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; they are like unrestrained little brown animals as they play
the days away. They have fewer cares and troubles than the chipmunks and
squirrels whose lives they make miserable. Each small boy carries a bow
and each one knows how to set cord snares in the runways among the
rocks. Sometimes a small hunter is successful and the cliffs ring with
his exultant shouts as he brings a chipmunk or a squirrel or even a fat
rat to his mother. At the next meal he is a hero and receives the
choicest morsels from his kill.
Some of the older boys go out on the mesas for larger game. The wet,
silent earth makes it easy for them to stalk the deer and mountain sheep
that have never been alarmed by the thundering reports of firearms. At
long range their flint-tipped arrows are not effective but they are
clever stalkers and at close range the silent arrows are deadly. In the
evening they return with their game. They trot proudly down the
precipitous trails and through the city, hoping that the eyes of the
maidens will rest upon them. But the soft brown eyes are always turned
away--still they see.
Most of the men climb up to the mesa-top fields even though they are too
wet to be worked. Their love of the soil draws them to their farms and
they boast about the crops they intend to grow, or listen to the old men
as they tell of the miraculous crops of bygone years.
Even though it is too early to farm, the men are soon busy. New land
must be cleared to replace fields that have been farmed too long. The
sagebrush and shrubs are pulled up or are dug out of the ground with
digging sticks. Small trees are cut with stone axes but the larger trees
are burned and in all parts of the Mesa Verde columns of smoke rise as
men of the different villages clear the land. Usually this clearing of
new land is done in the late winter and early spring when the cool damp
weather makes it easier for the men to control the fires. If the burning
were done in the summer, forest fires would result and vast areas would
be rendered uninhabitable through loss of fire wood and logs for house
construction.
The fields are owned in common by the village but they are allotted to
the clans, which are groups of families related through the female line.
The clan in turn allots the fields to its various households, or
families. After a generation or two the lands farmed by members of a
household seem almost to belong to it but the real control is by the
clan. As long as a piece of land is farmed properly it remains with the
household but if it is neglected or if the household dies out, the clan
heads allot it to other households within the clan. Since the clans are
matrilineal, with descent of property in the female line, a man farms
land belonging to his wife's clan.
In the early spring no one is busier than the women. Each day they scour
the canyons and mesas for early plants that will lend variety to the
diet. During the late winter the food became monotonous. Day after day
it was cornbread, beans and meat. Principally it was cornbread and
although it was prepared in a number of ways it became tiresome.
The early spring plants bring a welcome variation to this restricted
diet. The green shoots of beeweed and tansy mustard and the first tender
leaves of saltbush make delicious greens when boiled with pieces of fat
and a dash of salt. Wild onions and juniper berries add an exciting
flavor to a pot of deer meat stew. The puff-ball, a spherical,
fungus-like growth six or eight inches in diameter, is sought eagerly
after each warm spring rain. Toasted slices of puff-ball, eaten with a
sauce made of salt and wild onions, are a real spring delicacy.
Innumerable plants are edible and by countless generations of
experimenting the Indian women have discovered their good qualities.
They know exactly how to use each plant and new aromas rise from the
cooking pots.
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. At last the food is ready and the steaming pots are
placed on the ground in the midst of the family group.
As soon as all is ready the man of the family selects a sample of food
from each pot; a few beans, a pinch of greens, a small piece of meat, a
bit of bread, a few drops of tea. These he throws into the fire as an
offering to the gods. Then the eating begins.
The only tools are the fingers and they are plunged eagerly into the
food, hot though it may be. Chunks of meat are picked out and if too hot
are held on a piece of bread. Bones are gnawed on, then dropped back
into the pot as the fingers are needed for something else. Dunking is
common and the bread is used to scoop up the thick stew. Toothless old
men, becoming impatient, pick up the bowls and drink over the edge.
There are long-handled ladles for dipping out the soup and broth, and
stein-like mugs for the tea.
During the meal there is little talking; the accent is on the food. The
only noise is the licking of fingers and the loud smacking of lips that
express appreciation for especially succulent morsels. As the men settle
back, swollen from overeating, they seek relief in deep rumbling
belches, each of which is a pat on the back for the cook. No words are
necessary for a slow rumbling belch is far more expressive. It speaks of
a full, happy stomach, complete relaxation and sleepy contentment. Each
belch brings happiness to the fond wife and mother and she smiles as she
removes the empty pots from the midst of her gorged and sleepy family.
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. The men
and older boys go to their kivas to talk, to doze, or perhaps to gamble
a little. The children, following the shouted directions of their
mothers, gather the turkeys which have been feeding on the trash pile in
front of the town and drive them into the rear of the cave where they
will be safe from prowling night animals.
As darkness falls the day's activities are ended and quiet settles over
the city. Mats, skins and blankets are rolled out on the floors of the
houses and soon the people of Cliff Palace are asleep. The quiet of the
night is broken only by the snoring of tired men and the barking of a
fox across the canyon. The tiny sliver of a new moon sinks behind the
western mesa leaving brilliant, low-hung stars to watch over the
sleeping people.
During the early spring one of the most important activities of the
women is the making of new pottery. Very little was made during the
winter because of the cold but much was broken. Numb fingers often let
the vessels slip and now each woman needs to replenish her stock of
water jars, cooking pots, bowls, ladles and mugs. The greatest need is
for the large water jars. In the early summer there will be a long
period of dry weather. For at least a month, possibly for two months,
there may not be a drop of rain on the Mesa Verde. The springs will
dwindle and the great pools in the bottom of the canyon will shrink.
There must be additional stored water.
There are no wells or cisterns so water will be stored in the large
jars. The women must make many of them, each one large enough to hold
several gallons of water. During the late spring rains they will be
filled and set away in small storage rooms that were emptied of their
corn and beans during the winter. When the dry weather comes the stored
water will be of vital importance.
The women of Cliff Palace make the beautiful black-on-white pottery that
is typical of all the people of the Mesa Verde. They are proud of the
graceful shapes and exact designs and each woman strives to excel her
neighbors. All of the women use the same methods and there is a
surprising sameness about their products. Each one varies her designs
and no two pieces are exactly alike but all are of a standardized type.
Each piece proclaims its Mesa Verde origin.
The women are very proud of their pottery and seldom swerve from the
conventional type. Sometimes when the men go to distant regions on
trading trips they bring home a few pieces of foreign pottery. Their
wives compare this pottery with their own and are always satisfied. They
feel that their wares excel all others and continue to make the same
types their mothers and grandmothers made.
Pottery making is a long, detailed process requiring much skill and only
after many years of practice are women able to make pieces of the finest
quality. Each step must be carefully and thoroughly executed or the
final result will not make a woman's husband proud when he compares her
pottery with that of the other women.
Two ingredients are needed for the actual construction; pottery clay and
a tempering material. The clay occurs in a shale layer at the foot of
the upper cliff of the canyon wall. There are many deposits, large and
small, and each woman has a favorite place from which she obtains her
clay. Up the canyon from Cliff Palace, at the head of the right-hand
fork, is an excellent deposit that is favored by many of the women.
The nights are now without freezing temperatures that would render the
digging too difficult so the women begin to make pottery. Early in the
morning the potter leaves Cliff Palace and sets out for her favorite
clay bed. She carries a large basket and a digging stick and is
accompanied by any of her daughters who are learning the art. The clay
is usually soft and easy to dig and she soon returns with a basket of
blue-gray earth.
The clay is spread out in the sun to dry and all stones and foreign
particles are picked out. After drying thoroughly it is ground very fine
on a metate, the same flat stone on which corn is ground. It is now
ready for use.
The tempering material comes from an odd source. The woman simply goes
out on the trash pile below the cave and picks up a quantity of broken
pottery. This she grinds up just as she did the clay until it looks like
fine sand. This tempering material is very important for it keeps the
vessels from shrinking and cracking as they dry. Many centuries ago the
ancestors of these women used sand and grit for temper. Some still use
them but most of the women use ground-up potsherds. They are just as
good and are much easier to obtain. Year after year the broken pots have
been ground up and used again. Some of the particles the women are using
today may have been used by their ancestors centuries ago.
When the clay and the temper are ready they are mixed, about one part of
temper being used to two parts of clay. With her fingers the potter
mixes the dry materials very thoroughly for a poor mix will give the
pottery an uneven quality. Finally she is satisfied and water is added
until she has a thick, heavy paste that does not stick to her hands as
she works it. After this paste has been very thoroughly kneaded, actual
construction of the pot begins.
From the mass of paste the potter pinches a small piece. With the palm
of her hand she rolls it on a smooth stone until she has a rope of clay
smaller in diameter than her little finger and several inches in length.
The paste is so strong that she can pick the roll up without breaking
it. Starting at one end she begins to coil this rope of clay around and
around on itself, just as a snail shell is coiled. As she adds each coil
she pinches it to the last one with her thumb and forefinger. When the
rope of clay is completely coiled she rolls out another and adds it to
the first. Coil after coil she adds until the rough pot is completed. At
this point it is merely a long slender rope of clay which has been
coiled around and around, up and up, into the desired shape, each coil
being carefully pinched to the one below. The spiral nature is very
evident and hundreds of evenly spaced thumbprints remain as evidence of
the pinching together of coils.
[Illustration: Black-on-white pottery
Ladle, double mug, mug and bowls]
If a cooking vessel is desired the inside of the jar is smoothed
carefully but the outside is left rough and corrugated. Nothing is to be
gained by smoothing and decorating the outside of a cooking jar for it
will soon be blackened with soot.
If a water jar, or a bowl is being made, the work is only half done for
it must be smoothed and decorated. Very carefully the potter rubs the
vessel until the inside and outside are as smooth as she can make them.
The vessel is still pliable and by working with her hands and a curved
piece of gourd rind she can correct the shape slightly to make up for
any mistakes she made in the coiling. At last the vessel is smooth and
shapely and the potter is satisfied. She places it in the sun to dry and
begins to coil another.
After a number of vessels have dried thoroughly in the sun the next step
begins. From the mesa top, where it occurs just under the red top soil,
the potter has brought a quantity of white clay. A small amount of this
is ground up and mixed with water until a white, soupy liquid results.
This is the "slip" and it is painted over the entire surface of the
vessels giving them a chalky, white covering. Before the slip has dried,
each pot is carefully polished with a smooth pebble. Short, brisk
strokes are used and the entire surface is polished until it shines.
This polishing is a tedious but important step for the smoothness,
luster and hardness of the finished vessel depend upon it.
At last the pots are ready for the decorations and this is the part the
potter likes best of all. It is her opportunity to demonstrate her
creative ability. On Mesa Verde pottery the designs are always black, a
color that is made from a local plant. Tender shoots of the common
beeweed are boiled until a thick, brown liquid results. Pottery designs
are painted with this liquid.
Out of thin air the woman snatches a design. She has a fierce pride in
her ability to create these designs for she knows that later her
finished pots will have to bear comparison with those of her neighbors.
No tracings or trial pictures are made. She merely selects one of the
sun-dried vessels, notes its size and shape and develops in her mind a
design that will fit it. Following this mental picture she paints the
vessel with the brown liquid. The brush is a small piece of yucca leaf,
one end of which has been chewed to loosen the fibers. Her free-hand
strokes are swift and sure and soon the vessel bears an accurate,
carefully-balanced geometric design. At this stage it is drab looking
for the brown lines are not attractive.
At last, after many hours of tiresome work, the potter has a number of
pots ready for firing. This is the crucial step and the excellence of
the pottery depends upon its success. The pots are carried down to one
of the lower terraces at the front of the cave and stacked in a shallow
pit that has been scooped out. Over them the potter piles the fuel;
wood, bark and cakes of rotting humus from under the trees. When it is
ignited it burns and smoulders, subjecting the pots to an intense heat.
When she is satisfied that the pottery is well-fired, she rakes it out
of the fire, polishes it with a piece of cloth or buckskin and her work
is finished. The brown paint has been changed by the heat to a deep
black that stands out in striking contrast against the light gray
background. From the simple ingredients; clay, ground potsherds and
beeweed, has come this beautiful, enduring pottery. It is the highest
artistic expression of the Mesa Verde people.
As the potter finishes her work she places the finest pieces in a row
along the edge of the terrace or on her roof for all of the women to
see. The poorer pieces she puts back in the dark corners of the house
where they will not be noticed. Out of the corner of her eyes she sees
other women placing their pottery on display and she smiles with
satisfaction as she notes that her work is as fine as any. There is much
good-natured competition among the women and each one tries to out-do
her neighbors.
As the spring progresses tremendous quantities of pottery are made. All
through the cave women are at work and pottery in all stages of
construction is to be seen along all of the terraces and in every
courtyard. Spring is the most popular time for this task. The winter is
too cold; in the summer water is often scarce. During the spring all
conditions are perfect and the nimble fingers are busy until every
household is equipped with an ample supply of vessels of all kinds.
[Illustration: Black-on-white jars and corrugated jar on yucca fiber
jar rest]
Occasionally, during the spring, a marriage takes place in Cliff Palace.
When this happens there is much excitement and activity among the two
clans affected. The clans are social divisions within the tribe. Each
individual is born into a clan and that remains his social group
throughout his life. In Cliff Palace, with its large population, there
are many clans while in a small village there may be only one or two.
The clans have very little to do with the religious life; they are a
part of the social organization.
The pueblo society is matrilineal which merely means that the line of
descent is through the women, not through the men. A child is born into
its mother's clan, never into its father's. Property also belongs to the
women and inheritance is figured through the female line. The husband
lives with his wife in her house and his children belong to her clan.
Marriage can never take place between two members of the same clan. This
is a rigidly enforced taboo and the boy and girl must belong to
different social groups. All of the members of a clan are considered as
brothers and sisters, consequently there is little temptation to
overstep this rule.
When a boy reaches the age of seventeen or eighteen and seems to be
growing into manhood, his family begins to think of marriage for him. It
is the responsibility of his elders to arrange this for there can be
little happiness for a single person in a society of this type.
The boy himself has little opportunity for active romance. For some time
he has been sending highly expressive glances in the direction of a
certain young lady of a neighboring clan, glances loaded with question
marks, flattery and many other signs from that most universal of all
signal codes. Now and then an answering message flashes from her warm,
brown eyes. In a very short while, and without a spoken word, an
understanding grows up between them. Each would like to slip away to
some quiet nook in the cliffs to take the matter up somewhat more
directly but it is virtually impossible and decidedly unwise. The girl's
mother and her aunts have not missed a single one of those expressive
glances. They do not disapprove in the slightest but they never give the
girl a chance to slip away into the twilight. They may not distrust the
girl but they certainly do not trust the spring moon that bathes the
canyons in its warm, yellow light. Sometimes a young couple, unable to
resist the call, does slip away into the night but it is very foolish.
There is no secrecy in this crowded community and a twilight tryst never
goes unnoticed. The juicy morsel spreads for Cliff Palace, being full of
human beings, has its gossips. The marriage value of the young lady is
lowered.
In the normal course of events the young man who has been carrying on
the optical conversation with the young lady is finally unable to curb
his emotions. He goes to his favorite uncle, or possibly to his mother
and pours out his heart. Boasting of his manhood and his hunting and
farming abilities he concludes that it is high time for him to have a
home of his own. And he would like to marry a certain young lady.
Immediately a family council is called and the proposition is discussed
at length. If the elders do not approve of the young lady, the young man
is immediately squelched. There is no resisting the decision. The
brokenhearted youngster will either nurse his sorrow until another
maiden captures his fancy or meekly marry some girl whom his family
selects.
Marriage is an important function and the union of strong healthy boys
and girls is a responsibility that falls on the older clan members.
Occasionally a headstrong youth who has allowed a deep, long-distance
love to grow upon him rebels against a dictated marriage. In his heart,
however, is an inborn, confident reverence for his elders and he is soon
frowned into line.
If, on the other hand, the family council approves of his judgment, a
delegation is soon sent to talk with the family of the girl. The virtues
of the boy are extolled at great length and there is a mention of
certain presents that the boy's family will give to the family of the
girl. The relatives of the girl tell of her virtue, industry and
excellent health and let it be known that certain presents will be
expected.
If the two families fail to reach an agreement the romance of the young
couple is ended, but if they finally talk around to happy settlement,
the next step is up to the young lady. Shortly after sunrise the next
morning she goes to the boy's house and for four days grinds corn in
front of the boy's mother to prove that she can do this most important
work. It is a backbreaking task but she keeps at it diligently, knowing
that her work must be satisfactory. At the end of the four-day period,
the boy's relatives examine the results of her labor. If the amount of
corn meal does not please them the marriage is called off and the
heartbroken young lady returns to her house.
If, however, they are satisfied with her grinding the marriage is agreed
upon. It will not take place for weeks but there is much to be done. The
boy and his family must get the gifts ready and it is the custom for the
girl and her relatives to build a house.
In addition to presents which his family has promised to give to the
girl's family, the boy makes certain personal presents for his
bride-to-be. He may make her a fine pair of sandals and may weave her a
soft, warm feather blanket or even a beautiful white blanket of cotton.
The weaving of a cotton blanket may send him far afield. If his near
relatives do not happen to have enough cotton on hand, he is forced to
make a long journey to the south. The Mesa Verde people do not raise
cotton and it is obtained by trade with tribes in the warmer lowlands.
There are several men in Cliff Palace and other nearby cliff dwellings
who are in need of cotton so an expedition is formed. These journeys are
made each year and many of the older men are familiar with the route.
Some of them act as guides for the young fellows who are going for the
first time.
The Mesa Verde lacks certain important things; salt, seashells, cotton,
turquoise and obsidian. In order to get these articles the men trade
with other Indians who live to the south. Most of the men make
occasional trading trips but some are professional traders who spend
much of their time on long trading journeys.
For salt they must go to a salt lake 200 miles to the south. The salt is
gathered around the edge of the lake, either by the men themselves or by
other people with whom they trade. If the salt is dry it is carried home
in bags but if it is gathered while wet, it is patted into balls which,
when dried, are hard as rocks.
Obsidian and turquoise are obtained far to the southeast, near the big
river. It is a journey of 200 miles to the turquoise mine but the deep
blue stones are the finest known and are well worth the trip. Another
source of turquoise is only 150 miles to the east, across the high
mountains, but the Mesa Verde men seldom go in that direction. Hostile
Indians live in the mountains and the parties do not always return.