MOM 78 V A FOREST RANGER THE FOREST RANGER AND OTHER VERSE COLLECTED & EDITED BY JOHN D. GUTHRIE Captain, Engineers, U. 5". Reserve; formerly Forest Supervisor (on furlough), U. S. Forest Service BOSTON RICHARD G. BADGER THE GORHAM PRESS COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY JOHN D. GUTHBIS All Rights Reserved . >. ( U%"\ UL ^1-A-J Made in the United States of America The Gorham Press, Boston, U.S.A. DEDICATED TO G. P. A FIGHTER FOR THE CAUSE OF CONSERVATION 39R917 THE MEN WHO WROTE THE VERSES MILFORD, Pike Co., Pa., August 7, 1917- Mr. Jno. D. Guthrie, Flagstaff, Ariz. DEAR GUTHRIE: I have read every word of your collection of verses of the Forest Service, all of it with keen interest, much of it with deep sym pathy and real delight. You have put me, with every other Forest Service man, deeply in your debt. Nothing in years has so brought back to me the spirit of the old days, and nothing has confirmed in me so clearly the belief long held that the Service now is the same as it was when I knew it by daily contact. For half a generation I have been convinced that no body of men in our Government service, and that means in any Government service in the world, has so high a standard of efficiency and such fine and generous devotion to duty as the United States For est Service, or is rendering in proportion to its num bers so extensive and valuable public service. Our people generally know that the Forest Service is clean and able, and can be trusted, but they have no conception of what it has passed through to reach its present well-earned place. Naturally, they do not realize the difficulties and responsibilities of the individual forest officer in his daily work. But the men who wrote these verses know, and I know too. You have made a real contribution to the safety and success of Forestry in America by publishing this book, for you have given the general reader a chance to understand something of what the work actually 5 The Men Wh<* Wrote the Verses means to the men who are doing it on the National Forests. American Foresters generally, and the men of the Service in particular, have always been willing to tackle any job, to make any personal sacrifice for the good of the work, and they have always had the forester s long look ahead. They have seen the great end from the small beginning, and have done cheerfully the hardest kind of hard work, have exer cised the most trying patience, have hung on with the grimmest determination, often for a distant re sult, the full flower of which they can not hope to live to see. ^ You yourself and many of the other men of the Forest Service are going into the War. Thereby you will change your uniform but not the spirit of your work. You were giving your lives to the Na tion before, and you are doing the same thing now. I wish it could be my good fortune to be with you now as I was in the times gone by. Good luck go with you. I was proud of the men of the Service when I be longed to it, and I am as proud of them today. There is no finer body of men alive. C. C. Hall ex presses my sentiments exactly in the verses " To My Old Comrades," when he says: " They say that Heaven is a beautiful place With rest, sweet songs, peace and joys But the thing that would suit me down to the ground Is- charge of God s Forests, and for Rangers these boys." Sincerely yours, GlFFORD PlNCHOT. 6 CONTENTS THE FOREST RANGER 19 Fred G. Plummer THE GOVERNMENT S HANDY MAN . . .21 Arthur Chapman THE CALL 22 Scott Leavitt THE EASTERNER 24 Jack Welch THE FOOL AND OUR FOREST DOLLARS . . 26 E. T. Allen AN OFFICE DETAIL : " . , 27 James H. Sizer I VE BEEN WORKING ON THE SURVEY . . 29 WHEN THE RANGER S FEET GET COLD . . 30 A. R. Ivey THE FOREST CLERK . . 32 Rita A. Castle THE FOREST ASSISTANT S COMPROMISE . . 34 R. F. Feagans THE FLORIDA RANGER . . . ... 36 /. F. Eldredge THE FIRE BUG AND THE EAST WIND 37 E. T. Allen THE RANGER ""."". 39 7 Contents PAGE FOREST FIRES 4 1 J. D. G. PROMOTION 43 James H. Sizer THE FORESTRY STUDENT 44 THE MYSTERY - . 45 Aldo Leopold A RANGER TO His BROTHER AT THE U . . 47 James H. Banner THE GILA RANGER S SONG 49 Jack Case THE NIGHT TRAIL . 50 Scott Leavitt ONLY A LITTLE TREE-BUTTON . . . . 52 Constance Mainwaring RESOLUTIONS OF A RANGER 53 Aldo Leopold A RANGER S DAY . 55 SKIDOO SKIS .56 James H. Sizer A RANGER S WORKING PLAN 57 /. D. G. THE FORESTER S LAMENT 58 R. W. Ayres A RANGER S JOYS 60 A. R. Ivey THE FOREST FIRE FIGHTERS 62 Arthur Chapman THE RANGER ON THE TAHOE 63 A. R. Ivey 8 Contents PAGE THE CRY OF THE SURVEY CREW . . .., .. 65 SPARE TIME 66 Aldo Leopold THE RANGER S LIFE 68 Arthur Chapman A BUG-LAND LULLABY 69 H. R. Mullen THE HOBO RANGER 71 Norman K. Olmstead SUN RIVER PASS 73 Scott Leavitt A RANGER S NEW YEAR S RESOLUTIONS . . 76 H. R. Batter ton CIRCULAR ONE-FOUR-NINE-SEVEN ... 78 William E. Harris THE TOURIST AND THE RANGER ... 80 Aldo Leopold THE HEGIRA 82 Will C. Barnes A FOREST INSPECTION HYMN . . . -,. >, 84 THIS JOB . . A.;r.ai ~W 86 WIRELESS BILL 87 James H. Sizer THE BUSY RANGER ....... 91 /. D. G. QUITTING TIME 93 A RANGER S THANKSGIVING HYMN ... 94 THE FIRE FOOL ^ ;^>^*v 95 A. G. Jackson 9 Contents PAGE THE FOREST LOAFER 96 Fred G. Plummer RECONNAISSANCE 98 W. P. Lawson ON CHANGING THE NAME OF HELLGATE . 100 P. S. Love joy THE NEW FOREST ASSISTANT 101 Jack Welch CERCOCARPUS 103 Gordon T. Backus THE LITTLE STILL 104 Douglas Rodman BILTMORE FOREST SCHOOL 105 James H. Sizer THE RANGER MEETING 106 A. R. Ivey GRIEF 108 Mary B. Sizer THE SONG OF THE OHMLETTE .... 109 Gordon T. Backus IF in Harris A. Reynolds FOREST RANGER S SONG 112 W. P. Lawson THE PRODIGAL 114 Jack Welch THE BUSY SEASON 116 Aldo Leopold 10 Contents PAGE WHEN WINTER COMES AROUND . . ., ,. 117 A. R. Ivey RECREATION ... 119 James H. Sizer To MY OLD COMRADES . , . . , . 122 C. C. Hall A PIPE DREAM . . > . * . t . . y 124 SPRING HAS COMB . . . . ! i i7 V v V 125 THE DIARY AND THE REFLECTION . .. ; 127 /. A. Lars en ON THE GUNNISON I2Q H. L. Thackwell LEAP YEAR AT A RANGER STATION . , 41 131 /. F. Forsythe REMEMBER THE ALAMO . . . . ^ , 132 C. C. Hall THE HOOK 4 , ! j j^^ /. F. Eldredge THE SPASM FROM THE SHASTA . . . .134 A QUIVER FROM THE TAHOE 136 A MUSING FROM THE ANGELES . H .,. ,. ..,, . 138 THE BRANDING OF THE FORESTS . !ft i 1 + . 140 Witt C. Barnes RANGER SONG FOR THE NORTH SIERRA RE SERVE I43 Charles H. Shinn THE FIRE GUARD ON PATROL . i^e J.D.G. ECONOMY i^ Charles H. Jennings II Contents PAGE FIRES 149 Bristow Adams THE APACHE RECESSIONAL . . "" " . . 152 J. D. G. A ROLLING STONE 153 Harry Lawson KLAMATH BUG SONG . 155 S. W. Allen RECEIPT FOR A RANGER 157 /. B. Cammann FOUR CENTS TO THE LICK 158 P. S. Love joy His WISDOM . 160 Howard C. Kegley PLANTING RHYMES . .; *V 5 * : *v tg^ix- . 161 THE FELLOW THAT DROPT THE MATCH . .162 THE FOREST PLEADERS . . . 1 . . 163 E. T. Allen PROSPECTIN . " . .165 /. R. Simmons EXTRACT FROM AN OLD-TIME DIARY OF AN OLD-TIME FOREST RANGER 166 James H. Sizer A FOREST SYMPOSIUM 168 The Prelude 168 The Suping Supervisor 168 The Desking Districter 170 The Rangy Ranger 171 The Woman Side 172 The Last Word 174 12 EDITOR S NOTE The verses in this volume have been in process of collection by the writer during the past fifteen years. Most of them appeared originally in the pages of forest news letters issued on the different National Forests. Poetical or literary merit is claimed only for a few, but the claim is made that they reflect the daily life and work of the Forest Ranger on the National Forests of the West. Some are frankly parodies; some are merely rhymes and jingles; some few are songs, sung by Rangers at their occasional meetings or perhaps hummed around a lonely camp fire by the side of some Forest trail, in the dense fir timber of the Pacific Northwest or the open pine forest of Florida. The labor of collecting and editing has been one entirely of pleasure, and the little book is sent out with no literary aspirations whatever but only with the desire to bring together and put on record these expressions of the spirit of the men who have heard the call of the forest and of distant places, and in the hope that they may bring back pleasant memories of many a forest camp or meeting. Perhaps they may be the forerunner of a collection of folk songs of American foresters and forest workers. Occasionally the editor has taken the liberty of 13 Editor s Note making minor changes from the originals ; he has en deavored always to retain the spirit back of the words. The authors of many of the verses were not known and thus previous permission to include these could not be obtained. To these unknown authors, perhaps Rangers in some far away moun tain cabin, the writer extends his thanks. He would appreciate being informed of the authorship of those verses which appear as anonymous. To the many who have responded so splendidly to the request for copies of verses contained in the issue of the Forest Quarterly especial thanks are extended. The volume here presented includes less than one-half of the total number collected and only the ones believed by the writer )to reflect most truly the Forest Ranger s life and work have been in cluded; many that were received were of too per sonal a nature or possessed a superabundance of local color to be of general interest to foresters and Forest officers. Especial thanks are due to the following indi viduals and publications for permission to include certain of the verses: Mr. Arthur Chapman, the Western poet, for "The Government s Handy Man," "The Forest Fire Fighters," and " The Ranger s Life," origin ally appearing in the columns of the Denver Repub lican; Mr. E. T. Allen, for " The Fool and Our Forest Dollars," "The Fire Bug and the East Wind," and "The Forest Pleaders"; the Uni versity of California Journal of Agriculture, for "The Ranger"; The Independent, for "Forest Editors Note Ranger s Song," by W. P. Lawson, originally ap pearing in Harpers Weekly; American Forestry for " The Hegira," " The Branding of the Forests," " If," " The Fire Fool," " The New Forest Assist ant," " The Prodigal," " The Easterner," " Fires," " The Fire Guard on Patrol," " Receipt for a Ran ger," and " His Wisdom." JOHN D. GUTHRIE. Flagstaff, Arizona, June 15, THE FOREST RANGER THE FOREST RANGER The Forest Ranger s mottoes stand, " Create, protect, restore," To help home builders with the land And bring content on every hand, Now and forevermore. Seedtime and harvest he computes, And from her plenteous store Summons Dame Nature s attributes To make two saplings shoot their shoots Where one shot heretofore. He stops the fires that send their floods Which tears the valley floor, And ruin the farmer s corn and spuds, So that two cows may chew their cuds, Where one could heretofore. Where only sage and cacti grew, With ditch and reservoir, Fed from the mount s protected snow, He sees two drops of water flow, Where one flew heretofore. And as the fruit of his master hand And knowledge of forest lore, Bearing the stockman s glaring brand, We see a team of horses stand Where one stood heretofore. 19 The Forest Ranger So here s to the Ranger s fireside; May his tribe increase galore, And may ten forest rangers ride On road, on trail or steep divide, Where one rode heretofore. Fred G. Plummer 20 The Forest Ranger THE GOVERNMENT S HANDY MAN Your Uncle Sam he says to me, " I want a man to ride, To pack a horse, and shoot a few, and sleep out doors besides.; " So I signed with him as a ranger bold, to ride the forests free, But lord ! you ought to see the stunts your Uncle Sam gave me ! It s law in the morning, science at night, Study all day, and figger and write ; He gets high-browed work on a high-browed plan, Does the Government s handy man. I ve broke my jaw on science names for every tree and bark; I ve got to know fine points in law, jest like a Blackstone shark ; I ve got to pick out min ral land, same as a wise M. E.; And this here ranger job ain t jest what it s cracked up to be. It s readin the Manual early and late, Rules by the hundred get em all straight. He d ruther punch cows, but he does what he can, Does the Government s handy man. Arthur Chapman 21 The Forest Ranger THE CALL And have you heard the Call where world-old silence broods And have you heard the Voice that speaks from soli tudes ? We who alone are wont to ride Among the pines at eventide, And climb to where some jutting crest Gigantic looks toward the west, There at the sunset hour to seek O er wide-flung realms of crag and peak And canyons, black with mystery Gold islands in a shadow sea Where silent tides of purple shade Engulf red shores that glow and fade Ah, we have heard the Voice that calls, That magic Voice which has no sound : From out the dusking night it falls, From canyon s depth and granite walls, And aw r e has compassed us around. And lone the trails we ride that run Where canyon shades shut out the sun: Rock-gated is the op ning pass Whence bursts the mountain s awesome mass, Where, far above the proudest height, A searching eagle hangs in flight And, ever soaring, wheeling, throws 22 The Forest Ranger A circling shadow on the snows: And darkling is the forest shade When camp by dusky stream is made Ah, then the hobbles clank we hear, When packs are off, and saddles thrown, And, breathing round the campfire s cheer, Again the silent Voice draws near The Mountains, calling to their own ! And we have gone where birches stand Like white-robed Naiads, hand in hand, Round hidden lakes where, trembling, lies The Secret of the Centuries, And seems to wait but time and chance To burst in magic utterance: The lake gives back the fading sky: Long shadows on the waters lie : The pine crests last with gold are kissed : The air is dark ning amethyst Ah, now again from shore and lake The magic, yearning Call is heard : Within our depths we feel it make Such echoes as in souls awake That understand, and need no word. And you have heard the Call where world-old si lence broods And you have heard the Voice that speaks from soli tudes. Scott Leavitt The Forest Ranger THE EASTERNER I was a ranger on the Bow * In the Service s early days, With a scalin stick, and an army Colt, And a nerve you couldn t feaze; A veteran of the cattle-war And the Leadville riot row, With a keen contempt for the Easterner, The pin-head, town-bred Easterner, Who called a steer a " ceow." I knew the kinks of a ranger s job From A to the letter Z, Fire patrol in the Snowy Range To side camp cookery. Slingin my tarp when the sun went down In the Rockies fenceless campin ground; None of the Eastern college kids Could show a thing to me. His tables of yield and growth per cent Would make a cayuse smile ; To see him throwin the diamond hitch Would pay you to hike a mile. He came with a thin-skinned silken tent, His grammar was certainly excellent; But grammar don t count for a copper cent When savy and sand s at trial. 1 Medicine Bow, National Forett. 24 The Forest Ranger So first we tormented him, then ignored, I guess his life was Hell; The pace we led the assistant man Wouldn t be good to tell. But as the years are speedin on And the seasons come and go, We re comin to see that the Easterner, The quick-brained, school-trained Eastern^, Is a pretty good man to know. We ve camped and smoked and rode and joked And run out lines together, When the misty mountains loomed up cold In the Bow s October weather. We fought the fires of Nineteen ten (Fought and ran, and fought again, Sectional lines were forgotten then) That made us pards forever. Now we feel he s one of us, And forget his Eastern birth, We find he knows some things we don\ About this planet Earth. So we listen while he tells us, And he listens in return; For each can teach the other Some useful things to learn. Jack Welch The Forest Ranger THE FOOL AND OUR FOREST DOLLARS Goodby to the fool with the empty gun ; Forgotten his bid for fame. Though he kills his friend, it only counts one, And that, nowadays, is tame. The fool who playfully rocks the boat Is on the front page no more. He may rank high with the fools afloat But his glory has gone ashore. There s the fool with women, the fool with wine, And the fool who games with strangers, And the joy-ride fool (he does well in his line By combining these ancient dangers). But they re all still down in the primer class, Mere novices taking a flyer, Compared with the prize-taking criminal ass, The fool in the woods with fire. A few hearts break for the deeds they ve done In their pitiful amateur way, But fire slays dozens where they slay one And scourges a State in a day. For the ruined home and the smokeless stack And the worker unemployed Know a hundred years shall never bring back The things that his match destroyed. E. T. Allen 26 The Forest Ranger AN OFFICE DETAIL I got a little detail To the Supervisor s shack, And I hadn t lit in Springer, Till I wished that I was back On the far end of my district, Counting stock or building trail, For to work inside an Office Is like doing time in jail. This bending o er a table, And a writing all the day, Is a-making me hump-shouldered, And my hair is turning gray. It shore will be my finish If they don t relieve me soon, For my bewhiskered, sunburnt features Is gettin paler than the moon. Some may rant and cuss a little, And feel they ve got a snob Cause they haven t been promoted To a Supervisor s job; But I d rather face the devil, Or a bald-faced grizzly bear, Than this everlasting torment In a Super s swivel chair. The Forest Ranger I thought that I had troubles When on my district all alone, But I ve found that serious trouble Was a thing I d never known. When I git back on my district, You can bet your life I ll stay, And be thankful to my Maker I can draw a ranger s pay. James H. Sizer The Forest Ranger I VE BEEN WORKING ON THE SURVEY I ve been working on the survey, all the live-long day, I ve been working on the survey, just to pass the time away. Don t you hear the Cook a-calling, rise up so early in the morn, Don t you hear the Boss a-shouting " Pull your trousers on ! " Sing me a song of the Survey, Pull that chain along, Forester ain t half so happy As when he s singing a song. Stem-analysis crew for the loafers, The Height-crew for a snap, But if you want the best of fellows, The Survey s the best on the map. Lake Ambajejus, Me., 1903. 29 The Forest Ranger WHEN THE RANGER S FEET GET COLD In the spring the ranger s feet begin to tingle and get warm, For the " wanderlust " is on him, and he feels the mountain charm. The birds are singing gaily, and the hills are get ting green, And he knows the trout are leaping in every moun tain stream. The days are getting longer; the flowers are all in bloom ; So what s the use of waiting in some stuffy Ranger room? He gently sounds the " Boss " on the subject near his heart. Has he " Heard how long before Brown s sawmill s going to start ? " He talks about the brush that he was going to burn last Fall, And wonders how his fences are, and if they re down at all, And how his cabin stood the snow, and if it needs repair, And about the trail he d like to " brush " if he were only there. He overhauls his outfit half a dozen times a day, Till the " Boss " takes pity on him and sends him on his way, For the " wanderlust " is on him, and he feels the mountain charm, And it s hard to hold a ranger when his feet get warm. The Forest Ranger The Summer passes quickly the ranger s on the go, He dreads the thought of winter when he ll have to move below. He gets his share of pleasure, as well as plenty work, For a ranger s jobs are many, and he s seldom known to shirk. He feels at home in cattle camps; the tourists are his friends, " And I don t care a rap," he says, " if summer never ends ! " For his feet are warm and tingling ; there s music in the air, His home is where he hangs his hat, and he doesn t have a care. But along about November there comes a sudden change, The sheep are moving southward; the cattle leave the range. And the ranger feels a longing, and his thoughts be gin to roam, And he dreams about the office, and the dear ones all at home, His mind is busy scheming how he s going to get " called in." The " Boss " has sure forgot him, and he thinks it is a sin. The " wanderlust " has left him, and he doesn t feel so bold. For he s like all other mortals when his feet get cold. A. R. Ivey 31 The Forest Ranger THE FOREST CLERK Who could relate the kinds of work That fall to the lot of the Forest Clerk? Record the things that she must do Before she counts her day s work through? She opens the letters and reads the mail From a grazer s complaint to a timber sale : She takes dictation as a matter of course From the janitor up to the head of the force: She bears the brunt of the office ire And wears a smile as she pokes the fire: Till frowns disappear and hearts grow strong: And not the least of her many trials Is keeping in mind all things in the files, Which files she arranges day after day For those who take out but don t put away. Accounts and disbursements must be kept well in hand, As for errors in that line no D. F. will stand ; And so the poor Clerk must worry her brains, And get little thanks for her efforts and pains : She makes out reports and orders supplies For the force in the office and Ranger likewise : She straightens out claims and helps on the maps, Reconnaissance, grazing, or boundaries, perhaps. She answers the telephone forty times daily, Welcomes all visitors and talks to them gaily, E en though on her desk the work stands knee deep, 32 The Forest Ranger And all must be finished before she can sleep. The first of the year she turns her attention To Accountability too awful to mention ! Then follow the things which before I have quoted Though dozens of things I haven t yet noted, Such as corrals and fences and bridges and trails, Telephone lines and great timber sales: Fire prevention for tree preservation To help Uncle Sam promote Conservation. She tends all these duties in a businesslike way; So when all s said and done no critic can say She doesn t deserve, from the hands of the Nation, The small sum she gets as due compensation. ~Rita A. Castle 33 The Forest Ranger THE FOREST ASSISTANT S COMPROMISE He longed to be a Ranger And through the Forest ride, A Stetson on his noble brow Six-shooter by his side And now he s wearing hip-boots Down in Florida! He had read " The Ranger s Triumph," All full of quirks and thrills, He had heard of " Whiskey-High-Ball Bill " And those six men he kills And now he s picking chiggers On the Ozark! He knew some Forests by their name, The Tusayan and Nebo, He swore that he would win to fame Surpassing that of Pinchot And now he s counting sheep Down on the Prescott! He dreamed of fighting raging fires, Flames leaped from tree to tree, The giant forests gleamed and fell As he could plainly see And now he s stationed In Pinyon, Nevada! 34 The Forest Ranger He went to school for many a year, At Penn State or dear old Yale, He knew that he could minister A ten million dollar sale But now he s counting seedlings On the Wasatch ! He thought that in the years to come How he would win a wife, A glorious, dazzling, wondrous maid, A pal to him through life And her maiden name was, Lolita Salazar! R. F. Feagans 35 The Forest Ranger THE FLORIDA RANGER Mighty is he who can sail the sea And ride a cayuse too, Run a line and corners find, And boss a timber crew. He must know how engines go, And how to steer at night, How to measure logs and navigate fogs, How to quell a nigger fight. He s got to know where the seedlings grow, Where the oysters bask in bed, Where the crackerjack eats the razor back, And what the wild waves said. To keep his name on Duffy s * list, And draw the blue lined envelope, He s got to show the tattooed wrist, As well as throw the cattle rope. I.F.Eldredffe 1 Formerly district fiscal agent in the Southwestern Dis trict. The Forest Ranger THE FIRE BUG AND THE EAST WIND " No, I ll not burn my slash this spring," The moss-back logger said, " I ll trust to God and luck again; Expense is what I dread." " It s time to hit the trail again," The careless camper said, And left his little fire ablaze Within its leafy bed. "I ll light another cigarette," The idle loafer said, And chucked his old snipe in the brush, One end still glowing red. " Let s punch the screen out of the stack," The donkey fireman said, And so he did, and all the sparks Sailed blithely overhead. " Come on, we ll dump our ashes now," The railroad trainmen said, The train soon fanned them far and wide As on its way it sped. " Good time to fire my slashing now," The thrifty rancher said, And touched it off without a thought Of how far it might spread. 37 The Forest Ranger " I think I ll blow an hour or two," The restless East wind said, Then liked it so he changed his mind And blew a week instead. " Millions in lives and timber lost," The newspapers next said. What made those fires all start at once, We wondered as we read. " It wasn t us, it was that wind," The fools in chorus said. So they re alive and loose this year, We hope the wind is dead. E. T.Allen The Forest Ranger THE RANGER (The following verses were found in a ranger station on the El Dorado National Forest.) The season s over, and they come down From the ranger stations to the nearest town, Wild and woolly and tired and lame From playing that " next-to-nature " game. These are the men the nation must pay For " doing nothing " the town folks say. But facts are different, I m here to tell That some of their trails run right through well Woods and mountains and deserts and brush. They are always going and always rush, They camp at some mountain meadow at night, And dine on a can of " ranger s delight," * Get up in the morning when the robins sing, And break their fast at a nearby spring, And then they start for another day, With corners to hunt and land to survey. That trouble settled they start for more, They re never done till the season s o er. They build cabins and fences and telephone lines, Look over homesteads and investigate mines. There s a telephone call, there s a fire to fight, The rangers are there both day and night, Till the fire is out and damage rated, And the stand of timber is estimated. Oh, the ranger s life is full of joys, 1 Tomatoes. 39 The Forest Ranger And they are all good, jolly, care-free boys, And in wealth they are sure to roll and reek, For a ranger must live on one meal a week. But a lookout man is a different thing ; Of all the bum loafers he is the king ; He never does a dog-gone thing, Just sit on a mountain-top and sing, And swear when the phone begins to ring. The Forest Ranger FOREST FIRES There s a roarin fire a ragin through our splendid timbered slopes, And we re fightin it like devils with nothin but some hopes. Just a smoky sky above us and the cinders neath our feet And no peltin raindrops fallin to make our souls more sweet ; With no bed of downy " suggins " waitin for our needed rest, With no chuck at all to feed us and this surely ain t no jest! And the pay is ninety dollars Oh, the rangers living swell, And we like this forest business, but Fires is hell! Today the weather changed a bit it began to rain like sin And we stopped the back-firm where we were sure we d win. The lightnin* shot through the dead tree tops and the thunder sure did roll, And we most shook our hides plumb off, a shakin 1 with the cold. We huddled around the smokin* stumps, feelin* something more than damp, And a wantin just to go to camp but hell, there weren t no camp. 41 The Forest Ranger Just a stormy sky above us and the smoky ground beneath, And the peltin raindrops blendin with the chat ter of our teeth. But the pay is ninety dollars and the rangers liv ing swell, And we like this forest business, but Fires is hell! J.D.G. The Forest Ranger PROMOTION The hill of life is slippery And until you ve reached the top, Though you re tired, sick and hungry, You can t afford to stop. For other men are climbing If you stop, you re sliding back, And soon you will be numbered With the stragglers of the pack. Take a man in any business If he attains success, He must study what he s doing Stead of doing it by guess. It s the same way in the Service, But it s on a bigger plan, And the problems that confront us Are a test for every man. We must labor with our muscle And also with our brain, By our unremitting efforts Only will we realize our gain. For the men in higher office Have had to work their way From the job of Forest Ranger To the job they hold today. And they still must keep on working Just the same as you and I, For big pig, or little pig, It s root, hog, or die. James H. Sizer 43 The Forest Ranger THE FORESTRY STUDENT The Ag student builds his pig pen, The pharmacist compounds his pills, But we roam thru the forests . Neath the pine clad lordly hills. The Aggie can handle his chickens, The druggist can palm off his dope, But we in the fir topped mountains With Dame Nature s elements cope. The Aggie boasts of his Jerseys, The druggist dreams of his " scentt," But we sleep out in the open, The pines and cedars, our tents. To him that knows not shall be stated, And that s why we pen these lines, To the Aggie, the pharmacist, and others, Who know not the spell of the pines. The Montana Kaimin. 44 The Forest Ranger THE MYSTERY One Sunday morn the Deputy His cayuse did bestride, And far and wide the lonely hills He rode, till eventide. At even he shared his hungry lot With a Ranger bold and true, And lest you too should with him stop, This tale I ll tell to you. " I am a cook," this Ranger said ; So by the lamplight s glimmer, The Deputy he smoked at ease, The Ranger cooked the dinner. With furtive look he did produce An ancient hash machine; With sinister smile he fed it By the lamplight s eerie gleam. He fed it eggs, he fed it rice, And onions, one or two, He fed it chili, meat, and spice, Nor cheese did he eschew. Then solemnly he milk did add; He stirred it nice and even ; With blithesome wink and whistle glad He put IT in the oven. 45 The Forest Ranger The Deputy, he sat and smoked, Too late now to escape IT ! The stove it burned as if provoked But patiently did bake IT. And now in mercy I ll omit The story of the dinner, Enough to say we ate IT all By the lamplight s eerie glimmer. When all was o er the Deputy Besought this Ranger bold : " This Dish, what do you call it, Sir, This recipe unfold ? " " A Cook am I," the Ranger said, " Fearless and bold and free THE MYSTERY I call it, Sir, And it is good for thee! " On Monday morn the Deputy His cayuse did bestride, A sadder but a wiser man Since Sunday s eventide. Aldo Leopold The Forest Ranger A RANGER TO HIS BROTHER AT THE U You ask me, Old pal, of the forest, The mountain, the stream and the pine, Of a ranger s life as I see it, So I ll try to drop you a line. Of course you are wrapped in your studies, (Which I note from your card are few) But I ll try to teach you a lesson; One you won t learn at the U. Have you gazed on big dizzy mountains, With deep, dark valleys below ? Have you spent the night in the forest So still you could hear it grow? Have you climbed to the tops of the foothills, Where the vision ranges free, And seen the pines and the hemlocks As far as the eye could see ? Have you broken the trail on snowshoes, Staggering blind through the snow, And heard the great white silence? You ve got to have grub so you go. Have you seen the stars as a background, For the mountains and peaks at rest, As you stood in the lookout station And watched that fire in the west ? Have you ever run out any firelines, And gone days and nights without sleep, 47 The Forest Ranger Grimed with the red rage of battle And steeled in the furnace heat ? Have you gazed on the bleak desolation And the blackened trunks as they sway, Nature s work for millions of years All destroyed in a day? Have you followed the trail in the summer, Sung a rag-time song on the hill, The smell of the pines all about you, The sunshiny woods all athrill? You see a big buck on the mountains And hear the wild birds call, And you noticed the bigness, the beauty, Haven t you wondered what s back of it all? Well, son, have I taught you a lesson Can you read it between the lines ? I have read you God s own sermon As I see it in the pines. Tis the simple text of nature, Not heard in any pew; Be sure you write and tell me Do they teach you this at the U ? James H. Banner The Forest Ranger THE GILA RANGER S SONG The melancholy days have come, And this is a sad, sad day, For the autumn s here, and I do not know What I ve done with my summer s day. The leaves have turned brown, and come drifting down, And now we have frost at night; I must rustle around and get some clothes, For these khakis are mighty light. My toes stick out on the cold, cold ground, And it sure is hard on my feet ; But we can t buy clothes with the pay we get, It s all we can do to eat. *Jack Case The Forest Ranger THE NIGHT TRAIL I rode on a lonely trail when night From the depths of the canyons drew A dusky veil over crag and height And the wild land dimmed from view. And I paused a space on the rock-strewn rise Where the trail to the canyon dips, To watch how the day-flush leaves the skies Through the west, where a rim of mountains lies With a fading glow on their tips. In the moment s hush when the day was done And the still world seemed to wait, An outcast coyote wailed alone And a far elk called his mate: And it seemed that the wild things voiced a dread Of the gloom and the mystery, Of a Sense of Fate that with silent tread Crept close around, and whose calling led Into ways that they could not see. I must go my way, for the long miles lead By the mountain and cleft ravine ; And now must my mount be true indeed, For we follow a way unseen. What s the worth of a horse, only we can say Who alone through the silence ride: So I slacken the rein let him find the way Mine be the guiding hand by day, By night let his instinct guide. 50 The Forest Ranger Save a moon-rimmed cloud on the eastern line, The sky wears an inky shroud : So still are the masses of rock and pine That the hoof beats call aloud. Down the canyon s pitch through the river ford, Like a shade through a shadow land Then the stony bar that leads toward The bank where the willows in silent horde Brush by me with phantom hand. And my horse goes true to the end of the trail, Where the light of the camp shines out And true goes our purpose that will not fail Till we pass through the gloom of doubt : True goes the purpose that leads us still When our cause knows the hour of night Knows the shadows of greed and of selfish will For we know we but ride in the gloom until Our way has an end of light. Scott Leavitt The Forest Ranger ONLY A LITTLE TREE-BUTTON Only a little tree-button but it makes a person blue A-thinkin of mountains to climb up and timber to wander through, A pack horse loaded with plunder and grub enough for two. Deer and fish a-plenty and nothin whatever to do But then I must sew on buttons, and make em stick like glue. Oh, just think of the valleys, with marigolds all aglow, And the springs that taste like nectar that thru the meadows flow Oh, the tiger lilies are buddin , and the roses all ablow The mountains in the distance are pink with sun- tipped snow But this ain t puttin on buttons, I ve got to get busy and sew. Constance Mainwaring The Forest Ranger RESOLUTIONS OF A RANGER Were resolutions made to keep, were schedules fol lowed through, Were Working Plans not modified each hundred years or two, It might be kind of serious-like to so rashly turn em loose On my unsuspectin District, in numbers so profuse. But seein as how the poet saith, that resolves are used below To pave their trails and highways with, and if what he says is so, It looks to me both logical, and thoughtful and dis creet, That the more of em that I turn loose, the less I ll burn my feet! So here s my crop for New Year s day, and brother Ranger mine: I know my sentiments agree quite more or less with thine, So take these resolutions, which I recommend for you To keep, and never break them, till it s necessary to. 1. I will love mine enemies. Yea, though their goats abide in my pasture, though they tell the Super I be a sonofagun, I will love them alway. 2. I will obey mine hydrographer ; before break fast will I read his gauges; for him will I walk in the waters ; and for him mightily will I labor, tnd chop the ice from the face of the deep. 53 The Forest Ranger 3. I will collect all the weeds on my District, and cherish them in mine Herbar-i-um, that their ways shall be known of men, and their Latin names, and the length thereof. 4. I will shun the Evil One, and Miscellaneous Executive Duties ; yea, these will I shun. 5. I will make Promise Cards for all things that are due on sea or land, and the date thereof. 6. I will blaze not from horseback, that the heart of the Boss may be gladdened, that his heart may re joice in my District. 7. I will count all the cones of the trees, and the full measure thereof will I report as the Seed-Crop. Yea, though the D. F. command me to collect an thousand pounds, and mine hair be made gray and full of pitch, so will I report. 8. In the month of Fires I will drape my cay use with shovels; with rakes of steel and pickaxes of iron shall my mule be laden, and I will dwell in mine Lookout many days. 9. I will diligently survey mine June n s, nor will I list where groweth the pine-tree; I will recommend him not for listing, though my survey twinkle as the stars, though it be shapen like the pan cakes of an Tenderfoot, verily I will recommend him not. 10. I will honor the Super all the days of my life, and the Working Plan forever and ever. A Ido Leopold 54 The Forest Ranger A RANGER S DAY In the morning I get up at eight, I light the fire and then I wait Until the clock has time to go Around the dial a time or so. Then when the fire is going good, I go and chop a little wood ; Not much, you know, it wouldn t pay To chop it all up in one day. Then I put the coffee on to boil, And other stuff, so it won t spoil ; I mix the dough gobs in a pan Given to me by " the Old Man." Then when I ve had my fill of food (I call it that it s pretty good) I wash what dishes there may be, A pan, a pot, and a cup, by gee ! Then I saddle up old Kit, Go out and look around a bit, Up to the lookout an awful climb Come back down and it s supper time. After supper I go to bed, A hard day s work, and I m nearly dead, And I dream of a song that now is rife, I think it s called, " This is the life." From The Forestry Kaimin, University of Montana. 55 The Forest Ranger SKIDOO SKIS The snow was smooth and crusted, three feet deep or more, Couldn t travel horseback as in the days of yore : Mountains steep and rugged covered thick with trees ; Had to fix the phone line, so made a pair o skis. Started o er the mountain, but I hadn t fur to go Till I looked off in a canyon a thousand feet below, Got straddle of my brake-pole and slid off o er the brink, But of the consequences I hadn t stopped to think. Started mighty sudden, and in no time at all I was shootin down the mountain like a glancin rifle ball; Trees passed my line of vision in a dim and misty blur, Skis and snow a-makin a sort of sick nin whir. Then came a big explosion from somewhere on the line, And I landed in the branches of an old dead pine ; Got myself extracted, dug snow out of my eyes ; Couldn t find my pill-bag of telephone supplies. The skis had quit the country, wind was mighty cold, Looked like there d been an earthquake, but guess twas where I d rolled ; Clothes all tore to thunder, bark off both my knees, Resultin from the antics of them gol-darned skis ! Jama H. Smer The Forest Ranger , A RANGER S WORKING PLAN His trail is not strewn with roses, His life s not the life of a king; His knowledge must equal Jehovah s He s supposed to know everything. Sheep herders, free users and cowmen Throng his station thro out the day, While his " Working Plan " lies unfinished and waiting, Till they ve " augured " and rode on their way. He has Uses and Settlement and Grazing, Improvements and Claims which he hates Though it s hard to get a promotion, He tries and he tries and he waits. But through it all he rides in his glory, His badge ashine in the sun, With his " Working Plan " ever before him, Saying, " Somehow I ve got to get it all done." J. D.G. 57 The Forest Ranger THE FORESTER S LAMENT (Tune "On the Road to Mandalay.") For the planting of a forest, they have put us here to roam, With the mountains for a play-ground, and the chaparral for home, But on these sunbaked hillsides, where the sage brush grows so free In the dim and distant future, a pine forest you may see. CHORUS Our respects to Billy Hall, he s the guy what runs us all, And hell do this bloomin planting, if it can be done at all, But askin them that know it best, Hosmer, Miller and the rest, How without a drop of water, can you plant the Golden West? v We ve a cactus for a pillow, and a yucca for a seat, And our hobnails hot and heavy, raisin blisters on our feet, But now these things we re used to, and we do not give a d For we re children of the Bureau and we re slaves of Uncle Sam. 58 The Forest Ranger CHORUS Try surveying as we ve tried it, on shanks mare each mountain side, And you ll be most gol durn thankful, when you ve crossed your last divide. Oh, it s better let alone for it s drier than a bone, Every blessed inch of country from Mt. Lowe to San Anton. R. W. Ayres San Gabriel Forest Reserve, 1903. 59 The Forest Ranger A RANGER S JOYS Did you ever for a Summer, try a " bachelor stunt " alone, In a lonely mountain meadow, forty miles away from home, Where mosquitos wore no muzzles, and the flies knew how to bite, And the rattlesnakes were plenty, and the coyotes howled at night? Did you ever cook your " flapjacks " in a house so full of smoke, That your tears dripped in the batter? It is funny, but no joke. Have you burned your beans and bacon, wished de voutly for a wife ? If you haven t, then you re missing half the joys of Rangers life. Have you tried to catch your horses in a meadow wet with dew, Where the grass grew rank and luscious, that wet your clothing thru ? Watched them kick their heels with pleasure, and then start on a run Across that same wet meadow, till you wished you had a gun? Did you finally corral them in a corner of the fence, Stamping, snorting, wildly eager, looking for an other chance To dash by you, kick their heels up, just as though you were a stranger ? If you haven t, then you re missing half the joys of a Forest Ranger. 60 The Forest Ranger Have you ridden for an hour, by the side of a roar ing brook, Watching trout jump in the sunlight, when you didn t have a hook? When the shadows on the water were alluring as a dream, Did you mutter a few " cuss words " as you left that tempting stream ? Did you swear by all that s Holy, that as sure as Sunday came, You d be back there with your fishrod and mix in that little game? Did you roll out Sunday morning, half awake and half asleep, To get this little message, " Can you go count Freeman s sheep " ? Have you ridden through the Forest with the shad ows at your feet, While the grouse were drumming round you, and you hadn t any meat, And the quail were thick as spatter, and you couldn t take a shot, Did the " badge " on your suspenders help your feelings out a lot? And at night when you re so tired you can hardly even eat, Does some tourist " drop in on you," take your only easy seat, Stick his feet up on your stove hearth, and although he is a stranger, Tell you calmly as he lolls there, " It s a snap to be a Ranger"? 6 1 A. R. Ivey The Forest Ranger THE FOREST FIRE FIGHTERS The wind sweeps off the spire-like peak, And is whirling the cinders high ; While down in the stifling, deadly reek, We struggle, and all but die. We have felled the trees in the fire s path, Till our hands are bleeding and sore ; But always it speeds, with a hiss of wrath, And leaps the barrier o er. We have fought it back, with blaze gainst blaze, And yet has the foe slipped past ; But slowly we yield, in the choking haze, Till the victory s won at last. Small pay do we get, and thanks are gruff, When we ve fought the foe to his knees; But, after all, the reward s enough, When we hear the wind in the trees. Arthur Chapman The Forest Ranger THE RANGER ON THE TAHOE The ranger on the Tahoe, in the winter has a snap, He has nothing to do but work till hiking time comes back. When the season s fires are over, full of joy he comes to town, He s maybe got the notion that he s going to lay around, But the Boss, too, has a notion and it s mixed with plenty tact, For he grips our hands with pleasure; says " I m glad to see you back. We ve had a dandy season, and it s time to take a rest, We re going to plant some seedlings fifteen thousand at the best. " The job will soon be finished, so just to fill out time, We ll sow two hundred acres with the seed of Jeffrey Pine. Of course we ll let all trail work lay over till the Spring. If it rains we ll make out estimates, reports, and other things, And do a little mapping, and straighten up our files, Also figure on a trail that will save us many miles. And since the phone last season proved just to be THE THING, We ll build a line to Bloomfield between now and the Spring. 63 The Forest Ranger " It s only fourteen miles, and of course we ll cut the poles, And cut the brush along the way, and also dig the holes ; We ll stretch the wire, install the phone, and thus cut down expense, And then by way of resting, we re going to build a fence, For our seedlings need protection from the sheep, the cow, and horse. And then in stormy weather (When we can t get out, of course) We can study up on Grazing, Silviculture and the like, To polish up our * Thinker before we have to hike." So the ranger on the Tahoe has nothing to do but work, But you can t hear any kicking, and no one tries to shirk, For we ve got to keep on hustling if we finish up by Spring. You can bet your badge we ll be there with every single thing. We re a happy bunch of rangers and when we have to part, We ll have a friendly feeling for each other in our heart. And we ll start our summer s duties with a great deal keener zest, Than if we hadn t hustled to get a winter s rest. A. R. Ivey 64 The Forest Ranger THE CRY OF THE SURVEY CREW It s tramp, tramp, tramp of the moccasined feet As through the muck we wallow, And it s champ, champ, champ of the hungry jaws, As our bread and tea we swallow. In the life of the Forester s crew It s damned hard work we do. For it s sweat all day and it s freeze all night, In the life of the Forester s crew. Chesuncook, Me., 1902. The Forest Ranger SPARE TIME I ve heard tell of side-hill gougers, cactus bucks, and ten pound trout; Some say they go round foretellin how the moon is going out ; Now I don t misdoubt, but sometime, somewhere, some such things may be, But if they re rangin on my District, they ve fought mighty shy o me. Still a fellow can t be certain what things is and what can t be; There s some big one circulatin footloose here in District Three. Ever hear how on the Datil all the cows was painted red? Till it rained and percolated pigments off the water shed? Other wonders too is chousin round across the scen ery- Heard as how on the Apache a billion dollar sale there ll be? How the Gila had some burros workin in their Working Plan, Millin round the Workin Circle? (till the D. F. tied the can). Now these wonders I m relatin incidental-like to you Just to lead up gradual to my most obsessin buga boo. 66 The Forest Ranger If the Lord should run my District even He d be cuttin sign To find that scarce commodity that the Super calls " spare time." Not that I d have you think it s scarce in print. I know Them files of mine would assay out round twenty pounds or so, Cause rainy days and winter time and idle hours at nights In circulars and schedule sheets is sure the favorites. But of the actual article it still pains me to forego Actual adverse bonny-fide possession a week or so ; Might requisition some from Ogden, maybe there they ve got some loose, But I s pose they d say as usual that it ain t for Ran gers use. Now I ve got just one more idea; b lieve some day I ll try it out Write a letter to the Zuni, Coronado or the Routt, Or better yet, the Coconino, t send me what they ve got to spare ; Never yet heard tell o nothin that they didn t have out there! Now, my friend, I d best be travellin . Adios! and don t forget That spare time for writin verses is the only kind I get. Aldo Leopold 67 The Forest Ranger THE RANGER S LIFE Nights that are spent in the open, Under the whispering trees; Slumber that s sweet and dreamless Lullabys sung by the breeze. Waked by the first red sunbeam Unto no day of strife Waked to a day of pleasure Such is the ranger s life. Over paths necked with sunshine, Threading the tree-lined ways; Fording a snow-born streamlet There where the big trout plays. Surprising the elk at the dawning The bear at his clumsy play Feeling the heart-beat of Nature, Such is the ranger s day. Think you the city can call him? What charm has the market place? Why should he turn from the mountains, Inviting, from peak to base. Town s but to dream of at even, When camp fire smoke curls high. So lives the forest ranger Under the western sky. Arthur Chapmen 68 The Forest Ranger A BUG-LAND LULLABY Once an old Beetle Dendroctonus, Decided the world he would see; So he left the dead tree in the orchard, With his wife and Denny, the Wee. They traveled far over the mesa, And loitered along the way; But reached a likely forest, Just at the close of day. Hush-a-by, Lull-a-by, Sleep, for the birds have not gotten us, Hush-a-by, Lull-a-by f Dear little Denny Dendroctonus, The welcoming breeze in the branches, Drove the roving desire away; And Daddy Beetle Dendroctonus, Decided to locate and stay. So deep in a tree he went drilling, Deep in a tree that stood high, And dug out some canals adjoining, In which little Denny could lie. Hush-a-by, Lull-a-by, Sleep in your beetly thoughtlessness , Hush-a-by, Lull-a-by, Dear little Denny Dendroctonus, The Forest Ranger Soon the dead leaves will be falling; Soon this big tree will decay. You will wax fat on its failing, For that is the Droctonus way. Soon you ll grow up and go drilling, Over the woods as you please, Leaving behind a gaunt pathway, Of dead and withering trees. Hush-a-by, Lull-a-by t Sleep, for the Ranger s forgotten us, Hush-a-by, Lull-a-by, Dear little Denny Dendroctonus, H.R.Mullen 70 The Forest Ranger THE HOBO RANGER He is just a Hobo Ranger, But he packs a heavy load. For it s Lookout Peaks in summer, And it s winter on the road. The road is up the South Payette, And she s sure a fancy grade, But he never gets to use her, When once he s got her made. There s a schoolmarm in the Valley, And he likes to see her smile, But there are snowslides in between them, And it s many a weary mile. When you sit in your steam het office, And your cigar s all aglow, Think about the Hobo Ranger Where it s twenty-five below. For he s blasting out the solid rock, And picking out the muck, He s thinking about you lucky guys And cussing at his luck. But when he gets his out-fit packed, And climbs the Last Divide, He finds old Peter waiting, And the gates are open wide. 71 The Forest Ranger He ll gladly turn his horses out, For the forage bill s all paid ; He ll pull his worn old hair chaps off, And sit down in the shade. He ll hear the harps a-strumming, As he ll be sitting on the grass, For the " rock pile " is far behind him, And he s got his Station at last. Norman K. Olmstead The Forest Ranger SUN RIVER PASS Till you have seen the sun set behind Sun River Pass You have not seen the sunset none other can surpass ! On left and right rock battlements guard close the canyon s mouth And Castle Reef stands on the north, and Sawtooth on the south: The Castle s wall has keep and tower, and mul- lioned parapets, And Sawtooth s ridge is shot with spires like moslem minarets. Before, the plain sweeps wide and far, a spell-held, silent sea Whose breakers at the rampart s foot have caught Eternity So short the stretch of broken land that rims the prairies sweep, Abrupt and tall the giant walls from out the prairies leap So close behind the gated pass the crowded moun tains stand, The canyon s but a door that leads from plain to mountain land. From out the plain in mystic train, when day is drawing late, The sunset lights like belted Knights ride through that castle gate ! A glowing host with spears agleam, the Day s bright armies go, And, silent o er the fading land, Night s vanguard follows slow. 73 The Forest Ranger And now come pacing sentinels of light upon the walls, And soft across the ramparts face a magic splendor falls The fortress towers in sudden glow with golden hosts are manned, And Day behind Sun River Pass has taken up his stand ! From canyon s gate to Castle s crest his sun-bright banners play; He s lit his fires on Sawtooth s spires and waits the coming fray He s lit his fires on Sawtooth s spires, he waits on Castle s crest, His armies climb the glowing peaks and spread along the west. Like Bedouins from the desert depths, Night s shadow warriors swarm : In silence on the dark ning plain the sable legions form! So still they move toward the gap, so quick the col umns mass, They ve purpled on the fortress walls, they ve dark ened in the pass, Ere, flashing from the guarded gate in flood of daz zling light, A burst of Day in fierce foray leaps out upon the Night! Now, far across the bursting plain the startled shad ows fly Now, out upon the glooming plain the lights begin to die! 74 The Forest Ranger The hosts of Night have paused in flight the scat tered Shades return And back, toward the gated pass, Day s failing war riors turn. The earth glows red where they lie dead; the red has paled to gray And once again before the walls Night waits, in grim array. Now look, upon the Castle s crest, what glories wane and glow ! And look, upon Old Sawtooth s spires, what splen dors come and go ! The walls are bathed in crimson mist, the gate is choked with gloom, And dim, behind, as though in dread, the waiting mountains loom. Grim, silent as a dreaming tide, and Shadow hordes move on They ve scaled the sullen fortress walls and through the gates have gone: One scarlet flash along the rim when Light and Darkness meet, And instant from the graying peaks is Daylight s quick retreat : And the Spell of Night comes moving like a conq ror o er the land, And scatters out the sudden stars as largess from his hand With a van of mystic shadows, and a train of moon lit state, He seats him on the silent towers that guard Sun River s gate. Scott Leavitt 75 The Forest Ranger A RANGER S NEW YEAR S RESOLU TIONS On New Years, he resolved to be, The busiest man, the world could see. He would work out his trails, Make some large timber sales, Which would add to his district s receipts ; Then improvements galore, Would be made near his door, And his cabin kept tidy and neat. He vow d he would see, That each permittee, Paid fees upon all of his cows, To keep Uncle Sam, From going ker-slam, Straight to the eternal bow-wows. And during fire season, He d find out the reason, For every smoke in the sky ; And he d fight with a vim, And he d never give in, Until never a spark could he spy. Prior authority he d sue, Before buying aught new, And he d strive his " Super " to please ; For Economy s need, He would throttle his greed, And every last dollar he d squeeze. 76 The Forest Ranger Most too perfect, tis true, Yet each man might thus do, If he wishes to climb some day; For ambitions which sail, Are the ones which avail, In this speedy old world of today. H. R. Batterton 77 The Forest Ranger CIRCULAR ONE-FOUR-NINE-SEVEN 1 From somewhere pon this sea of distress A Clerk is sounding his S O S And say in " Why in the name of heaven Don t they heed order one-four-nine-seven ? " And under the covers of Six Twenty-Six Was given the right to register his kick. He asks if somewhere in this broad expanse There dwells a Clerk who has had the chance To go upon the Forest, so grand and so large, And check up the property for which he is charged, See the activities of which he keeps ..track, Get much information and take it all back. The sun was shining brightly long the way As I rode in the stage drawn by four horses, grey To clean up the files of Ranger McKyne, Look for the property, n do things of that kind. The tools were scattered for ten miles round And most of them yet I have never found. The files came next and they were some mess, What did I say Aw can t you guess? With the accumulation of many a season Since Adam and Eve walked in the garden of Eden Piled together in one box marked " Current " ; Now do you blame me for wantin to burn it? Then I journeyed home next week at leven, Not caring so much bout one-four-nine-scven. 1 The number of a circular letter on property and sup plies. 78 The Forest Ranger Telephone rang and the lookout s report Said " another fire, go to it, Old Sport, For the Super s away and the Rangers too, Fightin the other one, so it s up to you." And to it we went six men and the clerk, To put out that blaze and come back to work. Squelch it we did, then sat down to rest When from over the hills came I ll be blest! Another one yet bigger one too, " Go to it, Old Sport, it s up to you." On Tuesday morning before half-past nine Seventy-five huskies were out on the line, Guided by Rangers, tired and foot-sore, Saying, " Come along, boys, do a little more." The flames did roar and the squirrels did squeal, And me with.nine blisters upon each heel; With fifty hours past I lay on my back Neath a tree by the camp, chewing hard tack, Till sleep came on and I dreamed of heaven, Where there would be no One-Four-Nine-Seven. William E. Harris 79 The Forest Ranger THE TOURIST AND THE RANGER A bloody, bloomin tenderfoot was sittin on a gate, When I come driftin down the road A-travelin quite a gait: "I say there, Ranger-man, Too-hoo ! Come chat a jiffy here Do tell me what it is you do ! By Jove! It seems so queer." Reginald! Sweet Reginald, I to myself did say, 1 e en am but a Ranger-man, that in the hills doth play. And since thou art a cunning thing, so dapper and so neat, To thee my little tale I ll tell. Forsooth, did I re* peat : " Fair Sir, I am a Ranger-man And my home is in the hills, My food s the sweet dew at dawn, My drink the mountain rills. My charger is my faithful friend That takes me where I go, And though some nights in bed I spend It is not always so. " Fair Sir, I am a Ranger-man And I love the breeze of spring. I love to see the saplings grow And hear the birdies sing. I love to see the rocks and trees And the posies small that blow And the little buglets on the leaves Whose Latin names I know. 80 The Forest Ranger " Fair Sir, I am a Ranger-man And my duties, Sir, are these : I am in charge for Uncle Sam Of forty- leven trees, For each am I responsible, Each has his name and number And forth to tend them, Sir, I go When I waken from my slumber. " Fair Sir, I am a Ranger-man And never do I tire To sit upon yon mountain top And see they re not on fire. In readiness I wait and watch Each one, from Pete to Nero, And ne er another chance I ll lose To be, Fair Sir, a Hero. " Fair Sir, I am a Ranger-man And when the morn is done, I get my brush and curry-comb And curry down each one; And when their limbs are clean and neat And their trunks are smooth and brown, With Ivory Soap and water warm I wash them gently down." And now, when e er my uniform, I snag upon a root, Or when my charger puts his foot, e en gently on my boot, Or if I drop upon my toe, a rock of heavy weight, I weep, for it reminds me o that summer eve with " Regie " on the gate. Aldo Leopold 81 The Forest Ranger THE HEGIRA (A large portion of the clerical force of the Forest Serv ice were moved into the West in the fall and winter of 1908, with headquarters in the cities of San Francisco, Den ver, Portland, Albuquerque, Ogden, and Missoula.) Oh, they re whispering in the corners And talking in the hall, They are scheming and a-planning Where to migrate in the fall, They are telling one another Of the places they like best; Oh, the whole blame outfit s " locoed " Cause we re going out West. " Have you ever lived in Portland? " " Is it wet or is it dry? " " Do you think you d like Missoula? " " If you do, please tell me why? " " Is the living high in Denver? " " Are the ladies there well dressed ? " Oh, these are burning questions, Cause we re going out West. " Now / want to go to Frisco, Even tho the earth does quake." " Well, I m wild to see a Mormon, So I d much prefer Salt Lake." " Do you think that I d get homesick? " " Are the Frisco fleas a pest? " What a turmoil has been started, Cause we re going out West. 82 The Forest Ranger " Oh, they say that board s expensive In the town of Albuquerque." " But you needn t take a street car For to reach your daily work." " Well, I ve heard the living s awful, (Now please don t think me silly) But really, do they live out there On only beans and chili? " Oh, such like doubts and troubles Daily agitate the breast, Of each one in the Service, Cause we re going out West. Will C. Barnes The Forest Ranger A FOREST INSPECTION HYMN Our eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lords, They have read our diaries over where the seeds of truth are stored ; They have loosed the fateful lightnings of their ter ribly hard words; And they ve gone marching on. We have seen them at the camp fires of a dozen ran gers camps; We have builded them a chuck list in the mountain dews and damps: We shall read their righteous sentence by our dim and lonely lamps; While they ve gone marching on. We have heard their fiery gospel handed out with every meal ; " As ye deal with our instructions, so with you our reports shall deal; Let the Ranger of the Apache crush the fires with his heel ; Since we ve gone marching on." They have sounded forth instructions that shall never know retreat; They have sifted out our office files before their judgment seat; The Forest Ranger O, be swift our souls to follow them, Get busy, O, our feet; For they ve gone marching on. In the beauty of the Office the Lords and Powers that Be; Have a glory all about them that transfigures you and me; As they strive to make us perfect, let us work to make them see, That we re going marching on. The Forest Ranger THIS JOB The supervisor s troubles are not all known, The job seems so easy to handle, For your benefit therefore I will relate A bit of gossip and scandal. From morning till noon I labor, From noon till twilight s fall, Listening to complaints by hundreds, Straightening out many a brawl. Sponsor for numerous inspections, Information I freely dispense, Of homesteaders I am the adviser Really, my field is immense. Three hours each day I write letters That s after my other work s done. Believe me, with hundreds to answer, To dictate I have to go some. 1 plan and I sweat and I worry, I please one but another gets sore. So what in the deuce is the use, then, Of saying that this job s some bore. A Supervisor 86 The Forest Ranger WIRELESS BILL The sun shone hot as he rode on a trot From Baseline down the Blue, Twas a rocky trail that he rode for mail And he wished that the job was thru. As he spurred old " Buck," he cussed his luck And wiped the sweat from his face, And hoped that he might some day be Transferred to another place. That night in town, he was looking around While out for a little stroll, When he saw a guy making fire fly From a wire tied to a pole. Bill asked the gink, " Now what do you think You ve got?" and began to laugh, When the man replied, with apparent pride, " It s a wireless telegraph." Bill s eyes bulged out and he looked about To see how the thing was made, Then uttered " Gee ! that s the dope for me " And he struck the guy for a trade. The man said, " Well, I don t want to sell, But I ll tell you what I know: I can get you one, if you want it done For a hundred bucks or so." 8? The Forest Ranger Bill said, " All right, you can order tonight, The machine you think is best For my use on the Blue, and I ll leave it to you, To start it and give it a test." So the deal was closed and William dozed, That night in a fitful dream, Of a message sent by the President Commending his " wireless scheme." Then the instrument came, but to put up the same, The wire was not half enough, So to cut the expense, Bill tore down the fence And strung it from bluff to bluff. The aerials hung from the barbed wire swung From a crag on the canyon wall, And the transmitter set on the table to let Sir William send out his first call. Then William was taught by the hombre that bought The outfit and each made a try, With the thing on his ear in an effort to hear Some message that lurked in the sky. Then each one heard and his pulse was stirred As the message was heard again, An SOS from a ship in distress Somewhere off the Coast of Maine. Then an officer called to a truck that was stalled Somewhere on the Rio Grande, To rush on the screens for cleaning the beans, As the soldiers were foundered on sand. 88 The Forest Ranger Then Southampton asked a warship that passed Off the Coast of the Isle so Green, To keep a lookout as she coasted about For a German submarine. " She s a grand success," said Bill, " and I guess I can talk now when I please, And the floods can roar, past the Station door While I sit and take my ease. Stead of slipping my joints, climbing high points In an effort to get to town, Whether daylight or dark, I ll tick off a spark And flash my message down. " And the trail be blowed when I master this code And can talk with average speed, Then an aeroplane to pack in my grain ^ Will be about all I need." So week in and week out, Bill ambled about Absorbed in a wireless book, While his dear, loving spouse, slipped about thru the house With a lonesome and far away look. When she d cooked up a meal, she would quietly steal To the door and peek thru a crack, When Bill at the stand, with the ticker in hand, Would frantically motion her back. As midnight drew near, she would call to him " Dear, Can t you come and cat supper now please ? " 80 The Forest Ranger And he d answer, " Yes, Hun, I am pretty near done," But he d keep right on thumping the keys. Then a message he sent, across the whole continent, Which was copied at length by the press, He was given much praise, for his wireless craze, And the venture pronounced a success. Bill s dream has come true, and the far away Blue Seems now just over the hill, And the bright little spark that you see after dark Is a message from " Wireless Bill." James H. Sizer The Forest Ranger THE BUSY RANGER Under the spreading pfnyon tree The Ranger Station stands; The Ranger, a busy man is he, With Economy and Working Plans, And the many things he ought to do Far more than fill his hands. His form is lean and lank and long, His face is like the tan, His brow is wet with bloody sweat, He does whate er he can, He looks the User in the face, And owes not any man. Hour in, hour out, from morn till night, You can hear his Oliver go, You can hear him pound the keyboard black, With measured pound and slow, Like a sexton ringing the village bell, When the evening sun is low. And children coming home from school Look in at the Station door, They love to see the Ranger man, And hear the Ranger roar, And catch his burning words that fly, Like chaff, from the Station door. 91 The Forest Ranger Working planning economizing Thus through the year he goes; Each quarter sees a new plan begun, Each quarter sees its close. A whole lot planned, and some of it done, Has earned a night s repose. J. D. G. The Forest Ranger QUITTING TIME The fire guard stood on the lookout, The ranger stood on the ground ; Said the fire guard to the ranger, " Do we quit when the sun goes down ? " " No, no," said the forest ranger, " We work until it s dark." " If that is the case," said the fire guard, " I ll take my time and start. " I ll travel the wide world over, I ll roam from town to town, Until I find a forest ranger Who will quit when the sun goes down," 93 The Forest Ranger A RANGER S THANKSGIVING HYMN O Lord: I don t know where your office is, Or what your office hours may be I doubt you ever topped a bronc; I think you never marked a tree. Perhaps you never fixed a phone, Perhaps you never rode to smoke You may perhaps have worked alone But was you ever downright broke ? I don t know where your office is, < Or how you stand with Washington, How long you worked without a raise, Or if you think wet snow is fun. Our phone line s up and working now, O Lord the stock is off the range. The Station roof ain t leaking now Lord my pocket s got some change. The snow is coming every night; There ain t no smoke and fire to dream ; The brush is burning slow and right; I ve picked the horse to make my team, 1 hear a raise is coming thru ; I ve plenty not too much to do. O Lord if things is right in District Three, The D. F. can thank the Supe and ME. Amen. 94 The Forest Ranger THE FIRE FOOL (With apologies to Rudyard Kipling.) A fool there was and he flung a match, Even as you and I, Carelessly down on a sun-dried patch, Giving no heed that a fire might catch And spread to the timber with quick dispatch, Even as you and I. The fool passed on with wondering look, Even as you and I, He couldn t explain the fire that took The forest away, and dried the brook, And left the region a place forsook, He was a fool that s why. A. G. Jackson 95 The Forest Ranger THE FOREST LOAFER The Forest Ranger s life is joy, His days are spent in play, His weeks are fun without alloy; His months one happy roun-de-lay, But just to keep himself in trim He works a bit each day. Monday sees a mile of trail Blocked by a landslide s fall. He mends a couple of bridges frail, And cuts the grade on the canyon wall. But aside from putting that trail in shape, He does not work at all. Tuesday finds him full of sand, And clean as a chimney-sweep. He rides ten miles to the driveway stand And tallies ten thousand head of sheep. But seeing this trifling duty done, He spends the day in sleep. Wednesday morning some campers came, Loaded with ignorance, matches, and gall, Well primed to set the forest aflame, And burn the timber, straight and tall. He trailed them till they were safe in bed, But otherwise did not work at all. 9 6 The Forest Ranger Thursday a couple of thieves he caught Filing fake claims to get the wood. This day s work almost came to naught, For they were friends of Senator Goode. But after the gang was safe in jail, He loafed, as a ranger should. Friday he made a timber sale, With a certified check as security. He figured the stand by the decimal scale, And branded U. S. on every tree. So, while he might have done some work, He passed the day in ecstasy. And Saturday, like the rest of the week, He played at tennis, and golf, and ball. He shod his pony, cleaned the creek, Burned some litter, and built a stall. But generally speaking, the livelong day, He wrote his reports, that s all. Fred G. Plummer 97 The Forest Ranger RECONNAISSANCE We call his work reconnaissance : A shorter, uglier word perchance, Would better serve the new man s use To circulate his heartfelt views, When first he hits the higher hills And suffers pedatory chills. At first each separate " forty " seems A mile across; each " corner " gleams A diamond in a world of night : The tyro thinks: " This run s a fright, I ll never see the camp again My Kingdom for an aeroplane ! " His legs are stiff, his feet are sore, He carries bruises by the score; Each day s a crisis in his life, An aeon of unending strife: And even as at night he dreams, The cook, with " Breakfast ready," screams. He curses out the " rotten chuck," And figures he s clean out of luck, Nurses a grouch exceeding glum And wishes he had never come ; Like Job, his last despairing cry : " I ll curse the government, and die! " 98 The Forest Ranger But as the season wears along He finds he s growing hard and strong, The steepest peaks with glee attacks And gaily, skillfully he tracks The elusive contour to its death, Nor pauses once to gasp for breath. His attitude is altered quite, The work s a cinch, the world is bright, He has a glance for towering trees, For rocks and streams, the mountain breeze For him is musical, he d fain A-cruising all his days remain. And when he s ordered back to town And on some district settled down, He ll say: " This ranger job s all right, You get to sleep in bed at night, But I d sure like another chance At working on reconnaissance." W. P. Latuson 99 The Forest Ranger ON CHANGING THE NAME OF HELLGATE 1 It isn t much to look at on the map A ragged stretch of broken spots of green A paltry million acres, more or less, With crooked blanks and rivers in between. If you don t know where to look, it s hard to find ; And it isn t anywhere in totals on the list; Of course the Program names it with the rest, But it could go and really not be missed. The name it s got sounds funny in the east, It earnt it square enough one time, I guess, It s got a crooked history with things and men; Amalgamated Copper had the whole thing leased. A peevish rustler tried to burn it up ; The Senate tried to give it all away; Somebody went and stuck it on the map, And now I guess it s on there green to stay. But if you know the country up the Range, From Beefsteak Canyon up to Tin Cup Joe, Granite and Wisdom it s sure hard to change, And get a new name for the works we know. P. S. Love joy 1 Now the Deerlodge National Forest. 100 The Forest Ranger THE NEW FOREST ASSISTANT When the new-made assistant goes into the West With a red neckerchief, and a shield on his chest, He must learn a few things that he hasn t half guessed Ere he make a good forest assistant. Now all you collegians appointed next March To compute volume tables of Lodgepole and Larch, Just lend your attention and jot on your charts Some advice to the forest assistant. First, put the soft pedal on " know it all " brag; Don t lay down on the job and rely on your "drag"; Have an eye to the gent with the " snipe-bagging " gag That might queer the young forest assistant. When the Fall cruising comes in the sleet and the rain, And your side pardner s grouch almost goes to your brain, Just look to your compass, and mind how you chain, That helps train the young forest assistant. When your " Annie " is reading 6,000 or more, And you re blue with the cold and wet to the core, 101 The Forest Ranger Remember that others have been there before, And keep on like a forest assistant. When you re put on a job that s some out of your line, Don t cuss at the Service and go to resign, The chief knows more than you, as you will soon find If you stick as a forest assistant. Get along with the men that you find on the job ; Don t criticize grammar, and set up for a snob; They were woodsmen ere you learned to pufE at a " cob " And wear a badge like a forest assistant. Don t think overmuch of the old college days, Of the girls that you knew, of the dances, and plays. But make up your mind that the trail that you blaze Will help out the next forest assistant. Jack Welch 102 The Forest Ranger CERCOCARPUS * When you want to hit the pipe now days Don t buy one made of briar, For we re usin Cercocarpus And it s fine to hold the fire. Let me tell you how it happened, For I m sure you ought to know That the price of briar and apple Is too stiff for poor man s dough. So thus we re forced to sacrifice That bush that grows on high, On the mountains of our forests, Cercocarpus, you re to die. You can no longer rest secure Upon the lofty slope, For cruel man will cut you down That other men may smoke. We are sizin up your value now To sell you off right soon, For the Government needs the money And receipts must have a boom. So we ll fill the bowl with burley And though your wood tastes queer, We salute you, Cercocarpus! May your end be not yet near ! Gordon T. Backus 1 A Forest Service circular letter in 1916 stated that the plan was to try out the wood of Cercocarpus as a substitute for French briar for pipe bowls and asked for an estimate of the amount found on each Forest. 103 The Forest Ranger THE LITTLE STILL Down under the hill there is a little still, And the smoke s all curling to the sky. You can easily tell, by the sniffle and the smell, There s good liquor in the air close by. Oh, it fills the air, with a perfume rare, And it s only known to few, So turn up your lip, and take a little sip. Of the good old mountain dew. Douglas Rodman 104 The Forest Ranger BILTMORE FOREST SCHOOL Though far from home and friends we may roam, Our hearts with a longing will fill, As our thoughts drift back to the little log shack And the good old moon shine still. James H. Sizer Apache National Forest. 105 The Forest Ranger THE RANGER MEETING The Ranger Meeting s over, and we ve all returned to camp, And the wisdom we ve imbibed seems to give our brains a cramp. What we haven t learned of fires isn t worth a single thought ; And the fungi and such tree pests, we can pick them up red hot, For we saw them on the blackboard, and we ve learned their every twist, So their days are surely numbered, for we ll slap them on the wrist ; And that able word " efficient " we can juggle out of sight, For we saw it turned and twisted backwards, for wards, left and right. What we do not know r of timber would be hard to show us now, For we chewed upon this subject till there are wrinkles on our brow. We watched it from the seed till it grew a mighty tree And we found out how to sell it, and how to give it free. We know just how to cut it, lop the limbs and pile the brush, And when it comes to burning, just leave the job to us. Estimating fascinates us so, we ve nearly ceased to rove, For we re busy mapping timber in our cabins by the stove. 106 The Forest Ranger Now " Reports " has been a subject that has turned our dark hair gray, But we put the kibosh on it in a single happy day. We know that an affidavit must state a solemn fact, And not that " Tom Jones thinks that Bill stole Jack Smith s hat " We know just what a trespass is, and what s a squatter s right, And the value of water as a power to make electric light, We can classify even sections till we can say them off by rote, But there s a few odd numbered sections that seem to get our goat. We thought all there was to grazing was to keep the stock in feed And get them plenty water, and all the salt they need. To see they do not tramp the range, nor stray on other s land, And count- the stock, and run out the range, for each arid every band ; But we all krtow now that grazing means far more to us than that. We must grow mpre grass and browse feed too, and get it on a map, Then show the stockmen how to grow two head instead of one. And thus cut down- the price of meat, instead of with a gun. A. R. Ivey 107 The Forest Ranger GRIEF Supervisor s detailed, Clerks are sick: Trains are derailed, Snow is thick, Rivers are up, Phone lines down, Rangers on leave, Grippe in town. Mail is behind, Reports can t go, Can t expect things To be " just so." Mary B. Sizer 108 The Forest Ranger - THE SONG OF THE OHMLETTE " Considerable trouble has been experienced from time to time caused by insects getting into telephone boxes and interfering with the action of thte ringer and generator. It has been found that this trouble can be done away with to a large extent by placing a moth ball inside of the tele phone box." Daily Bulletin of January 5, 1916. My name is Little Ohmlette, I m a busy little bee, My home is in the telephone Where I roost on the battery. I m a very little insect, No larger than a pin But when I flit from coil to bell I make an awful din. I love to ride the armature And listen to the sound, For when they turn the crank outside It spins me all around. It s fine inside the generator And in the transmitter too, But when the ranger tries to talk The air gets awfully blue. I was a happy little bug But my joy has gone away, 109 The Forest Ranger For these words came o er the wire That make me want to pray : " I m sending you some moth balls, Use freely in your phone, We ll make that Little Ohmlette Vamoose his happy home." I m a sickly Little Ohmlette now, And my breath is coming slow, For I m roosting near a moth ball That the ranger placed below. But when I die and my body clogs The wheels that go around, I hope that ranger breaks his arm And never gets a sound ! Gordon T. Backus 1 10 The Forest Ranger IF If you can toss a match into a clearing, And never give a thought to put it out, Or drop your cigarette butt without fearing That flames may kindle in the leaves about ; If you can knock the ashes from your brier, Without a glance to see where they may fall, And later find the forest all afire, Where you have passed with no one near to call ; If you can drive your auto through the cutting And cast your stogie stub into the slash, Unmindful of the danger therein lurking, Or homes and happiness that you may smash ; If you can leave your campfire while tis glowing, No thought of industries that it may blight, Or of the billion saplings in the growing, Turned into charcoal ere the coming night; If you can start a fire beneath a brush pile When the wind is roaring like a distant gun, You surely should be shot without a trial And what is more, you ll be a fool, my son. Harris A. Reynolds III The Forest Ranger FOREST RANGER S SONG What do you know in your dim proud cities Of the world God made when God was young? Have you ever lain by the limbs of nature Or slept to the songs she has made and sung? Have you ever visioned the face of nature Or fathomed the heart of the living God; You in your sterile, dull-hued dungeons Treading the stones your fathers trod? Freshen your lives in the forest olden ! Life is the only thing we own ; And Time is the tool that shapes and fashions A soul of worth from a thing unknown; And Time is ours in the forest olden, Time to listen and time to dream ; And Time to smile to each bird that flutters, And Time to talk to each tumbling stream. For we ve given our hearts to the ancient forest, To the stalwart pines and the sweetheart flowers, To the winds that sing and the showers that sweeten The marching months and the hurrying hours. The long trails flee from our horses hoof beats ; A high-horned saddle between our knees Bright peaks touched by the lips of heaven Silence deep in the sentinel trees 112 The Forest Ranger Dawn! and the world is a morning glory, Day! and the world is a shining sword, Birds glint by like a thousand jewels Out of a golden chalice poured. Evening comes ; and a glowing campfire, Wind in the branches sighs and sings, Stars on guard and the night for cover Mine is a couch too good for kings. Ah, what do you in your dingy cities Know of the heart of the world God made ; Of the woods and the wild in the windy open, And the shine of the leaves in a sudden glade. And the last white tent of the Forest Ranger, Where the flame of a welcoming campfire gleams At the end of the trail when life is over, And Death awaits with his gift of dreams? W. P. Laws on The Forest Ranger THE PRODIGAL I was tired of the silence and grandeur, Of the solemn, unchanging hills, Where the only echo of music Was the splashing of mountain rills I heard in my dreams in the cabin, Lonely, and lonesome, alone, The hum of the far-away cities Insistently calling me home. I dreamed of the restaurants and dancing, The avenues pomp and display, The whir of six-cylinder autos, The lights on the lighted way. The stillness ; the gloom of the fir trees Obsessed and oppressed me the more As I thought of waste years in the backwoods Which the future could never restore. Then I threw up my job in the Service, Pulled stakes and trekked back to the towns: Turned in my badge and my transit; Turned my back on my daily rounds. The restless go-fever was on me, I wanted a change which I found, For I landed a place in an office With a shaky typewriter to pound. Now I dream in a twenty-tier building Of the men and the days back there ; The work that was always man s work The tang of the mountain air. 114 The Forest Ranger These are pretty good fellows As men in the cities go ; But those clear-eyed, weather-bronzed rangers Are the sort I d rather know. My muscles are loose and lazy; Tobacco tastes bitter and stale. Lord, it was good on the hazy, Damp days on the Darrington trail! The fire glows again by the river, The horse-bells tinkle at night, The packer comes up with the mail sack (Which weighs altogether too light.) I ve learned as naught else could have taught me The depth and the breadth of it all ; That a " snap " isn t just what I thought it; That the payment is petty and small. Not in money, perhaps, but in pleasure, Satisfaction in work well done; The thought that you ve given full measure Counts more than cash easily won. So I think I ll go back to the Service; I m sick of this routine work. The monotony s driving me loco; I wasn t cut out for a clerk. Out there where the Rangers are waiting; Out there where life s really worth while; Out there in the limitless open; There s a job that is more to my style. Jack Welch The Forest Ranger THE BUSY SEASON There s many a crooked, rocky trail, That we d like all straight and free, There s many a mile of forest aisle, Where a fire sign ought to be. There s many a pine tree on the hills, In sooth, they are tall and straight, But what we want to know is this, What will they estimate? There s many a cow-brute on the range, And her life is wild and free, But can she look at you and say, She s paid the grazing fee? All this and more, it s up to us And say, boys, Can we do it? I have but just three words to say, And they are these : " TAKE TO IT." Aldo Leopold 116 The Forest Ranger WHEN WINTER COMES AROUND The summer now is nearly o er; Thank goodness I ve come through, And kept my record pretty good For the work I had to do. For a ranger s life s no bed of ease And troubles many are found, So that s the reason I welcome the time When winter comes around. When the fires were raging fiercest And half dead from want of sleep, I ve thought about the winter time When the snow lies white and deep. And when saddle-sore and weary, I ve hugged the cold hard ground, I ve thought of comforts coming When winter comes around* When after a hard day s work afield I ve sat through half the night To make those overdue reports Sound rational and right, When my brain was numb and weary, Almost dead to sight and sound, I ve planned the office work I d do When winter comes around. 117 The Forest Ranger O, I ll heat up this old Station When the nights get long and cold, I ll read and study, write and draw As much as my brain will hold. I ll gain back again the flesh I lost While on the summer s round, My annual leave I ll also take When winter comes around. -A. R. Ivcy 118 The Forest Ranger RECREATION When the hunting season opened I cleaned my trusty gun, For my annual leave was coming and I planned to have some fun. I bought a lot of cartridges and stuck them in my belt, Loaded up my pack horse, and Gee, how proud I felt! I rode up in a canyon to a mighty pretty spot, Found tracks of deer and turkey and I knew I d get a shot. Got up early in the morning in the frost so cold and wet, And started out a-hunting to see what I could get. I struck a bunch of turkeys and my old gun sprung a leak, But the blamed infernal turkeys was a-runnin like a streak. I exploded seven cartridges, a-runnin as I shot, But a little bunch of feathers was the only thing I got. Next day I rimmed a mountain side for many weary miles, Through brush and lava boulders thrown up in awful piles; 119 The Forest Ranger Then I heard the rocks a-rolling down hill and to my right, And saw a buck a-runnin but he soon was out of sight. The next four days I ambled through timber, brush and park From daylight in the morning till sometime after dark, Looking very careful and stepping mighty light, But never seeing nothing till I come to camp at night. The seventh day, for breakfast, bread was all I had to eat, With a cup of black coffee, I sure was needing meat ; So I made an extra effort to try and kill a buck, But never saw nothing, as was just my luck. All the game had quit the country and the only liv ing thing That was capable of moving on either foot or wing Was me and my two horses; so I packed my bed and steel And hiked it back to Springer and a good square meal. Though I got no deer or turkey, and my feet are bruised and sore From walking through the malpais some forty miles or more, 120 The Forest Ranger My trip was not all failure as some folks may have guessed, For one thing that I did get was a darned good rest ! Twas relief from official worries and the regular daily grind, And the high cost of living that had occupied my mind ; And I came back feeling younger than when I went away, And I take a keener interest in the business of the day. James H. Sizer The Forest Ranger TO MY OLD COMRADES Although I am tired and weary I will take up my pen and write, As I think of those days in the Service, Those days so busy and bright. Upon the screen of my mem ry There flashes the faces of men With the real red blood of their fathers, More used to the rifle than pen. With a smile they faced all the dangers Of storm, of flood and of field, Nor were they e er known to falter Or an inch from plain duty to yield. Where the fire line was waving and roaring There you d find them with shovel and axe ; There they d stay till the demon was conquered And their efforts not once would relax. Where the lofty pine trees were falling Mid the clatter of axe and of mill, There the lads with their Decimal scale rule Were at work, and at work with a will. Where the mountains were tallest and snow- crowned, Where the canyons were deepest and dark, You would find those men of the Service ; There you will still find our old Service mark. 122 The Forest Ranger They were hot on the trail of the looters Ever scenting those men as their prey, For they brought them to time in short order And scarcely one e er got away. It may be I never shall see them again, But my best wishes go with them thro life, And may they be happy and prosperous too, Also good luck to the brave Ranger wife. They say that heaven is a beautiful place With rest, sweet songs, peace and joys, But the thing that would suit me down to the ground Is charge of God s Forests, and for Rangers these boys. C. C. Hall 123 The Forest Ranger A PIPE DREAM When the last Circular Letter is written, and the Supers are lean and old, When the youngest Ranger is pensioned, and the last stick of timber is sold ; We shall rest, and faith, we shall need to, sit back for an aeon or two, Till the Master of all good Supers shall send us new things to do. And the Supers that were good shall be happy ; they shall sit and smoke at their ease; They shall run their Forest as it suits them, with never an Office to please. They shall have real Rangers to choose from, honest and tried and right; They shall dictate from morning till evening, and never be tired at night. And only the User shall praise us; and only the Nester shall blame, And no one shall work for money, and no one shall work for fame, But each for the joy of working, and each in his separate star, Shall do the thing as he sees it, for the God of For ests that Are. 124 The Forest Ranger SPRING HAS CAME BEING A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS (With apologies to Ranger Perry.) DRAMATIS PERSONAE FOREST RANGER (wishing for Spring to come) BRUNO, a young Houn Dawg. ACT I SCENE I. Sunday, a warm, bright, happy day. RANGER sitting behind a pipe, and a large desk, in picturesque disarray, on which are 6 stacks of grazing applications each I foot high. Crayons, ink, pencils, gem clips, fire warning pen-wipers, tobacco cans, erasers, blotters, grazing manuals, circulars, pocket-knives, and match stubs scat tered about in the interstices. Packages of Gar den Seed on one corner of the desk, and a Seed Catalogue in the RANGER S pocket. THE RANGER (looking out of the window) : "Damn!" (Curtain) ACT II SCENE I. Sunday, a warm, bright, thawy day. RANGER, on the sunny side of his jbarn, digging furiously with a happy smile, tools scattered about, packages of Garden Seed in his pocket. BRUNO on an eminence in the background; look ing on. RANGER completes digging of ground, 125 The Forest Ranger which is in a hotbed frame, and sows many rows of seed carefully and with a smile. Finishes sow ing, and stands up. THE RANGER (happily): "Damn!" BRUNO ( Wags tail and smiles from the eminence in the background). (Curtain) ACT III SCENE I. Monday, early morning. A raging bliz zard. The snow flies in whirls and gusts, and the wind howls in the eaves of the barn, on the south side of which, on the sagging tarp which covers the hotbed, sleeps BRUNO, curled up in the warm hole which he had to turn around nine times to make. The wind howls, and BRUNO curls up tighter. Enter, THE RANGER, heavily wrapped, from the house. THE RANGER (vehemently, seeing BRUNO) : "DAMN!!!" (BRUNO, scenting the vials of wrath, retires apol ogetically to the eminence in the background, where he reluctantly sits down in the cold snow, slowly wagging his tail. THE RANGER looks long and sadly at the hotbed; then turns to BRUNO.) (Curtain) THE END 126 The Forest Ranger THE DIARY AND THE REFLECTION I ve jammed the heater full o wood To hear the spruce a-crackling, I ve shoved the cayuse all the hay He ever will be tackling, I ve swept the floor tonight once more And folded up Old Glory; So now I guess I ll get my pipe And write the whole day s story. " I ve run two miles of line today To estimate some timber Upon the claim of Harry Sloan " By heck ! it makes me limber To cuss my way through brush and bay And spruce that s just like cat s claws; But then I guess I d mind it less If not so plumb monotonous. This June eleventh work I think Would hit me best in summer, If fire fighting were postponed Or a forgotten number. Improvement work is what I want To build new trails and bridges, And plant the lookout cabins on The blooming mountain ridges. 127 The Forest Ranger Run out a telephone or two And cut the poles for lines; Split rails for fences all the day From good old straight white pines. That is the kind of work I want It keeps my blood from crawling, No matter how much sleet or snow Or how the wind s a-blowing. No, give me no more claims, I say, The stuff is not my liking. If they come pouring in this way You re apt to see me hiking. Bring out with you a guard or two To do this muskey sprawling, And give me some improvement work, To keep my blood from crawling. /. A. Larsen 128 The Forest Ranger ON THE GUNNISON Ten thousand feet above the sea The ranger trims a dead pine tree, Then from his bulging saddle sacks He takes a tiny box of tacks, A fire notice, two or three, He posts with great celerity. From here he climbs the highest peak, The reader wonders, what to seek. He has to gather Red Spruce seed, Then hunts two hours for poison weed. The weeds are pressed right in his book, Accompanied with a disgusted look. The snow scale next is in his line, But can he really spare the time ? For before he gets back to his shack He adds a black bear to his pack. Next comes the streams, at every fall He gauges them both big and small. The temperature he sure must take, And sound the depth of every lake. Six Newhouse No. 4/s, Sent newly from the Ogden stores, Are baited up with Funston s bait, And off he goes, ten days to wait. 129 The Forest Ranger With the 30-30- from his back He drops a coyote in his track, Amid the snow, the rain and hail, He s got to hack and clear a trail. The fire box he builds at night, The tools within are none too light. At one A. M. he reads his mail, And with grub and bed he hits the trail. H. L. Thackwell 130 The Forest Ranger LEAP YEAR AT A RANGER STATION The life of a Ranger is not so hard, If only he had a feminine " pard," But to come in when the house is cold And find no one in his arms to fold, Is very discouraging, to say the least, And he condemns his life for that of a beast. Many of us have let the chance slip by, And doubtless the maidens have wondered why. In 1912 the proposing will turn And we pray that their hearts will no longer yearn, For our Station is furnished and food prepared For someone with whom it can be shared. Although we are away all through the day We ll hurry home to greet dear May, And when the evening work is done We ll take a walk by the setting sun, And continue the journey into the night, Then escort her home by the pale moonlight. Now " Fair Ones " do not think us bold, For this is Leap Year so we are told, And our bashful soul and busy mind Have kept us from acquiring one of your kind, Now it s hoped some maid will seize the chance And relieve us from this awful trance. /. F. Forsythe The Forest Ranger REMEMBER THE ALAMO Under a burning southern sun Bathed in the desert s glow, By the white sands queer and the lime cliffs drear Lies the land of the Alamo. The names of Bowie and Crockett, Those men of long ago, Are linked with the quaint historic name The name of the Alamo. Their deeds have been told in every clime, Wherever the white race go ; All praise to the heroes of other days, These men of the Alamo. I tell of men as stanch a breed As any that e er faced foe, The Forest men of modern days The men of the Alamo. Then here s to Jim and his six-gun grim And the rangers along the Cuevo, For they turned the trick in a manner slick These men of the Alamo. Then fill your glasses up to the brim With water as pure as snow, And drink to these men " behind the guns " And " REMEMBER THE ALAMO." C. C. Hall 132 The Forest Ranger THE HOOK Nobody works but the hook-worm ; He gnaws around all day; Puts such an edge on our appetites That we eat bottle-glass and clay. The Super, he s got glanders; The Dep. with fever is shook; Nobody smiles at this place But the blamed old hook. The Rangers they just crawl about In the heat of a tropic sun ; The hook-worm, he works all the time The son-of-a-gun ! When we re dead or fired, Put this down in your book " They did their level damndest, Till they got the hook." I. F. Eldredge Florida National Forest. 133 The Forest Ranger THE SPASM FROM THE SHASTA The men of Shasta at Ash Creek abound, Doing reconnaissance on snow-shoes all the day round. Two men to the section no matter how far, And they complete one each day, for that s their rate at par. Sometimes the shoeing is not of the best, And they come in at night longing for rest. Hardships we have plenty and short trips are few, But we hired out for tough men, so I guess we ll pull through. It s surprising how simple the corners are found, By us MEN of the Shasta, the ones of renown. And the way we can guess the diameters per tree, And the number of logs that some day there ll be, Is wonderful to those who come out and see The men of the Shasta ! The work it is pleasant, if the hill s not steep, As one sometimes may slip, and fall on his seat. Shoeing up some hills at times is most slow, But when you come down, why the way you will go ! Good cooking and dainties have been strangers to us, But when we hit town, we ll eat till we bust. On amateur batches of food we exist, And our stomachs right now pine pitch could digest, 134 The Forest Ranger But beyond these few trifles, we ve proved with delight, That reconnaissance on snow-shoes is practical, all right. Other Forests did scoff and were against our great plans, But their ignorance should be pardoned as they can t understand What a tough little bunch our Super had on hand, The men of the Shasta! 135 The Forest Ranger A QUIVER FROM THE TAHOE The depth of snow on Shasta s hills In Shasta s men great fear instills; When out they go to count the trees, They take with them their twelve foot skis, Or lacking skill with these to tread, They get the humble webs instead. Treading hard, a square a day, They scale the trees upon their way, And out through all the District wide They scatter broad their smiles of pride, Say they ve done what ne er d been planned On any Forest in this wide land. Within a rod they pace a mile And find all corners, and then they smile ! With D. B. H. and logs per tree, They get the volume one, two, three. Faint and worn, with hunger scant Up those hills they have to pant; Their grub s no good they gladly dine On such poor fare as bad pitch pine, " Those men of the Shasta." But further south they manage to do Without the aid of ski or shoe ; With cowhide boot our Tahoe treads O er snow that Shasta fears and dreads; Cold feet at night are not the kind, On other forests you often find. 136 The Forest Ranger We count the seedlings, we caliper brush, Correct the geology in all the slush, We see each sapling covered with snow, And carefully figure how fast twill grow. We examine the soil, and number the stock That will feed and fatten on each tract o rock. Our cooking s the best, you ll understand, For each of our boys is a dextrous hand At all the things, from H 1 to Heaven Found in our Bible, Page 27 The men of the Tahoe. 137 The Forest Ranger A MUSING FROM THE ANGELES The growth of chaparral on Angeles hills A loss of religion in our men instils. When off he goes unfortunate gink With never a drop (of water) to drink. For what cares he for hill or glade! John Jones homestead must be surveyed. No matter if that homestead lies, Deeply buried from human eyes On trackless waste of desert dim, Or stands on end, a hillside grim. His back grows stiff, his knees grow lame, But the Angeles Ranger sure is game; And he sings to himself as he grubs along The words of that old familiar song: " Every day ll be Sunday, by and by." That Man on The Angeles. And the early dawn of the coming day Will find him up and far away, With mattocks, picks and dinner pail; A " Cholo " crew ; an impassable trail And dynamite, two hundred pound With which to move this dobe ground; And a mercy tis, six times in seven That he isn t blown to well, to Heaven. Or circled by crates of eucalypts His strength expended in digging pits; 138 The Forest Ranger For the Angeles Forest needs more trees To sway in the Heavenly southern breeze. So he wields his mattock gainst earth and stone, Whistling meanwhile in an undertone : " Every little movement has a meaning all its own " ; That weary man on the Angeles. But at night he sits in his cabin door And watches the kidlets play on the floor. For the Angeles Ranger s too wise a man To live on the Shasta-Tahoe plan ; And long ago he annexed for life An excellent cook as his wedded wife. He scents the coming of good things to eat Through the open door of the kitchen neat. And he lifts his eyes to skyline dim Where snow-capped peaks seem to frown at him ; And he thinks with joy as he goes to dine: " No snow-shoes or skis for me and mine, W T ith any other man under Heaven s dome I wouldn t change places ; There s no place like home/ If that home be on The Angeles! " 139 The Forest Ranger THE BRANDING OF THE FORESTS (On July i, 1908, most of the National Forests were given new names.) Come and listen to my story, all ye Forest Service men: Once the Forester was sitting in his spacious, lofty den, And he wiped his sweating forehead as he grabbed his stubby pen, And he swore by all things sacred that he d name em, there and then. So he punched a handy button and the messengers they came, Like a bunch of baseball rooters, when the umpire hollers " Game." And he sent this word to each one of his tried and trusty lads: " This day we ll have a christening; come and make believe you re dads." " Make em short, and make em simple," was the edict of the Chief. " Chop em down to small dimensions, like a goat s tail short and brief." " No two deckers no sky scrapers. One word only, nothing more." And the workers murmured gently, whispered low and softly swore. So they gathered in that aerie where the Chieftain sits in state, And they puzzled, and they foozled, and each scratched his aching pate. 140 The Forest Ranger And they cut em, and they slashed em, and they changed those names about. Oh, they placed them endways sideways, and they turned them inside out. They hunted through the legends of the heroes young and old. They delved into the records of explorers brave and bold. They searched for names of Indians, and of patriots so great, And they studied o er the doings of the big men of the state. So, after weeks of planning, and of scheming deep and dark, That went back almost into the days of Noah s Ark, They got those forests branded (sure they burned em good and deep) And the christening was over then the boys be gan to weep. Quoth a " Super " from the Northwest, " Tis in deed a bitter pill, When these people on my Forest ask me, * Who was Bonneville? " To be forced to own up, honest, " You can search me don t ask me, Mebbe he s from o er the ocean, from the wilds of gay Paree. " Oh, they took " Ekalaka," " Long Pine," " Slim Buttes," and " Short Pine " too, And they bunched them up with " Cave Hills," then they named the whole thing " Sioux." 141 The Forest Ranger And " Tillamook " and " Umpqua," (names that almost broke your jaw) Why, they ve hitched em up together under sibilant " Siuslaw." From the far Blue Mountain region came a query hushed and low: "Which of the Whitmans is it? For I m just obliged to know." Here s a man who wants a permit for to pasture Baalam s ass, But he swears he s feered to graze him upon Whit man s " Leaves of Grass." s~ Then from the peaks of Idaho there came a fearful yell. You used to call it " Koo-ten-ai," but now tis " Pen d Oreille." " Hold on a bit perhaps you re wrong," a ranger whispered slyly, " Tis Irish, sure a good name; they call it plain 1 O Reilly. " And so it goes all o er the West, and even with the ladies, This christening job has mixed things up and just raised merry Hades. So take your time, and learn the list, or else you ll lose your standing, And live to cuss the fatal day that saw this forest branding. Will C. Barnes 14* The Forest Ranger RANGER SONG FOR THE NORTH SIERRA RESERVE * (Tune "On the Road to Mandalay.") There s a lofty range of mountains from Spokane to Mexico, On whose slopes the dark pine forests link the foot hills to the snow, And these forests great are gathered into many a fine reserve, Here s to ours the North Sierra she s the queen we Rangers serve. CHORUS. North Sierra, she s our pride; In her service we abide; For her pines and oaks and cedars many a rocky mile we ride. Fighting fires by night is play, As for mixing sheep, it s gay, Since tis for our North Sierra That we love more every day. Oh, the sugar pines hold up the sky and keep our stars in place; " Joe Crane s Ramrod " is the tree that Mars de pends on for a base; Great sequoias in the Nelder Grove to Dinkey seem to say, " Dinkey, pass the word to Converse, Don t you drop the Milky Way. " 1 Now called Sierra National Forest. H3 The Forest Ranger You should look into our office on a stormy winter day See our cattle ranger tackle all the figures in his way, See our Technical Assistant making maps to beat the band, Hear the Boss dictating letters, with Clerk Springer close at hand. Tyler ll mark the bounds this summer of each priv ate piece of land ; Dehl can blast a trail that s smooth enough to suit a big brass band; Mai McLeod will make the tourists in Kings River toe the mark ; While beyond the snow-capped summits Britten notes each sheep-dog s bark. Here s to those with us no longer Langille, lost in Oregon ; Hogue and Ellis, Bigelow, Mainwaring what gallant spurs they ve won. Here s to those who thread the canyons all along Sierra s crest, Taylor, Noddin, Russell, Wofford, Gardner, Rea, and all the rest. Here s to those who lead us, captains in a mighty service, they, Earnest, loving helpers wise to plan and choose our climbing way. Here s to Allen, the Inspector, and all men from Washington ; To our Great Chief, Gifford Pinchot he and For estry are one. Charles H. Shinn 144 The Forest Ranger THE FIRE GUARD ON PATROL (With apologies to Danny Dcever.) " What are the bloomin boxes 1 for? " said the Fire Guard on patrol, " To drop a note, to drop a note," the Forest Ran ger said. "What makes them look so big, so big? " said the Fire Guard on patrol. " So they can hold a bushel o notes," the Forest Ranger said. " For you ve got to ride around, around, a-lookin for fires each day, You ve sure got to hump yourself, if you want to draw the pay. This ain t no foolish outin job, so I heard the Super say, For you ve got to visit the mail box every morning." " What makes the country look so blue? " said the Fire Guard on patrol. " It s forest smoke, it s forest smoke," the Forest User said. " What makes the Rangers ride so hard ? " said the Fire Guard on patrol, " To reach a fire, to reach a fire," the Forest User said. 1 Boxes placed on fire patrol routes at which guards " check in " by leaving a note on fire conditions for the ranger. ^ H5 The Forest Ranger 11 They re fightin forest fires, they re whfppin em around ; They re fightin em like devils, they re beatin em to the ground, And they ll put you through your paces if they catch you loafin round, For you ve got to visit the mail box every morning." "What s that so black against the sun?" said the Fire Guard on patrol. " It s forest fires, you bloomin it," the Forest Ran ger said. "What s that that crackles overhead?" said the Fire Guard on patrol. "It s fallin trees, it s fallin trees," the Forest Ran ger said. " For the Forest s goin up in smoke, you can see it fade away, We re all goin to jack our jobs, for we don t need the pay Oh, the Fire Guards are shakin , and they ll get their time today, For they didn t visit the mail box every morning." /. D. (?.. . 146 The Forest Ranger ECONOMY It started with the President, A year or two ago, He said we must economize, To really make a show. He appointed a committee, To see where to begin, For Uncle Sam s in poverty, He really needs the tin. His reputation in the past, Around the country went. " A dollar spent to save ten cents " Was money quite well spent. But now a change is taking place, Expenses get the knife. Economy, economy, Is the watchword of our life. The word was handed down by Taft, To all his right hand men, And now it s come to you and me, And all who push a pen. A meeting in El Paso, To talk economy, Was attended by the great Moguls, Of District Number Three. 147 The Forest Ranger Now every one has had his say, And gone back to the pines, We wonder where we ll get our pay Without digging in the mines. But coming back to serious thought, And the toils of our daily grind, Efficiency, efficiency, Is the word to be kept in mind. Charles H. Jennings. Snowflake, Ariz., 191 x. The Forest Ranger FIRES The District Forester Speaks: I wish I were out with the fellows Just my luck to be stuck here in town ; But I ve got to sit tight when I d heap rather fight To help keep these brush blazes down. I m sick of this end of the business, The ring of the querulous phone, The telegrams, too, of flames breaking anew While I have to stand it alone, And I ll own It s hell to be watching alone. There s Bill he s gone out with the pack traiii, And Jim he s to rustle the grub For the men on the line, and he s going it fine While I m sitting here like a dub; The fellows are working like demons, They re scorched and they re blistered no less, While I stay and chafe and am damnably safe When I d like to mix up in the mess; Well, I guess! That the buck-brush ablaze is a mess! In a swivel chair well, it s the limit, With the rest in the thick of the fight With their lungs all a-choke with the dust and the smoke, And sweat in their eyes day and night ; 149 The Forest Ranger But I ve got to look out for the labor This calling for troops makes me sick; There s none seems to know if the troops ought to go; Neither begging nor blarney nor kick Brings em quick, So it s no use to blarney or kick. So here I am pacing the office, And " watchfully waiting " returns From lookouts for days all enveloped in haze Where half of a mountainside burns ; I ve drawn in my men to where danger Is worst where dry desert winds go, And I ll be in a hole if my extra patrol Can t hold in the face of a blow; And I know They can t hold in front of a blow. I m afraid there will be a hitch somewhere, There s no telling where it will be, But I d rather be found right there on the ground Right out there to think, act, and see ! I won t care for second-hand versions Of how the disaster befell, But I ll choose all the brunt of the scrap at the front, Instead of this telephone bell; And it s hell, To depend on this telephone bell! 150 The Forest Ranger Out there are my Supers and Rangers, With lumberjacks, men from the mills, From fields and from slums, hoboes, tie hacks, and bums, And ranchers who know all the hills ; While I m here with no smoke in my nostrils, I am here with no scorch on my cheek, When I d rather be there with singed eye-brows and hair Than stuck in here week after week. Hear me speak! I ll be bughouse inside of a week! Bristow Adams The Forest Ranger THE APACHE RECESSIONAL 1910 (Apologies to Kipling.) God of the Forests, known of old, Lord of our far-flung forest line Beneath whose awful hand we hold Dominion over fir and pine Lord God of Forests, bid us not tire, Lest we forget the Bear Wallow Fire. The fighting and the smoking dies The Captain and his troops return Still stands Thine ancient timbered aisles, Once forest green, now smoking burn. Lord God of Forests, bid us not tire, Lest we forget the Bear Wallow Fire. Far-called our Rangers ride away On Grey Bull Peak slow sinks the fire Lo, all our fighters of yesterday Are now no longer worth their hire. Judge of the Forests, bid us not tire, Lest we forget the Bear Valley Fire. If drunk w r ith sight of power we loose Green guards that hold not fire in awe Such riding as the cowmen use On Strayhorse Creek or Maley Draw Lord God of Forests, bid us not tire, Lest we forget the Baldy Fire. For Ranger hearts that put their trust In asphalt rake and iron shard The Rangers fight as fight they must, And fighting call not every guard For heavy rains and heavier snows Send down upon this Forest, Lord. J.D. G. 152 The Forest Ranger A ROLLING STONE (Apologies to R. W. Service.) There s murder in the heart of me, I ve skinned my shins and knees; The chiggers are a part of me, My hide is full of fleas ; My youth and strength I m squandering, A ragged wreck am I, And I must keep a-wandering Until the day I die. I was once, I declare, on Central Park West, In a comfortable modern cave; I have known, I will swear, in the last month s span, The sweat and fret of a slave. I have pitched my tent with no prosy plan But to range and change at the will And whim of the head reconnaissance man, And to seek adventure s thrill. Carefree to be, as a bird that sings ; To go on my own sweet way; To reck not at all what may befall, But to live and return each day; To scorn all hurt and to view the dirt With the curious eyes of a child, From the canyon deep to the hillside steep, From Dughill to the heart of the wild. 153 The Forest Ranger From the patch of L * to the R 2 and S, 2 From the vast to the greatly small, For I know that the work for good is planned, And I ve got to map it all. To map it all to be given away To the nester s calloused hand, I map what I see, but " our policy," I never can understand. And every night shall bring to me The bugs my rest to spoil ; Each morn the cook will sing to me It s time to rise and toil ; And every throbbing pain of me Protests against that call. O body, heart and brain of me, Who planned this job at all? Harry Lawson Ozark Land Classification 1913. 1 L Fine sandy loam. 2 RS Rocky and steep. 154 The Forest Ranger KLAMATH BUG SONG 1911-12 (Tune: Casey Jones.) Come all ye people if you want to hear The story of the bug crew in the Creek called Clear, Of a terrible country and a long career For the Rangers and Bug Men far and near. CHORUS : We chopped em all down, You can t find a beetle; We bucked em all up, Can t find a bug ; We burnt em up clean, Can t find a beetle ; Oh you can t find a beetle on the Big Humbug. We moved our camp upon St. Patrick s Day With our horses grunting, full of oats and hay, We put up our tents by the candle ray, And we ate our supper when the dawn was gray. CHORUS: Francis McCarthy was our little cook, And Conover he took notes in his little book, While Perry Hill sang like a crazy crook About the moon and the Irish and the bugs he took. CHORUS : 155 The Forest Ranger We built a fire in the middle of the tent, She ripped and roared and away she went; I tell you fellows that it ain t no joke When your bloomin old tent gets full of smoke. CHORUS: Now all ye people when ye spot a bug, No matter if our crew is housed up snug, Just tell us about it and we ll paste his mug, And we ll join in the chorus while his grave is dug. CHORUS: S. W. Allen 136 The Forest Ranger RECEIPT FOR A RANGER First get a big kettle and a fire that s hot, And when everything s ready throw into the pot, A doctor, a miner, of lawyers a few, At least one sheep herder and a cow boy or two. Next add a surveyor, and right after that, A man with horse sense, and a good diplomat. At least one stone mason ; then give it a stir, And add to the mess one good carpenter. A man that knows trees, and don t leave from the list A telephone man and a fair botanist. The next one that s added must be there, that s a cinch, It s the man that will stay when it comes to a pinch. Add a man that will work, and not stand round and roar, Who can do ten thousand things and then just a few more. Now boil it up well and skim off the scum And a Ranger you ll find in the residuum. J. B. Cammann 157 The Forest Ranger FOUR CENTS TO THE LICK I m ringing up Uncle Sam s till, by gad, With a hammer and an eight foot stick, And twelve stamps to the cord of wood Is four cents to the lick. A hammer beats a hatchet, And a dry pole beats a tape, But it s right down plumb monotonous, In any kind of shape. The ends don t stick out even, And the ricks is half fell down ; It s snowin and my feet are cold There s brush stuck all around. I d rather have a district, With a shanty of my own, And beat a cayuse all around, And sometimes be alone. This everlasting bing, bang, bung, At four cents to the lick, While profitable to Uncle Sam, Has blamed near made me sick. When I m the high-brow super, Then I won t give a damn, I ll tell the boys " Put on more stamps; It s for your Uncle Sam." 158 The Forest Ranger This country s far too healthy, A man can t say he s sick It s pretty plumb monotonous But it s four cents to the lick! P. S. Lovejoy 159 The Forest Ranger HIS WISDOM He didn t know how to handle a rod, nor how to attach a fly; He didn t know how to catch a trout in the brook that went flowing by; When he wounded a buck he didn t know whether to run or stay and fight, And he didn t know how to make a temporary camp at night. He didn t know how to tell the time by looking at the sun ; He didn t know how to take the shells out of a loaded gun; He got so turned around he didn t know what course to take, And he didn t know what to do when he was bitten by a snake. He didn t know what it was once when he handled poison oak; He didn t know how to build a fire, nor how to con ceal its smoke; But he was wise of that fact there can t be the slightest doubt. When he broke camp he knew enough to put the fire out ! Howard C. Kegley 160 The Forest Ranger PLANTING RHYMES Out in the sandhills, day after day, we go And plant little bull pines row beside row. Two with the spades and one with a pail, We go working along leaving trees for a trail. Carrying the bucket we take turn about ; To spade all the time soon wears a man out. When with noon comes out little William H. Mast, Brings out our dinner and we take our repast. While we munch our dry bread and chew our bum meat, We get mad and throw it all down at our feet. We swear on our honor that we ll pull up our pegs If they don t feed us on better than hard boiled eggs. Then goodbye to the sandhills, goodbye old seedbeds, Goodbye, tree planters, and the rest of the tow- heads. Halsey, Nebr., 1907. 161 The Forest Ranger THE FELLOW THAT DROPT THE MATCH Moast anny book on woodcraft has a hoal lot on how to bild a camp fire, but no one of them tells how to putt it owt when bilt. This is the mane thing to knoe, & for lack of knollidge on this subjict our mity forrists dwindel every yere & git littler evry time they dwindel. Enny fool with a match can destroy moar fust class rale timber in haff a day than the Yoonited States Forrist Commishun can proppygate in awl summer. As the poit trooly sais : " He dropt the match when he lit his seegar & it fell in a buntch of grass. & then he went on to shute his bar In the distant mountain pass; & a blaze shot uppard, the wind it riz, & the fire spred awl over the patch, & the melted pants button they found was his The fellow that dropt the match." But retribootion don t always git the rite party whitch is a shaim. If things was diifrunt they woodent be the saim. No troo harted spoartsman begrudges a few akers of skrub timber being burnt off, so long as it dries the jooce out of sum sap-hed with his pokit full of matches. 162 The Forest Ranger THE FOREST PLEADERS (Arbor Day Recitation for Six Pupils.) FIRST PUPIL (carrying evergreen branch) : I AM THE FOREST. I clothe this western land With beauty, and on every hand You turn to me in daily need. Your best friend I have always stood ; You could not live not using wood. For your protection now I plead. Nor do I bid you take my word ; Let these my witnesses be heard. SECOND PUPIL (carrying pail of water) : I AM THE STREAM. From my woodland springs To river mouth, where the white gull wings Over the ships from the ends of the earth, I flow to your homes and mills and fields And carry the freight that the harvest yields, But shady forests gave me birth. THIRD PUPIL (carrying pet animal) : I AM THE WILD THINGS. I speak for graceful deer And flashing trout in brook pools clear, For singing birds and squirrels pert, And all the wearers of feather and fur. What should we do if no forests were To shelter us from fear and hurt? FOURTH PUPIL (carrying ax) : I AM INDUSTRY. To me the forest brings 163 The Forest Ranger Reward for labor and all things That money buys, for in this State Over half our wage-earners pay Comes from lumbering in some way. The fate of forests is my fate. FIFTH PUPIL (carrying fishing rod) : I AM PLEASURE. Happy vacation days, Camping, hunting, and all the ways Of nature in her gladdest moods, The forest holds for girls and boys Who love outdoors and wholesome joys There is no playground like the woods. SIXTH PUPIL (strikes match and holds it burning) : I AM THE FUTURE. Shall all these pass away? Must we look forward to a day Of fire-charred, lifeless, streamless slopes Where thoughtless match or unwatched brand From man s ungrateful, careless hand Has destroyed his own children s hopes? ALL (FUTURE blows match out, watches as he drops it, then tramps it out) : FIRE Is OUR ENEMY. Won t you help us then? Learn yourselves, and teach all men, This, the lesson all must learn, Put out the campfire and the match ; Careful with slash and clearing-patch; Leave no fires in the woods to burn. . T. Allen 164 The Forest Ranger PROSPECTIN Up the mountin and thro the burn We climbed, an mongst the brush and fern, An ole man druve his maddox home, An slapped a tree in the gapin loam. " Mornin , father, what s the game? " " Plantin trees," the answer came. " You don t spect to live to see The standin timber, do ye, say ? " He looked, reflecting down the hill ; " Wai, no, but, thunder! some un will." J, R. Simmons 163 The Forest Ranger EXTRACT FROM AN OLD-TIME DIARY OF AN OLD-TIME FOREST RANGER Crooked Creek, Arizonie, August 15, 1906. FIELD NOTES OF SURVY Home sted clame of Bud Brown, Bonefido squater. This survy was run and plated on a varyation of 9 degrez and 75 minits east of polarus (or some other point i fergitwhich). Wether looks like rane, This tract is situwate in un survyd terytory whicht when survyd wil probebly be in town ship 82 west of Range 3 north of grene witch. Thar being no established corner in this vasinety i built a pile of stonez 4 fet high for a forrist re- servez monument, frum whicht a miskeete tre bears north 7 degrez and 76 minits east, a big mal pio rock bears west 27 degrez south. Thense i run east 20 degrez north 48 chains an set corner no 2 a mal pie rock set in the ground (lots of other rocks around but this one has blubers onit). frum whicht a bald faced cow with a litle calf bears east 22 degrez south and a big steer going the other way bears west u degrea north no other objext near. Here i back site on Corner No I and find that the varyation has changed, so i precede on a tru line. Thense irun north 10 degrez west thru oke brush 21 chains to deep wash (here my dog got after a mavric bull so i quit the survy and folio my dog). August 1 6, 1906. i start wher i quit yesterday and at 45 chains i set corner No 3 whicht is a oke stick set i ft in ground, whense a oke bush bears east, 1 66 The Forest Ranger and the left hand end of a big cloud bears a little south of strate up, no uther objext near. Thense i run west 10 degrez south 15 chains an a litle over to a high clif whicht i cant descend, so i role a big rock off the clif to mark my line, when a white tale buck jumped out of the oke brush and i kilt him with my sixshuter, (here i quit the survy an packed the mete to camp). August 18, 1906 i resume this line at the foot of the high clif wher my rock lit, i estermate the distence to be a litle un der 5 chains to the top so i allow i am now 20 chains frum corner No 3, thense i run west 10 degrez south 48 chains and set corner No 4 whicht is a oke stik set in a dager wead, whense a smoke frum a forrist fier bears west 46 degrez north about IO miles, no uther objext near. Thense i run south 20 degrez east n chains an 15 steps to foot of high clif i cant asend, so i shoot a spot on a rock on top to mark my line, i clime the clif at anuther place an resume my line, i estermate the distance to be about 5 chains a litle back of strate down, so i allow i am not 16 chains an 15 steps frum corner No 4. (here Bud Brown got a blister on his heel an quit chancing, so) i continue on a tru line 733 yards as i step to corner No I, whicht ort to be the place of begining, but aint, so i allow theres some thing out of plum an ajust my sumpas according, an precede about 200 hards to my left and tie into the corect corner, and the place of begin ing, contaneing 160 acres be the same more or les. BILL CALTUTE, Forrist Ranger. /. H. Sizer 167 The Forest Ranger A FOREST SYMPOSIUM The Prelude To you, unknown, but of genial pen A " suping super " laughs his loud Amen ! You have me spotted mighty clear and fine Those orders to a ranger might be mine. Now, though my verses are not meant for curt, Just let some ranger, used to axe and quirt, Sling out his facts, no matter where they hurt. You men we love, this sympo isn t done. Chip in, you men behind the Forest Gun. Then let our wives, who put out fires too, Hit the weak places of the Service crew. Ah, some I know, with forest passion stirred, Too deep for verse or any human word. Followeth the poem, the first of this symposium, which came to a lonely Supervisor s cabin. THE SUPING SUPERVISOR The Supervisor supes around, He supes most every day. He supes around the office And then he draws his pay. He writes the rangers, " Please do this, Please do it very soon ; And how far is it here to there? And how far to the moon ? And please report on Bill Smith s claim, And build a barn, and see What is the matter with the phone, And report this back to me. 168 The Forest Ranger And don t forget to send this in, And carefully prepare A statement of your horse s oats And how he combs his hair. And it is most important That you investigate The grazing out on Hell Creek And how much grass it ate. And promptly on the 4ist, A letter should be sent To tell me how much snow there is And which way it has went. Please don t neglect to satisfy All persons who apply, And tell them " Thank you very much ! " When you are sure they lie. I hope I need not here repeat That Regulation 9 Requires all rangers to wear clothes And have their badges shine. This time about come twenty years I am instructed that Provided it is possible All men must keep a cat." The Super supes in daytime, The Super supes at night. The Super supes, and supes and supes, Because it is his right. He has a dreamy suping time With no cares of expense. He wouldn t be a Super If he had a bit of sense! ** 169 The Forest Ranger We druv out Basco sheep a few ; We cut old trails, an used em, too. This old-time ranger, worn and gray, Must have his grumble let it slide ! Before him his Great Forest Way Still climbs up to the Last Divide There stops for him ! Another takes His axe, and a new record makes. THE WOMAN SIDE Of all the places where I ve lived And different work I ve done, I d rather be a ranger s wife, Because it s lots of fun. Of course I m not talking of the work; I m going to let that slide. It s of the good times that I speak; It s just the woman s side. The people are so sociable, They want you just to feel That you re the same as one of them. Their welcome is so real ! And then there s something that binds And makes us love each other. It s something that we can t explain ; It s like the love of mother. 172 The Forest Ranger And then you have your saddle horse, And lots of time for spins Down to the post-office for the mail, Or up to Mrs. Shinn s. And then there s summer evenings Of which we never tire. We roll great logs of pitch together And have a big bon-fire. We sit and tell good stories, And gaze at the tall pine trees ; We wonder at their beauty, And the soft, cool, summer breeze Comes floating down the meadow That is so green and fair, And filled with rich wild flowers That grow so gorgeous there. But then there s winter evenings When frost and fallen snow Stay piled upon the hillsides And in the valleys, too. It s then we have our parties, We go, and have such fun Before one good time s ended There s something else begun. By a Ranger s Wife 173 The Forest Ranger THE LAST WORD There comes a breath as of storm and flame Unshapen, speechless, not writ with pen, The sound of a Nation seizing the fact Of rangers, and supers and district men All welded together in one firm pact To Tackle the Issues and Play the Game. At last the Harvest our years have sown, At last the ending of ancient wrong, As the People take the People s Own With civic conscience aroused and strong. The finer types of men with a soul Pinchots and Lincolns in full control, Till, once more leading the human race, The Old-time REPUBLIC takes its place. 174 THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE STAMPED BELOW AN INITIAL FINE OF 25 ENTS WILL BE ASSESSED FOR FAIL^E/TO RETURN THIS BOOK ON THE DATE DUjjf. ^PENALTY WILL INCREASE TO SO CENTS ON TJTC*FOljRTH DAY AND TO $1.OO ON THE SEVENTH DAY OVERDUE. APR 29 1934 : TT: !U! K i^fiU ! O ylj^l tftM 2 1 935 ^^IftB JW * )t / / /-v / , } 7 |\ ; \ OCT 9 1998 LD 21-100m-7, 33 YB 76127 398917 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY