195504 desert magazine 1955 april

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Z W b L VACATION GUIDEDESERT RESORTS DESERT EVENTS GUIDED DESERT TRIPS

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With the promise of an unusuallycolorful wildflower display on the des-ert this year, late March and Aprilshould bring thousands of motor vis-itors to Southern California and Ari-zona.

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D E S E R T C A L E N D A REvery weekend inAprilArtistsandCraftsmen exhibiting atPalm DesertArt Gallery, in Desert MagazinePueblo, Palm Desert, California.April 1-2 Mesa Jaycces RawhideRoundup, Civic Center, Mesa, Ariz.April 1-3Fiesta Rodeo, Truth orConsequences, NewM exico.April 2Annual Jeep Cavalcade fromHemet, California (8am.) tosanddunes of Borrego; all daytrip for4 WD cars only.April 2-3Arabian Horse Show, PoloGrounds, Palm Springs, California.April 3Desert Sun Ranchers Rodeo,Remuda, Wickenburg, Arizona.April 3 Desert Shores OutboardWater Skiing Regatta, Fish Springs,Salton Sea, California.April 4-8 Desert Caballeros Ride,Round-Up Club, Wickenburg, Ariz.April 8 Penitente Passion Play,Talpa Chapel, near Taos, N. M.April 9-10 Sierra Club's DesertPeaks Hike andBackpack Trrp toKeynote Peak and New York Butte,meeting inLone Pine, California.April 10Easter Sunrise Services at:Shrine of Ages, South Rim, GrandCanyon National Park, Arizona.Sand Dunes, Death Valley, Cali-fornia, Onhorseback, Wickenburg,Arizona. The Cross-on the-Mesa, 2miles west of Taos, New Mexico.Desert Christ Park, Yucca Valley,California.April 10-30 Spring Art Exhibit,Harwood Foundation Galleries,Taos, New Mexico.April 11-12 Two-day bustrip toGrand Canyon, byDon's Club of

Phoenix, Arizona.April 13-14Fiesta de las Flores,Tucson, Arizona. Festival Society.April 13-15Trans-Mississippi SeniorsGolf Tournament, ThunderbirdClub, Palm Springs, California.April 13-17 Yuma County Fair,Arizona.April 13-26Festival Art Show, FineArts Gallery, Tucson, Arizona.April 14-17 19thAnnual DesertCircus, Palm Springs, California.April 15San Xavier Mission Fiesta,Tucson, Arizona.April 15-17 Indian Ceremonials,Phoenix, Arizona.April 15-17Tucson, Arizona. Live-stock Show, Polo Grounds.April 16 Mexican Fiesta, Tucson,Arizona.April 16-17Sierra Club's Hike toSanta Rosa andToro Peaks, over-looking Coachella Valley, Calif.April 16-17 18th Annual Mineraland GemExhibit of SouthwestMineralogists, Inc.,Palestine Ma-sonic Temple, LosAngeles, Calif.April 17Desert SunRanchers Rodeoat Rancho de Los Caballeros, Wick-enburg, Arizona.April 17Los Angeles Boat and SkiClub Race at Desert Shores, FishSprings, Salton Sea, California.April 22-23All Indian Show, Inter-national Relations Club, Flagstaff.April 23-24Ramona Pageant, Hem-et, California (also inMay).April 23-24 Sierra Club's DesertPeaks Hike andBus Trip, Meetingat Pasadena, California.April 23-24 Southern NevadaFlower Show, Recreation Center,Las Vegas, Nevada.

V o l u m e 18 A P R I L 1955 N u m b e r 4C O V E R

CALENDARFIELD TRIPLOST MINEEXPERIENCEN A T U R EDESERT QUIZEXPLORATIONDESERT LIVINGCLOSE-UPSPOETRYP H O T O G R A P H YI N D I A N SH O B B YW I L D F L O W E R SLETTERSMININGN E W SFICTIONLAPIDARYHOBBYC O M M E N TB O O K S

Devil's Cactus Garden. Barrel cactus withMt. San Jacinto, California, in background.Photo by HUBERT A. LOWMAN, Covina,California.April events on the desert 3Doodlebug Trail into Agateland

By HAROLD O. WEIGHT 4Lost Hardin Silver: Mystery or Hoax?

By NELL MURBARGER 9Life on the desert

By PANAMINT RUSS 13Denizens of theDesert WhoLive by Their Wits

By EDMUND C. JAEGER 15A test of your desert knowledge 17We Climbed Glass Mountain

By LOUISE T. WERNER 18Water, Work and Zucchini

By RUTH REYNOLDS 22About those whowrite for Desert 23Miracle in theDesert, andother poems . . . . 24Pictures of the month 25Navajo Medicine Man

By O. E. SINGER 26Fish that Thrive in Cactus Land

By PHYLLIS W. HEALD 29Flowering predictions for April 30Comment from Desert's readers 31Current news of desert mines 32From here and there on thedesert 33Hard Rock Shorty of Death Valley 37Amateur GemCutter, by LELANDE QUICK . . 38Gems and minerals 39Just Between You and Me, by the Editor . . . 46Reviews of Southwestern literature 47

The Desert Magazine is published monthly by the Desert Press, Inc.. Palm Desert,California. Re-entered as second class matter July 17, 1948, at the postoffice at Palm DesertCalifornia, under the Act of March 3, 1879. Title registered No. 358805 in U. S. Patent Office,and contents copyrighted 1955 by the Desert Press, Inc. Permission to reproduce contentsmust be secured from the editor in writing.RANDALL HENDERSON, EditorBESS STACY, Business Manager

JACK WH1TEHOUSE, Associate EditorEVONNE RIDDELL, Circulation Manager

Unsolicited manuscripts and photographs submitted cannot be returned or acknowledgedunless full return postage is enclosed. Desert Magazine assumes no responsibility fordamage or loss of manuscripts or photographs although due care will be exercised. Sub-scribers should send notice of change of address by the first of the month preceding issue.

SUBSCRIPTION RATESOne Year $3.50 Two Years $6.00Canadian Subscriptions 25c Extra, Foreign 50c Extra

Subscriptions to Army Personnel Outside U. S. A. Must Be Mailed in Conformity WithP. 0. D. Order No. 19687

Address Correspondence to Desert Magazine, Palm Desert, California

A P R I L , 1 9 5 5


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Rochester Basin in the Chocolate Moun tains, sou theast of Picacho. The road atthis point rough but solid follows the tuff bottom of a broad wash. Earl Kerr'snodule beds lie in the low hills, center, which also carry opalite, chalcedony andagate.

D oodlebug Trailinto A gatelandBy HAROLD O. WEIGHTPhotographs by the authorMap by Norton Allen

AND I had no intentionof hunting rocks when wevisited southeastern ImperialCounty in mid-June, 1949. We justwanted to photograph colorful PicachoWash while smoke trees and paloverdes were blooming together, andrelax a day or two at Old Picacho,swapping desert yarns with Ed Roch-ester and Earl Kerr, then the ghosttown's leading citizens.

Besides knowing the history andlegends of that fascinating region, Edand Earl were well-acquainted withsom e of its choice rock fields. It wasEarl who told us about the big agatenodule beds in Rochester Basin, tenmiles to the southeast.

Ed Rochester had first noted thenodules, geodes, opalite and chalce-dony while prospecting the basin more

than 30 years before. But Ed wasafter commercial ores; these were sim-ply curiosities. Later when Earl be-came interested in cutting and polish-ing, Ed told him ab out the basin . Atfirst they hiked three rugged miles infrom Pebble Mountain, on the Picacho-Winterhaven road, and packed therocks out on their backs. Then theyfound they could drive to within oneand a half miles of the field by circlingdown by Winterhaven and back up theColorado River to near Imperial Dam.

Earl's description was so enticingwe decided that a four mile hot weatherhike, planned properly, wouldn't beso badespecially since most of it,from the river side, would be up adeep and presumably shady arroyo.Ed and Earl declined invitations toaccompany us to the sun-seared area.

It's no country to enter in theheat of summer, but nodules, ge-odes , chalcedony, and opalite arescatteredoften thicklyalong aSouthern California path blazedby an old miner with a witch-stickin the 1920s it's the Doo dlebu gTrail.

They were shaking their heads whenwe drove away late the next afternoon.Everything went according to planat first. We camped at the edge ofthe great arroyo, where an old Indiantrail was visible. At sunrise we wereon our way with two canteens of water,expecting to be back with our nodulesby ten.

We will always remember that ex-pedition. The arroyo was a beautifulsheer-walled canyon where the deserttrees grew togetherpalo verde, smoketree, ironwood, catsclaw, chilopsis.Blue shadows drifted among the smoketrees, and big ironwoods and paloverdes which fringed the canyon castsolid black shade the width of thewash. Great moun ds of Chuc kawa llas'Delight were along the way, and clumpsof Canyon Broom.

Distinct, purposeful coyote pad-marks followed the shadow of a walland the winding track of a large snakecrossed a sandy stretch. ScatteredD E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


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everywhere were the lesser trails ofthe rodent tribes. Horned lizards ofnursery school age scrambled underrocks, and once two doves bolted pastwith a whir of strong wings.Clean, coarsely sandy stretches ofstream-bed were broken by sectionsstrewn with boulders of pink and whitetuff, black lava, and bright rhyolites.After about a mile the canyon walls,30 feet high in places, drew closer to-gether. At times the gorge was almostchoked with rock, and once we had todetour on a narrow shelf at the canyonedge. Walls of gravel and earth andboulders gave way to conglomerate,the conglomerate to white, then pur-plish, rust and cream tuffs. In thewhite tuff we had to climb the canyonwalls to by-pass great scoured-out tanksor potholes.Soon after starting we saw water-worn bits of chalcedony and theamount increased as we went on. Lu-cile found pieces of carnelian and, later,a cluster of quartz crystals. But sidetrips out of the wash at likely spotsfailed to reveal any of these materialsin place. Ourdirections called for tak-ing the r ight-hand branch, but the ar-royo proved to have many branches.By nine o'clock we had hiked muchfarther than one and a half miles, andmore than half our water and our al-lotted time were gone. The air wasno longer cool.Reluctantly we turned back. Thesunlight now carried a sting and weslipped from shade to shade, the spotsgrowing smaller and thinner as the dayadvanced. In an hour the sun wasburning and Lucile described a strangedrawing sensation at the base of herskull. We dampened handkerchiefsand covered our necks with them.There was no cause to worry yet.We had water and were less than amile from the car. But we were learn-ing the inadvisability of scouting foran unknown rock field in desert sum-

mer heat. And then, as we crossed aboulder-choked curve of the canyon,a rock turned and I fell, twisting myankle. Fortunately it was a sprainrather than a break, but the ankle im-mediately swelled and I could not putmy weight on it.I believe treatment for sprains callsfor cold compresses. We didn't haveany. But we had unlimited hot com-presses small water-worn bouldersin the wash, almost too hot to handle.After a few hot rock applications Iwas able to hobble along. Shortly be-

fore one p.m. we reached the car.W e did not again attempt to visitRochester Basin until last spring, whenEd Rochester told us there was nowa "sort of jeep trail" right to the nod-ule beds, if we were interested. We

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A uto trail into Rochester Basin enters it by dropping into this wash, floored withsolid tuff, at the southwestern edge of the bigbasin. Spectacular red-topped butte,is a landmark of the basin.Near the ranch wesaw a small groupof saguaros. These Arizona escapeeswere not as large or healthy as mostof their brethren across the Colorado.Few are found in California, and theirscarcity may explain why some wereoverly-punctured with nest cavities ofcactus woodpeckerswhich often areappropriated by little Johnny owls.It must have taken more than theriver to halt the spread of the saguarofrom Arizona into Southern California.Else, how did the few in California

today make their crossing? Ed Roches-te r had a theory that before the presentstream, a much wider body of waterkept them out of California.From descriptions left by Spanishexplorers, Laguna Salada was con-nected to the Gulf and possibly to alake in the Colorado Desert . A greatbay extended up the present ColoradoRiver bed, at least as recently as 1604,when Onate reached the Gulf. Thiswider body of water could have suc-cessfully prevented the crossing of thesaguarobesides keeping land other-wise favorable to them under wateruntil such time as the water recededto its present river course.The Ferguson Lake road was deepin fine dust which puffed to enormousclouds as wheels dropped into hidden

chuck holes. In minutes the car wascoated with yellow powder. The roadroller-coasted through a lower reachof the great arroyo up which we hadhiked nearly five years before. Thenthere was more dust. It was a reliefto leave the newroad for an indistinctleft track across a dark mesa tongue.After two crossings of a rough wash,the trail twisted up to a hogback.This was the section which Barretthas named Hurricane Ridge. Ed Roch-ester, who traveled it first in a little

open jeep during a gale, thinks it wellnamed. The trail straddles the ridgefor more than a mile. It is not danger-ous for an experienced driver whoseca r has plenty of clearance. But, sofar as I know, it has been traveledonly by four-wheel-drive vehicles andpickup trucks. We went into four-wheel at the wash crossing at the footof the ridge and used it several timesbefore we dropped into the basin. Onthe return, with the trail more familiar,we did not require it. Not having triedthe route with a passenger car, I can-not recommend their use. Some workin thewash and clearing of boulders onthe ridge would certainly be necessarywith a low clearance car.The trail dropped from the ridgeinto a remarkable flat-bottomed wash

with a "wiggle and a twist," as Ed putit. The wash, floored with solid tuff,drains Earl Kerr's nodule beds. Wefollowed up its bottom and left bankfor about a mile, crossed it again andstopped at the base of a mass of north-west-southeast trending hills. Theywere largely dark green in color, butwith interruptions of dark gold andwhite. Toward the east and the norththey became more abrupt, rising toharsh, reddish buttes.Those we faced were smoothly

rounded, of soft disintegrating vol-canic rock and the main beds were lo-cated in them, Ed told us. We hadnoticed numerous pieces of cuttingrock along the trail, since entering thebasin, but among the round hills nod-ules and botryoidal chalcedony werescattered everywhere in places sothickly that they made up most of thesurface. There was not much colorand many were of solid quartzcrys-tals grown togetherand uninterest-ing to rock cutters. In a few minuteswe had collected numerous specimensof banded and patterned agate, and acouple of crystal-lined geodes. Mostof the nodules were smallup to eggsize. But some were as big as base-balls and there were some huge ones.It had taken us two and a half hours

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to reach the field. Ed was due in Win-terhaven that night, so we soon turnedback. When Lucile and 1 returned thenext day, we spent the morning explor-ing for a route to the nodule beds with-out crossing Hurricane Ridge. Wecouldn't come closer, by our estimates,than a mile; and the ridge didn't seemso bad the second time.In Rochester Basin again, we fol-lowed the old doodlebug road to thewestiin edge of the basin where weinvestigated a few low rises at the bigwash's edge. The northeast slopes ofsome were thickly scattered with ex-quisite tiny chalcedony roses, mostlydark sard or honey, with a little clearand carnelian. Fo r Lucile this wasthe high point of the trip. She sat rightdown (you can see them better at thatanglr than from eye level) and startedpicking them up."Show intelligent discrimination,"she kept urging herself. "You can'ttake them all!" Then she looked upat me and sighed, "I 've never beenconfronted with so many decisions!"I hiked over the little hills findingrose;, and botryoidal chalcedony anda few nodules, and then into the greatwash. Almo st imm ediately I was sureit was the branch of the arroyo we hadfollowed on that hot summer hike. We

had been in the wrong branch for thenodule beds, but had turned back afew hundred yards from the hills withrock roses.When I returned to the car, Lucilehad made her decisions and had abeautiful collection of miniature roses.We located a perfect camp site for the

night. It was a level, clean-flooredlittle flat half surrounded by miniaturebuttes, but with a splendid view east-ward over jumbled washes and hills.With camp established, I took my sackand canteen and set out on a shortexploration.It lasted three hours and I soon foundmyself facing Lucile's problem of de-cisions. Th e pieces I was finding wereso big I could carry very few. M ostremarkable were huge clam-shapednodules of colorfully-patterned opalite similar to pastelite mixed with

quartz and sometimes agate. Therewere few of them, but some were largeenough that each would make a load.Then there were irregular masses ofopalite which would cut into large,showy cabochons, and vein agate.Here and there were lines of smallagate and quartz nodules. It was acase of emptying my sack every halfmile or so, for re-sorting.Wherever I went in that rugged ter-

rain, I crossed the tracks of little jeeps.Because 1 was on foot, I found mate r-ial they had missed . Bu t the quantityof ruthlessly broken material lyingeverywhere was incredible, consideringthe obviously small number of rockhunters who had been there. It re-minded me forcibly of the fallacy ofthe argument often advanced that keep-ing a field secret preserves it, whilewriting it up means its destruction.This area had not been publicized,though word about it had gotten outto the more eager collectorsas it al-ways does. An undetermined but smallnumber of individuals and one or twoclubs are all who have collected in alarge field. Yet there were more sense-lessly smashed specimens here than inmany fields I have revisited years afterI have described them for D esert Mag-azine and after they have been hunted

over by hundreds of real rockhoundsand collecting groups.I am coming to believe that publiciz-ing a field may actually help to controlthe depredations of the small percent-age of rockhogs among rockhounds.Even these "fast rock" boys, seekingto strip the cream for themselves nomatter how much is ruined for all whofollow, do not want to be caught attheir wreck ing. In the end it boils

Uncut, unpolished specimen of Rochester Basin opalite similar in appearance to pastelite of gray, brown,white and flesh colors.

Ed Rochester on one of the "blowouts" of nodules in theKen nodule beds. Most of the rocks strewn on theground in the picture are nodules or agate.

" \

HARDIN CIT YH 4 S-> V. '' '->l-\

^ > ~ . . . LE A O V I LLE% w

" V ^ * . ' ' ! ' BLACK ROCK

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initial landmark, the leader retracedas best he was able the route taken byhis hunting party nine years before.All went well until he reached theexact point on the mountain where hebelieved the silver should be; and thereHardin halted and stared about himin bewilderment!On all that slope, there was not onelandm ark he could recognize! Th eonly explanation seemed to be thatdevastating landslides had smotheredthe area. Eithe r that, or the Petalum aman had misjudged his distances ordirections, or had confused his land-marks .Although he hunted it all the restof his life, he never found the LostHardin Silver.

Others sought it, too.L. D. Vary, O'Donnell and Jenni-son, and Judge Harvey and Steve Bass,Johnny Thacker, and Jo Voshayallof them left campsites on the BlackRock . But the deepest mark of all wasleft by Charles Isenbeck.Isenbeck was a humbug or he wasthe most astute scientist and shrewdestoperator who ever worked on the Har-din silver! It's all a point of opinio n.Up in Idaho, at that time, the Poor-man mine was disgorging riches froma black, waxy-looking ore. When aprospector who had seen that ore, nowdiscovered in the Black Rock countrya vast deposit of a faintly similar ma-terial, word spread that the source of

Hardin's silver had been found, andthe rush was on!But Black Rock ore failed to returnanything but goose eggs. Sampleswere sent to assayers all over the coun-try; and every assay certificate broughtback the same disheartening talenot even a trace of silver!When someone recalled the occur-rence of a "similar ore" in the vicinityof Freiberg, Germany, a sample of theblack, waxy stuff was forwarded toCharles Isenbeck, eminent Freibergchemist.Isenbeck's report on that ore hadthe immediate effect of turning nightinto day, and bringing rejoicing outof despair! The ore was rich beyondman's wildest dreamssome of it run-ning as much as one pound of silverto four pounds of rock!Or, so said Isenbeck, and the Ger-man chemist thought he could workout a process of milling the ore.Isenbeck was given all the time hewantedmore than two years of itduring all of which period he was car-ried on the payroll of Black Rock'smost important mining company as aresearch chemist and was pulling downa fabulous salary. (Ru mo r said $1000per month!)In his report for the fiscal year 1866-67, filed with the State Surveyor Gen-eral, Humboldt county's assessor andsurveyor gave extended praise to theBlack Rock district and, in closing,

planted this thou ght: "If Isenbecksucceeds as he expects, the people ofBlackrock and the whole countryshould erect a statue to his memorybuilt of solid silver . . ."But the Humboldt Register, ofUnionville, took a dim view of thisreportor of any report favorable tothe Black Roc k. Fo r several mo nthspast the Register had been character-izing Isenbeck as a "a prince of hum-bugs," his followers as "victims of in-sanity," and the Black Rock as a fraudand swindle. And now, muttered the

Register, a "statue of solid silver" toIsenbeck al luded to by the Humboldtcounty assessor "was evidently intendedto mean two uprights with a crossbeam and a rope in the center . . ."So time marched on, with half thenewspapers within 200 miles of Har-din City battling for the glory andhonor of the district, and the otherhalf whetting their knives for the kill.They had not long to wait.The axe fell early in 1869 in theform of Uncle Sam's yearbook, Min-eral Resources of the States and Ter-ritories West of the Rocky Moun tains,compiled and edited by Rossiter W.Raymond, special commissioner ofmining statistics.

After stating that the Black Rockdistrict had been the scene "of hopes10 D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


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Somew here along the edge of the great Black Rock D esert playa millions of dollarsworth of silver ore may be hidden forever.

as wild and disappointments as over-whelming as any recorded in the his-tory of American mines," Raymondearned through with a lengthy resumeof the Black Rock story.' It was no t long before the storyfou nd credence that a new ore of silverhad been discovered in the black waxof i-Iumboldt County," stated the Ray-mond report. "Respectable assayersin he Pacific states, and in New Y ork ,flatly contradicted the popular delu-sio i. But the Black Roc k people hadan assayer of their owna man bythe name of Isenbeckwho claimedthat no one but himself could extractthe silver from these peculiar ores. Hewo-ked by what he called the Freibergprocess, and made use of a peculiarflu:. . . . O f course, M r. Isenbe ck'ssecret flux contained a compound ofsih er.'Six or seven years passed away inexper iments and explorat ions . . . Atlas1, in 1867, Mr. Isenbeck announcedthat he was ready to work the rockon a large scale and 13 tons werehauled . . . from different ledges . . .Thj result announced was $70 to $400pel ton! A renewed excitement wasthe consequence . . . A mill was builtin the Black Rock country to be man-age d by Isenb eck. Two others w erepu in active prepa ration. But Mr.Isenbeck could not afford to use hisflux on a large scale; and before opera-tio'is commenced, he disappeared fromthe public eye.'The Black Rock miners, who hadshewn for six years a grim determina-tion and perseverance worthy of re-spt ct . . . aban don ed their m ines indespair. Hou ses, mills, everything waslef1 as it stood, and in the summer of1868 there was not a human beingleft in the district. Eve n thieves wouldno i go there to steal the abandoned

property. An expedition sent to theregion by Mr. Clarence King confirmedthe opinion of all scientific men fromthe beginning, that Black Rock wasa swindle . . ."The mystery surrounding HardinCity had grown ever deeper with thepassing of time.Partly for this reason and partly dueto a general interest in the Black RockDesert, I had begun reading every wordI could find on the Hardin silveroldhistory books, old mining reports, oldemigrant diaries, and almost endlesscolumns of blurred six-point type in90-year-old newspaper files. The moreI read of those conflicting reports, themore confused I became; and, finally,I knew I would have to go to Hardinand see for myselfDuring my five years of HardinCity research it had been my goodfortune to meet Nellie Basso, of Love-lock, Nev ada. An advanced mineralcollector, amateur assayist, and devo-tee of Black Rock history, Nellie, too,was eager to go to Ha rdin. But oneimportant obstacle stood in our way:For all our combined researching, westill didn't know how to find the place!Even Humboldt County officialswere unable to offer any help in pin-pointing the old town's location.It was Ed Green, of Lovelockourguide and companion on many otherdesert jauntswho came to our res-cue."Okay!" he said, at last. "I'll stringalong with you! If we can find Ha rdinCity, we'll find it! Othe rwise, we'll atleast see a lot of country."As it isn't considered advisable toenter the more remote sections of theBlack Rock with only one vehicle, ourdeparture from Lovelock on a morn-ing in July found us driving both Ed'spick-up and my old desert-toughened

sedan. Our immediate destination wasGerlach, in central Washoe County.It was here we filled our gasolineand water tanks and gave our tiresand cooling systems a final check. Thenwe dropped in for a brief visit withSheriff "Cisco" Ashe nbrenn er. Wh en-ever we're heading into isolated terri-tory, we like to have some responsibleperson in the vicinity know where we'regoing and when we expect to be back.The sheriff advised us to go "to theold Jackson place," 30 miles north ofGerlach, and there cut east across theplaya toward the Black Rock range.In that way, he said, we would hitthe old emigrant trail just south ofDouble Hot Springs."You'll be traveling across the oldlake bed," he explained, "and if you'rea praying person, pray you won't hita soft spot! Yo u can see 'em if youkeep your eyes open," he went on."They're generally a little whiter thanthe surrounding flat; and if you thinkgrease is slippery, that's because you'venever been trapped in one of theseBlack Rock sinks!"With our business at Gerlach thuscompleted, we headed north on thetrail of a lost city, and the hoped ful-fillment of a long dream.After following the old Leadvilleroad for about a dozen m iles, we turnedsharply into the desert, and five min-utes later found us rolling soundlesslyacross the bland face of that greatsink where thousands of years ago hadlain the deep blue water of Lake La-hontan.We w ere entering, now, a wide worldwide, and wild, and terribly big andempty! All around us stretched thepale magnificence of the Black Rockplayaa devil's dancefloor, 60 milesin length; a cream-colored void inwhich was visible not one sign of life,

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neither plant nor animal, nor bird, norinsect; not even one greasewood, or alone blade of salt grass! Whenever Icross this Black Rock sink, it is withthe strange feeling of having been re-born into another era of geologic time.The entire lake bed was our high-way. W heel track s led off crazily, cir-cled and reconverged. There were noroad signs, or bridges, no guard rails,no gutter. Th ere was no speed limit,no traffic officers, no traffic. As thesheriff had said, you paid your moneyand took your choice . . . and all thewhile, you sat a little tensely in yourseat, and the cords in your neck grewa little tight as you watched for thosetreacherous soft areas of which youhad been warned.We bored into the northeast for adozen miles, then bent to the north-west and the west; and, gradually, theslatelike surface of the dry lake bedwas replaced by drift sand and scat-tered greasewood. Having bouncedover the last rough hummock of theold beachline, we again turned northnow on a dirt road that paralleledthe east base of the Nevada Calicos.Thirty-one miles north of Gerlachwe passed the old Jackson place; andhere, as the sheriff had directed, weswung due east toward the Black Rockrang e. Seven miles across the un-wrinkled face of the playa, anothermile of bouncing over the rough hum-mocks of the easterly shoreline; and,again, we were heading into the north.Torrents of water, pouring fromtinder-dry canyons during this area'sinfrequent but violent storms, had cutthe trail in a series of sharp, deepgashes . Some of these gullies requiredshovel work; most could be crossedwith care, and low gear. There w erestretches of knife-like rock, and gravel-filled washes, and pockets where pow-dery blow sand had drifted deeply overthe trail. If it had been difficult totravel this road a century before, itwas no less difficult todayit was stillthe same roadbut we eased the carsthrough, at five miles an hour, and themiles wore away.A smear of green tules and salt grass,vapory white steam rising from twincauldrons of near-boiling water, awhite-encrusted flat, and a long-de-serted cabin built of old railroad ties,announced our arrival at Double HotSprings. Here the wagon train hadmade camp on the night prior to thediscovery.Soon after leaving the hot springs,we began paralleling the HarlequinHills a gaudily-colored range thatstretches along the horizon a few mileseast of the trail.My eyes were still searching thoselonely canyons and bare ridges whenEd halted the pick-up; and when I had

coasted to a dusty stop behind him,I saw he was grinning."Over there" he said, jerking athumb toward the west. "What's that?"Narrowing my eyes against the wind,I could make out a white stone up-thrust, like a broken fang; and all ina quick , incredulou s flash, 1 knew itwas an old mill chimney!It was Hardin City!Closer inspection revealed the ruinsof two millsneither one large or tall,but strangely imposing in that wide,empty land where no other man-madestructure was visible. Situated about100 yards apart, each of the ruins wasperched on the lip of a low bank thatdropped away to a clump of tules, aseeping spring, and a pond of choco-late-colored water huddled in the deadwhite somnolence of the flat.

Before we had time to examine themills, we had made another discoverya 90-year-old quicksilver flask! Half-buried in the white salt crust, the ironcontainer was eaten deeply by corro-sion and so fragile it crumbled at ourtouch.And while we were still exultingover this find, Ed stumbled upon anold arrastra! In a copy of the Hum-boldt Register for 1865, I had readthat Steve Bass was installing at Har-

A uthor examines quicksilver flaskfound in mill ruins.

din City one of these Mexican typeore grinders; but after all these years,I had never dared hope that we mightfind it!The pitabout six feet in diameter,and lined by wooden plankingwasrefilled to the brim with blown sand;the rotted stump of the pivot post wasstill visible; the old grinding stoneswere still lying beside the pit; and,nearby, lay the flat paving stones withwhich that pit had been floored. Con-centric lines, etched into their topplane by the circling boulders, left noquestion in our minds concerning theoriginal use of those stones.We established camp at the eastedge of "town" our campsite, analmost-limitless flatness encrusted withwhite mineral salts and sparingly dottedwith small saltbrush.In our prowlings of the followingday, we found the ruins of the thirdmill. Large st of the trio, it was a vividsort of structure built of black andred volcanic boulders, combined insome semblance of a color pattern.Sections of these walls were still stand-ing to a height of ten feet.Numerous low mounds, roughlysquared, marked the sites where adobeor sod buildings had formerly stood.and melted away; and around thesemounds we found old square nails andsun-purpled glass, a few bone buttons,and necks of green bottlesolder andcruder in form than any we had seenbefore! We also found several graves,outlined with volcanic boulders, andwith black basalt for ma rkers. Time,and the sand-blasting wind, had erasedwhatever identification those markersonce may have carried.All the while, naturally, we werekeeping sharp watch for the black"waxy material" that had inspired thatlong-ago excitement; but except forsome black stratification in the Harle-quin Hills to the east, we had seennothing that remotely resembled thethe ore described."Candidly," said Ed, who has spenta good share of his lifetime prospect-ing the Nevada hills, "I don't thinkthere was ever a pound of ore here!Non-metallics, maybe; not silver orgold . . ."Nellie's faith in the Hardin treasurewas still unshaken, but I sided withEd. After all, there was plenty of evi-dence to uphold his theory, and notvery much to support the rumor ofsilver's presence. We continued, how-ever, to prospect the washes and flats;and by the time we left the Black Rock,I felt we had given the place a fairexamination, and that Rossiter W.Raymond, Uncle Sam's mining statis-tician, had been right: There had neverbeen any ore here, and Hardin Cityhad been nothing but a swindle!

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L I F E O N T H E D E S E R T A. M. Russell's five-year plan calls for tunneling150 feet further into the granite walls of PcmamintMountainsand there he has faith he wil l find hisgo ld min e. But it tak es a lot of faith.By PANAMINT RUSS

Y CABINS are the base of7200-foot Manly Peak in thePanamint Mountains, DeathValley, California. I started buildingthem in 1930, the same year I foundthe gold high up the side of old Manlyand began my mining operation, nowa long horizontal shaft into the side ofthe mountain.From my favorite chair in front ofthe cabins I have a 90-mile view acrossthe valley. My locust trees are theonly ones within 125 miles, as far asI know. Jus t looking at the way they

defy wind, storm, rain and snow givesme inspiration. Their bark is un-scarred, well-balanced, leaves emeraldgreen, but how they survive I'll neverknow.The concord grapes are doing well,too. Twenty-five years ago comingthrough Riverside, California, I stoppedat a nursery and bought a half dozenbare-root size, wrapped them in anewspaper, laid them on the runningboard with a wet gunny sack and todaythey are 20 feet of beauty.1 had hardly finished cleaning out

my spring, a yearly chore, and settledback in my spring steel patio chair(some tenderfoot brought it out fiveyears ago and forgot to take it back)when the black pickup truck with thewhite lettering drove up to pay respectson a routine inspection.It was tall kindly-faced Matt Ryan,the National Monument ranger, andhis wife. I'd always missed him befo re.It was the first time we had met. Hisheadquarters is at the other end of themonument and I am only here twoweeks every year for my assessment

work.We had a chat about the baby burrostealers, the bad sports who kill gameand leave it by the springs to stink,the roving high graders, the city foolswho lose their heads and wander fromtheir car as soon as they are lost, aboutmany things. He thought I had a verynice camp and mill-site and asked howthe mine was coming along? Was Iworking alone?He knew the answers, it 's the sameas last year and the years before that.The miners were enticed into the air-

plane factories. With a pair of pliersand a screw driver they had a cost-plusparadise, and still don't realize it'sover. Jus t sit arou nd waiting for thecall that doesn't come, instead of goingback to the hills.

Panamint Russ, shown here standing beside his cabinat the foot of Manly Peak in the D eath Valley P anamintRange, started his mine shaft in 1930 on Faith and isstill working on it.

The sun was already behind Manly,so after a cool drink of that naturalgranite filtered water, Matt had toshove off. In parting he rema rked :"Russ as long as you show Good Faith,that's the main requirement."After the black pickup crossed ButteValley it looked like a speck and dis-appea red from view. 1 relaxed andwondered how much Good Faith oneman is supposed to have.That ranger didn't know that 1 hadplenty of Good Faith long before theydecided to make this a national monu-menthad to. And I have never lostthat Faith even though there have beena few setback s. I am now 6 0, so if 1finish my mine tunnel in the next fiveyears, we'll retire together, my Faithand me.But Matt 's decree got me to think-ing how many times I have come face-to-face with Good Faith out here onthe desert:It's been ten days now, since I haveseen anyone, a fellow was supposedto drop the mail and some supplies off

four days ago. He may have hadtrouble, because at that time we hada twister. The wind blew down thecanyon so hard it raised the roof offthe shack. Pulled the nails out threeinches. I got some heavy wire andwired it to the floor. Jus t finished whenthe wind changed, came back up thecanyon, started raising the other sideof the roof, cracking rafters. I cut theclothesline and wired that side downjust in time. Was undecided w hetherto move to a nearby cave in the rocksor stick it out. I stuck it out. In themorn ing the wind died down. I spentthe morning picking up and bringingback to camp everything that was looseand moveable.

I wondered if the elements were try-ing to run me off, or just annoy me.Next day the wind blew again so hardit was impossible hardly to go outside.Three more lost days with nothing ac-complished. I needed Good Faith.Last year the burro, "Jubilee" wecalled him, was shot or stolen. I hadraised him from a colt and just got

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him to where he could pack and be ofsome help. Now my back has to takehis place.The year before that I was caughtin a cloudburst about 9 p.m. on theside of a mo untain . Ha d to drive byinstinct: water all over the road, rocksbouncing over the top of the car, bothfront tires flattened, roads washed out.I was two days trying to get to town.It took Good Faith.

The year before thatall alone asusualI was trying to pry out a boul-der in the path the wheelbarrow mustuse and double-ruptured myself. Tha tmeant the hospital and recovery.No matter how good a desert driveryou are, things will happen on thesedirt road s. A sharp rock sticking upout of the sand, took the plug off thecrankcase and then knocked the plugout of the gas tank. The new broomI had along made some plugs until Icould get some new ones, but I lostmy gas and oil, and before reachingcamp the car buried itself up to thehub caps in the soft sand and silt. 1had to cut sagebrush and lay it for aroad to get clear.Another year, if I recollect right,the tunnel was in about 150 feet deep too far for a wheelbarrow. I neededan ore car, ties and rails. H ad a fellowhelping me that year. He forgot toshake his trousers in the morning (adesert must!) and a scorpion bit himbefore he had his suspenders adjusted.So he quit and I was along again withmy Good Faith.The fellow who was doing the pack-ing by contract to get my stuff up tothe tunnel had five burro s. He alwaysslept on the ground by the spring.Chewed strong Black-jack plug to-bacco . He was about asleep one nightwhen a snake crawled over his facebetween his upper lip and nose. He'snot sure what kind it was but he swal-lowed his tobacco and got so upsethe couldn't sleep or eat, so he pulledout for a couple of weeks. These de-

lays are costly but we must have GoodFaith.Well, I tried to hire a couple of fel-lows to help me. Ha d no luck. Amine owner at Tecopa said, "Russ,there just isn't any extra help around.But to help you out, you take two ofmy mu ckers for a week or so." I hadto guarantee them two weeks' work,board and room.My tunnel is one mile up the sideof Manly Peak, a winding burro trailthe only way up. These two fellowscouldn't even climb up that trail withthe water, powder, drills and lunch.So I had to keep my agreement andgive them two weeks' work aroundcamp. Ano ther two weeks lost!Pack rats run all over my cabins.

Some of them have been stealing cot-ton from the bottom of the mattress Iam sleeping on and I couldn't figureout where they were taking it. All Iknew was they sure made a lot ofnoise getting it through the springs. Ijust bought six new traps and wentout to the car to get them . As I raisedthe rear compartment door, there wasmy cotton. The packrats were buildinga new nest among my extra powder,fuses and caps. All they have to donow is finish their nest with matches,set one off, burn up my transportationand I will have a 65-mile hike backto townand my Good Faith wil l beshattered for this year.

But out here, there's always a bluesky, good pure water filtered by Na-ture through lime and granite rocks,smogless air, no 50-cent parking lots,fresh sage and pinyon pine. I shouldn'task anyone for help, because it's myprob lem. But I have Faith, and it willpay off!

I started the tunnel five years ago.I was married an d had a son. My wifesaid one year, "I am going to breakyou of that desert habit of yours. Everyyear you go to Butte Valley and staytoo long. I warn you, if you stay overtwo weeks this year I will divorce y ou!"I had good intentions of returningin two weeks but circumstances wereagainst me. Some fellow and his fam-ily had been working some tailings onan old dump and were just ready topull out. Their grub was all gone. Hewarmed up the motor of his truck, butforgot he had drained the radiator thenight before. W hen that cold springwater hit the hot motor it cracked thehead. They were stuck and I had theonly car within 65 miles.I agreed to see them through. Gavethem my grub and started for Trona,via Ballarat. At noon a cloudburst hitthe Slate Range and all roads werewashed out. It was several days befo reI could get over the roads. Then there

was no motor head at Trona . Had tosend to Los Angeles. So by the timeI returned to camp, helped install thehead and did some necessary work, itwas three weeks before I arrived homein Los Angeles. My wife was goneand had taken my son. I was divorced.My boy, now 24, has never seen thetunnel his Dad has been working onfor so long.The day I found that high grade oreamong the boulders and decided todrop down the hill a thousand feet anddrill that tunnel, I had to have a lotof Good Faith.The tunn el is now 3 30 feet in solidrock, all driven by hand . I still have150 feet to go, but I figure I can finishit in another five years, if I have GoodFaith!

January brought above-normal pre-cipitation to much of the Great Basinand part of the Colorado Basin, butprecipitation was below normal in theRio Grand e Basin. All three basinsforecast below normal runoffs.In the Great Basin region, the GreatSalt Lake Basin could expect somewater supply improvement, but sup-plies still fall short of the 10-year av-erage. M ost streams in the basin willhave water supplies at 60 to 85 percentof average, although the Bear River

drainage will be only 56 to 65 percent.Sevier and Beaver River Basins,Truckee, Carson, Walker and OwensRiver Basins could expect generallybetween 69 and 95 percent water sup-plies, as could the Mojave River Basin.Serious deficiencies are predicted forthe Humboldt River Basin with themain stream at Palisade expected toyield only 21 percent of the 10-yearaverage flow.In the Colorado Basin, forecasts forthe Colorado River above Cisco areslightly lower than a month ago, withrunoffs estimated at 68 to 93 percentof average. The water supply outlookfor the Green River Basin is for runoffranging from much less than averagefor the upper Green River drainage inWyoming to near average for theYampa and White Rivers in Colorado.Forecasts for the Utah tributaries show51 percent of average for the Straw-berry River and 91 percent for AshleyCreek.Forecasts for the San Juan RiverBasin are slightly lower than those is-sued a month ago. Runoff in the north

should be 80 percent, dropping to 66percent for the main stream at Farm-ington.Above normal precipitation in Jan-uary of the Lower Colorado Basin wasnot sufficient to offset earlier droughtconditions and water supply outlook ispoo r. Seriously deficient streamflowin the Little Colorado Basin forecastsa 30 to 50 percent runoff. Suppliesonly slightly better were forecast forthe Gila River Basin.In the Rio Grande Basin below-

normal precipitation was general, ex-cept over some of the eastern tributarywatersheds. The basin expected 36 to80 percent of average runoff, whilethe Pecos River Basin forecast was for62 to 85 percent of average.14 D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


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ON DESERT TRAILS WITH A NATURALIST - XIIIWild mice, birds, l izards animals givenlittle credit for intelligenceuse more wisdomthan most folks realize. It takes the patie nceand understanding of a man like EdmundJaeger to bring this wis dom into view . Hereare the animals and here are the actions, just

as the naturalist found them in their own deserthomelands.

A ntelope Ground Squirrels are so small they areoften called chipmunks. The white under-tail andwhite stripe leading up across the shoulders aredistinguishing marks.

By EDMUND C. JAEGER, D.Sc.Curator of PlantsRiverside Muncipal MuseumSketches by the author^ N T I M A T E A N D d elig htfu l c on -/ tacts with small anim als of thedesert are some of the most grati-fying experiences a naturalist can have.From these contacts I have becomeconvinced that animals, even the verysmall ones, have almost as much per-sonality and individuality as humanbeingsand often quite unique waysof solving life's prob lem s. Eve n suchapparently thoughtless creatures as themice, lizards and birds do quite a bitof thinking on their own.One late autumn while carrying onsome investigations which required thatI set up a more or less permanent camp,I put my cot under a palo verde treeand slept there in the open for a periodof several week s. Seeing the need ofgoing away for a few days, I left mybed made-up with only a tarpaulin toprotect it.As I returned to my camp severalevenings later, I rolled back the bedcovers before retiring. Grea t was myamazement to find hidden beneaththem not only the beginnings of thewinter sleeping-nest of a white-footedmouse but also its neat store of nearlya cupful of wildfiower seeds, mostlythose of the brittle bush. The anim alevidently had decided it had found avery good place for both winter pantryand cozy nest.

1 very much disliked disturbing theresults of its labors especially when Ithought of the many trips it had madeback and forth to garner in the thou-sands of little seeds and the bits ofrootlets, grass and hair to make thenest. How ever, it was my conclusionthat it would be quite impossible forboth of us to use that bed at the sametime. Carefully I removed both nestand seeds, putting them where themouse could readily find and removethem to other selected qua rters. This,I thought, was the end of our partner-ship. However, shortly after crawlinginto bed, I felt something soft andlively moving around beside me underthe covers. It was my mous e, back tobegin another night's labor of seed-storing and nest building. A quickmovement on my part sent it scurryingaway, and it never returned to the bed.I was interested to find next morningthat it had discovered the store ofseeds and removed them. It was goodto know, too, that all its providentlabors were not lost.

Some years ago, while traveling withpack burro to carry my bedroll andprovisions, I camped for a night in thepinyon forest at Asbestos Spring onthe desert slope of California's San Ja-cinto Mo untains. It was autumn whenI arrived, and I found only a very smalltrickle of water flowing from the pipethat led to a watering trough below thespring. When supper was over I walkedto the dripping pipe to get a drink. AsI approached I heard the musical chirp-ing notes of Hyla, the desert tree-frog.

Moreover I noticed that the water nowwas no longer flowing steadily, but onlyin intermittent spurts. The water wouldflow for a few m ome nts, then stopcompletely, followed by a sounding ofcheerful tree-frog notes, and anothersudden flow of water. The strange se-quence was repeated again and again.It had me puzzled.

As I stooped over to drink I hap-pened to look into the orifice of theone-inch rusty pipe. The re sat thesmall singer insidea tree frog, hisgolden irised eyes blinking as he lookedat me so unafraid, contented and wise.The strange problem of water flow wasnow solved. Every tim e he filled hislungs his small flabby sides puffed outso much that the water in the pipe wasdamm ed up behind him. This was thetime of no flow. Then when he de-flated his lungs while chirping, thewater gushed on around him. "An -other charming little friend of the wildI've met," I said and left him undis-turbed to give his concert through thenight.

He had certainly chosen a good spotfor keeping cool; a good place to in-sure himself having the moist skin sonecessary for amphibian breathing andabove all a retreat where he was safefrom all enem ies above and below . Iconcluded he was a rather wise littlefrog.In October, 1953, Jerry Becker ofPasadena Junior College and Bill Corn-well of Art Center in Los Angelesspent a weekend with me in a remotepinyon-juniper area of the Joshua Tree

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National Mon um ent. It was the seasonof clear blue sunny skies, dry stimulat-ing air and cool gentle breezes; timeof autum nal bird migration. Some ofthe southward passing birds were G am-bel White-crowned Sparrows, whichprobably had left their summer homein the northern mountains not manydays before. Many of them doub tlesswere very tired from the long hoursof flight and were hungry and thirsty.

Hardly had we settled in camp untilone of them alighted on the groundwithin a few feet of us. It actedstrangely unafraid, hopping about be-fore us like a tame bird long accus-tomed to the companionship of man.As we walked around camp it contin-ued to hop about near us, keeping justbeyond range of our moving feet. Wedecided it might be thirsty so we putwater for it in a shallow pan . Imm edi-ately it hopped upon the pan's edgeand drank . We threw cracker crumbson the ground. These were promptlyeaten. Ou r hands om e bird visitorseemed ready now to adopt us asfriends. At one time we were able totouch it. T his extraord inary b ehaviorcontinued not only the remainder of theday but again on the mo rrow. Wecould explain it only on the basis ofextreme need of food and drink,coupled with the fact that we may havebeen the first human beings it hadever met. A most satisfying and pleas-ing experience it was. I do not expectto see it duplicated soon.Summertime on the desert bringsout the nervous and swiftly crawlinglittle wingless wasps, which youngstersoften call velvet or fuzzy ants . Someof their intensely black bodies are cov-ered with a light tan or dirty whitelong, hairy coat, while others havethickly-set brick-red hairs, especiallyon the rounded abdomen or gaster.These wasps are earnest creatures,never given to much resting. They arevery hearty insects, so durably builtthat one can be stepped on as it crawlsin the dust and it will experience noth-

ing but temp orary discomfort. Whendisturbed they often emit a faint, high-pitched squeaky note.Recently, a camp companion ofmine came upon one of these mutillids,as they are more properly called.Never having seen one before he wascurious about its behavior. I warnedhim that it was not safe to handleroughly because of its extraordinarilylong stinger, which could cause con-siderable pain if thrust deep into hu-man flesh.Mutillids, he found, are hard tocatch since they are alert, clever dod-gers and swift. How ever, by using pa-tience he eventually got this one insidea tin can. He placed the can out ofdirect sunlight under the closely over-

Gambel Sparrow a desert winterresident. A lways a cheerful melo-dious songster.hanging limb of a spiny-leaved JoshuaTree.Shortly afterward we saw a Rough-scaled Lizard dash across the groundas is its habit when stalking insect prey.By chance it came very close to thecan containing our captive insect. Im-mediately it stopped and began swing-ing its head from side to side. Weknew from this that it was listening tothe small sounds made by the mutillidinside the tin container.

Of a sudden, as if a new thoughthad come to mind, the lizard ran backsome distance to the base of the JoshuaTree, ran up its trunk, out onto a limbto a point from which it could look di-rectly below into the can and see whatit was that made the strange noise.Then, so quickly we were scarcely ableto follow its movements, it jumpedstraight down into the can and snappedup the mutillid. During the split sec-ond it had taken to jump back out ofthe can it had half swallowed the hairyinsect. A gulp and the mutillid waswell on its way to the saurian stomach.It surprised us that the lizard was notstung internally. It might have provedto be a very hot meal, we thought.But we saw no sign of gastric discom-fort. Nev er again will I say that alizard is a stupid ani ma l. H ere surelywas an exhibition of expert planning,quick thinking and adeptness in get-

This is Mutilla, the handsome fuzzyan t really a solitary wasp. Youare certain to meet one on youroutdoor rambles.

t -

ting its limbs in motion and puttinginto execution its decision.The late winter and early springmonths (February and March) a revery busy times for many of the desertanimals. It is the time of mating andraising young families. Mid-March wasthe time Jack Shepard of OccidentalCollege and I visited those strangle-banded rock formations of the mid-Mojave Desert so aptly called theCinnamon-roll Rocks. We wished tosee if the chuckawallas were out ofwinter hiding, watch nest-building ac-tivities of the rock wrens and perhapsrun onto a new family of antelopeground squirrels.

We spent the whole morning climb-ing among the rocks without seeingmore than a few chuckawallas andfound only one new bird's nest. Dis-appointed, tired, and thirsty, we re-turned to the car and opened a coolbottle of apple juice we'd kept in theinsulating folds of a blanket. As wedrank, a small head poked over thetop of a big boulder near the car. Itlooked us over, then quickly and boldlyran into our presencea small ante-lope ground squirrel. With tail a-quiver, hands pressed to its sides, andbig black eyes registering curiosity andexcitement, it sat bolt upright beforeusnot more than three feet away.We stood very still and it soon beganto play about our feet. Jack, whohappened to have some soda crackersin his hands, threw some broken pieceson the sand. Quickly the squirrel tookone up in its small paws, sat againupright on its haunches and nibbledall aroun d the edges of the large cracke rfragment while adeptly turning itaround and around. After eating av-idly for some moments it picked upsome of the other choice cracker tid-bits for future need s. Each piece wascarried away 40 or 50 feet and buriedin a different place.

The burial procedure was unique.First the animal dug a small hole withits forefeet. The n the food m orsel, stillheld in its mouth, was dropped andpressed firmly in place by repeatedthrusts of the nose. Cov ering was ac-complished by working sand forwardwith the small forefeet held side byside to make of them a good pusher.Then the whole area was thoroughlytamped and smoothed over by rapidpattin gs with the forefeet. It was alldone each time in a matter of a fewminutes. Once the food was buried thesquirrel bounded back for more.Finally it became bold enough actu-ally to take bits of crackers from ourhand s. Feeding was several times in-terrupted by dust baths sometimestaken within arms-length of us. It wasevidently a way of taking care of an-noyingly frequent itchings due to para-



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sites such as fleas. Th e dust bathactivities were as ludicrous as interest-ing. The ground was first reduced toa powdery state by scratching. Theanimal would then lie flat on its "tum-my" and rapidly rub its underpartsback and forth eight or 10 times. Thisdone it made a quick roll-over in thedust several times, got up and bouncedaway.Beside us and in full bloom was asmall bush of the pungent-odoredplant called Desert Rue or Tham-nosm a. Its oil-filled leaves, stems andblossoms are all so irritating to humanskin that within a few minutes afterbeing rubbed on there will be markedreddening and severe itching. A tea,even a weak brew of it, is so hot thatthe Paiute Indians say it will painfullywarm your stomach and cause you tohave such strange wild dreams asyou've never had before. Yet it wasthe buds and blossoms of this potentshrub that our antelope ground squir-rel decided to use to spice its meal!Crawling up into the bush it snipped-off and actually ate with apparent relishat least a dozen or more of the spicyodorous buds and flowers. "Groundsquirrel stomachs must be plentytough," exclaimed Jack. I agreed.Two weeks later I returned to thesame camp . The little ground squirrelevidently remembered us well and thefat feast she'd had from our hands.

Hardly had the car stopped until shecame bounding over the rocks to meetu s . We were ready with crackers andhunger satisfying raisins and were re-warded by the same evidence of com-plete confidence in our good intentions.We had a chance again to see the feed-ing, the burying of food, the dust bath-ing and grooming of furry coat.The place was visited a third timein late Octobe r. And o ur little rodentwas there to greet us again. But in-stead of one , there were now four. A

CALIFORNIA DESERTS SEEKELEVEN NEW STATE PARKSSACRAMENTO Eleven newparks from California desert countieshave been mentioned as possibilitiesamong 83 Southern California Statepark projects in a five-year $64,000,-000 program released by the CaliforniaState Park Comm ission. The programalso sets aside funds for 1200 milesof riding and hiking trails in the state.Possible park sites include: (ImperialCounty) Imperial Sandhills and Pi-cacho; (Riverside County) Paintedand Box Canyons, Quien Sabe Point ,T h ou sa nd P a l m s a n d E h r e n b e r gBridge; (San Bernardino County)Mitchell 's Caverns, Trona LimestonePinnacles and Parker Dam. Los An-geles Times

family of young had been raised andcome to maturity in the time of ourabsence. A bully good time we hadwith the whole new lot.Y e s , Mrs. Ground Squirrel, we'll be

back to see you and the well-manneredmembers of your household this spring,again. We've adopted you as membersof our circle of closest and choicestdesert friends.

D e s e r t Q u i z : Since they cannot put you in jail for guess-ing wrong, D esert Magazine's monthly Quizprovides a pleasant evening's entertainmentwith no hazards attached. You may even learn something about the G reatAm erican Desert from these questions and answers. If you can answer10 of them correctly you may classify yourself as a fair beginner in thestudy of the life and lore of the desert coun try. A sc ore of 12 to 14 is fair,15-17 good, and if you make 19 or over you are qualified for the degreeSDSSand Dune Sage. The answers are on page 37.1According to legend the Lost Dutchman mine is located in the Panamint Mountains Catalina Moun tains Sangre deCristo Mo untains Superstition M ountains2 A "mu cker" generally works in aM ine . Sawmill . Che mi-cal laboratory . Dud e ranch3The Indian ruins known as Montezuma Castle are located inNewMexico . Arizona Nevad a ... California4"Chaparral Bird" is one of the common names given to aWildturkey __ ... Des ert quail .... Ro adru nne r.... . Ca ctus wren5The setting for Harold Bell Wright's book The Winning of BarbaraWorth was Death Valley . Salt River Valley of ArizonaImperial Valley of California- ... T he Mojave Desert6 Malachite belongs to the Mica group of minerals . Coppergroup_ . Iron group _ . Alum inum group7 Pitah aya fruit comes from a species ofSage . Des ert vineConiferous tree . Cactus8The most widely known character in the Lincoln County War wasBilly the Kid .... W yatt Ea rp .. Ike Clan ton . Butch

Cassidy9The name Kolb is connected withThe exploration of the GrandCanyo n by boat .._ .. The discovery of silver at Tom bstoneTh e mining of borax in California __ . Th e cap ture of Ge ronim o10Hadji Ali (Hi Jolly) was aRiver captain on the ColoradoCam el driver . Ap ache Indian chief . First white man toexplore Death Valley .11Desert mistletoe never grows on one of the following treesIron-wood Mesqu ite . Catsclaw. Joshu a tree12The cactus species most commonly used by craftsmen in the makingof cactus furniture is Sagu aro . Staghorn . Cho llaBeavertail13Clyde Forsythe is a desert Auth or . Painter . Na tural-ist Explo rer .14From the top of Sunset Crater one may seeSan Francisco peaksWasatch range .. . Funeral moun tains . San Jacinto peak .15The plant commonly called Devil's Claw is used by Indian women inmaking Toys for the children . Medicine . Seasoning forfood . Wea ving baske ts .16San Xavier del Bac mission is atN ogales . Tucson ... ElPaso . Santa Fe17Flowers most commonly seen growing on the sand dunes followingwinter rains are Sunflowers .... Des ert lilies .. . Ve rbe naPoppies18 The Mo hs scale is used in measuring the Purity of gold . Ageof a tree . Velocity of a river Ha rdne ss of a min eral .19One of the following streams is not a tributary of the Colorado RiverB ill Williams River . Gila River Hum boldt RiverSan Juan River20The annual Indian Inter-tribal Ceremonial is held in August eachyear atG allup, New Mexico Santa Fe, New Mexico .Window Rock, Arizona Tucson, Arizo na.. . . . . . .

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We Climbed Glass MountainAt some ancient period in geological history, there was an infernoof volcanic eruption in what is now known as the Mono Lake regionof east central California. Evidence of the prehistoric upheaval isfound today in the presence of numerous craters and in GlassMountain. Intrigued by the name, a group of Sierra Club mountaineersclimbed the peak and this is what they found.Abovehate snow still lay on the north slopes of the upper ridge.

BelowLooking across the summit mesa. The buff-colored pumice isstreaked with obsidian dust.

18

By LOUISE T. WERNERPhotos by Niles WernerMap by Norton AllenMONG THE Desert Peakers of

the Sierra Club there are somewho enjoy poring over maps

in search of new desert mountains toexplore. Lloyd Balsam, a young manwho between weekends of hiking andskiing supervises the testing of newequipment at Northrop Aircraft, cameacross the name "Glass Mountain" ona map of Mono County, California.The name intrigued him. Its proxim-ity to the Mono Craters suggested that"glass" might refer to the volcanicglass, obsidian.

The position of the mountain in thenorth end of Owens Valley, betweenthe Sierra Nevada Range on the westand the White Mountains on the eastsuggested that its 11,127-foot summitmight prove an exceptionally fine van-tage point from which to view thatpart of the country. He offered tolead a trip there over a three-day Mem-orial holiday.After the word had gone out via theprinted schedule, it turned out that the

idea interested a good many otherstoo. Fifty-six people met on Saturdaynoon at Tom's Place on Highway 395in upper Owens Valley, to caravan tothe campsite on Glass Mountain.We left Tom's Place, 14 cars of us,and continued up Highway 395 to asign reading "Whitmore Tubs." Weturned right onto a black-top road toBenton Crossing, eight miles, thereturning left on a dirt road that followedup the Owens River for about twomiles and then cut across the desertto the mouth of a canyon on the south-

west slope of Glass Mountain, five andone-half miles of dirt road.The road ended in the mouth of thecanyon at a large clearing under Jef-frey pines and quaking aspen. Theelevation was about 7500 feet. Formercampers had left the clearing strewnwith debris. Leader Balsam went towork with his shovel and others joinedhim in digging a pit which a dozenyoung people filled with tin cans andbottles. Old socks, paper cartons anda ragged shirt were piled up to beburned. It was like having to cleanthe tub before one's bath as well asafter, but what a difference it made!We filled our eyes with the naturalbeauty of the placethe shimmer ofrestless aspen leaves as the sun siftedthrough, tall Jeffrey pines hung with

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fat, handsome cones, wild roses strag-gling around the edges of the clearingas if to fence it in. A pa th led backthrough dense woods to a little streamrippling over a mosaic of granite peb-bles and black bits of obsidian. Clumpsof golden birches crowded the stream,their yellow catkins drooping, pendant-like, over the wate r. Wild iris bloomedbeside budding columbine.

The 56 people who settled them-selves to camp around the edges ofthe clearing and in little bays bulgingfrom it, ranged in age from 5 monthsto 64 years, including half a dozenchildren und er five. Co oking fires soonwere burning, the smell of woodsmokeblending with the aromas of brewingcoffee, broiling steaks and cannedstew. Eric Kent built a central wa rm-ing fire while his daughter Kathy, notquite two, watched him, big-eyed withthe fascination of it. Par ker Sever-son came back from reconnoitering inthe woods round about and reportedflushing two deer.

Even the 5-month-old son of theGarver Lights of Long Beach enjoyedthe evening campfire, cooing from thedepths of a snug blanke t. "H e's beingsocialized," his mother explained witha smile. It seemed unusually balmyfor an elevation of 75 00 feet. M arionDean led "Home on the Range,""There's a Long, Long Trail" and adozen other favorite campfire songs.Lloyd Balsam's announcement that theclimb to the summit of Glass Moun-tain would begin at eight on Sundaymorning brought exclamations of sat-isfaction from some who remembereddesert peak climbs that began at threea.m. Forty-one of us would climb.

Climbing from this campsite to the11,127-foot summit, 3500 feet of ele-vation is gained in about six miles.There was no official trail, but theimpression which we made on the deertrails Leader Lloyd chose to followwill probably mark the route for along time.We contoured up the west slope ofthe canyon under the Jeffrey pinesuntil a rocky buttress barred our way.Zigzagging up beside the buttress wewere soon high enough on the slopeto look back over the canyon's mouthand see the road trailing out over thesage flat toward the Ow ens River. Acontinuous line of snowy Sierra peaksstood against the sky.

On the opposite side of the canyonthe slope, supporting a dense stand ofpines, culminated in a rocky pinnacle.Bits of obsidian tinkled in the mixtureof sand and pumice that slid underfoot.Bitterbrush, covered with yellowblooms, filled the air with the scent ofhoney and attracted bees, butterfliesand humming birds. The leaves of

' ' ; ;

Focus hasn't a chance when both cam era and subjects are skidding downscree. The long pumice slope s made the descent of Glass Mou ntain easy,fast and fun.the mountain mahogany bristled darkgreen against silver bark . A tiny rosytrumpet with yellow veins in its throatgrew close to the ground, one of theless common species of mimulus."See that long slide over there?"asked Lloyd, pointing to a steep scree-run of buff-colored pumice with bitsof obsidian sparkling in it. "What doyou say we try coming down that way?"From across the canyon it lookedsmooth and boulder-free, promising asafe and fast descent.The blue of Crowley Lake cameinto view at the foot of the SierraNevada. Overhead a mou ntain blue-bird chased a hawk . Some graniteboulders along the trail looked worm-eaten where foreign particles hadweathered out. We passed a strangemushroom, table-high, made up ofalternate layers of obsidian and sand-stone, and another that looked as ifchunks of obsidian had been haphaz-ardly cemented together to make arough pedestal.

Lloyd led with an easy pace, allow-ing plenty of time for resting, catchingup, identifying plants and rocks, admir-ing the views and taking pictures, andvisiting. His pace encourag ed peoplenew to mountain climbing and wasundoubtedly responsible for the factthat all made the summit without dif-ficulty.

A lava flow capped the top of theridge. The taller pines had all beenleft behind but smaller, more limber

evergreens continued to the summit inever thinning groups, dieir branchesblown leeward. We walked overmounds of coarsely broken obsidianthat resembled heaps of broken bottleswhich, to our surprise, did not cut intoour boots as badly as had the com-moner type of lava we had encount-ered on other volcanic mountains, theiron-like masses pitted with airholes.

When one sees, side by side, thesmooth, glossy black of obsidian andthe grainy gray of granite, it is hardto believe that they are made up ofessentially the same elements. Obsid-ian pushes up out of a volcano in amass too viscous to crystallize andcools rapidly with a minimum of air-holes. Gran ite also begins as hotmagma but cools slowly, underground,and crystallizes.

Since obsidian was a valuable rawmaterial to the early Indians for arrow-heads, spear points, knives and hidescrapers, we kept scanning the groundfor "worked" pieces. Ken Rich founda flake that showed signs of workingbut further search yielded no others.Others found pieces with gray band-ings and some of mottled red.The Paiute Indians who used to in-habit Owens Valley in large numbersand whose descendants still live there,traded obsidian with coastal tribes forshells, and with inland tribes for hides.When an Indian found a new sourceof obsidian he didn't stake a personalclaim to it. It belonged to the tribe as

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a whole. Obsidian quarries sometimesbelonged to a number of tribes; evenenemy tribes might meet there undertruce, to gather materials for theirweapons.Obsidian played such an importantpart in the lives of the Indians that insome tribes it came to have a religioussignificance. The craftsman w ho couldturn out exceptionally fine implementsfound himself in a position to influencethe minds of others. He would inspecteach flake as it fell. Hi s fellow trib es-men believed him if he declared thata certain flake had curative powers;they would keep that flake as a charm

against disease. He might pronounceone flake poisonous and the next onenon-poisonous even when they camefrom the same piece. Many believedhim without question when he saidsolemnly, "This point is for bear, thisone for deer, this one for coyote andthis for a human enemy."According to Samuel Alfred Barrett,the Pomo Indians of Lake County,California, accounted for the obsidianthey found on the slopes of Mt. Ko-nokti by creating "Obsidian Man," amythical character they could call onin time of need. Obsidian M an savedthem time after time from their ene-

mies, wild beasts and foul weather.One day when he was walking nearthe top of Mt. Konokti he tripped inthe weeds and fell, breaking into athousand pieces. That's why the southslope of Mt. Konokti is covered withobsidian.in Peru and Yucatan archeologists

have uncovered mirrors of obsidianthat were used by the ancient Mayans.In 1942, when black glass for sun re-flectors became unobtainable, Dr. G.Dallas Hanna of the California Acad-emy of Sciences conceived the idea ofusing obsidian to make mirrors fornaval instruments. His experimentsproved successful and such mirrors arein use today. Obsidian cond ucts heatat a rapid rate, is harder than pyrexand lens grinders today consider itsuperior to some forms of artificialglass.Over a saddle we looked down thepine-covered slopes of McGee Canyonto meadows on the edge of the AdobeValley in whose bowl two lakessparkled. The topographic map of theMt. Morris Quadrangle showed ranchesin the Ad obe Valley. Roa ds etchedthe valley floor. Beyo nd a low ridgeto the east the highway trailed up overMontgomery Pass into Nevada.Snow patches still lay on the northside of the ridge we were traveling.The ridge led us up on a rolling mesawhich had two high points, one to our

left and one to our right, about half amile apar t. Th e mesa looked like anold crater filled in with powderedpumice streaked with obsidian dust.The easterly summit broke offabruptly and the face of the resultingcliff looked like baked pumice mud,similar in appearance to adobe. Belowthe cliff a snow-etched ridge droppedto the low green hills of the BentonRange beyond which the White Moun-tains rose to over 14,000 feet. Wepicked out Boundary Peak where wehad stood last Fourth of July lookingacross to Glass Mountain.Sierra Nevada Peaks filled in thesouthwest 90 degrees of our horizon,Mounts Ritter, Banner and the Mina-rets occupying the center of the arc.The temperature was so agreeable thatwe basked two hours on the summit.An 11,000-foot summit is not alwaysso hospitably balmy as Glass Moun-tain was Mem orial Day. We cong rat-ulated Jocelyn Delmonte, 12, on beingthe youngest lady to qualify for mem-bership in the Desert Peaks Section ofthe Sierra Club, Glass Mountain beingher sixth peak from the approved list.Most of the time a mountain climberplods. But down Glass Mountain wefairly flew. We found two long pum-ice slides and skated down, slidingthree feet at every stroke. The p rob -



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Fortv-one Sierrans reached the 11,127-foot summit of Glass Mountain, California,on a weekend hike last spring.lem of avoiding boulders, usually pres-ent on scree slopes, was almost absenton this one. Even the sixty-year-oldsin the party slid down with an aban-don that belied their years. It was themost exciting scree-run we had everencountered, losing over a thousandfeet of elevation in 15 minutes. Ob-sidian chips rang like Chinese chimesas clouds of powder billowed about thehilarious queue. When Ken Merton,nine, finally ran out of slope he hol-lered, "Let's go up and do it again,P o p ! "Had time permitted, Pop and therest of us would have agreed. It hadbeen an easy climb up, a fast slidedown Lloyd Balsam's intriguing GlassMountain.SEARCH OF CHAPEL RUINMAY FIND KINO'S GRAVENOGALESJust across the borderfrom here, at Magdalena, Sonora,Mexico, archeologists are unearthingwhat they believe may be the grave ofFather Eusebio Kino, builder of Span-ish missions in the Southwest. Thesearch is being conducted at a ruinbelieved by its discoveror, Col. GilProctor, U. S. Army, Ret., to be thechapel of San Francisco Xavier, whereeighteenth century historians recordedthe priest died and was buried in 1711.The ruin follows the floor plan of theusual religious center in the old South-west chapel, vestry, priest's roomand enclosed courtyard used as a ceme-tery. Phoenix Gazette

P ie tm - o f - tk - m o n t f i C o n t e s t . . .Amateur and professional photographers have been recordingthe desert spring more thoroughly this year than ever before. Amongthose photos will be winners in solons and contests from one coastto another and from border to border. Some will also take prizes inthe Desert Magazine Picture-of-the-month Contest. Is yours a prize-winner? As long as it is a picture of the desert Southwestan unusualscene, a unique rock or tree formation, human interest, or perhaps ananimal shotit is eligible for the Desert contest.Entries ior the April contest must be sent to the Desert Magazineoffice. Palm Desert, California, and postmarked not later than April1 8 . Winning prints will appear in the June iss ue . Pictures wh ich arrivetoo late for one contest are held over for the next month. First prizeis $10;second prize $5. For non-winning pictures accepted for publica-

tion $3each will be paid.HERE ARE THERULES

1Prints for monthly contests must be black and white. 5x7 or larger, printedon glossy paper.2Each photograph submitted should be fully labeled as to subject, time andplace. Also technical data: camera, shutter speed, hour of day, etc.3PRINTS WILL BE RETURNED WHEN RETURN POSTAGE IS ENCLOSED.4All entries must be in the Desert Magazine office by the 20th of the contestmonth.5Contests are open to both amateur and professional photog rapher s. DesertMagazine requires first publication rights only of prize winning pictures.6Time and place of photograph are immaterial, except that it must be from thedesert Southwest.7Judges will be selected from Desert's editorial staff, and awards will be made

immediately after the close of the contest each month.Address All Entries to Photo Editor*74e *D e4ent 7%aycifi*te PALM DESERT, CALIFORNIA

APRIL, 1955 21


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HOME ON THE DESERTW ater, W ork, and Zucchini. . .By RUTH REYNOLDSHEN I FIRST came to Arizonasome 20 years ago I took onelook at the desert around meand condemned it as any kind of gar-dening spot o r garden spot. Likemost new-comers, I regarded its vege-tation with a pitying eye and a closedmind. "Poor things," I thought, look-ing at the scrubby treesdwarfed andscantily foliaged and the strange,stunted bushes straggling over the cac-tus-dominated desertside.Just when my attitude began tochange I do not remem ber. But I dorecall the long-ago day when a youngMexican girl looked out of the buswindow as we neared my house on theoutskirts of Tucson and exclaimed toher comp anion, "Loo k! Oh, look outthere! Is it not a God-forgiven place?"

She had of course simply mistrans-lated the old term of condemnation,but her phrase pleased me, and fromthat day on I have thought of myadopted homeland not as a God-for-saken but a God-forgiven land . I haveforgiven the desert its sins, which werenot sins at all but its own peculiarvirtues. An d I soon learned to havegreat respect and a feeling that amountsalmost to one of kinship for its grow-ing things that survive against all odds.When wemy husband, our threesmall daughters and Imoved intoour first (and present) home I barelyknew the mesquite tree in the backyard for what it was, and the funny,straggly, smelly bush beside it as agreasewood.Years later, during World War II,it was there under that same mesquitetree that I started a small vegetablegarden. A venture not too successfulat first but one so fascinating that I amstill gardening.Natu rally I had a little to learn. Alittle? We ll, I was from M issou ri, andI knew how to make a gardeninMissouri. Come spring, you boughtsome seedsradishes, lettuce, onions,all sorts of vegetablesand you gotthe garden plowed and prepared andyou planted the seeds and let themgrow.To change over to desert garden-

ing all I had to do was substitute thespade for the plow and my husbandfor the plow horse and proceed accord-ing to directions on the seed packet.I knew of course that I couldn't justlet the garden growI had to make

NEW DEPARTMENT FORDESERT HOME-MAKERSThis month. Desert Magazineintroduces to its readers a newcontributor Ruth Reynolds ofTucson, Arizona, who writes in-formally of her experiences inhome-gardening on the desert.This department, "Home on theDesert," is to be a regular fea-ture in future m onth s. Mrs. Reyn-olds, in cooperation with Des-ert's staff and with suggestions

from readers, will discuss notonly gardening but also otherphases of the art of creatingconvenience and beauty indesert h o m e s . Readers are in-vited to send in ideas from theirown experiences in desert liv-ing. (See Randall Henderson'seditorial on native shrub experi-ments in the March issue.)

it grow, with water chiefly. So I maderows, rather neat ones as I remember,and planted radishes, lettuce, beans,spinach and squash.

We didn't like squash. But I'dheard that the Southwest Indian tribeshad grown it centuries ago in desertsoil, so my garden included squash.It was just as well, because the squashgrew and its yield was gratifying. Th eradishes too did welldown at theend of the row where the washed-awayseeds lodged. The bean s, all 16 podsof them, had an excellent flavor; thespinach (planted too late in the sea-son) went to seed while I was waitingfor it to grow up . Th e lettuce didn 'thave a chance. It came up also downat the row-endbut Arizona birds arehungry and fond of lettuce. After theyhad finished mine they took off forgreen lettuce fields in other parts ofthe state, I'm sure.

Since that first year I've never triedto compete with their ravenous appe-tite for young lettuce leaves, or withthe commercial lettuce growers.But home growing elevates manymerely tolerated vegetables to the fa-vorite foods class. Take squash, forinstance. We like it now severalsummer varieties of it, including Zuc-chini and yellow straightneck (EarlyPro lific). Prolific it is, too , so easy togrow. I've learned many ways to serve

itan d so have the neighbors. Myhusband is, I believe, mistaken in sus-pecting them of hiding behind closeddoors when they see us coming duringthe squash season.Still , this spring I'm planting onlytwo varieties and only two hills of akind because it becomes even moreprolific as I learn more about garden-ing.One of the first things I learned wasto get the garden out from under thatmesquite tree. But it did grow so beau-tifully! The tree, I mean. I guess it hadbeen thirsty for a long, long time. Andthe second year it took to the commer-cial fertilizer better than the vegetablesdidor else its roots just got a headstart and didn't leave any for the vege-tables. Still I recall they didn't do sowell in the new garden plot either, theyear I used only commercial fertilizerbecause I didn't want the weed andgrass seed that come with barnyardmanure .That was another thing I learnedearly. New meth ods of artificial plantfeedingeven with no soil at allmaybe just around the corner, but until weround that corner there is no substi-tute for manure for building up andmaintaining soil productivity in adesert garden.

But fertilizing can be overd one. Ihave had plants, tomatoes and beansespecially, so over-fed and over-wat-ered that they grew into beautifulluxurious vines with no tomatoes orbeans. My rule-of-thumb, that workspretty well, is 100 pounds of well rot-ted manure to one pound of superphos-phate for a plot of 200 square feet,with frequent (three times a week)fairly shallow watering. And sunshine.Any vegetable that can't take full sunhas no place in a desert garden.And no garden's place is in theshadeespecially not in the shade ofa mesquite treewith a greasewoodbeside it.Which brings me to the only realdisaster of my gardening career. Ikilled the greasewood bush . W hetherit was with water or fertilizer or bothI do not know. But it died and I wassorry.My only consolation was a scrawnybush just across the fence in our neigh-bor's yard. But our neighbors soonmoved away and a big-city couplebought their house. To my dismay, Icaught her, right off, trying to elimin-ate the greasewood.

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Something had to be done. Assum -ing my most neighborly manners, Iventured to intercede for the bush."You like it?" she asked me."Yes ," I said, "I like it. If it weremine I'd leave it.""But why?" she wanted to know.She was a New Yorker and I wasn'tgoing to like her, I thought. But Itried to explain. "It's kind of prettyor could be," I told her, "and it smellsgood, when there's rain."She looked at me strangely for amoment and then she smiled and said,"If you like it we will leave it." An dI knew her for the good neighbor shehas proved to be.To this day she probably doesn'tknow that "our bush," which forageson both sides of the fence and thrivesbeautifully, is actually a creosote bushresinous, slightly poisonous, known

to native desert people as "little badsmeller" but commonly called grease-wood.W O R L D D E S E R T S Y M P O S I U MDUE APRIL 26 IN AMERICA

"The Future of Our Arid Lands" isthe subject of a symposium to be at-tended by experts from all over thedesert regions of the world April 26to May 4 at Albuquerque and Socorro,New Mexico, sponsored by the UnitedNations UNE

195504 desert magazine 1955 april

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