How to BUY A BOAT

Climb aboard. There s a rig for every water, a water for every rig in Nebraska by J. Greg Smith

IF YOU'RE READY to make the big switch from landlubber to inland salt, this is the year to do it. For no matter what your pleasure, there's a boat just right for you.

As a potential recruit to Nebraska's blossoming navy of pleasure craft, you can select from an estimated 10,000 different types of boats, each boasting its own special brand of design, material, and construction. It adds up to the greatest assortment of models in the history of the industry. This can be confusing to neophytes at the MARCH, 1962 3   game. And if this tremendous assortment isn't enough, you've got to consider Nebraska's unique collection of waters. They vary from the huge miles-long impoundments to the smaller Sand Hills lakes; from the swift, narrow streams like the Snake to the mile-wide, foot-deep Platte.

how to BUY a BOAT continued

But don't let this superficial confusion keep you from getting your feet wet. There's an easy way to zero in on the craft to fit your needs and pocketbook. Before running to the nearest dealer with bank roll in hand, determine what your boating needs will be, where you'll use the boat, how often you'll use it, and how much money you want to spend.

Probably the most important point to remember when buying a boat is to get a big outfit for big waters, a small one for small waters. Reverse this and you're inviting trouble. You wouldn't want to take the chance of being swamped in a canoe in the middle of Harlan County Reservoir. Nor would you get much kick out of making tight circles with a cabin cruiser in a farm pond. There's a boat for every water, a water for every boat.

If fishing is your forte, you'll probably lean to the smaller utility craft. One of the new broader-beamed 14-footers with a 7% to 15-horsepower kicker will get you to most hot spots. This is an economical outfit, with most offerings in the $300 price bracket, including a car-top carrier. With such a rig, you can drive to almost any water in the state. And once there, you'll have enough horsepower to work small lakes and the shore lines of the bigger reservoirs.

Smart anglers prefer a broad-beamed boat with some depth to it. The wider beam not only allows more working space, but also makes for a more stable and therefore safer craft. Manufacturers who have 4 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   previously kept fishing rigs in the utility class are now including features for more comfortable boating. Accessories have also been developed to aid the angler. One innovation is a foot pedal steering attachment that frees the angler's hands for fishing.

Engines in the smaller horsepower class are usually a must for the fisherman because of trolling. If you choose a runabout but want to use it for fishing, you might consider getting a smaller motor to go along with the big kicker. Transoms are generally large enough to take care of the two motors without effecting balance or safety factors. Or, as another possibility, you could buy two 25-horsepower outfits in the place of one 50.

When considering a craft for fishing, don't forget the canoe, skiff, pram, and the variety of other small craft. Canoes, for example, would be dandy on a river like the Snake. It's great for exploring. And there isn't a small stream in the state that doesn't boast its share of utility craft. Most of these, of course, could be outfitted with a small motor when you get tired of rowing.

There are plenty of innovations in this year's line of small craft. One dealer features a paddle pumper for locomotion, and another has a rig attached to the stern that can be worked with one hand to propel the boat. There are plenty of collapsible outfits, too, varying from no more than a glorified inner tube to a fancy 14-footer.

Runabouts are by far the most popular boat for those looking for all-around sport. The trend this year is for bigger boats and bigger motors. Don't make the mistake of putting too big a motor on too small a boat. Follow the manufacturer's recommended size or your prized motor and maybe you could end up at the bottom of the drink. Or you might be fortunate to get by with no more than a battered transom. Kickers in the 40 to 60-pound class continue to be the most popular with the average Joe's.

More outboarders are looking for that extra foot or so in the over-all length of their boats. The 15-footer seems to have taken the place of the 14-footer, offering a lot more boat than the difference in length would indicate. There's greater comfort, safety, and usually better performance when you step up in size.

Comfort and convenience innovations have got a lot of attention this year. Today's deeper, beamier designs offer more space for both action and relaxing. Ways to make your boat safer have also been MARCH, 1962 5   included. Many outfits have so been filled with a plastic foam material that the boats are virtually unsinkable.

how to BUY A BOAT continued

Though getting into the runabout class is a big step up from the utility-type smaller craft, you won't have to mortgage the old homestead. An investment of $1,500 or so will outfit you with a 15-foot boat, a 40-horsepower outboard with gas tank, and a 1,100-pound-capacity trailer. Within this price, you can usually get needed lights, forward steering control, life jackets, and other basic items.

The water world is your oyster when you get a runabout. Nebraska's biggest reservoirs stand ready for exploring, and there are plenty of good-size lakes that will provide you with a lot of fun. You won't be limited to just one water. With your trailer you can head out across the state, taking on each of the big waters as you come to them.

Incidentally, when considering a trailer, don't limit its size to the weight of the boat and motor. Get one with at least 300 pounds additional capacity to take care of the skis and other gear that you'll stow there when travelling. An overloaded trailer invites blowouts, a good way to wreck your new boat.

Like boats, trailers come in a large variety of shapes and sizes. Too, each has its own special innovations to assure ease in loading and unloading. A couple of points to consider is whether the outfit has an extending trailer boom and either a powered or hand-cranked winch. Both of these items will make the chore of getting in and out of the water a lot easier.

You'll be moving into the upper bracket of boatdom when you get out of the runabout class and start looking at the flashy cruisers. The thickness of your wallet will pretty much determine how large a craft you can go to. Before taking the big plunge, however, determine how much trailering you'll have to do to get to the big waters, where you'll store the boat, and how much service you can get out of the investment.

Nebraska's big reservoirs are ideally suited for these large rigs. McConaughy, Harlan, and some of the other impoundments on the Platte and Republican offer great cruising opportunities. And don't overlook the sport offered at giant Lewis and Clark Lake and the Missouri River proper. If you're near these waters, trailering will be no problem. If you have some distance to go, you'd better look over the offerings with an eye to ease of handling and hauling.

Some eastern Nebraskans have whipped the problem by simply renting out dock space at a reservoir like Harlan. Every weekend through the season, they drive down to the area without the worry of lugging the boat behind, or the work of unloading once there. Cruisers outfitted with outboard motors offer no special trailering problems.

Inboard power has always been popular with these bigger jobs. It gives you plenty of power over a longer haul. Actually, the inboard's the only thing when you get up in the truly big boats. Maximum horsepower in outboards this year is 100.

The inboard, of course, presents its share of problems. It costs more, is difficult to trailer, and doesn't respond to steering as quickly as the outboard. Several manufacturers have an inboard-outboard combination, believing it offers the best advantages of both power systems. Shallow waters and small 6 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   obstacles, once the bain of every inboarder, are taken in stride by the combination since the flexible portion functions like an outboard.

Stepping up to the cabin-cruiser class really opens the door to outdoor fun. The entire family can enjoy each outing. The big craft offer new horizons in overnight camping, skiing, swimming, and all the rest. Size, of course, will determine how extensive your operations will be.

Don't overlook the possibility of getting into a houseboat if you have the means to buy a cruiser. These vacation homes on water are ideal on the big lakes and rivers. You won',t have the speed of a cruiser, of course, but you'll have more than enough living space to enjoy the outdoors. The houseboat can take the place of both boat and summer cabin, spreading out the cost of the original investment.

Price has probably been the main factor for few houseboats seen on Nebraska water. Lewis and Clark Lake has its enthusiasts, however, and it's expected that other waters will also be sporting their share of these big craft. Houseboats with built-in wheels are being offered by several manufacturers, making the hauling problem no more than that of pulling a typical house trailer.

If you can't afford a houseboat, but like the idea of this kind of comfortable boating, a much-less expensive pontoon craft might be the rig for you. These can be no more than a couple of pontoons with a floor mounted on them, or go on up in decor with cabin, diving board, and all the rest. These rigs are ideal for the do-it-yourselfer, with a minimum investment in necessary material. Motors to propel these boats run in the 25 to 50-horsepower class, the size of motor depending on the size of the craft.

Nebraskans should not overlook the opportunities offered by the air boat. This strange looking craft opens up new boating vistas that otherwise would not be available since it takes to the most shallow waters. The Platte is ideal for airboating. Other waters with the same shallow characteristics would serve just as well. The cost of commercially-made rigs is in the runabout range. This can be lowered by the do-it-yourselfer.

Sailboating is uncommon here, although there are a number of waters that could handle the wind-powered craft. Lewis and Clark Lake is usually spotted with the graceful white-topped sailboats, with sizes running in two-place outfits. Price on these will be determined by size and accessories.

Once you've decided on the right boat for you, make sure that you get all the safety accessories required by law. Your dealer will advise you of the items needed as well as procedure in registering your craft. If you follow the letter of the boating laws, you'll be sure of countless safe and enjoyable days on the water.

Air boat or houseboat, runabout or cabin cruiser, canoe or utility craft, there's a boat to fit your needs. And you can be sure that there's more than enough water in a variety of shapes and sizes. And there's more on the way. Nebraska's truly a boater's playground. Outfit yourself with the rig that will open up this new world of sport to you.

THE END MARCH, 1962 7

BUTTE COUNTRY BUCK

by Neale Copple I was the victim of the iron maiden, a rank amateur trying hunting s big time Dear Boss:

I know you're about as mad as a setter with a burr in his sitter, but let's get one thing straight right off the bat.

This isn't an apology. It's an explanation—no more, no less.

It started even before I left on this doggoned assignment. It started, in fact, while I loaded all that junk into an old army barracks bag. No question about it. Before I'd even gotten into Ran Horsley's car for my first deer-hunting trip, I was belt-high in buck fever. At least, it felt like the knot in my middle was situated about there. I kept telling myself it was all in my head.

"This," I said, "is just another hunting trip and another assignment. I shoot a deer, I take some pictures, and I write a story. Nothing to it."

But that knot got tighter and my 30-06 looked like the Cape Canaveral launching pad by the time Ran picked me up that November morning. Now, the guys I went with, Glen Henderson and Ran, both of Lincoln, are solid citizens. And both of them have shot a good many deer. I didn't figure they would be too sympathetic if they found out I was already running a fever, so I offered to drive the 400-plus miles from Lincoln to Crawford in Nebraska's Pine Ridge country.

"What are you going to do with all this junk?" Glen asked, pointing to my camera bag, barracks bag, and guns. "You've got enough stuff to outfit an army."

"Going to shoot a deer, shoot a picture, and write a story," I told him.

"Sure vou'll know which to shoot first, the camera or the gun?" Ran asked as he stretched his medium-size lean frame and scratched his bald spot.

"Don't worry about me, buddy," I told them. "I've shot lots of pictures."

"That isn't what he meant," said Glen.

They laughed, kindly like, I'll have to admit, but from then on the words 'buck fever" kept creeping into their conversation. Every time it did, that iron maiden tightened up another turn. But I did note one comforting thing. Buck fever apparently isn't confined to beginners.

My friends were just as busy as I counting the deer out on the car tops and the hunters in the cars to see how many were "filling". Until we reached the hunting area those guys ran hot and cold faster than a faulty shower in an apartment house on Saturday night. They ran hot when they saw a car with three deer on top and three guys inside. They ran colder than Hell, Norway, when they thought 8 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   they saw a car full of what they thought were hunters on the inside and no deer on the outside.

Just how they could tell which were hunters and which were not, I don't know. But I'm willing to bet if we'd met a baseball team traveling by car, it would have made straight jacket cases out of them. Me? I just drove.

We pulled into Crawford about 4:00 p.m. The deer season was in full swing. No matter where you were, deer hunting was the subject of conversation.

We looked up C. J. Guggenmaus and Jessie Drink-water, a couple of young ranchers who take time during the season to try to put us city fellows next to a deer for $10 a head.

"They're here," said C. J., "and we'll find them. Meet us at the cafe at 5:00 tomorrow morning and wear something you can walk in."

"Gents," I said to friends Henderson and Horsley, "this doesn't sound very easy to me."

"Don't worry," he said. "Frankly, it's a lot like shooting a cow."

We all crawled into the sack early. But sleep didn't come so easily for me. I lay there in the dark, staring up at the ceiling. I couldn't forget the way they had said, "It's like shooting a cow."

I knew the guys with me. Beneath the baloney they passed out on a trip like this, they were sportsmen, the best. They were no killers of cows. I knew that. Yet, I thought, suppose it is like shooting a cow? By golly, if it is, I just won't shoot a deer. That seemed to take some of the curl out of that knot, because I dozed off.

We met our guides early the next morning. C. J., a wiry guy of medium height, and Jessie, who stacked about 220 pounds on a six-foot frame, asked if all of us had shot deer before. Horsley and Henderson looked at me with those stupid grins, but they didn't say anything.

My buck fever was the nearest we got to deer for two days. There's a lot of country around Crawford and we walked over most of it. We tramped down dry gullies and through fields. We slipped through little wooded ravines in the foothills and climbed high into the pines on the bluffs.

These bluffs, you understand, are nothing but very pretty pint-sized mountains. But, if you happen to be climbing upward at from 45 to 60 degrees, it makes little difference whether it's the Matterhorn or a bluff in western Nebraska. To office-soft legs and back, it's an unnatural angle to get any place.

And all the time that camera hung around my neck. The other guys kidded me, and even hinted it might be a jinx. But I carried it. And, like I keep saying, that's what we did for two days—lunge off through the underbrush. I don't know where the deer were lunging, but we weren't doing it in the same places.

On the morning of the last day of the season we got up an hour earlier in order to be up in the bluffs at dawn. I climbed, and swore at the rocks that turned beneath my boots. Then, just as I topped a rise, the sun spotlighted the bluffs with its first rays.

In those next few minutes, the early-morning sun painted the rocks of the bluffs gold and the pines a darker-than-usual green. I had one of those rare and brief moments when everything comes into sharp focus. You're darned glad you're standing there alone in the chilly dawn on some bluffs in western Nebraska—even if your leg muscles are tight, your back sore, and you never shoot a deer.

The moment was gone as the sun brought light to the plains below, but as I trudged on up, I noticed the knot was gone from my stomach, the sweat on my brow was from hard work, and shooting a deer wasn't such a heck of an important thing after all. About then a rifle cracked below me and to the right. I could see Ran and C. J. bending over something in the grass.

"What is it?" I shouted.

"Small doe," said Ran. They were legal on the last day of the season.

"At least you guys aren't going home skunked," said C. J. "Now I think you're all going to fill."

We tried some of the places we'd already been, some places where C. J. and Jessie agreed there couldn't be deer, and all the places our rancher friends saved up "for emergencies like this." About mid-afternoon it began to get to us.

"Where the heck do we look?" asked Jessie.

"Well," grunted C. J., "you know that place east of town we thought would be (continued on page 32)

MARCH, 1962 9

TO STOCK OR NOT TO STOCK

Look to management, not the hatchery, for the answer to better fishing by Gene Miller Fisheries Technician

FOR ANY number of years, some anglers have figured that if there's water, there will be fish. Add more fish and there will be that many more to catch. This would be a wonderful chain of events —if it were true. Unfortunately, it takes more than water to make a fishery.

Fish face somewhat the same basic problems that humans do. In order to exist a fish's parents had to be healthy enough to mate successfully. The resulting fertile egg had to survive to hatching, and, after hatching, there had to be ample food in order that the fish would grow to adulthood. And, to complete the cycle, he would have to be healthy enough to mate successfully himself. To do this, he must have adequate oxygen and food, and not be subjected to major pollution or disease. This is a near biological law.

Water is only a place where fish can live if all the other essentials are present. Fish do not eat water and grow. Water is neither a protector from all large enemies nor can it be relied upon to wash away all disease-bearing or toxic forms. It's just as incorrect to say that a sand dune can raise corn if you plant enough, as it is to say that any body of water can raise fish if you stock enough.

Under the Game Commission's fish management program, two distinct kinds of stocking are followed —the introduction of fingerling game fish and the planting of catchable-size adult game fish.

Fingerling fish stocking is both economical and practical, and one of the most useful tools in fishery management. It has proved effective when stocking a new lake or a lake without an established fish population, introducing a new kind of fish into a lake with an established fish population, and, under certain limited conditions, to maintain a fish population until habitat can be improved so that the full biological cycle can be completed naturally.

There are numerous examples of where the initial stocking of fingerlings in a new or renovated lake 10 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   has produced good results. Burchard Lake, Grove Lake, Enders Reservoir, and Lake McConaughy are only a few of the state's waters that have proved top fish producers through fingerling introduction. Any old-timer at the angling game can point to the new species that have taken hold. The Game Commission's northern pike, white bass, and smallmouth fingerling programs have proved their worth.

Attempting to maintain a fish population until habitat improvements are made can be useful if approached cautiously. The upper North Loup River will support a trout population, but reproduction is almost nonexistent. There the population is maintained by fingerling stocking until stream improvements are made.

A word should also be said about the stocking of exotic fish that give promise of creating a fishery where none existed before. The experimental introduction of Sacramento perch into waters too alkaline to support other fish is in this category.

When used right, fingerling stocking is valuable. But it can be wasteful if used improperly. I have inspected a good many lakes, ponds, and rivers where people have requested fingerling game-fish stocking. Other than new lakes, the water usually possesses an already established fish population with the wanted fish already present. Often age and growth studies have indicated an overpopulation rather than too few fish.

In many lakes inspected, habitat improvements would have to be made so that the wanted game fish would live and flourish. In some cases, habitat development is impractical, barring a millionaire owner, of course. Try making a natural trout stream out of the lower Platte River. It just can't be done, practically speaking.

Gathering needed scientific information and the analysis of data from lakes is a time-consuming process. Because of this, it is often assumed that a certain lake is in need of maintenance plants until that time when enough information has been amassed to indicate the need and benefit of such stocking, if any. The fingerling stocking program applied to some lakes is under constant surveillance and changes can be expected to be made in keeping with study findings.

The stocking of catchable-size game fish is entirely different from fingerling management for several reasons. It's true that the fish's environment need only provide the basics for staying alive—oxygen and freedom from disease and pollution. But the supply of adult fish is extremely limited. There is no mystic source of inexhaustible supply. And the cost of these fish is high.

Adult game-fish stocking leads to the question of economics, what the fisherman wants for his permit dollar. First, it should be pointed out that no more may be spent for fish production, management, and enforcement than is taken from license revenues. You pay $2 per year. Then it becomes the Game Commission's responsibility to see that you get the most for your money.

Considering the present costs, your $2 would buy no more than two pounds of hatchery-raised adult largemouth each year, and this is all it would buy. New lakes wouldn't be bought or built by the Game Commission from fishery funds. Fingerling fish would not be raised for new lakes. That part of your license fee that pays a portion of the conservation officer's salary would not be available, thus limiting enforcement of fish laws.

There's a lot of difference between game fish that naturally reproduce, live, and grow in a lake and those that are raised in a hatchery. Neglecting the sporting element, the difference is primarily in cost. Granted that to build a lake and open it to the public requires a considerable investment. But don't forget that after the lake exists, the natural production of fish is cheap, year, after year, after year. Hatchery-raised adult fish remain expensive, year, after year, after year. As a general rule, the more money diverted into an adult game-fish stocking program, the less long-term good can be done.

The stocking of fish stands high on the ladder of fishery management tools, but it is not a cure-all for bad fishing. Only when stocking is done wisely, and with an eye to the future, does it accomplish its full value.

THE END MARCH, 1962 11

BRANDING TIME

A Photo Story by Gene Horbeck Sweating cowpokes, bawling calves mean it's roundup in the Sand Hills

FROM HORIZON to horizon, Nebraska's Sand Hills spread in a panorama of lush, rolling grasslands. This is cow country, where huge ranches cover the countryside with their thousands of head of cattle, where the business of roping and branding still goes on today as it has for almost a century.

Today's cattle might be more refined and the horses might be registered quarter horses instead of half-wild mustangs, but the dust, bawling calves, and sweat of men and horses mingling with the pungent odor of burning hair still remain identical to when the first ranchers rounded up their herds of rangy longhorns for the same purpose.

From far and wide the neighbors gather to get the big job done. The cattle are rounded up and brought into the branding pen where the real work begins. True professionals, each cowboy has one purpose—to get the job done.

12 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   MARCH, 1962 13   14 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA  

BRANDING TIME in the Sand Hills means lots of hard work for everyone. But it also means a time when neighbors can get together. From ranch to ranch they travel, each one helping the other.

A branding job at one spread is a good day's work. At sunup, the riders are in the saddle and on their way. For generations, men like these have rounded up their cattle and branded them with their own special mark as a precaution against rustlers and to keep the many herds separated.

Today, the work remains the same. The bawling calves are herded into the pen where lightning-fast cowpokes go through their paces, roping, wrestling, branding.

Come sundown, the men head for the house where the women have prepared a meal fit for a king. It's been a hard day for everyone, but well worth the work. For this is all part of life in Nebraska's fabulous Sand Hills. THE END

MARCH, 1962 15

WHAT IS IT?

by Ken Johnson and Larry Morris Elementary, my dear Watson, when you know your wildlife

SPORTSMEN WOULD get a lot more enjoyment out of their hunting and fishing trips if they knew more about the game they bring home. Being able to determine the age, sex, and species is the mark of a real outdoorsman. More important, it's the kind of knowledge that pays off when it's necessary to determine sex and species because of regulations. Too, it helps by aging game for cooking time and procedure.

It is relatively easy to separate pheasants into young or old classes. With a little experience, anyone can determine the age accurately. To decide if the bagged cock is from this year's hatch or not requires a simple check on the length and shape of the spur. Old birds have longer, more narrow spurs, while young have short spurs that are broad at the base.

Some rely on determining the age by picking a bird up by the forepart of the lower half of the bill. If the bill supports the bird's weight without breaking, it's an old bird. This method has not proved as reliable, however.

A different technique is used for prairie chickens and sharptails. Here the outer flight feathers tell the story. The two outermost primary wing feathers of young birds are pointed and the edge of the feather has a frayed appearance. In adults all flight feathers have a broad rounded end and the edge is smooth.

The grouse hunter also has another problem in determining whether the bagged bird is a prairie chicken or sharptail. Here again with a little practice it's easy to tell which is which. Prairie chickens are normally darker with breast feathers having a barred appearance. Sharptails have small V-shaped markings on the breast feathers.

The simplest method of separating the two is by examining the tail feathers. The tail of a prairie chicken when it's spread will have a rounded appearance with all feathers approximately the same length. In contrast, the sharptail's shows a distinct graduation toward the center, with the outer ends of the two central feathers extending beyond the others. Incidentally, both species have feathers on their legs, which is contrary to the opinion of many hunters.

Tail feathers also answer the question of sex. The male prairie chicken's are uniformly dark in color, while the outer tail feathers of females have light 16 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   buff markings extending through the dark color pattern.

With sharptails the feather markings on the two central feathers supply the distinguishing features. Those on the male have a light marking extending lengthwise along the midline of the feathers. The female's are rows of light and dark markings.

Bobwhite quail, providing some of the trickiest shooting of any game bird, are also tricky when it comes to aging. Again, look to the wing. On young birds the tips of covert feathers (short feathers overlapping part of the primaries) have light buff markings. These are solid colored in adults For sex, look for the male's white eye stripe and white bib.

With the recent trend in waterfowl hunting regulations toward protection of certain species, special demands are placed on the waterfowler to identify before he shoots. There are several good books, such as Ducks, Geese and Swans of North America by Kortright, and various bulletins available to aid the hunter. Flight characteristics plus color markings are used to distinguish birds in the air. Feather color patterns on the speculum of the wing provide a ready means of identification for bagged birds.

A simple aging technique which is fairly accurate is to examine the tail feathers. With adult birds these are fully developed and will have a pointed tip. There's a distinct notch in the ends of the juvenile's. Sex identification is generally possible from color patterns on the bird's body.

Aging Nebraska's biggest game bird, the Merriam's turkey, is the same as that described for other species. The shape of the centermost wing primary will distinquish whether it's young or old. Again this feather will be pointed in shape and have a frayed appearance on young birds, while the adult's are rounded at the tip and the edges are smooth. Too, spur development helps determine if the toms are from the year's hatch.

Turkey sex identification is difficult. With adult toms, the presence of spurs is sufficient. However, with immature toms in which this character is not developed, the hunter must rely on other differences. Perhaps the most reliable is breast feathers. With hens these are rounded and are dark brown in color. They have a light-colored border on the outer edge. On toms, these same feathers have a square end with a black pencil-line border.

Determining the exact age of fish would be near impossible for the angler. Size alone doesn't give the answer, since growth rate is determined by where the fish lives and (continued on page 33)

MARCH, 1962 17

ONLY IN NEBRASKA

by Roy Owens Where else could watermelon flood the land, catfish wreck a bridge?

NEBRASKA'S as fine a place as you'll ever hope to find for hunting and fishing and just plain enjoying the outdoors. I know. I've been around for quite a spell, and I've heard and seen things that would make even the most suspicious cuss grab his gun or rod and reel and head for the country.

Take the Big Blue River which rambles through southeastern Nebraska, for instance. It's an amazing river, especially because of some of the fish it has produced. I can remember one time in particular when some little fellows running limb lines found that one line had pulled a big old elm tree halfway out into the river. While investigating, the boys 18 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   made the mistake of tying that line onto the prow of their boat. Before they knew it, they were racing down the river at a terrible rate.

They had caught one of the famed Blue River catfish, which in its excitement, had taken off down the river-with boys, boat, line, and all in tow. Fortunately, the youngsters had an anchor and were able to hook onto the pier of the Rock Island bridge.

This sudden jerk pulled off the fish's lip. It also pulled the pier of the bridge about four inches out of line. The "Flyer" was coming through in about an hour and the people got quite disturbed, fearing a train wreck. But we notified the Rock Island in time and everything worked out. We never will know how big that catfish was, but the lip weighed 37 pounds.

Those giant catfish are still causing trouble. This fall, a hobo came in on the Union Pacific and went to sleep under a walnut tree by the river. The poor fellow didn't know it, but some boys had a line tied to this same tree. One of those big catfish hit the line and pulled the tree so hard it shook down all the walnuts. The falling nuts almost beat the old hobo to death.

Between the catfish and the pike in the Blue, we've had some real experiences. In the old days, the pike had a strange passion for anything red. They would charge oars painted red, clipping the paddle off as neat as could be. We now have an ordinance in Crete that no one can go on the river wearing red.

As we later found out, fish weren't the only thing that was growing big around here. We had an island at Crete that caused quite a stir. Because of its shape, we called it Frog Island. Once, late in August, a group of Boy Scouts had a wiener roast there and lit a fire at the water's edge. The island must have been tender in that particular spot for suddenly it started a terrible shaking, sending six-foot waves across the pond.

Two of us from Crete rowed out and rescued the children. But on the way back, something strange happened. I looked at that island and I just knew it blinked an eyelash. I took out my rifle, aimed, and fired. When that shot cut loose, the whole island jumped, croaking so loud it broke the windows in the courthouse 16 miles away.

We don't know exactly how big that frog was, but as he went over the bank, the water running off him flooded out 85 acres of corn. He jumped so high that when he finally did come down, he lit on Iron Mountain south of Beatrice and broke his back. The government skinned him out, using the hide as a runway for P-39's at Fairmont Air Base.

Back in the early days when Nebraska was first settled and I was just a boy, I had an uncle who was a great fisherman. Uncle Jim loved fast dogs, race horses, and sports of all kinds. One morning he was out on the Elkhorn River, rowing along looking at his fishing lines, and letting his dogs swim behind the boat for exercise.

There had been a few casualties on the river and these had always puzzled us. We never really understood what had happened to those old pioneers until Uncle Jim's experience.

As he was rowing along, Jim heard a terrible swish, then everything went dark. Sure enough, one of the big Elkhorn catfish had swallowed Uncle Jim, dogs, boat, and all. To make matters worse, the dogs got to fighting. Uncle Jim was clubbing the dogs with an oar to stop the fight. Naturally, the fish got completely upset by the doings inside, and took off down the Elkhorn like the express. When he got to Dead Timber bend, he just couldn't make it. He hit the east bank so hard he plowed a furrow through the field about 20 feet wide and 250 yards long. The catfish hit the other bank with such force that it threw Uncle Jim and the dogs forward. One of the oars stuck in the fish's throat and Uncle Jim just walked out. The dogs kept on fighting, though, right where they were.

When Uncle Jim came back a while later with a crosscut saw and sawed the head off the fish, those dogs were still fighting. But look at it this way. If it hadn't been for my uncle and his fighting dogs, Nebraska would never have gotten Dead Timber Recreation Area.

One year when I was young, Uncle Luke from Tennessee visited us. He brought us a watermelon seed to plant in the rich Nebraska soil. We soaked it in castor oil for three days, and on the morning of the third day it showed great signs of growth. We took it up on the hill north of what is now Memphis Recreation Area and planted it.

Nothing has ever grown so fast. By the first day of July there were melons (continued on page 29)

MARCH, 1962 19

DANGER THIN ICE

Beware of those hard-water booby traps. The life you save may be your own

THE POP of cracking ice, the feeling that the world has fallen out from under you, the shock of being immersed in glacier-cold water, the desperation of finding a grip on the slippery surface to haul yourself out—this is a series of events that you would never want to experience. Nor should you have to.

How can you avoid falling through the ice, and what can you do if you do go through? These are questions that are seldom thought of until it's too late. Consider some of the hazards, both visible and hidden, on Nebraska's ice-locked waters.

A river is far and away the most treacherous. A constant current keeps water from freezing. It also erodes ice from underneath. A spot that is safe one day may become a thinly covered booby trap the next. Seepage from springs, both along the banks and those bubbling up from the bottom, form danger spots. The water is usually much warmer than that of the stream. Ice forms on such areas only during extremely cold weather.

Logs should always be considered dangerous. Water swirls around them, keeping the ice from forming. The beaver can also be the engineer of a good booby trap. His frequent trips from the bank to an underwater food supply keep the water in motion and erode the ice. Many trappers can attest to the dangers of a frozen beaver pond.

Beware of bare spots on an otherwise snow-covered surface. They may mean that the water has only recently frozen and is very thin. Watch out for large cracks on the big lakes. It's not unusual for the ice to split, especially when a high wind opens cracks a foot or so wide. When the winds subside, the cracks freeze over again, leaving a thinner surface that can break under a man's weight.

On smaller lakes and farm ponds, keep an eye peeled for the spot where the source of the water enters. Here again the ice may not be thick enough because of the moving water, and in some cases, the higher water temperatures of a spring-fed source. Some Sand Hills lakes can be dangerous, especially those with large springs. The warmer, bubbling water can keep a spot open all winter.

Going through the ice is about like stepping into an open elevator shaft. It can be a disastrous step if 20 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   you don't know how to get out. The lone fisherman is in a tough spot, and must depend on his own resources.

Instinct plays a big part in what you do when you feel the bottom going out. You have a tendency to grab something, anything, within reach. This action will probably save you from going completely under. You can avoid a drenching by falling in a prone position, too. Your weight will be distributed over a larger surface of the ice.

Once in the water, don't panic. Tread water and hang onto the edge of the ice, testing it to see if it will hold you. Get yourself into as prone a position as possible, hang onto the edge with your hands, kick your feet to get into swimming position, then move your body and arms up on the ice while kicking steadily. If the ice is thin, ease up on the surface slowly. When you feel that you have enough leverage, roll along the surface. Stay in a prone position until you're on safe ice.

There are a number of precautions that you can take that will help you from going under. Some may seem silly, just as some people think a life jacket is useless in a boat.

An eight or 10-foot pole carried with you when you know or suspect questionable ice can be a lifesaver. When you go through, it spans the hole and gives you a chance to lift yourself out. A hunting knife is a real valuable piece of equipment. It can be jabbed into the ice like a mountain climber's axe, giving you a secure handhold to pull yourself out.

To always be sure of having such a handhold ready, make yourself a rig with a couple of large spike nails. Tie a piece of heavy cord about seven-feet long just under the head of each spike. Then wrap the spike with friction or adhesive tape until it's thick enough for a good grip. Put the cord around your neck, dropping a spike down the inside of each coat sleeve. Once there, you'll always be sure of having it ready to get you out of dangerous water.

When fishing, test the ice with a chisel if you're not sure of the thickness. This may take a little time, but it's time well spent. Many fishermen run the chisel ahead of them to find danger spots. This is a good way to spot snow-covered holes.

To make sure you don't leave any booby traps like this behind, take a few small branches along to mark the holes. This little courtesy not only prevents accidents but helps you locate productive spots later.

Two men are always better than one when it comes to ice accidents. There (continued on page 32)

MARCH, 1962 21

FROM STREAM TO AQUARIUM

by Earl Kendle Fisheries Technician Pursuit of local denizens of deep leads to colorful hobby

NEXT TIME YOU'RE putting a minnow on a hook, stop and give it a glance. That minnow might be able to give any fish in a home aquarium a run for its money.

All over America the hobby of collecting small fish for home aquariums is becoming more and more popular. But unfortunately for most enthusiasts, they know only of fish from South America, Africa, and Southeast Asia. What they don't realize is that Nebraska streams can also furnish many colorful and 22 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   novel varieties, at much less than you might pay at the neighborhood pet shop.

Some of the denizens of our local waters are fit for even the finest aquarium. And they can provide just as much enjoyment and fun as their distant relatives from around the world.

Take the orange-spotted sunfish, for instance. The male is a quite handsome fellow with reddish-orange spotted sides, orange-red belly, and orange fins bordered in black. His mate, with brown spots and slightly brown fins, isn't quite so attractive. Usually from 2% to 4 inches in length, the orange-spotted sunfish is a timid little creature, but one that can add much color to your aquarium. If he was a cichlid from Africa instead of a centrarchid from Nebraska, he would probably be quite popular and expensive.

The green sunfish isn't as timid as his cousin. He can be easily trained to take food from your fingers, even to the extent of jumping for food held an inch or two above the water.

As well as being a quite colorful fish, the Plains topminnow is also very hardy. He has varying degrees of red in the caudal and dorsal fins and iridescent olive-green sides and back. Shaped much like the small annuals from Africa, he derives his name from the fact he spends much time at the water's surface. Adults are generally about two inches in length. This fish, along with his close relative, the plains killifish, is often found in bait vendors' tanks.

With 13 or 14 dark vertical bars running almost completely around his body, the Plains killifish is a very attractive resident of Nebraska's larger rivers. He has dark stripes and could more logically lay claim to the name zebra fish than the danio which now bears that name.

The red shiner, often called the redfin shiner, is a colorful silvery-blue fish with a red tail during most of the year. But come spawning season, he blossoms out with bright, silvery-blue sides and brilliant red fins. He is moderately deep-bodied, reaching three inches in length. A very active little fish, he is a good addition to any aquarium.

The speckled chub would probably go by the name pepperfish if he was sold in pet stores. A silvery fish liberally sprinkled with small black spots on the head, sides, and back, he reaches 2% inches in length.

As well as having its beauties of the fish world, Nebraska also has its novelties. Rarely used for bait, these novelty fish are not seen too often.

A most interesting fish, often moving through the water without any visible movement of the tail fin, the brook stickleback is (continued on page 30)

Fish Where to find Orange-spotted sunfish Most rivers and streams and their adjoining lakes and sloughs Green sunfish Most rivers and streams and most lakes and ponds Plains topminnow Plains killifish Relatively clear slow-moving streams and quiet areas of faster streams and rivers Red shiner Speckled chub Brook stickleback Larger rivers—the Platte River has many Most rivers and streams—Platte River has many Platte and Missouri rivers Tadpole madtom Iowa darter Relatively clear, slow-moving streams, near their head waters Larger streams and rivers and adjoining lakes and sloughs Relatively streams Whal lo feed Needs a meat diet; start with earthworms Needs a meat diet; start with earthworms Tropical fish food Tropical fish food Tropical fish food Tropical fish food Needs a meat diet; start with smallest earthworms and water fleas; very difficult to feed Tropical fish food and meat Grass pickerel clearlNeeds a meat diet; start with smallest earthworms Weedy areas of clear-j Needs a meat water streams and. diet; start with adjoining lakes and smallest earth-sloughs worms and later (substitute crayfish tails MARCH, 1962 23

Pallete Panorama

From Nebraska scene comes unique gallery

LIKE A WORK of art, Nebraska spreads its panorama of color and pageantry for all to see. Regardless of the season, the state offers a widely-diversified vista. From the green, tree-covered Missouri River bluffs to the buttes of the Pine Ridge and the Wildcat Hills, Nebraska's scenery and wildlife are magnetic draws to the artist.

The majority of artists are native Nebraskans. OUTDOOR Nebraska presents a sampling of the state's many artists, a sampling that may give you a different look at the Nebraska scene.

THE END 24 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   MARCH, 1962

STOLLEY

by Jane Sprague Site where emigrants once warred now a rendezvous for fun seekers

IT WAS July 2, 1857, two months since the weary emigrants had headed their wagons westward from Davenport, Iowa, into the unsurveyed territory of central Nebraska. William Stolley, their leader, looked over the rolling prairie, noted the nearby rivers with their trees, and decided that here his group could prosper. The German settlers had found their new home.

The new settlement was named Grand Island, and before long four log cabins and a blacksmith shop stood on the prairie. That same year Stolley claimed a portion of land to become the first person in Nebraska to lay claim to land by squatter's rights.

The people tilled the soil and prepared for the long, hard winter ahead. It was a bad winter but they all survived, and the next spring more settlers arrived to join those already there. More cabins sprung up on the prairie and the community grew.

Indians, a prairie fire, all added their hazards, but the settlers clung to their land. In August 1858, 1,500 Pawnee Indians descended on the settlement. Though it was a scare, the usually friendly Indians took only a few potatoes and some corn.

In January 1859, the settlement received a staggering blow. It was a harsh winter with snow and gale-like winds. Three men returning from the Colorado gold fields recklessly set fire to the prairie grass in the area. The flames spread swiftly in the strong wind, and before anything could be done, eight houses and a number of hay stacks were lost.

Despite these setbacks, the settlers stayed on. Though Indians in the area were generally peaceful 26 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   Stolley believed in being well prepared. In 1860, he erected a crude fort, called it Fort Independence, and raised the American flag. For the first time, the Stars and Stripes flew in Hall County.

But no bloody battles were fought, the fort never being attacked. It offered no armed cavalry to protect the settlers. But the crude log structure did offer a sense of security to the area. And it helped instill fear in the Indians.

The closest Fort Independence ever came to battle was in 1864 when the Sioux, Cheyenne, and Arapahoe launched a concerted attack upon stagecoaches, wagon trains, stations, and ranches along the central and western stretches of the Platte Valley. The nation was in the midst of Civil War, and the Indians realized that there would be few troops in the area to stop their marauding.

Almost all the settlers in the Platte and Little Blue valleys fled eastward. But the people at Grand Island remained secure around their little Fort Independence. Not a life was lost at the fort.

Today where the hardy German emigrants founded their new home, where Fort Independence once stood, a state recreation area offers picnickers and campers a tranquil place for relaxing and enjoying themselves.

For years the park had been a favorite meeting place for community picnics, the German towns-people holding their fun-filled "gemutlichkeits" there. In 1927, the people of Grand Island raised $30,000 and bought the 43-acre part of the original Stolley tract and presented it to the state.

For a leisurely trip, load up the family, the picnic basket, and the camping equipment and head for Grand Island on one of the first spring weekends. Stolley is located in Grand Island two miles south and one mile west of the Post Office.

Drive through the stone entrance gates where you will be greeted by tall trees beginning to cast their shade over the new grass. Bright flowers bloom in beds surrounding the picnic area, and flowering shrubs lend their color. Stroll through the formal gardens and enjoy the lovely scenery the area offers.

Don't forget to bring the softball gear or the badminton set. There's a large softball diamond where the whole family can get in plenty of action. When the grown-ups have had enough softball or badminton, and want to just relax in the shade for a while, the kiddies will find plenty to occupy them on the swings, slides, and other equipment at the playground.

For an added treat let the youngsters watch Stolley's deer herd for a while. They will especially enjoy watching during feeding time when the almost tame animals group around the fence for dinner.

When it's time for lunch, picnickers will delight in the well-kept picnic grounds. Here are plenty of tables and fireplaces. The campgrounds offer modern restrooms, drinking water, and picnic area facilities.

Many campers from all over the nation utilize the facilities at Stolley, especially during the summer months. Tents dot the colorful grounds and visitors can find time to relax or plan their agenda for the coming day.

Anglers will find fishing in the Platte in the spring and fall. In season, hunters can try for waterfowl or quail on the Platte bottomland. Pheasants are also available in the surrounding countryside.

An aura of yesterday fills the quiet little area where people can get away from the hustle and bustle of today. In a corner of the recreation area stands the original Stolley cottonwood log cabin. Today this sturdily-built cabin is still used by the area superintendent. Built in 1858, this is the oldest continuously-inhabited building in Nebraska.

Another log cabin at the area is an original building of the Stolley settlement. This building is open to the public on Sundays and holidays.

Nearby stands Hall County's first schoolhouse built by the Stolley settlers. Plans call for this cabin to be returned to its original state sometime in the future. Then visitors will be able to see firsthand how it was when the children of the early pioneers practiced their Three R's there.

This is Stolley Recreation Area at Grand Island, a tree-shaded, flower-studded area just waiting to make your spring weekend complete.

THE END MARCH, 1962 27

ONE GOES ALONE

by Mike Hayden From out of the north it comes on fast wings, into the trap of deception

THE COLD fall north wind whips across the Nebraska prairie, and rustles the stiff, half-frozen heads of the shocked winter milo. The ground lies frozen and cold, the warmth of the earth is gone, and from it the stocks protrude, as whiskers of a man unshaven. The earth lies still, as the winter wind moves through the gathered shocks toward its journey's end.

The east is light, the sun has yet to cross its brow, and the still is undisturbed. Light does not affect this ceaseless calm. The west still shows the signs of man's rest from toil and the south, too, is calm and gray. But the north is out of harmony with the rest. Its color is like that of the north wind to chill the marrow of the bone, and in its path let no man stand lest he stand alone.

OUTDOOR NEBRASKA proudly presents the stories of its readers themselves in this new monthly series. Here is the opportunity so many hove ceaseless calm. The west still shows the signs of man's rest from toil and the south, too, is calm and gray. But the north is out of harmony with the rest. Its color is like that of the north wind to chill the marrow of the bone, and in its path let no man stand lest he stand alone.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 ore available.

The fresh-turned earth is solid and black and the clods hold true to form. The bundles unfold with cowardly stiffness as if to face their death, and they cover the pit to hide what lies below. Then with man and accomplice in, the still before the storm begins.

The frauds stand ready in a flawless line to lure what rides the wind. Their lifeless forms stand unmoved by wind or rain or cold. Some with heads bent near the earth as if to pluck the grain, while others stand up straight and broad with searching eyes to catch the slightest move that is not nature's nor the wind's. They appear so real to all uncultured eyes that even men have fired upon these lifeless prizes. So real they look to nature's own, that in this field they stand to test their tone. And soon they shall meet their test.

The wind seems to almost moan and even ruffle the feathers that aren't really there. The sky in the north is not like before. It moves just above that which locks the land and sky. The clouds make it hard to see, and the movement's slow and far away. Maybe it's just the wind and clouds and nothing there at all.

It's like a line which cuts across the sky but moves below the clouds. It moves up and down and overlooks the wind and cold and comes straight forth and bold.

Its noise is heard above the wind but still faint and far away. The pitch is high and almost ghostly and that is all the sound. The wind has even stopped to lift its ear toward the north from which it came. The frozen stalks move not a bit, and the sun is below the prairie still.

But it comes like spirits, now. Its edge has caught the sun's first real light. The sun is just below the prairie, and its height allows the sun to catch the phantom—port or bow. It's not likely to be just one but like hundreds—one and one. It sees the milo now and its voice rises to catch the eye of things below.

Life has come again, like spring's first breaking bud. It wasn't one, but 10 times 10 times one.

Nature's eyes are at their best and still they do not flee. Sometimes man is king of the land as now. They're almost here and cry a deafening tone, as if they know the time has come for one to go alone.

There is no silence now, and the wind is warm and small and some water drops from a milo head, as tears from a lonely eye. A man retrieves his mighty goose and the north reclaims its prize. Now the rising sun touches the frosted frauds and the cry is gone.

THE END Mike Hayden's hunting yarn is one of the most unique to appear in OUTDOOR Nebraska. What makes it even more unique is that Mike, an ardent outdoorsman, is a senior at Atwood High School at Atwood, Kansas.

ONLY IN NEBRASKA

(continued from page 19)

growing in all directions. In early August a monstrous melon appeared on top of the hill. Everyone marveled over it. It was so big that 25 or 30 head of cattle could stand in its shade.

We planned to have a giant watermelon feed on September 3 and everyone for miles around was looking forward to it. Then a tragic thing happened. The night before the feed, my father's old broom sow got out and sauntered up to the patch. She got to rooting around and started the melon rolling down the hill. The melon rolled so fast and so hard that it plowed out what is now known as Memphis Lake and came to rest in the middle of the railroad tracks.

Old "49" was coming along at its usual clip when the engineer spotted the horrible thing. Knowing he would never stop in time, he threw the throttle wide open and tunneled right through the center of it, starting the worst flood in the Wahoo Valley's history.

It looked like Ashland would be lost in the surge. Fortunately, the water passed over a prairie dog town and all the water ran down those holes. Not one drop got to Ashland. That's why prairie dogs are so revered in that area. Incidentally, the water so infested the sands that the city of Lincoln spent two million dollars installing pumps. Because of Uncle Luke's watermelon seed, we have Memphis Lake and all that sweet water in Lincoln.

I'll never forget one cold, windy day in March when the geese were migrating up through the valley, most of them coming through a draw in back of the house. Needing some fresh meat, my father sent me to get his old muzzle-loader and powder horn. But we were out of shot. Dad spotted a keg of shingling nails. He loaded up with those nails and told me to lay low. Neither of us knew what would happen.

As the geese came up on the north side of the barn, my father raised up and let them have it with both barrels. There was a mighty blast. When the smoke cleared, there were 34 geese nailed to the side of the barn. It was as pretty a picture as you've ever seen.

My father was quite a hunter as were my Uncle Tom and Uncle Frank. One time they made a cross-bow out of a piece of hedge and a two-by-four. Heaven only knows how strong it was. They would both stand on the bow and pull her back to latch it. Then, they made a huge arrow with a section of a sickle for a head.

Tom and Frank went over to the Platte bottom and set up the bow, ready for any game that might come their way. A deer took off right in front of them, running straight.

Well, my two uncles cut loose on that deer and hit it smack on the end of the tail. It split the deer half in two. It came to a haystack and half the deer went around one side and the other half around the other. Once around the haystack, those two sides came together as neat as you please and that deer never missed a stride. The last we saw of it, it was still running as fast as it could go.

You'll have to admit that most any other place on the globe would have to go a far piece to match the things I've reported here. Uncles Jim, Luke, Tom, and Frank are all kinfolk, as honest men as you would ever hope to meet. And the Big Blue continues to produce those big catfish. For all I know, that lipless giant is here yet, just waiting for a man like yourself to come and catch him.

THE END Roy Owens, Saline County conservation officer at Crete, is the state's champion prevaricator, having won the Nebraska Izaak Walton League trophy for the best tall tale for five years running. MARCH, 1962 29

STREAM TO AQUARIUM

(continued from page 23)

generally found in small streams in the state. Because of his rapidly vibrating transparent pectoral fins, he seems to swim along without any help from the tail.

The brook stickleback is olive to green above with about 10 dark crossbar-like bands, fading to silvery below. He has five sharp, widely separated and very prominent spines on the dorsal fin. The fish is spindle shaped with a tiny tail fin. All the sticklebacks use sticks and fragments of aquatic plants to build small barrell-shaped nests.

If while fishing, you pull in what looks like a young bullhead with an unusually heavy body, you have probably caught a tadpole madtom. Dark olive or brown in color with a light-colored belly, this nocturnal inhabitant of Nebraska waters probably produces the most highly toxic venom of all the catfish. In addition to poisonous glands at the base of the pectoral fins, he also has one at the base of the dorsal fin. The sting is not dangerous.

Another group of small fishes includes the Iowa darter, the johnny darter, and the orange-throat darter. Of the three, the Iowa darter is probably the most attractive and the most common.

This 21/2-inch long fish is dark brown with brick-red bars and spots on the sides. His belly fades to yellow or gold and white, and his large dorsal fin has a brick-red band. Like all the darters, the Iowa darter does not possess an air bladder. He gets his name from the habit of lying motionless on the bottom of a stream or lake and darting or jumping after food which may come close.

A voracious little fish, the grass pickerel is a well equipped and very efficient killer. Definitely not a suitable companion for guppies because of his appetite for small fish, the grass pickerel can do quite well with fish of the same or larger size. Although small fish make up most of his diet, he can also do well on insects and worms.

Closely related to the northern pike, he is often mistaken for the young of that species. Dark green on the back and sides, fading to white below, there are indistinct dark bars on the sides and a black tear drop below the eyes. A 4-inch fish would be best for the aquarium.

Most of these fish can be collected with a legal minnow seine. However, sunfish must be taken by hook and line as they are classified as game fish. A current fishing license is necessary when collecting these fish and when keeping them in your home aquarium.

Although many of these fish normally feed on live food, they can be trained to take beef steak or crayfish tails. Wait until the fish has been in the aquarium a day or two, then drop in an appropriate-size earthworm. Make sure the fish can see it when he strikes the water. Continue this each day until the fish readily devours the worm before it gets to the bottom of the aquarium.

When the fish is readily taking the earthworm, small bits of beef steak, crayfish tails, or shrimp may be substituted. Any uneaten food should be removed from the aquarium by means of a siphon to keep the water clean.

NEBRASKAland waters contain many fish that would be handsome and novel additions to the home aquarium. Once you know where to collect them and what to feed them, you're on your way to enjoying one of the most interesting and unusual hobbies.

THE END 30 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA

OUTDOOR ELSEWHERE

Propjet Pigeons

WASHINGTON, D.C. . . . Pigeons in the propjet are getting to be a big danger to jet aircraft, according to a survey of managers of 190 western airports now handling or which expect to handle turbojet or propjet aircraft. Nor are pigeons the only problem. Starlings, blackbirds, waterfowl, pheasants, grouse, quail, shorebirds, doves, pigeons, crows, and ravens were among the species identified as hazardous

Gator Poachers

GEORGIA . . . With alligator hides going for $4 per foot on the open market, officials at the Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge in Georgia and the Lacassine National Wildlife Refu g e in Louisiana have been having trouble with poachers looking for a fast dollar. But poachers who get caught have found the money just isn't worth it. One poacher recently picked up on the Okefenokee Refuge will have six long months in jail in which to count his loot.

Well Prepared

PENNSYLVANIA . . . Deer hunters are noted for going afield well equipped, carrying everything from hatchets to pillows. One Pennsylvania hunter in particular turned up for the season ready for anything. He was spotted coming down a road during a downpour, rifle in one hand, an open blue umbrella in the other.

Plan Ahead

WEST VIRGINIA ... All the talk about fallout shelters today is even getting through to American wildlife.

In a West Virginia mine, a crew of Civil Defense-minded beavers have constructed a dam several hundred feet below the surface. Looks like even beavers are beginning to believe in being prepared.

Two for One

PENNSYLVANIA ... A Pennsylvania hunter has managed to kill the proverbial two birds with one stone. While hunting, he sighted a cock pheasant on the ground by a hedgerow. He fired, killing the bird. When he went to pick it up, he discovered he had also killed one grouse and crippled another.

Fishing Jackpot

TENNESSEE . . . Fishing paid off for a Tennessee fisherman who hooked onto a most unusual catch. The angler pulled in a bundle wrapped in rotten cloth and found it contained $685 in old paper bank notes dating back to 1902.

Double or Nothing

NEW YORK . . . When a hunter makes a double it's considered something special. But this usually involves two similar targets, such as two ducks or two quail. A New York hunter varied this pattern and bagged the unlikely combination of a gray squirrel and a Canada goose.

While hunting in a cornfield, the lucky sportsman bagged the squirrel on the first shot from his double-barreled shotgun. As the shot resounded, a big Canada stood up about 40 yards away in the open field. The second shot collected the goose dinner. Actually, the goose had been wounded earlier and had hidden by just lying flat on the ground. To the hunters he appeared to be nothing but a big clod of dirt.

No Repeats, Please

PENNSYLVANIA . . . Lady Luck definitely forgot to smile on one woman hunter in Pennsylvania. First she tried to load her 410 with a clothespin. It didn't work. Then her slacks ripped down the back seam. The cold weather made this especially uncomfortable.

It was a day the lady will never forget—and one she hopes will never happen again.

MARCH, 1962 31

BUTTE COUNTRY BUCK

(continued from page 9)

good, but wasn't when we went there the first day? Let's try it. If it doesn't pan out, I'm stumped."

East of town C. J. pointed out a ravine and told me to walk it. It was just like 422 other ravines I'd walked the last three days. I climbed through a fence and started to load the rifle. I shoved a couple of shells in and looked up across a tiny spring-fed creek and on down the draw. I reached for a third shell and started to examine a little clump of pines about 225 to 250 yards down the ravine.

I almost dropped the shell. The knot was back in my stomach, and I could feel my knees jiggling. There on the edge of that little patch of pine stood a buck mule deer. His rack looked like it was two yards wide. His color seemed gray, almost ghostlike.

At first, I couldn't even find the clump of pines through the sight. Then there was the buck, my wavering front sight moving back and forth across him. I knew I was supposed to squeeze off that shot, but my hands didn't. They jerked and the deer staggered, ever so slightly, just before he charged out of the pines.

My second shot kicked up dirt between his front and back legs as he came broadside to me. He was headed for a fence and thick underbrush. My prize was within 20 feet of the fence when my third shot hit where the other two should have been—just back of the left, front leg.

CLASSIFIED ADVERTISEMENTS 10 cents a word: minimum order $2.50 FOR SALE: Registered Britanny spaniel pups from hard-hunted parents. All ages. Vaccinated. Now is the time to start their training for next fall. Rudy Brunkhorst, Office Phone, Locust 30011, Columbus, Nebraska. JUMBO HYBRID RED WORMS. 1,000—$4.50, 5,000—$20. Fifty per pack. Postpaid, $5 per 1,000. Live delivery and count guaranteed. Blessing Bait Shop, South Sioux City, Nebraska. Phone 4-1170.

"Calmly" I splashed across the creek and scrambled up that bank as gracefully as a fat hound dog that had sat in turpentine. As I stood looking down at the six-point buck, I heard another rifle crack and a shout that sounded like Glen.

It was probably an hour before we had cleaned the doe he had bagged and my buck and lugged them to the car. But nobody complained.

"I thought you guys would never do it," laughed Jessie.

"Just taking their time," grinned Ran.

"And to think that we almost quit," groaned Glen.

"And you," said Ran, turning to me, "not only shot your first deer, but a nice buck, to boot."

I nodded. I was thinking. It hadn't been like killing a cow. I'd killed that speeding buck clean and certain, according to all the rules handed down for ages by good sportsmen.

"What are you so quiet about?" asked Glen. "You got what you came for. You shot your deer, shot your pictures, and now you can write . . ."

"Wait," roared Ran. "Did you take any pictures?"

I grinned and shook my head.

I let them laugh—even laughed along with them. But I failed to explain one thing. I had not forgotten about the pictures. I had intentionally left the camera in the case.

Because, boss, that business back there in the ravine, that was strictly private—strictly between me and that big, beautiful buck.

THE END

DANGER-THIN ICE

(continued from page 21)

are many things that one can do to help the other that has fallen in. First get into a prone position and try to reach your partner without endangering yourself. If the ice is too thin to get within arm's reach, use your jacket as a link. It's surprising how long a rope can be made from clothing. The average pair of pants is over five feet, a jacket or shirt, the same, and a belt, three. And if need be, that pair of long-handled drawers add another six feet. An ice chisel or branch may also be that vital link between life and death.

The most important thing for you as the rescuer is to sum up the situation quickly and act. Two or three minutes in frigid water is about all some people can stand. You as the rescuer must take command of the situation and make sure you aren't pulled in. Keep your partner calm. Make him help all he can by working up on the ice slowly. Be sure that you move away from him when he gets out on the ice. Both of you must stay in a prone position with arms and legs spread to keep your weight distributed.

Don't take the attitude it can't happen to me. When you go out on the ice be prepared to handle any situation. Know the ice, know how to take care of yourself if you go through. You'll be sure to enjoy many more outings if you do.

THE END 32 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA

SPEAK UP

Send your questions to "Speak Up", OUTDOOR NEBRASKA, State Capitol, Lincoln 9, Nebr. Quite A Mouthful

"For those who believe that their bait may be too big for the larger, more voracious fish, here is an incident that happened a few years ago at Lac La Ronge in north-central Saskatchewan. While fishing off Hunter Bay, I hooked a northern pike 42 inches long and weighing 20 pounds. When it was dressed, a second northern was found inside that measured 22 inches—on a steel rule."—Gene Liewer, Osmond.

Gopher Goof-Up

"The article about gophers in the November issue was very interesting. It brought to mind a yarn about an old gentleman who caught 700 gophers in a little over two weeks. The unusual feat occurred when the owner of some gopher-inhabited land was so certain the animals couldn't be caught he offered a bounty of 25 each."—Dr. John Merrill, Omaha.

Satisfied

"Noticed my mailing address tag reads 12, so I guess it's time to send in my renewal. I sure don't want to miss any copies. Your magazine is getting better each month—wish it was a weekly."—B. D. Brown, Davenport.

And Something Else

"If you think that you will get another $1.75 out of me for your OUTDOOR Nebraska, you have another guess coming. I would not give 15^ for it, let alone $1.75. I think that it is about as poor a sport magazine as I have ever read."—Nick Simons, Sxuarl.

Do our other readers have any comments? —Editor.

Close the Door

"For a long time I have been wondering if it is against the game laws to remove the top of a fur-bearing animal's den to set traps inside? I would also like to know the reasoning behind such a regulation."—Harold Slruebing, David Cily.

Nebraska game laws permit entrance into a fur bearer's den provided the trapper immediately repairs the den each time it is opened, returning it as closely as possible to its original condition. The law states that it is unlawful to mutilate or destroy the house or den of any fur-bearing animal except under certain conditions.

The reasoning here is that if trappers were permitted to tear into the dens of these animals without making adequate repairs, the damage would kill all the inhabitants by letting cold air into the chambers and freezing the underwater entrance. By not making repairs, one trapper could unknowingly kill all the fur bearers in an area.—Editor.

WHAT IS IT?

(continued from page 17)

what it eats. Fishery technicians, looking for answers about a stream or lake, often sample creels for fish scales or spines. Using laboratory equipment, they can pinpoint age accurately.

Actually the scale and spine are only two of a large number of bones which can be used in aging. Aging by all of these bony structures, however, depends upon differences in the growth rates of fish during the various seasons of the year. With the coming of winter, growth slows considerably, then begins again in the spring.

In the spring a complete ring or annulus is deposited around the scale and other bony structures. These rings look very much like those on a piece of wood. Aging the fish, however, is not quite as easy as counting the rings on a block of wood. Less distinct rings are deposited on the bone throughout the growing season. With practice, though, these can be differentiated from the year mark.

The scale is the easiest to take from the fish and to examine. The year marks may be counted after its magnified image is projected. Some fish, such as the channel catfish, do not have scales, and other bones must be used. With catfish, one of the spines is removed and cut into very thin cross sections. When magnified, these show year marks just as the scale of a crappie does. Sometimes neither are satisfactory, and the vertebra, jaw bones, fin rays, or opercular bones are utilized.

Generally, external characteristics are of no help in sexing fish, and an internal examination must be made. However, there are some notable exceptions to this rule which are most pronounced during the breeding season. In summer, the brilliant colors of a male bluegill easily distinguish it from a female. Breeding male trout often develop a hooked lower jaw which may persist for many months. Some types of male minnows have small bumps on their heads during spawning, but these disappear shortly thereafter. Often male redhorses develop similar bumps on the anal fin.

Check yourself out on the points listed here. Knowing the age, sex, and species of the game you bring home will add a lot to your outing.

THE END Co-authors Johnson and Morris, are Game Commission technicians, Johnson as assistant project leader of the Game Division, and Morris as a fishery technician. MARCH, 1962 33

notes on Nebraska fauna...

OSPREY

HOVERING FOR a moment before plunging after a fish is the trademark of the osprey, Pandion haliaefus. This unusual fish-eating hawk is seldom found very far from water. Nebraska's heaviest concentrations occur along the Missouri and Platte rivers during the annual migration.

Overhead this eagle-like hawk is easily identified by light underparts broken by dark bars on the tail and a distinct black spot at the angle of each pointed wing. In flight, the osprey is most often seen soaring over water with the wings decidedly bent.

A number of large heart-shaped brown spots on the underside of the osprey's body is the only other coloration. Each spot is on a separate feather and they are more numerous on the larger female. The back, shoulders, wings, and tail are tinged deep burnt umber with a faint purplish gloss. The tail is barred with seven even brownish bands and terminates in a white tip. The smooth, strongly hooked bill is bluish-black and the feet are grayish-blue.

Unlike many hawks, the osprey's thighs are heavily feathered and the legs bare. A unique feature of the foot is the ability of the outer toe to swing from the standard position in front to the woodpecker-type position in the rear. This reversible toe helps the bird hold its slippery prey. Short, stiff 34 OUTDOOR NEBRASKA   spicules on the undersurface of the foot pads are an additional aid.

An entree of fresh fish is always on the menu for this unusual hawk rated as top fisherman among fauna

The fish hawk is not heard very often. His shrill, high-pitched whistle seems ridiculously small and out of proportion for so majestic a bird. When heard at a distance it sounds like the peeping of a baby chick.

This bird of prey is an uncommon migrant across the state and is most often sighted along the Missouri River. Individuals traverse Nebraska, following rivers and lakes on their way to the southern United States and Mexico. The only non-frozen land in the western hemisphere that is not inhabited by the bird is the southern part of South America.

With spring, the osprey follows rivers and lakes as he works his way northward to the nesting grounds. Although Nebraska is not included in the primary nesting range, birds occasionally stay here.

Perched high in a tall, dead tree, the tremendous nest is easily seen for great distances. The huge platform is made of sticks that may exceed five feet in length and practically any rubbish that is handy. The center is padded with bits of aquatic vegetation.

Although the osprey is no more sociable than his relatives, colonies of nesting pairs may occasionally be found. An abundant food supply and freedom from interference are most often present when these unhawk-like close associations are established.

As a rule, the bird returns to the same nest year after year. Then he adds some more vegetative padding and the few sticks necessary to keep the heavy nest in place. Some observers have reported the yearly occupancy of a nest by supposedly the same pair for over 40 years.

Once nest-building activities are completed, the pair begins incubation. The number of eggs may be two to four, but usually three. Coloration of the eggs varies from an almost white to an almost solid blotched shell.

Most of the nesting chores are handled by the female. Total incubation time is five weeks.

Once out of their shells, the buffy-colored young are fed a variety of aquatic animals, with the main entree live fish. The chicks are fully fledged between eight and 10 weeks.

When fishing, the osprey soars over the most promising water. He'll systematically ride the air currents, hovering now and then to check out likely looking spots. The usual soaring height is from 100 to 200 feet. The hawk has almost unbelievable eyesight in spotting his prey. He is able to not only see a neutral-colored fish, but follow it as it tries to escape into the murky depths.

When the prey is located, the osprey hovers momentarily before starting his deadly accurate plunge. His wings are held half closed against the body to add speed to the fall, giving the bird directional control during the dive. His feet strike the water first.

Sometimes an intended victim sees the danger before the deadly talons find their mark. If the fish goes deep, the determined osprey dives after his evasive target. After a few seconds, the big bird comes to the surface, laboriously working to become airborne again, shaking himself to throw the water from his feathers.

His catch is always carried head forward, reducing air resistance and giving the bird better control. Placing one talon in front of the other, the osprey holds the fish in a deadly grip that even the most violent jerks cannot break. The osprey heads for either his nest or an eating station. He has several favorite trees, cliffs, or snags that serve as a dinner table. Here he tears off bite-size bits of flesh. The remaining bones are dropped and add to the telltale growing pile below.

Frequently the fishing hawk will be harassed by the larger, less skillful hawks and eagles. These robbers will dive and make passes at the smaller bird until he drops the fish. Usually the attacking eagle or hawk catches the free-falling fish before it hits the ground. Unlike his bald eagle relative, the osprey prefers only fresh fish. This desire sometimes gets him into serious trouble.

Hawks and eagles that rob this flying fisherman of his catch are not true predators, but merely an annoyance. There are no real natural enemies of the fish hawk. Man with his high-powered rifle is the biggest threat to his safety, even though laws protect the osprey in most states, including Nebraska.

With virtually no natural enemies, except possibly disease and the elements, the osprey enjoys a long life. One pair was supposed to have returned year after year to the same nest for 40 years, but the presence of only the one pair was not certain. For a long time an osprey held the record age for banded birds. He was tagged in 1914 and the band was recovered in 1934.

Ospreys have never been known to concentrate in numbers great enough to threaten any fish population. But among all the fauna, he's recognized as nature's best fisherman.

THE END MARCH, 1962 35

Frost fringed trees Stand out against a sullen wintry sky As coral molded by some ancient sea, And snowflakes-darting here and there On icy currents windward, and to lee. A few brave birds, With hunger more than courage as their shield, Venture forth upon the cold, To see what morsels it may yield. And with their vision thus obscured, They pay no heed—they haven't heard A fox on silent, furry feet With jaws apart, who also wants to eat. There's crimson blood upon the trampled snow That melts a pocket, runs below the surface And mingles with the tracks to show The cycle still goes on. Sid Tingle