SPORTS SERVICE AT LAKE McCONAUGHY Boat-Fishing Supplies-Cabins-Cafe For reservation write to: Sports Service, Box 510, Ogallaia, Nebr.

Hastings HOUSE OF YESTERDAY

Blast off for Mars or relive Wild West at unique exhibit

AN ADVENTURE to the stars and a trip into Nebraska's pioneering past—that's the double treat in store for you at Hastings' House of Yesterday and J. M. McDonald Planetarium. At the House of Yesterday, you'll discover a bonanza of pioneer history and Indian lore. Step through the moon-shaped portal to the planetarium, and you're set for an unforgettable journey through time and space to galaxies two-million light years away.

With its museum and adjoining planetarium, Hastings is a natural focal point for much of NEBRASKAland during the cold month of January. School groups as well as Nebraskans from a wide area converge on this fine facility for hours of fun and adventure.

The planetarium, a gift from the J. M. McDonald Foundation, became part of the House of Yesterday complex in 1958. The popularity of the sky show has been reflected in a steadily-growing number of viewers each year. In 1964, some 630 shows were presented to more than 13,500 stargazers.

A special projector brings the planetarium Tor Itfe^Fy projecting pictures on a 24-foot domed ceiling by means of pinholes and lenses. This rig enables visitors to view the night sky as it is seen from any place on earth at any time of the night, at any time of the year.

As you view galaxies whose light takes two million years to reach the earth, you are also brought up to date on space projects that are taking man ever nearer to the stars. Relaxing on the comfortable seats that surround the projector, the universe becomes closer and more understandable, and, at the same time, grand and awesome. Special sounds and effects bring the stars to a level that is easily understood by the layman.

The planetarium presents public shows once a day, Monday through Friday, during the winter months. Show time is 3:30 p.m., and admission is 50 cents for adults and a quarter for children under 12. On Saturdays, Sundays, 4 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland and holidays, public shows are given twice a day at 2:30 and 3:30 p.m. School groups with appointments are admitted free. Group arrows ^an also be arranged during evening hours. Children under five are not admitted to the programs. Each last about 35 minutes each. The star studies are just a bit too much for the kids to understand.

One of the finest collections of pioneer artifacts in the West is featured at the museum. The House of Yesterday dates back more than 75 years, when Albert M. Brooking, a young boy in Illinois, swapped two unused postage stamps and six cents for an Indian spear point. When young Brooking returned to his parents' home in Nebraska, his interest in collecting continued to grow and he took up another hobby —taxidermy. By 1937, the huge Brooking collection of artifacts and animals came to rest in a new building which is now known far and wide as the House of Yesterday.

Although Brooking died in 1946, his famed collection lives on for all to enjoy. Through the efforts of museum personnel, the number and types of items on display is still growing.

Here you'll find the world's largest group of whooping cranes and nearby, Chinese merchandise money dating back almost 3,000 years. These priceless items join thousands of others at the House of Yesterday. The stories of the Plains Indians and the life of pioneering Nebraskans are well chronicled in the large museum.

The museum, at Burlington Avenue and Fourteenth Street in Hastings, is open Monday through Saturday from 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. The 28,000 items are displayed on three big floors of exhibition space. Guided tours may be arranged in advance.

An adjacent park makes the museum and planetarium an increasingly-popular stop for tourists. During 1964, more than 115,000 visitors toured the museum. It was the biggest visitation year for the House of Yesterday.

Plan to see Hastings' famed facility this January. It's the perfect place to see past, present, and future in an afternoon's visit.

THE END JANUARY, 1965 5

January Roundup

With hunting in homestretch, hardwood action on upswing

NEBRASKAland activities take many forms in January. Basketball is the sport of the month, with plenty of hard-wood action taking place at high schools and colleges around the state. For basketball mixed with flashy showmanship, you'll want to take in the Harlem Globe Trotters contest in Lincoln on January 6.

Sportsmen gather up their cold-weather gear for a try at ice fishing on NEBRASKAland lakes and ponds, and pheasant hunters take advantage of the home stretch of the nation's longest ringneck season, which ends January 17. Of special interest is the hen hunt in the panhandle the last nine days of the regular season. The addition of one hen in the total bag of four should prove a real come-on for late-season hunters. The cottontail and squirrel seasons are also in full swing throughout the month.

Concert fans won't want to miss the January 14 performance of the Chicago Opera and Ballet troupe in Lincoln, a presentation in the Lincoln Community Concert series. On January 19, Ralph Votatek will be guest pianist of the Lincoln Symphony Orchestra.

The Omaha Symphony Orchestra presents its Ashkenasi Concert January 11 and 12 at Joslyn, and then features Donald Vorhees as guest artist at its January 23 concert at Music Hall. On January 31, the Omaha Symphony will host the Tel Aviv String Quartet in a chamber music program at Joslyn.

January in NEBRASKAland features events to suit every taste. Whether your preference runs to museums, concerts, or outdoor fun, you'll find activities to suit your liking "where the WEST Begins".

THE END 6 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland

BASS BY BLOODHOUND

by Jack Armstrong Filling creels this way at Big Mac is a lazy mans sport, but we love it

THE SUN was just beginning to sneak over the horizon as we launched our boat on Lake McConaughy. Our crew was after white bass, but not so seriously that we couldn't have plenty of fun in the process. The September morning was ideal and "Big Mac" glassy smooth as the 20-foot cruiser moved out from Lakeview Harbor.

Finding a flock of gulls was the first order of business for my companions, George Reichenberg and Rolland Banks, and myself. The fish-eaters play a big part in our trips. We follow the gulls to find a school of 7   bass. Whenever the birds are diving down on the water, it's an indication that shad are nearby. An where there are shad, there are bound to be white bass.

It didn't take long to spot the gulls, and I set the course toward the noisy concentration. The three of us always have a small bet going on who will take the first fish. Today each man would have to pay off the winner to the tune of a quarter. We have bet steak dinners at times, but this time we felt more like a fish feed at my trailer.

I figured I could beat Roland to the punch. While he was setting anchor, George and I hurried to get our lines wet. The bass must have been on to our skulduggery, because they waited patiently for Roland to get in on the game. When he did the battle was on.

A scrappy beauty grabbed Roland's lure and headed for the bottom. He let him plunge for a moment, then made his play. The bass tried to shake off the offending hook, but Rolland gradually worked his catch toward the boat. When he pulled him aboard, he had a nice two-pounder for his stringer. Roland was still chuckling as he collected our quarters.

BASS BY BLOODHOUND continued

Some folks might say we have no business taking off for the lake when there's work to be done, but the boys and I figure otherwise. George, who ranches near Arthur, is always eager to get away. Roland lives at Lakeview lodge, so he has bass in his back yard. And my son is quite capable of handling things at my service station in Ogallala. We figure that when a guy reaches 50 or 60, he has earned the right to sneak off fishing once in awhile. Most of the summer, during the tourist season, I can't get away too often and neither can the others. By September things usually slack up a little.

George, Roland, and I enjoy getting together for our sorties on Big Mac. We always indulge in plenty of good-natured ribbing. Fun is as much a part of our trips as fishing, and we always jump at the chance to play harmless jokes on each other.

Our technique for bass is pretty standard. We drop our spoons all the way to the bottom, then raise them about a foot and jig. Our luck has always been good using the old rod-twitching method with our spinning outfits.

Although the bass would come topside to make passes at the shad, we felt jigging was the best method to get at the schools, which tend to stay in deeper water. Gulls work almost anytime from early morning to late evening, but early-morning fishing is usually the best for us.

Schools of fish like to keep moving around. You may catch a few and then have to move on to relocate the school. The gulls solve the problem of hide-and-seek with the fish. Serving with almost the same accuracy as a bloodhound on his hapless prey.

Usually our crew only stays on the lake until mid-morning, then we head in for a breather at my trailer 8 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland on the lake. George and I were pulling in a few fish, but Roland's luck was continuing to hold. He was creeling one bass after the other without even straining himself.

After awhile, I figured his luck was all in his hat, so I asked to borrow it. Putting on the topper, I tossed my line back into the lake and lo and behold, I got a strike. Roland figured that was enough good luck for one day, and asked for his hat back. Without him noticing, I filled it with water, then popped it on his head. I protested that it was an accident, but I'm still not sure the guys believed me. Actually, I was getting even for all the tricks my partner had played on me through the years.

We fished out from the shoreline to depths of 50 feet. When things slowed up, we steered the boat on to another flock of gulls and another productive spot. As we were drifting with the wind, dragging our bait to the opposite side of the boat, Roland decided I was catching too many fish. So he moved his line to the other side. It wasn't exactly cricket, but it worked. Pretty soon, he was dragging them aboard and I wasn't even getting a nibble. It didn't take long to discover he was getting all the white bass before they got to my line.

September is the best time to go bass fishing if you want to follow the gulls and we were sure proving it. Our stringers were getting heavier as the sun rose higher. Some days the fish hit and others, they don't. We don't worry too much about it if they don't cooperate, though. Basically, our philosophy is one cf relaxation. If we catch fish, OK; if we don't that's all right, too.

As we sat in the boat joshing back and forth, I mused about how good it was to be just jigging my line up and down, enjoying the September sunshine. Jibes flew back and forth as first Roland, then George, and I would boat a bass. I was beginning to look forward to that trip back to the trailer and I could almost smell those fish frying.

It was nearing 10 o'clock when we agreed that we had more than enough bass for one morning's efforts. Roland boated one last fish and we hauled anchor and headed for shore. We still had to clean two huge stringers of bass before we could grease up the frying pan. When the three of us got back to my trailer, we made short work of filleting those fish.

After a fabulous fish feed, we sat back to take in the scene. You just can't beat an early-morning outing for white bass on sprawling Big Mac . . . and that bonanza is almost in our back yard. All we have to do is hit the deck at daybreak and follow those bloodhound gulls. It's kind of a lazy man's sport, and we love it.

THE END JANUARY, 1965

BOWED RATTLERS

We're almost dry-gulched in wilds of Devils Gulch, the hang out of the deadly clan by Fred Nelson

TEN FEET from spitting, buzzing death, archer Dick Mauch of Bassett was in a tough situation. With a blunt-pointed arrow nocked in his bow, Dick had to score on a one-in-a-million shot at an angry prairie rattler. If he missed, one and perhaps two of his hunting companions would feel the lethal sting of venomous fangs. There wasn't a thing I could do but pray.

The snake was mad. His tail vibrated frantically, chilling the little glade with ominous sound. Above the S-shaped coil the ugly tongue lanced the air, zeroing in for the deadly strike. Unknowingly, Harold Orr and John Lehn had boxed the buzztail and he was ready for a showdown. As the tension mounted, it was evident that death was about to choose.

Everything depended on Dick's shot. Harold and John couldn't back away before the strike or reach the rattler with their gigs through the obstructing branches of the low-slung cedar. They had inched their way through a thicket of trees in Devil's Gulch and surprised the snake without coming in reach of the waiting fangs. If the hunters retreated, the clutching branches of the stunted trees would slow them long enough for the rattler to make his play.

Dick and I were standing on a ledge above the trapped duo and could see the snake through a narrow tunnel in the brush. Behind us the chalky cliff went straight up, giving us no chance to get above the snake for a better shot. Bringing the bow to full draw, Dick squinted through the sight. He eased off, shifted a 10 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland few inches and brought the bow up for the second time. The release and the aluminum arrow was flashing on its way.

John Lehn and Harold Orr, both of Ainsworth, had got into the bind while on a rattler hunt north and west of Long Pine in the Devil's Gulch country. The gulch is a favorite denning spot for the buzztails and both hunters have harvested a mile or more of snakes there during the years. The veteran snake hunters hit the area hard in the spring and fall. Then rattlers congregate in the shallow breaks and knobby slopes of the wild and little-visited spot in north-central Nebraska.

Dick, a representative of The Bear Archery Company, wanted to see if rattler hunting with a bow had any possibilities as an off-season sport. I tagged along to watch the action.

Driving out, Harold and John recalled some of their experiences with rattlers. They kill most of the snakes they catch, although John keeps a few alive to display at schools, sportsmen's groups, and at other events. The captured critters are carried in a strong metal bucket with a hinged lid secured by a spring snap. A sturdy lanyard opens and closes the bucket when the reptiles are dumped in.

Both men use five-foot snake sticks with a loop snare on the end. The loop is dropped over the snake, pulled tight, and the reptile lifted clear of the ground. They kill their snakes with a sharp rap at the back of the head with their gigs or sticks.

The Ainsworth duo have hunted snakes for years without being bitten. Ironically, Harold was fanged two years ago while he was working in a milo field. It was touch and go for two weeks, but after Harold got JANUARY, 1965   out of the hospital, he went right back to snaring buzztails. John has had his share of hairy experiences, too. The worst came when a ledge collapsed under his companion and catapulted the man into a squirming tangle of sunning snakes. John rescued his injured buddy by jumping into the gully and killing every snake within striking distance.

BOWED RATTLERS continued

Dick had never hunted rattlers. After agreeing to give snake hunting a go with the bow, he sharpened up his shooting eye with some close-range practice. When he could send a dime spinning at 15 feet he figured he was ready. The Bassett archer selected hollow-headed blunt points as the most practical shafts to prevent possible injury from ricochets. Aluminum arrows won the nod over Fiberglas to minimize breakage.

Reaching the denning area, Harold was all business.

"Be careful," he said. "Remember the snake you can't see is the dangerous one. If you hear a buzz, stand still and use your eyes until you see him. If you get hit, don't panic. We have snake-bite kits, and there are enough of us to get you out of here."

John spotted the first quarry. Deftly he flipped the rattler away from a rotted log with his gig. Before the critter could recover, Harold snared him and lifted the squirming reptile waist high. The hunters took the snake to a clearing and released him for an archery tryout. Dick drew down on the coiled rattler and smashed his head with one shot.

"I wanted to make sure an arrow could kill these fellows before we went any farther," explained Dick, as he carefully withdrew the arrow and wiped it clean! "I was sure the blunts could kill a snake, but in this business, performance is the only test."

Our next prize was a snap. A small one, the rattler was dozing beside the trail when the hunters spotted OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland him. Dick's arrow slammed into the ground a scant inch from the snake's head. The little buzztail unleashed a savage strike at the quivering arrow and was launching another when the second arrow landed dead center.

John snared a couple of rattlers that he wanted for display purposes and put them in the bucket. Checking the snap fastener, the veteran snake hunter handed the pail to me.

"Might as well let you caddy," he said. "They can't get out but if any of them do you can always kick the bucket."

I assured him I would in more ways than one and somewhat reluctantly accepted the lethal carrier. Realizing the confined rattlers would prevent me from hearing the buzz of a snake on the loose, I gallantly let the others clear the way as we searched along the ridge and into the draws.

Snakes were everywhere. Some were stretched out along the game trails soaking up the October sun. Others were close to their dens in the rocks, and we found some coiled in the leafy pockets around the scrub brush. They blended well with their surroundings, but the experienced eyes of John and Harold pierced their camouflage. A few snakes revealed themselves with a preliminary buzz; others lay silent until the probing gigs disturbed their siestas. Dick put on a spectacular display of marksmanship as the hunters pointed out the reptiles.

Withdrawing the arrows from the impaled critters was ticklish. John and Harold would use their gigs to hold the snakes down while (continued on page 54)

JANUARY, 1965 13

NATHAN'S CHANCE

ALL BOYS thrill to the lure of chance and young Nathan was no different. Every Saturday "Dad" Bragg would allow Nathan one dime to spend on the weekly trip to town. Sometimes he would ride in the buggy with Dad, Granny, Fred, and big-sister Kate, but occasionally he would pump those 3]/2 miles on his bicycle.

Cady's Store was the general store and it had everything for sale from stove blacking to button hooks. All the candies rested temptingly in big glass jars on the counter. Usually Nathan would spend his precious ten cents here after carefully deciding between horehound, peppermint, or licorice.

But on this particular Saturday as the boy pondered his decision, Mr. Cady jokingly said, "You'd better buy a chance on this new shotgun, Nathan. It's only ten cents. The money goes to help buy a new fire wagon."

So young "Nate" delayed his usual purchase. The thin dime lay hot in his pocket the rest of the afternoon. He hung around playing and talking with the other youngsters, whiling away a pleasant Saturday afternoon in town after a long week of work on the farm. As the late afternoon sun began to slide down the western sky, Nathan finally made his decision.

He entered the store and solemnly purchased one chance. Nathan turned swiftly and headed out of the store, but his pockets felt very empty without their usual peppermints and cinnamon drops.

As the weeks slipped by, young Nathan had almost forgotten about his venture at tempting fortune. Then one Saturday morning Granny had a phone call from Mr. Cady.

"Just phoned to tell you, Mrs. Bragg, that Nathan won. He can pick up his prize anytime."

"Why thank you," she replied, "but just what is the prize?"

Surprised, Mr. Cady answered, "Why a shotgun Didn't Nathan tell you?"

"I guess it must have slipped his mind," she retorted evenly, and testily turned toward her rangy grandson "What's this about a shotgun, young man7"

Nathan explained as best he could, but the reasoning ability of his 12 years was no match for his grandmother. She declared positively that he was too young 14 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland for a shotgun Nevertheless he pedaled in to town that warm spring afternoon to pick up his prize, knowing full well that he couldn't keep the gun. He hauled it around all that afternoon, wistfully caressing its shiny newness. Eventually he ended up at White's Hardware where he exhibited his prize to the proprietor and old family friend, Bill. Nate leaned across the counter, and as he did, he discovered a dandy Winchester rifle resting on a shelf just beneath the glass counter top.

The boy had a deep hankering for a gun, now that the shotgun had so nearly been his to keep. Then a delightfully reckless idea scampered across his busy mind. Granny didn't like guns and she had said, "No shotguns," but she just might allow a rifle if she were properly approached.

So Nate began dickering for a trade. A short time later, after some crafty but good-natured negotiating, the lad left the store proudly cradling the glossy new rifle in his arms. A full box of shells swung in a bag from his hand.

Apprehensively he pumped home. He sure liked the feel of that rifle. If only Granny would relent and let him keep it. Exactly what promises and assurances she extracted from the lad were never revealed, but he did get to keep the rifle.

Along the back of the farm ran a lazy little creek. Its bed was about shoulder deep and it was dry much of the summer. The stream meandered diagonally across the pasture, the home of prairie dogs, snakes, and rodents. Starting at one end of the creek bed, Nathan would carefully stalk his prairie world. Just his head would peep over the bank as he hunted along the miniature canyon.

Bright spring days lengthened into the warm lazy ones of summer. Almost daily the boy would tuck the cherished rifle under his arm and trek across the pasture. Becoming a practiced nimrod, Nathan developed accuracy against the agile little prairie dogs and other critters. He did not wantonly destroy the animals, only those which posed a menace to the farm. Besides acquiring skill as a huntsman, he also gained an insight into this unique animal world.

From his vantage peep spot, the boy could watch the coyotes carefully paw a prairie dog hole full of dirt. Then the crafty creature would sit back and motionlessly wait for the frisky varments to venture out some other hole. When one hapless creature would stray close enough, the coyote would pounce.

Young Nathan stalked snakes and owls companionably sharing a snug burrow in the thick sod. Birds and rabbits filled the hunting bag. And with each passing week the boy developed his marksmanship.

The autumn came and Indian Summer idled into the brisk November days. Thanksgiving was just around the corner. The local merchants planned a turkey shoot out in Crary's pasture. When Nate showed up with his 25 cents and his rifle the men laughed. At first they refused to let him enter. Finally one fellow spoke up.

"What harm can he do? It's his quarter and we've got nothing to lose."

Relenting, the five competitors who were to be in his group lined up and began firing. One by one the Blue Rocks snapped out of the traps. Then it was Nate's turn. He took a deep breath, and called, "Now." The first rock shattered in mid-air in that moment just before it began falling to the ground. Five tries, five hits, and young Nathan won a fat turkey for his grandmother's Thanksgiving dinner.

The boy entered another match and won again. Presently disgruntled, the older men began to refuse to shoot if he was in the set. Even experienced hands with shotguns were no match for the lad with the rifle. By late afternoon he was disqualified for having won too many.

Nathan grinned happily as he tossed the sqawking turkeys into the back of the buggy and climbed up beside father. He placed his rifle carefully beside him and smiled the secret smile of a boy who had known when to take a chance, but had learned the difference between chance and skill.

THE END Editor's Note: Barbara Clayburn's story of her father, G. N. Bragg, of Culbertson, conjurs up all of the warm memories of horse-and-buggy days in NEBRASKAland. The Clayburns live in Stockton, California, but keep in close touch with the folks at home. OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland proudly presents the stories of its readers themselves. Here is the opportunity so many have requested -y-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. JANUARY, 1965 15

RED LEGS ON TRIAL

Nature is the jury as imported chukars go on trial in rough, tough panhandle

LAST SEASON deer hunters came out of the rough breaks of the Horseshoe Ranch near Mitchell with excited tales of strange birds calling from cliffs and flushing from the canyons. These men had met a Nebraska newcomer, the Turkish chukar. This unusual exotic may join the pheasant, bobwhite, and prairie grouse as targets for NEBRASKAland scatter-gunners. Right now the chukars' day is far in the future.

Early in September, Game Commission personnel released approximately 800 birds on the Springer Jones' OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland Ranch in the panhandle. The adult chukars, raised at the Game Commission game farm in Sacramento, are third-generation stock from eggs imported from Turkey. If the banded birds thrive in their new environment, limited open seasons may be held in three to five years. Game technicians are cautiously optimistic about the imports' chances in the Wildcat Hills. If the chukars reach huntable numbers, they will fill a void in game birds there.

Experts warn that stocking of an exotic will not guarantee successful natural propagation. Too many factors that are not yet clearly understood can influence the success or failure of the plant. Research and studies indicate the chukars have a suitable habitat in the Wildcat Hills, but there is no assurance that nature will allow the birds to thrive.

If the imports make it, they will be but another step in the Game Commission's continuous efforts to provide more and better hunting in the state. If they fail, the chukars will not be the first wrong guess in the history of game management and development.

The Wildcats look like good habitat. The stocking area is at the 4,400-foot elevation, making it comparable to favored range in Turkey. There is plenty of food and water in the birds' new home. Colorado burr, cheatgrass, and other cereal weeds and grasses are abundant. Pine and cedar in the craggy bluffs offer protection against predators and the elements. Winds scour the snow from the bluffs to expose the seeds and berries the birds need for winter survival. Somewhat acclimated to Nebraska by their stay at the Sacramento facility, the jaunty foreigners with the slate-gray plumage and red legs may find the Wildcats suitable for natural reproduction and increase.

Nebraska's new import will make an attractive addition to the state's mixed-bag bonanza. Weighing 20 to 24 ounces, the chukar is both a runner and a flyer. Sleeping on the ground, the birds sometimes sack out like quail in a heads-out, tails-in circle. They travel in loose flocks and coveys. Chukars have orange-red legs and beaks, black masks and cravats about the face and chest, and slate-gray, almost iridescent plumage. Bold black and chestnut bars grace their sides. In spite of their gaudy appearance, the birds camouflage well. They stand tall, walk with a strut, and can run like blazes. The imports flush with a flurry and fan the air briskly with their stubby wings before settling into a glide. On the table the birds are a culinary delight.

Chukars get their name from their call, a chuck-chuck-chuck that ripples into a chuckle when the birds JANUARY, 1965 17   are in full voice. They also have an alarm call, an assembly call, and other sounds in their vocabulary.

RED LEGS ON TRIAL

Mating occurs in March when the birds pair off and select nesting sites. Cocks fight violently for the hens, but the encounters are usually bloodless with the loser scuttling away after the battle. Incubation takes place in May and June after a clutch of 8 to 16 eggs is laid.

The eggs are cream-colored with brown speckles and are usually laid in a shallow depression in the ground. After 23 to 25 days the young emerge and are ready to go as soon as they are dry. The newly hatched chicks feather fast and can fly short distances when they are two weeks old. The hens are somewhat smaller than the males, but positive sexing is difficult for the untrained eye.

A rugged customer, the chukar can take care of himself. The hardy bird can stand extremes of temperature well. Red leg is a speedy runner and flyer, escaping ground predators by flying and the winged killers like the hawk and the owl with a go-for-broke plunge into thick cover. Freezing is also a protective instinct.

If the Turkish immigrants reach harvestable numbers here, Nebraska hunters face frustration afield. Spooked, the bird heads for the high country. After the second or third flush, they run and hide in preference to flight. Once above their pursuer, chukars will call derisively from slope to slope, while the perspiring hunter toils after them. Topped-out chukars repeat the whole maddening routine, remaining just out of range. Getting a shot at the elusive ridge runners demands powerful legs and a determined heart. Hunters with chukar experience claim the birds are among the toughest of upland game to bag.

L. P. Vance, chief of the Game Division, is high in his praise for the University of Nebraska faculty in Ankara, Turkey, which played a key role in bringing the birds here. Dr. and Mrs. Ernest J. Wheeler, John Steele, and Harold Allen helped in getting the necessary clearance to import the eggs. Turkish mining engineers and villagers aided in finding nests and rushing the eggs to the shipping point. The airlines sped them to the United States and the U.S. Department of Agriculture approved their entry without delay. Upon arrival, the eggs were incubated and from that hectic beginning, the present stocking evolved.

Each of the planted birds is banded. Anyone finding a dead chukar should return the band to the Game Commission at the State Capitol in Lincoln. Information on the location, date, and circumstances surrounding the recovery should be included. Game technicians use the dope to learn more about the movements and habits of the jaunty speedster from across the big water.

Hunters should not be optimistic that the chukar will become a miracle bird for their guns. Under optimim conditions it will be three to five years before even limited seasons can be permitted. The chukar's range is squeezed into the relatively small area of the Wildcat Hills and heavy hunter concentrations cannot be handled.

If the birds flourish, they will lengthen the growing list of such successful imports and transplants as the pheasant, the Merriams' turkey, and the antelope. Right now, chukars are a distant speck on the hunting horizon. Only time and a capricious nature can tell if the speck grows large or fades into oblivion.

THE END 18 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland

the BRONC BUSTER

by J. Greg Smith Being World Champion Cowboy was a big order for city kid Jim Houston

FOR A KID who bawled his eyes out every time he forked a horse, Jim Houston has come quite a way. Sitting securely atop the world-championship bareback-riding standings, the rangy Omaha cowboy has become the pride of Nebraska and one of the hottest competitors in the most rugged of all sporting events.

Jim's rise to fame has been almost phenomenal, and old hands around the rodeo circuit have had to sit up and take notice of the 23-year-old athlete. Pocketing more money than anyone else in this bone-jarring contest in 1964, Jim has racked up close to 20,000 points. Each point means a dollar earned, and as far as Jim is concerned, this adds up to 20,000 good reasons why he should continue to put up with the rankest of broncs.

The young champion is no flash-in-the-pan cowboy. He set his sights on the winner's circle a long time ago and has taken more than his share of hard knocks getting there. Jim was bitten by the rodeo bug when he   was only nine. He was like thousands of other kids who saw the big 1951 edition of Cheyenne Frontier Days. The only difference between him and the rest was that from that moment on, he was determined to become a championship cowboy.

But being champion was a big order for a city kid. His uncles who farm near Union remember him crying every time they hoisted him up on one of their big work horses when he was only six. They kept putting him on and he kept bawling. Fortunately, he ran out of tears before they ran out of patience, and Jim discovered that the world looks pretty good from the backnof a horse.

Jim was quite an athlete at Omaha Tech, earning letters in football, basketball, and track. But rodeoing was the sport for him. Knowing her boy's love for horses, his mother got him a job on a big Sand Hills spread near Valentine between school years. Though he spent most of his time putting up hay, Jim had a chance to enter a couple of amateur rodeos and that was enough to send him on his way.

The rangy kid was as gutty as the rest in those early showdowns, but he was learning the hard way that it takes more than guts to become a champion. Jim needed more experience, and when he heard of the nightly jackpot rodeos at Cody, Wyoming, he could hardly wait for graduation so he could get out there and give it a go. Cody was Jim's training grounds, and he would plunk down $3 nightly for the privilege of eating dirt in the arena. He picked up enough $25 and $40 purses to pay for bread and beans, but he was still a long way from being a polished rider.

When winter set in, Jim headed for California in the hopes that he could catch on at one of the bigger shows. He got a job with Christensen Brothers rodeo contractors, and while doing odd jobs for them, was spotted by Pete Crump, one of the real salts at the rodeo game. Pete saw a lot of potential in the kid from Omaha.

the BRONC BUSTER continued

"Grumpy" Crump proved a real taskmaster. He was on Jim's back constantly, pounding home the fact that if he worked and tried hard enough, he could ride bareback horses with the best of them. Pete coached him, entered him, and hauled him between shows. The veteran cowboy also promoted the up-and-coming cowboy, calling the judges' attention to the young rookie. Pete took a share of Jim's earnings for his efforts, but as far as the Omaha cowboy was concerned, it was the best investment he ever made.

Between Pete's coaching and Jim's determination, the young pro came breezing out of the 1962 season with $8,387 jingling in his jeans. Jim had so impressed cowboys and judges on the Rodeo Cowboy Association circuit that he was presented the organization's coveted "Rookie of the Year" award for 1962. Jim figures that without Pete, he would have been a long time winning such an honor.

Jim was on his own in 1963 and pocketed $7,485 for the season. He ended up eighth in the bareback competition and probably would have come close to his lifelong goal of stepping in the winner's circle if he hadn't been laid up with a broken shoulder during the big spring shows.

The Omaha cowboy really caught fire in 1964. It took 35 rodeos and most of the spring, summer, and 20 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland early fall to rack up $18,975 in prize money. Jim was far out ahead of the rest of the rigging riders when he took on a bronc at Rapid City in September and ended up on the turf with a slipped disk. He checked in at a Fort Worth hospital and stayed there till the Little Rock rodeo cut loose. Jim won the average at Little Rock, but his back got to bothering him so bad that he again entered the hospital at Omaha. Missing the Ak-Sar-Ben rodeo was a real blow since he wanted the homefolks to see the championship style he'd developed.

Injuries are a part of the rough and rugged game of rodeoing. Most cowboys, including Jim, hate to take time out to get fixed up because each show they miss, the more money they lose. They'll keep riding, even though their hurts get to hurting more than an average man could stand.

Hospital expenses are but a small part of the outlay a cowboy will put out each year. Jim's winnings this year don't represent his take-home pay. He figures it cost him close to $10,000 to make the rodeo circuit last year. With this hanging over him, he can't afford to make a bad ride. The young cowboy will admit that luck plays an important part in every ride, but he still banks on know-how to make sure he'll be able to step up to the winner's table.

Jim is unusually tall for a bareback rider, but he spurs hard and high with his long legs in spectacular style. He has the knack to make even a poor horse look good, and that's what the sharp-eyed judges score on. No horse is a patsy as far as Jim is concerned, and he figures you can fall just as hard from one as another maverick. Of all the broncs, Jim has a lot of respect for a couple of mavericks, "Come Apart" and "Snappy John". Come Apart is "so doggoned good that he makes you look good," Jim is quick to point out. The big bronc heads straightaway out of the chutes in jumping kicks. He's "not too dirty" as far as Jim is concerned, although he has the tendency to jerk (continued on page 54)

JANUARY, 1965 21

Cooking with JACKPINE SAVAGE

Pint-size reflector meets those man-size appetites on the trail by Lou Ell

ANYTHING YOU can bake at home, you can bake by a campfire in a reflector oven, as far as my friend Dave Keller of Ogallala is concerned. He more than proved his boast on a fall canoe jaunt on the Niobrara.

Our meals on the trip included macaroni and cheese, blueberry pie, golden-brown biscuits, gingerbread, and a baked catfish, fresh from the river. All of them were made possible by the little folding reflector.

Aside from a well-designed reflector oven, such as the one you may have made from the plans in the November's OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland, successful baking depends on the right kind of fire. This unique oven demands a constant and steady flame, high enough to fill the portable rig with heat from top to bottom. If the oven is only a couple of inches lower than the base of the fire, the top of the food will cook, even burn, while the bottom will be scarcely warm.

Use dry, wrist-size sticks, 12 to 14 inches long, for fuel. Build the fire against a back log or a rock, standing the fuel sticks upright against it. This upright fire provides the high flame you need. When it burns with a clear, steady flame, you're ready to start baking.

Position the reflector about 18 inches from the fire, and test the heat by holding your hand directly against the oven, between it and the flame. If you can count to five, not too rapidly, before you must snatch your hand away, the heat is about right for most types of baking. A five-count can be classified as a "moderate" oven, a three-count a "hot" oven, and a seven-count, a "slow" one. Since different foods require different degrees of heat, be sure to keep these figures in mind. Moving the 22 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland oven closer to or farther from the fire will be your means of regulating baking temperature.

Always level the oven carefully before putting in the food. Check the heat frequently during baking, and keep the fire flaming. If you let it die, heat loss in the oven is instantaneous, and cooking stops.

Test breadstuffs and pastry with a clean splinter. If it comes out clean, the food is cooked. To give baked goods a golden-brown top, throw several handfuls of fine, dry twigs on the fire to produce flash heat.

For your initial attempts with the reflector, use any package mix from the supermarket. The small-size packages are just right. After you've got the hang of keeping up a properly controlled baking fire, you'll want to try some more exotic Jackpine Savage foods.

SPOTTED DOG Vi cup dry rice Vi tsp. salt 1 egg SPOTTED DOG Vi cup milk Va cup sugar, with pinch of cinnamon Va cup raisins

Bring two cups water to a boil. Add salt and rice. Simmer slowly for 20 minutes. While it's cooking, mix egg, milk, sugar, and raisins together. Drain the rice well, and place in a shallow baking pan made of heavy aluminum foil. Pour the liquid mixture over it, and pop it into the reflector oven. Bake for 15 to 20 minutes. Serve with or without additional heavy milk. This dish is good cold, too.

CRUNCHERS 1 cup flour 1 tsp. butter Vi tsp. salt Vi cup sugar Va cup shortening Vi tsp. cinnamon

Mix flour, salt, and shortening well. Add about 3 tsp. water and mix lightly and quickly. Roll the dough thin, as for a pie crust, and cover it with sugar and cinnamon, dotted with butter. Roll it up like a jelly roll and slice about V4-inch thick with a sharp knife. Bake the slices in the reflector until golden brown. Eat them while hot with coffee or cocoa for a bedtime snack.

JAM MUFFINS 1 cup flour 1 tsp. baking powder Va tsp. salt 1 tbls. sugar JANUARY, 1965 JAM MUFFINS 2 tbls. dry milk 3 tbls. melted margarine 1 egg, beaten Strawberry jam

Mix all ingredients well, and cut in the margarine. Add the egg and Vi cup cold water, stir lightly with a fork until just barely mixed. Form muffin cups from aluminum foil, and grease well. Fill 2/z full of batter, and bake in reflector for about 20 minutes until .done. Use splinter test. Drop Vi tsp. of jam on each muffin and flash fire. Serve warm.

BAKED TROUT

Clean and dry a medium-size trout. Rub it well with butter and lay it skin-side down in a foil baking pan. Use a good leaping flame, with the reflector at a three-count distance so the fish will cook quickly without drying out. An overdone fish is garbage, so test it frequently with a sliver. Sprinkle the fish with smoked salt just before serving.

When you finish baking, clean the oven of any drippings or spillage. Continued reflecting cooking efficiency depends on keeping the surfaces clean. Polish the rig's surface occasionally with a soap-filled steel wool pad to keep it in good shape. Store the oven in a stout cloth bag when it is not in use.

Once you've mastered the tricks of using the reflector oven, you'll agree with Dave. You can bake anything by a campfire that you can at home.

THE END JANUARY, 1965 23

NEBRASKAland SOUSEDSKA

Get together is Wilber's boisterous invitation to its famed Czech Festival Color Photography by Gene Hornbeck, Lou Ell, and Gary Kotyza

FROM CENTRAL Europe the Czechs came, seeking a place in the sun on the fertile Nebraska Plains. These freedom-loving people migrated by the thousands to establish themselves as the second largest nationality group in Nebraska, a state with more Czechs than any other. Staking their hopes on a prairie wilderness, they nourished the rich Nebraska sod with their sweat. Those less hardy moved on, but they remained to create a prosperity and way of life that has made them the pride of Czechs everywhere.

Wilber, Nebraska, is the focal point of that pride. Boasting a population of over 90 per cent Czech, the Saline county seat preserves and promotes its Old World heritage in the annual extravaganza known as the Czech Festival. Made the official Czech capital of Nebraska by the governor's proclamation, this picturesque Blue River community rocks with music, dancing, and laughter throughout the exciting celebration.

JANUARY, 1965 25   27     30   JANUARY, 1965 33   34  

Sousedska (get together) and Vitame Vas (we welcome you) are the passwords that open the door to fun. The colorful festival is held annually the first weekend in August. Events range from parades to pageants to street dancing.

The first festival in 1961 drew over 30,000 visitors from all over the country. The last two celebrations firmly entrenched the colorful show as an annual Wilber event. An organization incorporated as the "Nebraska Czechs" has played a key role in developing the pageant in Wilber, and is now actively promoting similar celebrations in other Nebraska communities.

"Our purpose in establishing "Nebraska Czechs" was to provide an entity that would plant the seed for annual celebrations all over the state," observed past president Gene Zajicek, Saline county judge and one of the many boosters for the Czech Festival. "We want to see other Czech communities do the same thing we have done in Wilber. Each can come up with its own festival to perpetuate the music, handicraft, culture, history, food, and dances that were a part of the old free Czech way of life."

Auxiliary chapters have been started in Dwight, Schuyler, and Omaha and a local chapter in Wilber. The board members for "Nebraska Czechs" are elected from Czech towns across the state. Bernard Klasek, Saline county superintendent, is this year's president of the state organization.

"We hope that by the state's centennial year in 1967," Zajicek continued, "tourists will have an opportunity to see a festival, regardless of which highway they are travelling or which weekend it is."

NEBRASKAland is a fertile state for such an ambitious undertaking. It can claim over 20 per cent of all Czechs in the United States, or more than any other state. Omaha has the largest number followed by Saline and Colfax counties. Colfax boasts a concentration of Czechs in such towns as Schuyler, Howells, Leigh, and Clarkson. The north half of Saline county is practically solid Czech. Some 30 communities in Nebraska have a concentration of Czechs.

Wilber and the other towns saw the coming of the Czechs about 1865. Snuggled along the Big Blue River in the rolling hills of southeast Nebraska, the town reminded many of those settlers of their homeland. Some came straight from the Old World while others were second-generation Czechs from Iowa, Illinois, and other states. Once established in their new homeland, the newcomers beckoned others to join them.

The hardships of molding a new life on the frontier didn't diminish their Old World customs. Geographic isolation and clannishness helped these early Czechs hold their heritage. Tasty dishes and bakery flowed from their kitchens. Their throaty language, animated dances, and flamboyant garb were much the same as in Europe.

Time gradually eroded Old World identity. The melting pot of America had claimed these vigorous and likeable Slavs. True, the polka dances and friendly gatherings at the town taverns carried a ring of Czech sociability. A few teutonic syllables could be occasionally heard. Colorful festive garb could be found in attics in keeping with the Czech tradition of passing on such special clothing from one generation to the next. But midway in the 20th cenutry, third and fourth-generation Czechs had little association with the traditions their forebears brought across the Atlantic.

The Czech Festival has become the means for reawakening this neglected heritage. Such an endeavor could not only be a compliment to a nationality, but an economic contribution to a state that had offered them so much.

First suggested by Colonel Walter Baer, the festival idea took form. The entire community joined in the effort, and when it was over, Wilber was on the map as the official Czech capital and the young people had a link with the past. Although the festival is just once a year, the spirit it has set loose has steeped Wilber so deep in Czech sentiment that the atmosphere permeates the town year-round. This is obvious to visitors. The homes, yards, farms and fields of Czech communities have always reflected an affinity for beauty and neatness. But in Wilber there is an added glow of uniqueness. Concrete boxes and tubs along main street mushroom with a splashing array of flowers.

The many items on display and on sales counters are made by local people, documented with an official seal showing a plow and grain head and the words "Nebraska Czechs—pioneers of the prairie". Nothing comes from Czechoslovakia now under domination by Russia.

Each August, Wilber really comes into its own. State Highways 82 and 41 are crowded with cars heading for an exciting weekend of fun. OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland invites you to come along to the festival through the colorful pages of this special section. Come next August, live all of the pageantry firsthand.

THE END OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland

WINTERING YOUR DOG

To your continued health Rover! May these long, cold days all be happy ones 38

WINTER DOES not have to be a difficult time for your hunting dog, no matter how deep the snow gets or how strong the wind blows. All you have to do is adjust his food, shelter, and clothing requirements to help him take on the elements and he'll come through the frigid season in great shape. Obviously, the canine will take care of his clothing needs. But it's up to the dog owner to provide good and plentiful food and some kind of shelter.

Feeding is the key to your dog's outdoor health and comfort this winter. And this mostly boils down to increased helpings. In Nebraska the temperature can range from about a 21° average in January to around 78° in July. This means a lot more calories will be burned up to balance the difference when the mercury drops.

You can correlate the increased food needs without sitting up nights figuring out a formula from the directions on the dog-food sack or can. Just be a little more generous with that once-a-day serving. In many cases extra fat, bacon grease, or tallow will do the trick. These are loaded with calories and easily converted into heat.

Sentry dogs used in the armed forces find their winter rations beefed up from 2% pounds of food a day during the summer to 4 pounds a day in the winter. The larger ration is fed until the dog gets up to about 10 pounds over his usual 65-pound weight. At this point, the ration is cut down to about 3% pounds a day.

If your dog is in good condition at the start of winter, increase his food to keep him that way. If he starts getting skinny, it could be that he's burning up his food to keep warm. Keep in mind, however, that persistent underweight could be the sign of parasitism or organic disease.

Water is vital to a dog's diet, winter or summer. It's the most common nutrient and usually the least remembered. Your dog won't drink nearly as much in January as he will in July, but he should still have fresh water twice a day, preferably morning and evening.

If the dog's house is insulated this can mean a lesser demand for food. Rover needs a dog house to sleep in on cold winter nights, even if he's a long-haired breed. It doesn't have to be elaborate. Heating lamps, insulated floors and walls, offset entrances, and swinging doorways are all fine, but not necessary. The house should be sturdy and built so the wind doesn't whistle through or the roof leak. It should be on the sheltered side of the house and a gunny sack or hinged board could be the entrance protector. Wood shavings, straw, or even hay can be used for bedding to protect against dampness.

Leaving your dog out in the cold with nothing but his small house between him and the buffeting of cold and snow may seem mercenary, but he can take it. Although opinions vary on which dogs are better off living outside, most experts agree that hunting dogs belong outdoors. Dr. Ralph Ebers, a Lincoln veterinarian, believes that dogs will be as healthy or healthier by being kept outside as long as proper diet, health, and housing are maintained. He notes that a dog that is in and out is more vulnerable than one which is either in all the time or out all the time.

Hunters who take their dogs out during the long NEBRASKAland seasons will not have any wintertime exercise worries. A casual and quick game of retrieving a ball in the evenings should suffice for additional exercise. Most communities have leash laws so this eliminates the dog taking leg-stretching romps around the neighborhood on his own. A walk around the block with the dog in tow will overcome this.

Although exercise isn't a must, it's helpful to health. A too sedate dog can become seedy and soft. It doesn't take a ]ot of workouts to prevent flabbiness. One researcher pointed this up in an experiment. He took nine adult dogs confined without exercise and exposed them to trotting on a treadmill for 15 minutes a day. Even this moderate exercise appeared to cause substantial muscle fiber development.

One good argument for exercise is that it enables the dog to burn off excess energy. Sentry dogs are put over an obstacle course daily. This keeps them in year-round trim.

A good arrangement for exercise is a chain run. This enables the dog to trolley back and forth with a chain looped to a wire between two fixed points. Trees, poles, or a building can provide the wire holder. Be sure to remove any obstacles along the run that could cause a tangled up mess of dog and chain.

Clothing can be forgotten unless you want to embarrass your dog by squeezing him into one of those genteel-type dog sweaters. Nature provided the dog with a hair coat. This garment working with the defense mechanisms of the dog's body will respond to most environments the animal is thrust into.

Wintertime doesn't have to give either you or your dog fits. Just remember his basic needs to combat the cold and he'll be in great shape when it's time to go afield again.

THE END JANUARY, 1965 39

SAND HILLS DOUBLE

When hunting is too easy, this Sand Hills pair dreams up ground rules to make it tougher. All of us should be so luck by Gary Cobble

MY BROTHER, Jim ,was tired of stomping the Sand Hills for sharptails and prairie chickens. As we slogged over the last choppy, he tossed off some pointed remarks about the restful joys of duck hunting compared to the blister-footed efforts of playing tag with the elusive Sandhillers. Ordinarily, a switch from grouse to webfeet takes some shuffling, but not for us.

Our spread is about 30 miles north and east of Whitman in Cherry County. We have a ranch full of prairie chickens and sharptails and Mud Lake is practically in our back yard. Hunting is so good that we often set up rules to increase the challenge.

Jim and I staged one of our special days last October on grouse and ducks. We gave ourselves three hours to limit out on grouse and the rest of the day for ducks. To make it more interesting, we decided to hunt waterfowl by the four basic methods of sneak, pass, jump, and blind shooting. Decoys in front of the blind could improve our hunt, but we figured we didn't need the counterfeits this time.

The first grouse went to Jim. Five minutes from the "carryall", a flock whirred up from the grass. Two winged straight out and my brother wheeled his automatic 12-gauge into action. Shooting like a pro, he stoned the way-out bird and dropped the near one with his second shot. I marked down the flock as my brother retrieved his pair. Ambling toward the birds, I was taking my time until Jim could gut his grouse and JANUARY, 1965 41   catch up. The sooner grouse are field dressed, the better they taste.

SAND HILLS DOUBLE continued

Intent on the birds ahead, I was flat-footed when a prairie chicken flushed behind me. The square-tail let out with a sassy cluck-cluck, as he dodged around a choppy. I made a mental note to teach the next bird better manners.

Finished with his cleaning job, Jim swung around to help box the marked-down flock. Sharptails and chickens usually stay put after they land. Both of us underestimated the distance and the grouse exploded before we expected them. Startled, I missed two easy chances at an outgoer. There's usually a laggard in a flock, and I was holding the last shell in my slide-action just in case. Sure enough, the tail-ender got up to my right and I missed him.

"Empty shells make thin soup," Jim chided. "You should have limited out on those jokers. What's the matter, did the sun get in your eyes? They just might be the last birds you'll see before the deadline."

Grouse and chicken hunting is fickle. You can tramp all day and never get a shot. The next time out, birds will be under your boots. I wasn't too worried about running out of targets, in spite of Jim's prediction. The OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland birds follow a pattern of foraging in the meadows in the early morning and late afternoon. In the middle of the day they nap out in the pockets and saddles of the hills. Our ranch is a mixture of Sand Hills and hay meadows so we get a double go.

Jim and I hunted the hills for an hour and didn't raise a bird. It was hot and I was getting discouraged when five prairie chickens sailed over a choppy right at us. I nailed the lead bird and picked off a second on the flare. Jim's 100 per cent average took a beating. As he reloaded the empty 12-gauge I got in a few licks about sloppy shooting.

We were almost to our outfit when we jumped a sharptail. My brother tried too hard and missed. I wasn't about to give him a second chance. There was a puff of feathers against the October sky and I was finished.

Behind now, Jim was hot to try another spot. We drove deeper into the hills and my brother made like a long-distance walker for the next hour without disturbing a feather. After giving up on the legwork, Jim went into his duck-hunting bit. Besides, our three-hour limit was up.

There's a batch of beaver ponds and sloughs on our spread. Cattails, reeds, and willows make them easy to sneak. We selected one of the ponds and pussyfooted across the meadow. The ducks could be heard gabbling, so we sprawled out and made the last 75 yards on our bellies. Three startled mallards came up like they were on springs at the end of the sneak. Two of them failed to make it. Both were juvenile drakes and were probably hatched right here on the ranch.

Figuring we had a "10-strike" on the sneak hunt, we headed for Mud Lake and a go at pass shooting. The lake is an early-season duck paradise. Shallow, it is surrounded by lush swamp growth and plenty of food and cover. Since it is the only sizeable spread of water for miles it is a magnet for ducks. An artificial outlet is a natural flyway for the waterfowl.

Crouched in the cattails, I watched hundreds of ducks treading over the lake. Jim was hunkered down about 75 yards from my stand. The webfeet that went over us were mighty high. After a string of misses, I knew it was going to take a little luck to bring down the sky-riders.

A pair of bluewings whistled over like miniature jets. I put plenty of daylight (continued on page 55)

JANUARY, 1965 43

TREES IN UNDRESS

Answers on Page 55 MATCH THEM UP... Cottonwood Linden Green Ash Black Walnut Bur Oak Honey Locust Red Cedar The name is the game. So all you woodsy types go to work

AUTUMN AND spring are the prime periods to catch most of nature's beauty. But winter with its stimulating frigidness can also point up some of the eye-pleasing scenes etched across NEBR ASK Aland. Trees are the best example. In winter the flowers disappear and the grass succumbs to dormancy, but the trees stand defiantly for all to see. Regardless of the weather these lofty guardians of our streets, parks, village squares, plains, and valleys hold fast in stoic indifference to the cold, wind, and snow.

Seven tree species are shown here for you to identify. Although typical Nebraska species, these are kings of their class. They are the winners of the Big Tree Contest sponsored by the Game Commission and the University of Nebraska Extension Forest Service.

Identifying trees isn't tricky. Anyone can recognize the oak by its acorn and many know the honey locust by the long pod it produces. During the warm months it's no job to spot the elm by the simple oval leaf or the cottonwood by the saw-toothed triangular leaf.

But winter changes the picture. The nourishment fed to the leaves via the roots has been snapped by the bite of winter. The trees' grandeur dwindles to barren twigs and branches. When the leaves of deciduous trees drop, it appears they all look alike. This isn't so. The buds on the twigs and the bark on the trunks are all different. The conifers offer no seasonal problem in identification. Such species as the ponderosa pine and red cedar stay green all year.

With this introduction and your own familiarity from living among the million-plus acres of trees in Nebraska, see how many of the seven you can name. Remember the bark of some trees like the linden will be perpendicular and trees like the ash, walnut, and elm will tend toward diamond-shape bark patterns in varying degrees of texture. The gray bark of the hackberry will be sprinkled with warty bark growths in sharp contrast to the scaly ridges of the Bur oak. But these are enough clues. Check your answers on page 55 to see how close you are to becoming a super tree sleuth.

THE END OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland

MAN WITH A DREAM

by Gary Grimmond George Haskell rode a dream into the Twentieth Century, turning a small-town dairy operation into a world-wide food-chain empire

IN THE 1890's it was little more than a creamery in the southeastern Nebraska town of Beatrice. But the small butter-and-egg operation known as the Beatrice Foods Company was the foundation for a foodprocessing empire that today spans the globe.

Riding the tide of a revolution that saw the old-fashion general store evolve into a streamlined supermarket, this fledgling company started a climb that took it from the peaceful valley of the Big Blue River into the mainstream of the world's food manufacturing giants. Today Beatrice Foods Inc. is the third largest dairy-food company in the world. Its annual sales total reaches the $700 million mark. The company's products number over 800 and the famed Meadow Gold brand is almost a household word.

The man behind Beatrice Foods' spiraling rise to fame was George E. Haskell, a man with a dream and the drive to make it a reality. He envisioned the vast food products of Nebraska and the Midwest pouring forth to feed a growing nation and the expanding world market.

Haskell was a man of his times as well as its victim back in the 1890's. This was a decade of ideas and expansion, panic and recession. Such inventions as the safety razor, zipper, and Thermos bottle had kicked off industrial booms that were spiriting resourceful men to fortunes.

But these were also dangerous times. Over-extension had brought on the panic of 1893 that forced such companies as the Fremont, Nebraska, Butter and Egg Company to liquidate, leaving the company's rising young secretary jobless. But Haskell was used to hardship. One of five children, he had been left fatherless at four and put in the Soldier Orphan's Home at Cedar Falls, Iowa.

Fortified with the same kind of grit that was carving an agriculture empire out of the Nebraska prairie 29-year-old George Haskell mapped his future. He'saw the ever-expanding nationwide railroad as the perfect means for rushing perishable foods to the populous East New inventions such as the cooling machine and new techniques like milk pasteurization and the Babcock test for butterfat intrigued him.

In 1894 Haskell took his idea to William Bosworth another former employee of the defunct Fremont company who had worked at its Beatrice plant. The two men formed a partnership and purchased the Beatrice JANUARY, 1965 45   facility. They also leased the Beatrice Creamery Company, which had also gone out of business.

MAN WITH A DREAM continued

The foundation was in place and the die cast. The two men had sunk all their savings into an operation where mortalities ran high. At this time dairying in Nebraska and Kansas was merely a side line. This was wheat country. Since 1880, some 600 creameries had been founded in this area and most had gone under. But Haskell had six years in the business behind him, as well as a firmly entrenched idea to process and market the agriculture resources of Nebraska.

Haskell and Bosworth began marketing butter, eggs, and poultry. They used the old Beatrice Creamery for reworking butter. In those days the farm wife made her own butter to trade for groceries or goods at the general store. Butter was made to individual style and the product varied accordingly. Some was salty, some milky white and some dark yellow, some good quality and some bad. The Beatrice plant made it uniform.

Late in 1894 the partners purchased a small churn and began producing their own butter from milk supplied by local farmers. Devising special protective packages, they distributed this quality product to grocery stores and restaurants in their own wagons.

Business was moving but the two men came up with a program that was to give a big push. They started providing farmers with separators which supplied a steady source of cream for the plant and milk for the farmer's table. This program worked so well that the company sold more than 50,000 cream separators from 1895 to 1905 in Nebraska.

The bustling young Beatrice enterprise now took in some four branch creameries, including one in Lincoln. Convinced that centralization was the key to his processor-distributor goal, he moved his operation to Lincoln. The Beatrice Creamery was incorporated there with a capital of $100,000 in 1898.

Officially organized, the company was ready to ride full tilt into the 20th century with Haskell at the reins. The first step was to consolidate all churning operations in Lincoln where the railroad facilities were located. Cool ice cars made the heat-susceptible butter sale, an ironic aspect to the purpose of the new plant since it burned down a month after it was opened. Other than producing nearly one million pounds of butter, the only thing salvaged was a brass cow ornament. The plant was rebuilt the following year. Bosworth resigned from the company at that time to open his own produce business in Beatrice.

Soon more than 350 cream stations were shipping to the Lincoln plant. In 1904 the company churned over 10 million pounds of butter. The company was growing and the farmers were all for it. The creamery was a sure market and a new source of money for their wavering incomes.

The next 10 years were a period of phenomenal growth for the company whose Meadow Gold brand, patented in 1901, was sweeping the country. It built creameries in Oklahoma, Chicago, and Colorado. By 1910 the company was operating nine creameries and three ice plants and sales offices dotted the nation.

George Haskell had seen his dream of a dairy-food dynasty with its lifeline in the Midwest securely anchored. But he wouldn't live to see it become an international giant with over 800 varieties of food fattening its annual reports. Six years later, after serving with the U.S. Food Administration during the World War I, George Haskell died. In 25 years he had founded and developed a company that was destined to become a giant.

During the next 25 years the gross national product galloped from $100 billion to $600 billion and the Beatrice Foods Company kept up with the dizzying climb. From $63 million annual sales in 1940 the company mushroomed to over $600 million in 1964. In a business that has a traditionally low profit margin, net earnings rose from $1.7 million to nearly $11 million.

Diversification became the key to this climb, just as centralization was the kingpin almost half a century earlier. Less than 12 years ago, 80 per cent of the company's annual sales came from dairy and related products. Today fluid milk and cream products account for 35 per cent of the sales dollar. This compares to 37 per cent for grocery products and services.

The trend to packaged convenience foods has become a significant factor for the organization. Butter, the catalyst and building block on which the company was founded, has tumbled because of a trend to margarine. This is but one of hundreds of items made by Beatrice Foods. Products range from candy bars to pizzas, chow mein to potato chips.

Beatrice Foods hasn't forgotten the state from which it started, or the two towns that nourished its roots. A 50th anniversary celebration was held in Beatrice in 1948. The theme was "home again". In 1963 the company held its 65th anniversary celebration and stockholders met in Lincoln, the city it was incorporated in back in 1898. The Lincoln facility is still one of the huge company's important plants. It's one of the few combination branches left and processes ice cream, milk, cottage cheese, and butter.

The Lincoln office takes in Beatrice and several nearby towns. This includes 186 employees. The milk processing plant at Grand Island has 37 employees and a similar plant at Norfolk has 45. Beatrice Foods boasts a total labor force of around 16,000. Stockholders approach this same figure, with the highest per capita proportion of these living in Nebraska.

The company became a globe-wide operation during the last five years. Today, there are plants, franchise agreements, or joint ventures in over 15 countries, including Canada, Italy, Mexico, Belgium, Switzerland, Malaya, Venezuela, and Burma.

From Beatrice to Lincoln to Chicago and finally the world, the success story of Beatrice Foods Company has truly been one steeped in the best American tradition. Its foundation for greatness was built by the people and products of Nebraska.

THE END 47

POTTER

...a Cowboy's Cowtown by Elizabeth Huff

SOME 550 people call the sleepy town of Potter home. But appearances can be deceiving. Fortunes have been made in this Cheyenne County community in NEBRASKAland's panhandle. From the time the Union Pacific threw up their 8-by-16 station house at end-o-track in 1870, the Danes and Swedes who settled Potter have been enterprising folk.

For many years, the station house was the only building in what was to become a town. It also served as post office, school house, and hotel. The county's first white child was born there, too. Food was brought over the rails by freight from Sidney and everyone carried their "hardware" for protection from rampaging Sioux Indians.

By 1885, Potter finally came to life, roused first by cattlemen. Civilization came to the frontier town when homesteaders moved in. Drought, Indian raids, and cattle fights were their lot, but they stuck it out.

The first feed and flour mill between North Platte and Salt Lake City was established by Adam Gunderson, who harnessed the power of Lodgepole Creek. Other structures, including a church and school, sprang up around the old station house.

And so Potter progressed, only to be struck by severe drought in 1894 and 1895. Many settlers pulled up stakes, but others stayed to see the prairie bloom again when the rains returned in 1896. Those who had stuck out the dry spell turned their attention to raising cattle, colts, and feed. So it is today, for ranching and wheat make up the bulk of Potter's economy. The county got another big boost when oil was discovered. The space age, too, has come to Potter and missile sites ring the range land around town.

It took a freak of nature to bring Potter into the national spotlight. In 1927, the largest hailstones ever reported anywhere bombarded the community. About the size of large grapefruit, the giant balls of ice measured 17 inches around.

Through hail and drought, Potter and its people perservered and prospered. Today, cattle, oil, and wheat form the backbone of that prosperity for Potter's 550 citizens.

THE END 48 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland

FISH FOR FISHERMAN

Dollars-and-sense thinking guide researchers in their quest to improve all angling

FOR MANY years fishery research men have poked, probed, and practiced the art of scientific investigation to learn more about fish life histories. Thousands of dollars have been spent by federal and state agencies to support such activity. The knowledge gained from these continuing studies has payed off big to the angler. Technicians using information on spawning characteristics, food habits, life span, body requirements, growth rate, and habitat preference have produced more fishing for less money. , Examples bear this out.

by Gene Miller Area Fisheries Manager

The approximate number of eggs to expect from each pound of spawning northern pike, walleye, rainbow trout, and many others is known. So is the capacity of each hatchery and the anticipated need for fingerling fish each year. From this fishery technicians can work until they have enough fish to furnish the needed number of eggs. Stopping short would make some new 50 lake go wanting for fish. To collect more than could be handled would be money down the drain. Knowledge of fish life histories results in an efficient operation.

Some fish, such as the bluegill and largemouth bass are capable of natural reproduction in almost all ponds and lakes in Nebraska that have at least semi-clear water. Others, like the northern and walleye can not. Life history studies show that the northern must have shallow, vegetated water in the early spring for natural reproduction.

For any significant amount of walleye natural reproduction to occur, rock and rock rubble must be present. Knowing this, technicians avoid the pitfall of trying to make a northern or walleye lake out of one that does not provide the necessary spawning habitat. This is highly important. After the initial stocking in a new or renovated lake, it is usually financially impractical to maintain the population by yearly fingerling stocking.

The cost of trying to artificially match natural reproduction makes such an operation out of the question. If 12 spawner pairs of 4 to 6-pound walleye, for example, spawned in proper habitat, some 480,000 eggs would be produced. Possibly half would be fertile, and only half of these might hatch. Of the 120,000 remaining, possibly half will reach fingerling size. It would cost the Game Commission $1,000 to artificially produce these 60,000 fingerlings.

Survival even after the fingerling stage is oftentimes very low in lakes with an already established fish population. Funds saved by not trying to artificially match natural reproduction can be diverted to such things as the creation of new lakes and thus produce more fish per dollar. Again the knowledge of life histories makes for a more efficient operation.

Through age and growth studies, technicians are familiar with how fast or slow some fish can grow under good and poor conditions. One of the basic steps in any lake survey is the "reading" of the scales or bony parts of fish which show yearly marks. A six-inch crappie that has gone through three growing seasons is having a tough go of it. A six-incher that has gone through one or two is finding considerably more food.

Lakes that contain slow-growing, stunted fish offer little to the angler. To improve the situation, the food supply must be increased or some fish must be removed to decrease competition for the available food. Decreasing or eliminating the competition is usually the most practical.

Knowledge of normal life spans gives insight when fishing regulations are being considered. It would be folly in most cases to set a low limit on crappie, for example, in a lake where the crappie were large, desirable, and five years old. What the fishermen don't take, old age will.

Fish tagging is possibly the widest known of the many sleuthing devices. It helps give an idea of the fishermen harvest, and therefore makes up one of the keys to reasonable fishing regulations.

Providing fish for the fishermen in as efficient way as possible is the aim of fisheries management. Life history information goes a long way toward helping fisherman creel fish. In April, for example, it's best to fish for walleye in and around the spawning beds, such as the riprap at Harlan Reservoir, because the walleye tend to congregate there. Creel census data shows that the crappie fishermen have their best luck in April and May. Direct observation has shown that the largemouth bass prefers to stay near weed beds or near obstructions or snags in the water. These are only a few of the instances where facts about fish life histories can be used to creel fish.

In certain instances, especially with cold-water varieties such as trout, intensive laboratory experiments and field observations have pretty well defined life reauirements. For instance, rainbow trout cannot survive for any extended period in temperatures much greater than 70°. Also, they do not fair well if the dissolved oxygen content of the water is too low.

Knowing requirements of rainbow trout are highly valuable. Water taken from various depths during the heat cf summer and subjected to temperature and oxygen tests will reveal if trout have a good chance of surviving if planted in new waters. This information saves many dollars' worth of trout that could be wasted.

Providing fish for the fisherman in as efficient a way as possible is the aim of fishery management. Facts on fish life go a long way toward realizing that goal. Through their use, more catchable fish are produced per dollar spent. This adds up to exciting angling action now and in years to come.

THE END JANUARY, 1965 51

the TALL MEN

Only in Omaha are West's greats memorialized forever

RARE AND highly coveted honors have come to 31 persons in the last three years. Some of the recipients will never know it. They were "Up Yonder" long before the honors were established. But living or dead, the 31 have two things in common. All have made significant contributions to the West and all are members of the Ak-Sar-Ben Western Hall of Fame. To be eligible, each recipient must stand tall in rodeo, western entertainment, and pioneering and history.

Ak-Sar-Ben's Western Hall of Fame is the only place in the nation where the exploits of the rodeo performers and producers are recognized. Smart silver and ebony plaques in the main concourse of the Ak-Sar-Ben Coliseum in Omaha tell the story of western greats to all comers. Each conferee is given a duplicate of the plaque displayed in the Hall of Fame.

The annual awards are made during the Ak-Sar-Ben Rodeo in September. Only one presentation is made each night and a hush comes over the crowd when the announcer steps to center arena and introduces the King of Ak-Sar-Ben who names the recipient. The plaque is handed over during a brief summary of the winner's 42 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland accomplishments. A handshake follows and the ceremony is over.

A lot of work is behind the five-minute interlude in the rodeo's flashing action. As soon as one show ends, the rodeo committee accepts nominations for the next year's Hall of Famers. Nominations can be made by anyone who thinks his hero deserves the honor. The nominee's qualifications are checked. If he or she meets the exacting standards, preparations for the award get under way.

Winners are notified early enough to schedule a stop in Omaha for their award. A glossy photograph is obtained so the plaque can be engraved in time for the presentation ceremony. Names of the recipients are secret until the night of the presentation. Close relatives or descendants usually accept the plaques for those who are dead.

Hall of Fame awards began in 1962 when J. J. Isaacson proposed a system of awards for rodeo performers. Chairman of the Rodeo Committee for many years before his recent retirement, Isaacson believed star rodeo performers should have lasting recognition, the same as star baseball and football players. His ideas were expanded to include greats of western entertainment and Old West heroes and pioneers.

Ten men were honored in 1962 with the great Jim Shoulders, four-time World Champion Cowboy heading the list. Others included famed Indian Scout and showman, Buffalo Bill Cody, and Hoot Gibson, first of the great cowboy movie stars. Mrs. Louise A. Woolsey of Lincoln accepted Buffalo Bill's plaque in behalf of the International Cody Family Association. Hoot Gibson died before the rodeo and his plaque was accepted by Mayor W. J. Bolt and Ak-Sar-Ben Ambassador H. J. Wragge, both of Tekamah, Gibson's home town.

Others in the 1962 spotlight included the late Cowboy Copas, and World-Champion cowboys Benny Reynolds and Bill Linderman. They were joined by Dean Oliver, the World-Champion Calf Roper, and Tex Ritter, Webb Pierce, and Roy Acuff of western entertainment fame.

The 1962 charmed circle was dominated by rodeo stars and pioneer greats. Old-timer Guy Shultz, World-Champion Cowboy in 1921, 1922, and 1923, shared honors with Buck Rutherford, the top waddy of 1954. Less than a year after receiving the Ak-Sar-Ben recognition, Guy passed away. Alvin Nelson, World Saddle Bronc Champ in 1957, was another leather pounder who received the coveted plaque. Lex Connelly got his ebony and silver award for his many contributions to the Rodeo Cowboys Association. Verne Elliot earned his niche in the Western Hall of Fame for producing the first Ak-Sar-Ben Rodeo in 1944.

Major General Grenville M. Dodge of Union Pacific fame topped the pioneer category. Another Nebraska hero of the past was also remembered. He was Major Frank North, an Indian scout, soldier, and pioneer of the Wild West.

N. P. Dodge III of Omaha, great grandnephew of the General accepted the plaque. Miss Madge Cushing, 80 years young, flew from California to receive the North award. A niece of the Major, she scored a tremendous hit with the crowd with her ready wit.

Probably the most surprised man in the stands was J. J. Isaacson when the honor came his way. Called to the arena on the pretext of making the award to another man, Jake became unglued when he was made a Hall of Famer. Choked up and tearful, he managed a thank you and a few words of appreciation before he had to leave. Others in 1963 included western entertainers Hank Snow, Minnie Pearl, and Ernest Tubbs.

Last year, Ak-Sar-Ben put the magic finger on King of the Cowboys, Jimmy Wakely, singing star Rex Allen, and Whitey Ford, the Duke of Paducah, for their contributions to western music and comedy. Ford's famous exit line, "These shoes are killing me," rocked the stands. Leo Cremer, one of the great rodeo producers of all time, received a posthumous award as did Omaha Chieftain Logan Fontenelle. A great grandnephew, Logan Fontenelle accepted the plaque.

Five rodeo performers joined the stars of past years in the Hall of Fame. They were Sonny Worrell, Ak-Sar-Ben All-round Cowboy of 1962 and 1963, Wiley McCray, veteran rodeo clown and bullfighter, and Jim and Tom Tescher, Ak-Sar-Ben's Saddle Bronc Champs of 1961, 1962, and 1963. James Bynum is the first National Steer Wrestling Champion to join the select group. James topped all competitors in his rugged specialty in 1954, 1958, 1961, and 1963.

No matter who wins the coveted plaques in the future, the thrill of receiving a great honor will still be there and the same expectant hush will quiet the crowd when the winners are announced.

THE END JANUARY, 1965 53

BOWED RATTLERS

(continued from page 13)

Dick carefully teased the arrow free. Even mortally wounded rattlers can strike with sudden vengeance and Dick was taking no chances on getting into trouble with a dying snake. After every shot the archer carefully cleaned the arrows to prevent possible contamination from the venom that often covered the shaft.

Walking along a sun-dappled trail, I jumped six feet when a waving branch threw a wriggling shadow across my boots. My yelp brought Harold on the run. Shamefacedly I admitted that my imagination had run away.

"You've got no monopoly on being spooky," he said. "I've hunted rattlers for years but every once in a while I see snakes where they aren't. It's better to be a little edgy than to walk into one of these buzztails and get harpooned."

He suggested I try snaring the next snake with his gig. My hope that we wouldn't see one was dashed when John hailed me with a low whistle and pointing finger. My first timid attempt failed. The snake, a medium-size rattler about two feet long, struck so fast I couldn't react in time to tighten the noose. His head flashed through the loop and returned in a speckled blur. My prey launched a second strike, but this time I jerked the loop and caught him in the middle.

The furious strength of the rattler surprised me, as he wriggled and squirmed on the end of the too-short five-foot stick. John rapped the snake behind the head and I was glad to get rid of the musical catch.

Dick switched to "judo" points in place of the hollow heads for his arrows. These slender points have four spring-steel feelers surrounding the head. When the arrow hits, the points spread into the target and prevent skipping. They are effective killers at close range on small game and varments.

All of us were tensing up as the hunt went on. Even John and Harold were shying at shadows and mistaking branches and sticks for lurking snakes. Dick was losing some of his normal aplomb. When he missed two rattlers back to back he was ready to quit. The Ainsworth pair lost a few snakes when the reptiles slithered down nearby holes before the snares could loop them.

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The keyed up alertness of outguessing death drained away as we started the return trip. John and Harold had pushed through the thicket without giving it the customary casing as a likely place for old buttontail. They were almost on the rattler before they heard the warning buzz. Only experience and a sixth sense brought them to a dead stop. Fortunately, Dick and I were returning on the more open game trail or we would have been boxed, too.

I believe the snake was in his strike when Dick's arrow caught him. I heard the bow string, saw a glint of silver flashing through the evergreens, and sensed the 'tssp' of the arrow as it punched through the snake, pinning him to the ground. The rattler straightened out and then threw a convulsive loop around the arrow. He squirmed and wriggled for several minutes. Gradually the frantic buzzing subsided and the snake went limp, only his tail twitching in the death throes.

Driven by the 56-pound bow, the arrow had punched through the lance-shaped head, squarely between the lidless eyes, and had penetrated to its fletchings into the flinty ground. It was a remarkable shot under trying and adverse conditions. Dick shook his head when he realized what a near thing it had been. John and Harold climbed up to our path and watched the struggles of the dying snake. They said little, but Dick knew how they felt.

On the way home I asked Dick if he recommended rattlesnake hunting as a sport for the bowman. The serious- minded archer reflected for a minute, and then replied with a terse NO! His one-word sentence makes a volume of good sense to me.

THE END

BR0NC BUSTER

(continued from page 21)

the cowboy's hand out of the rigging, then every thing does come apart.

Like all rodeo broncs, Snappy John was well named. The horse has cost Jim plenty of money as well as a broken arm. Jim drew the critter at the Cow Palace in San Francisco his first year as a professional. The horse whirled and rared out of the chutes and Jim got hung up on the rigging.

The bareback rider sticks on a horse by holding on to the leather-handled rigging while he holds the other hand high and spurs the horse hard throughout the ride. Jim's a big man, 6' 2" and 175 pounds of muscle, but he figures strength and size aren't as important as a man's ability to get in rhythm with the bucking horse. The Omaha cowboy feels that his football-playing 54 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland days may have taught him a few lessons in co-ordination and how to take a fall, at least those spills that he knows are coming.

Jim has specialized in the rigging event since breaking into the big time, but he "plans on winning a bunch of money" at bulldogging eventually. He has spent a lot of time working out with veteran steer wrestler C. R. Boucher. Boucher, like Crump before him, sees plenty of promise in the Omaha cowboy.

Bull riding is a dirty word as far as Jim is concerned and he wants no part of the event. He did enter saddlebronc competition when he broke into the RCA circuit, but he's come to call the event his hobby since he's done so sorry at it. Though Jim has been phenomenal in his bareback-riding specialty, he realizes that he has to diversify. Jim ran all over the nation last year earning his winnings. By entering more than one event, he hopes to slow the travel pace some.

Now that his boyhood dream of becoming champion has been realized, Jim has set his sights on a higher goal. He would like to make enough eventually to buy himself a cattle spread. He plans to rodeo strong for another seven or eight years, then settle down to the business of raising beeves. Still a bachelor, Jim's fair game to any gal who has the notion she would like to latch onto a bonafide cowboy, and a champion to boot.

All Nebraska is proud of Jim Houston and rightfully so. Rodeo began here a long time ago. It's only natural that the state should produce a champion bronc buster, even one who once bawled his eyes out at the sight of a horse.

THE END ANSWERS TO TREE QUIZ 1. Green ash—upright branches and finely furrowed and convoluted bark lending to diamond pattern is clue to green ash. This is on the William Peters farm, Scribner. 2. Black walnut—furrows in bark that are rough, deep, and short denotes the black walnut, even this king on the Wayne Coulter farm east of Auburn. 3. Honey locust—thick clusters of branches and limbs along with broad-ridged bark denotes the honey locust. This one, 11 feet 8 inches around, is west of Bennet. 4. Linden—a symmetrical tree with long fissured ridges in bark and compact branches designate the linden. Mrs. Fay Moore, Nemaha has this one. 5. Bur oak—thin-scaly bark is the wintertime mark of this tallest of the oak trees. The specimen here is king of its class and on the H. A. Eltiste farm, Johnson. 6. Red cedar—thick, cone-shaped in appearance, the red cedar is also characterized by bark that separates into long narrow strips. This one is on Harmon Loennig farm, Humboldt. 7. Cottonwood—rounded bark separated by deep ridges typifies this species. This granddaddy is on the Jim Simpson farm, Guide Rock.

SAND HILLS DOUBLE

(continued from page 43)

between muzzle and duck and cracked the cap. The little speedster ran into the invisible wall of No. 6's and came down like a brick. Jim was eyeing a few specks in the distance when a quintet of teal broke in behind him. He leveled off on the tail-ender. The first shot rocked the bird and the second cart wheeled him.

With half our project completed, we turned to jump shooting. The outlet of Mud Lake winds through a couple of miles of hay meadows. The banks above the channel are a riot of brambles, thistles, plum brush, and wild sunflowers. Ducks hide out in the channel and the branching sloughs and are mighty tough to hunt.

Jump shooting can be risky unless the hunter knows what he's doing. Birds straight up or down the channel belonged to the man on his side. We crashed through the dry weeds like a herd of longhorns as ducks broke from the channel and skimmed low over the water. They burned around the bends before we could untangle our feet and push a gun barrel through the heavy cover.

Jim hit a patch of clearer ground and gained a few yards on me. It was a lucky move. A mallard hen popped out between us and curved toward my direction, and moments later she hit the ground with a satisfying thud. My shot spooked some lurking bluewings. They erupted from the channel, wheeled into a screaming curve, and power-dived to the water only a few yards ahead of Jim. He took a few steps and this time he was ready when the teal blasted off. The first bird up ran into a full pattern.

Clumps of cattails and rush dotted the north shore of Mud Lake and made pretty good natural blinds. It was getting late and Jim and I wanted to wind up the hunt with a perfect score on all methods, but it didn't look too good. The lake was teeming with waterfowl. Most, however, were rafting up in the center, a long, long way from our anxious guns.

Jim was sure sunset would catch us with our goal unreached and had about given up. He was half way out of his blind when two bluewings came at us. Only inches above the water, they bored in, ignoring the invites of the other webfeet. My first blast was a fat miss but the second was on the button. The survivor wheeled into a climbing turn and cut in the afterburner, but Jim's desperation try was faster.

We were a satisfied pair of hunters as we walked back to our rig. Jim and I had set some pretty hard standards and had met them. My brother wasn't quite so happy. He was still thinking of that grouse that got away.

THE END Born and raised in NEBRASKAland Meadow Gold ICE CREAM Meadow Gold BUTTER Meadow S3B MILK A Nebraska Institution for 65 Years Beatrice Taods Co, JANUARY, 1965 55

TOP QUALITY HUNTING COMPANIONS VIZSLAS exclusively GRAFF'S WEEDY CREEK KENNELS Route 3, Seward, Nebr. Phone 8647

OUTDOOR ELSEWHERE

Horse Lough. A Texas hunter knocked on a ranch door to inform the rancher that he had just shot one of his horses by accident and asked to pay for it. The price agreed on was $300, and on payment the hunter left. The rancher decided to go drag his dead horse in from the timber. He found, however, that the "dead horse" was really an elk. The rancher, a firm believer in hunting seasons now, is richer by $300, still has his horse, and there's elk meat in his freezer.—Colorado.

Buck-a-Boo. A strange thing happened to a Boeing 707 on the way down the runway the other day. A Missouri conservation agent almost didn't take the report seriously, but a trip to MidContinent International Airport at North Kansas City convinced him. He discovered a yearling buck had been killed by a Boeing 707. The deer was not flying, but then neither was the big jetliner. The plane was just leaving Kansas City on a routine training flight when the buck ran across the runway during the jet's take-off run. The plane wasn't damaged, but the deer was. Airport officials reported there have been several near misses with deer on runways, but this was the first actual collision.—Missouri.

Return of Diana. More than a million women joined the ranks of licensed hunters in the United States last year, according to estimates by the National Shooting Sports Foundation, Inc. Of the nearly 15 million hunters in the nation, nearly 1,180,000 are women. During the last decade, members of the fairer sex have been joining the ranks of the hunting fraternity at a much faster rate than men, and their impact on the sport is becoming increasingly apparent. Special hunting clothing designed for the feminine figure is manufactured. Gun manufacturers have also been considerate of the ladies by marketing lightweight shotguns with reduced recoil. Women have traditionally been good shots and the foundation says they possess the discipline to observe safety measures that should be characteristic of all good sportsmen.

Highway Toll. Saturday was the most dangerous day of the week for drivers. A total of 17,290 deaths on weekends, more than 40 per cent of the total 42,700 killed.

Methuselah! The U.S. Forest Service has published a new pamphlet about the trees of the Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest in California. These tough little pines grow in shallow, rocky, alkaline soil at high elevations, where they are subject to severe extremes of weather. Parts of the trees die, but other parts live on in spite of their harsh environment. Methuselah, the oldest tree, is the oldest living thing on earth—4,600 years old, and a thousand years older than the oldest redwood tree. Copies of the pamphlet can be obtained from the Supervisor, Inyo National Forest, Bishop, California.

Fish Story. Fish replaced insecticides in a campaign in Durban, South Africa to fight its summer mosquito menace. Ponds, lagoons, and other likely breeding places were stocked with fast-multiplying tilapia fish. They eat mosquito larvae. The municipality saved money on its insecticide bill, and the fish have supplemented the diet of the needy in nearby townships.—Chicago.

56 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland

NEBRASKAland TRADING POST

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U.S. Divers, Sportsways, Voit, Swimmaster, Scubrapro. Air Station, Regulator Repair. Telephone 553-0777. 5051 Leavenworth Street, Omaha, Nebraska. TAXIDERMY SAVE THAT TROPHY THROUGH TAXIDERMY. All types of taxidermy work done. Lifelike mounts at reasonable prices. Also hides tanned for glove or jacket making Livingston Taxidermy, Mitchell, Nebraska. TRY TAXIDERMY. World's most complete taxidermy supply house. Has everything. Big full color catalog 10?. Vandyke, Woonsocket 8, South Dakota. TRAPS COLLAPSIBLE Farm-Pond Fish-Traps: Animal Traps, postpaid. Free information, pictures. Shawnee, 3934-AX Buena Vista, Dallas 4, Texas. THE BIG WINNERS ARE.. OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland Classified Advertisers Because: • More than 50,000 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland readers form an active buying market for ail types of products. From sporting equipment to health foods, all are sold through OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland classified ads. • OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland's reading audience keeps growing, but OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland's classified advertising rates remain LOW . . . only $.15 per word with a $3.00 minimum. iTUh ^derIhhiep.daSSifled S6Ctl0n ■"SS& dalSffcd im5°rtf.nt- OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland classified advertising SELLS! So whatever you want to sei or buv vou'll hit the ackpot with OUTDOQR NEBRASKAland classified advertising. For Winning Results, Use OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland Classified Ads OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland of the Air SUNDAY KGFW, Kearney (1340 kc) 7 KTTT> Columbus (1510 kc) 7 KRGI, "Grand Island (1430 kc) 7 KVSH, Valentin* (940 kc) 8 KXXX, Colby, Kan. (790 kc) 1 8 WMG, Nayfolk (780 kc) j 8 KLMS, Lincoln (1480 kc) 9 KBRL, McCookj(1300 kc) 9 KODY, North Watt* (1240 kc) 10 KIMB, Kimball (1260 kc) L 11 KM A, Shenandoah, Iowa (960 kc) 12 KOGA, Ogallala (930 kc) 12 KFOR, Lincoln (1240 kc) 12 KCNI, Bremen Bow (1280 kc) 1 KMMJ, Grand Iklond (750 kc) 1 KUVR, Holdrege (1380 kc) 1 2 KHUB, FremontII340 kc) 4 KNCY, Nebraska City (1600 kc) 5 KRVN, Lexington (1010 kc) 5 K¥NC, Fatjs City (1230 kc) 5 MONDAY KGMT, FafBury (1310 kc) 1:00 p.m. KSH>, Sidney (1340 kc) 6:30 p.m. WEDNESDAY KJ$K, Columbus (900 kc) 1:30 p.m. KlOW, Alliance (1400 kc) 1 4:30 p.m. 05 :30 :40 :00 :00 :f$ :05 :45 :45 :15 :15 :30 :45 :15 :40 :45 :40 :00 :40 a.m a.m a.m a.m a.m a.m a.m a.m a.m a.m p.m p.m p.m p.m p.m p.m p.m p.m p.m p.m _ SATURDAY KCSR, Chadron (610 kc) KOLT, Scottsbluff (1320 kc) KAWL, Yolk, (1370 kc) KHAS, Hoftings 0230 kc) KRFS, Superior (1600 kc) KWRV, McCook (1360 kc) KB>X, O'Neill (1350 kc) KMNS, Sioux City, Iowa (620 WOW, Omaha (590 kc) kc) 6 1 2: 1 1 1: 4: 6: 9: 00 45 45 00 00r 45 30 10 30 o.m. a.m. p.m. p.m. p.m. p.m. p.m. p.m. p.m. DIVISION CHIEFS Willdrd R. Barbee, assistant director Glen R. Fosfer, fisheries Dick H. Scbdffer; information? and tourism Richard J: Steady, land management Jack D. Strain, state parks Lloyd P. Vance, game CONSERVATION OFFICERS Chief:: Carl E. Gettmann, Linctrfn Albion—Wayne Craig, 395-2071 Alliance—Richard Fur ley, 762-2024 Alliance—-Leonard Spoering, 762-1547 Alma—WiHianvF. Bonsall, 928-2313 Arapahoe—*$>on Schaepler, 962-47818' Bossett—William 0. Anderson, 294W Benkelman^—H? Lee Bowers, 423-2893 Bridgeport-—Joe| Ulrich, 100 Broken Bo*^-G|ne Jeffries, 872-5953 Columbus^-4ymbn Wilkinson, 564-4375 Crawford—TeciI Avey/ 228 Crete—Roy HE. Owens, 446 Crofton—John Schuckman, 29 Dix—Marvin Bussinger, 682-2052 FOirbury—Larry Bauman, 1293 Falls City—Raymond Frandseh, 2817 fremont—Andy Nielsen, 721-£482 Gerirtg—Jim McCole, 436-2686 Grand Island—Fred Saiak, 384-0582 Hastings—^Bruce Wiebe, 2-8317 Hay Springs^-Larry D. Eiston," 638-4051 Kearney—Ed Greving, 237-5753 Lincoln—Norbert Kampsnider^ 466-0971 Lincoln—Dali Bruha, 477-4258 Nebraska City—Max Showairer, 873-7155 Norfolk—Rollert Downing, 373-1435 North Platte-*-Samuel Grasmick, 532-9546 North Platter-Robert D. Patrick, 532-7274 Ogallala—Loron Bunney, 284^4107 Omoho—Dwight "Allberg 6'Nejll—Jamgs J. Hurt, 1 59LJ Oshkosh—Donpld D. Hunt, 772-3697 Ponca—Richard D. Turpin, 2421 Tekamah—Rijhard. Elston, 278R2 Thedford—Jack Henderson, 645-5351 Valentine—Jack Morgan, 10^7 Valley—Daryf Earnest, 359-2332 Wayne—Ken t. Adkisson, 375-2924 York—-Gail Woodside, 362-4120 JANUARY, 1965 57

THE CARDINAL

notes on Nebraska fauna...

SOME SAY the cardinal was named for the red robe of the church. Others insist it was because of the bird's character. Either way, the cardinal is one of the best-loved gentlemen of the bird world.

Sporting a top crest and a brilliant coat, the cardinal is the Beau Brummell of the songbirds. He has numerous common names, such as the Kentucky cardinal, Virginia cardinal, red-bird, red-crested bird, Virginia nightingale, cardinal grosbeak, and just plain cardinal. The scientific name is Richmondena cardinalis.

A member of the family Fringillidae, the cardinal, like the rest of the clan, has a short, stout bill for cracking seeds. Grosbeaks, finches, sparrows, and buntings are among the over 200 species and subspecies in the family in the United States. Members of this large 58 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland family are found throughout the world. The distribution of the cardinal in North America is from South Ontario to the Honduras. The bird is also found in Hawaii where it has been introduced.

Sporting a top crest and a brilliant red coat, this popular gent is the Beau Brummel of the soothing songbird set by Harvey Suetsugu District Game Supervisor

Members of the cardinal clan are predominantly beneficial because of the number of weed seeds that they consume. According to some authorities, the most serious charge that can be brought against them is that they distribute noxious plants. When the seeds pass through their digestive system, they are ready to germinate. However, this cannot be considered a serious charge when one considers the many other ways that seeds can be distributed.

The cardinal is easy to identify. He has a pointed crest and is completely red, except for a black patch at the base of a heavy red bill. The female sports a duller coat of buffy brown with a touch of red and a heavy red bill. When identifying the cardinal, however, make sure you don't mistake him for the male summer tanager and the female Pyrrhuloxia. The tanager doesn't have a crest while the Pyrrhuloxia has a crest but no red bill.

Like most songbirds, the cardinal will readily take up residence in towns and parks. Look for him near woodland edges and along river thickets. Grassy fields adjacent to wooded areas are one of his favorite haunts when feeding.

Many persons have developed an interest in birds from first being attracted to the cardinal. Their conspicuous coloration and exhuberant singing calls attention to their presence. This often leads to a real interest in songbirds and easily become an exciting and rewarding hobby.

Whenever the cardinal feels like it, at any time of the year, the male will break out into his loud song. Even his mate will sing a melodious tune, although less loudly. As spring approaches, the male will begin courting in his sleek coat of brilliant red feathers. Once he has selected his territory, he will establish ownership by bluffing away other male intruders. If necessary, he'll put up a battle royal to keep out other courters. The female also makes sure that other ladies of the cardinal clan will not move into her courting territory.

After mating the housekeeping chores begin. The nest is usually built three to four feet above the ground, but may be up as high as 30 feet. Usually the nest is constructed in low thickets of brambles, grapevines, or low saplings. The nest appears to be a carelessly constructed cup of loose materials. It is made up of small twigs, bark, weed stems, and grass and is lined with horsehair and rootlets. The eggs, usually three but sometimes four in a clutch, are white, bluish, or greenish-white. Each is marked with shades of chestnut, purple, and brown scattered over the entire surface. The eggs are incubated for 12 days by the female.

The attentive male sings encouragingly while his mate tends the eggs. Unlike some species, he will go so far as to gather food for her. If the female is threatened, the male soon attracts the attention of the intruder and either lures it away or fights it off.

Even when the young arrive, the male is there to protect his family. He helps his mate feed the young and when she starts another clutch, he takes on the responsibilities of teaching the young birds the ways of life. In fact, the young are often cared for entirely by the male while the female is sitting on a second laying of eggs. The young are clothed in a drab coat similar to their mother. This helps them escape detection by predators.

Two broods are normally brought off each year. In more southern areas three broods may occur. Prolific reproductive capabilities have enabled the cardinal to extend his range farther north and establish permanent residence in previously void areas.

Thanks to the increasing popularity of winter feeding of songbirds, the cardinal has become a regular visitor in many back yards. Sometimes neighbors view this with mixed blessings. The bird has the habit of waking early and singing to his heart's content. The territorialism trait of the male may also cause the window-washing homemaker some problems. He has a notorious reputation to attack his. reflected image in a clean window.

The crest of the bird reveals his emotional state. When it's up, the bird is either excited, happy, surprised, or angry. The flattened crest indicates that all is well.

Food consists of 36 per cent seed, 25 per cent wild fruit, 9 per cent grain, 2 per cent miscellaneous plants, and 29 per cent animal matter. The animal matter includes Rocky Mountain locust, cicada, potato beetle, corn worm, scale insects, corn earworm, and others.

But the trait that makes this species so likable and popular is his gentleman-like characteristics. He is a family man ready to fight to the end to protect his family and his domain. And best of all is his cheerful, great-to-be-alive singing, a joyful song that is heard the year-round.

THE END JANUARY, 1965 59

CESKA HOSTINEC

any way you say if, the Wilber Czech Festival means fun for the entire family

Whether you speak Czech or not, you'll want to attend the Wilber Czech Festival, August 7th and 8th. You'll soon learn that everything in Wilber means fun and excitement.

The authentic color and charm of old Czechoslovakia fills Wilber during this big festival. See people in native Czech costumes dancing the beseda. Catchy Czech folk tunes will greet you on the streets. Scrumptious home-cooked Czech dishes such as duck, saurkraut, dumplings and kolackys make exciting and different meals.

Colorful parades, selection of the Czech queen, and the Czech pageant round out the celebration schedule.

Plan now to attend the Wilber Czech Festival, August 7th and 8th.

AUGUST 7-8, 1965