Cloverdale Union High School - Spectator Yearbook (Cloverdale, CA)

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HUNTING AND FISHING NEAR CLOVERDALE. The country surrounding Cloverdale for a radius of ten miles is a veritable Paradise to the sportsman and nature lover. The beautiful Russian River flows to the east of the town. This stream itself is not so famous for fishing, but its tributaries are. One of the largest of these branches is Sulphur Creek, which flows into Russian River directly east of town. Here one finds excellent trout, especially late in the season. The famous Squaw Creek heads way up in the mountains north of Cloverdale. It is a little hard to get at on account of having steep, rocky banks, which are difficult, if not almost im¬ possible, to descend, so that you must search for the places where you can get down to their waters. This stream affords the finest fishing any one could wish and any angler can land his limit of “speckled beauties” in a very short time. Following Russian River north for about seven or eight miles we find Pieta Creek, which has its source some eight or ten miles back in the moun¬ tains. It is an exceptionally good trout stream, probably because it is very hard to get to, although its waters are fished by many people and always yield limit baskets. Two more fine trout streams are to be found about fifteen miles west of Cloverdale, and can be easily reached by auto in an hour’s time. About seven or eight miles of the trip is over the recently constructed California State Highway, which brings you into Mendocino County. Leaving this, we take the coast road and travel for about four miles until we come to Dry Creek, in Dry Creek Valley. This stream has its source near here, and, although not very large, is considered very good. Going on for about four or five miles more we come to Rancheria Creek, a very beautiful stream. It is one of the main branches of the Navarro River, which flows into the ocean and is an excellent stream for trout fishing. It is sought by many anglers, because it is very easy to fish. This stream is quite wide in places, and not so deep, which fact enables one to wade in easily, thus enjoying the fishing more. Now let us turn our attention to the game to be found near Cloverdale. In the hills around Dry Creek and Rancheria Creek, which I have just men¬ tioned, fine deer hunting can be had. In less than an hour deer can also be scared up within a mile or so west of Cloverdale. It is no uncommon thing to hear the echo of some hunter’s rifle right near town during the deer season. In the vicinity of Pieta and Squaw creeks fine deer hunting can be had, and many go there to search for the wily bucks. Deer, however, are not our only game, although they are the most important. Our foothills are quite heavily timbered in places with oak, redwood and pepperwood, while along the streams grow many cottonwoods, alders and hazel brush. In these places the gray squirrel makes his home. Along in the fall many of them can be seen. Mountain quail can be found in the foothills, but are very shy, so that it requires much patience to get a shot at them. Farther down toward the valley, and especially along Russian River, excellent sport can be had hunt¬ ing valley quail. From early morn until late in the evening their call can be heard. In California this is the king of our game birds. Recently a bill was passed prohibiting shooting of valley quail for two years. Such a meas¬ ure will do more than anything else to help them in gaining a strong foothold in California again. In the early fall great sport can be had in hunting doves, as they are quite numerous wherever there are grain and hay fields. They also stay along the Russian River and other streams, especially in the heat of the day. When winter comes many ducks can be found, but as the river is very wide and swift they are hard to get. In the pastures and marshes very good snipe hunting can be had, and a morning spent shooting these swift little flyers is a great sport. 31

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All this time Joe had been sweating over the antigravity machine. The chief energy was what he called the Helium ray, also the Lavender ray, which would eat into the heart of a mountain a hundred miles distant. One evening Joe finished the two rays, placed them in two separate cylinders in a huge steel safe. The next morning he hurried to his laboratory and entered. He was appalled. The steel door of the safe had been cut through by the acetylene flame and the cylinders were missing. All Joe s hope vanished and he sat down and wept. A few hours later found him staring helplessly and with a vacant look at the rows of chemicals. Just then his wireless telephone rang, and he mechanically answered. The clear, sonorous voice of a person who called himself “Pax” filled the room. “You have undoubtedly missed your two rays. It is I who have taken them. Am sending you $100,000 for the two minerals. If I can do anything for you let me know.” Hope once more filled Joe s heart and in a few minutes he was con¬ versing with Pax. “When you have perfected a machine for using the Helium ray get me a sample of the moon, flood the Sahara by means of the Lavender ray, and end the war and I renounce all claims to the rays.” ‘With pleasure,” answered the calm, composed voice. Six months later the Arabs were astonished at a huge ring-shaped machine which shot over their heads and came to astop at the southern edge of the desert. A few days later the Sahara was a vast lake, some hun¬ dreds of feet deep in places. The machine had disappeared, leaving cara¬ vans floating on the artificial lake, which was fed by the tropical rains of the southern jungles. Joe’s name was in all the papers and he was loudly lauded. One event followed another. Pax threatened through Joe’s Lavender ray to shift the axis of the earth if the warring nations did not make peace. They complied, realizing that Pax meant business. Again Joe was borne upon the shoulder of fame. And at last the mystery of space was pried open. Pax equipped his antigravity machine and sailed for the moon. He returned safely, having made the trip in less than ten hours. We need not mention the hubbub of public excitement which followed. Joe was the King Bee of the public eye, and was married two hours after the specimen of the moon had been locked in “Father’s” museum. Pax disappeared as mysteriously and quietly as he had entered, and nothing was heard of him or his machine or laboratory until Professor Ben¬ jamin Hacker and two daring aviators found his machine in Virginia, and brought it to Washington. Pax and his laboratory had been wiped off the face of the earth by an explosion, but the machine had been left unharmed. The wonderful things done with this machine are revealed by Arthur Train in his “Moon Maker.” E. D. THE SALUTATION OF THE DAWN. ‘For yesterday is but a dream And tomorrow is only a vision. But today well lived, Makes every yesterday a dream of happiness, And every tomorrow a vision of hope. Look well, therefore, to this day!” 30

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MY PETS. Pets are not always an unalloyed joy. On the contrary, my experience has shown me that there is a great deal of pain mingled with the pleasure of possessing them. I can speak with authority on this subject, for I have had during my lifetime quite a few of them, both animate and inanimate. Away as far back as my memory goes the first one was a boy doll dressed in a Buster Brown suit, a facsimile of the suit I wore. I withstood many a teasing from other boys, and always watched him with an eagle eye, as a mother her son. I cherished him fondly until one day he had the misfortune to fall into a tub of water. Sister and I almost dove in after him in our frantic efforts to save his life. He floated around until grandfather came to the rescue and placed him in an oven to dry. In our childish thoughtlessness he was forgotten, and when we returned he had melted away like so much sweetness, and was to be seen no more on this terrestrial globe. I then took a Teddy Bear to console me. Every night whilst he lay on my pillow I confided to him the joys and sorrows of the day, and we counted over the spankings I had received. Teddy kept first place in my affection until I arrived at an important stage, the ripe age of six. Even then Teddy might be found under my pillow, instead of on top of it. I still loved him, but didn’t consider it manly to show such a feeling. Age has brought its changes; now I am not ashamed to show my love even for a chicken. I was seven when 1 had my first donkey. We were soon on very familiar terms; he even more than I. After a few decided liberties with his heels he was disposed of, and I looked around for a new pet. It was summertime and turtles were the rage. Many a weary hour I sat by the river bank waiting for them to come up on their log. When I spied one, I dove into the water and swam until I was almost underneath. I then came to the surface and grabbed it. By boring a hole in its shell and inserting a wire to keep it from getting a spell of absent mindedness it could be restrained from wandering away. At last I had so many of these docile creatures that, figuratively speak¬ ing, they almost cleared the ranch of flies. No one objected to their voracious appetite for this dish which they so much relished. But, useful though they were, my heart soon turned from them. It was the good fortune of their successors to keep a more lasting hold on my affections. I am still very fond of my shaggy goats. I believe the saddest hour I ever spent was when I heard that the cruel train had run over five of my beloved animals. One reason why I prize them so highly is that I had to sacrifice a cherished wish in order to obtain them. This is how it hap¬ pened : When I began to want long trousers I teased until my father said that I could have either the goats or a pair of long corduroy trousers. I chose the former and was thus compelled to wear, for another year, the apparel that marked me as a young lad. But that year passed, and now I have both my goats and my long trousers. Since I have almost reached the advanced age of fifteen, I have also adopted another pet that needs more care and affection than all the others together. Sometimes it is a nightmare; at other times a dream. You will agree with me when I tell you it is my pompadour. H.W. Patriotism consists not in waving a flag, but in striving that our country shall be righteous as well as strong.”—James Bryce. 32