SKY AND EARTH IN FOUR MOODS

Gathering Pinon Pitch FOR APACHE BASKETS

The only decoration may be a simple black line made on the rather flat shoulder, painted on with the finger which has been dipped into ground charcoal.

The White Mountain Apaches, with whom this interesting article deals, live on the Fort Apache Indian Reservation in the White Mountains of eastern Arizona. The reservation, one of the largest and richest in Arizona, is a sparkling wonderland of mountains, forests, icy streams, rich valleys and snow covered peaks extending through portions of Navajo, Gila and Apache counties.

Whiteriver and Ft. Apache, on State Route 73, are the central agencies for the reservation. This is a particularly interesting and beautiful place to visit in the summer. Springerville, the White Mountain travel metropolis, on U. S. 60, is the tourist center for the reservation and the remainder of the vast White Mountain area.

The White Mountains offer superb trout fishing in the summer and deer and turkey hunting in the winter. There are fine hotels, resorts and cottage camps offering accommodations.

Springerville stages an old-time rodeo on the Fourth of July, and at Whiteriver, also on the Fourth, is held an Indian Rodeo.

Five Apache Indians, two white friends, an Apache dog, and all equipment necessary for a two days' camping trip were crowded into a station wagon, and we were off in search of piñon pitch used to water-proof woven basket bottles. In earlier years the trip would have consumed a week's time in a covered wagon. It took us two days, with loitering time on our hands.

Pitch hunting grounds are well established among the Apache Indians of the White Mountains of eastern Arizona. Piñon trees grow in abundance on their reservation. Some time before the pitch gathering, the tree is wounded by gashing with a blade, and the sticky yellow brown substance slowly oozes from the interior of the tree to this broken surface.

Some Indian occupations are family affairs; pitch gathering fits into this category. Children, mothers, fathers, and grandmothers make a lark of a pitch expedition.

Years of hard labor, and many of them, were reflected in the wrinkled but agile hands of the Apache grandmother who accompanied us on this expedition. With metal spatula in hand, she briskly and eagerly approached a marked tree. Reaching high along the main trunk, the white haired Indian woman gouged out the sticky mass from the deep wound.

Each individual worker carried his own smaller pail or bucket into which he first placed the pitch. The smaller collection of pitch is then emptied into a larger container. Several of these large containers, which are usually five gallon tins, may be filled, for one expedition must yield sufficient pitch for some months to come. The wrinkled grandmother gathered as many small buckets as anyone. Likewise, she acquired as much of the sticky stuff on her person as the smallest child! Slight wonder, too, for occasionally she "dished it out" with her bare hands. The much-begrimed hand was cleaned by casually scraping with the spatula as though the accumulated stuff were no more than so much biscuit dough. We found it most difficult to rid our persons of the smallest drop of the adhesive substance.

The chief use of pitch among the Apaches today is in waterproofing woven basket bottles. This basket, called a "tus," is twine woven of squaw bush twigs which have been split with tooth and finger nail. The weave is by no means water-tight. Generally Apache women add mashed juniper leaves and ground red lead over the finished surface. This begins the water-proofing process, and also imparts a slight orange tinge to the finished product. Often the only other decoration on these bottles may be nothing more than a simple black line made on the rather flat shoulder, painted on with the finger which has been dipped into ground charcoal.

Great precautions were taken in the water-proofing proper by our friend A-8's wife. (Letter-number names are common among the Apache as they were issued in early Reservation days by non-plussed white men who could not pronounce, much less spell, the bewildering native names!) Over a hole which was to serve as fireplace, she constructed a miniature wickiup. On the fire she placed a pitch-filled dutch oven.

Pitch catches fire readily, so A-8's wife kept an even and low temperature by carefully tending the fire, and by gingerly heaping coals about the dutch oven. When the pitch was melted, it was strained. Now all was in readiness for the final coating of the tus. With a swab made of an old rag wrapped around the end of a stick, the pitch is applied over the basket surface. With wet hands our friend then smoothed the still warm surface of pitch. Next she poured the remainder of the hot liquid into the inside of the bottle, gradually turning it about so that the pitch would be evenly distributed.

Now the basket bottle was water-proof, inside and out.

Prehistorically, water containers were made in much the same fashion by many tribes in the Southwest. The tradition persisted among some of these folk until quite recently. A few tribal groups, as Ute, Paiute, and some Yuman Indians, have kept abreast the Apache and still weave the basket bottle.

And so to this day many Apache women take pride in weaving and using the pitch-covered basket water bottle. Empty or filled they are picturesquely carried on top of the head, or they are suspended by a tump strap from forehead or shoulders.

The pitch-covered water bottle may not be a work of great artistry from the standpoint of woven or painted design, but many are of pleasing form. And it may be added that the trading post has not yet offered a satisfactory substitute for the Apache tus, the age-old basket covered with piñon pitch.

Keep your eyes down and go slow to discover desert babies. They'll be snuggled near the base of fierce giants or huddled in small clumps in warm rocks and remember, it is best to handle babies carefully, if at all; especially these.

The tiniest are the Pincushions, the Mammil laria (Coryphantha), or Cactus Mammillaria, from mammilla, a nipple, referring to the tu bercles of the plant not the propensity of babies. In that helpful book The Fantastic Clan, by Thornber and Bonker, fifteen varie ties native to Arizona are separately described and the group as a whole are spoken of as "funny little ball-like plants, an inch to a foot in diameter and height, often broader than they are tall, the upper surface almost flattened, while the main part of the plant is a carrot shaped fleshy root. The stems are mostly sim ple, sometimes branched; they grow singly or occasionally in clusters, and are not ribbed but studded with numerous tubercles spirally ar ranged.

In different sections of the state these cactus babies vary in form and in color of bloom but all have stout, slender spines hooked over at the ends lying in flattened rosettes with at least one extra long spine erect in the middle of each cluster sticking up like a pin. The blooms also vary in size and in position on the stem of the plant. To earn the extra name coryphantha, meaning at the top. the bloom must open like a big gay umbrella right over the baby's head. The others bloom lower down and produce smaller blossoms. Again quoting Thornber and Bonker "they are considered to be among the most highly developed of the cacti, inasmuch as the greatest reduction of the plant body has taken place, the plants hav ing no leaves nor even trace of leaves." If you travel slowly on foot, look in the right places, and know what you are looking for desert babies are numerous enough to be easy to find, especially when they are dressed up and carry ing top-heavy umbrellas.

The flowers are day blooming, opening and closing with surprising rapidity. Some of the mammilaria blossoms are relatively small but always if they are coryphanthas the blooms are disproportionately large, often two or three inches across; white, pink, yellowish, rose or purple; with many sepals and stamens, beau tifully and symmetrically arranged. Some bloom two or three times a year, remaining in flower for considerable lengths of time. Of course the usual and most profuse blooming periods would occur in spring and summer but one lucky day in January I found at the foot of Squaw Peak near Phoenix, a beautiful Black Spined Pincushion with three huge purplish pink blooms wide open. Since then, in season and out, I always look hopefully if there's a blooming baby on the desert I want to see it.

The fruit of the Pincushions is almost as decorative as the blossom-smooth, shiny balls of brilliant red, yellow or purple when mature, Tiny gray pincushions snuggle in the rocks, holding high their gay blossoms like oversized parasols. There are fif teen varieties native to the state of Arizona, growing sing ly or in clusters, an inch to a foot in height and diameter.

Tough Little

Like glistening jewel studs they stand out on the flat spine patterns the year round. But the beauty of the Pincushions does not depend entirely upon the bloom and the fruit. The pattern of the spines from the moment they peep out of the ground is enough to catch and hold the admiration of the most casual observer. Each variety shows a different arrangement but always the entire stem will be covered with a close-held coat, each cluster radiating from evenly spaced areola and interlacing with exquisite uniformity. Always from the cen ter of each intricate flat cluster one or more upstanding spines with dark, recurved tips, will complete the illusion of a a pincushion stuck full of black headed pins. The flat lying spines vary from soft pale gray to deep reddish brown but always the erect spines with darker heads resemble pins in a cushion.

When hunting the daintier manifestations of beauty in the desert search until you find the Pincushions. They are peculiarly easy to iden tify, in fact, you'll know a desert baby the minute you see one and, very likely want to take it home with you. DON'T. Adopting babies is a noble undertaking if and when you can give them a better home than the one in which you find them. In this case no gardener can better the desert home Mother Nature has chosen for her Pincushion babies, they thrive there and give a charm that cannot be sparedanyway, what's a home without a baby? Visit them there and leave them for others to enjoy later. Besides to do otherwise is against the law.

But don't be downcast. It is not necessary to become a kidnaper in order to have as many desert babies as you wish in your home. For fortunately Pincushions grow so readily from seed they may be easily raised by amateurs or, if that is asking too much, they are inexpensive in nurseries where they are grown for sale. The seed should be fresh. These are always pro curable by gathering the little scarlet balls from the desert plants-which, happily, is not against the law. In planting, the soil must be free from alkali; large pots or cans should be two-thirds filled with sand and gravel, the top third merely sanly soil with a very little finely separated organic matter thoroughly mixed. After the

Hedgehogs are spiky, disheveled little fellows, of the distinguished Cereus family. Their own name is echinocereus, from the Latin "echinus", hedge hog, and "cereus" meaning torch. One more friendly nickname is appropriately the Strawberry cactus because of the beauty and profusion of their red, strawberry-like fruit. The berries are not merely brilliant and beautiful, they are also delicious to eat when chilled, sliced and served with cream. The most admired hedgehog is the showy Rainbow cactus, with its colored spines growing in bands around the plant.

Desert Babies

surface is firmly leveled to prevent water spots from collecting, sow the seed about an eighth of an inch deep, cover evenly, and place in a sunny spot. Planting should be done in warm weather out of doors for best results and seeds should show growth in less than three weeks. During this time use just enough water to keep the top soil moist and give just enough protection from the sun (with white cheese cloth canopy) to prevent any burning of the tender shoots. When the plants are half an inch or more above ground they may be transplanted in somewhat heavier soil provided the drainage is good. After this the growth is more rapid and much more interesting. All they need is a sunny location and light waterings at fairly frequent intervals until they are thoroughly established, then the waterings may be less frequent and heavier. But always guard against too much fertilizer and too much water. These babies refuse to be pampered or forced but if you give them just the little they have been taught to expect in life they will grow happily, and underground will send out new stems from buried tubercles and form clumps of larger plants around the original stem.

When you go to the desert to see the Mammillarias and Coryphanthas you will be sure to encounter Hedgehogs scattered around everywhere. They, too, are low-growing little fellows but more spiky and disheveled, and of an entirely different family, the distinguished Cereus group. Their own name is echinocereus, from the Latin echinus, hedgehog, and cereus, meaning torch-instead of playing at being pincushions these babies play they are torch bearing hedgehogs, and demand your attention with both their fierce bristles and their multicolored blooms. In addition to all this they have earned the more friendly nickname of the Strawberry Cactus because of the beauty and profusion of their red, strawberry-like fruit.

There are about sixty different varieties of Hedgehogs, all beautiful and interesting, but many of them hide away in such odd places they are practically unknown except to expert hunters, leaving not more than half of them generally known. These are among the most popular plants in all southwestern rock gardens because they may be transplanted at any season provided the roots are not too seriously injured and because the shock of transplanting hardly interrupts their blooming at all. Of course it is kidnaping to dig them up from the open desert but when land is being cleared for cultivation or any other purpose, the hardy and adaptable hedgehogs or strawberries are the plants to rescue and take home with you. They'll never disappoint you.

The plants grow with single stems or in clusters, from three inches to a foot tall, some in clusters many feet in circumference. The flowers, large with paper-thin, crinkled petals are, according to variety, crimson, scarlet, pink, and deep purple, some remaining open for several days at a time, not even closing at night. Some of the large old plants that have attained a maximum size, often too big to be crowded into a washtub, show between fifty and a hundred blooms at once and continue to bloom for weeks. Nothing that grows on the desert is more gorgeous than one of these.

After the blossoms come the fruit, the strawberries, giving the plant a new conspicuous beauty. But the berries are not merely good to look at, they are also good to eat when chilled, sliced, and served with cream. Not only Mexicans and Indians agree on this, all others who have tasted their delicious flavor praise them without reservation.

The most admired one of the Hedgehogs is the beautiful Rainbow cactus (echinocereus rigidissimus) with its rainbow of colored spines growing in successive bands around the plant from base to tip. The mottled, half-inch thorns are pressed back close against the six to fifteen inch stem and form a dense layer of exquisitely blended color in narrow, well defined zones around the plant. It is a coveted favorite with all cactus collectors but the most disappointing of all the Hedgehogs as it pines and dies if removed from its desert home. Not only the sweet, juicy fruit of the Rainbow has been eaten for centuries but also the inner parts of the stems themselves which perhaps accounts for the scarcity of this variety today.

The most enormous Hedgehog I ever saw surprised me one morning when I lived on the desert by suddenly appearing under my window. Weeks before a roadworker had collapsed near my shack. They brought him in and in spite of him I did what I could until his family took him home several days later. He was, no doubt, embarrassed to speechlessness. He certainly expressed no appreciation and even drove away without a word.

The road crew moved on, out of sight, across the desert, clearing all growth in its path. I had almost forgotten my inarticulate patient until one morning at dawn I saw him working fast in the desert rocks I called my yard. He was planting surely the biggest, finest Hedgehog any road crew had ever uprooted in any desert. The whole dome of the huge cluster of stems was covered with delicate purple blooms -the thing seemed incredible; and the man handled the unwieldy bulk with such tenderness not a bloom was broken. When he hurried away without a glance toward the house I choked down my thanks in silence at least I understood him well enough to show him that consideration. The message he was leaving for me required no answer. And as I lived with his message through the seasons, glorying in all its phases of beauty, it grew from a simple thank-you-this-way-instead-of-words into an appeal from all awkward, shy human beings to all glib ones for a friendly acceptance of them on their own wordless terms.

The desert itself is a great giver of messages of its own. Profound intimations of the Unseen abide there; challenging inspirations await in the solitude of silence. According to the person you are will be the richness of your experience. Walk there alone. The desert is a wide honest space, under a wide honest sky, a nursery for the soul's growth.

Its babies await you. Their sturdy little bodies are tough, but they are made so in all tenderness by Mother Desert. She fits them for the world they live in, with a wisdom that leaves them happy under the sun's fiercest burn or the storm's furious lash.

Look deeply in the faces of these strange desert babies. They are tough, no doubt about that, but they are not helpless, except at the hands of human vandals, and they bite and scratch even the most ruthless of these. Their smile is startlingly sweet, though, for those who walk near with understanding and respect. Love them and leave them. Their mother knows best.