The Kernels Are White And Waxy-Looking,
Becoming Brown By Roasting, Sweet And Delicious To Every Palate, And
Are Eaten By Birds, Squirrels, Dogs, Horses, And Man.
When the crop
is abundant the Indians bring in large quantities for sale; they are
eaten around every fireside in the State, and oftentimes fed to horses
instead of barley.
Looking over the whole continent, none of Nature's bounties seems to
me so great as this in the way of food, none so little appreciated.
Fortunately for the Indians and wild animals that gather around
Nature's board, this crop is not easily harvested in a monopolizing
way. If it could be gathered like wheat the whole would be carried
away and dissipated in towns, leaving the brave inhabitants of these
wilds to starve.
Long before the harvest time, which is in September and October, the
Indians examine the trees with keen discernment, and inasmuch as the
cones require two years to mature from the first appearance of the
little red rosettes of the fertile flowers, the scarcity or abundance
of the crop may be predicted more than a year in advance. Squirrels,
and worms, and Clarke crows, make haste to begin the harvest. When
the crop is ripe the Indians make ready their long beating-poles;
baskets, bags, rags, mats, are gotten together. The squaws out among
the settlers at service, washing and drudging, assemble at the family
huts; the men leave their ranch work; all, old and young, are mounted
on ponies, and set off in great glee to the nut lands, forming
cavalcades curiously picturesque.
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