AIR TRAVELERS CRASH IN MESA VERDE
by
Don Watson

It was a perfect day for an accident. A foggy, rainy day in early spring, with the half light of evening adding to the poor visibility And they were tired, too, for the long journey from Guatemala had not been easy, and with their minds so intent upon finding a resting place for the night it was only natural that they should make their almost fatal mistake.

The catchment area does look like water. Many travelers coming into the Mesa Verde have seen its shining surface through the trees and have thought it to be a lake. But it is only a two acre area of galvanized iron that catches all rain and snow water that it may be stored away for our use. Even in broad daylight its corrugated surface simulates the waves on a lake, but on a rainy day the deception is perfect, and many water birds have made anything but perfect landings on its inhospitable surface.

Mr. and Mrs. Eared Grebe and Junior had almost given up hopes of finding a resting place for the night. The Mesa Verde does not have a single body of water, so for mile after mile as their tired wings skimmed the tree tops, their eager eyes searched in vain until at last the catchment area was reached. All their cares were forgotten as they set their wings for the long glide down to the rain-dimpled surface. But there was no welcome splash: no cool spray in their faces. Instead, there was a resounding crash as Mr. Grebe came down, a lighter crash as Mrs. Grebe struck the surface and a hollow plop as Junior caught his heels on a ripple and went somersaulting across the strange hard surface.

For a time they lay stunned and bruised, but the cool rain at last brought them around and they began to discuss the strange water on which they had landed. Mr. Grebe thought it might be ice and gave it a sharp peck but it made his head ache so much worse that he gave up the idea. Junior was blubbering something about dark spots in front of his eyes and Mrs. Grebe, for once in her life, was unable to say anything.

Their plight was indeed a sad one for there were no immediate prospects of their ever being able to get into the air again. The Grebe is so peculiarly constructed that it can not rise from any surface other than water. Its legs are set so far back on its running gears that it can not stand upright but can only lie on its stomach or sit propped up on its tail. In order to get into the air it must have a long water surface so it can go skittering along the water and into the air when it gets up sufficient speed, exactly as does a hydroplane.

Just when things looked darkest for the Grebe family Superintendent Finnan happened along and, seeing their predicament, captured them and carried them to the dam behind the Museum where a little rain water had collected. After two or three days they were ready to resume their journey and early one morning they took to the air and started for their summer home in the northland. They had not gone more than a hundred yards when the people who were watching them heard a loud squawk and saw the three Grebes turn abruptly around and flee precipitously to the south. They had caught a glimpse of the catchment area, and when last seen seemed to be on their way back to Guatamala.