The Hash Knives

TODAY IF YOU ARE a fair cowboy, fairly well mounted, reasonably versed in read ing brands, and know where to look in clumps of shade and along the cedar breaks in northern Arizona, you can still find a few head of cattle wearing the Hash Knife brand. But these are a puny monument to the outfit that used to be, and that made the Hash Knife a famous brand known throughout the South west.While there is something intriguing about the name "Hash Knife" (that kitchen imple ment with rounded chopping blades and cross handle) this same outfit no doubt would have become as famous and legendary running the Half-Moon, Lazy-S, Tumbling-T, Rocking-R, Broken Heart, or any other brand on their cattle.

Back in the early '80's the original Hash Knife outfit was conceived and organized under the impressive name of The Aztec Land and Cattle Company with headquarters on the Little Colorado River just west of Holbrook. The time and conditions were ideal for the venture. The ranges of Texas were becoming overrun with cheap cattle; what is now the Santa Fe railroad had just laid their tracks as far as Winslow to the west; cattle ranching had be come a fad among eastern and English capital ists; and there were practically no cattle rang ing the northern slopes of the Mogollon Plateau.

Eastern capitalists financed The Aztec Land and Cattle Company but as soon as their brand began showing up on the range, the outfit be came known everywhere west of the Pecos as the Hash Knife. Strangely enough, on first thought, the outfit was not a financial success, although it became one of the biggest single brand ranches in the entire Southwest. And it wasn't the fault of the cows. Of the cows one of the first Hash Knife foremen said: "These critters can live on less grass, go farther after water, and have more calves than any cow brutes in the world."

But the very conditions that kept the venture from being financially successful were responsible for its becoming famous as an outfit. The country was still pretty much like the whites first found it outside of a few scattered Mormon settlements and isolated ranches. The Indians still figured they were duty bound to raid ranches and run off stock at every opportunity. As has always happened in open range country, there was dissension between the little ranchers and the big outfits.All in all it was a hard country with tough situations overlapping each other and, according to Hash Knife reasoning, called for harsh methods dealt out by a personnel well versed in such matters.

Through purchase and natural increase the time soon came when there were around 60,000 head of cattle wearing the Hash Knife brand and ranging central Arizona from the mesas north of the railroad to as far south as the present site of Roosevelt Dam, a range of approximately 3600 square miles or better than two million acres. A considerable outfit to look after under ideal conditions.

Then aside from the regular cow work of branding calves, gathering steers, trapping wild horses and breaking them for cowponies, and the thousand other things necessary to ranch operation, it soon became evident that Indians were eating Hash Knife beef, that sheep from the west were beginning to edge into Hash Knife range, and that many little outfits locating on creeks and water holes up and down the range were having prodigious increases in their cattle while the percentage of calves to Hash Knife cows was becoming smaller.

The story is told of one little rancher who came into the country and settled down along the side of the Hash Knife range. His sole claim to being in the cattle business was one lone steer and a string of good fast roping horses. From this meager beginning (and without buying any cattle) there were around five hundred cows wearing his brand within a few years.

There wasn't much that could be done about droughts and hard winters, but Henry Kinsley, the company's local secretary, determined to do something about these other inroads into the potential profits of the company. There was one language pretty well understood by In dians, sheepmen, and rustlers alike. And it was calculated that anybody who was a little slow to learn that Hash Knife cattle and range belonged to the Hash Knife wouldn't give any more trouble after one properly emphasized lesson and might have a deterring influence on other folks.

Naturally this decision called for a personnel who weren't exactly sissies, nor hampered by any moral inhibitions. Along with an inexhaustible supply of cattle, Texas also had an over-abundance of men ad mirably suited, by experience and inclination, for these requirements. And court law was wresting control away from six-shooter law in Texas. In fact it was getting to the point where a gun-slinger was hailed into court and fined or jailed for exuberantly shooting up a town, to say nothing of the undue importance attached to a fair square killing by this new order of things.

The Hash Knife became a veritable haven for these six-shooter specialists who were for tunate enough to beat a sheriff's posse to the Texas state line. They were immediately put on the pay-roll and assigned to policing the Hash Knife range and eliminating any situation that, in their opinion, was deterimental to the well being of Hash Knife interests with no questions asked.

John T. Jones, the first Hash Knife foreman, being a cattleman to the core, felt that the sheep menace was the greatest range problem at the moment. He sent to Texas for John Paine, a gun-fighter of the first water with a natural antipathy towards sheep and sheep men, for the express purpose of driving the infringing sheep off of Hash Knife range. Theoretically at least, open range conditions existed in the Territory of Arizona at the time, that is, the range was free and open to any one who cared to graze it, their brand being their title of ownership to the critters wearing it. But through certain grants and nebulous leases and patents, and the impressive fact that Hash Knife cattle were predominant, ranges within certain far flung boundaries were considered to belong to the Hash Knife. And other folks were invited to stay off.

Paine's methods were simple and direct. He'd ride up to a sheep camp and say, "Git!" Then next morning he'd ride back with a couple of Hash Knife assistants to see if the herder had got. If not, they'd charge the sheep and get them to running. Most of the country was gashed by steep canyons and deep cut-bank washes. It would be only a matter of time until the stampeding sheep would tumble pell mell over the edge of one or the other.

Should the herder resent this procedure and be so indiscreet as to reach for his rifle, sixshooters blazed and well, what sheep weren't killed by falling or being run over were left to the mercies of coyotes, wolves and mountain lions without a herder. Small cattle ranchers were subjected to similar high handed procedure by Hash Knife's imported gunmen. It was not unusual for a little rancher to ride out and find several head of cows wearing his brand piled up dead under a tree, the cause of death being gunshot wounds. This was naturally resented bitterly, even if the cows killed had originally been Hash Knife calves. After all, the little rancher did have the labor of stealing them invested.

Another favorite Hash Knife method of dealing dirt to little outfits was during their beef roundups. Their cowboy crews would sweep the range clean of cattle, irrespective of brands, and then overlook the matter of cutting back their little neighbors' cows until they were at the shipping point, sometimes a hundred miles away. These things of course led to reprisals by the little men; Hash Knife calves were stolen religiously; saddle horses turned out on the range, mysteriously drifted down the country until they crossed the Mexican border-where some money invariably changed hands. From time to time Hash Knife riders and little ranchers alike had their horses shot out from under them by unseen marksmen. A page was lifted from the Apache tactical code book; little ranches and Hash Knife line-camps burned mysteriously.

Every man-jack of them had a gunman's reputation to protect. Most of them had trailed cattle from Texas up the trails to Kansas shipping towns during the '70's, and at one time or another had stepped beyond the bounds of the law or the common code in other sections of the country. For instance, Tom Pickett had been a member of Billy the Kid's gang during the bloody war of Lincoln County, New Mexico in 1880-81.

Trouble was their business, and any time business slowed down in the natural course of events, they conscientiously went out and hunted up some. In groups they rode into the straggling little frontier towns along the railroad, and through insults and accusations deliberately picked quarrels with sheepmen, little cattlemen, lumberjacks and Indians alike. These usually ended in a blaze of roaring six-guns -and some Hash Knife gent added another victim to the credit of his prowess.

Most of these hard riding, fast shooting men seemed to step on the Hash Knife stage from nowhere, say their lines, flash their guns, and if they lived, ride over to the next ridge never to be heard of again. At least not under the names by which they had been known on the Hash Knife range. Inquiry as to where thesemen came from (or why) could easily lead to fatal results for the inquirer. And in many cases their departure was so abrupt they even neglected to say good-bye let alone leave a forwarding address. Burton C. Mossman however was the excep tion that proved the rule in more ways than one. He not only failed to disappear into nowhere or get killed, but later became one of the most noted outlaw hunters in the entire Southwest. No doubt a great deal of his success stemmed from the outlaw psychology gleaned during his Hash Knife days. He was chosen as the first captain of the Arizona Rangers when they were organized in 1901.

Folks who have gained their conception of cowboys from motion pictures and rodeo parades would have been sadly disappointed in this crew of six-shooter experts. Shaving and bathing were considered signs of masculine weakness in company where everybody wanted to be a curly wolf. For the most part they were grizzled and smelled to high heaven of human and horse sweat, leather, beef tallow, chewing tobacco, wood smoke, and just plain corral dust. Their garb also left much to be desired as to picturesqueness. Usually denim overalls and brush jackets, runover high-heeled boots, blood and sweat stained spurs often clogged with hair, battered flop-brimmed hats, and plain wingless "shotgun" chaps overhung with well filled cartridge belts. These sagged under the weight of old fashioned single action .45 Colt six-shooters in well worn, easy slipping open holsters. The entire ensemble was frayed and brush worn for the most part.

Things rocked along in rather hectic fashion with foremen, range bosses and personnel changing continually, and stock losses and neighbor resentment growing with every depredation committed. But a crew of hired gunfighters with itchy trigger-fingers craved excitement of the more violent type. Accordingly the Pleasant Valley sheep and cattle war was made to order for them when it broke in 1887. For a long time Daggs Brothers had been coveting the open grassy valleys and beautiful rolling hills and spring fed streams of the Tonto Basin as ideal winter range for their sheep. Taking advantage of a rift in personal feelings between the Grahams and Tewksburys they sent their sheep into Pleasant Valley under the guardianship of the Tewksburys. The Hash Knife outfit immediately oiled up their guns, looked to their ammunition, and rode to the assistance of the Grahams who represented the cattle faction.

Here they learned a bitter lesson in gun fighting when they matched their six-shooters from the backs of plunging horses against the Winchesters of the Tewksburys, in many cases rested over a log or boulder. Many Hash Knife riders who rode into the Tonto Basin on this mission failed to ride out again, and many others carried gun-shot wounds and embedded slugs out with them. In one brief encounter with the sheepmen, two cowboys were killed outright, but Tommy Tucker, being a little tougher than most, was hit with five slugs in addition to having his horse shot from under him and lived through it.

By the time the Pleasant Valley unpleasantness was ending in 1900, the Aztec Land and Cattle Company failed without having accomplished any thing more than having made a brand famous and an organization of hard riding, fast shooting, frontier type bad men legendary. The company salvaged what cattle they could gather, and Barney Styles of Holbrook, in partnership with Babbitt Brothers of Flagstaff, bought the remnants of the outfit.

But as a cattle empire the back of the Hash Knife outfit was broken. The country was beginning to settle up; small outfits had firmly established themselves on the range and claimed their cattle grazing rights. Territorial law and courts began to function effectively. The time had come when a rancher went for his lawyer instead of his six-shooter to settle range disputes.

Styles died in 1909. Charlie Wyrick of Winslow bought his interest and still runs a few cattle on the northern part of the original range under the famous Hash Knife brand. The balance of the old range is shared by dozens of small outfits under the supervision of the United States Forest Service.

The Missions of Sonora

(Continued from Page Fifteen) Which, neither neglected nor well cared for, reminds us of the fact that it has seen better days. In direct contrast to San Ignacio, the mission of Tubutama has been neglected in the not too distant past. Practically all of the plaster has fallen away from the outside of the main building. The bell tower and the dome above the altar have been completely rebuilt. Much of the fresco adornment on the front has broken off and fallen away but enough remains to suggest its past splendor.

The founding of Tubutama is a typical example of how the missions came into being. When Father Kino first came into Pimeria Alta, he made entradas (reconnaissance trips) through the country. His objectives were the largest, already existing Indian villages. With simple rites, he brought before the Indians an inspiring manifestations of his God's power and importance to man. With kind understanding of their earthly needs for existence, he gave them the benefit of the white man's knowledge. Soon the news of the "black robes" spread to the farthest boundaries of the Pima nation. Curiosity and a natural desire to enjoy a more abundant life prompted many villages to send delegations to implore the white missionary to come to their village. These delegations saw the crude headquarters, ramadas and adobe chapels at established missions. Back in their own village they would prepare in advance a place for worship and living quarters for the padre, each village trying to outdo the other.

Most likely you will not want to retrace your steps to Altar for the night; there's hardly a suitable place to stay in Tubutama and it is too far to attempt to reach Magdalena through Las Pedradas. Since you would appreciate a good night's sleep, it is wise to plan to stop at Rancho El Alamo. You can phone the ranch from Tubutama to make sure of accom-modations, or better still, before you start out from Magdalena, make a reservation for the second night at Rancho El Alamo which is not a hotel but a hacienda type ranch which takes guests only by advance arrangements. Get good road instructions before you leave Tubu tama for the ranch and allow two full hours to make the trip in daylight. Don't attempt it at night. The next day you will have a half day's journey into Magdalena.

I strongly advise against attempting any of these off the highway roads in wet weather.

By this time you have probably had enough missions so you can consider the trail ended and be on your way to Hermosillo and Guaymas or else return to Nogales. For those who for research reasons feel that they should visit the sites of the Dolores, Remedios and Cocospera Missions (now ruins) they can be found east and northeast of Magdalena on difficult country roads. For the tourist they aren't worth the extra, hard journey.

Sons of the Gila

(Continued from Page Thirty-five) The Pima of today. They have been after their own fashion Christians for two hundred years, although until the arrival of the Protestant missionaries with the Americans in 1870 their Christianity must have been difficult to recognize as such.

Their own mythology recognized two creators, Earth Magicians and Elder Brother. They live in the east, and control the universe between them. Earth Magician has control of the winds, rain, lightning. The Pima did not pray to them however, but rather to the primeval beings, Coyote, Buzzard, the Birds and a few others who symbolized the mysterious powers of nature for good or for harm, and with whom it was absolutely essential to keep on good terms.

The soul of the Pima is in the center of the breast and makes them breathe, but is not the breath. It is not known just what the soul is like, whether it takes the form of an object or whether it is white or colored.

There are several different views concerning the destiny of the soul. Everything is rejoicing and gladness in that other world. There is dancing, singing and feasting and when one dies he must be dressed in his best clothes and special attention must be given to his hair, as is the custom in preparing for an earthly festival. There is no belief in spiritual reward or punishment for conduct in this life.

In Others believe that at death the soul passes into the body of an owl. If an owl should be heard hooting in the distance at the time of a death, it was waiting for the soul. former times, the owl feathers were always given to the dying person. There was a special basket woven of maguey leaves in which they were kept. In case the family had no owl feathers, they sent to the medicine man, who always kept them. The feathers were taken from a live owl, if possible; the the bird was then set free or killed.

Still others hold that the souls remain close by and torment the living. If they catch the right person alone at night they are likely to present themselves. But at such times the ghosts never speak nor may anyone but the medicine man speak to them. If a person is made sick by seeing a ghost, he has the medicine man go to the grave of the offending soul and tell it to keep quiet, "and they always do as they are told." The medicine men claim to be in communication with the spirits of the dead as well as with the supernatural beings capable of conferring magic power.

There are two important ways of approaching the deities. The Pima hope the divine powers will find him worthy and deign to visit him voluntarily in dreams. During the dream the soul leaves the body and passes through adventures as in the waking hours. He tries to keep himself worthy of this celestial visit but does not induce dreams by drugs or extreme fasting as do some Indians. And once visited he embodies in song the vision he has received, and sings it to the assembled people. It is memorized by his family group or by a larger tribal unit and becomes part of the tribal literature.

The archaic myth songs head the list of more than a half dozen groups of songs. It was the ceremonial habit among the Pima and Papago to conduct complete rendition of this cycle which occupied four nights. Besides the myth group, there were Hunting and War groups, Rain and Medicine songs, songs for feasts and games and others in great quantity.

Of course, some individuals are better dreamers than others. The ones who are enough better are soon acknowledged to have peculiar powers and as shaman or medicine men they pass on the benefits to those less favored. There are said to be three types of medicine men, those who diagnose diseases, those who have power over the weather, the crops and war. and those who rely on roots, herbs, and simple remedies. These powers are not strictly hereditary, but are generally handed down from father to son.

A medicine man can teach the profession to another and charge a nominal fee for the instructions. The usual fee is a horse, a Navajo blanket or more recently money. In former times during the training period the novice was not permitted to go near a woman's menstrual lodge and he was not allowed to let anyone know he was learning. Usually two years but sometimes four were spent in learning. When he was proficient enough to begin to practice his success depended largely on his ability to develop dreams and visions.

The paraphernalia of the medicine man consists of his staff, a bunch of eagle feathers, a gourd rattle, and a rock crystal. When called to treat the sick the medicine man carries his staff in hand. He begins by singing the songs that have curing power and he has someone sing them so that he may be aided in diagnosing the case correctly. He then blows cigarette smoke over the patient so that he may "see" the disease. The songs always play an important part in the treatment and are sung over and over during the process of diagnosis. But when the cause of the illness has been determined, that is, what animal is responsible for it, the songs of that animal are sung. A part of the animal or object is waved over or pressed upon the affected part and then the medicine man sucks the offending object and usually displays it to those present. If the family is able to pay well for his services he may sing more than one night before he tells them what the disease is. However, he cannot sing more than four nights. If by then he has not determined the cause of the illness, he must call another medicine man. In difficult cases as many as four doctors may work on a patient.

In addition to the animals, birds and reptiles that cause disease, a medicine man is often accused of causing illness. Formerly when a medicine man was believed to have caused sickness he frequently paid the penalty with his life. The Pima calendar records over 30 medicine men who were killed in one year during an epidemic that was believed to have been caused by them.

Formerly when a man believed a medicine man had brought sickness upon his household he called in another doctor to find the charm. The one consulted took four assistants and searched constantly until some object was found in the vicinity that was thought to have been put there by the accused medicine man. When found the object was not touched, for to do so would cause death. But the mere discovery rendered it harmless to the one for whom it was intended.

The medicine man has lost more ground among the Pima than among most Indian tribes. Some present day workers among the Pima are convinced that itinerant Papago medicine men operate among them and are called in when the Pima wishes revert to his traditional religion.

The ancient "sings," dances, purifications and wine ceremonies have disappeared. The great day of the modern Pima's year is May Day when the annual school picnic is held at the Agency at Sacaton. There are track sports, baseball and band concerts. Fourth of July and Labor Day are celebrated with rodeos and cowboy sports, and Thanksgiving Day with a football game.

There are no occasions among the Pima when dances or ceremonies of any kind may be seen by the casual visitors. However, a few students have gone among them, lived for months or years, won their confidence, and learned much about their way of life.

They Built a Home That Crowns a Desert Hill

wall during the summer to further break the glare or heat and to produce a restful interior of shadow patterns.

The bedroom wing may be reached from either living or dining room. That wing runs at a right angle with the other portion of the main house. Spanish and modern details are carried out here, too. For instance, the guest bedroom has a deep, green tiled floor and the bath is entirely in green, walls, floor, tub and other fixtures. The room itself obtains color contrast with a gold chair and down comforts in satin at the foot of the beds for which spreads of rust have been made. The figured window drapes are of gold and rust. Dark wood was used for the sliding plank doors into a wide, wardrobe closet.

The nursery is between the guest and master bedrooms. It, too, has Hermosillo tile for the floor, these in gay squares of canary yellow and white. The furniture and paint trims also are of yellow and white, as are the panel-led, inside shutters at the windows. Cupboards from the floor to ceiling fill one end of the spacious room, which has its own special bath.

The most unique room in the house is the bath for the master bedroom. Its walls are of black carrara glass and flesh tint mirrors. The ceiling is covered with red and white striped satin arranged to resemble a canopy. The designer of the house planned this room with its sunken, black tub, its dressing table for Mrs. Bell with fluted, glass tubes of fluorescent lights which the mirrors multiply and carry back into enchanting depths of reflections, and the master's own space for shaving and ablutions over the black wash bowl. Each recess has its own hidden medicine cabinet and, being opposite one another, echo and re-echo a multiplicity of reflections. A commanding view of the Santa Catalinas may be seen when the black Venetian blinds are up. Black rubber tiles cover the floor and there is a redand-white satin covered bench.

After the multi-reflections of the bath, the master bedroom rests the eyes with its simplicity and size. The room dwarfs its oversized bed, with its headboard of bleached oak extending to include the bedside chests at either side. The two ends of this room are panelled and hide cedar closets, wardrobes and cupboards space for blankets and luggage. The wood is painted to match walls, beams and ceiling and gives a restful unity to the sunny room which opens on the patio and has beautiful views from three sides.

The dash of color given the master bedroom comes from the Chartreuse drapes and the dubonnet which is used in bedspread, lampshades and upholstered lounging chairs. The over all rug is of slate gray and the dressing chests are of bleached oak to match the bedside tables. A window seat on the east wall is the depth of the closets and provides curl-up room while one reads or mends or muses.

Truly, it is a happy compromise which Mr Hall has made between Mexican and modern details, fusing these with the owners' personalities and producing a spacious, gracious home.

Arizona in 1900

Chelly, was really remote, and Kayenta, seventy miles more, was “a damn long way in any direction.” There were real trading posts-not smalltown stores transplanted. Ganado was a solid mud-and-stone bastion almost a fort with barred windows and heavy double doors and ready firearms in every room. Here Lorenzo Hubbell, the elder, was jovial dictator, and from the head of his long dining table dispensed an endless flow of droll anecdotes and a fare of carne seca, frijoles, canned corn and sourdough biscuits to visiting senators, traveling salesmen and Mexican teamsters alike with equal and unfailing courtesy.

Chinlee was a log house with extremely wide eaves, and mud floor, small dusty windows, with its corral and hay-stack isolated upon a bare knoll. Here Sam Day and his wife held the post with hospitality to all travelers and fair treatment to the Navajo. The walls, floors, and furniture were literally covered with an astounding assortment of Navajo weaving and Ute beadwork of all ages, kinds and conditions. It was “old-timey” to thelimit. The Indians seemed wilder and even more primitive than at Ganado, and here I heard “railroad Indians” mentioned with disdain.

Thirty-three thousand Navajo “Not hostile,” I was told, “but better travel in a party. No, they would not kill you, but if they caught you alone they'd likely take everything you've got and leave you afoot; and getting back to somewhere might be plenty tough.” In those days they had a little custom with strangers. Meeting you out afoot, they would run their horses right at you, all in a bunch, yelling and laughing as though to trample you into the ground and the Lord help you if you ran. You might as well keep on running until you reached the railroad. They tried it on me once and I just kept on walking. Well, there was no place to run to.

These were the singing Indians. As they rode across the long valleys or through echoing canyons their high-keyed lilting songs could be heard from far off through the clean high air. With their sheep and goats and ponies, their little cornfields and shelters of juniper boughs; their igloo-like hogans; their pointed moccasins and jewelry of silver, turquoise and shell, their steep saddles padded with goat skins, and their slim grace of people forever on horseback; they made a world of their own. And was this also Arizona? It could have been central Asia.

Then the Yei Betchai. Sam Day should have known, for he had two sons taking part in the dance and he translated it “Giant Grandfather.” Three thousand Indians in that camp, with their wagons drawn up around the great fires of the dance oval and perhaps a dozen whites. The medicine men in full Navajo dress with their sacred meal and pollen; the masked and painted dancers; eagle feathers, turquoise and glinting silver in the firelight, the shrill high chant and chirring rattles; sweating bodies in the sharp November night. And there, behind those masks, singing out of a twilight past with the voices of eagles, coyotes, bears, but wilder, fiercer were my Indian ghosts again.

The age-old mystery of sun and shadow among the red cliffs of Canyon de Chelly, the rainbow miracles of color wrought by charging storms, the aromatic odor of piñon and juniper, the pale twinkle of cottonwoods beside acequias, the small campfire of greasewood and catclaw in a white desert wash, carefree cowboys riding the ragged ridges of the Sierra Blanca, all these can never be forgotten by any painter who has really known them.

Then came flivvers and irrigation projectsand the West changed. The Arizona of paved highways, big canals, citrus groves, dude ranches, cactus gardens, chambers of commerce and Ohio-Spanish architecture is not so dear to me. The Indians have cut their hair, the cowboys wear “association” clothes and most of the tang has gone out of the Mexican comida and yet... And yet when you visit the home of some well-to-do business man you are very apt to discover the old saddle and boots in the back porch; there is a canvas-covered bed roll in the garage; his pet .45 and bridle ornament on the mantel shelf and you could not get the old branding iron from him for love or money. In spite of “promotion” there is still something of the old free and open way of doing things; there, if you will but look, are still the unbeaten mountains and unfathomable blue above.

In all the land west of the Rockies I know of none more wonderful and various in conformation, more marvelous in light and living color, more stimulating to the imagination. To me it has imparted something of an ancient mystery, of a stark and clear-cut reality, a pageant of ever-moving drama. Here on the outskirts of Tucson the big studio window faces the changing grandeur of the Catalinas across the Rillito. Overhead in the blue the great gray birds of war roar westward to beleaguered islands. Inside the little patio is a spot of green oasis-orange and lemon and cottonwood, and iris bulbs growing; and outside the mesquite and cactus and catclaw come right up to the adobe wall, growing just as they always grew, for which we are glad. And why? Because well, because it is still Arizona.

Rattlesnakes during the day light hours, if we do much night hunting in warm summer weather we can find a lot more.

Vision is very poor when the snake is shed-ding, for he also sheds the skin over his eyes. At this time a fluid forms between the dead eye covering and the living tissue, to facilitate removal of the slough, and the eyes look opaque and milky. At such times the snake is uncom-fortable and irritable, and is more apt to strike.

Pope states a snake cannot taste. He feels that the tongue is of service in smell instead. He points out that the tongue collects tiny dust particles from the air or anything it touches and carries them into two tiny cavities in the forward roof of the mouth. These cav-ities are a part of Jacobson's organ, and it is an offshoot from the smelling part of the nose.

The sense of smell is very highly developed in snakes. The nose and Jacobson's organ working together as partners enable perception which a human could not dream of. This fine smeller makes it easy to locate prey in many cases, and is probably the way a romantic rep-tile finds a wife in the early summertime. The long body of a snake, crawling all through one track, leaves a lot of odor to be followed.

The sense of touch must depend largely on a secondary function of the tongue as a feeler. Temperature perception is aided, in pit vipers, by use of a "step up transformer." For the deep pit below and behind the eyes, separated by a thin membrane at the bottom from another cavity, has been pretty well demonstrated, in experiments performed by Noble and Schmidt, to act as a very sensitive thermometer for the snake. A creature who is "cold-blooded," having a body temperature at best only a degree or two below that of the environment, certainly has use for such an organ. Even the Side-winder, one of the hardiest of the rattlesnakes, will die if exposed for a half hour to the in-tense temperatures under a summer sun on the desert. Extreme heat, as well as freezing temperatures, can cause death and incapacity of snakes. The "thermometer" helps tell the snake when it is time for him to move into a cooler or warmer place. Also, apparently by use of this pit organ alone, a rattlesnake can become aware of the approach of a warm-blood-ed animal, through perception of the heat aura by its body.

Many snakes, such as our common Bull Snake, are egg layers. Rattlesnakes, however, are viviparous. The young are born in a thin, transparent membrane, but when they escape from this in anywhere from a few minutes to several hours, they are all ready to do business as free agents. From two or three to 30 young may be born. Young mothers have fewer young, and smaller species have fewer. Mrs. Rattlesnake is old enough to have her first babies at the age of three years. The youngsters are born in late summer, and are fully equipped with fangs and functioning poison glands.

Because a female rattlesnake is sometimes seen a short time after the young have come forth, before they have scattered any distance, and because they may still use the same retreat in time of danger, an interesting story has arisen. You have probably heard the belief that when an enemy approaches the young rattlers all take a nose dive down the mother's throat for safety, to snuggle in her tummy until it is safe to come out. Well, we know for a fact that a snake has very powerful digestive juices, capable not only of digesting meat, but also bone and shell and feathers. So what do you think about the logic of that belief? Of course,

PAGE FORTY-TWO

somebody will say he has killed a rattlesnake and found the wriggling young inside. It is doubtful, however, if many people in such cases take the trouble to find out that the young came forth from the womb of a pregnant female, instead of from her tummy.

Family ties apparently do not exist among rattlesnakes. Rattlers feel the mating impulses in late spring or early summer, probably shortly after emergence from hibernation, when they are hungry and very active. They find a mate, engage in very intensive mating antics which sometimes last for many hours, then placidly go their respective ways. If they hover near each other for any appreciable time after mating, except by chance, we have no evidence available. The adult male averages noticeably larger than the female, and can be distinguished by a relatively thicker and longer tail. His body tapers gradually off to the tail tip, the female tapers abruptly from the vent tail-ward.

All snakes live on meat. Rattlesnakes favor a diet of rodents, such as gophers, mice, rats, rabbits, and some birds. Small varieties and youngsters also eat some lizards. I killed a three and a half foot specimen once which had just swallowed a nearly grown Gambel's quail. The diet is remarkably similar to that of the Bull Snake, which brings up an interesting point. Normally, Nature maintains as high a snake population in a given district as can be fed, barring customary loss from old age, disease, and predation. If a particular area can support, for instance, six snakes, and three of these are rattlesnakes and three Bull Snakes, what happens if you kill one of the harmless and highly beneficial Bull Snakes? You simply make room for another rattlesnake to live in that area!

The rattler has plenty of enemies. Besides his greatest enemy, man, he has to cope with several varieties of hawks and owls, the famous Road-runner, an occasional raven, and sometimes with the sharp flailing feet of pigs, deer, and goats. These hoofed animals at times get a real grudge against the rattler, and a hog may eat one. King Snakes are famous snake eaters, and a hungry King Snake would just as soon swallow a rattler of the right eating size as some other reptile. They are aided in this practice by a high degree of immunity to rattlesnake poison. Even hungry rats, imprisoned with these pit vipers, have been observed to kill and eat them.

Occasionally turkeys will gang up on a rattlesnake and kill it. And I suppose several of you who have raised chickens have seen a hen come in with a small rattlesnake she has killed.

Large rattlers have fewer enemies to contend with than young ones or smaller varieties, but you never know when one can feel safe. I saw a Road-runner deviling a five and a half foot specimen one day. Whether he would have attempted killing if not interrupted I don't know, but it has been proved they sometimes dispatch good sized rattlers, and can swallow one up to 18 inches long.

with than young ones or smaller varieties, but you never know when one can feel safe. I saw a Road-runner deviling a five and a half foot specimen one day. Whether he would have attempted killing if not interrupted I don't know, but it has been proved they sometimes dispatch good sized rattlers, and can swallow one up to 18 inches long.

Since snakes cannot, like birds, leave a cold country in winter time and migrate with the millionaires to warmer climes, and since temperatures below freezing spell death for them, they must go down into the warm earth and hibernate. As freezing weather comes on, rattlesnakes and others hunt out crevices and hollows under rocks far enough under the surface of the ground to keep them below the frost line. Here a snake will coil tightly in solitude, or sometimes with many others in numbers up to hundreds, and will remain in a comatose condition until warm weather comes again. Metabolism almost ceases, and you may sometimes think a hibernating snake is dead. But you will change your mind if you place him in a warm spot.

In the cold north country snakes, sometimes several species to a den, will hibernate for several months. In Southern Arizona, hiberation is for a much shorter period. In fact you will find a rattlesnake in midwinter, coming out of his den to bask for an hour or two in the warmth of a sunbaked south slope. But whether the hiberation is for a month or six, the snake usually comes out in the spring in excellent condition. For so little energy has been used up in keeping his dormant body alive that, contrary to what you would expect, he emerges only very little lighter in weight than when starting his sleep. I have seen many snakes shortly after their emergence from winter sleep who were positively "pleasantly plump."

All in all, rattlesnakes are a mighty fascinating subject. Only some of the high spots in their story can be touched in a short article. They are sometimes terrible and awe inspiring, but can be counted on almost invariably to act like gentlemen if not molested.

You should not forget that your chances of being bitten are very small, and that if you are bitten, you have 99 chances out of a hundred to continue complaining about the high cost of living-provided you secure adequate first aid and subsequent medical treatment. This is not the place for a dissertation on first aid treatment, when I could do no better than quote an article by Dr. Dudley Jackson. If you are interested in this famous authority's recommendations, you will find the April 1940 issue of the "American Rifleman," carried his "Management of Snake Bite."