One of many migrating duck species, the redhead appears on this month's cover. The majesty of a Nebraska winter sunset is portrayed on page 3. Both photos were taken by NEBRASKAland's Lou Ell.

NEBRASKAland

Speak Up

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

RAW DEAL-"Last August, I visited the Gretna State Fish Hatchery where I was employed from 1933 to 1935.

"When I worked there, the facility was thriving. Thousands upon thousands of trout fry and fingerlings were produced and planted each year. Great numbers of largemouth bass, bluegill, sunfish, and channel catfish were also bred there.

"Gretna was a showplace, a place where people could take their families or friends for a day's outing and also learn of the intricate process of artificial fish production. A complete and fine exhibit of many fish species was in the hatch house, and qualified men were on hand to answer questions.

"There was a beautiful, well-kept park and recreation area on the hill, with tables and benches for picnic lunches and swings for the young to enjoy.

"Last August, I found nothing but depredation. The ponds were nearly all dry. The hatch house was locked and boards covered the doors and windows. There seemed to be little activity anywhere on the place.

"Fishermen of Nebraska, I'm sure that the cost of your fishing and hunting licenses has increased considerably over the years. I am also certain that you are getting a very raw deal for the money you are paying to the Game and Parks Commission." —Cecil A. McDaniel, Paradise, California.

LOU WHO?-"Writing fan letters has not exactly been my ilk, but I feel Lou Ell should get one.

"I have long admired and enjoyed his pictures in NEBRASKAland, but he outdid himself with Birches and Waterfalls in the November, 1971, issue. Those will be clipped and saved.

"You might be interested to know that I sent eight subscriptions to overseas friends. Four of them wrote letters and mentioned the waterfalls. I suspect the reason the others did not is because it takes some time for the magazine to arrive by surface mail." —Ralph Baird, Blue Hill.

BOAT ON WHEELS-"Wherever I go with my 14-foot boat, it seems to create quite a bit of interest in how I load and unload the car-top rig. I have secured wheels for the rear of the boat, making it a one-man operation to take it off the car, put in all the fishing gear, put the motor on, and push it into the water. I then remove the wheels. The whole process is simple." —Harold Morrison, Papillion.

DAFFY INDEED-"A male prairie chicken on our place used to follow the tractor and plow back and forth across the field during spring plowing. Then, he tried to challenge a truck. And when the men didn't go to the fields, he came up to the place, booming and charging, and chased the grand-children around the yard. We named him 'Daffy' and made a film of his antics. But, the next day he disappeared and we have not seem him since." —Inez Loseke, Ericson.

RECIPE NEEDED-"Can you obtain a recipe for summer sausage using either venison or beef?" —Matt J. Simmons, Omaha.

None of our staff is familiar with such a recipe. Perhaps, however, some of our readers might have one. Any help would be appreciated. — Editor

WHODUNIT-"On page 51 of the October issue of NEBRASKAland is a picture of a marker of the spot where Buffalo Bill and Yellow Hand fought. Could you tell us who built that monument?

"I have seen it and I am positive Jacob A. Rainey of Ardmore, South Dakota, put it up. If so, the large rock was one a Mrs. Konrath used when she made kraut each year. She used it to hold the cabbage down in the brine.

"Also, if Mr. Rainey built the marker, it was a lookout station, and east of there a short distance is another marker he built at the same time. It was in a low spot and was the actual spot where Yellow Hand was killed." —Mrs. Izora Rainey, Valley Mills, Texas.

After considerable checking, the origin of the marker remains a secret to us. Perhaps area residents would be so kind as to fill us in. — Editor.

GREAT BUT GONE-"The water colors illustrating The Girls Went Canoeing in the July, 1971, issue were superb. I would love to have mountable prints of all three. Is there any chance that NEBRASKAland could reproduce them for sale to its readers?" —J. B. Baumann, Denver, Colorado.

Unfortunately, no such possibility exists. Since the art was original, we do not have photo transparencies of it. And, the watercolors themselves have been disposed of. — Editor.

GET INVOLVED-"As a resident of Miller, I feel that I must answer Mr. Lowry's letter in NEBRASKAland's November Speak Up Column.

"Mr. Lowry, have you studied the pros and cons of the Mid-State Reclamation Project thoroughly? Are you aware that now, instead of diverting water from the Platte, that it is rumored that they have proposed to fill the dam with water from 600 wells? This gets the National Audubon Society out of the way, and saves the Platte. But what, pray tell, will these 600 wells do to the water

level? This not only affects us in the immediate area, but the entire state.

"I can see both sides in the matter, but let's take a good look at the long-range aspects before we say, 'Oh well, let somebody else take care of it, we're not involved'. Like it or not, all Nebraskans are involved in this project. After all, we're all paying taxes for it." — Anonymous, Miller.

RARE FIND-"Enclosed is a photograph of the American flamingo seen from October 20 to 26, 1971, on Cresent Lake, Garden County, Nebraska." — Ronald L Perry, Refuge Manager, Crescent Lake National Wildlife Refuge, Ellsworth.

Details on where the bird came from are nonexistent. However, speculation is that it escaped from a zoo, and hunters were cautioned not to shoot it — Editor.

DUCKY DECOY-"Who made the decoy on the cover of December's NEBRASKAland? It is an excellent specimen and I would like to obtain one." - James Sheridan, Anchorage, Alaska.

JUST THE THING-"On the cover of your December issue is a wooden decoy that would be just the thing for my fireplace mantel. Any information as to where I could buy one would be greatly appreciated.'' - William Sulesky, Euclid, Ohio.

Information on the decoys may be obtained by contacting Ralph Stutheit, 6000 Colfax, Lincoln, Nebraska 68507 — Editor.

For the Record . . . Nature Conservancy

One of the most pressing problems facing any government agency which deals in real estate is the spiraling price of land. Even though the cost of most everything is going up, land values are soaring.

Thus, it has been a practice of the Game and Parks Commissioners to occasionally postpone development on property already owned by the state in order to purchase other new areas which may soon drift beyond the Commission's financial reach. However, when suitable acreage becomes available, it is not possible for the Commission to simply go out and buy it. Approval of the Commissioners, the Legislature, and the Governor must be obtained and funds must be appropriated. It is a necessary but time-consuming procedure which can result in loss of opportunity.

The problem isn't unique to the Nebraska Game and Parks Commission. It is a nation-wide dilemma. A group which has recognized this situation and is attempting to do something about it is Nature Conservancy of Arlington, Virginia. A nonprofit, privately supported environmental organization, Nature Conservancy works to preserve areas throughout the country which are ecologically or environmentally significant. By using private funds, Conservancy buys land when it is available, then holds it in trust until the interested agency has the authority and money to buy it at original cost.

Now, thanks to Nature Conservancy, the Game and Parks Commission may add 320 acres to the existing Pawnee Prairie Special-Use Area. These 800 acres of virgin prairie provide a key island of habitat for prairie chickens in southeast Nebraska's Pawnee County. At the turn of the century these square-tailed prairie grouse ranged over much central prairie, but farming operations have reduced the vital grassland portion of their habitat and almost eliminated them from all tillable acres, leaving them only in the more remote areas, such as Nebraska's Sand Hills.

But, with better management during the last quarter of a century, a slow reversal of this trend has restored some of the grasslands in southeastern Nebraska and the chicken is responding. Since there are not many tall-grass habitat areas remaining in Nebraska —or anywhere else for that matter —the Commission feels that these 320 acres would be a valuable addition to Pawnee Prairie.

In January of 1971, the Game and Parks Commission sought the assistance of Nature Conservancy. Recognizing the site's importance, Conservancy purchased the tract in March 1971, after receiving a letter of intent from the Commission. Now, necessary approval and funds are being sought from the Legislature.

This is Nature Conservancy's first undertaking in Nebraska, although it has been involved in setting aside natural areas in 43 other states. Support for Conservancy comes primarily from the public, whose contributions to the organization's general fund make projects of national significance possible.

With the continued co-operation and assistance of private organizations like Nature Conservancy, the Game and Parks Commission may be able to save much-needed wild areas before they become financially untouchable.

Prayer for Gray Dawn

THE AUCTIONEER pleaded with the crowd: "I'm bid $5-how 'bout $6 —gimme $6, gimme $6 — over there —how 'bout $7?" But no one bid higher for the little, grayroan, weanling colt with its black mane and big, frightened eyes.

"Dad, couldn't we get him? I'll take care of him," I pleaded. I was a young married woman with children of my own, but I loved animals. It was 1932 and my husband and I farmed together with my parents at Ralston three miles southwest of Omaha's stockyards. The auctioneer droned on.

At first, Dad demurred. We had no time for a colt with all the chores and planting to be done, but finally he gave in.

Our $7 bid was accepted. Now we faced the task of getting the little fellow home, so we took turns leading him and driving the car. We bedded down a very weary little traveler in the barn that night after his three-mile walk.

Almost a year passed, and the ugly little wean ling grew into a sleek-limbed, graceful yearling. He raced across the pasture at my call, head high, black mane and tail flying in the breeze, and reddish-gray coat gleaming in the sun. He often walked behind me, nipping at my shoulder or purposely stepping on my heels. Then, when I turned in anger, he gleefully raced away. We called him Gray Dawn because his coat was like the grayish red of a morning sky.

There were many animals on the farm, but Gray Dawn was my favorite. I loved him as a pet and spent many mornings grooming him, wondering what I would do if I ever lost him because of a nagging premonition I had that this might happen.

Then tragedy struck. A sleepin-sickness epidemic swept across the Midwest in 1933. Farmers, already fighting economic depression, were losing valuable horses. Wesympathized with our neighbor across the road when he lost his black Morgan mare.

Then it was our turn. Jack, our stot-hearted mule was first to go, followed by Bill, the big Clydesdale with the blaze down his face and the funny, long white hair on his legs. Teddy, the brownish-black, short-tailed hackney pony was next. We found him in the south pasture.

Fear—black fear—entered our hearts. We grieved for our workers as we stood by helplessly and watched the animals die. There was no cure, they told us, nothing we could do.

One morning Gray Dawn didn't get up. "Oh no, dear God, not Gray Dawn,' I moaned as he struggled to stand. He just couldn't die, too. Finally, gaining his feet, he seemed to fall asleep and dropped like a log. In vain, I coaxed him to eat. With wild, rolling eyes he banged his head against the stall's sides. All that day and through the following night he fought what seemed to be a losing battle. I padded his stall with straw and old blankets, refusing to give him up.

I prayed for Gray Dawn. "Dear God, if we but trust in thee, no harm can come to us or any of thy creatures." On through the long, lonely night I stayed and prayed. I pried his mouth open and filled it with oats. He chewed fiercely for a moment, then fell asleep again. I prodded him to his feet. Standing spraddle-legged for a moment, he dropped. Again and again I urged him up, forcing water from an old pop bottle into his mouth. A lot of it spilled, but he drank some.

On his way to church next morning, Dad stepped into the barn and looked down at my poor yearling. Gray Dawn's eyes were glazed with approaching death. I couldn't prod him to his feet anymore.

"I wouldn't give you a nickel for him. He'll never last the day," Dad said sadly, and left.

I sat on a milking stool with my back to the wall. Thoroughly exhausted, I must have dozed off. How long I slept I don't remember, but a faint nicker woke me. Dazed, I saw Gray Dawn standing on trembling legs, nibbling at his pan of soaked oats. The wildness had left his eyes. Battered and bleeding, he swayed a few times, then finally stood firm. I put my head in my hands and sobbed with happy relief. The battle, with God's help, had been won.

Several weeks later I watched him race across the pasture again, his beautiful coat glistening in the sun. Again he mischievously nibbled at my shoulder and stepped on my heels. It still annoyed me, but never as much as before.

I can honestly say that I feel my prayer was answered. THE END

HOW TO: Tune up Camping Tools

Midwinter hours are good time to get those all-important cutting implements into prime shape for next summer's outings

TOOLS USED in the preparation of camp firewood invariably end the season in deplorable condition. Blades are dull, handles are splintered and rough, saws have broken or bent teeth, and a sheath knife looks barely sharp enough to cut butter. Should you store the tools in a dull state, you'll likely take them back to the woods on your first scheduled campout still bearing the scars of the previous year.

Such dull tools, along with their poor performance, are dangerous to use. A dull axe, glancing off a hard log, is not too dull to bury itself in the flesh of a leg or foot.

To avoid this, an excellent time to put new edges on steel, refinish handles, and replace worn protective sheaths, is a midwinter night, possibly one when the wind rushes past the windows and snowflakes build on the panes.

Painted handles, often found on new axes or mistakenly painted by the owner in an attempt to dress them up, are blister-raising abominations. Wrap a thick, glass bottle in an old burlap bag or piece of canvas, and swat it with the flat side of the axe. Select a piece of the broken glass that will fit the hand comfortably, and carefully tape one edge to protect your palm. Use this glass scraper to remove all paint from the axe handle —all the way to bare wood. Smooth the handle with fine sandpaper. Warm some linseed oil in a double boiler and mop the handle with the warm oil. Rub it in well with the rag until the wood will absorb no more, then continue to rub with your bare hand. After the oil dries, dress it with fine sandpaper and apply another coat of oil. Sand again and apply a third oil coat. Let this dry for several days, sand 13  

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Painted or scarred hatchet handle can be refinished by scraping with broken glass

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Combination of holding jig and new file makes axe sharpening quick job

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Protection for saw blade can be fashioned from hose, wood, leather

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Heat linseed oil and rub into handle until it will absorb no more. Sand and oil again

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Light on knife edge means dullsville. Hone with slicing action on stone

lightly with the finest grit of paper you can obtain, and rub on an extremely small amount of vaseline. The handle should now be satin smooth to the hand.

To completely replace an axe handle, get a new one from a hardware store. Full-size axe handles end in a "fawn foot". Saw a half-inch piece from the toe of the fawn foot to prevent splitting. Dress the blade end of the handle with a wood rasp until it fits in the axe's eye. Mix some epoxy cement and coat the wood before driving it home. It is unnecessary to wedge the handle to the head, as epoxy literally welds the wood to the metal.

To sharpen an axe, make a holder from scrap lumber, such as the one shown in the illustrations. Get a new, 10-inch mill file, and fit it with a handle and a leather safety guard. Lay the axe in the holder and place one foot on its handle. Dress the cutting edge of the blade with the file, angling the strokes so the file barely scrapes up across the bulge of the eye. Such filing, using long, straight strokes, gives the correct taper to the cutting edge. If there are nicks in the blade, continue filing until the worst ones are removed, turning the blade frequently so that both edges are dressed equally.

The filed edge will feel ragged to the touch, so hone it with a hand-held, round, sharpening stone. Apply the stone to the cutting edge with a circular movement until all burring is removed. The axe is now sharp enough for general use. Too much work will draw the edge too thin, and the blade may chip if you chop into a hard knot.

For safety's sake, and to protect a good blade, no axe should go unsheathed. If the sheath for your axe is worn and ripped, open the seams and flatten it for a pattern. Cut a new one from heavy saddle leather and fasten it together with copper rivets. Install a heavy-duty snap fastener on the flap.

Most campers use an axe only for splitting wood. A box saw is satest for reducing logs and limbs to fire length, and replacement saw blades are inexpensive. Measure the length of the old blade, and obtain a new one at a hardware or sporting goods store. After installing it in the frame, take a blade-length piece of garden hose and split it lengthwise. Slip the cutting edge of the blade into the slit. Hold the hose onto the blade with two or three pieces of heavy string. Another good protector is a piece of 1x2-inch wood, with a deep sawcut running lengthwise in the 1-inch edge. Drop the blade into the slot, and tie together with a pair of leather thongs.

You can make a heavy saddle-leather protector for the saw which will match your axe sheath. If you make another sheath for your belt knife, you'll have an entire matched set. Get as fancy as you want with such sheaths; try your hand at some simple tooling to really dress them up.

Your sheath knife needs regular touchups to keep it the sharpest of all your edged tools. Hold the knife, sharp edge up, under a good light and sight along the blade. If there are shiny spots, or a continuous shiny line for the length of the cutting edge, the blade is dull. A sharp edge will always appear as a dark, thin line.

You need a two-sided carborundum stone of finer grit than you use for your axe, and a round, palm-size stone is the best choice. Lay the knifeblade flat on the rough side of the stone, then lift the spine of the blade about 20 degrees. Draw the cutting edge across the stone toward you, as if you were shaving a thin layer of the stone's surface. After several strokes on each side of the blade, repeat the operation using the smoother side of the stone. Again examine the blade under the light. Any shiny spots will tell you where more stonework is needed. When the shiny spots are completely eliminated, the knife is sharp. For an extra keen edge, obtain an "Arkansas stone"; a very fine grained stone nearly marble smooth; and hone the blade on it.

As a final test, hold a piece of fairly heavy paper with its edge toward you, arid slice into it with the knife. If the knife glides easily toward the center of the paper, cutting instead of tearing its way, the tool is sharp enough for any general use — except to shave your face. Further light honing will even achieve this degree of keenness.

By the time you've finished all this, the winter snowstorm will likely have blown itself out, and you can store the sharpened tools with your other camping gear. THE END

Backwater Crappie

Exploding from starting blocks of wind-swept port, two Blair anglers race an Incoming front for one last crack at Missouri River's scrappers. Result is a foray to remember

PRISMATIC REFLECTIONS from a brilliant, noonday sun danced impishly across the choppy bay despite bitter cold and a healthy northwester. The sky was clear, but Wayne Steinbraugh and his son Roger were working against time as a threatening cloud bank appeared on the northern horizon. It was a race with the weather. For the Steinbraughs of Blair it was a last chance at what had been two weeks of unusually good crappie fishing. The 25-horse engine spurred to action, and pushed the 18-foot flatbottom boat toward the pilings protecting the bay from the rolling Missouri River beyond. Canting to port, Wayne swung the craft upstream. Years of hard-earned knowledge of the river's ways made the operation routine.

Eyes watered and faces burned as the father-and-son team sped into the wind. Four more miles separated them from the protected backwater. Duck and goose blinds dotted every likely looking spot along the shore. A deep-bowed boat moored on the opposite side of the half-mile-wide bay suggested that at least one bunch of sportsmen had ducks-not crappie —in mind. There was little doubt that ducks were more likely choices, but this would be the last chance with the rods. Duck hunting would have to wait.

The water was choppy in the wide bay, but the narrow neck beyond appeared reasonably calm as the craft gobbled up the distance to the crappie hole. Then the whole operation went amuck—literally —as the boat drove solidly onto a hidden mud flat. Wayne had suspected the river had dropped since his last trip a few days earlier, but there was no way of knowing just how far. During other trips, the boat had slid smoothly over the bay, but now the water was only inches deep in places.

Breaking out oars, the determined anglers pried their way off the flat and, for the next 15 minutes, poled their way back into the deepwater neck. Finally, the outboard roared to life again and they covered the last stretch.

Wayne cut the motor and the craft glided to a partially submerged log. In the bow, Roger prepared to tie up. While he performed the necessary duties, Wayne took advantage of the delay and hoisted the first crappie, a three-quarter-pounder, from the backwash almost before the boat stopped. How he

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An 18-foot boat and a 25-horse engine put together basics for cane-pole adventure. All that remains for success is a lot of luck, a bit of savvy

dipped into the minnow bucket, picked out a two-incher, and loaded his hook before the boat drifted to a stop remains a mystery. Things looked promising, though. It would be an hour before the front would move in, and the crappie were biting.

Even though Wayne, a sporting-goods dealer in Blair, had a storeful of fishing tackle available, both he and Roger used the most basic, and for crappie the most effective, gear-a cane pole. Rigged with nylon line slightly shorter than the pole, a No. 4 hook, split shot, and a pair of small bobbers, they were ready for action. Since any point in the hole could be reached from the boat, the nine-foot poles worked well.

Action raged the first 15 or 20 minutes, even though the sizes of the fish were disappointing. During the previous two weeks, Indian-summer crappie fishing had been excellent. Wayne and several of his fishing cronies had made numerous trips to the same 3 or 4 holes, and each time had returned with 20 to 30 crappie running from 1 to 1 1/2-pounds. Anything below the pound mark was unceremoniously returned for another year of growth. But now the action tapered. Whether it was because of the lateness of the season or a slacking off of recruitment from other parts of the slough was anyone's guess. Most of the crappie hit three-quarters of a pound, with only a few weighing more than a pound. Wayne held the edge as the two battled in unspoken competition.

Occasional flocks of mallards milled overhead, and the anglers enjoyed a ringside seat as they watched hunters in action. A twinge of envy hit the anglers as they watched several flocks of mallards circle and set their wings over the convincing spread. At the last minute the birds flared, two or three dropped, and seconds later, the reports drifted back. But, before long, the crappie-feeding spree erased all thoughts of hunting. Smaller crappie in the half-pound class became a nuisance as they consistently robbed minnows. Finally, the hole petered out and Wayne cranked up the outboard. A quarter of a mile away he cut the engine and let the boat drift into a second, promising hole.

Tying their boat to the leeward side of a beaver dam which extended to the middle of the channel, the pair baited up and tossed out. But success was not theirs this time. Trying various depths and locations, they enticed not a single fish.

Wayne broke out his bait-casting rig, tied on a silver, weedless minnow with a pork rind trailer, and flailed (Continued on page 60)

Nest Egg of Rocks

No stone can be left unturned if a devotee of this collecting craze is to reap success. The hunt, though, is only half of fun

NOT EVERYONE gives a lot of thought to rocks, but to some people—those initiated into the fine but often strenuous hobby of rock collecting —they are among the most notable features that this old world has to offer.

As with any other type of hunting, the quarry is the thing. And, whether digging in a quarry or sandpit, through glacial remains, or surface collecting along stream bank or hillside, the quest is much the same. A wide variety of gemstones, ornamental stones, and other attractive materials are here for the taking.

Some rocks were formed within the state, but these are of fairly recent origin. Several million years ago, however, Nebraska was the recipient of huge shipments of older rocks. These came from deep within the earth after mountain-forming upheavals.

Mountains to the west were one source, with rivers washing rocks down into valleys here. Glaciers were another source, pushing and carrying debris in from the north and east. These latter deposits, however, are restricted much to the eastern third of the state, while all sections received the influx of the water-borne materials.

Comparatively unexplored by rock collectors, Nebraska now has areas virtually statewide where fossils, minerals, petrified wood, and gemstones are abundant. High-quality specimens are liberally sprinkled on the ground in some areas, and are pumped up by the ton at sandpits. They also appear in excavations in much of the state.

Although some sections of Nebraska offer better pickings than others, there is potential almost everywhere. Among the most productive are the far northwest corner, belts along most rivers, especially the North and South Platte drainages, and rock quarries and other diggings in the east. Locations of the glacial deposits are less predictable and stones are generally of mixed sizes, but they include Lake Superior agates, which are usually distinctly banded in bright colors.

Few rockhounds specialize in a particular material. In fact, the opposite is usually the case —they seek as many different kinds of rock as possible. Indeed, many rocks are beautiful things, with fantastic design and coloration. Few have high (Continued on page 57)

Phenomenon of Migration

HONKING AND QUACKING as if there were no tomorrow, thousands of ducks and geese descend on Nebraska. They come like crimson sumac leaves on a fall breeze. Sailing out of the northern or southern skies, depending on the season, they migrate along the heavily traveled Central Flyway.

The ancient mysteries of waterfowl migration fascinate the mind of man. But, for the most part, reasons for this age-old spectacular remain secrets.

Nebraska's fall migration kicks off during the dog-hot days of mid-August when blue-winged teal and pintails begin moving into the state. With the crispness of fall just a few feedings away, thousands more ducks and geese soon follow. In all, 21 species of ducks travel over Nebraska during their annual, southward treks. And, one webfoot— the mallard —often terminates its journey here.

Nebraska is host to six species of geese on the migratory trail. These are the snows and blues, the common Canadas, the lesser Canadas, the white fronted geese, and Hutchinson geese. Ross geese are also sighted from time to time.

While migration itself remains a puzzle, origins and destinations of many waterfowl species have been confirmed by game specialists.

Theories on how waterfowl finds its way run the gamut from claims that they travel by way of landmarks to flying according to the stars. Whatever the case, most waterfowl begins its southward flight from Canadian Provinces of Saskatchewan and Alberta, terminating in the southern gulf states and Mexico. An exception to this general rule is the blue-winged teal that wings all the way to South America for its winter vacation.

Although waterfowl is often as unpredictable as a woman, fall migration in NEBRASKAland normally hits a peak sometime between October 10 and 20. With hunting seasons generally open early in October, hunters are allowed prime time for pursuit of their favorite sport. And, in recent 24 NEBRASKAland

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Black wing tips of snow goose mark it from swan, its smaller bill from pelican

 

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White around eyes and behind the bill mark this immature as a ring-necked hen

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Male's white cap and both sees' white patch on forwing mark the widgeon

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Our smallest dusk, the green-winged teal is not so colorful and the fall

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Not a true duck, the coot or mudhen is marked by black body, white bill

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This redhead's more rounded forehead differentiates it from the canvasback

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Sometimes called spoonbills, shovelers are noted for their Durante-size bill

years, the inauguration of a point system for duck hunting has made it mandatory for gunners to know their species in order to enjoy maximum shooting.

Like most things, waterfowl identification is easier said than done. While goose identification is less complicated, few sportsmen can quickly memorize the identifying characteristics of 20 or more duck species, and then apply this knowledge in actual hunting situations.

Probably the most important factor in duck-identification proficiency is a bona fide desire to attain it. Nebraska's colorful migration lends itself perfectly to an attack on this challenging task. Thousands of pintails and mallards, as well as many other species, are easy prey for the viewer. The sheer number of ducks, coupled with the fact that they are not scattered by hunters, simplifies observation.

Since the mallard and pintail are the state's most populous ducks, the beginner is well advised to master these two first. Dedicated field study, complemented by book study, will soon pay dividends as the novice learns flight characteristics, feeding habits, landing and takeoff mannerisms, and other telltale hints for each species.

It will soon fall upon the newcomer to differentiate between diving ducks (those who frequent large bodies of water and dive deep for food) and puddle or dabbling ducks (those that frequent shallows water and literally dabble or bob for food). The observer will automatically begin to watch for habitat, color, action, shape, and even voice of all the waterfowl he observes. Each is a great step in its own toward becoming proficient in duck identification.

With this information, the new duck enthusiast is on the road to success via the process of elimination. Upon sighting a flock of ducks, he will immediately know if they are mallards or pintails. If they are neither, nor divers, then he has automatically narrowed the field to a few remaining puddle-duck species.

As more and more hours are spent afield, the duck observer will gradually become more adept at differentiation. The speculum, or colored wing patch, is generally iridescent and bright on puddle ducks, a telltale field mark, while the diving ducks' speculums are less brilliant.

Eclipse plumage on waterfowl often sends even old-timers of the know-your-ducks club into a tizzy, and rightfully so. After breeding, drakes of almost all species moult and lose their colorful attire. Consequently, for about a month, drakes strongly resemble the females. Generally speaking, scattergunners afield will find the majority of adult drakes in full color by the time shooting seasons are underway in Nebraska, while many of the juvenile drakes will still be awaiting full-color dress. It is virtually impossible to distinguish a drake in juvenile plumage from an adult female in flight.

Spring migration begins with pintails which flock into Nebraska, eagerly awaiting winter's release on lands farther north. They gather wherever open water is available. By late March, the spring migration peaks with a tremendous population. Then, as cold weather subsides farther north, the waterfowl moves on to breeding grounds. By the first week in May thespringshowisusually finished.

However, many ducks as well as a few geese stay on in Nebraska to raise their families. Blue-winged teal are most partial to the state, with up to 50,000 birds remaining here to nest in a prime year. All species included, Nebraska's breeding population often surpasses 125,000. Other species choosing to nest here in order of frequency include the mallard, gadwall, pintail, and shoveler.

Nebraska's spring migration is a spectacular phenomenon. And, while waterfowl faces a rocky road for survival, mankind's concern for these majestic birds offers strong assurance that they will never be lost. THE END

Outpost of Expansion

Fort Atkinson lasted just eight years. But in its life, the post set the stage for history's extravaganza — the winning of America's West

FORT ATKINSON was first. And, like many things examined in retrospect, it could probably be called a mistake —a fluke in which passion pre-empted reason. Neverthelsss, the post was the only military reservation west of the Missouri River in 1819 and, as such, constituted the first community in what would ultimately become the state of Nebraska.

Congress defended the fort's establishment as a means of keeping warring hostiles at bay and of asserting American influence in the West's British-dominated fur trade. But the soldiers stationed there must have berated the project as simply an experiment to find out whether white men could survive on the fringe of civilization. With Fort Atkinson's record, both factions were right to an extent. The military presence kept Indian trouble to a minimum, and etched the United States mark in the West while the officers and men of the new fort died like flies.

Fort Atkinson's story actually dates to some 15 years before it was founded. In 1804, Captains Meriwether Lewis and William Clark pushed up the Missouri River to explore the newly acquired Louisiana Purchase. Clark, in his journal of that year, commented on a site in present Nebraska "well suited for a trading establishment or fortification". But, for more than a decade thereafter, Council Bluffs, so named because of the explorers' meeting with area Indians, lay idle. The fledgling nation, less than 50 years old, was too busy fending off the British in the War of 1812 to worry about protecting the Western frontier. Besides, with nearly 300,000 men committed to that conflict, there probably weren't enough soldiers left to garrison a distant post. Three years after the war ended in 1815, however, America began to make plans for westward expansion. So it was that in 1819, Secretary of War John C. Calhoun cut the orders which created the Yellowstone Expeditionary Force.

Calhoun and Congress envisioned a string of three forts from the Yellowstone River in Montana to the Mandan Village, now Bismarck, North Dakota, and Council Bluffs about 15 miles north of the presentcity of Omaha. With such installations, Indian movements could be monitored and the British would know that the United States was in the West to stay. It was a grand plan and no expense was spared. Two crack army units, the Rifle Regiment and the Sixth Infantry, were selected. The former was composed of first rate marksmen, and the Sixth, recruited primarily in North Carolina, had earned the sobriquet "The Fighting Sixth" for service in numerous engagements. They were the best the army had to offer and they were to carve a niche for the United States in a West that had formerly belonged to trappers, Indians, and the British. Selected to head the expedition was a war veteran, Colonel Henry Atkinson, who, though he was not a West Point graduate, was rapidly establishing himself as an officer of note. So, when Atkinson took command of his troops at Plattsburg, New York, it seemed the venture couldn't fail. What lay ahead, though, was far from the expected glory. Unknown to Atkinson and his troops, starvation, disease, and utter discomfort lay ahead.

Everything went smoothly from Plattsburg to St. Louis. At the Missouri community, well laid plans felt the jolt of things to come. The quartermaster was deeply in debt to the Bank of Missouri for supplies he had purchased for the trip and the new post. His position was so precarious that when the stores were to be put ashore for inspection, he anchored the boats on the Illinois side of the river and refused to move, fearing attachment if the provisions touched Missouri soil. The army wasn't happy about the situation, but its inspectors finally crossed the river, completed their task, and returned, grumbling all the way. So far, the expedition was still intact.

In the rough-and-tumble military of yesteryear, soldiers usually got where they were sent on foot. For the Yellowstone Expedition of 1819, however, steamboats were provided in keeping with the grand scale of the venture. They were fine as long as they lasted. In July, the troops were not far out of St. Louis when their two steamers cashed in. All that was left was to transfer the supplies to keel boats and cordelle them up the churning Missouri.

It was the fall of 1819 when the troops finally arrived at Council Bluffs. Immediately, they set about establishing a post where they could spend the winter. Their stores were soon depleted, however, and as cold and wind pounded the post again and again, more than 160 men died of assorted diseases —scurvy and fever claiming most of them. And, if winter was bad, spring was worse. As the weather warmed, snow melting at the headwaters of the Missouri and along its tributaries turned the already cantankerous waterway into a raging giant. What had become known as Cantonment Missouri was built on the flood plain, and soon became just so much driftwood as the river ripped it apart. Desolated but determined, the troops picked up what they could and looked around for a new, safer place to relocate. A rise about 11/2 miles south of the first location was selected, and the troops set about rebuilding their home.

It may have seemed so, but the men of Cantonment Missouri were not forgotten in Washington, although it may have been better if they had been. In 1820, a Congress faced with depleted funds took a second look at the Yellowstone project and scrapped all but the existing post. Then it cut appropriations, leaving the venture high and alone on a bluff overlooking the Missouri River, its destiny extremely uncertain.

Colonel Atkinson, in the meantime, had been kicked upstairs to Brigadier General in charge of the northwest frontier. Filling his post as commander at Cantonment Missouri was Colonel Willoughby Morgan, though in the years to come, command was to change frequently. Morgan soon found that the troops had a lot of free time on their hands and ensuing boredom led to trouble. So, with stores short and a lot of labor on hand, Morgan decided the post should try its hand at farming. What was perhaps the area's first serious effort at farming began on the alluvial heights of the Missouri River banks. In January 1821, the post had progressed sufficiently to be renamed Fort Atkinson, and part of the reason was probably its agricultural statistics. By the end of the first growing season, the troopers had shucked 12,000 bushels of corn and had more potatoes and garden vegetables than they could eat. The second season yielded 15,000 bushels of corn and the third produced 20,000. Agriculture proved so lucrative that before long the soldiers were also running 300 head of beef cows and 100 milkers. All in all, life on the frontier was looking up, but not necessarily militarily. One visiting officer, of which there were many, reported to Washington that too much time was spent cultivating crops and too little was dedicated to military pursuits. That communique diminished agrarian zeal only a little, but it did return the garrison to the straight and narrow of military practice.

After its original washout, Cantonment Missouri's life as Fort Atkinson began to take on the lackluster doldrums of typical military life on the plains. Duties and formations began with reveille at sunrise and continued until eight o'clock in the sumner and nine o'clock in the winter. Just to insure that none of the men decided to seek excitement (Continued on page 54)

A Spirit Unique

Handicapped Lincolnite calls his set of wheels a glorified wheelchair. Whatever it is, rig provides new lease on outdoor life

LINCOLNITE BILL GILMORE is an outdoor fanatic. Fishing, boating, hunting, camping—Bill loves them all. Bill is an ordinary Joe in the fraternity of outdoor buffs except for one thing —he's partially paralyzed from the waist down.

A native Cornhusker, Bill grew up on generous servings of outdoor fun. As a youngster, he was just the type to fall in love with squirmy worms, cane poles, and red-and-white bobbers. The romance of the great outdoors imprisoned his heart forever. But then, in his early teens, Bill was afflicted with polio and lost the use of his legs.

"I guess it's how you look at it," Bill says. "A guy in my situation could just give it all up and forget it. You can bet that would be the easiest thing. But that's not for me, not in a million years. I love the outdoors —boating, fishing, camping. I haven't missed a pheasant season since I don't know when, and I go rifle-deer hunting, too."

How does Bill participate in so many outdoor activities when he can't walk? It's a delicate combination of desire, determination, and action. Stubby, concrete-gray crutches provide mobility.

A close friend of Bill's confides that 99 percent of Bill's outdoor activity is accomplished through sheer determination. Without this honest desire to be involved, Bill would probably never breathe fresh, country air.

Two years ago, an acquaintance of Bill's suggested he look into the possibility of buying an all-terrain vehicle in order to give him a better shot at the outdoors. Bill took the advice and began checking into various ATV's on the market. The looking led to buying when he found one he thought would serve his needs. According to Bill, the all-terrain vehicle, a Scrambler, is one of the best investments he ever made.

While most ATV's increase man's outdoor pleasure and add to his convenience, Bill's machine provides him with the very basics of mobility in the field. The ATV has reopened his personal relationship with nature.

"The Scrambler has really been a blessing for me," Bill emphasizes. "Before, when I went pheasant hunting I could only block. But now, I can really get in there and participate. It puts me so much more in touch with the sport as well as with nature itself."

An attorney employed by the Nebraska Department of Agriculture, Bill spends most every free weekend hunting during the pheasant season. The first year he owned his Scrambler he bagged more than 20 pheasants, an impressive record under any circumstances. And, even though he doesn't always score, Bill enjoys each outing thoroughly. To be afield is a reward in itself. Whether he gets one bird or his limit, you can bet he'll be right back with the same enthusiasm the very next chance he gets.

Bill's six-wheel ATV takes him almost anyplace he wants to go. He tows it behind his car on a nifty, tip-bed trailer and can unload and load the machine in seconds. Pulling a pin at the front of the trailer makes it tip backward, and the Scrambler rolls off onto the ground. The Scrambler is loaded by simply driving it back onto the trailer. When the bed tips forward the pin is replaced.

The machine rolls and climbs over land of all description and doesn't hesitate a second for water. Equipped with a single-cylinder, eight-horsepower engine, the vehicle boasts six-wheel drive. Its top speed is 20 miles per

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For years, Bill Gilmore hunted and fished on crutches. Then, an ATV game him new dimensions

 

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Whether hunting with companions, as in above photo with writer Amack and friend Charles Gove, or alone, Bill has a new freedom with motorized mule. He worried about vehicle's effects on environment, but six wide tires distribute the weight

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hour on flat land and 3 to 5 miles per hour in water. The tires for the machine are designed of durable rubber and are inflated with 1 Vi pounds of pressure. Balloon-like in appearance, the tires are extremely puncture proof. Protrusions, such as milo stubble, merely indent the tire, much like sticking a finger into the side of a half-inflated balloon.

"At first I was skeptical of what the vehicle might do to the countryside from an environmental point of view," Bill adds. "I am aware that many types of recreational vehicles are hard on the environment, and I wanted to be certain I picked a machine that would not damage the land. In giving the Scrambler a test drive I discovered that it scarcely left a track. This is because the vehicle's weight is distributed over a large area and doesn't dig into the ground."

Last fall, Bill tackled his first rifle-deer hunt utilizing the Scrambler. Everything came up roses as he successfully filled his permit with a nice two-point, white-tailed buck. Bill hunted in the Sand Hills region south of Valentine bordering the Niobrara River with rancher-host Neale Perrett and long-time hunting companion Victor Romans, both of Fremont. Neale and Victor also scored on hefty bucks. Because of his disability, Bill, like all other handicapped persons, can obtain at no cost a special permit from the Game and Parks Commission which lets him hunt and fish from a vehicle. However, the permit does not allow shooting from any public highway.

"I wondered if the vibration of the Scrambler might interfere with my aim while shooting a high-powered rifle," Bill explains. "I was shooting a 30/06 with a 4X scope. But, when I finally saw my buck, I guess I forgot about the vibration. The deer was standing in a neat little meadow about 160 yards away. Anyway, I took careful aim, fired, and killed the buck with one shot." Again, Bill gives credit to the large balloon-type tires, contending that they absorbed the vibration of the running motor, allowing him to aim accurately.

Bill's deer hunt last fall strengthened his appreciation for the Scrambler. The ability to enter woods, travel over hill and dale, or go anywhere else he wants opened the outdoors for him. While hunting the Niobrara, Bill flushed practically every type of game species that Nebraska offers the hunter, including both white-tailed and mule deer, antelope, wild turkey, pheasant, quail, ducks, geese, squirrels, and rabbits. He hunted the tops, bottoms, and middles of canyons —areas he (Continued on page 57)

Cover come lately

All too often, wildlife perishes through man's apathy. But a chance is at hand to make amends

NEBRASKANS have seen the appeal: "Wildlife needs your help...join the Acres For Wildlife program". You may have wondered, though, what the program is all about. Briefly, it was developed three years ago to involve everyone in the preservation of wildlife cover. In Nebraska, landowners determine what cover conditions will be like. Non-land-owning individuals, however, are also encouraged to play a big part in Acres For Wildlife, with the emphasis on youth. Young people are asked to become "cover agents"-to enroll plots of valuable wildlife cover by selling landowners on the idea of preserving habitat for at least one year on a minimum of one acre. Some areas like shelterbelts have been protected for 20 or 30 years, and would continue to exist for years even without the program. In such cases, Acres For Wildlife agents use the program to express appreciation to landowners. In other instances, a good agent may be able to prevent needless burning or mowing, thus protecting some of the most vital areas —those offering good winter survival and nesting cover.

Why emphasize these types of cover? Most pheasants in Nebraska must endure at least one blizzard, and protective cover is the key to their survival during these critical periods. The disappearance of undisturbed nesting habitat is a limiting factor for the pheasant population in many parts of Nebraska.

In the fierce, white world of a blizzard, little of the pheasant's habitat is suitable for survival. Snow blankets everything except windswept hilltops and barren fields where birds cannot exist. Deep draws and smaller plots of heavy brush are clogged by snow that has blown in from the fields, closing such (Continued on page 62)

Cat with wings

LIKE THE SHADOW cast by a cloud sliding across the moon, so moves the great horned owl. On broad, powerful wings, he glides over the landscape, his oversize, yellow eyes piercing the darkness.

Suddenly and silently he swoops. A muffled squeal, and again he climbs skyward, a white-footed mouseclamped in his talons.

Cat with wings, winged devil—these names and worse have been applied to the horned owl. Even the mention of his name invites controversy. The issue is not new, for the Bible speaks of owls as unclean and associates them with death and destruction. Poets and writers have echoed this reference in literature of the past.

On a somewhat kinder note, owls have also been associated with wisdom. One anonymous writer expressed that idea m a brief poem:

What has caused man to fear and respect this predator? The horned owl is likely the ultimate winged hunter, as close to perfection as can be found in nature's chain of evolution.

Measuring 18 to 24 inches in height, his wingspan occasionally exceeds 4 feet. Soft, tawny-brown to buff plumage makes the bird seem much larger than he actually is—a mature horned owl weighs only two or three pounds.

Soft wing feathers muffle sound and allow the owl almost silent flight. This fact, together with acute eyesight and hearing, a powerful beak and sharp talons, make the horned owl the hunter he is.

With eyesight 100 times more acute than man's, the horned owl is especially adept at seeing in darkness. Tests have proven he can capture prey in light equivalent to that of a single candle burning nearly half a mile away. Despite rumors, however, he cannot see in total darkness, nor is he blind in daylight. In fact, he often hunts during overcast days.

With eardrums larger than those of any other bird, the owl's hearing equals his superb sight, often allowing him to locate prey by sound alone.

As if his physical superiority were not enough, the horned owl nests late in winter, months ahead of most other species. Often selecting a hawk's or crow's nest abandoned the previous year, the owl lays an average of 2 eggs which are incubated for 35 days by the female. The young remain in the nest for 8 or 9 weeks. During this period the owl takes advantage of early nesting. With wildlife populations mushrooming m the spring and the young of many prey species especially vulnerable, the owl is able to feed the owlets with ease.

Like other predators, the horned owl is an opportunist and readily takes what is available, including an occasional game bird or animal. This fact has made him a target for protest from many farmers and sportsmen. However, studies have indicated that 90 percent of his normal diet consists of rodents, making him a valuable servant of man.

Mystical and misunderstood, the homed owl still hunts in a cloak of darkness across almost all of North America. His faraway hoot and scream return even urban woodlots to wilderness. And, he waits for man to recognize his worth. THE END

NOTES ON NEBRASKA FLORA...New England Aster

Named for the Greek word meaning star, these garden plants gone wild annually decorate woodland edges, waterways, and roadsides across state

THE NEW ENGLAND ASTER is only one of approximately 200 different aster species in the United States. And, as if that were not enough, estimates range from 250 to 600 on species found throughout the world. Although they grow primarily in North America, they also appear sparsely in Asia, Europe, and South America.

Blossom size distinguishes the New England variety from its multitude of cousins. While those of its kin are generally smaller, the New England's flower grows to 1 1/2 inches in diameter. Color variation, however, is as wide as those of other asters in the Compositae family, ranging from blue to purple to crimson to red to pink to white, and all shades in between.

Scientifically known as Aster novaeangliae, the New England aster was brought to North America by European immigrants, and is probably a runaway from the first garden plants brought to this country. It adapted well to conditions here and is now a wildflower.

In North America, the New England aster is found from Quebec in Canada south to South Carolina and west to Colorado. The plant flourishes in rich, moist soil and a lot of sunlight, growing at roadsides, in open, undisturbed areas alongside streams, and along the fringes of woodlands.

The New England aster stands supreme amongst its cousin species. Its deeply colored petals with a primarily yellow center make the flower strikingly attractive. Its head has a radiating fringe of 40 or more colorful, strapshaped petals with the flower forming a dense cover over the upper half of the plant. Left to compete in grassland, however, the plant shrinks and may not flower at all. But, with no vegetation nearby, it grows to an average height of three or four feet, sometimes stretching six feet high. Tall as it is, it stands out like a beacon in the night. The plant is stout and shrub-like with small branches and single, lance-shaped clasping leaves.

A perennial forb, this aster overwinters as a stout, crowned rootstock with numerous, fibrous, branching roots. Since it is herbaceous, all parts of the plant above ground die in winter. New stems grow from the crown of the rootstock each spring. When warm weather arrives the plant produces myriad achenes. These are small, dry fruits with one seed each. The achenes hang from pappi which are downy or feathery tufts of bristles that act as parachutes for the seeds to be distributed far and wide by autumn winds.

Propagation may be accomplished with little difficulty. Ripe seeds may be gathered and planted. This method — generative propagation —may not produce the same colors as those of parent plants. Asters are insect-pollinated and cross easily. This is the reason for the large color and color-shade variation of the blossoms.

Another method —vegetative propagation — results in flowers which resemble the colors of parent flowers more closely. Plants with desirably hued flowers should be marked while in bloom. Since the crown grows side roots, it can be divided in early spring or late fall. The side shoots can then be used to produce flowers similar to the parent plant.

Attempts to establish the New England aster can be successful if careful attention is paid to suitable conditions— rich, moist soil and abundant sunlight. Once established, no maintenance is required. This perennial, whether in the garden or part of the natural landscape, greatly enhances its surroundings.

Asters are relatively unimportant as food for wildlife, although there are a few reports of mammals, songbirds, and upland game birds eating the leaves and seeds.

Often called starworts, asters derive their name from the Greek word aster, meaning star. They bloom in fall at the end of the growing season. In Nebraska they are found throughout the state, although they are slightly more prominent in the Elkhorn River's valley.

Merritt Fernald, in his book Edible Wild Plants of Eastern North America, published in 1958, states that asters are considered to be a palatable potherb for European tables. Young, tender foliage is cooked in two or more waters to bleed the bitter juices, and the resulting taste of the dish is similar to that of spinach.

Indiscriminate use of herbicides has hindered the growth of the New England aster to some degree, especially in roadside ditches. The use of plant-killing chemicals should be restricted to areas where their application is only absolutely necessary, thus allowing this species, as well as other wildflowers, to beautify the landscape. THE END

Collectors come and collectors go, but should rural Bladen hobbyist ever decide he wants out, he will need train to haul massive Deere herd away

THERE'S AN OLD farming adage that goes something like this: Use it up, wear it out, and make it do. Seemingly, food producers around the world have been following that credo almost since time began. A dilapidated building, evidently unfit for further use, can always be revamped and pressed into service. Or, equipment that looks as if it won't make another trip around the field can be wired together and used. Sooner or later, however, all things come to an end. When that happens, all the farmer can do is invest in new equipment and relegate his older stuff to the junk pile. That's where Ken Berns of Blue Hill comes in.

To look at Berns, it's pretty hard to tell him apart from normal people. Yet, he has a hobby that sets him apart from most other farmers. He collects tractors; not any tractors, though-just John Deeres.

"I suppose I stick to Deeres because I'm interested in them. I grew up on one around the home place and when I started farming, I bought an old J. D. for my own use," he explains.

Berns began collecting the relics in 1961 when he broke into farming as a landowner. He was just out of the University of Nebraska and had settled on what is now a 600-acre spread between Blue Hill and Bladen. Augmenting his agribusiness, Ken began teaching in the Blue Hill public schools, then moved to Bladen where he still teaches math, science, and shop. About that time he began to take a further interest in tractors, and that interest was to take up a good share of his off-duty time in the years to come.

"I guess I really started collecting about 10 years ago, but it's only been during the last 3 years that I've really gotten into the swing of things." Berns' eyes fairly twinkle behind his glasses as he talks about his collection.

To date, Berns has some 52 John Deeres, ranging in vintage from 1923 to 1941, sitting in his farmyard. The 37-year-old teacher has another which he has bought but hasn't hauled home yet. That will bring the total to 53, not much of a record by most collection standards when other accumulations run into the thousands of items. Ken, however, has the edge on most collectors in that most of the tractors he owns actually run. A pretty fair country mechanic in his own right, Berns sees to that.

"To look at most of the tractors sitting in farmyards across the country, you'd swear they will never run again. You have to scour all the parts houses for miles around to find one that keeps outdated parts. Most shops, when a part sits for any length of time without moving, simply write it off and dispose of it. Either that, or they return it to the factory. What I need is an owner who hoards that stuff and who will part with it when I need something. That's the only way I can get my tractors to run."

Today it is almost taboo for a farmer who is changing tractors to discard the old one. Most newer models are (Continued on page 57)

OUTPOST OF EXPANSION

elsewhere, five daily roll calls were routine. Those who didn't answer when their names were called —and there were quite a few —were usually AWOL. Desertion was so bad that 1 sergeant, 2 corporals, and 20 privates were on constant alert to retrieve strays. And, the troops went as far as necessary to carry out their assignment. In one instance, a Sergeant Ceders and his party were sent to Santa Fe to apprehend seven fugitives. Besides the military "police", any soldier, citizen, or Indian was in line for a $30 reward for bringing in a deserter.

Going over the hill was a good way to lessen the tedium of army life, but it was dangerous. Alcohol was much safer and, though there were many instances when both officers and enlisted men were censured for its use, it seemed to be the rule rather than the exception, for both to appear for duty soused to the gills. At one time or another, Captain J. S. Gray, Captain Charles Pentland, and Lieutenant Joseph Pentland, to name only a few, were all hauled up before the commanding officer for going on a spree. Excavations at Fort Atkinson have indicated that spirits were so important to the frontier military that a special building was given over to storing liquor. With alcoholism on the rampage, liquor rations were governed. Hoarding was against policy and he who received had to drink right then and there or reject his issue for the benefit of the company. There was little prudence in such an edict, however, since any trooper with the wherewithal! to quench his thirst could buy a jug at either the sutler's store, which was legal to a point, or at Welch's cabin or the dairy, both of which were highly illegal. Illicit sales slowed somewhat, though, when dairyman Ashael Savery and Welch of cabin fame were ordered away from the post.

On a brawling frontier, there was little attention paid to refinement, except for officers. Yet, the regimental band was on call for not only military serenades, but for company parties as well. The band was such an important part of post life that a special building was constructed a short distance from the cantonment proper so the musicians could practice without disturbing regular troop activity. Bandsmen awakened troops in the morning, signaled their work and breaks throughout the day, and put them to bed each night. A day without the regimental band would have meant mass confusion. But there was at least one aspect of Fort Atkinson in which the band did not participate. It came in 1823.

For years, Indians who called the midplains region home, had kept a careful watch on the whites, who, to them, streamed into the area. On June 18, 1823, word reached Fort Atkinson that a trapping party headed by William H. Ashley had been attacked with 1 3 of his men killed and 10, including Hugh Glass, wounded. Colonel Henry Leavenworth, post commander since 1822, closed the upper Missouri River to travel and mobilized his men. Companies A, B, D, E, F, and G were alerted and the command headed up the river toward the Arikara villages just above the Grand River in what is now South Dakota. Supported by some 400 Sioux allies, the approximately 200 men of the Sixth finally tracked the hostiles down in their own land. Then, the first military expedition against the Western Indians became somewhat of a farce. The Sioux began making raids on Arikara cornfields, and despite repeated pleas by Ashley, who had accompanied the command, lost interest in fighting. On August 9, regular troops skirmished with the Indians, but the only real action came the next day. Artillery fire raked the village, killing one chief—Gray Eyes —and cutting away the staff of the Medicine Flag. The Sioux continued their raids on the cornfields and on August 11 departed for home. Next day, the Arikara made peace and the expedition headed for Fort Atkinson, at least partially successful.

The Arikara attack heralded things to come, however, and the post was strengtnened. Throughout the summer and fall of 1824, unrest reigned and there were numerous reports of Indian murders. But the military reaction was conciliatory rather than aggressive, and orders came down to engage in (Continued on page 57)

Where to go

THE TRAIL affords a panoramic view of the Missouri River and its valley to the bluffs on the other side. Recently named one of 27 National Recreation Trails, and one of 11 National Environmental Education Landmarks, the Fontenelle Forest has the only nationally recognized trail in Nebraska.

In 1964, the forest was designated as one of the top 7 Registered Natural History Landmarks in the United States.

The trail is a 3.9-mile footpath which is maintained in its natural state. It is owned by the Fontenelle Forest Association, a private, nonprofit organization. But, while privately owned, it is open to the general public.

According to the Department of the Interior, the trail is "an outstanding example of nongovernmental action to meet public, outdoor-recreation needs.' Last year more than 100,000 hikers visited the forest.

Although the trail passes through deciduous woods, a portion of the selfguided path allows visitors to become familiar with vegetation, geographical features, Mandan and Omaha Indian history, and scenery, which reappear along the entire course.

The trail begins at the main entrance to the Fontenelle Forest Nature Center, and a network of connecting foot trails provides access to the entire 1,200-acre natural area encompassed by Fontenelle Forest.

The trail passes through a ravine —Childs Hollow —and then climbs to the deep woodland interior, terminating at Camp Gifford Road. Future plans call for the trail to be extended in a loop through all parts of the forest to penetrate all habitat areas. The longer trail will stretch 15 miles, almost 4 times its present length. That expansion, however, is dependent upon easements allowing the trail to cross county roads and railroad tracks. At present, there are ridges, ravines, springs, a stream, and the flood plain among the trail's geographical features.

The trail itself is a rustic, roughly cut footpath. Clearing of vegetation has been kept to a minimum in order to maintain the natural growth of the area. Maintenance consists of installation of embankments where necessary to prevent erosion and minor pruning of woody vegetation which has been damaged (mostly due to human abuse). Primitive footbridges have been constructed at a few places to provide convenient fording of runoff streams. Sections of the trail subject to unusually heavy use are covered with wood chips to prevent wear. Trees that fall across the path are cut and the sections laid alongside the trail.

Besides the self-guiding trail markers, a position-indicator system has been completed. The posts are set at specific locations and number coded. The purpose of the system is to allow both visitors and nature-center workers to pinpoint fires and injuries to humans or animals, and to correctly locate other events or hazards.

To the historical researcher, the forest is rich with the past. On its hills are numerous remains of Indian dwellings and council circles, as well as the burial sites of prehistoric men who lived here more than 6,000 years ago.

The surrounding forest is a 1,200-acre tract of natural land one mile southeast of Omaha between Bellevue and the Missouri River. It has existed since 1913, and contains all the regional types of habitat, although not all are near the trail at the present time. Because the terrain is so varied, the forest's flora and fauna offer a wide variety of species. The flora includes about 420 species of plants, and the fauna includes more than 200 species of birds, 16 kinds of nonpoisonous snakes, 4 kinds of frogs, 5 toad species, 5 types of turtles, 12 fish species, as well as numerous insects, snails, and mammals both large and small.

The forest and the trail are open every day year-round, with the exception of Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year's days. It is used extensively,

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A 3.9-mile footpath through Fontenelle Forest is self-guiding, offering lesson on nature

FEBRUARY 1972 55   and group hikes are conducted in addition to individual, self-guided tours. School classes use parts of it almost daily. And, to keep everything in order, it is patrolled regularly by forest rangers.

As a part of the National Recreation Trails system, the Fontenelle Forest Trail is an attempt to save the future. Of the trails, Interior Secretary Roger C. B. Morton remarked: "The story of the American trail is as old as the story of America itself because it is the trail that transformed the frontier into a future. In an equally historic sense, our true American trails will also forge across the frontier —a spiritual frontier of faith in a national determination that the quality of life in and near our growing cities will be improved."

In a very different sense, the Canaday Steam Plant, over the years, has improved the quality of life in its surrounding area. In the 1930's the desire for irrigation water, hydroelectricity, and industrial development were welded into a common goal. Nebraska today would not have amp'le electricity for its homes, farms, and industrial plants were it not for irrigation. Conversely, irrigation would not be possible if it were not for hydroelectric power, both of which are part of the planning that went into the Canaday Plant.

The Central Nebraska Public Power and Irrigation District finally undertook the project in 1955 after a severe power shortage had threatened the state. No solution presented itself until Central Nebraska District Manager Ralph O. Canaday suggested adding steam generation to hydro power to increase electrical output and conserve water for times of shortage. It was this foresight which prompted him to investigate further, and then develop detailed plans.

The plan was enthusiastically received, and the 100,000-kilowatt plant 8 1/2 miles southeast of Lexington was begun. Today the Canaday Plant is natural-gas fueled, using 22 million cubic feet of gas daily during peak production. There is a 48-day standby to assure operation in case of failure.

The building has 23,760 square feet of floor space, and is 140 feet high. The stack rises another 20 feet above the top of the building. It rests on a slab of reinforced concrete 5 feet thick, which in turn rests on a coarse gravel bed which is more than 50 feet thick.

The giant turbines, condensers, and transformers are open for public view through tours which can be arranged by contacting the shift supervisor at Lexington, phone (308) 324-4581.

From lighting the countryside to providing a natural area for stepping into a world of wildlife, NEBRASKAland offers many facilities which increase the quality of life. THE END

OUTPOST OF EXPANSION

battle only in self defense. The following year, a peace-making expedition was organized and, under the command of General Atkinson, succeeded in placating tribes from the Yellowstone River to Fort Atkinson. It must have been a glorious occasion when the last of the treaties, those with Otoe, Pawnee, and Omaha, were signed at the post. But, already the death knell of Fort Atkinson was beginning to sound.

In 1825, a storm destroyed a sawmill whose lumber was needed to repair constantly sagging barracks. Brick making replaced log sawing, but still the post fell into disrepair. That same year it was estimated that the cost of repair was $3,000 while that for a new fort was about $6,000. By 1827, weapons were badly out of date. Most were of pre-1812-war vintage and parts were scarce. Pay was eight months overdue. Clothing was terrible and the buildings were so bad that even repairs couldn't keep up with the decay. But, only one man had deserted since May 1825. That was a record in itself.

Doubt as to the worth of Fort Atkinson apparently began about 1825. For two years, the fate of the fort was debated until, in March 1827, the order came to abandon the post and in June that was done. The troops headed downriver to Jefferson Barracks, Missouri. Fort Atkinson literally began to fall apart. For several years it was rumored that the post would be reinhabited, but nothing ever materialized. In 1854, the first of many settlers took up rights to the land where the fort had stood, and the days of Fort Atkinson were ended. THE END

A SPIRIT UNIQUE

had never been able to penetrate before. Before owning the Scrambler, Bill hunted from a pickup and was confined to established roads and trails. He was often lucky just to see a deer.

"Sometimes people really seem surprised when I tell them that I am an active outdoorsman. They really perk up when I talk about the time I spent 9 days in the Colorado Rockies camping and hunting elk with 10 inches of snow on the ground," Bill says.

"Really though, the people who have the most difficulty in accepting the fact that I'm an active sportsman are other handicapped persons. Most of them are afraid to try the outdoor scene for various reasons. I have counseled several handicapped persons and have urged them to go out. I feel that most people like myself need only encouragement and confidence to do the things they really want to do. With special laws for handicapped persons allowing them to hunt and fish from a vehicle, I think desire and encouragement are the most important ingredients required."

Hunting and fishing are only two of the avenues that Bill's ATV opened for him and his family. While most fathers take for granted their participation in games with their children, this is not so for Bill. Bill's children have minibikes and follow him on the Scrambler during family ventures. Every season brings a new phase of outdoor sport for Bill and his family. And, more often than not, the Scrambler determines where they will go.

Even though he is handicapped, Bill Gilmore long ago made the decision that he would not abandon his love for nature, a courageous decision he continues to live by. Bill strongly feels that the fascinating world of the great outdoors is for everyone to enjoy. THE END

NEST EGG OF ROCKS

intrinsic value like diamond, opal, or emerald, but they are still eagerly sought.

Unusually decorative specimens such as the Fairburn, Lake Superior, and other fortification agates are considered true collector's items. Each is a singular creation resulting from heat, pressure, distribution of elements, and "groundwater and soil conditions. Unlike flowers, which bloom each spring, rocks are one-time propositions combining both the drastic and the patient efforts of nature. One can only marvel at how some of them were formed.

There is also some marveling done after the rocks are processed. Lapidaries develop imaginative and delicate jewelry, and workmanship improves with each cut and grind. Vacations are often devoted to collecting specimens, and almost every spare hour is spent working on them. Techniques vary, depending on size, color, shape, and quality of the stone. Some are simply tumbled, a process whereby rocks are placed in a rotating container with abrasive grit. Through several successive steps, a finer grit is used until the stones acquire a high sheen.

Another procedure is to slab the rock, using a special diamond blade. These slabs are then polished and displayed, or trimmed to specific shapes for jewelry. Depending upon the hardness, brittleness, and other characteristics, different equipment must be used to attain the final polish.

Because of the nature of the hobby, most learning must come from someone already involved, or at a lapidary class offered by clubs, recreation departments, or schools.

Before a rock can be worked, however, it must be found. This can be a real problem for the beginner. Not every rock is worthy or capable of a fine finish. And, the top-quality stuff is found only in specific locations, put there by geological processes.

Maps, especially those showing rock distribution, are invaluable aids. Knowing that a river valley was lined with debris washed in from another area loaded with a specific type of fancy material is an advantage. Sand and gravel companies which pump these sites do most of the groundwork, and permission to poke around in their rock piles can usually (Continued on page 60)

TRACTORS OF TIME

traded in, but the really old ones are snapped up by collectors. They either try to make them run again or cannibalize them for parts for their other tractors. Either way, seeing an old implement carved up for junk is almost enough to make a devout collector cry. From time to time, though, tears turn to elation as a died-in-the-wool scavenger runs across a real treasure. Berns knows.

"I've found items in Kansas, Nebraska, Iowa, and Illinois so far. Probably the farthest I've gone for a tractor was Glassford, Illinois. It took a bit of doing to get that one home, though. I had only my car and there was no way to bring the whole rig back. So, I dismantled the tractor, loaded as much of it as possible into the car, and headed for home. A few weeks later a friend picked up the rest of the rig in his pickup and brought it out to me. Then, I had to put the whole thing back together and, would you believe it? The tractor actually ran when I got through. That was an oddity, though, since I'm usually able to bring a tractor home in the back of the truck without having to tear it down."

With the items in the Berns collection running into the thousands of pounds, friends like the one who lugged his find from Illinois to Nebraska are invaluable. Not only do they come in handy in such situations, but they prove vital in finding parts that may be strung across the country. Ken subscribes to a couple of journals dealing with antique tractors and occasionally they pay off. But, other collectors are his best bets. Steel wheels, for example, are quite rare in this area, but plentiful in others. And, since they were pretty much standard equipment on the old tractors, they are always in demand.

"A lot of farmers weren't too crazy about having steel wheels on their tractors when they could have rubber. Steel dug up and threw too much dirt, gave minimal traction, and wasn't too comfortable to ride. So, a lot of farmers simply cut the wheels off their tractors and replaced them with rubber. Either that or they bolted rubber to the originals. When they were cutoff, the steeis were often lost or discarded and the process frequently wrecked the axle. That means you need a whole new assembly when you start to restore the rig."

Finding and buying everything from the basic tractor wheels can run into a lot of money if the collector isn't careful. There are ways to cut a lot of expense, however. Trades are common as buffs with plenty of one commodity bargain for what they need. And, there are those in the field who go hog wild over their hobby, almost turning it into a vocation.

"I've paid as little as $20 for a junker and as much as $200 for another. But I figure I have only about $2,000 wrapped up in my whole collection. And, I can use most of the tractors (Continued on page 62)

FEBRUARY'S blustery winds provide quiet time for dreaming and advance planning at home. Sportsmen planning next summer's vacations have plenty of ideas to choose from at the Omaha Boat, Sports, and Travel Show starting February 29. Visitors see a variety of sporting equipment and are introduced to a wide range of places in anticipation of carefree, summer months ahead when travel is a more pleasent prospect.

Carol Jacob of Lincoln, NEBRASKAland's hostess of this month, reminds winter-bound Nebraskans about dreamy plans for sailboat rides and water sports. A Lincoln High graduate, she is now attending the Lincoln School of Commerce where she is enrolled in a legal secretarial course.

Carol was named Nebraska's Miss Safe Boating last summer, and also holds the Coast Guard Auxiliary's Flotilla 14-2 Queen title. Among her present activities are teaching Sunday school and piano. She lists sewing, horseback riding, and swimming as hobbies. Carol is the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Virgil Jacob of Lincoln.

While the winds gust outside, Omaha area square-dance enthusiasts stomp and prance to strains from a country fiddle on February 5. Lee Hansel of California calls a colorful and spirited Saturday night of oldtime, country fun.

For those who like excitement, there are various events. Nebraska University's basketball team plays games on home courts with contests scheduled against Kansas State on February 1, Iowa State, February 12, and Kansas University, February 19.

Ice hockey fans have plenty to yell about as the league champs hit home ice in seven contests. The Omaha Knights have won top honors in the Central Hockey League two years in a row, and this season, too, is already proving to be a thriller.

Wrestling adds another dimension to the sports scene. Nebraska University's grapplers meet Southern Illinois fighters, February 5. A 2-day tournament determines the best in state high-school wrestling during championship meets in Lincoln, February 18 and 19.

Another indoor sport is the state swimming championship contests in Omaha, February 25 and 26.

In outdoor action, hunters may still go afield in search of cottontails throughout the month. If the weather holds, ice fishermen still have time to fill their creels with some of Nebraska's finest game fish. Trappers have the entire month to bring in beaver, muskrat, and mink.

Rich cultural opportunities are available at community playhouse performances and art shows. The Lincoln Community Playhouse presents the "Caine Mutiny" and the Omaha Playhouse plans performances of the "Fantasticks", longest-running production in New York history. This musical is about young love, parents, the world, and human nature. Lexington, too, hosts a community concert, February 13.

Musical events focus on jazz during a February 24 concert at the University of Nebraska in Lincoln. Nebraska Wesleyan University, also in the capital city, sponsors a production of "The Bartered Bride", February 25 and 26. Wesleyan also features a one-man sculpture show by Maynard Whitney beginning February 11 and hosts the Plainsman Honors Festival, February 19, featuring high-school-band, orchestral, and choral students. A state band clinic and concert with Don Ellis is planned for February 12.

Doane College in Crete presents its Centennial Symposium February 8. Dr. LaMont Cole and Herbert Doan will be guest speakers for the symposium beginning at noon. Entitled "Man and his Environment", this is the second in a series of three such conferences.

Public speaking is in the spotlight, February 24 and 25, during the State Debate Tournament in Lincoln as high-school speakers voice their stands on various issues.

From the thrills of spectator sports to outdoor adventure to the quiet appreciation of fine arts, NEBRASKAland in February offers a cornucopia of events for everyone's taste.

BACKWATER CRAPPIE

the water. On other excursions, they had taken several nice largemouths near the beaver dam using similar rigs. But the change in bait produced no takers, so they moved upstream.

The wind was uncommonly bitter by now. Even the cove offered little protection as water churned and temperature dropped. It was definitely not a pleasant day for fishing. The agony of dipping into the minnow bucket and then exposing wet hands to the biting cold and whipping wind was unbearable. Every crappie that tore a minnow from the hook brought a new, unspoken curse.

The last stop was at a south-facing bank lined with broken, twisted willows protruding from the water in every direction. It was the kind of hole that crappie like. Action was slow, but Roger snagged a one-pounder every time Wayne began pulling up the anchor to call it quits. It was one of those situations when you sit and sit until you can bear it no longer, and just as you decide you have enough fish, another one bites, bringing promise of more.

Even though the crappie were less eager to feed, they were larger in size than they had been at the first spot. Once hooked, they were languid, showing little of the fight characteristic of their species in spring and early summer. Cool water had dulled their scrappiness, but still they fed, trying to add reserve fat that would carry them through the winter.

The distant gabble of geese began to hold the anglers' attention more than the occasional bumps. A flock of several dozen snows and blues winged overhead low enough that a Magnum could have pulled one or two down. While gazing at the ducks and geese which the storm front had prodded into flight, Roger hauled in an occasional crappie, running each one onto his stringer.

Meanwhile, action from the blind picked up as every duck on the river seemed to be looking for a retreat and company. Shotgun volleys echoed up and down the slough with regularity, and it was working hard on the pair of cold fishermen.

One more stop at the first crappie hole and they decided to call it a day. Again the boat had barely glided to the log when Wayne latched onto another dandy. But that was it. About 15 more minutes of diligent angling convinced the pair that there were no fish left. The fishing season was obviously finished as far as crappie and this backwater were concerned.

They pulled up the take—19 crappie ranging from three-quarters to better than a pound. For two hours of fishing in November, with a mean storm front moving in, that wasn't really bad, although memories of crappie free-for-alls just a week earlier made the trip less satisfying. But, at least they had done justice to the shank of the season. THE END

Gemstone area map of Nebraska

Each of the delineated areas has a distinctive assemblage of gemstones. Similar material is found in each, although certain sections will be more productive than others. The regions are: Area 1, White River and Hat Creek basins; Area 2, Niobrara River basin; Area 3, Missouri River tributaries; Area 4, Elkhorn River basin; Area 5, Loup River basin; Area 6, North Platte River basin; Area 6a, South Platte River basin; Area 7, Middle Platte River basin; Area 7a, Lower Platte River basin; Area 8, Republican River basin; Area 9, Big Blue River basin; Area 9a, Little Blue River basin; Area 10, Nemaha River basin.

NEST EGG OF ROCKS

be obtained with ease. Coming up from the depths of those pits are some of the most desirable rocks.

Included in a new handbook published by the Conservation and Survey Division of the University of Nebraska is a map showing the different gemstone-hunting regions. That map is duplicated on this page, along with other information from the handbook. Prepared by Roger Pabian, the book deals with all phases of rock collecting, giving specific data for handling each type of material based on its individual characteristics.

Listed as common gemstones in Nebraska are fortification, prairie, moss, Lake Superior, lard, blue, and vein agate; chert, coral, jasper, jade, feldspar, onyx, quartz, and petrified wood, among others. Blue agate, or blue chalcedony, was made the official state gemstone, and the prairie agate the official state rock in 1967. Prairie agates and fortification agates are from roughly the same source, and are therefore found together. They occur most frequently in areas 1, 6, 7, and 7a on the map.

Jasper and moss agates, likewise, occur together, mostly in areas 1, 5, 6, and 6a on the map, and to a lesser degree in area 8, the Republican River drainage, as well as areas 9 and 9a, the Big and Little Blue River basins. Jasper is also found in glacial tills of eastern Nebraska.

Jade is pretty much restricted to areas 6, 7, and 7a, with some in eastern tills transported from Canada. Coral of various pastel shades shows up in several regions.

With some experience, the novice rockhound can distinguish desirable types of material. Although the exterior of the stone seldom resembles the inside, there are certain clues. Texture, shape, luster on fractured surfaces, and weight are dependable factors used to judge quality. Color may also be important, although such things as jasper and prairie agates range from red to yellow and blue.

Quartz is a problematical mineral, having a range of attractive, pastel colors, but with many flaws which make it difficult to work with. Small faceting-grade quartz has been found in the South Platte basin, although there may be as-yet-undiscovered material in the eastern glacial tills.

One or two field trips with an experienced rockhound will usually suffice to get a newcomer started. Some specimens will be outstanding enough to be picked up readily by even the novice, but others will appear as rough, grayish or brownish blobs on the outside, but containing startling colors and designs inside.

Petrified and opalized wood is abundant in much of the state, and is usually recognizable because of the wood-grain appearance. Again, color can vary markedly with brown, red, black, white, and blue or mixtures of several in one chunk. Entire logs of petrified wood (Continued on page 64)

What's New the outdoor world

Almost as old as snow itself is the sport of sledding. A new vehicle from Wooster, Ltd., a division of Rubbermaid, Inc., gives the ancient art of sledding a new and fancy image. Called the SPV (for super performance vehicle), this device consists of two polyethylene shells bonded together for strength and a cushioned ride. The running surface has grooves that provide top speed even in light, powdery snow. Steering handles that double as brakes give excellent control. Priced under $25, it is available in three color combinations from Wooster, Ltd., Wooster, Ohio 44691.

Anglers who find themselves cooling (or warming) their heels indoors now, awaiting arrival of warmer weather

Cold-handed outdoorsmen may find the answer to their problem in a new glove offered by Gun Club Sportswear, Box 477, Des Moines, la. 50302. Selling for $15, the glove offers warmth plus maneuverability. Called the "Subzero Sport Glove", the secret is in the curon foam insulation. The outer shell is made of top-quality Caberetta, and the glove features a nylon lining. The long "handle" on the glove is designed

Another handy item to have available during cold weather is a jar of FrostGuard. A product of the Reyco Company, P.O. Box 914, Sonoma, Cal. 95476, this cream is designed to protect exposed skin from the cold. Frostguard serves as a layer of insulation, holding body heat in and cold out. It rubs in completely, but leaves a warm feeling lasting up to 12 hours. Said to be completely safe and nontoxic, the creams sells for $2.95 for a half-pound jar, or a 2-ounce sample jar for $1.

Most victims survive first heart attacks. Like this farmer, 3 out of 4 survivors go back to their jobs.

More than 133.5 million Heart Fund dollars invested in research since 1949 have helped make possible great advances in diagnosis, treatment and rehabilitation.

Nevertheless heart attack kills 580,000 in the U.S. annually. Fight this Number 1 killer with the best weapon you have - a generous gift to the Heart Fund.

GIVE... so more will live HEART FUND

Outdoor Calendar

Other areas include state recreation, wayside, and specialuse areas. Most are open year-round, and are available for camping, picnicking, swimming, boating, and horseback riding. Consult the NEBRASKAland Camping Guide for particulars.

Consult NEBRASKAland hunting and fishing guides, available from conservation officers, NEBRASKAlanders, permit vendors, tourist welcome stations, county cierks, all Game and Parks Commission offices, or by writing Game and Parks Commission, 2200 N. 33rd St., Box 30370, Lincoln, Nebraska 68503.

Traps without injury squirrels, chipmunks, rabbits, mink, fox, raccoons, stray animals, pests, etc. Sizes for every need. Also traps for snakes, sparrows, pigeons, crabs, turtles, quail, etc. Save on our low factory prices. Send no money. Free catalog and trapping secrets. MUSTANG MFG. CO., Dept. N 34, Box 10880, Houston, Tex. 77018

TRACTORS OF TIME

around the farm. That way they sort of pay for themselves. A man can tie up too much money in a hobby like mine and I'm just not about to do that."

Those who launch such ventures seldom worry about what other people, including their own families, think of them. In Ken's case, his family goes right along on his tractor-hunting expeditions, and eight-year-old Karl is also becoming quite a mechanic. Last summer, he completely dismantled an engine by himself. Still, there's a stigma attached to someone with more than 50 tractors sitting around the yard.

"There are a lot of times when I'm sure at least some of my neighbors think I'm nuts. They can't see a farmer-teacher having all those old machines sitting around for any reason, let alone tying up money in them as a collection. But a good share of their criticism —good humored of course — comes before they visit my place. A lot of the old-timers stomp up and down the line, looking over the tractors and talking about the good old days."

Neighbors aren't the only ones interested in Ken's collection. He's had visitors from several states who stop to browse through the tractors that line his farmyard. One man, Ken said, came all the way from Indiana to prowl through the machinery.

As with anything else, tractor collecting has its lighter, more frustrating sides. Though Ken didn't know it at the time, he embarked on one such venture when he bought his first tractor in 1961.

"I needed a tractor to get things done. Since I couldn't quite swing a brand new one at the time, I bought a 1938 John Deere Model G. It was a little old, but the machine served me well and I used it for several years. Finally, it was just about shot, so I traded it for a newer one. At that time, tractor collecting wasn't much of a thing with me, but as time went on, I began to wish I had the Model G back. So, I went looking for it. The fellow I had traded it to had passed it on to another, and so on. I finally found it in Kansas and had to haul it all the way back up here. Now it is in the collection out in the yard."

Ken found that particular tractor, but he hasn't been so fortunate on another he wants. Berns is looking for a Deere crawler and the word is out. Not long ago, an acquaintance told him of one that was for sale near St. Libory north of Grand Island.

"The farmer who had it was ready to get rid of the thing and it sounded like he was ready to deal. So I loaded the family into the car one Sunday and headed for what promised to be one of our more fruitful hunts. Trouble was, though, I didn't know exactly where to start. So, when we reached the area, I started knocking on doors and asking if anyone knew of the crawler. Most of the day went that way until someone in the area remembered the old implement and its owner. We took off for the farm and when we finally roused the owner, he admitted to having a crawler."

Elated at his success, Ken and the farmer headed for where the rig was parked. Elation, however, was short-lived when Berns walked up to exactly what he wanted — except that the rig wasn't a John Deere. Another day in the life of a tractor collector was shot. But the hunt goes on and Ken is confident he will eventually run across what he wants.

So, while myriad tractor companies are grinding out new models by the dozens, Ken Berns is busy snapping up J. D.'s old ones. He's not against using his possessions' newer cousins, but there is a soft spot in his heart for the down and almost out. In his own unique way, he's using them up, wearing them out, and making them work again — frequently much better than they did in their sunshine years. THE END

COVER COME LATELY

familiar haunts for the winter. Good cover units have two vital characteristics. First, they must have vegetation that can stand erect under the weight of snow. Limp grass lying flat under the snow won't help. Second, they must contain at least one acre in a shape of adequate depth to insure survival.

Coupled with winter habitat is a general lack of safe nesting cover. This habitat limitation restricts growth of Nebraska's pheasant population. The picture of winter cover, however, would not be complete without some consideration of other than blizzard shelters. When pheasants travel, long, narrow strips of cover become important. Travel lanes allow the birds to move without undue exposure. Such strips are most effective where they run between roosting spots and feeding areas, and a food supply is more readily used if there is a good loafing spot nearby. This can be a small, room-size patch of vegetation that both camouflages the birds and breaks the wind. Ringnecks like to loaf after the morning meal and may remain idle until supper time if undisturbed.

Birds will stay in protected areas if good vegetation such as tall and sturdy native grasses, sunflowers, or cattails are available. Clumps of shrubs or cedars help, too. All cover must stand high enough to offer cover above the snow, or support it to form roofs over ground-level roosts. A few adjoining acres of this type of cover provide shelter even without a distinct windbreak. And, if the area is large enough, it also serves as escape cover. In large areas, predators have trouble finding birds where as smaller areas make location easier. Good brushpiles also help, particularly for cottontails and quail.

Starvation seldom claims healthy pheasants during winter, since the birds forage for as far as two miles. During a storm, pheasants seek good cover, stay put, and may wait several days for clearing. Ringnecks can survive for as long as 30 days without food. Of course, they eat when they can, but long trips to a cornfield are hazardous.

The term "wildlife" includes many creatures besides pheasants, and all species that overwinter in Nebraska must have cover. Quail share the pheasants' blizzard shelter, but they cannot last as long without food. Common quarters for cottontail are a brushpile, a snow house under a rose hedge, or a hollow log beneath a plum thicket. Squirrels take tree dens, but beaver must have underwater entrances to bank dens or lodges.

Acres For Wildlife needs your help and welcomes your concern for any form of wildlife. After a storm, locate a resident pheasant flock. Mark the sanctuary as a prime enrollment plot. A heavy belt of conifers may hold a flock of robins now, and nesting doves in summer. Deer activity is most prevalent in wooded creek bottoms, or a buck may inhabit an abandoned farmstead. All are good areas for enrollment, and the procedures are simple.

A cover agent obtains a form by mail or in person from the Game and Parks Commission. He then contacts and sells the landowner on the program. Encouragement may include a promise to maintain signs that will be put up or to chop down a few weeds on the site. A little work may save the whole site from being mowed or sprayed, and any co-operation offered is the cover agent's way of thanking the landowner for contributing to the success of Acres For Wildlife.

Many participants derive ample satisfaction from simply being a part of this conservation program, but Acres For Wildlife offers additional incentives. Arm patches and certificates are available for cover agents, and a subscription to NEBRASKAland Magazine goes to the landowner or his designated operator. There are special awards for participants who make exceptional contributions and opportunities for adults who wish to serve as sponsors.

Each plot enrolled must be at least an acre in size. Half-mile roadside right-of-ways also qualify. Almost any land outside city limits is eligible. Landowners and agents must agree not to burn, graze, mow, or spray the plot with chemicals harmful to wildlife for a minimum of one year. (Mowing is permitted only where it is required for the control of objectionable weeds or where it is necessary to reduce fire hazards.) Plots are managed to maintain maximum cover at all times. No special hunting restrictions are involved, and control rests with the landowner just as on any other private land. Farmers and ranchers often tend to clean up unused areas, so signs provided by the Game and Parks Commission tell neighbors and tourists why the area remains undisturbed. Interested persons may obtain enrollment forms and information by contacting the Game and Parks Commission, 2200 North 33rd Street, Lincoln, Nebraska 68503. THE END

NEST EGG OF ROCKS

have been recovered, including some in the Niobrara and Snake River valleys in Cherry County.

The North and South Platte River valleys both feature wood, and east of the confluence there is an abundance. This material is attractive and fairly easy to work. In fact, petrified wood is considered by many to be some of the most desirable raw material for the lapidary shop. Almost any piece of petrified wood is worthy of saving. Palm wood and ferns would certainly be included, being somewhat rarer and quite distinctive in design. Palm has small, whiskery-looking filaments running lengthwise.

Small pieces of fossil ivory from mammoth and elephant tusks are fairly common statewide, having been found in all but a few counties. Other fossils, such as teeth, bones, and various snails are also common. While not in the same class as minerals and rocks, they nevertheless are welcome additions to the collector's pouch. They are useful as specimens and also for jewelry.

Preparing rocks for various purposes seems to be a natural progression after the initial stage of collecting. Looking for them is fun, almost infectiously so, but there comes a time when the desire to fashion them into useful or attractive items hits. This opens up an entire new phase of the sport and brings about a much better understanding of what to look for in the field.

No amount of detailed description will be much help in distinguishing one rock from another. Pictures help some, but there is nothing like having a sample to look at. There is a certain appearance and heft that indicates whether a rock is a "good" one. Breaking a few open with a hammer is helpful in the learning stage, but this may result in the destruction of a would-be prize.

A sandpit is probably the best place to start looking. Here will be found nearly all the common rocks. Ability to discard the softer, crumbly types comes rather quickly. Wetting the stones helps determine what they will look like polished, and gives an indication whether they will take a high gloss. Permission to collect rocks is usually easy to obtain anywhere, but practice common sense and courtesy. Pit operators are concerned with safety, so stay away from the water, and keep a close eye on children.

The pursuit of the rocks is not tough, however, as most of Nebraska is accessible without undue strain. So, pick a sandpit or a road cut and start gathering your own nest of rock eggs. You, too, may become a hound.

Minerals and Gemstones of Nebraska, a Handbook for Students and Collectors, available for $ 1 plus sales tax from the Nebraska Geological Survey, Conservation and Survey Division, University of Nebraska, 113 Nebraska Hall, Lincoln, Nebraska 68508. THE END

OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland of the Air

Outdoor Elsewhere

Litter Plea. The problem of litter and trash is a mounting tragedy in our nation and has been attacked almost every way imaginable. And, here's how an ingenious forest ranger attacked the problem in New Hampshire this past tourist season. The fellow put up a sign on the trail that led up to the 2,000-foot mountain peak where he managed a fire tower. The sign read: "Please do not litter. My wife is coming up next week, and I don't want her to think I keep a messy mountain." — New Hampshire

Bass Hunters. Two Missouri hunters went gunning for doves not long ago and landed two hefty largemouth bass instead. It all started when one of the men bagged a dove that fell into a farm pond. They rigged up a rod and reel to retrieve the bird. On the first cast, the fellow landed a 2V2-pound bucket-mouth. On the second cast he brought in a 1 -pounder, and the fishing kept up. Incidentally, they never did retrieve the bird. — Missouri

Old Gun Laws Never Fade Way. Not long ago, 4 Pennsylvania legislators introduced a bill to repeal a gun law which was enacted in 1751. The old statute prohibited the firing of a gun without special license from the governor. The law was originally enacted to control pioneers who fired shotguns up chimneys to clean them out.— Pennsylvania

Ruffled Quail. On a recent fishing excursion, an Oklahoma couple took time out from good bass angling to take a dip net in hand and land a covey of quail from the drink. The bobwhites had apparently misjudged the shoreline and had dropped into the water instead of on land, and the birds were horrible swimmers. After drying, the quail were released, hopefully having learned something from their brief dunking.—Oklahoma

An Earthly Insult. A Maine outdoor writer recently set the record straight about spitting on a worm for good luck. The fellow says that not only is it sheer, superstitious folly to spit on a worm before dunking it as bait, but it is also a very discourteous thing to do to the worm. — Maine

A Fast-Moving Decoy. While checking their spread of over 100 duck decoys, a waterfowl hunter and his son noticed one of the decoys moving steadily downstream. Baffled, the two sportsmen watched the decoy steadily chug away. Finally, the twosome took pursuit and eventually captured the runaway. And, to their surprise, found an 8-pound largemouth bass underneath, trying to make lunch out of their decoy. — Arkansas

Old-Age Resistance. The contemporary saying, "You're only asold as you feel", was recently displayed letter-perfect by an Illinois canoe buff. In fact, the outdoor enthusiast might well be the oldest canoeist ever to travel Minnesota's Boundary Waters Canoe Area. At 91-years-young, the fellow made a 4-day trip, including 3 portages with a 35-pound pack. His only comment was a report on the excellent fly-rod fishing for panfish that he enjoyed. — Illinois

Signs of the Times. Signs say about everything we need to know these days, and sometimes they become quite humorous. For example, not long ago a man put up his answer to littering and highway beautification along an Eastern highway. The sign read: "Throw away something beautiful". Although humorous, perhaps his effort will awaken some folks to the ugliness of litter, and convince them to stop littering.- Washington, D.C.

Business As Usual. An Ontario poacher was illegally netting walleye in a noisy stream. He was so busy he didn't hear the approach of a local game warden. The warden tapped him on the shoulder and said, "I'll take that net."

Without looking up, the poacher snarled, "Look, bub, if you want fish, go find your own net." — Ontario

Big Springs Robbery ROARING INTO NEBRASKAland like starving lions, rascal Sam Bass and his gang of desperadoes meant business. After a series of unsuccessful stagecoach holdups, Bass was determined to become a successful thief at the expense of goldladen Nebraska trains. On September 18, 1877, Bass bushwacked Union Pacific Train No. 4, getting away with a purported $60,000 in gold at Big Springs, the first outlaw ever to heist a Union Pacific train.

Sam Bass was a flamboyant character with a yen for easy money. He left his home state of Indiana for the wilds of Texas while still in his teens, determined to become rich. Sam went from herding beeves to horse racing, then graduated to horse stealing.

Bass and his five gangsters chose Big Springs for the heist. The sleepy little town was smack in the middle of no-where and looked like easy pickings. On a clear night in September, the gang went to work. When all was said and done they had collected an alleged $60,000 in gold, and had wrestled an additional $1,300 from the passengers. But, never let it be said that Sam Bass wasn't considerate of his victims. Before he departed from the passenger coach, he saw to it that a man who had only one hand was fully refunded, and that each of those he robbed got $10 back for traveling expenses.

The outlaws disappeared into the inky darkness. After splitting the loot they headed out in pairs for parts unknown. Of the six, two were killed in a gunfight with a sheriff the next day, a third was gunned down in Missouri some time later, two were never captured, and Sam Bass was off to Texas to burn his name in history.

Arriving in Texas, the Lone Star State, Sam was generous with his newly acquired $20 gold pieces. His wild spending made him a hero across the land. Bass evaded local lawmen and the celebrated Texas Rangers while he continued to rob stages and trains.

As his money supply dwindled, Sam laid plans to rob the Round Rock, Texas, bank on July 1 9. Everything was set. However, one of Bass' gang members secretly blew the whistle, tipping off the Texas Rangers, letting Bass lead his men into a trap. Sam managed to escape, but carried away a slug.

That same night a farmer found Bass dying and told the Rangers. He was brought in, but his wound was his last. Sam hung on until July 21, his twenty-seventh birthday.

Although the man was gone, his legend lived on. And, with every version the Robin-Hood-of-the-rails story continued to grow, all from its beginning at Big Springs, Nebraska. THE END