NEBRASKAland

Speak up

Sir / I enjoyed the article by Steve Olson on Pumping up Pike. As an avid ice fisherman, I would like to know how many tip ups one man can use. I've read the 1974 Nebraska Fishing Guide and the hook-and-line limitations. In stream and ice fishing, no more than 5 hooks on a line or 15 hooks in the aggregate are allowed. Would you please make this clear to me and many other ice fishermen on exactly how many tipups to use?

What the regulations state, in somewhat technical terms, is that when river fishing (one-half mile or more above the inlet of a lake or reservoir) and when ice fishing, anglers can use up to 15 lines if they have only one hook each. However, any combination can be used —five lines with three hooks each, etc., but no more than five hooks can be tied to one line. Therefore, the maximum would be three lines with five hooks each, (editor)

Sir / Whoever was responsible for the article on pages 32 and 33 of the January, 1974 NEBRASKAland (Holding the Peaks) is to be congratulated and thanked warmly. It has been a long time since I wondered why the largemouth bass were not protected up to the time they were large enough to smell up a frying pan. It has always irked me to see grown men as well as kids yanking 3 and 4-inch bass out of our gravel pits, taking them home and probably destroying them knowing they would be of very small value in a frying pan. I hope this new rule can be pounded into the heads of those who deliberately destroy small bass. There are a lot of little ones in our gravel pits but they stand little chance of ever growing up if they are not protected in some way. I am for the person or persons who got this rule into motion. Thanks.

Sir / Listening to Jack Curran and Lowell Johnson being interviewed about NEBRASKAIand on "Conversations" today, I recall vividly the earliest days of the magazine.

It was then little more than a mimeo graphed sheet. Being an avid hunting and fishing outdoorsman myself, and living in a rural community, I took it upon myself to sell 150 subscriptions in the neighborhood. I believe the price was 75 cents or less.

To reward my efforts of stirring up interest in the Game Commission's projects, a great many pheasants were consigned to the Oakland area. I was asked to select the spots to release them.

When I visited the Game Commission's office in the State House (a cramped and crowded area on the 10th floor) concerning my big desire to stock our part of the state, I conferred with an unusually tall man whose name I cannot fully recall —but think it was a Mr. Gilbert.

This man was the first head of the Commission to be actually educated for the job. Prior to this the job was more or less a political football and many were not educated in game management or conservation.

I am now disabled but enjoy the big interest my grandchildren have in fishing, hunting and camping.

Sir / The January 22 Omaha World-Herald devoted considerable coverage to Jack Cramer of Omaha who had the dubious honor of killing one of the few lynx in our state. I'm angry! Why, why, why must everything be hunted to extinction? Many people would thrill to seeing such a rare animal; Mr. Cramer killed it-the Herald made his act an act of heroism.

Since the state seems reluctant to protect our few remaining big cats from the predation of thrill-seeking hunters, at least the press should refrain from glamorizing the act.

I might add that I am a hunter; I always have been, and hopefully always will be. However, I cannot understand why something must be killed merely because it is alive.

The Game and Parks Commission has for years been attempting to obtain jurisdiction over all wildlife in the state, in order to develop sound management principles. Without this authority, management of predators such as the lynx, bobcat, and coyote, among others, is impossible.

The Commission feels that because predators and prey exist in harmony within our ecosystem, this authority is required both to protect the predator and properly manage the prey (pheasant, quail, rabbit, etc.). Unfortunately, predators are classed as non-game species and remain unprotected.

The legislature retains control over these predator species. One thing concerned people such as yourself can do is to contact your legislative representative and in form him or her of your thoughts.

There are private individuals and organizations who are concerned with this problem and are pressing for legislation giving the Commission the needed jurisdiction; perhaps joining forces with one of these groups would be a good move because numbers of voters impresses legislators. Conversely, there are large groups opposed to giving the Commission this authority.

We agree with you that wildlife shouldn't be killed merely because it is alive. We also agree that publicity for improper actions is at best dubious; the improper action in this case was shooting something without first properly identifying the animal, (editor)

Sir / The beautiful pictures that I find in your publication are used to make posters that I use to decorate the bulletin boards of my 8th grade science class. Not only are they decorative, but show the interdependent relationship of the many forms of life that we know. We also enjoy the many articles on wildlife. Thank you for such an enjoy able and useful publication. You've sold me on Nebraska as well as NEBRASKAland. Hope to visit your state soon.

Six thousand miles off to Brazil, then back to the same old gourd hung on the same old cabin; for though he may have toured two continents, he comes right back each year to last year's spot: humble gourd or grand apartment it's forgotten not.

Sir / As a transplanted Nebraskan (health reasons) I still enjoy knowing what is going on in Nebraska. I still have many friends and relatives in Nebraska, Lincoln to North Platte, and at one time knew quite a lot about the state having covered a good portion of it, but find that by reading your fine magazine from cover to cover, these past 10 years, I have learned a great deal more.

How about some stories about Nebraska history like those written by your famous writers Nellie Snyder Yost, Mari Sandoz and others.

Olin Waddill, Gordon, Nebraska, spent several winters here and I am sure he is good for a few stories about the Nebraska Sand Hills.

Keep up the good work as I love every issue of NEBRASKAland.

Sir / A great big vote of appreciation for the picture of the coyote on the cover of the January issue of your magazine, and for the landscape scene on page 2 by photographers Greg Beaumont and Bob Grier.

To those of us who are interested in the conservation of wild life, the article "Prairie Life/Role of the Predator" as well as the excellent photographs that are a part of this article, by Jon Farrar, we offer our thanks for a job especially well done, timely, interesting and factual.

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.

Scale Down for Action

Our first use of ultra-light gear shows it to be an effective and exciting angling weapon

EVERYTHING'S been getting bigger and bigger over the years, and the Madison Avenue boys would like us to believe that automatically means better. But, fishermen have always been a bit contrary by nature, and so development in the opposite direction seemed only natural.

The end result is another kind of fishing called "ultra-light."

Ultra-light has been around for several years, so it can't really be called new. For the most part, it is just open-face spinning equipment scaled down to the point that it feels like a child's toy. But, in addition to amplifying the sport of catching fish, the gear can be an extremely effective weapon in the hands of someone with angling savvy.

Hauling in hefty stringers of white bass and hand picking limits of walleye showed NEBRASKAland photographer Bob Grier and me that ultra-light gear is anything but a toy.

We had gotten the ultra-light bug mainly because it was the one basic type of fishing paraphernalia that was not already included in our equipment inventory. I had given up on the "bass stick" school of fishing earlier in the year, mainly because the rod with the pool-cue action made casting more work than recreation, and using one to winch in fish was somehow short on excitement. Besides, picking backlashes from a free-spool casting reel all afternoon was not my idea of fun.

Flyrodding had also been ruled out, since heat and bright summer sun had pushed most fish out of range, into deeper water. And, Bob didn't want to think about regular spinning gear for a while. He had just lost an expensive outfit at Pawnee Lake when a backrest failed, sending him toppling backwards to the bottom of the boat in the "dying cockroach" position while his rod and reel flipped overboard.

On Friday morning, Bob, armed with about $20 worth of new rod, reel, line and a few lures, and I, with a combination of new and not-so-new ultra light gear, loaded up to cover a series of assignments in the western part of the state.

That same afternoon we were scheduled to photograph and gather information on the arrival of striped bass fry, flown from Virginia on the Commission's plane, and introduction of the fish into the North Platte Fish Hatchery system. But, a blown tire on our rig near Lexington and trouble finding a replacement, ate up the one-hour pad in our schedule. And, unexpected tailwinds all the way from the east coast put the Commission's plane in North Platte in record time. By the time we arrived, the whole process that we were to photograph and observe had been completed.

Our next commitment was in Scottsbluff, where we were to cover an archery fishing tournament and appear as guests on a local television program. But we didn't have to be there for some 18 hours, giving us ample opportunity to test our dainty new fishing gear at Lake Maloney.

As we circled the lake, things looked slow at the outlet, so we continued on to the inlet. A few anglers were on hand and no red-hot action was apparent, but we elected to try it.

Bob was a bit quicker than me in shedding his shoes and donning breast waders, and his little jig had been dragged through the water a couple of times before I managed to tie on a small spinner. The half dozen or so other fishermen standing on either side of us did double takes and sprouted amused little smiles at the sight of our flimsy tackle, but continued flinging their minnows or tandem jigs into the current without a word.

Bob struck paydirt first, tying into a white bass of just over a pound after about a dozen casts. His next three or four tries showed that he had hit upon the right combination, as he landed several more keepers.

He would cast his jig just slightly upstream, then let it settle as the current carried it along. Just before the lure touched bottom, he would begin a slow retrieve, bringing the rod tip back slowly, then keeping the line fairly tight while cranking in. This method gave Bob four or five nice white bass and a crappie, while I took a few runty whites on my spinner, and the other anglers (Continued on page 44)

FANATIC FOR FLIES

Pitting tiny 'dries' against stream-bred trout brings out the best in angler and fish, and is the ultimate water sport

TROUT WATERS, regardless of the time or place, hold a mystical influence over fly fishermen, their fascination for the sport taking them great distances to pit their skill and experience against a fish at least equally skilled and cunning.

For Dick Nelson, Conservation Education Coordinator with the Nebraska Game and Parks Commission, fly fish ing is a way of life —almost a religion. A native of South Dakota, Dick has followed the meandering flow of most trout streams in the midwest and mountains.

He was a natural to ask for guidance when I first began thinking of fly fish ing, and after some preliminary discussions, we found ourselves overlooking a trout pool on Cherry County's famed Snake River.

Sitting on a beaver-dropped log above the pool, we discussed the trout, his lifestyle, and what it would take to out-smart him using natural fly imitations.

Talking in low tones, Dick told of the trout's ability to sense even the slight est error on the fisherman's part, and he outlined his feelings and experiences on trout waters.

"Presentation of the fly rates about 50 percent of the battle, with water conditions, weather and light also play ing a role. The naturalness of the fly, how it is delivered onto the water and the current's draw on the line—it's all very important."

Pointing to the swirl of water left by a feeding fish, he continued as he tied a two-pound-test leader to the fly line.

"The trout is an indicator of the water quality of a stream. With the so-called progress of man on the increase across the country, the trout echoes the rise in pollution —he's always among the first to go!

"Knowing you can drink right from a trout stream is reason enough for travel ing a long distance to fish it," he added.

With the last rays of a dying sun draping the steep canyon wall above us, Dick finished the leader knot, and carefully watching the rising fish, he selected a number 20 Brown Bivisible fly from his vest.

"Here is one of the most satisfying aspects of fly fishing —being able to tie your own fly patterns. I spend many

long winter nights at the bench every year, getting ready for the upcoming season."

Sitting there watching him tie the small insect imitation to the leader, I could sense the purpose in his move ments. It was only after the fly and knot met his close inspection that he started moving toward the pool.

This stretch of the Snake is filled with quiet, deep-running pools, with areas of swift moving water between. Like most, this pool was blocked on one side by a fallen cedar, and the far bank showed evidence of being undercut —a prime lair for waiting trout.

Half crawling, half stooped, Dick eased his way to the lower end of the pool and began moving the fly rod back and forth, stripping line from the reel to lengthen the cast. After several seconds, he dropped the fly onto a fast moving riffle at the head of the pool.

A perfect presentation, but the little fly drifted over the pool without so much as a bump. The second cast fared no better, although a rising fish near the fly dispelled my doubts that the fish had somehow spooked and quit feeding.

On the third cast, a swirl of water met the fly and the action began as Dick set the hook, not knowing what size fish had taken the fly. With one powerful leap, a silver-gray trout began a short tail walk across the pool, break ing the two-pound leader as if it were made of spider web.

Dick quickly dropped back into his stooped position and began crawling away from the side of the pool.

"He was a good one —might have gone four pounds," was all he said that is repeatable, his shaking fingers giving away his excitement of the moment.

"You'll never get over that moment when a nice fish hits the fly. That moment makes the long evenings preparing gear and the long trip to get here — everything —worthwhile."

"Your success can never be measured by the number offish you take," he added. "I'm sure that most natural bait or spin fishermen might sometimes take more fish from a stream like this, but I get just as much enjoyment catch ing a few with the fly rod."

Continually watching the pool for renewed feeding activity, Dick began a short checklist of the equipment necessary to begin fly fishing.

"The two most important items are the fly line and rod. You don't need to spend too much on a reel, as it only serves to hold the line. A vest to store flies and related gear comes in handy.

In response to my question about flies, Dick mentioned that there are several patterns that seem to be useful throughout the year, and that a basic kit should include dry flies, wet flies, and both streamers and nymphs.

"The drys I seem to use most are the Brown Bivisible, the Adams, the Irresistible, and the Light Cahill. Wets needed might include the Gray Hackle, Coachman, and March Brown. For streamers, the Muddler Minnow, Black Ghost, and White Bucktail seem to be the most popular. For nymphs, Caddis and Quill Gordon patterns are probably my favorites.

After putting a stronger leader on the fly line, Dick returned to the head of the pool and began casting. After a couple of missed strikes, he set the hook on a nice 14-inch brown.

Fighting like one twice his size, the trout required a good five minutes to land, stripping line from Dick's hands and attempting to tangle itself in the fallen cedar at the end of the pool.

"All you can do," Dick said as he finally brought the fish from the water, "is apply whatever power to the rod that you think the leader will take. In this case I was lucky. Had he gotten into that cedar, it would have been all over."

The brown was completely spent from the fight. Thinking that the fish might not survive, Dick cleaned it and placing wet grass inside the body cavity, dropped it into the creel.

"By gilling and cleaning the fish right away, you avoid that job at the end of the day, and besides, it improves the table quality of the meat."

After releasing several more fish in the one-pound class, Dick hooked an other nice brown and the battle was on. But, it lasted only briefly. This time the fish broke the hook at the bend in the shank. The incident brought to mind a remark made earlier by the landowner.

Bill Powell, the owner of the section of stream we were fishing, had told us of several tackle busters that seemed to inhabit this pool—fish that he had hooked on several occasions but was unable to land.

Releasing another trout back into the pool, Dick talked about the importance of releasing fish. "That's one thing nice about fly fishing," he said. "The fish can be released because they aren't in jured. This is very important where the stream can't support heavy pressure, and few of them can. Probably any stream can be over harvested, so many concerned fly fishermen put back most, and sometimes all the fish they hook.

All in all, we had caught and released more than a dozen fish before starting upstream to check other pools and explore that part of the river.

Each year the water running from Merritt is diverted through the Ainsworth Canal to irrigate crops in the eastern portion of the Sand Hills. This leaves the summer Snake but a skinny relative of the powerful winter river. In most places, the water flowing over the stream bed was less than knee deep, but there were many excellent pools each looking like trout lairs.

Although a handful of ranchers own or lease portions of the Snake, including Les Kime and Powell, permission to fish is usually given to the considerate angler. Kime charges a small trespass fee of all anglers and sightseers interested in the waterfalls on his land. The fire hazard during the hot summer months requires caution on the part of fishermen, and each rancher is quick to relate any regulations he might main tain on his property.

The falls are beautiful indeed, but for the fly fisherman, the brown and rain bow trout are the main attractions. The browns outnumber rainbows, but what he lacks in numbers the rainbow makes up for in fight. Usually aerial in his resistance to the hook, the rainbow provides a different type of fight than the usually deep-running brown.

Finding another pool of rising fish, Dick quickly caught and released several more trout, and then we added some nice 12 to 15-inch browns and a rainbow to the creel before beginning the long climb out of the canyon.

Reaching the top in the last glow of evening light, we agreed that fly fish ing, especially on the Snake with it's tackle-busting trout and beautiful canyon country, was an outdoor experience of the highest order.

And for me, this trip had shown why fly fishermen will travel clear across the country in quest of the hard-fighting and always exciting trout.

Guns and gunmen

IF IT CAN BE pinned down, the modern cinematic image of western gunfighters probably dates to "The Great Train Robbery", but it's been going great guns ever since. From the jangling spurs and 10-gallon hats of the 1930s and 40s to the ultrarealism of today's oaters, the gunmen of the Golden West are heroes of the silver screen. However, their feats of gunmanship often meet heady resistance in theaters and living rooms across the nation.

Two lean, mean and lanky cowpokes meet in a showdown on a dusty, dilapidated frontier street. Both men make a play for their "irons". The hero, with the speed of an attacking mongoose, draws and plugs his adversary despite the bad guy "pulling leather" first. Across America, elbows burrow between ribs as bleary eyed spectators, in bursts of supposedly expert knowledge, proclaim, "Theycouldne'eradonthat".

Poppycock.

Hollywood stretches the truth a bit. Well, let's face it, Hollywood lies a lot. But movie makers are often correct about the gunfighters they portray, and the razzle dazzle of frontier pistolmen. Those old-timers were killers, paid or freelance, who had one thing in mind during a showdown —to do unto others before they can do it unto them. They were fast and deadly. But, they were not the supermen we see portrayed today. Far from it. So, the trick is to separate fact from fiction on the sliver screen.

As the flickering tube drones on into the night, some "gun nut" nudges his wife and scoffs at a 500-yard shot made by a cowboy from the saddle of a horse at a wild gallop. The viewer's doubt may be well-enough founded, but the fact remains that such a feat was possible under the right conditions. During the Civil War, some sharpshooters picked off canoneers at up to 1,000 yards —with muzzle-loaders. Television and movies may go out of their way to make the cowpuncher look silly or heroic, but at the same time, they usually stay within the realm of possibility.

Take, for instance, the "never-need-to-reload" sequence where a rifleman snaps caps from dawn to dusk without ever feeding the piece. A bit farfetched, perhaps, but keep in mind that the old lever-action rifles were reputedly loaded on Sunday and fired continu ously all week. Maybe not, but 13 shots as fast as you could throw the lever and pull the trigger caused a hectic killing zone compared to the laborious, tedious task of reloading a muzzier. As fantastic as some of the long-gun shooting may appear, though, it is the hand gun and the men who used it for business that created most of the stir.

Maybe one of the wisest moves that film producers ever made was to avoid pinpointing dates. All the viewer knows is that the setting is in the Old West, which has since become a world-famous tradition. Judging from most of the gun rigs the heroes sport, keeping TV fans in the dark is probably wise. In the first place, it's pretty hard to imagine all the action taking place after the 1880s. Still, the buscadero belt (the fancy, low-slung holster rig that ties down to the thigh) manages to find its way into every western flick. Problem is, the outfit keeps showing up in Nebraska in the 1870s and 80s, but it wasn't even developed until the 1890s, and then was confined to Texas for the most part. So, gun toters on the Nebraska plains had to be content with shoving their irons into their belts or using a military type holster.

Carrying a firearm often posed problems for would be gunmen. Since the fancy holsters not only cost a lot of money but weren't even in existence until the latter part of the 19th Century, most of them had to make do with what they had. Necessity being the mother of invention, a good share of gunmen who needed a sheath for their weapons created carriers. After the Civil War, military hardware and leather goods started filtering into civilian hands. A military holster, with its protective flap, kept a handgun securely in place, but cut down on speed of withdrawal. So, someone deciced to lop off the flap. Speed went up and more than one man went down as a result of the innovation.

Slinging the whole affair low on the hip and tying it to the leg wasn't the normal thing to do. Sitting astride a horse with a hogleg tied (Continued on page 45)

Trees are a living heirloom, a reminder from generation to generation of a continuing commitment to the future

Hardwood Legacy

MY FATHER had a dream. It was about trees and grass. That's all, just trees and grass. In the late 1940s, during the last days of World War II, he moved a little house and a new wife onto a quarter-section of his father's land, and he closed his eyes and saw the day when the entire section could be turned over to prairie grass and hardwoods.

They tell me he worked like a man possessed those first years planting trees —Chinese elm and poplar, pine and cedar, and a few fruit trees, cherry and apple. Cottonwood, boxelder and ash volunteered. He carried hundreds of buckets of water to his little saplings, and he babied them as much as he could between haying and plowing.

It wasn't long before his small daughter was racing into the house on a sum mer evening with a leaf in her clenched fist, demanding excitedly, "What kind of a tree did this come from, Daddy?" There was always a grin and a reply, and I'd run back out to find another leaf I didn't recognize.

My sister and I climbed trees like squirrels during our childhood. When we had a difference of opinion, I'd hide in the top of a tree until the fight blew over. I learned about birds as I swung from the limbs of our front-yard ash.

The cherry trees yielded many quarts of sour pie cherries, and the first thing I learned to bake was a cherry pie. I can remember my sister and I running into the house, pudgy fists full of bing cherries, to announce the ripeness of the sweet fruit.

I remember quiet walks on shady trails through the trees, following the wild things that made the trails, and daydreaming adolescent dreams.

My father dreamed of replacing his original trees, as they died and decayed, with hardwood trees —walnut and hickory and oak. He died when I was 16, though, leaving half a legacy for some one else to build on.

The years have passed and the trees remain, but one by one, they're dying. The fruit trees need to be replaced. Still my family shelters behind the trees. When a north wind blusters across the prairie, and the wind chill is -40°, the chill factor in the yard is approximately the same as the temperature registered by a thermometer. In summer, the 14 house and yard are cooled by the breath of the trees.

They have been neglected these 10 years. There is just no time to tend them, and maybe something that has been neglected that long deserves to die. But it's time now to plant the hard woods, time to revive tender care and expand the legacy my family has been harboring for three generations —my grandfather's, when a dream was born; my father's when a dream began to take root and grow; and mine, when more needs to be done to perpetuate it.

But why all the preoccupation with hardwood trees? Perhaps it's like a living counterpart to family heirlooms. To begin with, they're beautiful. Like fine silver or china or hand-crafted brooch, they are a reminder from generation to generation of a commitment made to the future. And, like the heirloom, they are valuable. They can be sold for timber to stave off want.

Once an heirloom is gone, it's gone, but the hardwoods, if used wisely in lean times and replenished in fat ones, can provide a pocketful of security generation after generation.

Many men have dreamed of hardwoods, I suppose, and some have dreamed in them. Oak and pecan, walnut and hickory, and some kinds of cherrywood have become fine furnishings in the hands of craftsmen. The hands of men have carved their visions in the dark cores of ebony.

It seems almost that the legacy of trees is a way of life, a different sort of feel for the world. Building and creating with living things feels different than with concrete and steel. It's a bobwhite quail whistling in the morning brush at the trees' edge, a quail whose home you unconsciously engineered. It's a squirrel scolding from a nut-laden branch, whose daily bread you've provided. It's the mourning dove cooing peacefully, perfectly at home in your orchard. It's dozens of songbirds nest ing in your trees and shrubs. It's a white-tailed deer browsing the edges.

According to one observant old man, plants and animals are companions. They do have preferences of "who" they like to live with. Plant a new community of trees on your land, he grins earnestly, and their friends will follow. Turkey, ruffed grouse and chipmunks like oak and nut trees. Some dreamers dimly suspect that Nebraskans could have plenty of all three, and many others to entertain them, if there were hardwood trees.

Dreamers see feed lots, see cattle suffering on "clean" land in glaring summer and harsh winter, and they envision trees. Maybe a clump of trees could provide life-saving protection to the cattle and diversion to the cattleman, a break in the harsh sameness of flat tened hills. Here could be a legacy of concern for the animal, for tomorrow's world, a vision of kindness and value to be reaped tomorrow.

But where can a dreamer start to build his house of comfort and kind ness for the future —his heirloom? A man named Caha found diversion in his orchard. He began by planning an intermixture of pecan, black walnut, hickory, chestnuts, persimmon, apricot, hazlenut, apple, peach and grapes. He looked at a slightly eastward-hang ing slope and saw trees laden with fruit and nuts, birds and animals to share them with him, and he saw timber.

He began 30 or 40 years ago with some knowledge of trees and made his orchard his classroom. Like other visionaries with less experience or knowledge, he sought professional advice occasionally on where to plant what and which varieties are friendly to one another. He kept in touch with his trees, giving them attention when they needed it.

He planned around some little known secrets of plant life, placing more than one individual of each variety in close cohjunction and catering to the plants' preference for intercross ing. He recognized that trees frequently refuse to self-pollinate through such mechanisms as differing maturity. He knew the progency of intercrossing are stronger than those of the same individual just as inbred animals are weaker.

He made his orchard an interesting multi-culture. His wide variety of trees prevented epidemics. If disease and pests attacked one species of plant, those surrounding it, immune to the at tack, prevented its spread. He knew his dream couldn't be wiped out through one onslaught of cedar rust or apple worms or Dutch elm disease. His trees NEBRASKAland

Caha's orchard was the child of his mind and his hands, and like other parents, he sought to make it self-sufficient so it could survive without him.

Caha is dead now, but most of his original trees are still there, almost 20 years later. The hickory, pecan, walnut and persimmon are in good condition. All the plants had a good start. It seems they grew and grew. Most of them survived Nebraska summer and Nebraska winter — heat, drought, blizzards, frost....

Through all this time, they have adapted themselves until today the or chard grows wild but luxuriantly, with little or no human help. Sumac, elm, boxelder, and mulberry have moved in and intermixed with volunteers of the seedlings from Cahan's trees. These seedlings are descendants of valuable parent plants. They carry the parental genes, but also genes with character istics that have been influenced climatically.

The new seedlings are the result of natural intercrossing of quality parent plants in a new territory. They are hybrids with their parents' characteristics uniquely adapted to the new territory. Apple varieties that are susceptible to cedar rust are about gone now, but it is no matter. There are plenty of other varieties remaining, and they are immune to the disease.

There is another man, a living man with a dream. His dream encompasses more than one orchard. It extends across an entire state, perhaps farther.

He sees trees, hardwoods, in every logical nook and cranny of land, making waste corners into beautiful, profit able sidelines for their owners. He sees farmers and ranchers working their one-man orchards, harvesting fruits and nuts and fine timber. He envisions these small orchards serving as classrooms for the men who work them. "Men should not be afraid to work," he says, "to sweat."

Men can learn about themselves, and about life by planting trees, he thinks. "Men are children, children," he says. "All the time they push over trees with their bulldozers crying, 'See what I can do!'"

"Plants are alive," he says. "Some how they want to stay al ive... they fight for life...they forgive you for the mistakes you make." He believes that it would be easy for any Nebraska landowner to plant an orchard. "It is simple," he remarks, "anyone can do it."

He sees Nebraska's natural clumps of trees and brush and envisions a few oak or nut trees in their midst. They would not replace the natives, only enhance them. He envisions landowners making their own experiments with new species, planting them along with tried and true varieties. If they thrive, then perhaps they are suited to Nebraska. Those that do well add just a little bit more to the fascinating mosaic of Nebraska vegetation and animal life.

But he sees beyond the trees. He dreams of families living with the trees and sharing the fruits of their orchards — the apples and pears and peaches, the squirrels and deer, the shade, the shelter from winter, and the peaceful ness of a cool summer evening under whispering leaves.

"Some men," he says, "risk nothing and ask only 'when do I get my money back?' Others, they risk, and they make something."

When after largemouths, silence and accuracy are golden

Bass Formula

THE LARGEMOUTH bass is one of the most sought after game fish in Nebraska lakes. More time is probably spent trying to put bass on stringers than any other fish. There are good populations of them in most lakes, yet very few good catches come to the docks after a hard day's fishing. Why? I will try to tell you why, and also show you what to use and how to use it to improve your bass fishing.

I am primarily a bass fisherman, and when I come home with a fine string of bass, it is no accident. Each year I land over 500 largemouths, and just as I learned to do this, just about anyone should be able to.

Let's start off with the proper tackle. A good rod 16 NEBRASKAland with plenty of backbone is a must in most bass fishing. This rod doesn't need to be as stiff as the so called worm rods, but it must be able to throw a 1/2 to 3A-ounce lure on 20-pound-test line into the wind. It must also have the strength to horse a good bass 8 or 10 feet after the strike. The shorter rods are my pick, say 5 1/2 to 6 feet, as you often will be casting at tight spots from tight spots, and longer rods are awkward to operate under such conditions.

A good reel is also a must, and in my opinion, the free-spool casting reel cannot be beat. Some spin-cast reels are alright, but I feel the open-faced spinning type has little to offer. But, whatever type rod and reel you have, it must be filled with at least 20-pound-test line. My choice is braided line, but there is nothing wrong with monofilament. In any case, even braided line should have a monofilament leader. If you insist on using light tackle, you'll lose many fine bass before you decide you cannot handle large fish in close quarters.

Whatever type tackle you start with, you must use it properly. This means being able to put your lure into a tight spot at distances of from 25 to about 60 feet. You should be able to cast along a narrow path of open water to the spots where the fish are, under low-hanging limbs or brush, to within a foot of a single stump or stick. Casting accuracy is very important in bass fishing, so practice, practice, practice.

Some anglers think that working the shoreline is all there is to catching bass, and lots of them are caught there. But, hundreds of bass are caught away from shore for every one taken along it. Even working shorelines is easier with a boat, so I think a boat is desirable. I like one that will ride rough water, for safety sake, but also one with low sides for easy casting. A low-sided boat also will not blow around in the wind as much, but I use two anchors to hold the position I want.

Most boat owners have motors, which they use to cover lots of water in a short time. This is fine, but always shut off your motor and either drift or paddle into position to avoid spooking the fish. Be as quiet as possible at all times. Never drop or drag anything around inside your boat, as any noise puts the bass on guard. I carpeted the floor of my boat to deaden sound. Quiet is very important in any fishing, but especially so in my technique because I do most of it in from three to seven feet of water.

Electric motors are great labor savers and quiet enough for maneuvering, but even they should not be operated right over the area you plan to fish. Another thing, in my opinion —no boat is large enough for more than two bass fishermen under any conditions.

As to when is the best time for bass fishing, I would have to say there is no set best time. I go whenever I have the time and feel like going. And, I've caught good strings of bass under all conditions from clear to over cast, from hot to cold, in rain and shine, with no wind to over 60 mph gales, in evenings and every hour of the day. No one knows for sure when the bass will hit unless he is out there when they start hitting. My personal choice is a day suited for comfort and ease of handling the boat —either cloudy or clear with pleasant temperature and with little or no wind. I also iike early mornings because traffic on the lake was nil all night and things have settled down from the day before.

When fishing a typical warm-water lake, you can see spots which look good such as weed beds, brushy areas and such. These areas are good places to throw a lure. Most of the bass will be back in such cover, not just close to it, and you must be able to get your lure into the small areas of open water if you are going to score regularly in this game.

I have worked such areas and nearly had the rod taken out of my hands when the lure went through a small opening. The bass was there all the time, but refused to come after my offerings until I put the lure with in his range. You will find that most good bass (over three pounds) will be caught in places where your lure must be cast to an exact spot that most other anglers never come close to. That is why accuracy is so important, and also why you must have heavy enough line and rod to be able to horse that bass into open water before he can take a few wraps around a branch.

Most bass caught by the average fisherman are one pounders or under. These bass haven't gotten smart yet and will chase anything that comes close to them. Big bass are there and waiting, so it's up to you to get your lure right into their dining room. Sure, some lunkers are taken by random casting, but the really good bass fish erman comes home regularly with beauties by being able to cast accurately, being quiet, and having the right tackle to handle them when they are hooked.

I compare bass fishing to the young lad who pest ered his mother so much she finally gave him a salt shaker and told him to go out and try to catch birds by putting salt on their tails. After several hours, the boy finally got smart and figured that was not the way to catch birds. And, the same thing happens to large bass. They refuse to chase anything all over the lake. Instead, they lay in the cover and let the food come to them. When a small fish, frog, or your lure happens by in range, watch out! Whenever you hit one of the right spots, the bass will strike if he is there. The strike will come the moment the lure hits the water or with the first couple turns of the reel handle. So, be prepared at all times to set the hook and get that bass out in open water.

Brush and weed beds give you targets to throw your lure at, but there is also underwater brush and other good cover. When you spot these underwater bass magnets, remember exactly where they are. Brush is good wherever you find it, and it will be the easiest fishing areas you can find. Whenever you go after bass, remember such spots and try them throughout the season. The one you catch there liked that spot, so it makes sense that others will like it too. Good areas do not remain vacant long.

As the sun starts to climb, I have found that it is best to fish the shady side of cover, as the bass will most likely be there, out of the direct rays of the sun. And, if good areas fail on the first try, don't give up on them. I keep retracing my fishing patterns every couple hours, and sooner or later it generally pays off. Perhaps a boat came too close or (Continued on page 46)

Variety is the spice of fishing for many, while others like to concentrate on one species. Regardless, there should be some helpful information here to spice up any angling

Fishing Nebraska

Fishing Nebraska

FEW ANGLERS have time to be come familiar with all the many kinds of fishing Nebraska has to offer. Anyone who tried would be very busy indeed.

The Panhandle offers flyrodding and spin-casting for trout in the area's many streams, or casting and trolling for rainbows and walleye in reservoirs. In the Sand Hills, there's a bit of stream and reservoir fishing, but the main attractions are natural lakes offering northern pike, bass, and panfish. The big sport in the southwest is trolling or casting on reservoirs for walleye and white bass, while the southeast offers opportunity to plug for largemouths in farm ponds, sandpits and reservoirs, to dabble bait for panfish, or go after catfish in warm-water rivers and creeks. And, northeast Nebraska provides a blend of many of these. A "Chain of Lakes" adjacent to Interstate 80 even offers a sporting interlude for those on the move.

But, while one or two types of fishing might predominate in a region, a fisherman cannot assume that another sort of sport is not available nearby. Nebraska has some 11,000 miles of streams plus about 326 public lakes and ponds, which total some 140,000 acres, and reservoirs. In addition, private ponds and natural lakes total about 18,000 in number, making up some 56,000 acres. A look at the charts on the following pages shows the variety each region offers.

Other information on fishing Nebraska is available locally from Game and Parks Commission offices in Lincoln, Omaha, Bassett, Norfolk, North Platte, and Alliance, and from conservation officers throughout the state.

Included are pamphlets that explain Nebraska's angling regulations and others on a variety of related subjects.

Conservation officers and Commission offices, as well as some 1,200 permit vendors throughout the state, are also sources of fishing permits. Permits are required for all nonresidents, except those under 16 years of age who are ac companied by a parent or guardian who has a valid nonresident permit. Residents 16 or older must be licensed. Permit fees include:

NONRESIDENT ANNUAL $10.00 NONRESIDENTTHREE-DAY $ 3.00 RESIDENT ANNUAL $ 4.00 RESIDENT COMBINATION FISH-HUNT $ 8.00 (Permit fees are subject to change by the State Legislature)

The Panhandle

NEBRASKA'S Panhandle is primarily an area of stream and river fish ing, and trout are the major attractions.

Streams of the North Platte Valley offer excellent fishing in late fall and again in early spring, as chunky rainbow trout from Lake McConaughy migrate on spawning runs. Many of these rainbows scale 5 pounds or more.

Peak activity there is seasonal, since the big fish return to Lake McConaughy when spawning is completed. Brown trout, year-round residents, provide action at other times of the year, however.

Streams of the Pine Ridge and Niobrara Valley offer both browns and rain bows, and the fish are there year-round.

All trout streams are a valuable resource and are closely managed. Special regulations are in effect for some areas, such as bans on possession of landing nets, a ban on archery-fishing, and complete closure, in some cases. Anglers should check regulations closely.

Nearly all are on private land, and permission of the landowner is required both by law and by rules of good sports manship.

Major impoundments in the area are Whitney, Box Butte, Minatare and Kimball reservoirs. All are used to store irrigation water, and heavy summertime demand can cause extreme drawdowns. This can affect fishing success and make launching of boats difficult.

The Sandhills

SAND HILLS anglers have a few very good trout streams, and a fine lake in Merritt Reservoir. But, their biggest fishing opportunity comes from the many natural lakes in the region.

Some of these are under public ownership, such as those of the Valentine National Wildlife Refuge. Others are privately owned, but open to the public through access agreements with the Game and Parks Commission, while still others are in private hands and open only to those with permission of the landowner.

Some, however, are extremely alkaline, while others are subject to periodic winterkill. Neither support good populations, so an angler might avoid wasted effort by inquiring locally on a given lake's condition.

Important game species in these lakes are northern pike and largemouth bass, plus panfish such as yellow perch, blue gill, and crappie. Other lakes are excellent for bullheads, and a few support good walleye populations.

Ice fishing is very popular and productive on these waters, especially for fishermen after big northerns or panfish. Northern pike fishermen also do extremely well in early spring, only a few weeks after the ice melts.

The Northeast

MAIN FEATURE of northeast Nebraska fishing is the Missouri River, especially the unchannelized portions between Gavins Point Dam and Ponca, and the stretch above Lewis and Clark Lake.

This is the last of the Missouri that remains in anything like its natural state. Its meandering channels, shallow bars and undercut banks offer fine habitat for walleye, sauger, catfish, white bass and paddlefish.

Other important rivers in the northeast include the Niobrara, Elkhorn and Loup systems, where catfishing predominates. Other important water is the Loup Power Canal, which is called home by some of the biggest catfish in the state.

The northeast also offers a bit of trout fishing in the Verdigre and Steel Creek drainages. Some public access is available on the East Branch of Verdigre Creek, but the rest is under private own ership and permission is required to fish there.

That is also the case with many farm ponds in the area, although the fine bass, panfish, catfish and occasional trout make asking permission well worth the effort.

The Southwest

FISHERMEN in southwest Nebraska are almost certain to find themselves on some sort of man-made water, either reservoir, spillway, or canal.

The big reservoirs are by far the main attractions, offering walleye, white bass, catfish and, in the case of Lake McConaughy, rainbow trout. May, June and September are peak months for walleye fishing on these impoundments, and May and August are best for white bass. The same usually applies in canals.

The late-summer white bass fishing is an especially exciting sport. On many lakes, white bass schools on feeding sprees drive shad to the surface, where they attract flocks of hungry gulls. By homing in on the gulls, anglers can pinpoint the bass and quickly fill a stringer by casting flashy artificials.

Another annual event on these reservoirs is the spring catfishing flurry. The upper ends of these reservoirs are the first to warm up as the ice melts, and this draws hordes of catfish. In some years, the catfish are biting enthusiastically while ice still lingers on the main part of the reservoirs.

The Interstate 80 Chain of Lakes

EVEN THE fisherman on the move can find sport in Nebraska, especialy if he is crossing the state on Interstate 80. All along the super highway's course between Grand Island and Sutherland, there stretches a "Chain of Lakes" offering largemouth, small mouth and rock bass, catfish, bluegill, and an occasional walleye. Ranging in size from 1 to 53 acres, the lakes were formed as fill material was removed from the floor of the Platte to build the road way. The exceptionally high groundwater table of the area soon filled the pits. Many ot the lakes were stocked with game fish, and some were developed as state wayside areas, offering camping, picnicking and a number of other facilities. Others were purposely left in a natural state, providing habitat for wild life and a haven for the angler who prefers a bit of solitude. Some of these lakes are in private hands, while others are publicly owned. All are visible from the highway, and some are located at or near interchanges. Others, however, can be reached only by county roads, with nearest exits off I-80 listed.

The Southeast

SEVERAL styles of fishing are in vogue in southeast Nebraska, ranging from cane-poling for panfish on small creeks and farm ponds to trolling for walleye on some fair-sized reservoirs.

For years the catfish of the Missouri, Platte, Nemahas, Blues, and Republican rivers were the mainstay of angling in this area, and they still provide good sport. But good lake fishing has also arrived in the form of flood control reservoirs in the Salt Valley around Lincoln, giving anglers very good fishing for bass, walleye and northern pike. And more water of the same sort will be appearing in this part of the state as lakes of the Papio Watershed near Omaha come of age.

Another important source of fishing water in the area is a multitude of farm ponds, especially in the extreme south eastern counties. These waters offer brawny largemouth bass, catfish and bluegill, in most cases. Sandpits, usually found near major rivers, may also yield some fine fishing. Both are generally on private property and permission of the landowner is required to fish them.

Basics of Fishing

Fishing can be complicated, but those who keep it simple enjoy it most

IN CONJURING up an image of the basic fisherman, most people undoubtedly see a Huck Finn sort of character trudging back from the river or creek toting a cane pole, a half-empty worm can and a stringer loaded with a mess of catfish, bluegill or bullheads.

That image may be somewhat in fluenced by nostalgia, but it is probably not too far wrong. Today, the cane pole may have given way to an inexpensive but efficient push-button spin-casting rig, and the choice of bait might have been expanded to include a few more live and prepared baits plus some basic artificials. But, one thing has not changed. The fish erman who approaches the sport in a straightforward, uncomplicated manner can still take loads of fish and have a real ball doing it.

Just as in other sports, a beginner can try to buy his way into fishing. A load of sonar gear, light meters, temperature gauges, tackle boxes and an arsenal of rods might give a novice confidence, but it would also keep him fiddling all day long, where he would likely get more fishing done with a simpler outfit.

On his first outings, an angler probably needs no more than an assortment of hooks, sinkers running from split shot size to perhaps 3 1/2 ounce, a couple of small and medium-size bobbers and an inexpensive spin-casting rig. Armed with these and a can of worms or bucket of minnows, he is likely to score on bluegill, crappie, bullheads and catfish. Perhaps a largemouth bass or northern pike might also happen along.

Ideally, the first-time angler will be accompanied by someone with at least a little bit of experience. This is especially true for river fishing, which requires a trained eye to locate fishy spots, plus some knowhow in staying out of trouble in deep holes and swift currents. But if creek, pond or lake is the choice, there is little reason the beginner cannot APRIL 1974 strike out on his own.

Before he goes, however, the novice fisherman should take a few practice Vasts in the backyard to learn how his rod and reel perform. And, a few minutes should be devoted to learning to tie some basic fishing knots. The public library should have several books on the subject, complete with diagrams.

Once beside the water, the angler must decide just where to set up and what to offer in the way of bait. On the murky creeks of farming country, it is relatively simple. Usually, these waters consist of a series of deep, quiet pools or "holes", connected by shallower, faster channels. The hole is the place to start, especially water in the shade of a bank or over hanging tree, or around a submerged log or stump. A worm or nightcrawler is hard to beat in spots like this, since it appeals to catfish, bullheads and carp, the principal species found there.

The river, also, has "holes" that hold more fish. The best way to find them is to have an accomplished "river rat" point them out. Other wise, look for fish on the downstream side of sandbars where there might be two or three feet of slower water. Baitfish like to hang out there, and this draws the catfish. Any man made structure, fallen tree or brush pile provides holding places for fish and should be considered. Nightcrawlers are good here, too, but minnows may be even better.

On a lake, good spots to try in clude the edges of weed beds, mouths of tributary streams, submerged brushpiles and stumps, or a spot where it appears that the water gets fairly deep suddenly. A quick look at the terrain behind the angler gives some clue as to what's beneath the water in front of him, especially on a man-made lake. A hill with a steep grade to the water's edge probably continues into the lake, mean ing fairly deep water. And, a gully leading down to the water's edge probably extends into the lake, while a point jutting into the water suggests an underwater ridge. Minnows, worms and artificials can all produce there.

Fish look for places that offer safety, comfort and food. In a creek, the deep water of holes provides security and a refuge from bright sun and warm temperatures. The shallow water below sandbars in a river are gathering places for minnows and are therefore prime feeding areas for bigger fish. The snags offer shade, security and a resting spot out of swift current. In the lake, weedbeds and brushpiles provide shade and harbor baitfish, while deeper water provides relief from heat and sun. The angler who thinks in terms of the fish's needs and looks for the things that provide them will be ahead of the one who flings his line into the water at random.

Just about anywhere he chooses to fish, the angler can't be too far wrong if he chooses a worm or night crawler as bait, and starts out with a light sinker and small to medium size hook. The only exception is river fishing, where heavier tackle is in order.

One basic rig consists of a small hook at the very end of the line, a split weight about a foot above the hook and the bobber on top to tattle on a fish's presence. This works well in lakes with a fairly firm bottom free of weeds, and on calm days. Another rig with the weight at the bottom and one or two hooks on dropper loops above will get the bait up out of the muck and weeds, while the weight on the bottom will anchor it in the desired spot. The latter is especially suited to creek fishing.

These setups have been known to take just about every fish that swims. Baited with worms, they are particularly suited for bluegill and bull heads, while minnows are more like ly to draw crappies. Bass and catfish might also respond to either bait, on occasion. (Continued on page 47)

Striper Time

Big in size and bigger in scrappiness, striped bass seem destined to become available trophies in many state waters

EARLY WINTER had set in around Lake McConaughy and low-hanging clouds, pushed slowly by a cold, wet wind, held promise of additional snow on the small patches remaining from November's first big storm. Driving into Ogallala, I hoped someone around the lake was as crazy as I was and would venture onto the lake in quest of striped bass.

This, I was told, was hunting season and there hadn't been any anglers on the lake for nearly two weeks. Still, I was in the area and decided this was a good time to try one more time to catch a decent striper. We wanted a story for NEBRASKAland Magazine on Nebraska's newest game fish and we had agreed I should try before the lake iced over.

After deciding to fish a couple of days before going on a deer hunt, I called Monte Samueison at Lemoyne to find out if he had any boats that weren't stored for the winter. He told me Bob Stahr, who guides out of Monte's store on the north shore, would keep his boat ready for me. Bob said there wasn't anyone around to go with us, and even he didn't seem overly enthused with the prospects, but he is an avid fisherman and agreed to hit it early the following morning. Before sunup, Monte and his son helped us launch the boat before they headed for the goose pits Monte leases west of the lake. I felt a little guilty about taking Bob away from his chances at a Canada, but Bob assured me he was more than willing to take me out.

The lake was shrouded in mist, limiting visibility. The wind coming over the water was bitter cold, but we both were well dressed and I figured it couldn't be any worse than sitting in a duck blind. Bob cranked up his boat and we headed to a point off Thies Bay where late season anglers had been taking stripers, mainly by jigging.

"We can troll the pockets where we've been taking them, and if we don't have any luck, we can move to North Shore," Bob suggested.

Since he is a professional guide, I figured he knew what he was talking about, and so sat back to enjoy the trip up lake. The gulls appeared to be working shallow water off the points, which usually means the shad are running, and I hoped the stripers were hungry. An occasional flock of diving ducks broke through the mist, winging their way in search of food, and a few mallards could be seen.

We idled the boat down and broke out trolling rigs. Most anglers had been using jigs, but Bob had used lead core all year and had been as successful as anyone. He said he would prefer to use down-riggers, but the dense, submerged brush near shore made them difficult to use without losing tackle.

"Run out 10 colors on the starboard outfit and let out the port one until you reach the dark blue," Bob instructed as he maneuvered the boat into position for a run.

Luckily I had worn gloves, and as soon as both poles were strung out and set in holders, I headed for cover under the canopy. The choppy water was no hindrance to Bob's boat, and he remarked that when you fish Big Mac you better come prepared.

"We'll run a pattern I've found successful. This area has old cottonwood trees on the bottom so you have to be careful not to snag. I head the boat west until the locator reads 35 feet, then turn south until we hit 50 feet, then turn sharply east. Watch the locator and we'll drift the lines over a sharp dropoff."

Sure enough, the depth dropped suddenly to 65 feet. Bob has worked the lake for seven years and has spent considerable time talking to older residents of the lake, finding out where the drop-offs are and where the tree lines are, as well as doing a lot of reading and research on striped bass. I decided then I would also research stripers, and later discovered considerable about them.

Striped bass, Morone saxatilis, also known as rock fish in some parts of the country, were first stocked in Lake McConaughy in 1961. Since that time, stockings have occurred annually, and in the last three years numbers released have been significant. The past two years have seen stripers stocked in other reservoirs and canals in the state, including Harlan County, Medicine Creek, Maloney and Johnson Lake.

Stripers originally inhabited salt water along the U.S. east coast from Maine to Florida and along the Gulf Coast. In 1879 and 1882, several stripers were trapped, shipped to the west coast and released in upper San Francisco Bay. Only 435 fish survived the lengthy journey, yet today striped bass provide extensive sport along the coast from San Diego north to Washington.

Among the salt-water stripers, spawning occurs in fresh or brackish waters in inland tributaries. Spawners travel tremendous distances up the rivers to deposit eggs. The eggs must then be held in suspension by flow ing water or they sink to the bottom where the fry, if hatched, will suffocate.

In 1941, Santee-Cooper Reservoir in South Carolina was closed and striper spawners were trapped in the resulting freshwater environment. Fishermen began catching stripers in the lake, and it was found that the bass had successfully spawned. In the years since this discovery, several states including Nebraska have at tempted to introduce the species.

Reproduction has apparently been successful in Keystone Reservoir and Lake Texoma in Oklahoma. Nebraska biologists feel Nebraska's chances for natural

reproduction in the North Platte River above McConaughy are good because the environment is similar to that found above the two impoundments in Oklahoma.

Biologists began introducing stripers into Nebraska in an effort to provide a species with tremendous angling possibilities-saltwater brethern of our fish reach sizes upwards of 100 pounds. In addition, and probably more importantly, stripers have a voracious appetite, and it is expected they will help control the rough fish populations such as carp, carp suckers and gizzard shad. Because stripers are larger than most fish in our lakes, they feed on large shad, which will aid in naturally controlling shad populations.

The striped bass grows rapidly early in its life, then tapers off after its 10th year. Biologists expect them to live up to 15 years here, making them one of the longest lived fish we have. They also believe the stripers will reach the 30-pound class, which would make them our biggest trophy-type game fish. It is entirely within the bounds of probability that someday the state record will near 50 pounds!

Mature after five years, it is hoped stripers will be successful in spawning efforts. Although there hasn't been any documented proof of a successful spawn, Lake McConaughy and the river above the lake seem to afford good potential.

The eggs require 48 hours to hatch, so the fish will have to travel upriver a sufficient distance to allow the eggs to be suspended during this critical time. If the spawners don't get far enough upstream, the eggs will be carried into the reservoir before hatching, where they will settle to the bottom to be covered with silt, resulting in death of the fry. The first obstruction on the river is just east of Bayard, and biologists feel this distance is sufficient to allow hatching of the eggs prior to their entering the lake.

Another important consideration, however, is the water level in the river. Apparently the fish must have deep, turbulent water with a temperature of about 65 degrees. This means spawning will usually take place sometime in late June or into July, depending on weather conditions. During dry years, irrigation could drop the river level enough to hinder or completely destroy the species' spawning attempts.

Biologists are optimistic about the chances for the stripers' natural reproduction, however, and are closely watching for spawning (Continued on page 48)

Praire Life / Mechanics of Vision

FROM THE ONE-CELLED euglena, with its primitive "eye spot", to the golden eagle, virtually every form of animal life responds to light. For the less complex creatures, this response may be a simple movement toward or away from light. In the more advanced animals, the reception of light tells the organism much about its surroundings. At some point between these two extremes, the light sensitive organ ceases to be a simple receptor of light and becomes a true eye, capable of forming images of its environment.

Most animals gain more information about their surroundings through their eyes than through all their other senses combined. Advanced eyes can perceive direction and distance, size and shape, color hue and in tensity, depth and motion. It is not at all surprising that natural selection has continually improved primitive iight receptors and that organisms with the most proficient eyes have prospered in the animal world.

Spiders and insects are the most primitive animals that have a lens in the light organ, making possible the formation of images. Most insects, in fact, have two types of eyes: compound eyes made up of hundreds or even thousands of simple eyes, all capable of forming their own images; and small simple eyes, sometimes as many as eight placed strategically on the head.

The surface of a compound eye resembles a honeycomb, made up of many individual facets, each a miniature visual system complete with its own lens, light-sensitive cells and nerve pathways to transmit in formation to the brain. Every facet faces a different direction and records only a small part of the scene before it. Because lenses of each facet are fixed, they cannot focus on objects at varying distances, and, as a consequence, images are probably fuzzy silhouettes at best. When the images from all the facets are combined, like the tiles of a mosaic, the insect's brain constructs a complete picture. The greater the number of facets, the more detailed the image. Thus, in insects that depend on acute vision for survival, like dragonflies that feed on the wing, the facets may number as many as 28,000 in each of the two compound eyes. Insects that rely more on other senses to eke out their living, like some subterranean ants, may have only six facets per compound eye.

In addition to a pair of compound eyes, most insects have a number of small simple eyes located on the head. Each has one lens that focuses light on the visual cells behind it. Because of their uncomplicated structure, most zoologists believe that simple eyes provide their owner with only limited information. Entomologists have found that painting over the compound eyes of an insect causes itto behave as if it were blind. Covering the simple eyes does not affect the insect's vision, even though they respond more slowly to changes in light intensity.

Among the vertebrates —fishes, reptiles, amphibians, birds and mammals —highly developed, specialized eyes that provide detailed information about the environment are the rule. In structure and performance they are all much like our own.

The eyes of reptiles and amphibians are often large and adapted to see in dim light, when they are the most active. Turtles are reported to have a highly developed sense of vision, capable of detecting differences between lines that vary only 1/25 of an inch in thickness. Lizards rely on their exceptionally good eye sight to capture insects. Some have a vestigal third eye on the upper surface of the head, behind the two lateral eyes. In a number of exotic lizards, this eye is well developed and apparently functions much the same as the other two. The third eye's function in most lizards, though, is not fully understood. Some suggest that it may serve as a ther moreceptor capable of detecting temperature changes.

Predatory fish, like the northern pike or largemouth bass, that depend on keen eyesight to locate and capture prey, have relatively well developed eyes. On the other hand, scavenger fish, like the flathead catfish or carp, probably depend more on the sense of touch and smell while scouring the bottoms for food, and as a result they have small, poorly developed eyes.

While the eye is a remarkably use ful organ in the reptiles, amphibians, fishes and some invertebrates, it is in mammals and birds that it reaches the highest degree of complexity.

The workings of the eye are often compared to those of a camera (see page 41). The amount of light entering a camera is controlled by a me chanical diaphragm, the opening of which is called the aperture. The amount of light entering the eye is controlled by the muscles of the iris (the colored portion of the eye) and the opening is called the pupil. After light passes through the aperture of a camera it is intercepted by a glass lens that gathers it and projects it on to the light-sensitive film where an image is formed. Light passing through the pupil of an eye is also intercepted by a lens that gathers the light and projects it onto the sensitive cells of the retina. In the eye, though, nerve fibers transmit the electrical signals to the brain where they are interpreted and a mental image formed.

Just as the amount of light enter ing a camera must be controlled to 38 NEBRASKAland APRIL 1974 39   prevent the film from being overexposed or underexposed, so the amount of light entering the eye must be regulated. In a camera this can be done by varying the size of the aperture. In this same way, the size of the pupil controls the amount of light entering the eye. At night, when light intensity is low, the pupil opens wide, gathering as much as possible. During daylight hours, the pupil constricts to shut out excessive light that would "overexpose" the light-sensitive cells. This explains the large eyes, and correspondingly large pupils, of nocturnal animals, and the small eyes and small pupils of diurnal animals. For the great horned owl to capture small rodents at night, its eyes must be able to absorb every bit of light possible. On the other hand, the golden eagle that feeds during the day does not need such a large surface area on the eye to gather light. In fact, its eye must be able to restrict the amount of light that enters.

Nature has efficiently met the needs of animals that are about both day and night by designing a pupil that can narrow to a slit in bright light or open wide into a circular shape in dim light. Wild cats and some snakes have evolved eyes along this design.

In addition to controlling the amount of light entering the eye, animals must be able to form sharp images of objects at different distances—they must be able to focus. In a camera this is done by moving the lens forward and backward until the object is well defined. Unlike the glass lens in the camera, the lens of most animals' eyes is flexible, and muscles attached to it can change its shape to accomplish the same thing.

The necessity of being able to bring objects into rapid focus is apparent. Birds that capture insects in flight, like the kingbird or cliff swallow, must be able to bring their prey into immediate focus if they are to survive.

The size and shape of an eye also reflects the animal's way of life, particularly its feeding habits and whether it is a predator or prey species.

In general, the sense of vision is more important to birds than to other classes of animals, including mammals. Though they may look rela tively small, hidden behind the lids and surrounding skull structures, the eyes of most birds are deceptively large. In most birds the eye actually exceeds the brain in size. Even though the great horned owl is only 1/30 the weight of man, its eyes are actually larger than our own. About 15 percent of the weight of a starling's head is made up of the eyes; in man only one percent. The large, efficient eyes of birds probably evolved with the ability to fly and resulting need for a sense of vision that could keep pace with its highly active life.

Large eyes are usually associated with predatory birds, but the reverse is more often the case with mammals. The largest eyes and sharpest sense of vision among mammals be longs to the hoofed animals like the deer, pronghorn or mountain sheep; animals that must be constantly on the alert against attacks by predators. Animal eyes not only differ in size according to their way of life, but in shape as well. For example, most prey species have rather flat eyeballs that offer large retinas for images to fall on —excellent for scanning wide sweeps of landscape for predators. Globose and tubular eyes take in less territory but enable an animal to see farther and in greater detail —an advantage in locating prey.

An animal's visual acuity, or sharpness, is determined by the number of light-sensitive cells present on the retina —the denser the packing of cells the more acute the vision. Pronghorns have approximately 1 1/2 million visual cells in each eye as compared to only 200,000 in man. That means that they have almosteighttimes as many cells receiving light stimuli from the environment as we do and their vision is therefor about eight times more acute. The common buzzard, a bird that locates its food while soaring at great heights, has the greatest concentration of visual cells known; about two million in every pinhead sized area on the retina.

The light-sensitive cells of the retina are of two types. Rods, so called because they are straight and thin, make black and white vision possible in dim light. The more bulbous cones permit detailed examination in bright light and are sensitive to color.

As might be expected, the time of the day that an animal is active is reflected in the ratio of rods to cones in the eye. Noctural animals, like owls or nighthawks, have a high proportion of rods, enhancing vision in dim light. Most animals active at night are almost totally lacking in cones and hence have little if any color vision. Diurnal animals, especially the birds, have proportionally more cones than rods, and as a result have excellent color vision. Crepuscular animals, those active at dawn and twilight, are less apt to have a predominance of either rods or cones. As such, they are able to perceive color when the light permits, but can still see well in dim light.

To further their ability to see in low light conditions, most nocturnal and crepuscular animals have a mirror-like lining at the rear of the eye that reflects light forward, giving photoreceptors a second chance to absorb it. This mechanism explains why most nocturnal animals' eyes glow in the dark when a bright light is shining on them.

Brightly colored animals always have a good sense of color vision. The brilliant plumage of many male birds, for example, would be of little use if other birds, especially females, could not see them. Color vision is common to most birds, but may be lacking or not acute in some nocturnal species. It is widespread in fish, reptiles and insects, but among the mammals is believed to be restricted to the primates.

The position of an animal's eyes tells us much about its way of life, too. Inoffensive vegetarians such as rabbits, quail or small rodents, generally have eyes located on the sides of the head where they can view as much of the landscape as possible, always on the watch for attacks from predators. The woodcock has eyes directed laterally and slightly back ward, covering a full field of 360 degrees. The utility of rear-directed vision to a defenseless bird that spends much of its time probing in the mud for earthworms and insects is evident.

On the other hand, predators like the bobcat or weasel generally have their eyes directed more toward the front. This position enhances their ability to locate and capture prey. Most hawks and owls have a field of vision of only 60 to 70 degrees, but compensate by having highly movable heads and necks capable of turning 360 degrees without moving their bodys.

One of the most noticeable features of any animal eye is the color of the iris. Most are a drab gold or brown, a color that prevents light from penetrating the eye anywhere but through the pupil. Some species of birds, though, have brightly colored eyes. Zoologists are not sure what role these colored eyes play, but suggest that in some species like the wood duck or common merganser, where only the males have red eyes, they may be decorative displays to attract females. In species where both sexes have similar plummage, different eye colors may help potential mates avoid mistaken identities. These explanations may be correct in specific cases but do not explain animals like the black crowned night heron, where both sexes have bright red eyes. One of the most interesting cases is that of the western painted turtle, whose iris color is actually striped to match the yellow and black pattern of the head.

Considering the importance of vision to almost every form of animal life, it is not surprising that special structures have evolved to protect the eye from damage. In animals like the pronghorn, where keen vision is a requisite for existence, the eyeball is set in a thick tube of bone for protection. To guard the exposed surface of the eye there is a variety of lids, lashes and special membranes to meet each species' particular need.

Among the higher animals, only the snakes and most fishes have no eyelid at all. Fish, because of their aqueous environment, have little need of a structure to wash their eyes of debris. Snake eyes are protected by a tough, glassy coating that is shed each time the skin is.

Some animals —most birds, reptiles other than snakes and some mammals —possess three eyelids to guard their eyes against foreign materials. The third eyelid, the nictitating membrane, is generally a semitransparent tissue that flicks across the eye from the inside corner to the oittside. In animals without this nictitating membrane, the eye lids have brushy undersides that clean the eye's surface with each sweep. Animals with nictitating membranes use the true eyelids only in sleep. In some waterfowl, the third eyelid has taken on yet another function—housing a lens through which the birds looks when feeding under water.

Just these few examples illustrate the amazing complexity and special ization of animal eyes, each specifically adapted to a particular way of life. Consider the toad. To help push an insect down the throat, they retract their muscular, bulging eyes deep into their sockets and into the roof of the mouth to help force the meal along. Eyes —simple receptors of light?

Even though cameras were designed long before the mechanics of the vertebrate eye were understood, there are striking similarities. In the eye, the amount of light that enters is regulated by the opening in the iris, the pupil. Light entering the camera is controlled by an opening in a mechanical diaphragm, the aperture. In the camera, light is gathered and brought into sharp focus by moving the glass lens forward and backward. Muscles of the vertebrate's eye bring objects into focus, not by moving the lens, but rather by changing its shape. Here the similarity ends. In the camera, light falls on sensitive film to form an image. Light entering the eye stimulates photoreceptors of the retina that transmit electrical impulses to the brain where a mental image is formed. If only the rod-shaped cells of the retina are stimulated, the image will be in black-and-white; if the bulbous cones are, it will be in color.

NOTES ON NEBRASKA FAUNA... RACOON

IN SCIENTIFIC circles, the raccoon goes by the name Procyon lotor. Lotor, in Latin, means "washer", and refers to the common notion that raccoons wash all their food before eating it. For many years even zoologists believed that the raccoon lacked sufficient saliva to eat without first dipping its food in water. Actually, though, the raccoon doesn't need water to wash down his food —it just happens that most of his food comes from the water, and washing appears to be a habit.

Raccoons are found throughout Nebraska. They are medium-sized mammals that normally weigh from 12 to 35 pounds. Exceptionally fat males have been known to go even larger. Most raccoons exceed 30 inches in length, of which 10 inches or more is a rather elegant tail. The pelage of the raccoon is distinctive. Most have a reddish brown underfur with occasional gray or black guard hairs that are usually tipped with white. The resulting body color is a grizzled salt and pepper mixture. The black mask over the eyes is the raccoon's trademark, and earns him the nickname of "bandit".

The raccoon, like the bear and skunk, is called a "plantigrade," which means he walks on the entire foot instead of just on the toes, as a dog or cat. Because of this, the raccoon leaves hind footprints that closely resemble those of a human. The front foot, except for its five claws, looks very similar to a miniature human hand. The hind foot print is normally about two inches in length and narrowed at the rear.

Raccoons are also called omnivores because they feed on both plants and animals. They are especially adaptive animals when it comes to mealtime, and take full advantage of whatever is plentiful. Frogs, fish, eggs, reptiles, insects, nuts, fruits, grains and vegetables are all acceptable fare. Crayfish are a c'elicacy for the raccoon and are one of the main reasons that he spends 42 by Dan Rochford so much time turning rocks and logs along shorelines. Occasional journeys into sweet corn patches for succulent milky ears of corn are cause for his falling out of favor with gardeners and farmers. Usually they shuck back the husk, nibble a few kernels and move on to the next plant. Raccoons also have a well known taste for domestic fowl when it is readily available, a habit that doesn't exactly endear them to poultry owners. Under these circumstances he adversely affects the farmer or rancher, although he does it unknowingly, only trying to stay alive.

The ideal habitat of the raccoon is probably a wooded area near a stream or marsh. Large, high trees with big, hollow branches are favorite denning and nesting sites. The raccoon is an adaptable animal, though, and is spreading its range over areas never occupied in the past. In the absence of traditional denning trees, many raccoons are now found nesting and denning in underground burrows, abandoned farm buildings or even junked car bodies.

The breeding season of the raccoon begins in mid or late winter, with February the peak month. The females generally mate with only one male, but males travel far and wide to encounter many females. Once a male locates a receptive female he may den up with her for several days before moving on.

Raccoons have a gestation period of about 63 days, and the young are usually born in April or early May. Litter size varies from three to seven, but the average is about four. Raccoons are fully furred but have not yet opened their eyes when born. When they are about 10 days old the black mask begins to show up, and at three weeks the eyes open. The male raccoon never returns after mating, so the chores of raising the young are left to the female. At about seven weeks, the young raccoons weigh about 1 Vi pounds and be gin to venture out of the den. Soon they accompany their mother on hunting trips and learn how to hunt and fish for food, and the young stay with their mother until late fall when the family splits up.

Raccoons do not hibernate during the winter months, although in periods of extremely cold weather they will den up and remain inactive for short periods. Some naturalists say that the turning point is around 27 degrees; above that temperature raccoons are active, below it they den up. As colder weather approaches, raccoons become ravenous and may eat as much as five pounds of food each day, accumulating tremendous stores of body fat to sustain them over periods of denning.

Raccoons are entirely nocturnal and seldom leave their dens during daylight hours. Occasionally they will stir be fore nightfall on heavily overcast days. During the warm weather of summer, raccoons are more apt to spend the daylight hours in the open, often sleep ing on large limbs or atop squirrel nests, where they can best take advantage of cooling breezes.

It is difficult to measure an animal's intelligence, but as far as human stand ards go, the raccoon must rate above most other wild creatures. In addition to a strong curiosity about everything in its environment, the raccoon has a pair of the most nimble forepaws of any animal. Because of these two assets, the raccoon passes by few things with out stopping to investigate.

In Nebraska, the raccoon is officially classed as a fur-bearer even though he is also considered a non-game animal. Presently there is no season or regulation which affords the raccoon protection even if he were in need of help. The raccoon, though, has proven an adaptive creature, capable of co-exist ing in the same environment as man, and in some cases even capitalizing on man's food crops and buildings. In all likelihood, the ring-tailed bandit will be around for many years offering hunters and nature buffs hours of enjoyment.

Due to illness of C. C. Pritchard, the Fauna series has not appeared for several months. Now, through special arrangements, the art will be done for the coming 12 months by Tom Kronen, and reproductions will be available. See an ad in next month's NEBRASKAland magazine for full details on this special offer and list of subjects to be featured.

SCALE DOWN FOR ACTION

there could manage only one hammer handle walleye among them.

I studied Bob's method and took a quick peek at his jig. It was a 1/16-ounce affair with white maribou hackle and a stripe of red down each side. I had a white one of the same size and brand, but without the stripe.

That little slash of red seemed insignificant to me as I tied the lure to my 4-pound line, but it was apparently a serious matter to the fish. I began catching some, but Bob still outdid me by about three to one.

I finally convinced him to trade jigs, and that turned the tables. I began catching keepers, leaving Bob and the other fishermen little to do but watch. After about five minutes of that, Bob reclaimed his little white-and-red treasure, caught a couple of more bass, and suggested that we hit the road again.

With over 20 fish to fillet and a couple hundred miles to drive, it seemed like a good idea. But we visited a couple tackle shops on the way to scrounge any red-and white jigs in stock, or any other likely look ing pattern. And, before taking off on the final leg of the day's travels, we deposited a gallon of white bass fillets in a deep freeze at Bob's in-laws in Ogallala.

It rained in the Panhandle that night, and when we arrived at Lake Minatare north west of Scottsbluff the next morning, it was cool and the sky still threatened. Enthusiasm for the tournament was not dampened, though, as archers showed up at the lake's lighthouse for registration. It wasn't long before they were arrowing big carp along the shoreline and in the canals. We got a good start on the material we needed for that assignment, then took advantage of a lull in the action to test our ultra-light rigs for the second time.

The water level in the reservoir was high, flooding the big cottonwoods that ring the lake to a depth that fishermen in breast waders couldn't negotiate in some places.

The sky was cloudy and a breeze rippled the water slightly when we waded out among the trees. Again Bob scored first, straining his flimsy line against the tug of a frisky two-pound walleye. And again, it was Bob's trusty red-and-white jig that paid off.

It kept on producing, too, earning my partner a couple more fish. I finally went for a jig of the same pattern that I had found in a tackle shop, but it was a 1/8-ounce version. The heftier jig provided welcome casting weight into the wind, and it managed to take a fish. But the heavier lure felt out of place on the end of that delicate rod, and the big splash it made when it hit the water seemed almost obscene in the dim, quiet world of the flooded cottonwoods.

Fate intervened in the form of an under water snag to separate me from that red and-white heavyweight, and Bob lost his 1/16-ounce double to the same fate.

After a bit of trial and error, we found that other patterns of jigs also worked, and in the end, a plain white jig seemed to be almost as consistent.

But more important than color was size. As long as we used 1/16-ounce jigs, we scored. Our success had drawn a number of other fishermen, all equipped with heavier poles and 1/8 to 1/2-ounce jigs. The half-dozen or so anglers in sight caught perhaps four walleye among them, while Bob and I were releasing two or three wall eye for every one we kept as we neared our eight-fish limits. The delicate presentation of our light lines and small lures was undoubtedly a factor.

Also important was the fine control those little rods and light line gave us, at least when the wind was not blowing too hard. Time after time, we were able to flip the tiny jigs between closely spaced trunks or under overhanging limbs to productive pockets of water.

But the handiest feature of the ultra-light tackle that afternoon was the excellent feel it gave us, with the extra-sensitive rod telegraphing each and every movement that our lures made.

Walleye are well known for their finicky attitude toward bait or lure, and these fish were certainly no exception. It would be blasphemous to call their approach to our jigs a "strike." A more accurate term would be "kiss", "nuzzle" or "caress." To say they "tapped" or jigs would exaggerate by several times the amount of enthusiasm those two-pounders exhibited.

Bob deciphered the pattern first and used it to get several fish ahead of me. To take a walleye, it was necessary to let the jig sink close to the bottom before starting a slow retrieve. The action we found most successful was a steady retrieve while imparting an undulating motion to the jig by raising and lowering the rod.

It was important to keep the line tight at all times. Most of the fish took the lure as it settled after a cast or as it fell when we low ered our rods during the retrieve. It was easy "

We explained this to other fishermen us ing standard-size equipment there, but they either failed to learn the technique or their heavier rods would not transmit such anemic signals.

Most of the time, those signals consisted of an ever-so-subtle tightening of the line, so gentle a tug that we could barely feel it. We found ourselves making retrieves with our eyes glued to the rod tip, watching for any tell-tale change rather than depending entirely on feel to tell us when a walleye was calling.

After diagnosing the proper strategy for success, we scored quite regularly. In an hour or so, Bob had six nice fish on his stringer and I had four, all taken in the flooded trees within 100 yards of our car. At that point, we began releasing all but the chunkier specimens. Even at that, we both had limits of eight walleye after another 45 minutes. When it was over, we figured that we had caught some 30 to 35 walleye between us, including the 16 we put on the stringers.

Besides giving us the all-too-rare satisfaction of full stringers, the ultra-light added to our enjoyment in another way. Normally, the walleye is considered somewhat of a sissy in the fighting department. But on our light tackle, those fish gave us all the scrap we wanted.

Only once did we have any misgivings about the frail rods and gossamer lines, and that came early in the day. With about three walleye already subdued, Bob drove a barb into yet another taker. As soon as the fish felt the steel, he started a head-shaking routine that stripped off several yards of line.

Bob knew from this that the fish was big ger than the others he had taken, but he thought he had him whipped when he started taking in line. As he gained on the fish, it behaved more and more like dead weight, although the healthy bend in the rod told us that weight was considerable.

Bob called for the landing net I had tied to my waders, but he never got a chance to use it. The fish got one look at us and decided he didn't like what he saw.

The fish came to life only a few yards from Bob's feet with a sudden burst of power that tore line from his reel despite the shrill protest of the tiny drag. With his limber rod dancing a frantic frug, Bob help lessly watched the fish run to the right, then to the left, and finally toward open water through a gap in the trees.

All he could do was apply more drag, with predictable results. The strain of parting the filmy ultra-light line did not even slow the fish in his determined exit. Bob took the defeat philosophically, inspected his remaining line for abrasions and nicks, selected another jig, and got back to fishing.

When we had finally collected our limits, we headed back to the archery tournament headquarters, where we filleted our fish while waiting for competitors to check in for the day.

The next morning was taken up with more coverage of the archery fishermen and their pursuit of carp, and we had to be on the road back to Lincoln by early afternoon if we were to arrive home at a decent hour. Thus, we were unable to have another go at those walleye.

But, I was intrigued by my new little rig, and I couldn't resist taking just one more try with it. By the time we had reached Bridgeport, Bob had tired of my nagging and agreed to a few minutes of casting at the state recreation area just north of town.

Several attempts to simply get a pole rigged were stymied when hordes of ravenous mosquitoes converged in such thick formations that it was difficult to see or breathe, much less stand there and fish. A shallow corner of one pit that had fewer mosquitoes was finally located, and I rigged my pole with a small spinner. Bob elected to remain protected in the car to doze a bit.

I lobbed a cast rather aimlessly toward the middle of the lake, not shooting for any particular bit of cover or hint of activity and not expecting much to happen. But the lure stopped abruptly on the reiurn, and the pole took on a healthy bend when a 20-inch northern latched onto it.

He and the rod were well matched, and he put up a good fight before I subdued him. I was about to remove the hook and release him when a woman who had watched the struggle approached.

She wasn't at all miffed by my success, even though she had camped and fished there for two days without success, while I had scored on my first cast. She made it no secret, however, that she would like that little northern for some fish chowder, so I gave her the toothy critter. "After all" I thought rather presumptiously, "now that I have my ultra-light, I can catch fish any time I want. Well, just about anytime...."

GUNS AND GUNMEN

to your thigh was like trying to sit at a table with a broomstick down your pant leg. So, most pistols were carried high on the hip. This kept them out of the way, yet close at hand when needed. Besides, a gunman usually knew on the spot when he was going to need his pistol, so he pulled it out, checked to make sure it was loaded, then marched up to his foe and blazed away. That took a lot of the guesswork out of gun fighting.

Wild Bill Hickok, who got his start in the McCanles-Hickok confrontation at the Rock Creek Station in Nebraska, never wore a holster. At least if he did, it was never recorded. He sported a vest designed to hold two pistols shoulder-holster style, and simply had leather-lined pockets, kept in shape with liberal applications of wax. When Hickok needed his revolvers, he simply crossed his arms over his chest and drew. He may have had an ulterior motive, too. If his opponent managed to outdraw him and trigger a shot, it would probably hit Hickok in the arm, and an arm is a lot easier to do without than a lung or heart. Not one to tempt fate, Hickok also carried a pistol in the wasteband of his trousers from time to time. He was a pretty fair hand with either version. Also, he replaced the charges in his guns each morning to make certain they would work if called upon. On one occasion Wild Bill ran into a gunman, one Phil Coe, who managed to get the drop on him. Coe disarmed Hickok, and then, as the story goes, made the mistake of turning his back. Hickok pumped two slugs from the hideout .41-caliber derringer into the man's spine, thus meting out a weighty lesson in gun safety. That the incident hap pened in Texas is unimportant. It is a study in the simplicity of gunfighter psychology — kill or be killed. The affair served to expand the use of the tiny iron among westerners. In fact, it was so well thought of, particu larly among gamblers, that it earned its title as "the little gun with the big bite". Any one who has ever seen a .41-caliber slug will understand the name.

Gunfights, unlike fisticuff bouts, never seemed to have any set pattern. The major move, however, was to get as close as possible to the other guy. The 25-yard versions

of the gunfight on TV simply didn't happen. If they did, it was usually because one of the contestants couldn't judge distance. At any rate, the two gunmen almost always came close enough to touch each other be fore any shots were fired. A favorite method of knocking off a foe was to stick the pistol into his stomach and pull the trigger. There was little chance his adversary would ever fire back.

Despite the reputation Ogallala sheriff Barney Gillan built up as a fast gunman, his favorite weapon was reputed to be a sawed off, 10-gauge scattergun. That's what he was supposedly packing when he escorted two squatters into the lethal hands of Print Olive in what turned out to be one of the most infamous lynchings in Nebraska's his tory. Evidently, the doomed pair feared Gillan's shotgun more than they did Olive, because they didn't put up much resistance to the sheriff's orders. Of course, the fact that one was wounded may have had some thing to do with their co-operation.

Back in town a gunfight happened as frequently as the sunrise in end-of-trail towns like Sidney and Ogallala. Reasons for most of the disputes ranged from women to gambling to money to booze. In fact, the McCanles-Hickok shootout was supposed ly over money owing to McCanles from the sale of the station. Another story was floating around at the time, though. Some said the whole affair stemmed from Hickok's affinity for McCanles' mistress, Sarah Shull. Whatever the reason, the duel headed Hickok down the path to Deadwood, but along the way, he left many a dead man in his wake.

In the old frontier, sheriffs and marshals who wanted to stay on earth and in office frequently concocted reasons for putting hard cases away. One of the favorites was to slap a gunman with a vagrancy charge and put him behind bars. The ruse worked well, since known gunmen seldom had jobs when they hit town, and thus fell victim to imprisonment again and again. It got so bad that the smarter ones arranged for jobs on ranches well in advance of their arrival. Hickok landed in the pokey in Cheyenne, Wyoming, on June 17, 1875. Obviously an oversight in pre-trip planning contributed to his arrest. He had no visible means of support, so he was nailed.

Some of the fast guns of the Old West even resorted to serving the law occasion ally. Many of them were law officers at one time or another, and they were usually pretty good at their jobs. Not too many cowpokes would talk back to them. As civil servants, gunmen were usually quite gregarious, too. They mixed a lot, and by being around people, they kept track of their friends, enemies and the goings on around town.

But, time goes by and things change. The law of the gun slowly gave way to the law of society and the gunman became a dying breed in the most final way. Sixguns and rifles were relegated to pegs above family mantels. And the gunfighting business went into hibernation. It was a short sleep, how ever, to be revived by the advent of cinematography. Now, not a day goes by that a .44 doesn't thunder out from the annals of history. Movies and television have done their best or their worst, depending on how you look at it. But somehow, the whole thing just isn't the same.

BASS FORMULA

another fisherman got hung up and made too much of a fuss and temporarily put the bass down. Whatever happened, don't give up just because the area didn't produce the first time around.

If you have been paying attention to the water, you have been fishing in timbered areas of the lakes and you should have no ticed there is a big difference in this type of water. And, you should be getting most of your bass in the brushy cover such as fallen trees and limbs. Some bass will be taken from the water around standing timber, but usually you will merely make a lot of fish less casts. Brushy cover will nearly always give up many more largemouths.

While we are on the subject of paying at tention to the cover you are fishing, let it also be said you should simply always be paying attention —minding your lure at all times, guiding it around, over and through openings in the cover and always ready to set the hook. Often, anglers are paying at tention to the wrong things, like how other fishermen are doing and other things happening on the lake. Forget about sightseeing while you are fishing for bass and concentrate on what you are doing and should be doing.

There are occasions when bass go deep, which has to do with stratification, temperature, brightness and other factors, and you just can't seem to raise one in shallow water. At such times, by all means try deeper water. I have caught largemouths over old roadbeds, on and around bars and deep underwater brush. All these and others are good prospects when the shallow water fails.

For my fishing, I use the weighted spinner type lures with a rubber skirt. Yellow and black are my pick of the spinner lures, which I place at the head of the list of favor ites. They cast reasonably well and are very weedless. Also, they can be fished anywhere

from nearly on the surface to bumping along the bottom by varying the speed of retrieve and holding the rod either high or low.

I also use plastic worms in the six to nine-inch size. If rigged properly, they are probably the most weedless bait ever made and they are deadly, especially when weighted and fished very slowly and right on the bottom through the thickest brush. Purple, black, blue and green seem to be the best in my area.

One thing about worm fishing is not to wait for a strike. When a largemouth takes a worm, he just sucks it in as it goes by, which will be indicated only by several little taps like a small fish nibbling, or it might just stop as if it is hung up on a twig, or it might start moving off. Any one of these signs means you should set the hook, and do it with authority. You will soon learn the right time to do this.

The new type lures with a built-in rattle are making a strong bid. Although not as snag-proof as some, they deserve a spot in the tackle box. They will sometimes pay off like a slot machine when worked over sunken brush or through narrow openings in brush or weeds. They haven't been out long enough to have established color preferences, but the pearl pumkinseed and greenish-blacks seem good.

Many bass fishermen enjoy seeing their fish come out of the water and do a tail walk. It is quite a sight, but it is also a good way to lose them, as that is when they often throw your lure. Some will come out no matter what you do, but usually you can keep them underwater. Watch the line, and if it starts coming to the top, lower your rod tip and let up a little on the pressure you are applying. Don't actually give any slack, as he will be able to throw the lure — just ease up a little.

After an appropriate time tiring the bass, there comes the time to get him into the boat. This can be done in two ways —by hand or with a net. The simplest is to slip your thumb into the open mouth when the fish comes to the side of the boat, and place the index finger, bent into a "U" shape, under the lower jaw. There are no teeth, so fear not.

If using a net, hold it under the surface and lead the bass over it, then lift. If the fish is bigger than the net, run him in head first as most fish get a little excited when you tickle their tails, just take it easy, and remember not to crank the fish clear up to the rod tip. Leave several feet of line out and hold the rod high. And, keep the rod off the side of the boat as any good fish making his final run can break even the best rod.

In fishing, experience is by far the best teacher, but unless you sometimes catch a fish, you never can get it. The primary things to remember are to learn to cast accurately, be quiet, learn to read and use the waters you fish, and have the proper tackle for the task at hand. It's as simple as that. Just go to your lake thinking you can catch those bass and don't stop thinking that just because a few hours go by without scoring. Often many hours will go by without a hit, then a fine string can be taken in short order.

Study the lake and remember the good spots, and you should soon become one of those anglers the other fisherman sit around and watch get the action.

BASICS OF ANGLING

Catfish are the main target of anglers in Nebraska's rivers, and the lakes also support good populations. In either type of water, a fisherman is likely to have best results if he caters to the cat's bottom-feed ing habits. This means, of course, that the bobber can be omitted. But then the angler must watch the movements of his rod tip to tell him when a fish is calling.

In some rivers, swift current dictates the use of a substantial weight, but the same chunk of lead also frightens a fish when he feels its drag. One way around this is the slip-sinker, usually an egg-shaped weight with a large, smooth hole through it. The weight is threaded on before the hook is attached, which allows the line to run freely through the weight when a fish makes off with the bait. Even in the still water of lakes, the slip-sinker has its advantages.

Once the angler decides on just where and how to fish, little is left except to bait the hook and get on with his fishing. Worms can be impaled just once through the collar, in hopes that free ends will wiggle about and attract a lusty strike. With the hook baited this way, however, fish can more easily steal the bait without getting hooked. In that case, a switch to a smaller worm impaled several times is in order.

Minnows can be baited in several ways. If a bobber is to be used, a good bet is to push the point of the hook beneath the dorsal fin, but above the spine.

Minnows can also be hooked this way when bottom-fishing, although some anglers prefer to hook them in the lips or behind the eyes. The latter two methods will allow the minnow to ride more naturally in the water when fished in current.

Little remains except to toss the iine into the water and wait for action. A bouncing bobber probably means a finicky bluegill or bullhead is trying to make up his mind about the bait. When the bobber pulls a disappearing act without warning, how ever, it could mean a bigger, tougher fish like a bass or northern has taken the bait. A quick tug on the rod to set the hook should soon provide the answer.

When not using a bobber, a fisherman relies on a twitching rod tip to tell him when to set the hook. At times, fish will peck away all day long without taking the bait, and other times, they will simply grab it without warning and take off. Figuring out when to set the hook is the basic prob lem here. Sometimes, the angler can get a

barb into the fish by setting the hook at the first hint of his presence, and other times he must let the fish run with the bait for some distance before it stops to swallow it. Trial and error is the name of the game in this situation.

Most of the beginning angler's first fish will be bluegill, bullheads and crappies of modest proportions, and these can be landed with a minimum of effort. But there's always the chance of a whopper coming along —a bass, catfish, or northern big enough to put up a bit of an argument be fore coming ashore.

A rod that's bent over in an arc tells an angler he has a good fish on. And, the healthy bend in the pole also tells him that he is playing the fish in the correct manner, letting the flexible rod tire the fish and absorb the jerks and shocks of the battle. A well-adjusted drag will let the fish take line when he absolutely insists, but will also allow the angler enough control to steer him away from any snags where he might be able to foul the line and break free.

If the angler, the rod and the reel all do their jobs properly, the exciting task of subduing a husky fish can be accomplished without incident. The most critical part of the battle is landing the fish, the act of get ting him ashore. More trophies are lost at this time than during any other part of the battle, so it's not considered poor form to call for help from other fishermen, even if they are showing signs of envy at your luck.

If no one is around and a landing net is not handy, the angler should attempt to "beach" the fish. This is done only after all the fight has been wrung out of him, how ever. The fish is led to a shallow spot and either dragged onto shore or its head lifted out of the water where the angler can get his fingers under a gill flap. All this should be done with the rod rather than by grasping the line. If holding the line when the fish flops, chances are good that the line will snap or the hook will pull out because of the loss of the rod's "shock absorber" effect.

In hauling a fish out of water, special care should be taken to avoid the teeth of a northern and the spines on the back and either side of a catfish's head. Most anglers are very happy to put up with the tribulations of landing fish, however, especially after a long dry spell.

There is nothing like a big fish on the stringer, or a batch of small ones, to turn a beginner into a confirmed fisherman, and experience comes rather quickly even though you never stop learning. So, the sooner you start, the sooner you learn.

STRIPER TIME

runs up the river. The fish trap at Lewellen should soon show if the fish are heading up the North Platte on spawning migrations.

While realizing that the fish will probably not be successful in spawning efforts in all locations around the state, stripers were stocked in other impoundments in hopes that fisheries personnel will be able to trap and strip some spawners of eggs. Nebraska will then be capable of raising its own fish for stocking rather than depending upon other states.

The various obstructions on canals in the southwestern irrigation systems, such as checks and diversions, will block the spawners' migrations. In other states, such as California, biologists have been success ful in capturing fish at similar places, where the eggs are then stripped and taken to hatcheries for raising of young.

All the equipment for this operation is ready and waiting at the North Platte hatch ery, and hopefully the fish wiil cooperate in the next couple of years. If this doesn't happen, we should continue to get an ample stock from other states in exchange for Nebraska walleye, which are needed in great numbers.

Several people in the McConaughy area have complained that fishermen are taking large numbers of stripers (the limit is two) mistaking them for white bass (limit is 25). Small stripers are sometimes easily confused with white bass, a close relative. Before fishing, anglers should be able to identify their game. In the accompanying picture and text, physical characteristics of both are clearly pointed out. One handy reminder for use in the field is that stripes on the stripers are more clearly defined than those on the white bass, which are more irregular and occasionally broken longitudinally.

Very little is known about the habits of stripers in Nebraska. The fish are pelagic or from the open sea, they have random feed ing habits and inhabit the entire lake in which they live. Apparently, one and two year old stripers school, but some people believe the older and bigger fish do not.

Along the east coast, stripers do school; in summer near the surface during feeding migrations in tributaries and bays. In autumn, the schools move into lower tributaries and bays for feeding and overwintering. Following winter, when they spend their time in deep water, the fish move into shallower water preparing for spawning runs and feeding migrations.

It appears, from opinions of several people who spend most of their time fishing Big Mac, that the fish there follow similar patterns in the smaller, restricted environ ment of the lake. Whether they congregate in large numbers because of the presence of bait fish in preferred habitat areas is open to debate, but suffice it to say, when you find one striper, chances are there are others about.

Reports from other states indicate anglers have best success catching stripers jigging in areas with dense, submerged brush. These reports say white jigs or lures with some white on them are best. Other fishermen, including my guide on the recent trip, swear by trolling. In any case, most of the fish are taken in fairly deep water, so what ever method used, choose lures that will get down to where the fish are and be prepared to lose a lot of lures and fish.

Early spring, from ice-out through June and sometimes into July, many people at Big Mac find the best fishing at the west end. This part of the lake is filled with brush, and most of the successful anglers work it from midnight to early morning.

During the heart of summer, the fish are apparently dispersed throughout the lake and one spot seems as good as another. The fish seem to travel great distances daily in search of food. Fishing the shallow water along sandbars and points, probably by trolling, should pay off.

The best time for catching stripers, from all indications, is from September into November. Search out and find submerged brush in depths from 35 to 75 feet, get your jigs or trolled lures down deep, be prepared to lose fish often because when hooked, stripers head for brush and even the heaviest line often can't "horse" them, but most im portantly, be prepared for some real fun.

"You've got one on," Bob said calmly. I had been watching the starboard rod but now jumped up to grab the other pole, which by now was bent over slightly more than when under normal trolling conditions. I pulled the rod from the holder and in reflex action, developed from fishing with

OUTDOOR NEBRASKAland of the Air