332 
FOREST AND STREAM 
Sept. 14, 1912 
A Morning With the Sage Chicken 
By R. W. RATHBORNE, Jr. 
T HE snow-capped peaks of the Medicine Bow 
Range look down on my humble little, cabin 
in the Laramie River valley. One side of 
my fence is in Colorado, the other in Wyoming. 
My neighbors are few and far between. Two 
men and a boy make a crowd, and one woman 
makes a multitude. The late Mr. Bill Nye re¬ 
marked that the only things raised here were 
heifers, hay and a place “which they say is 
paved with good intentions.’’ Nevertheless, the 
late William had a reputation, in this his adopted 
country, of having been a mighty good old 
but remembering the old adage, “Rain before 
seven, clear before eleven,” I was not disheart¬ 
ened, as I had no intention of starting out much 
before nine. 
It is about at that hour that the chicken 
come down to water, and at most of the springs 
up the different draws one or more old hens 
and their broods of youngsters may be surprised. 
It was the young ones that I wanted for my bag. 
About half after eight I left the river and 
started up through the sage brush. It had 
cleared up and was quite cool. The brush still 
THE AUTHOR IN HIS CABIN. 
wagon, and the above burst of eloquence re¬ 
ferred to when two or three were gathered to¬ 
gether, while I, at the time of which I write, 
was as solitary and alone as an Indian Mahatma 
in the Himalayas. 
For the time being I was as free as air. I 
had read all the literature of which my cabin 
boasts, Congress had at last adjourned, and I 
sat that evening debating as to what should be 
my program for the morrow. I was tired of 
fish and fishing. The brackish bacon and the 
bountiful bean did not satisfy. I longed for a 
change of sport and something more palatable 
for the inner man. 
Should it be grouse or sage chicken ? Grouse 
necessitated a ride up to the timber, and as I 
have plenty of riding to do without doing it 
for pleasure, I decided to spend the morning 
among the chickens. Besides, I prefer them to 
grouse. After looking to my gun and shells I 
turned in. 
I awoke to the patter of rain upon the roof. 
wet gave out that pungent, though delicious odor 
so familiar to the cow-puncher and so exhilarat¬ 
ing to the alien. My trail led up a small canon 
where the stream bed was dry, and the prairie 
dogs chatted to each other from their separate 
mounds, disappearing as if by magic at my ap¬ 
proach. I was familiar with the country, and 
knew that at my next turn in the trail the little 
valley broadened out into a green flat, irrigated 
by a cool spring that spread out underneath a 
large clump of willows. Proceeding as noise¬ 
lessly as possible I made the turn and was re¬ 
warded by the sight of a covey of about ten 
young birds and a couple of old hens. 
One of the old birds rose first and I let 
her go unmolested. Unlike most birds, sage 
chicken seldom if ever rise together, generally 
five or ten seconds intervening between birds, 
so that one can bag a good many out of one 
covey. 
The second bird, a young one, came toward 
me, and I dropped him without difficulty. I ad¬ 
vanced a few yards for better range and got 
two in quick succession that started to the hill¬ 
side on my left. I made a clear miss of an¬ 
other young one that flew to my right, but suc¬ 
ceeded in bagging two retreating birds, one a 
rather long shot. Four out of the five were 
young ones—two good feeds for even a healthy 
man. As five is about all I can keep without 
spoiling, and I had no one to share them with, 
I retracted my steps toward my cabin. I was 
home in half an hour dressing them. It is best 
to draw sage chicken as soon after they are 
killed as possible, or they will have the sage 
taste a trifle too strongly, particularly for some 
people. They are easy to dress. You pull the 
feathers off with the skin as readily as one 
would skin an eel. They are about the size of 
a small fowl, and one can easily get his hands 
inside. Who cooks them, do you say? 
Every ranchman is a good cook. If he were 
not he would soon starve, and when it comes to 
cooking game, well come out here and try some 
of it; we not only cook it to suit the most fas¬ 
tidious tastes, but also furnish the appetite. 
They were the first sage chicken I had eaten 
this season, and the amount I did away with 
would have made a vegeterian hold up his hands 
in holy horror. 
Our National Parks. 
BY RALEIGH RAINES. 
The policy of setting aside tracts of land in 
various sections of the United States to be used 
as pleasure grounds for the people was inaugu¬ 
rated by Congress on March 1, 1872, the date of 
the act creating and establishing the Yellowstone 
National Park in Wyoming, and thereafter from 
time to time other lands in various sections of 
the country were set aside for such purpose, as 
well as a practical means of preserving the natu¬ 
ral wonders from desecration. These national 
parks now aggregate twelve in number, embrac¬ 
ing over 4,500,000 acres, to which should be 
added the Grand Canon of the Colorado River, 
with its awe-inspiring gorges, which will prob¬ 
ably be set aside as a national park by executive 
order. The areas of these parks, with locations 
and dates of establishment, are as follows: 
Acres. 
Yellowstone, in Wyoming, Montana 
and Idaho, March 1, 1872.2,142,720.00 
Yosemite, in California, Oct. 1, 1890. 719,622.00 
Sequoia, in California, Sept. 25, 1890. 161,597.00 
Gen’l Grant, in California, Oct. 1, 1890.. '2,536.00 
Mt. Rainier, in Washington, Mar. 2, 1899 207,360.00 
Crater Lake, in Oregon, May 22, 1902 159,360.00 
Wind Cave, in South Dakota, Jan. 9 
1903 . 10,522.00 
Sullys Hill, in North Dakota, April 27, 
1904 . 780.00 
Platt, in Oklahoma, July 1, 1902, and 
April 21, 1904 . 848.22 
Mesa Verde, in Colorado, June 29, 1906 42,376.00 
Five-mile strip for protection of ruins, 
June 29, 1906 . 175.360.00 
Hot Springs, in Arkansas, June 16, 1880. 911.63 
Glacier, in Montana, May 11, 1910- 981681.00 
Total .4,606,153.85 
Public interest in these national reservations, 
not only in this country, but abroad as well, is 
increasing constantly, as is indicated by the num- 
