HOLIDAY HUNTING

by Pete Czura Best gift of all this year could be ringneck adventure

ABOUT THE BEST gift Nebraska sportsmen can give visiting friends and relatives this yuletide season is a crack at the state's superb pheasant hunting. Memories of other gifts may dim in time, but a holiday ringneck hunt will never be forgotten.

Swashbuckling, crafty, and very tasty, the handsome bird flourishes here to the tune of millions. There are more than enough targets, even though the season has been open since October 22. Nebraskans do not harvest all of the roosters available to them. Thev take about one-third of the cocks each fall; they could take two-thirds with the same game-management results. Harvesting the second 33% per cent takes far more effort DECEMBER, 1960 3   than Nebraskans are accustomed to give to hunting. The problem, therefore, is to make pheasant hunting easier—more efficient.

HOLIDAY HUNTING continued

Use the same techniques which brought you success in early fall. Remember the pheasant flies only as a last resort. Try to outsmart him, to keep him from running or to make him get up if he is "sitting tight". And don't overlook weather as an aid in bagging birds. In a drizzle, or during a light snowfall, pheasants don't run as much, so you'll be able to flush many that would ordinarily run away.

Now let's get into the birds' daily habits. In early morning, ringnecks are usually in roosting cover. Stubble fields, heavy grass, and like areas are good covers to investigate. Later in the morning they will move to feeding areas. Don't pass up corn or milo fields. Birds will congregate in these areas to scrounge for grain tidbits from 10 o'clock and on even though fields have been harvested.

Early afternoon is siesta time for the ringneck. His hideout is usually a brier patch, a vine-grown tangle, a cattail marsh, or any jungle of underbrush that will conceal him, or he may stay right on his feeding grounds if the cover is adequate. If water is nearby and the weather is warm, the better your chances of encountering the gaudy birds. Speaking of water, drainage ditches, brooks, potholes, swamps, and farm ponds (especially those with dense cover nearby) will provide plenty of opportunities.

Late in the afternoon, the bird will be on the prowl again, looking for food before hitting the sack. Then, as the purple curtain of evening descends over the countryside, you'll find the pheasant enroute to and back in roosting covers.

The ringneck tends to flock by sex as late autumn and colder weather arrives, especially the hens. The cocks are more individualistic, although they normally form loose flocks.

For example, if 600 acres of a 640-acre section is in cover (as it was when this season opened), the birds have a ball hiding and running in this jungle as hunters futilely try to force them to flush. In fact, there could be a dozen broods in the cover, and chances of getting a cock in the air within gun range would be slim. But when December rolls around cover on this same section may be down to 50 acres, and with a dozen broods in this reduced cover area, the odds shift greatly from bird to hunter. True, many flushes will be wild and premature, but holiday gunners would still get plenty of shooting action.

Since the cocky roosters are bigger and more aggressive than the females, they will occupy the best (most protective) cover when things get rough. The hens have their own social order, and the smallest hens get the poorest range. Their cover is relatively marginal, hence winter mortality is usually greatest among these birds.

Hitting weed patches, stubble fields, and draws will provide ample opportunities to test your marksmanship. Pointing your gun at the bird doesn't mean he will roll over and play dead. You've got to hit him, and pheasants, though big and seemingly easy targets, have a notorious way of eluding your loads. Most misses result from shooting behind the bird, because the long tail makes him a deceptive target.

Mel Steen has this gunning motto: "When you miss, make sure you miss in front." That's mighty good advice, especially for pheasant hunters.

Successful hits are made by those who have learned how to hold the gun properly, swing smoothly through the shooting arc, fire at the right instant, and follow through to the natural end of the gun swing. Remember, if you want birds you should swing your muzzle past the bird's head as you squeeze the trigger, especially on passing shots. Veteran gunners will tell you to lead the pheasant by one, two, or even six feet, depending on speed and range. If you stop the swing, you'll only flick the tail feathers, and this part of the bird's anatomy can absorb all kinds of lead. To stop a pheasant cock you must hit him in the front half of the body.

A brief discussion of guns, loads, bores, and barrel lengths never hurts. The ring-necked buccaneers 4 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   of swamps and cornfields have been dropped with puny .410's on up to the powerful meat-tearing 10-gauge Magnums. In between are the 20's, 16's, and 12's. Most hunters have adopted the 12-gauge because this gun packs a killing wallop without too much recoil.

Shot sizes always start chin music. Most of the old-timers use No. 6 shot exclusively. What the pheasant hunter needs is the densest pattern he can get in a 30-inch circle at 40 yards. Some have swung Rooster is easy lo spol in snow bul utilizes cover over to the small No. IV2 to obtain this dense pattern, especially when using the more open barrel. Experience has shown that the more pellets you get into a pheasant, the better your chances of knocking the bird down so crippled that he can't run or fly away.

The best all-round bore, particularly on tough-to-knock-down ringnecks, is the modified choke. Since most of our shots occur in the 25 to 40-yard range, this is the best bore. Most of us don't have a chance to slick up our shooting ability, and when we go afield with a full choke we merely handicap ourselves with a small pattern that results in more misses. What most of us need is a little more spread at those ranges where birds are usually shot. The modified bore provides this spread with good density in the pattern at ordinary ranges.

The length of your barrel does not affect your shooting at long ranges. What does make an important difference is the maneuverability of the shorter barrels. In ringneck hunting, you won't have as much time to get set and watch the bird come in as you do in waterfowling. When a pheasant flushes, you have only a fraction of a second to get on him and fire. Shorter barrels permit free and fast swings. The trend is toward 28-inch barrels, and many 26-inch-barrel users are finding this a go-getter.

Though birds may be spookier, there'll be plenty of targets around to provide enough adventure and excitement to satisfy the most discriminating holiday guests. The birds are here, and with friends to share your birds and thrills, you could have the best dog-gone holiday yet.

THE END DECEMBER, 1960 5

SAUGER FOR TWO

by Gene Hornbeck The cold wind at Gavins Point cut through us like a hot knife in butter. Still we simmered

THE SUNNY, cloud-spattered November sky belied the temperature. A northwest wind whipped across the tailwaters of Gavins Point, blasting a freezing chill through our parkas.

"Holy mackerel, Archie," I said, shivering. "What a day to fish."

"It doesn't look good," he replied as tears rolled from his eyes. The cold wind cuts through you like a hot knife through butter."

"I don't imagine the sauger know how cold it is. Let's load up and at least give them a try."

Archie Prather was all for it, and went to work stowing gear in his 14-foot runabout. The retired Wausa sporting-goods dealer has taken sauger at Gavins since they came into their own a few years back. Two days earlier, he and E. K. Anderson of Lincoln had a limit in the two to four-pound class. We had fished together before, and the weather wasn't much more agreeable then. Our first trip had been for paddlefish at Gavins Point just about a year ago.

I shoved the boat out into the swirling currents of the Missouri and Archie headed it upstream toward the dam. Sauger dwell in river currents, preferring fast water to still pools. Eddies at the edge of rushing water are favorite haunts. There they lay in wait for food to wash their way. Archie jockeyed the boat into position just off the point separating the wheelhouse and the floodgates of the 6 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   dam, and I dropped the anchor into about 30 feet of water.

"Put a minnow on a dropper," Archie coached. "I've had my best luck by hooking it under the dorsal fin and jigging it just off the bottom."

Archie rigged up his 5y2-foot spin-cast outfit, while I tied on a swivel and then two 12-inch pieces of monofilament, one for the hook and the other for the small bell sinker. I used a 7-foot spinning rod, open-faced reel, and 8-pound-test line.

The Gavins veteran dropped a lively minnow into the swirling eddies, while I tried to corral one in the ice-rimmed bucket. One thing that I can say for cold-weather fishing is that it makes even the simplest job tricky. Take hooking a minnow. The blasted thing keeps flipping out of your numbed fingers and you can spend five minutes trying to pluck it off the bottom of the boat. A grin of victory crossed my face as I finally nabbed one.

Tossing the bait overboard, I huddled down in my parka, waiting for it to catch a bottom-hugging sauger. The sinker took the minnow plunging to the depths. I felt it bumping along the bottom as the current carried it downstream.

"The weather isn't so bad," Archie offered as he huddled down in his parka, pulled the ear flaps down tighter, and rubbed his numbed hands to restore circulation.

"Not so bad? If it was any colder, we would have to chop holes through the ice."

Our chitchat was interrupted as Archie hit back at a taking fish. His rod doubled for a moment on the short run of the fish. He led a 12-inch sauger alongside, reached over, and flipped it into the boat.

"A little below average, but a nice fish for the pan," he said happily. "I hope the big ones show. They've been hitting real well."

Seconds later I felt a fish bumping my bait. I eased up to let it take, and then hauled back to set the hook. It struggled for seconds and was gone.

"Got away with my minnow, too," I complained.

"This could be one of those days when they aren't taking good," Archie said. "Seems as though there are times when they just fool with the bait. Give them plenty of time to take the minnow."

Minutes later Archie had a fish test his bait, but lost him.

"A repeat performance," he said as he looked over the mutilated minnow. "They're mouthing the bait. We'll have to give them more time."

Minutes later, I felt the tug of another sauger. This time I fed the fish (continued on page 22)

DECEMBER, 1960 7

HUNTING HIATUS

By Donald A. Allen Where but Nebraska could I fall into such a game-bird paradise?

MY WIFE had it right. The only way you could get the Allen men in church during hunting season was to put a duck decoy in the pulpit. That's the excuse she gave the Methodist minister in Ord a couple of falls ago. That Sunday my brother and I were sitting at the side of a haystack 40 miles away eating pheasant sandwiches and drinking hot chocolate. We had already taken in a couple of days of fabulous Sand Hills shotgunning and were ready for more—all on schedule.

That hunt, and others before and since, started on a bleak hill near Shuri Castle in Okinawa in 1945. During the war I promised myself that if I survived I would spend at least two weeks each fall hunting in my home state of Nebraska. True to my word, I've hunted ducks, pheasants, quail, geese, and jacksnipe there ever since.

Three years ago, my wife and I took off on the annual hunting hiatus, leaving the brick walls, soot, and noise of Washington, D. C. far behind. A letter from my brother Rusty, laying out a fabulous hunting free-for-all, triggered the trip. Once we arrived, he had written, we would take a quick look at the prospects from the air, then settle down to the serious business of hunting.

First, we would try our luck on ducks on the small farm ponds and chase down pheasants in the alfalfa fields south of Ord. The second day would be more of the same, only this time on the Calamus 8 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   River in Blaine and Loup counties, 60 miles south. The third, decoy hunting on the North Loup; the fourth, quail and pheasant hunting in Valley County canyons; and the fifth, back to the blind for another day of river hunting. Who could resist such a come on? Certainly not this hunting Allen.

We arrived in Ord about noon, November 10. After greetings all around with the family, I unloaded the car, changed my clothes, and was ready to go.

Corky Biemond, a veteran pilot, met us at Rusty's implement shop. Corky flies a single engine crop-dusting job. Minutes later, we were at the airport, stowed our gear, and took off for adventure.

The rich black loam along the North Loup snaked out below us. Geometric-patterned fields gave way to grazing land sprinkled with farm ponds which coveted fat mallards.

Neither mallard nor Hereford was bothered by our noisy entry. They seemed to be content feeding with no more than an over-the-shoulder glance as we hovered between 500 and 1,000 feet over their heads.

As I sat comfortably absorbing the panoramic view below, my thoughts went back to my boyhood days in Holt County. I remembered back to about 1921 — farm houses few and far apart, blowouts speckled with arrowheads, red-winged blackbirds, here and there a windmill gaunt against the sky, winding ravines, flowing wells, spring plowing, lightning-set prairie fires, square dances in slick hay-mows, deserted hayracks, Indian graves, a lonely farm besieged by a snowstorm, yellow ducklings turning their heads up into the hail storms to protect their tender bills, and a sod house crouching among the cottonwoods. It was a land that rewarded my parents with corn six-feet tall one year and almost drove them to ruin the next. It was the happiness and the curse of their lives.

Once landed, we drove to the house, picked up Mike, the Chesapeake Bay retriever, and headed for an abandoned farm where several ponds surrounded by tall sunflowers were attended regularly by hungry ducks and pheasants. Rusty parked the car in the yard, and we approached one of the dams from the down-wind side. Duck conversation meant only one thing—it wouldn't be long. Rusty edged through the shoulder-high sunflowers, motioning that the talking ducks were directly below.

All three of us raised together, ready for action. Seventy-five mallards exploded out of the dam in unison, all except six. They fell from a trio of neat doubles. Mike brought in five big greenheads, saving the cripple until last.

With six big "Fancy Dan" drakes, we headed for the car. Rusty had arranged to hunt pheasants in an alfalfa field he had been saving. The ducks had other plans. While driving to the field, Rusty spotted five mallards in a pond not over 100 yards from the section-line road. We couldn't resist.

Rusty, Corky, and I edged along a sidehill and worked our way up a hoof-worn path leading to the pond. We again raised together. Four drakes dropped almost as one. Mike had trouble with the mud but finally brought the ducks in. This luck put us way out in front, but Rusty still wanted to get a crack at our first-day pheasants.

We turned into the alfalfa patch Rusty had spotted. The cackling of a rooster greeted us as we got out of the car. He was somewhere in the field. Mike was out of the car in a flash and hit a scent before we could load our guns. Corky and I walked into three not 200 feet from the car. The first bird got up. It was a hen; No. 2 was her sister, but not the third. Corky and I fired together, and the magnificent block-buster fell. We flushed several more birds but failed to score. It was time to call it a day, and what a day it had been.

It was a preview, however, of things to come. Up at 5:30, a hearty breakfast, and in the pickup at 6—that's the way Rusty planned it and that's the way it was. He thought it best that we head for the upper end of the Calumus near Brewster, then work our way toward home.

On the way, we talked of Sputniks, dogs, retirement, and even offered the politicians a little of our early-morning wisdom. We gassed up at Brewster, and after a couple of miles, turned off the road onto a hay trail.

The vast prairie is pierced by a slight valley from one-fourth to about two miles (continued on page 24)

DECEMBER, 1960 9

QUICK KILL

by Richard M. Hopper You can't escape crippling game, but you can eliminate suffering

ONE OF THE responsibilities of hunting is to make sure the animal is dead, for the protection of the hunter and for the sake of the animal. Any hunter can expect to be confronted with the necessity of killing crippled game he has brought down, and this is a job which must be done as quickly and cleanly as possible. No matter how hard a hunter tries, he cannot always make a clean, one-shot kill, and so he must know how to kill a crippled animal effectively.

Any hunter who is a good sportsman will agree that animals should be killed in a humane manner; therefore, a quick death is necessary. The killing of crippled game can and does put hunters under quite a strain, especially when they aren't used to it. Most of us who inflict unnecessary cruelty upon some already injured creature simply don't know anatomy.

No one likes to see crippled animals, but we realize we must harvest our crop of wildlife, just as a farmer must harvest his crop of corn. With this harvest we should expect a loss of animals through crippling, just as the farmer expects to lose a certain amount of corn from his truck while going to the market.

One type of cripple is the animal which is escaping and which you can't get your hands on. This group requires very little discussion since about all that can be done is to trail the animal until it is found and kill it. It is always best to shoot at the same animal until it falls. If it doesn't fall, then a trailing job is in order. It is best to let the animal get stiff before trailing it.

Other types of crippled game are those which are down helpless, but which must be killed.

First to be considered are the cripples which are harmless and therefore can be handled without worry of losing a finger. The game that falls into this category are largely birds and rabbits.

This is where women weep and brave men turn pale. The broken shotguns pile up and hunters use unmentionable language. Only by assuming an 10 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   orderly approach can we remove the brutality and mess and retain hunting as a sport to look forward to.

Suppose, for example, that you have just knocked a quail out of the air and it now lies in a weed patch unable to fly, but still very much alive. Reach down slowly and pick up the quail, being careful not to let it struggle or flop. Any quick or hasty movement is apt to frighten it into making a final effort to escape; and sometimes with success. You will probably be surprised to learn that most birds, when in a helpless condition, usually offer little or no resistance when picked up.

With the bird in one hand, place the thumb of the other hand on the back of the bird's head and place the index finger under the head. Now, exert a downward force on the base of the skull and you will see that this instantly breaks the bird's slender neck. This method is widely used by poultrymen to kill chickens. The simple part about it is that the bird never flops but instantly goes limp.

You will find that the neck of all upland-game birds, including doves, quail, pheasants, and grouse, will break with such ease that you can feel the joint part with a small pressure exerted in this way. Some hunters insist upon placing their foot upon the neck and pulling off the head, but this is not a pretty sight to see and the beauty of the game is spoiled. This method of internally severing the neck bones is neither ugly or messy. All the necessary equipment is at hand and you need not look for clubs or sticks. Birds killed by this method will stay dead. It is also a good idea to form the habit of breaking the necks of supposedly dead birds.

Although the necks of ducks, geese, and other waterfowl are much tougher, they may also be broken by a man with strong hands, or they may be struck on the back of the head with a small stick.

Rabbits may be killed by a blow commonly called the "rabbit punch". This method is employed to kill domestic rabbits. A rabbit may be killed by holding it up by the hind legs and using a stick or the cutting side of your palm to hit the back of its skull. This is both quick and easy. Be sure always to strike the animal exactly on the back of the head and not on the side of the head. You can feel a rabbit's or a bird's heartbeat by pressing in on the ribs with your fingers just behind the shoulders to make sure the job is done.

Fish also fall into the class of helpless game when they are caught. Fish, like other game, deserve to be humanely killed and not left just to "dry out". Fish should be killed immediately upon being taken. By carrying a stick with him, the fisherman need only give each fish as it is caught one sound smack over the back of the head.

Finally we come to the cripples you can get your hands on but don't want to. Included in this group are hoofed animals, wildcats, bears, squirrels, and trapped fur bearers—in short, any animal that you don't want to grab bare-handed.

Often you will walk upon helpless big-game animals that are down, and then comes the question, how are you going to kill them? If you should have a .22 pistol or other side arm on your belt, the best mark to aim for is the brain. You can mentally draw a line from the right ear to the left eye, and one from the left ear to the right eye. Where the lines cross is the place to put the bullet.

However, most hunters won't be carrying a light pistol. If you use a brain shot with your big game rifle, you will ruin a trophy head; therefore, the best killing shot to use with your regular big-game rifle is the shot that breaks the neck right behind the skull. This shot spoils no meat and is very neat. It is a safe rule to kill big game as quickly as possible.

There are hunters who try to cut the throat of a crippled big-game animal. These hunters will often get an unpleasant surprise. Any big-game animal, when attacked with a knife, is capable of putting a hunter in the hospital. This is an extremely dangerous situation and therefore should not be practiced.

How do you take care of those untouchable animals either in or out of a trap, that can bite off a finger? If you have a .22 rifle or pistol, an extra shot between the eyes will do the trick. But if you have a shotgun or don't want to shoot again because you don't want to ruin the pelt, a small club may be used.

For instance, for the fox, weasel, mink, skunk, or badger, you need only select a stick the size of a broom handle and about two feet long. There is little sense in beating an animal on the rump, shoulders, or back for you will only torture and bruise it. Most animals are quite good at dodging a club; therefore, it is a must to attract the animal's attention toward something else in order to deliver a sharp blow squarely on the base of the skull. The simplest way to do this is to take a piece of brush or other material in one hand and hold it in front for the animal to snap at. Then you will be able to reach around in back of him with the other hand and deliver the killing blow before he knows what is happening. This also works well on bobcats and coyotes. It is an approved method for trapped animals.

It is not intended for the reader to think that the above methods are the only recommended procedures in existence. Perhaps you have a method which works equally well.

The killing of cripples is the most disagreeable part of hunting, but it is something that goes-along with hunting so it must be learned. It is advisable for anyone who proposes to be a hunter to face at the start the fact that he must learn how to kill the cripples. We all try our best not to cripple animals, but sometimes it cannot be helped.

Be cautious when killing cripples not to mangle your game. Be cautious about your safety and that of others. Knowing how to avoid stress on either the part of the game or the hunter is the essence of good hunting.

THE END (Reprinted from the November-December Issue, COLORADO OUTDOORS) DECEMBER, 1960 11

ENDERS

Southwestern play spot is prime in the sportsman's book. One visit and you'll see why it rates so high

WOULD YOU LIKE to tangle with tackle-busting northerns or walleye, enjoy camping under a canopy of stars, or come home with a mixed bag of ducks, geese, and pheasants? All of the above can be found, and are yours, at Enders Reservoir.

Here's an area offering a variety of outdoor adventure, just begging for action. Most of all, there's lots of elbow room.

Big walleyes and northerns are commonplace. During the past few years, Enders has been steadily gaining a reputation as one of our prime fishing spots. In 1959, it produced a 25%-pound northern-pike catch that presently holds the state record. But the big boys aren't the only attraction. Crappie, catfish, bullhead, trout, bluegill, carp, and bass abound in the reservoir.

Fishing fever hits a high pitch from March to June. And some of the state's biggest fish have been taken during these early fishing sprees. Here's an example of the kind of action that takes place. Last spring, one angler caught 50 nice-sized crappie in less than two hours. Others alongside him fared as well. But the bonus came that evening when a teacher from Imperial latched onto a big, scrappy 12 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   61/2-pound northern. This is top-notch fishing in anyone's book.

Beginning in 1951, even before the reservoir was full, the Commission launched a fish-stocking program which is still in effect. The original fingerling walleye have grown into lunker proportions, and landing one would be a prize in the creel. To date, the Commission has stocked over three million fish.

Enders Reservoir is located on Frenchman Creek, about one mile south of Enders. It can be reached from U.S. Highway 6. Convenient dirt-surfaced roads take you to most of the areas surrounding the lake, and plans for additional roads and road improvements are in the making.

The dam was completed by the Bureau of Reclamation in 1951. Its principal function is to provide irrigation in the Kansas River Basin but recreation is rapidly assuming an important stature. The imposing earth-fill structure soars 100 feet above the river bed, and is about a half-mile long. The reservoir backs water upstream for about four miles, creating a 26-mile shore line.

Though 75,000 visitors enjoyed Ender's many facilities last year, the area could easily handle many more. In fact, natives are often outnumbered by nonresidents who know a good thing when they see it.

Variety is the password here. Camping, fishing, boating, hunting, hiking, and other forms of outdoor recreation are available. On Sundays, for instance, boaters converge on the watery playground, utilizing the boat-launching ramp near the major day-use area on the north shore of the reservoir. And picnickers find the picnic shelter, 30 picnic tables, and 22 fireplaces mighty handy. Three new wells provide fresh drinking water. The swimmer hasn't been overlooked, either. A natural beach offers many pleasant hours of fun and relaxation.

Hunters can take a variety of game, but King Ringneck rules the roost. Church Grove, on the north shore, is thick with fire brush, providing hiding spots for many birds.

Ducks and geese provide additional bird hunting in the area. Squirrels and rabbits are plentiful. Goose hunters use a natural rock promontory west of the cabin area on the south shore to advantage. The geese try to cut across this high point to reach the main body of water.

For a wonderful one-day float trip, take a jaunt down Frenchman Creek from the Nebraska-Colorado border to the reservoir. This stretch has a constant flow and can be floated almost anytime of the year. Enders has still another attraction. Artifacts enthusiasts have found many ancient relics around the reservoir. When the lake recedes, the shore line is liberally sprinkled with treasures.

In May of 1952, the Commission took over the recreational development of Enders on a 50-year lease.- At the present time, 797 acres of land are available for recreation, and the normal water surface is over 1,700 acres.

Many of the picnic spots have handsome full-grown trees providing shade and welcome relief from the warm, friendly sun. Twenty-five different varieties of trees dot the area, and the Commission has planted 66,221 trees and shrubs over 53 acres.

How about a cabin on the edge of the lake? You can build one on an area set aside specifically for this. All cabin sites are on the south side of the reservoir and have excellent vantage points over-looking the water. Leases can be easily obtained. Some 33 are still available.

You name it, Enders has it. Make a point to visit this outstanding area soon. Once you do, you'll be back for more.

THE END DECEMBER, 1960 13

TURNING BACK THE PAGES

Those were the good old days. But good as they were, state improved

THE "GOOD OLD DAYS,"as represented through the pages of OUTDOOR NEBRASKA since its inception in 1926, is a fascinating chronicle of needs, concepts, and accomplishments, of outdoor recreation in Nebraska. It becomes apparent that those good old days might not have been so good after all; that some of the problems that existed then exist today; but that foresight, then as now, is the key to progress. Here, then, is yesterday; the rest of the book is tomorrow.

Howdy! —1926

The Bureau of Game and Fish takes pleasure in presenting to the citizens of Nebraska the first number of OUTDOOR NEBRASKA.

It is the purpose of the department to publish this bulletin from time to time for two reasons:

(a) To inform the sportsmen and other citizens of the state who are interested in the work of the department just what is being done.

(b) To inculcate a greater appreciation for the wildlife and the natural beauty of Nebraska.

It is hoped that our first efforts meet with the approval of all citizens. And we hope that all who are interested in outdoor Nebraska will co-operate with us in the great work in which your state is engaged.

Help Save Game, Fish —1927

Every Nebraska citizen and every visitor should strictly observe the state and federal laws which protect fish and game.

All Nebraskans and those who visit the state should have plenty of wholesome recreation. The laws of the state are not made to deny one the right to an enjoyment of the great outdoors, but rather to preserve the enjoyment of the great outdoors.

Today it is vitally necessary that every citizen help conserve our wild resources. Unless this is done all of our wildlife will disappear. The automobile and good roads are going to make a great change in 14 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   northern and western Nebraska. Thousands will visit scenes where few went before.

Pheasant Hunting Here —1928

Last year saw the first results of the pheasant stocking which has been going on in Nebraska for a number of years. There are now four or five counties in central Nebraska which have sufficient birds for an open season during 1928. It is believed that a 10-day open season in these counties would not only provide much sport for the people of Nebraska, but will decrease the male pheasants to the extent that they will not be the cause of any complaint on the part of the farmers.

While no pheasants will be trapped and distributed this year, a survey will be made and plans made for future stocking. In those counties where the breeding stock has been killed off by ruthless and unlawful hunting, it is likely no further efforts will be made or money spent for stocking. It is foolhardy to place expensive game birds in communities where the citizenry do not co-operate and help the department protect them. On the other hand, where it is found that the people of the several counties have taken care of their stock and desire more, every effort will be made by the department to supply their needs. Generally speaking, the pheasant has taken hold nicely in eastern Nebraska, and where given the protection he should have, is making splendid increases.

Salvage Work —1930

The present season has been one of the worst for salvaging fish for many years. Owing to ponds and lakes drying up it has been necessary to remove thousands of fish to deeper water. In many cases, heavy losses have been encountered, owing to the bad condition of water and the extreme hot weather.

The Platte River has been dry several weeks from Columbus to North Platte, all the water being taken out by irrigators. While many thousands of fish were removed from this stream by five state crews, nevertheless there was a loss of many fish that were too large to move or in holes where they could not be taken with seines.

Scientific Investigation —1931

Science is beginning to play an important part in game and fish propagation. Nebraska, like most other states, has woefully neglected such work. The Commission made a beginning during 1930 by having several trained investigators study the animal and plant life of a number of Sand Hill lakes as well as brood ponds in several of the state fisheries. The results of this work are being compiled and will be published in 1931. The cost of this work was $854.92.

C. C. C. Progress —1933

During' the summer some 1,000 Civilian Conservation Camp workers have been busy in Nebraska making the outdoors more attractive.

There have been five camps of foresters at work —two working under the direction of the United States Forestry Service and three under the United States Park Service and the Nebraska Game, Forestation and Parks Commission. The boys working in the forestry service have spent most of their labors on soil erosion, timber culling and thinning, tree disease eradication, etc., while those working under the Park Service have been improving state parks, building dams, roads, dikes, picnic facilities, fish spawning beds, tree planting and the like.

Inasmuch as some $30,000 are being spent in the development of Nebraska recreation grounds alone, it will readily be seen that this movement will mean a great deal to the outdoor lovers of the Cornhusker State.

Game Commission Moves —1938

On or about February 15th, the Game Commission will move to the ninth floor of the State House, giving up their old quarters on the ground floor.

The Commission moves with some reluctance, but has been advised by the Land Commissioner, Mr. Leo Swanson, that he positively must have the ground floor rooms to reduce traffic on elevators. So, DECEMBER, 1960 15   rather than fighting the matter in the courts and spending funds for litigation, the Commission deemed it in the best interest of the department to move.

The new quarters will be larger and, with some alterations, it is believed the new rooms will meet with public approval.

TURNING BACK THE PAGES continued Nebraska Protects Hens —1943

For the 1943 hunting season the Nebraska Game, Forestation and Parks Commission again prohibits the shooting of hen pheasants. In order that this restriction be enforced it is, of course, necessary that a penalty be placed upon those hunters who are found with hen pheasants in their possession.

Pheasant Facts —1944

Nebraska's pheasants are today more numerous than all other species of upland-game birds combined (in the state).

Homes for Wildlife —1947

After several years' delay due to wartime shortages of manpower, equipment and materials, the Nebraska Game Commission has resumed its program of planting trees and shrubs for game cover.

In northeastern Nebraska, eight counties are benefiting from game-cover plantings.

Poacher, Beware! —1947

Nebraska poachers, game law violators, and sundry characters who have been disregarding the principles of true sportsmanship, can mark down the odds on getting by with game-rule infractions. The Game Commission is going scientific on apprehending violators.

In former days, a poacher who watched the highways carefully, and who got out in the hills away from roads, stood a pretty good chance of getting by with taking an illegal pheasant or a duck. But not any more. He may get away from the highway, but he had better look out for airplanes. Likely as not, the small airplane he sees buzzing over his head contains a conservation officer.

Of course, a small plane can land in most any cow pasture, but that necessity is eliminated by a new technique in violator apprehension. The warden in the plane has only to pick up his shortwave radio and announce to the nearest patrolling officer the position, and behavior of the violator.

Record Crowds Predicted —1950

An all-time high of 350,000 to 400,000 people are expected to enjoy the attractions and splendors of Nebraska's coveted seven state-owned parks during the 1950 vacationing season. This total, if it becomes a reality as predicted, would exceed the previous high set in 1949 of 220,000. The growing popularity and eminence of the parks combined with many major improvements are expected to be the determining factors in the record attendance.

State's 3rd Deer Hunt —1950

Nebraska's big game hunters—1,000 strong—will take to the Pine Ridge and wooded areas of the Platte Valley in Dawes, Sioux, Scotts Bluff, and Morrill counties and Sheridan County north of the Niobrara River sometime in December to harvest the state's aggregation of buck deer. This forthcoming special hunt, scheduled for a 14-day period, marks the third time in the last six years that Nebraska ranges have been sufficiently inhabited with deer to afford a season.

Antelope Hunters "Hot" —1953

A record hunter-success score in Nebraska big-game hunting was virtually assured in the state's antelope season two days before completion. After three days of hunting, 121 of the 150 hunters killed antelope for a success score of 80 per cent.

New Reorganization Plan — 1954

Your Nebraska Game, Forestation and Parks Commission is coming to you. No matter where you live, whether it is deep in Cherry County in the 16 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   Sand Hills or in Richardson County in the most southeastern corner of the state, there will soon be a task force of trained biologists working on your local fish and wildlife problems.

This grass-roots scheme is known as the reorganization plan.

The main idea in the decentralization of the Game Commission field activities is the breaking of the state into five areas. These areas, to be called districts, will have a field office headquarters. There will be a complete staff of highly trained personnel located here, to carry out all phases of Commission field work in the local area.

In each district there will be a game manager, a fish manager, a land manager, a law enforcement chief, and a multi-purpose labor crew with a superintendent.

Game Bird Stamp Added —1955

To most Nebraska hunters, the most important bill passed in the 1955 legislature session is LB 340—more commonly known as the upland-game-bird stamp bill.

This bill was supported and endorsed by the Nebraska Council of Wildlife Clubs at their annual meeting in Lincoln in the spring of this year. The objective of the bill is to provide extra funds for the propagation and restoration of upland-game birds.

This I Believe —1956

The annual income of the Nebraska Game, Forestation and Parks Commission is inadequate to do a first-class job in basic operation, so how can it possibly provide you with the many other services and facilities you would like to have? We might as well face the truth now as later. The truth is that the Nebraska Commission does not have the income needed to do a first-class job for you. I believe it only fair and honorable to tell you that I intend to do all I can to correct this.

I believe the great majority of Nebraska sportsmen want a bigger, better conservation program. I believe this majority stands ready and willing to support greater service, faster growth, and more progress in Nebraska. I believe they are entitled to get all the service, growth, and progress they are willing to pay for, and I believe it is our duty to see that this happens.

For governmental and administrative convenience we separate the land and wildlife. It is possible to do so in fact. In Nature's scheme of things life is life, be it wild or tame, and all life must live and die by and under the same natural laws.

Environment for wildlife is made up of a number of things, but the basic factor is the fertility of the land—in other words the kinds and quantities of nutrients that are available to grow plants and wildlife. Water areas get their nutrients from the land. Nutrients go into solution in the rains that fall on the watershed and thus are carried into streams and lakes by runoff.

I believe the great agricultural state of Nebraska is in a key position to do much for the advancement of thinking and action on basic conservation problems. This is a young and fertile state with great potential in her tremendous fertility reserves. Nebraskans are a young and vigorous people who demonstrate in many ways that they welcome new frontiers. Here the spirit of the West still prevails; here people are not afraid of life. Nebraska's potential for progress, biologically and intellectually, is as great as any spot I know of on this earth, and the realization of that potential is limited only by the will of her people and the wisdom of her leaders. The situation is such that Nebraska may well make a major contribution to the welfare and progress of all mankind—M. O. Steen

THE END DECEMBER, 1960 17

How to BUILD A GUN CABINET

Home tools and ingenuity whip up custom-styled case

WHETHER YOUR hunting arsenal consists of one or five or more big and small-game getters, you'll want to keep it in a place where curious small hands can't get at your assortment of killers. And if you're like most, you're proud enough of your guns to show them off to any who might drop by to swap hunting yarns on a cold winter night.

Wives are somewhat prone these days to having the old blunderbuss hanging over the fireplace. That went out with the Indians. But they will go along with a smart gun case that will add just the right touch to the den, knowing that with safety features included, it's the practical way to store and display guns.

Gun cases, cabinets, and racks come in an almost unlimited variety of shapes and sizes. They can be 18 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   plain or fancy, inexpensive or costly. You can buy one at the local furniture store or build it yourself.

The cabinet plan shown here is just one of many that are available. You won't have to be a master carpenter to complete it, for the design is pretty basic. Nor will the cash outlay for materials be a drain on the pocketbook. Cost for materials will vary somewhat by locality, but you should get by with no more than a $17 investment. That's mighty cheap in anyone's book.

Materials One 16-foot, 1" x 12" fine-grade pine (small knots) One 12-foot, 1" x 12" tongue and groove, pine 35 running feet, 1" x 2" fine-grade pine 24 running feet Va" quarter round 6 running feet 1" x 4" molded baseboard 7 running feet, half round One pair forged-iron hinges One small forged-iron hinge One small lock One piece double-strength glass, 15V2" x 53" Finishing nails, glue, small piece of dowel, varnish, sandpaper, putty, felt

Following the dimensions given in the blueprint, cut the 1" x 12" pine board and tongue and groove to specified lengths. Plane the outside edges of the tongue and groove, then begin the assembly of the cabinet shell. Use glue at all joints, and if preferred, use wood screws instead of nails. Recess either screws or nails, and cover with rounded pieces of dowel. Have a square handy and check the cabinet for true square before nailing on the back piece of tongue and groove. Once the shell is completed, install the rounded gun rests as shown. When cutting the rests, be sure that slots will allow adequate room for the barrel. Half round is used to keep gun stocks in place.

Now make the facing frame and door. For sturdiness, use lap joints for the door assembly as shown, or, if you have the skill and the patience, with mortise and tenon joints. The 1" x 2" stock is used for both the frame and door. It is a good idea to make the door the same size as the inside opening of the frame. You can plane the edges slightly after assembly, assuring a close fit. Normal clearance should be 1/16" on all sides.

Once you have completed and sanded the facing frame and door, attach the decorative hinges. To eliminate a lot of difficulty, lay the frame on the floor and place the door in the opening. Insert some spacers between the door and frame to assure equal clearance all around, then install the hinges.

The frame can now be attached to the cabinet shell. Once it is nailed in place, cut the W quarter round to match the inside dimensions of the door. Make two sets since the quarter round is used to hold the glass in place. Incidentally, you might want to remove the door, once you have positioned it correctly, to install the glass. Nail on the front quarter round first with wire brads. Recess these and cover with wood filler. Spot small amounts of putty on the inside edges of the quarter round to eliminate rattling and install the glass. Now tack down the inside quarter round and finish.

Cut, sand, and attach the baseboard, using mitered joints at the edges for a finished look. Give the entire cabinet another sanding job, wipe clean, and finish. The new "satin" varnishes will bring out the rich grain of the pine. With three coats, each hand rubbed to a deep shine, you'll have a professional looking cabinet that will be a standout in any den. Once the varnish has been applied, cover the inside gun rests with green felt.

Now all you need to do is put your cabinet in the "just right" spot, load it up with your assortment of shooting irons, lock the door, and sit back and admire your handiwork. At about this point, you'll discover that you're not a half-bad cabinet maker.

THE END DECEMBER, 1960 19

DREAM COME TRUE

by Horace L. Rosenblum Model refuge becomes a reality, a tribute to one man's vision

A DREAM THAT WILL benefit thousands of hunters and fishermen is well on its way to becoming a reality on a 200-acre plot of land near Gretna, approximately 38 miles from Omaha. The vision of developing all of the outdoor resources of Nebraska for sportsmen, and particularly stressing the need for the thousands of hunters and fishermen in the metropolitan areas can be credited in a large part to the late Dr. Herbert B. Kennedy, former Game Commissioner from Omaha.

The Omaha medico foresaw Nebraska's great recreation possibilities as early as 1935 when he moved here from Georgia. Dr. Kennedy could have enjoyed the hunting and fishing opportunities that were then 20 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   available and let it go at that, but this was not his way of doing things.

In the early years of his Nebraska residence, Dr. Kennedy made numerous efforts to induce the Unicameral to pass legislation improving the fine outdoor facilities then available. His efforts were in vain. Realizing that a different approach was necessary, he laid out his plans accordingly. In 1947, he was named a member of the Game Commission by Governor Val Peterson, putting him in a position to increase his efforts on his favorite project. Dr. Kennedy served with distinction for five years, and was chairman of the Commission in 1950.

Realizing that his dream of an adequate game refuge in eastern Nebraska could not become a reality without the help of an organized group of outdoorsmen, Dr. Kennedy and his friends organized the Omaha Fish and Wildlife Club in 1954. From then on, things really began to hum.

A project of this magnitude necessitated raising a considerable sum of money needed to purchase suitable land—funds that would not be available for many years if left entirely to moneys received from the small annual payment of dues from the club's then 956 members. The Omaha sportsmen came up with the idea of sponsoring an annual Sports, Vacation, and Boat Show. Encouraged by its successful effort in behalf of the first show, the club saw the possibilities for a large membership increase and the ability to put over its No. 1 project.

In early November, 1955, the directors of the OFWC announced the purchase of the 200-acre plot just east of the Gretna Fish Hatchery. Howard Wolff, the WORLD HERALD's outdoor editor, wrote:

" 'Possibilities Unlimited,' a dream of Omaha Fish and Wildlife Club members since the club's inception, is a dream no longer. It is a reality.

"Directors of OFWC last week closed the deal which brings possession of a 200-acre 'Ozark Farm' only a few miles from the Platte River as a permanent home and habitat-improvement project.

"Thus the 956 members of the OFWC have a home at last—and what a home!"

Richard Baliman, then president of the club, said after an inspection of the mile-long farm : "Anything is possible here. The sky's the limit."

Recently OFWC Treasurer Mike Meyers, Director Max B. Hurt, and I visited the farm to view the improvements that have been made since the purchase. We were accompanied by Don Wulf of the U. S. Soil Conservation Service. Don and the SCS have been of great assistance in the development of habitat.

The focal point of the area is the recently completed large dam. The possibilities this large scientificially-built "hole" presents seem unlimited. Covering a large acreage in width, the dam goes down some 20 feet or more. At the south end is an overflow drain and backboard which will divert any excess waters down through a large pipe (over 20 feet deep) and through a connecting drain into a large natural draw and thus create a second dam. All that are needed now to create lakes are snow and rain. With normal winter and spring precipitation, there will be one, and maybe two, large lakes next summer.

Don explained drainage and the course the water would follow as it flowed over the grass-covered waterways enroute to the dams. He showed us how the grass had taken hold in areas previously vulnerable to erosion. There were few places that showed bare earth.

As we bouncingly trucked over the covered bumpy terrain we noted conditions offering good cover and habitat for small game, though not conducive to smooth riding. There were sturdy tables in heavily-wooded picnic areas. These are at a half-dozen different points and will afford many pleasant days for OFWC members and their families next summer. Our tour took us past a recently constructed pavilion which also houses picnic facilities.

As we were leaving, Max Hurt called attention to an area on the brow of a high hill near the entrance to the grounds. The site, he said, will be specially developed and dedicated to the memory of the club's founder, Dr. Kennedy.

Thus the dream of one man, a fellow dedicated to every activity in which he engaged, moves on to reality and becomes a part of the goal set by the club for training youth in proper use of wildlife resources and in urging clean sportsmanship on the part of its members who now total more than 2,000.

Every member is proud of this project. Dr. Kennedy left behind officers and members determined to complete the project just as he had outlined it on so many occasions. The present officers—Harold H. Ulfers, president; Harlan L. Frentress, vice president; Roy L. Highfield, secretary; Lyle DeMoss, Paul E. Feistner, E. A. Fitzpatrick, Max B. Hurt, Harry A. Koch, Jr., Walter Korisko, M. M. Meyers, Al Nelson, B. O. Robinson, Marv K. Robinson, Lee Smith, Charles Warren, and Richard Wolkow, directors—are actively working toward that goal.

THE END DECEMBER, 1960 21

SAUGER FOR TWO

(continued from page 7)

all of the slack line it wanted and then allowed at least a minute before tightening up. There was a strong tugging now. I slammed the hook home and was rewarded with a 14-incher.

"I think I'll try hooking the minnow through the gill and running the hook through the back under the dorsal. With it farther back, I can hook the fish better," I mused aloud.

"It's sure worth a try. I just missed another with this setup."

I cast about 75 feet out into the current. The line swung downstream, and I began a slow retrieve along the edge of the fast water. Three casts later I felt a fish bump the minnow. Dropping about a foot of slack line, I waited 10 seconds, then planted the barb. I had a good sauger flailing on the surface a minute later. A quick scoop with the net brought a 16-incher aboard.

"They're getting bigger," Archie commented as he poured me a steaming cup of coffee from the Thermos.

Archie told me that winter sauger fishing at Gavins surpasses that of the summer. The fish'often run larger during the cold months, with the best results coming in fall and early winter. Catches will drop a bit in late December and early January but pick up again from February through early May.

He said that although minnows are consistent producers, artificials that can be fished slowly often produce well. Light-colored jigs and silver or pearl-finished spoons and spinners are effective, especially when the fish are on a feeding spree in late afternoon or early morning.

We cast out fresh minnows, then warmed our frost-numbed fingers on the hot coffee cups. Archie had to put his cup aside twice to land a couple of sauger. During the break, a houseboat bulled its way up the current and anchored just upstream from us in the fast water. Archie waved a hello to the four men aboard. They asked how the fishing was going.

"Small ones are taking good," Archie answered, "but none of the big fish."

"Should have been here yesterday," one said, repeating the old story. "The big ones started hitting about 4 o'clock in the afternoon and by 5 all of us were filled up."

One-half hour later, Archie netted the biggest fish of the day, a two-pounder. The fish were hitting with fair consistency, and by 3:30 we had our 20 sauger. They averaged about 14 inches, typical for the normal run of fish. I hauled in the anchor, and we swept downstream and back to the landing.

"Hope you had a good time, Gene. Next time you come up, try picking a day that is just a bit warmer. We could enjoy the outing more if the temperature was above freezing."

Later, well warmed by the car heater, I headed for Archie's home at Wausa to take him up on his offer of some smoked fish. I was to meet him at 6.

With an hour to kill, I thought I might get a crack at a ringneck or two. Just outside Crofton I turned westward for a mile, and then swung back south, driving slow. I glimpsed three roosters pull their necks down into a weed patch. Within minutes I was back at the car with two birds. After driving a half mile more, I waited for a pair of the gaudy birds to cross the dirt road ahead and move into a small patch of sweet clover. Vaulting the ditch, I popped two hulls into my double and walked cautiously into the patch. Both birds got up about 25 yards out. My improved-cylinder caught the lead bird in the center of the pattern and I had my limit for the day.

It was 5:05. About an hour had lapsed since I left Gavins with my limit of sauger. Now I had three pheasants. A day in the deep freeze wasn't so bad after all.

THE END

OUTDOOR ELSEWHERE

Thinking Turtle?

PENNSYLVANIA . . . Turtles can give you quite a jolt, a Pennsylvania game protector discovered much to his dismay. He was demonstrating how to remove snappers from ponds in which they had taken ducks. The protector was standing next to an electric fence and the turtle in his hand clamped his jaws over the wire. The wet snapper proved to be an excellent conductor of electricity. The turtle let go first, causing a difference of opinion—did the game protector have more nerve than the turtle, or was the turtle the quicker thinker.

Conscience Money

CALIFORNIA . . . The Fish and Game Department's preservation fund is $15 richer, thanks to a conscientious father who wanted to atone for his son's fishing violation. The money was enclosed in the following unsigned letter: "While staying at Barton Flats last month, my son illegally caught some trout that you had stocked in the Santa Ana River. I am enclosing $15 for you to put in your fund to stock more fish."

Robin Hood to Rescue

COLORADO ... A bow and arrow helped rescue a climber from a ledge in Estes Park. He was stranded 250 feet above the ground, having lost his climbing equipment. Park Ranger Terrell Quick fastened a light line to an arrow and shot it up on the ledge. The climber used the line to pull up other ropes and in 15 minutes was a free man.

Brave with Beans

NEW YORK ... A taste of pork and beans almost proved the downfall of a woodchuck in Watkins Glen. The rodent's head had become ensnared in the can of beans, and it should have been defenseless when attacked by a beagle. A man and his wife, aroused by the dog's barking, checked and found the woodchuck putting up a good though blind fight. It lunged at the beagle every time the dog barked. The man gingerly removed the can, but the woodchuck, giving no thanks, reared back to take on both adversaries. Respecting the woodchuck's bravery, man and dog left in peace.

Come Ground-Hog Day

PENNSYLVANIA . . . Lady Luck was ignoring a deputy game protector's son fishing in Tionesta Creek. So, when he did latch onto a trout, he jerked with such gusto that the fish sailed over his head into a ground-hog hole. Digging didn't dislodge him, so the angler departed, vowing to be around next Ground-Hog Day.

Shiner Door's Fault

OHIO . . . Pets, too, take their knocks along with their wilder cousins. A parakeet in West Lake County has a fine black eye, gotten by running into the bathroom door. Allowed out while his cage was being cleaned, the bird made his bid for freedom through the open door. A hasty slam thwarted his plans and gave him a bruising bird's-eye shiner.

One Of Those Days

OKLAHOMA ... It was one of those days when this angler should stay at home. He reported to a Lake Overholser warden that a mother mink and her four wee ones had made a meal of his string of fish.

And then there's the angler who should go everyday, being anything but unlucky. He caught a catfish that weighed 16 pounds. While dressing it, the angler found a 50-cent piece inside.

SEE IT NOW- h THE 1961 KODIAK SPECIAL* I 1 h »:*•: Now showing, along with the all-new POLAR® at your authorized Bear dealer. GRA VLING MICHIGAN For those who want the finest. New Range Stamp

WASHINGTON . . . The world's first range conservation stamp will be issued February 2 at Salt Lake City, Utah. Printed in three colors, the 4-cent postage stamp will be released at the annual meeting of the American Society of Range Management. Rudolph Wendelin, U. S. Department of Agriculture staff artist, designed the stamp. Initial printing will be 120 million. After the first-day release, the stamp will go on sale throughout the

DECEMBER, 1960 23

HUNTING HIATUS

(continued from page 9)

in width. Rolling, grass-covered hills rise dramatically on either side. Lengthwise, the narrow determined stream, the Calamus, hurries to the North Loup.

Rusty was the first to spot ducks. They were sitting next to a sharp bend about a quarter of a mile to the north. He pulled on ahead and parked the pickup behind a knoll. We loaded our guns and walked toward the river to look over the location and select the best approach. All our planning was to no avail, however. By the time we got there the ducks were gone. My partner, thinking and acting like a drake at this point, calmly said that they had spotted the motion of the pickup and moved around the bend.

Once there, Rusty cocked his thumb at me, "You take those on the left, and I'll cover the right. When they flare off the river into the wind, there'll be plenty of action."

Keeping the tall grass between us and the river bend, we eased closer to the river. Suddenly a roar told me the fun had begun. The air seemed filled with wings flashing in the morning sun. Three rapid blasts cut through the stillness, and almost before I realized what had happened, two beautiful greenheads were floating down the current, and Mike was after them. Rusty had scored another double. Not me. I missed by 10 feet.

"You'll settle down," Rusty said. "After all, we've just started."

As we drove through the big pastures we spotted ducks feeding in open waters. Others sky-bounded far ahead as the day grew older. We came to the end of a two-mile pasture, and Rusty, not finding a gate, turned back to a cattle guard a mile or so back. He let me out to walk along the river bends where I could get in some jump shooting until he returned.

I hadn't gone more than 200 yards when I eyed seven big mallards having a picnic in the river ahead. Several had their heads under water so I knew they would stay a spell. I edged back from the river, crawled through the barbed-wire fence, walked over to the road, and waited for the pickup.

Rusty finally pulled in, boasting a pair of quail. He had stumbled on a covey in the middle of nowhere. We loaded our guns and coyoted up to the bank. The ducks flushed not over 50 feet from where I had last seen them. We bagged three.

A rooster pheasant had a ringside seat to the whole affair. He was sitting at the water's edge not 20 feet from where I was standing. The bird was winged on the first shot.

The big thrill was yet to come. We had seen ducks circling up ahead, and when they landed we moved in.

Rusty parked the pickup near a cattle gate, and we started stalking each bend and stretch of river where the ducks might be. After several sneaks in excited anticipation, we finally decided they were not feeding on the river. Rusty walked away from the river to the top of a sand dune. As he neared the crest, he suddenly faded into the grass, turned around, and gave me the "everything is just fine" sign. The ducks were feeding in a blowout pond.

Almost on our stomachs, Rusty and I approached a small knoll on the other side with grass not high enough to hide a well-educated lizard. We made two shallow furrows as we edged through the soft cold sand. He took the left, I the right.

The whole dune suddenly exploded. Ducks clouded the blue sky line, all climbing straight as rockets. Rusty shot three times and got two. My two shots stopped one duck some 100 feet to the left.

"Right on schedule?" I asked.

"Yep," he said with a wink, "that's all for today."

Four o'clock, 9 ducks, 2 quail, 1 pheasant, and a pleasant 120-mile drive through cattle country. We headed for Ord and a dinner of roast duck and pheasant topped with homemade sauerkraut.

Our schedule for the next day called for a hunt from Rusty's blind on the North Loup. We arrived at the river at dawn.

"Looks like it will be the day for good decoy shooting," Rusty said as we pulled through the pasture gate. Any day—rain, snow, sleet, calm, stormy, or when the sun comes up—is a good day for ducks as far as my brother is concerned.

We set out two boatloads of plastic duck decoys. Rusty had made a dozen goose decoys from old truck tires and left them at the river. Singles, doubles, and a few flights come barreling by as though shot out of a cannon, but none were interested in our good-looking spread nor our pleading notes. The sun rose warm and the wind was quiet.

After awhile, Rusty walked out among the decoys and looked up river. "By gosh, no wonder we aren't getting any flights, they are all landing on a sand 24 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   bar in the middle of the river up north. Let's scare them out so we can get some decoy shooting."

Circling back from the river, we moved up to the spot where the ducks were resting. Suddenly Rusty whispered, "They're geese, Don. Let's go back a ways and change loads just in case we can get close enough. Just don't let your automatic snap."

We changed from No. 4's to 2's. I was on the left as usual, Rusty on the right.

"This is close enough," Rusty whispered. "Let's rest a minute, then I'll count three and we'll get up together."

We raised to one of the most thrilling sights I ever expected to witness. Seventy-five white-fronted geese climbed the sky not 80 feet away. Two geese dropped on the sand bar with the first two shots. I missed the second and scored on the third. Rusty also connected with a double. Two were crippled-one on each end of the 200-foot sand bar.

Mike was on the bar almost at the same time as the geese. He picked up one as it made for the current and put it on the sand bar, then raced to the opposite end to get the other as it made for the swift channel. Fearing that one might muster enough strength to take off, I finished the goose closest to me. That let Mike bring the other contentedly to Rusty who was now on the sand bar. Four big whitefronted geese in the bag. They were part of the flock that was ruining our decoying of ducks, but we weren't about to complain.

As the morning came on, we tried our hand at calling crows, taking every one that dared to come within range. Bagging the black bandits was a lot of fun and sharpened our hunting eyes.

After pulling in our decoys in the middle of the afternoon, we headed for some nearby potholes. Rusty had a special pond in a special pasture next to a 20-acre alfalfa field and over 60 acres of unpicked corn. As we drove through the farm, we waved to the farmer who had previously invited my brother to hunt on his acreage. This was a favorite place for ducks. It was near several small streams and there was plenty of feed. The pond turned out to be a chain of small ponds not over 50 feet wide fed by several small springs. We walked cautiously from one to the next. Near the second ducks were resting out of sight in the grass. As they raised, we faded into the ground. They didn't spot us and calmly circled and lit in another small pond. The wind was blowing about 15 mph from the south so we walked to the north side and headed into the wind. The top of the hill was as bald as a door knob and we had to do some fancy stalking to get within range. Seven ducks remained out of 25 once the shooting ended.

"What do you think of this?" Rusty asked as he very accurately placed the ducks in a neat row.

"Biggest mallards I've ever seen," I said. "This country has got to decide between ducks and people."

Nebraska is truly a hunter's paradise. There's no end to the oportunities that each day offers. What a spot to spend a hunting vacation. Just before I fell asleep that night, Rusty yelled something about tomorrow's schedule.

"Don't worry," I said. "I'll be ready."

THE END

SPEAK UP

Send your questions to "Speak Up," OUTDOOR NEBRASKA. State Capitol, Lincoln 9, Nebraska A Costly Penalty

"I am writing on behalf of all the farmers living in our area. Town people always holler when farmers post 'No Hunting' signs. Believe me, there's a reason for such posting. Last evening a group of city squirrel hunters hunting near Cairo on posted land evidently ran out of living targets. They shot R.E.A. and telephone insulators, knocking both lines out of commission.

"There are a number of us who milk bv machine, that is when we have power. If there had been an emergency we wouldn't have known where to place a call. Service was restored, but when you drive down the road and see a 'No Hunting' sign, there's a reason for it being there. Some careless hunters are spoiling hunting for all the rest.

"We reported the incident to the local conservation officer, and he said that if farmers get the violator's car license number and report it to him, he can prosecute. Maybe better farmer-hunter relations can be established if farmers co-operate with the officers."—Mrs. Delmar R. Eggers, Cairo.

There is no reason for the type of wanton vandalism you report. Fortunately, this type of hunter is in the minority, and in no way reflects the majority of hunters in Nebraska. Unfortunately, such vandalism is forcing more landowners to put up "No Hunting" signs. This is a far greater penalty than any court can impose, a penalty responsible sportsmen cannot long afford.—Editor.

Coons in the Corn

"Can you give me any information on how to keep raccoons out of my sweet corn. I've put lights and dummies out, but they don't help a bit. Please answer at once."—Roy E. Winder, Tilden.

We eat at second table when it comes to coon and corn. The only things you can do are to hunt or trap them. Coons aren't protected, so you need no permit. Hunt them at night with dogs and spotlight, or trap them with No. 2 or 3 steel traps baited with meat suspended about two feet above the trap. Stake the trap down firmly. Water sets are effective. Place the trar> about an inch under water near the edge of the bank , and bait as before, or with a piece of bright metal on the pan to attract the coon's attention. You can also live-trap in box-traps; be sure they have a strong automatic door-catch to prevent escape..

Getting fancy, you can riq a single wire strung six to eight inches off the ground on the outside of an ordinary mesh wire fence around your corn patch and electrify it. That should send them home mad.—Editor

The Whistler

"I'm wondering if that fellow on the November cover was quite wise in carrying the deer over his shoulders. How easy it would be for another hunter to see the deer and not the hunter. In fact, the bulletin, 'Nebraska Deer', states, 'If you must carry the deer, be sure to tie a cloth over the head and antlers and make plenty of noise as you move along by whistling or singing'." Betly Zajicek, Lincoln.

Photographer Hornbeck claims Kime was whistling "Dixie". The advice is well taken for deer hunters in wooded areas and in locations where hunter concentration is heavy. This is not the case in the wide-open Sand Hills. However, thanks for your concern. —Editor.

Thanks for Nice Magazine

"We surely enjoy your magazine. We are learning so very much about our wonderful state. There are so many places nearbv that we never heard of. Your articles about Toadstool Park and Gilbert Baker make us anxious for a free week end to explore the^ spots. It's a shame more publicity isn't given by your tourist information section along this line.

"We have wanted to visit the Snake River and Smith Falls near Valentine, but didn't know how to get there. Your article and photos make going to these spots a necessity.

"Thanks for your nice magazine."—Mrs. C. W. Vincent, Scottsbluff.

Notes on Nebraska Fauna

MERRIAM'S TURKEY

by Mary Brashier Most intelligent and prized of America s game birds is now in Pine Ridge. And, although outside historic range, Merriam s are doing spendidly

HE LARGEST and wildest of all America's game birds now stalks the Pine Ridge of Nebraska. And in a few years the Merriam's turkey (Meleagris gallopavo merriami) will be one of the top huntable species in this high ponderosa country.

One of the largest of the six strains of American turkeys, the Merriam's originally ranged through the ponderosa-pine forests of the Rocky Mountains from the Mexico border to near Pike's Peak, Colorado. The very nature of its home fashioned a resourceful and rugged bird. Storms are sudden and intense, and winter food is abundant only every three to five years. The advent of man reduced the turkey to about 15 per cent of its original numbers by 1940. Fortunately, it responds well to management. Transplanted flocks in Wyoming and South Dakota increased sufficiently to allow open seasons in less than 10 years. These states, like Nebraska, are outside the original range of the Merriam's.

Color and markings are the main differences in the five recognized races of the wild turkey. Hens and first-year Merriam's gobblers have dark heads with black hairs intermingling with the small black feathers of the neck and head. There is little other coloring on the dewlap and bare skin of the head, while the Eastern and Rio Grande strains have conspicuously blue heads. The white on the wings and rump of the Merriam's also separates it from other strains which have buff or chestnut markings.

A mature Merriam's torn in full mating strut is unexcelled. J. Stokley Ligon, one of the few recognized authorities of the Merriam's, describes him:

"The successive emotional phases begin with enlargement of the wattles and caruncle and in heightened coloration from the dominant pink or pale red 26 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   of the relaxed individual to a flaming red, followed by pale blue about the eyes that deepens into a striking purple; the pale front of the head varies to azure blue, while the extreme top of the head fades to a pale blue with the slightest infusion of salmon pink. As if to accentuate the vividness of the head embellishments, the folds of the neck may assume a whitish cast and a velvet-like texture."

A thousand bronzed colors move across the back of a gobbler in the sunlight. The long feathers and the tail are constantly ruffled by the wind. Any slight breeze can disturb the equilibrium of a Merriam's, and a stiff gale can tumble him over.

The wild turkey is a trim, streamlined bird, with longer and thinner legs, longer neck, and more racy appearance than domesticated birds. Weights vary considerably. Mature fat gobblers, according to Ligon, may weigh from 18 to 35 pounds, adult hens run from 8 to 12 pounds.

In historic range, where the turkeys have room to move about, summering and wintering ranges are distinct. The Nebraska flocks have not been established long enough to indicate a seasonal movement other than flocking up in late fall.

Except during mating and nesting periods, turkeys are gregarious, even the nonbreeders remaining together, or trailing along after a nest-seeking hen. The gobblers regroup when incubating starts, and a hen bringing her brood back to the flock may find handy and willing foster mothers in nonbreeding hens.

The wariness and alertness of the wild turkey is legendary. A flock avoids dense cover where predators may be lurking if at all possible. No other bird or animal takes greater advantage of the warnings of other creatures. The rasp of a squirrel, the scolding of a chickadee, or the sudden shyness of a pack of noisy Juncos is enough to bring every head up. Although accustomed to kindness in the Pine Ridge, the flocks there still pace off slowly at the approach of a man—their inherent distrust of a human has been sharpened by years of roost shooting.

When the turkeys deem it necessary to retreat, they snake through the trees, running or flying only when pressed. Their energy is boundless.

When turkeys have room to range, they travel about in a circuit, making a complete trip in two or three days. Hence, roosting trees are not visited every night. The tree is chosen with an eye to unobstructed limbs and a take-off point from the ground farther up the slope. Bedtime is advertised to the entire forest.

As the turkeys gather, each mutters and talks nervously. Finally it springs upward in a violent burst of noisy wings. Turkeys in the original range prefer ponderosas from roosts, but the Pine Ridge flocks have chosen cottonwoods, and one large group patronizes an old cottonwood to the breaking point. One by one they fly into the bare old tree, each fussing around a little before finally finding a comfortable position. More and more arrive on the groaning limbs of the cottonwood until it can take no more, crashing the turkeys to the ground.

Wise old Merriam's hens invariably place their nests in the open, often near the base of a sapling or tree. She has a clear view of the area, and is able to take wing immediately. The safe nesting period is short, and a hen may begin laying in the snow. The number of eggs averages about 10; approximately 38 days after laying starts the first young appear. As soon as they are dry the hen begins moving the chicks. Now they are less vulnerable to enemies than when freer-ranging—they simply squat in the grass when frightened. An active older brood searching for grasshoppers dwindles rapidly.

After the young turkeys are able to fly, they take to the trees as escape. The mother stays attentive to her brood till the next spring, leading them to the wintering range while the gobblers trail behind.

The Merriam's find plenty of food in summer, but in winter its availability often becomes a problem. Necessary overwintering foods are pondersoa seeds, acorns, juniper berries, and bunch grass seeds. With rodents and other forest life drawing heavily on the mast supply, turkeys may experience some lean months. Ponderosas do not produce a crop every year, with large ones about every seven, and fair ones every three to five. Turkeys in the Pine Ridge have a varied diet, wintering heavily on agricultural crop residues and grass seeds along with the mast.

From original releases of 20 and 8 turkeys, the Cottonwood Creek and Deadhorse Canyon flocks have increased to about 300 to 350 birds. The king of game birds is now within reach.

THE END DECEMBER, 1960 27

NEBRASKAland HARVEST

Outdoorsmen tally with mixed bag of game