A cursed pot, or is it?

Puebloan pot, originally uploaded by grynstar.

Last Monday, I met up with our Forest archeologist, district archeologist, and a coworker who also belongs to the nearby pueblo to go search out a reported pot that was sighted on a very secluded mesa top. We left early in the morning and drove together to ____ mesa in the hopes of finding this rumored pot and to survey a couple of other sites in the area. None of us really thought we'd find the thing, but alas by midday it was sitting there right in front of us.

Before I divulge the details of this scavenger hunt, let me tell you the history. When I was first hired my District Ranger (the boss) and I were spending a day in the field to discuss a project and he wanted to show me a few other sites. We stopped for lunch, and as we casually ate in the dappled sunshine under a towering ponderosa pine forest he told me this story...

Several years ago he decided to accompany some of his employees on some of the annual Mexican spotted owl surveys. Since he's a recovering biologist he was qualified to do this stuff, and since the District was short on biological staff he thought he'd lend a hand. He'd brought his son along, and they arrived with some others to one of the more isolated parts of the district at 2 a.m. in the morning to call for owls. They worked for several hours and as the sun begin to break the darkness of night it found him and his son walking up a boulder-strewn drainage near the top of the mesa.

He was telling his son about how some owls like to nest in small holes or caves in the soft volcanic rock instead of trees. His son pointed up at a large cave in the cliff about 60 feet above them and to the right and said, "like that one?" As he looked at the are where his sone pointed, he noticed a rather large cave with a smoke-blackened ceiling. He explained to his son that this cave was more likely a home for a mountain lion or other big animal, but that he should go take a look.

His son got halfway up, and in the dissapating darkness of night he felt frightened and called for his dad to come with. Together, they scrambled their way up the side of the drainage toward the cave. As they were nearing the mouth of the cave, his son stopped suddenly and held up a hand with one finger pointing shakily at something in a crevice near the mouth of the cave.

The crevice held a seemingly perfectly preserved pot with orange and black markings. They both realized the scope and weight of such a find. His son reached out to grab it, but he stopped him from dislodging it and after debating what to do for a while, they eventually went home potless.

Shortly after this pre-dawn discovery his son began having troubles and was eventually diagnosed with Bipolar disorder. It is often said that disturbing indian artifacts carries a curse, and the similar timing of the pot discovery and his son's change was something not lost upon him.

It was more than four years after their pot find that we sat eating lunch as the Ranger told me this story. We had planned a prescribed burn for the area and it was also to begin seeing some use from a local rancher. The Ranger also told of his discovery of this pot to the district archeologist. As a result we went to see if it was in fact there to see if there was a chance it would be damaged by the planned activities there.

The archeologist and I went to look for it in November, but after looking all day we came up empty. I was fairly convinced that it wasn't there. Such a pot would be extremely valuable and most likely taken illegaly if someone saw it.

Yet on this sunny February morning we were headed back armed with some better information. We climbed the mesa all morning and by 11:30 a.m. our small party of four had dropped down into a tree and boulder-choked drainage where we were told the pot was seen. As the district archeologist later said, "it was like the pot drew us toward it."

We split up into two sets of two. The district archeologist and I headed downstream while the others headed upstream. We agreed that the hoot of an owl would be the sign for the others to come quick. We literally walked right toward the thing and in one minute we saw a smoke-blackened cave. In another minute I was scrambling toward the top and in sight was an almost un-blemished pot. I began hooting like an owl gone crazy.

The pot we peered upon was a 500-year old glazed pot in almost perfect condition. It was nested in a crevice that protected it from rain and most elements. Upon further inspection we noticed that most of the latter half of it was missing, but the archologists still made it clear that this was a once-in-a-lifetime find.