James George, better known as “Yankee Jim,” was a pioneer hunter and trapper who staked his claim in Yankee Jim Canyon of Yellowstone River, north of Cinnabar and Gardiner. He shrewdly built twenty-seven miles of toll road through the only available pass. Yankee Jim delighted in joshing the lady members of early parties concerning the prospects of bestowing a bit of affection upon him in lieu of the tolls. Little is known concerning his success in that direction, but he dealt effectively with the Northern Pacific Railroad in the matter of a right of way through his canyon.

As time passed, many people who were beyond the “gape-and-run” variety complained about the lack of a dependable source of information. The quips of guides who did not know a marmot from a cony actually displeased them. However, there were occasions when even these talkative fellows had the good taste to be silent.

They will talk of the Canyon at the hotel and on the drive, but once there they simply lead you to the points of lookout and leave you with your own thoughts, or answer your questions in monosyllables.[231]

After a long trip on a warm day, through clouds of Yellowstone dust, the passengers presented an amusing spectacle. Men in yellow dusters, women in gray ones, topped off by Shaker bonnets. Hungry, weary, and dejected, they would alight on limbs half-paralyzed from inactivity. It was then that a person needed a friend, and that detail was not overlooked by the hotel management.

Perhaps Larry Matthews was more unique than typical, but a description of him will convey the idea of nineteenth-century Park hospitality. For several seasons Larry was chargé d’affaires at the Norris lunch station. Later he was advanced to the management of an inn at Old Faithful. When coaches pulled up to Larry’s he would address each passenger in his genial Irish brogue. Every man received a title of dignity, while he referred to himself as the “Mad Irishman” or “Larry Geeser.” Here is a picture of Larry in action:

Step right up, Judge, eat all you can, break the company, it’s all right with me. Fine spring lamb (spring of ’72). Eggs, fresh eggs! Just laid this morning (on the table).

Thus he kept up a constant rattle that was very funny. As the coaches rolled away one could hear the tourists remark, “The jolliest man I ever saw ... such hypnotic ways, such spontaneous wit; surely no such mortal ever lived before.”[232]

This growing business of transportation and accommodations was characterized by vigorous competition. Probably the first conveyance to enter the Park was a stagecoach owned by J. W. Marshall and his partner, named Goff. It left Virginia City, Montana, on October 1, 1880. Sixteen hours were required in traversing the ninety-five miles to Marshall’s National Park House, a two-story, log-hewed structure located in the Lower Geyser Basin, near the junction of Firehole and Nez Percé Creek. These men also built mail stations at Riverside, four miles east of the West Entrance, and at Norris Geyser Basin.

Frank Jay Haynes, a youthful photographer from St. Paul, started a stage and photo business in 1881. His efforts have produced eminent success, and the end is not yet. The photography side of the business descended from father, Frank Jay, to son, Jack Ellis. The Haynes Studio still enjoys a flourishing trade, and its beautiful products are known all over the world.

The Northern Pacific Railroad extended its terminal to Cinnabar in 1883, where it remained until 1902, when Gardiner was reached. The next year an impressive ceremony was held at the North Gate when the Triumphal Arch was dedicated by President Theodore Roosevelt.

In 1883 the Yellowstone Park Improvement Company organized regular tourist travel. The usual routine consisted of alternating sojourns, whether in Concord stagecoaches, surreys, formation or spring wagons, and canvas “hotels.” A trip around the Park cost twenty-five dollars, or a saddle horse could be secured for two-fifty per day. The following year (1884) George W. Wakefield put a line of coaches into operation from Cinnabar through the Park. W. Hoffman was also engaged in the stage business. These firms were rivals among themselves, and with other less formidable competitors, for the Northern Pacific’s business. However, in 1886, the railroad effected a gentlemen’s agreement with the new and energetic Yellowstone Park Association. Unless the purchaser of a railroad ticket objected he found a coupon attached to his ticket that delivered him into the care of the Yellowstone Park Stage Line and its associated hotels. Coupon holders paid nine dollars a day while in the Park. Five dollars were assigned to staging and four dollars to hotel and meals. Upon alighting from the train, each person was accosted from several quarters, much as by hackmen in cities, “Are you a coupon, sir?” “No.” “Would you like my team then?”[233] Thus, each would press the bewildered tourist for his business. In 1892 the Huntley, Child, and Bach interests organized the Yellowstone Park Transportation Company. They soon dominated the North Entrance business, and other operators were bought out in 1903. Four years later this firm was prepared to receive one hundred and fifty passengers daily at the North Gate. An inventory of its rolling stock included four six-horse Concord coaches, of thirty-three seats capacity; ninety four-horse Concords, of eleven and seven seats; and one hundred two Glens Falls two-horse surreys, of five and three seat models. It was undoubtedly one of the best-equipped organizations of the kind in history.[234]

Passengers entering the Park by way of the West Entrance came north from Ogden, Utah, on the Utah Northern (later the Union Pacific) to Spencer, Idaho, or Monida on the Montana-Idaho border. There they were met by F. J. Haynes’ Monida and Yellowstone Stage Line or the Bassett Brothers Company. During the season of 1915 the Haynes firm transported 20,151 tourists through the Park.

In 1903, when the East Gate road was opened, the Holm Transportation Company secured a permit to operate a stage line. The arrival of the Burlington Route to Cody, Wyoming, in 1912, gave great impetus to that business. The West Entrance had benefited by a railroad to its gate since 1907, when the Union Pacific extended the line to West Yellowstone. A branch line was also built to Victor, Idaho, which made Jackson Hole and the South Entrance much more accessible. A table of operators and charges, as of 1914, would represent the stage business in the heyday of its power.[235]

The evolution of permanent camps and hotels was complementary to the development of travel. The first permanent house built was in Clematis Gulch, on the north side of Mammoth Terraces. It was erected in 1871 by James C. McCartney. This “hotel” and C. J. Baronett’s bridge and cabin at the forks of the Yellowstone River were the only improvements made before the Dedicatory Act was passed. These gentlemen managed to collect the sum of $9000 for their foresight and property, although they had to wait until March 1, 1899 to get it.

P. W. Norris’ Annual Report of 1880 lists the following facilities then in operation: Mammoth, McCartney’s house and Matthew McGuirck’s baths; Norris, a rude cabin and barn; Riverside, a cabin and barn; Firehole River, near the forks, “a fine shingle roofed mail station and hotel.” The latter three stations were built by Marshall and Goff. In the Upper Geyser Basin a small cabin was built by Superintendent Norris in 1879; at the Lake a cabin and boat were operated by Captain E. S. Topping.

Two years later John Yancey secured a mail contract and established a station in Pleasant Valley at the base of Crescent Hill. Here he was familiarly known as “Uncle John.” He was an old Kentucky frontiersman stranded in the Park by the flood tide of civilization. He chafed constantly at the uneventful days of the eighties and told his guests thrilling tales of the forties. A pen portrait has been preserved of him:

Yancey is an odd character, whose looks encourage a belief in reincarnation, so forcibly does he remind us of the prehistoric. His hotel, too, belongs to the primeval; its walls are of logs; its partitions and ceilings of cheese cloth.... Uncle John’s housekeeper, who performs the duties of cook and chambermaid, confidentially informed one of our party that it was hard to find time to wash so many bedclothes every day.[236]

The meals were most generous, which was a custom closely observed in those days. This type of accommodation was very repulsive to some people. Judge Lambert Tree, an ex-United States Minister to Belgium, characterized the management in general as outrageous. A report was current that three married couples and two young women were thrust into a small room to pass the night. The next camp was twenty miles away, and the only transportation belonged to the company. In addition, this same party was advised to walk up Mary Mountain because it was such a hard pull for the horses. Someone was evidently justified in making the statement, “As it is today [1884.], I do not think it too strong to say that at certain points on the route travellers are treated more like cattle than civilized people.”[237]

These reports reached the Secretary of the Interior, and a number of new leases were promptly granted for the erection of hotels and the necessary outbuildings.[238] About this time Superintendent Wear was accused of persuading Graham and Klamer, owners of the Firehole Hotel, to sell out. In any case, a new hotel was built in the Lower Geyser Basin in 1884 by C. T. Hobart. He and Robert E. Carpenter also erected a frame building the next year on the present site of Old Faithful Inn. At the same time the Cottage Hotel was erected in Mammoth by Walter L. Henderson.[239] The Yellowstone Park Association also built hotels in Mammoth and Norris in 1885, Lake in 1887, Canyon in 1890, and the following year they completed the peerless Fountain Hotel. It was located on a hill in a strategic position in the Lower Geyser Basin. From its lofty veranda the Fountain Geyser could be observed playing. The Fountain House was an imposing structure. It was modern in every way, having electricity and steam heat. Two hundred guests could be entertained, and when they went to dinner a head waiter in evening dress greeted them. In 1887 the Norris Hotel burned down, and in 1894 the one at Old Faithful did likewise.[240]

During the season of 1894 the pressure of criticism was brought to bear upon the entire Yellowstone transportation and accommodation setup. The country was in the throes of a depression, and the rates seemed exorbitant. It appears that the Yellowstone Park Transportation Company had been very reluctant in allowing stopover privileges. It collected just as much by holding strictly to schedule; whereas, the hotels made more on holdovers. This diversity of interest suggested the idea that it might be expedient to have the management of both industries in the same hands.

It was William W. Wylie, of Bozeman, who conceived a plan which met the demand. Since 1883 he had operated a ten-day tour, using portable tents. He would organize a stage line and cater to the masses by establishing a string of permanent camps, with eating halls and sleeping quarters. By using canvas, his investment would be small, and he could cut the cost of a trip through the Park in half. Therefore, in 1896, he secured a franchise, and the “Wylie Way” went into operation.

Of course, the more conservative competitors resented this invasion from “the other side of the tracks.” Captain George S. Anderson was also opposed to a string of “shanty towns.” The matter was given a public hearing by Forest and Stream in its issue of February 5, 1898, entitled “Nuisances in Yellowstone Park.” Mr. Wylie, known in Yellowstone as “the Professor,” wrote a vigorous rebuttal for the following issue. Other publications entered into the controversy, as did many of Wylie’s most satisfied customers. The question involved was whether the American people, in the enjoyment of their own pleasure ground, should be limited to one set of accommodations, which only the wealthy could afford.[241] The verdict of the public, from which there is no appeal, was definitely with “the Professor.” The business flourished and won an acceptable position in the more complete system that evolved.

In the meantime an actual nuisance was committed by several hotel operators. They attempted to assemble and maintain wild life menageries. The government necessarily allowed stables and pastures for horses and cows, but that was all. Nevertheless, several managers also tried to raise pigs, although extreme precautions were essential to save them from bears. Colonel E. C. Waters had a “veritable stockade-pen of heavy logs bolted all around.”[242] Perhaps the most flagrant offender in this respect was the Yellowstone Boat Company. As an inducement to take a boat ride, this firm confined buffalo, elk, and bighorn in corrals on Dot Island. This untoward act, together with the prices charged for boat rides, brought many complaints, and upon official request the animals were promptly released.[243]

Mosquitoes were an ever-present nuisance, sometimes assuming the proportion of a plague. Accustomed to the pursuit of fleet four-footed prey, they assailed slow-moving Homo sapiens with particular gusto. Gleeful appreciation seemed discernible in their song. By day and night, unless the wind was blowing, the tourists were kept busy swatting those vexatious, glory-minded, musical-winged, bold denizens of the forest.

Perhaps the most persistent annoyance, next to mosquitoes, was the prevalence of dust. One traveler laconically observed that he rode “from geyser to canyon, to waterfall, in a chaos of dust, until he returned on the fifth day a wiser and dustier man.”[244] But an elderly man, probably afflicted with asthma, entered the Fountain Hotel, singled out the manager, and shaking his finger in his face, dramatically shouted, “A man who would permit women and children to enter the Park, with the roads in their present condition, is an old scoundrel!”[245] How did cyclists ever manage to get around? Incredible though it appears they went through right along after 1882. To be sure, their voices were added to the chorus calling for better roads. These protests resulted in the adoption of a sprinkling system that will be described subsequently.

The most revolutionary proposal for a change in travel facilities, coming in 1894, was a demand for railroads. There were propositions wholly independent of the Montana segregation case. Many people sincerely favored the entrance of trains on their own merits. The issue was discussed in the House of Representatives on December 17, by the Hon. Henry H. Coffeen of Wyoming. Speaking of the operators, he said:

... they are holding on to a theory of sacred maintenance of the stage coach and broncho riding method of reaching this great Wonderland at a time when the superior advantages of railroad travel ought to be granted to the people.... These journeys going round the Park, so to say, and coming in at the back door by tedious night and day stage rides are so expensive, the time and inconveniences so great and the season so short (three months) that the great bulk of our population must forever stay out and remain in ignorance of the scenes of the Park. Not one hundredth part of one per cent of our people per year could possibly visit the Park by these methods.[246]

While this argument did not produce a change of policy it did give an impetus to road building. A brief review of that important development would be appropriate.

Reference has already been made to the rude trails hacked out by government expeditions and early tourists and also to the trace improvised by C. J. Baronett and his associates, which led from Mammoth to his bridge at the forks of the Yellowstone and along the east branch to the mines at Cooke, Montana. In 1877 General Howard’s captain, W. F. Spurgin, made a faint apology for a road in bringing his wagons from Mary Mountain to Tower Falls. It was the next year when the first wagons managed a round trip from Mammoth, and also the West Entrance, to the Upper Geyser Basin. In building a road across the base of Obsidian Cliff, Colonel Norris employed a unique tactic in road making. Great bonfires were burned over the black glass, which made it expand; then cold water was dashed upon it, shattering the material so that it could be chopped out.

In the early eighties the matter of road making was taken over by the army engineers. Until 1895 actual control was in the hands of non-resident officers, which proved unsatisfactory. After that the Acting Superintendent exercised supervision. Captain Anderson had a soldier’s and a surveyor’s eye for feasible routes. He favored the construction of twenty miles of good dirt road with fair grades to one mile of macadam and the resulting delay in opening the Park to the public.[247] The principal supervisors were Captain D. C. Kingman and Major Hiram M. Chittenden. Through their combined efforts the Grand Loop was planned and patiently constructed. In 1892 the road from Old Faithful to West Thumb was started. It took five years to get through to Jackson Lake. At the same time work progressed on the long section from Thumb to Fishing Bridge and thence to the East Entrance. That project was finished and accessible from Cody in 1903. Two years later the difficult Dunraven Pass and the scenic Chittenden Road to the summit of Mt. Washburn were ready. These were the last links in the Grand Loop. Of course, there have been continuous changes and refinements. In general the trend has been away from the plateaus to the more scenic river routes. Stretches through the Golden Gate, under Overhanging Cliff, and through the Gibbon and Firehole canyons are both interesting and costly.

In 1902 an experiment was made with the view of solving the dusty road problem. Several wide-tired sprinklers were tried out. The following year the number was increased, and more than thirty filling tanks were installed along the way. Most of them were filled by gravity and rams. In this way over a hundred miles of highway was moistened daily. Still, there were times when the dust was too thick for any effective treatment that man could devise.[248] Of course, nature had an adequate remedy, which it occasionally employed. Superintendent Albright related an instance:

Once I had a large congressional party in Yellowstone. It was in charge of the late James W. Good. Yellowstone’s roads were terribly dusty and the water sprinkling was of little value. We wanted Congress to adopt an oiling program but every night while the Committee was in the Park it rained and the roads were perfect. Nevertheless every day I told of the dust menace and urged the improvement, but the congressmen only laughed and some member would say “Albright’s going to tell his old dusty road story again.”[249]

Continuing the narrative, Superintendent Albright told this story:

“Another year, I met a sub-committee of the House Appropriations Committee at the Grand Canyon National Park. Congressman, now United States Senator, Carl Hayden, was with the party when they reached the park. Here again we had a problem of terrible roads. The committee had not had much sleep the night before arrival due to changing trains, and when I took them over the worst road in the park they went to sleep on me. I bounced them into every rut and hole I could find, but even then I had to shake them to wake them up. For a long time they contended that the road was a boulevard, but finally authorized the improvement desired. On the same trip, Congressman Cramton of Michigan, for years the stalwart champion of national parks, saw a camper stop his car near the Grand Canyon Park office. He went over to him seeking information about the conduct of the park. The tourist gave him a vigorous denunciation of the roads in the park, and Mr. Cramton always claimed that I planted the camper there to trap him.”

The suggestion frequently came to the Superintendent that he should sprinkle the roads with water from Alum Creek. That would shorten the distance and simplify the task!

In 1917 the National Park Service assumed control over all road construction and maintenance. Since then a comprehensive policy of scientific road making has been followed; grades have been modified, while at the same time great cuts and fills have been avoided so far as possible; turns have been eased and widened; and in recent years all the roads have been paved with oil mix. An appropriation of $3,369,450 in 1933, under the National Recovery Act, became the basis of the marvelous improvements made in recent years. In 1937 a remarkably scenic highway was completed from Red Lodge, Montana, to the Northeast Gate. After 1928, Cecil A. Lord directed the engineering activities of the Park until his death in 1943, whereupon Park Engineer Philip H. Wohlbrandt assumed that important responsibility.

The year 1915 was indeed a banner one in Yellowstone transportation history. It was the first year automobiles were admitted, and consequently heralded the end of the stagecoach. Actually, staging lingered through another season, but the race was over as the poet said:

Few people expressed any regret, because of the hardships incident to travel by stagecoach. Still, it is the opinion of many that advantages exceeded inconvenience. The West, as now seen from the window of a train or motor car, is not the country introduced by stagecoach. With all the additional comfort, there is a loss of an indefinable something, subtle, yet well understood by those who have driven at a six-mile-an-hour pace through the almost unbroken solitude of another era. In contrast, regularly scheduled airplane flights over the Park have been available from time to time since 1937. There are no airports in the Park, but they are to be found nearby at West Yellowstone and Gardiner, Montana.

It should also be remembered that during the previous forty years innumerable private parties made leisurely visits and camped where they pleased. The Park must have been an idyllic place in those “horse and buggy” days, a hunting and fishing Elysium, especially until 1894. Since then fishermen may take a generous catch of trout without any license except a bona fide presence in the Park.

Although admitted under the most onerous terms the automobile revolutionized the travel there as elsewhere. Always well-filled with regulations, official bulletins now fairly bristled with instructions to motorists. Fees were $7.50 for a single trip or $10.00 for the season; all cars were required to enter the gates between 6:45 and 7:15 A.M. A printed schedule specified the time of arrival at, and departure from, the control stations.[251] Fines were imposed for arrival at any point before the approved lapse of time at the rate of $0.50 per minute for each of the first five minutes, $1.00 per minute for each of the next twenty minutes, $25.00 fine or ejection from the Park, or both, at the discretion of the Acting Superintendent, for being more than twenty-five minutes early. The following regulations and restrictions were strictly enforced: Speed, twelve miles per hour ascending steep grades; ten miles per hour descending steep grades; eight miles per hour approaching sharp curves and passing other vehicles. The maximum speed limit in 1922 was twenty-five miles per hour. Teams had the right of way and also the inside of the roadway in passing. Motorists were required to sound horns at all curves where the road was not in view at least two hundred yards ahead. Surely the motorists were in a defensive position, but they came anyway. A total of 3,513 auto passengers toured the Park in the abbreviated season after August 1, 1915. The grand total for the year was 51,895 in all conveyances.

The advent of motor vehicles speeded up every phase of Park administration. However, World War I provided a respite for making adjustments. In fact, a thorough reorganization of the entire concession system was effected in 1917. The main feature involved was the consolidation of transportation under the management of the Yellowstone Park Transportation Company. The purpose of this franchise was to eliminate the pressure of rivals upon the passengers, facilitate supervision, and promote economy.[252] The Yellowstone Park Company proceeded to make a large capital investment by motorizing all transportation. Thereupon, the familiar yellow bus superseded the ancient stagecoach. It is an interesting thing to observe a caravan of twenty buses winding its way along a river drive or parked before a museum while a ranger-naturalist gives the passengers a quick orientation in the area.

It would be fair to inquire if the bus driver (gear jammer) showed any improvement over the stagecoach driver in the matter of instructing the public. Not if the 1921 edition of Truthful Lies correctly represents the situation, because that little booklet was a congeries of unadulterated nonsense reduced to a system.[253] However, a gradual improvement has been made, and in recent years all of the new drivers have gone around the “Loop” with a naturalist. From him they received helpful suggestions relative to natural interpretation. A few days after one of these induction tours the following conversation was reported to have taken place when passing a beaver dam: “Now, there is a beaver dam, but where are the dam beavers?” The driver straightened up and replied, “I’ll be damned if I know.”

At this point it should be remembered that, although the great concourse visit Yellowstone in cars, many tourists come in buses, motorcycles, and bicycles. It should also be noted that travel by horseback has always persisted. Until the advent of the automobile this method was in general use. Indeed, firms were organized to provide grand tours of several weeks’ duration. The Howard Eaton Trail and various adjuncts are still used by horseback parties each summer. In fact, several trail-riding associations sponsor these trips under competent leadership. In this manner an excellent Park tradition is being sustained for the benefit and enjoyment of a chosen few possessed of the necessary time and hardihood.

In 1936 the long-expected union of transportation and accommodations took place. The Yellowstone Park Transportation Company acquired all of the housing facilities and deleted the word Transportation from its title.[254] In analyzing the business of previous years, President William M. Nichols and his associates noticed a definite trend away from commercial transportation and first class American plan hotel accommodations. Therefore, they rapidly expanded the lower-priced cabins, together with cafeterias and coffee shops. They are now pursuing a carefully worked out program of improvement. Practical pre-fabricated cabins are to be established in well-arranged units in every station.[255] In 1956 the company had available some 3,150 rooms or units of lodging, with an aggregate capacity for housing 8,500 people. These accommodations consist of hotels, lodges, and housekeeping cabins. The services of twenty-seven hundred employees were required to operate these facilities. The annual Park population census taken on August 9, 12, and 14, 1955, disclosed an average population of 14,912 for the three days. Of this number 11,183 were visitors while 3,729 were employees. The grand total for the 1955 season was 1,368,515 visitors.

Tourists require many things besides food and shelter. Yellowstone’s policy has favored making these wants attainable. In this field regulations have also modified certain practices common to general business conditions. Franchises have been kept at a minimum, and competition does not exist within a particular camp. However, Park merchants are required to keep their prices in line with the index of the market area.

Motion pictures and other forms of indoor recreation are conspicuously absent, although the lodges sponsor two hours of entertainment and dancing for their guests and the public at large. These also function to keep the employees contented.

A general statement having been made, a brief sketch of Yellowstone’s business enterprises would be in order. Frank Jay Haynes, the pioneer photographer, built his first picture shop at Mammoth in 1884. Since that time a Haynes Studio has been a familiar institution in Yellowstone camps. Another Mammoth Hot Springs store was opened in 1889 by Ole Anderson. For a time he was allowed to sell bottles of highly colored Park sand and also specimens coated with calcium carbonate. This store was purchased by Anna K. Pryor and Elizabeth Trischman in 1908. They soon reorganized it into the Park Curio and Coffee Shop. Later they acquired the Mammoth general store and a grocery store near Canyon Junction. The latter had been established by a released Park soldier, George Whittaker.

The first store in the Upper Geyser Basin was built by Henry E. Klamer in 1897. A ten-year franchise for a geyser water swimming pool was granted Henry J. Brothers in 1914. The following year Charles A. Hamilton acquired control of these interests and laid the foundation for a thriving business there. Hamilton also has general stores at Thumb, Lake, and Fishing Bridge, and in 1953 acquired the Pryor interests in the Park.

The Yellowstone Park Service Stations are owned jointly by Hamilton Stores, Inc. and the Yellowstone Park Company. Gasoline, oil, and supplies are available at the lone multi-pump service station assigned to each camp.[256] The public garage business is in the hands of the Yellowstone Park Company. Thus, it is obvious that all of the Park’s mercantile business is the concern of three operators, Haynes, Hamilton, and the Yellowstone Park Company. Each operates under the terms of a government franchise and is subject to National Park Service regulation and supervision at all times.

The essential public utilities are provided by the National Park Service. They consist of public camp grounds with cement cooking units, toilet facilities, telephones, water, lights, and sewage disposal. These substantial projects have been developed through the years with a capital expenditure that runs in excess of a million dollars.[257]

In 1912 a general hospital was built in Mammoth. It is closely affiliated with a similar institution in Livingston, Montana. Medical doctors and trained nurses are on duty at the principal stations throughout the Park. This arrangement assures the public of medical attention in case of accidents or illness.

In 1913 the government built a Community Chapel at Mammoth. During the summer months services are usually conducted there and at the lodges or amphitheaters by the Catholic, Protestant, and Latter-day Saint (Mormon) faiths.

The postal service in Yellowstone has had a colorful evolution. The mail has always come through, either by scout, stage driver, bus, or “star route” mail car. In 1937 a fine post office was erected in Mammoth. It does business there the year around; while postal stations at Old Faithful, West Thumb, Lake, Fishing Bridge, Canyon, and Tower Falls are open only during the summer season.

Thus does a cross-section of America meet by canyon, geyser, lake, and waterfall. They also foregather around counters, tables, lobbies, and evening camp fires. It would be difficult to find a more representative assembly of American society. Many people consider this interesting human equation one of the most enjoyable experiences in the Park.

Chapter XIII
“THE YELLOWSTONE IDEA”

It has already been disclosed that Yellowstone Park has served the nation as an experimental unit in certain fields of conservation. While this is true, it would not be correct to regard the Park as the single place of origin for such a complex and salutary movement. Today the conservation of natural resources is one of America’s most popular and cherished causes, but it was not always so. A brief review of the conservation issue will provide a background for a correct appraisal of the position of the National Park System in relation to the nation’s over-all conservation program.

When the first colonies were established along the Atlantic seaboard America was a land of trees. This profusion of flora constituted an obstacle counted more serious than hostile Indians.[258] The natives had already fully cleared limited areas from the ravages of ancient fires, but the great forest stood almost limitless, and it was dense. Ambitious farmers yearned for the sight of bare ground; all trees irritated their eyes and caused them to reach for their axes. They wanted soil as rich as a barnyard, level as a floor, stone free, cleared clean of trees, without cost.[259] Except for the absence of trees, these amazing requirements were largely possible of fulfillment because never before had “heaven and earth agreed better to frame a place for man’s habitation.”[260] Here, indeed, was another Eden once it was redeemed from the leafy wilderness.

Colonials rallied to the challenge of a conquest over nature. They “drove” whole groves by partially felling each in a series and then touching off a chain reaction with the downfall of a ponderous giant. Thus did settlers cleave their way into the forests, rejecting in nature all that was not of immediate practical value. A little poem published in 1692 depicts their philosophy:

Next to the destruction of trees in clearing operations came the use of wood for fuel. A river steamboat or railroad locomotive required from twenty to thirty cords per day. “Woodhawks” literally denuded whole forests to supply these needs. Houses were largely built of wood, and it was liberally used in all domestic operations. In winter the family kept warm, not by securing “sich uppish notions” as blankets, but by throwing more wood on the fire, “nobody needn’t suffer with a great fire to sleep by.”[262] Rails were used in building fences at the rate of twenty-six thousand per section. The increase of population and acceleration of industrial activity in the early nineteenth century took a heavy toll from the forests. Fires were started by sparks from steam engines and by careless hunters, with the result that the precious blotter of humus, millenniums in building, was often destroyed in a flash. For two centuries America had advanced westward in a wood age, and trees were always in the way.

However, there were wise men who had always deplored tree waste. William Penn insisted that one acre of forest remain for each five cleared. Benjamin Franklin invented a stove to save fuel. George Washington and Peter Kalm warned of dangers ahead from floods and erosion through wanton clearing of land.[263] In 1813, Thomas Jefferson sagely wrote:

The spontaneous energies of the earth are a gift of nature, but they require the labor of man to direct their operation. And the question is so to husband this labor as to turn the greatest quantity of this useful action of the earth to his benefit.[264]

It will be noted that the foregoing suggestions were made by practical men upon sound considerations. However, there came an occasional complaint upon the philosophic and aesthetic level. Jonathan Edwards, André Michaux, George Catlin, and William Cullen Bryant were among those who visualized nature as a dynamic organization of living creatures worthy of existence in their own right and for the joy they gave. Their appreciation is illustrated by this verse:

To be sure, little resulted from this approach; the time was not ripe. But these slender stirrings of thought and twitchings of conscience in high places were bound to be fruitful in results later on.

By the middle of the nineteenth century the springs and streams which had previously provided a murmuring labyrinth of dependable forest hospitality and protection had become irregular, undependable, and sometimes downright vicious. The lifeblood of the land, which, under nature’s balance, had throbbed daily and monthly almost as evenly as the sea, was now given to torrential rages in early June which were reduced to feeble trickles in July. Restless farmers found their plantings delayed until after the spring floods abated, and although the willing seed germinated quickly the tender plants were desiccated by midsummer heat. These conditions made it increasingly apparent that Americans would soon be compelled to approach nature as a friend rather than as an adversary. Any other course was suicidal.

By 1850 a new and more persuasive corps of conservationists was emerging. They affirmed that a nation desiring nature’s rewards must first learn her laws and then obey them implicitly.[265] They defined conservation as the protection and development of the full usefulness of natural resources, including forests, waters, minerals, scenery, and the land itself. Among these far-seeing men were Henry Thoreau, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and John Muir. Through a persuasive campaign of lecturing and writing they established the plain fact that Americans, as a people, had never learned to love the land and regard it as an enduring resource. Rather had they viewed it as a field for exploitation and a source of immediate financial return.

Although the effect of these declarations was quite negligible, still Congress did appoint several timber agents in 1850. This was the first glimmering of a systematic approach to the inspection and policing of federal timber resources. But what have these humble beginnings in conservation to do with the Yellowstone National Park idea? Only this, a child cannot take a second step until it takes the first. Americans have never been particularly inclined toward sentimentality. A national pleasuring ground, such as Yellowstone Park, designed to serve “as a great breathing place for the national lung, as a place to which every American citizen can resort,” could not have come into being without considerable intellectual preparation.[266]

Congress could hardly be expected to enact protective legislation to stem this traditional exploitation until the idea of conservation became reasonably articulate and popular. Remember, that even at mid-century the thinkers were still groping for a program. Perhaps the first American possessed of both the appreciation and imagination to forecast what later evolved into the National Park program was George Catlin. When traveling up the Missouri River in 1832 he was so impressed as to write, “The realms might in future be seen preserved in their pristine beauty and wildness, in a magnificent park ... containing man and beast, in all the wild and freshness of their nature’s beauty.”[267]

In 1844 Ralph Waldo Emerson generalized upon the public need for recreational areas. “The interminable forests,” said he, “should become graceful parks for use and delight.” Henry Thoreau was even more penetrating when he wrote:

Why should not we ... have our national preserves ... in which the bear and panther, and some even of the hunter race, may still exist, and not be “civilized” off the face of the earth ... for inspiration and our true re-creation? Or should we, like villains, grub them all up for poaching on our own national domains?[268]

Perhaps these men reached these conclusions more by inspiration than logic, but in George P. Marsh, conservation had a sound advocate. He spoke and wrote with authority upon the principle of “conserving unique areas for their greatest values,” whether utility or scenery. In his book, Man and Nature, published in 1864, he argued persuasively for balanced economy and pointed to the fact of man’s ultimate dependence upon elemental things. These wise views concerning forest influences upon precipitation, springs, sand storms, floods, and man’s own property made a deep impression upon many people.[269] Since then the good work has been continued by other scientists. In 1948, Our Plundered Planet, written by Fairfield Osborn, reviewed the nation’s unpalatable record of negligence and waste. He characterized the Americans as energetic, destructive, violent, and unthinking. Considering the element of time, the United States has received more reckless treatment than any other segment of the world. As a result, vast resources are gone beyond hope of redemption, but others are renewable through the application of scientific principles.

The tide of the world’s population is rising; the reservoir of the earth’s resources is falling. Since World War II, America seems to be in the middle position of strain. In these circumstances, will it be possible to maintain and enlarge the standard of living as in the past eras? Fairfield Osborn insists that our attitude toward conservation holds the key to the problem. Success in this endeavor will require supreme cooperation among government, industry, labor, scientific research, and the public at large. Should this grand partnership eventuate, Mr. Osborn has promised that “no end is visible or even conceivable to this kingdom of adventure.”

Interest in these great truths is well established now and will not be permitted to decline, because America has many scientists at work in the field of soil conservation. This work is furthered by the specialists of the U. S. Soil Conservation Service. The soil experts constantly remind the farmers, and others, that America possessed an average top “black” soil depth of nine inches when settlement was first started. They now estimate the average to be between six and seven inches. Soil conservationists hasten to point out that rocks disintegrate slowly, and that ages, not centuries, are required for the growth and decay of plants needed in the production of rich humus soil. Soil scientists do not simply call attention to dangers. They have developed dependable and salutary cultivating practices such as contour plowing of tillable soil and terracing of range land. They advise plowing stubble and cover crops under to add fertility and cohesion to the soil.

Experimentation has been fruitful from the standpoint of discovering grass and legume adaptability to the different soil conditions. One phase of national security is contingent upon the effectiveness with which these practices are applied by all who work with farm, range, and forest resources. The record will prove that nearly 300,000,000 acres of land have been practically destroyed by erosion in the United States. Twice that acreage is rapidly deteriorating under the same forces.

Remember, that it was only a century ago when Americans received their first rudimentary lessons in exercising a little common sense in the exploitation of resources, whether for crops, lumber, mineral, livestock, or recreational opportunities.

Referring again to the status of conservation and natural philosophy in the middle nineteenth century, it should be noted that several California citizens first beheld the beauty of Yosemite in 1851. Inspired and overwhelmed by the sheer grandeur of these high Sierra marvels, they returned to commune again and again. Artists, photographers, and authors joined the growing procession, and most of them concurred in the opinion that it was “the greatest marvel on the continent.” Increasing appreciation and popularity developed into a movement for segregation under state ownership and operation. In 1864 an application was made for a federal land grant with that end in view. A strong committee, headed by Israel Ward Raymond, drafted the resolution and passed it along to U.S. Senator John Conness. He presented a bill which was passed and signed by President Lincoln on June 29, 1864. The grant was given “upon the express conditions that the premises shall be held for public use, resort and recreation shall be held inalienable for all time.”[270]

The federal government was gradually warming toward the reservation idea in areas of little economic resistance from private interests. Even so, there was no thought of a national park program, but a tract of federal land had actually been made available to the general public for a strictly non-utilitarian purpose. The general direction was visible, but the course was not clearly charted.

Reflective visitors to Yosemite, such as Samuel Bowles, pondered a wider application of the land grant and reservation principle. It was in 1865, after Bowles viewed the glories of Yosemite, that he made this statement:

The wise cession and dedication [of Yosemite] by Congress and proposed improvement by California ... furnishes an admirable example for other objects of natural curiosity and popular interest all over the Union. New York should preserve for popular use both Niagara Falls and its neighborhood, and a generous section of the famous Adirondacks, and Maine, one of her lakes and its surrounding woods.[271]

Surely Bowles’ statement disclosed a profound appreciation of a growing need. He had found, as Dr. Hans Huth aptly says, “a formula not just for the protection of this or that area of interest to some group or other, but for a systematic approach to an overall system of protection of specific features of nature throughout the nation.”[272] However, one tremendously important element was still missing from the formula. It was simply a repetition of George Catlin’s proposal of 1832, in clearer terms to be sure, but still the all-important factor of bringing the program under the aegis of the federal government was lacking. This element was supplied by the Washburn-Langford-Doane party in their memorable campfire discussion at the junction of the Firehole and Gibbon rivers on September 19, 1870, when it was specifically proposed that the federal government should be induced to establish a National Park. Within less than two years the native virtue of the idea, backed by the rugged energy of its originators and others, resulted in the passage of the Yellowstone Park Act. Yellowstone, therefore, was the first federal venture in the field of protection. Hence, technically speaking, it may stand as the birthplace of the National Park Idea.[273] True, the issue of protection and conservation had a long history, but one doesn’t actually name a baby until it is born. In this light, the Yellowstone experience is the matrix in which the National Park Idea achieved existence as a new American institution.

Such is the partial record of many influences that culminated in the “Dedicatory Act” of March 1, 1872. In this chain of progress people associated with Yellowstone played a small but significant role. They helped translate a growing conservation movement into a fruitful channel. A fortuitous combination of time and place reduced opposition to a minimum. The next question would logically be: what contribution, if any, has Yellowstone National Park made toward the development of the present conservation program?

The creation of Yosemite and Yellowstone parks set a precedent for democratic control of natural curiosities, including scenic forests, but that was all. No action was then contemplated by Congress in respect to conserving commercial timber stands. However, Congress was plagued by petitions, and a few forward-looking legislators were endeavoring to formulate a basis for a forest policy. The American Association for the Advancement of Science advocated a program of tree planting, taxes to discourage hasty timber cutting, a forestry course for farmers, and the establishment of forest reserves. In 1873, under the guiding hand of Franklin B. Hough, the association memorialized Congress and the state legislatures regarding the cultivation of timber and the preservation of forests.[274]

That same year Congress appropriated two thousand dollars for a study of American forest and timber production. Mr. Hough directed the work and issued a series of reports. Secretary of the Interior Carl Schurz was sufficiently impressed by this survey to create the Department of Forestry within his department.[275] In addition, he appointed a forestry agent and sent him to Europe to study forest methods.

Such Fabian tactics suggest that the conservationists were not strong enough to really come to grips with the problem. But the leaders were alert, and in 1891 they made a notable gain by a devious maneuver. A conference committee of the two houses was adjusting differences in a bill that revised the general land laws. Advocates of conservation through their leader, John W. Noble, Secretary of the Interior, dominated the committee. It was he who suggested the inclusion of a new section, although that was a violation of procedure, which provided that:

The president of the U. S. may, from time to time, set apart and reserve, in any state or territory having public land bearing forests, any part ... whether of commercial value or not, as public reservations, and the president shall, by public proclamation, declare the establishment of such reservations.[276]

In that way Congress stumbled onto a plan which worked because, by granting reserve creating power to the president, the timber lobby was circumvented. This measure provided a definite wedge against the compact, aggressive forces of exploitation. President Benjamin Harrison acted promptly by creating, in 1891, the Yellowstone Timber Reserve in Wyoming. He, thereby, created the first National Forest, and before his term expired he set aside a total of thirteen million acres, all in the Far West.

Another side of conservation was inaugurated in 1872 when J. Sterling Morton of Lincoln, Nebraska, introduced a resolution for a state-wide Arbor Day. By 1885 the idea had gained enough popular support to warrant the establishment of Arbor Day as a legal holiday, and since then more than half of the states have followed Nebraska’s example.

However, it was a Pennsylvanian who became the most effective conservationist of all; Gifford Pinchot was well educated, energetic, and interested in the cause. As manager of the Vanderbilt forest interests in North Carolina he evolved a policy of perpetual timber yield. The indefatigable Mr. Pinchot was prepared to make a contribution to the conservation movement on a national level, and Theodore Roosevelt’s accession to the presidency in 1901 gave him that opportunity. President Roosevelt, also, brought much field experience to the conservation problem. His interest was one of conviction as well as good sense, sentiment, and politics. He viewed the presidency as a stewardship for the nation’s resources. More than anyone before or since he dramatized this issue. As head of the forest bureau, Mr. Pinchot became the President’s strong right arm, and together they made America acquainted with her conservation needs. A survey of national resources disclosed the fact that of the original 800,000,000 acres of virgin forest, less than 200,000,000 remained. Furthermore, four-fifths of this acreage was in private hands. Mineral resources, also, had been exploited as if inexhaustible. By propaganda, lobbies, public meetings, and conferences, Roosevelt and Pinchot focused attention upon abuses and neglect. Their watchword was that America’s natural resources must be administered in the interest of “the greatest good to the greatest number—and that for the longest time.”[277]

The general response to the President’s Governors’ Conference at the White House in 1907, and to other conferences, was most gratifying. Conservation agencies sprang into action on all sides. Even the National Lumber Manufacturers’ Association established new standards and specifications for the wood-using industries. The dynamic leadership of Theodore Roosevelt and his associates enabled the people to comprehend the basic relationship of conservation and national welfare. Almost everyone united in the view that a new frontier had been formed and its conquest was to be made upon the principles and forces of conservation.

Congress had led the way toward legislative regulation, beginning with the Yosemite Act in 1864, followed by the Yellowstone “Dedicatory Act” of 1872. Since then one legislative pearl after another has been collected and strung upon the fabric of the National Forest and Park systems.

Today there are thirteen federal agencies charged with the administration of the federal conservation laws. Consolidation of these bureaus would undoubtedly enhance the effectiveness of the over-all service. Besides that, there are forty-eight state agencies and, in addition, one hundred and twenty-four organizations of either national, state, or local character specifically dedicated to conservation.[278] From the origin herein described, the National Forest Service has developed until there are now 180,000,000 acres within the confines of one hundred and fifty National Forests. The administration of these far-flung areas is co-ordinated by twelve regional offices and other adjunctive agencies, such as experiment stations and laboratories.

The guiding philosophy of National Forest management is known as “multiple use.” This term describes a broad program involving the inter-relationship of wild life protection, livestock grazing, logging, mining, irrigation watersheds, wood chopping, recreation, summer home areas, and hunting and fishing activities. Railroads and other roads are built in National Forests according to plan and under supervision. How much of this esteemable policy and program has been derived from the National Park experience? The two services have developed simultaneously; as the boundaries of parks and forests often impinge, so have their policies. Both services have many ends in common; each learns from the other.[279] The essential differentiation of service lies in the difference between “conserving an area for its greatest value” and “utilization of resources in multiple purpose.” It is a matter of degrees of conservation according to circumstances. For example, public hunting is prohibited in all 23,899,030 acres of the 181 areas under the supervision of the National Park Service. However, the service itself may adopt a policy of fauna diminution.

Having sketched the history of forest and land conservation, it would be appropriate to similarly narrate the movement to conserve wild life. Until a half century ago the American attitude toward wild life was almost wholly one of indifference. The frontiersman killed a deer per meal and gave little thought for the morrow. Only the Indians were preservers of game, as the saying, “No Indians not much game; heap Sioux, plenty of buffalo, elk and deer,” so aptly attests.[280] It has already been explained how this difference in racial behavior eventuated in almost perpetual strife between white and red men. There were occasional exceptions, as in the case of Daniel Boone. In 1775 he proposed a measure for the protection of game in Kentucky because it was already necessary for him to travel a score of miles from home to find buffalo.

The pristine American wild life heritage was on a par with the endowment of forest and land. The toothsome white-tailed deer was omnipresent in the East and much of the Middle West. Other species of deer, elk, moose, bison, and antelope were in great abundance. Reports from Lewis and Clark, Zebulon Pike, J. J. Audubon, B. L. Bonneville and others prove that no pioneer ever pushed so far, or entered regions so difficult or remote, that he did not find a host of birds and beasts awaiting his pleasure and profit.[281] Man has always had a predatory disposition toward wild life, but this was not so serious in the ages of club, stone ax, and bow and arrow. American animal abundance was contemporaneous with these times.

Wild life conservation became an imperative issue only after the invention of flintlock, breechloaders, repeaters, automatics, and fixed ammunition. These weapons in the hands of commercial hunters, unscrupulous sportsmen, and “game hogs” threatened extinction of many species of life. Most devastating of all threats was the impact of the market hunter; no bird, mammal, or reptile species can long withstand such exploitation. Professional gunners who pursue creatures for money are invariably skillful, diligent, and persistent.[282] Often the sportsman is equally skillful and efficient in slaughter. The Earl of Dunraven left this description of a chase in the vicinity of Fort Laramie:

We killed elk, white-tail and black-tail deer, antelope, swans, immense geese, ducks and small game without count. This elk running is perfectly magnificent. We ride among the wild sand hills till we find a herd, and then gallop after them like maniacs, cutting them off, till we get in the midst of them, when we shoot all that we can. Our chief hunter is a very famous man out West, one Buffalo Bill. To see his face flush, and his eyes shoot out courage is a sight to see, and he cheers us on till he makes us as mad as himself.[283]

Concerning the high sport of the Earl’s party, Mary Kingsley made the witty observation that “In the course of these wanderings they shot ... every kind of living thing ... on the Western Continent ... with the solitary exception of their fellowmen.”[284] America has handled its wild life in such a careless, greedy fashion that several species of animal and fowl became extinct, and many others were brought within the range of annihilation. The danger point varies with each species, but there is an area for each wherein the survivors are too few to cope with circumstances, and recovery is impossible. This fact became quite clear to certain conservationists around 1900.

Outstanding leadership was provided by Madison Grant, John F. Lacey, Henry Fairfield Osborn and Willard Dutcher.[285] These men so wrote and spoke as to arouse the public and sting the true sportsmen into action. People who did not shoot were impelled to call a halt on those who did, particularly upon the lawless element. The public was assured that much could be done to save a wonderful inheritance. In order to finance the conservation campaign aggregate bequests in excess of one-half million dollars were made by Albert Wilcox, Mrs. Russell Sage, Charles W. Ward, and Mary Dutcher. President Theodore Roosevelt nourished the movement in every way within his power. He gave the vanishing species the benefit of every doubt. Under his direction five national parks, three bison herds, fifty-three bird refuges, and four game preserves were established.

Warnings and appeals directed toward conservation went through all channels, legislative, educational, practical, and sentimental. The farmers were assured that the rejuvenated bison, deer, and elk herds would not be allowed to roam at will over their valuable land. Rather there were millions of acres of brushy, rocky, and semi-forest lands, wholly unsuited for agriculture, in which the conservation work could be done. Sportsmen were promised opportunities for shooting plentiful game in open seasons as soon as the proper balance of wild life had been restored. Their response to this program has become increasingly impressive. They have effected almost innumerable associations designed to achieve these ends. Much thought and effort have been given to the cause, and they have contributed liberally, besides paying license fees. Revenue from all sportsmen sources must approximate a billion dollars a year. Hence, it is correct to say that combined sportsmen organizations represent one of the most effective agencies of conservation.

By 1912 the movement had achieved general acceptance. The Department of Agriculture issued annual “progress reports.” Every state had either a State Game Commission or a State Game Warden. Montana had established two state preserves. Several states were successfully experimenting with the introduction of new species of game birds, such as Chinese ring-necked, golden, and silver pheasants. The federal government had created fifty-eight bird refuges and five great game preserves. It had taken steps to protect bison herds in four national ranges, besides protecting the fur seal and providing hay for starving Yellowstone Park elk and others in the Jackson Hole area.

The efforts of government agencies were effectively buttressed by a number of private organizations such as the New York Zoological Society, National Association of Audubon Societies, Campfire Club of America, Boone and Crockett Club, and the American Game Protective and Propagation Association. Since 1912 gratifying progress has been made, although there are still many problems remaining. Yellowstone’s Park Biologist, Walter H. Kittams, and many other specialists are applying the best modern techniques of range management and wildlife management to effect a solution to these problems consistent with National Park Service ideals.

It has already been noted that Yellowstone National Park has served as an area of experimentation in the field of wild life management. When the reservation was established in 1872 a proposal was made to outlaw hunting. The suggestion was not heeded by Congress, and as a result trappers and hunters plied their trades early and late, seven days a week, month after month.

A representative description of wild life exploitation in the Yellowstone Wonderland may be found in the Earl of Dunraven’s book, Hunting in the Yellowstone. This is an account of his trip through the Park in 1874. While camped at Mammoth Hot Springs he wrote: “Some of us went out hunting and brought in a good store of fat antelope ...”[286] If that entry strikes a note of discord because of present practice, observe the significance of the Earl’s record in describing the following Yellowstone camp:

In the afternoon we passed quite a patriarchal camp [near Sheepeater’s Cliff], composed of two men, with their Indian wives and several children; half a dozen powerful savage looking dogs and about fifty horses completed the party. They had been grazing their stock, hunting and trapping, leading a nomad, vagabond, and delicious life—a sort of mixed existence, half hunter, half herdsman, and had collected a great pile of deer hides and beaver skins. They were then on their way to settlements to dispose of their peltries, and to get stores and provisions; for they, too, were proceeding down the river or up the canon.[287]

Within the decade it became obvious to Park officials that the fauna would not long survive this savage onslaught from squaw men, professional gunners, fierce dogs, and expert scouts and guides vying for tourist patronage. Along with this realization came another discovery; soldiers in remote stations had formed enjoyable companionships with wilderness creatures. These lonely men were delighted by the universally charming wild life trait of responding with confidence and alacrity to friendly human advances. It became increasingly apparent to the officials that Yellowstone birds and mammals would quickly recognize overtures of friendship and protection. The idea was advanced that nearly every species in the Park might become as tame as range cattle if given an opportunity to move safely within rifle-shot for several years. Recommendations to that effect forwarded to the Secretary of the Interior by Superintendent Norris in 1879 were passed on to Congress, and they played an important part in the passage of legislation on March 3, 1883, under which the killing of game was first suppressed. In subsequent years the laws were strengthened and administration improved. This was the beginning of wild life conservation practice by the federal government. Since then the various species of native fauna have achieved a generally satisfactory balance. The Park’s policy of protection can definitely be credited with saving the grizzly bear from extinction, and the trumpeter swan is receiving his chance to survive. It may be too late in this case.

Today the alert tourist may reap the reward of that wise and fruitful policy in observing mountain sheep, antelope, mule deer, elk, moose, coyotes, marmot, and squirrels as they roam around in the Park. Indeed, the quiet but energetic visitor who ventures upon the forest trails may even see the rare sand-hill crane and trumpeter swan. Besides, he will frequently hear the passing whisper of the honker’s wing. Actually, he may “shoot” both birds and mammals with the camera and take home trophies of everlasting enjoyment.

The wildlife policy of the National Park Service has evolved gradually, and is based upon long experience in preserving areas of outstanding significance. It has been determined that animals shall not be encouraged to become dependent upon man, and their presentation to the public shall be wholly natural. Every species shall be left to carry on its struggle for existence unaided, unless it becomes endangered, and no management measure or interference with biotic relationships shall be undertaken prior to a properly conducted investigation. Numbers of animals must not be permitted to exceed the carrying capacity of the range available to them. Predator species will be given the same protection as all other animals, except in special instances where a prey species is in danger of extermination. These principles, and others, control the actions taken with respect to wildlife, and assure the continued existence of native wildlife in our National Parks.