195709 Desert Magazine 1957 September

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The reconstructed Vallecito Stage Station, a California Historic site, as it appears today.HISTORIC PANORAMAS VII

V a l l e c i t o S t a g e S t a t io nBy JOSEF and JOYCE MUENCHIn San Diego County, California, now off the mainline of travel, stands this adobe buildingthe restoredstage station where passengers on the old Butterfield Over-land stage route once stopped for refreshments.This is the Vallecito stage station, rebuilt accordingto its original design through the philanthropy of Dr. andMrs. Louis Strahlmann of San Diego in 1935.Originally this was on the route of Kearny's Army of

the West. The first wheeled vehicles to come this waywere the wagons of Col. Philip St. George Cooke's Mor-mon Battalion in 1847. Two years later California-boundgold-seekers, after the long dusty trek across the desertfrom Yuma, found Vallecito a refreshing place for waterand rest.The old stage station is now reached by a very passa-ble road maintained by the California State Park organiza-tion.

a^^ The Old Over/and Stage Station at ,Vallecitos """ v"Before Its Restorat ion.D E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


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DESERT CflLEDDflRAug. 30-Sept. 2 Tri-County Fair,Bishop, California.Aug. 30-Sept. 2 Annual Fiesta,Santa Fe .Aug. 30-Sept. 2County Fair, Elko,Nevada.Aug. 31-Sept. 2 Nevada Rodeo,Winnemucca.Aug. 31-Sept. 2 Fallon, Nevada,

Rodeo.Sept. 1World's Championship SteerRoping Contest, Clovis, N. M.Sept. 1-2Williams, Arizona, Rodeo.Sept. 1-2Eureka, Nevada, Rodeo.Sept. 1-2Kingman, Arizona, Rodeo.Sept. 2St. Stephen's Day Fiesta andDance, Acoma Pueblo, N. M.Sept. 5-8 Antelope Valley Fair,Lancaster, California.Sept. 6-8Arizona Game ProtectiveAssociation Convention, Wicken-burg.Sept. 6-8 Uranium Days, Moab,Utah.Sept. 6-8 Coconino County Fair,Flagstaff.Sept. 7-8Socorro County Fair, So-corro, New Mexico.Sept. 7-8Winslow, Arizona, Rodeo.Sept. 9-12Metal Mining and Indus-trial Mineral Convention of theAmerican Mining Congress, SaltLake City.Sept. 12-14 Dixie Roundup, St.George, Utah.Sept. 12-15Quay County Fair, Tu-cumcari, New Mexico.Sept. 12-15 Washoe County Fair,Reno.Sept. 13-14Galena Days Celebra-tion, Bingham, Utah.Sept. 13-14 Otero County Fair,Alamogordo, New Mexico.Sept. 13-15 Yavapai County Fair,Prescott, Arizona.

Sept. 13-15 Sierra County Fair,Truth or Consequences, N. M.Sept. 13-15Valencia County Fair,Belen, New Mexico.Sept. 13-22Utah State Fair, SaltLake City.Sept. 14-15Horse Show and PonyExpress Race, Tonopah, Nevada.Sept. 14-15 Mining Celebration,Randsburg, California.Sept. 15 Ceremonial Dances andRaces, Jicarilla Apache Indian Res-ervation, New Mexico.Sept. 18-21Curry County Fair, Clo-vis, New Mexico.Sept. 19 Fiesta and CeremonialDances, Laguna Pueblo, N. M.Sept. 19-20San Juan County Fair,Farmington, New Mexico.Sept. 19-22 Hidalgo County Fair,Lordsburg, New Mexico.Sept. 20-21DeBaca and GuadalupeBi-County Fair, Fort Sumner, N.M.Sept. 20-22 Navajo Tribal Fair,Window Rock, Arizona.Sept. 21-22Barstow, Calif., Rodeo.Sept. 23-27Roosevelt County Fairand Rodeo, Portales, New Mexico.Sept. 26 Jack's Carnival, Sparks,Nevada.Sept. 27-29 Cochise County Fair,Douglas, Arizona.Sept. 28-30 Mohave County Fair,Kingman, Arizona.Sept. 28-Oct. 6New Mexico StateFair, Albuquerque.

Sept. 29-30Fiesta of San Geronimoon 29th, Sun Down Dance on 30th,Taos Pueblo, New Mexico.

V o l u m e 20 SEPTEMBER. 1957 N u m b e r 9C O V E RH ISTO RYCALENDAREXP LO RATIO NCLO SE-UP SREPTILESFIELD TRIPDESERT QUIZN A T U R EC O N T E S TC R A F T SPOETRYP H O T O G R A P H YWATERH O LEE D U C A T I O NEXPERIENCELETTERSF ICTIO NN E W SM I N I N GH O BBYLAP IDARYB O O K SC O M M E N T

Gilct Monster by SHARON PROCTOR (see storyon page 11)Vallecito Stage Station

By JOSEF an d JOYCE MUENCH 2Septem ber events on the desert 3We Prefer to Camp at Dripping Springs

By NELL MURBARGER 4About those who write for Desert 10I Was Bitten by a Gila Monster

By DR. ERNEST R. TINKHAM 11Banded Rhyolite in Baja's Pinto Basin

By EUGENE L. CONROTTO 13A test of your desert knowled ge 16Feathered Neighbors of the Desert Domain

By EDMUND C. JAEGER 17Picture-of-the-Month Contest announcement . . 18Painted Dolls of the Hopi Tribesmen

By ROSELLA MATTMUELLER 19Debt to a Burro an d other poems 22Pictures of the Month 23Marl Spring, by WALTER FORD 24Southwest Treasure House

By ISABEL McCORD STROUD 25Our Camp Visitor Was a Crafty Little Fox

By MRS. JOHN E. PLUMMER 27Comment from Desert's rea der s 28Hard Rock Shorty of Death Valley 29From her e an d there on the desert 30Current ne ws of desert mines . 33Gems and Minerals 36Amateur Gem Cutter, by DR. H. C. DAKE . . . 40Reviews of Southwestern literature 41Just Between You and Me, by the Editor . . . 42

The Desert Magazine is published monthly by the Desert Press, Inc., Palm Desert,California. Re-entered as second class matter July 17, 1948, at the postoffice at Palm Desert,California, under the Act of March 3, 1879. Title registered No. 358865 in U. S. Patent Office,and contents copyrighted 1957 by the Desert Press, Inc. Permission to reproduce contentsmust be secured from the editor in writ ing.RANDALL HENDERSON, EditorBESS STACY, Business Manager EUGENE L. CONROTTO, Associate EditorEVONNE RIDDELL, Circulation ManagerUnsolicited manuscripts and photographs submitted cannot be re turned or acknowledgedunless full return postage is enclosed. Desert Magazine assumes no responsibility fordamage or loss of manuscripts or photographs although due care will be exercised. Sub-scribers should send notice of change of address by the first of the month preceding issue.SUBSCRIPTION RATESOne Yea r S4.00 Two Years $7.00

Canadian Subscriptions 25c Extra , Foreign 50c ExtraSubscriptions to Army Personnel Outside U. S. A. Must Be Mailed in Conformity WithP . O. D. Order No. 19687Address Correspondence to Desert Magazine, Palm Desert, CaliforniaS E P T E M B E R , 1 9 5 7


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W e P r e f e r t o C a m pa t D r i p p i n g S p r i n g sBy NELL MURBARGERP ho tog raphs by the au tho rMap by Nor ton Allen

THE firs t night we campedin Organ Pipe Cactus NationalMonument in southwestern Ari-zona, we knew we'd found somethingextra special. What that something is,we can' t quite put a r inger onbutafter 10 years and at least that manyreturn visits, the Organ Pipe still is ourfavorite desert retreat.Ordinarily, Dad, Mom and I do notcamp in National parks and monu-ments . Most are too congested and

civilized for desert rats like us-wewould rather camp in the open wherethe only rules are those prescribed bycommon decency. The Organ Pipe,however, is so natural and just plainbig that it never gives us a feeling ofconstriction nor of being a "park."Fourth largest of our national mon-uments, its 516 square milesnearly

a third of a million acresare almostlost in the surrounding desert immen-sity. Organ Pipe's entire eastern boun-The author's m other inspects a giant organ pipe cactus.

Far from men's busy citiesand close to the sun, sky andlife-filled earth is matchless Or-gan Pipe Cactus National Mon-ument . On these pages , asseen through the eyes of NellMurbarger, is the story of thisspacious wonderland on theArizona-Mexico border.

dary abuts on the Papago Indian Res-ervation:a desert tract two-and-a-halftimes larger than Delaware, but withonly two small post offices, Sells andTop awa. To the west lies more than3000 square miles of desert withoutany post offices, and beyond the Mon-ument's southern boundary is the mostsparsely populated sector of Old Mex-ico.It is this wild land south of the bor-der that is the Organ Pipe's naturalmother even its climate being im-ported from the coastal jungles ofSinaloa, 700 miles to the south. Aftertraveling northward over the Gulf ofCalifornia, the tropical air follows theSonoyta River valley to the heart ofthe Organ Pipe where it is halted byhigh encircling mountains. Because ofthis coastal warmth, the lower valleysof this region between the Ajo andGrowler ranges embrace what probablyis the finest tract of Sonoran desertnorth of Mexico and support manysub - tropical plants not comm onlyfound in Arizona and not at all inother sections of the United States.Among these is the spectacular organpipe cactus Cereus thurberiwhosename the Monument bears . I t was notto protect this single species, however,but to assure preservation of this re-markable desert as a whole that thearea was set aside as a national monu-ment by President Roosevelt on April13 , 1937.

Shortly thereafter, when roads inthe area still were bad, no improvedcampgrounds had yet been constructedand only sources of drinking waterwere inaccessible to auto-borne travel-ers , Dad, Mom and I began makingannual pilgrimages to the Organ Pipe.Our visits, over the years, have fallenin every season, and while all havebeen goodnever too chilly for com-fort nor too warm for endurancethebest trips were made in the spring andfall.

Typical of our spring jaunts was theone made last year. It wasn't a plannedtrip. Dad and Mom were spading thegarden and I was preparing to leavefor Nevada for the summer, when therealization came to us that April wasDESERT MAGAZINE


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almost gone. T hen came the thought 1that we would like to be camped atDripping Springs in the Organ Pipe Iwhen the first warm flush of May came jstealing over the hills from Sonora.Two days later we were on our w ay.From our Southern California homeit is less than 500 miles to the Monu-ment. After traveling to Gila Bend onU.S. Highway 80, we turned south onState Route 85 and drove 42 milesthrough the Sauceda and Crater ranges jto Ajo. From this busy little copper Imining town it is 17 miles to the northentrance of the park and another 18to headquarters, where we found theMonument in the midst of its busiestseason. The big free cam pground, amile from headquarters, was filled al-most to overflowing with camperstrailer travelers outnumbering tenters10-to-one.James Eden, Monument superinten-dent, told us that later in the summerthe campground would be expandedto 100 sites. While the average stayfor campers in the Monument is onlyfive or six days, about five percentof those coming here remain the full30 days allowed, and some have beenreturning every winter for 10 years.Monument campgrounds are occupiedabout 12,000 camper-days each year.Although folks in the main camp-ground seem always to be having alot of fun, our family prefers thegreater seclusion and quiet of DrippingSprings.Barred to trailers, but wholly trav-ersible by ordinary family car, the dirtroad that leads to the springs sneaksoff into the desert from behind thebuildings at headquarters. After skirt-ing the Puerto Blanco hills and thedark Growlers, it meanders across thesaguaro-grown plains of La Abra Val-ley, looks in on the old Papago water-ing place of Quitobaquito, hugs theMexican border for a dozen miles,rounds Senita Pass, and after 42 milesof wandering, bends back to a point acouple of miles south of where it

started. Twelve miles up this waywardloop we turned off the main trail,slipped around a hill and pulled downinto the clean dry pocket of DrippingSprings campground.It was early in the afternoon andthe little cove was bathed in sleepywarm th. Marching away from the ba-sin on every side were giant cactuses,and under this forest was spread aliving robe of wild flowers. Tall oco-tilloseach slender wand tipped with

Land of the organ pipe. Top viewis from Dripping Springs. R oad inphotograph is the same as shownin close-up photo below.S E P T E M B E R , 1 9 5 7


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a scarlet plumefeathered the skyline,and the palo verde under which wemade camp was so weighted withbloom that it looked like a goldenwaterfall. Exc ept for ourselves andthe birds and other small creatures ofthe wild, the little cove was unten-anted.In the spattered shade of the paloverde we spent enjoyable moments

spying on a mother quail and her 10babies, fed cookies to a couple ofground squirrels, counted 31 species ofwildflowers without leaving our camp-yard, studied an Arizona cardinalthrough the binoculars and played witha horned toad. By and by, Da d buil ta small twig fire and Mom cookedsupper. Then we watched the sun set

i ? . * $

behind the Growlers, and as we sat inthe soft twilight, waiting for the fullmoon to rise, a pair of gray kit foxescame tip-toeing out of the dark to sniffcuriously around our sleeping bags.Night time is the grandest time ofall on the desert to Dad, Mom andme, particularly in the Organ Pipe.But the days are wonderful too, andsunrise found us up and on our way.

Our destination was Dripping Springsproper the campground that bearsthis name having been establishedabout a mile from the seep to minimizehuman interference with the wild crea-tures that must have this water tomaintain life.In a land as dry as this, any sourceof water is more cherished than gold.

TO aiLA BEND

ORGAN PIPE CACTUS " ; ;NATIONAL MONUMENTii %#/

Approximate ScaleTO CABORCA

With its annual rainfall varying fromthree to 11 inches, and averaging lessthan eightand with no snow fallingexcept on its higher peaksthe Mon-ument's 328,162 acres support not onepermanent stream, only one fair sizedspring, and several small seeps includ-ing Dripping Springs.Issuing from a volcanic cliff thatwould delight the hearts of all rock

garden fanciers, the water of thesesprings collects in a natural rock basinin the floor of a shallow cave. Onlya meager trickle, even in winter, theoverflow of this basin is reduced to asteady drip in May, and by midsum-mer it is hard-pressed even to hold itsown. Bu t scant though it is, almostevery day in the year finds thousandsof wild bees humming around themouth of the cave and sipping waterfrom the surface of moist rocks andthe pool. In the dam p earth belowthe rock tank are impressed the hoovesof deer and javalinas, the tracks ofwildcats, skunks, desert mice, quailand Arizona white-wing doves. Be-neath the jungle of velvet mesquitethat shades the lower canyon growsa lush thatch of moisture-loving plantsminer 's let tuce, mimulus and maid-enhair ferns.Leading from the spring is a narrowtrail that switchbacks up the cliffsideto a lookout point from which it ispossible to see across the desert formany miles in every direction. Clim b-ing this trail is one of our yearly ritu-als, and we find something new along

it every time . Ou r latest discovery wasthe pencil-thin gray-green stem of anight-blooming cereus. It probablywas C. greggii, but even the extremelyrare C. diguetii is found sparingly inthe Monument, and for an amateurbotanist such as myself to distinguishbetween these two species by examin-ing only the stems is impossible. May,of course, is too early in the year foreither species to be in flower, but wepromised ourselves to return here inJuly to see that dried little stem trans-formed into its full glory as La Reinadel NocheQ ueen of the Night.Later, while prowling over this samehillside, Mom discovered a cave whichappeared once to have been the homeof prehistoric Indians. No t only wasits interior blackened by smoke, butnear the entrance we found a shard ofrough brown pottery and hollowed intoa smooth rock nearby was a perfectmortero. Working with stone pestleand Indian patience, these long-agodwellers of the Organ Pipe had groundin that primitive gristmill the compon-ents of their porridge and breadthedried meat of animals and birds, seedsof the mesquites that likely were grow-ing, even then, in the moist earth below

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. . : . . ' . . " . ; ' , : ' : ' : r / - - ' . : x . - - - : , ? i \ ' :''' - \ > > ' r

Quitobaquito Spring in Organ Pipe Cactus National Mon ument near the Arizona-Mexico border. Indians have lived near this waterhole for centuries.

Dripping Springs, and, certainly, fruitsof the saguaro and other cactuses.Even now over that hillside, the widepads of Engelmann's prickly pear werebreaking into golden saucers of bloom,and nearly every branch tip of everysaguaro soon would be dressed in cor-onets and wristbands of waxy whiteflowers.After another perfect night at Drip-ping Springs, where camping is limitedto two nights, we wandered down ourwayward road. We were not in ahurry for the day was young, theworld was big and wonderful-and ifwe wanted to stop half a dozen timesin a single mile, we stopped! Wephotographed the delicate chartreuseblooms of the teddy-bear chollas, thebright russet of the staghorn, and theflaming torc hes of ocotillos. Wh ilecrossing a wash wooded with giantpalo verdes and ironwoods, we stopped

to look for birds and soon tallied 20of the 219 species that naturalists havereported from the M onum ent. At thesame time, we found some Mexicanjumping bean bushes another rareemigrant from the warm lands southof the border.After taking five hours to travel only15 miles, it was noon when we arrivedat Quitobaquito.We like this placenot because itis the largest and finest spring in theMonument, with a flow of almost fivegallons a minutebut because it ispleasant, on a drowsy afternoon, tosit in the heavy shade of the big cotton-woods that grow all around the spring,their furrowed gray trunks leaning farout over the water as if to peer at theirown reflections. We like to listen tothe south wind whispering throughtheir leaves, and to the noisy clamor-ing of the redwing blackbirds that nest

in the tules, and the killdeers that oc-cupy the low flats near by. We like toroll the name, Kee-toe-bah-kee-toe,over our tongues, savoring each sylla-b l e , each soft inflection. Bu t, mo st ofa l l , we like to sit and daydream of thehistory this place has seen.How long Quitobaquito has beenthe habitat of man no one knows. Aslong as there have been deserts, oaseshave been popular and no doubt In-dians have claimed Quitobaquito.through all the centuries that its waterhas pulsed from the earth.Certainly, the Indian camp on itsbanks was well populated when Diazpassed on his way to the ColoradoRiver 417 years ago. The sandaledfeet of Fathers Kino and Garcespressed the damp earth along thesebanks, and about the time the Ameri-can Declaration of Independence wasbeing signed, the big spring joyfully

S E P T E M B E R , 1 9 5 7


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Rare cristate growth o n an organ pipe cactus.was hailed by Juan Bautista de Anzaand his weary entourage returning toTubac after the founding of San Fran-cisco. Three generations later the haz-ardous route from Sonoyta to Yumawas lined with the graves of DixieArgonauts bound for the chimericalEl Dorado of California's goldfields.With bones of their companions andanimals whitening in windrows besidethe way, survivors of that horrible 125mile Dea th. March related the grimstory of El Camino del Diablothedevil's highway over shifting sand,trackless malapai and heat-lashed des-ert plains, with the only living waterin all that distance this cottonwood-shaded pool at Quitobaquito.Throughout these changing centur-ies there has dwelt upon the shores ofthis spring a colony of Indians whichtoday is shriveled almost to a ghosttown, Jim Orosco and his wife, Maria,its only remaining members.0

The Oroscos live in a cluster of smallbrown huts at the north edge of thepool. We have never seen Maria, butJim looks, dresses and acts like otherIndians of the border country. He isa doleful fellow who never has muchto say, not to me anyway, and henever has permitted me to take hispicture or one of his house.These last residents of Quitobaquito,according to Alton Netherlin of Ajo,who has made an extensive study ofthe Papagos, belong to the tribal divi-sion known as Sand Papag os. Origin-ally this clan lived in the dunes alongthe Gulf of California where they wereso troublesome the Mexican authoritiesmarched them off to Caborca for in-ternment. Whether they escaped orwere released is not clear, but theymade their way north into Arizona.Today only a very few members of theclan still are living.Neither national monuments or in-

ternational boundaries matter much toJim Orosco. Although he and his wifelegally are residents of Arizona, theMexican line is only a biscuit tosssouth of Quitobaquito and Jim's pock-et-sized fields of grain, com and squashare across the line in Sonora wherethey are gravity-irrigated by water fromthe big spring.In addition to serving the needs ofJim and Maria and providing a nestingsite for redwinged blackbirds and kill-deers, Quitobaquito also is home tothe only species of fish found in theMonument. Cyprinodon rnacularius isonly a small fish, but according toRobert R. Miller, associate curator offishes at the University of Michigan,it is an Ice Age relic. A hund red yearsago, this minnow species also wasfound in streams near Tucson andBenson, Arizona, but advance of civil-ization has caused its disappearancethere. Besides Quitobaquito, scientists

believe the species survives in theUnited States only in one other springnear the Santa Rita Mountains.From Quitobaquito it is about adozen miles back to headquarters. Formost of that distance the monumentloop road hovers close to the Mexicanboundary and it is possible to lookacross the dividing fence and see trucksand buses traveling on the Sonoyta-Mexicali highway. It is along this por-tion of the loop that the first senitas ofthe trip make their appearance. Likethe saguaros and organ pipes with

which they are associated, the senitaor whisker cactus also is a cereusC. schottiiand like most membersof that clan, its white blossoms openat night and die in the light of morn-ing. Of bunched growth like the organpipe, but smallerseldom more thaneight feet in height C. schottii is dis-tinguished by the long shaggy whitespines that envelope the upper thirdof each branch in the older plants. Thefact that these spines bear a fanciedresemblance to the white hair andbeard of an old man is responsible forthe plant's Mexican name, senita.Although the organ pipe is rareenough to have our fourth largest na-tional monument named in its honor,probably there are in the United States100 plants of this species for every oneof senita. So far as is known, the latteris not found anywhere in this countryexcept in the Monu ment. An estimated500 adult senitas, 300 in the SenitaPass vicinity alone, grow here.

Reached by a one-track: trail lead-ing north from the loop road, the Se-nita Pass jaunt is one of our favoriteMon ument drives. It is a slow road,but it travels through some of thefinest arboreal desert in the Southwest.This also is a region of former miningD E S E R T M A G A Z I N E


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ales half-way aroun dworld. Althou gh still open to min-

of the mines within its boundaries everade money for their owners. Onetime Jim Eden asked a man in Ajowhy this was so."Was it a case of the workings beingflooded by too much w ater?" he asked.The man grinned. "To o much waterwas one reason," he said. "Bu t themain reason was not enough ore . . ."From the point where the loop roadrejoins the main highway it is only acouple of miles to Lukeville, on theMexican border. In addit ion to U.S.

Immigration offices, Lukeville has agasoline station, cafe, grocery storethat is not always operating, and a fewdwellings. Immediately across the lineis the little Sonora border town ofSonoyta, where fat brown babies playin the yards and shaggy burros drowsein the sun beside crumbling adobewalls. Although Sonoyta isn't muchlarger than Lukeville, it is much olderand much more interest ing.In Favores Celestials, Father Kinodescribes in detail the founding of amission at this place on October 7,1698. That the settlement, even then,

Some of the estimated 500 adult senita cacti growing in the monu ment.had been occupied by farmer-Indiansfor unknown years is indicated byKino, who termed it: "a post very

James Eden, superintendent of Organ Pipe Monu ment, stands on theporch of the headquarters building.

suitable for a great settlement becauseit has good pastures and rich lands,with irrigation ditches and with water."Having established the new missionat Sonoyta, Father Kino returned tohis headquarters at Nuestra Senora deLos Dolores, 60 miles southeast ofthe present border town of Nogales.In February, 1699, he came back toSonoyta with Father Adamo Gilg andLt. Juan Mateo Manje, and establisheda new ranch with 36 head of cattlebrought from Los Dolo res. Of thenew mission at Sonoyta, which he hadnamed San Marcelo del Sonoydag,Kino wrote:"This post and rancheria of SanMarcelo is the best there is on thiscoast. It has fertile land, with irriga-tion ditches for good crops, waterwhich runs all the year, good pasturefor cattle, and everything necessary fora good settlement . . ."On Apri l 4, 1701, a dozen beamswere cut for the new church of NuestraSenora de Loreto de San Marcelo, analtar was made, and the first Mass saidon the next day following. It is JimEden's understanding that the Sonoytamission never had a resident priest.

Today, after 250 years of exposure towind, weather, cattle, treasure huntersand curio seekers, all that remains ofS E P T E M BE R,


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Kino's old mission is a low adobemound, overgrown by weeds and grass.The fact that the Monument bordersfor 30-odd miles on a foreign countrydoes not occasion any particular diffi-culties, said Jim. In the earlier daysof border bandits and organized raidsby cattle rustlers, an old Spanish smug-gling trail crossed the Dripping SpringsMountains through a pass known asPuerto BlancoThe White Pass. Ac-cording to border country gossip, thisold trail still sees occasional use bysmugglers of narcotics and other con-traband. When I asked Jim about this ,he admitted that there is a possibility,of course, that the old smuggler trailstill is being used, but said that heand his handful of jeep-mounted pa-trolmen never have encountered anyevidence of that fact.

"We pick up a wetback now andthen," he said, "an average of abouttwo a month. We take them down toLukeville and turn them over to theImmigration officers. Whatever actionis taken against them is by that depart-mentnot by us ."

Jim Eden came to the Organ Pipein August, 1954. Prior to that time heserved on the staffs at Carlsbad Cav-erns and Grand Canyon National Parksand Bandelier National Monument.Although geographic and scenic dis-parities between these parks and theOrgan Pipe are great, Jim has foundthe difference in visitors to be almostas pronounced."Visitors here exhibit a more leis-urely attitude," he said. "Unlike GrandCanyon and Bandelier, we get prac-tically no weekend picnickers in theOrgan Pipe because we are so far fromlarge population centers. It is 150miles to Phoenix and Tucsonand a300 mile round trip is farther than theaverage person cares to drive for apicnic!"Several years ago a movement wasbegun to convert Organ Pipe from na-tional monument status to that of anational parkcomplete with a milliondollar development program . Prop on-

ents of the altered status contendedthat through such action the areawould be afforded more secure pro-

tection. When considerable oppositiondeveloped both within the state and inCongress, the proposal was permittedto die a natural death.Personally, I don't care to see a"million dollar development program"in the Organ Pipe. We prefer it theway it is. It doesn't matter to us thatthe only lodging accommodations itoffers are a couple of campgrounds;or that roads, other than the main one,are not paved; or that it affords noguided nature walks or campfire pro-grams. We are quite willing to leavethese features to the big flossy parks,like Grand Canyon and Yellowstone.

All we ask of the Organ Pipe isthat the drowsy calm of DrippingSprings be waiting for us whenever itis our privilege to return; that the giantcactuses still be marching up the slopetoward Senita Pass; and that the southwind that steals over the hills fromSonora continue to whisper throughthe big cottonwoods at Quitobaquito.So long as these remain, the OrganPipe will rank high on our roster ofdesert retreats.

Mrs. John Plummer, who wrote"Ou r Cam p Visitor Was a Crafty LittleFox" in this month's Desert, reportsthat she has no trouble making friendswith animate things. As a devout loverof the outdoors she makes as frequentuse of this gift as possible.

A native of Minnesota, Mrs. Plum-mer was five years old when her par-ents took a homestead in northernWy oming. "It was here I learned tolove the desert while herding myfather's sheep," she writes. Fourteenyears later the family moved to South-ern California. Today, Mrs. Plummerand her husband live in Milo, Oregon,where he makes his living as a plumber.Their children all are married and haveleft home. * * *

This month's cover photographer is1,8-year-old Sharon Proctor of Phoe-nix, Arizona, valedictorian of her re-cently graduated North Phoenix HighSchool class. While in school shestudied both art and science and wonawards in each field. A year ago shecombined these interests to photographsome of the animals native to thedesertand the gila monster photoon the cover is an example of her ex-cellent work.

Rosella Mattmueller, author of"Painted Dolls of the Hopi Tribes-men" in this month's Desert, wasfounder and first president of the SanBernardino, California, Branch of theAmerican Pen Women.At her lovely home, Hilltop, in thatcity, she leads a busy life as wife,mother of three and grandmother oftwo; and is editor and publisher of theDel Rosa News. Mrs. Mattmueller haslectured on feature writing before col-lege classes and spends much of herfree time writing, for which she hasreceived wide notice and many awards.* * *

Interest in the Heard Museum comesnaturally to Isabel McCord Stroud,author of this month's feature on theMuseum, "Southwest Treasure House."Mrs. Stroud has traveled extensivelyall over the world and has visited mostof the places represented by displaysat Heard.She lives in Phoenix with her hus-band and young son and is a teacherin the Phoenix Union High Schoolsystem. M rs. Stroud is a native ofLong Island and a graduate of Skid-more College with a master's degreein education from Columbia Univer-sity. For a number of years sheworked in the Travel Department ofthe American Express Company dur-ing which she wrote many articles ontravel. She has lived in Phoenix forthe past 14 years.* * *Dr. Edmund C. Jaeger, whose na-

ture articles appear regularly in DesertMagazine, recently conducted a field

trip in the Joshua Tree National Mon-ument for 35 teachers of the SummerInstitute of Biological Sciences at theClaremont Colleges. Jaeger said theteachers participating in the institutehad come from all sections of the na-tion and the outing was the first oppor-tunity for some of them to study thebiology of the desert.* * #"I loved the desert from the mo-ment I first laid eyes on it on Septem-ber 1, 1928," writes Dr. Ernest R.Tinkham, author of this month's "IWas Bitten by a Gila Mo nster." Al-most immediately after that first meet-ing, Dr. Tinkham formulated plans tostudy the Texas desert and with theyears these plans have greatly ex-pande d. As a desert naturalist he hasresided in Presidio, Texas; Phoenix,Tucson and Benson, Arizona; andsince 1948 in Indio, California.

Immediately following over fouryear's army service, Dr. Tinkham helda Guggenheim Fellowship which as-sisted him in his desert studies. Hehas explored little-known deserts innortheastern Mexico and Baja Cali-fornia and has gained an intimateknowledge of the plant and animal lifeof 15 North American desert regions.At present he is preparing a book tobe called Life of the North Ame ricanDeserts.As for Poncho, the gila monster whobit Dr. Tinkham in 1948, he became

a full-grown adult by 1951 and is nowin the 10th or 11th year of his life.10 DESERT MAGAZINE


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IwasBittenByA Gila MonsterBy DR. ERNEST R. TINKHAM

Y A C Q U A I N T A N C E w i t hPoncho began in 1948 whenI was doing research for abook I was writing. On e day I stoppedin a shop in Old Tuc son. On theporch was a cage containing five adultgi la monsters and one young one.The baby gila monster interested megreatly for it was the first I had known.They are so rare that many herpetolo-gists hav e never seen one alive. I told

the people in the store of my scientificinterest in the baby, and what was mysurprise when they said I could havehim. He was too small for the largermonsters in the cage, they explained.The baby was more dead than alivefrom the tramplings they gave him."His nam e is Po nch o," said the shopkeeper as I re-entered my car.I took Poncho home and gave hima good scrubbing. He was eight anda half inches long from snout to tip ofhis tail, and his head was seven-eighthsof an inch acro ss. I estima ted his age

at 11 to 12 months, perhaps it wasmo re. A t first he would not eat, bu tafter a few weeks he began eatingsome raw egg. The n he started to gaina little strength and it appeared thathe would live.On July 6 of that year, while mywife was visiting relatives in the mid-west, two little neighbor boys cameover to my home to see my live speci-mens. I led them into the living roomwhere the lizards were sunning in abox by the window . The gila monsterwas in a cardboard box in another

part of the room.As I turned to take the boys out , Inoticed Poncho . His black ugly muz-zle was raised straight up into the airand the fore part of his body was ele-vated on erect front legs. I knew hewas disturbed, for a calm gila monsterlies closely appressed to the surfaceon which he is resting. Perha ps theI l l -degree Fahrenhei t day was mak-ing him uncomfortable, I thought .I walked over to Ms box and quick-ly seized him just back of the headwith my right hand, thinking I would

do him a favor by putting him underthe paper in the bottom of his boxwhere he liked to hide. As the fingersof my left hand pulled back the cornerS E P T E M B E R , 1 9 5 7

of the paper and my right, holdingPoncho, went forward, quick as aflash he clamped onto the knuckle ofmy left index finger!"How could this happen to me?"flashed in my mind. I ha d alwaysconsidered myself a careful scientist.I held Poncho tightly in my righthand but could not free my knucklefrom his vise-like grip. I dared no tlet go for I thought the instant I didhe would gain a better hold and thusbring into play the back teeth throughwhich his venom flowed.For its size, probably no creaturecan equal the power a gila monsterhas in its bulldog-like jaws. Tw o menare required to pry open the jaws of

Victims do not always survivethe bite of the gila monster theonly venomous Lizard found on thedeserts of the Southwest. Here isthe story of a scientist who wasbitten, and lived to write the storyof his experience.

an adult reptile and even a baby pos-sesses surprising power.I remained calm and was unwor-ried for I was certain Poncho only hadme by his front teeth. I watched himcarefully as I held his bod y taut. Ikept my left hand higher than my rightto prevent venom from flowing for-ward along the ridge of his jaw fromthe back teeth. After some seconds Iperceived a very slight movement inthe outer swollen portions of his lowerjaw which held the poison glands. Ithought he was trying to get a bettergrip and when the movement occurredagain, I jerked my han d free. I esti-mated that the bite had lasted from 12to 15 seconds.

Immediately I began sucking hardThe author holds a large gila mon ster.


12/44

Gila monsters are fond of raw eggs. This adult is 19 inches long.on the wound and spat out the con-tents. I thought I tasted venom. AsI washed the wound under the kitchentap, I noted that it was bleeding slight-ly but swelling had begun almost im-mediately and the bite area took on abluish cast.I went to the refrigerator to getsome ice cubes for an ice-water bathso I could apply the same type crymo-therapy treatment recommended byDr. Herbert L. Stahnke of Tempe,Arizona, for venomous bites. In mywife's absence, the ice pan had frozensolid. I asked the two boys to runhome for some ice and in a matter ofminutes they were back. I made theice-water bath, put my hand in it andrubbed a cube of ice around the bit-ten area which now was quite sensitiveto cold.By this time I fully realized theseriousness of the matter. I recalledthe case of the showman in Los An-geles who handled a large gila monsterin his act. He too was bitten on thefinger and died in 52 minutes. I alsoremembered the story about the cow-boy who teased a gila monster in frontof a Tombstone, Arizona, saloon in1886. He died in 30 minutes afterbeing bitten.

My bite had occurred at 10:50 a.m.At 11:05 I felt a twinge of pain in themiddle of my forearm. I hastily ap-plied a handkerchief tourniquet there.Five minutes later I went to the phoneand tried to reach a doctor, but withno success. At 11:15 the boys broughtme another pan of ice cubes and in themeantime I released the tourniquet forthe recommended two minutes in 10of application.By 11 :20 I started to feel ill. Itried another doctor and succeeded inreaching him. Suddenly a wave ofsickness struck me. M y legs grew weakand blinding lights flashed before myeyes.I lay back on the couch as nausea12

seized me. I threw up the vomituswas yellow.At 11:30 a member of the TucsonGarden Club came to my home todiscuss a speaking date with me. Hercoming was most timely. I had hercall the doctor again as well as myneighbor, who was a nurse.At 11:43 the neighbor arrived, allout of bre ath. She called an ambulanceand minutes later the doctor's assistantarrived. He had barely lifted my handto examine it when two orderlies camein the front door with a stretcher.Entering the hospital I vomitedagain. A doctor gave me a shot oftetanus in my left shoulder and oneof demerol in my right.My hand was now so puffed I couldnot bend my fingers and the swellinghad advanced far up my arm. Most ofit had taken place since cessation ofthe ice-water bath when I was takenfrom the house.Equipment was brought in next tomy bed and soon a saline solutionslowly filtered into the vein of myright arm to replace the body fluidloss by my vomiting every 10 minutes,which condition endured for fourhours.I was very weak and breathingheavily, but I do not remember hav-ing any speech difficulties and I couldthink coherently. My blood pressurewas 118/74 (normal: 112/68); pulse80 (normal: 68-72). A long series ofpenicillin shotsone every three hourswas started at this time.By now I could not tolerate theslightest touch to my left arm. Asample of blood was taken frorn myright arm for diagnosis.At four that afternoon the doctorlanced my swollen hand. He madetwo incisions on the back of the handand a circular one through the fivepunctures, plainly visible on theknuckle. These were caused by theupper front teeth but definitely had

carried no venom. No incision wasmade through the two lower frontteeth marks because they could not bediscerned due to the discolored flesh-and yet they were the ones that hadintroduced the small amount of venominto my system.

After four hours in the hospital, myvomiting cycle lengthened from 10 to15 minutes, then to every 20 minutes,and finally every half hour or so. Thelast spell came at 8:30 that evening.By midnight, after taking little sips ofwater now and then, I drank half agallon in three hours to relieve myextreme thirst. After tha t I fell intoa sleep induced by sedatives.Next morning the swelling was thesame and at 11 a.m. a nurse wrappedmy arm in wet compresses packed be-tween two hot water bottles. Over thisshe placed wet towels and covered thewhole with rubber sheeting. I enduredthe "steam bath" for an hour and ahalf and then eased my arm out tocool it off. The swelling had receded!I slipped it back into the wrappings.This treatment continued until the fol-lowing morning. By then my arm hadonce again assumed a more normalshape, although there still was con-

siderable swelling, especially in thehand and fingers.The next dayafter having received26 penicillin shotsI requested a ces-sation of this activity as I was safelypast the crisis and felt that I could nottolerate another one.On Saturday I had entered thehospital TuesdayI was released. Ittook a month for my hand and armto recover although my fingers stillwere sore to the touch. Hot bath's ofepsom salts took away most of thissoreness. By mid-August of that yearmuch of the arm's sensitivity to sun-light had disappeared and I consideredmyself fully recovered from Poncho'sbite.

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Larry Hend ricks of Indio, Ca lifornia, holds a large rhyolite specimen. View isnorth from base camp on malpais rise across collecting field in Pinto Basin toPinto Mou ntains in left backg round.

Banded Rhyolite inBaja's Pinto BasinJust below the Uik-Baja California border in the land of wide andtranquil vistas is the easily reached Pinto Basin banded rhyolite col-lecting field. Here vetera n collectors and begin ning rockho unds alikehave no trouble filling their quotas of excellent stones on every visit.Si mpl e to cut and polish, the Pinto Basin material has long been afavori te with Imperial Valley rockhounds.

By EUGENE L. CONROTTOMap by Norton Al lenAnza, Father Fray Juan Diaz or FrayFrancisco Garces-in that 1774 expe-dition mentions the acres and tons ofstriking banded rhyolite in this coun-try, I'm sure at least one of the Span-iards picked up one of these reddish-brown stones and marveled at the clearred, gold and brown bull 's-eye ringspassing through it. Perhaps Anza wasthe first rockhound in the Pinto coun-try.

President Herb Ovits of the ShadowMountain Gem and Mineral Societyof Palm Desert, California, invited usto collect rhyolite and petrified wood

HUNDRED and e ighty- threeyears almost to the day afterCaptain Juan Bautista de Anza'sweary scouting party passed throughPinto Wash in Baja California intowhat is now Imperial County, Califor-nia, Jeanne and I visited this area witha group of Coachella and Imperial Val-ley rockhound s. Except for the pavedMexicali to Tijuana border highwayand. the pole-line alongside it, this bar-ren sweep of country probably haschanged very little in the interveningyears.Though not one of the diarists

in the bord er country. Pinto Wash andBasin lie west of Signal Mountain, the2263 foot terminal peak of the Coco-pah range. To Anza, Signal was Cerrodel Imposible for he had failed tereach this prominent landmark on anearlier expedition.In the early days, rock collectorsdrove south from Coyote Well onHighway 80 and crossed the Mexicanborder into the collecting field withlittle regard for customs regulations.But those days are over. Border p atrolofficers on both sides of the line nowcheck this area regularly and rock-hounds who desire to visit the Pintofield will save possible embarrassmentfor themselves by crossing through theport of entry at Mexicali, Tecate orTijuana.Compliance with this law meanstraveling only a few more miles out ofyour way, and besides, if you drivedown the Imperial Valley as we did,you have the opportunity to passthrough Baja's interesting capital city,sprawling Mexicali, home to 100,000persons.Several of the Imperial Valley rock-hounds joined us at the border and at7 that morning we crossed into Mex-ico. For directions in Mexicali, con-sult the log accompanying this story.A few blocks beyond the dty bed ofNew River, our convoy caught up witha long column of Mexican troops and

S E P T E M B E R , 1 9 5 7 1.3


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':}$* Diesi/iissX '.- '

1# .%:,. '\


15/44

jeep bounced right along past severalmore reddish-brown stone-strewn lavaflows and a few sandy washes fringedwith yellow-blossoming creosote anda variety of smaller plants.At 2.7 miles from base camp, Kuhnsparked the jeep. All around us weregood specimens of rhyolite, a light-colored lava of much finer texture thangranite which it resembles in chemicalcompo sition. Althoug h there has beena corruption and conflicting use ofterms, the most commonly acceptedname for the best quality rhyolite iswonderstone. Our chief problem thatday was not where to find the stonesbut which to keep.Not all the Pinto area rhyolite willpolish. In volcanic activity there areviolent changes in direction and in-tensity of flow and rate of coolingwhich directly affect the texture of thestones. With the naked eye, I soonlearned to distinguish between the fine-grained specimens and the sugary onesthat will not polish.The most desirable stones have per-fect bull's-eye patterns, but it oftenrequires a diamond saw to reveal them.This being true, collecting bandedrhyolite becomes moire or less a guess-ing game.I found no authority who even at-tempted to explain the target patternwhich makes Pinto rhyolite uniqueand especially suited for cabochonjewelry. In one specimen Jeann efound, we counted nine shades of color

Arthur Kuhns of Brawley in the collecting area.ranging from tan to gold to brightyellow to redtruly the colors of theDesert Southwest.Here is Kuhns' formula for polish-ing the ma terial: grind to form; sandwith 240 grit, then 600 grit; polishwith cerium oxide. Some rockhoundshave successfully tumbled banded rhy-olite.

Rough banded rhyolite specimens, top left, and polished bola tie stone.

The collecting in the flat is just asgood as on the slopes of the rose-col-ored hill, although a greater variety ofmaterial is found on the hillsides.The slopes contain petrified woodand some black "raisins" of limonite,hydrous iron oxide. The reddish hillno doubt derives its hue from the highiron content of its soil.Authorities seem to agree that thepetrified wood here was deposited bythe Colorado in ancient times, andtherefore the old "petrified forest"label placed on this collecting field isa misnomer. Very little of the woodis of gem quality, for it lacks thehardness and color of the better types.In 10 minutes I picked up and exam-ined over 50 large pieces and onemember of the party found at the sideof the road a 50-pound palm root ofundetermined gem quality. Most ofthe dull black Pinto wood is formless,but by diligent searching throughoutthat day, we found many good speci-mens. These make excellent paper-weights, door jams, garden rocks andcabinet pieces.

From the principal jeep trail, minortrails take off in all directions, but themain route continues northward acrossa long low malpais bench stretchingfrom the rose hill toward Signal Moun-tain. With Kuhns at the wheel wedrove up and over this bench andaround the rose hill. On the oppositeside the road runs through the highsandy slopes of Pinto Was h. It wasdown this passage that Anza cameafter camping at the base of the Sierra.The Southwestern historian, HerbertE. Bolton {Desert, July '50), while

S E P T E M B E R , 1 9 5 7 15


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following Anza's trail in 1928, triedto cross Pinto Wash and got stuck.He and his driver labored all nightcarrying stones to make a road to en-able them to back 140 feet out of thedeep sand. An d Kuhns told us thathe has had to pull four-wheel drivejeeps out of this country!All around usas far as the eyecould seewere the subtle rhyolitestonesand this despite the fact old-

timers apologize for this part of thecollecting field because "it has beenworked out."We turned into a tight little washcutting through two points of the rosehill. Sheltered by the mountain weresmall gardens of brilliant wildflowerspurple verbena, yellow primrose, theopen eyes of rose-purple desert five-spotand beautifully symetrical desertholly in prime growth and the networks

Q u i z For those who wish to broaden their knowl-e


17/44

N DESERT TRAILS WITH A NATURALIST - XLI

Adult shrike

F e a t h e r e d N e i g h b o r s o ft h e D e s e r t D o m a i n . . .The shrike is a handsome aristocratic fellowa dweller of thedesert solitudes. He is so nea tly attired in clear contrasting bla cks

and whites and smoky grays that one has an instinctive feeling thatthis is no ordinary bird, but a unique creaturequite able to take careof itself in all situations, a bit aggressive, perhaps, but very muchgiven to minding his own bus iness .By EDMUND C. JAEGER, D.Sc.Curator of PlantsRivers ide Munic ipa l MuseumDrawings by Morr i s Van Dame

5U N T E R I N G T H R O U G H t h eMojave desert 's Joshua treecountry one April afternoon Icame upon a family of shrikes orbutcherbirds. Tw o much - perturbedparent birds, handsomely feathered inblack, white and gray, were perchednear three baby birds . All were noi-sily protesting my presence in whatthey considered their private domain.Their scoldings ceased abruptly whenI sat down a little distance away toobserve them.The broad - beaked fuzzy - featheredyoungsters were sitting side by side ona limb, obviously waiting to be fed.The male pare nt was especially success-ful in bringin g insects to them . After15 minutes of watching I arose to seeif I could find their nest. W hen Imoved, the parent birds again showedexcitement. They fluttered nervously

S E P T E M B E R , 1 9 5 7

about their little ones, and finallyperched on the topmost brancheschirping at me in defiant notes.The bulky nest was six feet aboveground in a crotch of a tree yucca.Although easily seen, I could not havetouched it from any direction, so manyand so close together were the sharp-tipped leaves protecting it.It was a typical shrike nest, eightinches across and made of loosely in-

terwoven crooked, rather stout twigs.The deep egg cavity had its speciallining of fine roots and grasses and afew feathers.Our desert dwelling butcherbirds,generally spoken of as white-rumpedshrikes, build in a wide variety ofplaces, the chief requisite being a largebush or small tree, especially a thornyone affording well - hidd en shelter.Sometimes it is a large cholla or cats-claw, at other times a tree yucca or thelonger-spined Mojave yucca, a honeymesqu ite or a screw-bean tree. InUtah and Nevada deserts three-toothedsage bushes are utilized for nestingsites, there being nothing higher tobuild in.

Seldom are shrike nests close to-gether, for these birds demand largefeeding territories which they stoutlydefend with great courage against allencroachers. The nest is guarded bythe male who keeps sharp watch foravian or other intruders from well-chosen lookou t posts. Any bird whichcomes within his domain is promptlygiven warning, then vigorously chasedaway. All through the day he an-nounces his sovereignty in harsh stri-dent notes. Shrikes are among the fewbirds not parisitized by the cowbird,no doubt because of their vigilant andaggressive nature.

Both male and female shrikes arealmost silent during the late period ofcourting and nesting. "W hat song isgiven (then)," says Dr. Alden Miller,"is of an ecstatic type, slightly differentfrom the summer song."The shrikes' vocal capabilities arenever great, but during the pre-court-ing season and just after the nestingperiod they are not unmusical. I haveheard vocal efforts of considerablecharm.My n aturalist friend, Eu gene Cardiff,told me that a pet shrike he had wasa frequent singer throughout much ofthe year. If a shrike occasionally imi-tates other birds it is only the crudestof their notes. These harsh discordantnotes were once imagined to be luresfor small bird victims.Many people mistake the shrike forthe mockingbird, although the formerhas a conspicuous broad black bar or

Shrike young

17


18/44

mask that runs from nape through theeyes to the beak of his big flattish head,a slender tail and short but strongwings. The mockingbird is much slim-mer, his tail is longer and more whiteshows in flight. Radically different tooare the flight habits of the two birds.The shrike always drops downwardwhen leaving its perch, progressessteadily forward with quick flutteringwing beats then suddenly ascends toits new lookout post. The flight of themockingbird is more direct, less la-bored and more sustained.The shrike, typically a bird of thewastelands, is seldom a town dweller.On the other hand, the mockingbird,while found in open spaces of deserts,is much at home in gardens and tree-lined streets of villages and cities. Hissong is much more refined, more musi-cal and imitative.Recently I came upon a pair ofshrikes engaged in nesting activities

among the cirio and agave thickets inthe mid-peninsular desert of Baja Cali-fornia. There was the usual followingof one bird by the other, the character-istic pre-nuptial wing fluttering of thefemale and twice I saw her carryingbits of rootlets and fine grass into aclose-set and exceedingly thorny bush.These doings were several times inter-rupted to feed on small green cater-

pillars on low statured floweringshrubs.On many of the stout spines whichtipped the broad dagger-like leaves ofcentury plants here, the birds hadspitted various small creatures whichthey had killed. It was their way ofmaking jerky out of the meat they didnot need at the time of slaughter. Herewere the dried bodies of two wild mice,

three shrunken remains of lizards andseveral dried carcasses of grasshoppersand Jerusalem crickets. On one of thetopmost spines hung the remains of ahouse finch. This habit of killing inexcess of their needs is one commonto shrikes the world over.Under the dried eight - foot - highflower stalks of agave, which are fa-vorite lookout posts for male shrikes,I sometimes find numerous pellets ofwing-covers of beetles, hair, feathersand bonethe indigestible portions offood which, like an owl, they had dis-gorged.As a rule shrikes tear their food topieces with their hawk-like beaks.Often they hold it down with theirfeet as they tear away, as do otherbirds of prey. A shrike, like a hawkor falcon, sometimes carries food in itstalons. Occasionally they eat seeds andfruits, but for the most part shrikeslive on insects, especially grasshoppers,

crickets, caterpillars and sometimesscorpions and mothsa most exem-plary diet and one which makes thisbold hunter a real farmers' friend.Perhaps we should forgive him his sinof occasionally killing a small bird orlizard.When taken young the shrike be-comes a very pleasing and docile birdcompanion. Their confidence is easily

won and they reward their human cap-tor with definite attachment and fre-quent song.Of shrikes there are many kinds andthey are well distributed over most ofthe world except South America. Mostof the American species of Lanius mi-grate southward when winter comes,but the subspecies sonoriensis of So-nora and Baja California is non-migra-tory.The name shrike is thought to be acorruption of the word shriek whichsome think well describes the ordinarysong. Most of the world's shrikes have

been given the generic name Lanius,Latin for "a tearer to pieces, a man-gier," excubitor, the specific name ofthe European butcherbird meaning"the watcher." Both names aptly de-scribe the birds' habits. Lanius ludo-vicianus excubitoroid.es is the scientificname of our desert white - rumpedshrike.

W e H e e d O e s e t t P h o t o s . . .September marks the start of another season in which the excitingdesert land can be explored in safety and comfort. Beyond every rise,in every canyon and across every wash there is a new world awaitingmembers of the camera fraternity. If photography is your hobby, youwill find enjoyment and perhaps monetary profit by regularly enteringDesert's monthly photo contests.

Entries for the September contest must be sent to the Desert Maga-zine office. Palm Desert, California, and postmarked not later thanSeptember 18. Winning prints will appear in the November issue.Pictures which arrive too late for one contest are held over for the nextmonth. First prize is $10; second prize $5. For non-winning picturesaccepted for publication $3 each will be paid.HERE ARE THE RULES

1Prints must be black and white, 5x7 or larger, on glossy paper.2Each photograph submitted should be fully labeled as to subject, time andplace. Also technical data: camera, shutter speed, hour oi day, etc.3PRINTS WILL BE RETURNED WHEN RETURN POSTAGE IS ENCLOSED.4Entries must be in the Desert Magazine oifice by the 20th oi the contest month.5Contests are open to both amateur and professional photographers. DesertMagazine requires first publication rights only of prize winning pictures.6Time and place of photograph are immaterial, except that it must be from thedesert Southwest.7Judges will be selected from Desert's editorial staff, and awards will be madeimmediately alter the close of the contest each month.Address All Entries to Photo Editor

'De&ent PALM DESERT, CALIFORNIA

PROPERTY ADJUSTMENT FORP ALM SPRINGS INDIANS

Secretary of the Interior Fred A.Seaton has asked Congress to equalizethe value of tribal property dividedamong members of the Agua CalienteBand of Indians on the Palm SpringsReservation in California.The proposed legislation would af-fect 92 Indians 31 adults and 61minors. Also affected would be un-divided tribal properties estimated tobe worth over $12,000,000. The leg-islation calls for the transfer of thetitle of this property from the Secretaryof the Interior, who now holds it intrust for the Band, to a tribal corpora-tion to be organized under state law.Income from the corporation would beused to equalize the divisions or "allot-ments" of tribal property previouslymade. They range in estimated valuefrom $22,200 to $164,740.

Allotment of the reservation landwas begun in 1923 and under the pro-cedure used, each Band member hasbeen entitled to 47 acres consisting ofa two-acre town lot, five acres of irri-gated land and 40 acres of dry land.Although the allotments are thus allequal in acreage, they greatly varytoday in value and this has given riseto litigation. With a little over 4700acres so far allotted, about 26,000acres remain in tribal ownership.

18 DESERT MAGAZINE


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Hopi Katchina doll maker and his young helper add finishing touches to twosymbolic dolls.Painted Dolls ofthe Hopi TribesmenBy ROSELLA MATTMUELLERPhotos Courtesy Santa Fe Rai lway

7HE OLD Ford bounced acrossthe desert, erupting clouds ofswirling choking red dust. Ou rHopi driver, Little Joe, drove withhappy abandon over the chuck holesthat rutted the long dirt road. Everytime we received a jarring jolt, a broadgrin etched itself across his brown faceand he 'd shout "Hold i t !"Like most Hopis, Little Joe wasshort with a broad and friendly face.In fact, he had an almost perpetualbut sincere grin for the tourists heguided across the northern Arizonahighlands to the Indian pueblos.The Hopi villages are on three rockymesas, called First, Second and Third

Mesas. We were headed for Walpi onthe western point of the First, risingseveral hundred feet above the desertfloor, 72 miles north of Winslow.After two hours of rough travel,Little Joe brought his desert taxi to agrinding stop in the shadow of FirstMesa. Somew hat the worse for wear,I disentangled myself from the car."Now we walk," Little Joe said.I looked at the steps leading skywardto the mesa-top, took a deep breathand started climbing.From December to July, the Kat-chinas dance in Hopiland, and I hadcome to see those parts of the cere-monies conducted in public. The mo resacred rituals are performed withinthe secret confines of the undergroundkivas.

To the d evout Hopi, the Katchinaspirits have three forms: trie super-natural being; the masked imper-sonator of that being; and the littlewooden dolls carved in th e s a m elikeness. These colorful dolls aredecorative articles for the homeand constant reminders of the Kat-chinas who bring the blessings ofrain, tall corn and h a p p i n e s s tothe tribesmen. They are symbolsof a rigid faith that has withstooddrouth, famine, marauding neigh-bors and curious tourists.

The top of the mesa is a long nar-row rock ledge about a half mile longand 20 0 feet wide. It is so narrowthere is only room for two rows ofterraced houses packed tighitly againsteach other. On the second terrace arethe kivas built into the walls of thecliff, their irregular ladder-poles reach-ing high above them.Walking along the meisa, I wasgreeted with friendly nods and smiles.Most of the men wore overalls and

shirts faded by the sun to blend withmesa and desert. With the exceptionof the modern school girls who hadS E P T E M B E R , 1 9 5 7 19


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Katchina dolls are shaped o ut of bits of dry cottomvood roots by the expertknife of this Hopi artist.on cotton store dresses, the womenwere the traditional squaw dresses,black one-piece gowns of hand-wovenwool which hung straight to the kneesand were gathered at the waist withbelts.Here and there I saw a woman oryoung girl painting bowls of variousshapes and sizes in a combination ofbrilliant colors, or making coiled w ater-tight jars of willow splints. One ma nwas weaving a ceremonial blanket andanother material for a woman's dress.But, what fascinated me most aboutWalpi were the hand-carved andpainted Katchina dolls. They wereeverywhere hanging from rafters,upon the walls of every home and onaltars. And their likenesses werepainted on ceremonial robes andcarved on rocks.

To the Hopi a katchina is a super-natural being who is impersonated bya man wearing a mask who believesthat when he places this mask uponhis head and wears the appropriatecostume and body paint, he loses hisown identity and receives the spiritof the katchina he represents.A katchina has three forms: thesupernatural being; the masked im-personator of that being; and the littlewooden dolls carved in the same like-ness.As with most Indians, the Hopi re-ligion is the hub around which theirlives revolv e. It is the great mo tivat-

ing force behind almost every deedand thoug ht. In this religion there aremany god spirits, but only seven major20

ones. Appeals and thanksgiving aresent to these gods during religious cere-monies and dances through the maskedkatchinas who represent them.Just as our children believe in thebounty of St. Nicholas, so the Hopichildren believe in katchinas. An d asSanta Claus comes at a certain time

of year, bringing gifts to good littleboys and girls, so certain katchinasbring them gifts of bows and arrows,fruits and sweets and katchina dolls.However they receive such gifts notjust once a year, but enjoy several"Christmas" days from December toJuly.But when Hopi youngsters reachthe age of seven, the myth is harshlyshattere d. Fo r it is then, at a specialceremony, they learn the awful truthjust as sooner or later, their littlewhite brothers learn there is no SantaClaus. But unlike their white brothers,the little Hopi learns the truth in ahard and painful way.This happens on the eighth and finalday of the Powamuya or Bean Cere-mony held in February and it was thisritual that I saw on my visit.Suddenly, someone shouted andpointed to the west. A prancing gro-tesque figure drew near, bellowingweird inhuman cries. If ever there wasa bogey man to scare little children,this was it. His mask had bulgingeyes, big horns and a large mouthfilled with teeth and red tongu e. Hisbody was painted with stripes and hecarried a bundle of yucca whips. In ahigh shrill voice he called on all moth-

ers to hand over their seven year oldchildren for purification..Like most Indians, the Hopis areordinarily kind and gentle with theirchildren, but they still hold that a goodwhipping now and then will do moregood than harm. An d since this oneis part of their religious training, itwill drive out the evil spirits and instillthe good.Out of doorways they came. Littlegirls, their eyes wide with fright, cling-ing tightly to the hand of a godmother;little boys, trying bravely not to showtheir fear, grasping the hand of a god-father. Th e Wh ipper Katchina swunghis yucca whip four times at each child.Before the final lash, the child isscreaming, but more in fright thanpain, for the whip barely touched theyoungster's body.After the last child had received hisflogging and had gone whimpering to

the arms of his mother, all the kat-chinas took off their masks, revealingnot dreadful beings from another world,but familiar faces of fathers, brothersand uncles. For a few seconds thechildren stared in stunned silence.Then as the "monsters" began to laughand tease them, weak grins came totheir lips.Now the katchina dolls they wereholding took on new meaning. Thesewere not toys (although there are cer-tain ones they do play with) but partof their religious training . Before a

ceremony, the men of the village makethe dolls in the likeness of the katchinasthat will take part in the ceremony.During the dance the masked dancersgive each child the doll made especi-ally for him. But when the dolls aretaken home, the parents hang themupon the wall or suspend them fromrafters, so the children will see themevery day. In this way they learn byeasy stages to know the different kat-chinas (and there are hundreds ofthem ) an d the meaning of each. Aska Hopi if the katchinas have alwaysbeen part of their religion and he willnod and say, "It has always been so."Primitive looking and gayly painted,these weird little figures have becomea collector's item, although many ofthe Hopis bitterly resent the fact theirkatchina dolls are copied and sold totourists and collectors. However, itisn't only the white people who areguilty of this practice, for many ofthe indians themselves, especially theyounger ones, flaunt tribal opinionand conduct a thriving business sellingthem.

Authentic katchina dolls are madeonly by the Hopi for which only thedry roots of cottonwood trees are used.This wood is collected along the banksDESERT MAGAZINE


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vation by men of the Katchina Society.The roots are cut into desiredere with knife and chisel, the sculp-tor whittles and shapes out the doll hehas in mind . He then sm ooths it witha wood rasp and goes over it care-fully with a piece of fine sandstone.He may carve the entire doll from onelength of wood, or he may whittlevarious parts, such as the head-dress,arms and legs, ears and nose, fromsmaller pieces of wood and fastenthem to the body with tiny woodenpins. Glue is coming into increasinguse.When the carving is complete, thedoll is read y to be pain ted. Firs t it isgiven a covering of kaolin as an under-coat, over which the artist applies hiscolors. Tod ay many men use posterpaints, which are brighter but tend tofade quicker.Workmen who still believe that old

ways are the best ways, mix and grindtheir own native pigments.For green and blue they use mala-chite; for black, soot or corn smut, thelatter a fungus growing on corn plants;hematite for brilliant red; limonite forbright yellow; for white, kaolin. Theseare the same paints used for body dec-orations and these colors are symbolicof the Hopi's cardinal directions: Blue-greenwest or southwest; Yellownorth or northwest; Whiteeast ornortheast ; Redsouth or southeast ;BlackNadir or the Underworld; andall of these colors togetherZenith orU p.Great care is taken with the masks,with traditional designs and colorsclosely followed. The most commonsymbols used are for fertility, sun,moon and stars, animal tracks, therainbow and lightning. After the paintis dry, the dolls are decorated withwisps of eagle feathers, tiny rattles, oranything and everything that is asso-ciated with that particular katchina.The Hopis also make play-dolls fortheir very young children from flatpieces of board about three inches inwidth and six to eight inches in length.No attempt is made for realism, yetthey are distinctive enough so thereis no doubt as to the katchina theyrepresent .Among the finest collections of kat-china dolls are those at the SouthwestMuseum in Los Angeles, and the Mu-seum of Northern Arizona in Flagstaff.With the exception of the true col-lector, few people who buy the dollsattempt to learn the symbolism paintedupon them. Unfortunately, to mostthey are merely quaint souvenirs of awestern trip. But even the best in-formed collectors have not been ableto pierce very deeply behind the an-

Walpi, the most picturesque of the three Hopi Mesas.cient veil surrounding these symbolicdolls.Shivering under a fading afternoonsun, I sat wedged between two Hopigirls who had returned home for afew days from the Sherman Institute.We were watching the closing cere-monies of the Bean Dan ce. The two

young girls had talked quite freely tome during the ceremony, so I turnedto one and asked, "Why can't thechildren learn the truth without beinglashed and subjected to such fear?"She looked at me blankly for amoment, then with a slight shrug said,"It has always been so!"C O M M A N D M E N T F O R T H EP RESERVATIO N O F WILDLIF E

Have you ever wondered how abun-dant our wildlife might be today, hadthere been a commandment among the10 to guide us in our dealings withthe wild birds and mam mals? Wo uldthe beautiful Carolina paroquet still bewith us? Would we have spared apatch of southern primeval forest largeenough for the survival of the ivory-billed wood pecker? Wo uld the pas-senger pigeon, though in reducedflocks, still be one of the marvels ofNature?Maybe such a commandment wouldhave read like this:

The Lord thy God hath placed uponthe earth the wild creatures for thypleasure to see. Thou shalt not molestthem or disturb their hom es. Thoushalt protect the forests and meadowsand marshes of their dwelling places,and thou shalt not pollute the watersthat are theirs. Thou shalt hold theirlands inviolate against the encroach-ment of thy cities and thy roads, andshall in all ways see that their needsare met, so that each shall be able toperpetuate its own kind, and noneshall be exterminated from the face ofthe earth. From the Foreword toDevereux Butcher 's Seeing America'sWildlife in Our National Refuges.

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DESERTS HAVE A VASTNESSBellflower, CaliforniaBy ANONA MCCONAGHYSomeday leave the highway,Walk a sandy road,Find a yellow poppyOr a horned toad.

Deserts have a vastness,Wideness like the sea,Mountain peaks are fartherThan they seem to be.Listen to the silence(Silence can be heard) ,Know a re-assuranceWithout the spoken word.Time for introspectionOn a mesa shelf,Brings an understandingOf Nature and of self.

DESERT TRAILSBy VIRGINIA HORD HAZELSanta Ana, California

Ou t to the end of the busy street,Ou t to the desert wide,I take my way with a singing heartAnd a joyous swinging stride.I'll revel in scent of mesquite and sage,All the desert shrubs that grow,And stand in speechless awe at eveIn the desert sunset glow.I'll travel the desert beneath the stars,Where the world is still and sweet,And so forget the city's scarsAnd the din of the city street.Oh life is good and my heart is gladAnd I am up and awayTo the open spaces to worship GodFor my Spirit is free today.

D e b t T o A B u mBy ETHLYNE FOLSOM SPRINGERLa Mesa, California

I promised him a cross upon a hill,A pinyon bough set in a rocky ledge.For it was here that I remember whenAt dusk, he once set his little stubborn willAnd trail-worn hooves against the canyon'sedge,My old prospector's eyes had failed to see.An d if mirage-cursed wasteland failed toyieldA water hole, I'd just forget the gold,And use his shaggy body for a shieldAgainst the clawing sand or stabbing cold.Bu t I'll remember best his white clown-noseForever twitching if a wind had blownLush meadow-scent from some forgottenground,Where in the sun he'd bedded down to doze,Young neck unhaltered and the task un-knownOf packing men and foolish dreams around.

O p e n W a yBy TANYA SOUTH

The Light of Heaven never dims.It's we who cannot see.And Love with mercy ever brims,And OpportunityWaits, with a bounty all unending,Hoping against all hopeThat we will ever keep ascendingThat steep and narrow Slope,Where Heaven w ith its gateway wideWaits, and Truth is there to guide.

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DESERT ROADSBy MARION M. DEAVERMojave, CaliforniaThe casual roads in the desert sandsThat wander toward the sun,Are they wind blown trails of Indian bands

That roamed with spear and gun?Do they mark the paths of miners' dreams;Shadow streams of a modern jet?Were they long since cut by wagon teams?Are they roads where settlers met?Do they point the way to water holes;To fields of precious stones?Cross the graves of long lost souls,Mark ruts to vacant homes?Will the casual roads through the desert sage,As they beckon the curious one,Divulge the tale of a long past ageAs they wander toward the sun?

WET SAGEBy GEORGA A. STOUGHTrinidad, ColoradoI slept one night on the prairieAs the rain fell gently down;Fast cooling the dry, hot bunch grass,Bathing the nearby town.Then when the shower had endedThe dawn broke bright and clear,Full drenching in rosy splendorThe landscape, far and near.And as I stood on a hillockTo view my vast domain,A breeze brought a whiff of fragranceSeeped in the midnight rain.Oh, there is no scent quite like it,None with it can compare;Just a blend of freshwashed sagebrushUpon the morning air.

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K i t F o xUsing an electric tripper and strobe lights, BobLeatherman of San Bernardino, California, cap-tured this kit fox on film and, along with it, firstprize in this month's contest. Leatherman used a2 lAx3 1A Crown Graphic camera with Ektar f. 4.5lens; Eastm an Type B pan . film, 1/10,000 secondat f. 22. The fox was three and a half feet fromthe camera when it tripped the shutter.

P i c t u r e s o ft h e M o n t hP r o t e c t e d N e s t . . .

For the second month in succession, RyanO'Brien of Phoenix has won second prize in Des-ert's photo contest. On a bright cloudless da y onthe desert north of Cave Creek, Arizona, he pho-tographed the secure bird's nest in the spiny armsof this cholla cactu s. Ca m era d ata : Rolleiflex 3.5cam era; p anat om ic X film; 1/30 second a t f. 9.S E P T E M B E R , 1 9 5 7


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Jumbled mass of boulders marks the site of the old government storehouseat Marl Spring on the Mojave D esert of California. Today the spring isa watering place for cattle.

HISTORIC DESERT WATERHOLES IXM arl SpringFor the ear ly teamsters, the tedi-ous desert stretch between theColorado and Mojave rivers calledfor more than the usual stamina,for precious little water found itsw ay to the surface here. MarlSpring was one of the most impor-tant watering places for man and

beast on the old wagon trail acrossth e M ojave desert.By WALTER FORDPhotograph by the authorOF THE trade routes forcaravans traveling between SantaFe and Southern California dur-ing the early part of the last centuryentered California a few miles north ofthe present city of Needles, skirted thenorthern end of the Providence Moun-tains, then continued westward to SodaLake and the Mojave River. I t fol-

lowed the course of the river a shortdistance beyond present day Victor-ville and entered San Bernardino Val-ley by way of Cajon Pass.Later, when Fort Mojave was estab-lished on the Colorado River in 1859,the Government sent supplies to thefort from Los Angeles over this routewhich became known as the Govern-ment Road. Forty-niners seeking thegold fields of California probably werethe first to take wagons over the road,but Lieutenant A. W. Whipple, whofollowed the route in 1854 in a wagonequipped with an odometer, was thefirst to receive official recognition forthe venture.

One of the prominent wateringplaces along Government Road wasMarl Spring, located 9.5 miles directlynorth of the town of Kelso. An abun-dant supply of good water always wasavailable at Marl Spring and for thewest-bound traveler it was the lastsource of water until Soda Lake wasreached, a desolate stretch of 30 miles.In 1861 John Brown of San Bernar-dino built a toll road from the summitof Cajon Pass to the valley below. Nex tyear he established a ferry across theColorado River at Fort Mojave. Aninteresting account of his first tripacross the Mojave Desert on the Gov-ernment Road is given in his diary of1862. Traveling in the heat of sum-mer and mostly at night, Brown andhis party left San Bernardino on June12 and arrived at the Colorado River17 days later. Some interesting itemsrelating to their experiences at and nearMarl Spring are contained in the fol-lowing entries from Brown's narrative:"Friday, June 20. Started early.Ro ad bad. Left one wagon, went onseveral miles. Left othe r wago n. Iwent ahead. Found holes of water.Bad. Foster came up. Found waterfour miles ahea d. I wen t back withwater. Took the stock. All went towater. 20 miles. C ampe d at SodaSprings.

"Monday, June 23. This morningFoster and myself reached Marl Spring.20 or 30 Piutes came to us in theevening. Foster and myself took a keg

of water and started back to meet thewagons. We nt 7 miles. N o grass."Tuesday, June 24. This morningwe went 5 miles. Met and wateredteam. Layed by 3 hours . Then wenton to Marl Spring. Found 25 Indians.They behaved well. Capt. John andLog an were the chiefs. In the eveningtraveled 7 miles. Camped for thenight. N o grass."Brown's Marl Spring entry for thereturn trip reads:"Thursday, July 3, 1862. Lay incamp 'til 12 M. Wen t on to newspring. G ot supper. Watered horses.Went on 6 miles. Cam ped 2 hours.Wen t on to Ma rl Spring. Wa teredhorses. Filled water kegs. Went on5 miles. Daylight came . C ampe d. Nowater or grass."In On the Trail of a Spanish Pioneer,Dr. Elliott Coues indicated that FatherGarces followed a course that closelyparalleled the Marl Spring-GovernmentROad route. In the annual publicationof the Historical Society of SouthernCalifornia, 1927, and under the head-ing of "A Modern Interpretation ofthe Garces Route," the late Dix VanDyke stated that Dr. Coues was inerror and that the Garces trail crossedthe southern end of the ProvidenceMountains through Foshay Pass, thencontinued past the Devil's Playgroundnear Kelso to Soda Lak e. Van Dykewrote that while the Marl Spring routewas better for travelers with livestockand w agons, it possessed no advantagesfor bare-footed Indians who couldeasily out-travel horses. Van Dykewas not one to base such conclusionson easy-chair observations. He hadcovered practically every foot of Gar-ces' trail westward from the ColoradoRiver, walking when the trail becameimpassable for his specially built car,and comparing existing landmarks withthose mentioned by Father Garces inhis diary.Marl Spring is fairly easy of accessand well worth a visit for those inter-ested in California's early trade routes.It may be reached by following High-way 91 eastward to Windmill Station,then turning right and proceeding tothe power line road, about one milenorth of Cima. Approxima tely 8.4miles westward along the power lineroad another road branches to the leftand follows a telephone line for six-tenths mile, when a turn-off to theright leads to Marl Spring, 1.3 milesdistant.Today Marl Spring provides waterfor the many cattle that graze in thearea. It is piped from the spring toa watering trough, which is now en-closed in a wire fence. The walls ofthe stone cabins which served as shel-ters at this once important wateringplace are still standing a short distancefrom the spring.

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The Heard Museum in the heart of Phoenix, ArizonaS o u t h w e s t T r e a s u r e H o u s e . . .Last year 35,000 persons visited the Heard Museum in Phoenix tosee and study the products of human workmanship gathered therefrom the far corners of the world, with special emphasis on the culturesof the Southwest. Privately end owe d. Heard Museum is one of themost important cultural institutions on the Great American Desert.

By ISABEL McCORD STROUDPhotographs courtesy Phoenix Chamber of Commerce7HE IMPOSING red t i le-roofedbuilding looming above thegnarled olive trees that lineMonte Vista Road could pass for aconq uistador's mans ion. This bit ofOld Spain lies in the heart of Phoenix,Arizona, and attractive landscapingwith eucalyptus, palm and orangetrees adds to its old world setting.But this beautiful structure is themodern Heard Museum. Within i tswalls is the "Treasure of Monte Vista."Just beyond the massive wroughtiron gates is a large flagstone entrancepatio which is enclosed on all sides andopen to the sky. Stone metates, oldSpanish chests, giant Pima baskets,earthenware jars and Navajo rugs arecasually placed under the patio bal-conies as invitations to visit the treas-ure stores within the wings. On b othsides of the entrance are timely exhibitsto coincide with the season. Thesemight be a miniature Kwakiutl fishingvillage from British Columbia, statuesof Balinese goddesses, shrunken heads

from the Jivaro in Ecuador, Iroquoismasks, Navajo jewelry or dueling pis-tols from the Spanish era of the South-S E P T E M B E R , 1 9 5 7

west. The patio is used to highlighttraveling exhibits.The entire lower floor of the twowings is given over to the culture of

the Am erican Indians. On the secondfloor are exhibits from the peoples ofthe Pacific, Africa, Egypt, Mexico andthe Spanish Colonial period. On e ofthe finest collections of Navajo rugs inthe Southwest is on exhibit here, andthe collection of miniature Pima bas-kets is the best in the country.The museum founders, Mr. and Mrs.Dwight Bancroft Heard, came to Ari-zona late in the 19th century. Duringthe years they became increasingly in-terested in the Southwestern cultures

Museum Curator H. Thomas Cain shows a Hopi Katchina doll to visitingschool children.

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Hopi Katchinas on display at the museum . These dolls are made by adultsand given to children so that they may learn the over 200 supernaturalbeings in the tribal religion. On the top row are two eagles, cow, clownand Navajo girl katchinas, from left. On lower shelves are medicine men'skits, Navajo on bottom shelf and Picuris, second from bottom.and began collecting artifacts. Soontheir extensive collection could nolonger be contained within their homeand in 1927 they started constructionof the Heard Museum of Anthropologyand Primitive Arts .Two years later the grounds, build-ing and contents of the museum wereendowed to the public. The museumstill is maintained by the endowmentof the Heard s. It receives no publicappropriations, nor has it ever chargedfees of any kind until the Board ofTrustees recently permitted the smallcharge now made for the rental offilms. At present a membership driveis being conducted to supplement the

ever-growing expense of maintainingthe museum and to provide for futureexpansion.The Heards did not confine theirartifact collecting to the Arizona In-dian cultures, however. They wereworld travelers who made thoroughstudies of the history and culture ofthe countries and remote islands whichthey visited before making these tripsand thus were prepared to select theoutstanding examples of preliteratearts and crafts now housed in themuseum. Anthropological materialfrom 45 countries is represented atHeard Museum.During the past four years the en-

tire museum has undergone a completerenovation with modern museum tech-niques, lights, colors, maps, printing,explanatory information and arrange-ments introduced . Loca l artists havehelped in redecorating the building."Each exhibit tells a story," curatorH. Thomas Cain explains. "They areno longer bundles of dusty items."Every object has been cleaned, pol-ished and brought to light so that thewhole museum has indeed "comealive." During this period of face lift-ing 25,000 items have been workedon and over half have been re-cata-logued. Over 500 gifts have beenadded to the Heard collection in thissame period and the research libraryon the Southwest expanded.Children are especially welcome atthe museum, and there is no hush-hush atmosphere here. Pupils fromthe Phoenix schools are taken throughthe museum on guided tours and thelecture series held in the spacious audi-torium attracts not a few children asdo the Sunday afternoon movies, atelevision series and many of the trav-eling exhibits. These museum talkscover a wide ran ge: African safari,Pima Indians, Navajo weaving andHopi katchina dolls, to mention a few.The museum season runs from Novem-ber 1 to June 1 and it is open from10 a.m. to 5 p.m. Tuesday throughSaturday and from 1 p.m . to 5 p.m.on Sundays.Credit for the museum's outstand-

ing improvements goes to Cain. Count-less thousands have been enrichedthrough observation, study and re-search at the museum since its found-ing, and Cain's work in preservingthese treasures is providing new inspi-ration to museum guests. Last year35,000 persons visited the museum, amarked increase over previous seasons.Ranking as one of the leading cul-tural institutions in Arizona, the HeardMuseum has a collection comparableto those of the Museum of NorthernArizona at Flagstaff and the ArizonaState Museum on the University ofArizona campus at Tucson.The Heard family home recentlywas dismantled and a multi-storiedmodern apartment building is beingerected on the site which adjoins themuseum, but the museum is here tostay.Arizonans and visitors to the South-west are showing more and more ap-preciation for what the Heards left.Because of their vision and forethoughtthe Treasure of Monte Vista is avail-able to all who accept the warm invi-tation to enter this beautiful building.

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L I F E O N T H E D E S E R Ta t C a m p V i s i t o r W asa C r a f t y L i t t l e F o x . . .C a m p e r s frequently find that the richest rewards received fromtheir outdoor experiences result from intimate contacts with Nature'swild offspring. Desert creatures such a s the fox in this story some-times reveal an amazing resourcefulness in their efforts to obtain foodin a land where the food supply is never a simple problem.

By MRS. JOHN E. PLUMMERSUMMER S ago my hus -band and I were camped onthe Anza Desert of SouthernCalifornia, enjoying a perfect eveningafter dinner. The sun had disappearedbehind the western mountains and nota rustle of wind disturbed the stillness.To complete the charming setting, afull moon was rising, casting its softlight over the silent desert.

We were deep in quiet meditationwhen suddenly we realized that wewere not alone. A little fox had com enear our camp area on his nightlysearch for food and water.Fascinated, we watched him repeat-edly appear and disappear in the shad-

o w s . Hastily we fastened a short lengthof wire around a large bone and se-cured it to a nearby rock . Aro und thislure we scattered small pieces of meatand placed a pan of water there, hop-ing our visitor would return . We didnot have long to wait.Silently and cautiously, he came outof the dimness. His movemen ts wereapprehensive and deliberate. After eachshort stride forward, he would sit onhis haunches, ears erect, and surveyeverything within range of his vision.Slowly he turned his head from side

to side, making further advance onlyafter he deemed it absolutely safe todo so.Several times he was startled bysounds we did not hear, and then hewould leap backwards. He was in nohurry and neither were we, so wewaited for the next move.Tn the mellow light of the moon wereceived a second thrilling surprisewhen a smaller fox, undoubtedly hismate, appeared. Judging from her thinbody and shaggy coat, life on theparched summer desert had dealt manymeatless days to Mrs. Fox.Circling the camp wide at first withrapidity and stealth, she appeared un-

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real. Then , as though driven by anoverwhelming urge to satisfy her needfor food and water, she cast aside herfears and slowly approached the bone.She too frequently sat down t

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