Indians of the Mesa Verde

by Don Watson

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. Much can be accomplished during these hours when the sun is high and the shade is welcome.

The fields are never left without watchers. All day long someone is on guard and even during the night the young men and boys take turns watching the precious crops. Rabbits and squirrels eat the beans, and ravens and crows pull up the tender young corn plants. In a few hours a field can be ruined. Later on in the summer, crows, jays and ravens will tear at the ears of corn and eat great holes in the tender squashes. Even the coyotes like the squashes and as one of the animals trots through the field he may take great bites out of half a dozen. Faced with this danger, the farmers are forced to watch the fields day and night. The unmarried boys build brush shelters in the fields and spend much of the summer there, dreaming of the chubby little maidens for whom they will soon be farming.

Modern Indian corn grown by ancient methods in the Mesa Verde experimental field

Remains of terraces which provided garden plots for the early farmers

The boys do not like to spend the night in the fields for witches are most active during the hours of darkness and it is a bad time to be away from the town. When a coyote howls or an owl hoots, they know it may be a witch so they throw more wood on their fires and smear ashes on their foreheads to keep the witches away.

As the dry weather of summer continues the people show much concern over the water supply. They know that if the late summer rains come normally, they will have more than enough. But if, as sometimes happens, the rains fail to come, they will be in serious trouble. They prepare for this possibility by carefully conserving the supplies. In order to save the water that is stored in the jars and in the pools below the cave the springs are utilized to the utmost. There are many of these springs along the canyon walls at the foot of the cliffs. One of the finest is across the canyon, under the great ceremonial building where the priests hold their most important ceremonies. It is almost half a mile by trail to the spring but it has a strong flow of water. In spite of the long, tiresome journey, the water must be saved. That is one of the tragedies in the lives of the men. They are forced to carry the water home from distant springs—on their wives’ heads.

Each morning the women make the round of the springs to gather the water that has accumulated. At each place where there is a seepage they have made a basin of well-tamped blue shale. The water does not seep readily through this shale and a pool of clear water results. The best springs are visited several times a day so that the pools do not overflow. With their long-handled ladles the women dip the water into their jars, some of which hold as much as five gallons. The heavy jars are then borne home on their heads. Years of practice have given them strong necks, straight backs and a smooth, flowing stride. They chat happily as they trot home with their burdens: life is gay and easy with nothing to do but carry water up out of the canyon. By carrying the water jars on their heads the women have their hands free when they climb the rows of toe-holds that are cut into the more precipitous cliffs. Ladders that lead up over the terraced houses are simple: the water carriers trot up them without deigning to touch their hands to the poles.

Each woman has a small pad of yucca fibers, shaped like a large doughnut, which she places between her head and the water jar. This pad helps in balancing the burden and keeps her calloused head from cracking the precious jar.