195606 Desert Magazine 1956 June

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DESERT NIGHTBy ELIZABETH LEESARGENTOntario, California

Far removed from throbbing highways.From themad roar of rushing cars.The desert offers solitude,And quiet peace beneath thestars.No m an-made traps forweary feel,Nor lurid scenes for tired eyes,Only thesilent solitude,And peace beneath the tranquil sides. TRYST

By IDA F. C OMB ESIDenver, ColoradoI know cool nights ondesert landWith emerald stars andrising moo n;A bro.id expanse of sun-bleached sandWhere flowers pale inearly June.The burnish lustred sand I sawAnd Joshua trees now bent withage:I drank thebrimming cup of aweAnd caught the myrrh-sweet breath of sage.A silent land on anynight.Wearing a robe of soft blue mistWith gleaming stars like candle light;Within myheart I hold a tryst.

DESERT FUNBy MARIE NYEHOLTPico, CaliforniaIt's fun to explore in thedesert;To prowl through thesoft golden sand.It's fun to examine the flowersThat rear their bright heads from theland

It's exciting tohunt for thedriftwoodAnd minerals andgemstones that hideIn thecascading shade of thecanyons.Or that lurk in theshifting sand tide.It's a glory todrink at thechaliceOf the life giving amber gold sun.An d to feel theswift wingOf the air as it singsIt's awonderful place tohave fun!

SONG OF THESPURSBy NINA O. LANSINGSt. David, Arizona

A ranch woman knowsThe song of thespursBuckled tobooted feet;The jingly, jangly, breadwinning spursWith music in their beat.She hears them whenThey accompanyA bawling calf athand,Bewailing thesearing branding ironBurning theowner's hrand.She hears them,too.They sing, they sayAs horse andrider take off,"Pound theleather anduncoil thetwine,Pile on theloopand he'scaught!"But thebrashest tuneIs thetune they playWith raking rowels that ring,"Ride that bronc if you're able,Highwide an'han'someZing, Zing!"Oh jingly, janglyRollickin' spurs,Ranch woman would have youretreat;The day is so long when you're bucked toolongTo hercow-man's booted feet.

By TANYA SOUTHUnstable is our lotunsure.From day to daysome new allureHaunts us. And ourendeavors fritter.Change brings somany things to litterThe Pathway to thefree and wide.We lack a concentrated stride.We lack a fullness in oursoul.All dedicated to some goalSome purpose, tounswerving press.Therein lies Greatnessand Success.

By H E L E N K. BURBANKSan Bernardino, CaliforniaYour home isjust a desert shackFar beyond thedripping fogBut your friends allthink youenvyThem their villas in thesmog.They shake their heads inwonderAnd they cannot understandWhat it is that keeps youhappyIn theland of endless sand.So just askthem for a visitGet them up at break of dayAnd then wait for their reactionsT o thedesert's reveille.Will their criticisms vanish?Well, at least they'll beless vocalAnd perhaps some daythey will admilYou're notjust a stupid yokel.They've been touched bydesert magicAnd some daythey'll understandThat thedesert has a meaningFar beyond theshifting sand.

THE WHIRLWINDBy M E R L E A. BROWNPiedmont, CaliforniaSuch a lonesome little whirlwindOn thedesert's vast expanse.Pirouetting prettilyIn herlovely lissome dance.

DESERT LOVEBy EVA L. BROWNELas Vegas, Nevada

I found my ove in a lovely placeA meadow theflowers had left;The trees andrivers hadpassed it by.Desertedforlornbereft.There thewind came down from theWalapi,A sword ineach hand hecame,But he glanced away from love's glowingcheek,And melted his icy flame.The dagger plant tipped his weapons withlight,The cactus hisbarb had forsworn,Mesquite andJoshua, spine bedightFor love, they hadhidden their thorn.Men called it a desert whose charms werefew,Desolate, barren of grace;Men called it a desert, butoh . I knewLove dwelt in a lovely place!

SILENT GUARDSBy FERN GREENWALD DAVISLong Beach, CaliforniaAs shades of blue andpurpleBathe distant rugged peaks.Twilight falls insilenceOnly nature speaks.As sleep onwings of blacknessSmothers thesunset's glow,Those hillslike knights in armorStand guarding thedesert below. BRIGHT SENTINEL

By NELL GRIFFITH WILSONKenwood, CaliforniaSo rich its flame against thedesert sky,So clothed inglory like a throne onhigh.It is as ifA thousand sunsetsForever stamped their beautyOn thecliff.

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D E S E R T C R L E I l D f l RMay 30-June 17Southwest Archi-tecture Exhibition, Museum ofNorthern Arizona, Flagstaff.June 1Lowell Observatory, Flagstaff,Arizona, opens evening sessions forpublic on alternate Fridays. Ad-mission by tickets obtainable free

of charge at Chamber of Commerceor at Observatory Library.June 1-3Kids' Rodeo, Otero CountyFairgrounds, Alamogordo, N. M.June 1-15Second Annual Art Show,sponsored by Rodeo de Santa Fe,Museum of New Mexico Art Gal-lery, Santa Fe.June 2Park Lake Day and FishingDerby, Santa Rosa, New Mexico.June 2-3Morongo Valley, Califor-nia, Annual Spanish Fiesta at theMorongo Lodge.June 3Corpus Christi Sunday, Out-door Religious Processions fromSt. Francis Cathedral and CristoRey Church, Santa Fe, New Mex-i c o ; and Ouadalupe Church andOld Mission, Taos and Ranchos deTaos.June 7-9Murray, Utah, Rodeo.June 9-10Carson Valley Days, Min-den, Nevada.June 10Tour to Grave of EugeneManlove Rhodes, Alamogordo, NewMexico.June 10Procession of La Conquis-tadora from St. Francis Cathedralto Rosario Chapel, Santa Fe, NewMexico.June 10-17New Mexico Girls' State,Albuquerque.June 11-16 Nevada Boys' State,Reno.June 12St. Anthony's Processionafter Vespers, La Loma, Taos, NewMexico.June 13San Antonio Corn Dance,Taos Pueblo, New Mexico. Cor-doba and various other northernNew Mexico rural communitieswill celebrate Feast of San Antoniode Padua. Fiesta at Sandia; Danceat San lldefonso.June 15Junior Rodeo, Globe, Ariz.June 15-179th Annual New MexicoState Championship High SchoolRodeo, Santa Rosa, New Mexico.June 16Desert Catalpa Club Hos-pitality Day, Lenwood, Barstow,California.June 16-17Navajo Roundup, Win-dow Rock, Arizona.June 16-17Kearny Entrada, Raton,New Mexico.June 18-22 Nevada Girls' State,Reno.June 20-23Annual Strawberry Days,Pleasant Grove, Utah.June 23-24Lions Club All IndianRodeo, Gallup, New Mexico.June 24Annual Fiesta and Cere-monial Dances, San Juan Pueblo,New Mexico. Corn Dances at Taosand Acoma Pueblos.June 25-July 6 Southwest Writers'Workshop, Arizona State College,Flagstaff. Phyllis and WeldonHeald, directors.June 27-30Rodeo, Miniature Par-ade and Stock Parade, Lehi, Utah.June 29-30Vernal, Utah, AmateurRodeo.June 29-July 1Rodeo, Elko, Nev.

Volume 19 JUNE, 1956 N u m b e r 6CO VERPOETRYCALENDARH ISTO RYDESERT QUIZC O N T R O V E R S YW A T E RFIELD TRIPEXPERIENCEF O R E C A S TN A T U R ECLOSE-UPSG A R D E N I N GPRE-HISTORYDESERT LIVINGLETTERSC O N T E S TFICTIONN E W SM I N I N GU R A N I U MH O BBYLAPIDARYC O M M E N TB O O K SP H O T O G R A P H Y

Lurt Knee, Guide and Uranium Prospector. (Seestory page 15.) By JOSEF MUENCH

Prescription and other poems 2June events on the desert 3CharcoalThe West's Forgotten Industry

By NELL MURBARGER 4A test of your desert knowledge 8Long-Eared Problem Child of the Desert

By RUSS LEADABRAND 10Seventeen Palms, by WALTER FORD . . . . 13Petrified Forests in Utah's Circle Cliffs

By RANDALL HENDERSON 15One-Eyed Snake of Betatakin

By LOLITA ALICE OLAINE 19Southwest river runoff predictions 20Poisonous Desert Plants

By EDMUND C. JAEGER 21About those who write for Desert 22Summer Garden Zinnias, Marigolds

By RUTH REYNOLDS 23Inscription House, by JOHN L. BLACKFORD . . 25We Use the Sun to Heat Our Water

By JENNELLA ROBERTSON 26Comment from Desert's readers 28Picture-of-the-Month Contest announcement . . 28Hard Rock Shorty of Death Valley 29From here and there on the desert 30Current news of desert mines 35Progress of the mining boom 36Gems and Minerals 39Amateur Gem Cutter, by DR. H. C. DAKE . . 45Just Between You and Me, by the Editor . . . 46Reviews of Southwestern Literature . . . . 47Pictures of the Month Back cover

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 Desert,California, under the Act of March 3, 1879. Title registered No.358865 in U. S. Patent Office,and contents copyrighted 1956 by the Desert Press, Inc. Permission to reproduce contentsmust be secured from the editor in writing.RANDALL HENDERSON, EditorBESS STACY, Business Manager EUGENE L. CONROTTO, Associate EditorEVONNE RIDDELL, Circulation ManagerUnsolicited 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 RAXESOne Year $4.00 TwoYears $7.00Canadian Subscriptions 25cExtra, Foreign 50c ExtraSubscriptions toArmy Personnel Outside U. S. A. Must Be Mailed in Conformity With

P . 0. D. Order No.19687Address Correspondence to Desert Magazine, Palm Desert, California

JUNE, 1956


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Charcoal kilns near the ghost town ofFrisco, Utah.

C H A R C O A LThe W est's Forgotten IndustryN EV A D A , A ugus t11, 1879 Two thousandpersons, banded together, andwith arms in their possession, defied

the civil authorities and refused tohave any of their number arrested.They nowhold forcible possession ofmany coal pits in this county. By forcethey have prevented, and are now pre-venting, the owners of charcoal fromhauling it to their furnaces, and theythreaten to destroy other property andburn the town. Arrests have been re-sisted by the rioters, who are wellarmed, andorganized under the com-mand of desperate leaders ."When Governor Kinkead read thismessage from Sheriff Kyle andCountyCommission Chairman B. J. Turnerof Eureka, he immediately called intoactive service a force of state militiaand ordered them to the stricken city.

Between 1860 and 1880, w h e ncountless boomcamps were pro-ducing silver, there came into be-in g inthe West a gigantic industrywithout the aid of which the fabu-lous era of the silver moguls wouldnever have been realized. Eventhen little heralded and now virtu-ally unknown, charcoal produc-tion wa s apowerful, lusty business.Here is the story of that wastefulventure which literally swept theWest like a blazing forest fire.

By NELL MURBARGERPho tog raphs by the authorThe Fish Creek War was onandall over theprice of charcoal.The supplying of fuel to the boomcamp smelters was bigbusiness in the

double decades between 1860 and1880. It was an industry so profitableand powerful that in the space of com-paratively fewyears it poured into thepockets of operators inestimable mil-lions of dollars, and by its strangle-hold on the smelter fires of the West,cast over the entire structure of West-ern mining a menacing pall and con-stant threat.

Reviled, greedy, troublesome, waste-ful andcorruptit still was the GrandPanjandrum industry of theWest andwhen the smelter operators of Eurekaunited in slashing theprice they wouldpay for a bushel of charcoal to 21 Vzcents instead of the 30 cents they hadbeen paying, on thegrounds thatmin-ing conditions no longer enabled themto pay the higher price, the troublebegan.The Charcoal Burners Association,DESERT MAGAZINE


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numbering several thousand men inEureka alone, rejected the reduction,refused to permit further deliveries ofcharcoal to the plants , and, on August11, forcibly took possession of thetown.When the well-armed militia ar-rived a lull in the fighting ensued untilAugust 18 when a posse of nine men,

headed by Deputy Sheriff J. B. Simp-son, attacked a coal pit on Fish Creek,30 miles south of Eureka, and in aone-sided battle killed five of the coalburners, seriously wounded six othersand took several prisoners. None ofthe law men suffered damage exceptto their reputationsthe posse beingcriticized rather freely for the tacticsemployed. The battle, nevertheless ,had the effect of ending the war.Charcoal burning was not an exaltedcalling. Exc ept for the men in chargeof operations, i t was work that de-

manded neither skill nor exceptionalintelligence, and those so employedwere looked upon as the dregs of theWe stern labor barrel. Receiving lessthan half the wage paid to commonmine laborers , the charcoal camp em-ployee lived in crude hovels or dugouts,under bad conditions of sanitation andhealth; and in the towns where hesquandered his weekly $10 wage, he

was scorned by every man from thegamblers and saloon keepers whogreedily seized his purse, to the muck-ers and mill-men whose very liveli-hoods depended upon his continuedlabors .Sweeping over the West like a pesti-lence, leaving behind it tens of thou-sands of acres stripped of timber, thecharcoal industry also left in its wakea black record of bloodshed, racialstrife and corruption, as well as wholeIndian tribes rendered hostile andthreatened by starvation through ruth-less destruction of the nut-pine groveswhich, for untold centuries, had pro-vided their mainstay of life.

In these days of the electric furnace,capable of volatilizing any known sub-stance, it is impossible to appreciatethe important industrial role played bycharcoal in the last 5000 years.Following the custom establishedgenerations before in the Old World,the first charcoal produced commer-cially in the West was burned in pitsthe beehive-type kilns being still un-developed.Th e pits were of various sizes. Alarge pit might hold as much as 100cords of green wood, generally pinyonpine, juniper, mountain mahogany orquaking aspen. Ignited and allowed

to burn to a certain degree before be-ing smothered with earth, the cargoof such a pit would smolder flamelesslyfor 15 to 20 days before finally burn-ing itself ou t. One firing in a pit ofthis size would produce from 2500 to3500 bushels of charcoalthe blackporous residue of wood from whichall organic matter has been burned,leaving only pure, or nearly pure, car-bon. Fed into the smelter furnaces inadmixture with the ore and certainfluxing materials, and re-ignited underforced draught, this charcoal-carbonburned without smoke and producedan intense white heatmuch hotterthan could be realized from any typeof wood in which organic matter stillwas present.

The practice of dealing in charcoalby the bushel unit prevailed through-out the We st. A bushel of charcoalhad a bulk of 1.59 cubic feet, andweighed from 16 to 20 pounds, de-pending on the species of wood usedand quality of the finished product.One cord of green woodfour feethigh, four feet wide and eight feetlongyielded by pit-burning, approxi-mately 25 bushels of 'coal.

Price was contingent upon severalfactorsquality, hauling distance be-tween pit and smelter, and that mostCharcoal from this stone and brick kiln was used inIron City, Utah, iron smelters. Native stone kiln that once supplied charcoal to Tyboand Hot Springs, Nye County, Nevada.

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basic of all criterionssupply and de-mand.Lowest quoted price for charcoal Ihave found in thousands of oldminingreports and cost records, is the eight-cents-a-bushel rate paid by OregonIron Works, near Port land, in 1867a price that would have yielded onlytwo dollars for cutting an entire cordof wood, processing it into charcoal,and delivering it to the plant!Lead smelters atOreana, Nevada, atthat same time, were paying an exor-bi tant 65 cents a bushel for their char-coal. As importat ion of charcoal frombetter wooded areas became feasiblethrough arrival of therailroad in 1868,Oreana's profiteering charcoal contrac-tors found it necessary to slash theirdemands to 25 cents a bushelaboutthe average price paid throughout theWest.

Even at 25 cents, charcoal repre-sented the smelter's largest single itemof expense. Th at outlay varied widelyfrom one mine to another, and fromyear to yearthe quanti ty of charcoalrequired being contingent upon refrac-toriness of the ore,quality of the 'coaland skill of the operator.Lead-silver smelters at Eureka , Ne-vada, for example, ordinarily requiredabout 30 bushels of charcoal to reduceone ton of ore ; butduring theconclud-

ing six weeks of 1872, Ruby Consoli-dated Co. , at Eureka, used 59 bushelsto each ton. For a three-month periodin 1872, Bristol &Daggett Smelter atBingham Canyon, Utah, also used 59bushels to the ton; and WinnamuckFurnaces, in Utah, used charcoal to avalue of $24.45 for every ton of oresmelted56 percent of the entire costof their smelting operation.During thebalmier years of its oper-ation theEureka Consolidated MiningCompany consumed charcoal at theaverage rate of 4600 bushels daily.Throughout the year the companymaintained a stockpile of 120,000bushelsonly 30 days' supplyandthe superintendent's report on Septem-ber 30, 1872, lists thevalue of charcoalthen on hand as $150,665.92. Rich-mond Consolidated, also of Eureka ,had 215,000 bushels of charcoal onhandenough to supply their opera-tion for 46 days. By 1874 this com-

pany also was using 4600 bushelsdaily, andduring the 22 month periodfrom March, 1873, to January,1875,expended for charcoal the staggeringsum of $880,000. At their peak ofproduction, thedozen furnaces at Eu-reka were purchasing $600,000 worthof charcoal monthly!With this same situation, in greateror lesser degree, prevailing throughout

Dr. F. G. Tagert of Austin, Nevada, examines the excellently-wroughtmasonry ofone of the sixcharcoal kilns atWard.

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the mining country, it may be imag-ined what was happening to the treecrop.Silver and lead mines of the South-west were situated in arid desert-typecountry having little or no merchan-table timber and that was far morevaluable for construction purposes andmine timbering than for charcoal.The lash of the charcoal woodcut-ters, consequently, fell upon the smalljuniper and pinyon pine trees. Maturespecimens may be no more than adozen feet in height, with trunks afoot in diameter, andeight or 10 cordsof wood to the acre is about themostthey yield.Thus , each filling of a single largecharcoal pit required the total treecrop from 10 or 12 acres of land, andwhen such lands were set upon by theswinging axes of thewoodcutters, theirsmall brush-timber disappeared almostas fast as if swept byforest fire!Evidence of the rapidity with whichthe Western desert hills were denudedis contained intwo government reports.In Statistics of Mines andMining inthe States and Territories West of theRocky Mountains, Rossiter W. Ray-mond proclaimed in 1872 : "The woodfor 10 miles around Eureka has beenused up in a little over a yearthusthe question of fuel becomes, at once,a very important one."Three years later, the Appendix toJournals of Senate and Assembly, 1thSession, stated: "The timber in the

vicinity of Eureka is fast disappearing.The coal burners have stripped thehills andmountains within a radius of25 miles, sothat the supply of fuel forsmelting purposes is a very importanton e in making an estimate on thefuture mining prosperity of this county.Charcoal . . . must be obtained fromsome other source very soon, or thefurnaces must be stopped . . . Shouldthe charcoal rates advance within thenext month or two, a crisis is immin-en t . . ."The situation in some sections of

the desert became so drastic woodcut-ters were seizing upon almost anyvegetation available. At White Hills,Arizona, even the spongy Joshua treewas pressed into service, and silversmelters at Candelaria and Tuscarora,Nevada, were fedwith charcoal burnedfrom sagebrush. So slow and tediouswas this operation that at one timemore men were working in Tuscarora 'scharcoal camps than in all the minesand mills of that silver-rich district.This growing shortage of fuel ma-terials wasresponsible, in large meas-ure, for a transition that began creep-ing into the charcoal industry about1870.Where, previously, all charcoal wasburned in earthen pits, the new trendDESERT MAGAZINE


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C o . , imported a large gang of cooliesto perform the labor, white workmenunited in protest.Assembling on street corners andin saloons, small knots of mutteringwhites congregated in a roaring moband stormed the sleeping charcoal

camp. To the tune of cracking bull-whips, pistol shots and drunken cursesthey sent the Orientals fleeing for theirlives. Morning found the charcoal con-tractors scouting the nearby hills fortheir scattered woodcutters. Drivenback to the kilns, virtually at gunpoint,

D e s e r t Q u i z : One of the goals of Desert Magazine is togive its readers a better acquaintance withthe history, geography, minerals, botany,India n lore and the recreational opportunities in the desert country. An dprobably no part of each monthly issue contributes more to this end thanthe monthly quiz. You can always learn something new from this page.Ten correct answers is very good for a tenderfoot. Those who answer 15correctly are eligible to become honorary members of the fraternity ofDesert Rats . When you average 18 or more you become a Sand DuneSage. The answers are on page 42.1If you were equipping your car for desert roads where there is likelyto be heavy sand, the least important item in your kit would beW ater Jack Tire chains Shovel2After mining and processing, quicksilver is shipped inPigsFlasks Bags Kegs3 Ruth , Neva da, is well known for itsF amo us caves Prehis-toric cliff dwellings Volc anic crat er Ope n pit cop permining4Which one of the following words is not a synonym for the othersArroyo Wash Escarpment Wadi5The Colorado River tributary which Major Wm. Powell named theDirty Devil is now known as Frem ont River VirginSan Juan Escalante6The Inter-Tribal Indian Ceremonial is held annually in August atGallup Albuquerque Santa Fe Window Rock7According to legend, those who drink of the waters of the HassayampaRiver willLive to a ripe old age Always have good luckBecom e bald-heade d Never again tell the truth.8C ochise was a famou s Apach e Indian Yum a Navajo__

Papago9 Color of the Joshu a Tree blossom is Orange Creamywhite Blue Lavender10On Highway 66 near Winslow, Arizona, the motorist crosses theBill Williams River Rio Grand e Verde River LittleColorado River11Historically, the Jayhawkers are associated withTrek across DeathValley Navigation of the Colora do River The Apac hewars Th e Morm on migration to Utah12 Charleston peak is located in Arizona Nevada NewMexico Utah13 Hard est of the following minerals isChalcedony CalciteObsidian Topaz14To Reach Palm Canyon from Palm Springs, California, one travelsSouth West North East15 The University of Arizo na is located in Phoen ix Tem peTucson Prescott16The historically famous Hole-in-the-Rock crossing on the ColoradoRiver was used by The Escalante Expedition Morm on set-tlers California '49er gold seekers Kearny 's Arm y of theWest17 Galleta is the comm on name of a desert Grass. TreeLizard Bird18Dr. H. H. Nininger is widely known in the scientific world as anauthority on Paleontology Cacti Meteorites Aridland farming19 Rawh ide is a ghost mining camp inN evada CaliforniaArizona New Mexico

20T elescope Peak is in theF uneral Mountains San FranciscoMountains Panam int Mountains White Mountains

the still-jittery Celestials were orderedto resume work, and throughout thatday discharged their duties under thecombined threat and protection ofloaded Winchesters.Nightfall brought another conclaveof miners bristling with guns and in-dignation. In deference to the armedguards, still vigilantly patrolling thecharcoal camp and its environs, the

original plan to "clean out the Chinks"lost some of its fire, and the contractorswere given 24 hours in which to getrid of the Chinamen.When end of this grace period foundthem still cutting wood under protec-tion of the rifle-armed guards, anotherultimatum was issued: Eithe r theChinese leave camp before anothernightfall, or both they and their em-ployers would be ridden out of townon rails.White laborers, by this time, wereso thoroughly aroused that wholesale

bloodshed would have been inevitablehad not the Chinese offered to leavepeacibly in exchange for stage fareto Eureka, 100 miles distant, and pas-sage money was supplied quickly byTybo's Anti-Asiatic League.Meanwhile the charcoal industrywas eating itself out of the land. Smel-ters at Eureka, to cite only one miningcenter out of hundreds, were consum-ing 1,200,000 bushels of charcoal an-nuallythe total tree crop from over5000 acres of juniper-pinyon woodlandand the hills were completely de-nuded of wood in a 35-mile radius.But whether the smelter operatorsliked it or not the handwriting was onthe wall. The only answer was coke;and with retooling, experimentationand increased skill in both coking andsmelting, the transition was graduallybut grudginglymade.As each smelter, in turn, discon-tinued the use of charcoal and con-verted to coke, erstwhile woodchop-pers and charcoal burners drifted toother jobs, many of them to the coalfields of Uta h and Wyom ing. So theconversion, at last, was completed.With the last charge of wood laidin the great stone ovens, and the lastfire grown cold, the desert wind andbrush moved in to erase the blackscars of the charcoal camps, and Na-ture reclothed the land laid waste.Many of the old beehive kilns arestill standing. The best ovens I haveseen are those near the old ghost townof Ward, Nevada, 18 miles south ofEly. Six in number, these kilns arelarger than averagebeing 30 feet inheight, with a floor diameter of 27feet, and walls two feet in thickness

at the base. Five of the 80-year-oldovens are preserved perfectly, the topof the sixth showing some deteriora-DESERT MAGAZINE


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T/ie !/>ye o/ coke by Southw est sme lters ended the charcoal era. This ArizonaPioneers' Historical Society photograph shows a coke team between Bisbee andSt. Davids in 1886.tion. Built of rand om ston e, squar e-faced to the exterior, with dressedstone forming the frames of the chargeand discharge doors, the gracefully-arched stone roofs of these kilnslikethose of most charcoal ovensderivetheir sole support from the highly skill-ful manner in which their stones arefitted together.

I doubt if many stone masons oftoday possess the masterly techniquenecessary to erect such'a structure,completely without mortar or struc-tural steel reinforcingyet these fineold kilns have been standing solidlysince shortly after the Civil War, andfor more than 60 years of that timehave known virtually no maintenanceor repair.

Most charcoal kilns in the Westwere built of native stone, but occa-sionally brick or brick-and-stone kilnsare encountered.At the ghost town of Iron City,Utah, second point west of the Missis-sippi River where native iron ore wassmelted, stands a perfectly preservedkiln and the remains of two others, allbuilt of random stone for the lowertwo-thirds, and brick for the upperthird. Thirteen badly deterioratedcharcoal kilns at Tennessee Pass, Colo-rado, were constructed entirely ofbrick; and two groups of kilns I havevisitedat Gold Hill, Utah, and Cot-tonwood Canyon, Inyo County, Cali-forniawere built of adobe.

All the many kilns I have examinedfollow the same basic patternbee-hive in form, with an interior floordiameter of 20 to 30 feet. Near thetop of each kiln is a charge door forreceiving wood, and at ground level adischarge door for removing the char-coalboth openings fitted, originallywith heavy iron doors which closedJ U N E , 1 9 5 6

against an iron frame set into thestone doorway, thereby effecting a sealnearly airtight. All air necessary tocontrol the burning process was sup-plied through a series of small ventsbuilt into the kiln wall.The yards around most of the oldkilns are still scattered with fragmentsof jet-black charcoal, which is recog-nized as one of the most imperishableof all man -proce ssed mate rials. A fewkilns are known to have been aban-doned with their last charge still intact.

In a remote section of the Stone Cabinrange, northeast of Tonopah, Nevada,several kilns which supplied the smel-ters at Tybo, were left packed withtheir final chargecharcoal as excel-lent in quality as any that may be

purchased todayand for more than60 years, miners and ranchers in thatvicinity have drawn upon this charcoalbank for fuel to fire the forges usedin sharpening their tools and drill steel.In o ther ways, as well, the kilns havebeen of use to man. All have beenused as storm shelters by horses, cat-tle and sheep; and many have providedtemporary havens for blizzard-threat-ened desert wayfarers.But such uses, of course, are onlytransient and incidental. The realworth of the old charcoal ovens istheir historical function in remindingpresent-day Americans of a now-van-ished industry, without which the greatsilver and lead bonanzas of the earlyWest could not have been harvested.Rock and adobe kiln built at Gold Hill, U tah, 65 years ago.

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Long-EaredProblem Childof the Desert

Healthy, well-fed burro. Burros have cross marks on theirbacks (black line on spine and shoulder), said to date backto the day Jesus placed his hand on the burro that carriedhim to Jerusalem.

SV E R A L Y E A R S AGOduringan exploration expedition intothe badlands of theCoso Rangeof Southern California I saw my firstherd of wild burros.There were 40 or more animals inthe groupjacks, jennies and young-sters of all sizes. They all lookedhealthy andwell fed. They were wildbut curious enough to let us get within

camera range.A few weeks later I was shockedwhen I read in a desert area news-paper that a number of the animalshad been found shot. This report andsubsequent accounts of wanton atro-cities against the long-eared creaturesprompted me to investigate the wildburro s ituation.It was like poking down a hornet 'snest with a short stick for no one onthe desert is neutral when it comes towild burros.The battle lines are not clearly

drawn, but the opposing opinions canbe condensed into these views:One faction feels that the burrohelped make theWest what it is today.In consideration of past services, the

burro is entitled to respect and pro-tection.Others hold the view that theburroin reverting to the wild, is taking theforage that properly belongs to thenative wildlife of the regionthe deeran d the mountain sheepand if thereis notbrowse enough for both of them,the burro must becontrolled. The factthat the burro is a canny little crea-ture that canfend for itself better thansome of the original natives, merelyserves to aggravate this attitude.

Spanish explorers brought the firstof these North Africa natives to theNew World where they were used aspack animals.Early Western prospectors discov-ered they could go just about any-where with the burro. These solitaryadventurers prowled every inch of thedesert looking for mineral wealth.Some of those that made bonanzastrikes gave full credit to their burro

companions.The California Fish and G ame De-partment states that the wild burrosroaming the Colorado and MojaveDeserts are descendants of animals left

Should wild burros be rigidly protected orruthlessly destroyed? There areplenty of argu-ments for and against both, of these extremepoints of view. Here is a current review of thecontroversy and of theburrothe problem childof the desert Southwest.By RUSS LEADABRANDPhotog raphs by W. H. Ringe

behind by prospectors but those feralburros in northeastern California des-cend from sheepherders' animals. Thislatter breed, according to theFish andGame experts , are bigger and huskierthan their desert cousins.Even as late as World War II bur-ros were being released in the desert.In the middle 1940s a geological sur-vey team working in theSaline Valleyarea of Inyo County abandoned a herdof burros there.

Today an estimated 2500 wild bur-ros roam the California desert areas,and irregular checks by the GameManagement branch of the Fish andGame Department indicate that theburro population is on the increase.So rapidly is the wild burro herdgaining that both the Fish and G amepeople and representatives of the Na-tional Park Service have voiced con-cern over the possible effect the bur-geoning burro population will have on

the delicate balance of Nature .The plight of the wild burro at-tracted considerable attention shortlyafter the war when the jeep openedup the desert.Unfortunately some of these newdesert explorers could not resist shoot-ing at everything on the desert thatmoved. They used small caliber rifles,pistols andbows and arrows and theirtargets many times were the peacefulwild burros.Desert residents began findingwounded, crippled and dead burros inincreasing numbers throughout theback country.

Wild burros were not protected bylaw except that a sentence in the Fishand Game Code made it unlawful toDESERT MAGAZINE


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kill a burro if the meat was to be usedfor animal food.Law enforcement officers found itimpossible to apprehend the many backcountry butchers who killed andchopped up hundreds of the animalsand sold the meat to Southern Califor-nia fox and lion farms.These repeated depredations at-tracted the attention of conservation-ists, animal lovers and doughty desertfolks and they protested vigorously.It was not until May 11, 1953, how-ever, following an unfortunate andquickly repudiated news release bythe F ish and Game Depar tment advo-cating burro huntingthat the "BurroBill," supported by senators CharlesBrown of Shoshone and Jess R. Dor-sey of Bakersfield, became a law.This legislation, Section 1403 of theCalifornia Fish and Game Code, madeit illegal to kill any undomesticatedburro .The conservationists were pleasedwith the bill except for a clause limit-ing it for only two years.In spite of the 1953 law, reports ofburro atrocities continued to come outof the desert country. Ma ny of themoriginated in the Panamint Valley areaof Inyo County.These slaughters and a report ofthe poisoning of 60 burros near Rands-burg aroused much public wrath.At the height of public sentiment forthe protection of the burro, news thatthe National Park Service was killingburros in Death Valley National Mon-ument became public.The National Park Service explainedthat the barren mountains of the Na-tional Monument are home to boththe feral burro and the bighorn sheep.In a 1939 survey of the bighorn sheeppopulation it was reported that therewas considerable competition betweenthe burro and sheep for water.The wild burro is an uninvited guestto the desert, the Park Service decided,and it declared in favor of the sheep.In a recent issue of Pacific Discoverythe Park Service's feeling is summedup by former Death Valley NationalMonument naturalis t L. Floyd Keller:"Ten years ago there were 500Nelson's bighorn sheep in the DeathValley region. Tod ay there is perha psonly half that num ber. Ten years agothere were 1000 burros in the samearea. To day , in spite of drastic mea s-ures to reduce their number, there arestill 1000 burros in the area."Since the burros feed over the en-tire range and tend to crowd out otherforms of animal life, they must be con-trolled before they gain exclusive pos-session of the park."The burros are thinned out byshooting. As to the extent of the pro -gram, if we obeyed the letter of the

# W M s B $ W life

In some parts of the Southwest, burros are still used to herd sheep.law our duty would require us to elim-inate every last burro in Death ValleyNational Monument."We have been unable to do so fortwo reasons, public sentiment and thefact that the burro population is alwayson the move, in and out of the Monu-ment. Outside the Monum ent boun-daries they are protected by the samelaws that protect all wild creatures."Death Valley National MonumentSuperintendent Fred W. Binnewies toldme that he takes exception to the 1939sheep survey report issued by the Cali-fornia Fish and Game Magazine.

He points out that a new, currentbighorn survey in the National Monu-ment has uncovered evidence that big-horn sheep and burros are equallyguilty of fouling desert water holes. A1952 report by the Arizona Fish andGame Commission strongly hints thatburros have driven bighorn sheep awayfrom certain mountain areas.Binnewies reiterates, however, thatthe Park Service will favor the sheep ifthey have to make a choice betweenthe two animals."If the burro population gets out ofhand we will have to treat it the sameas we would any other intruding spe-cies," Binnewies said."There are no burros in the moun-tains in the Funeral Range on the eastside of Dea th Valley now. We w antto try to keep it that way for thereare a number of sheep in that region,"he added.Binnewies gave no indication thatlarge scale slaughter of the burros iseven being considered by the ParkService. He said the Service was en-gaged in a "wait and see" attitude to-ward the long-eared clan.The finger of guilt for fouling water-holes is being pointed at the feral bur-ro from several other sources.Cattlemen insist that burros muddy

water so badly stock will not drinkfrom such spots. They also complainthat rampaging jacks have killed calveson the desert ranges.Burro supporters strongly deny this,but the rugged jacks have reputationsas fierce fighters. There are few adultmale burros that do not show someevidence of rightinga missing ear,scarred heads and shoulders orwounded flanks.Game management officials in sev-eral Southwestern states report thatbighorn sheep have been driven fromtheir ranges because of the recklessway the burro treats the public water-holes.Fred L. Jones, former assistant gamebiologist of the California Departmentof Fish and Game asserts that the burroplaces such heavy pressure on therange the desirable forage plants arekilled."These forage plants are the onesthat bighorn sheep, quail, chukar part-ridge and other birds and mammalsdepend upon for survival. In somecases, high burro populations haveseriously depleted or completely de-stroyed the range, not only for othercreatures but for themselves as well."There are areas in which burrosare heavily utilizing creosote bush, aplant that is absolutely zero in valueas forage. Nothing else is known toeat it, even as a starvation diet. Ac -ceptance of it by burros reflects a veryseverely depleted range condition withthe accompanying disappearance ofnative wildlife species."The situation at water holes is evenmore drastic," Jones pointed out."Burros completely devastate thesurrounding area both by feeding andtrampling. Birds require cover aroundwater holes so that they can drink withprotection from predators."In many areas burros have criss-

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Man y b urros are used throughout the nation as suaate animals )or cnuaren.Capture of wild burros for this purpose is prohibited without license.crossed steep hillsides with their widetrails. These trails serve as avenuesfor the downhill movement of the soil.In the desert, soil is a scarce commod-ity. The density and character of thevegetation is linked directly with soilconditions."A serious aspect of any range de-pletion in desert areas is the extremelyslow recovery rate of native vegetation,even under complete protection fromthe depleting agent. The recovery rateof this desert plant cover is so slowthat even under favorable conditions,it may take more than a lifetime toreturn to a favorable vegetative pic-tu re ," Jones concluded.In the face of such evidence againstthe burro plus the continuing atrocitiesby week-end desert gunmen, the burrosupporters last year suggested that aburro sanctuary be established some-where in the California desert.Senator Brown proposed Saline Val-ley, a vast desert area immediately w estof Death Valley in Inyo County.Saline Valley has few roads of egressand is sparsely populated.But there were obvious drawbacksto such a proposition.In the first place the California burropopulation is well scatteredthere arebetween 500 and 1000 in Death Val-ley Nationa l Mo num ent. Most of theseare in the Panam int Mountains. TheInyokern Naval Ordnance Test Rangesupports a burro population of about500 anim als. The se live on the saltflats immediately south of the CosoRange and elsewhere in the Coso andArgus Ranges. The Chocolate Moun-tains Naval Gunnery Range has atleast 500 wild burro s. The rem aining500 to 1000 estimated California des-ert burros roam all though the backcountry.It would be a near-impossible jobto round them all up.

Could the Saline Valley area supportsuch a burro herd if they could beplaced there? Some say the growing

population would starve in the SalineValley region in a matter of years andbefore they would starve the burroswould wander back into Death Valleyin search of food.In the third place the Saline Valleyregion is being coveted by the Navyas an extension of its desert empire.It is not likely that the Navy wouldcare to share the region with the state'sentire burro population.

The suggested Panamint Mountainarea as a sanctuary for the animalswould be quickly vetoed by the Na-tional Park Service.Thus it would seem that the wildburro is unloved and unwanted byeveryone on the desert.Which, of course, is not true for thewild burro, pesky as he is, representsa real and colorful page in the South-west's history.Hundreds of the animals have been

taken from the desert, tamed and madeinto admirable pets. This practice isprohibited now by the newest Califor-nia burro law. Burros may be takenfor pets only upon licensing by thestate Department of Agriculture. Only12 such permits can be issued each yearby the state.Conservationists have not relented intheir attempts to improve the wild bur-ro's lot. Men like W. H. Ringe ofFlintridge, California, hammer away atlaw makers and beat the pro-burrodrums in public.Ringe feels that unscrupulous pet foodcanners are still using burro meat. He'strying to get legislative support for abill that would make it mandatory forpet food canners to list burro meatwhenever it is an ingredient.Perhaps the most realistic summa-tion of the wild burro problem was toldme by Fred Jones, state biologist:"The burro should be managed soas to insure its continued existence.

"In order to fit it smoothly andwithout conflict into the complicatednetwork of interrelationships existingamong our native species, a soundbackground of factual informationshould be used as the basis for man-agement."Total protection is no more theanswer than was non-controlled hunt-ing."The burro is an exotic, true, butso are chukar partridges and ring-necked pheasants. The mere fact ofbeing an alien does not disqualify onefrom becoming a valuable and desir-able citizen."The burro is here to stay, and wewelcome his presence as an interestingaddition to the desert family."

ARIZONA WITHOUT SEAPORTBECAUSE CONGRESS SKIMPEDThe recent announcement by Ari-zona Governor McFarland of the cre-ation of a quasi-official seaport author-ity to study the possibilities of bringingocean-going vessels up the Coloradoto Yuma has brought into focus de-velopments of a hundred years agowhich robbed the state of an outlet tothe sea.James Gadsden had been appointedby President Pierce as a special minis-ter to Mexico for the purpose of buy-ing land south of the Gila Rive r. Th eU.S. needed room for wagon roadsand a warm-weather railroad route toCalifornia. Following the Mex icanWar thousands of gold seekers goingto California traveled the southernbank of the Gila, then Mexican terri-tory.On December 30, 1853, Gadsdencompleted three treaties with Mexicoand returned to Washington to obtain

ratification on one of these. The otherswould automatically be cancelled.To the dismay of today's Arizonans,our congress on June 30, 1854, ac-cepted the least desirable of the threeoptions. It was the cheapest one. TheU.S. purchased 45,535 square miles ofterritory south of the Gila for $10million.For $25,000,000, Mexico offered tosell all that land north of 30-degreesN . Latitude from the Rio Grande tothe Gulf of California, including all ofBaja California. This would havemade the border a straight line 70miles south of the present boundaryat Nogales.The other option was sale of landnorth of a line approximately 20 milessouth of Nogales, and extending di-rectly west to the Gulf of California.Total cost: $15,000,000 , or $5,000,-000 more than was paid for the areapurchase d. Bert F irema n in thePhoenix Gazette

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S e v e n t e e n P a l m s . . .

H I S T O R I C D E S E R T W A T E R H O L E S I I IThe Indians called the Borrego Badlands the "Devil's House"and for good reason, for it was a country easy to enter but difficult toget out ofalive. Water in this scorched, eroded lan d is es pec iallyscarce which explains the value off-trail desert travelers have placed

on the oasis of Seventeen P a l m s . Although some say the brown, bitterwater is unfit for human consumption, there are others whose very liveswere saved by it .By WALTER FORD

7HE LITTLE band of Mexican"wetbacks" aimlessly wanderingin the heart of California's Bor-rego Badlands on that warm springday were fast approaching the limit oftheir endurance. Their water supplyhad long since been consumed and thelast watering place at Harper's Wellwas 13 miles behind.Suddenly the oasis of SeventeenPalms came into view and as fast astheir waning strength would permit,the exhausted travelers staggered tothe pool beneath the palms and easedtheir tortured throats. The n one ofthe Mexicans wrote a note of thanksfor their deliverance. From the mis-sive which I found in a can near thespring, it was not difficult to visualizethe dramatic scene that followed thesighting of the life-saving spring. Thenote, written in Spanish, read:We thank God for this little

waterhole. We were four compan-ions who were dying of thirst, lost,and God directed us to this water.The 8th day of March, 1 9 5 1 .The back-door entry to the agri-cultural areas of Southern California,via Harper's Well, Borrego Valley andCoyote Canyon, is preferred by manyof the illegal entrants from below theborder. Once when I was traveling ina jeep from Anza to Borrego Valley Imet an Immigration Officer who toldme that wetbacks seldom strayed asfar easterly as Seventeen Palm s. Theirusual trail, he stated, was a more di-rect line to the old waterhole at Bor-rego Springs, thence up Coyote Creekto the more populated farming areaswhere there are opportunities for ob-

taining work and seemingly, less chanceof being apprehended and returned totheir native land.If the group that left the note atSeventeen Palms had veered westward,thereby missing the oasis, their trekacross the unfamiliar clay hills wouldundoubtedly have had a disastrous end-

ing. The netwo rk of gullies into whichthe hills have become worn and inwhich the traveler loses all sense ofdirection, could easily have become adeath-trap for the thirst-weakenedwanderers. J. Smeaton Chase, in hisCalifornia Desert Trails, quotes an In-dian acquaintance as describing thatsection of the Badlands as a "Devil'sHouse," where a man can get in butnever out, a description to which any-one who has viewed the area from adistant height will readily agree.Seventeen Palms has long been afavorite camping place for desert pros-pectors and travelers. Henry Wilson,dean of the Lost Pegleg hunters, toldme about visiting the oasis in 1900 andChase gives an interesting account of

As long as the Seventeen Palms spring is kept clear, a good supply of watercan be obtained from it. Unofficial "register" is found under the skirt ofdead fronds of tlie tree on the right.

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camping there in mid-summer, whilecollecting material for his book Cali-fornia Desert Trails. The faint Indiantrails which converge upon the springindicate that it sustained a large popu-lation long before thewhite man ap-peared. Some authorities believe thetrails are 200 years old and if suchestimates are anywhere near correct,they have withstood theeffects of ero-sion remarkably well. From the airthey look as if they could easily havebeen made within the last 20years.The quality of Seventeen Palmswater haslong been a debatable topicamong thedesert fraternity, theview-point depending mainly upon one'sneed forwater at the time hewas con-sidering its suitability for drinking.Chase described thewater as brown,bitter andnauseating, and stated thatit would have been dangerous todrinkunboiled. I camped at SeventeenPalms for several days with Henry

Wilson, and heavoided using the waterfor drinking. Henry said heused thewater many times in thepast withoutill effects, but solong as he had a sup-ply of fresh water hepreferred to useit.In his Water Supply Paper 224,Walter C. Mendenhall said thewaterwas fairly good when the spring waskept open, but it becomes bitter andbad by neglect anddisuse. When thegroup of thirst weakened Mexicansstumbled on to Seventeen Palms, it ishardly likely that they voiced any com-plaints about thequality of thewater.In the spring of 1950 Joe Fosterand I accompanied Wilson on one ofhis periodic searches for the Peglegmine. After unsuccessfully followinga number of clues in theGrave Washarea where Henry believes the mineexists, we moved up to SeventeenPalms. Around thecampfire one eve-ning Henry told us a story about a lostcache of gold in the hills around usand wedecided to try to locate it thenextday.The story, told toHenry by thelateBill Schnake, a long-time resident ofBorrego Valley, was as follows: Oneday while Bill was visiting "Seventeen"he met twoyoung fellows from SanDiego whowere trying to locate twolandmarks, which would guide themto a place where a plentiful supply ofgold nuggets would be found. Theembryonic gold hunters were rathercagey about the nature of the land-marks, but from their mapBill wasable tospot them as a riven rock and8* cinder cone . Bill never got aroundto' looking for the landmarks but be-fore hedied hepassed the informationon toHenry.The following morning we droveour jeep northward from SeventeenPalms into what is probably themost

rugged section of theBadland areawhere the slopes of the Santa RosaMountains drop off into a maze ofsandstone pinnacles anddeep ravinesbefore spreading out into the washesand clay hills of the open desert. Aftertaking the jeep as far as it could go,we searched therough terrain on footbut found nothing remotely resemblingthe clues Bill Schnake described toHenry.Back in camp at Seventeen Palmsthat evening we decided that it wastime to bring ourdesert adventure toa close and wemade plans to returnto ourhomes in theLos Angeles areathe following day. Once back at ourdaily routines, it was easy to considerSchnake's story in a more proper per-spective and place it in thecategory of"just another lost-mine yarn."However, JoeFoster did not followthis line of reasoning for he was in-trigued with thestory andfelt we hadnot made a thorough enough searchfor Schnake's clues. Joeheaded backfor the Seventeen Palms area, alone,and on the second day of his searchfound one of theclues, theriven rock.Returning to his jeep he slipped de-scending a sandstone waterway andlay bruised and stunned for a longwhile before he could continue on.Back in camp he was so lame andexhausted that the sun had barelysettled behind the distant VolcanMountains before hewas in hissleep-ing bag. He slept fitfully that nightand dreamed he was standing at theedge of the missing cinder cone, whichwas lined with dazzling golden nuggets.An old prospector stood near theconeand directed Joe to gaze upon thebrilliant display. "Here is the goldyou sought," hesaid, "but after seeingit, your sight will be lost forever."

Joe awoke from hisdream and forsome agonizing moments hewas actu-ally unable to see. An overcast skymade thenight soblack that hecouldnot see hishand before hisface. Joebegan reviewing theevents of thepre-vious day, hisaccident and theseveralpossible outcomes and how fool-hardy his one-man expedition hadbeen. Hestarted tocheck onthe num-ber of days he had been away fromhome and suddenly recalled that hehad animportant business appointmentin LosAngeles on the following day.In less than half an hour he packedhis gear and was heading down ArroyaSalada forhome.Seventeen Palms has long been afavorite camping spot for the off-traildesert travelers who prefer the ultimatein isolation and solitude. If the un-

official register, a glass jar under apalm tree containing cards and slipsof paper bearing visitors' names canbe considered an accurate guide, the

average does notexceed 12 visitors ayear. Although Seventeen Palms hasbeen reached in standard two-wheeldrive cars by experienced desert dri-vers, the trip should not be attemptedby those unaccustomed to driving insandy washes with other than a four-wheel drive vehicle.And oneshould not travel into thearea alone. Help is at least 12 milesaway in anydirection. Henry Wilsonhad the misfortune of having his carbreak down at Seventeen Palms andhe had towalk the 12 miles toOcotilloWells forhelp. Inspite ofhis 77yearsHenry made the trip without mishap.For one less wise in theways of thedesert, such a trip might have had anentirely different ending. Normally,Seventeen Palms may be reached byway of Borrego Springs or theTruck-haven road, but it iswell tomake localinquiries before taking either route.CANCERCLOUDY SKIESCORRELATION DISCOVERED

A retired Yakima, Washington,sur-geon believes virus infections maycause heart disease, arteriosclerosis,cancer and diabetes. Radiation fromthe 'sun, his theory holds, kills theviruses; therefore, death rates fromthese diseases arelower in areas wherethere is a lot of sunshine.The theory was advanced by Dr.Joseph E.Bittner who has spent morethan four years on research and statis-tical studies . Some forms of cancerin chickens, researchers have estab-lished, can be caused by a virus, butthe cause of human cancer remainsunanswered. Heart disease, diabetesand artery disease generally are re-garded as degenerative diseases.Dr. Bittner believes thesingle great-est avenue of virus entrance into thebody is on raw, uncooked food prod-ucts, especially vegetables.Dr. Bittner studied theseasonal andgeographical variations inheart-diseaseand cancer death rates, seeking an ex-planation of why, for example, theColumbia Basin death rate is substan-tially lower than the rest of Washing-ton and why thedeath rate from heartdisease is lower in summer thanwin-ter.By charting the death rates bycounties against thenumber of cloudydays ineach county, Dr. Bittner founda very close correlation. Similar cor-relation was found oncomparisons forcounties inArizona, and forthe UnitedStates as a whole, bystate.On those statistics, he showed thatthe death rates from heart diseaseandcancer inany area studied are indirectproportion to the number of cloudydays.

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%*% s

Where logs of petrified wood are weathering out of the Chinle sandstone formationin Circle Cliffs.

Petrified Forests inUtah's Circle CliffsMillions of years a g o the logs from some pre-historic forest weredeposited, probably by currents or tides, in what is now known as theCircle Cliffs area of southern Utah. Today they have all turned to stoneby the slow process of fossilizationand here is the story of a visit tothe colorful land where they are found.

By RANDALL HENDERSONMap by Norton Allenant Creek ranch bordering on theCapitol Reef National Monument lastsummer. We always welcome an op -portunity to return to that colorfulsouthern Utah country of multi-coloredsandstone spires, cliffs and buttesfringed w ith piny on and junip er.

The Knees, Lurton and Margaret,had discovered a little mountainmeadow along Pleasant Creek just out-side the Capitol Reef Monumentboundaries many years ago, and hadbuilt a comfortable cabin of roughhewn logs and native stone on a bluff

YEARS Lur t Knee had beentelling me about the petrifiedwood to be found in a remotegeological formation in southern Utahknown as the Circle Cliffs."There are three distinct forests,"he said. "G reat logs lie aroun d onthe ground, many of them still intactjust as they were deposited ages agobefore the cell structure of the woodwas replaced by minerals. You shouldcome up and see them."It was in response to this suggestionthat Cyria and I visited Knee's Pleas-

overlooking the creek. They havelimited accommodations for guests,and Lurton guides station-wagon toursinto the rugged desert wilderness ofthat regionto fishing creeks on Boul-der Mountain, to Goblin Valley, Ca-thedral Valley and the Circle Cliffs.We arrived there late in the after-noon just as the sun was droppingbehind the great dome of BoulderMou ntain to the west. Our travel hadtaken us over the well-graded roadwhich follows the base of the reddomes and turrets of the Capitol Reefescarpment, and we had stopped fora few moments at Fruita, Monumentheadquarters, to pay our respects toCharles Kelly, author and explorerwho has contributed many interestingstories to De sert Magazin e. Kelly issuperintendent of the Monument.As we sat by the huge stone fire-place that evening Lurt described adozen interesting trips which might bemade into the surrounding area, butalways the conversation came back toCircle Cliffs, a great oval basin sur-rounded by an escarpment of red andcream sandstone. At one time almostinaccessible, the Cliffs area is nowcriss-crossed by the roads made byuranium prospectors.Knee himself had staked out a prom-ising claim within the Monument be-

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TO LOA andU.S.HWY. 8 9

JH-SSJ: Y

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fore it was closed to mine prospectingMay 1, 1955. The Green Monster ,Lurt calls his mining claim, and someore has been shipped to the mill, al-though no rich strike has been made.We visited the mine the next day andI was given my first lesson in theidentification of the ores which reactto the Geiger Cou nter. Some of theuranite ores are black or gray, butcarnotite is yellow and torbernite isgreen. Lu rt's claim is of the latterhence the name Green Monster .In the days that followed we passedmany prospecting and drilling outfits.The equipment generally consisted ofa jeep or pickup truck with a drum ofwater and one or two drums of fueloil. Invariably the greeting was: "Yufindin' anything?"We left the ranch early one morningwith Circle Cliffs as our destination.Our route was through the CapitolGorge to the little settlement of Notom,16

% _ " . -,,and thence across a glorious expanseof mesa often called the "painted des-ert." Lu rt was our guide, and we wereaccompanied by two of his guests,Melvin and Eleanor Johnson of SanJose, California.Eventually our route ascended awinding and newly graded gravel roadknown as the Bu rr Trail. This trailtook us over the southern extension ofCapitol Reef and into the great CircleCliffs Ba sin. W e were in a forest ofjuniper and pinyon, and only an ex-perienced guide would have knownwhich of the many prospector's roadswould take us to our destination^thefossilized wood area.Then we came to Horse Canyonwhich our guide had named the BlackForest of petrified wood. From therewe continued on to Picturewood andFallen Giant forests in WolverineCanyo n. "Ca nyon " and "forest" reallyare misnomers, for these petrified wood

drifts actually are weathering out ofChinle formation in coves of the CircleCliffs escarpmentand the trees arethe fossilized remains of forests whichlong ago toppled over and probablywere submerged in mineral-bearingwaters for millions of years while theircell structure slowly was being replacedby silica.Most of the exposed logs are darkbrow n, gray or black. It is not spec-tacular in coloring, nor is it good cut-ting wood for the lapidaries, due tolack of brilliant eoloring and to frac-ture. The petrified logs of the CircleCliffs are there to be seennot to becarried away. There is much materialfor rock collectors in the broad ex-panse of desert and mountains sur-rounding the Capitol Reef NationalMonument, but it is to be hoped thatthe great logs of the Circle Cliffs petri-fied forests will be left intact.Some of the logs are fully exposedand others are weathering out of a

600-foot stratum of Chinle sandstonewhich lies below the Wingate forma-tion of this area. Every uranium pro s-pector who comes to Circle Cliffssooner or later goes over the petrifiedwood areas with his Geiger Counter,because high grade uranite ore occa-sionally is found in petrified logsbutthe Circle Cliffs fossilized wood givesno reaction.Late in the afternoon we followeda winding road down Silver Falls creekto its junction with the Escalante River.The creekbed is dry most of the way

but the canyon walls in many placesare pocked with thousands of smallerosion vugs, sometimes arranged infantastic patterns.We spread our sleeping bags thatnight on the grassy bank of the Esca-lante River, beneath great cottonwoodswith dancing leaves. This was a mem -orable spot for Cyria and I, for it washere six years ago that with HarryAleson, Georgia White and ChuckLindsay we launched two 6-man rub-ber boats for the 70-mile voyage downthe Escalante to its junction with theColo rado. The water was low but we

thought that tributary streams comingin below would increase the flow. Lessthan a hundred yards downstream theboats grounded on a sandbarand wespent the next six days wading theshallow stream and pulling boats thatwere scraping bottom much of thetime. We survived the experience nonethe worse for the wear, but were gladour departure this time was to be ina station wagon rather than rubberboats.Lounging around the campfire thatevening I learned about our guide.

Lurt told me he was born in Kanawha,Iowa, in 1910, and had moved withDESERT MAGAZINE


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his parents to Deer Creek, Colorado,when he was very young . His fatherhad worked on the narrow gauge rai l-road from Durango to Silverton untilhe was killed in an accident. Thenthe family moved to Van Nuys, Cali-fornia, where Lurton completed highschool.He became interested in radio andelectronics, and during the war was atrouble-shooter for the Department ofInterior, setting up short wave stationsat remote points in the Southwest.Lurt is a brother of Mrs. HarryGoulding of the Monument ValleyTrading post and he spent severalmo nths there with the Gouldings. Helearned a little of the Navajo language.Also it was there that he met MargaretTracy, a visitor from the East, and afew months later they were married.Lurt and Maggie, as she likes to beknown, decided to seek a location oftheir own, where they could build aguest ranch or trading post as theGouldings have done in MonumentValley.One day, following a rocky traildown from the top of Boulder Moun-

The Toadstool fust one of themany wierd rock formations foundin the Circle Cliffs.

'*> ZujlflJ

^ROCKY MOUNTAIN UR ANIO MCORP ~

SYlLt2\\/\\ I IN

y

Above Entering the Circle Cliffs area over the Burr Trail, one sees evi-dence of the intense search for uranium which has been going on in this area.BelowThe visitor leaving the Capitol Reef N ational Monum ent at theeastern entrance faces a drive of nearly 200 miles across one of the mostdesolate areas in the Southwest, before reaching the paved roa d again atBlanding. A standard car with good clearance can make this trip but itis rough and rocky in places.

tain along Pleasant Creek they cameto a little meadow along the creekand this was the answer to theirdreams, the Pleasant Creek ranch oftoday.Lurt employed a Navajo Indian,Buster Whitehorse, to help build thecabin, and later a hogan to be used asa storehouse. Buster was an old-timerfrom the reservation a longhair. Hewas willing to follow the white man'sinstructions in building a white man'shouse. But when it came to the hoganhe knew how that should be built, andhe wanted no help from a Belihkahnah,as the whites are known in Navajo.Lurt wanted to put windows in the

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hogan . Buster knew that wasn't theright way, but after some grumblinghe consented. The crisis came whenLurt said they would have no smokevent in the center of the roof."But how could the Great Spiritlook down and see when one of thefamily was sick, if there was no holein the roof?" Buster protested in Nav-ajo. When Lurt refused to compro-mise, the Indian threw down his toolsand went out in the field and beganhoeing corn. He would have nothingto do with a hogan that violated thesacred traditions of his tribe.Lurt finally went out in the field tomake peace. "Th e Great Spirit could

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Above Pleasant Creek Ranch, the starting point for hurt Knee's guidedtrips into the southern Utah wilderness area.Below "We camped one night on the grassy bank of the Escalante Riverunder great cottonwoods with dancing leaves."

green of fields and orchards and pin-yons and junipers are in lovely con-trast to the red sandstone buttes thatrise above.Our home-bound trip from PleasantCreek Ranch was over the long roadvia Hanksville to the Hite ferry on theColorado and thence past the NaturalBridges National Monument to Bland-ing and Monum ent Valley. There isonly one service station in a span of90 miles, and the road is stony inplaces, but we never had to resort toour 4-wheel drive.We'll go back to southern Utahagainit is a gorgeous country.

look in the window," he suggested.Buster grudgingly returned to work.But after the job was completed andthe Indian had departed the Kneesdiscovered that Buster had won theargum ent. Before he left he had po keda shovel handle through the dirt roofwhere the smoke vent should be.From the Escalante River we fol-lowed an old road up Harris Washtoward the little farming town of Es-calante. While not as massive as someof the other gorges in this region, Har-ris Wash is a colorful canyon andreally deserves a name more descrip-tive of its fantastic formations andcoloring.Our return trip to Pleasant CreekRanch was the dirt and gravel roadover Boulder Mountaina road thatis unpaved, but well graded most of

the way. On the mountain slope westopped at the little community ofBoulder where Mormon farmers withcharacteristic industry and thrift havecreated a little agricultural Shangri-laalong Deer and Boulder creeks. Thesepeople with their milk cows and vege-table gardens would be well fed andhealthy even if all the rest of the worldwent to pot. I am sure they have morefreedom and genuine security than anygroup of people I knowbut workhard for their independence, and theyforego many of the frills and gadgetswhich Americans in more populouscenters regard as necessities.

We ate lunch that June day in asnow storm 9000 feet up on BoulderMountain, and then dropped downinto the lovely valley which lies alongthe base of the Capitol reef where the

REFUGEES COULD USE GHOSTT O W N S , G E R M A N B E L I E V E SWolfgang von Boden, a Germanmattress stuffer, thinks it would be agood idea if some of the still-habitableWestern ghost towns were turned over

to homeless escapees from East Ger-many.In a letter to Arizona's Verde Inde-pendent, von Boden asked: "W hatindustry might be possible in Jerome?Is the ground good for agriculture?Could one raise, for instance, minksor chinchilla? Are there any marriag-able young ladies in Jerome or nearby?Would there be by any chance, a mat-tress factory in your vicinity? . . .". . . With so many empty housesthat must be falling in disrepair, couldnot your town benefit by having indus-trious people who would appreciatehomes and land to cultivate?"SCIENTIST CONVINCEDHUGE M ETEOR VAPORIZED

Meteorologist Dr. H. H. Niningerof the National Meteorite Museum,Sedona, Arizona, is convinced that thebiggest meteorite ever to strike theearth simply vaporized, except for afew fragments. This me teorite, whichfell an estimated 50,000,000 years ago20 miles southwest of Winslow, Ari-zona, is not buried deep in the ground,as everyone once assumed and manystill believe, he declared.

Much effort has gone into drillingfor the meteorite in the 4000-foot wideand 600-foot deep crater. Dr. Nin-inger is convinced that these attemptsfailed because the meteorite was turnedto gas at the momen t of impact. Thegas recondensed as round or angularspheroids which can be found in thesoil over an area of 100 square miles.Scientists who have investigatedMeteor Crater believe the aerial bombthat made it must have weighed from100,000 to 500,000 tons and that itwas traveling not less than nine milesa second. Los Angeles Times

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L I F E O N T H E D E S E R TOne-Eyed Snake of Betatakin

This Navcrjo boy had a difficult decision to makebetween thereligious faith taught by his tribal ancestors, and his duty as a rangerin the National Park Service. . . .By LOLITA ALICE OLAINE

7WO YEARS ago we spent eightenchanted days camping nearthe ranger station above thecliff dwellings of Betatakin Ruins innorth ern Arizona . It was a delightfulcamping spot with enough large pinyontrees for shade, and plenty of goodwater available at the ranger station.Each day we drove into MonumentValley or other interesting areas. Wegrew to like the rangers very much,especially the assistant ranger, a hand-some young Nava jo. We spent manyhours with him, discussing his people,their habits, customs and religion. Hewas an extremely likable man, alwaysgreeting us with a wide grin and evenwhen he was serious, there was amerry twinkle in his eye. His nam e,aptly enough, was Laughter.When Laughter took us down thecliffs to visit the ruins of Betatakin,we asked about rattlesnakes. We weretold that no snakes had ever beenfound at the campground or near thecliff dwellings, though they aboundedin the surrounding lower country.Laughter then confided to us that theNavajos have reverence for thunderbecause it precedes rain in this parchedcountry. Rattlesnakes are regarded asmessengers of the gods, since thesnakes always come out of the groundjust before a thunder shower.Rattlesnakes seldom venture forthin the heat of the day, but when thethunder-heads are gathering the ground

is dark and shaded, and the snakesemerge from their holes. The Indiansbelieve, however, that they come outto tell them that rain is on its way.We were happy to know that therewere no snakes near the campgroundfor our sons enjoyed running aboutwith the dog while I prepared the eve-ning meal and my husband readied thecamp for the night.One evening, however, the dog dis-covered a rattler across the road, not20 feet from camp. Laughter cameby on his evening patrol a few minutes

later and we asked him if we shoulddestroy the snake."When we see a snake, we say to it,'Do not fear brother, I will not hurt

you' so the snake does not hurt us,"he said with a smile.We told Laughter we would take achance and try his metho d. W e wouldtell the snake to stay out of our camp,and we would stay out of his. Lau gh-ter chuckled and went on his way.But in a half hour he was back with

the head ranger who carried a long-handled shovel. Laughter was pale,but stood firmly by while his chiefpried for the snake. We sensed thestruggle Laughter had experienced withhis consciencea struggle that sawduty triumph over his tribal tradition.The snake rattled furiously whenhe was uncovered, but refused to coil.The ranger probed him repeatedly, butthe rattler still did not coil or strike.Laughter stood back through all ofthis, looking more ill and frightenedat every thrust of the shovel. We knew

Betatakin Cliff Dwelling ruins in Navajo Na tional Monume nt, northernArizona. Photo by Josef Muenc h.

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he was praying "Lie still little brotherso they won't harm you."The snake was a huge old fellow.He must have been thegrandfather ofall snakes, and hebore a peculiar scaron his face. His blind left eye was

bluish white and across it was thejagged mark of an old injury.B ut we were puzzled to know whythe snake did not strike at the shovel.Could he hear Laughter whispering,"Lie still little brother, lie still"?

C o n t i n u e d D t o u t k R e d u c e sR i m R u n o f f P t e d i e t i o n sMuch below normal precipitationwas recorded during March over mostof the Southwest, resulting in a con-siderable reduction in the forecasts forwater - year runoff for the majorstreams in the area.Most of the Colorado River Basin

received rainfall averaging slightly lessthan half of normal , and much abovenormal temperatures were reportedduring the latter part of March whichcaused some early season snow meltat high elevation s. Streamflow is ex-pected to be about 10 percent aboveaverage in the extreme headwaters ofthe Colorado andnear average for theRoaring Fork andTaylor River basins.Near 75 percent of average runoff isin prospect for the Uncompahgre andlower Gunnison Basins. Flow of theColorado River near Cisco, Utah, dur-ing the past six months has been 83percent of the 1938-52 average andstreamflow for the remainder of thewater year is forecast to be 89 percentof the 15-year average.

The current watersupply outlookfo r the Green Basin in Wyoming isfor above average runoff ranging from112 percent to 126 percent. Stream-flow for theYam p a andWhite Basinsin Colorado is forecast to range fromnear average to 118percent. Near 80percent of average streamflow is fore-cast for theDuchesne River at My ton,Utah .T he SanJuan River Basin forecastshave dropped 10 percent because oflight March rainfall. Thecurrent out-look is for 78 percent of the 1938-52average runoff for the San Juan atRosa , New Mexico, near the head-water area, to 70 percent downstreamat Farmington, New Mexico. Near 75percent of average is expected for thenorthern tributaries.The water supply outlook for theLittle Colorado Basin is very poor;runoff is expected to be about 30 per-cent of the 1938-52 average.Streamflows as low or lower thanthe record low flows experience d last

year are in prospect for themain GilaRiver. The April through June stream-flow of the Tonto Creek and VerdeRiver are also expected to be lowerthan last year. Thewater supply out-look for theSalt River near Roosevelt,Arizona, is the most favorable in theGila Basin where the April throughJune runoff is expected to be 39 per-cent of the 15-year average, greaterthan last year's.March was the second successivemonth of much below normal precipi-tation over the RioGrande Basin, andthe watersupply outlook has again beenrevised downw ard. Forecasts are:tributary drainage of the San JuanMountains, 78 percent of average;tributaries draining thewestern slopesof theSangre deCristo range, 37 per-cent to 53 percent of average; middleRio Grande valley at Otowi Bridge,

46 percent of average; inflow intoElephant Butte Reservoir, 34 percentof average.March precipitation over the GreatSalt Lake Basin was in many casesthe lowest ever recorded. Over mostof the basin, amounts ranged from only5 percent to 10 percent of normal, al-though storms during the first threedays of April have aided the watersupply prospects.Forecasts for the Bear and LoganRivers are for water-year runoff nearthe 1938-52 average; Weber Basin,

109 percent of average at the SouthFork of theOgden River to 93 percentof average for theupper reaches of theWeber River; Sevier Basin, 47 percentto 61 percent of average; Beaver Basin,63 percent of average; Humboldt RiverBasin, 150percent of average for themain stream at Palisade, Nevada, andfo r theSouth Fork near Elko, Nevada;Martin Creek, 132 percent of averagenear Paradise Valley, Nevada; Truckeeand Carson Rivers, 170percent of av-erage; West Walker River, 109percentof average; East Walker River, 148percent of average; Owens River, 100percent of average; Mojave RiverBasin, 30 percent of average.

Finally theranger said, "I might aswell kill him and get it over with. Ialmost hate to do i tnever saw arattler that would not strike."Laughter shuddered. He looked sostriken that we immediately suggestedthe snake be taken down themountainand released among themultitude.TheIndian boy brightened at this sugges-tion and the ranger decided in favorof it,although hesaid itwas againsthisbetter judgment.They scooped the snake into anempty garbage can on the pickuptruck andLaughter insisted on goingalong to see that it was released un-harmed.Next day the ranger told us that assoon as the snake wasplaced on theground, Laughter complained of astomach ache and asked for the restof the day off. "I know hewanted topray or have a sing or whatever they

d o , to ask forgiveness of that snake,"the ranger said, "so I let him go."We discussed the extremely drysummer thereservation wasexperienc-in g and other topics of interest thatmorning.The following day we had a refresh-ing afternoon thundershower, and theday before we eft it rained all day andnight, with many exclamations fromthe Navajo god Thunder.As we packed the car we reflectedon our Navajoland adventure.There were many unanswered ques-tions that puzzled us. How did that

ancient andgrizzled oldveteran of thesand dunes find its way up to the topof Betatakin? Why were there noothersnakes on top of this granite domea habitat which snakes would wel-come? How did our snake lose hiseye? And where did all the rain comefrom so suddenly and unexpectantly?Laughter has been thoroughly ex-posed to the Christian faith, both inschool and in the service. His sisteris a member of a Christian church inTuba City and he himself told us thathe sawmuch good in it. Still, the be-lief of his ancestors was strong and

Laughter was proud of the fact thathe was one of the youngest medicinemen in his tr ibe.There is a strange beauty envelopingNavajoland. Even inthe Grand CanyonCountry, where there aremany touristsand conveniences, one feels a closenessto thebeginning of all things. The mys-tery, thewonder and thepower of Godar e all around you.Laughter saw our God and his inthe thunder and he felt God in therain. Is it too much to believe thatGod rewarded Laughter for his devo-

tion with a sloshing good thunder-shower?2(1 DESERT MAGAZINE


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ON DESERT TRAILS WITH A NATURALIST - XXVIPoisonous Desert Plants...

Not all desert plants are pro-tected by thorns and spines afew use a more subtle defense poison. The ability to identify theseplants is an easily-acquired tal-ent and one that will prove valu-able to desert travelers and especi-ally to l ivestock ow ners.

By EDMUND C. JAEGER, D.Sc.Curator of PlantsRivers ide Munic ipa l Museumyf FEW YEARS ago while in9* f search of birds' nests, I was

scouting the desert near theSouthern Pacific railway tracks whenI came to a dry wash and there foundencamped a grizzled, bearded old man a tie-walker dressed in rags. Hegreeted me with a cheery "hello" andwe soon fell into conversation overthe pail of deep brown beverage hewas brewing over a small, fragrantfire of creosote twigs. "I've been rightsick," he confided, "and I reckon thistea will surely make me well again.It 's a kind I used to make for myselfwhen I walked the ties in Minnesota."One look at the plant being boiledmad e me a bit apprehensive. I knewthat his "tea" was likely to make himeven more ill than he already was, forthe plant was California Croton (Cro-ton californica), which contains a vio-lent digestive distur bant. Arg ue as Iwould, however, I could not persuademy new acquaintance that he was mis-taken in the identity of this plant,which he took to be some harmlessherb. "It 's just like a weed we hadin Minnesota that we all used to makemedicine out of for all kinds of com-plaints ," he insisted. "I 've used it lots

of times. Always got better rightaway ."After some moments of conversationabout our respective travels, I gavehim final warning not to drink hisnewly brewed tea, bade him goodbye,and was on my way leaving him stillunpersu aded. I have often wonderedwhat happened to that poor, misguidedfellow. I fear he fared rat her badly ifhe partook of that "tea," for the plantcontains croton oil which even physi-cians administer only in very smalldoses, since its action is extremely

violent. Croto n is called El Barbas coby the Mexicans, a name which means

IMSSome of the desert's poisonous plants: Datura or Jimson Weed, upper left;Croton, upper right; Thamnosorna or Desert Rhue, lower left; Astragalusor Locoweed, lower right. Sketch by Lloyd M ason Smith.

a poisonous herb used to narcotizefish.The desert has many plants whichare good to use as medicines, pot he rbs,or as salad greens, but there are alsoa few species which definitely belongin the "never us e" class. It is well tolearn these few. Native Indians longhave known these plants and from

them we have full knowledge of theirtoxicity.One of the best known of the poi-sonous species is the Jimson weed(Datura meteloides and allied species).The several kinds of the widely dis-tributed genus, Datura, are employedin many parts of the tropics and sub-tropics by natives to produce delirium.

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Even our own desert Cahuillas onceused a decoction of Datura roots inthe initiation puberty rituals of adoles-cent youths and the induced dreams,usually described as being in brilliantcolor, were supposed to guide them inlater life. This ceremony was calledtoloache and was rather widespreadthroughout the Southwest, but an over-dose by the shaman could, and some-times did, cause death. Th e custom isfortunately not sanctioned today, forthe Datura contains both atropin, anarcotic which stimulates the sympa-thetic nervous system and depressesthe cerebro-spinal nerves, and hyoscy-amin , a hypn otic. All parts of theplant are to be avoided the leaves,roots, stems and especially the seeds.A person with an overdose of Daturais said to die in violent convulsions.The oleander (Nerium odorum), anative of the dry Sahara, is so widely

planted and grown in the Southwestthat its poisonous nature should bemade fully familiar to all desert dwel-lers. It contains a powerful cardiacpoison. I well remember one summerlong ago when some of the almoststarved cattle of the Cahuilla Indiansat Palm Springs ate some of the dryoleander leaves and twigs that hadbeen thrown out on the village dumppile; within a matter of hours theywere dead! Children have been madeviolently ill by innocently chewingthis beautiful shrub's leaves and flow-ers.Some of the native desert tobaccos,too, may be considered among poison-ous plants . There are several specieswhich when smoked almost "raise theroof off your head," their narcotic ef-fects being much greater than the to-bacco of commerce. The late Dr.Albert Setchell of the Department ofBotany of the University of California,himself a great tobacco user, once gaveme his word that having sampled inhis pipe about every kind of wild to-bacco known, he never found any sat-isfaction in them "just too strong

and foul-smelling for anyone but atough-lunged fool."Because it contains the poison selen-ium, a non-metallic element causing"alkali disease" in both cattle andman, one species of the handsomePrince's Plume (Stanleya elata) whichis widespread in the Death Valley re-gion, was once used by local Indiansas food only after being boiled in sev-eral waters which were drained off toremove the poison. These Indiansclaimed that they always got sick ifthe boiled greens were consumed after

only the first water was drained away.Similarly, many tribes in southern Cali-fornia removed the poisonous tannic

acid from otherwise very nutritiousacorn meal by very similar procedure.The meal was placed in a crater ofsand, and hot water percolated throughit until all the acid was leached out.Oddly enough, in Mexico where thereare many kinds of oaks, the nativesnever hit upon this idea of leaching outthe tannic acid, and consequently avast supply of available food was leftuntouched.The Prince's Plume is not the onlyplant that contains selenium. Man yspecies of Astragalus readily take-upthe element if it is present in the soilin which they are growing, and yet thevery same species may be perfectlyharmless if growing in selenium-freesoil. However, only laboratory analy-sis can determine which soil has thepoison and which does notthe plantsin either case appe ar identical. Com -monly this plant is called Locoweed

because it may produce "loco disease"in cattle that browse upon its foliage,causing them to go "loco" or crazy.No informed desert camper would everrisk adding the leaves of an Astragalusto his green salad or boiled stew.Around the borders of dry lakesand in moist alkali flats near desertstreams or lakes grows a rather uglyshrub commonly called "ink weed."Although its succulent leaves containmuch tannic acid, which in small dosesis supposed to cure diarrhea, I havewitnessed instead violent cases of dys-entery in my hungry burros which sev-eral times ate of this plan t. It also isknown to be toxic to sheep.The juice of the native Californiapoppy (Eschscholtzia), was long re-garded by southwestern Indians as apoison and was used in the incanta-tions of witch-doctors. A strong in-fusion of the plant was sometimesgiven as a love potion "to weaken thewill of men and women and thus makethem become easy prey to immoralpersons." When such practices ofwitch-doctors came to the attention of

the tribal chiefs, strong punishmentand eventual banishment was usuallythe result.Another plant widely distributedover the Southwestern deserts is thedesert rhue (Thamnosoma montana),which has numerous yellowish glandson the surface of its leaves and greenbranches. These contain an oil whichis very irritating to the skin and verydangerous if brought into contact withthe eyes. The Indians used a tea of itas a counter-irritant to be applied inrheumatic conditions, but were very

loathe to drink it, even in a weak brew,because of the violent stomach irri-tation and the halucinations that fol-

lowed. W hen brushing past this rhue,one can detect a strong but pleasantodor in the foliage, an odor which be-lies the plant's dangerous potentiality.Once in former days of ignoranceof this plant's toxic character, I rub-bed some Thamnosoma twigs betweenmy fingers to better detect the pro-nounced odor. Later, because of anitching, I scratched the skin on the

hollow of my knee with the nails ofthose same fingers. In an hour I wasmost uncomfortable with a pronouncedburning pain and next day I wasamazed to note that the skin at thissite had entirely come off, leaving onlyraw flesh beneath . It was several daysbefore I could walk with any degreeof com fort. Needless to say, sincethen, I have consistently avoided com-ing into contact with the desert rhue.In the great scheme of things I sup-pose poisons play the role of deterrentagainst certain plants being eaten, a

means to them of survival, just as otherdesert species have profited by becom-ing thorny. Fortunate ly the list of des-ert plants to be avoided is a short oneand the time taken to recognize thesefew will be well spent.

"One-Eyed Snake of Betatakin ismy first attempt at writing and prob-ably my last. I could have paintedthree pictures in the time it took meto type up that little story," wroteLolita Alice Olaine of Palo Alto, Cali-fornia, whose first love, obviously, ispainting.Mrs. Olaine was a commercial art-ist for eight years before her marriage22 years ago. Since then she has beenbusy raising two boys "and a lot offlowers." In between PTA , Cub Scoutand Red Cross duties, she has found

time to paint landscapes in oil andwatercolor and flowers in watercolors.She is an active member of the PaloAlto Art Club and was ExhibitionDirector for it last year.* * *

Jennella Robertson, who wrote thismonth's "We Use the Sun to HeatOur Water," has lived in Indian WellsValley with her family since 194 9. Inthat year they returned to Californiafrom a three-year stay in Oregon "be-fore the webbing on our feet becametoo pronounced." Her husband, Al-lan, is employed at the Naval OrdnanceTest Station.

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H O M E O N T H E

Documents

195606 Desert Magazine 1956 June