GOTHENBURG

... the Pony Express town

WHIPPING HIS frothing horse to even greater efforts, the Pony Express rider dashed across the prairie. The wind lashed his sunburned face as he followed his course along the Platte River across what is now NEBRASKAland.

Today, sedans and coupes, convertibles and pickups outfitted with much more horsepower follow that same route along U.S. Highway 30. And each year that highway takes thousands upon thousands of visitors to Gothenburg, the site of one of the few remaining original Pony Express stations. Soon, the giant concrete complex of Interstate 80 will sweep just south of the town of 3,050.

Gothenburg offers tourists and residents alike a charming stopping-off place. Steeped in history, it has much to offer visitors. There are tree-lined city parks with excellent facilities, along with a chance to drink in some of the aura of the rich past of NEBRASKALAND, where the WEST begins.

Once a relay stop for the short-lived, but highly famed Pony Express, Gothenburg commemorates its historic part in the opening of the West and the speeding on of the Overland Mail. The same log cabin that served as the remount station for the riders of the "lightning mail" is open to the public daily at the one-block-square city park at 14th and Lake streets. A granite boulder and plaque mark the site. Visitors can even post their cards and letters in leather saddlebags just outside the door of the rustic pioneer station.

Travelers can go a step farther than they planned as they stride into the frontier cabin. They can relive for a few moments the hard-riding, yet romantic days of yesteryear when the daring men and boys of the Pony Express rode to glory.

No other venture of such short duration has so completely captured the imaginations of Americans and the world. Here in Gothenburg, anyone can retrace those heroic days that are gone, but will never be forgotten. A canopy of trees shelters the small, but historic link with the past. At this same little park, visitors will find picnic tables, rest rooms, fountains, and shaded walkways to complement the frontier shrine.

Another small city park, just five blocks away at 19th and Lake streets, provides more picnic tables and a shelter house. At Lafayette Park on North Lake Avenue, State Highway 47, travel trailerites can park their homes on wheels for just $1 a night per car. This attractive park boasts shower houses, fireplaces, playgrounds, picnic areas, 4 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland and rest rooms. Tent campers are always welcome, too.

Bordering Lake Gothenburg, or Lake Helen if you prefer, is Lafayette Park. Fishing is permitted here, and plans are afoot to deepen the lake to permit nonpowered boating.

Almost midway between Omaha and Denver, Gothenburg offers a delightful rest stop or side trip for cross-country travelers. Campers can take advantage of the facilities at Lafayette Park, but the town also has its other comfortable areas for picnics and rest.

Located in the heart of the Platte Valley, the pathway of the pioneers, Gothenburg is a community that is proud of its rich heritage. Folks there extend an invitation that's good anytime for anyone who passes their way. There's always a big western welcome and a date with the Pony Express waiting at Gothenburg.

THE END MARCH, 1965 5

HAHLE'S FISHING CENTER CAFE AND ICE BOAT AND MOTOR RENTAL BOAT GAS TACKLE AND BAITS GUIDE SERVICE RED WILLOW RESERVOIR Rt. #1 McCook, Nebraska Ph. 345-3560

MARCH Roundup

It's kite and concert time plus Paddy's Day for kicker

IRISHMEN WILL have their day when March sweeps into NEBRASKAland, but there will be much more on tap than the "wearing of the green" on March 17. Spring is beginning to make a bid to wrest the prairies from the cold clutches of winter.

Activity runs a wide gamut, indoors and out. March is kite time and anglers can oil up their tackle. Basketball makes its last stand with the State High School Class A tournament in Omaha, March 11 through 13. Lincoln will host the State B and C tourney, March 11 and 12. District B and C competition will hit the boards at York, March 1 through 6. The University of Nebraska plays its last home game of the season on March 8 against Kansas State.

For those with a taste for the finer things, there are concerts aplenty slated across the state. St. John's College Choir from Winfield, Kansas, will sing in concert at Concordia College in Seward, March 13. On March 1, the Omaha Symphony Concert will be presented at the Civic Auditorium Music Hall. On March 23, the Tuesday Musical Concert Series will feature I. Solisti Di Zagreb at Joslyn Art Museum in Omaha.

Leo Kopp will conduct the Lincoln Symphony on March 23 at the Stuart Theater. The Grand Ole Opry gang will hit Lincoln, March 10, for a show at Pershing Auditorium. Also at Pershing, Bennett Cerf will be featured on March 31, sponsored by the Lincoln Education Association. On March 27, Lincoln schools will present their All-City Orchestra Festival at Pershing.

Bowling will rate high on the agenda for many. Tournaments will be in full swing throughout the month. Women keglers will compete for top state honors at McCook, while the men will roll for the big strikes in Omaha.

As warm weather nears, thoughts turn to summer and vacations. Grand Island will host its annual Home and Recreation Show, while Lincolnites can take in the Greater Nebraska Home, Sports, and Travel Show, March 18 through 21.

Prime beef will go on display at the Heart of Nebraska Angus Show and Sale in Broken Bow, March 29. The Omaha Knights will be finishing out their ice hockey season at Ak-Sar-Ben.

At Seward, Concordia College will present a drama entitled "The Lowest Place on Earth", March 19 and 20. Safety will be the topic of plenty of discussion at the Annual Home Safety Conference, March 31, at the Sheraton-Fontenelle Hotel in Omaha.

For rough and tumble action on the mats, All-Star Wrestling is scheduled at Pershing Auditorium in Lincoln, March 9 and 24.

From green beer for the Sons of Erin to fast-moving sports action, NEBRASKAland will greet March with plenty of enthusiasm.

THE END 6 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAIond

TALLY HO!

by Gary Grimmond Coyote gets the message loud and clear when this wild crew moves in

MYRON ROBERTS hit the brakes of his four-wheel drive rig the moment he got the word to stop. According to the radio message from the pilot, a coyote was heading right for his rig. The car skidded to a halt on the gravel country,road some 15 miles north of Lincoln. Grabbing his sporterized M-14 rifle, Myron bounded from the driver's seat as the coyote broke through the fence row just in front of us.

Roberts held his fire as the coyote dove into the ditch and broke into the milo stubble. Once on level land the MARCH, 1965 7   desperate critter renewed his stride. The first shot missed, the second from about 30 yards sent him tumbling, and a third close up finally finished the varment.

This episode in one form or another was repeated five times on this Sunday coyote hunt. The "Hunt 'n Duck" club of Lincoln was on its weekly outing. With an airplane as spotter and tracker for some dozen assorted radio-rigged vehicles, the club went about its main purpose for being, coyote hunting.

The day's events started early that 20° morning in a cafe on the edge of Lincoln. Stowing away eggs and hash browns which would be paid for by the club treasurer, some 20 members met and fortified themselves for the fun ahead. About a two-inch cover of snow was the reason for the large turnout. The snow wasn't enough to hamper the vehicles and made spotting coyotes a snap for the pilot.

Pilot Jim Hampton was among the first to leave the restaurant. This was the signal for the others to leave.

"I've hunted quail, pheasant, ducks, deer, and about everything else, but for excitement and action nothing beats this kind of hunting," Myron said, as we rode out to where the units were forming up.

A few miles north of Lincoln the chasers bunched up in groups of three and four. They were scattered at section-mile intervals on a line about three miles wide. Club President Vern Agnew mustered the men by radio. From here on out he would be known as ground control, the link between the plane and units.

As radio equipment was checked out and contact made with Hampton in his plane now making its S-shaped search pattern, Myron got out and twisted the spindles on the front axle of his rig, putting it in four-wheel drive.

"With the kind of traveling we'll be doing these extra wheels will come in handy," he grinned, remembering that he had gotten stuck the Sunday before.

The pilot's voice exploded over the radio with a "tally ho" indicating he had spotted a coyote. Riders 8 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAIond scrambled for their cars and pickups and were off in a gravelly billow of exhaust.

"The pilot's the secret to the whole business," Myron said. "He'll keep the coyote just off his left wing circling all the time. This tells us about where the animal is. With Jim's bird's-eye view, it's no trouble to spot the critter and radio the units on how to get to him. The plane isn't any insurance for getting coyotes, but it's sure a lot of help."

As we turned into a field, I could sense the excitement building among the hunters. The pilot barked directions and ground control deployed the units. Our trail road gave way to rolling pasture and harvested grainfields. Grabbing the seat to keep from banging my head against the top of the~ truck, I followed Myron's pointing finger to the loping bundle of fur hightailing it across a field to our left. About 300 yards from the coyote, Myron stopped'his rig and bailed out. Squinting through his 6X scope, he squeezed off a half dozen shots before the animal disappeared over a rise.

Word came from the pilot that the animal was holed up in a creek bed. This is bad news for the coyote hunter. The critter is easily seen by an airplane until he hits a creek or brushy area and decides to stop.

One of the party got out and walked up the creek, hoping to flush the critter. He hadn't been gone more than 10 minutes when the coyote came barreling out. Rifles barked a steady cacophony, as the animal raced for the protective oxbow in the creek he had left. From our vantage point, it looked like he made the creek bed.

The man on foot moved in after him, picking up a trail of blood. Before the stalker could spot the badger hole the trail led to, the coyote doubled back where he met a full blast from the club's artillery.

"Hitting these coyotes isn't as easy as you might think," Myron said. "When you've got a target going about 30 miles an hour some 300 yards away, you're going to miss a few shots. You have to lead the animal about nine feet and pretty much guess how much to allow for bullet drop. If he's running at an angle you have to adjust for that also."

Driving back to the base line, the Lincoln businessman talked about their coyote club.

"It's just a bunch of guys that get a kick out of hunting coyotes," Myron noted. "We're in our second year and are something of a splinter organization. Several of the guys belonged to a coyote club that used dogs. This led to arguments. We finally broke away and formed our own club."

Dues are $3 a month and each member kicks in $2 on each hunt. This is to buy gas for the airplane and a nominal fee for the pilot, a coyote man himself. Probably one of the few really organized coyote hunting clubs in the state, the 24-member group does most of its hunting north and south of Lincoln.

"By hunting the same areas we get to know the roads, land, and farmers," Myron said. "There's another group near Milford, but we stay out of their territory."

With the good roads and fairly level land, the Lincoln club has a pretty good (continued on page 56)

MARCH, 1965 9

WINTER RUN TROUT

by Harold Heil Nine Mile Creeks fighters are strawberry pickers, but not the kind that need cream and sugar

I WAS HAVING a ball in the icy waters of Nine Mile Creek north of Bayard. Latched on to the other end of my straining fly line was better than 4 1/2 pounds of the scrappiest trout this side of the Continental Divide. The deep-bodied rainbow was giving me all the fight I wanted in the snag infested creek. I was pretty sure I could handle him with the 20-pound test leader and D-level fly line if I could keep him in a safe stretch of water.

My opponent was no quitter. He took off in a downstream dash at the sting of the hook, bringing an anguished squeal from my reel. Unable to shake the snare, he sulked, gaining strength for another rush. This time he came at me, determined to gain enough slack to whip the leader around a snag. I raised the rod high and reeled in, keeping the line taut.

We seesawed across the narrow stream, the line sizzling through the murky water. My gear was sapping the trout's strength, however, and after another run downstream, I turned him for the last time. A deft swoop with the net and the struggle ended.

This victory was doubly sweet for me. I had scored after several hours of fruitless fishing. What was more satisfying, I took the trout from a stretch that angling companion, Alex Schmunk, had fished earlier and had drawn a blank. Don Bangert, my other partner, was still ahead of me with three nice fish, one of them, a plump five-pound female. My day wasn't going to be a failture after all, and I figured my reputation as a big-trout angler was still secure.

10  

Alex, Don, and I live in Bayard so Nine Mile Creek and its winter-run trout are practically next-door neighbors. For the past 15 years we have spent most of our fishing time trying to outguess the rainbows. The fish move into the panhandle tributaries to spawn. This fall and winter run is the signal for us to haunt Nine Mile and some of the other streams for a seven-month fishing spree. We started fishing for these NEBRASKAland "steelheads" about 1950 when the runs were relatively unnoticed by the other anglers.

Our fishing forays begin in mid-October and we keep at it until the first of April. I have fished in 10° above weather and 60° Indian Summer with just about equal success. When the trout are in the mood to hit, they'll take anything in the book. If they are sulking, nothing seems to stir them up. We never get the slambang action of spring and summer trouting, but when we do net a fish, he's worth bragging about. Alex has a nine-pounder to his score and I have caught several of the big beauties that sagged the scale close to the six-pound mark.

Trout in Nine Mile Creek are strawberry pickers, but not the kind that go with cream and sugar. Our "strawberries" are trout eggs all packaged up in nylon or cheesecloth. We take the eggs from a female, drop a gob of them in a square of cloth, and twist it in a sack, tying the ends with thread. The cloth keeps the eggs from disintegrating in the current. The cloth is transparent so the trout never see the fake until it's too late. Minnows and red worms are effective baits, and sometimes we use them for a change of pace. Spinners are about the best among the artificials.

The day I caught the 4 V2-pounder was typical of the fishing in Nine Mile. We hit the stream early on a raw and gusty morning and fished strawberries along a two-mile stretch. Don fished from the bank and took three beauties in about two hours before he had to quit. Alex and I weren't so lucky. Donning waders, we fished from the middle and probed the cut banks and the snags. Alex lost one good fish, and I got a couple of bumps, but that was it until almost noon. We were talking about a lunch break when I hooked the big one.

WINTER RUN TROUT continued

Experience has taught us that angling for big trout is basically patience combined with a thorough combing of all the likely looking water. Cut banks and obstructions are always good bets. Careful fishing paid off for us last November. Late in the afternoon we were whipping the water near the mouth of the creek. I let a strawberry roll under some submerged roots and promptly extracted a five-pound trout. Alex, fishing along the cut bank, took a three-pounder, then I came back with a four-pound rainbow. Counting the time that Don spent with us, we caught seven keepers in 24 man hours of fishing, which is better than average for big-trout angling.

Nine Mile Creek is the most unlikely looking trout stream in the country. Where else can you land four pound "steelheads" in a hog lot? In fact, Hog Lot Hole is one of our hot spots. Other good spots on our stretch of Nine Mile include McGrew Bridge, Railroad Bridge, Auto Body, and Russian Olive holes. These bonanzas get their name from a distinguishing stream feature.

Alex won't forget Hog Lot Hole for a long time. He was fishing it one morning and got a terrific hit. The 12 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland fish fought doggedly near the bottom and Alex was anticipating the great granddaddy of all Nebraska trout until his catch surfaced. It was a huge carp. The incident furnished me with plenty of kidding ammunition.

Big trout are spooky and cautious. We fish as quietly as we can and try to keep 20 to 30 feet of line ahead of us when we fish downstream. In certain holes, we cast upstream and let the current roll the bait into the deeper spots. The trick is to keep a tight line and be ready to set the hook the instant the bait stops moving. Fly rods are our favorite rigs, but a good spinning outfit loaded with 20-pound test monofilament can be a killer. Heavy leaders don't seem to spook the fish, probably because Nine Mile is always a little on the murky side. Alex uses monofilament on his rod, but Don and I stick to D-level fly lines and 6 to 8-foot leaders. A couple of No. 5 split shot sinkers, clinched about 12 inches above the bait, keep the offering well down.

Steelhead fishing on the West Coast gets plenty of publicity, but I wouldn't trade NEBRASKAland's ''steelheads" for anything.

THE END MARCH, 1965

SATAN PLACE

By Elizabeth Huff

SATAN WAS A traveling companion of the early settlers and his influence seems to remain today. All around NEBRASKAland, landmarks bear the one name that evokes a vision of turmoil and hardship. From Devils Nest in the east to Devil's Den in the west, the Prince of Darkness holds title to much of the georaphy of the "where the West begins" state.

Perhaps his spirit still lingers over the areas that prompted those early emigrants to consign these sites to the realm of Satan. Maybe he still rises from his brimstone bed at break of day to wander and take stock of his holdings.

There is a legend that he set up shop on an island in the Platte just north of Louisville. Few dared to challenge his authority there. Those who did were never heard from again. It is said that many, many years ago two men went hunting on Devil's Island and the old rogue resented the intrusion. A storm came up unexpectedly. One man drowned trying to save his gun, and his body was never found. His partner barely escaped.

Old-timers swear that Devil's Island swallowed him up. Rattlesnakes that infested the site did their bit to keep trespassers away. Although a convenient stepping stone across the river, few had the courage to tempt fate again. Stories still linger that a sodden specter entwined by snakes walks the island by night.

Old Nick is a busy fellow, for his holdings are many here. At Bellevue the original territorial prison house 14 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland still stands on a fold of ground once known far and wide as "Devil's Hold". Here convicts found themselves truly in the clutches of Satan and sweating in their own Hell on earth.

Just a short distance away, the wilderness of Fontenelle Forest hides the almost inaccessible reaches of "Devil's Canyon". Here were secretly buried both Chief Logan Fontenelle and General Peter A. Sarpy. And, for treasure seekers willing to lock horns with Satan, there is still supposedly $20,000 in gold and a 10-carat diamond ring buried by the outlaws who gave the rugged canyon its name. Legend holds that the ring belonged to Peter Sarpy, but it has long since been claimed for Satan's treasury. If it did exist, the ring has been lost in the shifting sands of time.

On Nebraska's northern border on the Missouri River stands Devils Nest, legendary hideout of Jesse James and his gang and other famed outlaws of old. All that lingers of Satan there is his name, for the area is now scheduled to be developed as a far-flung recreation area with a lodge, cabins, golf course, and other prime facilities.

Moving west, you can ferret out still more of the Devil's handiwork. Near Arnold, Old Nick carved out a large box canyon with almost perpendicular sides. He botched his job there, though, for the area has a mystic beauty, even as the clouds blot out the sun and fog snakes through the countryside. Even he would have to admit that it's a striking scene.

Eight miles southwest of Bertrand, the level land breaks away into rough canyon country. Here the Prince of Darkness got a helping hand from man, for where people go there must be roads. Someone wanted a road built from the flats into the canyons, and since that time the area has been known as Devil's Gap. According to those who should know, a trip to this passageway will convince the most skeptical that it was properly named, for the canyon walls on either side are steep and deep.

Historically, the "gap" was the connecting link from the Republican River Valley to Plum Creek, now Lexington, in the early days before Bertrand was incorporated in 1885. When early-day settlers approached the road from the east, they then turned sharply north, then turned west again, for the early road made a great "S", and they say that stood for you know who. Modern machines have straightened the road and filled the canyon to make it easily passable. Obviously this has not been to Satan's liking.

The cloven-hoofed Captain of Hades chiseled out another den for himself in Monroe Canyon in the northwestern corner of NEBRASKAland near Harrison. For more than 50 years, this area, now part of the Gilbert-Baker Special Use Area, has been known as Devil's Den. A narrow, deep chasm, it was the playground for the children of a generation or two ago. They apparently were unawed by the name. The walls of the canyon were inscribed with names and dates, some of which may still be seen, although time and erosion have done their work.

This area of Nebraska's panhandle was apparently a spot to the liking of Old Nick, for he left his calling cards lying around everywhere. Just two miles north of Harrison is another area dubbed "Devil's Path", which is indeed a deep path cut into the earth by erosion. Found here are some of the better known "Devil's Corkscrews", which are common to the Nebraska Badlands.

Lucifer, Satan, Devil, Beelzebub, no matter the name, they all point to the one and only master architect of violence and destruction. His name dots the prairies, hills, canyons, and creeks. The Badlands house grotesque formations tagged Devil's Thumb, Devil's Bathtub, and Devil's Sinkhole.

But there must be many more. If you know of any place in NEBRASKAland that is on handshaking terms with the Devil and carries his banner in its name, drop a card or letter with your story to OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland. The search goes on. And you can never tell, you just might catch up with the old boy. If you should happen across the odor of brimstone and spot a cloven track, mark it down in your memory. Satan may be abroad, checking up on his holdings on the NEBRASKAland scene.

THE END MARCH, 1965 15

MONTH WITH HOSTILES

by Warren Spencer Nothing could erase teen-ager s nightmare memories of captivity

THE SUN WAS setting in the southeastern Nebraska sky as William Eubank, his wife, their two children, and Laura Roper, 16, set out for the Roper ranch. The year was 1864, the date August 7. Laura Roper had come to visit the Eubank family for the day, but because hostile Indians were supposed to be in the neighborhood, the Eubanks had elected to escort her home.

No sooner was the little procession out of sight of the ranch, than a shrill war cry broke the still evening air. Eubank left the women and children where they were, and ran back to see a handful of Cheyenne, Arapahoe, and Brule Sioux warriors attacking his home.

Eubank ran toward the attackers, trying to divert their attention from the women. He cut toward the river in a vain attempt to draw the savages away from the house and his daughter, Dora, who was trapped inside. A volley of shots cut short his play. His scalped body would be found days later on a sandbar farther down the Little Blue River.

Dora dashed for a nearby thicket, but the 16-year-old was quickly run down by an angered brave. The young girl scratched at his leering face, and when she fought at his advances, he split her skull with his tomahawk and left her for dead.

The helpless survivors witnessed the massacre from the shadow of the bluff where William had left them. Sarah Eubank led her two infant children and Laura the woods near the river, hoping to find safety in jUl shallow depression.

Each minute seemed an eternity to the frantic woman llkheirfbrood. The hostiles knew, somehow, that some   had escaped their bloody tomahawks. Instead of ransacking the cabin, they moved across the land in search of their prey. A Sioux stalked close to the hideout, and when three-year-old Isabelle saw his painted face, she cried out. The Indian was on them in a flash, and the other braves swarmed in.

MONTH WITH HOSTILES continued

As the screaming captives were dragged back to the house, they passed the spot where Dora had been struck down. Laura gagged at the horrible wound, and screamed when she saw her supposedly dead friend raise her arm to her blood soaked head.

The war party almost forgot their captives in their eagerness to find mementoes of their raid. Once they had satisfied themselves with enough loot, they put the captives up behind them and prepared to set out for the main camp. As they were about to depart, the young brave who had attacked Dora rode down on the prisoners, shoving her bloody scalp in their faces.

Photo by Nebraska State Historical Society

Indian trouble was not a new thing to settlers in Nuckolls County. Ever since the regular army had pulled out from the frontier to fight in the Civil War, they were under constant threat of an Indian uprising. It came in August when the combined strength of the Sioux, Cheyenne, and Arapahoe nations fanned the flames of war from what is now Julesburg, Colorado, to Kiowa Station, located near the present town of Oak, Nebraska. All along the Platte white men were murdered and tortured. Perhaps the most tragic incident took place at the William Eubank ranch on the Little Blue River, near the present city of Beatrice.

All through the night the raiders pushed westward. Late the second day, these hostiles joined a larger band. The captives were put on separate horses and their journey continued, though now it was somewhat more bearable. As the party entered a small ravine, Laura's horse stumbled, pitching her violently to the ground. Flailing wildly, the maverick kicked Laura in the face, smashing her nose.

On the third day, Isabelle began to cry for her mother. The Indians had assumed the three-year-old was Laura's child. The frightened girl had been with Laura at the time of their capture. Isabelle's continual weeping so aggravated one of the braves that he drew his knife, eager to silence the child once and for all. Laura flung herself at the hostile. The Indian drew back, and later named her "Brave Squaw".

Laura's face had swollen to such proportions that she could scarcely see. Her captor led her aside and painted her face with red paint, marking the woman as his own. By morning the swelling was considerably lessened and the journey continued.

After four grueling days the hostiles halted in a small gulley and the braves donned their war regalia. As they topped the next hill, they broke into a gallop toward the main camp, proudly dragging their captives in for all to see. They rode full tilt into the middle of the encampment where Laura and Mrs. Eubank were thrown to the squaws. Both women received merciless beatings before they were hauled off to separate tepees.

An Arapahoe took a liking to Laura, and traded five ponies for her, a considerable price for even a white woman. Laura's Cheyenne captor could not refuse a trade in which he stood to gain so much for something he had obtained for so little. Laura was Arapahoe "property" for only a few days, then she was traded back to the Cheyenne, and days later, back to the Arapahoe again.

Three-year-old Isabelle went through her own kind of hell at the hands of the squaws. They pricked her small frame with arrow tips. Mrs. Eubank's fate was much the same as that of Laura. At her liberation, she told many tales of torture by both her captors and the two Sioux who returned her to Fort Laramie. Though completely innocent, these peaceful agency Indians were hung by the post commander.

Throughout their captivity Laura and Isabelle traveled toward the Colorado wintering place of the Indians. Mrs. Eubank, however, was taken to Wyoming where she was later returned to the whites. Her infant son survived the ordeal, ending up in Pierce, Colorado.

With the first snow and cold weather drawing near, the Indians reached a spot near Fort Lyon, Colorado, in early September. Two of the lesser chiefs went into the outpost and made arrangements to trade Laura and Belle for provisions needed to make it through the winter. On September 11, 1864, their ordeal was over.

Many of the events following the liberation are enveloped in mystery. Laura and Isabelle stayed with a Mrs. Mollie Sanford in Denver. According to Mrs. Sanford's diary, Belle remained with her and she thought of adopting the small girl, but her charge became too much for the woman. It got so she could not stand the sight of the arrow-scarred body. Just as bad were the child's continuing nightmares of the ordeal. A Dr. Bronstall adopted her and was able to give her needed medical and emotional care.

Soon after her release, Laura traveled by stagecoach to Beatrice, where she was reunited with the family who had given her up for dead. She had spent one month and four days a hostile captive. That she survived seemed a miracle to even hardened men of the Plains. The young girl, old before her time, finally married and settled in Enid, Oklahoma. Sarah Eubank supposedly remarried and moved to Missouri. Neither, however, could ever erase the scars of their days with the hostiles.

THE END 18 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland

the BOB DEVANEY story

Thanks to this football Merlin, all Nebraska is in the "Big Red" orbit by J. Greg Smith

IN THREE short years a gent named Bob Devaney has shot this "where the West begins" state into orbit, and it's doubtful if Nebraskans will ever come back down to earth. He and his Cornhusker champions have sent both fans and sports scribes scrambling in search of new superlatives. As yet, no one has come up with the right words to describe how they feel about their winningest football coach in the nation.

In NEBRASKAland, folks look through red, not rose-colored glasses, and even the most casual fan will agree that the "Big Red" scene looks mighty good. The genial Irishman from Michigan took over the head-coaching reins in 1962 and in quick order, put Nebraska on top of the football world. A look at his record will show you why. In three years he has had 28 victories in 33 games. This includes two Big 8 conference championships and wins at the Gotham and Orange bowls and a last-minute loss to Arkansas in this year's Cotton Bowl.

Football has always been an institution in Nebraska, but Devaney's winning ways far exceeded the most avid fans' wildest dreams. Nebraskans everywhere figured they were in seventh heaven in 1962 when Bob's boys came up with a 8-2 record in regular season's play, then completely flipped their wigs when they whipped Miami at the Gotham Bowl. Delivered to them on a silver platter was their best record since the flying-wedge days in 1905.

But this was only a sampling of things to come. The 1963 Cornhuskers copped the Big 8 championship—the school's first—with a 9-1 record, then gobbled up all the oranges at Miami by taking Auburn in classic style. This year Bob dug deep in his bag of tricks and fooled everyone but himself and his players with another 9-1 record, another Big 8 championship, and another bowl bid. He pulled this one off when the experts were saying at the beginning of the season his Cornhuskers could do no better than fourth place in the Big 8.

At this point, some fans might be wondering what Bob Devaney will do for an encore. Those who have played and worked with him figure his first three seasons are only samplings of things to come. They don't go so far as to get down and kiss the ground he walks on, but know that he has that extra something that puts 19   him among the all-time greats in the classic game of head-knocking.

the BOB DEVANEY story

Many rival coaches would give their eye teeth and a couple of their best high school prospects to learn what that extra something is. Starry-eyed sport scribes, fans, and even the players themselves are beginning to wonder what it is that makes Bob Devaney great. Many of them have an idea, but when it comes to putting that "it" into words, they end up sounding like a preacher who got the notes to his sermon scrambled by high winds.

Ask anyone what makes Devaney a coach above other coaches and you'll likely hear that he is a diplomat, an organization man, shrewd, a homespun, down-to-earth type of guy, a fair and sympathetic listener, a speaker of note, and even a comic. Not one of these descriptions by itself sets him above other coaches or really describes the man.

"No one really knows this man Bob Devaney," claims Wally Provost, sports editor of the Omaha World-Herald. "He's as shrewd as they come . . . I'm sure he sleeps with his eyes open. He's always playing football. He's a real diplomat, though, sandpaper on the one side, satin on the other ... a man of many different faces."

Lincoln broadcaster Dick Perry, in analyzing Devaney's winning ways, says "He has that special something in his personality that makes him great. Without it, he would be just another football coach."

Chet Nelson, sports editor of the Rocky Mountain News, says he's "the finest sideline coach in America. He can diagnose the opposition from the sidelines, and if need be, change his offense at half time."

Sports editor Curt Mosher of the Lincoln Journal took a whack at figuring the guy out and it ended up something like this:

"That he is a good technician is not the answer. There are a lot of good technicians. That he is a good recruiter doesn't tell all either. There are many of these. That he is a personable wit and a good speaker certainly helps, but you don't win too many at the rostrum. Devaney, and that rhymes with uncanny, is all of these in one."

Bob Zenner, KOLN-TV sports director in Lincoln, says he has the feeling that Devaney wouldn't ask his players to do anything he wouldn't do. The 49-year-old coach would have a little trouble keeping up with Preston Love in the wind sprints. Still, he would probably give it a try.

Zenner and the rest are quick to point out that Devaney's closeness to his players has a lot to do with winning championships. Everyone has a chance to prove himself on a Devaney-coached team. As far as the Cornhuskers are concerned, playing football for Bob Devaney is a pleasure as well as an honor. Big-time football means a lot of hard work for team members, work that can become a monotonous grind at mid-season. The coach and his staff dish it up in a way that the kids are ready and willing to go that extra mile to get the win. When Bob says, "Lets go out and beat them," no matter who the opposition may be, the kids sincerely believe that they can do just that.

Devaney takes the plaudits in stride, saying, "The day a guy gets to thinking he is too darn important, he's in trouble. I didn't grow up that way."

In mock humility, he recently suggested that returning quarterbacks Fred Duda and Frank Churchich take over the coaching next season. "With quarterbacks so darn smart these days, I'll have a chance to sit up in the stands and really enjoy the game for a change."

It's amazing that all the praise heaped on this truly down-to-earth guy has not put a tilt on his Irish nose. In addition to being recognized as the winningest active coach in big-time football, Bob has been named "Coach of the Year" by the Big 8 for three consecutive years and was a candidate for National Coach of the Year honors in 1964.

Obviously, Bob's special brand of magic, that something extra special, or "it" has shot him to the very top in meteoric fashion. But not (continued on page 54)

MARCH, 1965

by Bill Earnest My hands were blue from hauling out fakers, but the fishing on this Sand Hills lake was just too hot to stop

IT IS AN ILL wind that blows no good, but the frigid wind that roared down from the North Pole and closed the trout lake at Two Rivers Recreation Area was A-O.K. to me. The December cold snap put an end to my baby sitting for fish at the popular area near Omaha until the following spring. I had my fill of fish and was anxious to take a vacation and do a little pheasant hunting at my wife's folks near Burwell.

My father-in-law's ranch was deserted when we got there. My wife quickly busied herself with unloading the station wagon of accumulated children, Christmas presents, and other gear while I undertook the heavy labor of stuffing my hunting coat with shotgun shells and unloading the game pockets for their future cargo of ringnecks. Before I could get away, I listened to a 30-minute string of witty remarks from the little woman. She had some choice thoughts about the mixture of bird dog and Christmas presents in the back of an automobile.

OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland proudly presents the stories of its readers themselves. Here is the opportunity so many have requested —a chance to tell their own outdoor tales. Hunting trips, the "big fish that got away", unforgettable characters, outdoor impressions-all have a place here. If you have a story to tell, jot it down and send it to Editor, OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland, State Capitol, Lincoln 68509. Send photographs, too, if any ore available.

About the time my wife was catching her second wind, her folks drove in. I took advantage of the new tack on what sweet children we had, the holiday events and the mother-and-daughter gossip to rescue the dog and beat a hasty retreat to the barn. There I planned my big hunt with my brother-in-law, Paul Studnicka.

He greeted me with a bone chilling, "Hi. Are you ready to go ice fishing?''

I got a firm grip on myself and managed to squeak out an amazed reply. One look convinced me that he 22 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland was dead serious. There was that glazed stare in his eyes that I had seen all summer in the trout fishermen who had come to Two Rivers. He was definitely past the point of no return and it was no use trying to dissuade him.

We tossed the minnow buckets in the car and drove 35 miles to find a stream where we could legally take minnows. We managed to find some, but not until I had filled both boots with clear, refreshingly cold water. Fortunately we weren't going fishing until the next dawn so my feet had all that night to regain a little feeling.

My other brother-in-law, Dick, and a neighboring rancher, Raymond Guggenmos, accompanied Paul and me to Cameron Lake. It is about 55 miles north and west of Burwell. We had fished the Rock County water before and knew it had plenty of perch. Gib, my father-in-law, politely informed us that we were all nuts for going fishing in the first place, and even worse than nuts if we didn't take some worms along.

Stopping in Burwell for gasoline, I noticed a "Worms For Sale" sign in the service station. I got the attendant off to the side and asked him quietly if he had any worms. He looked at me funny like and gophered into the basement. Forty-five minutes later he came back with a can, slid it across the counter, and mumbled something about a quarter. I paid him and left before he worked up courage enough to ask me why I wanted worms in December.

While I was going through the worm bit, my companions had paid for the gasoline and had bought some tea strainers. As we drove along the Calamus River, I figured the day wasn't a total loss. It isn't often you can get a full tank of gas for only a quarter.

We drove for better than an hour over a road with a center only four inches higher than the middle of my car. Outside of a few minor diversions, like following a pair of Sand Hills ruts to a stock tank or two, we finally caught the right trail and came in on the west side of Cameron.

Its welcome was anything but warm. Far across its cheerless surface a half-frozen coyote took off for parts unknown. We slipped and slid our way across the lake until Paul made like Brigham Young and said, "This is the place."

I grabbed a spud and started chopping ice. After 20 minutes I was wishing for a jackhammer. The lake was covered with a frigid sheet. The ice was more than a foot thick and flinty hard, which surprised me. We had a relatively mild winter until the December cold snap. Ray was playing it cool. On our way across the lake, we noticed several holes where fishermen had tried their luck earlier. Only skim ice covered these ready-mades so we took over. Not far from the fish ports there was an open expanse of flow water and I wondered how long before one of us edged too close to the hole and got an icy dunking.

With 50 per cent frozen hands, I tried to impale a 75 per cent frozen minnow and a 100 per cent frozen worm on my two hooks. I never realized the extent of a man's accomplishments until I started threading a frozen worm on the bigger-than-life hook.

While I was fumbling with the bait, Ray started screaming. I whirled around expecting to see him bobbing in the open water. Instead, he was holding up a fish that looked as big as a hog. Later, a critical inspection revealed that it was only seven inches long.

I really started getting down to business after Ray's score. Forgetting the worm, I baited both hooks with minnows and dropped the whole works into the water. It had hardly settled when the bobber began dancing. I set the hook and pulled. It felt like I had anchored the bottom of the lake on my line, except that lake bottoms do not go round and round. It was only a 12-inch crappie, but to my numbed fingers and congealed senses, he seemed bigger than Moby Dick. I finally landed him and dropped the monofilament back into the water. The few seconds exposure had frozen it to bailing-wire stiffness.

Sure that I was in the middle of an underwater jack pot, I yelled for Paul and Dick to join me. When they didn't respond I figured they were frozen to death and went back to my fishing. Gib had bet Dick that we wouldn't catch 20 fish, so with two already freezing on the ice, I decided to win the bet. The little perch were co-operative. As fast as I dropped a line, I had a taker. Paul came over, but was unimpressed with my "sizeable" takes. He promised to return if the crappie started hitting and returned to his frigid stake out.

We took a break and went back to the car. Raymond broke open a box that I thought contained clothes. Instead, it was filled with cakes, pies, a Thermos of chocolate, pork chops, and even a fruit cake. Shielded from the 10° cold, we had a Christmas picnic in the car. Food never tasted so good.

Dick took up squatter's rights on my fishing holes by beating me back to the ice, so I worked off a few calories by spudding some new ones. Late in the afternoon, the catches started running bigger. A few crappie were welcome interruptions to the perch procession.

My hands were blue from scooping up minnows from the icy water but the fishing was so good I never felt the cold. Several times I started to count our take, but a hungry perch or crappie kept interrupting. Finally, I gave up and concentrated on catching fish instead of counting them.

Darkness was coming on when we decided we had all the fish the womenfolk could clean, so we knocked off the angling and headed home. A precise little note held the bad news when we reached the ranch. The women were gone and would not be home until quite late. So, tired, hungry, and cold we got with the task of cleaning 150 perch and 20 crappie. The next time anybody mentions ice fishing to me, I'm going to— Well, I'm going.

THE END MARCH, 1965 23

THE PINE RIDGE

Imagination becomes reality in this NEBRASKAland showcase of the West Color Photography by Lou Ell

AS WEST as branding irons and bawling beeves. the Pine Ridge is NEBRASKAland's unique contribution to the many-sided fascination of the Big Country. Rich in history, magnificent in beauty, and rugged as the craggy buttes that guard its bastions, the Pine Ridge is the West of imagination.

Its bold escarpments leap from the surrounding plains to fling a challenge of adventure to all. Among its rolling hills, dark canyons, and pine-shrouded slopes, the visitor finds beauty, strength, and ageless mystery.

The spirit of the West swells in the Pine Ridge, revealing its enchantment in a thousand ways. The next 12 pages bring you some of the eye-filling beauty and soul-inspiring majesty of this land in the northwest corner of Nebraska.

25   26 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland

THIS LAND of trees and sylvan parks protects itself well. It tolerates man but yields to him not. Roads, fences, power lines and grazing have come to the high country, but the Ridge controls their time and place. Of man and his works, the Pine Ridge accepts only his herds with good grace.

The plow and the town are not for this place. The rusting relics of early homesteads and the rotting beams of ghost towns attest the Pine Ridge's hostility to those who tried to defy its edict. This is wild, primitive land and so it must remain for nature has declared:

"I give you fertile plains, big rivers, and pleasant sites for your settlements, but this spot is mine. You may use it as I wish, but you shall not change or inflict your will upon it. This land is for me and you are but an interloper here."

Those who accept the mandate find the Pine Ridge generous. Those who don't must leave its ponderosa-studded ridges of beauty behind.

MARCH, 1965  

THE PINE RIDGE is sensitive to the many moods of the changing seasons. In winter, the falling snow softens and blends the dominant skylines of butte and pinnacle to give the lesser evergreens their moments of glorious defiance against a shape-destroying mantle of white.

A somber expectancy settles over the Pine Ridge when ragged thunderheads prowl the spring sky. The land broods and waits, resting and marshalling its forces to meet the violent onslaughts of the storms that herald new life.

In the late summer and early autumn, the Pine Ridge reaches its picturesque best. Green-hued slopes and lush meadows reflect their double beauty in the streams and pools of the pleasant valley that winds through the undulating hills. Ageless and enduring, the Pine Ridge borrows the best from every season to prepare an intoxicating blend of enchantment.

MARCH, 1965    

SOUTH OF Chadron in the U of the horseshoe-shaped Pine Ridge is Chadron State Park. Located on U. S. Highway 385 and situated in some of the area's most impressive topography, the park makes an excellent hub for exploring the Ridge.

Near the park, Nebraska National Forest, with roaming room to spare, invites all comers. Much of the forest land is laced with trails, giving visitors a close-up acquaintance with such topographical breathtakers as Flag and Coffee Grinder buttes and King's Canyon.

The park meets every outdoor vacation desire. Trail rides, hiking, swimming, camp sites, rental cabins, and lazy-day fishing are available during the summer. In the fall, the park doubles as central headquarters for deer and turkey'hunters. Lookout Point, north and west of the park, is a fine observation post for eying the sweeping vistas of the Pine Ridge.

OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland MARCH, 1965  

LAVISH IN its attractions, the Pine Ridge is a paradise for lovers of the outdoors. Unusual rock formations, massive buttes, and sweeping vistas of timber are mixed with gem-like interludes of open country to offer endless viewing delights to hikers and sightseers. Huge tracts of National Forest land and two sprawling state parks give the tourist unlimited opportunities to visit many of the most fabulous landscapes in the Ridge's 800,000-acre expanse.

Every turn of the trail brings fresh excitement and exhilerating experiences in the sheer-sided canyons that slash the rolling hills in this impressive addition to NEBRASKAland's outdoor paradise.

The sportsmen are not forgotten in this rich outpouring of the West. Mule deer and whitetails with trophy racks lurk in the highlands and along the creek bottoms in this amazing country. In season, the Merriams' turkey offers an exciting challenge to hunters who enjoy stalking a wary prize.

34 35  

A RICH history of the West hovers over the Pine Ridge. Long before the white man, the Ridge was the arena where life and death met in ceaseless rivalry. Indians lived and died here, fighting to defend their home. When the white man came, the ashy soil turned red with the blood of countless battles.

Fort Robinson, now an inspiring state park, west of Crawford, lives amid past glory. For more than a generation tough troopers of the fort fought bitter campaigns against the hostiles. The Indians left permanent impressions on the country. Crow and Red Cloud buttes, Squaw and Indian creeks, and Lovers Leap keep savage memories fresh.

This area is strong in the traditions of the pioneers who carved out their destinies with longhorn steers and sturdy cow ponies. These early ranchers christened many of the features that charm visitors to this unique locality.

Life and death still struggle in the ruthless cycle of nature. The wind and snow destroy a gnarled ponderosa. Come spring, a pine cone lifts tentative shoots from the rotting bole. Swift and merciless, a great horned owl swoops down and the canyon hears a dying rabbit's squeal. Owlets will live because a rabbit died. Spring flood and summer drought claim an ancient oak. An acorn sprouts where the oldster fell.

The Pine Ridge is big. It throws its green loop around a hundred miles of Nebraska. So abruptly different from the rest of the state, it seemingly does not belong here, but without it, all who appreciate the West would be a little poorer.

Next month, Outdoor NEBRASKAland will explore the miracle of spring. You are invited to come along.

THE END 36

NIOBRARA

...the town a river wanted 38

COUCHED IN a setting of haystack-freckled hills just off the junction of the Missouri and Niobrara Rivers, this Knox county community is as ready for the future as it is proud of its past. Graciously receptive to outsiders who flock to the unlimited fun and freedom of Niobrara State Park and nearby historic sites, this progressive river town holds fast to an individualism that gives it special character.

This boldness of spirit was etched back in 1856 when a handful of settlers from Council Bluffs, Iowa, brazenly staked out the town in full view of a nonplussed party of Ponca Indians. Later that winter when the Indians decided to do something about it, these men successfully defended a garrison and the town's destiny was paved.

Originally a Ponca Indian village, Niobrara was first marked on the map by Pierre and Paul Mallet in 1739. The county had a Gallic name, "L'eau Qui Court," until 1873. Due to difficulty in pronunciation, settlers changed the name to Knox in honor of General Henry Knox, Revolutionary War hero. Lewis and Clark on their famous expedition to establish an inland route to the Pacific camped at the junction of the Niobrara and Missouri.

Settled mostly by Czechs, Danes, and Germans, Niobrara is a miniature "melting pot" America. Although cattle is the main source of income, crops of all kinds can be found in its fertile valleys and endless tablelands. Niobrarans learned early that it was better to adapt to nature than work against it. That's why their farms reflect the type of crops that suit the varied soils of the area. And that's why the early civic leaders reestablished the townsite some two miles to the southwest on higher ground following the Missouri's ravaging flood of 1881.

Until its taming by upstream dams in neighboring South Dakota, the capricious Missouri harrassed Niobrara over the years. A boon as well as a bane, it was the Missouri that first bought settlers and supplies to Niobrara, as did the covered wagons and later the Chicago and North Western Railroad. Now, thanks to massive Lewis and Clark Lake and five state recreation areas, the river has put unlimited recreational potential and its economic benefits on the town's horizon.

Niobrara, named from the river (rapidly flowing water), has a long history of outdoor recreation. In 1891 the Department of Interior donated a plot of ground just west of town to be used for a park. In 1930, Niobrara gave the land to the state and in 1933 and '34 the Civilian Conservation Corps built cabins and picnic facilities. Today its 408 acres are a visitor's delight.

Other attractions that are musts for visitors include the Ponca Indian Reservation, five miles southwest of Niobrara, Ferry Inn on the original Niobrara townsite with the ferry boat, "Mary Watson," and the Mormon Monument two miles west of Niobrara. It remembers the Mormons who perished there during the winter of 1846. Maiden's Leap, an enormous, chalk-rock bluff four miles east of town is a must-see spot, too. It carries the fascinating legend of an Indian maiden who committed suicide there after being foiled in romance. Scenic Devils Nest, the hideout of notorious outlaws such as Jesse James, should also be given a close inspection. The fabled area is destined for a multi-million dollar development program.

Today, Niobrara's wide main street sports remodeled store fronts, but old buildings like the Koster Hotel and the depot stand as vivid reminders of a rustic past. The town has its roots deep in the past, but its eyes look boldly to the future.

THE END MARCH, 1965 39

NEBRASKAland's Mr. Horse Racing

In the sport of kings, Loup Valley rancher holds the aces

AS A KENTUCKY gentleman M. H. "Van" Van Berg of Columbus would never make the grade. His k clothing as well as his husky voice have a distinct western cut. But when you talk horses, thoroughbred racing horses, don't pass him by. This cattleman from the sandy land of the Loup and Platte valleys has the reputation to make the best of the Blue Grass colonels green with envy. His stables are full of the winningest thoroughbreds in the country, and wherever the sport of kings is carried on, he's a contender to be reckoned with.

Although only the third leading money winner in the country this past season with over $700,000, his steeds had hit the finish line ahead of the field 248 times as of mid-December. By the time the season ends, his mounts in Maryland and New Orleans are expected to have him safely ahead of Jim Edwards. Edwards and his West Virginia stables have come through to challenge him in the total win category, the first competitor in several years to come this close. Van Berg holds the record for saddling the most winners with 221 set in 1960. Last year he led the nation with 201.

The man behind this phenomenal record is a 68-year-old Nebraska granddad whose western garb goes easily with his unhurried voice. A straight talker, somewhat given to understatement, Van has parlayed a keen sense of horse savvy, a love of high-strung horseflesh, and a smattering of good fortune into a highly successful operation. A conservative estimate would put the value of his winning stables around the half-million-dollar mark.

Asked how come he was in this highly competitive business that has taken a heavy cash toll among many a shrewd operator, the one-time Aurora, Nebraska, farm boy remarked:

"Well, I've always liked horses, and thought I knew something about them. Since I got along buying, selling, MARCH, 1965 41   and working with them, I got to thinking maybe I could make a business out of it, so I did."

NEBRASKAland's Mr. Horse Racing continued

Indeed he did. Some 150 thoroughbreds are now numbered in the Van Berg stables. This includes colts, mares, and some 70 track regulars. Most men in this business have from 10 to 15 horses. Van's explanation for this large herd of high-priced horseflesh is offhand, but carries a clue to his philosophy:

When I'm doing something, I like to make it worth my time. It's no fun unless you're in deep enough to really get interested and make something out of it." It's obvious that Van means what he says. His livestock auction operations in the southwest part of Columbus sold over 125,000 head of cattle last year. His farm south of town feeds out some 800 to 1,000 head of cattle a year. His business dealings, be it racing, cattle, feed, or land, are generally on a scale that is grand even for this aggressive Platte County city of 13,000.

Discussing his race-horse operation as he sat in the modern lounge of his Columbus sale barn, Van remarked that he "makes a volume thing out of race horses just like the big stores do with their merchandise. With plenty of horses we can enter a lot of races and also can have replacements if one or two horses can't make a race because of injuries."

Unlike some in the game, racing thoroughbreds is a business and not a hobby with Van. He's quick to emphasize this, as he's quick to note that it's his family that enabled his successful and various enterprises.

"The whole family has been active," observed Van. "We have seven girls and two boys and everyone of. the girls have had a siege at running the office at one time or other. The two boys have worked all phases of the auction business."

His son, Jack, and son-in-law, Bob Lashbaugh, now run the Columbus sale barn while another son, Bud, has a livestock auction in Sterling, Colorado. The last 15 years or so Van has devoted most of his interest to horses. Before that it meant flying back from the race track on sale day.

Van and his wife don't spend too much time at their striking white home adjacent to a complex of corrals, barns, and sales pavilion. Even though she keeps reminding him that he has "too darn many horses," Mrs. Van Berg goes on many of these trips. The racing season starts early in the spring in Hot Springs, Arkansas, and the heavy end of the season ends up in November in Sportsman's Park in Chicago. Detroit and Omaha's Ak-Sar-Ben are regulars for Van and his entourage, which includes a nine-horse van and some 25 employees.

Raising and racing thoroughbreds has its moments of glory and glamour, but also its share of problems. Van believes one of the biggest problems the last three or four years is getting good help.

"A few years ago you could hire a farm boy who knew what horses were," declared Van. "But the ones coming up now, few as they are, don't know any more about horses than the city boys."

Veterinary work is another necessity in the business. Van keeps this to a minimum by constant attention, immediate and long periods of recuperation if an animal becomes injured, and a knowledge of horses.

"Success in this business means walking by a stall and being able to see that the (continued on page 55)

MARCH, 1965 43

HITTING THEM WHERE THEY AINT!

OTUDOOR NEBRASKAland by Fred Nelson

FORMER BASEBALL great Wee Willie Keeler was famous for "hitting them where they ain't". Star scatter-gunners do the same thing. With rare exceptions, wing shooting requires a lead which is basically the same as Keeler's pet theory.

Successful shotgunning is fundamentally the consistent placement of the shot charge in the path of a flying target. Leading or lead is the term describing the automatic computation it takes to create this situation. Only a true straightaway shot does not require a lead and it usually occurs only when the moon is blue.

The general-store definition of lead is the lateral or vertical distance required between muzzle and target for the pellets and the bird to make connections at varying ranges. The longer the range, the more lead needed. Practically anyone who has cracked a cap at a crossing pheasant knows he has to aim or point ahead of the bird to score. The savvy shotgunners realize they have to do the same thing on the angling shots. How much or how little lead depends upon the angle of flight, speed of the target, range, shooter's reaction time, size of the target, and a bin full of other factors.

On some shots, lead means holding low or shooting below the target. Shooting down on canyon-country pheasants or taking ducks as they pitch into the blocks directly in front of the blind are prime examples of the low-hold situation. The low-level outgoing bird also calls for holding low and pointing ahead of the bird.

Salty gunners are real swingers when it comes to fine art of speeds and leads

A high, incoming target is another trickster. Salty scatter-gunners swing with the approaching bird and catch up and pass it. They fire when the muzzle blots out the target without slowing or stopping the gun. After the shot they follow through. Novices find this one tough because of a natural tendency to look at the target as they shoot. If they do, they miss.

In wing shooting, the targets are usually moving simultaneously in two planes, vertical and horizontal. A ringneck squawks out of a soil bank and reaches for the sky, for example. As he climbs he is moving forward. The shooter must adjust to this two-dimensional motion and do it subconsciously and correctly to grass the bird before he is out of range.

Lead varies with the angle of flight and speed of the target. Hunters who take their shot as the bird jumps often claim they do not allow for lead. They do it without realizing it. Many shotguns for upland-game hunting are pitched to throw the pellets above the line of sight. The high pattern placement automatically compensates for the lead in 18 to 30-yard shooting at relatively slow targets.

This subconscious lead for upland-game works well enough until the shotgunner tries jump hunting for MARCH, 1965 45   ducks. A mallard can make 10 feet with one stroke of his wings when he's spooked from a pothole. This means that the hunter must make a conscious attempt to hold high if the target is to fly into the charge. Some hunters get the knack of jump shooting quickly; others never learn to do it correctly.

Elaborate tables and charts list the exact lead needed for a particular shot. Unfortunately, game birds can't read so the charts are not too helpful. Every ringneck doesn't bail out of the corn at exactly 30 yards at 40 feet per second nor does every bobwhite head for the timber at precisely 30 miles per hour. Charts and tables help the beginner get an idea of the approximate leads needed for a particular shot, but they alone will not make him a competent hand with the scattergun.

No two gunners see or estimate leads alike. The hunter with good eyes, fast reactions, and plenty of experience may claim he takes a very short lead. His companion is equally confident he leads his birds a country mile. The best shots are largely instinctive judges of the proper lead. They pick up their target very quickly, match its speed with their swing, and squeeze off the shot when things look right. They can call their shots as too high, too low, or behind, but they can't tell you the exact lead they take.

Hunters of the point-out-and-shoot school are more cognizant of their lead. Even they are hazy on how much or how little lead to take on certain shots, however. Estimation and judgment of leads and speeds comes with plenty of shooting, and so far, no effective substitute has been found.

NEBRASKAland pheasant hunters won't come in empty handed if they keep one basic fact in mind about leading. The majority of all shots at pheasants and grouse are taken at rising, forward moving, or "going away" birds. If the shooter remembers to hold above and in front of his targets, he'll sandwich a respectable number of scores between his misses. More birds are missed by under leading than overleading.

Tight-angle chances comes when the birds flush ahead and to the side of the gunner. These chances are deceptively difficult because they look so easy. Hunters froth at the mouth when they miss these straightaways. Actually, such shots aren't true straightaways at all. They require a certain amount of lead which varies with range and speed. The proper hold on these angling shots is slightly above and to the right on the righthand tries and above and to the left on the southpaw variety. The only no-lead shot in upland gunning occurs when a bird travels in a straight line from the gun at muzzle height without dipping or climbing. Such shots are very rare in normal hunting.

Flight speeds of NEBRASKAland game birds cause more arguments than presidential campaigns. Among waterfowlers, the canvasback and the teal are the champ speedsters, but many hunters have an exaggerated idea of their speed. The canvasback can hit 100 miles an hour, but he's more likely to cleave the air at 65, which isn't exactly slow. Teals streak by at 60 to 75 miles per hour while mallards loaf along at 40 to 50 until they get burned by a charge of No. 4's. Then they notch the throttle back to 60 or a little better.

A wound-up mallard actually travels about 90 feet in tne second it takes to mount a shotgun, pick up the flight path, and swing past the fleeing greenhead to score a killing shot. The bird travels (continued on page 56)

46 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland

WILD GOOSE MOTEL

by Ralph Craig Area Manager Sky travelers need no cash to stop at this welcome resort

FOOD, LODGING, and plenty of room to park, that's what weary truck drivers look for when crossing NEBRASKAland, and so do Canada geese. Honkers traveling the state's highways in the sky have one of the best "food and lodging" stopovers in the country at Clear Creek Waterfowl Management Area. This 2,500-acre "motel" operated by the Game Commission promotes occupancy by waterfowl in general and certain families of geese in particular.

Located on the western tip of giant Lake McConaughy, some 25 miles northwest of Ogallala, the refuge is playing a key role in goose management here. It and Plattsmouth, a sister facility some 250 miles downstream, attract thousands of geese during the annual bird migrations. This heavily-utilized goose site could be the forerunner of other refuges on reservoirs throughout the state. MARCH, 1965 47   forerunner of other refuges on reservoirs throughout the state.

GOOSE MOTEL continued

The Clear Creek Refuge is the result of an expansion program aimed at creating more business as well as meeting a demand for it. It was established in 1960 on land leased from the Central Nebraska Public Power and Irrigation District. The goose area is adjacent to the Garden County Refuge, one of the old-timers m the state's refuge system. The newer facility provides additional space for a first-rate resting site. The combined development is on a strategic spot on the Canada's natural flyway.

Some hunters were opposed to Clear Creek during the development stage. But after three full operating seasons, most agree that the river sanctuary has not only been beneficial to the Canadas, but has assured more hunting targets in that area for longer periods of time.

Now that flocks have been attracted to this inviting oasis, technicians are attempting to keep them there. One of the ways to a roamer's heart is through his stomach. During the winter, after the end of the regular hunting season, the flocks are given a supplemental ration of ear corn. This repast is used to control crop depredations and also serves as bait for waterfowl banding projects and research.

Renovating the natural environment of the area to suit the high-flying migrants meant a lot of ground-work. Rampant vegetation had to be cleared out. Woody cover adjoining the Platte River including "dog-hair" stands of willow, Cottonwood, and Russian olive were treated. Aerial application of herbicides reduced this canopy of flora and provided better visibility for the spooky birds. The denuding of these moisture-grabbing 48 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland trees has also resulted in more grass production for goose pasture.

Armistice Day is the usual arrival date for the big honkers. The geese remain in or near the sanctuary until about the first week of March. Then they wing North to the marshes and nesting grounds. It's hoped that some Canadas will eventually nest at the Platte River site. Vegetation has been burned off one 12-acre island, and the land seeded to rye grass which geese relish. In addition, small stacks of loose and baled hay have been provided. These platform-type structures could prove good nesting sites.

The wintering flock has increased each year since Clear Creek was established. In the 25-mile area from the dam to Lewellen, the population has increased from 1,446 in 1960-61 to 3,532 during the 1963-64 season.

Trapping and banding are key functions of the Clear Creek program. This takes place once the waterfowl season has ended. A cannon-projectiled net trap is used. Several hundred Canadas have been captured during the past three winters. Age, either adult or sub-adult, weight, and sex are recorded at this time. Once leg bands are attached, the birds are immediately returned to the wild.

Banding provides identification of those geese that are recaptured or bagged. This provides information about flocking, group movements, and also helps track the continental migration routes of the geese, as well as their movements within the state. Hunters bagging birds with bands should send them to the Game Commission as soon as possible to help in the study.

The intensity with which Canada geese are being sought as a sporting trophy increases each hunting season. The bird is really coming into its own, although hunters in this southeastern portion of the panhandle have always appreciated him.

This prized honker can do a good job of taking care of himself. But he still needs help in this day of disappearing habitats. That's the purpose of the Clear Creek Refuge. The sanctuary has proved its worth to all concerned. Sportsmen have more hunting opportunities and the Canadas have a motel that could become a permanent home. At Clear Creek, everybody comes out the winner.

THE END MARCH, 1965 49

DOG FOR DOG

Score 100 per cent on this test and you are pretty doggone good

DOGS HAVE been helping men hunt for centuries. Medieval books and paintings show that dogs were used in Europe to spring game for the hawks of noblemen. Spaniels in England were used in trapping, snaring, and netting birds long before the gun came into use.

Down through the years, the dog has continued to be a boon to hunters. In some breeds, such as the Llewellin and Laverack English setters, his instincts for scenting and to some degree, pointing, were honed to near perfection. However, the demand for pets and bench-show dandies has caused some of the hunting brains to be bred out of other dogs, such as the once-famous cocker spaniel and Irish setter.

Shown here are 10 of the more popular hunting dogs seen around game-rich NEBRASKAland. Although all are keen of mind and sensitive of nostril, these pointers, setters, spaniels, and retrievers have distinct characteristics. Can you detect them and match up the picture with the name?

Size and structure will be a clue in identifying some of the dogs. There is the small-bodied and long-legged Brittany spaniel, the long-eared and short-legged springer spaniel, and the jumbo-sized Chesepeake Bay retriever. These breeds have unmistakable characteristics. On types like the American water spaniel and the Irish water spaniel, it may take some thinking.

The animal's coat is often a clue to his breed. Any hunter who has had to pluck cockleburs from the luxuriant locks of a sleepy-eyed and heavy-headed setter knows the difference between this breed and the pointers, even though their pointing and retrieving techniques are similar. Some breeds, notably the retrievers such as the Labrador and golden, are easily pin-pointed by their solid color and silky coats. And others, like the all-purpose German shorthair, have a bristly coarse coat that can range from mottled and solid liver to spotted white and roan.

So here are the dogs. Have at them. You don't have to be a field-trial judge or bench-show expert to come up with the answers. You can check your findings with those shown on page 56. Good hunting.

THE END OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland 51

A RECENT import from New Jersey has come to NEBRASKAland and fishermen here may find him very welcome. The newcomer is the white perch, Roccus americanus. Unlike the common yellow perch and the walleye, this Easterner is not a true perch. He is a member of the sea bass family and closely related to the marine striped bass, a long-time favorite of saltwater anglers.

White perch can survive in a variety of fresh, salt, and brackish waters similar to those found in many Sand Hills lakes. Realizing this, the Game Commission tried experimental releases in selected lakes in 1964. The test began with an air lift of adult spawners from New Jersey to the Valentine Fish Hatchery and stocking in a rearing pond. The flight to Valentine represents the greatest westward extension of the white perch range in the United States.

The New Jersey spawners took to their new location like eager homesteaders. In the relatively short span of six months, fingerling plants were made in Hudson, Willow, Clear, and Walgren lakes. All are in the Sand Hills region and are highly productive waters. Each has a closed or restricted drainage basin. Research continues in various alkaline concentrations to determine the perch's survival tolerance in Nebraska's carbonate salt lakes. If the experiment pans out, future releases will be made m the larger salt lakes here.

On the East Coast, white perch live 6 to 8 years. Growth depends upon the fertility of the water. In the rich lakes of the Sand Hills, the import is expected to 52 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland reach 12 to 13 inches and hit the scales at two pounds. Since large areas of shallow water spur the growth of white perch, some of the lakes meet the fish's requirements to a T. White perch are random spawners and lay 40,000 to 150,000 eggs in sand, vegetation, and muck. After spawning, the female ignores the eggs and leaves her offspring to shift for themselves.

Cousin of sea bass could be answer to angler's prayer for Sand Hills lakes

In their native waters, white perch rate among the top 10 with sport fishermen. The fish travel in schools and resemble white bass in their constant wanderings. Finicky feeders, they hit by spells. When they are taking, anything works; in a sulk, nothing tempts them. Worms, minnows, and grasshoppers are good enticers among live baits while various spinning and fly lures rate high with the artificial clan. Trolling in deeper water often produces the larger fish. All agree that the white perch is excellent table fare.

This newcomer to NEBRASKAland is a handsome addition to the state's fishing picture. He runs the spectrum from various olives to dark grayish green with a shading to silver green on the top surface. Larger specimens often have a bluish cast on the head. The ventral and anal fins are often rose colored at the base. Youngsters start out with pale lengthwise stripes that usually fade after the second year. The body is short and deep behind a rather pointed snout. The top fin sports 10 sharp spines. His dapper appearance, fighting spirit, and fine table qualities make the white perch a highly esteemed addition to the stringer.

In infertile lakes, the Easterner can create problems. A rapid reproducer, he can crowd small lakes to the point of stunting. The Game Commission is avoiding this pitfall by selecting stocking lakes which appear to offer the best conditions for growth and harvest.

During the next few years, technicians will watch the growth and spawning habits of the white perch in about six Sand Hills lakes. If the plant proves up, additional introductions may be made. Fish technicians expect no natural cross breeding between the newcomer and his close cousins, the white, yellow, and striped bass. The white perch and his relatives do not share the same waters. Just in case, experimental cross breeding will be attempted this year at the Valentine Fish Hatchery. If the try is successful, technicians may come up with a gamester adaptable to the variety of waters found here.

The white perch has challenged generations of anglers in the New England states, yet very little is known about his life history. In the next few years, Nebraska technicians hope to come up with some brand new information on this colorful scrapper. When the facts are in, sound management policies will be followed to establish the white perch on the Nebraska scene.

THE END MARCH, 1965

BOB DEVANEY (continued from page 21)

so obvious is the answer to what that "it" is. Probably the solution lies somewhere in his long love affair with football. To find it, you have to go back to 1939 when he was an all-conference end at Alpena College in Michigan, where, according to Bob, "they didn't throw much in those days."

Following graduation, he coached two years at Big Beaver High in Birmingham, Michigan. From there, he moved on to Keego Harbor High and then back to his home town of Saginaw. His old Alma Mater beckoned and after seven years at Alpena, he showed the grads he had learned a few things about the game by racking up a 52-9 record.

Biggie Munn and Duffy Daugherty got wind of the man with the magic touch and called on Bob to bring his Irish luck to their Michigan State team. Bob figures that working with these two top hands was the turning point in his career. He stayed at Michigan for seven years, then got the call from Wyoming. Bob rounded up what has turned out to be the best coaching staff in the nation and set up shop in the Cowboy State. Here he had the chance to prove himself as a head coach of a major school. He more than did that by copping four conference titles in five years while coming up with a 35-10-5 record.

Nebraska sent out its special brand of Christmas greetings in 1961, and Bob liked the message so much he rounded up his staff and headed for Lincoln. There are many reasons why Bob chose to come to Nebraska, but one of the big things that attracted him to the Cornhusker campus was the people of Nebraska. They had supported the team through both fat and lean days with equal gusto, and that appealed to Bob.

Bob will be the first to admit that he is no spring chicken at the game of football. He's been actively involved in the sport for 28 years. If you put the question of what that "it" is to him, he would insist that he is no magician. Instead, he would point to all the years of hard work that put him in the spotlight today.

NEBRASKAland's SAVINGS HEADQUARTERS Mr. Green Thumb's home at Union Loan and Savings is your home when it ccmes to saving in NEBRASKAland. Your savings earn a big current rate of 4% compounded quarterly and they're insured up to $10,000 by an agency cf the U. S. government. Union Loan and Savings has three savings centers waiting to serve you. For added convenience, save by mail. WESTERN NEBRASKA UNION LOAN AND SAVINGS 1610 First Avenue, Scottsbluff EASTERN NEBRASKA UNION LOAN AND SAVINGS 209 So. 13th—56th & O, Lincoln BULL'S EYE "BUYS ff Remington Biue Rocks $2.49 Case Bob Allen Shooting Vest Right or Left Handed $6.95 Shofshell Loaders Load your own—it's cheaper and fun MEC Super 250 Loader—Chrome Finished. The only loader specifically engineered to process the new plastics. There's nothing else to buy—complete for paper or plastics. Regular Price $59.95 Our Price ...$40.00 Dakin Single Barrel Trap Gun Vent. Rib —Monte Carlo Stock with Recoil Pad Weight 8-'/2 lbs. Light Recoil $189.50 Winchester Model 12 Trap Gun Vent. Rib — Monte Carlo Stock with Recoil Pad. There will be no more when our present stock is sold. Only $242.50 Federal Trap Loads 12 Gauge, 71/2-8-9 Size Shot. #M119 23^ Dram Load .$2.23 Box-Case ...$44.60 #T122 3 Dram Load .$2.23 Box-Case ...$44.60 MEC Super 600 Loader Chrome Finished New! A progressive loader that tames the plastics quickly and easily. Drops shot, powder and primers automatically. Loads 600 shells per hour. A completely loaded shell every time you pull the handle. Complete for paper and plastic. Regular Price ...$119.95 Our Price .$80.00 New! Sac Veri-Wad—Plastic —3 Wad Column Heights all in one wad—no other wads needed. $6.50 per thousand Sac Dome Plastic over Powder Wads ..$3.50 thousand Sacork Filler Wads 1/4 to 5/16 in ....$1.85 thousand Sacork Filler Wads 3/8 in ...$2.00 thousand Sacork Filler Wads 7/16 to 1/2 in .$2.25 thousand Sacork Filler Wads 9/16 to a/4 in .$3.00 thousand Charles Daly Trap Gun Over and Under Monte Carlo Stock with Recoil Pad—Single Selective Trigger — Automatic Ejectors—12 Gauge—Full and Modified Chokes. $295.00 Loading Components Shot 25 lb. bog $6.40....Red Dot Powder Tin $1.65....3 lb. Keg $6.85 12 lb. Keg $22.50 Come in . . . we're open 6 days a week! COMPLETE MAIL ORDER SERVICE 544 No. 48th St. Lincoln, Nebr. 68504 We will ship guns and loaders prepaid. Blue Rocks, ammo and loading components freight collect. CENTRAL QUIT

Those who have watched Devaney operate marvel at the man's daily schedule. Wally Provost wasn't so far from wrong when he said that Bob sleeps with his eyes open. The man lives, eats, and sleeps football 24 hours a day. Except for a short breather during the summer months, he's always on the go. His assistants carry much of the load, but Bob. is the man of the hour, and as such, is on call constantly. Recently he was asked to speak to a banquet honoring the champs of the Lincoln midget football league. He had been up since before sunup, but he spoke to the starry-eyed kids that evening like they were prime prospects for next year's freshman team.

"We try to talk to as many groups as we can who are interested in football," Bob said. "Kids at that age are interested, and we think it's important they get off to a good start."

The coach spends just about as much time on public relations appearances as he does at coaching. He leaves much of the recruiting to his staff. Once they zero in on a boy, he usually goes to the kid's home town to talk to the boy and his parents. Bob once explained that they work through the mothers quite a bit to get a boy. He said one of the assistants did such a good job that the mother enrolled at Nebraska, but the kid went somewhere else.

When Bob and his fine staff start culling through the many high school kids for future Cornhusker teams, they first look for a boy who can do his school work. Bob figures a kid can have all the ability needed to make an All American, but if he can't keep eligible and ultimately graduate, he's useless to the Cornhuskers. Any boy who has played for Bob will tell you that this is one of the great breaks of his life. Football puts a lot of kids through school who might not otherwise be able to attend.

Bob will be the first to agree that football is more than a sport these days, and well it should. It's a multi-million dollar business, paying for most other phases of the school's intercollegiate athletic program. More than that, the game, at least Devaney's brand of football, is the best advertising a school and a state can get. A little harder to pm down, but one of the real benefits, is the pride Bob's Cornhuskers have brought to the average Nebraskan. One look at a stadium full of red-garbed boosters drives this message home loud and clear.

The genial Irishman from Michigan with his special brand of magic or "it" that no one can put into words has cast a spell over NEBRASKAland. Everyone here hopes to continue to look through those "red-colored glasses" for quite a spell. With a man like Bob Devaney around, it's a sure bet that they will.

THE END

Mr. HORSE RACING

(continued from page 43)

horse is all right," says Van. "We've been real lucky with our horses," observed the Columbus man who compares a thoroughbred to expensive china because they break. "Sometimes they'll break a leg, maybe a bone in their foot, or maybe pull a ligament. That's why we keep a lot of horses. We let volume take care of this."

Although horses are his main interest now, Van is still partial to cattle.

"It's like I told the boys," he said. "Livestock selling is a steadier business. When times get bad you can still sell some livestock."

The Columbus auctioneer doesn't see anything unusual in being a Nebraskan in the racing game, something normally associated with the gentleman farmers of the Kentucky Blue Grass country. According to Van, there's getting to be more colts in Nebraska all the time. He estimates that there are a dozen or more men in the state with competitors. With a half dozen race tracks drawing bigger crowds every year, Van sees a good future for the sport in Nebraska. A man who should know, he believes Omaha's Ak-Sar-Ben track will compare with the best tracks in the country. He only laments their short season.

Although Van holds a special sale each year to cull out his stables, the operation keeps growing. During the past 10 years he has had his own mares, and the last six years, his own stallion for breeding. Some of his prize racers are bred, born, trained, and kept on the Columbus place. However, some of his mares are sent to Kentucky for breeding.

"They have the best horses in the world down there," he declares.

His Rose's Gem, the greatest horse to ever come out of Nebraska, was sired in Kentucky. The thoroughbred has won him over $230,000 during the past six years.

Van picks up a lot of horses in "claiming races". Here owners who want to sell their horses can enter them in the race, and anyone who wants to can buy them. The purchase price of $6,500 has been a favorite for Van in these claiming races.

"I'm kind of superstitious about that figure. That's what I gave for several good horses including 'Vantage'. He won over $120,000. Another, "Kuri San" brought in over $100,000."

However when Van wants a horse he doesn't restrict himself to any preset figures. He gave $37,000 for an Argentinan mare, "Estacion". He spotted her in Florida, and bought her on the spot, though he had never seen her race. She has since won over $125,000 for the Van Berg stables and is now a brood mare that has provided three colts yet to be tested. During his first years in the thoroughbred business, Van sold a horse for $4,000. So proud of his seemingly awesome transaction, he had a picture taken of the horse and the check as proof of the sale. He didn't think he would ever sell a horse for that price again. He later sold one for $20,000, which he also had photo-graphed, and has sold several more for over $20,000.

The personable Nebraskan, who is as much at home talking cattle and feed prices with local farmers as he is discussing horses with the aristocrats of the racing set, has firmly established his reputation among the racing world. For the past five years, Van Berg horses have won over 200 races a year and their statistics have become important reading in the Racing Form, the bible of the business.

"We don't win a lot of big races," says Van. "You might say we do it the hard way, a nickel and dime at a time."

Although he's fielded some pretty decent horses and had one in the Kentucky Derby where he "beat half of them," Van is still looking for a horse to win. Squinting across the yard at a corral of high-spirited colts in a game of tag, he figured that might come about one of these days. Folks around Columbus and those on the racing circuit have little doubt that he will.

THE END RANCH REARED BOBWHITE QUAIL CHUKARS RINGNECK PHEASANTS GERMAN SHORTHAIR POINTERS Bourn's Game Farm LEXINGTON, NEBRASKA TOP QUALITY HUNTING COMPANIONS VIZSLAS exclusively GRAFF'S WEEDY CREEK KENNELS Route 3, Seward, Nebr. Phone 8647 No Recessing of Stock Needed Free Instruction Incf. DECORATE Your Bow, Rifle or Shotgun for $1.50 Mylard* decorations will give your gun that rich European look. Easily installed in just one evening. Three colors: Silver, Gold Mylard* and White Vinyl—state which. Just $1.50 per kit. For handgun cases also. *Dupont Reg. T.M. JOHNNY'S PRODUCTS CO. 51 Pleasant Parkway, Buffalo 6, New York As seen in NEBRASKAland AS LOW AS $294.75 Engine Included THE INTERNATIONAL HYDRO-SPEEDSTER First two-seat hydroplaning economy boat. Will fit comfortably in the family compact station wagon or atop a small foreign car. Why pay for a boat trailer? For our beautifully illustrated brochure, send $1.00 to INTERNATIONAL SPORTING INDUSTRIES, ABC 418 LINCOLN BUILDING, LINCOLN, NEBRASKA 68508 MAKE YOUR OWN BEVERAGES AT HOME FOR ONLY PENNIES A GLASS Complete instructions along with list of needed equipment and where to buy it. • Helpful beverage serving hints. • Plus assorted holiday beverage recipes. • All for only $1.00 MOUNTAINEER KITCHENS P.O. Box 309 Bristol, Virginia MOVING? Don't miss OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland Make sure it's delivered to your new address! Use this handy coupon. OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland State Capitol Lincoln, Nebraska 68509 Old Address New address MARCH, 1965 55

ANSWERS: DOG FOR DOG QUIZ 1. English setter — long square muzzle with ears of moderate length and covered with silky hair. About 55 to 70 pounds in weight, he has a lively tail and a neck that is arched at the crest. 2. Irish setter — considered by many to be the most beautiful dog, this lanky favorite of the show circuit isn't the hunter he once claimed to be. 3. Pointer — introduced into England about 1713 when the English army returned from one of its many peace-keeping missions. Breed was crossed with the foxhound which added speed and an extra sense of tracking. 4. Labrador—this black speedster is the most popular retriever in America. He has what most retrievers lack, speed. Except for his tail he resembles a pointer and can be trained to point. 5. Brittany spaniel—snippy nose and ears, he's more like a setter than a spaniel. This excellent quail dog looks like he is all out of proportion with his small body and long legs. 6. German shorthair — this all-purpose breed was produced in Germany by crossing the old Spanish pointer with the bloodhound and foxhound. Although no speed ball, he's a first-class scenter. 7. Chesapeake Bay — this native from Newfoundland has no equal when it comes to retrieving ducks and geese. Although not as popular today, this husky swimmer is still the favorite of many. 8. Springer spaniel—a forthright gun dog and by far the most popular and numerous sporting spaniel in America today. The springer with his long ears and short legs is also one of the friendliest. Fortunately, he hasn't gone the way of his cousin, the cocker. 9. Irish water spaniel—this fellow sports a high domed head with a topknot of loose curls. Rattailed and deep chested, the Irishman went across the channel to England. There he received an infusion of poodle blood and more brains. 10. Golden retriever — the forebears of this breed were used in Russia to guard and herd sheep. Crossing with the bloodhound smoothed out his rugged coat and gave him a good nose. He has the eyesight to mark game and the nose to frail it. TALLY HO! (continued from page 9)

territory and that Sunday hunt showed it. The "tally hos" rang hot and heavy all that morning as some 10 coyotes were spotted and 3 ended up in the rigs. The pace was so stepped up that on several occasions we were too far back in the fields after one coyote to get out for the next coyote the plane spotted.

That afternoon the boys ran into their expected "dry spell" as the coyotes were apparently napping instead of out rustling for mice and rabbits. The plane kept up its back-and-forth search pattern, giving only occasional reports, such as conditions, locations, and casual observations. One of these was the report of a "bootlegger".

"That's just some fellow that decided to tag along for the fun of it," explained Myron. "These farmers are always glad to get rid of coyotes. Sometimes they'll have some ideas on where we can stir some up."

Whether or not the bootlegger helped wasn't said, but the group bagged two more coyotes before dusk called a halt to the chase. Next Sunday the operation would be repeated.

"We hunt just about every Sunday during the winter," Myron said in reference to this year-round season on the varment. "You might think it would get to be old stuff but it isn't to us. It offers the best kind of shooting there is."

The sport offers shooting and then some. The Lincoln man had reeled off some 50 cartridges that day. All but a few of the 110-grain bullets bit icy air and dirt. But that didn't bother him a bit. He loads his own cartridges for about six cents apiece, and that isn't bad at all for the kind of excitement this sport has to offer. Remembering the cackle of those radio messages, the bone-jarring field rides, and the roar of rifle fire on a fleet-footed target, I couldn't help but agree.

THE END

HITTING THEM

(continued from page 46)

shot charge is going up to meet him at 40 yards. The old duck hunters knew what they were talking about when they described pass shooting as aiming at the front bird and dropping the tail-ender.

Quail aren't as fast as they appear. Their top speed is around 50 miles an hour, but the average is closer to 35. Bobwhites flush with a disconcerting roar and reach peak speeds very quickly. Their small size and darting flight gives a false impression of speed. The Canada goose is considerably faster than a quail, but his size and measured wing beat make him appear much slower.

Hunters think of the prairie grouse as a slow flyer. Actually the fuzzy leg stands pretty tall in the game-bird Olympics. Under a full head of steam, grouse can hit 60 miles per hour. No sprinter, it takes the grouse a little while to build up speed. Since he is often shot on the flush, it is natural for gunners to tag him a slowpoke.

Underpowered and heavy, the ringneck is no ball of fire when he first gets under way. But once up and leveled off, the longtail can put chunks of real estate under him surprisingly fast. Stop watches have clocked him at 50 miles an hour or about 75 feet per second.

Leads on crossing ringnecks are about the same as pass shooting at ducks. Take twice as much as you think you need and then double it. Leads are largely predicated on range and target speeds. Other factors, however, also influence finding that one particular spot where shot charge and bird must collide for a score. There is an appreciable time lapse from the time a gunner's brain tells his finger to curl around the trigger and pull. More time is lost as the gun's mechanism activates the shell. Still more time slips by as the charge slides down the gun barrel and speeds to the target.

Ballistic researchers have proved that a wound up pheasant at 40 yards travels about seven feet from the time the brain says shoot until the charge arrives in the target zone. That is enough to miss the bird, since an adult ringneck has less than 14 inches of vital body area. Considering this time lag, plus the factors of wind, light conditions, hunter reaction and all other gimmicks, it is easy to see why lead becomes a sticky proposition.

Shotgunning is called an art as opposed to rifle shooting which is a pretty precise science. As in all art there is plenty of room for variables and nothing in the whole game varies as much as speed and lead. Shooters trying to slide rule the proper leads for this shot or that one are in for some frustrating experiences. The best way to learn leads is to keep shooting and quit worrying about them.

THE END 56 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland

NEBRASKAland TRADING POST

Classified Ads: 15 cents a word, minimum order $3 June Closing Dote, April 1 BOATING FIBERGLASS CANOES. Three exciting models. Easily assembled kits. $29.50 up (factory direct). Free literature. Riverside Canoes, 5803A Victoria Avenue, Riverside, California. THUNDERBIRD CANOES. Genuine, adult size, fifteen foot canoe only $20.50. Complete one day assembly kit. Finest materials, lowest cost. Guaranteed. Free literature. Thunderbird, Box 5045, Riverside, California. DOGS VISZLA POINTING GUN DOG puppies sired by AKC field champion, Brok Selle. Dam of these puppies sired by Ripp Barat who has 15 field trial wins plus twenty placements to his credit. J. R. Holcomb, P.O. Box 177, Englewood, Colo. Telephone 781-1860. FOR SALE: Brittanies all ages, some partially trained. Rudy Brunkhorst, Columbus, Nebraska. Telephone 563-0011 (day time). AKC BLACK LABRADOR PUPPIES—Field champion bloodlines. Just right for next fall's hunting. Reasonably priced. Roy Stapp, Jr., Cozad, Nebraska. AKC BRITTANY SPANIELS. Natural hunters, loyal pals. Pups and older dogs. Dual-champion bloodline Alamo Tic Toe Joe at stud. Field-trial winner as well as gun dog. C. F. Small, Atkinson, Nebraska. Telephone 925-3041. FISHING BAITS FISHERMAN. Hybrid red worms, golden grubs for panfish and trout all weather bait. 150 grubs—150 red worms for $3 postpaid. Blessing's Bait Shop, 124 East 18th Street, South Sioux City, Nebraska. GROWING AND SELLING FISHBAIT. Red worm breeders $3.50, 1,000; $14.25, 5,000. Bedrun $.95, 10,000. Golden grubs $2.50, 1,000. Fain's Bait, Edison, Georgia. FISHING LURES $100 WEEKLY Possible, assembling our customized fishing lures for stores. Everything furnished. United, 3173-ON Delaware, Indianapolis, Indiana. FISHERMEN: Catch all the white bass you want and your limits of sauger, walleye and northern. Use a white or yellow SKITTER JIG. Send $1.00 and receive two »/4-oz. jigs postpaid. SKITTER PRODUCTS, 205 South 15th Street, Norfolk, Nebraska. GUNS NEW, USED AND ANTIQUE GUNS, send for list including Browning O & U's, Weatherby, Winchester, Ithaca, Colt, Ruger and others in stock for sale or trade. Send large self-addressed 10 stamped envelope or stop in, Bedlan's Sporting Goods, just off U.S. 136, Fairbury, Nebraska. MISCELLANEOUS YOUNG WILD TURKEY. May and June hatch for restocking. Also adults. Price list free. Cozy Pine Hunting Preserve, RD No. 2, Salem, New Jersey. LIKE SWEET ONIONS? New Blue Ribbon assortment 600 sweet onion plants with free planting guide. $3, postpaid, fresh from Texas Onion Plant Company, home of the sweet onion," Farmersville, Texas. 75301 STONEGROUNtTcORNMEAL. Most complete line Health Foods. Many processed daily. Come see us or write. Brownville Mills, Brownville, Nebraska. MARCH, 1965 COZY DOWN SLEEPING BAGS, light tents and many other items for hunter and back packer in 40 pages color illustrated catalog for 25 from Thomas Black & Sons, 930 Ford, Ogdensburg, New York, or 222 Strathcona, Ottawa, Canada. VOLKSWAGEN STATIONWAGON OWNERS Build own camper unit. Quick installation or removal. Inexpensive. Easily constructed.Corn Complete plans, photographs, and instructions. $2. Dot Campers—Dept. N., P.O. Box 67, Saugus, California. ECONOLINER AND DODGE A100 OWNERS— Build own camper. Quick installation or removal. Inexpensive. Easily constructed. Complete plans, photographs, and instructions. $2. Dot Campers—Dept. N., P.O. Box 67, Saugus, California. NEBRASKA TRAVELRAMA HANDBOOK. Historical sites, cultural points, scenic beauty, parks, camp sites, map, tourist information. Highly illustrated; special section with color on Nebraska's World famous Capitol. $1.50 post-paid. Midwest Publishing Company, Ceresco, Nebraska. PICTURE OF NEBRASKA'S CAPITOL 16" X 20" in full color. Picture only, $3.75 post-paid. Dark or light oak framed, $8.50 postpaid. Midwest Publishing Company, Ceresco, Nebraska. 35 mm. SLIDES IN FULL COLOR prairie wild flowers, set of 20, $5.25. Exterior, interior of Nebraska's Capitol, set of 20, $5.25. Midwest Publishing Company, Ceresco, Nebraska. TILLEY Kerosene burning camp stoves, heaters, lamps, lanterns. Safe, economical, guaranteed. Send 10^ for brochure. The Shively Company, 2360 Almont, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania 15210. SCUBA EQUIPMENT BOB-K'S AQUA SUPPLY, Nebraska's largest scuba dealer. 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. TRAPS COLLAPSIBLE Farm-Pond Fish-Traps: Animal Traps, postpaid. Free information, pictures. Shawnee, 3934-AX Buena Vista, Dallas 4, Texas. BUY-SELLI Through UTDOOR NEBRASKAland classified columns • More than 50,000 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland readers form an active buying market for all types of products. From sporting equipment to health i??,'-!311. are sold trough OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland classified ads. The Best Place to buy BOATS, MOTORS, TRAILERS Johnson, Neptune motors. Gator, Golden Rod 1 rollers. Larson fiberglass and Appleby aluminum car top boats. Many used outfits. Blackburn Auto Supply Scottsbluff, Nebraska Over 25 yeors in marine business. CATCH INVADING CHIPMUNKS Take them alive, unhurt! Safe HAVAHART traps capture invading ohinmnnk«s squirrels, rabbits, mice, rats, sparrows, opossums skunk J' Take mink, coon without injury. Sizes fSJil needs Easy to use—open ends give animal confidence Galvanized No jaws or springs to break. Straying pets' nOultrv ri leased unhurt. Write for guide with trapping secret? HAVAHART, 246-R Water Street, OssininV N Y Please send me FREE new 48-page guide and price list. Name Address OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland of the Air SUNDAY KG FW, Kearney (1340 kc) 7:05 KTTT, Columbus (1510 kc) 7:30 KRGI, Grand Island (1430 kc) 7:40 KVSH, Valentine (940 kc) 8:00 KXXX, Colby, Kan. (790 kc) 8:00 WJAG, Norfolk (780 kc) 8:15 KLMS, Lincoln (1480 kc) 9:05 KBRL, McCook (1300 kc) 9:45 KODY, North Platte |l240 kc) 10:45 KIMB, Kimball (1260/kc) 11:15 KMA, Shenandoah, Iowa (960 kc) 12:15 KOGA, Ogallala (930 kc) 12:30 KFOR, Lincoln (1240 kc) 12:45 KCNI, Broken Bow (1280 kc) 1:15 KMMJ, Grand Island (750 kc) 1:40 KUVR, Holdrege (1380 kc) 2:45 KHUB, Fremont (1340 kc) -1 . 4:40 KNCY> Nebraska City (1600 kc) 5:00 KRVN, Lexinqton (?010 kc) k 5:40 KTNC* Falls City (1230 kc) 5:45 MONDAY KGMT> Fairbury (1310 kc) 1:00 KSID, Sidney (1340 kc) 6:30 WEDNESDAY KJSK, Columbus (900 kc) 1:30 KCOW, Alliance (T400 kc) 4:30 SATURDAY KCSR, Chadron (610 kc) 6:00 KOLT, SCottsbluff (1320 kc) a 11:45 KAWL, York, (1370 kc) 12:45 KHAS/ Hastings (1230 kc) 4 1:00 KRFS, Suoerior (1600 kc) 1:00 KWRV, McCook (1360 kc) 1:45 KBRX, O'Neill (1350 kc) 4:30 KMNS, Sioux City, Iowa (620 kc)6:10 WOW, Omaha (590 kc) 9:30 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. p.m. p.r^. p.m. p.m. a.m. a.m. p.m. p. m. p.m. p.m. p.m. p.m. p.m. DIVISION CHIEFS Willord Glen R. Dick H. R. Barbee, assistant director Foster, fisheries Schaffer, information and tourism Richard J. Spady, \qnd management Jack D- Strain, state parks Lloyd P. Vance, game CONSERVATION OFFICERS Chief: Carl E. Gettmann, Lincoln Ainsworth—Elvin Zimmerman,- 387-2143 Albion—Wayne Craig, 395-2071 Alliance—Richard Furley, 762-r2024 Alliance—Leonard Spoering, 762-1547 Alma—William F. Bonsall, 928-2313 Arapahoe—Don Schaepler, 962-7818 Bassett—^William O. Anderson, 294W Benkelman—H. Lee Bowers, 423-2893 Bridgeport—Joe Ulrich, 100 Broken Bow—Gene Jeffries, 872-5953 Columbus—Lyman Wilkinson, 564-4375 Crawford—Cecil Avey, 228 Crete—Roy E. Owervs, 446 Crofton—John Schuckman, 29 pjx—Marvin Bussinger, 682-2052 Fairbury—Larry Bauman, 1293 Falls City—Raymond Frandsen, 2817 Fremont—Andy Nielsen, 721-2482 Gering—Jim McCole, 436-2686 Grand island—Fred Salak, 384-0582 Hastings—Bruce Wiebe, 2-8317 Hoy Springs—Larry D. Elston, 638-4051 Kearney—Ed Greving, 237-5753 Lincoln—LeRoy Orvis, 477-7653 Lincoln—Norbert Kampsnider, 466-0971 Lincoln—Dale Bruha, 477-4258 Nebraska City—Max Showalter, 873-7155 Norfolk—Robert Downing, 371-1435 North Platte—Samuel Grasmick, 532-9546 North Platte—Robert D. Patrick, 532-7274 . Ogallala—Loron Bunney, 284-4107 Omaha—Dwight Allberg, 558-2910 O'Neill—James J. Hurt, 159LJ Oshkosh—Donald D. Hunt, 772-3697 Ponca—Richard D. Turpin, 2421 Tekamoh—Richard Elston, 27SR2 Thedford—Jack Henderson, 645-5351 Valentine—Jack Morgan, 1027 yalley—Oaryl Earnest, 359-2332 Wayne__Ken L. Adkisson, 375-2924 York—Gail Woodside, 362-4120 MARCH, 1965 57

BUFFALO

note son Nebraska fauna

PUSHY, prolific, and hard to catch, the buffalo still has a place in Nebraska's fishing scene. This big-mouthed fish is a member of the sucker family, a close ally of the minnow family. Three species are present here, the bigmouth (Ictiobus cyprinellus), the black buffalo (Ictiobus niger), and the smallmouth buffalo (Ictiobus bufalus). Of these the bigmouth is by far the most widely distributed and abundant in Nebraska.

The carp, which is a member of the minnow family, is often confused with the buffalo. He, however, can easily be distinguished from the buffalo by the two "whiskers" or barbels on each side of his upper jaw. In addition, the carp possess a stiff, sharply-serrated spine in the dorsal and anal fin, which is not present in the buffalo.

There is an old adage that the buffalo spawn in the spring when the plums are in blossom. This is not far off as spawning occurs during the latter part of April and the first part of May. Then adhesive eggs are deposited at random over mud bottoms or amidst submerged vegetation. The eggs hatch from 8 to 14 days, depending upon water temperature, and are not attended by the parents during incubation. The buffalo, like most fishes, are very prolific. As many as 400,000 eggs have been taken from 10 adults.

Growth rate, as in most fishes, depends largely on food supply. Young-of-the-year fish in September will range from 1 to 4 inches long; two-year-olds from 5 to 8 inches long. They become sexually mature during their third year when they are approximately 15 inches long. 58 OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland range from 1 to 4 inches long; two-year-olds from 5 to 8 inches long. They become sexually mature during their third year when they are approximately 15 inches long.

A real bigmouth, this scrappy fighter isn't as gullible as one may think. He lurks in the depths and bites when he's in the mood By Ralph Langemeier Fisheries Management Technician

Largest of the buffalo is the bigmouth. He has been known to attain a weight of over 80 pounds. Individuals of 20 pounds are not uncommon. Commercial fishermen on the Missouri River give maximum lengths of 35 to 40 inches and maximum weights of 40 to 60 pounds. Ordinarily the black and the smallmouth do not attain the weight of the bigmouth. The state record buffalo, which is probably a bigmouth, is a 32-pounder taken from the Big Blue River, a fair-sized catch in anyone's league.

Angling for buffalo is quite a challenge, as they rarely take a hook. The best baits are corn, dough balls, or its natural foods. These consist of scuds and other small relatives of the crayfish. Even these baits may not be productive as the buffalo seems to have a very sensitive mouth. The slightest resistance on the bait may discourage his biting. Veteran anglers recommend using very light line, no sinker or bobber, and a very small No. 10 or 12 hook. Fishing is best on a very calm day and in still water, as the hook must be set at the very slightest movement of the line. Fishermen who wait for the "feel" of the fish's bite catch very few, if any, buffalo.

The buffalo is a good fighter and is considered to be fine food fish. The flesh of the smallmouth is said to be superior, and because he has a smaller body cavity, there is less waste in cleaning.

Buffalo are abundant in many of the shallow, turbid overflow ponds, oxbows, and sand pits along the large rivers. They are abundant in the Missouri where 5 to 8 tons are removed annually by commercial fishermen from Nebraska. Although the buffalo seem to be somewhat selective in their feeding habits, their ability to find food by touch and taste makes it possible for them to survive where fishes that feed by sight alone cannot live.

It is common in sand pits to find one predominant size group of this fish. Buffalo have a reputation for intermittent production of year classes. When introduced to waters containing a low population or no buffalo at all there is usually a population explosion and large numbers are produced. But the following year classes are generally not produced after the population explosion. This might be due to a repressive factor present in the water, composed of an excretion of secretion produced by the buffalo themselves. This inhibits final development and deposition of eggs in future years. When this large year class dies from old age, the same cycle may be started over again.

Because this fish rarely takes a hook, he is of little value in the fisheries management program. Buffalo are very prolific and long lived and will often dominate a lake, consuming a large amount of food at the expense of the more desirable game fish. When the population of buffalo reach a high level, all kinds of fish in the lake including the buffalo, may become emaciated from over-crowding and starvation.

Since all three species are members of the sucker family, Catostomidae, they have the characteristic thicklipped appearance. The suckers are soft-rayed fishes with a toothless and more or less sucker-like mouth. This sucking mouth enables them to garner their food from the bottom ooze, submerged logs, rocks, and plants.

The large terminal mouth of the bigmouth may be the reason for his greater abundance in the state than either of the other two species. Because of his terminal mouth and therefore probable different feeding habits, the bigmouth may be more adaptive to turbid water conditions and rapid silting of stream bottoms. Both the smallmouth and black have more inferior and smaller mouths.

It is easy to distinguish the bigmouth from the other two species. The mouth is more terminal than the other two. The black buffalo differs from the smallmouth by virtue of a more subterminal or inferior mouth. This means that in the smallmouth the mouth is located nearer to or on the bottom side of the head. The snout more or less overhangs the upper lip. The black has a mouth that is intermediate between the bigmouth and smallmouth so far as size and position.

Coloration of the three species is similar. When taken from relatively clear water, they are usually slaty or bluish-gray across the back, fading to light cream to white beneath. The black buffalo is usually darker than the bigmouth and the smallmouth is lighter than the bigmouth. All three have uniformly slate-colored fins. Buffaloes taken from muddy waters are often very pale and yellowish.

As far as body shape, both the bigmouth and the black have robust but slightly compressed bodies. However, the smallmouth is more compressed and the back is highly elevated and much sharper than either of the other two.

The buffalo will never rate too high in popularity with Nebraska anglers. But for a good change of pace, these abundant and flashy rascals can provide a real challenge and add a dash of excitement to your favorite sport.

THE END MARCH, 1965 59

WELCOME TO THE PINE RIDGE COUNTRY

Nebraska's most beautiful vacationland

A unique blend of western history and scenic beauty are yours to enjoy when you visit the Pine Ridge Country, Nebraska's year-round outdoor recreation and vacation capital.

Two state parks, Chadron and Fort Robinson, are both located in the Pine Ridge area. Toadstool Park and Agate Fossil Monument are among the "must see" attractions on your vacation schedule.

For the outdoor family there are camping grounds equipped with modern accommodations, cool fishing waters, and the very best in mixed-bag hunting. Deer, antelope, and wild turkey are among the reasons why the Pine Ridge area is called Nebraska's "big game capital .

Whether you plan a weekend trip or a full vacation, Pine Ridge Country fills the bill best; best in scenery, best in hunting and fishing, and best in western hospitality.

This summer plan to see Nebraska's most beautiful vacationland, the Pine Ridge Country.

For a colorful folder on Pine Ridge Country's points of interest, write to either Chadron, Crawford, or Harrison Chambers of Commerce.