For the Record ... ACRES FOR WILDLIFE

Around the end of World War II, in 1945, Nebraska boasted 18 million pheasants. By 1959, that number dropped to around seven million. Last year, the count revealed just three million. So it goes, the story of Nebraska's "bread and butter" game bird —the ring-necked pheasant.

Nebraska is not alone in its decreasing supply of pheasants, however. South Dakota had a whopping population, around 13 million in the 1940's. Today its population, too, is nearing the three million mark. Oklahoma also is losing game birds — bob white quail —at an amazing rate, as are other states whose basic industry is agriculture. But game birds are not the only casualties. Animals, both large and small, and song birds are similarly affected.

Ready answers to the cause of this decline can be heard in almost any drugstore, barber shop, and most certainly in the sportsmen's clubs across the country. Some of the most common cries are that hunting seasons are too long, weather is hindering development, predators are ravaging bird populations, and pesticides are spilling over into the game-bird realm.

In Nebraska's case, at least, most of these claims are false. Or, at best, they are only half-truths. The state has restricted hunting to the male of the species since 90 percent of the roosters are surplus to production needs. Only about 50 percent are being taken annually by hunters, so it is apparent the long-season argument doesn't hold water. And, while weather causes fluctuations in the pattern of bird populations, the general decline has continued through good years and bad. Pesticides and predators are certainly able to kill individual birds and we are also aware of several other effects of pesticides. But we should not allow these things to focus our attention away from the real issue —COVER —or rather, the lack of it.

Unlike many other states in the same situation, Nebraska is taking steps to remedy the problem. One such step is the Acres for Wildlife program, designed to fight the continual problem of dwindling cover. Young people, as well as adults, are encouraged to acquire the use of plots of land at least one acre in size. These plots are to be maintained in their natural state or be planted to cover where wildlife can nest.

Program goals are threefold. One is to get people actively involved in a conservation program. Another is to establish participant-landowner relationships which will grow and foster goodwill between the two. And, the program is to provide much-needed habitat.

Of course, cropland acres are important and can and do qualify for Acres for Wildlife. But the program is designed to neither compete with nor hinder normal farming operations.

While conservation is frequently thought of as a group affair, Acres for Wildlife also welcomes individual enrollments. More than 400 individuals are now active in the program. And, many Boy Scout troops, school classes, FFA chapters, rural schools, and wildlife clubs have been among the first organizations to join.

Most people involved in Acres for Wildlife are dedicated to conservation and expect no pay or reward. Yet there is an ample award system. Conservationists receive award certificates for both participants and group leaders. Arm patches and plaques go to individuals and groups for acres enrolled. And, a free subscription to NEBRASKAland is given to participating landowners.

A letter to the Nebraska Game and Parks Commission will bring all details. Enrollment is a simple process and qualifying plots are not hard to find. So, why not join the team. THE END

Dr. Bruce E. Cowgill Commissioner MAY 1970

Speak Up

NEBRASKAland invites all readers to submit their comments, suggestions, and gripes to SPEAK UP. Each month the magazine will publish as many letters as space permits. Pictures are welcome. NEBRASKAland reserves the right to edit and condense letters.— Editor.

LION ABOUT NEBRASKA-"I have been one of your ardent readers for the past year. The Lions of Nebraska have a state to be proud of and the people of your state can thank the Lions of Nebraska for sending copies of NEBRASKAland to Lion District Governors around the world.

"My family and I read all the articles with interest and have admired the wonderful photography. I thank the Lions of Nebraska for this fine and thoughtful gift '-William D. Moody, Mount Forest, Ontario, Canada.

TIME FOR CRANES?-"According to records kept by the Brooking Bird Club, we always see cranes in February, often earlier and some have been observed in January. They stay until mid-April, most of them apparently, and we saw one straggler on a spring bird count May 7."-Ellen R. Ritchey, Hastings.

You are right in noting some early Sandhill Cranes show up in the state in February. Also, we agree that during certain years, some come in as early as January. The arrival and departure of cranes is extended over a fairly long period. The spectacular numbers are present from mid-March to early April. A few stragglers may remain as late as early May. — Editor.

RABBIT FEUD-"I want to thank Mr. Dreyer for coming to my defense with his Speak-Up letter. There are two kinds of jackrabbits, but you are wrong on the 4 size. The blacktails are the big ones, or were in the 1930's. Back then, the jack-rabbits were called bunny rabbits and bush rabbits. We often called the white-tailed jackrabbit a cottontail."—Jean Miner Schroer, Kearney.

The blacktails that Mrs. Schroer saw in the 1930's may have been larger than the whitetails. But according to Nebraska Game Commission biologists, the white-tailed jackrabbit is the larger in average weight and size.— Editor.

BOSH-"As a reader of NEBRASKAland, I, together with many other subscribers, am deeply incensed by an article of 'propaganda' by Fred B. Nelson, entitled The Platte River Dam. The article is completely misleading. It states 62,000 acres. In fact, it calls for 126,000 acres. Also the price tag. Instead of $490 million, it is closer to three billion, as there are nine hundred million dollars worth of sand and gravel alone.

"Calling this proposal 'manna from heaven' is as far from the truth as anyone could get. This valley has 8,000 citizens creating millions in new wealth every year."—Bert E. Chavet, Waterloo.

SAND SLIDES —"I enjoyed the article in the March issue of NEBRASKAland on The Shifting Sands. Do you have 35 mm slides for sale on this and other articles?" — Alfred A. Jorgensen, Fairmont.

All color pictures which have appeared in our magazine can be purchased. They must be produced on special order at this time, however. Slide cost is $1 each with a minimum order of $5. This does not include applicable sales tax. — Editor

FIGHT POLLUTION-"Born in Gage County, raised in McCook, I did a bit of roaming and since I have retired, I am beginning to feel the call of the Sand Hills.

"Even though I reside now on the North Fork of Eastern Long Island, I am involved in the conservation and preservation of our natural resources. Here, this is a real problem because of the population migration to our once quiet, clean, and beautiful area. Industry is defiling the air and water resources and the influx of careless people is creating at least six pounds of refuse per day per person, some of which is strewn along our roads.

"Yes, Nebraska is still wide open like the ad portrays on page 52 of the January issue. Please don't let this great space overcome you. There will be people who will want to 'blacktop' the whole state to reduce taxes, but the records show this is a fallacy and only the promoters enjoy the fruits of this destruction.

"But I am more concerned with your beautiful Nebraska lakes. You are polluting all of your lakes with gasoline and oil from boats, and at the same time, trying to keep these lakes stocked with fish. Gas and oil pollution together with lead deposits from exhaust will eventually kill many algae and plant life that are necessary to keep fish healthy. The mud on the lake bottoms will gradually load up with pollutants and thus destroy some of the food that bottom-feeding fish need.

"You only have to read up on the boat population of the country to see what is sure to come. Already many of the harbors on Long Island have been so polluted that most edible fish have either died or migrated. This is not a nice picture, but in 1967, '68, and '69 I fished on Johnson Lake. It was possible to observe the increase in boat population each year, and in 1969, there were so many boats, that fishing became a physical hazard.

"I hope Nebraskans will get off their hands and take the necessary steps to insure the safety and purity of their lakes." — Harold Search, Mattituck, New York.

ARE YOU KIDDING-"Stories have been told about mountain lions running the river bottoms along the Little Blue River, but no one has ever shot one. A friend of mine was hunting along the river one day when he saw what he thought was a coyote moving through the timber. To his surprise, it was a deerote. Yes sir,

that's what it was. It had a four-point rack like a deer and a body like a coyote. Must have been one of those freak animals like a jackelope. Lucky he took this picture of it or no one would have ever believed such a story. But here it is in black and white just like he said." —Tom Morrison, Gretna.

BIG CAT —"When I was teaching school in Blaine County near Brewster, a lion was seen.

"A rancher living northeast of Brewster, heard his dog barking furiously one night. The next morning he found large animal tracks in his yard, leading north up into the hills.

"He backtracked the trail. He traced the big tracks south from his place along the road that went by the schoolhouse and my trailer home, but he soon lost them.

"This was in the spring of 1964. Nothing more was known about the big cat NEBRASKAland for several months. People could not believe there really had been one.

"One evening that fall, some men who were doing late chores at a large ranch about three miles south of my schoolhouse, heard the scream of some animal. They knew it must be the mountain lion.

"I warned the school children not to go out into the pastures alone, especially in the evening.

"Some of the ranchers reported having stock killed. One man lost a cow and a calf. Another lost a horse.

"A rancher living near Almeria who owned and piloted a small plane, searched the hills, valleys, and blow-outs and finally discovered the animal —a tawny colored creature about five feet long with a long tail.

"The rancher was not successful in getting the lion."—Gladys Baldwin, Newport.

ARTIFACT COUNTRY-"How about an article and pictures on the fine artifact collection of the late Amos Hart of Bassett? He collected a fine array of Indian artifacts during his lifetime.

"As you know, Wyoming is the heart of Indian Country, and we have very fine collections all around here. But Hart's is as fine as any I've seen.

"Mrs. Hart lives in Bassett and teaches there. I'm sure she would co-operate." — Lavern L. Shortt, Powell, Wyoming.

We will check into the possibilities of such an article in the coming issues of NEBRASKAland. - Editor.

BUCK WITH A BOW-"In June, I bought my first bow and applied for a deer-archery license. On November 22, 1969, I shot and killed a six-point buck. This in itself is significant. But on that same day I also shot three pheasants, plus one week prior to November 22, I shot my first deer with a rifle, a two-point buck. These facts and the exciting incidents leading up to the kill of the six-point buck have indeed made this a memorable hunting season for me.

"The six-point buck is being mounted at this time and is awaiting measurement for the Pope and Young Award and the Nebraska big-game citation." — Chuck Barton, North Platte.

MEMORIES-"I am now 82 and during my years in Nebraska I have hunted and fished from the Missouri River to the Sand Hills. Some experiences stick in my memory and I would like to share them with NEBRASKAland's readers.

"When I was about 14, I used to fish Cut Off Lake now called Carter Lake. At the time there was a partially sunken paddle-wheeler there and I used to fish from it.

"Every spring, I used to go to Oakland, Nebraska to hunt ducks (spring hunting was legal then) and build a blind out of hay. One day, I was sharing a blind with my brothers-in-law waiting for the ducks to come in. The birds came in, but they were too far away, so we decided to sneak them. While we were crawling, a flock of geese came over so low we could almost touch them, but we didn't shoot.

"Most guns in those days had outside hammers, so one of my companions decided to cock his double-barrel before getting in on the ducks. A cornstalk caught in his trigger guard and the ensuing "boom" sent thousands of ducks soaring into space. No geese, no ducks.

"Back in 1910,1 was hunting ducks at the Logan Ditch near Oakland when a flock came in and settled out of range on the west side of the ditch. I was working my way around to them when I saw a lot of feathers scattered on the ground. Thinking that other hunters had cleaned their birds there, I went on. The shooting was good, but one of my birds fell out in the marsh. I left it there intending to pick it up when I started for home. A coyote came out, picked up the duck.

"I gathered up the other ducks and started home and a half dozen coyotes started following me. They trailed me almost to the farmhouse but never got within gunshot. As I neared the house, the dogs came out to meet me. The coyotes heard them, made one big whoop, and took off into the darkness." —C. H. Krelle, Omaha.

WHY NOT ELK?-"I recently got hold of some 1968 copies of NEBRASKAland from my high school librarian and I noticed a very good picture of an elk on the cover (June 1968).

"Could you tell me how many elk live on the Fort Niobrara National Wildlife Refuge? I would also like to know why it would not be feasible to start a herd in the Halsey National Forest or the Oglala Grasslands with the prospect of very limited hunts in the future." —Kurt Lash, Wayne.

There are, roughly, 35 elk on the Niobrara Refuge. With the exception of one or two years, production has been very poor. It is doubtful that elk would be compatible with normal ranching operations. Therefore, it would be a necessity to maintain the animals on public lands, requiring fencing costing over $2,000 per mile, plus major maintenance fees.

The Oglala Grassland and the Forest Service lands in the Pine Ridge would be eliminated because of interspersion with private lands. And, habitat on the Grasslands would be a long ways from what is desirable for elk.

The Bessey Division of the Nebraska National Forest near Halsey would be large enough to support possibly 100 elk. However, this would necessitate some loss in other wildlife such as deer. And, the cost of fencing would be near $50,000, a poor investment for a harvest of 20 or so elk a year. — Editor.

NOTES ON NEBRASKA FAUNA. . . JOHNNY DARTER

Known as the hummingbird of fishes, this tiny Nebraskan gets his name from his speed

by Dennis Blankenbeckler Assistant Fishery Manager

SOMETIMES REFERRED TO as the hummingbird of fishes, darters are diminutive members of the perch family Percidae which includes the familiar walleye, sauger, and yellow perch. This reference is drawn from their swimming habits as they dart from one spot to another, stopping as suddenly as starting, and sinking to the bottom. Often they remain motionless among the rocks for long periods and, on occasion, perch atop stones supported by their pectoral fins.

There are 95 types of darters in eastern North America. Only one type exceeds three or four inches in length. Darters are uncommon in Nebraska with the johnny darter, Etheostoma nigrum, (Rafinesque) being only one of four known species (Iowa, orangethroat, and Blackside). Records of existence in Nebraska usually date to early-day collectors who noted it in the Platte River at Kearney in 1860 and from the Elkhorn and Missouri Rivers in 1894. The johnny darter was found in the upper end of the West Fork of the Blue River in 1931, in Lodgepole Creek in Deuel County in 1942, and again in Kimball County in 1969.

Often thought of as a minnow or perhaps confused with small walleye, the johnny darters prefer small, MAY 1970 springfed streams with sand and gravel bottoms and moderate currents. Their body forms resemble other family members. However, the dorsal, anal, and pectoral fins seem too large for his size. This adaptation serves him well in the faster currents where he resides. Also, the tail is unforked or only weakly so. Additional features include a streamlined body, pointed head, and no functional air bladder, which makes him heavier than water and facilitates his bottom-dwelling habits. The air bladder in other fish serves to maintain equilibrium and aids in hearing.

Body coloration outside the breeding season is sandy to greenish on the back with distinct markings along the side that appear as the letter "W". The belly is milky with no scales on the breast or cheeks. Dorsal fins have spotting that forms oblique rows, and wavy vertical bands are present on the caudal fin. Lower fins are usually unspotted.

During the April or May breeding period, the female remains about the same color. The male, however, becomes blackish over the entire head, breast, pelvic, anal, and spinous dorsal fins. The remainder of the body and scales become dusky and between four and eight vague, blackish, vertical bands cross the body and are most distinct toward the tail. In addition, soft, whitish pads are developed on the tips of most of the dorsal spines, the ends of the pelvic spine and rays, and the anal spine and first ray.

It may be an upside-down world to the johnny darter when he begins life. His parents were inverted when the eggs were spawned and attached to the underside of a stone or other object. The male is territorial and females seldom intrude until ready to spawn. Attracted into his small empire, she follows him under a stone where courtship precedes the unusual breeding behavior.

In the animal kingdom, the greater the parental care given, the fewer offspring result. This is true with the johnny darter as females lay only from 30 to 200 eggs, deposited singly. Rarely are two or three eggs laid one immediately after the other. In addition, the eggs are laid in clutches of five or six. Between clutches the female often rests upside down on the dorsal fin or momentarily resumes an upright position.

The male opposes all others regardless of size, and will defend against fish three or four times larger, however he is not averse to welcoming two or three females into the nest.

The young would probably rest a little more comfortably if aware of the fatherly attention. He selected the spawning site, cleaned it with his fins, and kept silt off the eggs by brushing with the spongy back of his neck or turning over and using the soft fin pads or by simply fanning his larger pectoral fins to create water currents. He also eats eggs that die or develop fungus.

From all this vigilance, it seems unfair that life will only last a few years. But during this relatively short time, his length will seldom exceed three inches. Food consists of minute Crustacea and insect larvae. The johnny darter himself seldom becomes the diet of other fish, which is related to his secluded life among the gravel of small streams.

Of all darters, the johnny darter appears to be more tolerant of nature's stresses and can inhabit waters more silty than those tolerated by others of his clan. Regardless, Nebraska is on the western extension of his geographic range and he will remain limited in distribution. The johnny darter may not be of importance to the sport fishermen and his solitary life may continue virtually unnoticed, but he is a busy member of our environment. THE END

9

HITTING THE BEACH

by L. L. Foerster as told to NEBRASKAland

BRIGHT SEPTEMBER SUN glistened off the waters of the sandpit near Lin wood, and the four youngsters chattered excitedly as our 100-horsepower catamaran purred along. We were all engulfed in the beautiful day and the dozens of wild ducks flying and swimming about. Nowhere in this peaceful setting was there a hint of the moment of terror that awaited us all.

I was at the controls My passengers were my son Robert, then 7, brother-in-law Henry Malik of Yankton, S. D., and his sons Tom, Jim, and John, ages 5 to 13.

The irregular shoreline of the horseshoe-shaped lake lazed by as I glanced down at the speedometer to clock a duck flying alongside. The dial registered just 12 miles per hour.

I've been a serious boater since 1947, and in the course of the many miles I have logged on the water, I acquired a strong respect for safety rules. So, I was more than a little disturbed when I glanced back and saw the five-year-old dangling his hand in the boat's wake near the props.

I turned to correct him and give him a short lecture, but when I looked back forward, I discovered to my dismay that my preoccupation with one safety rule led to the violation of another and put us all in a bind. We were heading for the bank, and I just had time to crank the controls hard to the left before we hit the shoreline

An instant after impact with the bank, we were experiencing the weird sensation of cruising over dry land. Another instant and things began to happen, A fence on the boundary of a pasture loomed ahead and I could do nothing to avoid it.

Barbed wire sang and twanged as it whipped over our heads. Fence posts flew around us like straws in a gale. Then, a split-second later, we were floating peacefully in the water again, miraculously unharmed and showing no apparent signs of our misadventure except jangled nerves and wide-eyed expressions.

A half-hour and several nerve-calming cigarets later I went back to survey the scene. As I looked it over, I was shaken all over again. We had sailed a semi-circular course that had taken us 25 feet into the pasture. On the way, the boat popped a three-strand barbed wire fence like spaghetti, snapping four wooden posts and a steel one like match sticks.

Luckily, the windshield and the high profile of the twin outboards kept the barbed wire from whipping NEBRASKAland

into the boat. And, they probably protected us from flying fence posts. Fortunately, nothing more substantial—like a tree, rock, or stump — was in our path.

Other than the mangled fence and some flattened grass, the only sign of our brief, but eventful, detour was a pair of neat grooves cut into the turf by the skegs of the outboards.

To top off our incredible good fortune, an inspection of the boat showed the only damage was a small scratch where the prow had mowed down the posts. Not even a nick appeared in the props after flailing wildly over dry land.

After taking stock of the situation, I approached an incredulous farmer with news of the demise of his fence and offered to pay for the damage. "A boat?" he blurted in disbelief. "I've had cows, horses, cars, and trucks take out my fences, but a boat?" he gulped.

I can thank my lucky stars we were looking at ducks instead of conducting a racing demonstration. MAY 1970 The twin-hulled catamaran is one that I designed and built myself, and it is fast, indeed. With the twin 50-horsepower outboards wide open, I know the boat is capable of more than 45 miles per hour. If we had been going at any speed at all, someone could have been killed or badly injured.

Looking back on the incident points out a valuable lesson I could have learned the hard way. Now I know enough to keep my mind on where I'm steering the boat, A boat's skipper might still have to correct someone while on the water. But, extensive safety lectures should be delivered before the boat is ever launched. Word of our hair-raising experience soon got around to my friends, resulting in some kidding and good-natured ribbing. It's not something that I'm very proud of, but at least it serves as an example that might keep others from making the same mistake. THE END

HOW TO PACK A BAG

Wrinkles are things of the past with these travel tips

by Ardis Braymen as told to NEBRASKAland

VACATION TIME HAS finally arrived. You've reached your destination and the weather is fine. Time has come to unpack all those cool vacation clothes and enjoy the sun. You open your suitcase and — well it is a good day to stay in your hotel room, waiting for your clothes to be pressed.

There is a way to stave off the vacation-wrecker. The following tips will help make packing a breeze and unpacking more enjoyable.

The first essential in packing is luggage. If you haven't already got your luggage, now is a wonderful time to acquire the pieces that are tailored to your personal needs — present and future.

For the ladies, three or four cases are basic, although not all will be used all the time. These should include a pullman, 26 or 30 inches, depending on the lady's height — dresses should fit the suitcase with just one fold. A dress carrier may substitute for the pullman. The second piece is a tote bag or a cosmetic bag, and the third is an overnight bag.

For men, a two or three suiter, depending on individual needs, or a companion case, is almost essential.

12

For short trips a carry-on may suffice; and an attache case is also handy. If every person in your group, including the kids, has his own luggage, it is easier to sort belongings on overnight stops or even at your final destination.

Before starting to pack, make a list of things that are to be included. Leave yourself plenty of time, because hurrying will cause some wrinkles, especially for the novice. Plan your packing. Each item has a place where it will best fit —and best be found when needed.

Take time to get acquainted with your luggage. There may be advantages you didn't even know you had.

When choosing garments to go traveling, pick double-duty clothes; clothes that mix and match with each other and with the occasion. Basic colors allow for limited accessories — like shoes. Sleeveless dresses with jackets are nice for women. And, be sure all accessories for each outfit are laid out. You're living in a wonderful age for travel. New fabrics pack without protest. Be sure you take advantage of them.

Once everything is gathered together, survey the situation and start packing. Button all buttons, zip all zippers, and start putting things in your suitcases.

To pack dresses, hold each garment by its shoulders, fold it in thirds, turning the sides back, and smooth the sleeves. Lay the shoulders at the right edge of the suitcase and drape the skirt over the opposite side. Place the shoulders of the next dress at the left edge of the case and fold the skirt of the first over the shoulders of the second. Continue to alternate until all dresses are packed.

Baggies are good for keeping hose, socks, and other small items together, and sorted from other items. To save space, tuck small things in small spaces left between larger garments. Most small things will usually end up in an overnight bag.

Pack each shoe in an individual plastic bag to keep the luggage-carrier happy. Separate bags may be used to distribute weight throughout the suitcase -and shoes, no matter how far separated, are not hard to relocate.

Men's slacks are folded much like women's dresses. Place the waistband at the right edge and drape the legs over the left edge. Continue to alternate until all slacks are packed.

Always remember that the tighter you pack, the more wrinkles you will press into your clothes. Sometimes its better to carry an extra bag than to pack too tightly.

Before leaving home, be sure you have insurance on belongings — and labels on bags. Have a second set of keys made for your bags.

On reaching your destination, unpack immediately— waiting may bring wrinkles. Decide how to allot space, which drawers belong to whom, which side of the closet is best for her and which for him. Hang the kids' clothes in a separate place. Keeping clothes separated saves bumping into each other when dressing for the rodeo.

If you don't unpack everything, leave the suitcases in a horizontal position. Otherwise, you may find all your carefully pressed clothes in confusion.

If your packing has left some wrinkles, hang your clothes in the motel or hotel bathroom and turn the shower on—very hot. After a few minutes, turn it off again and close the door. Your clothes will steam smooth quickly. Don't leave them too long as they will become limp.

Use the hotel safe or lock valuables in your luggage when leaving your hotel room.

Relieved of clothing worries, almost any trip can be more relaxing. So pack your gear —careful now — and head for those NEBRASKAland fun and sun spots. THE END

NEBRASKAland

Just one more slough

Niobrara River bass call modern Huck Finns to explore another bayou just around the bend

by Gene Hornbeck 14

DON SCHROEDER and Lee Jackson cast apprehensive eyes, first at the slim silvery silhouettes of the canoes, and secondly, at the ominous cloud cover. "Either way we look at it, Gene," Don grinned, "if that 'widow maker' you call a boat doesn't get us those thunderclouds will. However, the thoughts of the fish waiting downriver outweigh my little misgivings, so let's shove off."

The paddles of the two voyageurs bit into the swirling currents of the Niobrara River and their 16-foot canoe surged away at a fast clip. I hesitated a minute before pushing our canoe off to make a last-minute check with Ken Adkisson, a conservation officer stationed at O'Neill. He assured me he would drop our camp gear at a slough about five miles downstream.

"You can't miss the spot," Ken assured me. "There's a point that sticks out "into the river with a grove of dead cottonwoods on it. Just pull in NEBRASKAland below the point and walk a few yards through the willows and you will hit the slough. I hope your bowman can read the river, or you might be doing a lot of pushing and pulling over the sandbars."

The bowman was my 14-year-old son, Paul, who was getting his initiation in canoeing. Our float trip had been suggested by Ken, and all of us were enthusiastic about it. The Niobrara, which begins in Wyoming, is a changeable river. It is a small, meandering trout stream at the headwaters, but by the time it reaches the canyons southwest of Valentine it becomes one of the most picturesque rivers in Nebraska. The canyon walls are covered with cedar and Ponderosa pine and cut a rugged swath for more than a hundred miles through the northern Sand Hills.

Once free of the canyons, the Niobrara widens out, creating many sloughs and bayous. These cutoffs provided a better environment for fish than the river itself, and most of them support catfish, carp, bass, and bluegill. We intended to sample the fishing, but the float was more of a summer adventure than a hardnosed fishing expedition. We planned to float from the Nebraska Highway 11 bridge, north of Atkinson, to Spencer Dam. Moments after we pushed away, we floated under the bridge and followed Lee and Don along the north bank of the river. Our canoe, like theirs, was a 16-foot aluminum job.

A mile below the bridge, we saw what looked like a slough, but a brief check showed that it was mostly vegetation and not very promising for fishing. Here, the channel cut across to the south bank, and we made a game of trying to pick the deeper runs to get across the 200-yard-wide river.

"Reminds me of the saying about the Platte River," I said as we slid the canoes through an inch of water, ' a mile wide and an inch deep."

Nearing the south shore, we spotted the opening to another slough, so Lee hiked across a hundred yards of sandbar to check it out. He was back in 15 minutes, saying it was a cutoff and pretty muddy.

"Might be OK. for cats," Don offered, "but all we have are artificials and they won't take many catfish."

"Let's find one where I can catch a bigger bass than my dad," Paul injected. "Besides I think this canoeing is more fun than fishing, anyway."

"I'm in agreement, Paul," Lee answered. "This canoeing sure beats running the cheese factory back in O'Neill."

MAY 1970

"Or running a motel in Spencer," Don chimed in. "How about you, Dad," Paul quizzed with a grin. 'What are you running away from?"

"The profundity of that interrogative expression, young man, leaves me with an indubitable answer," I said, responding to the obvious ribbing. "If it were not for the pen and camera, we might all be laboring today at some menial tasks."

"Boy," Paul shot back, "if you guys think that's bad, you should ask him how to take a picture."

Hugging the south bank, we floated downriver looking for some fishable cutoffs. A number of small ones, overgrown by bulrushes and fringed with willow were passed up as too shallow for fishing. They did, however, reveal the important part they played in the wildlife community along the river. Muskrats snaked through the rushes, gathering roots and plants for food and home repair. A beaver slapped his tail in alarm at our approach to his dam and a pair of wood ducks zipped in from another cutoff, emitting their squealing calls.

We rounded a bend some four miles downstream from the bridge and found what we were looking for. The slough was cut off from the river by a narrow sandbar less than 10-feet wide and looked to be a good 100 yards long. As we pulled the canoes over the bar, a couple of fish scooted out of the shallows and headed up the slough.

"At least there are fish in it," Don said as he rigged his spinning outfit.

"Those were probably carp," Lee offered. "What lure should we try first?"

"A plastic crawler wouldn't be bad," I suggested. "A surface plug might get results, too, seeing the day's somewhat overcast."

"The water is a little turbid," Lee observed. "We'll have to work it pretty slow, but it sure looks fishy to me."

Keeping the canoes along the north shore out of the light wind, we cast about (Continued on page 62)

15

Inshata Theumba - - BRIGHT EYES

Two ways of life lived in her. Born in the days of earth lodges, she walked along both Indian and white paths throughout all the days of her life

by Faye Musil Photographs courtesy Nebraska State Historical Society 16 NEBRASKAland

THE ANGUISH OF her lost generation lived in her. The heart of a culture died with her parents, and they had nothing to teach their children except the courage to live. She knew what it was to be different and she became a symbol of that difference. Her name was Inshata Theumba, Bright Eyes. She was the daughter of an Omaha chief.

Bright Eyes was the second-born of Joseph and Mary La Flesche. Her father was the son of a French trapper, Joseph La Flesche, and an Indian, Wa-tun-na. Her mother was the daughter of an Army surgeon, John Gale, and an Indian woman, Ni-co-mi.

Longfellow once called her Minnehaha, years after his "Hiawatha," for she was the embodiment of his beautiful Indian maid. But she was also a talented young woman who felt the tragedy of her people and who communicated it to thousands of whites.

Bright Eyes, or Susette La Flesche, spent her youth divided between two worlds. Her father was the last Omaha chief appointed under the old rites, but he sincerely believed that the only path to salvation for the Indians was acceptance of white culture. But how should they change? The family wavered in uncertainty.

Susette began life in the Indian way. Born in the days of the earth lodge, she spent her infancy with tribal customs. To some degree she walked tribal paths until she was 20. From then on she developed more and more white customs.

A tender people, the Indians taught their children the art of giving. Among them, a man's worth was measured by what he gave away, not by what he had. Open handed and open hearted, these people gave away everything in their tents, never fearing for tomorrow. Their neighbors would surely give them whatever they might need —until their tents were bare. They had a security unknown to whites, a security of all-encompassing good fellowship.

Susette learned the dignity of giving, and the bounty of the buffalo hunt. But she was born in 1854, before the days of the reservation. While her early childhood was thoroughly Indian, it soon became evident that the old ways could not survive. The encroachment of the whites on Indian territories was destroying the objects of life.

Year by year buffalo hunts failed. And as they did, the old religion failed. Without buffalo, there were no sacred objects to renew the success of the hunt. Without ceremonies to please the gods, the people despaired of regaining their favor. Hunger walked the village. The very objects of life were (Continued on page 53)

Bright Eyes, top, was part of two worlds as she moved from Omaha reservation, left, to follow white man's ways. With her husband, T. H. Tibbles, she reported the plight of victims of Battle of Wounded Knee, center and right, often drawing criticism for job 17

Portraits of the Past

WORLD EXPOSITIONS ARE few and far between in Nebraska. But the state did pull off one of the most extravagant on record in 1898 when Omaha hosted the Trans-Mississippi and International Exposition.

Among other attractions at the affair were Indians representing some 26 North American tribes. And, while all physical reminders of Expo '98 are gone, reminders of its noble red guests remain.

Among the millions of spectators that passed through the exposition's portals was one F. A. Rinehart, photographer. To him, the faces of the Indians represented the way of a people — a way that was doomed. But photographer Rinehart held the key to preservation. He began recording the Indians on glass photographic plates and went beyond the exposition to photograph notable Indians until 1900.

Now, his collection rests with the Rinehart-Marsden Studio in Omaha. NEBRASKAland proudly presents portions of that collection, courtesy of Rinehart-Marsden. Accompanying poetry is of Indian origin — written by Frank V. Love of the First Reformed Church of the Omaha Indian Mission at Macy. This is the first of a two-part series with the second to appear in the June issue of NEBRASKAland.

PRAYER When a white man prays I listen with my head desiring to know what he means and if he really means it. When an Indian prays I cry because he touches my heart. MY SON You came so small Into so large a world So full of life, death Will your little eyes see Great men fall Countries rise Walls of color breaking My son, when we leave This life may Our way continue to Express one who also Came as a son of man To renew, remake, redeem. SNOW BANK She was an old lady kissing a stray, yellow and white alley cat, on California Street by the Local Laborer's Hall in Omaha Soon she got in her sack and fed the cat Her old black coat was unbuttoned as she stood in the snow that February day The city's five o'clock traffic was moving home and she began to wave at the passing cars Her faded scarf hung loosely about her white head, while she waved hello or good-bye (I don't know which) I thought of all the kind things I could do for this old lady... But it was five o'clock so with the traffic I went home too. TOUGH JOHN WAYNE One shot and six Indians fell from their ponies Little Bear the strongest warrior of all was hiding behind a big rock and he fell down, too Man, that big bad and tough John Wayne sure can shoot Where was he at when Custer needed him! DIGNITY Let the word go out from the Seneca in the East from the Sioux in the North from the Kiowa in the South from the Apache in the West to the blue-eyes who wear the long knives You take our land and fill yourselves full with fat barns and lokg fences kill, steal, and convert to get it But like the earth mother, my mother the sunshine, my father the four winds, my brothers and the four seasons, my sisters and all the animals, my relatives everything that grows, my friends These you cannot have you cannot kill, steal, or convert them These you cannot have and my dignity. REFLECTION ON A MEAN OLD WHITE WOMAN "She looks like she got in an axe fight and they forgot to give her an axe."      

ONCE UPON A RANCH

You can see the West from "inside out" at a real Nebraska "spread". Street lights and cares are forgotten when playing in the scenic outdoors

by W. Rex Amack

OVER A CENTURY ago, electrifying journalist Horace Greeley raised a clenched fist and said, "Go West, young man". Today the opportunity to "Go West" remains a reality in NEBRASKAland. Travelers here find room to roam, to see, and to do. And, to see the West from the "inside out", visitors may choose to spend time at one of several vacation ranches scattered about Nebraska, including Rimrock Recreation Ranch nestled in western Nebraska's picturesque Pine Ridge.

Implementing the principle that there's more than one way to take a vacation, Rimrock Ranch owner Ross Raum set aside a portion of his scenic-rich ranch some seven years ago and began developing the area into a ranch-type resort. In the past seven years five fully modern cabins have blossomed on the grounds. Nearly everything else about Rimrock Ranch came with Raum's original deed to the property. Majestic buttes and pinnacles of the Pine Ridge tower toward the skies as the Great Plains rise to meet the Rocky Mountains. Stately pine trees march up and down the hills where such immortal figures as Crazy Horse and Custer once strode. A massive rim of cragged bluffs perimeters the restful area lending the ranch its name —Rimrock.

27   Editor's Note: Rimrock Recreation Ranch, located nine miles northwest of Crawford, is but one of many vacation ranches that have sprung up in Nebraska the past few years as cowmen roll out the welcome mat and turn hosts to meet a rapidly growing vacation demand. For a complete listing of Nebraska ranch vacations and boys' and girls' recreation camps, turn to page 61

Although tucked away in Mother Nature's silent beauty of the real West, Rimrock Ranch is as isolated and sedate or as lively and rollicking as the individual vacationer wishes. The ranch boasts near-fantastic bass and trout fishing, offering angling buffs their choice from any of five spring-fed ponds. Toadstool Park, historic Fort Robinson, the Museum of the Fur Trade, Agate Fossil Beds National Monument, Chadron State Park, and Nebraska's best offering grounds of Indian artifacts and fossils are all within a few minutes' drive. The state's rugged Badlands are also nearby to challenge and mystify seasoned scientists and adventuring travelers alike. Supervised horseback rides and unlimited hiking and photography opportunities are at every visitor's command at Rimrock. And, as autumn encroaches on the land, big-game hunting enthusiasts find their mecca here, as deer and wild turkey roam the countryside and antelope abound close-by.

Cabin facilities at Rimrock are an enticement for anyone wanting to take a step backwards into the past and see how "it might have been", as the buildings resemble log cabins of old. Telephones and radios have purposely been omitted from the lodgings to allow complete escape from everyday routine. Visitors move into the housekeeping units with only food and clothing as necessary equipment. All kitchen utensils and bedding are provided. Folks are on their own to do whatever they please or, more contemporarily said, "to do their own thing". A Rimrock Ranch vacation functions strictly on any easygoing, do-as-you-like basis. There is no ranch work and visitors create their own activities on a schedule as jam-packed or leisurely as desired. Some Nebraska ranch vacations are the "working" type, where the visitor can pitch in and be an "honest-to-West" cowboy during his stay.

Sightseeing and hiking are Rimrock's strongest suits and are as natural as country life itself. The opportunity to "move-in" with such a scenic environment and "drop-out" of the day-to-day scuffle of urban life attracts the majority of Rimrock's vacationers.

"The idea of the ranch vacation might seem somewhat limited to the prospective visitor at first glance," according to Larry Lanphier, Sr.; of Omaha. "But quite to the contrary, the see-and-do (Continued on page 60)

28

CASE FOR FLIES

When bluegills show their "dimples", it's stringer-filling time for fisherman who knows how to use super-light rod

by Tom Keith

A SMALL GRAY mayfly landed gently on the pond and busily stroked his head with his forelegs. The slight motion sent tiny ripples radiating from the insect's resting place. As the fly shimmered on the surface, a slab-sided bluegill darted from his hiding place under the bank and momentarily hung beneath his unsuspecting victim. With a sudden flare of his gills, the fish sucked in the fly. Satisfied for the moment, the bluegill flipped his tail and glided back to his haunt.

The fish hovered there for a short time before another fly of approximately the same size, shape, and color touched down on the surface. A slight twitching of the fly's legs alerted the bluegill and he repeated his stalk. Again he glided silently under the fly, inspected it, and then inhaled it. This time when the bluegill retreated to the shelter of the bank, a sharp tug jerked him back. Panicky now, the fish fought desperately to gain his hiding place but the pressure was relentless.

Darting from side-to-side, the bluegill made a run for the weed-covered bottom of the pond, but the strong

30 leader pulled him back. Tiring, he surfaced. He flipped twice, trying to throw the fly, but to no avail. The inexorable line drew him out of the shallow water and onto the shore.

My five-year-old son, Jamie, slipped a small thumb into the fish's mouth and lifted him high. He beamed at his fish and then at me when I complimented him on his catch.

The occasion was one of our frequent evening fishing trips to a small farm pond just a few minutes' drive from our home in southeast Lincoln. Before our expedition ended Jamie caught seven more bluegill and missed at least a dozen others. My son and I are both addicted to fishing and we make two or three trips each week plus spending the lion's share of our weekends chasing fish somewhere in the state.

Jamie was generally a cane-pole man because of the knots and tangles which result from his frantic reeling when he gets a bite. But, after a week or so of constant pleading, begging, and complaining about how the fish ignored his worms while I was taking them on flies, I finally made him a small fly rod. With his rod and some of my home-tied flies he has since accounted for a heap of bluegill and small bass.

Fly-fishing is probably the most underrated form of fishing in eastern Nebraska. Most people believe the terms, "fly-fishing" and "trout fishing", are synonymous and therefore conclude that fly casting should be limited to trout waters. Fly-fishermen do account for a lot of trout, but they also take healthy amounts of panfish, bass, and northern pike with their artificials.

An afternoon or evening spent on a panfish and bass-rich pond or stream will convince anyone that here is one of the most exciting methods of catching NEBRASKAland

MAY 1970 fish around. The trend toward ultra-light tackle is also helping to bring fly casting to its proper place as a top-ranking method of taking fish.

There is a popular myth that fly casting is exceedingly difficult to master. Nonsense. Five-year-old Jamie learned to cast well enough in an hour to regularly catch fish. His style and form are far from perfect, but he gets results.

To enjoy some memorable fishing that can fill an iron skillet in a hurry, plan to be at the edge of a pond or lake early on a warm evening. Watch the water for signs of feeding fish. Surface dimples and jumping fish are good clues.

Use a small fly, from 12 to 16, in one of the standard patterns (the "royal coachman" is usually good) and cast to the immediate area of the feeding fish. Allow the fly to touch down lightly, then twitch it ever so gently.

A flash of color where your fly landed, a dimple in the water, small ripples where the fly was, or a sharp tug on your line signal a strike. Set the hook gently and enjoy the quick runs and flips as the three-quarters-pound of energy on the business end of the line fights the hook. Small fish seem large and the big ones feel like tackle busters on a fly rod.

There is a certain elation when a fish is taken on a super-light rod and a fly you have tied yourself. Any fish is a thrill to catch on a fly rod, and when an occasional bass slams the light rig the fun really begins.

My own recipe for a great afternoon of fishing includes a good friend for a fishing partner, a fly box full of my own creations, a farm pond, and a few scrappy fish. Throw in some clear water, a warm spring day, a few sandwiches and some coffee and mix well. With these ingredients in the proper proportions, you can't go wrong.

Ken Ideen, a fishing and fly-tying buddy of mine and I started taking my son with us as soon as he was big enough to walk. We soon found that a small boy becomes bored rather quickly with fishing, if he has to sit for long periods with nothing to do but stare at a bobber. That's the beauty of bluegill for they are action fish. If you have a youngster along, locate a school of bluegill for him. He won't have time to be bored.

For my farm-pond fly-fishing, I use a lightweight seven-foot rod, floating line, and a leader testing about two pounds. Poppers, wet and dry flies, streamers, bucktails, and hair bugs are my standbys. I tie my own flies and bugs, but I buy the poppers.

Any Nebraskan can enjoy fly-fishing for panfish and bass at almost any time the notion strikes him. Here in southeast sections of the state, we have easy access to the Salt Valley lakes. I do much of my fishing in these numerous lakes and my fly rod has accounted for perch, bluegill, crappie, northern pike, and large-mouth bass. The small panfish prefer tiny poppers and small wet and dry flies. Bass go for deer-hair bugs, larger flies, and poppers. Northerns will smash large bucktails and streamers.

So, treat yourself to a new method of fishing —one I'll guarantee you'll enjoy. THE END

31

WONDER OF THE WORLD

Part two continues searching the State Capitol for beauties which often escape the hurried visitor

Photographs by Greg Beaumont

IT'S A CAPITAL place to visit and sightseers with an eye for the unusual and oft-missed detail will revel in the delights to be found in the halls and chambers of Nebraska's State Capitol.

NEBRASKAland cameras again focus on the little-noticed, yet fascinating "little things" that combine to make this statehouse one of the architectural wonders of the world.

Each visit to this intriguing building will reveal still another intricate, geometric pattern or enchanting aspect that was overlooked the last time around. The next few pages disclose but a few of the minute features that await discovery.

This is just an appetizer. The main course requires personal attention.

32 MAY 1970   Thousands of pieces of charred wood, brick, glass, and clay went into the murals, "Spirit of Nebraska", above, "Building of the State Capitol", right, by Nebraskan Reinhold Marxhausen 34 NEBRASKAland MAY 1970 35   36 NEBRASKAland MAY 1970 37   38 NEBRASKAland Splendid marble, quarried in several foreign countries and states, adds its exotic color and texture to halls MAY 1970 39

EUTROPHICATION

42 NEBRASKAland 1970

Lakes don't always age gracefully, but humans cause most of growing pains

by Earl Kendle

FOR CENTURIES, MAN has been changing, often destroying, his environment. But recently, words like "ecology" and "pollution" have been creeping into household vocabularies in Nebraska and across the nation. Now, another word — eutrophication — has taken on added importance, for in Nebraska it can become a major problem.

Eutrophication is the process by which lakes age. When a lake is born, it contains scant nutrients and is biologically unproductive. Aquatic life simply does not become abundant in these waters. Eutrophication is the answer — provided it is not carried too far.

The process begins as nutrients flow into the lake from surrounding land or are deposited by water birds or are borne to the lake by wind and rain. With the added nutrients, the lake becomes more productive and eventually is capable of sustaining an abundant biological community.

When a lake is productive, organic matter from dead plants and animals forms deposits on the lake bottom and it is slowly but surely filled. Also, sand and organic matter from the watershed will contribute to the aging process. As this process goes on, the lake becomes a swamp —then a meadow. Unless man interferes, it requires many thousands of years to fill most mountain lakes. However, when lakes are formed in fertile prairie land, this natural process is much more rapid. Lakes in such areas can begin in a eutrophic condition — able to sustain abundant life at their birth. In such a case, the life of the lake is very short.

Eutrophication is both beneficial and detrimental to man's interest. Highly eutrophic conditions in the dim past led to the great coal and oil fields which have created man's modern way of life. More currently, eutrophic lakes provided man with abundant fish and waterfowl. Few fishermen would want to fish an oligotrophy lake — one without nutrients — located where it could be heavily fished. Although often beautiful, such lakes could not sustain heavy fishing pressure.

On highly eutrophic lakes, harm to even one use of the lake is cause for concern. Just as abundant nitrogen and phosphorus are required for luxuriant lawn and crop growth, so are they needed for luxuriant growth of algae and aquatic plants.

In North America, lawns and crops are well fertilized. With rainfall and irrigation runoff, these major nutrients, along with minor ones in the soil, are washed into natural waterways and lakes. Add tremendous amounts of domestic sewage - doubly rich in phosphorus because of common detergent use — industrial sewage and cattle feedlot runoff, and you have some picture of cultural eutrophication. These sources of nutrients carry with them another important ingredient for accelerated aquatic growth — organic matter. Bacterial action on this matter releases more carbon dixode than any other source. With such mineral abundance, sunlight, and warm temperatures, the stage is set for a population explosion of blue-green algae and other aquatic plants.

In an agricultural state such as Nebraska, there is little which can be done now to solve the problem. As little as 0.4 ounces of phosphorus per acre-foot of water is enough to cause excessive growth. More than this is readily supplied by fertilizers used on Nebraska MAY 1970 cropland. And, there is no technique for controlling nutrients entering waters from agricultural sources. On the other hand, it is possible to remove most of the nitrogen, phosphorus, and organic matter from domestic and industrial wastes. Although not solving the problem, this would tend to alleviate it. But, such treatment would skyrocket the price Nebraskans now pay for waste treatment. The logical solution to cultural eutrophication is never to allow our waste material to enter water systems — an unlikely remedy in the near future.

Other measures have been suggested, but these are no more than stopgap measures and are rarely economically feasible. Among them are chemical treatment to kill both algae and rooted aquatics, and mechanical cutting of rooted aquatic plants. Both measures are only temporary and are very expensive. Cutting must be done two or three times a season to be effective and, because of the expense has been limited to clearing swimming beaches, areas near boat docks, and navigation routes. Finding a commercial use for cut vegetation might lower the cost and lead to more extensive use of the system, however. Chemicals have the added disadvantage of possibly contaminating the environment.

Fortunately, Nebraska has abundant ground water and most of our domestic water comes from that source. The uses most frequently made of our surface waters are recreation and irrigation. In irrigation waters, eutrophication creates few problems. But, many forms of recreation can be hindred by highly eutrophic water.

Boating can be restricted by beds of rooted aquatic plants or filamentous algae. Also, if the degree of eutrophy is high, the lake is not as attractive and boating pleasure is reduced. Swimming also suffers. However, where swimming is allowed in state lakes, it is restricted to designated areas and these areas are kept clear of aquatic plants.

Swimmers, boaters, and fishermen can all make use of many of our lakes at once, but some zoning is required. Pleasure boaters are prevented from using much of the shallow and often weed-clogged portions of lakes. Although fishermen share much of the multiple-use lakes with pleasure boaters, they realize there may be some annoyances when fishing areas are open to pleasure boating.

Fishermen are by far the greatest users of our lakes. They are sometimes inconvenienced by vegetation close to shore. When the lake is banded by vegetation and beds of vegetation extend well into the lake, bank fishing is severely hampered and the quality of fish in the lake is also in danger. With such extensive vegetation, many small fish are protected from predators. What usually occurs is an overpopulation of forage species such as bluegill and a consequent decrease in average fish size. When this happens, there are large numbers of three-to-five-inch fish waiting in weed beds to prey upon the fry and fingerlings of more sought-after predator fish. But perhaps more importantly, these large numbers of forage species compete with the fingerlings of the predator species for food.

However, most of Nebraska's native fish are well adapted to eutrophic conditions. Thus, if a superabundance of forage fish can be avoided, we can expect good fishing. In this we are fortunate, for even with massive effort, many years will be required for effective control of nutrients entering lakes from agricultural lands. And in the meantime, Nebraska can continue to provide its broad range of water sports. THE END

43

List of accomplishments grows as state plucks plum of fun on wheels

WORLD SERIES OF ROLLER SKATING

44 NEBRASKAland

NEBRASKA HAS LONG been known as the mixed-bag capital, but in August the state can claim another impressive title, the Roller Skating Capital of the nation.

During August, first the North American Roller Skating Championships, then the World Championships will be held in Lincoln. Nebraskans have watched the North American competition twice before, but when the World Championships move into the Capital City, August 13 through 17, it will be a first for both Nebraska and the United States. The 14 previous World meets have been held in various places around the globe, but until this year they have never come to the United States.

The World Championships, held every two years, are expected to draw skaters from nearly 30 foreign countries. When Lincoln was selected as the site, the town was competing with such cities as Miami Beach, Florida. Directors of the meet felt Nebraska and its first city were the images of America they wanted visiting skaters to see. Besides, Lincoln's experience in handling two previous North American Championships made it an odds-on favorite.

However, hosting the World Championships isn't enough to make Nebraska the nation's Roller Skating Capital. Backing up its claim is the fact that the national offices for the Roller Skating Rink Operators Association (RSROA) are in Lincoln, the North American Championships have been held here, and Omaha's Skateland Skate Center presently ranks as one of the top facilities, attendance wise, in the nation. In addition, three nearly new rinks are open in the state, one each in Lincoln, Omaha, and Grand Island, and two more are in the works for Omaha.

But skating is more than a spectator sport to Nebraskans. In many high school crowds it's the "in" thing to do on a Friday date. To church groups it is a wholesome and healthy form of recreation, while for the Girl Scouts it means earning a merit badge.

Skating has grown tremendously in the last five years in Nebraska. It takes only one trip to the state's newest rink to understand why. The ultra-modern skating center was shrouded in a misty fog on a cold Sunday night in February. For most, it was a perfect night to stay at home. But nearly 300 people braved slippery roads for a three-hour session at the Holiday Skating Center in Lincoln.

Family night at the rink, the sounds were active and full of laughter. Ron Jeru stood in front of a sound system that looked like it belonged in a radio station. As he announced that the next group of songs was for partner's choice skating, the rink lights faded to a soft blue.

"Skating has come into its own in the last few years," the rink manager said as he watched couples glide around the big floor. "Our biggest problem right now is combating the bad image many people have of roller skating. In the past, rinks were considered the local hangout for hoods."

Skating was a favorite pastime during World War II. Ma and Pa rinks, skating facilities run by usually just two people, sprang up in basements, old garages, and other buildings. The sport was popular because it was an inexpensive way to have a good time. After the war, bowling and other family sports began grabbing the recreation dollars. When other recreations began to modernize their plants and cater to family-type recreation, many rink operators were content to sit back and (Continued on page 64)

MAY 1970 45

28 DAYS TO TURKEY

Chicken or egg theory gets new slant as state's gobblers dramatize the miracle of life

THE AGE-OLD ADAGE of "Which Came First, the Bird or the Egg" is easily answered, at least when discussing the Merriam's wild turkey in Nebraska. It was definitely the turkey.

During the winter of 1958-59, 28 wild trapped birds were released at two sites in the Pine Ridge. From the original 28 birds, an estimated population of 5,000 turkeys roamed the Ponderosa pine-studded hills of northwest Nebraska in a few short years. Additional transplants from this flock were made in several areas of the state with varying degrees of success.

The mating activity of the wild turkey normally commences in March with the torn gobbling and strutting. The date and amount of activity is generally related to weather, with increased sunlight hours affecting the reproductive system. The torn, being polygamous, attempts to lure several females to his area. A gobbler usually attempts to fight any male that intrudes into his area, especially early in the season. A torn may lure as many as eight hens to an area and there he displays and gobbles in an attempt to entice the hens. The brilliant color, actions, and gobbling of the torn turkey during mating season are an unforgettable experience.

Hens spend a considerable amount of time with the gobbler during the early mating season, especially during the 46 NEBRASKAland

MAY 1970 47   48 NEBRASKAland early morning hours. Mating may take place during any one of the hen's visits and egg laying may start soon after or be delayed several days. One mating is sufficient to fertilize the eggs of an entire clutch. After mating, sperm may remain potent in the female's oviduct for as long as several weeks.

The turkey nest is usually a crude depression in the ground, rather well hidden, and is lined with pine needles, leaves, or twigs. The average clutch size is about 12 eggs and requires the hen approximately two weeks to complete. Upon completion of the clutch the hen may not begin incubation immediately, but usually does within a day or two. She normally remains on the nest until completion of the incubation period, except to leave for short periods to feed and water. Toward the end of incubation, feeding and watering are at a minimum and the hen may not leave the nest for several days just prior to hatching.

Embryonic development is one of nature's amazing processes, and very little is known about the true wild turkey embryo development. Therefore, studies are conducted on domestic or game-farm birds to obtain this information. The incubation period for the turkey is 28 days, compared to 26 days for the mallard duck and 21 days for the domestic chicken.

Embryo development starts immediately after the hen sets on the eggs for a prolonged period. Development begins for all eggs at the same time, therefore all eggs that are going to hatch do so within 24 hours after completion of incubation.

Within 24 hours of incubation a thin, barely visible line is formed. This line is called the primitive streak and is the origin (Continued on page 59)

MAY 1970 49

SACRAMENTO MIXED BAG

A state area in south-central Nebraska is target of a hunt to sample its game potential

by Lowell Johnson

DUCKS FILLED THE sky, their criss-crossing 1 patterns forming a huge, black mesh against the lightening east. Milling in all directions and at all levels, the flocks saturated the air with a wierd whistling like no other sound.

Our hunting party moved single file through the tall weeds as we started our mixed-bag hunt at the Sacramento Game Management Area in south-central Nebraska. The aerial activity above us became even more impressive as the sun inched upward to the horizon. We headed for the middle of the lagoon, with me, carrying a bulging bag of decoys, bringing up the rear. Water was lapping at the tops of my rubber boots as we sprinkled the decoys on an open patch of water. Then we formed two groups and crouched in the heaviest reeds we could find.

Our casual sloshing through the field had not gone unnoticed by the ducks. In fact, they were all settling into the marsh about the same time we were —only they were some distance away. Within a few minutes the sky traffic diminished remarkably, but there were still plenty of scattered formations moving about. Evald Abrahamson, a Holdrege appliance dealer, absolutely bristled with efficiency as we settled into the lagoon. He selected one of the three duck calls which 50 NEBRASKAland

dangled impressively from around his neck and made like the Pied Piper of the waterfowl world.

I wasn't gunning, so I had a ringside seat for the action. Some faraway ducks looked like fly specks on the blue canopy of sky, but Evald quacked and squawked and chattered on his call. At first nothing happened, then the specks turned and became larger. The first time, I thought it was only coincidence that the webfeet searched us out. But as Evald diverted flock after flock from whatever they were thinking of doing I realized they were hearing and heeding Evald s "call of the wild duck".

Dick Person, an attorney from Holdrege, occasionally chimed in with a few squawks, but the rest of us accused him of talking "foul" language, so he gave up and concentrated on spotting and shooting. Orval Harms, administrator of Brewster Hospital in Holdrege, was the third hunter in the group. I was there from NEBRASKAland Magazine to do a story, while Richard Voges our photographer, was shooting only on film.

Our hunt had its inception at NEBRASKAland's headquarters in Lincoln two weeks before. The idea was to hunt out a state area to see what kind of mixed-bag success would result. The Sacramento State Special Use Area near Wilcox was chosen, and I was MAY 1970 assigned the story since I had lived a scant 10 miles from Sacramento, for 7 years.

Several friends of mine agreed to take part in the two-day project, and November 22 was chosen as the starting date. That was just one week after the start of the second half of the 1968 split season on ducks, and nearly three weeks after the pheasant and quail seasons opened. Our hunt started with ducks.

The weather was almost too nice for duck hunting, yet things were really popping. Evald kept teasing singles and flocks into 12-gauge range, but even when the ducks winged over too high, Evald's big Labrador, Jet, and I got excited. Whenever the gunners fired, Jet was ready to dash for a downed duck. He made that dash five times in about an hour and a half as the three hunters stoned five mallard drakes.

Five was one short of the three-hunter limit, but the duck traffic was slowing, so we decided to knock off and look for other game. My boots had taken in water while I was scrunched up in the makeshift blind, but wet feet didn't really matter with temperatures in the high 50's.

After a little good-humored joshing about Evald's near-antique 12-gauge pump gun and the snapping of a few photos, we planned our strategy for the rest of 51  

the day. Evald had to leave, so I replaced him on the pheasant and small-game team. It was so close to noon that our early breakfasts were no longer sustaining us, so we voted to head into town, scouting some of the area on the way. Except for a small refuge portion for Canada geese, the entire 2,313 acres of "Sac" is open to public hunting. About one-third the total acreage is marsh or lagoon, with 16 free duck blinds available on a first-come, first-serve basis. Possibly a former buffalo wallow, the lagoon is now a natural basin. Rainfall keeps the water level up fairly well, but several irrigation pumps help out when needed. The area not covered by water is ideal habitat for upland and small game.

There are a couple patches we had better walk out later," Orval predicted, pointing to some prime brushy plots. He had hunted the area many times and was familiar with its best spots.

Minutes after our return from lunch we bagged twq pheasants. Orval scored first with a clean shot frofh his full-choked 12-gauge slide-action. His bird went up just after we stepped into a small area between an interior road and a shelterbelt. The second rooster zoomed up and was over the trees when Dick Person connected with his fancy 12-gauge autoloader. To retrieve his bird, we had to get through the trees, and that turned into a chore. Sharp spines of the stickery foliage put up a fight like the enchanted forest. Luckily, the rooster was down for the count, or he would have run for three miles while we fought and bled through that grove.

We got back into the open just in time to see more than a dozen hens exit from the corner plot. A few minutes later, some cocks flushed so far away they were nearly out of sight. All of the birds flew toward the marsh, and most went into the refuge portion.

'They know where they're safe," someone remarked.

A third ringneck joined our growing supply of game as Dick and I, accompanied by his Irish setter, Kelly, walked out some dense cover near the south 52 border road. It was a picturesque shot. The rooster got up only 25 feet in front of Dick, angled away at top speed, and dropped cleanly with his first shot. Kelly was right on the ball to recover the gaudy bird.

'That was neatly done," I told Dick as Kelly proudly handed him his pheasant. "You guys are doing just fine, three birds for three shots."

It doesn't pay to pat yourself on the back too soon, for those three birds were nearly the last of what we got, although we saw a great many.

While we were walking out the patch by the road, Orval had cut across country and was cornering a fox squirrel when we rejoined him. Using "Kentucky leverage", I waited on the opposite side of the tree as the bushy tail came around to hide from Orval, then I gunned him.

"You could have just jumped up and down and that squirrel would have run around to my side," Orval charged, empty-handed after the cautious stalk.

I accused him of already having half the fun by locating the game, but he just scowled. We moved away to walk out a field, working toward a draw that separated it from an adjacent cornfield. Our plan was pretty good but there was too much yardage between us. Pheasants kept getting up at the far right of the line and cutting diagonally across, but too far out. We didn't get much shooting, and those we did shoot at never knew it, for we didn't cut a feather. If the birds had been less wary, we could have limited out right there if we could have hit them.

As it was, we spent the afternoon stomping fields and forest, but only one more pheasant went into the larder. I lucked onto him near the end of a large, terraced field, and my autoloader dumped him with one shot. Moments later, two bunnies became destined for the stewpot when their fancy footwork failed to keep them out of trouble. I scragged one just moments after the ringneck fell, and Dick clobbered the other in the openings between the trees of a large shelterbelt.

We jumped some bob whites near the end of that same shelterbelt, but they cut back in before anyone had a clear shot, and we never kicked them up again. All in all, the afternoon hunt had been quite successful, and we returned to town tired but satisfied with our day.

An early start was on the agenda for our second day, and Bob Harris, a former Holdregeite who now lives in Hastings where he works for a utilities company, joined our crew. Evald Abrahamson returned for another go at the ducks in the morning, so we had a capable group counting Orval and Dick. Photographer Voges and I watched from a dugout on the side of a big dike which cuts through the marshland, while the hunters waded out into the rushes.

Apparently the late-fall hot streak was catching up with the ducks. Where there had been literally thousands the day before, there were only hundreds now. They might have been sitting tight, or using the good weather to make trails to the south, but in either case, they were not hovering overhead.

Evald managed to call in a few, but it was generally tough going. The contrast with the day before was remarkable, yet even with the vast reduction in ducks, Orval got two.

"I got my limit just because you didn't see me get any yesterday," Orval shouted during a lull in activity.

Attorney Dick Person had to take care of some business in town, so I decided to walk out with him.

We had just reached a cleared levee leading back to the road, when a lone mallard drake skittered off a pond. The attorney's shotgun came up and swung with the rising duck. He fired and the shot pattern dimpled the pond's surface beyond. The (Continued on page 64)

NEBRASKAland

BRIGHT EYES

(Continued from page 17)

stripped from a people as their old buffalo robes wore out without replacements. They were given provisions by the government, but never nearly enough. Women, who had always been busy processing hides, and meat, and sinews of the buffalo, were idle. The old men, who had mysteriously gone about the ceremonies of the tribe, sat half-sleeping. Their importance died with the huge buffalo herds. Idly they sat, trying to think of some way to regain the gods' favor. Sadly they watched young people growing up wild, without the refinements of old customs.

Joseph, known to the Indians as Iron Eye, declared in the midst of this chaos that the Indian way was dying and his people must learn the way of the white. The Omaha must forget the old and learn to cope with an entirely new world. They must learn to till the soil, and build permanent frame houses, and live in one place. They must stop following the dwindling buffalo herds.

While the old men laughed, Joseph led his young men's party in building a "make-believe white man's village." In the early days of the reservation, while buffalo hunts were still a part of their lives, the Indians couldn't understand his insistence on imitating whites. But gradually, old leaders lost their ability to lead. The despairing tribe turned to the young men's party and to Joseph.

Iron Eye tried to learn English, and he adopted the white man's religion. Many followed him. He sent his children to the mission school — many other Indians did, too. Several times in the early days of the reservation, Iron Eye stayed home from the hunts, trying to show the people that they must learn new ways.

He denied his daughters the tribal right to wear the mark of honor. The mark was a tattoo on the forehead and neck of daughters of honored members of the tribe, men with many good deeds to their credit. Joseph was such a man. The time when Susette would have received the mark was a time of trouble for the La Flesche family, and Joseph refused it.

As he gradually took on the white man's ways, Joseph's children were forced to watch him disgraced before the tribe. Greedy white settlers fostered misunderstandings that were damaging to Iron Eye's reputation among tribesmen. He was accused of arranging tribal matters for his own profit. Finally, scandal resulted in the dismissal of the missionary who had taken an interest in Joseph, and in the Indian's discrediting. At last, Iron Eye "packed up his household goods and left."

He later returned, however. His children returned to school where all were educated. All but one went East to finish their education. Susette was the first to leave the reservation. Her opportunity came after the mission school closed. One of her former teachers, alert to her needs, asked what she would like to have for Christmas one year. Susette told him — more education.

The teacher had relatives in the East who were connected with a school for girls. After much planning and money gathering, Susette went East to school.

After nearly six years in the East, Susette was not prepared for her return to the reservation. Some of the things she learned made adjustment to the reservation nearly impossible. There was still no school, and it was hard to be content with the combination housekeeping her mother, Mary, had made from both Indian and white ways.

She had an opportunity to teach in the Indian Territory in Oklahoma, but still she was held by tradition. Her uncle by adoption, Two Crows, refused permission. By Indian custom, he had equal authority with her parents.

She later learned Indians were given preference in teaching Indian schools. And after extended red tape she was hired to reopen the Omaha reservation school. It wasn't until the Ponca's tragic move to the Indian Territory though, that Susette finally found her role. Her service to her people reached its apex with Standing Bear's epic fight for freedom.

In 1878 the Ponca tribe was forceably moved from their northern reservation to the Indian Territory in Oklahoma. Susette's uncle, White Swan, was a member of that tribe, and through him the Omahas learned of the Ponca's trouble. Hundreds of them died either on the journey or (Continued on page 58)

Where to go Telephone Museum, Swanson Reservoir

ALEXANDER GRAHAM BELL'S simple words of March 10, 1876, "Mr. Watson, come here; I want you!", became historic, for this was the first articulate sentence ever spoken over an electric telephone. The set itself, a megaphone-like contraption, had a tuned-reed receiver. A replica of this strange-looking piece of equipment can be seen at the Telephone Museum in Omaha.

The Telephone Museum holds a unique accumulation of telephone memorabilia and offers visitors a nostalgic glance at the past and a sneak preview of the future.

Opened May 18, 1967, the museum honors the men and women whose vision and effort helped build the telephone industry. Displays contain more than 200 items, and are maintained by members of the Casper E. Yost chapter of the Telephone Pioneers of America. Much of the material at the museum would have been lost long ago had it not been for the foresight of these telephone workers. They realized the value of preserving yesterday's tools and equipment and the memories that go with them.

Telephones of years gone by quickly catch the attention of most visitors, young and old. Youngsters stand wide-eyed in amazement while oldsters tell tales of "when I was a boy". From the very first telephones, now nearly 100 years old, to the futuristic phones of tomorrow, the array of sets at the museum MAY 1970 shows the evolution of this mechanical miracle.

But the museum is much more than a collection of phones. Much of the industry's progress stemmed from cables, switchboards, and other apparatus, invisible to the user who is familiar only with the set he sees. Displays at the museum recognize the importance of such "behind-the-scenes" equipment and feature switchboards, test gear, tools, wire, and a telephone pole, complete with insulators and a bird.

One highlight of the museum is a life-size replica of a small-town telephone exchange at the turn of the century. Provided with a vintage switchboard and appropriate supplies, an "operator" sits patiently, waiting to put through calls. Visitors can almost hear her say, "Number, please?"

Located on the ground floor of Northwestern Bell Telephone's headquarters building at 100 South 19th Street, the museum is just minutes from any point in downtown Omaha. There is no admission charge, and visitors are welcome weekdays from 11:45 a.m. to 1:15 p.m. Other hours are available if prior arrangements are made by calling 344-3715. A visit to the museum may also be arranged along with a tour of the main telephone building.

Telephone lines and fishing lines are poles apart, but both represent fun destinations for families who want to know "Where To Go" this month. Angling pleasures and a host of other

outdoor pursuits await lovers of the out-of-doors at Swanson Reservoir.

One of several expansive reservoirs in southwest Nebraska, Swanson is an oasis on the prairies, offering all forms of water-oriented activities. Located just west of Trenton, the Swanson Reservoir Area includes 3,957 acres of land.

But it is the 4,974 acres of water that lure most of the visitors to the area. Boaters find the wide-open waters an ideal spot for all types of craft, from high-powered speedboats to wind-pushed sailboats. Water-skiing, exploring, or just plain boating bring many back again and again. There are ramps and docks located around the lake, giving all users ready access. Rental boats are available.

Trenton Dam, which backs up Swanson Reservoir onto part of the alluvial plain of the Republican River, was built in the 1950's as part of a Bureau of Reclamation flood-control program. Now the waters, backed up into the shallow canyons and small ravines, find occasional use for irrigation. But the dividends to the state's recreational program are now thought of first when Swanson is mentioned.

Fishing pulls in area visitors, as well as guests from neighboring Kansas. May and June bring anglers close to the dam for good walleye and crappie fishing. In the summer months, the action switches to channel catfish and white bass, throughout the lake.

Land-based recreationists also find the Swanson area attractive for its camping, picnicking, and hiking. With 30 miles of shoreline, the lakeside provides plenty of room to roam. There is no fee for use of the area and there are plenty of facilities for campers and picnickers, including tables, shelters, wells, and restrooms. A swimming beach entices landlubbers to join the water-loving set.

Part of the area is maintained by the Game and Parks Commission for game management purposes. In season, the

area provides good hunting for pheasant, waterfowl, and deer.

Future visitors to Swanson can look forward to better accommodations. Under a program partially financed by the Bureau of Outdoor Recreation, the area's facilities will be upgraded and expanded. With more and better facilities, more Nebraskans will be able to enjoy the varied activities available at Swanson Reservoir. THE END

55

Roundup and What to do

From Wild West shows to softball world series, May blooms with action

MAY BLOSSOMS WITH a bouquet of colorful happenings as an exciting season of outdoor activities continues. Topping the roster of May sports events is the Women's College Softball World Series. Set for the 15th through the 17th, the series will be hosted by the University of Nebraska at Omaha. Softballs will sail across Omaha's George Dill Softball Center, as gals from colleges around the country compete for the championship.

Sanctioned by both the Amateur Softball Association and the Division of Girl's and Women's Sports, the series, which began last year, was won by the team from John F. Kennedy College of Wahoo. Handily topping competition from nine other schools, the Kennedy "Patriettes" put Nebraska on top the first year and hope to do it again.

One lass working hard to help Kennedy College repeat its success is NEBRASKAland's Hostess of the Month, Cathy Buell, a junior. At last year's contest, she and three other Patriette standouts were elected to the All-Star team. Besides her playing abilities, Cathy was selected Miss Nebraska Softball in 1968, and was a finalist in the 1969 Miss NEBRASKAland contest.

The daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Robert Buell of Des Moines, Iowa, Cathy keeps busy with her schoolwork and outside activities. Majoring in physical education MAY 1970 and biology, Cathy's extracurricular interests reflect her involvement in athletics. She is vice-president of the Patriettes and enjoys all sports, especially softball and volleyball. Secretary to the men's basketball coach, Cathy is a member of Sigma Phi Omega and is presently considering a career as a teacher or as an airline stewardess.

A variety of softball and hardball action will entice players onto diamonds and fans into stands during May, including the Early-Bird Baseball Tournament at Cambridge beginning the 28th. The state high school baseball championships will also be decided in May. The Class A tournament will be in Omaha the 19th and 20th, while the Class B champs will be crowned in Lincoln the 25th.

Another activity using a ball, but a somewhat smaller one, is the ever-popular sport of golf. With mild weather here to stay, duffers will invade links across the state for many rounds of relaxation. Tournaments add interest to every sport, and golf has its share of the competitive spirit. The "Salute to Industry" Tournament at Columbus on the 8th and the Ward Urbom Classic Golf Tourney at Arapahoe on the 24th will see some top golfers in action. High schoolers also have golf contests this month. May 22nd, the Grass Greens Golfers meet. Class A boys head for the fairways at Hastings while the Class B youngsters tee off at Lincoln. The Sand Greens Meet takes place May 9th, with Class A action at St. Paul, and Class B play at Overton.

May brings other sports doings in the form of track and field events. Cozad's Midstate Track Meet will take place on the 30th. Memorial Day will also feature the running of the Marathon Race at Curtis. A similar endurance sport is the 4th Annual Kearney State College Bike Bowl. The long-distance cycling event will be held on the college's track May 2nd.

A different form of transportation will be seen at Cambridge on the 5th. Riders from near and far will saddle their mounts for the Trail Ride. Horse buffs will also enjoy several horse shows around the state during May. These include the Salt Creek Wranglers Open Horse Show on the 17th at Lincoln, and the Nebraska Quarter Horse Show at Broken Bow on the 24th.

The rodeo, Nebraska's own brand of Wild West excitement, adds its color to May's already sparkling array of attractions and events. On the 2nd and 3rd, the Kearney State Collegiate Rodeo will bust from the gates. Along with classic rodeo events for the fellows, gals will compete in such unusual contests as cow milking and pole bending. Another college rodeo will offer thrills at Curtis on the 9th and 10th. Young cowboys will also be testing their skills at the FFA Rodeo at Valentine on the 30th and at the High School Rodeo at Crawford on the 30th and 31st.

Beginning the 1st of the month, May Day, thoroughbreds will again be running at Ak-Sar-Ben in Omaha. Racing action continues there until July 4th.

May ushers in a new season of outdoor festivals, as the rite of spring is celebrated at towns around the state. At Deshler, Spring Daze on the 23rd gives its citizens a reason to gather for merriment. Brownville, down on the Missouri River, also knows how to put on a festival. Fun seekers from Nebraska and surrounding states will head to the historic town on the 31st for its Spring Festival and Flea Market, which offers the chance to pick up interesting items.

Another gala NEBRASKAland happening is the Annual Arbor Day Celebration at Nebraska City. Held each year on the first weekend in May, this year's festivities on the 2nd and 3rd promise to be bigger than ever. Honoring the tradition of Arbor Day, which was begun at Nebraska City by J. Sterling Morton, the celebration includes a barbecue and dance, a parade, and special tours of Arbor Lodge, the former Morton home. A host of other activities makes this event one for the entire family.

Families will also thrill to a visit to Offutt Air Force Base on May 3rd, Nebraska Armed Forces Day in Bellevue. The base has scheduled an Open House, and the kiddies, as well as their parents, can view with pride the operations of a link in our nation's defense system.

From May Day to the Memorial Day weekend, NEBRASKAland will come alive with fun and festivities. Adventure awaits visitors and residents alike, as May bursts into bloom.

What to do 1-July 4 —Horse Racing, Omaha 2 —Bike Bowl, Kearney 2-3 —Collegiate Rodeo, Kearney 2-3 —Arbor Day Celebration, Nebraska City 3 —Nebraska Armed Forces Day, Bellevue 5 —Trail Ride, Cambridge 8 — Golf Tournament, Columbus 9 —State High School Sand Greens Golf Meet, Class A, St. Paul, Class B, Overton 9 —Square Dance Festival, Pershing Auditorium, Lincoln 9-10-College Rodeo, Curtis 9-10—Nebraska Brittany Club Licensed Trial, Raymond 15-17 - Nebraska State Elks Convention, Ogallala 15-17-Women's College Softball World Series, Omaha 16-17 —Nebraska Ornithologists Union Spring Meeting, Halsey National Forest 17 —Horse Show, Lincoln 19-20-State High School Baseball Tournament, Class A, Omaha 22 - State High School Grass Greens Golf Meet, Class A, Hastings, Class B, Lincoln 23 —Spring Festival, Deshler 24 — Nebraska Quarter Horse Show, Broken Bow 24 —Classic Golf Tourney, Arapahoe 25 —State High School Baseball Tournament, Class B, Lincoln 26-28 —Ham Days, Cambridge 28-June 1 —Early-Bird Baseball Tournament, Cambridge 30-FFA Rodeo, Valentine 30 —Marathon Race, Curtis 30 —Midstate Track Meet, Cozad 30-31 -High School Rodeo, Crawford 31 — Spring Festival and Flea Market, Brownville THE END 57

BRIGHT EYES

(Continued from page 53)

after their arrival. During the winter, Chief Standing Bear's son died, and after seeing his other children die, the chief could not bear to bury his son in a foreign land. He decided to take his son north. Thirty others joined him. After the burial, they reached the Omaha Reservation where they begged for and received a parcel of land. As they were about to plant, however, Army officers arrived and arrested them.

They were removed to Fort Omaha where they were imprisoned. An Omaha journalist, T. H. Tibbles, focused his editorial attention on the case and soon had public opinion aroused. Standing Bear, on Tibbles' advice, filed a writ of habeas corpus demanding his freedom. The writ was honored in court, establishing a precedent. Indians were legally persons for the first time.

To further dramatize the Indians' need for help, a speaking tour through the East was planned. Standing Bear was to go East as a ''Symbol of Injustice." Susette's brother, Frank, was to go along as an interpreter, and Bright Eyes joined the entourage as a second interpreter. Her previous experiences in the East might open the way for the entire group.

Here was the young girl's opportunity to show her courage, for the speaking tour must have been terrifying. Young Indian girls were closely supervised, and their entire lives were devoted to "fading into the tepee skins" and serving their families.

Chief Standing Bear, in tribal regalia, was impressive to Easterners reared on tales of wild Indians. The earnest young man in "citizen's clothes" and the lovely Indian girl speaking perfect English and wearing proper dress for a white lady proved that all Indians weren't on the warpath.

Passionately, Susette told the seldom-heard side of the story. She told of atrocities committed by the soldiers, "as horrible as any Indian could think of". She told of a young Easterner who shot an Indian without provocation. He wanted to tell folks back home that he had killed an Indian.

The young Indian girl's unassuming grace won her people an audience in many of the Eastern cities. After her speaking tour, contributions started pouring into the Indian's coffers. Susette's sister, Rosalie, who had become a kind of tribal bookkeeper, handled most of the donations.

During the Eastern tour, Tibbles' wife died. He continued with the little group, however. Later, in 1881, he and Susette were married. For several years, Tibbles and Bright Eyes continued speaking for the Indians. A European tour climaxed their efforts.

In 1890, Tibbles and Susette went to northwestern Nebraska as correspondents for the Omaha Herald and a Chicago paper. They covered the last pitched battle of the Indian Wars, Wounded Knee. After the one-sided battle, during which dozens of Indian men, women, and NEBRASKAland children were killed or wounded, Susette helped care for the injured.

While other correspondents were inventing colorful tales of Indian atrocities, Tibbles was reprimanded for his less-exciting reports of what was really happening—not much. Hysteria, built by the exaggerated reports, contributed to the Army's overreaction.

Whites, always searching for their wild image of the Indian, had found another kind of man. Instead of ferocious, painted Indians with war bonnets, they found pathetic women and children moaning in pain over injuries suffered in a senseless "accident". Even after years of speaking and writing, Tibbles and his wife never quite succeeded in changing the savage image.

Susette's artistic talents had come to light earlier. And during the years of their Lincoln stay, Tibbles and Susette helped with a book written by Fannie Reed Griffen, Oo-ma-ha Ta-wa-tha. Bright Eyes' delicate sketches of Indian life and artifacts were among a very few surviving examples of her art. This was probably the first book illustrated by an American Indian. But the art for Oo-ma-ha Ta-wa-tha may have been among Bright Eyes' last, for she died in 1903, after several years of illness.

Her death was the first among Iron Eye's children. Iron Eye and Mary had four daughters, Susette, Rosalie, Marguerite, and Susan. Each, in her own way, carried on their father's service to the tribe, working in both white and Indian worlds. Rosalie, a kind of bookkeeper, worked mostly on the reservation as a hostess for both Indians and the many important whites who visited them. After her father's death she became a leader in the tribe. Marguerite was a teacher and hostess, while Susan was a doctor.

Iron Eye had other children by two other wives. All that survived to maturity took responsible roles in the tribe. Susette, though, was the first of them to venture into another world — the groundbreaker for her entire generation's cultural transition. She, as much as any other single Indian, told the other side of a tragic story. Her life was devoted to proving the humanity of her people. THE END

28 DAYS TO TURKEY

(Continued from page 49)

of the spinal cord. After 36 hours this line is plainly visible and is thickened at the head end. Thus, visible development of the embryo takes place in a day and a half.

After two days of incubation the eyes and brain begin to form and within 60 hours, the most vital organs for the turkey's survival in the wild, the eyes, become quite prominent.

At four days, the heart is pulsating and blood vessels are evident. A day later, wing and leg buds are clearly visible and the beginning of all organs can be noted. The eyes now contain pigment and show further development. At this stage, the turkey embryo can be compared to a chicken embryo that has developed four days. The embryo now has a good start in life, and normally very little or no mortality occurs between MAY 1970 this stage and just prior to hatching.

After one week of development, legs show up larger than the wings and the three larger toes can be distinguished.

The most noticeable characteristics the eighth day is the increased development of the beak and limbs. Also at this time the turkey's long neck is prominent.

At the end of nine days the "egg tooth" appears. This is a temporary structure, on the upper jaw, used to aid the poult in pipping the egg in order to escape the shell just prior to end of incubation.

Within 10 days feather germs appear as "goose pimples" on the upper portions of the body. The toes are now clearly visible, but they are webbed at this stage. Further development of the legs and wings is noticeable.

On the 12th day of development the turkey embryo can be distinguished from a chicken embryo of equal development by the broad head and long neck of the turkey.

After two weeks, the body is taking on a cover of down. The beak is hardened and the toes now have claws. One-half of the incubation period is completed and in less than two weeks the poult will take its first breath of air.

Pigmented down completely covers the body after 18 days. This stage and the following several stages are characterized by rapid growth of all body parts.

On the 23rd day, the embryo is almost completely developed and the yolk sac transfer to the poult's body begins.

At approximately 27 days, the embryo is in hatching position and it pips into the air cell of the egg and takes its first breath of air. Thus pulmonary respiration begins. The pipping of the shell normally begins on the 27th day or early on the 28th. The egg tooth is used to crack the shell, usually on the large end, and in a counter-clockwise direction.

Thus, after 28 long days the hen has completed her tedious job of hatching the young. Usually all of the eggs in a clutch are fertile —or none of them are. Therefore, the brood size is nearly equal the clutch size. Occasionally some of the first-laid eggs may chill before incubation or an egg is cracked and will not hatch.

After leaving the nest, soon after hatching, the young poults are led to an area where they begin to feed almost immediately on insects. This is a very critical time for the young and the hen has her work cut out for her. One of the dangers at this time is spring rains. If rain and cool-cloudy weather persist for several days, the young will definitely be affected. Weather may not take its toll directly, but if the young cannot get out to eat because of the weather they weaken and are easy prey for predators. They are also more susceptible to disease.

Young poults are very obedient and the mother can hide them in very little cover when in apparent danger. The hen broods the young on the ground, under her wings, for several nights until they are ably to fly into low tree branches and escape from danger.

During summer, it is quite common to see several hens with several young in one flock. It is common for hens, with or without broods, to join each other.

The average brood size for the past nine years in the Pine Ridge is 7.3 young per hen with brood. Brood size ranges from one to as high as 16 young. The lowest production for the nine-year period occurred during the 1967 season. The average brood size was 4.2. This reduction resulted from an early spring blizzard along with cool, wet weather during the normal hatching and early brood-raising period.

59   PIONEER HISTORY INDIAN LORE • NATURAL SCIENCE ... See it all at the House of Yesterday HASTINGS MUSEUM j. m. Mcdonald planetarium Highway #281 and 14th St. Hastings, Nebraska COLLINS Resort on Beautiful Johnson Lake . . . Lakefronf cabins - Fishing tackle • Boats & motors • Free boat ramp - Fishing - Modern trailer court • Swimming - Cate and ice - Boating & skiing - Gas and oil - 9 hole golt course just around the corner - Live and trozen bait. WRITE FOR FREE BROCHURE or phone reservations 785-2298 Elwood, Nebraska LIVE-CATCH ALL-PURPOSE TRAPS

[image]

Write for FREE CATALOG Low as $4.95 Traps without injury squirrels, chipmunks, rabbits, mink, fox, rac- coons, stray animals, pests, etc. Sizes for every need. Also traps for snakes, sparrows, pigeons, crabs, turtles, quail, etc. Save on our low factory prices. Send no money. Free catalog and trapping secrets. MUSTANG MFG. CO.. Oept. N-34, Box 10880. Houston, Tex. 77018 FIST-BOAT-CAMP at Medicine Creek Lodge MEDICINE CHEEK LCDCE • Cafe —groceries-Ice • Bait-Fishing Tackle • Trailer and Boat Space • Fishing permits-Gas-Oil • Cabins-Boats and Motors Write Medicine Creek Lodge, Cambridge, Nebraska 69022 Phone 697-3774 J'S OTTER CREEK MARINA NORTH SIDE LAKE McCONAUGHY OPEN YEAR AROUND

[image]

ALL MODERN MOTEL • CAFE • BAIT • TACKLE GAS • BOAT RENTALS CHRYSLER BOATS MOTORS SALES • SERVICE PHONE KEYSTONE 308-726-2457 P.O. LEWELLEN, NEBR. 69147 ...IN ALMA CUDY'S BAIT SHOP and MOTEL Open 7 days a week • Fishing equipment Trailer Hookups • Hwy. 136 • Vern Jarvis, owner Rudy's - SNELL TYER SALT

[image]

.N0.2734299

or FRESH WATER Money Back Guarantee $1.00 SNELL and TIE ANY SIZE HOOK Order Postage Paid from BUD & NICK'S GUN & TACKLE SHOP 402 SOUTH ST. McCOOK, NEBR. Plan to stay at...

[image]

Samuelson's Lemoyne Cabin's • Cooking Facilities • Free Fish Freezing Store • Gas • Tackle • Bait • Boat & Motor Rental • Guides L R. "Monte" Samuelson Phone 726 2292 ON BIG MAC Lemoyne, Nebr. 60

Under normal conditions, young poults grow rapidly and in a few short months young toms are as large as the mother hen, but the young hens are noticeably smaller. The young remain with the hen throughout the fall and winter and usually form large winter flocks late in the fall. By spring, surviving poults are ready to go on their own to seek mates and repeat the mating, nesting, incubation process to insure propagation of the species. THE END

ONCE UPON A RANCH

(Continued from page 28)

activities are far-reaching once you give the idea a try, and it seems that everytime you think you've done everything you find just that much more to do that's even more inviting than what you have already been doing."

Larry, his wife Virginia, and their seven children are now regular summer fixtures at Rimrock. Their introduction to the vacation opportunity came in the summer of 1968 when a neighbor gave them the "good word". With their seven children ranging in age from 17 to 5, the Lanphiers tend to veer away from lengthy automobile trips because the children always become too tired. Rimrock Ranch was a perfect solution to their vacation "where-to-go" problem, and the end result was a vacation of total happiness.

Last summer the Lanphiers returned to Rimrock in mid-August, this time even more enthusiastic than ever. On their first trip they had met with minor difficulty in finding their way around, basically because of its remoteness and lack of street signs. This was no problem on the return trip as they knew the area well. And, the same attitude applied to the ranch itself as the Lanphier family knew what to expect.

As they approached the ranch, the twins, Carolyn and Geralyn, age 7, chimed out in unison, "Boy, this is living."

Concluding a hearty handshake and a "big howdy" welcome from the Raums, the Lanphiers soon completed moving into their two bedroom modern cabin. In comparison with their normal city environment, the country ranch life is a total change.

"There are no blocks or signs here," pipes up Christopher, age 5. "No street lights either."

Possibly the most remarkable aspect of the Rimrock vacation for the Lanphiers is that for a family of nine, everyone's special fancy is catered to. Patrick, age 12, is a rock hound. Dennis and Terry, 17 and 15, are avid fishermen, while Cathy, 10, Carolyn, Geralyn, and Christopher, delight in hiking, sightseeing, and photography. Larry likes to loaf at random on his vacation and to swim. He could be found daily visiting the Crawford municipal swimming pool just nine miles from the Ranch. Virginia's specialty is the invigorating country air, and early-morning walks along the fishing ponds and over the gently rolling hills.

The evenings and nights at Rimrock brought special meaning to the entire NEBRASKAland Lanphier family. Dennis and Terry rolled out sleeping bags and bedded down on the porch to sleep under the stars much like working cowboys in the best of Hollywood's movies. The cabins are all secluded in the swaying pine trees, and the cool, gentle breezes were perfect for superb nighttime sleeping.

During their week-long stay at Rimrock last summer, a typical vacation day for the Lanphiers was kicked off by Virginia. As "Old Sol" was just beginning his day's work, she would leave the cabin on a solo early-morning walk. Then later, back at the cabin, Virginia fixed up a hearty breakfast.

"Even the food tastes better out there," she claims. And, although she fixed all of the family meals, Virginia labels Rimrock as a perfect vacation. "I love to cook, and it is all the more fun there. In fact, even though I am doing more and start my day earlier, it may sound unbelievable, but I simply can't get fired because I have too darn much fun.'

After breakfast, Dennis, Terry, and Patrick were off to the fishing holes. Cathy, the twins, and Christopher were close behind to watch the fishermen and enjoy an exploratory walk. Mom and dad would sit back for a second cup of coffee and delve into some good, old-fashioned relaxation and conversation.

Then, on request, Mr. Raum saddled horses for a trail ride which normally lasted for about two hours and was perfect for mid-morning.

On mounting up for their first ride, Mr. Raum cautioned Patrick, "Be careful now son, that ole gal likes to take a bite along the trail."

"A bite of what?" was Patrick's anxious response.

The trail ride takes its participants deep into the rugged bluff country of the Pine Ridge and is not only exciting but also educational.

After lunch, the Lanphiers bade the ranch goodby for a jaunt into the surrounding countryside. These jaunts included swimming stopoffs at Crawford's municipal pool, visits to close-by rock havens, Fort Robinson, the Badlands, and whatever else the family felt like.

Return to Rimrock later in the day was welcomed by the entire family. Especially since the tall pine trees offered a cool retreat from the burning August sun. Dinner was next on the agenda and "eat-a-bear" appetites were a common denominator. The children adhered to their outdoor play while Virginia fixed dinner with nary a worry about streets or traffic. After dinner, a relaxing atmosphere ruled the roost until bedtime. That is unless the vacationer decided otherwise. At the request of their guests, the Raums will try anything once. And, between the Lanphiers and other vacationers, a mouth-watering fish fry and post-dinner campfire singout was dreamed up for one evening. It came off like a charm to the delight of all. And, what could be better than fresh fish just landed at the ranch.

The Lanphiers made friends with another family from Omaha last summer, the Coolidges. Richard, his wife Blanche, and daughter Anne, age 10, had always heard about western Nebraska and the Pine Ridge, but had never gone to see for themselves. They, too, chose to stay at Rimrock as the result of the "good word" from a neighbor.

MAY 1970 NEBRASKAland RANCH VACATIONA NAME AND LOCATION For further Details or Reservations, Call or Write: SEASON Recreation Ranch Working Ranch Bunk Houses Housekeeping Cabins Fishing Hunting Horseback Riding Swimming Hiking Rimrock Recreation Ranch 3 miles north and 6 miles west of Crawford, Nebraska Ross Raum, Route 3, Crawford, 69339 Tel.: (308) 54J1 April to December Pine Hills Ranch 14 miles northeast of Rushville, Nebraska Sherman Harris, Route 1, Rushville, 69360 Tel.: (308) 327-2762 Year-Round Newman's Guest Ranch 17 miles north of Stuart, Nebraska Herb Newman, Stuart, 68780 Tel.: (402) 924-3292 Year-Round Deer Lawn Guest Ranch 17 miles southwest of Valentine, Nebraska— Merritt Dam Road William Powell, Box 427, Valentine, 69201 Tel.: (402) 376-2699 Year-Round G. L. Hamm Ranch 8 miles south and east of Whitney, Nebraska G. L. Hamm, Box 57, Whitney, 69367 Tel.: (308) 665-1706 June to January Bankrupt Guest Ranch 11 miles west and north of Sargent, Nebraska Robert Hanson, Sargent, 68874 Tel.: (308) 942-6554 April to December Riverview Vacation Ranch 5% m'les southwest of Comstock, Nebraska Philip & Raymond Dowse, Comstock, 68828 Tel.: (308) 628-2504 Year-Round Hat C Ranch 20 miles northwest of Gordon, Nebraska Kenneth Child, Gordon, 69343 Tel.: (308) 60J11 May to December Golden Horseshoe Ranch 12 miles north of Ainsworth, Nebraska Joanne Graves, Ainsworth, 69210 Tel.: (402) 387-2449 Year-Round Frank Hamilton Ranch 2 miles west of Ellsworth, Nebraska Frank Hamilton, Ellsworth, 69340 Tel.: (308) 118 June to September McDowell Guest Ranch 2 miles west of Arnold, Nebraska Robert McDowell, Arnold, 69120 Tel.: (308) 848-2793 Year-Round Harmony Guest Ranch 5 miles south and 4 miles west of Loup City, Nebraska Luther Harmon Loup City, 68853 Tel.: (308) 322-W11 Year-Round FOR KIDS ONLY NAME AND LOCATION For further Details or Reservations,  Call  or Write: SEASON Girls Only Girls and boys Ages Swimming Archery Rifelry Hiking Camping Horseback Riding Fishing Lake Mary Ranch Camp 15 miles north and 2 miles east of Aurora, Nebraska Mary Ann Pence 1913 M Street Aurora, 68818 Tel.: (402) 694-2418 June to September 8 to 13 Jon Schulke's All-Sports Camp 2 miles north of Ponca, Nebraska Jon Schulke Ponca, 68770 Tel.: (402) 755-2776 June to September Myers Albino Acres 1/2 mile northwest of Stuart, Nebraska Janice Myers Stuart, 68780 Tel.: (402) 924-3916 June to September 8 to 16 Ponda Rosa Western Ranch 5 miles southeast of Nebraska City, Nebraska Bill Stites Ponda Rosa Ranch Nebraska City, 68410 Tel.: (402) 873-5068 July to September Ringenberg Guest Ranch 4 miles south and 3 miles west of Elwood, Nebraska Don Ringenberg, R R 2 Elwood, 68937 Tel.: (308) 785-2294 June to September 8 to 15 Saddle Horn Ranch 13 miles southeast of O'Neill, Nebraska Helen Martins O'Neill, 68763 Tel.: (402) 336-2208 June to September 9 to 14   BIG I NEBRASKAgram an important fact about the great cornhusker state NEBRASKANS Live LONGER. THAN PEOPLE IN ANY OTHER STATE

[image]

[image]

Your Independent Insurance Agent Serves You First

This message brought to you by your local INDEPENDENT INSURANCE AGENT who is a member of the Nebraska Association of Insurance Agents Wondering? Phone ahead first LINCOLN TEL. AND TEL. CO.

[image]

All Types LIVE BAIT OPEN-24-HRS. MAY 1ST TO SEPT. 1ST South Side Co-op 8501 West "O" Street (Emerald) 435-1611 Lincoln, Nebr. 68502 Fishermen and Hunters Enjoy the Harlan County Reservoir Stay at

[image]

AAA

[image]

ARROW LODGE

Box 606 ALMA, NEBRASKA 68920 Telephone 928-2167 HIGHWAYS Air-Conditioned. 183-383 and 136 TV, Telephones One and Two-Room Units Cafe 1/2 Block Away Laundromat Nearby FOR SALE BLACK WALNUT TREES 10,000 with 10 acres of Iowa land. $2500. total price. R. W. Daubendiek 504 Center Avenue Decorah, Iowa 52101

[image]

DISCOVER AMERICA

[image]

[image]

UNION LOAN & SAVINGS A S SOCIATION NEBRASKAlands MONEYIand 209 SO. 13 • 56TH&O • LINCOLN 1716 SECOND AVE. • SCOTTSBLUFF

[image]

62

The Coolidges were immensely impressed with the fantastic scenery, and the unbelievable hospitality shown by Mr. and Mrs. Raum.

The quiet, serenity, and just knowing you're so close to nature and so far away from crowds are the area's biggest assets," according to Mrs. Coolidge.

The country is so big and nice and the horse rides so much fun," chimes in Anne. "We saw wild deer and birds of all sizes," she continues. "And, you never saw so many pretty rocks as at this one place, and hardly any traffic wherever we went."

Like the Lanphiers, the Coolidges plan to return to Rimrock Ranch. And, quite remarkably, a typical day spent on the ranch by the Coolidges differed considerably from that of the Lanphiers. The Coolidges concentrated heavily on rock hounding and sightseeing and nearly confined themselves to the ranch.

"A home away from home is an appropriate description for Rimrock, a wonderful opportunity to get away from it all," reports Richard Coolidge after his family's visit to Rimrock Ranch.

And, Anne even found playmates away from home as she was immediately included in the Lanphier children's frolics.

As their respective vacations ended, Rimrock had provided pleasing, fun-filled family vacations for the Lanphiers and Coolidges. However, their excursions to Rimrock represent much more than great fun to their individual families. They are "honest" and "happy" testimonials of the vast array of vacation fun that is available to Nebraskans in Nebraska. Each year more and more Nebraska folks are "discovering" for themselves the scenic wonders and sculptured beauty of nature that we have here in our own backyards. See-and-do fun reaches heights far unimagined by those who are "first-time" vacationers in NEBRASKAland. This vacation, go ahead, take a spin around NEBRASKAland-you'll be glad you did! THE END

JUST ONE MORE SLOUGH

(Continued from page 15)

20 yards toward the opposite side of the slough. I decided to try a silver spinner. Paul took out a natural-color crawler. Checking the depth, I found one spot that held about eight feet of water, so I worked the spinner quickly away from the bank and then slowed it as the depth increased. After a half dozen unproductive casts, I felt a couple of rapid bumps on the spinner and flicked the rod tip.

Running the spinner through the area, I felt the fish bump the lure again. As I pulled the spinner from the water, a crappie about 10 inches long darted up at it, and then flashed back into the depths. Paul wanted to know what it was.

"Crappie," I answered, "I wouldn't doubt that we could take a few if we used some small jigs. Want to try one?" "I'm after that big bass," Paul replied. "O.K., we'll stick to bass," I replied, easing the canoe farther along the shore.

It was nearly an hour before we joined Lee and Don. "Had a couple rises on surface NEBRASKAland plugs," Don said in answer to our inquiry. "I'm sure one was a bass, but the other could have been a bluegill or a green sunfish with a big appetite."

The head end of the slough was blocked off with a beaver dam, so I beached the canoe to check the pond behind it. The water there was clearer than in the main slough, and 10 minutes of casting revealed there were fish in it, but my exploration of the pond was cut short by distant thunder.

"I think we had better head out," I said, easing in beside our partners' canoe. "This slough looks promising, but it will have to wait for another time."

Lee agreed. "Don and I were just talking about coming back and working this one again. It might be better if the water cleared up a little more."

Back on the river we made good time for the first mile then the channel cut back to the north and spread out over the sandy bottom. Overhead, the ensuing storm was taking on new vigor with flashing lightning and growling thunder.

"I don't like getting caught out in the open," I mumbled, digging the paddle into the sand bottom and poling the canoe through the shallows.

"Looks like a little deeper water coming up between those two islands," Paul offered, enjoying the fact that we were racing something even if it was a storm.

"Hey, look!" Paul yelled, pointing to a coyote that spooked out of a narrow band of willow and headed across a sandbar for the south shore. "Do you think the thunder spooked him?"

"Not the thunder as much as the noise of my bowman banging his paddle on the side of the canoe," I grinned. "Quit talking and keep paddling, or we're going to get wet."

As we neared the downstream end of the island, I noticed an extremely fast run dead ahead of the canoe just as Paul asked, "Are we going right through those rapids?"

"Should be the best spot. It's just fast water piling into shallows below the run that makes waves like that," I answered as the rain began pelting us. Slipping off the seat, I knelt in the bottom of the canoe as we entered the run.

"How come you're kneeling?" Paul called as we sliced through waves that lapped at the gunwales.

"Keeps the center of gravity lower and makes the canoe a lot more stable," I explained as we hit the biggest wave.

Seconds later we were through the run and into a multitude of shallow channels that sometimes would and sometimes would not float the canoe. Our partners were hanging with us in the race against the weather. "Are those the cottonwoods Ken mentioned?" Lee called as we pulled over a sandbar.

"Must be," I answered. "I think that must be him standing just this side of them."

Ken told us that he couldn't get our gear into the slough where we were to camp. "The trail into the area is clay. With the rain we might get in by car, but we might also stay in there until it dried out. I suggest we beach the canoes and hike to the car until this storm slacks off. In fact, we might as well go back up MAY 1970 and get your wagon, Gene, and then haul these canoes out and hit a slough down below Spencer Dam. I know we can get into that and camp for the night."

Taking most of our gear, we headed through a tangle of willow and marshland for probably 500 yards, then broke out of the tangle into a pasture and headed for the car. An hour and a half later, five very tired and very wet adventurers pulled into the slough a mile or so below Spencer Dam. We four adults were fairly well worn out from dragging the canoes out of the river bottom, but Paul was enjoying everything, even getting wet. "Say, Dad," he said as we set up the tents, "wouldn't Mom have a fit if she could see us now? Your fishing hat looks like it got caught in a stampede."

"I think she might have had a hard time identifying her son, too," Lee laughed.

With the tents up, we peeled off our wet clothes and slipped into some dry ones. The rain had stopped and the western sky showed patches of blue.

"Our light lunch isn't holding up too well," I offered. "If you guys want to go fishing, Paul and I will get the stove going and get some chow. It's almost eight and we're starved. Try to be back in an hour."

"I'll help with the food, too," Ken decided. "I'm more in favor of eating than fishing."

A spring fed the downstream end of the slough, so I asked Paul to go fill the coffeepot from the little creek. His trip over was slow in comparison to the return, and Paul was soon telling me about the fish where he got the water. "There's a bunch of small fish, bluegills, I think he chattered. "Think I can catch any?

"Let me get the stove going and the coffee on, then we'll check," I answered.

The fish turned out to be bluegill and green sunfish up to about seven inches.

"I think you can catch some," I agreed. "Take your knife and cut a willow switch about five feet long. I'll get some monofilament and there's a can of worms in the car. Put them all together, and you should be able to take them ala Huck Finn." While he liked to think of himself

as a teen-ager, I could see the boy and the willow-pole idea was OK.

When Lee and Don returned, their stringer looked encouraging. Lee had two largemouths, one about three pounds, and the other about a pound and a half. Don's largest topped Lee's by a half pound, and he had four others in the one to two-pound class.

"Lost quite a few others," Don grinned. "They were coming up and slamming surface stuff, but I think I landed as many tonight as I usually do on surface plugs. Don't you, Lee?"

"Right," answered his partner. "If I land 50 percent of the strikes I get on top water lures, I feel I'm doing fine. My average went down tonight, though. I must have had a dozen strikes and only netted this pair."

It was dark by the time Ken and I had finished up the camp chores, so all of us turned in.

It didn't seem any time until the morning sun was streaming through the tent flap. The night had been cold and the lingering chill bit through my wool shirt as I made coffee. One of the canoes was missing, so I checked the big tent to find that Don had gotten up at dawn and was out fishing. The coffee was perked and the sausage and eggs ready when the rest of the crew groggily emerged from the tents.

"Well, we have one fisherman in the crew, anyway," Ken yawned. "I wonder if Don is doing any good."

Fifteen minutes later Don came gliding up to the shore. "Remember what I said about this 'widow maker' of yours, Gene?" he asked with a sheepish grin. "I hooked a bass that tipped the thing over."

"Did you land the fish?" Ken inquired as the very wet fisherman sloshed ashore. "No", Don replied, "but I did hang on to the rod and reel, and luckily, I had my tacklebox closed and got it back, too." "Well, we 'drybacks' are ready to go fishing," Lee heckled. "I don't know if I want to get in a canoe with you or not, but then I wouldn't mind hanging a bass big enough to flip the canoe."

"I'll ease up on setting the hook next time," Don promised, shivering. "Wait until I change clothes and we'll try again. By the way, I did land a couple that will go between 1 1/2 and 2 pounds."

Ken volunteered to fish the bank if we gave him a ride down the slough, so he climbed into Lee and Don's canoe. We found a clear spot along the bank and Ken went ashore. Paul volunteered to handle our canoe and let me fish as we followed the other two.

The shoreline looked good and the waters in the west end of the slough were clearer than those near camp. "Rained quite a bit along this bank last night," Lee called as he cast a surface lure within inches of the grassy shore.

Snapping on a skirted popper, I began working the shoreline, casting to overhanging brush, fallen logs, and the edge of the underwater weeds.

"Missed him," Lee called some 15 minutes after. "Not me," Don said, rearing back on his rod. The bass shattered the surface in a finny explosion, curled into a half-gainer, 63   and then straightened out and splatted back into the water in a perfect bellyflop.

"Bring him up again," I coached, "and I'll take your picture."

"He's coming," Don shouted as the bass came out in a head-shaking leap, trying to throw the plug. A couple of seconds later, the fish dove into the heavy weeds, and when he was finally hauled aboard the greenery was still draped over half of his length.

"Not bad," Lee observed, "he must be better than two pounds. I wonder if that's the same one that hit my plug?"

"Could be," Don replied, stringing the fish.

"I think you guys are double teaming those bass," Paul gibed. "One guy gets them mad enough to make a mistake and the other guy clobbers them."

"All's fair in love and fishing," Don chuckled.

A few minutes later we eased around a small point to where a log was lying along the shore. I sent the plunker in on target, twitched in a couple times, and got a solid strike. The bass zipped away from the shoreline, drove through the edge of the weed bed, and tried to jump, but the line dragging in the weeds stopped him. The fish, about a two-pounder, porpoised along the surface for some five feet then dove back into the weeds to fight the rest of the battle in the aquatic greenery. I worked him free of the tangle, eased my thumb into his lower jaw, and hoisted him aboard.

Paul worked the canoe within casting distance of the south shore while Don and Lee worked the north. A few minutes after I connected, Lee tied into a one-pounder and landed him after a good aerial display which lasted for what seemed an eternity.

A patch of willow overhanging the water looked good, so I tossed the lure into its shadows. The plug had just hit the water when a bass came up and smacked it. After one spectacular jump he made for deep water, but after a minute, he came sliding into my waiting hand.

It was nearing noon when we decided to try one more slough about 200 yards below the one we were on. I had landed one bass about three pounds and two smaller ones. Lee and Don had five between them, the largest a bit over the three-pound class.

There was no doubt in our minds that the slough held an excellent population of largemouth plus plenty of bluegill and sunfish but time was running out.

"Seeing we all have to leave this afternoon," I suggested, "let's make a quick portage to the other slough and check it out, then come back and eat lunch."

Thirty minutes later we were in the canoes and looking over a very shallow piece of water. The bottom was barren of any vegetation and had large cracks, indicating that it had been dry and then reflooded. The only life we could find in the clear water was a huge snapping turtle. Then we had to leave.

As we reviewed the trip, all of us agreed that exploring the sloughs has merit far and above the fishing. Most of them are remote and many are seldom fished, but all offer adventure. THE END

64

WORLD SERIES OF SKATING

(Continued from page 45)

run their dusty, jukebox rinks. These same rinks became the local hangouts and skating's image suffered.

"Skating center operators and our national organization are working hard to change that image," Ron indicated. "We want to appeal to the entire family. In order to stay at our rink, the kids have to put on a pair of skates. The only exceptions are parents who come to watch their children. In fact, we want the parents to see our facilities.

"The image of skating has changed here in Lincoln and around Nebraska. Parents are no longer afraid to leave their kids here on a Saturday afternoon while they go shopping. Our center is probably the biggest baby-sitting service in town and that is the image we want to have."

In Omaha, the interest in skating has literally forced Frank Cernik, owner of Omaha's newest rink, Skateland Skate Center, to close his doors. Since the rink's pening in 1968, the rink operator has shut his doors more than once because of an overflow crowd. The center comfortably skates 1,000 a session and on an average weekend, starting with Friday night, over 5,000 people will roll their way to fun. Cernik's rink presently ranks as one of the top-attendance rinks in the nation. Because of the local skating support he has received, he is opening two new skating centers in Omaha this fall.

Cernik's rink, like m st newer centers, is designed with the roller skater in mind. The days of wooden floors are numbered. Most new or remodeled rinks have an asphalt-base and plastic-coated floor. Not only does it reduce the noise of rolling skates, but the dusty atmosphere, long associated with skating, is also gone.

"Our music is programmed to suit the crowd we have on hand. During our Wednesday morning women's session we play mainly organ music, while on Friday nights when we have mainly teenagers, the music is rock and roll. On

family night we play both popular and old songs," Frank indicated. "Colored lights also fit the mood of the music."

"At our rink we have a dress code. Bluejeans, long haircuts, sweatshirts, and shorts aren't allowed. To control crowds, there is a skating floor man and we have an off-duty policeman in the parking lot on the weekends."

More and more Nebraskans are finding fun on wheels. Skating as a recreation has made its big comeback in the state. When Lincoln finally holds the World Roller Skating Championships in August, it can truly be said that NEBRASKAland is the nation's Roller Skating Capital. THE END

SACRAMENTO MIXED-BAG

(Continued from page 52)

duck was hit, but only slightly, and he continued to climb. Dick's second shot brought him down in a graceful arc right at the edge of the pond. Retrieving his kill, Dick examined the bird with a smile of satisfaction.

"I feel better now that I've contributed something to the success of this hunt, he remarked. "That was just like a movie sequence, I opined. "I was about 10 feet behind you and got a real good look at the whole thing."

We could still hear occasional shots in the distance, so we knew our guys were still enjoying themselves. Later, we learned the hunters had taken 4 mallards, so Dick's drake brought our total to 10 webfeet for the 2 days. In addition, we chalked up four pheasants, two bunnies, and one squirrel. The tally could have been considerably higher, if we had really given the game the squeeze play, but we were basically interested in determining Sac's mixed-bag potential, not in limiting out.

Evald Abrahamson and Dick Person keep pretty sharp on ducks by frequenting a blind on the Platte River northwest of Holdrege, but they agreed that Sacramento offered as good hunting as the river. Duck concentrations at Sac sometimes reach 50,000.

Orval Harms said the ringneck populations which we encountered were about normal. There are usually plenty of ringnecks inhabiting the area, but the heavy cover gives them plenty of hiding places.

The apparent absence of bobwhites was disappointing, but everything else was completely satisfactory. Actually, we hunted harder for quail than the other species, but they were experts in evasion. Not only did our "regular" gunners seek them out without success, but we got the same story from Game Commission personnel on the area and from other hunters.

Even without the bobs we had a fine hunt, which made us realize how important state public-hunting areas, like Sacramento, are to the sportsmen. The secret at Sac is good habitat which is maintained throughout the year. It wasn't easy hunting, but the game was there. That is all any hunter can expect. THE END

NEBRASKAland

Outdoor Elsewhere

Mother of Invention. Sportsmen have to be some of the craftiest individuals around. As a case in point, a non-resident bowman in New Hampshire recently connected with a 250-lb. black bear. But, much to the hunter's dismay, the bear climbed a tree and became firmly wedged between two limbs before dying. Unable to dislodge the huge animal, the hunter headed for the nearest lumber yard, bought the needed materials for a ladder, built it, and retrieved his bruin. —New Hampshire

Plain Ole Talk. A 10-year-old boy stole the show from all the experts speaking at an air pollution control hearing in New York recently. The young man said he favored cleaning up the air simply because, " I want my children to live. That is, if I live to have any children." And he sat down. Enough said!— New York

Fatal Facts. With the news full of "hunting accidents," Oregon officials decided to do a little checking on the statistics. Checking on last October, Oregon's busiest hunting month, they found 3 firearm deaths among approximately 360,000 hunters, or about one death for every 120,000 hunters. In the same month, the state's 1,125,000 licensed drivers chalked up 74 fatalities for one in every 17,000 drivers. Seems as though hunting was about six times safer than driving a car in Oregon during the month of October. — Oregon

Live Bait. A Rhode Island angler recently experienced a rather unusual happening with live bait. He was standing on a dock when he saw a large bluefish, that appeared to have been speared, swimming by. So, he jumped into the water to capture the fish. The tables turned however, when the bluefish turned on him and chomped down on his arm. And, the fish wouldn't let go. The local fire department had to be summoned to remove the fish with the aid of tongue depressors. — Rhode Island

For The Record. A survey recently released by the Minnesota Game Department reveals that dogs killed more than four times as many deer as wolves and coyotes combined in the first three months of 1969, when snow and ice conditions were at their worst. A total of 519 kills were attributed to dogs, as opposed to 126 for wolves and coyotes. Each case was investigated by conservation officers of that state. — Minnesota

A Sticky Subject. If you've ever tried to pry a barnacle off a rock, then you know how difficult the task can be. It seems that the lowly barnacle secretes a brownish liquid through its antennae to cement himself to his home. The University of Akron is studying this glue to see if perhaps man might be able to copy the barnacle adhesive. The cement hardens underwater in 15 minutes and sticks to anything from glass to teflon with a tensile strength of 200 tons per square inch. Dentists are looking to the stuff for possible use in gluing fillings into teeth. — Ohio

Gag Rule. Why some species of fish behave as they do has amazed biologists for years, not to mention anglers. A New York fisherman can't for the life of him understand why striped bass feed on blowfish, particularly after finding a surfaced 15-pounder strangling on a fully-inflated blowfish stuck in its throat.— New York

High Cost of Littering. The old adage that what goes up must come down was reversed in a recent court case in Minnesota, to read —"what goes down must come up." The case involved a fellow who apparently had a habit of tossing beer cans out of his car window. He was caught and when he appeared in court, the judge ordered him to pick up the can he threw out, along with other debris from both sides of IV2 miles of highway, or pay a $100 fine. The fellow chose to clean up the roadsides, literally learning the hard way not to litter. -Minnesota

Extenuating Circumstances. It seems that even wildlife can sometimes be the victims of extenuating circumstances. Such is the case with a black bear in New Mexico that bit a Boy Scout and clawed a counselor who tried to scare it away. The bear will be trapped and transplanted in the back country, but he is not entirely to blame for his fate. The big fellow had been baited into an area so the Scouts could take pictures, a practice not only unfair to the bruin, but also foolish and dangerous for the young shutterbugs. —New Mexico

NEBRASKAland