WAGONS HO!

by Jane Sprague Hitch up and move out for a Scottsbluff date with mountain men, Saints, and settlers

WAGONS HO! The call echoed across the waking prairie, the wagon master's signal to hitch up and get moving. Whips cracked. Oxen bellowed. Pans rattled. Laughing children raced to catch up with the now moving, groaning, lumbering wagons. Eight miles today. Another eight tomorrow. A train of prairie schooners stretched out to the horizon, grinding an ever-deepening rut into the endless prairie sod.

Across the Platte near its forks, up the easy grade of the high plateau, down treacherous Windlass Hill, and into cooling Ash Hollow. Eight miles today. Another eight tomorrow. Past Jail and Courthouse rocks. On to Chimney Rock, to the ancient, wind-chiseled sentry of majestic Scotts Bluff beyond.

AUGUST, 1961 3   WAGONS HO! continued  

Each summer, for 20 years, beginning in 1843, the great overland exodus to the setting sun came this way. Some 250,000 pioneers found a cooling haven in the valley and bluffs. They rested here and pondered, hopeful for a new life in a new land.

And then they moved on, leaving behind mementos of their passing. The indelible ruts of the trail, the yellowed pages of a diary, the shallow grave and its wagon-rim marker, and the landmarks only the pioneers made so significant.

Wagons Ho! This is the town of Scottsbluffs and the state's priceless heritage. You can see it, hear it, feel it at every turn. Here, couched within the pine-studded plateaus and wind-carved bluffs, is the West, beckoning to today's traveler to linger a while in the heart of the frontier.

Today, Scotts Bluff still watches man's progress. The fertile North Platte Valley has flowered beneath its castle-like facade. The town of Scottsbluff was founded in 1900. Agriculture, cattle, oil, and industry thrived. And the unique scenery which had cast its spell over the pioneers became a fitting frame for the prosperous valley.

Scottsbluff is the center of a vast vacation area stretching for miles around. Nearby lakes beckon to swimmers, boaters, and fishermen. The Wildcat Hills with their ponderosa-covered heights are a campers' paradise. Deer and antelope delight the hunter, and where prairie schooners once labored westward, wide highways carry the vacationer to sport, relaxation, and beauty.

When ill-fated Hiram Scott was left to die somewhere in the vast stretches of the range of which Scotts Bluff is a part, he couldn't have envisioned the spectacle of history which would take place within reach of the high bluff which bears his name. Scott was a fur trader, an obscure man whose death borders between legend and fact. Whether marauding Indians killed him or sickness on the trail took its toll is not known. The unlucky trader was abandoned and died in the shadow of the great bluff.

To the Sioux, this was "Ma-e-a-pa-te", the hill that is hard to get around. To the early pioneers, it was Scotts Bluff, the wall of the valley which offered good campgrounds and beauty they had never before witnessed. Today the proud bluff is a national AUGUST, 1961 5   monument dedicated to the heritage left by the pioneers it had sheltered.

WAGONS HO! continued

Over 100,000 visitors annually flock to the famed monument. An exciting drive to the top over an ever-curving, ever-climbing road leads the visitor through three tunnels and finally to the summit and its never-to-be-forgotten vista. The valley stretches out below and a rainbow of colors intermingle. From this height you can readily see the OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   ruts of the Oregon and Mormon trails. Chimney Rock appears on the eastern horizon, and almost 140 miles to the west, Laramie Peak comes into view. The Wildcat Hills stretch lazily along to the south.

Once back at the base of the bluff, the Oregon Trail Museum gives meaning to all you have seen. Paleontologic exhibits, artifacts, dioramas, paintings, worn diaries, all combine to tell the history of the valley—the strange animals that roamed here, the primitive man who struggled to survive, the fur traders, Indians, pioneers, and fortune-seekers who passed by. Famed W. T. Jackson's panoramas of life on the trail are especially significant.

Programs held in the Monument amphitheater on summer Sunday nights bring a clear picture of the early days of the valley to the visitor. Four times a summer, Sioux Indians don their regalia to perform exciting ritual dances for the spectators.

Wandering through the valley, the passes, and the badlands around Scotts Bluff, you can lose yourself in the history that still lives here.

Stop at Robidoux Pass where the site of the old emigrant trading post, run by the wily Frenchman AUGUST, 1961   Robidoux and his Sioux wife, is clearly marked. Many a worn diary extolls the beauty of the pass. Here the enterprising trader operated the only blacksmith shop between Fort Kearny and Laramie. Indians camped near the pass during their peaceful days, and traded with Robidoux. The carved bluffs, the rugged terrain with its rushing spring and deep gullies awed the early travelers just as it does today's vacationers. Here at Robidoux Pass also lies the quietly secluded graves of some of those who never lived to see their dream come true.

WAGONS HO! continued

Now move north to historic Mitchell Pass, between the high walls of Dome Rock and Scotts Bluff. In ever-changing splendor, the high rocky walls enclose a wide paved highway. Beside it still remain the well-worn ruts of the Oregon Trail.

Many an unwary wagon train met trouble in the pass as warring Sioux ambushed the hapless emigrants. Often in the valleys shots rang out from encircled wagons fighting for their lives. Here, also, the Overland stage and Pony Express raced to Scotts Bluff and on to Fort Mitchell.

A marker denotes the site of old Fort Mitchell which stood northwest of Scotts Bluff, defending the 8 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   frontier from warring hostiles. During the short life of the fort, many a blue-coated cavalryman rode out from the adobe walls to come to grips with his savage foe.

But the Indians weren't always so hostile. In 1851, all of the tribes of the Great Plains, 10,000 in all, met at Horse Creek, 23 miles west of Scottsbluff, and pledged lasting peace.

Travel south to the Helvas Canyon site of Fort John, a trading post where the trappers and Indians flocked to barter their prizes. In the dust among the high grass and flowering yucca, beads, pottery, and other relics of the fort's heyday are buried and need discovering.

Southeast of Scottsbluff, a Mormon Temple granite marker and a battered wagon rim mark a grave of a pioneer mother. In crude letters the words "Rebecca Winters, Age 50 Years" are still visible. Cholera struck and she died within a few miles of the pass at Scotts Bluff. The grave was quitely forgotten for years. Then the Burlington Railroad discovered it while laying track and since then has cared for the site as a memorial to the many who never reached the end of the trail.

A leisurely drive south from Scottsbluff through high bluffs to the top of Stage Hill on Highway 29, where the stagecoach between Kimball and Gering raced in earlier days, brings you to the entrance of the primitively beautiful Wildcat Hills Recreation Area. Within its 833 ponderosa-covered acres are a camping site, improved picnic area, and playground.

On the 700-acre game reserve, buffalo and elk roam within viewing distance and wary deer hide nearby. Foot trails lace the hills, and stone shelter houses fit into niches in the cliffs. From them, the misty silhouettes of the famed landmarks can be seen in the distance. And among the pines, visitors can get a firsthand look at nature. Raccoons, porcupines, rabbits, and squirrels live in the shadowy valleys, and yucca and other wild flowers add color.

The Wildcat Range stretches through the southern Nebraska panhandle, 50 miles long, 10 miles AUGUST, 1961 9   wide. Courthouse and Jail rocks, Castle Rock, Signal Butte, and Scotts Bluff are all part of this range.

WAGONS HO! continued

Scottsbluff is a sportsman's paradise. Big Lake Minatare sports walleye, perch, catfish, and northerns. Muskie have also been stocked, adding to the lake's attractions. Fighting trout test your skill in creeks such as Nine Mile and Sheep, and numerous sand pits in the area offer bass and trout.

Whether you're a cruiser or a rowboat fan, Lake Minatare is most accommodating. And the smooth wide waters are ideal for water skiers. A public boat ramp is provided, and picnicking is permitted.

In the fall, the North Platte Valley is a duck hunter's paradise. Geese, too, stretch out over the valley in long Vs. Nor does the shotgunner stop there. Pheasants provide top sport and quail hunting is good along the river. Deer and antelope can be seen in the area, and each fall provide plenty of action.

Monkeys, lions, mountain goats, all were just pictures in books, or unknown, to the hardy children traveling with the wagon train. Now, on the banks of the river, Scottsbluff's Riverside Park offers the largest zoo in Nebraska. A crochety bear peers at you, nosey deer beg for handouts, and monkeys mimic the onlookers. In the children's zoo, badgers hiss and growl, and prairie dogs view the scene from atop their mounds. Raccoons, squirrels, and many other animals all add to the fun.

Bring a picnic lunch and dine along the banks of the North Platte at the park. Pitch camp under the green shade trees by the flat, rolling river. Or stop off at Pioneer Park in Scottsbluff for a restful picnic, and let the youngsters run off steam.

Winter or summer, swimmers can have their fun in Scottsbluff. A municipal pool fills the bill for summer outdoor sport, while a new YMCA heated indoor pool open to the public brings warm weather and fun on the coldest day. This new addition is one of the largest YMCA heated and enclosed pools open to the public.

The modern world has filled the valley. But on star-studded summer nights your imagination will fill with all that has gone before. Phantom buffalo herds stretch across the valley, "Oh Susanna" echoes across the land from a Forty-niner's camp, and oxen graze quietly on the prairie grass waiting to resume their ponderous journey. In the silent shadows, the ghosts of people of long ago creep back to their camp at Scotts Bluff to recall their days on the trail, on the trail of a golden dream. Today, when that dream has come true, Scotts Bluff still stands, quietly watching the growth and prosperity that was built by the pioneers who braved the frightening unknown to build a new, great land. Here where they walked, you can walk, and relive those days on the trail when the cry of "Wagons Ho!" launched a migration that built a nation.

THE END OUTDOOR NEBRASKA

AIRBOATING the PLATTE

by Robert Ator Conservation Officer, Wahoo It's big, beautiful, and all yours to enjoy in the hottest boating innovation yet to hit Nebraska

NOTHING CAN match the thrill of shooting up the Platte in a water-skimming air boat at 40 miles per hour; nothing, perhaps, except the chance to discover how scenic this broad ribbon of water really is when you see it from main stream. Steep bluffs drop down to the water's edge. Forested shore lines stretch out to the west. Islands that need exploring pop up at every curve.

Until last year, like so many Nebraskans, I missed all of this, because I had never found a boat that could ply the big river's shallow course. The Platte had been the bane of boaters since the first fur trapper got stuck in the sand in his bull boat. "A mile wide and an inch deep", the river that "flows bottom side up".

But the air boat has changed all this. It needs only an excuse for water with its shallow draft. Without protruding rudder or outboard, it takes to the Platte's sandy course like a bee to honey. As a result, airboating opens up an exciting new form of outdoor sport as well as miles and miles of new recreation water, not only on the Platte, but also the Calamus, Elkhorn, Loups, and other shallow Nebraska streams.

Airboating is new here, but it's a cinch that the sport will mushroom. Don Freeman of Fremont shook the inhabitants of the eastern Platte just four years ago when he roared up the river in his do-it-yourself air boat powered by a 65-horsepower aircraft engine. People took to the strange-looking craft in a big way.

First Gladys and "Doc" Richey built a boat, using Don's craft as a model. Others got the bug, and in no AUGUST, 1961 11   time, the sleepy river was awake to the roar of air boats. The Fremont Air Boat Club was soon formed, with its 85 members headquartering at the Richeys. Their place fast became a dock, machine shop, and meeting place for the swelling list of members. Now air boats operate at Schuyler, Rogers, and North Bend.

AIRBOATING continued

Don Freeman used the plans from a national build-it-yourself magazine together with ideas picked up when he was in the Florida Everglades and saw the swamp boats in action. He used a puller propeller on his first model, but after running his boat on the Platte for awhile, discovered that a pusher "prop" worked better. Too, his bow curved too sharply, tending to knife into the water as he came off a sand bar. When Doc began building his boat, Don pointed out these weaknesses and the design was altered. It has continued to be modified.

Motors are also being changed. Boats sport everything from an automobile engine to a whopping 220-horsepower radial job from a World War II trainer. The latter's speed potential has yet to be realized. The owner hasn't found a fuel pump that can feed it gasoline fast enough. It can skim the Platte at 70 to 80 miles per hour. Only the tip of the stern touches the water when he pours on the gas.

Air boats were designed for the do-it-yourselfers. A basic knowledge of carpentering, metal work, and engines will get the amateur by. And there are always others around who are more than willing to give the neophyte help. Economics are as important. A first-class air boat including surplus motor can be built for only about $800.

With but one change, I'm mighty happy with the boat I built and now operate for the Game Commission. It is my second. The boat's oak frame and hull are built to take punishment. The flat keel is covered with fiber glass to eliminate friction. The bow has just the right curve, and though the boat weighs almost a ton out of the water, it handles like a feather when afloat.

The surplus 125-horsepower engine lifts the heavy hull until only an inch of the stern is in the water at cruising speed. Two scoops mounted above the engine suck in air and keep the motor cool.

An air boat is guided by rudders mounted directly behind the motor. As on an airplane, they change the boat's direction by deflecting the prop's wash. Mine are too narrow and don't give perfect control. I plan to replace the double rudders with a single, wider unit.

Driving an air boat is different than anything you've experienced, and takes a while to master. On turns, for example, you have to "rev" up the motor instead of slow down as you would in any other form of transportation. The reason, of course, is to get more air driven across the rudders. If you let up on the gas, the boat will mush into a turn.

You can only go one direction, forward. An air boat doesn't have a reverse like an outboard. This 12 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   makes maneuvering in tight spots tricky. Always remember to have enough room to turn around.

Taking the first sand bar is quite an experience. You've seen other air boats skim over sand barely protruding above the water, but you still prepare for a jolt. Instead, only the slight suction of air between keel and sand is felt. Don't get too brave, though. Sand bars protruding four or five inches can cause plenty of grief.

Watch for sand bars when making a turn. You'll be going fast and skidding. If you hit the sand sideways, the edge of the keel can dig in and flip the boat. Like a pilot, you must continually plan each move well before you make it, for you're moving fast. Airboating calls for safe boaters, not hot rodders.

All of the laws that apply to other powered boats in the state also cover air boats. Equipment, operation procedures, and safety regulations are all covered by and appear in the free "Synopsis of Nebraska Boating Laws and Regulations".

An air boat is ideal for enforcement work. It was almost impossible before to patrol any expanse of the river, but now I can readily cruise the shallow shore lines to check fishermen and boaters. The Game Commission plans to put a second air boat into operation in the near future, assuring better enforcement on many of Nebraska's streams. But my work isn't limited to the eastern Platte now. The boat can be hauled to any trouble spot.

Seeing the Platte from an air boat is a real experience. I had lived and worked near the big river for many years without realizing its scenic potential.

The Platte stretches out ahead as a big lake, and to the north and south giant cottonwoods reflect in the river's surface. Islands of all sizes come into view, each perfect for an evening of camping and fishing. Cutting off the motor, I can hear the river's faint ripple as it eases its way to the Missouri. Fishing holes that would never be spotted from shore are easy to find and promise a peaceful day of angling. It is as if you were in a wilderness, one that stretches from Plattsmouth to Columbus.

But there is the exciting, pulsating part of airboating, the lure of discovering a new route, the thrill of shooting across unpassable sand bars. The Platte is a fickle cuss, ever changing her ways.

And there is the satisfaction of building your own boat, knowing its every joint and curve and the sweet sound of a powerful motor tuned to just the right pitch. Nothing can quite match the experience of pushing down on the accelerator for the first time and feeling the boat lift up and shoot for the horizon.

Airboating will mushroom, there's no doubt about that. It's Nebraska's new frontier in outdoor recreation. The river's waiting. Give it a try.

THE END. AUGUST, 1961 13

SNAKE SAFARI

by Wayne Tiller No, I'm not crazy. I "volunteered" to corral and play nursemaid to reptiles

SCREECHING TO a stop, I looked back at the long object stretched across the other lane of the highway. "I don't know whether he's dead or just sunning," Marie, my better half, said as she twisted around to get a better look.

I rammed the car in reverse and raced back to the snake, figuring this sunning reptile would be the easiest catch of our week-end hunting trip in the area around Rulo in southeastern Nebraska.

Then Marie dropped my spirits a notch as she reported, "He still hasn't moved. He was probably hit by a car last night."

There was only one way to find out. I grabbed my special snake-catching stick and raced toward the prize. The snake's head was a few inches from the center stripe and his tail about a foot from the shoulder. Even though my snake rig had a sliding noose on one end and a curved hook on the other, I would have a tough time if he was alive.

Slowing my pace as I got closer, I hoped to prevent his escape by approaching from behind. Still the snake didn't move. My best bet would be to get him in one of the special heavy denim snake sacks while he was still inactive. His marking, coloration, and other characteristics showed him to be a bullsnake—non-poisonous but still a tough customer.

Suddenly a rattling in back of me made me jump a foot. A snake hunter's nightmare is to get bit by a snake while picking up another. A quick glance into the brush disclosed four mice running helter-skelter through the dead leaves.

Concentrating on the snake, I checked to see if he was alive as Marie brought up the sack. Rubbing 14 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   the snake stick against the bull's back did the trick. He pulled his two ends together into a loose coil and hissed his disapproval.

Slipping the hook of the snake-catcher under his midsection, I hoisted him into the air and asked Marie to hold the sack closer. About that time a car approached on our side of the highway, so Marie went to stop it. The snake, meanwhile, saw greener pastures elsewhere and neatly slid off the hook.

Hauling him back onto the road again, I quickly reversed ends of the stick and pulled the heavy, string loop into working position. The bullsnake unknowingly let me place the loop around his neck—until the noose was tightened. Then he practically unwound. To add to my troubles, Marie said she wasn't going to hold the sack for "that wild, twisting thing."

Finally, chasing her down the highway with a handful of snake in both hands, I talked her into holding the sack while I slipped the tail in. Then I took the sack, dumped in the head, and quickly tied the cord around the top.

By this time two cars from each direction had stopped to watch—but nobody volunteered to help. As we stepped off the road and Marie motioned them on, they asked, "What kind is it?" "Did you get bit?" "What do you want a snake for?" "Are you crazy?"

Actually, I wasn't collecting snakes for my health but because it was my job. I had let it slip that I caught a few snakes when I was down in Texas, so I had now more or less "volunteered" to round up the reptiles for the Game Commission's exhibit at the 1961 Nebraska State Fair. Aside from live specimens representing many of the 26' snakes native here, other items of snake lore will be on exhibit.

Snakes have been long maligned and misunderstood, and the display will help clear up many of those notions. For instance, the bullsnake and his rat-snake allies are responsible for controlling rodent pests that give the farmers and ranchers plenty of trouble.

WANTED: During the next month we need help collecting snakes for the Game Commission's State Fair exhibit. Snakes needed are the Texas brown, northern water, Graham's water, western plains garter, western ribbon, north and central lined snakes, western and eastern hognose, western worm, prairie ringneck, western coachwhip, western smooth green, western fox, black rat or pilot black rat, western and red milk snakes, speckled and prairie kingsnakes, and plains black-headed snake. A legless lizard found in the south-central counties would be welcomed. The capture of poisonous snakes is not recommended for the novice. Specimens should be given to area conservation officers; or notify the editor of your find, and transportation will be arranged.

A medium-sized bullsnake that has shed his skin while in captivity has become accustomed to eating before a crowd and will show(continued on page 24)

AUGUST, 1961 15

Your Guide to FISHING THE WEEDS

You'll get plenty of action and not from the green stuff if you follow this how-to

THE "MOSSED OVER'' word is out again this summer, echoing the belief that many of the state's shallower ponds and lakes are virtually unfishable because they're loaded green with moss. Nothing could be farther from the truth. For with the right tackle and a little know-how, an angler can get plenty of action, and not from the weeds.

Fishermen often err by looking over a lake instead of really looking at it. There are many open spots in the weedy lakes than can be fished. These holes range from the size of a hat to a casting-size pool.

A mossed-over lake in reality isn't mossed. Algae, duckweed, and other aquatic plants growing on the surface do resemble moss from OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   afar, but on closer inspection reveal themselves as the tiny plants they are. The entire surface may be covered, but often there is open water below. That's where the takers are lurking.

How does this plant cover affect the fish? In most cases, it's like putting a roof over their heads. They enjoy the cooler temperatures afforded by the shade. Then, too, more vegetation means more cover for forage species, which in turn support more and bigger fish.

Some fishermen will be surprised to learn that big bass and pike can be taken in the heavy duckweed. This shallow covering doesn't stop a fish from feeding, and he'll readily smack a weedless surface plug worked through the green stuff. The plug's underside can be seen just as readily by the fish as if there were no cover.

When fishing a lake that is mossed over, find the open spots by boat or wading. Learn to evaluate the cover. An algae bloom will have a pea-soup look, while the heavy rooted aquatics are darker green and will most often emerge above the surface. These sometimes have tiny flowers showing. Heavy duckweed cover is often open underneath, since it tends to smother rooted plants.

What do the anglers use who consistently bring home full stringers? One of the better producers is a weedless spoon with a piece of pork rind or shammy. Another winner is a frog-shaped pork chunk and weedless hook. So are a limited number of surface lures. Still another favorite is a plastic-bodied frog with bucktail legs. Its hook is so mounted that it rides up, giving a snagless underside to the lure. It can be skittered, plunked, and hopped over weeds without picking up the green stuff. Good live baits include frogs, night crawlers, and minnows fished with weedless hooks.

Rods and lines should be a little heavier than those used in open water. A large fish, when hooked, will dive into heavy cover, so the equipment must be heavy enough to horse him out along with a few added pounds of vegetation. Best bet is a 12-pound line on a medium rod. You can get by, though, on an 8-pound line on a medium-action spin rod.

For the fly-rod enthusiasts, a bass-action rod and double or bug-taper line is the combination to use to reach the distant pockets. Either 10 or 15-pound-test line works well for anglers with the level-wind reels.

Any lure can be fished in an open pocket. The angler needs only to size up the situation, then use his assortment of lures accordingly. If submerged vegetation is six inches or less under the water, use floating plugs; not just surface outfits, but shallow runners as well.

Cast the plug to the far edge of the hole, let it rest for a few seconds, move an inch or so, rest, move a foot in a quick, jerky motion, rest, and then retrieve. Any fish on the prowl should make quick work of a plug so fished. This retrieving method is fairly standard in all (continued on page 24)

AUGUST, 1961 17

DAY OF THE WHITE DEATH 18

OUTDOOR NEBRASKA proudly presents the stories of its reoders themselves in this new monthly series. Here is the opportunity so many hove requested—a chance to tell their own outdoor tales. Hunting trips, the "big fish that got away", unforgettable characters, outdoor impressions—all have a place here if they are authored by the readers. If you have a story to tell, jot it down—the story, not literary excellence, is the criterion—and send it to Editor, OUTDOOR NEBRASKA, State Capitol, Lincoln 9. Send photographs, too, if any are available. by Tom Clark as told to Frank Casey Bad-luck omens, the accident with the dog, the sudden snow, all culminated in disaster

IT WAS A nice, warm day in the fall of 1883 when Spence Phillips, his son, Jay, and myself left the Phillip's home to go deer hunting in the Sand Hills. Spence's "soddy" was 10 miles south of Albion or about a mile west of where Plum Creek crosses the Nance and Boone county line.

We headed north up Plum Creek, and had gone about two miles when Spence discovered he had forgotten some things, so we turned the wagon around and went back to his place.

"I hate to turn back," Spence had said. "It isn't good luck." If we had been more superstitious, we would have listened to his omen.

But we turned back, picked up his gear, and drove north again, all the time keeping our eyes sharp for deer sign. All three of us had good guns, at least for the day. And Spence's dog was one of the best. But we didn't get close to a deer that first day. At Hackberry Gulch, we set up camp and slept in the wagon.

The next day was real warm. Really hot, I remember well. Jay had on a straw hat. After breakfast, I was mighty anxious to shoot something, and finally plugged a skunk with my muzzle-loading Colt .45 revolver. Later, Jay and I plinked at some ducks in a pond, but Spence made us quit.

"You kids will scare all the deer out of the Sand Hills," he said. The 42-year-old homesteader could only put up with so much from a couple of eager lads. I was 17, Jay, 21.

About noon Spence spotted a couple of small deer, but all of us wanted something bigger. Late in the afternoon, a nice big fellow got out in front of the homesteader. Though a long shot, Spence 18 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   knocked the deer down. It got up and took out for the hills with Jay's dog in hot pursuit.

Trailing the wounded animal was impossible with the wagon, so Spence drove to the top of a high ridge where we could easily spot the wagon, unhitched the team, and the three of us lit out after the buck. After covering almost two miles of hill country we came upon the two of them. The deer had slowed down, and was trying to fight off the dog.

Spence quickly shouldered his rifle and squeezed off a shot just as Jay's dog jumped at the buck. The dog never knew what hit him. The deer took off, but this time Spence got him. It was a nice 200-pounder.

Clouds had been gathering all this time, but we were more interested in getting the deer. By dusk, the wind had turned and was coming in from the northeast, carrying rain with it. We were about two and a half miles southeast of Peden's soddy. With it raining harder than ever, we lit out for his place, leaving the deer till we could get at it with the wagon the next morning

We were soaked to the skin by the time we got to Peden's. The homesteader fed us a late meal, and we bedded down on the floor. At daylight, Wednesday, October 23, it was snowing hard. Spence thought a lot of his horses, and he and Jay left without breakfast to get them. The team was about five miles due south.

After breakfast, Peden and I went out after the buck. We got in about noon. A heavy snow was falling from the northeast. The flakes were very big and coming so thick we could not see more than 20 or 30 yards ahead. It wasn't a blizzard, and was hardly freezing at the time. But it was wet and falling fast.

It snowed all that day and night. We didn't sleep any. Peden and I were uneasy and kept looking out every little while to see if we could find Spence and Jay. The snow didn't let up one bit all night, and it was getting colder all the time.

The next morning, Thursday, October 24, it was still snowing. We knew by that time that if Spence and Jay hadn't found shelter, there wouldn't be much chance for them to be alive. That evening, the storm finally let up.

At daylight, Friday, Peden and I started out on horseback to search for my friends. The snow on horseback to search for my friends. The snow was so deep that our feet dangled in the snow. The horses could hardly travel since there was a good two feet of snow on the level. There were no drifts since there had been no wind.

Peden and I headed for August Abie's sod house, hoping the father and son had found safety there. They hadn't. From Abie's, I went straight to the team. Spence and Jay hadn't been there, either. By this time, the sun was bright and the snow was going fast.

Through the storm, the horses had chewed away at the wagon, eating the side of the wagon box almost to the floor. I gave them some oats and hay, got things straightened up, hooked the team to the wagon, and drove around a little. The snow was so deep, though, that I couldn't have seen the men if they were down.

I went on south until I met Larry Barrey on his way to Albion from Spalding. At that time, he was running a livery barn at Albion. I told him what had happened and asked him if he had seen or heard anything of Spence or Jay. He hadn't. Larry told me that Hi Snyder and Web and Hank Brayman had just ridden into Spalding. They had been deer hunting up on the Cedar. Figuring that Hank might know something, I drove on into Spalding. You remember Hank, he was Spence's son-in-law. He married Barbara Phillips. Hank had heard or seen nothing, but rode back with me to help search for his in-laws. This was on Saturday,

When we got back, we learned that a party of searchers had found Spence and Jay—dead. Their bodies had been taken to a sod house not far from where we had left the team,

Hank and I drove the team over to the soddy the next morning and loaded the bodies in the wagon and drove back home, a mighty sad way to end a a deer hunt.

John M. Thompson, a young lad at that time, was one of those who had found Spence and Jay. He said he was the first to ride up on the two dead men. Spence was lying face down in the snow with his arm over his son's head,

"A span of small mules hitched to a light wagon could not be driven close enough to load the bodies," he reported later. "I unhooked the mules, lassoed the wagon, and me and my old cow pony pulled the wagon in."

If you happen to be in the vicinity of the north line of section 22-18-6, Boone County, you'll find a small white tombstone. It's there in the prairie grass, about 200 yards west of Plum Creek,

"Spence Phillips, Jay Phillips, October 23, 1883," it .says. That's the place, all right, a place I'll never forget.

THE END AUGUST, 1961 19

TRUCKFUL OF TURTLES

Pair of commercial trappers reap state waters for snapper bonanza

COMBINING BUSINESS with pleasure and making a living at it is the enjoyable task of Paul Mertens and Rolland Zimbrick of Waterville, Minnesota. Both ardent outdoorsmen, they've taken to the Midwest's countless watercourses, and in 15 years, tapped them for a bonanza in turtles.

Paul and Rolland found a real windfall in Nebraska. They set their traps in Shell Creek north of Columbus and in three days bagged 162 snappers and a few "leather backs" or soft shells. Total weight of the catch hit 1,600 pounds and filled the box of their half-ton pickup.

Rolland trapped the lakes in the Valentine Waterfowl Refuge in north-central Nebraska a couple of years back and really hit pay dirt. He averaged a 20 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   ton a week, and that's a lot of turtles in anyone's book. The largest went a whopping 62 pounds.

These big turtles, as their name implies, will snap at any morsel that happens to be handy, be it fish, animal, or bird. Whether it's dead or alive makes no difference. Rolland feels that trapping the snappers will help save more valuable forms of wildlife.

A license to take turtles is not required here, but the traps used must have at least a four-inch mesh. Paul and Rolland set from 50 to 100 traps during an average operation. The throat or opening of each trap faces downstream. Turtles pick up the scent as it floats toward them and swim upstream into the trap. The two men take care to set the top of the trap just above the water. This prevents drowning.

The snappers are kept alive until they are delivered to the processor in Minnesota. They are then dressed, packaged, and sold to commercial and consumer outlets. Both the soft shell and snapper dress out at about 40 per cent meat. The meat sells for about 40 cents a pound dressed, or 15 cents in the shell.

Once winter sets in, Paul and Rolland forget about turtles and concentrate on fur bearers. Any sportsman would have to agree that this year-round work in the outdoors is a pretty slick way to make a living.

THE END AUGUST, 1961 21

OPERATION SMALLMOUTH

by Robert Thomas Area Fishery Manager McConaughy fry move to new areas in bid to spread species

POUND FOR POUND, the smallmouth is the gamest fish going. He's all fight with a style all his own. His aerial acrobatics match those of a salmon, and his swift drive for freedom puts even a trout to shame. The smallmouth isn't big. He doesn't have to be. A one-pounder provides thrills enough, and those in the two and three-pound class put on a show that will last a lifetime of memories.

At present, this kind of action is limited to the state's great fish producer, Lake McConaughy. But if "Operation Smallmouth", initiated in 1958, is successful, anglers may one day creel the prized species in other lakes and streams in the state.

Lewis and Clark, Medicine Creek, and Enders reservoirs have been tapped as introduction sites. So have Grove Lake close to Royal, a Dunning gravel pit, a lime quarry near Gretna, and the outlet area at Two Rivers. Smallmouth have also been introduced in Clear Creek at Columbus, Rattlesnake Creek near Gretna, Clear Creek at Ashland, Clearwater Creek at Neligh, and the Little Blue River at Hastings.

Some 7,400 fingerling smallmouth were planted in 1959, another 29,000 in 1960. It's too early to tell whether these test introductions will take hold. Smallmouth spawn after their third year, so it will be necessary to wait for their fry to appear. Though all of these waters seem to meet the habitat requirements of the smallmouth, few may actually produce.

McConaughy is the backbone of the Operation Smallmouth program. It provides the fingerlings for all plantings. This year's fry-taking project was completed in mid-June at the lake. The fry are now being held at the Game Commission's North Platte hatchery. Once they reach fingerling size in the fall, the young smallmouth will be planted in appropriate OUTDOOR NEBRASKA 22   waters. The Game Commission plans two or three plantings in the waters listed in order that the fish may have every chance to become established.

Over 98,000 fry were taken this June. This is quite a jump over the 32,000 netted last year, the 11,000 in 1959, and the 1,100 in 1958.

Game Commission personnel are using the latest gear to keep track of the smallmouth population at the lake. Technicians not only make sight observations from their boats but in the water as well. Donning skin-diving outfits, they explore the water around the dam, having gone as deep as 80 feet below the surface. They report that a healthy smallmouth population abounds along the dam and rocky east shore.

Taking the small, black fry is a real trick. The operation actually begins before the spawn takes place when fisheries technicians scout selected coves near the dam for nest-building adult males. The smallmouth fans his nest out of the gravel in four to twelve-foot deep water. Once the lake warms to 60°F., the female swims up from deep water to join the male on the nest where she lays up to 8,000 eggs per pound of body weight.

Biologists keep tabs on the spawners throughout. Under suitable conditions, the eggs hatch in three or four days, and the transparent young fish fall among the crevices in the gravel where they continue their development for another three or four days. Finally, the smallmouth fry turn a jet-black color and rise from the nest in a tight school.

When weather conditions are suitable, the fry come to the surface near the shore line. That's the cue for technicians to begin netting.

A fine-meshed dip net is used to collect the minute fish. Fortunately, Mac's water is clear and it's no problem spotting the smallmouth. Once netted, the fry are placed in a tub of water in the boat and later transferred to a live box in a sheltered area. Each night the fish in the box are taken to the hatchery and placed in rearing ponds. Not all of the lake's coves are worked. Many are left untouched, assuring more than enough fry to take care of Mac's needs.

Over 70 per cent of the fry are ultimately planted. When the smallmouth reach fingerling size in the fall, the holding ponds are drained and the fish taken to selected sites. Incidentally, fingerling growth at the hatchery has been significantly greater than that in the wild.

Establishing a smallmouth fishery is a long, involved process as is exemplified by the McConaughy introduction. In 1947, 2,000 fingerlings were stocked. Two years later, 150 adults were planted, and in 1954, 13,000 more fingerlings. Little was known about the fate of the smallmouth until a survey in 1955 revealed the presence of adult smallmouth. Anglers began catching bass the next year. Finally, in 1957 smallmouth fry were spotted along the rocky shore line at Sport Service bay. Reproduction was found in four areas the next year.

Smallmouth habitat requirements are very limiting. The fish favors cool, flowing streams and cool lakes. Streams must have a gravel or rock bottom with large pools between riffles. Such waters are not abundant here. Lakes must have clean, cool water with gravel and rubble shore-line areas. Since the smallmouth is a shore-line spawner, water levels must remain stable during June and July. Waters now being stocked would seem to meet these requirements. Other reservoirs may also prove feasible.

Though it's too early to tell how the smallmouth will fare, it would be a good idea for neophyte bass anglers to get out to McConaughy and get in some practice on these prized fighters. They'll have Jim Haggard's smallmouth record to shoot at. The Ogallala fisherman creeled a whopping 3-pound, 9-ounce Mac smallmouth in 1960. And who knows, the next record might come from one of the lakes or streams now being tested.

THE END AUGUST, 1961 23

SNAKE SAFARI

(continued from page 15)

his rodent-controlling abilities during fair week. Another captive bullsnake has produced 15 white, leathery-shelled eggs. It is hoped that a few of these eggs will hatch during fair.

The incidence of snake bites in Nebraska is low compared to states to the south, due to the relative scarcity, small size, and impotency of poisonous snakes found here. Few deaths have been attributed to the smaller snakes because they do not inject as much poison and their fangs are not as long.

A knowledge of these facts, however, didn't make it any easier to capture a prairie rattler near Crawford. Just out of hibernation, he had spent several years in the area and didn't appreciate an outsider. He shook nine warning buzzers as I walked past his hiding place of yucca.

After I came back down to earth, several pictures were taken of the "buzztail" before I tried to snare him. I worked alone since my four companions didn't share my interests. Finally, I slipped the hook into the yucca and pulled him out.

Running true to form for a rattler, his first reaction was to get away into the surrounding protective cover. But the hook slid under his body about a third of the way back from his head and stopped him. Then I loosened the noose on the stick and got ready for serious work. On the third try, I got the loop around the snake's neck, holding his business-end safely turned in one direction. The real test of nerves came when I had to put him in the sack.

Many of our finds have been accidental, backing up the belief that snakes are found where you least expect them. Even while chasing a mouse up the loose bark of a dead tree trunk, northwest of Rulo, I pulled off a big piece of bark and a snake fell right at Marie's feet. She danced a jig even though it was only a young black rat snake.

Another scare for my snake-hunting assistant happened as we explored a farm pond near Peru for water snakes. I glanced under a bush just as she walked by and there was a big, black "moccasin" coiled and ready to strike. Since he was only inches from Marie's foot, I whirled and shoved my wife to one side. She was practically in hysterics until the snake was safely in a sack and I explained that there are no poisonous water moccasins in Nebraska.

But other than a few scares, hunting snakes is both interesting and challenging. Just be sure to carry a snake-bite kit, keep a sharp eye open for snakes, and watch your step.

THE END

FISHING THE WEEDS

(continued from page 17)

surface fishing. The size of the pocket determines how many times you start and stop the lure.

Open areas are real producers. Larger fish lie along the edge waiting for a clear shot at a meal.

For those who prefer live baits, there are several popular methods. For bass, a small frog with a weedless hook is a top choice. Here the skittering method works with good results. Slide the frog along the heavy weed cover, then ease him off into an open pocket. A live frog will sink slowly, so not too much time should be lost before the retrieve is continued. Otherwise, the frog will become hidden.

One way to fish small open spots is to use a cork with a live minnow, frog, or night crawler attached. Set the cork at a depth to keep the bait clear of heavy underwater weeds, skip it along the heavy cover, ease it into an open pocket, and let the cork float for a few minutes or until there's a strike.

There are many little refinements that you can add to your regular lures for bigger payoffs. One favorite is to take the treble hook off a spoon, attach a short-shanked weedless hook, then add a two-inch pork rind or shammy tail. Weedless treble hooks can be purchased to replace the conventional plug.

Another innovation is a weedless hook, two-inch pork-rind strip, and a Colorado spinner. The spinner will eventually foul up with the weeds but in doing so, cuts a swath for the trailing pork strip. It is deadly on bass and northern pike.

Fishing the weed-covered lakes calls for good casting. A well-timed, well-placed cast will net more fish than a dozen misplaced ones. What you catch will depend on your casting ability, whether spinning, bait casting, or fly fishing. If you can hit a pocket the size of a bushel basket at 50 feet you have most of the battle won.

Fishing the weeds is a far more demanding game than conventional angling. It's a sport in itself, but with little competition from other anglers. This summer and next, tune yourself in to lots of action by fishing the weeds.

THE END 24 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA

OUTDOOR ELSEWHERE

Surprise Attack

NEW HAMPSHIRE . . . Walking through the deep woods near her Grafton home. Mrs. Ethel Hutchinson was struck a heavy blow between the shoulder blades. As she pulled herself together she heard a loud screaming but saw nothing. She resumed her hike. Again something struck the back of her head and snatched her hat. This time she saw her attacker, a large goshawk. The evidence dangled from his talons.

He made several more swipes at her as Mrs. Hutchinson retreated homeward, but now she was armed with two large branches. Under a plea of self-defense she received permission from the Game Commission to shoot the bird if he bothered her again. Sure enough, he did, and the very next day. He won't again.

Goshawks can be quite bold, and have been known to snatch a partridge from a hunter. But it's not common, however, for them to attack humans.

High Toll Charges

TENNESSEE ... A toll charge for a fish telephone call came to be pretty steep for two Clifton men recently. The judge fined each $50 plus $10.50 costs for a total of $121. Officers observed the two men cranking the telephone magneto and picking up fish immediately before making the arrest.

Exception to the Rule

NEW HAMPSHIRE . . . Two Fish and Game Department biologists recently spread a seine to dry in front of their homes. As they dragged the net through the grass, they heard a fussing from under the mesh. In the net was a woodcock with three eggs in her nest.

She had nested nearly under the noses of two trained conservationists without being noticed. For over a month they had parked two trucks within six feet of her nest. In addition, they had played a vigorous ball game one evening ... no sign of the bird. Woodcock generally nest in alders and brush near a stream or pond; this one had built her nest in short grass within 20 feet of a driveway, with no water in sight. Another example of an "exception to the rule".

SPEAK UP

Send your questions to "Speak Up/' OUTDOOR NEBRASKA, State Capitol, Lincoln 9, Nebraska Yes, Catfish Soup!

"Several months ago someone wanted to know how to make catfish head soup (April 1961). Here is a recipe sent to me by W. T. Ary, Flatwood, Tennessee:

"Wash the head thoroughly; put it in a pot of water, and let it cook very slowly. Salt and pepper can be added as taste desires. When the head is soft and tender, add a few onions and lukewarm milk, and again let it cook slowly. I do not know the length of time required to cook such a delicacy, but feel this is up to the discretion of the cook.

"I hope this helps the interested party. I enjoy OUTDOOR NEBRASKA very much, being a native of Nebraska. It keeps me informed on projects being well done."—John M. Stubbs, Stream Biologist, Tennessee Game and Fish Commission, Nashville, Tenn.

Knew a reader would come through for you, Alfred Schmidt of Falls City. Anybody else got any other posers?—Editor.

Way to Lose an Eye

"I am not usually one to contradict things appearing in OUTDOOR NEBRASKA. But in the Tent Fixit Tips in the May issue, you show how to put in grommets. Using the two hardened surfaces of those ball-peen hammers as the illustration shows is one good way to have an eye put out by a flying chip off one of those hammers.

"A regular grommet setting die would be a lot safer to use. But I have shot off my mouth enough. All in all, you have one of the best magazines around."—Foster H. Pendarvis, Bellevue.

This is indeed would be a foolhardy risk if the tent repairer were using a maximum of energy. But too much force would bend the grommet out of shape. Your advice is well taken, however, and we should have been more careful.—Editor.

Big Beaver

"I tried trapping beaver this year, and one I got in February weighed 75 pounds. Is this any kind of a heavyweight record?" —George D. Thompson, Stockville.

This is truly a nice beaver, but not a record. We have had some 60 and 70-pound weights recorded this year, but there has been no state record named.—Editor.

GAME BIRD BREEDERS, PHEASANT FANCIERS AND AVICULTURISTS' GAZETTE A generously illustrated pictorial monthly carrying pertinent bird news from around the world. Exolains breeding, hatching, rearing, and selling game birds, ornamental fowl, and waterfowl. Practical, instructive, educational, and entertaining. Advocates the protection and conservation of disappearing species of wild bird life. The "supermarket" of advertising for the field. Official publication of AMERICAN GAME BIRD BREEDERS COOPERATIVE ASSOCIATION. THE INTERNATIONAL WILD WATERFOWL ASSOCIATION, AMERICAN PHEASANT SOCIETY, and many other game-bird societies. This periodical is subscribed to by bird breeders, shooting preserve operators, game keepers and curators, hobbyists and aviculturists, owners of estates, zoos, educational institutions, libraries, aviaries, government qgencies, conservationists, etc. One year (12 issues) $3.50 Samples 50f Send subscription to THE GAME BREEDERS GAZETTE O.N., ALLEN PARK DRIVE, Salt Lake City 5, Utah AUGUST, 1961 25

notes on Nebraska fauna...

CARP

LIKE THE RABBIT in Australia, the carp took to the United States in a big way when it was introduced from Europe in 1879. And, depending on anglers' point of view, Nebraska has been an ideal place for Cyprinus carpio Linneans, with just the right water for the species to take hold like a native.

One species it is. The so-called "German" carp and the "mirror" or "leatherback" carp with just a few scales are separate strains but are classed as the same species. The often-called German carp occurs in name only; if called anything, it should be "English" carp, for probably the species was carried from England to continental Europe, after introduction to the Isles from Asia.

Nebraskans joined in the universal clamor for carp back in the 1870's. Carp were to be the panacea for bad fishing. The fish in Nebraska farm ponds would become as important a food supply as in Europe where the carp pond was an important part of crop rotation in some communities. Carp culture was to become a proud industry.

In the second annual report of the Nebraska State Board of Fish Commissioners in 1880, much room was given to the new species:

"This fish is perhaps the fish for waters of Nebraska. It lives on vegetable matter and will exist, and in fact thrive, in waters so muddy and befouled that other species cannot live."

Carp became established in most stream systems in the United States and now are found from the Gulf of Mexico to Canada and from east to west coast. The extent of the northerly spread of the fish is unknown. Canadian fishery workers are finding carp increasingly farther north, and view the situation with some concern.

They should. From glorious hopes for an all-round fish to the frustration of inadequate carp control has been a matter of but a few years in Nebraska and other states. Not only a problem in streams, carp 26 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   have moved into nearly every lake that has any sort of drainage system.

Meet the Dr. Jeykll and Mr. Hyde of Nebraska's fish world. He also provides plenty of sport, but raises havoc in some waters in the process by Orty Orr Fisheries Project Leader

Nebraska is peculiarly adapted to the spread of the species. The environment here is just about ideal. The water is in a range of hardness that is favorable for production of food organisms. Normal temperature provides for spawning in late spring. The minute plants and animals upon which fry feed are plentiful and the young are able to make rapid growth.

Spawning is a most uncomplicated and casual process. Adults congregate in shallows and strew eggs and sperm randomly upon the bottom. If large populations are present, spawning may occur along the entire shoal area. Among the spawners are youngsters, for carp become sexually mature at one year and begin procreating the species the second summer.

It is largely because of the great reproductive potential and the feeding habits of carp that they have become so abundant. Their menu consists of a wide range of vegetable and animal matter. They not only eat small tender parts of aquatic plants, seeds and grain, but also plankton, insect larvae, crustaceans, mollusks, fish eggs and fry, as well as minnows and other small fish.

Because they like to eat, growth is rapid, and carp have been reported up to 48 inches in length and 60 pounds in weight, making them valuable to commercial fishermen. Several million pounds of fresh or frozen carp are marketed each year, more than any other inland fresh-water fish. Commercial fishing in Nebraska, though, is restricted to the Misouri River. But the big river produces more than enough to support commercial carping.

Carp possess good sporting qualities, being suspicious of a dangling dough ball or night crawler, and strong brute fighters when they do take the bait. The flesh, when properly cared for, is good eating.

Carp enthusiasts probe shallow weedy spots and muddy bottoms of lakes. In rivers they fish for carp in still, slow, or stagnant water. Night is the best angling time, for then the fish forage among the reeds and weeds close to shore. At this time carp will take almost anything, although dough balls and night crawlers are as sure-fire as anything. Because carp are bottom feeders, most anglers drop their bait to just above the bottom ooze. In the evening these fish may take surface baits.

Steps are being taken in Nebraska to alleviate the carp situation by the removal of the fish, or by the erection of checks and barriers at the outlets of lakes. During the '40's the Game Commission began transporting carp from the large lakes of the western part of the state to small waters in the east. This has been locally popular with some fishermen but is not a good solution to the problem of much-needed fishing waters in the eastern area. The practice is a costly deficit-spending program which produces a limited harvest of carp but no interest in terms of capital developments.

Waterfowl refuge managers, too, are trying to eliminate carp from lakes where waterfowl are produced. When waters become infested much of the waterfowl habitat is destroyed by their rooting. In treated lakes the return of desirable aquatic plants and clearing of the water is rapid. In most cases at Valentine and Crescent refuges in the Sand Hills, the lakes have been stocked with game fishes which have seen rapid growth.

Carp are here to stay. We asked for them; we pinned too many hopes on them; then we heaped all the ills of the fishing world on their fins. We're wasting a valuable food source and a sport potential by ignoring them now.

THE END AUGUST, 1961 27

KNOW YOUR BOAT

Time for inspection, Mate. Do you know boating terms and have all required gear? SAFETY CHECK LIST 1. Approved life-saving device for each person A B 2. Proper lighting A B (light not required if boat is not operated after dark) 3. Bailing Bucket A B 4. Boat hook 5. Fire extinguisher B (all inboards and outboards 26 feet or over) 6. Paddle or oars A B 7. Fenders 8. Horn or whistle B 9. Tool kit 10. Anchor 11. Line 12. Gasoline cans (spare) 13. First aid kit 14. Flashlight 15. Bilge pump (A) Required by law for nonpowered boats (B) Required by law for powered boats