1964 NEBRASKAland HUNTING SEASONS

Oct. 17 -Jan. 17 Dates Species (inclusive) UPLAND GAME Pheasant (cocks only) Pheasant* (cock and hen) Quail **(south) **(north) Grouse* * * 'Special Area Only. lying west of a line Bag Limit Possession Limit 20 Oct. Oct. 4* 6 6 3 the 20* 18 18 6 state Jan. 9 - Jan. 17 Oct. 17 - Dec. 25 17 - Dec. 13 3 - Nov. 1 *Special Area Only. That portion of the state lying west of a line extending south from the South Dakota-Nebraska border along Nebraska Highway 27 to its junction with Nebraska Highway 2, thence east along Nebraska Highway 2 to its junction with Nebraska Highway 61, thence south along Nebraska Highway 61 to its junction with U.S. Highway 30, thence west along Highway U.S. 30 to its junction with Highway U.S. 138, thence southwest along Highway U.S. 138 to the Nebraska-Colorado border. Daily bag limit, 4, one of which may be a hen. Possession limit, 20, not more than 5 of which may be hens after the fifth day. **That portion of the state lying south of a line extending from the Iowa-Nebraska border westward along Highway U.S. 30 to its junction with Highway U.S. 138, thence south and west along Highway U.S. 138 to the Colorado-Nebraska state line. Northern area includes all other portions of the state. ***Open area includes that portion of the state lying west of Highway U.S. 81, north of the south shore of the Platte and North Platte rivers, and all that part of Nebraska west of Highway U.S. 83 and south of the Platte and North Platte Rivers. SMALL GAME Cottontail no closed season 10 30 Squirrel Aug. 1 - March 1 WATERFOWL 7 21 Ducks Oct. 3 - Oct. 18 4 8 Nov. 21 - Dec. 10 4 8 **Mergansers Same as duck season 5 10 * * * Geese Oct. 1 - Dec. 14 5 5 Coots Same as duck season 10 20 Wilson's Snipe Oct. 3 - Nov. 21 8 16 Rails, gallinules Oct. 3 - Nov. 21 15 30 *The daily bag limit for ducks other than mergansers may not include more of the following species than: (a) 2 wood ducks, (b) 2 mallards, and (c) 2 canvasback or two redheads or 1 canvasback and 1 redhead. The possession limit may not include more of the following species than: (a) 2 wood ducks, (b) 4 mallards, and (c) 2 canvasbacks or 2 redheads or 1 canvasback and 1 redhead. **Not more than one hooded merganser in daily bag or 2 in possession. ***The daily bag and possession limit of geese may not include, in the aggregate, more than (a) 1 Ross' goose or (b) in the alternative 2 Canada geese or its subspecies or 1 Canada goose or its" subspecies and 1 white-fronted goose, or 1 whitefronted goose. In those portions of Otoe, Nemaha, and Richardson counties east of the main channel of the Missouri River, Canada geese or their sub-species may be taken only during the first 30 days of the open season. In this area the limits on Canadas are 1 daily and 2 in possession. BIG GAME "Deer (rifle) Valentine Special Area Deer (archery) Antelope (rifle) (special area only) Antelope (archery) (special area only) Wild Turkey Nov. 7 - Nov. 15 Dec. 12 Dec. 14 Sept. 19 - Nov. 6 Nov. 16 - Dec. 31 Sept. 19 Sept. 26 Sept. 5 Oct. 24 Nov. 14 Sept. 21 Sept. 28 Sept. 18 Oct. 28 Nov. 18 *Special permit required *See 1964 Big Game Regulations for detailed information. Upland Game Bird Stamp required for wild turkey. Shooting hours for all upland game, one-half hour before sunrise to sunset; waterfowl, sunrise to sunset; big game and turkeys, one-half hour before sunrise to one-half hour after sunset. 4 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland

NOVEMBER ROUNDUP

by Larry Fruhling Pheasants to pigskins, state's early-winter air is well filled

WHETHER THEY focus their attention indoors or outdoors, Nebraskans have a lot to look forward to in November. The early-winter air in NEBRASKAland is filled with many things. Among them are footballs, ducks, pheasants, and the sounds of plays and concerts.

To outdoorsmen, the crisp November weather signals one of the best times of the year to go afield. The second segment of the NEBRASKAland duck season gets under way November 21 and runs through December 10. In both the northern and southern sections of the state, the bobwhite quail season is in full swing throughout November.

The heavy pressure of the first two weeks of the pheasant season is over, and the ringnecks have probably grown considerably wiser. The challenge and rewards of pheasant shooting become greater as the NEBRASKAland season —the longest in the nation—runs on.

For sportsmen who go in for goose hunting, November offers a month-long spree of honker gunning. The Nebraska squirrel season, usually at its best in November, will add variety for the outdoorsman.

If you prefer your outdoor fun in a more relaxed manner, you'll want to take in some of the high school and college football games that take place throughout the state in November. Footballs will pepper the skies, with lots of gridiron action filling the entertainment bill every weekend.

The University of Nebraska will face three strong Big Eight conference foes during the month, one on home ground and two away. The University of Kansas is the first November contest. The game is at Lawrence on the seventh. The Cowboys of Oklahoma State come to Lincoln for a November 14 tiff, and the season finale will see the Huskers invading the University of Oklahoma stomping grounds at Norman, November 21.

Art featuring Nebraska landmarks, scenic spots, history, and pioneer life will be on exhibit November 2 through 8 in Beatrice at the NEBRASKAland Art Show. The event, which will include amateur as well as professional work, is sponsored by the Beatrice Artist's Association.

Omaha will be the scene of two large exhibits during November. One is the Midwest Antique Show, running from November 5 through 8, and the other is the Midwest Sporting Goods Show, November 14 through 16.

Theatergoers and concert fans won't want to miss two big attractions coming up in Lincoln in November. The Lincoln Broadway Theater League will present "Never Too Late" at the Stuart Theater November 5, and the Lincoln Symphony Orchestra will give an early-season concert November 10.

Dozens of NEBRASKAland high school bands compete at the State Marching Band Festival November 7 in Lincoln. Another big Capital City event set for November 21 is the Lincoln Kennel Club Regional Dog Show.

All in all, November offers a wide selection of events all across NEBRASKAland. The coming of winter changes the type of doings, but it doesn't slow down the activities "where the WEST begins".

THE END NOVEMBER, 1964 5

Fun abounds at outdoor eden near Scotts Bluff HDTEL PAWNEE Restaurant & Cocktail Lounge North Platte, Nebraska SPORTS SERVICE AT LAKE McCONAUGHY Boat-Fishing Supplies-Cabins-Cafe For reservation write to: Sports Servicer Box 510, Ogallala, Nebr. Ready to serve hunters all season CORKY'S PUCE On Beautiful Strunk Lake (Medicine Creek Dam) For a successful hunting trip come to Corky's place; many -acres to hunt, modern motel units, plus the enjoyment of homecooked meals. To serve you better we provide guide service plus cleaning and freezing birds. Come by car or use the landing strip nearby. Cambridge, Nebr. Phone: 697-3774

LAKE MINATARE

TUCKED AWAY in the historic North Platte River Valley, Lake Minatare can be your headquarters for an array of outdoor fun activities topped off with a variety of sight-seeing pleasures. Minatare's waters, supplied by canal from Guernsey Reservoir in Wyoming, provide plenty of fresh-air recreation while irrigating thousands of acres in the lush valley.

The popular state recreation area, located some nine miles northeast of Scottsbluff on U.S. Highways 26 and 87, boasts fun that runs the gamut from swimming to camping, fishing to picnicking. An added feature is the potpourri of Old West historical sites that are found nearby.

Both tourists and local residents take full advantage of the lake during the summer months. Because of its nearness to U.S. Highway 26 and a paved road providing easy access, the lake is a top drawing card for campers and travelers looking for a shaded, cooling spot to rest. Sportsmen and outdoor enthusiasts in the area find Minatare's lode of natural and man-made facilities hard to trump.

June is Minatare's biggest month. Because of the usually heavy irrigation demand on the lake, the water level drops throughout the summer and is generally low by the time August rolls around. In years of better-than-average rainfall, the level is sufficient.

Swimming and boating are two of the impoundment's most popular features. There is an excellent sand beach east of the dam, with other good swimming areas spotted around the lake's 15-mile shore line. The beaches are unsupervised, though, so be sure to have a buddy nearby when you go in for a dip.

Minatare offers two conveniently-located ramps for boating fans, plus many private docking and launch facilities. The lake boasts plenty of running room for power boating, sailing or rowing. Water skiing is another popular sport, with members from several ski and boat clubs in on the fun.

Sportsmen find a bonanza of recreational opportunities at the recreation 6 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland area. For pan-fishing buffs, there are good takes of crappie and perch. The impoundment also offers stringers of northerns, walleye, and catfish, with bullheads rounding out the angling picture. When winter grips the panhandle region, ice-fishing fans take over the lake. Each fall, hunters headquarter here.

Lake Minatare, nestled where the green Platte Valley rises to the hills and bluffs of the north, has the kind of cool, tree-ringed beauty that campers like. For either an overnight stop or a week-long vacation, the area lures thousands of camping buffs to its shores each year. Plenty of picnic tables and fireplaces are available.

Vacationers spending several days in the area can make their "base" at the impoundment and then take short side trips to many of the most scenic and historic areas in the West. The North Platte valley, rich in the lore of pioneer days, yields untold treasures to adventurous travelers.

Scotts Bluff National Monument is one of the top attractions in western Nebraska, and it's within a 15-minute drive of the lake. The paved drive to the top of the 750-foot bluff will reward you with an unobstructed view of miles and miles of the rich valley. The monument also offers a fine museum that has preserved many artifacts of the Oregon and Mormon trail days.

From atop Scotts Bluff, you can also see Chimney Rock, near Bayard, a National Historic Site. Chimney Rock was probably the best-known landmark of the Oregon Trail. A quarter of a million pioneers, heading for the West's promised land set their sites on the towering spire.

A short drive south of Gering will put you in the middle of Nebraska's beautiful Wildcat Hills, a rugged area of rugged gorges and pine-studded buttes. While in the area, be sure to have a look at the buffalo and elk herds in the state recreation area. Another point of historic interest is Robideaux Pass, south of Scotts Bluff, where the ruts of pioneer wagons may still be seen.

For a bundle of sight-seeing and recreation fun, Lake Minatare and the surrounding area should be at the top of your list. If you haven't yet sampled this lake's special brand of fun, be sure to include it on your vacation agenda. If you've already tried the impoundment, no one will have to twist your arm to get you to return. THE END

NOVEMBER, 1964 7

ADVENTURE ON TWO WHEELS

My wife held tight as we sped down ll£. 6. This was her first stint at riding shotgun on a camping trip, but it wouldn't be h0r last by Bruce Cross

% A #E WERE as free as a breeze whipping through * the fall-bedecked NEBRASKAlan,d countryside. Ahead was the open highway and a day of outdoor pleasure at the! Blue River Wayside Area south of Milford. Taking my new bride and I away from the everyday was a high-powered motorbike, a two-wheeled bundle of energy guaranteed to keep us in close company with the beautiful autumn scene.

Eleanor held tight as we sped down U.S. Highway 6. This was her first stint at riding shotgun on a camping trip. My wife had been a little apprehensive about the trip at first.

"I suppose this is one of the things the minister had in mind when he said for better or worse," she said when I was getting the gear together back at our new home in southeast Lincoln.

But now only 15 minutes from home she was beginning to enjoy the outing. Nebraska autumns are breathtaking in* their mellowing hues of gold and green. The corn and milo were rustling in the breeze in eager expectation of the harvester. The neat farmsteads flew by only to pop up again as we banked around the gentle curves.

Yelling above the roar of my 60-horsepower engine, I asked Eleanor what she thought of this new brand of outdoor adventure. She gave the OK sign, but indicated that she was getting a little sore,from sitting astride the powerful bike. I sympathized with her, remembering the first day of a 7,400-mile trip I took on my first motorcycle trip. Canada, California, Mexico, and Louisiana were on that itinerary. I had also taken other rides through western Nebraska, so rich in Western lore and scenic beauty, and quick journeys across the line to South Dakota, Wyoming, and Kansas.

On those excursions I did plenty of camping and carried a good stack of gear, more than the 75 pounds Eleanor and I had got together for this trip. It's surprising how much you can pack on a motorcycle. I've seen bikes carrying big army footlockers and some that had gear stacked as high as the driver's head. For our camp out I used an elastic "tie-down" to clip a pup tent and two sleeping bags to the luggage carrier. The Fiberglas saddlebags held the cooking utensils, hatchet, flashlight, hunting knife, and extra clothing.

Motorbike camping is keeping in step with the nationwide boom of sleeping under the stars. I've noticed this on my motorcycle trips. In California whole groups would take off for a weekend of motorbike camping. This kind of camping to me is the only way to enjoy the outdoors. Adventure has always been associated

10 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland with the motorcycle, just as it has been with camping. Add them together and it's simple mathematics to see a double serving of outdoor excitement. You can really take to the backroads. Versatility and maneuverability are the bywords for the motorbike. On it you can examine nature close up or ride next to one of the many historical markers we have in Nebraska and read the inscription without leaving the seat.

Less than half an hour after we left Lincoln we were crossing the bridge of the Blue River's west fork. I pulled off the highway and felt the changing crunch of the gravel road as I cut the speed down to 15 miles per hour. This was in accordance with the signs along the center island where youngsters were taking their gleeful energy out on the playground equipment. We noticed several camping rigs in the park along with travellers relaxing in the shade of the huge trees. Campers are always friendly, it seems, and these were no exception. Folks waved and welcomed us to stay a spell.

Eleanor and I took them up on the invite, and we continued down the road. Looking for the just-right spot, I followed the road until it became no more than two bare strips. I could see the river peeking through the trees and I trailed on in.

Spotting a mud puddle in our trail, Eleanor said she wanted off.

"I would just as soon walk if you're going to navigate those," she smiled.

It's a good thing she backed out or this probably would have been the first and last bike ride she would take with me. On one deep spot an invisible rut beneath the water slipped me and the machine over on the side. My wife's concern was short-lived when I grinned back with a mud-splattered smile. It was a simple matter to shut off the motor and ease the cycle past the deep spot. Starting it up again, I mushed on out easily.

"That's roughing it," teased my spouse, as she climbed back on the rig. Displaying one muddy sneaker, she convinced me not to get too far back in the boondocks. We spotted a cleared opening just off the path and right on the river and figured it was a perfect place to set up housekeeping. I wheeled the motorbike down almost to the water's edge before shutting off the motor.

Setting up camp went almost as quickly as getting our gear together for the trip. The splash of a hungry NOVEMBER, 1964 11   fish only 15 feet from shore distracted me long enough to put out a fishing line with a not too delicately prepared dough ball.

ADVENTURE ON TWO WHEELS

Eleanor was impressed with the ease in which the pup tent went up. A slight breeze was blowing so I decided a pit five was in order. My hatchet made easy work of this job, and once I got the blaze going, I left my bride to get acquainted with her new kitchen while I went back to fishing.

I had heard that crappie and catfish were biting and I hoped to latch on to some keepers if they came my way. But it was great to loaf and watch the silver strings of clouds fleece across the sky. I was so relaxed I didn't respond immediately to the gentle jerk on my line. Fortunately, I came to quick enough to bring in the playful crappie. It was the size that wouldn't really impress anybody, unless it was my wife or maybe me. But it sure was going to fit nicely into our compactncamping skillet.

The time had whisked by so fast that I hadn't realized it was dinnertime. The popping of cooking oil and the fragrance of frying potatoes caught my attention. Eleanor had supper going. She was mightyntickled with my catch and popped it in the skillet in 12 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland quick order. Maybe it was the fish that made the difference, but the dinner was delightful. So was the evening in front of the campfire.

"Maybe you're right about this motorbike camping," Eleanor sighed as she snuggled down in the sleeping bag. "With the river at our front door and the crickets singing, this almost beats our new home."

After a full night's sleep under the stars, we were up and ready to head home to another week of work early the next morning. Breakfast was a quick but solid one. The bacon and eggs were a tribute to my wife's skill and the brisk morning air the cause of my hearty appetite.

It wasn't more than a 10-minute job to prepare for the ride back. The throaty roar of my bike as I romped on the starter peddle signaled the end of our one-night camp out.

About an hour after arriving home we were back on the road, this time driving to work by car.

"By the way," asked my wife as she stepped out in front of her office, "anytime you get the bug to go on another motorbike camp out, remember you've got an old pro who is mighty anxious to go along."

THE END 13

QUAIL WHILE YOU CAN

Bobs are at high tide now. Get them before they ebb by Norman Dey District Game Supervisor

THE BOBWHITE quail is again on the rampage across NEBRASKAland. These prime game birds are booming here, and though this year's abundant crop does not quite top the all-time record counts of 1958-59, there are more than enough to provide outstanding hunting throughout the generous season. The lands have provided this plentiful surplus, and if the "bobs" are not harvested, the bonus birds will be wasted.

Nebraska is on the northwestern edge of the bobwhite range in the United States. The abundance andmdistribution of quail is dependent primarily upon the amount of severe winter weather that occurs. Prolonged periods of sub-zero temperatures and heavy snow cover will virtually eliminate the bob from some areas of the state. This happened following the record counts of 1958-59, and it has taken this long for the birds to build back up again.

As early as 1908, weather was recognized as a limiting factor controlling Nebraska quail populations. In the 1908 biennial report of the Game Commission, the director wrote:

"In my last report, I called attention to the almost complete extermination of the quail, caused by the severe winter of 1905, and predicted a speedy recovery to normal conditions, owing to their domestic habits, and prolificacy. This seems to have been true, as during the past season the quail have been reported more plentiful than for past years."

The report pointed out that the quail season should not be closed entirely. Even then, it was recognized that weather, not hunting, controls quail numbers. But in 1930, a Nebraska Game Commission report stated:

"The bobwhite quail was almost eliminated. Extreme winters took a heavy toll ... In order to secure a bird to replace the bobwhite quail, which probably never will be found in Nebraska in large numbers again, owing to the lack of suitable cover, the commission has introduced the Hungarian partridge . .

Although severe weather was recognized as a "killer" of quail, the birds' ability to return during years of favorable conditions was not realized. Quail habitat north of the Platte River is limited. During years of mild winter weather, quail are able to spread out into marginal territory and provide some fine shooting there. Adverse weather virtually eliminates the birds in the marginal range. In spite of very severe conditions some quail will persist along the river drainages. During years of good reproduction and mild winters, they will repopulate the surrounding area.

In the winter of 1959, a period of prolonged heavy snow caused a state-wide decrease of over 50 per cent in the bobwhite population in Nebraska. These losses occurred throughout the quail range, but were especially noticeable in the marginal habitat. The bobs' ability to replenish their numbers after a sharp decline was illustrated by an increase of 30 per cent in 1961.

Even under favorable conditions, the bobwhite cannot expect a long life. Annual natural mortality is close to 80 per cent in hunted as well as protected areas. Birds taken by hunters simply reduces the number lost to other causes.

If an area is able to maintain 100 quail during the winter months, birds in excess of this number can be expected to perish. Assuming 200 quail are produced in such an area, what happens to the extra 100 birds? If no hunting occurs, the total reduction will be by natural factors such as accidents, predation, suffocation during winter storms, and the like. The food and cover will not support or protect the excess birds and they become susceptible to severe weather. Ideally hunting could remove all of the excess quail, thus eliminating the loss of birds to natural factors.

Interest in quail hunting is increasing each year in NEBRASKAland. In 1944, the quail season was opened as a result of the increased quail numbers following the population lows of the thirties. The 1944 season confined hunting to the four southeastern counties. Areas open as well as the length of season have increased each year until 1961 when the entire state was open. In 1944, the season lasted only 10 days. This year a 70-day hunt will be held in the southern half of the state while the north will offer 58 days of bobwhite shooting.

Bobwhite hunting ranks second to the pheasant in total number of birds harvested here. Although Nebraska is not in the prime quail range in the United States, some 48,000 resident hunters harvested 320,000 quail in 1963. The highest quail harvest in recent years occurred in 1959 when 59,000 hunters bagged 448,000 quail.

As occurs with most species, a minority of the hunters kill a majority of the birds. Many quail are taken each year by hunters pursuing other game, especially pheasants. Nebraska, the state of mixed-bag hunting, allows sportsmen the opportunity to hunt several species of game at the same time in the same area. Hunters who take their quail in conjunction with other species are responsible for about 20 per cent of the annual harvest.

For management purposes the state is divided along U. S. Highway 30 into two zones. The area north of the highway is considered marginal range. Population fluctuations are extreme, but the area provides some good hunting during most years. Close to 10,000 hunters bag quail in the northern zone each year.

Nebraska's most dependable quail range is south of the highway. Ten counties in the southeastern portion of the area contain the best quail range in the state. Each year over 40 per cent of the bobwhite harvested in the state come from this "Top 10" site. It's easy to see why when you realize that the area is not as subject to the violent population fluctuations.

Nebraska's game regulations provide maximum recreation without endangering the resource. This year's generous quail season is geared to take full advantage of the booming population. If hunters fail to take advantage of the surplus, nature will. In Nebraska, at least, it makes sense to get quail while you can.

THE END

THEY WILL FIGHT NO MORE...FOREVER

THEY CALL the verdant 20 acres nestled next to the Platte "Nebraska's Arlington", or maybe more appropriate, "The Arlington of the West". For here at Fort McPherson National Cemetery, the great moments in the winning of the West linger heavy throughout the historic shrine.

The peaceful scene of regimentary white markers marching through the lush green lawn is in sharp contrast to the grim spectre once seen by those who rest here. Among the 2,521 buried at McPherson are the men who fought and died during the bloody Indian wars, the longest battle our nation has ever known.

Ironically, those who lit the powder keg that exploded in war across the prairie in 1854 lie next to those who died at the final horrible slaughter at Wounded Knee in 1890. Joined with them are troopers who heard the scalp cry of the Cheyenne at Sand Creek, felt the fatal sting of a Sioux arrow at the Rosebud, or tasted blood mixed with sweat at the battle of Slim Buttes.

These men have come from all over the West. As each of their frontier outposts was abandoned, the troopers were sent to McPherson to join the growing ranks of the shrine's "Lost Battalion". Men from Nebraska's Forts Robinson, McPherson, Kearny, Hartsuff, Atkinson, Sidney, and Mitchell joined those from Colorado's Forts Sedgwick, Crawford, and Lewis and Camp White River. From Wyoming came soldiers from Forts Laramie, Sanders, Fetterman, Bridger, Halleck, and Steele and such famed outposts as Independence Rock, Old South Pass, LaBonte, and Baggs. From Fort Hall in Idaho and Fort Hale in South Dakota they've come, all joined together at their bivouac on the Platte.

Many of the men have no names, at least to those who pass by their simple marble markers. But death never came easy on the Plains. Most of the unknown fought in the Sioux and Cheyenne campaigns, and there are those who bear the mementos of torture at the hands of the hostiles. Others lost their names to the elements, their wooden markers destroyed by wind and rain and prairie fire before their bodies were moved to McPherson.

The Indians called them "dog faces", "heap walk men", and "wagon gun soldiers", and they both feared and mocked these men in blue. They laughed at General Patrick Conner's command during the ill-planned Powder River Expedition in Wyoming in 1865. Sitting astride their ponies just out of gun range, the hostiles delighted at seeing the starving soldiers fighting over the still warm flesh of dying mules.

But at the Washita in Kansas Territory it was something else. George Custer, then a general, guided these troopers into a Cheyenne village in the dead of winter, murdering the helpless Indians as they ran ahead of the onrushing cavalry attack.

Blue-coated heroes bivouac in glory at Arlington of the West by J. Ggreg Smith

Such scenes were repeated again and again throughout the bloody 36-year history of the winning of the West. And each time it was, new recruits joined those already at McPherson. "We're marching off for Sitting Bull," they sang, "and this is (continued on page 52)

16

A CARTRIDGE TO MATCH

Conditions dictate the right slug for deer. Here's way to make your choice

NO DEER hunter deliberately handicaps himself with the wrong rifle-cartridge combination, but unwittingly many do. In 1963, Nebraska's buck busters racked up an imposing 69 per cent success ratio. Even so, 31 out of every 100 hunters failed to score. It's a safe bet that some of the blanks came from the rifle and cartridge for a particular situation.

With whitetails in the east, mule deer in the west, and a strong overlap in between, Nebraska has three distinct types of deer hunting. Eastern whitetails are largely brush-country propositions. In the west, mule deer put a premium on long-range marksmanship in reasonably open country. In the overlap, one shot may be at 45 yards, the next at 245.

A cartridge that is good medicine for the timber-skulking whitetail may not be the right prescription for the far-ranging mule deer. On the other hand, a first-rate plains performer may be out of its element in the heavy cover. There is a good rule of thumb for selecting the proper deer rifle and the right fodder for it: heavy, slow-moving bullets for the brush buck; light, fast-stepping slugs for the wide-open spaces.

Whitetail hunting is normally a close-range deal calling for a handy, fast-swinging rifle loaded with a 18 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland bullet stable enough to plow through the brush and bore into the target without deflection or distortion. Since most whitetails are gunned at 50 yards or less, flat trajectory and retained bullet energy aren't important.

Round or blunt-nosed bullets weighing 150 grains or more are usually good brush cutters provided their velocities are not sky high. At short and medium ranges, expansion and shocking power are adequate to upend the biggest whitetail that ever raised a flag. Stubby slugs plow through obstacles with less deflection.

The .30/30, .32 Special, the .30/06 with medium-velocity 150 or 180-grain loads, the .35 Remington, and NOVEMBER, 1964 19   the potent .358 Winchester with its 200-grain slug have well-earned reputations as brush buckers. All of them qualify in Nebraska where a deer rifle must deliver at least 900 pounds of energy at 100 yards

This problem of bullet deflection and blowup is not yet clearly understood, but some interesting experiments have been conducted and some worthwhile conclusions reached. Even with light screening in front of the target, bullets weighing 70 to 100 grains, driven at 3,000 feet per second, blew up or veered away when they hit the brush. The occasional bullet that did get through to the 45-yard target was often partially expanded and lacked enough point-on penetration to insure a clean kill. In heavier brush, bullet behavior was even more erratic.

Increasing bullet weights and lowering velocities showed promise in the tests. Even with a heavy screen of brush, the 150-grain bullet loafing along at 2,500 feet per second averaged only a 3-inch deflection. With the 180-grainer there was no measurable deflection and no discernible expansion. The old reliable .30/30 with its 170-grain cartridge came through with an excellent brush-bucking performance. These comprehensive tests made by expert marksmen and experienced deer hunters confirm the axiom of the heavier the brush, the greater the need for a heavier bullet.

A CARTRIDGE TO MATCH continued

The .243 Winchester is a deservedly popular caliber for deer hunting, but it is not the ultimate for hunting whitetails in heavy cover. Its jet-fast slug has speed to burn and wallop a plenty out where the yards are measured in hundreds but it is not for brush bucking. If the owner wants to use it on river-bottom whitetails, he should experiment with reduced loads and the heaviest bullet his pet can handle. Better yet, he should pick his openings carefully when he starts blasting at a buck on the lam.

Close-range misses that seem inexplicable at the time are often caused by bullet blowup or excessive deflection from a twig or branch in the bullet's path. The hunter who muffs an easy chance may find the answer by analyzing his cartridge and the hunting situation. The next time he may tip the odds in his favor by tailoring the cartridge to fit conditions.

Out west where the mule deer are supposed to play, the hunter has to cope with different circumstances. Ranges are generally long and a flat-shooting, fast-stepping bullet is needed. The hunter seldom has to mow the shrubbery to reach his buck.

Velocity is only a crutch in a bullet's over-all performance. It keeps the projectile on a reasonably straight line from muzzle to target. The instant a bullet breaks from the barrel, gravity goes to work. The longer it has to work the more down pull it exerts. If a bullet gets there in a hurry, the drop is obviously less.

Here the blue darters among modern cartridges come into their own. The longer the range, the less retained energy is held by a bullet. The plains hunter has to compromise between velocity and impact to consistently score on way-out venison. A bullet that travels like a scalded cat but has no more final impact than a pat on a pillow is no good. The heavier a bullet, the more potential energy it carries but the slower it travels. Once under way, however, it keeps its speed longer than a light projectile. The need for speed to cover long distances quickly and the importance of retained wallop creates a conflict between pace and punch. Fortunately, modern ammunition for many popular deer rifles combines both speed and bullet weight to an effective degree.

The 170-grain .30/30 slug has only 760 foot-pounds of energy at 300 yards. That is hardly enough to down a tough old mule deer at long range. At best, the brush-bucking .30/30 is only a marginal performer on far-out game. Besides, the slug has a mid-range trajectory of I2V2 inches over the long haul and that is enough to cause a miss. Compare these figures with the 150-grain spitzer from the .30/06. At 300 yards, the bullet has 1,510 foot-pounds of energy. What is equally important the slug arcs only six inches while making the trip. The cobra-fast .243 with its 100-grain bullet delivers 1,190 foot-pounds of energy at 300 yards with only a 5V2-inch mid-range trajectory.

Ballistics and venison chops are two different things. But sometimes a knowledge of the former leads to the latter. It is evident, all other factors equal, that the western Nebraska hunter improves his chances with a lighter, faster bullet of high accuracy. Across the state, the whitetail man has a better opportunity to nail down a trophy with a bulldozer bullet of so-so velocity and accuracy.

Most deer hunters can get by very nicely for both types of hunting without having two rifles in the rack. The .30/06 can be loaded up or down for the specialized requirements of mule and whitetail. The .30/30 can be sighted in to do creditable work at 200 yards, and the reloader can roll some pills for the .243 that do a middling job of muddling through the brush. Other calibers can be tailored to meet the needs of the particular hunt.

The middle-belt hunter who prowls the overlap zone in quest of venison can do well with medium-velocity, heavyweight bullets, and some judicious sighting in to acquaint him with a rifle's performance with various cartridges. The brush-bucking heavies can be effectively tailored for that once-in-awhile long shot at a whitetail or the equally infrequent close-in crack at a mule deer. In many instances factory ammunition of various weights for the same caliber are available. If not, there is always a competent reloader anxious to brew a special concoction for the serious hunter. Even the prosaic .30/30 can be jazzed up a bit with 150-grain bullets to become a pretty good middle-distance performer with considerable punch.

Even the best rifle and cartridge combo in the world isn't worth a hoot if the hunter can't shoot or is unfamiliar with his rifle's particular characteristics. Careful sighting in at various ranges, plenty of practice, and a knowledge of ballistics and bullet behavior are just as important as the proper mating of rifle and load. There is no substitute for experience in deer hunting. This includes experience in all the angles that influence the success or failure of this wonderful sport.

Selecting a cartridge to match the particular conditions of a hunt won't guarantee you a big buck or even a shot at one. But like holding a kicker in poker, it can help you draw a full house, or in this game, a full tag.

THE END NOVEMBER, 1964

SIDNEY

Boom Town, U.S.A. by Elizabeth Huff

BOOM TOWN, U.S.A., aptly describes the thriving community of Sidney in NEBRASKAland's panhandle. Twice in its nearly 100-year history, the Cheyenne county seat has felt the rush of a boom—first with the cry of "GOLD", then "OIL".

Sidney came over the newly-laid rails of the Union Pacific and set down roots in 1867. Nearby Fort Sidney was established that same summer to protect the railroad workers from maurading Indians. Then, in 1875 gold was discovered in the Black Hills, and the town got its first taste of a boom.

The nearest railhead to the claims, Sidney became the jumping-off-place for the gold fields. All manner of desperados contributed to the general lawlessness and added a colorful if somewhat bloody page to Sidney's history. It was here during the height of the gold fever that the world's first all-night theater was begun, simply because there weren't enough beds to go around.

Finally, the fever was broken and the gold prospectors moved on. Sidney got respectable in the 1890's and calmed down to become the hub of ranching and farming in the area. The community was incorporated as a village in 1885. Civic clubs were organized. With the Indian threat forever over, Fort Sidney became a memory and citizens enjoyed a more peaceful existence.

Then, in the "dirty thirties" Mother Nature dealt a cruel blow. She withheld life-giving rain, making dust bowls of once productive croplands. During these hard years, Sidney struggled to survive. But the pioneer instinct was still strong, and many stayed to fight and win the battle. With drought and depression ended, the town began to live again.

Then, it happened: Sidney boomed once more. Oil gushed forth from the first well in 1949, and "prospectors" again streamed into the panhandle town. But the noisy reckless boom days of her youth were gone. People had worked too long and too hard to be tumbled again by quick prosperity. Sidney goes on much as it did before, but with an even greater confidence.

Tourism adds another boom to the economy. The nation's first coast-to-coast pavement, the Lincoln Highway, joined the Union Pacific to put Sidney on the tourist map. The Lincoln Highway, U.S. 30, came through Sidney in the 1920's and brought thousands.

Today the bustling community reflects the impact of the tourist dollar. Prime travel facilities line the highway through Sidney, each pumping new dollars into the town's economy. Linked so strongly with the past, Sidney capitalizes on its Wild West heritage. Each year, the town turns back the pages of time to relive the gold-boom era during Fort Sidney Days. Citizens are now working on a project to restore the fort as a museum.

Booms, it seems, are not restricted to fortunes alone. The population has been steadily climbing since the turn of the century—1,000 in 1900, 1,185 in 1910, 2,852 in 1920, 3,306 in 1930, 3,388 in 1940, 4,912 in 1950, and 8,035 today.

Boom town, U.S.A., it is, but the rough-and-tumble, fast-draw era of all-night theaters are a part of the past. Today Sidney is an all-business community.

THE END 22 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland

BUTTES AND PINNACLES

Photography by Gene Hornbeck and Lou Ell Famed sentinels of the West begin in our NEBRASKAland

IF NEBRASKA had no other claim to "where the West begins", it could back its brag with buttes and pinnacles. These unusual topographic formations are as much a part of the West as broncs and branding irons. Relics of a harsh, long distant era, they thrust their bold outlines toward the sky to intrigue all who come their way.

Cloaked in history and surrounded by romance, most of the state's geological guideposts are in the historic Pine Ridge and the ruggedly beautiful Wildcat Hills. They are the easternmost members of a unique clan that marches over much of western America. By definition, a butte is a flat-topped formation projecting above the surrounding level of the land and usually separate from other topographical features. Pinnacles are the slimmer brothers of buttes and represent the erosion of wind and water to a greater degree. The eons-slow work of the elements removes the softer sand and rock until only a slender column of resistant material remains to become a pinnacle.

These sentinels of the West have proud and descriptive titles. Some have names associated with their shapes. Others earn immortality from the legends and superstitions that hover about them.

Among NEBRASKAland buttes and pinnacles that won their names from a giant-scaled resemblance to the everyday are Saddle, Giants Thumb, Pants Leg, and Castle Rocks buttes in the Crawford area of the Pine Ridge. Saddle Butte is a huge sway-back formation riding the range above U.S. Highway 20, a few miles west of Crawford near Fort Robinson State Park.

A canyon with the earthy name of Sowbelly is the home of Pants Leg and Castle Rocks. Both can be visited by following a scenic road that loops off U.S. Highway 20 at Harrison and winds through the canyon. Not long ago Pants Leg was known as Pants Butte, but erosion toppled one of its giant legs. Local residents made the switch easy by coming up with the new name. Castle Rocks are nature's duplicate of medieval castles.

NOVEMBER, 1964 25            

Giants Thumb encourages the U.S. Highway 20 traveler with its jaunty thumbs-up gesture. West of Crawford, it almost qualifies as a pinnacle with its separate spires probing the sky. It is a close neighbor of Saddle Butte.

Chadron is the hub for a web of buttes and pinnacles around the southeastern slopes of the Pine Ridge. Dead-horse Canyon contains Flag and Coffee Grinder buttes. Take the county road south from the Chadron Airport Road and follow it along the floor of the canyon to visit these two unique additions to the NEBRASKAland collection.

Flag is a transitional butte gradually aging into a pinnacle. A thin spire lifts from the top of the formation making a natural staff for displaying Old Glory. Coffee Grinder has the distinctive shape of the old-fashioned grinder of general store and homestead days.

Hidden in a small canyon snaking east from Ash Creek Canyon is Coffee Cup or Teapot Butte, depending upon your choice of beverage. Beyond the range of wheels, it takes walking to view it. A Forest Service road running east from U.S. Highway 385 puts you within a mile of this interesting little formation.

Lonely Sugarloaf Butte rides herd on Toadstool Park and the Badlands. Its square-sided bulk dominates the high plain east of the Badlands and looms over the lesser formations in the nearby area. State Highway 2, north of Crawford, leads you to this isolated remnant of bygone days.

The years have added lustre to the pretty legends of Lovers Leap and Crow Butte. Both are close to Crawford and visible from U.S. Highway 20. The Leap is north and west of the town while Crow is south and east. Lovers Leap gets its name from the classic tale of young lovers who chose death together rather than life apart.

Crow Butte is steeped in Indian lore. Legend has it that long ago the Sioux and Crow were locked in a savage battle with the Crow getting the worst of it. The beleaguered warriors and their families fled to the summit of the nearby butte at the close of a bloody day. The Sioux, confident they had their opponents trapped, broke off the attack to wait for dawn. All night the campfires flickered and danced atop the butte but in the morning the Crow were gone. Using the fires as a ruse to deceive the Sioux into thinking they were on top, the Indians slipped through the lines after dark and escaped to fight another day.

Far to the south in the Wildcat Hills, the massive outlines of Court House and Jail Rocks were welcome guideposts to trail-weary pioneers. Homesick for the familiar sights of the east, the emigrants saw the close similarity between the buttes and the imposing edifices of civilized justice. They gave these lonely outposts of the West their descriptive names. You can see the historic pair from State Highway 88, south of Bridgeport. Famed Chimney Rock is nearby on U.S. Highway 26.

In the same area but off the beaten path is NEBRASKAland's champ among grotesque pinnacles. Smokestack Rock lifts its bell-shaped cap rock above the surrounding hills deep in the folds of the rugged Wildcats. Smokestack is four miles south and three miles west of McGrew. Check with local residents for its exact location and ask permission to cross private property in your quest.

Somewhere in the inhospitable badlands around Scotts Bluff, doughty Hiram Scott died after an epic battle with fate. That was more than a century ago. Today, a national monument and a city bear his name. South and west of the famed bluff is Dome Rock, a mighty butte overlooking a land where western history is written with bold and heroic strokes.

Frederick's Peak is a loner. Miles from its colleagues in the west, it stands in frowning isolation over the Valentine Fish Hatchery. Follow the sign to the fish hatchery on State Highway 7 and look up from the loop that circles the buildings. You can't miss this strange interloper.

There are plenty of other buttes and pinnacles waiting for you in Nebraska, including an array of unnamed or lesser-known formations. Don your hiking boots and strap a camera for exploring adventures among these Western wonders that are too big to be a hill, too small to be a mountain, too high to be a knob, and too low to be a peak.

Next month, OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland will give you a unique 28-page "Calendar of Color" Christmas present. It's one of the most impressive collections of color photographs ever published in any magazine. You won't want to miss this special gift from OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland.

THE END 36 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland

NIGHT OF THE SPOONBILL

My experience morning after eclipse has fish experts scratching their heads by Walter Klusaw

THIS IS a fish story that doesn't quite need a tall man's reach to tell, but it's guaranteed to send the fish experts running to their reference books to see if it really could happen. The yarn began on a spooky summer night, the aftermath of last year's July 20 eclipse.

There was an emptiness in nature following the celestial spectacle. A strange hush came over the world, almost as if the birds and insects were hiding in fear of the goings on. Not until the eclipse was over did I hear the birds stir. Then there was an urgency in their cries I had never noticed before. Hoping the fish were in on the revival, I made a quick call to Julius Mazur, my brother-in-law. By nightfall, we were headed for Louisville lake for what turned out to be the weirdest fishing trip of my life.

Everything still seemed out of whack when we got to the lake, following the short trip from Omaha. Even the bullfrogs, crickets, and night bugs were quiet as we rigged our lines. But the shenanigans going on out on the lake were something else. Spoonbills, normal river dwellers, were leaping out among hoards of shad.

Julius and I hoped that the bass were in on the act. Throughout the evening we tried minnows, crawdads, and worms but continued to zero out. It was well after midnight when the first omen of things to come occurred. We were talking and didn't see Julius' line peeling silently off the reel till the rod fell from its prop. He grabbed it as it slid toward the water and hauled back. All the line was out and he tried desperately to reel in. When the reel wouldn't turn, he figured the reel was broken and called for help. I reached for his line as it swung in close to shore and tried to pull it in, but there was a heavy quiver bucking against it. The pull was so tremendous Julius' reel kept slipping until his eight-pound-test line parted like cotton.

After that, we hunched over our rods, determined to catch some of those king-size fish. But our lines were untouched so we finally baited everything for the night and hit the sack. The next moring we woke about sunup and started a pot of coffee. Checking the lines I found the bait still untouched. I re-baited the hooks, putting a fat frog on one and a lively minnow on the other. The minnow was hooked through the tail and swam just under the surface.

I was beginning to wonder if the fish had been effected by the about-face in nature as I headed back to the fire and a hot cup of coffee. A whirring reel told me maybe they had. I raced back to shore and grabbed the rod. Hauling back hard, I found a strain like I had never felt in all my years of fishing. It seemed as if the 38 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland bottom of the lake was on the line. Then the pressure eased and a moment later the water erupted as a giant spoonbill exploded into the air. I thought my line had snapped, but then the rod bent double and was nearly pulled out of my hand.

If the strain became any greater, I knew the 12-pound test line would break. But I worked the slip brake and that probably helped some. Then the giant suddenly eased up and I realized the fish was only 25 feet from shore and close to the surface.

Julius rushed in with the dip net as I reeled in the king-size specimen. He was coming tail first. I tried to slip his nose into the net but it filled the mesh by itself. Then the spoonbill started to struggle again. Determined not to lose him, I threw the rod on the bank, grabbed the fish by the tail, and ran 50 yards up on the shore.

Only then was I able to get the first good look at my prize. He was a monster, all right, measuring 50 inches from nose to tail. The baited hook was beside the spoonbill's mouth, no longer hooked. My line was wrapped around and around his body all the way from his paddle nose to his tail. Some 30 to 40 feet of it was binding him so tightly that I had to cut him out of the fantastic web.

My spoonbill battle posed some real puzzlers. The fish is a plankton feeder, but those at Louisville were jumping at shad all over the lake and I caught mine with a minnow. This is where the experts disagree with me. The fish-management people concede that my big-snouted prize, whose relatives have been traced back some 350 million years, may have taken my hook. Perhaps he was foraging along with his mouth open and accidently injested it with more likely fare. The paddlefish takes in a lot of water with his food. He strains out the delicacies with his long, silky "gill combs". The technicians also suggested that he might have twisted himself up on the hook as it hung just below the surface. Either way, they figure the big minnow I used for bait had very little if anything to do with catching the spoonbill.

Whether snagged, hooked, or ensnared in a fatal web of his own making, the big fish delighted the Klusaw clan. Our three little boys viewed Dad as the fisherman of the year when their awed looks took in the 33V2-pound monster. I have to admit I felt about 10 feet tall at the time.

Cleaning the fish was easier than I expected. He skinned readily and I found him boneless, except for a round cartilage where the backbone should be. It pulled out easily. There were no ribs at all and it was no trick to slice off nice clean steaks that looked like slabs of halibut.

When I drift into a reminiscing mood, I find myself back with my big spoonbill. Julius will always remember the violent creature that parted his eight-pound-test line like thread. We both think this was the work of a spoonbill. Between the spoonbills and the eclipse, it added up to the weirdest fishing trip of our lives.

THE END OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland proudly presents the stories of its readers themselves. 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 you have a story to tell, jot it down and send it to Editor, OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland, State Capitol, Lincoln 68509. Send photographs, too, if any are available. OCTOBER, 1964 39

SPEAK UP

FIRE FIGHTER'S OK "We appreciate the fine article, 'Hunters' Fire Watch' that appeared in the September issue of OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland. The article is down to earth and gives the basics of fire fighting. The annual acres lost to fires in Nebraska are double that which they should be. This would be cut down with the simple facts pointed out in the article. The tools and know-how are all that are needed to stop fire."—James O. Folkestad, Supervisor, U.S. Forest Service.

STILL ALIVE I liked the story, The Mighty Spade in the September issue of OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland but I disagree that the Spade died. The Richards boys tried to carry on until 1921 but with cows at $15 they gave it up. I tried to take as much of the ranch as I could from the loan company. We have 40 square miles of the old Spade, brand 1,000 calves and produce 600,000 pounds of cattle each year. We have topped the market in Omaha as late as August 28. Bartlett Richards was the greatest cowman in the West. I grew up with Bartlett Jr., and Langley Richards here at the ranch where I drew a man's wages of $25 per month in 1909. They had the advantage on me by going to Yale and Harvard while I was chasing cows and didn't have a school to go to. — Lawrence Bixby, Ellsworth.

SNAKE BITES TWICE "I thought your readers might be interested in our experiences with the Snake River. My friends Larry Woodruff Ralph Ziesler, James Viewer, and I, all of Butte planned a 150-mile float trip down the Snake and Niobrara rivers from Snake Falls to Butte.

"We rounded only two bends of the river when rocks bashed three holes in our Fibreglas covered wood canoe. The other boat capsized when it hit a fallen tree and washed through a raging rapids.

"After taking a view of the situation ahead, we gave up and lugged the boats and equipment up the steep canyon walls. We then took our gear to the Niobrara where we patched the canoe and completed our trip on a somewhat more peaceful river."—Ronald P. Liewer, Butte.

RARE COLLECTION "J. E. (Jack) Weaver of Sutherland has what I feel is a collection that is both unusual and valuable. He has all the Nebraska hunting and fishing permits since 1916 In addition, he also has quite a collection of trapping permits and duck and upland game bird stamps. -Kenneth Newcomb, Paxton.

MINNIE HA HA AND FRIEND Your articles on bow-bending hints are of special interest to our family. We have two Indians at our house who bend the bow in full dress. Princess Ha Ha might "well be a direct descendant of Minnie Ha Ha and Chief RainBow-Chaser a bronze buck. There are t:mes when we feel they might be claimed by the Blackfoot tribe.

"The young chief bought a white man's archery license a year or two ago but, unfortunately, was unsuccessful in bagging a deer."—Mrs. John Swick, Broken Bow.

PICKLED CARP "I have a problem that you might help me with. I am trying to find a recipe for pickled carp. Hope one of your readers can advise me. I enjoy OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland very much. Keep up the good work."—Frank Hamiak, Omaha.

The United States Department of the Interior, Fish and Wildlife Service has a leaflet on carp that explains pickling and gives a number of recipes for their preparation. In writing to the Fish and Wildlife Service, ask for Fishery Leaflet 19.—Editor.

TALL YARNS Some hunters tell some mighty tales, So tall they make you groan; Especially if the teller Is quite a ways from home. One states he killed a snake one day, Skinned it and watched it die; Swears it crawled back into its skin And hissed him sliding by. A second tripped upon a rut. His gun discharged in air, Which accidentally killed a goose That konked a sleeping bear; The startled bear awakened, and Jumped backwards over a cliff, Landed upon a stalking fox, Pancaked it flat and stiff. A third one skinned a possum, Left the dying corpse to bleed; Next night, his dogs coon hunting, The bloodless carcass treed. A fourth complains that rabbits Are so thick that it's no fun To hunt them on his crowded farm Where they take turns to run. A fifth tells of a dog he trained To point mushrooms and fox; A sixth claims that he taught a deer To roller skate and box. But lying is for fishermen, (For hunters it's a curse) 'Tho I am sure you heard some tales As good as these—or worse. Guy G. Germano 40 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland

RIG FOR OUTDOOR BAKING

Mouth-watering camp chow sure bet with this aluminum gadget by Lou Ell

THE REFLECTOR oven is nothing new to experienced wilderness campers. It has been around for a long time, providing biscuits, pie, cake, macaroni and cheese, or other baked dishes to those who really know how to eat banquet-style in the outdoors. Its baking principle is simple. Two polished metal surfaces joined at an approximate 60-degree angle trap the heat from the campfire. The lower surface throws the heat upward; the top one directs it down. Any food on a shelf in between is cooked to a mouth-watering turn.

Few satisfactory reflector ovens are available through camping dealers. Cheap ones are usually opensided and do not function well. Better designs with enclosed ends are expensive, or fold into odd shapes that are hard to pack. You can build the rugged design shown on these pages yourself. If you do the job right, you'll have an oven that will out perform the most expensive units.

To begin, draw a set of full-size plans on paper and transfer to the aluminum sheet with carbon paper. Be sure to include all outlines as well as dotted bending lines. With a steel square and an ice pick, score the metal along the dotted bending lines. This will help make neat, straight bends later. Cut out all pieces on the solid pattern lines, and dress the edges with the file. Start bending by making the reflector top first. Begin with the bending folds to fold the metal over into a double thickness.

Now clamp the metal between the hardwood boards with the scribe line fully visible. Work the metal with the half-moon slider, applying light pressure. When the bend reaches 90 degrees, remove the metal from the NOVEMBER, 1964 41   clamp, and complete the full fold on the workbench, bearing down hard. If the slider does not slip along the metal easily, wax it with a little paraffin or floor wax.

RIG FOR OUTDOOR BAKING coninued

Make the second bends or "fold ups" to form the sides of the top reflector. These are simple 90-degree bends. Remember to bend in the corner reinforcing tabs before the sides are brought up. You will be able to make only one "fold up" in the bending jig. Finish the other two sides by laying the 12V4 by 7V2-inch board inside the tray, and bending the metal up around it.

Next, follow the same procedure to make the reflector bottom. Here all four edges are enclosed like a shallow pan. Square the bottom up around the 11% by 7 ¥4-inch board. Tap lightly with the hammer to help set the final fold.

Leave the forming boards in place, and drill the corners for their rivets. Remove the forming boards to set the rivets. Back them with the small anvil or a brick and peen lightly with the hammer. All rivet heads should be on the outside of the oven.

Follow the fold-in precedure for the two ends of the shelf, but stop the front fold at a 60-degree back angle. This stiffens the shelf. Cut a piece of straight coat-hanger wire the length of the shelf. Start a fold along the back edge of the shelf, and lay the wire in. Now carefully roll the metal around the wire with pliers.

Fold the side pieces, as indicated in the plan. Since they are opposites, the folds of one must be toward the opposite side of the metal. Otherwise, you'll end up. with either two right or two left side pieces. Now fold the legs. Remember, these are also opposites when you cut the slant on one end. Drill the opposite end for the pivotal rivet.

Form the shelf-support brackets and the handle bracket around a piece of coat-hanger wire to the shape shown in the plan. Bend the offset crimp into the leg-retainer clips with pliers.

Use three of the one-inch strap hinges to fasten the top and bottom reflectors together. The approximate position of the hinges are shown by broken lines on the plan. Place the end hinges first by drilling appropriate holes and riveting the hinges to the metal on the inside of the oven. If the reflectors can be closed without the hinges binding, insert the center hinge.

Attach the side pieces to the lower reflector, using two hinges per side. Position them so the top reflector will close on them without any gaps, or your oven will waste heat in use. Note that the leg-retainer clips are installed with the same rivets that fasten the back set of side hinges to the lower reflector pan.

Slip two of the shelf-support brackets over the wire in the shelf hinge slots. Lay the shelf in the lower reflector smooth side up and move it to the front of the pan. The hinge brackets, to the rear of the reflector are tucked under the shelf. Mark their position drill 42 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland through the brackets and the bottom reflector and rivet the shelf into place. It should raise and lower easily on this hinge.

Now install the legs. With the oven open, set the square upright on the table, bring the oven to its proper vertical tilt, and hold it there. Slip one leg under its retaining clip, and jockey it to a correct supporting slant. Mark its pivotal point on the sidepiece with the ice pick, drill a hole, and rivet the leg loosely so it can be swung around for proper packing when the reflector is folded up. Now install the opposite leg in a similar manner.

MATERIAL V2 sheet do-it-yourself aluminum $1.50 7 one-inch leaf hinges 1.00 3 packages Vs x 2/q" aluminum brazier head rivets .45 2 wire coat hangers TOOLS .00 $2.95 Pliers Small anvil or brick Tin snips Steel carpenter's square Drill with 3/s" bit Ice pick 8" mill file 1 board }]Wx7V4" 1 board 12V*" x7]/2" Two hardwood boards approximately I"x2"xl8", fastened together with a wing bolt through each end, and one hardwood half-moon slider. This gadget is for making the bends in the aluminum.

Form the shelf-support wires and insert them in the two remaining support brackets. Raise the front edge of the shelf to an exact horizontal plane, mark the position of the supports on the sidepieces below the shelf, and rivet them in. The shelf will rest on the upturned ends of the wire. Drill a hole in the shelf edge at the point of contact, so the wire will project through.

Lifting the shelf off the points allows the wires to swing back so the shelf will flop into the lower reflector pan when the unit is collapsed. Swing the legs from under their retainer clips, and the sidepieces will fall in on the top of the shelf. Pivot the legs in and the top reflector closes as a cover for the folded oven.

The handle to open the top reflector when baking is being done also serves as a spring clamp to hold the reflector closed when packed. Bend it as shown, slip its loose ends into the bracket, and rivet it to the top reflector. Once you've polished the inside of the pans brightly with steel wool, the oven is complete.

Now you're all set to head for outdoor NEBRASKAland for a date with the campfire. Try cooking some of that mouthwatering grub that makes any outing a success. January's magazine will provide detailed information on how to use the oven plus some Jackpine Savage recipes that are made to order for this rig.

THE END NOVEMBER, 1964 43

THEY WERE reckless men of adventure who traded civilization for the lonesome trap lines of an untamed wilderness, and in the process, became the pathfinders of the nation. These rugged individuals were loners by choice, and trapping was only the means and the excuse to see what was over the next hill.

Yesterday's buckskin-clad trappers, like the wilderness they loved, have disappeared from the American scene. But today there are still those who seek out the "high lonesome", and follow the trap line to get there. Such a man is Claire Dailey of Lincoln. The 51-year-old ex-sergeant is as much of a rugged individualist as any who stepped off into the untamed frontier over 100 years ago.

The eight-year army veteran foregoes the confining comfort of year-round employment for the call of the wild. Each year from November to March he trades the time clock for the trap line.

The holocaust of World War II made Dailey determined to return to the peaceful scene of outdoor Nebraska. To him, it was the one place that had meaning in a strife-torn world. Dailey was able to fulfill his pledge once he was discharged from the army, and each winter he returns to the life he loves best.

Neither wife nor job nor society in general have been able to deter him from his course. Claire explained his outdoor yen to his wife before they got married, so he had no problems there. He has less luck in convincing employers, but has now found a job that doesn't conflict with his winter-time interests.

Trapping still means coming to terms with nature, but civilization has modified some of the hardships. The rawhiders who pushed through the perils of the wilderness on snowshoes, canoes, horseback, and afoot with only the simplest of life's necessities now have the luxuries of cars, roads, and nearby towns. Claire's car is a trapping buggy by the simple expedient of removing the back seat.

Working like the efficient and unobtrusive beaver, Claire runs his trap line from near his home in northeast Lincoln to Fremont and back. His territory takes in the fingerlike creeks that fan out over the area. The 44 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland outdoorsman's trap lines come to about 100 sets that run in a circle. 'There's no sense deadheading in this business," Claire pointed out. "However, the traps aren't in a true circle. You have to zigzag some because there are areas that will dry up and the traps have to be shifted. Knowing the country and getting the landowner's OK are important in this business."

Dailey's prey ranges from the abundant muskrat on down to the uncouth skunk. This takes in the beaver, but Castor canadensis has tumbled to humble days, even though his high-toned scientific name is the same. The proud place the beaver once held is all but lost. Most trappers don't bother with him because he's hard to trap and difficult to process. With prices down on the once-popular pelt, it's easy to understand why fewT trap the large rodent.

"I trap beaver, but I don't like them," Claire said, who probably holds the state record with his 76-pound beaver he caught last December. "You can only make one cut when you skin out the critter. Scraping off the fat is as hard as stretching out the pelt in a round blanket for drying."

Skinning is done with the purpose of coming up with a round pelt. There is some concentration of beaver in the Platte Valley, according to Claire. He generally works up a creek to the dam. The animal is smart, tough to trap, and as strong as a horse.

"The best time to trap is the first few weeks before the ponds freeze over" Claire said. "I might get as many as 100 muskrats the first few nights along with a few mink and beaver. But this isn't the best time for the best furs. Furs are at their prime at the height of the cold weather. It's the driest time of the year and the skin is free from any discoloration. Muskrats prime up the last of December and January, but it's hard to catch them because everything is frozen over. That's when I go for the beaver."

Ice sets and lots of muscle work are the order of the day when taking winter beaver. Claire first locates the beaver's feed bed, which is usually evidenced by cornstalks or brush in the ice. Once the hole is chopped, he puts down a tree limb about three to six inches thick and is long enough to reach to the bottom of the pond. Claire then tacks on some willows and a pair of sticks that make a balancing arrangement for the trap. Either a No. 2, 3, or 4 trap is set and secured to the log. Later he checks the frozen set for the signs of bubbles from the drowned rodent.

"Ice sets take one to two hours to make, so I don't put out over six of them," Claire explained. "They are mostly something to do when the weather is freezing."

The Lincoln trapper can talk trapping all day until the topic of trapping areas comes up. Then he gets evasive. Knowing the paths that the fur bearers take between trees, rocks, logs, brush heaps, and along the abundant watercourses of Nebraska comes from knowing the terrain and the habits of the animals. But there are tricks of the trade that are only learned by long experience that trappers are sure to keep secret.

To some extent the young people have taken over trapping. High schoolers can pick up as high as $200 a year. Claire doubts if there are over 25 trappers in Lincoln who make their living at the game. He figures he just about breaks even.

Trapping is much more than being concerned about how much money a man can make, at least as far as Claire Dailey is concerned. The chance to be alone in the outdoors, to be and do whatever you want to, these are Claire's goals. He promised himself this kind of life when he was a soldier, and now he's living and enjoying every minute of it.

THE END NOVEMBER, 1964 45

THE EYES HAVE IT

Vision means survival in the animal world. Here is the lowdown on how different orbs do different jobs by Gary Grimmond

DID YOU ever stare a bobcat square in the eye? How about an antelope, a bluegill, or even a bird? It's a safe bet you haven't. These wild creatures wouldn't stick around long enough for such a look, and even if they wanted to play stare-down, they couldn't. Their eyes aren't built for such strange shenanigans.

As you might have suspected but really never realized, the position of the eye has a lot to do with the level of intelligence and the way the animal lives. Those which see best straight ahead are smarter than those which focus to the side.

We humans, along with such tree-swingers as chimpanzees and baboons, sport frontal eyes. Animals like the fox, bobcat, coyote, eagle, hawk, deer, and antelope have oblique-positioned eyes, while most of the fish and reptiles have lateral eyes. We straight-lookers are the smartest of all, and along with those animals who boast eyes in a more forward position, prey on all those simpler critters who look out on the world from the sides of their heads.

Eye placement is important for the hunter-hunted aspect. Some animals see objects with both eyes. Here the image seen with one eye overlaps the image perceived by the other. We humans need this "binoculavision" for judging depth and perspective as we walk, drive, or fly about in our many-dimensioned mechanical environment. Close one eye and try to judge the distance of a tree across the yard or even the nearby clock on the wall. There is little depth perception with one eye, or monocular vision.

Eye position plays a big role in feeding habits. An animal that hunts other animals is aided by frontal or binocular vision because of the convenience of attack and pursuit. Distinct perspective makes for better pouncing and capturing ability.

Vegetarians, on the other hand, depend on side vision which permits a wider range of vision and allows them to quickly spot approaching predators. The cottontail, for example, has eyes placed more toward the side. Though this cuts down on his binocular vision, it gives him a much smaller blind spot than that of the fox or coyote.

Another sharp-eyed animal, prominent in the panhandle and parts of the Sand Hills, is the antelope. Anyone who has stalked this proud and picturesque 46 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland speedster knows that his eyesight is fantastic. His vision is probably the most acute of any four-legged animal in Nebraska.

The antelope's ability to detect movement from any quarter is due to a wide range of vision which results from the unusually large eyes and their cranial location. About the size of the eyes of a horse, the pronghorn's peepers are set in sockets that protrude from the skull. They are also well back on the animal's head, practically under the horns. This feature, along with the cutaway nature of his forehead that provides some binocular vision, enables a wide and sure-sighted lookout range.

Nearly all animals respond to light in one way or another. The simple one-celled amoeba, so common and frustrating to the beginners in biology, perceives light and reacts to it. His retreat response is primitive and shows his lowly place on the life-scale ladder. Eyes are common to creatures even considered blind. When put in strong daylight the hapless mole hustles back to the comfort of darkness. The mole does his food seeking underground, which probably led to his poorly developed eyesight.

Birds are the Mickey Mantles of the eyeballing art. As a class they have the best vision of any animals. The hawk, for example, can spot a tiny mouse barely visible to a groundling, and will swoop down in a deadeye grab.

Any duck hunter can appreciate the long-range gaze of the high-flying migrants who can spot a decoy from seemingly phenomenal heights. Although not as well developed as the hawk, pheasants and quail depend on keen eyesight for feeding and spotting enemies. Prairie chickens and sharptails need sharp eyes in their wide-open range. Songbirds like the brown thrush, catbird, bobolink, meadowlark and robin can crow about their seeing ability. Most of these birds have eyeballs that take up a hefty portion of their frail feathered frames. The eyes are so large that they exceed the size of the brain, which lends some credence to the term "bird brain".

In most birds, the eyes almost touch each other somewhere above another important sense organ, the nose. The nose, like the ear, is important. Animals less blessed with sharp eyesight generally have compensating features, such as keen hearing or a highly developed sense of smell.

A bird isn't limited by eyesight, but he is by eye mobility. To compensate, the sparrow has a long flexible neck and moves his head rather than his eyes. The owl can hardly move his eyes but can swivel his neck an NOVEMBER, 1964 47   eye-blinking 270 degrees. An animal twice blessed in the vision department, the owl also has a binocular field of vision of 60 to 70 degrees.

THEY EYES HAVE IT continued

Contrast the owl's rubber neck gymnastics with the fish, a not-so-bright species that bears out the level of intelligence as based on eye placement. The fish has bilateral eye placement, and he can look one way with one eye and the other way with the other. This wide sweeping vision is highly advantageous for beaming in on potential enemies, food, or a seductively baited hook. Unlike fish, mammals cannot move their eyes independently. And unlike a bird's eye, the underwater fish eyes are adapted for close-range vision.

The shape of the pupil in animals varies greatly. Those that feed at night have large, light-gathering eyes. Nocturnal reptiles such as snakes and many carnivores like the wily coyote shape their pupils to a vertical slit. Some frogs and toads have horizontal oval pupils. The frog and toad should be given special credit for the pinpoint eyesight which enables their sticky tongue to snag unwary insects.

Deer, antelope, cats, and a few other animals have eyes that reflect at night. This striking feature that delights children and intrigues adults is the result of a special membrane located behind the retina. These layers of cells reflect light, giving an eerie atmosphere to the nocturnal scene.

It's evident that in spite of external differences, most eyes are very much alike. Regardless of form, they all serve the same basic function, seeing. Remember this the next time you look at one of your animal friends, even if you can't look him straight in the eye.

THE END 48 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland

HOW TO IDENTIFY A DUCK

There's a good deal of difference. But once you understand it all it doesn't make a lot of sense by Bill Sizer OF THE ARIZONA GAME AND FISH DEPARTMENT

ONE big difference between a duck is that one foot is just about the same, unless he's a coot, in which case either one will probably be different. This bothers some people. They look out across a pond at some coots and say "Oh, looky there at the ducks!"

This points out the need for a better understanding of duck feet. You can easily tell the difference between a duck and a coot by his feet, which are either webbed or sort of webbed, depending on what he is. If he's a gallinule they won't be webbed at all, but we won't discuss that because it's entirely too confusing.

If you're out duck hunting and it's during the duck season and everything is all legal and proper, it's OK for you to shoot a coot, too. Some hunters won't shoot coots, though. Maybe they feel sorry for them, or maybe they're purists, or maybe they think they're ostriches. I really don't know why some hunters won't shoot coots, but it's none of my business, anyway.

If you are one of those hunters who wants to shoot a duck but not a coot, and you see a duck-coot bird of some kind sitting on a pond, you have two choices. You can either scare him into flying and take a quick look at his feet as he takes off, or you can take off your clothes, slip into the water, swim up to him underwater and take a look at his feet from below. You have to be careful not to get your snorkel full of feathers, though. One guy who tried this inhaled a bunch of duck down and was tickled to death right there in the middle of the pond.

Anyway, look at the bird's feet, and if he has webbed feet he's a duck. If it turns out that he has sort of flaps alongside .his toes, he's a coot. If he is a duck, though, then you swim back to shore, find your clothes, put them on, pick up your shotgun and blast him to smithereens.

This is called "shooting sitting ducks", and you're not supposed to do it when anyone is looking.

There is one other way to tell a duck from a coot, though, and it doesn't even involve any skin diving. This is to go look in a book of bird pictures and find out what ducks and coots look like. There's quite a bit of difference.

Once you have decided the bird in question is a duck and not a coot, it's very simple to determine what kind of a duck it is, because there are only four kinds of ducks. There are the ones with green heads, which are called "greenheads" or "mallards", and there are the kind with the long, pointy tails, which are called "pintails". All the rest are either big brown ducks or little brown ducks. Big brown ducks include gadwalls, baldpates, female mallards, canvasbacks, redheads, and like that. Little brown ducks include mostly teal.

You can easily tell a big brown duck from a little brown duck by how much out of range they are when NOVEMBER, 1964 49   you shoot at them. Big brown ducks look closer than little brown ducks when they're all really the same distance away. Big brown ducks also make a bigger splash when they fall in the water if you happen to hit one.

HOW TO IDENTIFY A DUCK

Ducks come in bunches called "flocks" or "flights". Some ducks get real big and are called "geese". These geese come in flocks, too, although some people refer to them as being a "herd" when they see them grazing across the bermuda flats at Roosevelt Lake.

Once I read that a bunch of geese is supposed to be called a "gaggle", but that's a ridiculous word that doesn't deserve to be included in a serious article. Geese are also called "honkers", sometimes, because they sound like a bunch of dogs yapping.

Ducks are divided by their feeding habits into "puddlers", (or "dabblers") and "divers". Puddling ducks stay in shallow water and just lean over when they want something to eat, but diving ducks stay in deep water and go all the way to the bottom. I think this is because they can't swim. Puddle ducks probably can't swim, either, but they have sense enough to stay near the shore. This proves that puddle ducks are smarter than diving ducks. Canvasbacks and redheads are diving ducks, and so many of them have drowned that the Fish and Wildlife Service had to close the season last year.

When they're not off flying somewhere, both kinds of ducks stay close to water because they're too awkward to walk on land. When they take off to fly, though, you can easily tell the puddlers from the divers. Puddle ducks just leap straight up into the air like they'd been goosed. (Geese, though, don't leap into the air like they'd been ducked. I can't explain this.) Diving ducks run across the water with their wings flapping and take off like an airplane. They have to run across the water because, as I already told you, they can't swim.

The Fish and Wildlife Service, which I'll tell you more about later, has a dandy new booklet that tells you about ducks and stuff, and shows you how to tell puddlers from divers. I really don't know why this is so important, though, and I don't know why they have to put out books telling what certain ducks are supposed to do when they take off. I think this is something every duck should decide for himself, without the federal government telling him how to act.

It's also very easy to tell ducks from pillows, because ducks have their feathers on the outside. They're quite pretty, and they show up better there. Pillows, on the other hand, have their feathers on the inside because they're supposed to be soft. Ducks don't particularly care if they're soft or not. In fact, they would just as soon you didn't sit on them.

So much for identification. I don't think there's anything else you might get mixed up with ducks.

Ducks are restless people and they don't stay in one spot very long. They spend their winters in the south and their summers up north where it's cool. In that respect they've got it made, but there are complications. As a matter of fact this next part gets real complicated, but I'll try to explain it anyway.

You see, one of the big reasons ducks go up north in the summer is so they can find a big, old marsh and raise a bunch of young'uns. There's nothing like a big, yellow moon over a marsh to make a duck feel romantic. Because ducks wander all over the country, though, they're classified as "migratory" wildlife, and Uncle Sam has the say-so about managing them. This is OK, except that Uncle Sam has a bunch of nephews working for him, and this is where the confusion starts.

One or two of these nephews have the job of draining all the marshes up north where the ducks go to practice togetherness. Another nephew has the job of keeping the farmers in business when they grow crops nobody needs, though, and he has several cousins working for him. What they do is fix the land all up for planting after they drain the marshes, and get some farmers to grow crops on it. Then one of the cousins pays him money for some of the stuff he grows, while another cousin just buys it outright from him and stores it in warehouses or silos which are built by still another cousin.

All the time this is going on the remaining nephew, who has the job of managing the ducks, is running around trying to get these new farms put back into marshland like they were in the first place, so the ducks can practice togetherness. Without togetherness on the northern marshes, we'll soon run out of ducks.

I told you it was complicated!

Once you understand it all, though, it makes a lot of sense .... I'm sure it must.

In addition to worrying about togetherness places for the ducks, this last nephew, who is called "Fish and Wildlife Service", also has the job of figuring out what the duck hunting regulations ought to be.

Now another thing you ought to know about ducks is that they like to sit around and rest without getting shot at. You can't really blame them for that. Most game and fish departments have smartened up to the fact that refuges don't accomplish much when you're dealing with resident game birds such as quail, but ducks are a different proposition. They can haul off and leave the country whenever they take a notion, so it's important to keep them happy once they do get here from up north.

That's why we still have state and federal refuges for waterfowl. Without them, the ducks get nervous and fly away into Old Mexico or someplace, and that's the last we would see of them.

Refuges are also important up north so the ducks can practice their togetherness without getting pestered.

There are probably other things you should know about ducks, but it's not good to cram too much at one time.

THE END 51

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FIGHT NO MORE

(continued from page 17)

the way we go. Forty miles a day on beans and hay in the regular Army-O."

Members of McPherson's Lost Battalion had the job of enforcing treaties made by an inept Indian bureau. It seemed like the whole nation was moving West in the mid-1800's, and it was their job to keep the road open. At first it wasn't so bad, but as injustice piled upon injustice, and each side rebelled against the murderous acts of the other, it became a war of hate with neither side giving quarter.

"Kill all, scalp all," . the troopers pledged. "Nits make lice."

The only good Indian was a dead Indian to them and when they struck, they revenged those lost at the Grattan Massacre, the Fetterman Massacre, the Battle of the Little Big Horn, and all those other bloody engagements where the hostiles won the day.

But the Indians were just as determined. "This is my land," each vowed. "I am here and this is where I'm going to stay."

Their coup sticks were heavy with honors won avenging the Washita, the Sand Creek Massacre in Colorado, and the Battle of the Blue Water in Nebraska.

Where trooper and hostile fought their bitter, bloody battles the grass grew richer. But the war came to its inevitable end long before Wounded Knee in 1890. Years before a great but beaten chief had said:

"I am tired of fighting. My chiefs are all killed. The old men are all dead. The little children are freezing to death. My people have run away to the hills. They have no food and no one knows where they are. I want to have time to look for my children. Maybe I shall find them among the dead. Hear me, OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland my chiefs. I am tired. My heart is sad and sick. From where the sun now stands, I will fight no more . . . forever.

The men of McPherson's Lost Battalion had done their jobs well. Crook and Mackenzie and Sheridan and Pope and Connor had led them victoriously across the plains. Thanks to them, the West was safe and destined to prosper. With their task done, it was only natural that the men return to the Platte, the focal point of the bloody era.

Not all the members of the Lost Battalion are unknown. The 28 men who answered Lieutenant John Grattan's order to fight Conquering Bear's Sioux near Fort Laramie are gathered together at a large white marble monument. A cow was the cause of the incident that lit the flames of war across the Plains in 1854. The critter had wandered off from a Mormon wagon train, and ended up as a feast in the Brule Sioux village. Grattan led his men into the huge encampment, demanding the surrender of those who had stolen the cow. When Brave Bear refused, Grattan ordered his men to fire, and the rest is history.

Moses Milner, better known as California Joe, is also at McPherson. This legendary character of the Old West joined the California gold rush, fought in the Mexican War, and finally became a trusted scout for Crook and Custer. Old-timers claim that Joe was too smart to be ambushed, but the scout lived out his luck when he was shot in the back near Fort Robinson.

Another famed scout from Fort Robinson, Baptiste Gamier, joined his comrades at McPherson. "Little Bat" scouted for Crook and Mackenzie in the 1870's, but met his death at a bushwhacker's hand at Fort Robinson. One member of the Lost Battalion is an Indian. Spotted Horse, a famed Pawnee scout, earned his place at the historic shrine from a record of brave deeds and services to the men in blue.

Some 580 unknown men are at McPherson. The names of those who are identified have little significance to those who pass by. But the dates on their markers are something else. Each is a milestone on the long and bloody road that led to the winning of the West. The sergeants and privates, corporals and scouts of McPherson's Lost Battalion led the way.

Though Fort McPherson National Cemetery near Maxwell is one of the smallest shrines to the American soldier, it is one of the oldest and most significant. It was established in 1873 even before the last war cries of the Sioux had sounded. Since then it has become the hallowed ground of soldiers who have fallen not only in the defense of the West, but in the defense of the world at BelleauWood, Bastogne, and Iwo Jima.

The men of the Lost Battalion rest at their bivouac on the Platte. Theirs is a peaceful and inspiring encampment. They did their job well and have earned their place among the battalion's brave ranks. "From where the sun now stands, they will fight no more . . . forever."

THE END NOVEMBER, 1964 53

NEBRASKAland is BEAUTIFUL Every litter bit Helps destroy that beauty!

SNOWED PHEASANTS

(continued from page 9)

enjoying some red-hot gunning action.

Custer County is largely hill and dry-land farming country. The slopes are slashed with weedy draws and brushy canyons where the birds find shelter in raw weather. Crops provide plenty of food. Plans for the late-season hunt were made when Karl telephoned and outlined his idea. Neither of us figured we would run into a major league blizzard in the bargain.

"I think we can high-low them," Karl offered. One of us will work the canyon floors while the other skirts the rims. Taking turns, we ought to get good shots."

A storm was kicking around as we drove out of Sargent, but we were optimistic we could limit out before the weather became a howler. I knew my shooting average was in for a letdown when I saw the setup. Karl was relying on his 12-gauge automatic while I toted my side-by-side 20. The gaining wind and thickening snow were going to make shooting mighty tricky.

My companion elected to play dog in the first canyon while I patrolled the rim. Birds that barreled up over the canyon would be mine while those flushing directly in front or behind would be Karl's meat.

The first roosters came boiling out like they were trained. Flailing straight at me, they veered off as they topped the rim and curved back toward the mouth of the canyon. When the muzzles blotted out the first bird, I made my play. It wasn't even close and the second was worse. Ruefully reloading, I realized the birds were going much faster than my estimate. Determined to give the next targets more lead, I kept my eyes on the canyon as Karl threshed out a thicket of plum brush.

Three roosters towered up. Somehow Karl found swinging room and a ringneck end-over-ended into the snow. Another cock blasted off as my partner was reaching for his first kill. He staged an encore on the newcomer and was halfway to his limit in the first 10 minutes.

We worked out the canyon without further action and paused on a little land bridge to select another. The wind was still picking up and the mercury diving. Snow was sheeting down and both of us knew the hunt was going to be hairy if the weather continued.

Adopting the same system on the next canyon, Karl mushed through the brush while I sidehilled above him. Five roosters exploded from the weeds and lumbered away. I picked the closest one and shot. He rocked a bit but never missed a wingbeat. The second shot only clobbered snowflakes.

Karl had some recommendations to cure my sick shooting. "You're actually shooting down on the birds, an unfamilar angle. Normally you shoot up and allow for a rising target. Here, the bird is actually plunging," he counselled. "Instead of a horizontal swing, use a vertical one, swinging up behind the bird and passing him before you shoot. It is kind of complicated—sort of a combination of spot shooting and swinging techniques, but you'll get on to it."

The next rooster might have made it if he had kept his mouth shut. Roaring up behind Karl, he was almost out of range when I heard his derisive cackle. I remembered the coaching and the noisy bird cart wheeled.

Encouraged now, I almost forgot the cold and wind. Eager for Karl to bust out another target I was more than ready when the opportunity came. With a back-to-back pair, I was confident I had this chancy shooting licked.

As we slogged through the snow toward the car for rest and coffee the cold wind whipped the energy out of us. The snow was turning the landscape into a white turmoil. Drifts joined the falling flakes and raced along the ground, blotting out the surrounding hills. The stunted cedars were black and stark against the milling whiteness, as curtains of snow opened and closed before the snarling wind.

We wanted to quit but we couldn't, not with this kind of pheasant windfall. Only four birds short of our limit, we were confident we could outlast the storm for at least another hour of hunting. We drove for a few miles and selected a mile-long canyon on the lee OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland side of a high hill to escape the punishing storm.

It was fantastic hunting. We spooked birds in groups of two's and three's and flocks of 10 or more. My shaky shooting became terrible. Twice I caught myself busting caps at a flock instead of picking out a target. Even Karl was losing his normal steadiness. His automatic was shucking out empties fairly consistently without harming a feather. Everything was going for the birds. Rising into the wind they were gone before our half-blinded eyes could pick them up over the gun.

As empty shell after empty shell dropped into the snow, I realized this had to stop. We huddled behind a rocky outcrop and rested for 15 minutes to let our pounding hearts settle down. After the break we cut cross-country to reach a little box canyon that led down to our car. On the way my sharp-eyed partner and I flushed a rooster apiece and got them.

Karl and I followed the little canyon to its end, clamored over the natural barrier at its mouth, and walked down to the uncut milo where my partner shot his last bird. In the five-hour hunt we saw at least 200 legal birds. Our normally fair shooting averages nose-dived but we had had plenty of targets. Karl had tallied about one in seven while I had fallen away to about one in ten, but we had proved a few points.

We flushed a fantastic number of birds, showing once again that covers cannot be shot out during a long season. Although the weather finally whipped us, we found we could take it for most of the day with proper footgear and warm clothes. There was no competition from other hunters and no trouble obtaining permission to hunt. The birds were just as challenging to hit in January as in October and a lot easier to find. It all added up to great hunting, the kind of hunting I'm anxious to tie into the first time the mercury takes a nose dive.

THE END NOVEMBER, 1964 55

OUTDOOR ELSEWHERE

On the Move. About 67 million pleasure trips were taken by the American public in the first six months of 1963, according to U.S. Department of Commerce estimates. The trips averaged slightly more than one trip per household and about two persons per trip. Purposes included 47 million visits to friends and relatives, 11 million for outdoor recreation, 9 million for entertainment, sightseeing, and other pleasure pursuits. Travel out-of-town overnight or to a place at least 100 miles away was counted as a trip.—Travel U.S.A. Newsletter.

Duck Factories. For the third year in succession, Ducks Unlimited has appropriated $600,000 for the development of "duck factories" on the Canadian breeding grounds. This marks the ninth year that a half-million dollars or more has been appropriated by the organization for this purpose.—South Carolina.

Coffee Grounded. Mohawk Airlines passengers have had to tighten their (seat) belts slightly. They have to forego their complimentary cup of coffee. The carrier eliminated the beverage on all flights after 9 a.m.—Travel Weekly.

Bear Facts. The people of Brentwood and Kingston got pretty excited recently, and with good reason. After all, a bear in the middle of town isn't an everyday occurrence. The last bear known to have been in that area of the state was seen in Brentwood 15 to 20 years ago.—New Hampshire.

Dirty Bird. A McAlisterville mechanic was down in the dumps. When a friend asked him the cause of his woe, he replied, "You know, John, my pappy used to tell me to be on a sharp lookout for my first robin each spring. Now if I saw the first one in a tree and had to look up that meant that things would be 'looking up' for me the rest of the year. If the robin was on the ground, well things would be 'looking down'. Well, on the way to work this morning I saw my first robin, and that son-of-a-gun was walking in a ditch."—Pennsylvania.

Slings and Arrows. Archery is beginning to rival gun marksmanship as a sport and is one of the fastest growing participant sports in the United States. The Archery Institute estimates that there are more than 7 million archers and AVz million participated in tournaments in 1963. More than a million are bow-hunters.—The Izaak Walton League.

Out for Fun. Public attendance at recreation areas of Army Corps of Engineers water-resource projects totalled a record 147 million visits in 1963. The figure represents an increase of 16 per cent over 1962, which was the previous all-time high.

What's in a Name? A pet peeve harbored by many uniformed conservation officers is the label of "warden". It is a justified peeve, too, because a "warden" is generally one who has charge of prisoners. Although this is among the conservation officers duties on occasion, his first and most important duty is field services in many phases of natural resource management — forestry, fish and wildlife, water, minerals, outdoor recreation, and a host of others.—New York

Much Ado About Boats. A new law in Virginia permits the use of portable tail-light assemblies attached to the end of trailered boats in lieu of a stationary rear lamp.—Virginia.

56 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland

NEBRASKAland TRADING POST

Classified Ads: 15 cents a word; minimum order $3 January closing date, November 5 ANTIQUES GENERAL LINE ANTIQUES to please beginners and advanced collectors. Through the Years, Sprague, Nebraska. Open Wednesdays and Saturdays, 2 to 9 p.m. Telephone 432-6038, 423-8950, 477-1681. DOGS GERMAN SHORT HAIRED POINTERS, Bourn's Game Farm, Route 2, Box 190, Lexington, Nebraska, 68850. REGISTERED GERMAN SHORTHAIR puppies 6 months old. Nicely marked. Females, $25 males, $35. Write Ed Weigel, Amelia, Nebraska or telephone 925-2411, Atkinson, Nebraska. AKC BRITTANY SPANIELS. Natural hunters, loyal pals. Pups and older dogs. Dual champion bloodline. Alamo Tic Toe Joe at stud. Fieldtrial winner as well as gun dog. C. F. Small, Atkinson, Nebraska. Telephone 925-8041. VIZSLA POINTING GUN DOGS. Ripp Barat champion bloodlines. Proven excellent hunters Field trial prospect pups. Stud Service to approved bitches. J. R. Holcomb, P. O. Box 177, Englewood, Colorado. Telephone 781-1860. HUNGARIAN VIZSLA pups whelped June 22. Grandsons and Granddaughters of the great Broc Olca Natural pointers and retrievers. Telephone Panama 763-2649. Duane Topp, Adams, Nebraska. FOR SALE: English Pointer pups whelped July 7 1964, also started Vizslas. Bill Osborn, Route No 2, Box 104, Scottsbluff, Nebraska. FOR SALE: Brittanies all ages, some partially trained. Rudy Brunkhorst, Columbus, Nebraska. Telephone 563-0011 (day time). WANT TO TRADE OR SELL a four-year-old male German Shorthaired Pointer for a Golden Labrador female pup. William E. Eich, Geneva, Nebraska. Telephone 759-8334. FOR SALE: English Pointer pups, whelped June 12, 1964. Excellent line breeding both dam and sire of Ariel, Air Pilot Sam, Tyson, Arkansas Ranger, Village Boy. FDSB Registered. Vaccinated. Contact E. A. Watson, M.D., Lexington, Nebraska. Telephone 324-2542. GUNS NEW, USED AND ANTIQUE GUNS, send for list including Browning O & U's, Weatherby, Winchester, Ithaca, Colt, Ruger and others in stock for sale or trade. Send large self-addressed 10t stamped envelope or stop in, Bedlan's Sporting Goods, just off U.S. 136, Fairbury, Nebraska. COMPLETE line of muzzle-loading guns and supplies. Also modern guns and accessories, new and used. Gunsmithing. Dr. Carlson, Crofton, Nebraska. SILENCERS. Pistol, rifle. Compact, efficient attachment. Actual copyrighted plans, plus background information—no GYPO mimeo sheets: satisfaction or refund. $1.50 Postpaid. Service Sales, Dept. ON, Box 889, Seattle, Washington, 98111. HUNTING CAMPS RICHARDSON HEREFORD RANCH. Beautiful surroundings, comfortable beds, superb food. Adjacent to National Forest for miles. Hunters' rates $10 and $13 per day. Levi and Polly Richardson, Crawford, Nebraska. Telephone 2w2. GUIDE FULL TIME FOR DEER. Two-way radio in pickup. Trailer parking space. 1500 acres. Make reservations early. Hays Center. Jim Garrett; Telephone 286-3370. HUNTING CAMP: Deer hunting in beautiful Pine Ridge. Permits still available. Rates very reasonable. Contact Ron Magnuson, 1315 Adams, Lincoln, Nebraska. Telephone 435-5403. ACCOMODATIONS FOR HUNTERS: 120 acres of excellent grouse, pheasant, and deer hunting in Custer County's Cedar Canyons. Lodging in modern five room furnished house, electricity, hot water, gas heat, dishes, cooking facilities, two beds, shower, bathroom facilities. Furnish own bedding. $8 per hunter per day. Harold Knight, Anselmo, Nebraska, Telephone 749-6326. MISCELLANEOUS STONEGROUND CORNMEAL. Most complete line Health Foods. Many processed daily. Come see us or write. Brownville Mills, Brownville, Nebraska. WEEKEND CAMPER. Sleeps four, completely equipped, including awning and poles. $695 and up. A. C. Nelsen Company. We buy used mobile homes. 2018 Harney Street. Telephone 344-4540, Omaha, Nebraska. YOUNG WILD TURKEY. May and June hatch for restocking. Also adults. Price list free. Cozy Pine Hunting Preserve, RD No. 2, Salem, New Jersey. HAND CARVED, hand painted Ivory pheasant, quail, mallard, others two inches long, $6.95 each. Hauer's, 2414, Larchwood Road, Wilmington, Delaware. SCUBA EQUIPMENT BOB-K'S AQUA SUPPLY, Nebraska's largest scuba dealer. U.S. Divers, Sportsways, Voit, Swirnmaster, Scubrapro. Air Station, Regulator Repair. Telephone 553-0777. 5051 Leavenworth Street, Omaha, Nebraska. TAXIDERMY CUSTOM TAXIDERMY. Trophies mounted true to nature. Reasonable prices. John Reigert, Jr., 924 South 39th Street, Lincoln, Nebraska. Telephone 489-3042. TAN YOUR OWN HIDES AND FURS. Complete easy-to-follow instructions and formulas, $1. Western Products, Box 36044-N, Houston, Texas. HAVE YOUR DEER SKINS tanned and made into jackets, gloves and other articles. Write for our folder showing cost and styles. Johnson's Market, Tilden, Nebraska. TRY TAXIDERMY. World's most complete taxidermy supply house. Has everything. Big full color catalog 10£. Vandyke, Woonsocket 8, South Dakota.

CATCH THEM ALIVE AND UNHURT! i^ ^Catches more! Easy to use! Amazing HAVAHART trap captures raiding rats, rabbits squirrels, skunks, pigeons, sparrows, etc. Takes mink, coons without injury. Straying pets, poultry released unhurt i.asy to use — open ends give animal confidence. No jaws or springs to break. Galvanized. Sizes for all needs FREE illustrated practical guide with trapping secrets HAVAHART, 246-N Water Street, Osslning, N.Y. Please send me FREE new 48-page guide and price list Name_________________________ Address___________________________

OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland of the Air

SUNDAY KGFW, Kearney (1340 kc} KTTT, Columbus (1510 kc) KRGI, Grand Island (1430 kc) KVSH, Valentine (940 kc) KXXX, Colby, Kan. (790 kc) WJAG, Norfolk (780 kc) KLMS, Lincoln (1480 kc) KBRL, McCook (1300 kc) .... KCDY, North Platte (1240 kc) KIMB, Kimball (1260 kc) KOGA, Ogallala (930 kc) KFOR, Lincoln (1240 kc) KCNI, Broken Bow (1280 kc) KMMJ, Grand Island (750 kc) KUVR, Holdrege (1380 kc) KHUB, Fremont (1340 kc) KNCY, Nebraska City (1600 kc) KRVN, Lexinqton (1010 kc) KTNC, Falls City (1230 kc) MONDAY KGMT, Fairbury (1310 kc) KSID, Sidney (1340 kc) WEDNESDAY KJSK, Columbus (900 kc) KCOW, Alliance (1400 kc) SATURDAY KCSR, Chadron (610 kc) KOLT, Scottsbluff (1320 kc) KAWL, York, (1370 kc) KHA5, Hastings (1230 kc) KRFS, Superior (1600 kc) KWRV, McCook (1360 kc) KBRX, O'Neill (1350 kc) KMNS, Sioux City, Iowa (620 kc) WOW, Omaha (590 kc) 7:05 a.m. 7:30 a.m. 7:40 a.m. 8:00 a.m. 8:00 a.m. 8:15 a.m. 9:05 a.m. 9:45 a.m. 10:45 a.m. 11:15 a.m. 12:30 p.m. 12:45 p.m. 1:15 p.m. 1:40 p.m. 2:45 p.m. 4:40 p.m. 5:00 p.m. 5:40 p.m. 5:45 p.m. 1:00 p.m. 6:30 p.m. 1:30 p.m. 4:30 p.m. 6:00 a.m. 11:45 a.m. 12:45 p.m. 1:00 p.m. 1:00 p.m. 1:45 p.m. 4:30 p.m. 6:10 p.m. 9:30 p.m. DIVISION CHIEFS Willard R. Barbee, assistant director Glen R. Foster, fisheries Dick M. Schaffer, information and tourism Richafd J. Spady, land management Jack D. Strain, state parks Lloyd P. Vance, game CONSERVATION OFFICERS Chief: Carl E. Gettmann, Lincoln Albion—Wayne Craig, 395-2071 Alliance—Richard Fur Icy, 762-2024 Alliance—Leonard Spoering, 762-1547 Alma—William F. Bdnsail, 928-2313 Arapahoe—Don Schaepler, 962-7&18 Bassett—AA/illiam O. Anderson, 294W Benkelman—H. Lee Bowers, 423-2893 Bridgeport—Joe Ulrich, TOO Broken Bow—Gene Jeffries, 872-5953 Columbus—Lyman Wilkinson, 564-4375 Crawford—Cecil Avey, 228 Crete—Roy E. Owens, 446 Crofton—John Schuckman, 29 Dix—-Marvin Bussinger, 682f2052 Fairbury^—Larry Bauman, 1293 Falls City—Raymond Frandsen, 2817 Fremont—Andy Nielsen, 721-2482 Gering—Jim McCote, 436-2686 Grand Island—Fred Saiak, 384-0582 Hastings—Bruce Wiebe, 2-8317 Hay Springs—Larry D. Elston, 638-4051 Kearney—Ed Greving, 237-5753 Lexington—H. Burman Guyer, 324-3208 Lincoln—Norbert Kampsnider, 466-097] Lincoln—Dale Bruha, 477-4258 Nebraska City—Max Showalter, 873-7155 Norfolk—Robert Downing, 371-1435 North Plotte-—Samuel--Grasmtck, 532-9546 North Platte—Robert D. Patrick, 532-7274 Ogallala—Loron Bunney, 284-4107 O'Neill—James*J. Hurt, 15&J Oshkosh—Donald D. Hunt, 772-3697 Ponca—Richard D. Turpin, 2421 Tekamah—Richard Elston, 278R2 Thedford—jack Henderson, 645-5351 Valentine—Jack Morgan, 1027 Valley—Daryl Earnest, 359-2332 Wayne—Ken L. Adk|sson, 375-2924 York—Gail WoodsidS, 362-4120 NOVEMBER, 1964 57

THE BATS

notes on Nebraska...

BATS, THE only flying mammals, have aroused the interest and imagination of people for many years. Legends and fables concerning these animals are found in many countries. In a Cherokee story, for example, the bat was supposedly created by fastening strips of ground hog skin to a small, mouse-like animal.

This strange mammal belongs to the Chiroptera family, a name derived from two Greek words meaning "winged hand". His closest relatives include the Insectivora, which includes moles and shrews. There are 17 families, and about 2,000 species of bats are recognized.

Twelve varieties have been recorded in Nebraska. All but one of these belong to the family Vespertilionidae, the Latin word for "bat". The remaining species belongs to the family Molossidae, the free-tailed bats.

The wings are the most obvious characteristic which separates the bat from other mammals. These are paired extensions of soft and generally naked skin. Each wing is supported by four elongated fingers, and the clawed thumbs are separate. Paired extensions of skin form the tail membrane, which join the hind legs with the tail. There are five toes on each hind leg. The bat's eyes are small and beady, and vision is apparently poor. His ears are prominent, providing built-in sonar when he emits high-pitched sounds, his way of finding prey.

Three species found here are migratory, including the silver-haired, red, and hoary bat. The remainder of the bats common in Nebraska generally go into hibernation when the temperature fails to rise above 50-54°. Since all of the species found here are primarily insect feeders, they must either move when their food disappears or else go into a state of suspended animation.

The body temperature of an active bat is about 104°, but in hibernating or even in sleeping, he will adjust to 58 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland the temperature of the environment. In this respect, he resembles reptiles and other cold-blooded vertebrates. Because of this temperature adjustment, areas for hibernation must have temperatures which remain above the freezing point. Generally those chosen have minimum temperatures in excess of 42 degrees. In Nebraska, suitable hibernation sites include a few caves, quarries, and cooler parts of buildings such as the attics.

The only true flying mammal, this fabled night rider spends 80 per cent of his life hanging by his toes, deep in slumber by Karl Menzel Assistant Project Leader

Though activity is extremely limited during hibernation, he occasionally will move about for water, feed (if available), and to mate. With the onset of winter, fat will constitute as much as 30 per cent of the bat's body weight. This is utilized during hibernation and may dwindle to less than 10 per cent of the weight prior to the time of emerging from hibernation.

Most bats hang by their feet in hibernation or daytime sleep. However, the small-footed myotis, found in the western part of the state, will often lie belly down in a crevice or on a ledge. If the time spent in hibernation and daylight sleeping during active seasons were added together, it becomes obvious that some bats spend as much as five-sixths of their time in bed.

Mating takes place during the fall, occasionally during the winter, or in the spring when the bat finishes his long winter's rest. In the case of hibernators, some of the sperm from fall or winter matings remains dormant in the female until spring. The egg has started to develop in late fall but undergoes no further change until spring. Then it is dropped from the ovary and fertilization follows.

In the case of the little brown bat, the gestation period is 50 to 60 days, and generally only one young is born. He weighs only 1/20 of an ounce at birth. Other Nebraska bats have one or two young, except the red bat, which may have up to four offspring.

While giving birth, the female will hang head up, or by all four limbs, with the tail cupped to form a pouch. The mother licks the newborn young and helps free the wings and legs. She carries her offspring for several days until they become too heavy. Then she leaves them hanging in a safe spot and she returns to nurse them. Sometimes nursery colonies are formed, with the pregnant females in one area and those which have already borne their young in another part of the colony. Even with a large number of young suspended from the ceiling, the mother apparently has no trouble in finding her own offspring. Males are generally absent from the nursery areas.

As is generally true with mammals of lower productivity, bats are comparatively long-lived. Most species live for several years with little brown bats commonly living and reproducing up to 12 years of age. One variety from South America lived to the ripe old age of 20.

Bats are rarely abroad during the day, spending this time in dark retreats. They start to feed first at twilight, commonly leaving the roosting area at about the same time. Peak periods of feeding are during the early morning and predawn hours, with intermittent feeding throughout the night. Bats are efficient and voracious feeders, and some species consume as much as half their body weight in one night. Their prey is generally caught and eaten whole while in flight. The hoary and big brown bats have been reported to occasionally feed on smaller species of their own order, another form of cannibalism in the wild.

In flying, bats continually beat their wings. However, they may take short, soaring sweeps during the pursuit of an insect. The flight is often erratic, as they change their course in the pursuit of prey or dodge to avoid obstacles. Little brown bats usually take 15 strokes per second during their normal flight speed of 10 miles per hour.

Colonial species have a strong tendency to return to favored haunts and can do so from considerable distances. In experiments in Pennsylvania, some marked individuals returned to their home areas after release at distances up to 27 miles. In other experiments, little brown bats were released as far as 180 miles from the cave where they were collected, and later were retaken in the same cave.

Some of the hibernating species will of necessity move considerable distances to find favorable sleeping quarters. In the migratory species, records of distances travelled have ranged up to almost 500 miles. The presence of two species of bats in Hawaii which are also found on the American mainland implies the successful crossing of 2,500 miles or more of open water. Migration from Nebraska probably starts in early September and continues through late October.

Because of their diet, the Nebraska bats are considered beneficial to man. They consume large quantities of insects, and along with other insect-eating animals, provide a natural check on these prolific pests. Some of the larger species, primarily in the Old World, are used for food. Occasionally bats become obnoxious, particularly when they roost in and around occupied buildings. However, the good points outnumber the bad, and they provide an interesting addition to the Nebraska fauna.

THE END NOVEMBER, 1964 59

GIVE NEBRASKA for CHRISTMAS

... you can proudly present these beautiful books 1. TALES OF THE FRONTIER: From Lewis and Clark to the Last Roundup, selected and retold by Everett Dick. More than eighty stories illustrating different phases of frontier life in the land west of the Mississippi. $6.00 2. THE INDIAN WAR OF 1864, by Captain Eugene F. Ware. "His book suggests the grandeur of history . . . fresh, spirited, and delightful reading."— The New Yorker. $1.65* 3. A CYCLE OF THE WEST, by John G. Neihardt. Five narrative poems about the land and legends of the American West. ". . . herpic and inspiring literature."—Cleveland Plain Dealer. $1.85* 4. MAN OF THE PLAINS: Recollections of Luther North, 1856-1882. An exciting and authentic report on the Indian Wars of the '60's and '70's by a Nebraskan who saw it first hand as a member of the famous Pawnee Scouts. $4.75 5. CRAZY HORSE: The Strange Man of the Oglalas, by Mari Sandoz. ". . . There is the very smell and color of the traditional life of the horse-Indians in this book."—Atlantic Monthly. $1.65* 6. THE WORLD OF WILLA CATHER by Mildred R. Bennett. "... indispensable for everyone interested in Willa Gather and her work."—New York. Herald Tribune. $1.50* 7. BLACK ELK SPEAKS: Being the Life Story of a Holy Man of the Oglala Sioux, by John G. Neihardt. "... a unique, realistic, and poetic understanding of a vanished time and people."—Oliver LaFarge. $1.50* 8. THEM WAS THE DAYS: An American Saga of the '70's, by Martha Ferguson McKeown "... a vivid, lusty, and very human narrative that reads with unfailing freshness and authenticity."—Chicago Sunday Tribune. $1.25* 9. PAWNEE HERO STORIES AND FOLKTALES by George Bird Grinnell. ". . . reminds us that Indian hero stories and folktales are not just quaint relics of the past: they are a part of us all."—Maurice Frink. $1.65* 10. THE LOG OF THE COWBOY by Andy Adams. Considered the all-time classic of trail men, trail work, range cattle, cow horses, and the cow country in general. $1.50* 11. HISTORY OF NEBRASKA by James C. Olson "... a scholarly, balanced, richly-researched account written with a boldness and a certain wryness of wit that matches the subject."—The New York Times Book Review. $5.00 12. PINNACLE JAKE as told by A. B. Snyder to Nellie Snyder Yost. "... recalls vividly the true atmosphere of the cattle country of Wyoming, Nebraska, and Montana, during the late eighties and nineties."—Rocky Mountain News. $1.60* 13. REMINISCENCES OF A RANCHMAN by Edgar Beecher Bronson. The evolution of a greenhorn puncher into an experienced old hand in western Nebraska is regarded as a classic of cow country literature. $1.50* 14. APRIL TWILIGHTS (1903) by Willa Cather. Brings back into print after nearly sixty years the complete text of Willa Cather's first published book. $3.50 $1.50* 15. NEBRASKA FOLKLORE by Louise Pound. ". . . priceless for Americana addicts . . . one gets that brisk tang of good neighbor talk, plus a whole course in folklore."—Chicago Tribune. $4.50 16. NEBRASKA PLACE-NAMES by Lilian L. Fitzpatrick. When is a hill a butte? Who decides what to name a town? In this lively book names make news not only for Nebraskans but for all Americana collectors. $1.50* 17. ROUND-UP: A NEBRASKA READER ". . . gives the richness of Nebraska, for not only its native sons but for readers interested in deepening their awareness of the American scene."—Virginia Kirkus' Service. $5.00 18. MOLLIE: The Journal of Mollie Dorsey Sanford in Nebraska and Colorado Territories, 1857—1866. ". . . written with humor, candor and honesty . . . reads with freshness and immediacy more than one hundred years later."—New York Herald Tribune Books. $5.00 19. WESTERN STORY: The Recollections of Charley O'Kieffe, 1884-1898. ". . . If the best history is the story of people rather than a chronicle of events, here is History with a capital 'H' ... a fascinating book."— New York Times Book Review. $4.50 20. THE MISSOURI by Stanley Vestal. A genial, anecdote-packed history of the Big Muddy and its role in the development of the WTest. $1.60* 21. HOSTILES AND FRIENDLIES: Selected Writings of Mari Sandoz. "... A happy and discriminating selection of fiction and non-fiction . . . deserves a high place on the season's Americana bookshelf."—Chicago Daily News. $5.00 22. END OF TRACK by James H. Kyner as told to Hawthorne Daniel. ". . . Kyner was a railroad contractor, and he worked at the end of track . . . His book is both a dynamic life story and a telling contribution to general knowledge of our country in the making."—The New York Times Book Review. $1.60* 23. OLD JULES by Mari Sandoz. "An amazing portrait . . . And she has given it to us as if she had cut it, like a sod, from the live ground."—New York Herald Tribune. $1.60* 24. FEBOLD FEBOLDSON: Tall Tales from the Great Plains compiled by Paul R. Beath. Among the liars of all time Febold is ". . . the most accomplished, the most unqualified, the most laughable." —Buffalo, N.Y. Evening News. $1.30* 25. DAKOTA COWBOY by Ike Blasingame. Warm, human, flavorful and authentic story of Ike's eight years on the last of the great open cattle ranges. $1.60* 26. THE STORY OF THE WESTERN RAILROADS by Robert Riegel. Authoritative account of the building and operating of railroads from the Missouri to the west coast. $1.50* *Titles marked with * are Bison Books, UNP's new quality paperbounds. Do your Christmas shopping with a pencil! Check your selections on this handy order form. Please enclose with your remittance 35c for postage and handling charges.