Don Watson

“ Through it all is the delicate fragrance of growing, budding plants. Back from the south come the first birds and spring is definitely in the Mesa Verde.
The earth-loving Indians are bursting with restless energy and everyone is busy. Sometimes the town is almost deserted as the call of spring draws them out of the cave. The cliffs echo with the laughter of small children as they play along the slopes and down in the bottom of the canyon. During the winter in the shadowy cave their skins became pale but already the spring sun is tanning them to a warm brown. Their hearts are light ”

“ A clear blue sky turns black in only a few minutes and heavy wet snow swirls into the canyons. The snow soon changes to rain, then a cool breeze swings down from the north and the rain becomes icy pellets of sleet. In a few minutes the clouds blow away and the warm sun shines again on a dripping, steaming world. Sometimes during the night, warm, wet snow falls, snow so heavy that its weight snaps limbs from the trees. The warm rocks and the bright sun melt it rapidly and often there is a roaring waterfall over the front of Cliff Palace cave as the water rushes off the mesa top. ”

“ As one stands in front of this diorama it is no longer necessary to try to imagine the life of ancient times. Here in miniature is a cliff dwelling and its people. Houses and kivas are being built—some of the men work diligently while others sit on the walls and criticize. Some of the men are making tools and weapons—one is telling stories to a group of boys—another has just returned from the hunt with a fat rabbit. Several old men bask in the sun and talk of bygone times when things were better. Some of the women are cooking over flickering fires—others care for tiny babies. ”

“ Night after night, through the fall and winter, the great cave resounds with the chants of the priests as they perform the ceremonies or teach them to the newly initiated members. Much of the legendary material is in the form of endless songs and the men never tire of them. Hour after hour they sit around the kiva fires, eyes closed, chanting softly the musical prayers and legends. Often the chanting continues through the night: now that the season’s strenuous work is over the men are able to spend the nights with their ceremonies and rest in the daytime. ”

“ But more often the news is good: there is a fine crop of pinon nuts on a distant mountain; in a certain region the deer are as thick as lice on an old man’s head; a new vein of turquoise has been discovered that yields hard, blue stones. Much of the news is of a personal nature: there has been a murder; in a certain village a woman has had triplets; a man has been thrown out by his mother-in-law because he snored too loudly; a certain priest is having miraculous luck with his healing ceremonies; a deformed child has been born; a well-known chief has gone blind. ”

“ Uncomfortable winter clothing is thrown aside and soon most of the inhabitants of the cave are sunning themselves on the front terraces. Everyone is happy. 40 There is much laughter and boisterous shouting. The aged men and women bring their rheumatic bones out into the warm sunlight and immediately feel new life. Gaunt old men, whose creaking joints have not climbed the cliff trails for years, get a new gleam in their eyes as they vow they will raise a crop of corn this summer. Aged women begin to twist their gnarled fingers as they dream of making pottery again. ”

“ As one explores the canyons and enters more and more of the ruins a surprising fact becomes evident. Ruins which at first glance seem small can turn up a surprising number of rooms. A distant view across a canyon may reveal only a few broken walls. Upon gaining access to the cave, perhaps by swinging down on a long rope, the first glance still reveals little. Then, as the ruin is studied carefully, it begins to grow.
The only evidence of a three or four story structure may be rows of small holes in the cliff where the ends of roof beams once rested. ”

“ The really active members of the populace are the children. Some play on the trash pile in front of the cave; others scramble over the boulders that litter the slope below. Their rich brown skins flash in the sun as they endeavor to make up in one afternoon for all of the cold inactivity of the winter. Their shouts and laughter are mingled with the barking of their dogs and the gobbling of the turkeys they are disturbing. During the winter the turkeys stayed close to the cave but now they are scattered over the slope, nipping off the early buds and searching for the first insects of spring. ”

“ Each storage bin is chinked with a farmer’s prayers for a bountiful harvest. In each plastered kiva wall is an ancient priest’s reverence for his gods. A pot is not just a piece of baked clay: it is an ancient potter’s moulded prayer for beauty and strength. Each solid wall is a testimony of success; each shattered human bone, each broken jar is an admission of defeat.
Cliff Palace stands today as a monument to the ancient people of the Mesa Verde. For many centuries they occupied the great, green mesa and finally, almost in its center, they built their greatest city. ”

“ Cliff Palace is really built of the hopes and desires, the joys and sorrows of an industrious people. It is not a cold, empty city for it is still warm with the emotions of its builders. In each fingerprint and tool mark lie the prayers of a young couple for a home filled with children and happiness. ”

“ During the winter the people ate the monotonous food because they needed the nourishment. Now they eat for the joy of eating. Eyes gleam with anticipation as each family gathers around the fire in the late afternoon while the mother prepares the main meal of the day. There is cornbread, made in any one of a dozen ways. Deer meat is being roasted or boiled, or is bubbling in a thick stew. A pot of greens is stewing or a pot of beans, flavored with some spring plant, boils on the fire. A great pot of thin corn gruel, which will be drunk as a tea, simmers on its bed of coals. ”

“ As the day passes the excitement mounts and at last, as the cool evening breeze begins to rustle the corn leaves, the feasting begins.
The pits are opened and the steaming, tender ears are passed out to the famished crowd. It is a joyous feast for green corn is a favorite delicacy. Great quantities of food are consumed and a contented silence settles over the gorged, happy people. ”

“ The turkeys roost in the back of the cave at night and come out in the daytime to wander about the courts and roof-tops and fight with the dogs for scraps of food that are thrown to them. During periods when there is deep snow in the canyon, the turkeys are fed small amounts of the precious corn but in late winter they grow thin and bedraggled. When they are not roaming about the city searching for food they sit in quiet rows on the housetops, feathers fluffed against the cold. The turkeys are highly prized, both for their meat and for their feathers, but they lead a miserable existence. ”

“ With the care they now receive Cliff Palace, Spruce Tree House, Sun Temple and the innumerable other ruins will stand forever as monuments to the skill of their ancient builders.
Mesa Verde National Park was created to preserve the works of those prehistoric people. Slow, silent centuries have spread a cloak of mystery over it and visitors should come with open minds, prepared to hear an absorbing story of a strange people. Complete enjoyment and understanding come only to the visitor who is able to leave his modern self behind, momentarily, and live and think in terms of the past. ”

“ As the first light frosts of October begin to bring color to the mesas the harvest is on. Everyone helps and from dawn until dusk the trails are full of happy carriers as the fields pour their products into Cliff Palace. Many of the fields are far off across the mesa tops and in a day’s time each person can make only a few trips.
A single, fat slippery squash is all that can be carried at one time and it takes only a few large ears of corn to fill a basket. Dozens of trips are required in harvesting even a small field. ”

“ The young men who made their first trip have become heroes and they make the most of the opportunity as they tell magnificent tales of the things they have done and seen. Most of them did well with their trading but a few gambled and lost, and have returned with nothing but their loincloths. That is not serious, however, and the great cave rings with laughter as the people torment the unfortunate gamblers.
The young man who needed cotton for his marriage blanket sets up a loom in his kiva and begins to weave. Older men in the clan help him with the spinning and the blanket grows steadily. ”

“ The oldest men can remember a time when the sun was swallowed completely and the earth grew dark. But in each case the power of the medicine men prevailed and the moon and sun returned undiminished.
Emergencies of this kind give the people renewed faith in their priests. Sometimes they fail to produce rain or cure the sick but such failures can be overlooked when they are able to overpower a demon which threatens the very existence of the people. Never yet have they lost the battle against this demon which threatens to swallow the moon or the sun. Surely their power is supreme. ”

“ Every hill of corn, every bean plant receives individual attention. Endlessly the men work about the fields, even though they only pick an occasional bug off the plants.
During the midday siesta the men often gather in little groups and while away the hours telling of crops of the past or dreaming of the harvest that is to come. Those hours are not always spent idly for there are many tasks the men can do as they sit in the shade. One man may chip arrowheads; another may whittle away on his new bow. Here a man is patching his sandals while his neighbor puts a new blade on his digging stick. ”

“ The terraced houses of Cliff Palace are now solid banks of color and still the harvest continues.
Like busy brown ants the women and girls move about the throbbing city. From morning until night they are busy shucking corn, threshing beans, braiding strings of corn, turning the corn and beans each day so they dry properly, and finally storing them away in the bins. The storage of supplies is always a responsibility of the women. ”

“ Some of them trot back down to the cave for a late breakfast. Others, whose fields are farther from the town, have brought their lunches and they spend the warm midday hours in the shade of the trees which border their fields.
These men have a deep, inborn love for farming. They are descended from a thousand years of successful farmers and a fanatical desire to make things grow is in their blood. They often go to the fields when there is nothing to be done. The weeds have been cut, the soil is well loosened, everything is just right. ”

“ Not a leaf stirs; the world is breathless. The storm draws back its arm for one quiet moment, then mercilessly 91 lashes the earth with floods of rain. Wind, thunder and lightning resume and for a noisy hour the mesas bow their heads under the wrath of the elements. ”

“ During the summer there is only one threat to the happiness and security of the people. Only by terrific effort are the medicine men able to avert a calamity that would wipe out the entire population. One afternoon a terrified scream comes from the small cliff dwelling across the canyon and a man is seen dancing about on the cliff, waving his arms and pointing frantically toward the sun. ”

“ Darkness is still an hour away but as the sun drops behind the opposite canyon rim the chill of the spring evening creeps into the cave. Women sit by the fires, robes around their shoulders, and visit idly. ”

“ For days there are secret ceremonies in the kiva of the religious society that conducts this particular rite. As a climax the tired priests come out of the secret chamber and perform the public part of the ceremony. Housetops are crowded as the people gather to watch the costumed priests go through the ritual that has been handed down through countless generations of priests. Year after year it is the same but the people never tire of it. Every chant, every offering, every bit of action has a meaning. ”

“ Now and then a muffled scream echoes through the cave as an aged sufferer cries out from the agony of arthritis or an abscessed tooth.
There is little travel during the coldest periods. The men forego their hunting and visiting and everyone stays close to the sheltering cave with the single idea of keeping warm and well. ”

“ Who he was and exactly when it happened we shall never know, but it was the important first step in a long chain of events which led to the occupation of the Mesa Verde by Pueblo Indians.
There seems to be little doubt that the early inhabitants of North and South America came from Asia by that northern route. It is the only route by which men, traveling without artificial means of transportation, could have reached these western continents. Not a single insurmountable barrier, not a single impossibility lay in the path of those ancient men as they drifted with the line of least resistance. ”