A Conversation Between Father and Son

"A CONVERSATION BETWEEN FATHER AND SON" By Joseph J. Porter, Forest Ranger It was a beautiful August evening at the Upper Valley Ranger Station on the Powell National Forest, where father and son sat in conversation. They had returned that afternoon from a several day's ride over the forest and had now finished partaking of a well cooked supper of baking-powder biscuits and mutton, with plenty of fruit for dessert. The old dog, Fritz, curled up in the corner with a whine, as much as to say: "The time is yours; I will listen to all that is said." He was a large dog, wideawake, and always on hand to do his duty when called upon. He was very fierce and had to be watched closely when driving stock, especially the pack-horses along the trail, but was a good companion to his master while on the range. Bon was a boy of 13, and this was about his first experience on the range. He was very anxious to learn something about the early settlement of the country and how the range had been handled. His father jwas a man who had had over twenty years of experience on the range, and who had listened to the many stories of the pioneers of the country. "Well, father, I wonder if there were any white men in this country before the pioneers came in." "Yes, son, Mr. Alma Barney, now of Panguitch, Utah, told me that he came through this Valley with a posse of about fifty men, trailing a band of renegade Indians, several years before the pioneers entered the Valley. They wended their way across the rocks and deep canyons to Boulder and then turned back across the plateaus into Sevier Valley. They 'did not overtake the Indians but said it was a very dangerous trip on account of so many Indians throughout the country. The vegetation and scenery were most beautiful; the moun- tain streams were filled with spotted trout and the wild life was plentiful. Grass was almost a solid mat over the entire mountain range, while deer and antelope were so numerous, they could be seen bounding in every direction. However, the time came when the antelope became extinct. An old Indian who died here a few years ago told how this happened. On the northern side of the Forest that slopes towards Rabbit Valley, he said, the Indians made their main camps during the hunting seasons. They would, make long strings of rock over the open country and every so often they would make a hole in the ground and pile up rocks around it in order that an Indian could get inside with his bow and arrow. During the night he would hoist a flag of some kind and the next morning the antelope, seeing

336 IMPROVEMENT ERA THE DOG, THE BOY AND THE MOUNTAIN

A CONVERSATION BETWEEN FATHER AND SON 337 the strange object, would be curious to know what it was. They would begin to follow along the strings of rocks until they got within a certain distance of the flag and would then travel in a circle, com- ing closer in an effort to find out what it meant, finally coming so near that the Indian inside could send the arrow through the heart of the animal. Several* could be killed before they would discover the danger. He said the final hunt came one winter when the snow fell deep and the antelope gathered on the side hills of a deep canyon. The Indians, seeing the condition, made snowshoes, got in above them and drove them into the bottom of the canyon, where they killed them all. Coming into camp they had a big war dance over the slaughter of the antelope. After the dance was over they began to wonder what they would do for meat during the winters that were to follow, and they felt very sorry over what they had done." "Well, father, it seems as if they had very poor sense, in killing them that way." ' I "Yes, but you know from reading the history of the Indian that they have a disposition to kill and slaughter." "Well, after this, there were several posses of men came into the valley, looking for a place to settle. Finally in July, 1875, there came the old sturdy pioneers, fifteen in number. They blazed their way down the canyon where the present road now is. You can see traces of the old road at the present time. They pitched their camp in a bend by the creek — which consisted of about one second-foot of water — just north of where the town now stands, and from their own stories they had an enjoyable time that evening, dancing in the sand by the light, and singing praises to the Most High. "The next morning they were surprised by Mr. Thompson's surveying party, which had come up from the Colorado: river explor- ing the country. The company camped, and they had a great conversa- tion in regard to their travels. Mr. Thompson told the pioneers that Father Escalante had been in this country a number of years ago, and they had seen his signs as far down as the Colorado river, and if they intended to make a settlement here, he would like to have them name the town Escalante. After leaving the pioneers some flour which he said they did not want to carry out, they took a northern course up what is now called Pine Creek, to Rabbit Valley. The next thing was to make a treaty with the Indians, since there were a great many of them in the Valley. The pioneers killed a beef and called the Indians together. They then reached an understanding and agreement with the Indians in regard to the settling of the country. The Indians gave them very little trouble after this meet- ing. They then proceeded to clear the land and put in crops which matured that season, giving them plenty of food to live upon. "During this time there was one incident which caused quite an excitement among the colony. They decided to have a celebration on the 24th of July, and, not having a flag, sent a rider to Panguitch

338 IMPROVEMENT ERA after one. On returning, one of the party wanted to hoist the Union Jack instead of the Stars and Stripes. This made the Yankee blood boil and they told him if he ran that flag up the pole, he would hang with it. This almost caused the shedding of blood, but the affair was finally settled with good feelings. "The laying out of a town was the next pdint to be considered. There were different ideas in regard to the size of the town, some thinking one hundred lots would be plenty, as the water would not support any more. But fortune favors the brave; the town has grown to over three hundred families while the water has increased to over fifteen second-feet and is still increasing. Many homes could yet be made if the water that is going to waste was harnessed and brought into use, which it doubtless will be some day. "According to the many stories, the range that we have ridden over the last few days was once a stockmen's paradise, there being no end to forage for stock. Many men became wealthy in the stock business. Finally, however, the transient began to creep in with thousands of sheep and cattle, which almost caused the ruination of the country. The grassy parks that were once pleasing to the eye are now a trodden mass of sheep and cattle trails. Finally the time came, in 1904, when the mountain ranges were put under Government control." "Oh, I see; is that why the sheep and cattle are separated onto different pieces of land?" "Yes, that is why. Each sheepman is allowed so many sheep and is given a certain land allotment to run them on, under certain regulations, and the same applies to the cattleman. By doing this the Government is trying to bring the range back to what it once was." "Yes, but can this be done? The grass that the stock like is all trampled out and killed, and poisonous plants have taken its place. It looks as if it would be no good." "Yes, son, it does look that way at a glance; but there are many ways which have been tested out. One is to build enclosures where nothing can molest the forage for a few seasons. I have seen these enclosures built about sixteen by sixteen feet on ground where it looked as if nothing ever did grow, and in two years I have counted from fifteen to twenty different kinds of forage plants from six to fourteen inches high. This is one way in many which shows that the good feed would come back, if it had a chance." "That is all well and good, father, but how are the people going to live while this is being done?" "Oh, that is very easy. Raise sheep and cattle; cooperate to- gether and let several parties each have a few sheep and run them together instead of one man having them all. It has been proved beyond a doubt that one well-bred sheep will shear as much wool as three common ones. The same applies to cattle with regard to

A CONVERSATION BETWEEN FATHER AND SON 339 weight. Of course, the people have to be educated to these things, it cannot be done in a few days. Look how long it has taken to ruin the country, and figure from that how long it will take to bring it back. I will show you some of the main forage plants tomorrow as we ride over the range, and you can then see how they have been abused and how hard they have tried to live, but finally had to give it up and die." At this, old Fritz began to thump his tail on the floor in appreciation of what had been said, and father and son decided it was time to go to bed. Early the next morning they were on their way, going down through the pasture where a bunch of cattle was discovered in the enclosure. An examination disclosed the fact that it was the same bunch that had been giving trouble to the station all season. "Oh father, isn't that a big old bull? he has such long, slim horns with sharp needle points. I'll bet he would make a person make for the tall cactus if he took after him." "Yes, that is the same old fellow that Fritz and I had the trouble with the last trip I was here. Out there in that large bunch of oaks is where old Fritz was trying so hard to get him out, when I rode in to help him. The old bull whirled around, caught my horse in the breast, and threw Us back into the oaks. He was just going to make another dive at us1 when old Fritz ran in and grabbed him by the heels, which caused him to turn and run. I believe he would have killed us, if it had not been for the dog. He gored my horse in one shoulder; I doctored him up and he was soon well. I believe the old dog saved our lives at this time, as he surely did look fierce with those long, sharp horns. We will not bother him until we return this evening; then Mr. Longhorns will have to leave the pasture. We will ride out on the south side today as we have a< date with the stockmen. There is some trouble between the sheep and cattlemen over the allotment lines which must be settled." "There the men are now, father, waiting under that large, yellow pine tree for us. Do you think we'll have any trouble with them?" "I should say not; it is just a little misunderstanding between them that can easily be settled in a few minutes." "Well, hello, Ranger — still on the job?" shouted one of the cattlemen. "Yes, right on the dot according to the watch," answered the ranger." After a short conversation, the lines were soon adjusted agreeably between the two parties. "I sea you have Bon with you this trip," spoke one of the stockmen. "Going to make a ranger out of him I guess?" "No, not exactly, but I am trying to show him how hard the plant life will struggle to live after it is overgrazed. You know he

340 IMPROVEMENT ERA is studying plant life in school, and he said that he could not see any use of wasting his time along this line." "Stay with your study," said one of the men as he smiled at Bon, "for that is just what you need in your everyday life, especially if you intend to run stock on the range. Now, son, we will take, for instance, that bitter brush there; you see it has been grazed down until it has became hedgy. That is due to overgrazing. It has tried for a number of years to live; it has shot out its shoots from every angle trying to grow, but they have been grazed off every year until it has quit trying and died. This one over here on the ledge has been protected from the stock and its long, slim shoots, of each year's growth, are very beautiful to look upon. This is the way the forage plants looked during the early settlement of the country, and they can be brought back to this condition, if the number of stock is cut down to where each plant can furnish its share of forage so that the country will not be overgrazed." After the day's ride over the range, the men separated for their different camping places, talking about the good time they had had together discussing the condition of the range and the plant life. "Well, Bon, now for old Longhorns. You open the gate, go up to the houise and start a fire. Old Fritz and I will clear the pasture." Fritz listened with his ears pricked up, as if he knew what they were talking about. They started after the cattle, Fritz singling out old Longhorns. Down the pasture they went, Fritz's teeth clicking as they slipped off old Longhorn's heels. After a long chase he was finally run outside. The dog came trotting back as if to say: "I have completed the job."' The ranger sized up the condition of things and decided to drive him over the ridge, thinking if he gave him a good, chase he would not return. He called for old Fritz but he refused to go. This was something he had never done before, in fact, he was always anxious to go. After a good deal of insisting, the dog finally went as far as the gate and then turned back. It seemed as if he were afraid. The ranger insisted again, and finally he tore loose at old Longhorns, made a dive at him, and caught him up against the net wire. With a loud bellow the bull turned his head sideways as if he knew just how it was done, and in an instant had driven his long horn through Fritz, which brought from him a most pitiful howl. He then turned with his long horn covered with blood and trotted away. The man rode over to where he was and the dog looked at him with a whine, as much as to say: "I helped you — now you help me!" The ranger laid his hand on his- head and patted him, but when he saw the large hole that went through his lungs he could see that death was near. The thought ran through the man's mind: "Well,

A CONVERSATION BETWEEN FATHER AND SON 341 Lord, he is only a dog. He is a good friend. He saved my life, but I am powerless to save his. Goodbye, Fritz." The dog looked up and whined, and in his dog language also seemed to say, "goodbye." He then straightened out, the shudder of death passed through his body, and old Fritz was gone. The man felt heartsick as he rode up to the house to break the news to his son. As he told him what had happened, the boy said: "I heard that strange howl, and wondered if something had not happened to Fritz. But, father, I guess it cannot be helped now." "No, but after it is all over, I can see now where I should have listened to him. He tried to tell me by refusing to go near that danger. I am convinced now that if we would only listen to the animal language and observe their actions at times, we would be better off, and, also, that there is an overruling power that warns animals, as well as human beings, of the dangers ahead of them. You know, son, this life is a great school and there is always something to study and learn. And as with the plant life, so with the wild life. As a person studies the wild life of the forest and learns the habits' and ways of the animals and birds, it becomes most interesting." "Oh, father, if the wild life of the forest is as interesting as the plant life, I am going with you on another trip, and have you show and teach me some of the habits of wild animals., I am now sure that nature is very interesting and I ami going to learn all I can about it. I am going to live in the mountains more, and sleep where I can studv and dream of the great things of nature which God has placed on the earth for man. I love to ride among the tall pines, and have them bow to me in the breeze and say like the poem says: 'I am only a tree. I never came by chance, but was created by law and intelligence.' " Escatante, Utah. BEAUTIFUL OLD AGE By James H. Moore In the fall of 1908, I sat in a meeting in Jacksonville, Florida, and listened to a man speak who was at that time one hundred and two years old. As he spoke I thrilled, for I calculated, mentally, that he was born just seven years after George Washington died, and that he was three years older than Abraham Lincoln. We were listening to spoken wisdom from another generation. Everything the old gentleman said had a touch of humor in it which made his talk unusually interesting and entertaining. Among other things, he remarked, dryly: "Mr. George Albert Smith of Salt Lake City visited me in St. Augustine, on my one hundred and second

342 IMPROVEMENT ERA birthday and, when I am a hundred and ten, I am going to Utah to see him." A friend of mine who was ninety years old at the time we were cronies was bent and crippled with .rheumatism. He was a Civil War veteran and had been seriously wounded at the battle of Gettysburg. He walked slowly and laboriously with a cane and his voice had such a tremble that one could scarcely understand what he said. One day he came into my office, which was not far from the town library. He had in his hand a copy of Mark Twain's Innocents Abroad which he had borrowed from the library. He wished to return it but had found the door locked. With great difficulty, he said, "Will you give this to the librarian, when she comes in?" I took the book, promised to accommodate him, and asked if he wouldn't sit down and rest. He backed around to a chair, leaned heavily on his cane, and finally dropped into a sitting position, at the same time, pulling a wry face. "Whew," he said, "something seems to be the matter with my bones." After quite a long pause, he added, with a twinkle in his eye, "It can't be old age, for I will only be ninety-one my next birthday." I laughed at his humor but a lump come into my throat. He was far from being good looking, but his philosophical attitude made him seem attractive to me. . I know a lady whose hair is white but whose face is as sweet as any girl of sixteen. Her every movement has the resiliency of youth. A lecturer who has traveled much, said to me not long ago, "Wherever I go, I am appalled at the number of decrepit and for- lorn old men that I meet — men who have apparently lost all interest in life and are just waiting — some very ungracefully — for the end to come." I could not disagree with him. There is an old saying, "If a man is not handsome at twenty, healthy at thirty, nor wealthy at forty; he will be neither handsome, healthy nor wealthy." I devoutly hope that I might be an exception. I trust, since I failed at twenty, that I might, like some of my friends, have a beautiful old age. Love A thing that's written from the soul, Is sure to find a receptive goal. If I had power from above, I'd fill the universe with love. And not a soul, to latest date, Would ever have a thought of hate. Vancouver, B. C. E. L. SPRING