off to the place where he knows he can find it. He spends the day at his
trading even though he needs only a single stone knife. He may visit two
or three men who make knives, haggling with each. In between times he
gossips with friends. When meal time comes he pulls up beside any
convenient food bowl and is a welcome though uninvited guest. After
overeating he takes a nap, then returns to his trading. Toward the end
of the day he makes a deal and sets out for home. The same bargain could
have been made early in the morning but that would have robbed him of
all the day's pleasure.
Since Cliff Palace is so large it is the scene of much trading, for men
from the smaller villages can find anything they want somewhere in the
city. Early in the morning they come trotting up the trail to spend the
day in the cool shadowy cave trading for what they need. When the heat
of the day is over they set out for home with their new possessions.
[Illustration: Bone and stone tools
Top: Bone needle, bone awls, bone scraper, stone knife and
arrowheads
Middle: Highly polished stone blade
Bottom: Stone axe, hammer and hammerstone]
Sometimes men of other tribes come to trade and there is great
excitement in the city. The strangers not only bring beautiful jewelry
and much-needed cotton and salt but they bring news from the outside
world. This is almost as important as the actual objects of trade and
before the trading can begin, the people must hear what is going on
outside their own little world.
The news that the welcome traders bring is of an infinite variety. It
may concern the weather, the crops, the hunting conditions, or the
private affairs of the people. The news may be bad: somewhere a village
has been visited by a scourge of dysentery and half of the children are
dead; in one region a plague of grasshoppers has destroyed the crops;
somewhere else a forest fire has wiped out the entire population; in
another place the enemy tribes are becoming stronger and village after
village is being wiped out. There is no joy when these things are told.
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.
Much of the news is pure gossip and it is repeated time after time,
gaining spice and details with each telling. There is no restraint in
discussions concerning intimate personal affairs and every new bit of
scandal is relished by the fireside listeners. The travelers who bring
news from distant regions expect an even trade for they must return home
with a full stock of news for their own people.
The news which has the greatest effect upon the listeners is that
concerning the enemy raiders. For generations the threat has been
increasing. So far the Mesa Verde has not suffered but the people know
the danger is coming closer each year. There are so many villages on the
great, protective mesa that they have always felt safe. In the caves are
hundreds of cliff dwellings, all easily defended, and since each village
is within shouting distance of the next, help could quickly be summoned.
But the savage raiders grow bolder and stronger. Sooner or later they
will come climbing up to the top of the Mesa Verde to steal women and
corn, even though it is a long way to go for corn.
Except for these alarming bits of news, the visits of the traders are
festive occasions. Everyone marvels at the things they bring. The men
bargain endlessly and the exchange of news continues day after day. The
women cook their finest dishes and the dusty travelers are honored
guests. After days of friendly visiting and trading, they start back
down the trail bearing the good wishes of the people of Cliff Palace.
Gambling is also a common indulgence among the men and much of the
exchange of goods is through gambling rather than trading. At any time
of the day a knot of interested onlookers can be seen somewhere in the
city, silently watching some game of chance. Anything that has the
slightest value can be gambled. The stakes may be only insignificant
objects, or a man may stake everything he possesses against a single
fine piece of jewelry. It may be a guessing contest, a game of skill, or
a pure game of chance in which small carved bones are thrown on the
floor and the winner is determined by the manner in which the bones turn
up. Someone wins, someone loses, and no one is hurt. By a few days of
diligent labor a man can replace any of the things lost, except jewelry,
which has the greatest value of any of his possessions. Necklaces,
pendants, and earrings are made of turquoise, colored stones and sea
shells. Some of them are exquisite: the beads of turquoise or stone are
sometimes so fine that there are thousands of them on a single necklace.
Such a necklace requires weeks of painstaking labor.
Toward the middle of July there is an ominous threat in the air each
afternoon. Billowing thunderheads fill the sky and turn to a dark angry
shade. Sudden gusts of wind rip across the mesa tops threatening to
uproot the corn and there is a distant roll of thunder. The air is heavy
and depressing. Each day the skies become darker. Except for the men who
are watching fields, the people stay close to the cave. No one wants to
be far from shelter when the storm breaks.
At last the day comes. By noon the sky is filled with heavy clouds.
Shortly afternoon there is a sudden roar of wind. Cannonading crashes of
thunder echo constantly through the canyons and searing tongues of
lightning flick the treetops. Suddenly, all is still. Not a leaf stirs;
the world is breathless. The storm draws back its arm for one quiet
moment, then mercilessly 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.
A roaring waterfall shoots out over the front of Cliff Palace cave and
from the bottom of the canyon comes the roar of a rushing stream. The
people are silent as they watch the storm from their sheltered
housetops. There is joy in their hearts, for the rain ends all worries,
but there is an ominous note in the terrible fury of the storm. The male
rains of summer are often like this. They make a great show of noise and
power, far different from the gentle female rains of spring.
In an hour the storm ends as suddenly as it began. The rain stops, the
clouds break up and the sun beams down on a dripping world.
Immediately the men are off to the fields to see if the crops have
suffered. The drenched watchers, whose brush shelters were poor
protection against the storm, assure them that little damage has been
done. Some of the corn is down but it will straighten up. The only real
loss is that a few terraces have washed out but that is not serious for
the terrace crops are important only in dry years when the mesa-top
fields fail.
There is great rejoicing in Cliff Palace. The harvests are assured for
now that the rains have started they will continue. Every few days for
the rest of the summer there will be a rain, sometimes heavy, sometimes
light. The danger of water shortage is definitely ended. All of the
pools are full of fresh water and the springs will soon flow with
renewed vigor as the rain water reaches them. There is water in
abundance and the people no longer need to use it so sparingly.
With the arrival of the rains the heat is broken. The days are cooler
now and large, fluffy clouds float about the sky, sending their cool
shadows racing across the earth. The nights are sometimes so cool that a
feather blanket is necessary for comfort.
As July turns into August the people are happy and contented. All goes
well; there are no threats to their security. The fields are bursting
with growth and the springs are flowing freely. Those are the two
important things in their lives. There is no press of work at this time
of the year and life is easy. The men watch the fields and work
leisurely at their various crafts. The women still gather plants for
food and now that there is an abundance of water they make a little
pottery and repair their houses.
As always, the children are restless and active. They imitate their
elders, doing everything in miniature; miniature farms, miniature bows
and arrows, miniature houses and miniature pottery. Sometimes they
capture young animals; birds, chipmunks, squirrels or rabbits and while
away the hours in more or less unsuccessful efforts to tame them. They
are never without their dogs and as they play about the canyons they
keep watchful eyes on their flocks of turkeys lest they stray too far
and fall prey to coyotes and foxes.
Life is full of joy for these children. Day after day they do nothing
but play Indian!
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.
Alarmed, the men shade their eyes and look at the sun as best they can.
Immediately they realize the awful calamity that threatens them. Half of
the sun has turned black; some frightful monster is swallowing the Sun
God. If it succeeds the world will become dark and cold. Life will end.
Instantly the priests go into action and from the kivas come the sounds
of their frenzied chanting. Offerings are made, prayers are sung: they
perform every magic trick they know that might force the monster to spit
out the sun. Everyone in the village joins in and the men come running
from the fields. Only a disaster like this could force them to leave the
precious crops. For a frenzied hour the hysterical people call upon
their gods to drive away the monster that threatens their Sun God.
For a time the blot on the sun grows larger, then, as the priests
redouble their efforts, it begins to diminish. At last it is gone and
the exhausted people give thanks to their gods. Once again the power of
the priests has saved them.
This thing has happened often, sometimes to the sun, sometimes to the
moon. Only a few years ago the monster swallowed the moon completely.
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.
Throughout the year the priests have a regular round of ceremonies. Fall
and early winter is the great ceremonial season but there are certain
ceremonies that must be performed at other times. Healing ceremonies are
performed whenever there is need. In the spring the fertility rites must
be conducted and during the summer certain ceremonies must be performed
which will cause the gods to send rain. In a dry year these rain
ceremonies are of utmost importance but in years like this one, when the
rains have already come, the ceremonies are more in the nature of
thanksgiving. Even though the gods have sent the rain the ceremonies are
performed. If they were neglected the gods would be offended.
When the prescribed date arrives the elaborate ceremonies begin. 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. It is all a part of the yearly cycle of ceremonies that brings
happiness and prosperity to the people. This ceremonial cycle is the
responsibility of the priests and the people have profound confidence in
their abilities.
The people also have great confidence in their chiefs and in the members
of the council for these men govern the town. The most important
official is the Town Chief, an elderly man who is noted for his wisdom,
patience and understanding. He knows many chants and ceremonies which
help his people. Next in importance is the War Chief, who guards against
enemies, witches and quarrels within the town. The Sun Chief or Sun
Watcher follows the movements of the sun and keeps the yearly calendar,
and his observations determine the dates for many of the ceremonies. The
Hunt Chief is in charge of the hunting activities of the town as well as
important healing and hunting ceremonies. Another official who is
prominent throughout the year is the Crier Chief. He is the town crier
and from his roof he announces important news events and the dates of
ceremonies, village hunts and other important affairs.
In addition to these chiefs, there is a council composed of the head
men, or chiefs, of all the secret societies. When there are problems to
be settled, the council meets: perhaps someone is accused of witchcraft,
perhaps two clans are quarreling over farm lands, or it may be merely a
personal quarrel between two men. A council meeting is called and the
town chiefs and the members of the council meet in a kiva with all the
interested parties. A council meeting may last for hours and there is
much shouting and quarreling as the evidence is presented. After each
person has had an opportunity to give his evidence and opinions the Town
Chief makes his decision and the trouble is over. The Town Chief is
considered to be wise and just and his judgments are never questioned.
As the end of summer draws near there is new excitement around the
cooking fires and in the fields. It is green corn time and the tender
ears of corn are at last ready for use. The corn plants are now as high
as a man's head and although the ears are fully formed, the kernels are
tender and milky. They are still white: the brilliant colors will not
appear until they begin to harden later on. Each day as the men come
home from the fields they bring baskets of corn to their wives. The
fresh corn is roasted, baked, boiled or stewed and great quantities are
eaten when the families gather around their food bowls for the evening
meal. Much of this green corn is also prepared for winter use. It is
roasted, ground into fine meal and carefully stored away. When winter
comes it will be made into delicious mush and a thin gruel which will
serve as a hot drink.
Just as summer slips into autumn the corn fields are the scene of a gay
festival. Each day the men have examined the ears and now that they are
just right, the date is set. The Crier Chief steps out on his roof,
which overlooks the entire town, and gaining the attention of the
people, announces that the green corn festival will be held in two days.
His announcement brings a great flurry of excitement and the women begin
to prepare for the feasting which will take place.
On the appointed day all who are able to climb the steep trails hurry to
the fields. Yesterday the men dug deep pits in the fields and gathered
great quantities of firewood. Hundreds of ears of corn were picked and
placed near the pits. Last night fires were started in the pits and all
through the night fuel was thrown in to keep the fires roaring.
As the people arrive from the village the fires are allowed to die out
and the ashes are scraped out of the superheated pits. Green corn stalks
and leaves are used to line each pit and everyone gathers around to toss
in the hundreds of ears of unshucked, green corn. When a pit is almost
full, more corn stalks are tossed in and the pit is sealed with earth.
All through the day the corn steams in the huge ovens.
Small fires are built around the edges of the fields and the women and
girls spend the day preparing great quantities of food. The children
romp about the fields while wrestling contests, races and games of skill
occupy the boys and young men. The older men loaf and talk and, of
course, gamble a little. 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.
Just as a monstrous full moon rises out of the eastern mesa they return
to their homes. They thrill at the sight for it is something many of
them seldom see. Cliff Palace cave faces west and they can see the full
moon only by climbing to the mesa top.
With the green corn festival over, summer slips quickly into autumn. The
slow, easy days of the growing season are over. The strenuous activity
of the harvest season faces the people of Cliff Palace.
6
AUTUMN
With the arrival of autumn the finest weather of the year begins. For
almost three months it will continue, until winter sweeps down out of
the north. In early September the days are still warm but the nights
have a pleasant coolness. As the season progresses the daytime warmth
continues but the nights become cooler and cooler. By October they are
crisp and finally there is frost. The mesas flame with the colors of
autumn, the distant mountains are cloaked with a bluegray haze and for
weeks the people enjoy the brisk invigorating weather of Indian Summer.
Late in October, or in November, there may be a quick flurry of snow, a
warning of what is to come, but it disappears as quickly as it came. Far
into the autumn the warm days last: sometimes the winter storms do not
begin until after the sun has started to return from the south.
Autumn is the happiest season of the year for the people of the Mesa
Verde. It is a season of tremendous activity for now they must reap the
rewards for the prayers of springtime and the labors of summer. During
the spring they were gay and happy but it was not the full unrestrained
happiness of autumn. As the farmers planted their crops last spring they
felt a certain helplessness. With each tiny seed they planted a prayer:
that was the only aid they could give it. Then they were forced to stand
by while the forces of nature; the sun, the rain and the earth, did as
they pleased with the precious seeds.
Autumn has brought the rewards for their prayers and labors. There is no
uncertainty about it. Nature has smiled, the fields have prospered and
nothing can rob them of a bountiful harvest. The cooling weather is
turning the fields yellow and a period of strenuous activity will soon
begin. Every grain of corn, every bean, every squash must be carried
down to the cave and stored safely away.
The fields are never left unattended. Ravens, crows and jays try to get
at the corn in the daytime and deer get into the fields at night unless
they are guarded. All through the night bright fires burn in the fields
as the men and boys take turns protecting the crops. As they walk about
the fields they gloat over the success of their farming efforts. The
corn is higher than their heads and heavy ears bend toward the ground.
The bean vines are full of fat pods and the fields are dotted with great
yellowing squashes. It will be a wonderful harvest; the fields are full
of song and laughter as the proud farmers rejoice over their success.
Even before the main harvest starts, the products begin to trickle down
to the cave. There is an abundance of help for even the children and
women join in. Each plant is given individual attention and when an ear
of corn, a bean pod or a squash ripens too soon, it is picked and
carried home.
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. Early in the morning the
carriers trot down the trails but as the day wears on the pace becomes
slower.
Some of the corn is husked in the fields and only the ears are carried
home but much of it is snapped off the stalks and taken home to be
husked later. Sometimes the stalks are cut and the entire plant is
carried down to the cave for the stalks, leaves, tassels and shucks are
used in many ways. Beans usually are threshed in the fields. The dry
pods are piled on a plot of hard, smooth ground and the women beat them
with long sticks until the beans are freed. Then the whole mass of
beaten pods is poured from baskets held high above their heads and the
breeze blows the chaff away, leaving only the clean beans. Sometimes the
beans are picked and carried down to the cave for threshing but that is
more difficult for in the cave there is no breeze to blow away the
chaff.
As the harvest progresses, Cliff Palace becomes a parade of color.
Everything must be spread out on the roofs and in the courts to dry and
soon the people can scarcely move about. The corn is brilliantly tinted;
red, black, blue, yellow, white and speckled, and the city becomes a
flaming riot of colors. Corn is everywhere. It is piled high on the roof
tops, it is spread out in every court and long strings of brilliant ears
hang from the ends of roof poles. Piles of rich brown beans and waxy
yellow and green squashes add to the color and the confusion. 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. While the things were
growing in the fields they belonged to the men but now that they have
been harvested and brought down to the city, they have become the
women's property. The women of each household, which is a group of
families, store their foodstuffs in common and apportion them out to the
various families as they are needed.
Some of the corn is shelled and stored in baskets but most of it is
stored on the cob. The different colors are sorted out and the bright
ears are stacked like cordwood. The beans must be stored in baskets and
jars but the squashes can be piled anywhere. Many of the squashes are
peeled and cut into long strips. After the strips have dried they are
rolled up in bundles and stored away. In the winter, soaking will
restore the flavor of the fresh squash.
High up in the back of the cave is a long, narrow crevice containing a
dozen large storage rooms and throughout the town there are many more.
They have been chinked carefully against rats and mice and each one is
lined with dry corn leaves and tassels to protect the grain from
dampness. One after another these rooms are filled and the doors are
sealed.
When the harvest finally ends there are enough beans and corn in storage
to last not only until the next harvest, but on through two or three
years if coming harvests should fail. By carefully conserving the
supplies the people could survive two or three seasons of drouth. That
is the possibility for which they must always be prepared, for normal
harvests do not come every year.
All through the harvest the workers have watched for perfect ears of
corn and when found they were put aside. These will be saved for seed
and they are stored separately in the safest, driest places. Even though
planting time is months away small ceremonies are performed over these
precious ears.