Jim had decided to do a very controlled surface collection prior to excavation.
A grid system was put in place and each ‘block’ as I remember was 10 meters x 10 meters.
The Taylor ranch in the San Pedro Valley is a Sobaipuri protohistoric site (1450-1700 AD).
Sobaipuri artifacts are extremely small; pottery sherds are usually no bigger than your small fingernail and Sobaipuri projectile points, even though made of lovely red or yellow jasper that stand out on the desert floor, are also very tiny averaging about 17 millimeters in length. It is the point base that we long to find as it is diagnostic for date and culture.
What this tinyness of artifacts meant to us was normal ‘survey’ techniques (up right and walking!) could not be used. It was ‘on hands and knees’ to search the ground. We crawled every square inch of our blocks. Once in a while someone would mutter about a sherd or a lithic.
A point base! I found a point base.
Proudly I took the base to show Jim.
“Is that the best you can do?” he said as he fondled the artifact.
Harrumph! I’ll show him! That droll sense of humor!
I went back on hands and knees grabbed something, arose, marched to Jim and said, “Will this do?”
“Yep! That will do.” Jim grinned.
I had a whole point!
The beautiful red Jasper point was handed around for all to see. It was found but a few centimeters from the point base but as I said it had no more archaeological meaning than the point base except it was so pretty!
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Sunday, August 29, 2010
The Trailer
Valerie C. and I went to the northwest side of Tucson to monitor a couple of prehistoric sites for the Arizona State Trust Land Department. The area is well known as a hot bed of drug and illegal immigrant smuggling activities by gun toting men - not nice guys at all.
As I have said elsewhere, we are Arizona Site Stewards. We are trained to monitor sites for vandalism, mainly the type that pothunters do - dig big holes on sites looking for saleable artifacts.
We are trained in handling hot and cold cases and because of this training we are curious, observant, brave, nonchalant, determined – calm, cool, collected in our work in other words.
We drove into the desert on a dusty, bumpy dirt road. Recent tire tracks in the 2-track put us on high alert.
We entered a clear area of the desert and saw a trailer about 200 feet off the road. A big house trailer! It was sitting lopsided, very dirty, windows were out - it looked abandoned and very eerie.
Valerie said, “Let’s go have a look at it. Maybe we can get some information for our report.”
She parked the SUV and we started walking side by side about 5 meters apart to the trailer.
“I’ve got footprints here. Do you?” I called.
“Valerie,” I shouted at her. “Did you see the size of these foot prints leading to the trailer?”
Still walking I yelled to her, “I don’t like this. These footprints are huge and I don’t want to see who ever they belong too. My lord, they are huge.”
She cooly responded, “The place looks abandoned. I think it is ok.”
“Valerie,” I screamed, “They are huge! These are the biggest footprints I have ever seen. I am out of here!”
I turned and high tailed it to the safety of our vehicle.
As I said, “trained to be brave, nonchalant, determined - cool!”
I need more training!
As I have said elsewhere, we are Arizona Site Stewards. We are trained to monitor sites for vandalism, mainly the type that pothunters do - dig big holes on sites looking for saleable artifacts.
We are trained in handling hot and cold cases and because of this training we are curious, observant, brave, nonchalant, determined – calm, cool, collected in our work in other words.
We drove into the desert on a dusty, bumpy dirt road. Recent tire tracks in the 2-track put us on high alert.
We entered a clear area of the desert and saw a trailer about 200 feet off the road. A big house trailer! It was sitting lopsided, very dirty, windows were out - it looked abandoned and very eerie.
Valerie said, “Let’s go have a look at it. Maybe we can get some information for our report.”
She parked the SUV and we started walking side by side about 5 meters apart to the trailer.
“I’ve got footprints here. Do you?” I called.
“Valerie,” I shouted at her. “Did you see the size of these foot prints leading to the trailer?”
Still walking I yelled to her, “I don’t like this. These footprints are huge and I don’t want to see who ever they belong too. My lord, they are huge.”
She cooly responded, “The place looks abandoned. I think it is ok.”
“Valerie,” I screamed, “They are huge! These are the biggest footprints I have ever seen. I am out of here!”
I turned and high tailed it to the safety of our vehicle.
As I said, “trained to be brave, nonchalant, determined - cool!”
I need more training!
Friday, August 27, 2010
Getting There Can Be Daunting
The protohistoric Sobaipuri dig site is an hour’s ride, half of which is on a bumpy dirt road. Morning coffee ‘hits’ about mid point and luckily for us there is a very active gas station and mart.
As I am heading back to the ladies room Jim comes down the aisle looking very worried. "Man is down in the men’s room. Can you see to him?"
In I go! My eyes looking for the man- I see him. "Call 911 anyone," I say loudly to who ever is there.
Men in stalls, men at the urinals I really don’t see them.
Elderly man, 80s probably, and he is braced against a stall, one leg tucked under him. I drop down next to him and start asking him questions. He mumbles.
As I talk I check his leg and it moves and he does not wince. He tells me the leg is ok and without pain. I have the leg out from under him and note the bleeding from his left ear. He responds but eyes roll back into his head. I place my fingers under his right jaw and monitor his pulse as I lift his jaw to maintain an open air way. His pulse is erratic.
He comes to and says he wants to go home. In talking with him, I find out he is driving by himself to home about 30 miles away. He has heart problems. He tries to get up. I talk him out of it by telling him the EMTs are on the way.
His pulse is irregular. He slides out of consciousness again.
EMTs are here - scissors are out and "there goes the gray shirt," I say to Jim – an inside joke. We laugh a nervous laugh.
I give the EMTs a quick report and leave. Inside the car I shake.
I attended another accident months later and emailed Jim about it. His email back is priceless:
"Our morning in the men’s room pales in comparison!"
As I am heading back to the ladies room Jim comes down the aisle looking very worried. "Man is down in the men’s room. Can you see to him?"
In I go! My eyes looking for the man- I see him. "Call 911 anyone," I say loudly to who ever is there.
Men in stalls, men at the urinals I really don’t see them.
Elderly man, 80s probably, and he is braced against a stall, one leg tucked under him. I drop down next to him and start asking him questions. He mumbles.
As I talk I check his leg and it moves and he does not wince. He tells me the leg is ok and without pain. I have the leg out from under him and note the bleeding from his left ear. He responds but eyes roll back into his head. I place my fingers under his right jaw and monitor his pulse as I lift his jaw to maintain an open air way. His pulse is erratic.
He comes to and says he wants to go home. In talking with him, I find out he is driving by himself to home about 30 miles away. He has heart problems. He tries to get up. I talk him out of it by telling him the EMTs are on the way.
His pulse is irregular. He slides out of consciousness again.
EMTs are here - scissors are out and "there goes the gray shirt," I say to Jim – an inside joke. We laugh a nervous laugh.
I give the EMTs a quick report and leave. Inside the car I shake.
I attended another accident months later and emailed Jim about it. His email back is priceless:
"Our morning in the men’s room pales in comparison!"
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Dinosaurs
Barger Gulch is located in Middle Park, 12 miles from the dusty, sleepy town of Kremmling, Colorado. The town is at the confluence of three rivers, one being the Colorado so fishing and mosquitoes are big time there. Kremmling city fathers made a bad mistake years ago selling the town’s water rights to Denver so the town was always in a water-tight situation. But I digress.
The dig site is a Folsom (10,500-10,000 BC) research project for the University of Wyoming. Todd S. and Nicole W., the principal investigators, are Ph.D candidates I had been working with at the University of Arizona and they graciously invited me to join them for the three month excavation.
The site was located on BLM property. The BLM agents were fantastic supporters of the dig in so many ways but the one I enjoyed more than – say a shower at their facility – was a day-off rafting the Colorado!
Lazy rafting, as it turned out, as the river was very low and slow. There was talk of portage for the rafts.
We had been floating along when the BLM guide said, “Say-would you guys like to see dinosaur tracks?”
“Sure!” was the immediate and excited response from everyone.
Further down stream we pulled the rafts to shore next to a little sign saying: DINOSAUR TRACKS
We followed a little trail into the brush. Having done archaeology survey work for years I was intent at looking at the ground for ‘evidence.’
We walked and looked and saw nothing.
As we neared a cliff face I said, “I am not seeing anything.”
The guide said, “Look up.”
The cliff face was covered with tracks huge tracks!
Geological uplift of the surface bed over a million plus years ago made the tracks appear to be walking up into the sky instead of ‘on the ground.’ We followed the base of the cliff for about 50 yards and it was solid with dinosaur tracks.
Hmmm-“Look up” is not something archaeologists do. I wonder how much we miss?
The dig site is a Folsom (10,500-10,000 BC) research project for the University of Wyoming. Todd S. and Nicole W., the principal investigators, are Ph.D candidates I had been working with at the University of Arizona and they graciously invited me to join them for the three month excavation.
The site was located on BLM property. The BLM agents were fantastic supporters of the dig in so many ways but the one I enjoyed more than – say a shower at their facility – was a day-off rafting the Colorado!
Lazy rafting, as it turned out, as the river was very low and slow. There was talk of portage for the rafts.
We had been floating along when the BLM guide said, “Say-would you guys like to see dinosaur tracks?”
“Sure!” was the immediate and excited response from everyone.
Further down stream we pulled the rafts to shore next to a little sign saying: DINOSAUR TRACKS
We followed a little trail into the brush. Having done archaeology survey work for years I was intent at looking at the ground for ‘evidence.’
We walked and looked and saw nothing.
As we neared a cliff face I said, “I am not seeing anything.”
The guide said, “Look up.”
The cliff face was covered with tracks huge tracks!
Geological uplift of the surface bed over a million plus years ago made the tracks appear to be walking up into the sky instead of ‘on the ground.’ We followed the base of the cliff for about 50 yards and it was solid with dinosaur tracks.
Hmmm-“Look up” is not something archaeologists do. I wonder how much we miss?
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Barnes Site
A Folsom point (10,500-10,000 BC) had been found on the surface by the survey crew on the Barnes site in Colorado.
PCRG had said they would join in the dig as we were after all Paleo Culture Research Group.
I was assigned the 2x1 meter pit right at the Folsom point find.
Expectations were high. My partner and I excavated, bagged and carried that damn dirt for days! Nothing! When I checked at the water screening area for signs of artifacts from our pit: Nothing. Nil. Nada. We didn’t even have a rock!
I worked the south end of the pit. At about 20 centimeters down in the southwest corner I noticed a soil color change very faint but it was there. I excavated a bit more. Yep, it was there.
I made a trip out of the pit to see Stan and tell him about the soil change.
He comes, has a look and says, "I don’t see it."
Day 2 of color change: I am now down deeper and can really see the change in color and texture. Heck, if I can’t have artifacts surely I can have color and texture change!
Stan: "Nope, Cherie. There is no change in texture or color."
Day 3 of color change. It is there I see it, my partner doesn’t see it. I am really crazy.
Stan: "Nope. Nothing. There, there. It’s ok. You don’t have to have something." And he was saying this while patting me on the shoulder, as though I was a heartbroken little girl.
We are at the bottom of the pit, since there have been no artifacts then there is no sense to continue to excavate. Very disappointing.
I have been asked to assist at other pits. I endure the teasing!
Days later I hear my name called and the request to come back to my pit. The world is there.
Stan tells me a ‘soil man’ had really looked at the area I had been 'nagging' him about.
It has been determined "there is a change of color and texture" and they had decided it is Paleo soil.
I had been excavating the ‘side’ of a small ridge from Paleo times, that had filled in with silt over the thousands of years.
Stan was wonderful when he was telling me, "You are vindicated. You have a good eye, Cherie."
He said this to me in front of all the excavators. They cheered!
I smiled and said. "Thank you. Guess I do have good glasses!"
PCRG had said they would join in the dig as we were after all Paleo Culture Research Group.
I was assigned the 2x1 meter pit right at the Folsom point find.
Expectations were high. My partner and I excavated, bagged and carried that damn dirt for days! Nothing! When I checked at the water screening area for signs of artifacts from our pit: Nothing. Nil. Nada. We didn’t even have a rock!
I worked the south end of the pit. At about 20 centimeters down in the southwest corner I noticed a soil color change very faint but it was there. I excavated a bit more. Yep, it was there.
I made a trip out of the pit to see Stan and tell him about the soil change.
He comes, has a look and says, "I don’t see it."
Day 2 of color change: I am now down deeper and can really see the change in color and texture. Heck, if I can’t have artifacts surely I can have color and texture change!
Stan: "Nope, Cherie. There is no change in texture or color."
Day 3 of color change. It is there I see it, my partner doesn’t see it. I am really crazy.
Stan: "Nope. Nothing. There, there. It’s ok. You don’t have to have something." And he was saying this while patting me on the shoulder, as though I was a heartbroken little girl.
We are at the bottom of the pit, since there have been no artifacts then there is no sense to continue to excavate. Very disappointing.
I have been asked to assist at other pits. I endure the teasing!
Days later I hear my name called and the request to come back to my pit. The world is there.
Stan tells me a ‘soil man’ had really looked at the area I had been 'nagging' him about.
It has been determined "there is a change of color and texture" and they had decided it is Paleo soil.
I had been excavating the ‘side’ of a small ridge from Paleo times, that had filled in with silt over the thousands of years.
Stan was wonderful when he was telling me, "You are vindicated. You have a good eye, Cherie."
He said this to me in front of all the excavators. They cheered!
I smiled and said. "Thank you. Guess I do have good glasses!"
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Rains Came
This excavation year at Hellgap I wasn’t allowed to set up my tent next to the little wash. The rancher said it annoyed the cows as they passed by on their way to water!
I found a spot at the base of a rock outcropping and up hill from the main cottage that housed the kitchen and other central activities. A small group of trees nearby gave some privacy for the shower stall. In general, it was an ok tent spot and one that had me to the kitchen in quick order. And above all it was level. Yes! On the hill but level; almost a little landing carved out on the hillside.
We worked for about a week — our normal comings and goings; digging and washing artifacts - but then came the rains.
And it rained — and rained.
We spent time in the center exploring and picking matrix from our units. Using an enlarging lens we removed with tweezers anything not found in the washing screens. Of course we grumbled about the rain and wondered if we had covered the excavation area well enough to prevent water damage.
On the third day of rains after dinner and a quick scamp to my tent I noticed when I got inside my tent a spongy feel to the floor. Nothing was wet but I had the distinct impression I was on water. The entire tent had the feel of a waterbed.
I grabbed an empty can and in the pouring rain I trenched around the tent. I should have done this at the outset - but oh well! I also noticed water accumulating at the back of the tent. I was pleased that the water began to flow down the hill away from the tent and it flowed and flowed and then some more. The water flowed down the little trenches but it continued to accumulate at the back of the tent so now I bailed and bailed and bailed some more. Exhausted, wet, discouraged and now in the “to hell” with it mode I went to bed.
I was tired so I slept and slept well. I slept dry!
In the morning, I noticed the floor of my tent still felt like a waterbed. On reviewing my trenching handiwork from the night before I could still see a hellva lot of water flowing around my tent.
And the rain had stopped!
There was only one thing to do at this point and that was to move the tent. Not a fun job when one has 2 weeks of clothes, bedding and all the other stuff!
When I had everything out of the tent and had it lifted off the ground I found water pouring out of the ground.
My ok spot was on top of a spring!
I found a spot at the base of a rock outcropping and up hill from the main cottage that housed the kitchen and other central activities. A small group of trees nearby gave some privacy for the shower stall. In general, it was an ok tent spot and one that had me to the kitchen in quick order. And above all it was level. Yes! On the hill but level; almost a little landing carved out on the hillside.
We worked for about a week — our normal comings and goings; digging and washing artifacts - but then came the rains.
And it rained — and rained.
We spent time in the center exploring and picking matrix from our units. Using an enlarging lens we removed with tweezers anything not found in the washing screens. Of course we grumbled about the rain and wondered if we had covered the excavation area well enough to prevent water damage.
On the third day of rains after dinner and a quick scamp to my tent I noticed when I got inside my tent a spongy feel to the floor. Nothing was wet but I had the distinct impression I was on water. The entire tent had the feel of a waterbed.
I grabbed an empty can and in the pouring rain I trenched around the tent. I should have done this at the outset - but oh well! I also noticed water accumulating at the back of the tent. I was pleased that the water began to flow down the hill away from the tent and it flowed and flowed and then some more. The water flowed down the little trenches but it continued to accumulate at the back of the tent so now I bailed and bailed and bailed some more. Exhausted, wet, discouraged and now in the “to hell” with it mode I went to bed.
I was tired so I slept and slept well. I slept dry!
In the morning, I noticed the floor of my tent still felt like a waterbed. On reviewing my trenching handiwork from the night before I could still see a hellva lot of water flowing around my tent.
And the rain had stopped!
There was only one thing to do at this point and that was to move the tent. Not a fun job when one has 2 weeks of clothes, bedding and all the other stuff!
When I had everything out of the tent and had it lifted off the ground I found water pouring out of the ground.
My ok spot was on top of a spring!
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Bison Jump Site
The dig at Hall’s Cave that contained a 1/4 million bats had been tiring and odoriferous!
Ernie Lundelius and Mike Collins, the PIs for the dig, decided to give us a break and take us for an outing into the countryside for some clean, fresh air - a site visit.
The outing was near Langtry, Texas a few hours drive north and west from our excavation.
The site we visited is quite famous: The Bonfire Bison Jump/Kill site.
Paleo-indians and then archaic-indians drove Bison-bison (now extinct) off a cliff into a narrow canyon.
One episode, it is believed, more than 800 bison were driven off the cliff - more meat than the band could butcher or eat. What was not taken was left to rot. It has been postulated spontaneous combustion set the great rotting mound on fire thus giving the site its name.
As I said, the location is down a narrow canyon with walls about 40 feet tall, craggy and sheer.
Ernie was walking along one such wall and called out to us, “Hey, come see this.”
He was standing over a very small mound of bones. The bones were about 12 inches long and very thin. Nothing compared to the great 20 foot mound of huge Bison-bison bones we had just viewed.
We were unimpressed until he said, “These are bat bones! Look up!”
We did and saw about 6 HUGE bats hanging from a small crevice. These bats were about 12 inches long!
Ernie said these big bats were from Mexico and should not be this far north.
Illegal Immigrants!
Ernie Lundelius and Mike Collins, the PIs for the dig, decided to give us a break and take us for an outing into the countryside for some clean, fresh air - a site visit.
The outing was near Langtry, Texas a few hours drive north and west from our excavation.
The site we visited is quite famous: The Bonfire Bison Jump/Kill site.
Paleo-indians and then archaic-indians drove Bison-bison (now extinct) off a cliff into a narrow canyon.
One episode, it is believed, more than 800 bison were driven off the cliff - more meat than the band could butcher or eat. What was not taken was left to rot. It has been postulated spontaneous combustion set the great rotting mound on fire thus giving the site its name.
As I said, the location is down a narrow canyon with walls about 40 feet tall, craggy and sheer.
Ernie was walking along one such wall and called out to us, “Hey, come see this.”
He was standing over a very small mound of bones. The bones were about 12 inches long and very thin. Nothing compared to the great 20 foot mound of huge Bison-bison bones we had just viewed.
We were unimpressed until he said, “These are bat bones! Look up!”
We did and saw about 6 HUGE bats hanging from a small crevice. These bats were about 12 inches long!
Ernie said these big bats were from Mexico and should not be this far north.
Illegal Immigrants!
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