Spear point and foreshaft. Length 8".

Man in the San Juan Valley

EARLY HUNTERS AND GATHERERS. Ten thousand years ago, a small band of weary, footsore, hungry hunters cautiously approached a few bison which they had managed to stampede away from the main herd. Ten in number, the bison had finally paused to drink at a small spring in a rincon of the canyon wall and to graze upon the thick, tall grass. For a day and a half, the hunters had carefully followed the large, hairy mammals, hoping the beasts would lose their sense of danger and allow themselves to be boxed into a place where the hunters could approach close enough to kill them.

At last the moment was at hand! Warily, two hunters crawled along the slope of the canyon wall from opposite sides, seeking places from which they could throw large rocks upon the animals or hurl their spears with devastating force. Patiently five more hunters waited below, concealed by the tall grass or behind convenient boulders. When the first two were in place, the leader gave the signal. Rocks came crashing down on the startled bison; spears whistled through the air and thudded into soft flesh; one or two missed, but most found their targets. Shouts and cries filled the air. The bison, caught by surprise, whirled and milled around the waterhole for a moment, then several broke for the open country. One was wounded, the spear in its flank bobbing like a wave-tossed spindle. On this animal the hunters concentrated; three more spears found their target, and the great beast went down thrashing wildly. Two other animals lay maimed at the waterhole; one young calf, hobbling painfully, tried to get away to the open country but was quickly dispatched. The remaining six bison disappeared through the thickets and tall grass to the west.

The animals which were down but not dead were swiftly killed with spear thrusts through the eyes. Then the assembled hunters fell to the most important task of all. With quick strokes of their razor-sharp stone knives, they carefully peeled away the hide from one of the carcasses. The soft inner parts—the heart, kidneys, and liver—they immediately cut into pieces and ate raw on the spot, for they had not tasted meat for many days. In fact, for the last several days on the hunt, they had subsisted entirely on the few edible plants and roots they could easily find while tracking the bison. Now great chunks of meat were cut from the flanks and likewise consumed raw, until each hunter could eat no more. Then the men gathered up their weapons—long wooden spears with carefully made chipped flint or obsidian points. Some of the points were so deeply buried in the bodies that they broke loose from the shafts when the men tried to pry them free. Other shafts had broken, leaving the points embedded when the bison thrashed about trying to escape the sudden devastation. This was of minor concern—new shafts could be made, new points fashioned. It was more important that once again there was meat enough to go around for the hunters, their mates, and their children.

Now surfeited, the hunters dozed quietly in the shade out of the noonday sun. But not for long, for they must bring the rest of the band to participate in the feast. One hunter started back to the last camp where the women and children waited, existing on the remnants of the last kill and whatever edible plants, roots, nuts, and berries they might be able to find nearby. The other hunters proceeded with the skinning of the animals. To build a fire, one man found a dry log, in which he made a small hole with his stone knife. He sharpened another dry but tougher stick, Thrusting this into the hole, he twirled it rapidly between his hands until he built up sufficient friction to make a few small sparks in the log. These he deftly transferred to a little dry tinder, the flame of which he carefully nursed until twigs and branches could be added to make a real blaze. The fire would be welcome in the evening, for the days were getting shorter and the nights colder. When the women and children arrived, they would make crude lean-to or windbreak structures to help break the cold night winds from the north. They would scrape, clean, and dry the bison skins so that as the band headed southward, they would have the warm skins to wrap themselves in at night. During the day, while hunting or working around the camp, they needed little in the way of clothing—just simple loincloths. On damp, rainy days—and there seemed too many of these—brush shelters, fires, and the warm skins of the animals they had killed were sufficient.

By now the vultures were circling overhead, but it would be several days before these carrion birds could feast on what little might remain of the kill. The hunters and the rest of the band would stay at this spot until all the meat was exhausted, rancid as it might become. Then once again they would take up their spears and start after more game. This time they would head toward the south, for with the shortening days winter was coming, and the game was going south. But they would worry about the next hunt later. In the meantime all was well. It was a time for relaxation and rejoicing—they had food for many days; they had water; soon they would have shelter; and this was without doubt the best of all possible worlds in which to live.

Of course, such a scene is imaginary, but it could have taken place about 10,000 years ago, almost anywhere among the valley and canyon bottoms of what is now known as the Four Corners country of the Southwest. The great continental ice sheets never got this far south, and 10,000 years ago they were already retreating northward from their farthest expansion. Yet smaller glaciers in some of the surrounding mountains were also shrinking, and the general climate of the area must have been far different than it is today. No doubt it was colder and damper, with more rain and many swamps, lagoons, and lakes abounding in game animals and birds of all varieties. With a colder climate, the scenery too did not resemble that of today. High grasslands, extensive hardwood forests, and full-flowing streams and rivers characterized the region. The general land formations, however—the mountains, canyons, mesas, and plateaus—had been formed long millenia before, and as short a time as 10,000 years ago they would have been very much as they are today.

Geologists believe that after the last of the four great continental glaciations (i.e. the Wisconsin) there were three broad climatic periods over most of the western United States. These are called the Anathermal, which was cool and moist, becoming gradually warmer; the Altithermal, which was exceptionally dry; and the Medithermal, a relatively cool, moist period which is still in progress. Our imaginary tale about the hunters, if it had taken place, would have occurred during the Anathermal period.

These variations in climate have been determined by studying old stream terraces (streams cut deeper when there is more water, and they can carry a greater load of abrasive sands and gravels); old beach levels around ancient lakes (such as are prominent today around the Great Salt Lake in Utah); and ancient annual lake deposits of fine silts which form thin bands or varves. Studies of animal life, both vertebrate and invertebrate, and plant life are important, for some life forms can exist only under certain limited climatic conditions. Bones and shells found in various deposits may help to indicate the type of climate existing when they were laid down. Plant fragments, pollen grains, and diatoms (microscopic plants with siliceous skeletons), are clues in telling the story of prehistoric times.