INVOLVEMENT IS NECESSITY

For the Record...

This fall, countless hunters will be eagerly heading for the hills and fields of America in pursuit of game. A great portion of this game will be found on privately owned land. Of America's total land area, about nine-tenths is cropland, timberland, or grazing land. Three-fourths of the land is owned by private citizens. Nearly all of this private land is used to sustain the life of the landowner, but this land must also sustain the wildlife we desire to hunt.

The passing of state laws or the establishment of statewide policies or programs by the Game Commission or other governmental agency does not and cannot change or regulate the attitudes of people, and most certainly cannot grant us the right to trespass on land owned by another citizen. The privilege of going on land owned by someone else can only be maintained if we, while hunting or fishing, take proper action and maintain the right attitudes. We are, in fact, the landowner's guests. If we act as guests, the landowner will undoubtedly permit us to return if he knows us.

To abuse the land is to abuse its owner. Why not start a good sportsman-landowner relationship with him? Make a new friend. Take a few minutes to introduce yourself. This may be the most important few minutes in your outdoor life. Ask permission to hunt on his land. Ask if there is anything you might do for him. Show your appreciation. Many of these landowners live in remote areas and seldom visit large cities. If you do, suggest that he call on you when in town. Just as your pleasures are derived from his land, why not offer him some pleasure from your land.

The hunter or fisherman who fails to ask permission before going on private land may cause the land to be closed. The person who destroys property, litters the fields, or in any way treats the land with disrespect does as great a disservice as the poacher. Permission to hunt on select land does not mean blanket use of the land.

Probably the biggest change for the modern hunter is his transportation. Throughout the United States, the standard of living keeps going up. The hunter, as a citizen, is one whose income has risen. He can spend more on the sport now than he could 20 years ago. Increases in the cost of hunting licenses have been moderate, and equipment offers the one big opportunity to spend his increased funds. Equipment for transportation is perhaps the most expensive and, when improperly used, can be an instrument of destruction.

Many hunters now use modern vehicles while afield. It is indeed unfortunate that many so-called sportsmen seem determined to use wheels where wheels were never meant to be. Even in remote areas on public land, the use of wheel-driven vehicles is being put under strict supervision. Careless use of these machines on private land could bring about quick closure for everyone. Unless special permission is obtained, vehicles should never be driven from established roads.

Unless we, the sportsmen, organize and ask to become involved, our future use of private land could be severely jeopardized. If disrespect for property leads to land closure, you and I will be the losers.

Speak Up

TOPS IN TRAVEL-"During the 30's, we were on a ranch at Kilgore and times were bad. We had seven children and ended up as a traveling musical family. We roamed over 37 states in 6 1/2 years and found how much Nebraska was behind the times in making our state attractive to travelers. "Now I think we rate above average and I enjoy traveling in the state. I think NEBRASKAland is a fine thing and I hope we can keep on seeing the beautiful natural pictures." —Bill Schroeder, Hazard.

PORTRAITS OF PAST-"Is it possible to purchase the Indian portraits that appeared in the May and June issues of NEBRASKAland? Also, can they be purchased in larger sizes?" —J. O. Parker, Des Moines, Iowa. Requests or questions regarding these portraits should be sent to Rinehart-Marsden Studio, 1772 Douglas, Omaha, Nebraska 68102.- Editor.

FAUNA FOREVER-"I have long been interested in NEBRASKAland's Notes on Nebraska Fauna. And I am wondering if any plans have been formulated to print a book of this series. I would be most interested in obtaining a copy."- James Seaton, Lincoln. Such a publication has been discussed for some time. However, before undertaking such a project, we would like to hear from readers (Continued on page 11)

IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU

IT WILL NEVER happen to me, I always thought, but it did —four years ago. Three friends and I were hunting pheasant, near Gresham. I'll never forget.

I won't name my three companions because I don't feel it would serve any useful purpose, but the reason I want to tell the story is because I feel there is a need to emphasize safety standards for hunters. The best way for me to do this is to tell the story of that incident in which I was a victim.

It happened November 19, 1966, a clear fall day. We drove to a field two or three miles southwest of Gresham, parked the car on a gravel road, and began walking four abreast across a field. A creek bed meandered in a southerly direction across the field, the same way we were heading. There was a stand of brome grass and the creek bed was approximately 15 feet deep, with heavy vegetation in it.

The time was 2:30 p.m. I was at the extreme right end of the line we formed. Birds were flushing forward and to the right, so we agreed that I would circle around that way and cut off the birds.

I crossed a fence and entered an adjoining field, pushing about 30 feet ahead of the line formed by the other hunters. Then, at a point where the creek bed turned sharply to the left in an easterly direction, I doubled back and re-entered the first field.

Our strategy worked. The birds continued flushing as they had before and I got three pheasants with the 12-gauge I was using. My companions got three between them.

Since the creek bed had turned east, and the other three had followed it, working in and alongside the heavy vegetation, I was again part of the straight line we now formed.

I was at a point about 140 feet from the creek bed and stepped onto a small plateau about 5 feet below the level of the field.

The action was slow and I was watching a farmer in the next field when suddenly a covey of quail flushed between me and the nearest hunter. I heard a shot and turned instantly. I saw a quail flying and a hunter shooting at it.

The shot hit me. I was blinded and sank to the dirt, pain seering through my brain. I felt blood trickling down my face. My companions were just emerging from the draw when I heard one NEBRASKAland

I don't remember everything too clearly from that point on because I drifted in and out of consciousness, but I do recall that they dragged me to the car and rushed to a hospital in York. There they gave me a shot to relieve the pain. My companions tried to comfort me because I could not see, and told me I must be taken to an eye surgeon right away.

I was taken by ambulance to Bryan Memorial Hospital in Lincoln where surgery began. The doctor told me later that 13 pellets were embedded in my face. One had severed the optic nerve of my right eye. This pellet was removed, along with another from my forehead. The rest stayed, and are still there. Another had injured the retina of my left SEPTEMBER 1970 eye. It, too, is still there and doctors do not dare an attempt at removal because it is so close to the brain that the eyesight I still have might be lost.

Although I was blind for a while after the accident, surgery and medical care have restored 20/30 vision to my left eye. My right eye is blind.

After recovery I filed a lawsuit in Lancaster District Court, claiming damages for personal injury, but the decision was in favor of the defendant. I appealed to the Nebraska Supreme Court for a reversal and new trial, but the supreme court upheld the verdict of the lower court.

The supreme court's ruling was based on definitions of care required of persons carrying a loaded gun. I'll read from the record, published in the Supreme Court Journal's Advance Sheets of Nebraska Reports, July 19, 1969:

"The court did instruct that in handling a loaded shotgun, defendant was 'charged with the highest degree of care.' It is plaintiff's position (in the appeal) that this instruction does not 'place an adequate degree of duty upon defendant.' Negligence is usually defined as 'doing of something which an ordinarily prudent person would not have done under the same or similar circumstances, or the failure to do something which an ordinarily prudent person would have done under the same or similar circumstances.'

"The degree of care required varies with the circumstances and increases greatly when one is dealing with a dangerous instrumentality. The usual definition of negligence... was sufficient.

"When the burden of exercising 'the highest degree of care' is placed upon a defendant, it is difficult to understand how a more 'adequate degree of duty' could be imposed." My doctor tells me that I must never hunt again, much as I would like to continue, because the recoil of a gun could cause injury to the eye out of which I still see. I never drive on a highway because sometimes my vision is blurred momentarily, and I have to blink several times to clear it. These moments of blindness could be enough to cause an accident in fast traffic. Also, I often use a flashlight now in my profession as a plumber where dull light might have been sufficient before.

Although my life has changed to some degree, I have recovered and would enjoy hunting as much as ever, if I could. The best I can do now is warn other sportsmen about safety precautions they should take. One, which I feel very strongly about, is that they should wear safety glasses whenever they are afield. I think the damage to my eyes could have been averted if I had worn safety glasses that day four years ago.

Another very important aspect of hunting is gun safety. I made a comment in court that the person who fired the shot couldn't see me. He followed the bird to his right and, being right-handed, his vision was blocked on that side, except immediately in front of his eyes. You don't see anything when you fire a shot except the bird and the sights.

Although we thought we had taken all precautions on our hunt near Gresham, obviously something went wrong, and an accident occurred. It could happen to anyone, just as it happened to me, but I hope it does not. THE END

SPEAK UP

who might be interested in it. Address correspondence to NEBR ASK Aland, State Capitol, Lincoln, Nebraska 68509 — Editor.

IRATE-"I enjoy NEBRASKAland, but Mr. Wendell Bever's article in June (The Changing Face Of Conservation) has not settled very well with me. He may be an angry man, but I wonder how many men are angry at him now.

"I am sure that if he would stop and think where our country would be if we let the land grow to weeds and scrub-type trees to have plentiful wild animals, he might change his mind.

"Evidently he never eats beef since he would rather see an antelope than a white-faced cow, or pork or mutton, since woven wire fences are the culprits also. He can't be a vegetarian, because if it were not for certain pesticides, the bugs would eat the crops. He must be living in a dugout as he doesn't like to see pine trees planted.

"I am sure if Mr. Bever would come to our county, he would find that farmers are conserving land with grass seedings, terraces, dams, and other methods to stop pollution. He would also find plenty of wild plums, chokecherry, wild grapes, pheasant, deer, coyotes, fox, and coon.

"I don't think he found the answer to his problem —he created another." — Rudolph Rezac, David City.

RATTLERS RECALLED-"Several years ago you had an article concerning a gentleman whose hobby was hunting rattlesnakes (Buzz-Tailed Bolos, June 1966). I believe he came from Imperial, but I am not certain.

"After I read the article about this gentleman, I wrote and ordered two of these string ties with rattlesnake slides. I have friends who look at these ties and want them, but I no longer have this gentleman's address. Can you help?" — John L. Beattie, Creston, Iowa.

The gentleman who made rattlesnake bolos is L. P. Kramer of Imperial.— Editor.

TOO LATE-"The June 1970, issue of your magazine carried a portfolio of Indian photographs (Portraits of the Past), reportedly taken at the Trans-Mississippi and International Exposition in Omaha in 1898.

"The photographs are of good quality and the one of Sitting Bull is especially good. However, historians will be amazed that he appeared in such good condition in 1898 in view of the fact that he was killed and buried in December 1890, at Standing Rock reservation." —Bill Murphy, Lincoln.

The photo of Sitting Bull was among a half-dozen or so portraits taken before SEPTEMBER 1970 the exposition. Introductory material was prepared before selection of photographs and, since F. A. Rinehart was most active from 1898 to around 1900 as far as Indian portraits, attention was called to that specific period in his work. — Editor.

WOLVES OF TURKEY-"The enclosed picture was taken while hunting Siberian wolves in Eastern Turkey with Mr. John C. Steel of Lincoln. Mr. Steel is an agricultural engineer who worked at Atatiirk University in Erzurum for a few years. I am a mining engineer employed by the Rural Ministry of Public Works, Ground Water Department of the Turkish Government.

"At the time the picture was taken, we were in another town. It was about 20 degrees below zero on a February night. Around midnight, natives told us that a pack of wolves was prowling around houses looking for food.

"We took our rifles and headed for where the animals were spotted. As we approached, we saw wolves running

"The next morning, we went out to look for the wolf. I carried a movie camera which promptly froze up, and a still camera. Mr. Steel was armed with a 22 Hornet rifle. In the distance, we saw what we thought was a dead wolf. As we approached, however, the wounded animal charged Mr. Steel, who was too close to get a clear shot. He jumped back and fired, the bullet striking near my feet. His second shot killed the wolf." — Burhanettin Doyranli, Ankara, Turkey.

NOT LISTED —"I was pleased and interested to see the fine Nebraska ranch vacation story in the May issue of NEBRASKAland... and dismayed at the omission of the Richardson Hereford Ranch from the complete listing of ranch vacations available in Nebraska."—Mrs. Levi Richardson, Crawford.

NEBRASKAland apologizes for the omission. However, the author spent considerable time and effort in compiling the listing. This meant contacting news media across the state, which co-operated by running news stories requesting data on these ranches, and sending questionnaires to known operators of vacation ranches, including those who have operated them in the past and are no longer in operation. Operators must answer the questionnaire to be included. While the Richardson Ranch has been listed in the annual "Hunter Services" for the past three years, the Game and Park Commission was unaware that it also operates as a vacation ranch. In any listing compiled by NEBRASKAland or the Commission, operators must reply each time queried to continue inclusion. We appreciate Mrs. Richardson's calling this omission to our attention. Their ranch has already been included in the new edition of a pamphlet entitled "NEBRASKAland Ranch and Farm Vacations". This*publication has been in print for four years, and the Richardsons had not notified us of the omission until the article appeared in NEBRASKAland. Vacationers or hunters can get complete details and prices on the Richardson Hereford Ranch by writing to Levi Richardson, Box 191, Crawford, Nebraska 69339.- Editor.

RABBITS UNLIMITED-"I read with interest the letter from Jean Miner Schroer (Speak Up, May 1970) relative to the white and black-tailed rabbits and cottontails. I am now 86 years old and have been a resident of Dawes County since 1888. We had all three varieties of rabbits in our section. I found that the white-tailed jackrabbits were larger, and that the cottontail was a distinct variety from the jackrabbits. It was a much smaller type animal than either of the jackrabbits and made its home in holes among the willows along streams.

"The white-tailed rabbit was a much heavier animal than the black-tailed jackrabbit. Blacks had more slender bodies than the white-tailed variety. I always figured it was faster than its white-tailed cousins." —James C. Blundell, Hemingford.

BIG BLOW-"In your January 1970 issue of NEBRASKAland, you have an article about a tornado (Funnel of Terror). It is very interesting to me. "My mother has a record of one in her library. If you are interested in an account of another storm, I am enclosing the article taken from the 1908 Bellevue College Annual." —Margaret Jean Sogorka, Carmichael, California.

THE CYCLONE On the morning of May 12th, 1908, as we students looked down over the campus to the valley as it lay bathed in the spring sunlight, we little thought of the fearful sight that would meet our gaze before nightfall.

The game with Highland Park was to be played (Continued on page 18)

PHEASANT DECOR

With a little imagination, time, and a few simple materials, you can design creations to be proud of

IT HAS BEEN SAID that meat packers use every part of the cow but the moo. Evelyn Hockaday of Hastings is almost as thorough a processor of Nebraska game birds. She has found uses not only for the meat, but also for the vertebrae, wishbone, and feathers.

With feathers, time, and patience she creates corsages, stationery, hats, and jewelry. Here's how it's done:

The first step is plucking the bird. Handle the feathers gently to prevent ruffling them, for once they are split, they can never be pressed back into shape. Sort the feathers into color and marking categories and place them loosely in jars. Some of them will have fuzzy bases. Trim these off.

Corsages are perhaps the most unusual pheasant-feather creations, but they are simple to make. Patience is the key. The flat tips of fuzzy-based feathers are appropriate for a flat corsage. Choose feathers that are similarly marked for each flower. Four will probably be sufficient for each tier. The first layer makes an attractive button flower by itself— like a pink. For fuller blooms add alternating tiers of feathers.

Use a plastic disk of appropriate size for the flower-base. Glue the disk to a piece of glass to hold it stable while you work. Coat the disk with a fast-drying glue and place a few strands of cotton on it. Cotton makes the glue hold better. Now arrange the feathers carefully in a circle around your disk.

Decorate the center with a cluster of tiny beads, then gently pry the disk off the glass with a razor blade. It will pop right off. Glue the completed bloom to a chenille wire, which becomes the stem.

Repeat the process for each succeeding bloom in the corsage. To add leaves, attach single long feathers to each stem by wrapping floral tape around the stem and the base of each leaf-feather. Assemble the stems in a pleasing arrangement and tie them together with satin ribbon. Bend the lower ends of the stems into a curve.

Another kind of corsage is shaped around a flat loop of chenille wire. This type of flower will have more depth, or contour. Glue feathers to the inside of the chenille loop and to 12

Do not change the feather's natural contour. Use that contour to your advantage. Rather than bending feathers to form the flower, add separate stems tilted at the proper angle for the outer petals. Always shape with the wires, not the feathers.

To add leaves to this arrangement use long, single feathers on separate stems rather than on the flower stem. Twist the wires securely and curve them. A bow of satin ribbon with a silvered wishbone tied to one of the ends adds a fanciful touch.

Mrs. Hockaday has discovered another imaginative use for game birds. To make an attractive arrangement of violets, clean the vertebrae of all meat and soak them overnight in bluing. They will turn to a very dark blue-violet as they absorb the dye. Thread fine wire through the centers of the bones and glue stameris in the centers.

Wrap the stems in floral tape and add leaves as previously explained. Again gather your creation in a satin bow and curve the stems.

With a little imagination, time, patience, and a few inexpensive materials, anyone may design creations of which they can be proud. The materials are available at any hobby shop, and any hunter can supply the feathers free of charge. But the rewards are the enjoyment of time well spent, and a decorative wardrobe addition.

Paper pheasants make charming centerpieces for those fall banquets when game birds are on the bill of fare.

Instructions and a pattern for making these construction-paper creations follow:

Materials —orange, red, and blue 12 x 18 construction paper; watersoluble glue; stovepipe wire or two SEPTEMBER 1970

Make full-size pattern from diagram on page 15. Cut pieces from colored construction paper as indicated, then stick gummed reinforcements to the body as marked and punch out the centers.

Overlap the shaded areas of the body, leaving the center open, and glue with water-soluble glue, or staple. Close the body cavity and paste in place. Glue the wings into their indicated curvature by overlapping and paste them on the body as marked.

Glue or staple overlap in the breast feathers and stick six of them to the body. Concealed staples will hold them.

Cut and score the tail. Glue or staple into a circle as shown. Paste the tail to the body, or staple on the underside.

Glue the two head pieces together and add the beaks. Blacken the center of the eye, glue the overlap, and add gummed reinforcements. Brush glue on the edges of the eye 16

Paste the neck ring to the collar and glue into a circle. Form the curvature of the neck feathers by overlapping and gluing or stapling, then stick them inside the lower edge of the collar. Attach the head inside the collar and insert the collar in the slit of the body, which has been cut for that purpose.

Cut stovepipe wire 18 inches long and insert through holes in the underside of the bird. Shape into three-toed feet. Pencils inserted through the holes may also be used as legs and feet. They tend to be more stable than wire.

Spray back and tail with gold paint. Now surround the bird with appropriate habitat, sprayed gold.

These centerpieces will complete the decor for any hunting party. So pick out your favorite pheasant recipe for that fall banquet, and don't forget to wear your corsage, fashioned from the feathers of pheasants. THE END

SPEAK UP

that ominous afternoon, and all were filled with anticipation. Shortly after noon clouds arose and the rest of the afternoon was threatening. At four o'clock there was a light rain with scattered hail, and at about five-thirty a terrible cloud arose across the West, and in nearly the center of it a whirling, twisting, funnel-shaped mass came tearing toward us. All were filled with dread.

There were some amusing incidents just before and during the progress of the storm. A number of students, thinking that it would be safer outside than within the buildings, hastened to the campus before the storm and there clung to trees. Others, as the storm began, rushed out and made a jump for the base of a tree as they had done often in a tackle on an opponent on the gridiron. These positions were held with difficulty during the mighty sweep of the storm. At one time five of the boys were thus clustered, each clinging to the tree and to the others. The position was one of danger, for after the roofs were torn from several of the buildings, pieces of the wreckage filled the air and sections of the roof were hurled all about. Just below this group of refugees a large tree was snapped and went flying through the air like so much paper.

A group of the men ran to the hill west of the college to watch the progress of the storm before it came to us. As they watched they saw hay stacks disappear as if by magic, trees uprooted, and other similar destruction. When a portion of a roof went whirling over the Fort Hospital they thought it time to seek shelter, and running toward the college, they took refuge in a ditch. Huddling together they felt little of the storm except the thunderous roar. Tin from the roofs, pails from the kitchen and barrels from the wood pile all added to the fearful noise. The young ladies had been induced to leave the rooms for the basement just as the roof of Lowrie went off with a crash, leaving the rooms and hallways filled with plaster and brick. Little did they realize as they emerged from the quiet of the basement how near they had been to death. Those on the campus had an opportunity to see the destructive work of the storm during its progress, and when it passed over them, to watch it as it wrecked the homes of the village, tossing them about as so many straw baskets, and as it crossed the river, lifting the water like a great spout on the ocean. Our dear old Clarke Hall lost its tower and was sadly battered; Rankin Hall was seriously damaged; Lowrie was unroofed, and all the buildings were more or less injured. The village of Bellevue was a scene of wrecked and entirely demolished homes. Most of the store 18 buildings and public buildings were in ruins. The old Sarpy County Courthouse was unroofed, and the church, the oldest in the state, had been forced to give up its steeple and have its beautiful stained windows riddled. Everywhere were sad sights to be seen, but the goodness of God in sparing the lives of us all was acknowledged by even the most worldly.

RICHNESS OVERLOOKED-"I was born and raised on a farm in and around Lincoln. In 1953, I met my husband, who was stationed at the air base. We lived there only a year before coming to Illinois. We didn't realize until we moved and started receiving NEBRASKAland that Nebraska is so rich in monuments, scenery, and wildlife. We hope someday soon to make Lincoln our home.

Your magazine has a wonderful effect on our four children, even the three born in Illinois. Our 14-year-old daughter wrote this poem about the capitol — Mr. and Mrs. John Matheny, Taylorville, Illinois.

MORE INFORMATION-"The article on zoos (Zoo's Who, July 1970) was appealing and made me want to take my children to some of these places in Nebraska which we have not seen yet.

"Do you have a list of dates when the zoos and wildlife parks are open?"-Mrs. Jean Sobota, Lincoln.

Thank you for your comments and request. We are publishing a list of zoos and wildlife parks, including their locations, seasons, admissions, and species this month. Please see page 62.-Editor.

FOR REAL-"Some time ago, the Hebron Journal Register showed a bobcat which was struck by a car. Also, two years or so ago, NEBRASKAland had an article by Glenn Harris (Stranger on the River, July 1967) who spotted a similar cat through field glasses in the same area. Some of the people here thought they were making a big tale, but I guess the Journal Register article might prove the story."—LeRoy Bee war, Davenport

WHOA FANNY-"My fiance, Al, and I spent that Sunday in July 1915, at my brother's home east of Wymore. That evening we decided to go into town to attend a program.

"There was a large crowd, and after the play we made our way back to where Fanny, Al's newly broken mare, was tied. Al helped me into his new buggy and, getting in himself, he eased the buggy through the throng. We headed toward Blue Springs and home. All went well until we reached the bridge between Blue Springs and Wymore.

There we met a car. The driver later said he didn't see us. At any rate, the car hit the front wheel of the buggy, smashing it, and throwing Al out. He had the reins.

"Fanny bolted and I knew I had to stop her. I began talking gently to her, saying, 'Whoa Fanny, whoa'. All the while, I was climbing out onto the buggy shaves where I could reach the reins. Still talking, I grabbed the traces and headed her into a telephone pole. She stopped.

"Al was hardly bruised, but both of us were shaken by the event." — Vevia Wyland Bolender, Fairbury.

RUNAWAY REVISITED-"I am writing to you about a runaway that happened in Arthur County in 1916. The school teacher had a team and buggy he used to haul pupils to school.

"While taking my sister and me home one evening, the teacher got out of the buggy to open a gate. He let me drive through. The horses spooked and ran, jerking the lines from me. We headed at full tilt across my family's summer range. We dropped over a large hill and what kept the buggy straight up is far beyond me. All I can say is that the good Lord was with us all the way.

"The horses circled the section before they tired and trotted onto the ranch. The teacher had to walk home."—Donald A. Rich, Tempe, Arizona.

HISTORY'S HIGHWAY-"The Great Plains Highway 83 should be designated a Scenic Highway with historical markers. Just a few miles north of Well-fleet, and just beyond the radar tower, is a valley. On either side of the road, sandhills plainly show the action of rippling waves of some ancient sea or wind.

"As I motor by, it brings to mind that passage from the Bible: The cattle on a thousand hills are mine saith the Lord.' What a fine thing it would be if the state made a park there and sponsored a herd of buffalo on it. A rest station and museum of prairie life along with an observation platform could be included."- Boyd Perkin, North Platte.

THE LAST BRANDING

Slated for Inclusion in state park system, gigantic spread signals end of epoch with stench of searing hide and glow of red-hot steel during final roundup

THE STENCH OF searing hair and hide saturates the still, crisp Pine Ridge air. Glowing steel etches its indelible signature on a squirming calf. Experienced hands guide the branding iron with firm, even pressure. Orange flames dance over a Hereford-brown coat, burning out amidst plumes of blue-gray smoke. As the brander retreats to renew the energy of his iron, needle and knife men move in. A needle punctures young skin, penetrating a muscled shoulder, resurrecting the animal's anguish. Flashing steel robs him of his masculinity as acrid dehorning paste is smeared on budding stubs and an identity notch is carved into his ear. Then he is free. On his feet again, the calf s first steps are wobbly, uncertain. But as he rejoins his kind, the memory of pain ebbs and all is serene in his bovine world.

Such a scene is resident in corrals across NEBRASKAland's cattle country. But this particular branding looms vitally important to every member of the state's traveling fraternity since it is the last major branding on George James' 2 Bar S Ranch northwest of Crawford. In November, this third-generation, 10,200-acre holding will transfer to the Nebraska Game and Parks Commission for incorporation into the Fort Robinson State Historical Park. With the addition of the James property, the post will mushroom into the largest in Nebraska's state park system. Recreational offerings will range from hiking, hunting, and fishing, to just relaxing in some of Nebraska's most beautiful and historic real estate. Right now, though, this is James land. And on James land, branding is a way of life.

Low-lying clouds filter the crimson rays of the rising sun into infrareds that play across a dew-damp landscape. Almost hidden in the shadow of the barn-cum-tack room, George James mumbles a constant dialogue to quiet his skittish mount. Dust rises from the animal's back to be whisked away on a gentle breeze as he settles the saddle blanket into place. A neighbor's pickup edges into the yard as James drops his saddle into place and pulls the cinch tight. One by 20

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In the holding pen, cowboys on horseback move in to cut cows from calves to begin the count

SEPTEMBER 1970 21  

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Working cowboy cannot live by dust alone. Water can be staff of life

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Quiet of morning is deceptive as nearly 300 range calves mill in a holding pen. Soon, air will fill with smoke and dust of branding

one, neighbors pull in, saddle up, and sit astride their horses, awaiting word to start the roundup. None comes.

Instead, as if guided by some sixth sense, the riders move off along a ridge behind the ranch buildings. Only the clop of shod hooves and the rustle of wind through the pines break the morning stillness. A trio of riders hazes breeding bulls from one pasture to another, then follows the others over the ridge into the next valley. Once there, they drop into a broad canyon, skirting higher land, and working their way into finger draws to flush out range stock.

Startled cows and calves, unaccustomed to intruders in their domain, scamper ahead of seasoned cow ponies and yelping cowboys. The main herd grows as animal after animal spills from the wooded draws like water trickling over crumpled paper to form a pool at the lowest point. Riders move the bawling mass toward the corral, past a windmill that gleams in the now-brilliant sunlight, around the edge of a butte, and into a holding pen.

Once confined, the cows are separated from calves, herded into the corral, counted, and released into a pasture to graze and await their calves. At first, their mothers' absence makes little difference to the young. Then, as they, too, are counted and herded into a holding pen, they set up a cry that echoes through canyons and across prairie. But it is too late to escape. In groups of about 50, unbranded calves are herded into the corral.

Unsure of their new surroundings, the newborns sidle along the board fence, watching cowboys as they 23  

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set up the propane burner for the irons. Things are slow and easy as cowboys knot up, talking in low voices about the work to come and whether the weather will hold. Branding is impossible in the rain and had already been postponed once, due to weather. Jack Rising, roper for the outfit, limbers a loop as the time draws near. Bob Geiser, 2 Bar S foreman, readies his needle and arranges vaccine bottles. George James shuffles already glowing irons farther into the flame to assure their readiness. With a terse "Let's go," Rising moves in, drops his loop over the hind legs of a vulnerable target, and drags him to the center of the arena. Unaccustomed to such treatment, the calf bellows for his mother. A pair of experienced wranglers soon have him on his side, left side up, awaiting his taste of hot metal.

At first, it takes only 30 minutes to brand a "batch". But as time wears on, cowboys tire and time begins to stretch. Thirty minutes become 40, then 45. The air is cool, yet men sweat and choke amidst flying dust as calf after calf is pinioned and branded. Noon looms over the proceedings and dusty ranchers head for the house and dinner. A meal, begun in twilight, covers long tables as hungry hands dig in with a fervor reserved for working appetites. Food, though, is only a respite from the job at hand and soon all hands are back in the corral.

Afternoon is a duplicate of morning. Walleyed calves are roped and dragged, branded and released. Again dust replaces air. But spirits are high amidst it all.

The sun is still high as the iron sizzles out on the last calf. More than 270 head wear a new 2 Bar S name tag. They will be among the last, however, for the James Ranch, as such, soon will be no more. But the memories of branding will linger. They will stalk the Pine Ridge forever. They will become another permanent resident of Fort Robinson State Historical Park, and the ranch will become history. THE END

24

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Branding is neighborhood thing, and even help from teenage miss is welcome during day-long task

NEBRASKAland

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Freed, calf bellows his defiance and a reprimand at tormentors. Finding his mother in pasture waiting room is next

SEPTEMBER 1970 25

HUNTING IN THE "RAIN"

Battle of the basin pits Navy gunners against ringnecks

DRONING METHODICALLY, the small twinengined plane pushed westward, competing with the sun in a race toward the horizon. Miles and miles of midwestern farmland slipped by silently beneath the mechanical bird as it flew on its prescribed course. Shortly after crossing the Missouri River, the craft began a slow descent.

Nebraska was the destination of the three outdoorsmen who landed several minutes later at Lincoln Airport. Stepping from the plane, they were greeted by the glow of a November sunset. It looked as if the next day would be good for hunting.

The three flying hunters had come to Nebraska for pheasants. Basing their plans on literature sent to them by the Game and Parks Commission, they had decided to hunt in the "Rain", the Rainwater Basin area in south-central Nebraska. Early reports had indicated that this area would offer some of the season's best hunting. Like schoolboys on a holiday, they were anxious to get a taste of the action. They only had SEPTEMBER 1970 one day to "limit out", and that fact was uppermost in their minds as they prepared for the car trip to their chosen hunting grounds. What they were to find was to fill all their expectations.

All career Navy officers, the three are presently stationed at the Pentagon in Washington, D.C. Veterans of action in the Vietnam War, they are also veteran hunters. Captain Gary Lockee of Columbia, S.C., has skippered three different warships, the latest a guided-missile frigate. He has plenty of experience in southern quail country. Having grown up with hunting, Gary often returns to his home for bob white quail, enjoying the aid and companionship of the family's bird dogs.

Commander Ralph Rutherford of Andalusia, Ala., a Navy pilot with many hours of combat experience, also has plenty of experience afield in the South as well as in other parts of the country. Ralph keeps his shooting sharp with regular practice on the trap range. The third member (Continued on page 60)

THREE FOR THE RECORD

For Rick Sitzman, glory is all in pulling the right strings

RICK SITZMAN SAID with a grin: "I think I'm the only person who ever lost two state bow-fishing records in one day." What he did not mention is that in order to lose records, you have to win them first. Rick has the distinction of being the only Nebraskan ever to hold three bow-fishing records at the same time.

I first met Rick in April 1970, when he brought his 6-pound, 10-ounce rainbow trout to the Wildlife Building to be verified as a state bow-and-arrow record. We talked briefly and agreed to get together for a bow-fishing trip early in the summer.

It was the second week in June when Rick called back and proposed a trip to Lake McConaughy. The following Saturday I met him at Lakeshore Lodge. His wife Paula, and their two-year-old daughter Nicki, his brother Mark, and his father Reuben, were all there, too. They had brought a 16-foot boat, so within an hour we were out on the lake.

We headed for an inlet several miles west. With the 40-horse motor humming smoothly, I had a chance to talk with Rick, and asked him what kind of fish he was most likely to get at this time of the year.

"It is really too late to expect much in the way of game fish," he said. T have found that the best times for bow-fishing are early in the spring, when the ice is just breaking, or late in fall before freeze-up, when the water is cool again."

That didn't sound too promising. "Don't worry," he said. "With the heavy rain and the hot weather we've had, there will be carp, if nothing else, and there is always the chance of running across a big northern pike."

We reached the inlet after a relaxing ride and Reuben guided the big boat deep into the (Continued on page 68)

PONY-KEG SOLDIERS

Hard-drinking and itching for action, the men of Company E find the two just don't mix

THAT BEAUTIFUL BARREL of whiskey was about the only exciting thing that happened to the men of Fort Kearny's Company E. It stood in the middle of the barracks as an open invitation to dip in —and dip they did that night.

Things were rough at the fort in 1864, with tough officers giving them orders, troublesome Indians wandering about the countryside, and precious little to do in their spare time. So, someone came up with the idea of bringing in the whiskey.

Like a master spy plot, a plan was made and carried out. A requisition form for supplies was pilfered, filled out with colorful but completely phoney data, and submitted to the post commissary.

Probably giggling with anticipatory glee, a handful of men surreptitiously spirited the barrel back to the quarters of Company E. Then the fun began.

They removed the top of the barrel and began ladling out the booze with wild abandon. As the spirits in the barrel went down, the spirits of the men went up. Gaiety soon turned to revelry, and finally, inhibitions disappeared. Then, suddenly, the boisterous mood gave way to one of discontent. A few men voiced complaints. Others soon joined in and it didn't take long until the mood became ugly.

They cursed the officers and damned the duty. They lamented their whole lot in life. Finally, when the cups began scraping the bottom of the barrel, they reached a momentous decision. They would mutiny!

Officers at Fort Kearny were also unhappy. A frontier fort was tough enough to run with good men, 30 but all the regulars had been pulled out for front-line duty in the Civil War. Since this rag-tag group of volunteers came in, they had found their duties twice as hard. Discipline was almost impossible to maintain.

It was spring, 1864, and it looked as if Indian troubles would be bad that summer. Orders had come down from headquarters to keep a sharp watch on Indian activities in the area. And, the Union Pacific Railroad, about to begin laying tracks across the territory, was asking the Army for protection from raids.

The whole situation came to a head that night. Led by a sergeant, the troopers of Company E, 7th Iowa Cavalry, went pounding up to the commanding officer's door. The general appeared.

The sergeant stood in a position halfway between attention and a slouch and demanded that the general and his officers surrender. Breath that would knock down the best horse in the stable poured out with each slurred word.

Each minute the sergeant stood there talking, with the rest of the 7th Iowa volunteers milling about behind him, the general got madder. What made it worse was that the commanding officer did not know where the men had found the booze.

To an outside observer, it would have been a funny scene — the sergeant hardly able to stand, giving orders to a superior officer, and the general getting red in the face from anger. Soon, he called in sober troops to handle the rowdy Iowans.

Since orders had come down to keep watch on the Indians, here was the perfect chance to do that and to NEBRASKAland teach these misfits a lesson. It would be like killing two birds with one stone to put these men on a grueling assignment and accomplish a tactical manuever at the same time. But that's why he was an officer and why he was in charge.

A four-month mission was set up in the northern portion of Buffalo County, far to the north of the fort. It was wild country in the heart of the Indian domain. No settlers had yet dared move into the area.

Under the command of one General P. Morris, the 80 men of Company E were sent out on the campaign against the wilderness. On May 14, 1864, they set up temporary camp beside the South Loup River. Then their punishment began.

Hard work, short rations, and constant danger were the retribution for their misdeeds back at Fort Kearny. Tons of sod were cut from the prairie and hauled to the campsite. Timber was chopped from an island, trimmed to workable size, and hauled by wagon across a beaver dam to where the makeshift fort with its earthen walls was going up.

They built two structures within the sod walls of the fort, one for themselves and one for their horses. Willow poles, topped with brush and more sod, were used to roof them.

Officially known as Fort Desolation, the soldiers soon renamed the outpost "Fort Banishment" in recognition of the nature of their assignment. After the fort was built, military duties began. Patrols went out in all directions to scout for Indians. For a while this was (Continued on page 59)

TRAILS TO NOWHERE

Like the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow, breathtaking scenery awaits those who explore the hidden bounties of state's secluded paths

AN ANXIOUS MOTORIST speeds along the highway, lost in thought i about business. He drives again along the same stretch he has traversed so many times before, pushing yet another deadline. He hopes to reach his destination before dark.

He does not notice a deer standing silently in a bluff of trees off to the right as dusk settles in, or the sun setting in a glorious blaze of color in the west. He pulls up to a motel in the town where he must see a client in the morning. Darkness has fallen by now and he is still too pre-occupied to see a full moon creeping up through the branches of a Cottonwood.

Next morning he wakes up late, still tired from his hurried trip the night before. He meets his client and then, surprisingly, completes his business sooner than expected.

What now? It will take four hours to drive back to the city but he must eat lunch first. This means he'll barely make it back by closing time. Maybe he'll take a little longer for lunch, head home, and try to get some work done there this evening.

Or maybe, just maybe, he'll drive to that little lake he always wanted to see. It's less than 20 miles from the highway and he'll still be home for supper.

Lunch finished, he starts back. Relaxed now, he suddenly notices how the countryside seems to be more colorful. He knows there is a trail to a lookout plateau within the next five miles. Why not stop there too? He turns the car onto a set of tire tracks and follows it up to the top of a hill. He walks to the edge of the plateau. A panoramic view he never knew existed here unfolds before him. It overlooks a meandering river and he can see for miles.

He pulls back into the highway traffic and heads for a turnoff leading to that lake. It's a bumpy, 20-mile stretch, but when he arrives, no one is there. The late-summer sun is still overhead, just beginning its western descent.

Supper can wait. He walks to the rear of the car, opens the trunk, pulls out his fishing gear, and stays there on the lonely shoreline until twilight.

That night he pulls into the driveway at home, completely refreshed, office cares forgotten.

This is what happens to motorists who rush too much until, one day, they take time out from highway travel to enjoy one of the many panoramic vistas throughout the state.

Many trails to scenic outlooks develop when a motorist decides to wander from a highway in search of adventure. When he comes to a dead end, more often than not, 33  

Other places are the responsibility of the Roadside Development Branch of the State Roads Department. For instance, a point has been developed northwest of Ogallala on U.S. Highway 26, which overlooks Lake McConaughy. Another one, offering a panoramic view of the South Platte River valley, is currently being developed east of the Oshkosh interchange on Interstate 80.

In other cases, State Rest Areas have been strategically located to take advantage of panoramic scenes nearby. The Melia Hill Rest Area overlooks the Platte River valley from Interstate 80, 1 1/2 miles west of the Gretna interchange (westbound), and the Sutherland Rest Area on the Interstate 80 (eastbound) offers a view of the Oregon Trail.

Two miles east of McCook on U.S. Highway 34 is an observation deck overlooking the Republican River valley. Inside the station is a monument erected in honor of the late Harry Strunk, who was dedicated to the development of flood controls.

The Pilger Rest Area offers a beautiful view of the Elkhorn River valley off U.S. Highway 275, and the Princeton Rest Area, off U.S. Highway 77 south of Lincoln, is strategically located on a hill to give visitors their first view of the State Capitol in the distance to the north.

Other places throughout Nebraska have been pinpointed by local communities, but more are unmarked, challenging sightseers to find them. These are probably the most exciting because you never know they are there until you happen to come upon them. This is what happened to the hurrying motorist who suddenly found time to meander after he finished his business call. It was a portion of highway he had traveled many times before, but had always been too busy to explore.

If you're driving in the vicinity of the Niobrara River west of Valentine you can get off on country trails that take you who knows where, sometimes near the river to places that make you contemplate godly things because of the beauty you see.

In the Bessey Division of Nebraska National Forest you can get into wild country where you might have to open gates and follow twists and turns in the trail to different views around each bend.

NEBRASKAlandMagazine presents these photographs, shot with a panoramic camera with a sweeping lens that covers 140 degrees horizontally and 40 degrees vertically. They are meant to be an incentive for wanderers to explore the unknown, to find that breathtaking view just over the hill. THE END

DEVIL'S NEST

Rich in things that count for vacationers, this 4-season recreational complex is to surpass $100 million in development

ABOUT MIDWAY ALONG the south shore of Lewis and Clark Lake on Nebraska's northern border, Devil's Nest Creek flows into the mammoth reservoir. It is a scenic area with wooded hills, deep gorges, dense vegetation, and, of course, the water playground of one of NEBRASKAland's largest lakes.

This pristine wilderness is the site of the biggest resort development ever undertaken in this "where the West begins" state. An idyllic locale that would give even Thoreau pause, Devil's Nest combines an exciting history with a picturesque landscape.

It is a wild region whose very name bespeaks excitement and adventure. Like most of the lake's shoreline, sheer bluffs shoot up from the water's edge and blend into rugged hills covered with gnarled oak timber.

Here, legends of the mighty Jesse James persist. The skillful bandit supposedly used the area as a hideout to evade capture after forays to relieve banks of their deposits. Nearby is the Santee Sioux Indian Reservation. And, just a few miles away, the Gavins Point powerhouse sits astride Calumet Bluff, where Lewis and Clark met in "Grand Council" with the Yankton Sioux.

Northwest of Devil's Nest, near the center of the lake, are a pair of fingers called Sand Island. These 42 NEBRASKAland

Rich in the things that count with vacationers, the Lewis and Clark area drew 114,200 visitors in 1955. In 15 years, visitations have doubled and redoubled time and again, until the figure has reached nearly 3 million. And yet, Lewis and Clark is perhaps one of the least publicized regions in America, resulting in a loss, not only for travelers, but also for the communities in the surrounding area.

Recognizing the potential of the area, two Lincoln men formed the Devil's Nest Development Company in 1961. Don E. Dixon, a realtor and mortgage banker, and Robert C. Guenzel, an attorney, purchased 1,000 acres for future development after an initial inspection of the area by a group of professional recreational planners. Subsequently, additional lands were acquired and ownership now includes 2,200 acres of fee and leased lands, with an option to acquire 1,300 more acres.

Since 1961, many professional planners and feasibility experts inspected the (Continued on page 58)

DEER DEMANDS

A statement of basic management techniques answers hunter queries

DURING THE 1969 season, the number of deer permits authorized and sold reached a new high. Sales increased 23 percent over the previous record in 1966, while harvest was only the fourth highest on record. Success obviously decreased and was the second lowest in 21 years of consecutive hunting in Nebraska. Only 44 percent of the permittees bagged a deer, compared to an average of 63 percent of the hunters who were successful during the preceding years.

Although the 44 percent success ranked well in comparison with other states, this was little consolation to the unsuccessful hunters, and many of them advised us of their unhappiness, and of their reasons for failure. Most common complaints included: too few deer; numerous deer, but no bucks, or only a few at best; excessive kill of bucks, resulting in numerous dry does; too many hunters; too many nonresidents. Suggestions for improvement included closing the season, allowing no doe kill, permitting doe kill but severely restricting the take of bucks, reducing permits and hunters, and barring nonresidents from hunting deer.

A statement of our basic management objectives will help to answer some of these questions to provide the greatest amount of recreation within the limits of the deer resource, and to maintain population levels of deer within the economic and tolerance limits of landowners.

These objectives imply maintaining or striving for maximum numbers of deer consistent with land uses, and still allowing the maximum number of persons the opportunity to hunt for deer. Hunter success, although of primary concern to the permittees, is a lesser consideration in the over-all management objectives.

The maximum amount of recreation can be provided under a basic bucks-only season. By limiting the kill to antlered males there is no possibility of an over-harvest. Limitations on total permit numbers under these conditions are primarily to lessen undesirable hunter concentrations, particularly in eastern Nebraska closer to the centers of human population. Total permit numbers have generally increased each year to keep pace with increasing demands for deer hunting. However, permit authorizations remained relatively stable for three years from 1966 to 1968, and consequently a relatively sharp increase was necessary in 1969. With this increase in hunters, and a relatively stable deer population, hunter success obviously had to give.

Under the second major management objective, maintaining deer numbers within a tolerable level, varying degrees of doe harvest can be permitted dependent upon objectives. Under previous permit numbers, all permittees in a given unit were allowed to hunt under the same regulations. Seasons included bucks only, either sex, or the last one or two days open only to taking of either sex. However, when permit numbers were increased substantially, this type of regulation would have resulted in excessive doe harvest in many cases. Therefore, only a specified portion of the hunters were allowed to take any deer.

This also brought complaints. Some hunters charged discrimination in the issuance of either-sex permits. One complaint, from an area with 20 percent of the permits for hunter's choice, stated: "Out of over 20 permit holders I know personally, only 2 had permits for does."

Although the correct ratio would have been 4 out of 20, this apparently distorted ratio will occur many times strictly by chance. Examination of the records 44 will show that no geographical area has an advantage in obtaining either-sex permits.

Another point mentioned is that "Some of the doe permits go to persons who would take only a buck. Isn't this wasteful and doesn't it result in too low a doe kill?" Or, "Allowing persons with doe permits to take bucks is unfair to those hunters who are required to take a buck - more competition for the limited numbers of bucks."

The upshot of this is the idea that persons who receive permits to take a doe should not be allowed to take a buck. This is neither necessary nor desirable. Numbers of either-sex permits can be adjusted according to the proportion of antlerless deer in the harvest. With a greater proportion of bucks shot with either-sex NEBRASKAland

What about the claim of less deer? Although total harvest was lower than during several other years, this reflects primarily a reduction in the number of either-sex permits. Buck harvest from 1964 to 1967 was almost stable at 8,900, give or take less than 4 percent. In 1968 the buck kill was 10,700, and in 1969 SEPTEMBER 1970 it was 9,800 —a decrease of 8 percent, but still the second highest on record and about 9 percent higher than the earlier 4-year span mentioned.

The number of deer killed by vehicles bears out a similar lack of decline. In fact, an increase in deer numbers is indicated by this trend figure. Known road kills were stable at about 1,100 from 1965 to 1968, and increased 20 percent in 1969.

The complaints of "dry does" are more common to the western portion of the state, in the mule deer range. During winter and spring the past several years, we examined 329 white-tailed does. These examinations showed pregnancy in 66 percent of the fawns. About 99 percent of the older does were pregnant and averaged 1.8 young.

The picture obtained from 154 mule does, which were checked, was quite different. Pregnancy rates were 10 percent for fawns, 81 for long-yearlings, and 98 for does 2Vfc years and older. Average number of embryos for does in each age group was 1.1 for yearlings, and 1.8 for older does. These productivity rates are quite comparable to data from other states, except for a higher rate of pregnancy in fawns in Nebraska.

Differences between productivity rates of mule deer and whitetails are primarily due to the biology of each species, with quality of habitat possibly a factor of lesser importance. Data shows pregnancy in virtually all does, of both species, which were of normal breeding age. For adult deer no differences were indicated in productivity between years, or for different portions of the state. Whitetail fawns, however, were more often pregnant in the agricultural areas than in the rangeland, in this case reflecting differences in the quality of habitat.

Of the does normally observed during the hunting season, which are IV2 years or older, about 85 percent of the whitetails and 64 percent of the mule deer would have been pregnant the preceding year. This is one reason for the differences in reporting rates for "dry does". Obviously, not all of the fetuses would have carried through to normal birth and not all of the fawns would have survived, so the proportion of does accompanied by young would be somewhat less than that indicated.

"That may be true, but I see a lot of big does that did not have any young, and they can't be yearlings." Not true! Although yearling mule does average lighter than the older ones, about 25 percent of them exceed the average weights for 21/2-year-old does. Also, less than a third of the yearlings could be identified as to age, on an accurate scale, by weight alone. The chances of hunters identifying yearlings in the field are almost nil.

About the only complaint left unanswered is that of eliminating or restricting nonresidents. Since residents have a major advantage in obtaining deer permits, this is about as valid as one comment that hunters be restricted to their county of residence. Nonresidents make up only a small portion of the total number of deer hunters — about five percent in recent years. This is hardly a major portion of the competition, and their contribution to the general economy is considerably greater than that provided by an equal number of residents.

So what's the outlook? It appears that deer numbers have neared maximum levels for the foreseeable future. Permit numbers will have to increase to keep pace with the demand for this form of recreation. Success will go down, but deer numbers will not suffer as a result of hunting as long as we can continue with a sound management program. THE END

Hunters would do well to brush up on their game-cleaning techniques. Result will benefit all concerned by savoring, not wasting, each kill

DRESSING AFIELD

WHILE SKILL IS required to land a trout, and marksmanship to bring down a bounding buck, it is the respect paid to dead game that marks the true sportsman. Ducks that end up in the garbage can and fish that never make the frying pan are not only senseless ethical transgressions but, with a little attention to field care, can be easily avoided.

The mixed-bag hunter would do well to review field-care procedures, not only to insure against outright spoilage, but to prevent that "gamy" taste which will result if the carcass is not promptly gutted.

A small sheath knife with a 3 1/2 to 4-inch blade will fill the needs of fishermen and most small-game hunters. The blade should be of good steel and very sharp. Cased in a leather sheath, it may be worn on the back of the belt with the sheath tucked inside the hip pocket.

More equipment, however, is required by deer and antelope hunters. Knives should be heavier, with 4 1/2 to 5-inch blades. A sharp hand ax or small game saw is a must. Other essentials include 25 to 30 feet of 1/4-inch nylon rope, strong cord, rags, and either some jersey-knit tubing or a large muslin sack to cover the butchered meat. Any materials which prevent meat from cooling rapidly, such as plastic or canvas, should be avoided.

Following is a brief review of field-dressing procedures for game and fish.

When boat fishing, the catch should be kept alive on a stringer for more convenient cleaning later. Examine the stringer periodically for dead fish, however, and clean at once any that have died. Immediate scaling is unnecessary, but gutted fish should be rinsed free of slime and body juices.

To remove entrails, slit from vent to jaw. The dark streaks along the backbone should be removed also, and the red gills cut out. Rinse the body cavity clean and dry with a clean cloth. Creeled fish should be placed on a bed of wet moss or grass. Care should be taken to keep them from touching each other. Never let a creel stand in the sun, and never allow cleaned fish to soak in water or their own juices.

In cleaning pheasant, grouse, or turkey, two schools of thought are encountered. Most hunters skin their quarry and thereby eliminate the chore of plucking. Others wish to retain the skin, claiming it tenderizes and moistens the meat, especially if the bird is roasted.

If you choose to pluck, begin pulling feathers at once, as the feathers tighten to the skin of the dead bird and a delay of only minutes will make the job more difficult.

Game birds require prompt attention, as the organs are certain to be shot-punctured and will quickly affect the meat. Insert the point of the knife through the belly skin behind the breast and thrust it flatwise under the skin until it emerges just to one side of the vent. Turn the knife and slice the skin, allowing the intestines to spill out. To remove the crop, lungs, and windpipe, cut from the front of the breast to the neck.

The body cavity is then wiped dry. To hold it open for quick cooling, stuff with dry, long-stemmed grass.

Ducks and geese require the same treatment as upland game birds. Rough plucking in the blind saves time later. Most hunters singe their waterfowl to remove the long hairs that remain after plucking. Use a propane torch rather than the old method of rolled-up newspaper, as the burning ink affects the meat.

Many hunters prefer to clean their birds with paraffin, claiming this an excellent way to get rid of down and pin feathers. If you use this method, rough pluck first, then dip birds, one at a time, into a solution made from three cakes of paraffin to six quarts of hot water. When the wax cools and hardens, the thin coating can be peeled off, taking the down and pin feathers with it.

When transporting birds in the trunk of a car, do not pile them together in a heap, but separate them to allow for air circulation. This will facilitate cooling. A neat trick many hunters employ is a duckboard constructed of wood, on which the birds are placed. This promotes further cooling. Be careful not to place birds bove exhaust pipe because the heat is sufficient to taint the meat.

Rabbits and squirrels are easily cared for. Grab the skin in the middle of the back with both hands and pull in opposite directions. This will rip the hide so that it can be easily peeled off. Cut open the belly cavity from breast to pelvis, then bend the legs up over the back so that the head can be grasped with the same hand. Entrails will spill out with a quick downward flick. Badly shot meat should be trimmed away as it will spoil quickly and ruin good meat. Store each animal in a separate bag to keep it clean.

Remember that in warm weather, prompt dressing of small game is essential.

Deer and antelope are man-sized jobs. Venison which tastes wild and gamy can usually be traced to careless or delayed dressing, as most animals shot on the hoof during hunting seasons are healthy, and the meat, therefore, is tasty.

Having made sure the animal is dead, the first step is to cut off the musk glands, ana clean the knife. Drag the tail end of the animal downhill and cut open the belly from breastbone to pelvis. Avoid cutting the abdominal wall by holding the knife, cutting edge up, in the palm of the hand with the forefinger under the point. This prevents the point from digging downward as it places the hand between the skin and belly wall.

Cut around the anus. Pull back the skin and cut through the belly membrane for access to the intestines. Cut the anus free and tie it off with cord. If the animal is a buck, cut the genitals away and tie off the bladder. Reach into the body and slice through the diaphragm in the chest. Cut the windpipe and gullet at the throat, hold them in the hand, and pull backward. All the intestines can be rolled onto the ground. With an ax or a saw, split the pelvis and breastbone.

The carcass should now be strung up with the head either up or down to drain and cool. Trim away damaged meat. Most hunters refrain from washing the body cavity on the theory that a glaze of blood retards bacterial action.

If bladder contents or intestines have spilled on the flesh, however, these areas should be cleaned. Hair should not touch exposed meat as it will imbue a strong taste.

The cavity is dried with clean rags and black pepper is liberally applied to discourage flies and insects. Get the meat into a cold locker as soon as possible.

Remember that the secret of good eating, be it fish, fowl, or flesh, is prompt care. THE END

A GUIDE TO TEAL IDENTIFICATION

An early teal season for Nebraska has been approved by the United States Bureau of Sport Fisheries and Wildlife. Dates have been set by the Nebraska Game and Parks Commission for September 12 through 20. Hunters are responsible for identification before shooting —mistakes could jeopardize early teal seasons in the future.

Blue-winged teal, green-winged teal, and cinnamon teal are the only legal species during the early season which was opened primarily to harvest the bluewing. The other two were added because of the difficulty in distinguishing one from another in flight. Three other species most often confused with teal are shoveller, wood duck, and gadwall.

One reason for the early season is that the bluewing migrates before other ducks, and harvest was therefore light during the regular duck season.

A teal can be distinguished from other ducks by its smaller size, rapid wingbeat, and fast, twisting flight pattern. Another hint for identification is that teal are the most common species found in the state during the first weeks in September. The most distinguishable markings of bluewings are blue patches on the upper surface of both wings. The shoveller also has blue wing patches, but it is a bigger duck and has a longer bill.

The most important point to remember during the early teal season is identification, because the future of waterfowl hunting depends on selective shooting.

Permits for special teal season can be obtained by writing the Game and Parks Commission, State Capitol, Lincoln, Nebraska 68509. Name, address, and county of residence must be included.

Only persons 16 years of age or older may apply for or receive permits to hunt deer. Fees for firearm-deer and ?r^hexry"deer are $10 for residents and $30 for nonresidents. (No sales tax) Should you find it necessary to write concerning your application, please refer to the unit for which you made application. Permits are not transferable. Fees are not refunded after a permit has been issued.

Where to go Old Fort Sidney, Bank of Florence

PART OF THE history of Nebraska's old Army posts still lives on in Sidney, and it is on display in the restored home of the commanding officer of Old Fort Sidney. Located 2 blocks south of Highway 30 on 6th Avenue in Sidney, the CO's quarters have been returned to their pre-1894 condition when the frontier post guarded the railroad and the Oregon Trail against marauding Indians. Authentic furnishings of the period take visitors back to the days when barracks and parade grounds surrounded the home rather than the family dwellings now there; when sounds of bugles and marching feet drifted in rather than the laughter of neighborhood children that play nearby now.

Fort Sidney was founded in 1867 as a satellite of Fort Sedgwick, Colo., and patrols originating there protected railroad workers from raiding Indians. Originally called Sidney Barracks/ the post operated for some time out of nothing more than a collection of tents. The permanent adobe-and-frame structures were not built until the 1870's.

In its early years, Fort Sidney was one link in the Army's chain of forts along the Oregon Trail, but it came into its own when the Indian wars moved north with the discovery of gold in the Black Hills. Adjacent to the railroad, it became an important supply post for the outfits trying to keep gold hunters out and the Indians pacified.

At one time, Fort Sidney covered one square mile, but when it was closed in 1894, most of the post's buildings were SEPTEMBER 1970 sold at auction and torn down or moved away. Many of the homes now in the area are built on foundations of the old fort's buildings. Today, only the commander's home, a bachelor officers' billet, and an old powder magazine remain of the original structures, and only the commander's home is open to the public.

Inside, 19th-century tables, chairs, desks, and other items give the visitor a look into a small part of the lives of the men who were in charge of the historic post.

An antique clock hangs on the wall in the library in the same place it occupied when the fort was closed in 1894. The family that bought the home removed the clock from the wall and passed it down from generation to generation until the home was restored some 70 years later. It was then returned to its old spot when the Cheyenne County Historical Association restored the home as its state centennial project.

The front parlor, decorated with a 100-year-old carpet and a horsehide rug, houses the first piano ever brought to the Sidney area. The large, square instrument is of 1880 vintage. The back parlor contains a rare ingrain carpet, a rustic secretary-type desk, and an old organ.

In the dining room stands an old table of 1878 vintage, a gift from the estate of a man who had once served at Fort Sidney, and later decided to make his home in the area.

Other items on display on the first floor include a hand-carved scale model of Fort Sidney at its peak, and a display of guns, sabres, and knives that once belonged to one of its commanding officers.

Kitchen furnishings include a rare old pie safe with a pierced-tin door, a stove with an oven that opens at both ends, and a pantry stocked with 19th-century labor-saving devices such as a cherry-pitter and a cabbage sheer. The pantry also includes a collection of old crocks, a copper boiler, a rug beater, and antique jars. A clock hanging on the wall there still runs, and its ticking can be heard all over the ground floor of the house.

Upstairs, visitors will see the master bedroom, which contains an old bedstead brought all the way from England by an early-day Sidney family. Also on display there is a wedding gown of the late 1800's, and a going-away dress.

Old trunks used by some of the original occupants of the house stand in the sewing room, and some still contain clothes of former commanding officers and their families. A portion of the wall has been cut away and covered with glass to show the adobe construction of the building.

Another upstairs bedroom is furnished as a young boy's room, with a buffalo-skin rug and two old iron-frame beds. On display there is the boy's collection of expended cartridge casings, probably gathered at the post's rifle range.

A third upstairs bedroom is made up as a girl's room, complete with a collection of valuable antique dolls. Included in the collection are some with leather bodies and china heads.

A tour of the old home with its rustic furnishings gives the visitor a picture of NEBRASKAland the more tranquil moments of life at a frontier Army post. Most people have an idea of the hardships a tour of duty in Nebraska offered in those days. Motion pictures and history books have seen to that. But it shouldn't be hard for the visitor to imagine the peaceful family life the commander enjoyed here, and the parties and balls attended by the post's other officers, and the townspeople, of Sidney.

The home is open every day from 1 to 7 p.m. through mid-September, and its 19th-century flavor is especially apparent on Sundays, when tour guides are all decked out in costumes of the era.

Another bit of old Nebraska has been brought back to life at the other end of the state in the restored Bank of Florence in Omaha. Open to visitors by appointment, the bank has been restored to the late 1800's.

The bank played an important part in the earliest days of Nebraska's settlement. It was founded in the late 1850's by a group of Iowa financiers to issue money for land speculation. Iowa law prohibited the issuance of money by banks, so they got a charter across the river in Nebraska Territory. The bank notes they issued were the first and most common of the "wildcat" money that flooded the state at that time.

The building, built in 1856 from locally made brick, was acquired by the Florence Historical Foundation in 1960. Since then work has been underway to recreate the bank's old atmosphere and to establish a museum. Workmen sand-blasted layers of paint from the building's exterior to expose the original brick, replaced the copper plates that flanked the door, and installed new walls to simulate the original interior. Other interior restoration included installation of new wainscoting on the walls and repainting the old embossed metal ceiling.

The old vault is still there, and the original bank president's desk and chair were found in the home of a local family and returned to their original place.

Vintage bank fixtures were acquired from an old bank at Ulysses and moved there to add to the Victorian era decor. Included was a marble-based, wooden teller cage with barred windows and intricately carved scrollwork above.

Displays include documents from the 1898 Trans-Mississippi Exposition, a copy of an 1858 edition of the Florence Courier, sheets of wildcat money, and pictures of old Missouri riverboats and old Fort Omaha.

The rustic old bank, located at 30th and Willet streets, is open for tours by appointment. A look at the bank and its contents can be arranged by contacting J. M. Hart, Jr., at the Northside Bank in Omaha.

Both the Florence Bank and the commander's home at Fort Sidney will take visitors into old Nebraska. THE END

Accommodations, Guides, Processing, and Meals

DEVIL'S NEST

property and agreed with Dixon and Guenzel that it is a first-rate area for a major national recreational facility. As with many major undertakings, the wheels of progress grind slowly. Finally, in 1969, they were ready to set the mechanics of development into motion. The Golden Valley Land Corporation of Phoenix, Ariz., was contacted. Through that firm, a composite team was put together, including architects, accountants, advertising executives, and engineers.

Costs of the total development are estimated at more than $100 million for what is billed as one of the "midwest's largest and most complete all-season recreational complexes".

Development is divided into four phases and will take about five years to complete. Ground was broken for the initial construction in mid-July, and Phase One is now well underway. First items on the agenda are a $40,000 show house, which also serves as an on-site office, the first of three marinas, and part of the camping area. In addition, condominiums and condominium hotels, single-family units, and mobile home sites are included in the first phase, which is designed to market test the concept of the entire five-year project.

Crews have already prepared the swimming beach, which is now open for use. Initial promotion kicked off in July, and land sales will continue until around Thanksgiving, since the officers feel the area is at its best in the fall. Road construction was begun in June, and utilities were installed in July.

Phase two calls for the construction of an additional marina, a clubhouse, and the first 9 holes of an 18-hole golf course, a condominium hotel, and part of a central village to provide needed services and facilities for the entire project.

The third phase will see the completion of the large marina at Devil's Nest, as well as over a quarter million dollars of preparatory work for the hotel and the Devil's Nest Yacht Club sites. The final and fourth phase of construction will involve the completion of the village area. Because of the tremendous demand, construction of a 5,000-foot ski run has been added to the second phase of the project. Highest elevation in the Devil's Nest development area is approximately 1,800 feet.

To further capitalize on the growing demand for winter sports areas and enhance its appeal as a year-round vacation area, Devil's Nest will ultimately include ski lodges, snowmobile courses, ice skating, and, of course, ice fishing. Additional marine facilities will be constructed as demand warrants.

Within this decade, vacationers will find almost any facilities they could want at Devil's Nest. Trails will be laid out for hiking and horseback riding. And, riding enthusiasts won't have to worry about bringing their own mounts since stables will provide "Old Paint" for a nominal fee. Other plans call for a tennis club and a hunting preserve.

While the long-range benefits of such a development stagger the imagination, officials estimate that the project could NEBRASKAland yield $50 million in sales during the 5-year development period alone. Golden Valley spent 12 months intensively studying economic and engineering reports, architectural plans, market surveys, and physical requirements before undertaking what they feel will be the most complete recreational facility in mid-America.

Nebraska has long been ripe for a major resort development, for this is virtually an untouched market. The business that will be generated in the years to come from such an undertaking will be fantastic. But, its impact will be felt almost immediately since jobs are being created locally in the construction of the project, and since much of the money involved in the development is being spent in the tri-state area of Nebraska, Iowa, and South Dakota.

Only top-notch professionals in their fields were selected to handle the various phases of development at Devil's Nest. Flatow-Moore-Bryan and Fairburn of Phoenix were commissioned to develop the land-use plan. Their accomplishments include such hotels as a new Camelback Inn for the Marriott chain and the Newporter Inn at Newport Beach, Calif. The firm currently has more than $250 million worth of hotels and related structures under design, including a major ski lodge at Buttermilk Mountain in Colorado.

Engineers for the project are Gallahan, Shimmer and Associates, Inc., of Omaha, experienced planners for industrial, commercial, residential, recreational areas, parks, and the like. Their commissions include highways, roads, bridges, airports, water and sanitary systems, golf courses, and swimming pools.

Whether for weekend visitors or summer tenants, the Devil's Nest of the near future will be well equipped to handle the situation. And, the western-style hospitality, for which NEBRASKAland is noted, will be a cornerstone in the development. THE END

PONY-KEG SOLDIERS

exciting. These men had volunteered for the Army because they wanted to fight. Back at Fort Kearny all they did was watch over the settlers and cows. Now, at least, they were seeing Indians and there was always the chance of a battle. Danger was probably greater than they realized, but after a dozen or more scouting expeditions, these too became boring, dusty routine.

However, this was not the case for Trooper M. J. Grubb. He often went to Fort Kearny on mail runs, being one of the more dependable men in the detachment, but one day he didn't return.

As he neared Gibbon, a hunting party, probably Sioux, spotted him and gave chase. He kicked his tired horse into a run, but was soon overtaken by the whooping band, and killed.

Similar raids were occurring frequently along the Platte River, so action greeted Troop E when the men returned to Fort Kearny after their four-month assignment.

They were called out time and again to chase Indians away from settlements or clean up the scenes of massacre they found.

On top of all those troubles, the railroad kept nagging the Army to protect its survey parties, and streams of ragged immigrants kept coming into the territory, adding to the worries. Hardened and bitter, the officers at Fort Kearny were not always the most co-operative. It was common knowledge that a former post commander had gone back to his home in the south to become a colonel in the Confederate Army, and that didn't help the internal situation at the fort.

There was still plenty of drinking going on among the troops, and tempers often flared between northern and southern sympathizers. For some time, a local rancher was their liquor and beer supplier. James Boyd, who later became governor of Nebraska, had set up a brewery on the bank of Wood River, just northeast of the fort. He sold his beer for $6 a keg, but whiskey brought a better price. He brought in alcohol from a port on the Missouri River and made 20 barrels of whiskey from each barrel of alcohol. Then, he sold this mixture for $20 a gallon. Not only was he making money, but he was gaining tremendous popularity with the troops.

As time went on, conflicts with Indians gradually subsided. The hubbub of activity brought by the railroad crews helped drive the Indians out, and in their wake came a new influx of settlers. Northern Buffalo County was surveyed in 1866 by George McClure, Edwin Farnsworth, and H. C. F. Hackbusch, and homesteading began in earnest after the railroad gained possession of most of the land.

Fort Banishment eventually disappeared. Settlers of the Gibbon Homestead Colony needed timber badly, and used the oak logs from the abandoned structures at the fort for their own homes. Only the sod fortification remained, a monument to the men who, regardless of the reasons for their being there, contributed to the rapid taming of the area.

For almost 30 years, the earthen walls could still be seen, even after the South Loup changed its course during a flood and washed part of them away. But rain, cattle, and man's machinery finally returned the sod to its original state, erasing all traces of Fort Banishment.

Born of an ignonimious act, the make-shift fort, nevertheless, earned its place in Nebraska's history. Members of Company E, 7th Iowa Cavalry, must have remembered Fort Banishment for a long time, but perhaps the commanding officer at Fort Kearny held the most vivid recollections of the night of the mutiny. After all, he was sober. THE END

PHEASANTS IN "RAIN"

of the crew was Commander John Altmeyer, also an experienced Navy fighter pilot. "Jack" does most of his shooting near his home in Newark, Ohio. He had hunted pheasants before, but Nebraska was new hunting territory for him, as well as for his partners.

The next morning should have been cool, clear, and crisp. But the weather NEBRASKAland changed its fickle mind. As the three headed west from Lincoln, they were met by weather that was damp and dull. A heavy blanket of fog covered them as they approached their final destination, Clay County.

Near the eastern end of the Rainwater Basin, Clay County is typical of the entire area. Although the county was named for Kentucky statesman Henry Clay, it could just as well have taken its name from the heavy layer of underlying clay. The clay keeps the water from percolating downward, thus most of the water loss is by evaporation. The wet loamy soil, known locally as "black gumbo," makes the basin only marginal for agriculture. The primary crops raised there are corn and a variety of sorghums.

But this bane to farmers is a boon for hunters. The water-holding qualities of the basins make them choice areas for waterfowl production. Many of the small ponds and lagoons thus formed have been purchased by the federal government's National Wildlife Refuge System. These waterfowl production areas range in size from a few to nearly a thousand acres. While they have been set aside primarily as places for ducks to breed, these islands of habitat offer hunting for a variety of species in season, including pheasant. Of course, the private land in the "Rain" also offers good hunting, with the permission of the landowner.

It was these areas in Clay County for which the trio was headed. Shooting time had just arrived when they reached the 670 acres surrounding Massie Lagoon, 3 miles south of Clay Center. The spot had plenty of roosting cover, and looked good for openers.

At the end of the narrow dirt road that led into the area, the three planned their strategy.

"Let's begin by working this edge," suggested Jack, as he slipped a pair of shells into the twin barrels of his 16-gauge shotgun. "Good idea," countered Ralph. "The birds are probably holding in that cover because of the dampness."

Like a squadron of fighters, the triangle of gunners headed into the early-morning fog. Visibility was limited to about 50 yards. They had hardly walked five minutes when a sharp cackle revealed the take-off of a pheasant. The bird knifed through the mist, and triggered them into action.

"Cock," shouted Gary. The top barrel of Ralph's over-under responded. The ringneck fell to the No. 7V2 shot he had loaded into the,12-gauge shell. The first bird was in the bag. They had eight to go, but their day's mission had just begun.

On that first short sweep through the brush, no more birds were seen. As they headed back to the road, shots from several hundred yards away caught their attention.

"Sounds like somebody's getting into those ducks we saw on the lagoon," Gary commented.

The trio's second swing was to the north of the road. They again formed a triangle with Ralph at the point, and Gary and Jack on the flanks, walking slightly ahead to turn the birds in. The action picked up on this pass, but turned out to be (Continued on page 65)

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NEBRASKA MOTEL ASSOCIATION

PHEASANTS IN "RAIN"

unproductive in terms of game in the bag. Two hens flushed, quickly followed by two roosters. Buckshot chased the cocks, but they rocketed out of range.

It was later in the morning now, and the hunters knew that the birds would be moving into their feeding areas. Working through the brush bordering a milo field, the group got back into productive action. On a long swing around the perimeter of the waterfowl area, more birds flushed.

They're all hens," Jack called, as several birds flew past Gary. "That's the kind of luck I have," quipped the smiling captain. "You guys know the girls are always attracted to me."

The snickers had hardly subsided when Gary's luck changed. A rooster flashed by on his right. His 20-gauge automatic rang out. The bird was on the way down when Ralph clipped him with an insurance shot. Several minutes later, Ralph's gun again swung into action. Another pheasant fell to the top barrel.

After sweeping a fencerow without scoring, the trio headed back to the car. The wetness of the brush had soaked their boots and pants. A chill breeze came up as they field dressed the three birds. It was time for a break.

The afternoon brought several changes in hunting conditions. The weather had cleared and warmed up. Dried and refreshed, the Navy officers were ready to continue their day afield.

In the afternoon, feeding pheasants can usually be found in corn and milo fields. With this in mind, the trio drove to a large field of standing milo in which they had been given permission to hunt. It was a wide-ranging area and offered prospects for a good afternoon hunt with plenty of action.

These experienced hunters knew that it would take many passes to work such a large area. A little planning would be needed.

"We'll start in this corner," Ralph said, "and gradually work our way toward that fallow field."

With almost military precision, they waded into the tall milo. The leaves brushed against them rhythmically as they marched up and down the long rows. The gumbo soil of the "Rain" lived up to its name. Gobs of the sticky mud clung to their boots, and each step added to the weight.

There were many pheasants in the field, but they were flushing too far ahead of the hunters. The birds were taking off for a far corner of the field well out of range. And, as it usually happens, the hens were the only birds coming close. Several passes through the field resulted in the same outcome. The trio had several chances at the flashy fowl, but it was wasted buckshot. Finally, Gary was able to put some of his No. 6's to good use. He got a climbing ringneck. Taking a breather, the three reviewed their situation.

"This milo has a lot of pheasants in it," noted Gary, "but the field is so big, I think they're just moving from one part to another." Jack agreed. "They all seem to be flying toward that corner," he said, pointing to a distant spot. 'Why don't we work our way over there," suggested Ralph. "I think we can box some of them in."

The new plan paid off in short order. As they neared the corner, a pair of roosters took off like a pair of Migs. Using the skill and timing necessary in his trade, Jack dropped them both with No. 6 shot from the modified and full barrels of his double 16-gauge.

Moving closer to the small pond that bordered the field, they flushed more birds. Ralph knocked down a single with the technique of the outstanding trap-shooter he is. A few minutes later, Jack proved that his double was no fluke, as he dropped another bird with the same precision. The sunset was beginning as they completed a pass along the outside edge of the field.

"I can still get another bird," said Gary, after double-checking their total take. "We have enough time to make one more pass."

As if in response to Gary's comment, a rooster shot up less than 20 feet in front of him. Quickly regaining his composure, he swung his shotgun, downing number nine. Limits in (Continued on page 68)

106,622 ACRES OF WELCOME

Roundup and What to do

From State Fair to Big Red, this autumn month is alive with color and jam-packed with fun

SEPTEMBER BRINGS splashes of red to Nebraska. Mother Nature begins to work her colorful wizardry on the landscape, and thousands of red-clad fans jam Lincoln's Memorial Stadium to cheer on the University of Nebraska "Big Red" footballers.

A jam-packed schedule of top caliber western see-and-do events threatens to split NEBRASKAland at the seams throughout the month. From the giant State Fair to competitive shoot-outs, fun-time community festivals, and the opening of four hunting seasons, there's ample fun for everyone.

Introducing NEBRASKAland readers to September's sizzling agenda of activities is NEBRASKAland's September hostess, Judy Roth of Gering. Anticipating the opening of waterfowl hunting, Miss Roth is busily shaping up her decoys for best results in the field.

Daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Emanuel Roth of Gering, Judy is a graduate of Gering High School and a 1969 graduate of Chadron State College. At Chadron, Miss Roth studied elementary education and this past school year she taught 66 fourth grade at McDonald elementary school in North Platte. Judy is an alum of Chi Omega Sorority and served Chadron State College as Ivy Queen and Homecoming Queen. Her favorite pastimes include playing the piano, outdoor sports, and traveling.

The first day of the month brings bushy-tailed squirrels under the hunter's gun here in the "nation's mixed-bag capital". Then, on the 19th, deer become legal game across the state for bow hunters in one of the nation's longest seasons which extends to December 31. Nimrods go into action on September 26 with the opening of the rifle-antelope season in designated management units. The antelope season continues through October 4.

Waterfowl hunters will again get an opportunity for some early duck shooting with a special teal season from September 12 through 20. Shooting hours for the teal season will be sunrise to sunset. Bag limit is four birds, and hunters must have a special free teal permit in addition to a Nebraska hunting license and a federal duck stamp.

Nebraska's Capital City throbs with super excitement for seven big days starting on September 3, as the Nebraska State Fair begins its second hundred years and claims the entire state's attention. A star-studded cast headlines the grandstand shows, including Liberace, Buck Owens, and Hank Williams, Jr. This is only a beginning of State Fair fun. This year an extraordinary antique show will be introduced to fairgoers along with the largest machinery exhibit in the world. Of course, all the fair regulars will be on hand including the giant midway, chuck wagon races, tractor and horse-pulling contests, livestock shows, and many more.

Bob Devaney's "Big Red" footballers take to the field on Saturday the 12th, for their first home game meeting on a new field of artificial turf. The Demon Deacons of Wake Forest invade Cornhusker territory on that date. Then, on September 26 the Army Cadets are in Lincoln for a head-on clash with the scarlet and cream.

Fluttering silks and thundering hooves are on tap at Columbus, Madison, and South Sioux City through September. The horses finish up in Columbus on the 7th and then take up business in Madison on the 10th and continue through the 26th. Atokad track in South Sioux City then hosts the "King of Sports" action from the 30th through October 31.

Racing on wheels is also on the agenda for September. In addition to auto racing and exhibitions at the State Fair, gears will be whining and rubber burning at Cornhusker Raceway at Omaha on the 19th and 20th.

Trap shooters will converge on several communities throughout the month for registered trap shoots, including the following places: Fremont, Cozad, North Platte, Beatrice, Alliance, Kearney, Norfolk, Roscoe, and Lincoln.

A hundred-year celebration is slated for Schuyler beginning on the 3rd and continuing through the 7th. Numerous fun-time events are planned for the community's celebration.

Apples are the center of attention come the 12th in Nebraska City as that city holds its annual Apple Jack Festival. From apple pie to apple orchards, Nebraska City promises an "apple-of-your-eye" welcome for festival followers. A giant parade, beauty contest, and Apple Bowl Game are all included in the planned fun.

Old-time steam and gas engines sputter and purr at Wilcox the 19th and 20th during an exhibit of these engines of yesteryear. And, Edison looks to the mechanical side too, in September as this small south-central community hosts its Threshing Day Festival.

Horse shows are scheduled for several Nebraska communities during the month including Ponca, Fairbury, and Lincoln all on the 13th. Onlookers witness the training efforts of expert horsemen.

Meanwhile, horses are also on the agenda in Bridgeport from September 4 to 7, but in a different fashion as the Bridgeport rodeo spans those days. Cowpokes meet head-on with rangy critters in bone-busting, thrill-a-minute competition. All in all, come September, NEBRASKAland is "Where The Action Is!"

PHEASANTS IN "RAIN"

their game bags, the trio walked back to the car, savoring contentment after a successful day in the outdoors.

"This was fabulous, just fabulous," bubbled Ralph. "This has to be some of the best hunting I've ever had." Gary agreed. "Just think, if we had been interested in hunting more than pheasants we could have added ducks, geese, and quail to our take." "Rabbits too," noted Jack, remembering the many bunnies they had seen scurrying through the milo.

It was almost dark by the time they got back to their car. They had the birds cleaned and frozen at a local store, and were ready to head back to Lincoln.

Next morning the trio boarded the private plane for the flight back. Their one-day hunt in the "Rain" had been a success, and all three said it would not be long before they returned.

The engine roared, as the aircraft lifted itself from the runway and headed east, into the rising sun. THE END

THREE FOR THE RECORD

tree-filled bay, coasting to a stop in the shade of some overhanging willows.

"Looks good," Rick said, slipping on his polarized sunglasses and climbing onto the deck. He stood and waited. Minutes later he spotted a carp lying next to a partially submerged bush 20 feet away. Easing the 45-pound-pull bow into position, he loosed the solid, fiberglass shaft. Line snaked off the bow's reel and the arrow sliced the water.

"Shot over him," Rick grumbled, as he rewound the line. "Refraction makes a fish look closer to the surface than it actually is, and you have to compensate by aiming lower."

A while later, Mark spotted a big carp coming directly toward the boat near the surface. Rick waited until the fish was five feet from the boat before releasing the arrow.

"You got him!" Mark shouted. The carp splashed on the surface for a second and then dove for the submerged brushes. "That's why I use a 72-pound-test line on my bow," Rick said, wrestling the five-pounder out of the tangle of growth. "I do most of my bow-fishing in shallow water and it seems that half the fish get tangled in weeds."

During the next hour, Rick scored on two more carp, a seven-pounder and another five-pounder. "There are lots of them in here," he said, "but they're hard to see in this murky water. Let's head out on the lake and do a little hook-and-line fishing."

As we headed back onto open water, I asked Rick how he got started on bow-fishing.

"It was when I was a junior in high school. I watched a guy shoot two nice walleye at Lake Minatare. He let me shoot his bow a few times, and I decided right then and there to buy a bow and give it a try. The next spring my bow-hunting partner, Doug Leafgreen, and I NEBRASAKland each shot seven-pound, eight-ounce walleye while hunting together at Lake Minatare. The identical fish set a new state record, which Doug and I shared until it was broken this spring." (See Walleye Coincidence, May, 1970)

As he continued, he tola of how that first record fish he shot really hooked him. He has been bow-fishing ever since. His interest, however, goes beyond fishing. He received his bachelor of arts degree in zoology from the University of Nebraska this spring, and plans to work for a master's degree in limnology, which is the study of fresh water.

Fishing was slow on the lake now, but we did manage to pick up a few walleye and white bass before heading in for supper. While we relaxed after the meal, I asked Rick how he shot his other two state records —an 11-ounce bluegill and a 6-pound, 10-ounce rainbow trout.

"I got the bluegill last spring at Pawnee Lake," he said. "It was the middle of May and I had been hunting northerns there the previous week. I had done well, limiting out with fish up to nine pounds, so I was anxious to try again. But when I went back out I couldn't find any pike, so I just waded along the northwest shore. I figured I might run across a bass in the shallows. The water was kind of muddy. All of a sudden this bluegill just popped up about 10 feet in front of me. I hit him dead center, and figured I had a winner because the previous record was nine ounces. This one was bigger.

"They ought to have a state record class for the smallest fish taken with a bow and arrow because the bigger the fish the easier it is to hit. Using fishermen's logic, the smaller it is, the better the trophy ought to be," he said with a smile.

Following that logic, I suggested the bluegill was his best trophy.

"No, seriously speaking, the trout had to be the toughest of the three," he said. "I had never shot a trout, so this spring I was really determined. I drove out to Lake Mac for the opening day of bow-hunting April 1. The ice was just beginning to break and there was open water near the shore of Sport Service Bay. The trout were there but the shooting was the trickiest I ever saw. A trout would appear in a little patch of open water. I would shoot and he would be gone. I shot many times that day and never scored. But I learned a few things. The water was extremely clear, and the fish were deeper than they appeared to be. Also, the trout would take off the second the arrow hit the water, so I had to shoot where I thought the fish were going to be, instead of where they actually were.

"I went home empty-handed, but I was back three days later. The ice had broken more but the fish were still there. I didn't score until a fisherman told me there was a pair of big trout right near the surface down the shore. I went to have a look. They were there, all right, but too far out for a shot, so I crawled out over the water on some pilings connected by narrow timbers. After I had positioned myself, the smaller of the two fish came near the surface and I let fly. The shot, and probably the shock of connecting, almost threw me off balance and into the water. I (Continued on page 72)

Outdoor Elsewhere

Eye Opener. A New York fisherman has nominated the carp as the official state fish for a reason not so funny as it may sound. "This might open the eyes of our state and federal legislators," the fisherman says, "to the fact that unless something is done soon about the pollution of our waters, the carp may be the only fish we'll have left."—New York

Bonus Fishing. A teen-age Kansas angler was busily fishing for crappie recently, when he spotted his stringer, already loaded with 10 crappies, being towed out toward the middle of the lake. The fellow was too late to reach the stringer by wading so he did the next best thing. The teen-ager cast to the very spot, snagged the stringer, and reeled his catch back to shore. But, he not only landed his crappie-laden stringer but also a 9-pound northern pike that had tried to swallow one of the crappies and got it stuck in his throat. Now that's bonus fishing! —Kansas

Sack 'Em. On a national level, outdoorsmen are being urged to take a "gunny" sack with them into Mother Nature's great outdoor recreation room. The purpose of the sack is to fill it with any trash or litter that might be found strewn about the landscape. Outdoor fun brings a smile to most faces, and so will any empty gunny sack when its owners have tried in vain to fill it!-Washington,D.C.

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 blue-fish, 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. The fish wouldn't let go so the local fire department had to be summoned to NEBRASKAland remove the fish with the aid of tongue depressors. —Rhode Island

Show Dogs. Thefts from the multi-million-dollar San Francisco Sports and Boat Show dropped from more than five a day last year to less than one a day in 1970. The reason for the drop in thefts was show dogs. Sentry-dog teams trained for a new security force known as "Dog Power", organized by a former Navy man, were on hand to encourage the crowds to behave properly. The show dogs were apparently successful. — California

Truffle Hounds. Among the most unusual dogs taking to the hunting fields are truffle hounds. Generally they are not hounds at all, but poodle-terrier mixes. Their prey is a mushroom-like fungi called truffles, and prized by gourmets. Truffles grow about three inches beneath the topsoil of oak or beech groves in certain areas of Britain and Europe. Since the elusive truffle doesn't reveal itself by so much as a leaf, canine scenting powers are essential to bring the delicacy to the table. Dogs have been trained as truffle hunters for hundreds of years and once were even more specialized—poodles scouted the delicacy and a dachshund dug it up. — Anon

A New Approach To Ice Fishing. While ice fishing for walleye last winter, two Minnesota anglers were striking a big zero. Just as the pair was about to give it up for another day, one of them spotted another ice-fishing shanty being towed past their hut. "That's what we should be doing." he said. "Doing what?" his partner asked. "Trolling," came the solemn reply. Now, how about that? — Minnesota

Captive Audience. Just to insure keeping all of their usual 1,000 contestants in the annual Rainy River Ice Fishing Derby at Baudette, Minnesota, last winter, the sponsors of the fishing contest set up two television sets on the ice. The idea was to prevent defectors from staying home to watch the Minnesota Vikings and the Cleveland Browns battle it out for the National Football League crown. And, it worked! — Minnesota

The Long Arm Of The Law. Much to the dismay of game and fish-law violators, conservation officers are a pretty hard lot to fool. A case in point is a San Francisco skin diver who was diving in the bay area and illegally taking shellfish. Without a worry in the world, he was probably just thinking to himself how shrewd he was when suddenly something touched his shoulder. Surprised, he turned to see a badge staring him right in the face. It was the long, wet arm of the law, scuba diving equipment and all. The officer had truly made a believer out of this violator. — California

THREE FOR THE RECORD

didn't know if the arrow had really gone all the way through the fish and was afraid I might lose him. I pulled him in carefully until he was close enough for me to grab the arrow. I pushed it all the way through his body and then scooped him out of the water. The rainbow was nine ounces above the previous record when I weighed him."

This meant Rick held three state records. "But it didn't last long," he said. "It was just seven days later when my record was broken. This time someone else shot an eight-pound, seven-ounce trout, a record which will probably last for a while.

"And then, strangely enough, Doug's and my walleye record was beat the same day. I was down to just the bluegill record, but I did not give up. There is always tomorrow, I thought."

It was getting late and we had another day of fishing ahead, so we headed for bed. We spent most of the next day trolling. Although the action was slow, we managed to land more walleye and white bass, a few crappie, and a lone perch.

Toward evening, Rick and I hiked to a flooded cove just north of Lake view for a last round of bow-hunting before going back to Lincoln. The high water had covered a grassy swale. As we stepped into the water, ripples and moving grass showed the escape routes of fish taking off in all directions. Fish movement was evident all around us, but seeing them was a different thing. Sometimes water and weeds moved just inches from our feet, and on a few occasions a fish would touch our legs. Fifteen minutes later Rick spotted a tail-fin above the surface and let fly. A four-pound carp splashed to the surface and Rick hauled him in. During the next half-hour Rick nailed two more carp, both weighing in at three pounds. "This is good practice, but I guess we had better head back to Lincoln," he said. "It will be after midnight by the time we get back."

It was about a week later when I saw Rick again.

"I'm back up to two records," he said with a smile. "I got a 14-ounce yellow perch." He told of how he and another angler had gone to Lake Mac during the weekend.

"We tried fishing on the lake and couldn't catch anything, so we pulled into an inlet to try for perch. I saw one surface just as we were anchoring, so I got out my bow. I waited three hours and finally got him. It's a funny thing. The two records I hold now are the smallest in the book."

I reminded him about what he had told me earlier. "Just remember, the smaller the fish, the harder they are to hit." THE END

OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland of the Air