SNIPE CAPADES

by Gene Hornbeck I zigged when target zagged in wild Sand Hills shooting spree

THE WIND CAME out of the west across the Sand Hills, carrying a hint of winter. Ducks moved over the marsh in nervous groups, ready to fly south. Bud Pritchard, OUTDOOR Nebraska's artist, loaded up his side-by-side 12-gauge and joined me along the edge of the marsh.

"I'm using Nov 7% trap loads. How about you?" be questioned:

"No. 8's. But either should be O.K. on these little speedsters," I answered.

It was October 7, opening day of the snipe season. So far as we were concerned, the opening of WM grouse season wasn't important, but it, too, began today and we coufd hear an occasional 3hot!

"I'm re^ady if you are/' Bud said. "Where shbuld we start?"

"Snipe should be hanging out around the edges of the marsh. Let's try the soft areas."

Bud and I were hunting on the Bllards Marsh Special Use. Area in Cherry County. Neither of us NOVEMBER, 1961   had any real reason to believe there were enough snipe to provide action.

SNIPE CAPADES continued

Donned in waders and warm duds, the two of us began probing the reed-choked spots in the pasture nearby. We had circled a small patch of heavy cover and just entered the edge of a moist boggy area when I heard the familiar scaip, scaip, scaip as a snipe took wing.

I swung my shotgun toward the sound and picked the bird up over the superposed barrels. He was winging away in typical snipe fashion, low to the ground and zigzagging like a halfback heading for the goal line.

But I was drawing circles in the sky with the 20 trying to follow the bird's erratic pattern. Taking a guess at where he would be next, I sent a load of 8's chasing his fast-departing tail. I zigged when he zagged. A second charge followed quickly and it, too, was a miss. Bud, off to my left, put up a double and fared equally as bad.

Popping two fresh hulls in the slots, I took a few cautious steps forward. Again a Jack "yiped" three or four times as he turned on the steam. This time I outguessed him and he folded about 20 yards away. Bud whammed two loads at another and scored on his second barrel.

After rounding up our first kills, we checked the soft mud for signs of feeding and found small holes where the Jacks had probed for beetles and other bugs with their long beaks. Not unlike a woodcock in habits, the snipe is slightly slimmer but with somewhat the same coloration. The bill is normally about three inches long. Legs are pale green and his belly is white with tannish mottled chest. The back and wings are both mottled browns and blacks, flecked with white.

The Jack or Wilson's snipe is perhaps the toughest target flying for the scatter gun. He inhabits the marshy short-grass edges of the wet lands. A bird of mystery to all but a few, this elusive little game bird is abundant along the edges of the Sand Hills lakes and the shallow grassy mud flats of the rainwater ponds in south-central Nebraska.

The Wilson's snipe is a sort of lone wolf of the shore bird clan. Unlike the dowitcher or yellowleg who wade in the water, he's usually found in the wet boggy meadows along a lake or pond. Though the coloration of all three is similar, the dowitcher is distinguished by his lighter color and almost white patch on the small part of the back. It's easily seen when the bird takes wing. The yellowleg's legs give him away.

Recognizing the Jack's call is the easiest way to identify the bird. When flushed, he lets out a sort of an abbreviated "Escape" cry emitted in a hurry. It ends up as "Scaip, scaip, scaip."

Bud and I had evidently stumbled on a heavily used spot. We had no more than checked out our birds when another Jack winged overhead and swooped low as if he wanted to land. This was our 4 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   cue to take to the reeds where we wouldn't be spotted. We had just hunkered down when a Jack came zipping in, dropped his flaps, and landed less than 50 feet away.

"Let's see if you can hit this one, Bud," I challenged. "I need a good picture of a bird raising in front of a hunter. You go in on him fast and I'll be right behind you with the camera."

Bud stood up, got a good grip on his nerves, and moved up on the bird. The snipe held tight (another of its good virtues), until Bud was within 25 feet. He then rose with the wind to about 12 feet, yelled "Scaip" two or three times and power-dived to pick up more speed. Bud was on him on the climb but didn't allow for the change in flight pattern and his shot went high.

The snipe then zipped along the ground at what seemed better than 30 miles an hour, darting first to the left, then the right. Bud zeroed in on him with the second barrel, touched it off, and dumped the bird just short of the edge of the marsh.

"This shooting is enough to drive a man crazy," Bud laughed, walking over to pick up his prize. "You swing your gun back and forth like a man being attacked by a pack of wolves who doesn't know which one to shoot at first."

With the action slowed, we continued on along the edge of the marsh. Two more singles flushed in the next quarter mile and we both scored. Bud got his on his first shot, I, on my second.

Two small potholes at the north end of the marsh looked "birdy" so we crossed a small piece of meadow and split up, each taking a side. I walked into the first small area. It was very similar to our first hot spot, but in looks only. We drew a blank. Bud and I had just cleared the point on the second pothole when a bird came up out of the pasture just ahead of me. He stayed close to the ground and I dropped him on the first shot. A second came up on the shot and I dumped him within 10 feet of the first.

"Boy, are you getting salty," Bud called. "Two for two. You can't do any better than that."

"I'm not saying anything right now," I answered. "We're both a long way from our limits of eight birds each."

I had never made a truer statement. As the day moved on, the wind picked up and the cold front became colder. Low clouds came scudding in over the marsh, carrying the smell of snow. By 3 o'clock we had fired better than half a box of shells. Bud, the quiet member of our duo, had six, I, five.

"How about trying that first spot again?" Bud offered. "There might be more."

Bud was right. Three Jacks got out of the little bog and we each managed to score another one.

How many shots were needed to get our 13 Jacks? I'll put it in this way. How may shells can you shoot from two doubles if a pair of snipe get up together and then a single gets up 30 seconds later? They don't take much killing but they sure do take lots of shooting.

With no lunch to tide us over, we were ready to call it quits. Bud and I had a real day of sport and we're looking forward to tying into a couple of meals of roast snipe when we got home. As we hiked back to the car, a flock of prairie chickens sailed across the meadow ahead of us, which brought to mind tomorrow's appointment in the hills.

THE END NOVEMBER, 1961 5

SCUBA IN NEBRASKA

by Rogene Carlyle

THERE'S ANOTHER WORLD in outdoor Nebraska, a world of eerie silence cloaked in gray and green and black shadows where forests of moss softly undulate with unseen currents. Here a massive catfish sticks his bewhiskered snout out of a rotting barrel to watch a crayfish claw his way along the muddy bottom. Unblinking bluegills hang stoically above and a snapping turtle glides out of the darkness, all fours extended as he eases to the bottom.

Four years ago this was their world. Now it's mine, a twilight zone where I can join them in a weightless, effortless life deep below the water's surface. No mermaid I, at least not the popular idea of the half gal, half fish. But with my scuba outfit, I'm the closest thing to it.

OUTDOOR NEBRASKA proudly presents the stories of its readers themselves in this new monthly series. Here is the opportunity so many have 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.

Nebraska is yet an undiscovered skin diver's paradise, the bottoms of lakes and sand pits seen by only a handful of enthusiasts. My husband, Walter, was one of the first to try the unique sport here. He soon convinced me to join him in exploring the many sand pits around our home at Grand Island. We now take on lakes throughout Nebraska and surrounding states, but have settled on giant Lake McConaughy as our favorite. Here you can see 30 feet ahead in the clear blue water and sink over 100 feet to mingle with the manv forms of water life.

McConaughy has always been fascinating from the surface, but the lake is a veritable wonderland below. It's no wonder Mac is rated one of the finest fishing waters anywhere. One jaunt to the bottom and you'll discover a fantastic number of fish, small ones that have never seen a hook, huge lunkers that are on to every trick and every lure the angler has to offer. There are 15 major varieties, 2 or 3 types of small forage species.

Chumming around with the finny clan can be a lot of fun. I once glided along with a group of huge 6 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   walleyes. And on more than one occasion, I've tweaked the whiskers and patted the back of grand-daddy catfish. Mac has become a real white bass hot spot and it's easy to see why. Caves in the coves around the south shore are chock-full of the silvery prizes. Smallmouths are also taking hold. You can see hundreds along the dam's face.

Take a fish-eye view of our newest outdoor sport

I would hate to guess how many anglers have fished Mac. It would have to be in the tens of thousands, judging by the bottom of the lake. Broken lines strewn across the rubble look like a giant net. One of our diving partners, Bill Powell of Grand Island, learned how deadly this shroud can be. He became entangled in the loose ends. We had to move in and cut him loose before his air supply was exhausted.

There's other proof that this is a fisherman's lake. One day while Walt and I were exploring the bottom we came on an ancient cedar tree bedecked with lures and lines. It has been there since the lake was created, and though its needles are gone, all the branches are intact. Each limb is packed with bobbers, hooks, and lures in every shape, size, and color. If we hadn't known better, we would have thought it Neptune's Christmas tree.

But this isn't all. Walt and I have filled both our tackle boxes and those of friends and relatives with lures we have retrieved from the face of the dam. We've become so selective that we toss away those that show the least signs of rust. Walt even picked up a dandy rod and reel.

What do the fish think of us invading their domain? Generally, they couldn't care less. They have little fear of the scuba diver. I almost believe they consider us one of the gang. Bluegills can actually become pests. They will nibble on you, strike at you when you make sudden movements in their direction, and come straight at your face and hit the glass of your mask in a friendly greeting.

Walleyes have followed me out of curiosity. I have found that by just sitting down on the bottom without moving, the fish will (continued on page 24)

NOVEMBER, 1961 7   ...Northern Pike

BEST in the WEST

by Wayne Tiller Mac has even fish pros amazed. It keeps doing the impossible

THIS IS "BIG MAC", producer of record-busting fish and the center of Nebraska's most highly diversified outdoor recreation utopia. Cradled in the North Platte River Valley between gently rolling hills, the clear deep-blue water of Lake McConaughy is becoming nationally recognized as a producer of lunkers and full creels.

Its 35,000 acres of water and 17,000 acres of surrounding land will host about 137,000 visitors this year. But all will have plenty of elbowroom. Many of the thousands of visitors lured to the west-central Nebraska lake are out-of-staters. They've heard about the big lake's fabulous fishing.

Mac's main claim to fame is its fish-producing capabilities. It supports a wide variety of fighters and grows them to record size. Though it has felt the lash of thousands of lines, it can take a lot more fishing pressure. At present, the lake has contributed the state's largest walleye, smallmouth bass, rainbow trout, brook trout, brown trout, and white bass. And northern pike, crappie, and yellow perch from Mac's waters have been outweighed by only a few ounces in the official listing.

As an aid to the lake's anglers, the Game Commission provides a bulletin board at Sports Service Cafe close to the south end of the dam. Recent catches, successful lures, hot spots, productive methods, and suggested fishing depths are posted to help anglers catch more fish.

Walleyes are the No. 1 attraction. They are produced in impressive quantities. Starting their annual hitting spree in the spring of the year, the marbleyes gradually move into the deeper waters at the eastern end of the lake as the season progresses. Successful anglers say the best method is trolling a night crawler behind a spinner.

Don Hein of McCook was using such a rig between Martin and Arthur bays in 1959 when a 16pound, 1-ouncer grabbed it to put Don's name in the record book. With a daily creel limit of six walleyes, many anglers catch their legal fill in less than an hour. Some Texas oilmen have been known to fly to the lake, use one of the two landing strips, catch their limits, and return home for supper.

To insure that McConaughy will always have enough of these prized fighters, the Game Commission practices a rotational stocking program. Fingerlings are stocked every two or three years to act as a buffer if a high mortality should reduce the natural production.

White bass provide another seasonal surge of anglers. When the fast-biting game fish start hitting, the news spreads fast. In these big runs, limit catches of 50 are the rule rather than the exception. Barbara Hombach from Grand Island latched onto a record 4V2-pounder in 1952. But optimistic anglers say there are whites that will come close to five pounds.

Another record breaker pulled from McConaughy holds top honors in the smallmouth division. Jim Haggard of Ogallala pulled a 3-pound, 9-ouncer from the watery depths in 1960. Natural reproduction was so good this year that fishery technicians were able to net 100,000 fry for introduction stock in other suitable lakes in the state. Smallmouth spawn along the rocky shoal areas close to the south end of the dam. Incidentally, skin divers report a healthy population along the face of the big impoundment.

Near-fantastic catches of big trout have dominated late-summer fishing during the past two years. Big 5-pound rainbows were almost commonplace along the dam. Anglers are trying for a lunker to top the 12-pound, 4-ounce rainbow J. D. Wickard hooked in Sports Service Bay.

Unlike the annual run of smallmouth and white bass, the trout catches are unpredictable and may or may not occur next year. The most popular lures are white, silver, yellow, or gold flatfish with black spots. When a catch is made, the area is marked and the depth, type of lure, and action are noted for return trips to the successful spot.

The state record brown and brook trout also came from the broad waters of this great reservoir. In 1950, L. B. Eby of Sidney creeled a McConaughy brown that had ventured up Otter Creek. It tipped the scales at 11 pounds, 4 ounces. Three years later Vernon Zimmerman of Ovid, Colorado, landed a AV2-pound brookie. Most of the brown trouting is found in the numerous clear, cool streams that empty into the lake.

Northern pike also claim a piece of Lake McConaughy. Up until the current 25-pound, 12-ounce record-holder tipped the scale, a 25-pound, 8-ouncer from Mac held honors. But Mac may still win in the final showdown. Several 25-pounders were landed this past spring. Northern spawning habitat is at a premium. To assure a constant population, the Game Commission stocks about 100 fingerlings per surface acre every second or third year.

Largemouths and crappie are regular customers in the creels of anglers (continued on page 24)

NOVEMBER, 1961 9

NEBRASKA'S OTHER WORLD

by J. E. Petsche

IF I'D KNOWN about Nebraska's fossil bonanza when I was a boy in Sheridan County, I would have chucked the cowboy and Indian bit to become a fur-togged hunter after prehistoric big game. But it wasn't until last August that I really discovered this great windfall when I took part in a scientific expedition and conference that covered 1,700 miles of fossil-rich western Nebraska.

I wasn't an expert on long-buried bones. Far from it. But I was rubbing shoulders with some of the nation's most distinguished vertebrate paleontologists, geologists, and museum directors. During the five-day trip to 40 prime sites, I watched and listened as they told the significance of each area. These members of the Society of Vertebrate Paleontology came from 20 states to get a firsthand look at state sites. I couldn't help but be impressed by the way they were impressed with Nebraska.

Journey through the state's twilight zone to a prehistoric graveyard with eternal life

The caravan of 30 cars, jeeps, and small trucks that carried our party of over 100 couldn't have been out of Fort Robinson two hours before I realized just how rich Nebraska is in prehistoric bones. We first traveled north to Orella and then to Toadstool Park and its strange wind-weathered formations. Here is a massive graveyard of mammals that lived from 20 to 35, million years ago. Many life forms roamed here, including the deer that grew no bigger than a cat and the massive, powerful titanothere that stood sometimes eight feet high at the shoulders.

As we continued west and then southwest to Sow Belly Canyon and Pants Butte in Sioux County, I began to feel the impact of what Dr. C. Bertrand Schultz, director of the University of Nebraska State Museum, had said before the trip. He told us that the most complete and dated sequence of medial and late Cenozoic mammal fossils on the continent, if 10 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   not the world, is to be found in Nebraska. Here also is one of the most complete stratigraphic sequences of ice-age fossil mammal material found anywhere.

We got a good look at the upper reaches of Sow Belly Canyon near War Bonnet Battlefield north of Harrison. Here, where a warring party of Oglalas almost starved out a small military party from Fort Robinson, you can see the strange "devils' corkscrews". The corkscrews, remnants of what look like huge, almost perfect white augers screwed into the earth, are the winding burrows of extinct beavers that lived 16 million years ago.

The second of the five-day journey took us through southern Sioux and Box Butte counties, Nebraska's big country, with big cattle spreads. Dr. Schultz and Prof. T. M. Stout of the University of Nebraska department of geology planned the trip carefully for the distinguished society, and for fear of darkness at the end of each day, they kept a sharp pace.

As we drove into Sioux County, all the boyhood images of Cody, Custer, the Fifth Cavalry, and Red Cloud came back. When we drove away from the Agate Springs fossil quarries and Carnegie and University hills, I was even more struck with the wealth this state has in pre-history.

Vance Johnson, operator of a big cattle spread near Agate Springs, opened his gates to let us see the world-famous Sheep Creek-Snake Creek fossil quarries. Running through this entire area is a layer of rock. Once mud, it was the graveyard of countless mammals. As the mud solidified, the fossils underwent curious changes. Hollow bones and skulls filled with transparent calcite crystals have been found. Experts study the age of the earth called the Miocene, a period roughly from 8 to 20 million years ago. Here you find evidence of giant hogs and the queer, claw-footed morophus that resembles our ancestral horse and rhinoceros. Here, too, lived the early camels, alligators, hawks, and oreodonts. Perhaps the finest specimens of this age and locality are now at the University of Nebraska State Museum in Morrill Hall at Lincoln.

The fossils in this country have fascinated man for as long as anyone can remember. Old Chief Red Cloud told of "stone bones" out in the tablelands. According to one legend, a group of Indians threatened with slow starvation were granted speedy release by the Great Spirit through the arrival of a "thunder horse" that killed them all. To substantiate this story, Red Cloud produced an agatized molar four inches in diameter. Scientists later identified the tooth as that of a titanothere.

By the time the caravan left Fort Robinson and was headed east to Sheridan County on the third day, members of the group got to know one another as well as a good number of local ranchers.

There has been a lot written about the hospitality of the southern states and the gregariousness of the Texan, and it may well be true. But I'll stack the western Nebraska cattlemen against them any day. Men like Vance Johnson, (continued on page 22)

NOVEMBER, 1961

Birthday GOOSE

Tradition began 58 years ago when boy bagged first gander by Jane Sprague

THE YOUNG BOY heard the great Canadas long before he saw them, their raucous honking drifting over the mist-shrouded Sand Hills to his warm haystack hiding place close to the small lake. The wing-weary migrants spotted the lake, liked what they saw, and in follow-the-leader fashion settled on its quiet surface. They would rest and feed here for several days before moving on south.

Throughout the first 10 days of October he kept his vigil, hiding in the haystack or a small clump of bushes on the top of a nearby hill. Each day that the boy watched, the more familiar he became with their habits, where they fed, when they rested, what routes they followed to the fields. When the first flight moved out, another took its place. And still others drifted in.

Studying nature was one of young George Hytrek's favorite pastimes. But scouting the Canadas had special significance to him. He had promised himself that he would bag one of the majestic birds as a birthday present to himself, a big order for a boy of 12. He would keep his birthday promise in 1903; he has kept it almost every year since.

He shivered with anticipation as he lay hidden in the brush on that gray October dawn. He needed neither blind, call, nor decoys. What would a boy be doing with such a fancy setup? George depended on his skill at blending in with the surrounding countryside, his knowledge of the ganders' habits.

George was thankful that the sun remained hidden. The big birds would be flying low and the gray light would help keep him hidden from their sharp eyes. He gripped his 12-gauge pin-fire tightly, waiting for the right Canada to come within range. And there it was, unsuspecting, winging to the field nearby.

Proudly he carried the goose home, holding it high for all the family to admire. Days later, on the 15th, the aroma of roasting goose filled the house. When it was put on the table for his birthday feast, OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   George knew it was his skill as an outdoorsman that made the feast so special. He had learned the secrets of the big geese and had studied them well, and this was his reward.

Every year after that, no matter where he was, George managed to return to Stuart for the opening of goose season. As he grew older, he learned more and more about the outdoors. And the thrill of watching the big geese for weeks or days before the opening of goose season still stays with him. He still hides among the trees of the river bottoms and haystacks and brush and watches for their familiar patterns, plotting the best spots to bag his bird.

Skill and luck have both been a part of George's success story during the many years he has been hunting for his special birthday dinner. Luck that the weather will be typically misty and gray, and skill in shooting and finding spots to jump birds.

Out of all the years he has been hunting geese, he can recall only two or three times he didn't get his special goose. It's an event he wouldn't miss. His 12-gauge pin-fire has been traded for a newer model, but his tactics are still pretty much the same as they were on his first hunt.

Hunting from a blind, or waiting until the opening day of the season to look for the geese are not on the agenda for George. Half of his hunting fun is watching for the big birds when they first begin to drift in from the north. By tracking geese from the water to feeding areas, he learns all of their daily habits before the season opens.

His big worry is staying out of sight of the wary birds. Here's where the weather must be right. Foggy, gray weather makes it easier for him to camouflage himself. On gray days, with the proper clothing, he can blend in with the countryside.

George still watches in the old familiar places around numerous lakes in the area and along the nearby Niobrara River. Over the years, the lakes have proved the most productive, though he has had some good years along the Niobrara. The big, wily geese don't frequent the same spot each year, and half the fun is finding the spot they have selected for their temporary home.

No calling and wooing the geese is necessary to draw them to him. By knowing where they will be, he can patiently wait for them to come to him. Brush, trees, and haystacks all suffice as a hiding place. He knows full well that if one spots him, he might just as well call it a day.

The young-at-heart hunter is recognized as an authority on outdoor life. It's no wonder. His life centers around nature. Nothing pleases him more than using all his skill to bring down a goose, to fish for the big ones hiding in the Elkhorn and Niobrara rivers, or to look for wary grouse in their Sand Hills bailiwick.

George makes a living trapping. He gets more pleasure from taking one wily mink that has outwitted him once than he does from trapping a dozen muskrat that didn't overtax his skill.

Now in 1961, 58 years after a young George Hytrek first shot a big Canada for his birthday dinner, he's once again in the Sand Hills picking out the just-right spot to bag his bird. You can be sure that George already has the gander's movements pegged.

The weather hasn't been with him this year. Warm, sunny days are not to George's liking. It will take all his skill and experience as an outdoorsman this year. But folks around Stuart are betting on him. George looks to the clear blue sky and the calendar with the October 15 circled. He's wondering whether he'll make it in time.

THE END Balmy October weather was against George this year so he didn't meet his October 15 deadline. But he didn't remain scoreless. Two days after his birthday he bagged a 4V2-pound Canada for a belated feast. NOVEMBER, 1961 13

YESTERDAY'S GUNS TODAY

by Frank Foote Here's low-down on how Yankee ingenuity played key roll in making shotgunning sport it is

CALL it fusil de chasse in French, es copeta in Spanish, fucile in Italian, or schuiswebbel in German, it's still the same shotgun, one of the most versatile hunting weapons used by man. But what about this gun that is used the world over? Where did it come from, how did it evolve? Answers to these questions will help you appreciate the modern weapon you use afield today.

Back in the days when weapons were relatively simple, the difference between a shotgun and a regular smoothbore musket was infinitesimal. In fact, the same weapon was used for shooting birds or game animals, the only change being a load of shot or a solid round ball. Most smoothbore muzzle-loading muskets would do a reasonable job of patterning shot.

Gradually, as more people could afford more than one weapon, a somewhat more specialized type of shotgun evolved. The fowling piece of the late 1700's was usually lighter and had a longer barrel than even the already long muskets of the time. Birds, however, were still taken on the set, the art of wing shooting yet to be developed.

Shotguns began to come into their own in the early 1800's when double-barreled pieces became common. Famous old gunsmiths like Manton and Purdey of London started a trend in large bore, thin-barreled shotguns. These had flintlock ignition systems.

With mass production, shotguns came within the price range of most everyone here. Pioneers used them for almost all types of game. In the eastern part of the United States this trend continues. When legal, sportsmen load up with the smaller size shots for quail and duck, then switch to buckshot or rifle slugs for deer.

Early-day shotguns and smoothbore muskets were not ideal for all uses, but they would deliver the mail often enough to prove their worth. Even the early flintlock, smoothbore trade guns of the northwest could be used with shot. These weapons, introduced into North American trade in the 1700's, were still being used in portions of Canada and the Western Plains as late as the 1870's and '80's. They were a far cry from the specialized, long-range buffalo rifle of that time but they would still down buffalo when fired at close range.

Damascus double-barreled, English-made shotguns became the standard for the American sporting gentry in the mid-1800's. The myths and legends concerning the construction of these Damascus-barreled weapons are legion. A book on shotguns for the American hunter printed in the 1860's tells in all seriousness how the best and highest quality Damascus barrels were made from used horseshoe nails. These were supposed to be especially tough and well-tempered.

Actually, the Damascus barrels varied greatly in quality and strength. Quality control and uniform strength were extremely difficult to achieve then because of the method of manufacture. The barrel was made by wrapping one or more thin strips of steel around a mandrel. These were welded together while hot by continual pounding with the hammer. After the tube was formed the mandrel was withdrawn and the barrel machined and polished.

The many yards of welding involved in these twist barrels invited imperfections. Impurities, slag, and so forth, could be pressed between two thin sheets of steel, becoming a weak spot.

Damascus-barreled guns came in many different price ranges with different degrees of skill used in 14 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   their manufacture. Many of these clunkers hang on today. If you have one, never fire it with a modern smokeless load. Better yet, let it hang over the fireplace.

As firearms evolved, various advances familiar today were adopted. One, of course, was the change from muzzle-loading to breeech-loading shotguns. At this time most weapons were of the double-barreled, outside visible hammer type. Also in the 1870's chokeboring was introduced to improve long-range patterns. Before that, shotguns were cylinder-bored throughout, offering only wide-spread patterns at the longer ranges. Chokeboring tended to improve this and is with us to this day.

Shotgun sizes have also changed over the years. Today state and federal regulations prohibit the use of shotguns larger than 10-gauge on upland species and migratory waterfowl. Seventy years ago 8 and 6-gauge shotguns were fairly common and even 2 and 4-gauge pieces were used on occasion.

Gauge comes from the old empiric formula that numerical gauge equals the number of bore-sized pure lead balls needed to make a pound. Thus, a 12-gauge shotgun is one with a bore diameter in which 12 bore-sized round-ball loads equal one pound.

Large-bored shotguns were used on waterfowl by sportsmen and market hunters. The more shot that could be thrown out into a pattern, the farther the killing pattern could be maintained.

During the 1800's, market hunters often used the punt gun, a relative of the shotgun. Resembling a small cannon, it was used from the front of a small boat or punt which was carefully sculled within range of large flocks of sitting waterfowl. Some of these guns fired more than a pound of shot at one time and had a potential killing range of well over 100 yards. The shot most commonly used was approximately BB in size.

As time went on, the demand for repeating shotguns became prevalent. Lever-action and pump or trombone-action shotguns came into the picture in the late 1800's. Repeaters were within the price range of many sportsmen, thanks to John Browning, noted firearms designer, who introduced the self-loading or semi-automatic type shotgun with which most of us are familiar today. His design is still the basis for most semi-automatic shotguns today. The modern over-and-under and bolt-action shotguns also evolved during this period.

Variable choke devices have been around a lot longer than most sportsmen think. These represent an attempt to get more mileage out of one gun by broadening its usage. Most offer a relatively complete range of shot patterns, from cylinder bore to full choke or even tighter.

Rifle-shotgun combinations have long been popular in Europe where ownership of weapons tends to be expensive and a person may have the opportunity to take various types of game while afield. Until recently, these weapons were never popular here. But with the comeback of wild turkey, they have become the weapon of choice in some areas. The combination is achieved by attaching a rifle barrel to a single or double-barreled shotgun. Rifle calibers vary from .22 rimfire up to a seven or eight millimeter. Nebraska law prohibits the use of the rifle portion of such a combination for game birds.

One of the more modern shotgun developments is the use of non-ferrous alloys such as aluminum in the construction of the weapon to lighten the over-all weight. Fiberglas barrels are also becoming popular. The barrel is made by applying the lightweight material over a thin cylinder of steel.

The modern shotgun has evolved from a crude all-purpose musket flintlock weapon to the modern, well-designed, well-constructed American repeating shotgun. Its evolution has helped make hunting in America the sport of many hunters, not the privileged few.

THE END NOVEMBER, 1961 15

the KING and BOB

by J. Greg Smith Forecast calls for top year as upland birds register big gains

KING RINGNECK'S turn to take center stage rin NEBRASKAland's fall show of gunning. And judging by the latest surveys from the game fields, Le's more than ready to play his hero role to the hilt during the 72-day stand. State-wide, pheasants are up an impressive 20 per cent above last year's population. The long-anticipated season opens November 4 and runs through January 14, 1962, the longest state-wide pheasant hunt anywhere in the nation.

But the regal bird will not be hogging all of the limelight. Bobwhite quail stand ready in the wings to provide plenty of fast-moving action. The rebounding bobs are up 30 per cent over last year's state-wide population. The 44-day season also opens November 4.

Increased pheasant numbers are the result of good reproduction this spring. Rural mail-carrier counts showed the greatest bird increase in eastern Nebraska, with the mid-central and southwestern areas, two of the state's historically prime pheasant ranges, also reporting more birds.

Spring whistle counts of bobwhite breeders show that the birds are making a dramatic comeback after being clobbered by the severe 1959-60 winter. Reproduction last year combined with a mild winter provided a good number of breeders for 1961. Though the population is still below the record high of 1959, numbers are 19 per cent above the average of 1947 to 1960. Southeastern Nebraska is considered top bob country, but major increases have been reported in the northeast and north-central parts of the state and the Republican River drainage.

The state has again been divided into two zones for pheasants. Zone 1, with 4-bag, 16-possession limits, covers all but a relatively small area in the Sand Hills. This area, Zone 2, offers a 2 and 8 limit. Shooting hours are from sunrise to sunset.

Quail limits in the Southern Area are 8 and 16. The northern area offers a 6 bag, 12 possession. Shooting hours are from sunrise to sunset.

As in the past two issues, OUTDOOR Nebraska is featuring the latest where, when, how-to dope on this month's targets. Put the topper on this year's hunting by using this information as a guide to bringing home your share of pheasant and quail.

16 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   PHEASANT HOW, WHERE, WHEN TO

THERE'S NO MORE worthy adversary than the slam bang ringneck, the undisputed monarch of Nebraska's upland-game birds. And with numbers up 20 per cent this year, he's more than ready to take all that the thousands who go afield have to offer.

But no matter how many go after him, the pheasant always comes out the winner. State gunners bag only about 30 per cent of the cocks that are available each year. That's where know-how comes in. If we were on to the big bird's bag of tricks and knew his hangouts and how best to get shots at him, we would come a lot closer to getting our share of roosters. If we don't, nature will. There's a 70 per cent population turnover each year.

Pheasants range throughout the state, with prime areas in the east-central, mid-central, and southwestern regions. Reproduction has been especially good in eastern Nebraska. Gunners there should get plenty of top action this year. There was a major increase throughout that area. Bird numbers in the Sand Hills are about the same, and only the panhandle showed a decrease. But this doesn't mean there will be a lack of targets there.

Hunters should not run into the thick, almost jungle-like cover found in some areas at the opening of the 1960 season. This year's opening was held back in the hope that there will be a more complete crop harvest and a break up of family broods. This doesn't mean that the hunter won't have to work for birds. Field hunting has always proved more productive than driving in a car along the back roads.

The ringneck is a bird of habit. He roosts through the night in low vegetation such as stubble fields. Come morning, he moves out to feed on such delicacies as corn, milo, and weed seeds. As the day warms, the colorful cock looks for a spot where he can loaf and dust himself. Weed patches or dense growth in field crops are popular spots. His siesta over by late afternoon, the pheasant heads to the fields to fill his crop. Shortly before dark, he begins moving toward a roosting site.

Now that you have the ringneck's habits pretty well pegged, how do you go about getting him in front of the business end of your shotgun? There are a number of ways of bringing the wary bird to bag, the method you use depending on the cover and terrain you are hunting in, how many are in your party, and the time of year you go afield.

Gunners hunting in gangs of eight or more can really hit pay dirt using the driving method in corn, milo, and wheat fields. Most of the men spread out across the field with the balance of the party stationed at the end to block escape. Distance between each man depends on the denseness of the cover. Those on the ends of the line move slightly ahead NOVEMBER, 1961 17   of the rest of the group to make sure that cocks won't escape around the edges.

The KING and BOB continued

Many pheasants may be flushed as the drivers move up the field, offering plenty of shots. The blockers get their licks when the birds finally flush in front of them. Pheasants tend to wheel back over the drivers when they move down wind so be ready for them.

Smaller parties can depend on other things besides hunters to do their blocking. Open fields, ponds, or lakes work very well. The trick here is to drive the pheasants toward these spots. Pheasants have to flush, once they hit the water's edge or open field. Small pockets of cover also hold their share of ringnecks. Remember to work from cover toward the open area.

Swales, hedgerows, plum thickets, meadow edges, deserted farmyards, or abandoned buildings can prove productive in the afternoon. These are all good loafing sites. Toward evening, try the fields again.

Hunting methods change as the season progresses. The cagey roosters will be even more wary and flushing them will be a job. Take your time walking through cover areas, waiting for the nervous birds to flush. And if you flush a hen, search the surrounding cover. A rooster will more than likely be hiding nearby. Pheasants hate to move during light rains or after a light snowfall, and you should be able to get close enough for shots.

A good dog has always proved his worth as a pheasant getter. They'll spot birds in cover that you might otherwise miss. The type of breed isn't important. Just make sure that he works deliberately and doesn't flush birds out of range.

Most Nebraskans prefer No. 6 or 7% loads, although there are a few that like the killing power of No. 4. Shotguns, run the gamut of personal taste with the majority leaning toward the 12-gauge.

Shooting hours during the 72-day season are from sunrise to sunset. A 1962 hunting permit will be needed after December 31.

QUAIL HOW, WHERE, WHEN-TO

THOUGH NEBRASKA is on the edge of primary quail habitat, the explosive birds have provided top action here through the years for the relatively small number of gunners that take them on. Unfortunately, many uplanders have set their sights on bigger game and almost ignore the unpredictable bob. This is unfortunate for they are missing some of the finest upland action available in the state.

Nebraska boasts a good hunting population this year. With numbers up 30 per cent state-wide, there should be more than enough targets for those who work for their birds. Prime quail country is in southeastern Nebraska, but the birds are doing well in their woody hangouts in the northeast, north-central, Republican, and Platte river areas.

As with pheasants, you have to know the bobwhites' daily habits if you expect to get game. The covey prefers an open, short-grass area for roosting. At sunrise and about an hour thereafter, the bobs move out, generally on foot. Their route is not too far from some sort of escape cover such as bushes or vine tangles. Sunflowers and other weedy areas as well as grain fields all provide food.

About midday when their craws are full, the bobs work their way to loafing cover. Hedgerows, plum 18 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   thickets, or large weed stands all provide security. They'll loaf and dust themselves till late afternoon, move back to their feeding stations for another meal, and then head for roosting cover.

Weather and season of the year will effect the covey's daily routine. During cold days, quail usually stay on the roost longer and return to it earlier. They may go so far as to feed only once and pass up the loafing bit entirely. Dense cover will be used more as winter approaches. Then heavy grass, weed cover, vine tangles, and brier patches are all favorite haunts.

A veteran bob hunter feels only half prepared if he goes afield without a dog. It's easy to see why, once you've tried flushing birds from the dense cover. Most prefer a brace of dogs—a covey dog, usually a pointer to range far out, and a setter to work close in to latch onto singles. This doesn't mean that those without dogs won't find birds. It's just that the dogs make the hunt easier.

You'll have your hands full when you hit birds. Bobs will explode in your face and you might end up with nothing more than a bunch of empty shells when the action is over. If you're not sure of your shooting skill, work out on the blue rocks a couple of times before you go afield. These bombshells will give even the handiest veterans fits.

Everyone has his favorite gun. When hunting quail, make sure that you can handle yours easily and quickly. Use an open barrel and loads that will provide a dense pattern at ranges within 30 yards. No. 8 or 9 shot are standard for bobwhite.

Shooting hours during the 44-day season are from sunrise to sunset.

NOVEMBER, 1961 19

The KING and BOB continued

PREPARING EITHER pheasant or quail is different from cooking barnyard fowl. Both birds are deficient in body fat. Older pheasants can be tough and their legs sinewy. Even young birds build up tremendous muscles in their legs because of the amount of running that they do in the field.

You can usually identify an older cock by the size of his spurs. Those of most young-of-the-year birds are less than three-fourths of an inch long. Adult spurs may be more than an inch long.

Pheasants should be drawn and cooled in the field to assure top taste. If you prefer the skin left on, pluck your birds as soon as possible. Quill feathers stiffen into the skin when the pheasants are cooled.

Many prefer to skin their birds since skinning does not impair the flavor seriously. You start by removing the wings close to the body and the legs at the first joint above the foot. Slit the skin just under the tail, skin back over the legs and up the body toward the neck. Then break the breast away from the back. The entrails will come with the back. Before freezing, wrap the birds in tightly sealed refrigerator paper. This helps stop dehydration of a meat that tends to be a little dry anyway.

Quail have a delicate flavor when the birds are cared for properly. Most insist that hunters should pick their birds, never scalding or skinning them. Entrails are left in the quail until after plucking. This means the birds must be dressed the same day they are bagged. Following this procedure will keep the wild flavor at a minimum.

Recipes Roast Pheasant

Sprinkle inside and out with salt and pepper. Place 1 bay leaf, 1 clove of crushed garlic, celery leaves, and lemon slice in body cavity. Tie legs and turn wings under. Cover breast with 4 strips of bacon and put in pan, breast side up. Pour 1 cup chicken broth over bird and cook in 350° F. oven, 30 minutes per pound. Baste frequently.

Braised Pheasant

Fill cavity with chopped celery, onion slices, thin slices of tart apple, and ground cooked pheasant liver. Lace openings tightly and place in hot butter in deep skillet until browned on all sides. Pour 2 ounces warm brandy over birds and blaze. Remove and place in casserole. Pour into skillet Vz cup chicken stock and 1 cup white sauce. Simmer and pour over the bird in casserole. Cook in hot oven 30 to 40 minutes. Before serving add 1 cup hot heavy cream to the juices. Remove bird to platter and pour sauce over the breast.

Pheasant Pot Pie

Simmer 2 or more pheasants in slightly salted water to which has been added carrots, onion, bay leaf, and peppercorns. Cook until tender. Remove the meat from bones and place in chunks in well-buttered casserole. Pour in 1 cup canned peas mixed with white sauce. Now cover the top of the casserole with biscuits and cook in a 475° F. oven for 12 to 15 minutes until biscuits are browned.

Fried Pheasant

Let legs, wings, and breast soak in cold salt-water brine for several hours. Remove, wipe dry, and dip in slightly beaten eggs. Roll in flour seasoned with salt and pepper and fry in hot fat until well browned. Lower temperature and cook covered for about 40 minutes.

Broiled Pheasant

Use only young birds, cooking breast, legs, and thighs. Skewer legs to straighten. Fasten strips of salt pork over the breasts. Season and broil over steady bed of coals or under oven broiler. Baste often with drippings or vegetable oil.

Quail In Wine

Rub 6 quail with salt and pepper. Brown lightly in melted butter and place in buttered casserole. Put 1 diced carrot, 1 small chopped onion, 2 tablespoons chopped green pepper, V2 cup chopped mushrooms, and 3 small slices blanched orange peel in skillet where quail were browned and cook slowly for 5 minutes. Stir in 1 tablespoon flour and 1 cup chicken stock. Stir until thick. Season and simmer 10 minutes.

While the sauce is cooking pour V2 cup white wine over quail and place casserole in oven for 10 minutes. Remove, pour sauce over birds, cover casserole, and cook for 10 minutes.

Fried Quail

Dust birds in flour and fry in butter in the same manner as you would chicken, using a heavy frying pan. Fry for 15 minutes, then turn the birds and cover with heavy lid. Lower heat. After another 15 minutes of moderate frying, turn birds again and lower heat to simmer. Drippings can be used for gravy.

Roast Quail

Allow 1 quail for each serving. Place 1 tablespoon of butter in each cavity and lay strips of bacon across the breast of each bird. Roast in hot oven 20 to 25 minutes. Baste with fat from pan and additional butter. Remove bacon and finish browning and serve.

Broiled Quail on Toast

Halve birds and place on well-greased broiler. When brown, dust with salt and pepper and brush with vegetable or liquid shortening. Serve on toast.

20 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA

Case of the FOULED-UP GUN

Exhibit A is weapon. Hunter is defendant NOVEMBER, 1961

NEBRASKA'S OTHER WORLD

(continued from page 11)

Constance Sandoz, and Bud Beguin let our large caravan of Nebraska fossil explorers cross their country when they might have been justly worried about their horses and cattle. Their main concern was for us. In this country the rattlesnake is still a big shot, and a sudden thunderstorm will muck your car up to its axles in mud.

I've always had the idea that our cattlemen are some of the leanest, most rugged folk west of the toe slopes of the divide. I still believe it, but I met a Harvard professor on the trip and for all the cattle in Cherry County, he could have been one of our most weather-sculptured natives. Dr. Bryan Patterson of Harvard University is one of the top authorities on vertebrate paleontology. But one look at his face, mellow as an almond and spider-webbed with lines and cracks, convinces you that he has spent a good part of his life under a western sky. It must have amazed a number of people when he opened his mouth and it came out Harvard all over.

Those who made the trip weren't all professionals. At least 10 small children made the trip. One mother was putting diapers on a baby girl and there were a few 70-year olds. Dr. and Mrs. E. L. MacQuiddy of Omaha, a retired physican and his wife, considered the trip a vacation. They've been amateur paleontologists for 25 years.

The fourth day of the expedition was spent in the Scottsbluff area and in the Wildcat Hills. This is Nebraska's high country, of significance to the scientists because of more formations of the Miocene age that outcrop here. Imbedded in the massive structures along the complex are the bones of two-horned rhinos, gazelle camels, early dogs, and more of the giant hogs.

For the sight-seer, there is Redington and Birdcage Gap, Funnel Rock, and Chimney Rock. History abounds here and it is here where you get a good idea of the geologic structure of the state. You can see layer after layer of sediments, wind-blown and water-borne, built up through the ages and then cut away by the elements. Now and then someone on the trip would point out a vein of ash. They told of the great volcanic explosions thousands of miles away that must have filled the air with the white stuff that fell like snow from a December sky.

On the fifth and final day of the field conference, the caravan headed east through the Platte and then south to the Republican Valley to the Medicine Creek Dam area. Here there is evidence of early Nebraskans, a group of paleo-Indian hunters that carried on a little industry. Those Indians—and they may well have been the very first men in Nebraska—were manufacturing tools from the brittle jasper, and perhaps making paint from ochre imbedded in outcrops about 9,500 years ago. The vertebrate paleontologist is interested in the earliest man, for he is associated with animals now extinct.

The expedition was over. I, a public relations man at the university, had learned a lot. And I was sure that even the authorities gleaned new information from the trek. All were impressed. Typical of statements was that of Dr. E. Raymond Hall, director of the University of Kansas Museum of Natural History:

"The University of Nebraska Museum is becoming an international repository for the Pleistocene fossils because of the abundance of material and because of the field work of the University Museum staff."

The work that has been done here in the past 100 years will stand as testimony of their years of labor, patience, and study in the University Museum and the Trailside Museum at Fort Robinson.

Nebraskans can be proud of their two pre-historic museums and the work that continues to make them even better. Dr. Schultz put it this way:

"Not only are they outstanding tourist attractions, but they are important repositories where the nation's future scientists may come to study and observe. They have become the heritage of all our state's people."

I don't mind saying that as the trip ended, I was a little awed. Nebraska is a veritable wonderland of history and the farther back you go, the more exciting it gets.

THE END 22 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA

OUTDOOR ELSEWHERE

Smarter Than the Average Fox

SASKATCHEWAN . . . Golfers in Saskatchewan's Prince Albert National Park have been calling a certain red fox a few more adjectives than just quick and sly. This one has developed a peculiar hobby of collecting golf balls. One golfer was making his trip around the links, when the fox showed up in full view and raced off with the ball. He came back again and took the golfer's partner's ball. Later, a golf course official reported a lair had been uncovered and some 200 balls found.

New York Has It

NEW YORK . . . Anyone looking for a slightly-used grand piano or a dead giraffe might do well to look through the junk at the bottom of New York harbor. These are only a few of the many items that have been removed from the harbor with the 30 million cubic yards of trash that litterbugs dump there yearly.

Unlucky Four-Leaf Clover

PENNSYLVANIA . . . The next time you find a four-leaf clover, don't start counting on your good fortune. A Pennsylvania woodchuck has proved shamrocks don't necessarily bring good luck. While enjoying a meal in a clover field, the chuck was spotted by a deputy game protector. The deputy hastily disposed of the hapless woodchuck. When the dead chuck was picked up, there was the lucky piece still hanging from his mouth.

Costly Boarding Bill

ARKANSAS . . . How much is a one-pound smallmouth bass worth in meat and sport? The Arkansas department is beginning to wonder. They found that each smallmouth raised to one-pound size runs up a boarding bill of $10 during his stay at the hatchery. But this isn't all. Only 50 per cent survival can be expected of hatchery-reared stock. Technicians see little value in smallmouth stocking unless it's on a put-and-take basis. Even this would be expensive at $10 per fish.

Calling Sherlock Holmes

MANITOBA ... A new duck-banding mystery involves a female blue-winged teal and would seem to be a case worthy of Sherlock Holmes. Apparently the bird was "caught" last spring in Manitoba. The duck had but one wing, but there was no hint as to how the missing wing became separated from the teal. The band on the bird revealed that it had been banded in 1958 near Rapid City. Assuming that the duck had one wing shot off last fall in Manitoba, where did it spend the winter? Similarly, if the wing had been shot off in the U.S., how did the bird get back to Canada this spring?

Trashy Haul

MISSOURI . . . The year's strangest float trip on the Current River produced a total catch of more than 3,000 tin cans and other trash, including 10 old auto tires.

Young members of the Ozark Wilderness Waterways Club, an organization of Missouri canoeing enthusiasts, collected the litter in its second annual cleanup of the state's most popular float-fishing stream. The 14 youngsters received prizes of 25 cents for each sack of rubbish collected and bonuses of 25 cents for each tire. A total of 20 canoes made the trip.

Nervy Deer Chance Slide

PENNSYLVANIA . . . This wildlife drama will interest outdoorsmen who "pull" for the underdog: Late last winter two deer being chased by dogs on the ice above Holtwood Dam decided to gamble if they were to escape their tormentors. They took off down the steeply sloping ice formed on the overflow of the 60-foot dam, and bounded away from the apparently suicidal act. The dogs afraid to take the risk of going over the dam, lost out.

Expensive Taste

IOWA . . . The beaver, as most anyone will agree, is an engineering genius. A lady from near McCausland on the lower Wapsi River in eastern Iowa reports that beaver use their skill for other than dam building.

It seems the beaver developed a taste for the pears that fell from her tree. One evening a big beaver sniffed around for fallen fruit. Finding none, he turned his attention to the pears in the tree. After a quick survey he solved the problem in typical beaver fashion by gnawing around the trunk until the laden tree crashed to the ground. Ten bushels of pears were strewn across the lawn and in no time the yard was alive with other beavers.

NOVEMBER, 1961 23

SCUBA IN NEBRASKA

(continued from page 7)

form a circle around you. They seem to be holding court to determine whether you should be accepted as one of them.

Only sudden movement or the bubbles from the air tank seem to bother the fish. When we want to take a close look, we take a big gulp of air and hold our breath.

I followed this procedure recently when I came upon a pair of spawning bullheads in a sand-pit lake. Over a period of several weeks, I watched the eggs develop to small fry and leave the nest. Throughout the hatching period the male and female stood guard, constantly fanning the nest. Once I reached out to touch one of them and it darted out and struck at my finger to keep me away from the spawn.

While diving in a pit south of Central City one afternoon, we came upon a tree that had been in the water for some time. Laying in the branches were six or seven largemouths. All were in the four to five-pound class. If I hadn't known better, I would have thought they were birds sitting in a tree.

The best time to see fish is at night when they are moving about feeding. My first try at diving in the dark was unnerving at first. The water is pitch black and only your torch breaks the darkness that surrounds you. The blackness combined with weightlessness gives you the momentary feeling of being trapped in an eerie, endless void.

Scuba diving is not dangerous. It's like any other sport, you just have to know the techniques and appreciate the limits of you and your equipment. Diving requires only three things, a basic knowledge of swimming, good health, and common sense. My three children have all tried diving. Terrylene, 10, and Danny, 6, take to the water like veterans. Christie, 9, wants no part of it. I wouldn't recommend diving for children unless their parents are accomplished divers and stick with them every minute.

Swimming ability is needed only if the diver gets in trouble on the bottom and must swim to the top without his gear. You do very little swimming while in a scuba outfit. Weights are needed to counter-balance the lifting force of your body and oxygen tank. The result is that you become completely weightless and only an occasional kick of your finclad feet is needed to move about.

The scuba diver won't win any beauty contests with his big, awkward-looking suit and air tank. Admittedly, the outfit is a little cumbersome on land, but once you're in the water, there's no weight at all. A diver can get along without the rubber "wet" or "dry" suits in Nebraska waters during the summer months if he sticks to smaller lakes and sand pits. But if he wants to explore deep water like Mac and enjoy diving from mid May till the lakes freeze over, he'll want a suit.

Many people are surprised to hear that we prefer wet suits. They think that since it's rubber, the suit is waterproof. It isn't. But the water that gets in forms a layer of insulation between you, the suit, and the water.

Though skin diving is relatively new here, several clubs are now active. We in Grand Island, recently organized a group, and there are clubs at Norfolk, Hastings, and Omaha. Since our club was organized, I have taught a class of 12 at the local Y.M.C.A. pool. I hope to have another class this year.

Join us in the other world of underwater Nebraska. The water's fine and the fish are friendly. It's a skin diver's paradise.

THE END

BEST IN THE WEST

(continued from page 9)

plying the more shallow upper end of big Lake McConaughy. Other game fish that provide plenty of action on the big water include perch, bluegills, bullheads, yellow cat, fresh-water drum, carp, and buffalo.

The hard-water enthusiasts take over Mac in the winter. Admittedly, the angler will have to spend a little more time digging holes to locate fish since the lake is so large. But once he finds a hot spot, he's in for plenty of action. Perch are the primary target with northerns and walleyes providing additional thrills. A minnow on the end of a bobber produces the best results.

Up until last season, the state's record yellow perch was a McConaughy specimen. Tipping the scales at 1 pound, 10 ounces, it was the proud prize of Ethel Engle of North Platte. The new state record is only 2-ounces heavier.

The Game Commission introduced kokanee salmon from 1958 through 1960, but to date their fate is 24 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   unkown. The first introduction should spawn this year if the original plant was successful. A similar program involving the striped bass has been initiated. Ten spawning-sized stripers were released last year. Early this fall some 351 in the four-inch class were planted. It's too early to draw any conclusions about either kokanee or the striped bass, but with the uncanny fertility of the lake, they may one day enjoy the same degree of success as the smallmouth and white bass.

Records and full creels of top game fish, that has been Mac's story from the start. Few if any lakes of its size can match its solid performance over the years. Other big reservoirs hit their peak, then begin to decline as fish producers. McConaughy, on the other hand, peaked according to schedule in the early 1950's, then leveled off to a fish-producing capability that amazes even the experts.

Why has the big reservoir continued to support such a tremendous variety and size of prized fighters? Having smallmouths, walleyes, northerns, white bass, catfish, trout, and all of the other species doing so well in the same waters demands just about perfect conditions.

Fishery technicians point to Mac's physical characteristics and the use of the water as the reasons for its success story. The mineral content or hardness of the water is a most important asset. Varying between 120 and 140 parts-per-million places the water within the optimum range needed for maximum biological production.

Crystal-clear waters indicate a lack of turbidity of suspended materials that will allow a deeper penetration of life-sustaining sunlight. In the early spring and early summer the underwater visibility is between 15 and 30 feet. Later the distance is reduced to 6 or 8 feet by the build-up of microscopic food organisms. These ideal water conditions produce an abundant supply of food that is passed through the food chain to the game fish.

Fluctuation of the lake's water level is also an important factor. Removal of irrigation water starts in June after most game fish have completed their annual spawn. Non-game and rough fish spawning in late June and July is somewhat limited because the lake level decreases, leaving spawning areas exposed.

The variety of spawning sites to meet the needs of different game fish also adds to the diversity of McConaughy. Rocky edges near the dam along the south shore fill the needs of smallmouth and walleyes. The reliable waters of the North Platte also provide white bass with moving-water spawning sites just above the lake.

The role of the big river in connection with trout spawning could develop into the most impressive aspect of the big lake's future. The reliable waters provide trout with a migration route to their gravel-bottomed spawning areas far upstream. In the winter these big rainbows may travel more than 100 miles up the Platte to Nine Mile, Spottedtail, and Winter creeks to drop their eggs.

McConaughy has been blessed with a diverse and productive fishery that is unparalleled in the waters of Nebraska and surrounding states. The lake's potential could support an indefinite amount of angling pressure. It is virtually a sleeping giant, waiting to take all that the anglers have to offer.

THE END

SPEAK UP

Send your questions to "Speak Up", OUTDOOR NEBRASKA, State Capitol, Lincoln 9, Nebr. Who Gets the Gun?

"When arresting a game-law violator, does a conservation officer have the power to physically take the hunter's gun, or can a person refuse to surrender his firearm? I have heard of some hunters that have refused to surrender their guns because they did not want to lose them through confiscation by the court."—Herb Simpson, Milford.

Section 37-610 of the Nebraska Game Laws states that all guns, while being used illegally, shall be seized upon the arrest of the persons so using them. The law, however, was amended during the last session of the legislature. It formerly stated that upon conviction of a person for a game law violation his gun could be forfeited to the state at the discretion of the court. It now reads that all legal guns used illegally shall be seized upon arrest but returned following disposition of the case. If a person refuses to surrender his gun to the arresting officer, he stands the chance of also being charged with resisting arrest.—Editor.

Carp Recipes

"I was just reviewing some past copies of OUTDOOR NEBRASKA and noticed a request for some fish recipes in the April issue. Although it is rather late here are two favorites of mine.

"For carp stew, the ingredients are 4 pounds of filleted carp, V4 pound bacon, J/4 cup chopped onion, 1 cup tomatoes, \'± teaspoon salt, and lA teaspoon sugar. Fry the bacon in a dutch oven or small kettle until crisp. Then add other ingredients and simmer for 45 minutes. Serve with crisp corn bread and buckwheat honey for a real treat.

"Carp chowder hits the spot on a cool day. Cut 2 pounds of carp into fillets, add chopped onions to taste, 2 stalks chopped celery, a dash of thyme, and salt and pepper. Simmer slowly for 30 minutes, then thicken with a roux of V4 cup butter and V4 cup flour. Serve with crisp crackers." — Martin Kreifels, Lincoln.

OUTDOOR NEBRASKA is still accepting recipes.—Editor.

NOVEMBER, 1961 25

notes on Nebraska fauna...

POCKET GOPHER

MAKING A RARE visit to the ground's surface, nature's master miner, with first one forefoot, then the other, alternately packs lunch into two unique pockets in his cheeks. Then, rapidly stuffing more food in his mouth, he swiftly retreats into an underground home of dark tunnels and caverns.

The pocket gopher gets his scientific name, Geomys bursarius, from his two fur-lined food pockets and amazing earth-moving ability. His is a family of interesting but unfriendly personalities which spend the greater part of their lives in the earth.

Leading a hermit's life, the furry burrower is at home in a maze of corridors below the ground. His sensitive facial whiskers help guide the brownish-tan, mouse-like animal forward through the tunnel. A short, nearly naked tail performs the same service when the gopher backs up.

The pocket gopher usually feeds at night. Foods such as grasses, clipped roots, and leaves are crammed into the pockets which open at slits under the mouth. To empty the pocket for a meal, the animal places the two front feet in back of the pockets and with a forward motion, presses the contents out onto the ground. When emptied, the pockets can be turned inside out for cleaning.

Only at mating season in the spring does the pocket gopher venture abroad. Once mating is over, he leaves the female to fend for herself. She is no more sociable. When the young are weaned at six weeks, she goes her way and they theirs. The female brings off only one litter of one to seven young. The tiny gophers are blind at birth. At five weeks, their 26 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   eyes, ears, and pouches open and the all-important incisor teeth can be seen.

Conservationist or farm pest this master miner leads a hermit's life in dark corridors under the ground by Helen Hannon

Born pink skinned, the two-inch-long youngsters tend to be grayer than the adults and their hair is longer, softer, and more crinkled. Adults range from light to dark brown or blackish, but albinos are more common than the totally black variety. New coats are acquired once a year.

Nature's adjustment to underground living is best shown in the female gopher. On the female, the pelvic girdle, which permits easy turning in the close confinement of the tunnel, is not large enough for the young to pass during birth. At the approach of the first breeding season, the under part of the girdle begins to be reabsorbed. This continues during pregnancy so that before the birth the girdle is gone.

Native to North America, the small earth mover is found from south Canada to Panama and from the Pacific coast to the southeastern states. Between 6x/2 and 13 inches long, the gopher is characterized by his thickset body with a visible absence of a neck. Big claws protrude from the feet and are used to scratch the soil. His short front legs are equipped with hairs that act as brushes. The gopher's two long, sharp incisor teeth, used like a pick-like mattocks, can master the toughest soil. Because the teeth are fitted in front of the furry lips, the gopher can dig the soil without getting dirt in his mouth. Beady eyes have a short range of vision, and the ears are equipped with valves which close to exclude dirt.

Though seldom seen, the digger is carefully groomed. He frequently shakes soil particles from the fur and cleans dirt from his paws with his big teeth.

A gopher digs most energetically at night, early in the morning, and late in the evening. Rarely resting, the ambitious rodent can tunnel 200 or 300 feet in a single night.

At midday he'll occasionally open the hole of a corridor to let in sunshine and fresh air. The welcome mat, however, is never out. Rushing up from his subterranean hole, the gopher can quickly tamp the door shut with his nose. This proves perplexing to such natural enemies as snakes, badgers, weasels, foxes, skunks, and domestic cats.

If the area is free of enemies, the gopher may come out briefly on a cloudy day. But if his adversaries bother him too much by trying to dig open his door, the gopher finds another home.

Living mostly on the open plains area, the burrowing rodent is an extensive home builder. Sometimes the tunnel system of one gopher may cover an acre or more of land. Usually the main tunnel is six to nine inches below the soil's surface and may be 500 feet or more in length. Numerous mounds of dirt are signs that a gopher is carrying on digging operations below.

Food is stored in some branches of the system. One artery leads to the nest chamber. The 6 to 10-inch circle is made of fine grass, down feathers from chickens, and other soft material.

With his built-in digging equipment, the pocket gopher digs and then pushes the dirt to the surface through a side tunnel. Individual loads are pushed out to the front, right, and left of the opening, making the characteristic fan-shaped mound.

In digging, the strong, sharp claws of the front feet are used to scrape the soil until it is finely crumbled. The animal pushes this soil under his belly. Periodically the hind feet are used together to kick the loosened dirt behind. When a pile of dirt has accumulated, the gopher turns around, lowering his head between his hind legs and twisting his body. The load is kept ahead of the gopher by the front feet, which are held against the sides of the face. The hind legs push the animal and the dirt forward a few inches at a time. When ready to seal his tunnel, the gopher tamps the dirt with his nose. He holds the soil in place until the earth's moisture acts as a sealing agent.

Pocket gophers become garden-farm pests when too many are concentrated together. Alone or in limited numbers, the animal is an ardent conservationist and an aid to the farmer. He performs the duties of a giant earthworm by turning soil into humus. His underground food supply adds nutrients to the soil. Arteries provide channels for water to reach subsurface soil. When numerous, gophers have been known to completely turn over the surface of the ground every two years. Sometimes the animals abandon an area six or eight years, then return.

At times, though, the pocket gopher's tunnels become a flood menace, undermining earthen dams and disrupting farm operations. At that time, the conservationist becomes an enemy.

THE END NOVEMBER, 1961 27

DOUBLE-BARRELED THRILL

There's nothing like Nebraska When they're cackling in the corn; And you're out there after pheasant— When a new fall day is born. When you're walking over the hilltops And wading through the slough— Oh, the thrills that come across you When you're getting up a few. Boomin' out of thistles And an old fence row or two— No fellow in Nebraska Has a right to feel blue. Take along a good retriever Or a Wiemeraner pup; Watch him quiver with excitement When he knows one's going up. Take that technicolor beauty From his mouth, and pat his head, There's no reward that's greater Than when he knows he's earned his bed. Savor all outdoor Nebraska For a double-barreled thrill With your game and dog beside you As you head home over the hill. —SID TINGLE