the fish than a baited hook.

Snagging isn't easy, but it offers plenty of sport. Instead of the fish coming to the hook as in normal angling, the hook must go to the fish; about as easy, sometimes, as finding the proverbial needle in the haystack. To score, you have to continually haul back on the heavily weighted line. The spin or bait-casting enthusiast finds his style of angling almost child's play when he ties on to one of these big outfits. In short order, his back feels like it has been rent in two. His arms ache from working the rig in the hopes that the big-out-but-small-in-the-water treble hook will latch onto a lunker hugging the bottom.

Hook-and-line angling will ever stand as one of our finest forms of recreation, and snagging is no exception. It is another way of plying the age-old art of matching wits with the fish, "A dignified way of doing nothing."

THE END SEPTEMBER, 1960 11

THE DOG AFIELD

Tender loving care before, during, and after hunt key to a successful outing

THE CARE of a sporting dog doesn't begin or end with a hunt. It's what is done before, during, and after a day afield that counts. This involves conditioning, safe transportation, first-aid measures afield, and care at home after the hunt. Collectively, they play an important role in keeping your dog in prime hunting condition.

Owning a sporting dog entails certain obligations which some owners neglect—or overlook. Preparations should be made for the dog's welfare before you take him afield.

Don't feed the dog in the morning. He'll run better on an empty stomach and be less logy. The time to feed is the night prior, giving the dog the chance to digest his meal.

Never put your dog afield without intensive conditioning. Run him several times a week, gradually increasing the time afield. This will build up his stamina. Nothing looks sorrier than an undertrained dog. Unfortunately, some owners have run their dogs until their bellies touch the ground.

Once conditioned to hard and prolonged running, your dog should be capable of going just as hard when it's a nippy 40°, or a searing 100°. Baseball players don't start big-league play without spring training. Why expect it of your dog?

It's a good idea to place a dab of grease on the outside and inside of the ears before the hunt. This is especially important with long-haired breeds. Grease makes the removal of pesky cockleburs easier and less painful. Incidentally, make sure that you 12 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   remove them gently and slowly. If you yank them off, your dog won't take to it kindly.

Dog transportation once was a minor problem. Now, with good roads and fast cars, few spots are too far away, and the job of hauling the dog with convenience, comfort, and safety is of paramount importance.

When driving, carbon monoxide from the car's exhaust must ever be dealt with as a potential killer. Exhaust-pipe extensions (deflectors which can be installed in minutes) and flexible tubing to divert the flow of fumes are recommended. There is always the chance that seepage may occur, and any carbon-monoxide curbing system should be checked.

The use of economical flexible tubing in extending the tail pipe is fine if you head it down and out to dissipate the dangerous fumes. These, like road dust, have a tendency to swirl and will be sucked in the back of the car if the exhaust extension is improperly installed.

There are a number of accessories that will assure safety and comfort. These include luggage-compartment air ventilators, collapsible crates for rear-seat use, basket carriers for the small breeds, station-wagon dividers that can be put up in seconds, aluminum or wooden crates which fit into the rear seat of car, station wagon, trailer, or pickup, and custom-built dog-carrying trucks.

Whether you have one or more dogs, aluminum or wooden crates are ideal. Openings are in the front and back, providing ample movement of fresh air. The crate is large enough for the dog to stand up, sit, or lie down without discomfort. Though not cramped, the area restricts unnecessary frisking and encourages the dog to relax and travel in comfort. It also keeps him fresh and ready to hunt.

On short jaunts, the trunk is quite safe if certain precautions are followed. Walt Somerhiser of Lincoln has some tips about this.

"I've often used the luggage compartment for short hauls." Walt once said. "To obtain maximum air circulation, I cut a round hole in the trunk lid, and cover with an old radio speaker. Commercially-made units are available at pet-supply stores for around $5. When hauling my dog, I take out the tire and tools, then put in old newspapers, corn stalks, or sacks for bedding."

Remember, a trunk is safe for your dog if it's safe for you. If there's the least bit of doubt about ventilation, don't risk your dog's life or take a chance on his losing his scenting ability. Exposure to carbon monoxide is nothing to monkey with when your dog's life is at stake.

There is a growing trend among dog owners, trainers, and handlers to use air transportation. According to John Van Bloom of Lincoln, an enthusiastic Labrador breeder, "It's the only way to ship when long distances are involved. Last month I sent one of my dogs to Washington D.C. He arrived in less than six hours. A trip by car or rail would have taken at least three days."

Some sportsmen use specially built trailers to transport their dogs. These (continued on page 24)

SEPTEMBER, 1960 13

RIFLE PRIMER

by Frank Foote Choose your weapon, pardner for a game-busting showdown

FROM CHUCK CONNERS back through the time and deeds of Daniel Boone, this country has had a rifle-shooting tradition. The plow, ax, Bible, and rifle opened the West, from the Alleghenies to the Pacific, and many competent historians believe that use of the first three items depended upon the effectiveness of the fourth.

Hostile redcoats and truculent redskins are no longer with us, but opportunities for the recreational use of big-bore rifles still abound. Nebraska is loaded with varment-hunting, target-shooting, and big-game opportunities. Cornhusker riflemen engage in formal organized target shooting, bust coyotes, jack rabbits, and prairie dogs, and this year have 14,000 deer and 550 antelope targets to shoot at.

Realizing these opportunities, Nebraskans are turning to the use and ownership of center-fire rifles in increasing numbers. Questions concerning caliber, type of action, and sighting equipment are common. If you're new to the rifle game, here's some background information which may settle more arguments than it starts.

Modern rifles are basically divided into rim-fires and center-fires. Rim-fires today mean .22's, though there was once a host of rim-fire calibers such as the .25 Stevens, .32 short and long rim-fire, and the .41 Swiss. These larger rim-fire calibers have seen their day, and needn't be considered further. The recent addition of the .22 Winchester Magnum, a hotter rim-fire number with jacketed bullets, has extended the range and utility of the .22. This class, however, is still basically for plinking, formal target shooting, and bagging small game and varments. The various actions for .22's are similar to those in use by their big-bore cousins and will be described later.

Center-fire calibers range from the .22 Hornet to the .458 Winchester, with enough diversity in loads and power in between to keep most everyone happy. Caliber selection should be governed by intended use and the thickness of your wallet. If you're careful, you can acquire one rifle which will perform a variety of tasks reasonably well. Remember, however, that a number of calibers are limited to specialized uses. Hand loading provides a wider range 14 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   of utility, as bullet weights, types, and speeds can be varied to the job at hand.

An individual's sensitivity to recoil is important in caliber selection. Buy a rifle with a little less recoil than you think you can comfortably stand.

If you want strictly a varment rifle, one of the hot .22's will fill the bill. A .222 Remington, .222 Remington Magnum, or a .220 Swift will do the job.

The closest approach to a rifle that, in the opinion of many gun experts, is a real dual purpose weapon is one of the relatively new 6 mm. calibers. With proper loads, the .243 Winchester or the .244 Remington does fine work on varments and is adequate for deer and antelope-class big game. Also the .250 Savage and .257 Roberts are adequate and have reasonably free recoil figures.

The .264 Winchester Magnum is a new long-range, flat-shooting, high-velocity caliber that has segments of the rifle-shooting fraternity excited. Those who want a long-range Magnum for deer and antelope shooting should be interested in this one.

The 6.5 mm. Mauser is an old but good caliber that has come onto the American market since the Scandinavian countries modernized their infantry weapons. Ammunition is available, and the Swedish Mausers and Norwegian Krags on the market, if in good shape, offer the first-time hunter an adequate, reasonably priced deer rifle. Recoil is modest.

The 7 mm. Mauser is another old but good caliber. Both new and surplus military weapons are available, as is ammunition. Its fans claim the caliber is adequate for anything in North America. More conservative gents'agree only that it's a deer rifle. Commercial ammunition is relatively mild, but the hand loader can up the ante on this load to closely resemble the .270.

The .270 Winchester, .280 Remington, .308, and .30/06 all have their fans. Ballistics are not as different as the caliber numbers might indicate. All have been used successfully on all North American big game and are more than adequate for Nebraska deer and antelope. Each has light bullet weight, and high-speed varment as well as heavier game loads. Price range varies greatly, as the .30/06 is available in surplus U.S. military models.

Ballistically, the .300 H and H Magnum is superior across the boards to the .30/06. It's also heavier in the recoil end, and usually on the pocketbook. The caliber has utility as an extra-long-range .30 caliber.

No list of common calibers can be complete without mention of the .30/30. This round is cussed and discussed, a "dirty thirty" to some, the "good old thutty-thutty" to others. The round is standard for woods whitetail hunting in the East, where short ranges prevail. The consensus of gun buffs is that the .30/30 is a 150-yard rifle, no more. Most .30/30's are lever action with inadequate factory sights. Accuracy, therefore, could be better. Ammunition is found at every crossroads store. The best advice is to use this baby for short range.

Hundreds of thousands of .303 British Short Magazine Lee-Enfields have been sold here recently. Available at rock-bottom prices, these rifles, if in good condition, offer those with little jingle in their jeans a way into the high-powered rifle game. Ammunition is U.S. loaded and widely available. Ballistically, this caliber is about equal of the .30/40 Krag and somewhat less powerful than our .30/06. Worthy of note is that this rifle and round have had 60 or more years of sporting use throughout the British empire with satisfactorily results. The caliber is certainly adequate for Nebraska conditions.

The German 8 mm. Mauser has been around a long time. The G.I.'s augmented state-side supplies with untold numbers of "liberated" rifles. Some are good, some less good, some no good. The best policy is to check with a gunsmith you trust. Ballistics on the U.S. loading of this cartridge are unspectacular but adequate. Ammunition is U.S. loaded and is available.

Calibers larger and more powerful than those mentioned are predominantly for the big stuff—elk, moose, and bear in North America or the larger Indian and African game. Even though these larger calibers are not necessary for North American game, some folks still prefer them. Discussion of the big bores is outside the scope of a Nebraska slanted article. Ability to stalk game to a close range and properly place the bullet is far more important in the writer's opinion, than the caliber used.

Choosing the right type of action is often a problem for the neophyte. There was a time when the accuracy boys insisted on bolt actions or special single shots but the one-gallus hunter wouldn't have anything but a lever action. Super-accuracy fans still rightly insist on the bolt (continued on page 25)

SEPTEMBER, 1960 15

DOWN THE DRAIN

by M. S. McMurtrey Wetlands Biologist No water, no ducks. It's as simple as that. We're fast losing out wetland-water reserves

A PAIR OF bluewings coursed high over the small pond, and across the rolling fertile farm land that stretched out below. Last May, this small area in Clay County was alive with ducks— some 1,141 in all, and on only nine sections of land.

Over countless rain-water basins in south-central Nebraska's duck factory, other pairs emulated the bluewings' nuptial flight. In the many ponds tucked among the soft-rolling plains, mallard drakes swam restlessly about, fighting among themselves to win a mate. Gadwalls, pintails, baldpates, scaup, ruddies, and redheads paired to bring off their downy hatches as they had for as long as anyone could remember. Sportsmen, perhaps confident of an ever-continuing production, relished again the coming of fall and the chance to claim the choice by-product of Nebraska's rain-water-basin heritage.

The nine sections give good-enough reason why the area is rated a prime duck factory. Considering its tremendous production and hunting that it has offered through the years, one is confident that the area will ever be a mecca for shotgunners.

But it won't. If present draining and leveling activities continue to put more land into crops, the duck factory will soon be a memory. The Game Commission, now in the process of locating and cataloging wetland areas in the south-central part of the state, has found that an alarming 77 per cent of the original 831 .wetland areas has been affected by complete or partial drainage in the first 14 townships surveyed. And the draining is still going on. More disturbing is the fact that 203 basins have been leveled, their potential as duck-rearing and hunting sites destroyed forever.

Though the townships surveyed represent only a small part of the rain-water basin, wetland loss is significant. The survey is covering those townships with the greatest amount of water first; remaining townships will be studied later. Of the 14 townships, 8 have been surveyed in York County, 5 in Fillmore, and 1 in Clay. These counties, in the heart of the rain-water basin, are prime spots for waterfowl production and hunting.

Drainage, and attempts at drainage, have been carried out since before 1900 in the 14 townships. Following World War II, drainage was greatly accelerated. Deep-well irrigation from a vast underground water supply increased several fold. Soils 16 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   are of such quality that leveling the land and filling the basins for irrigation farming is feasible.

Surprisingly, much of the land reclaimed through drainage is not generally considered good cropland since pond bottoms are made up of a difficult-to-farm hardpan. Many of the areas checked are not planted to crops more than one out of five years.

During breeding season, pond use varies inversely to size. The smallest, and seemingly least attractive, receive the heaviest use per acre, even though they are dry during much of the hatching season. Studies have shown that for pairs only the best distribution of a given amount of water would be small, relatively permanent areas that are available throughout the nesting season. These provide needed seclusion, and there is more shore line available for more breeding pairs. In the course of one breeding season, the small pond that does not play a part in duck production is a rarity.

Though there might be the same amount of water when smaller ponds are drained to make larger ones, duck production will not be the same. Pairs, preferring seclusion, lose interest in nesting when concentrated on larger waters. And when they lose interest, the complete cycle is affected.

Once nesting is completed, small ponds become unimportant since broods prefer large water areas. Those from two to five acres in size receive the heaviest use. Later, flying juveniles and migrants utilize even larger ponds. That's when the hunter moves in.

Though the 203 leveled basins are lost in the rainwater basin, about half of the 448 drained basins have waterfowl value during spring migration. This is due to poor drainage. In wet years, their value as feeding, courtship, and loafing sites extends into late spring. These, however, are of little value during the hunting season. Due to heavy June rains this year, many were used as duck-production areas.

Nebraskans, and for that matter, sportsmen all along the Central Flyway cannot depend on wet years alone to provide production. They face a critical problem. One that must be acted on soon. They cannot afford to see prime waterfowl areas wiped out by drainage or leveling.

Solving the problem won't be easy. In fact, it is one of the most complex situations facing conservationists today. One only has to look at the Dakotas and Minnesota to realize this fact. There millions of sportsmen's dollars from all over the nation have been poured into the purchase of productive potholes and basins to save ducks and duck hunting. Often, the effort seems almost futile since one federal agency pays at the individual county's discretion to have the land drained while another pays through duck-stamp revenues to restore it as a duck producer.

Nebraskans face some of the same problems. But the situation here is compounded. Up until a few years ago, the rain-water basin was considered a prime production site only by sportsmen who could see the additional wetland birds going South.

Resolving wetland losses will depend on the active co-operation of everyone concerned — the farmer who must decide whether reclaiming wetlands is economically feasible within good land-management practices; the sportsman who must consider again who provides the land for recreation; and the agency, either federal or state, who must weigh the value of each productive acre in the over-all resource-management picture.

THE END SEPTEMBER, 1960 17

GILBERT-BAKER

by Mary Brashier

THE MORNING sun hadn't climbed to the top of the rocky escarpment yet. In the valley the pine needles were hoary and soft underfoot. Silence and sleep held most of the inhabitants of the picturesque little canyon; a coon padding along the creek made the only discernible movement.

In a chokecherry stand, a bluish-coated mule-deer buck tested the air with curled lip, then worked out of the brush and angled up the face of the ridge. He reached the top as a slight soughing of the wind began in the ponderosas. Hearing a motor whine above it, he wheeled and faced down into the canyon cut by Monroe Creek through the Gilbert-Baker area. The fading rosy clouds overhead reflected off a Game Commission car that slipped to a stop.

Untamed wilderness yours for the enjoying. Lunker trout, trophy bucks added bonuses

Head ducked for a better view, the buck peered through the pines at the Chadron State College students and the game biologist unloading the car. Maps and clip boards were passed out, and the group gathered by a slim cottonwood.

The students were on a September browse survey. They were among the few regular visitors to the Game Commission's Gilbert-Baker Special Use area five miles north of Harrison. One of the last remaining wilderness areas in Nebraska, its trademarks are deer, trout, and prime Pine Ridge scenery.

There's little human interference with the natural order at Gilbert-Baker. The mule-deer buck rarely sees a man off the gravel road that cuts through the area, the trout in cold little Monroe Creek are rarely disturbed by a barbed artificial. Every November bright-coated deer hunters come, and their big guns echo for a short time through the ridges. Other than that, the area is pretty much left to nature. And with the exception of access trails for fire protection, no improvements are planned.

Gilbert-Baker, named after two former owners, was purchased by the Game Commission in 1942 as a refuge in the deer-restoration program. Having served this purpose, the 2,357-acre area is now a public hunting ground. With the exception of several scattered hay lands, the tract is laced with canyons and ridges—the Pine Ridge's best deer habitat. Also considered as a forestry-management unit, the area supports a healthy stand of ponderosa pine, held against the time when lumber from this area may be needed in the department's expansion program.

One of area's best services to Nebraska sportsmen is as a deer-study site. The Chadron students and state and federal game biologists intensively survey vegetation on the area in a browse study, and also make pellet counts twice a year.

By browse surveys, the Game Commission can determine the balance between Pine Ridge deer and 18 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   their food supply. Generally, foraging of winter food at a rate faster than the growth of the vegetation or the use of plants considered less palatable indicates a population too large for the area. By repeating the surveys year after year the Game Commission can also follow the trends of herd size and changing food habits.

Deer on the Gilbert-Baker area and other localities in the Pine Ridge have plenty of winter food, as indicated by their use of forage plants. The three most abundant browse species available to them are buckbrush, chokecherry, and wild rose. Utilization over the past couple of winters of any of these plants was extremely light.

The students that startled the buck that morning were taking the annual September measurements of browse twig growth. The next April they would be back to measure the same plants in this important survey.

Real trouting enthusiasts count Gilbert-Baker among their favorite hangouts. Monroe Creek, which closely parallels the road, has trout—brook, rainbow, and few browns. It has not been necessary to stock the stream since 1954, for natural reproduction has been sufficient to maintain fishing pressure. Angler visitation is comparatively light; and those that do walk the stream find a special thrill in outfoxing trout.

Along Monroe are shaded bluegrass banks just right for the fisherman's wilderness picnic lunch. Bird watchers can while away many hours at a time in following the unique conglomeration of eastern and western songbird species which chatter in the canyons of Gilbert-Baker. Bold magpies are common, along with orioles, tanagers, towhees, lark buntings, and hawks.

Mule deer regularly range through Gilbert-Baker, while up and down the ponderosa-studded ridges scuttle raccoons, porcupines, chipmunks, rabbits, and squirrels. Most of Nebraska's better-known wild grasses are found among the ponderosa stands. Cottonwoods, wild plum, hackberry, and willows grow in the moister canyons. All blend to give the area its wilderness flavor that so many Nebraska sportsmen relish.

Sioux and Cheyenne braves slipped through the Gilbert-Baker passes in their frantic attempts to retain their hunting grounds in the face of white invasion. Just northeast of Gilbert-Baker, the Fifth Cavalry intercepted a group of about 800 Cheyennes leaving the Red Cloud Agency at Fort Robinson in 1876. Although the Indians protested they were on a buffalo hunt, the cavalry feared they were attempting to join other hostile Indians. During a brief skirmish Yellow Hand was killed; Buffalo Bill Cody boasted ever afterward he had scalped the Indian alive.

"To get alway from it all", try Gilbert-Baker. Wilderness in the true sense of the word, it offers the best in outdoor relaxation for sportsmen not afraid to enjoy untampered and untamed Nebraska at its best.

THE END SEPTEMBER, 1960 19

BUCKSKIN SPECTACULAR

by Jane Crooker Throbbing tom-toms triger tribes to exciting date with yesteryear

TOM-TOMS ECHOED through the wooded bluffs of the old powwow grounds. As their demanding tempo quickened, Indians filtered down from the line of teepees which circled the arena. Unable to resist the lure of the pounding drums, both brave and squaw took their place on the dusty, dusk-lit clearing, first in twos, then en masse until the entire arena was alive with flashing feathers and rippling buckskin. Countless legging bells matched the tom­toms' beat as on and on, faster and faster, they danced until, at dawn, the crescendo of bells, drums, and dancers was stilled, felled by sheer exaustion.

A scene from the pages of history? Yes, but instead of happening 75 or even 100 years ago, the ancient ritual to a successful hunt throbbed back to life just weeks ago when the moon was full and the Omahas and Winnebagos danced again at their 93rd annual powwows.

Young buck and wrinkled chief dance together, the elder passing on the memories of yesterdays through a dance that will never be dated. You, as a spectator at their grounds at Macy and Winnebago, are most fortunate in seeing and being a part of the exciting spectacular. For here, in an explosion of sound and color, time is thrown back into history. The past comes stealing in to mist the tops of the oaks above the dancing area. Days of nomadic wanderings on the unbroken prairie live again. Visions of buffalo and war parties seem almost real. Ancient chants relate the history of a people and the story behind their powwows.

The history of the chants goes back centuries. The powwows are comparatively recent. The Winnebago 20 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   affair first began as a welcome home party for scouts returning from the Civil War.

Gatherings are still "welcome home" affairs. Tribal members from near and far converge on their old home grounds for the four-day events. The Winnebagos meet at Winnebago, in northeast Nebraska. The Omaha tribe powwows at Macy, about 10 miles away. The get-togethers, timed by the position of the moon, are held about a week apart during August.

As the powows progress, more and more tents, teepees, and wickiups are pitched under the oaks of the grounds. Although teepees are not the buffalo-hide-covered shelters of earlier days, the canvas structures are still impressive.

Indians from tribes scattered all over the country join the Winnebagos and Omahas in their colorful celebrations. The two host tribes see to it that their visitors are fed "on the house".

Following the evening meal, the Indians retire to their tents to dress for the night festivities. The squaws emerge first and move down the hillsides to shyly take seats on the front rows of bleachers. Gradually, the beat of the tom-toms becomes irresistable and lures them out into the arena. Moving clockwise around the edge of the hard-packed circle, they do a step that resembles the first step in a waltz. The fringe on their loosely-fitted buckskin dresses sways to mark the beat of the drums and the chants of the old drummers. A sparkle enters their brown eyes as the pace of the drums and chants quickens. The braves are coming.

Singly, or in pairs, spectators can see them striding down among the trees. Their costumes are their proudest possessions. Brilliantly colored of magnificient plumage, they outdo colorful pheasants.

As the squaws continue their circle dance, the braves enter the center of the arena to stomp to the rising pitch of the drums. Bands of bells around calves and ankles fill in the background created by the rhythm of the drums and chants. The entire arena, about 70 feet in diameter, becomes a mass of bobbing and twisting reds, greens, blues, and yellows.

Many dances are patterned after animals and birds. The Winnebago squaws perform a swan dance which depicts one of these magnificient birds shot in flight. A special dance is offered in thanksgiving to the Great Spirit for his gift of sacred tobacco to the Winnebagos. Long ago, when a visitor entered a Winnebago dwelling, the first offering was to toss tobacco onto the campfire. It carried the offering to the Great Spirit.

Dances of the Omahas are similar only to the spectator for each step relates their own tribal customs and traditions behind them.

Enthusiastic dancers of both tribes usually outlast most spectators. The drums beat far into the night, and often the night through. As each night wears on, the pace quickens until dancing becomes almost frenzied. At the end of four hectic days, tents are taken down and belongings are packed. The dancers and spectators alike return home to recuperate for a year in preparation for the next powwow.

Next year, when the moon is full and harvest near, join with countless others at the powwow grounds to drink in the excitement of the long ago. It will be a date you'll never forget.

THE END SEPTEMBER, 1960 21

24 HOURS AND BACK

(continue from page 7)

wounded fish, I bounced it. On the third bounce I had a strike. Again, the fish made a fierce bid for freedom and I let him run. When the fish tired, I began to reel him in. He broke through the water's surface and made one last desperate lunge to escape, but it was no use. I made up my mind not to lose this customer, and in a moment had the first white bass thrashing on the deck. I began to string it, when Pooch said:

"Don't waste your time doing that. When they're hitting keep your lure in the water and keep bringing them in. We can string them later when the action subsides."

In the next few minutes we hauled in 12 white bass. All were over two pounds, and a couple hit the three-pound mark. It seemed like the lake was erupting with white bass. But Pooch said, "This is nothing. Wait till we hit a big school. I'll bet you'll have tired arms from hauling them in."

And he was right. The action became so hot that we had strikes at least once every fifth cast. That's the kind of action all of us dream about.

Each of us used a different rig. Pooch had a baitcasting outfit loaded with 10-pound-test monofilament. It was tricky to use as the line would fly quickly, and it required precise thumbing action to prevent snarls and backlash. His lure was a silver-plated spinner, weighing a half ounce. But anything that wiggles, darts, spins, or flashes will do. A bread wrapper even worked for an angler once.

I asked Pooch what system he used in locating white bass schools.

"There are three good ways," Pooch said, as we hoisted anchor and headed toward an area which was filled with swirling, diving, and darting gulls. "I watch the gulls. This bird's as helpful as a pointer in spotting the fish. Glasses make it easier to find the gulls.

"If you have good ears, you can hear the bass feeding. The water boils and churns as they gorge themselves, and you can hear this at a considerable distance on a quiet day. That's the second way.

"And three, when white bass are feeding down deep they're h-arder to locate. But when they're down, they're usually all the way down on the bottom. I like to drift or work across the areas where white bass usually show. For this type of fishing I use a fast-sinking lure, about a half-ounce will do, and do some jigging near the boat. If they don't hit, I cast long and let the lure sink until the line goes slack.

"I reel in the slack and pick up the lure sharply, with a fast jerk of the rod tip. I let the lure settle again and keep doing this until I have covered the surrounding area. When the rod is almost snatched from my hand, I've found them."

Following Pooch's advice and recommendations we hauled out 90 to 100 white bass during the next hour and a half. During one hot spree Pooch put on a second lure and in minutes hauled out a pair of white bass.

Whenever we headed to feeding gulls, a seeming flotilla of small craft would follow suit. Everybody would get fish for a while, then action would die off. One by one the other anglers would leave until we were left alone. I asked Pooch, "How come we're not lifting anchor and trying another spot?"

His answer made plenty of sense. "Just because the gulls leave, it doesn't necessarily mean that fish leave too." They didn't. In fact, during one 10-minute stretch we hauled in nearly 30 white bass.

After we had our fill (whoever heard of an angler admitting he had enough fishing?) we prowled around the lake to see how other anglers were faring. Here's where my suspicions of fish being unpredictable were reaffirmed. On our tour, we met three grizzled veterans of the waters—Chet Bishop of Ogallala and Gerald Johnson and Rudy Kriha of Big Springs. All had the miseries. They had a measly catch of five bass.

The next party, Mr. and Mrs. Bob Roberts of Englewood, Colorado, had a ball. When we asked them the age-old question, "How are you doing?" they hauled out a stringer festooned with white bass.

Luck and skill play a major role in any fisherman's life, but the odds swing heavily in an angler's favor when he dips his lure into the fish-infested waters of Lake McConaughy. In the spring, terrific northern and walleye catches lure many anglers here. And if you're still a doubting Thomas about its fishing potential, a look at the state records show "Big Mac" leading the parade with seven records.

Back at Otter Creek boat landing we met a worried Loron Bunney. Swinging our boat towards shore, he asked, "How did it go?"

"We got three," Don replied with a grim face.

"Three? Is that all?"

I couldn't stand the look of incredulous disbelief on Bunney's face, and mercifully added, "We got three, all right. Three stringers full!" and a happy grin spread over Loron's weather-beaten face.

In less than an hour we had our catch cleaned and packaged in ice. At 3:45 p.m. we landed in Lincoln. Our white bass saga was over in less than 24 hours. Years may dim some of the excitement we had, but my storehouse of memories will treasure this trip. I might add that I'm available for another subbing job. My rods are stashed near the door and my phone number is in the book.

THE END 22 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA

OUTDOOR ELSEWHERE

Candid Camera

MASSACHUSETTS . . . Television, which has brought you the World Series and championship golf, now brings you—fish. If you're a biologist at the Bureau of Commercial Fisheries Woods Hole laboratory, that is. Scientists there will be snooping underwater with TV cameras, watching fish caught in otter trawls. They hope to solve questions as important to them as those on the "mellerdramas". Do small fish try to escape through the meshes of the trawl? Do trash fish clog the meshes, piling up more valu­able fish? What the biologists have found so far is that haddock seem to explore the confined area within the trawl, while the launce rushes through pell-mell.

* * * Doves No. 1

CALIFORNIA ... A hunter survey in California showed doves to be the leading game species taken in the Golden State in 1959. Hunters said they bagged 3,578,000 doves, an increase of 5.3 per cent over 1958. Waterfowl dropped from 4,610,000 in 1958 to 1,912,000 in 1959 for second place. Quail continued in third with 1,483,000 birds, a decline of 23.5 per cent. Almost 2V2 million hunter days of activity were recorded. Nationally, 1959 dove hunters took over 20 million doves, ranking the dove as No. 1 game bird in the United States.

* * * Hail Hard on Wildlife

NEW YORK . . . Hailstorms can be the most destructive of all the natural elements in a given area, writes Allen G. Smith, U. S. Fish and Wildlife Service research biologist. One hailstorm on the Alberta prairies flattened all vegetation in a strip 5 miles wide and 140 miles long. An estimated 36,000 dead ducks and geese were left in its wake. "Songbirds, hawks, owls, crows, grouse, coots, grebes, and waterfowl were wiped out impartially. In fact, every exposed bird and small animal was killed in a matter of minutes. Adult ducks of all species, as well as their young, littered the surfaces of potholes and lakes in the path of the storm." Smith calculates that around 150,000 wild ducks and geese could have been battered to death by the falling ice pellets in Alberta alone that year—1953. The next year may have been nearly as bad.

* * * Sea-Going Deer

NEW HAMPSHIRE ... On a foggy morning the Coast Guard was called out to rescue a small boat lost at sea. As they returned with two survivors, they spotted a big doe swimming for all she was worth, straight out to sea. The doe was one mile off the Maine shore and two miles from the New Hampshire shore. Evidently she had jumped into the ocean to escape chasing dogs. The men lassoed and hauled her aboard. Once ashore, they turned the doe over to conservation officers, frightened, wet, but otherwise unharmed.

* * * Greed Doesn't Pay

PENNSYLVANIA . . . Reynard, Aesop's fox who dropped his grapes to grab those of the fox in the water below had nothing on a modern-day red fox in Pennsylvania. After a snack of four day-old pheasant chicks, and completely stuffed with hair and bones, the fox fell for a temptingly-baited predator trap. The Game Commission land manager checking the traps on the rabbit management area found in the next one, barely 100 feet away, a dog who hadn't finished his meal of a half-grown woodchuck before he investigated the trap's easier pickings. Neither will be hungry again.

* * * Better Start in Life

OREGON ... A cozy cradle kept at exactly 56° is giving fish fry a better start in life, reports the Oregon State Game Commission. Over-all growth and weight of fry kept in an experimental fish pond at the Wizard Falls Hatch­ery have almost doubled that under normal conditions. Success was due to a maze of electric wiring and heating devices which kept the pond at a constant 56° temperature.

* * * Squirrels Premonition

PENNSYLVANIA ... An Armstrong County farmer is wondering if he would know enough to move before his house fell in on him. A family of fox squirrels did. It had used a nest in an old tree for many years. One day he noticed the animals had deserted their old home for one in another tree. This puzzled the man until, later that day, he heard a tree crash to the ground. Sure enough it was the old den tree which had split wide open when blown down.

* * * A Case For Ripley

MASSACHUSETTS ... A Massachusetts deer hunter had a hard time convincing his friends this story was true. He came upon a doe standing still. He fired two shots and missed with both. He moved closer, fired two more shots, and hit her in the same place. She left in a hurry, but a movement behind her revealed a buck looking him over. With his one remaining shell the hunter brought down the buck. Gloating at failure turned success, he drew his knife and straddled the neck to bleed his trophy. The deer leaped to his feet, throwing the hunter to the ground, and cutting his hand. The buck trotted a short distance and sank to the ground. The hunter started after the deer. It got up and walked away to fall again. This chase went on for some time. Finally the hunter, losing blood all the time, went to find his hunting partner. After they had the hand repaired, they returned to find another hunter had taken the deer.

* * * Truant Gets Ticket

CALIFORNIA . . . Intent on hunting cottontails out of season and at night, an Antelope Valley man recently suc­ceeded in outwitting himself. It all happened when Fish and Game Warden Bill Hawes, attending an evening meeting of a local gun club, stepped outside for a bit of fresh air. Observing a spotlight working in the nearby desert area, Hawes investigated. He wound up handing a double-barreled citation to one of the club members who figured the warden would be too busy. He wasn't.

SEPTEMBER, 1960 23

THE DOG AFIELD

(continued from page 12)

work and are comparatively inexpensive if you have a knack with tools. They can be as small as two-dog units or large enough to carry eight dogs comfortably.

Dog care does not end with safe transportation. Once afield, accidents may occur which will require immediate attention. What to do until you can get your dog to a veterinarian often confounds, and nearly always upsets, the dog owner. Knowing first-aid fundamentals may mean the difference between life and death.

Never rush at your dog when he's injured. Approach him gingerly, slowly, and most of all, calmly. Make sure he can't bite you. If a small dog, drape a folded coat over him in such a manner that he can't bite through it. Don't take any chances with a larger dog. Wrap a strip of cloth or handkerchief around his muzzle. Snug it up, but not too tight, or the dog will fight it.

Shock usually accompanies injury. A coat or blanket will keep your dog warm, but try to get him to a warm place as soon as you can. Once the dog is warm administer a stimulant. Don't use alcohol. This is a depressant. Coffee, nearly always handy, works great. Lift the dog's head, loosen the muzzle, and pour the coffee into a pouch formed by pulling out the lower lip. A cupful, not too hot, does the trick.

Broken bones require expert attention. The best bet is to get the dog to a veterinarian right away. If the leg is broken, keep it as straight as possible. In a compound fracture, pull the leg so the bone no longer shows, and apply a simple splint.

Your dog may be a party to a dog fight. Cuts from bites, even though deep, need not cause too much concern if the dog laps them clean.

If a cut on the leg or foot bleeds profusely, apply a tourniquet about the cut, loosen it at least once every 10 minutes to prevent gangrene. Pressure bandages applied firmly are best for cut pads. Don't keep such a bandage on too long. If any water is available, apply to the cut.

If the dog shows signs of strangulation, claws at or cannot close his mouth, get to him fast—but not too fast. A wedged stick or bone, pressed against the roof of the mouth or lodged in the throat may throw him into a frenzy. Straddle him by the neck. If necessary, insert something to prevent the mouth from snapping shut on your hand while you remove the offending obstacle.

A simple item like water can help to make your dog's day afield more enjoyable. If you forget it you'll only make your dog suffer. A gallon jug of water and a shallow container don't take up much space. Water will be a welcome sight to the dog that has worked his heart out for you.

Conditioning, transportation, and care go hand in hand. Remember, preventative measures and what you do afield in case of trouble may save his life. Most of all, proper care will assure that the two of you will enjoy many more years together as a working, hunting team.

THE END

YUCCA AND GROUSE

(continued from page 5)

best shooting I've had yet. Nebraskans are mighty lucky people."

Harold wasn't exaggerating. We filled our first day and this, the second, was to be a repeat performance.

"Mighty impressive country," Floyd mused, scanning the endless range of grass and yucca-covered hills. "I bet a lot of it never sees a hunter."

Randy or I couldn't argue with the two Kansas Citians. There is plenty of room to roam and prime hunting throughout.

The dogs working for us were a prize pair, one reason we had scored so effectively. When we finally gathered by the cars four hours after we began the day's hunt, we had our two-day limits of birds, not to mention sore feet and shell vests minus lots of shells.

There was that tired but contented look on the feces of the hunters as they dropped their bone-weary frames into the cars for the trip home. Our mutual feeling was that of a noted soldier who once said, "I shall return."

THE END 24 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA

PLEDGE WITH A BITE OFWC puts teeth into sportsmanship

THE LARGEST sportsman's club in Nebraska, the Omaha Fish and Wildlife Club, has adopted a do-it-yourself hunter sportsmanship plan with a bite in it.

The 2,000-plus members have been issued new identification cards—cards which always opened many posted lands to members, but cards which now carry a promise of reprisal if the bearer violates rules of sportsmanship.

"This is our first move toward better farmer and sportsmen relations," said Harold Ulfers, president of the club. "Each year true sportsmen are frustrated by another rash of 'No Hunting' signs as landowners try to defend their property against the careless and thoughtless minority. This has already reached the critical stage."

To reassure farmers of the good intentions of OFWC, members this fall will introduce themselves with cards that outline certain rules they have agreed to follow. The understanding is that the club may revoke membership and assist in the prosecution of any violator.

The "rules" are simply those any good hunter observes. An OFWC member must ask permission before hunting or fishing, respect the farmer's property, close gates and be careful of fences, eliminate fire hazards, obey all game and fish laws, shoot only on land the farmer designates and never toward buildings or livestock, and leave sufficient brood stock.

Although not an insurance policy, the club agrees to pay up to $100 for damages any member has committed and refused to pay for. Special "Hunting by Permission Only" signs are available to landowners.

Ulfers said that a similar plan proved very effective in Tennessee. The club hopes that the program will adopted by other sportsmen's groups in Nebraska.

THE END

RIFLE PRIMER

(continued from page 12)

action, but other types have come a long way in improving accuracy and reliability. Highly adequate accuracy is available in modern semi-automatic pumps and lever actions.

A well-known gun buff claims that types of action are unimportant, and that actions merely determine which way extra cartridges will be carried. He says action speed also is unimportant since the rifle hunter should make the first shot count. Though true, the neophyte should know a little about actions.

The bolt-action repeater carries its extra rounds stacked one above the other in the magazine. A spring arrangement pushes the cartridges up as the top one is grasped by a mechanism at the forward end of the bolt and pushed forward into the chamber. When the cartridge is fired, withdrawn from the chamber, loosed from the bolt, and ejected another round is on top of the magazine stack, ready for the same process. The bolt is actuated by hand, and with practice, speed can be developed.

The semi-automatics have some features in common with pump actions. Instead of being hand powered, however, the pressure of the expanding gas which propels the bullet or the rearward force on the base of the cartridge is harnessed to perform the functions of unlocking the action, extracting and ejecting the shell, cocking the action, chambering the new shell, and relocking the action. Magazines may be of rotary type.

Lever-action rifles generally have tubular magazines, although some are of the rotary or "spool" type. Working the lever down and forward unlocks the action, cocks it, and extracts and ejects the used cartridge case.

Know your weapon, its capabilities and limitations, and how to handle it. Big-bore rifle ownership can open up many new avenues of outdoor sport.

THE END

DOVE DILEMMA

(continued from page 9)

harvest should replace as far as possible nature's harvest. This is an integral part of management. If Nebraska sportsmen do not harvest doves, the surplus birds will be lost—wasted as a renewable natural resource.

Is the mourning dove a desirable game bird? Look at a few statistics for the obvious answer. More doves are harvested annually than any upland-game bird and more than all other migratory game birds and waterfowl combined.

The harvest of doves was well over 20 million last year, but the population continued to increase. The present population is higher than at any time in history. Recognizing this, the Fish and Wildlife Service liberalized 1960 seasons, and a banner year is in store for Nebraska's neighbors to the south. Hunters here, unfortunately, can only wish them good hunting and hope that they appreciate their opportunity.

Ironically, Nebraska is a major dove-producing state. The bird should be a valuable resource. It should be managed as a game bird, providing countless hours of exciting outdoor recreation. It should, but it isn't.

What are the arguments of those opposed to hunting? Are they basing their case on fact, fiction, or sentiment? Do many of the arguments reveal opposition to all forms of hunting, regardless of the species being hunted? Or do they exhibit a real concern for the mourning dove as a species? These are questions that all Nebraskans should examine and consider closely.

THE END SEPTEMBER, 1960 25

Notes on Nebraska Fauna

WHITE-FRONTED GOOSE

by John Sweet Waterfowl Biologist

THE SCIENTIFIC name, Anser albifrons albifrons, probably means nothing to the average goose hunter, but mention white-fronted goose, specklebelly, gray wavy or laughing goose and it's another story.

Depending upon the particular locality and part of the western half of the North American continent, this much sought-after bird may be known by any one of 30 common names. Nearly all have been derived from either the distinctive black markings on the breast, or from the peculiar laugh-like call of the goose. Perhaps one of the least noticeable markings observed on the bird gives it its scientific name; Anser, Latin, meaning a goose, and albifrons, which is derived from two Latin words, albus, the word for white, and frons which means forehead. The marking is a white band around the front of the face at the base of the bill and on the chin.

Regardless of the name, it's one of the most sought-after of the geese, as the flesh is very tasty.

Except for size, the adult whitefront somewhat resembles the tame goose. The head, neck, and back are brownish gray. The lower back and rump are dark to slaty brown.

The chest is gray which may be tinged with brown. The breast is usually light gray with dark brown or black markings which may take on the appearance of blotches, bars or both—hence the common name of specklebelly. The feet are yellow to yellow-orange while the bill of the adult is varying degrees of pink. Average weight of the whitefronted goose is about five and one-half pounds.

Whitefronts breed and nest on their grounds on the west-central coast of Greenland and on islands and points along the mainland shores of the Arctic 26 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   Ocean from Coronation Gulf westward to Yukon Delta. The nests are shallow depressions lined with moss, grasses, and down. While usually not found in exceptionally heavy cover, they are well concealed in the depressions and blend in well with the surroundings.

Four to seven buff to creamy-white eggs are laid. Each is approximately two by three inches. Edward W. Nelson (1887) reported that as the complement of eggs is approached, the female always plucks down and feathers from her breast until the eggs rest in a warm bed when incubation begins.

Arthur C. Bent (1925) gives an account of trying to catch some young whitefronts. Upon Bent's approach the parents came out in the open and attempted to lead the young ones over the open tundra. Although only several days old, the young could run as fast as Bent. These goslings did not scatter but ran in a straight line with one adult running by their side and the other flying along above them no more than three feet above the ground.

Migration may begin quite early in the fall. Some birds may reach their wintering grounds in the central valleys of Calfornia, the Gulf Coast of Texas and Louisiana or central-western Mexico in early September. Nearly all will have left the breeding grounds by the first week of October at the latest. Birds migrate over the eastern one-third of Nebraska.

Geese concentrate along the Platte in the early spring. They'll work the river and nearby lakes and fields from Elm Creek westward to Lexington. Depending upon the weather, their stay here on their northward flight may last as long as nine weeks.

Whitefronts have been sighted on the Platte as early as the first of February. The concentration continues to build up until about the first week in April. Then, except for a few stragglers, the migrants rise into the sky to form their familiar long lines and Vee formations and continue northward. Within two days, almost every goose will have departed for the breeding grounds. By mid-May, whitefronts will again be attending to the domestic duties of raising families.

These geese are not restricted to this continent. There are well-known wintering areas in Europe along the Mediterranean Sea, and in the east in northern India and Japan. The geese of eastern Asia and Japan are identical with whitefronts of America.

The flock of geese which aided in the defense of Rome against the invasion by the Gauls in the old Roman legend may well have been white-fronted geese. So the story goes, a Gaul detachment clambered up the hill of the capital without being discovered. But when the first man strode over the rampart, the geese, disturbed by the noise, began to cackle and awoke the Roman garrison.

Due to their behavior, there may be more truth than fiction to their watch-dog abilities. While residing at rest stops along the Platte River in the spring, they appear to be an extremely restless and wary group. For no apparent reason, a part or an entire flock will suddenly spring into the air and move to another location.

Geese have their playful moods. When coming in over a sand bar, they'll suddenly dive in a zigzag fashion, completing numerous intricate turns and sideslips in a reckless descent. At times, they appear to do a complete flip before landing. Often while on the water, a spontaneous game of "duck and tag" will develop. A group will chase each other over the water, diving and splashing in a wild frenzy.

The whitefront was probably the world's most abundant goose species. Unfortunately, large numbers have been killed on the wintering grounds in recent centuries. The whitefront is numerous in the Americas when compared to the rest of the world. But the species is not abundant when compared to other geese.

A decline in the number of whitefronts in recent years has brought considerable concern for the species in the Central Flyway. As a result, a special committee has been set up by the Flyway Council to study the whitefront. This group, which will attempt to gain knowledge of the species and manage it more closely, is headed by George Schildman of the Game Commission.

It is unfortunate that this bird is declining. But with proper management measures, the whitefront will continue to grace our landscape and tables. His loud ringing wah, wah, wah, will continue to sing out and offer a challenge to the hunter.

THE END SEPTEMBER, 1960 27

GUNNER'S MATCH-THEM-UP

How's your hunting eye? Match pictures to names, then check answers at right ANSWERS: A. cottontail; B. doe white-tailed deer; C. coturnix quail; D. sharp-tailed grouse; E. hen pheasant; F. bobwhite quail; G. young mule deer; H. prairie chicken; I. doe antelope; J. juvenile cock pheasant; K. jack rabbit.