Part 67 (1/2)
The horticultural societies of Iowa and Nebraska joined in an automobile tour of the orchards, vineyards, nurseries, and truck farms August 2 to 4. The first day was spent in and around Council Bluffs. Interest centered around the large Co-operative Grape Growers' a.s.sociation. A grand picnic dinner was served by the ladies. This a.s.sociation has been in active operation for fifteen years. Professor Beach emphasized the value of the work that is being done, and especially the value of having a contented lot of people in a community mutually interested in one kind of work. On the return trip a stop was made at the experimental apple orchard that is conducted by the Horticultural Department of the Iowa State College. This orchard of 900 trees was leased in 1910 for ten years to determine if an old orchard that has been unprofitable could be made profitable. Careful records have been kept of expenses and of the size and grade of all fruits produced under the several soil treatments.
To date six crops have been harvested from the 475 trees under experiment. The lowest was 1,700 bushels in 1911 and the largest was 6,000 bushels in 1915. It is estimated that there is about thirty per cent. of a crop on the trees this year. Demonstrations were given in spraying, dynamiting trees, treating trees affected with blister canker, and grading apples with a large grading machine.
The second day was spent in orchards near Omaha. Some excellent orchards that have been very profitable were visited. It had been very dry in that region, consequently the fruit was undersized.
The third day was spent in southwestern Iowa, from Hamburg to Glenwood.
It is impossible to tell about all the good things seen on this trip. We saw all kinds of pruning, cultivated and ”sod cultivated” orchards and, above all, corn, corn and more corn. At Shenandoah the nurserymen and seedsmen took charge of the party and entertained all in a very hospitable manner. There were ninety at the noon banquet. In the afternoon they showed us the large nurseries and seed warehouse.
Toward the end of the trip we stopped at a 40-acre orchard, mostly Grimes Golden. A hailstorm had injured the fruit very much.
One of the great lessons gained from the 150-mile automobile tour was the fact that _spraying_ is _one_ of the _most important orchard operations_. It was interesting to hear what some of the older orchardists would say when they saw fruit injured by scab. It is an important matter with them, because it means dollars to have disease-free fruit to market.
[Ill.u.s.tration: VETERAN DOUGLAS FIR, STANDING MILES OUT FROM THE PROTECTING MOUNTAIN, EXPOSED TO ALL THE FIERCE WINDS OF THE PLAINS.]
While it is not the intention to publish anything in this magazine that is misleading or unreliable, yet it must be remembered that the articles published herein recite the experience and opinions of their writers, and this fact must always be noted in estimating their practical value.
THE MINNESOTA HORTICULTURIST
Vol. 44 OCTOBER, 1916 No. 10
Camping on the Yellowstone Trail.
CLARENCE WEDGE, NURSERYMAN, ALBERT LEA, MINN.
I suppose that civilization is the correct thing for mortals to aspire to. As a boy, while I hated it with a bitter hatred, I accepted it as inevitable because my elders approved it and because it seemed indissolubly linked to the school, the church and the things of good repute. As I grow older the yoke sits easier on my shoulders, but doubts have increased as to its necessary connection with the good, the true and the beautiful. It surely kills the sweet virtue of hospitality. In my home church lately there was a call for volunteers to entertain a visiting delegation, and I was interested in observing how perfectly the number that might be accommodated in any home was in inverse ratio to the size and furnis.h.i.+ngs of the house. High heeled shoes and hobble skirts, two-story starched collars and tile hats are fas.h.i.+on signs of civilization, but I cannot see why a ring in the nose and a tattooed arm might not have answered just as well. I am getting harder to convince that a broad foot, shaped on the lines laid down by the Creator, is less beautiful or desirable than the one-toe pointed shoe, decreed just now by our particular brand of culture, and today I would as lief defend the cult of the simple red man as the savagery that disgraces the lands across the water.
Whatever the merits of the matter, for one month of the year we and our tent and automobile abandon ourselves to barbarism, and live as we please. This year we chose to spend our month on the Yellowstone Trail, the road that leads from the Twin Cities to the Yellowstone National Park, and which is different from other roads leading in the same direction mainly by its yellow mark, faithfully directing the traveler on his way and preventing the loss of time in getting directions at doubtful cross roads. Our party consisted of a young botanist, and his wife, my wife, myself and our small boy Alan. Our equipment consisted of a tent, 7x7 ft., weighing, stakes, poles, part.i.tion and all, 16-1/2 lbs.; a trunk on the running board made to hold bedding and grub box, and an oil cloth to use as a tent floor. Like the Indians we go light, and live the simple life while on the trail. We get off at six o'clock in the morning, eating our breakfast on the move as we get hungry; lunch at noon by the roadside, and camp early, seeking the most interesting spot, from the top of a b.u.t.te to a pleasant river valley--and cooking the one square meal of the day by such a brushwood fire as we are able to gather.
[Ill.u.s.tration: ”Us” and some others at a mountain cabin.]
For the first few days we try to provide some straw to temper the hard earth, but as the days go by, and we get used to roughing it, we sleep soundly with nothing but a blanket and oil cloth between us and mother earth. We pin back the tent door, and with the night wind fanning our faces, close our eyes to the stars and flickering campfire. Some who have never camped are afraid of bugs, snakes and wild animals. We have spent our vacation month this way for twenty-five years, have camped in most of the counties of Minnesota, and in Iowa, the Dakotas and Montana, and have never had but one unpleasant experience of the kind. That was one night when we pitched our tent after dark on the bottoms below Fort Snelling, and did not know till we had laid ourselves down that a colony of ants had pre-empted the spot before us. We did not get much sleep, but we had the comfort of feeling that they were nice, clean, self-respecting, self-defending ants. Would that our experience in hotels had been equally fortunate!
[Ill.u.s.tration: A young Douglas fir.]
Leaving the western boundary of the forests of Minnesota near Glencoe and going across the prairie and plains to the mountain forests of Montana is an interesting experience. The only trees in Western Minnesota and the Dakotas are those found along the lakes and water courses, and west of the Missouri the trees and shrubby growth, even in such places, becomes very scanty or entirely disappears, giving a weird appearance to one who has always a.s.sociated water and trees together in his mind. As we draw near the Montana line, trees begin to appear on the tops of the b.u.t.tes and high bluffs on the distant horizon. Traveling on the railroad I have wondered what they were. With our own private car we satisfied our curiosity by zig-zagging our way up to a camping place among them, the first night they came in sight. Of course they were our old friends, the Ponderosa pine, whose name will always be a.s.sociated with our grand old man from Nebraska. They ought to be renamed the Harrison pine. How they endure the drouth and cold in a soil so poor that gra.s.s withers and dies out, and how they stand erect where every other living thing bows to the bleak winds and blizzards of the prairies, is one of the mysteries of plant life. What a splendid bonfire we made of their boughs that night, flaring as a beacon out over the ocean of prairie about us!
The day before we had pa.s.sed by hundreds of clumps of a beautiful blue lupine with finely cut foliage and profusion of color that rivaled any flower of its shade I have seen in cultivation. On the way home we gathered a handful of seed from which we shall hope to grow some plants at home. We tried to dig a few to transplant, but their roots seemed to go down, down, till with my short handled shovel, I got discouraged. The herbage of the plains has learned to dig deep for water.
[Ill.u.s.tration: A camp by the Red River of the North, Mrs. Wedge sitting by a giant cottonwood. Our 16 lb. tent at the right.]
Leaving the Yellowstone at Big Timber and striking across the plains to the Snowy Mountains, we found the Ponderosa pine, and soon the Flexilis pine, wherever a rocky ridge is lifted above the level of the plains, so that these trees were in sight a large share of the time, even far away from large rivers and groups of mountains. If a homestead anywhere in that state is not cozily protected by bright colored evergreens it is not because there is any difficulty in getting trees that will thrive in that soil.
[Ill.u.s.tration: A young Ponderosa pine.]
The Snowy Mountains are in the center of Montana, quite unsheltered from the other ranges of the Rockies. It is the meeting place of the flora of the mountains and the plains. I think it is the eastern limit of that peerless tree of the Rockies, the Douglas fir. I gave my impressions of this tree to the society a year or two ago. I am still more in love with it from what I again saw last August in its native Snowy Mountains, and from the bright, st.u.r.dy little trees that have been growing at my home in Minnesota for two years past, giving a.s.surance of their willingness to be transplanted to our moister air. It is the coming evergreen for the prairies, and it will be a happy day for all who plant an evergreen west of the natural timber when the Douglas fir has displaced the trees that come from the cool, moist forests of Europe and the sheltered woods of our own lake regions.