Climate of rebellion: The relationship between climate variability and indigenous uprisings in mid-eighteenth-century Sonora
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Authors Brenneman, Dale Susan, 1956-
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Link to Item http://hdl.handle.net/10150/266813 CLIMATE OF REBELLION:
THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN CLIMATE VARIABILITY AND
INDIGENOUS UPRISINGS IN MID-EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY SONORA
by
Dale Susan Brenneman
Copyright © Dale Susan Brenneman 2004
A Dissertation Submitted to the Faculty of the
DEPARTMENT OF ANTHROPOLOGY
In Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements For the Degree of
DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
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THE UNIVERSITY OF ARIZONA
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Copyright 2004 by Brenneman, Dale Susan
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Many people and organizations contributed financial, institutional, and intellectual support to this project. I am extremely grateful to the Office of Ethnohistorical Research (OER, formerly Documentary Relations of the Southwest) at the Arizona State Museum, and to the Southwestern Mission Research Center (SMRC); while providing me with many years of congenial employment, they have given me valuable experience, facilitated my research, and kept me current with relevant literature. The Southwestern Foundation for Education and Historical Preservation, the J. W. Kieckhefer Foundation, and the Margaret T. Morris Foundation provided funding to OER for the "Ecological Change in the Greater Southwest" pilot project that got me underway.
All scholarly achievements build on the work of others. I am especially grateful to David M. Meko of the Laboratory of Tree-Ring Research, who generously allowed me use of data fi"om the latewood-width chronologies he and Christopher H. Baisan have developed for the watershed of the San Pedro River (the interpretations I have drawn from the data are entirely my own). Many thanks are due also to David A. Gregory, of the Center for Desert Archaeology, and Fred L. Nials, for providing me with a draft copy of the paper they have coauthored with Donald A. Graybill and Gary S. Funkhouser on streamflow reconstructions for the Salt and Gila Rivers; to Jonathan B. Mabry, of Desert Archaeology, hic., for supplying me with a copy of his draft report on early southwestern farming systems; to fellow graduate student J. Mark Kaib, who gave me a copy of his Master's thesis on fire history in the international Four Comers region; and to W. Bruce Masse, who supplied me with information regarding solstices and comets during the 1720s-1740s. Y mil gracias tambien a Emiliano Gallaga for drafting the maps.
I extend my heartfelt gratitude to the members of my doctoral committee—^my co- chairs, Dr. J. Jefferson Reid and Dr. Thomas E. Sheridan, and other committee members. Dr. Jeffrey S. Dean and Dr. Teresita Majewski—for their valuable suggestions, guidance, and encouragement. Each has stimulated my thinking about archaeology, ethnohistory, historical methodology, and/or paleoclimatic research in some way, and has contributed to the final direction of this work.
Discussions with David Gregory inspired my path of inquiry, and I have benefited from the suggestions and support of many other fnends and colleagues; Michael Bartlett, Bamey Bums, Timothy Finan, Diana Hadley, Mark Kaib, Brace Masse, David Meko, Fred Nials, Linda Pierce, Catherine Sarther, David Stable, Thomas Swetnam, and David Yetman, in addition to the "ABD Writers Group"—Hortensia Caballero, Beth Kangas, Laura Mazow, Jacqueline Messing, Janneli Miller, Gillian Newell, Diane Riskedahl, Marcy Rockman, Kerry Sagabiel, and Becky Waugh. Many thanks to all!
Finally, I wish to express my gratitude to my family for their encouragement, patience, and understanding—especially to my husband, Arthur Yokes, who has seen me through all the rough parts, yet still smiles. 5
DEDICATION
To my husband, Arthur 6
TABLE OF CONTENTS
LIST OF FIGURES 10
LIST OF TABLES 11
ABSTRACT 12
1. INTRODUCTION 14 Previous Research 18 Approaching the Ecology of Rebellion 23 Anthropological Approaches to Environmental Change and Human Responses 24 Climatic Variability and Human Vulnerability 26 Cultural Responses to Climate Variation 27 Famine and Rebellion 29 Resistance by Subordinate Classes 30 A Study in the Ecology of Rebellion 32
2. METHODS 34 Sources of Data 36 Paleoclimatic Reconstructions 36 Limitations and Interpretive Problems 39 Ethnohistorical Evidence 41 Methodological Considerations 44 Limitations 47 Ethnographic Evidence 47 Limitations 48 Archaeological Evidence 48 Limitations 49
3. ENVIRONMENTAL SETTING 51 Environmental Parameters 51 Precipitation 53 Temperatures 57 Drainage 58 Rio Yaqui Watershed 58 Rio Sonora Watershed 60 Rio Concepcion Watershed 60 Rio Matape 61 Nature of Intermittent Rivers 61 Arroyos 62 7
TABLE OF CONTENTS - Continued
Agricultural Soils 63 Floodplains 63 Bajadas 64 Vegetation and Wildlife 65 Sonoran Desert Vegetation 65 Serrana Vegetation 71 Wetland Vegetation 76 Animals 79 Climatic Variability and Ecological Responses 84 Sources of Climatic Variability 85 Climate Patterning Prior to and During the Study Period 88 Ecological Responses 93 Streamflow 94 Biota 99 Notes to Chapter 3 102
4. INDIGENOUS SUBSISTENCE AT SPANISH CONTACT 103 Agriculture 104 Agricultural Ecosystems: Water Needs, Fields, Labor, and Productivity 104 Canal Irrigation 107 Floodwater Agriculture 110 Flood recession farming 110 Seasonal flood farming 112 Water Harvesting 113 Adapting Agricultural Systems 115 Crops and Cropping Practices 117 Maize, Beans, and Squash 118 Cotton 121 Other Seeds 122 Wild Resources 125 Food Plants 126 Mesquite 129 Agaves 131 Cactus Fruits 132 Game Animals 134 Implications of Agriculture for Wild Resource Availability 138 Subsistence Patterns by Ecological Zone 139 Serrana 142 Desert 146 Rio Yaqui Delta 157 Indigenous Responses to Climatic Variability 159 Notes to Chapter 4 163 8
TABLE OF CONTENTS - Continued
5. INDIGENOUS SUBSISTENCE WITHIN THE SPANISH COLONIAL REALM...165 Policies and Institutions of Spanish Colonization 166 The Lure of Souls: Missions 168 The Jesuit Mission Program 173 The Lure of Silver: Mining 176 Mining as an Enterprise 179 The Lure of the Land: Ranching and Agriculture 182 Stock Ranching 182 Agriculture 185 Frontier Security: Presidios and Militias 185 The Presidio 188 The Toll of Disease 189 Disease Agents 191 The Spread of Disease in Sonora 193 The Relationship between Mission and State 196 The Independent Nature of Jesuit Administration 197 The Structure of Civil Administration 199 Arenas of Conflict 200 Summary 203 Changes in the Organization of Indigenous Subsistence 205 Indigenous Subsistence within the Mission Regime 206 Environmental Impact of Spanish Colonization 211 Responses to Climatic Variability 212 Notes to Chapter 5 217
6. CLIMATE OF REBELLION 218 Escalation of Colonial Pressures 220 Spanish Mining, Agrarian, and MiUtary Developments 220 Missions 225 Indigenous Resistance to Colonial Rule 227 Seri and Pima Bajo Disturbances of 1725 230 Discussion 232 The Seri "Insurrection" of 1729 233 Discussion 235 The "Extraordinary" Uprising of the Pimas Bajos, 1737 238 Discussion 241 The Yaqui Rebellion of 1740 248 Discussion 256 Notes to Chapter 6 270
7. SUMMARY AND CONCLUSIONS 271 Changes Resulting from Spanish Colonization 273 9
TABLE OF CONTENTS - Continued
Growing Demands and Mounting Tensions 275 Climate Variation and Indigenous Uprisings, 1725-1742 277 Concluding Remarks 281
APPENDIX A: KEY TEXTS, BY AUTHOR 283
REFERENCES CITED 332 10
LIST OF FIGURES
FIGURE 3.1, Watersheds and terrain of Sonora 52
FIGURE 3.2, Summer rainfall totals for Sonora 54
FIGURE 3.3, Winter rainfall totals for Sonora 56
FIGURE 3.4, Biotic communities in the Sonoran province 66
FIGURE 3.5, Southwestern U.S.A. Drought Index reconstruction, 1600-1700 89
FIGURE 3.6, Southwestern U.S.A. Drought Index reconstruction, 1700-1800 90
FIGURE 3.7, Southern Oscillation Index reconstruction, 1700-1800 91
FIGURE 3.8, Adjusted Latewood-width Index for San Pedro River Basin (normal =1) 93
FIGURE 3.9, Monthly percentages of total streamflow for the Rio Yaqui and Rio Sonora 98
FIGURE 4.1, Ethnic groups of Sonora 143
FIGURE 5.1, Missions and presidios in Sonora by the end of 1742 171
FIGURE 5.2, Mining centers in Sonora during the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries 178
FIGURE 6.1, Region of Sen range 231
FIGURE 6.2, Estimated territory affected by the Pima Bajo uprising in 1737 239
FIGURE 6.3, Range of the Yaqui rebellion in 1740 252 11
LIST OF TABLES
TABLE 4.1, Indigenous Cultivation Techniques in Sonora 106
TABLE 4.2, "Sampling" of Commonly Used Food Plants 127 12
ABSTRACT
A series of indigenous rebellions took place in mid-eighteenth-century Sonora that caused Spain to alter its colonial policies, depending less on the Jesuit mission system and more on a professional military force for pacifying and controlling the region. The rebellions coincided with a shift toward a drought-dominant climate pattern that began in the late 1720s. This study explores the relationship between that climatic shift and the rebellions by narrowing the focus to several disturbances and insurrections among the
Sens, Pimas Bajos, and Yaquis during the period of 1725-1742. Research centers on climate variability, the relationship between chmate patterns and indigenous subsistence practices, and whether Spanish colonial policies and institutions rendered these practices more or less vulnerable to environmental perturbations. Because the same environmental factors shaping indigenous subsistence strategies also affected Spanish decision-making, the development of Spanish colonization in Sonora is reviewed within an ecological framework as well, recognizing the interaction among the environment and political, economic, and demographic factors.
This study adopts a multidisciplinary approach integrating paleoclimatic, ethnohistorical, ethnographic, and archaeological sources of data to establish patterns of precipitation and reconstruct indigenous subsistence systems within their local environments, both before and after Spanish colonial rule. The research presents evaluations and Enghsh translations of numerous Spanish texts that include description of local environments; indigenous land use, reliance on crops versus wild resources. 13 scheduling, harvest, and/or storage; significant climatic events such as droughts or floods; and the events of specific insurrections.
The research also considers Spanish policies and institutions as they developed in
Sonora, and changes they engendered in indigenous subsistence organization and the environment. This study assesses the effectiveness of those changes in the face of climate fluctuations, and scrutinizes Seri, Pima Bajo, and Yaqui disturbances and insurrections as responses to Spanish-induced subsistence changes under escalating colonial pressures and climate-related environmental stresses. On a broader level, this research demonstrates the potential of the documentary record, when combined with advances in climate research, for increasing our understanding of human vulnerabihty to climate change, human responses and coping strategies, and the impacts of human behavior on climate. 14
CHAPTER 1
INTRODUCTION
The mid-eighteenth century marks a turning point in the Spaniards' approach to colonizing the province of Sonora, a change of course brought on largely by increasing social unrest among many of the region's indigenous peoples that culminated in overt rebellion. It was during this time that the Yaqui (1740) and Upper Pima (1751) revolts took place and the Seri pattern of guerilla warfare developed (1749+). The period began with control of indigenous populations largely in the hands of Jesuit missionaries, who
had dominated Spanish interaction with Sonoran groups for more than a century. A
professional miUtary force for the region was limited to only two presidios of 30-50 men
each—Sinaloa in the far south and Fronteras in the far northeast—and frontier security
for the province depended greatly on Spanish civilian militias and hidian allies. By 1755,
indigenous insurgence had forced Spain to step up its military might in Sonora
considerably. Two new presidios were added in 1741 at El Pitic (moved to San Miguel de
Horcasitas in 1749) and Terrenate, a third was estabUshed in 1752 at Tubac, and the
presidio of Sinaloa was moved northward to Altar with increased troops around 1753-
1755. This military buildup, in concert with continuing indigenous resistance, contributed
to a gradual shift in the balance of power from Jesuit missionaries to Spanish civil
officials, with grave implications for Sonora's indigenous peoples. By 1767, when the
Jesuits were expelled from the province, civil officials were positioned to institute the Bourbon political and economic "reforms" that ultimately reduced the land base of
Sonora's native communities and even further altered indigenous forms of social organization and economic production (Radding 1997, 1998; Rio 1996:63-64).
But what triggered such chronic, widespread rebellion among Sonoran peoples during this period, when they had been hving under the sway of Spaniards for more than half a century—in the case of the Yaquis, more than 120 years?
A number of factors were at play. Many scholars have rightly pointed to increasing Spanish encroachments and abuses (Deeds 1998; Hastings 1961; Meredith
1975; Polzer and Sheridan 1997:313; Radding 1997,1998; Sheridan 1992:165,1999a;
Spicer 1962,1980). Silver strikes brought miners, ranchers, and farmers ever closer, leading to greater demands for Indian labor, a diversion of Lidian water, and a loss of
Indian lands. Missionaries striving to retain control of these and Indian souls became more domineering and less compromising in their administration of mission communities. All of this, compoimded by a bewildering loss of Indian lives to strange and terrible diseases, understandably engendered resentment on the part of indigenous groups, who struggled to protect their territorial integrity and whatever measure of village autonomy they had negotiated in the past with Spanish authorities (Deeds 1998; Meredith
1975; Radding 1998; Spicer 1980:56-57).
Largely overlooked in the discussion of all these social and cultural variables, however, is a powerful environmental variable—^namely, the shift toward a drought- dominant climate pattern during the second quarter of the eighteenth century. Edward
Cook's (2000) reconstruction of drought for the U.S. Southwest, based on tree-ring data from northern Mexico (Durango and Chihuahua) and the southwestern United States
(Arizona, Utah, New Mexico, Texas, and Oklahoma), shows a prolonged, mostly dry period beginning in the late 1720s that lasted into the early 1740s. A brief interval of above-average moisture followed, but ended in 1748 with a severe drought ushering in another period of less then optimum moisture. These data paint a general picture of abnormally dry conditions on a broad scale during the years surrounding major indigenous rebeUions. Compounded by sporadic flooding events, these dry conditions undoubtedly affected the ability of the region's farmers to produce adequate food supplies and contributed to social tensions, influencing both indigenous and Spanish behaviors (Deeds 1998; Hu DeHart 1981; Meredith 1975; Polzer and Sheridan 1997:314;
Radding 1998; Spicer 1980).
The present study explores the relationship between climatic variabihty and several indigenous disturbances or insurrections that occurred during the period of 1725-
1742, most of which coincide with the first drought. By tapping into research produced by climatologists in recent years and carefully examining relevant Spanish historical documents, with a specific focus on climate during the study period, an effort is made to increase our understanding of how indigenous agricultural peoples in this region coped with climatic fluctuations in the face of changes brought about by Spanish policies and institutions.
Three major questions imderlie the research for this study: 1) How were indigenous subsistence systems organized prior to or at the time of Spanish contact, and how vulnerable were they to climatic variabihty? 2) In what ways did Spanish rehgious, 17 political, and social influences and institutions operate to transform these systems, and how did they make those systems more or less vulnerable to environmental perturbations? 3) How did indigenous groups compensate for these changes when confronted with continuing climatic variabiUty? To investigate these questions, I have focused my research on Sonoran groups who participated in disturbances and insurrections during the period of 1725-1742; the Yaquis, the Pimas Bajos or Lower
Pimas, and the Seris. The various habitats occupied by these groups are examined with an eye toward how specific environmental conditions, such as differences in terrain and water, shaped their subsistence strategies.
Although the primary goal of this research is to explain how climatic variability influenced indigenous rebellions and, consequently, Spanish colonization policies in mid- eighteenth-century Sonora, this study also has two broader purposes. First, the historical information gleaned through the research provide an independent source of data on climate patterns in Sonora during a specific period of time, which climatologists can compare to reconstructions built largely on tree-ring data. Such data are particularly useful at this time, given the scant supply of tree-ring data currently available from northern Mexico, and will continue to be useful as more tree-ring data are accumulated.
Second, as a case study this research will demonsfrate the potential of the historical record, when combined with advances in climate research, for increasing our understanding of human vulnerability to climate change, human responses and coping strategies, and the impacts of human behavior on climate in the past, present, and fiiture. 18
PREVIOUS RESEARCH
Efforts to explain Sonora's mid-eighteenth-century indigenous rebeUions commenced with the events themselves, as Jesuit missionaries and colonial officials with conflicting interests scrambled in a flurry of political maneuvering to exonerate their own actions and blame their adversaries. Jesuit versions, emphasizing the role of governors and local administrators in fomenting and/or mishandling the uprisings, ultimately carried the day and went on to dominate accounts for more than two centuries, thanks largely to the work of Francisco Javier Alegre, S.J. (1960). Written within a generation or so of the events,
Alegre's history remained for years the most frequently cited and authoritative source. As noted by Navarro Garcia (1966:3), the Jesuit had access to key testimonies about the uprisings; Alegre focused on extolling the history of his order in New Spain, however, and although he did record important information—including the antagonism between the
Jesuits and Governors Huidobro and Ortiz Parrilla—^his accounts were rather cursory and held the missionaries entirely blameless. He also confused players and the timing of events, left out important incidents, and added embellishments.
Early secular accounts did little to offset this Jesuit perspective, inasmuch as they, too, were summaries contained within larger histories and were based largely on Alegre's work (Bancroft 1884-1889; Davila 1894; Mota y Padilla 1920; Troncoso (1905); Velasco
1985 [1860-1865]). Their authors, in relying on Alegre's Historia for their source material, unwittingly perpetuated its inconsistencies in addition to its biases, and some obscured the picture further by introducing their own inaccuracies and embeUishments
(Mota y Padilla's [1920] account of the Yaqui revolt, written well before Alegre's, is a singular exception to this rule but is also a fountain of misinformation in itself; see
Navarro Garcia [1966:2-9] for a critical review). Among these histories, Troncoso's
(1905) year-by-year account of Yaqui and Mayo military activities is notable for bringing to light the animosity between the Yaquis and the missionaries' overseers.
With the ascendancy of the Jesuit perspective continuing into the twentieth century, Jesuit historians began to turn to primary documents for their sources (Astrain
1902-1925; Decorme 1941; Dunne 1957), although they continued to favor Jesuit over secular sources and incorporate the inaccuracies of earlier histories. Decorme's scholarly compendium, in particular, replaced Alegre's Historia as the authoritative secondary source for understanding the Jesuit era of Sonora's history.
A more objective perspective on the causes of the mid-eighteenth-century rebellions gradually began to develop in the early twentieth century as new generations of students, influenced largely by Herbert Bolton's Spanish Borderlands program at the
University of California, sharpened their focus to more closely examine specific episodes in borderlands history. Research in the archives of Spain and Mexico uncovered a vast amount of primary source material, which, upon examination and/or translation by U.S. as well as Spanish and Mexican scholars, led to new information and interpretations that often refiited earlier versions. Based on his review of numerous contemporary letters and reports produced by both Jesuit and civil personnel, Ewing (1934,1938,1941,1945), outlined in fair detail the chain of events encompassed by the Pima revolt of 1751-1752, prefacing this with summaries of the 1740 Yaqui revolt and events surrounding the Seri insurrections. Narrative histories by Navarro Garcia (1966) and Hu-DeHart (1981), with 20 information gleaned from the records of the legal proceedings following the Yaqui revolt, fleshed out what had been a skeletal account of that rebellion (although Meredith
[1975:255] has argued that Navarro Garcia placed too much reliance on civil sources at the expense of the Jesuits). Meredith's (1975) translation of Father Provincial Mateo
Ansaldo's legal argument (1739-1743) defending the role of the Jesuit missionaries in the Yaqui rebellion along with a contemporary, unsigned summary of the insurrection
(also attributed to Ansaldo), opened up to the scrutiny of scholars two critical documents that informed Alegre's (1960) and Decorme's (1941) accounts of the uprising (Navarro
Garcia 1966:7). From Treutlein's (1945) translation of Father Philipp Segesser's 1737 letter (written in German) to his brother and his uncle in Switzerland, we learn of a minor uprising that took place that same year among the Pimas Bajos in the Tecoripa region.
And although Dunne's (1957) interpretation of the mid-century rebeUions reveals a decidedly pro-Jesuit bias, his translations of Father Visitor Juan Antonio Balthasar's 1744 and 1745 reports on conditions in Sonora provide an important window on the tensions brewing in the ten-year period between the two major uprisings.
The increased access to primary materials and a heightened emphasis on their critical evaluation have led to the substantially less subjective treatment of the indigenous revolts (Donohue 1969; Hastings 1961; Hu-DeHart 1981; Navarro Garcia 1966).
Nevertheless, this historical approach is two-dimensional, limited by the very documents upon which it is built, for embedded in these docxmients are preconceptions held by missionaries and colonial officials about the Indian peoples involved. Because indigenous groups in Sonora had no form of writing of their own, we have very few documents 21 providing an indigenous perspective; their experiences are available only through very foreign eyes.
Ethnohistorians have addressed this problem through acculturation studies aimed at identifying social changes resulting from Spanish contact among Sonora's indigenous groups (Ezell 1961; Pennington 1980; Radding 1997; Sheridan 1979, 1988a, 1988b,
1999a; Spicer 1954, 1962,1980). Building upon the work of earlier scholars and availing themselves of improved access to primary sources, they have also turned to ethnographic observations, indigenous oral traditions, and archaeological evidence as a means of incorporating an indigenous perspective into their explanations of historical trends and events. Important studies discussing Sonora's mid-eighteenth-century indigenous revolts include Spicer's (1980) cultural history of the Yaquis, Sheridan's (1999a) documentary history of the Seris, Deeds' (1998) distinction between first-generation and later rebellions on the northern mission frontier, and Radding's (1998) elucidation of the colonial pact between Sonora's indigenous groups and Spanish authorities.
The possibility that an envirormiental variable might have played a role in any of these rebellions appears to have been first recognized by Navarro Garcia (1966:50, 84 n.86), who, on the basis of Indian testimonies, suggested famine caused by losing crops to drought and floods as a strong factor in the origin of the 1740 Yaqui revolt. Other scholars since then also have cited crop failure and flooding as factors in that uprising
(Deeds 1998:42; Donohue 1969:89; Hu-DeHart 1981:68, 76; Meredith 1975:258; Polzer and Sheridan 1997:314; Radding 1997:284, 1998:63; Spicer 1980:42^3), but have largely overlooked the possibihty that extreme fluctuations in precipitation influenced Piman and Seri insurrections. Only Donohue (1969:120) has taken note of the drought conditions that preceded the intensification of Seri warfare in 1749. Pennington
(1980:89), while observing that Jesuit missionaries were unable to maintain as high a production level of food and livestock among the Pima Bajo missions as they had in the earlier part of the century, attributed the decline to Spanish appropriation of lands, constant Seri attacks on mission property, and unrest among the Pima Bajo themselves, rather than changes in climate conditions.
Other indigenous rebellions in northern New Spain have been associated with climate stress. Most notably, the Pueblo Revolt of 1680 in the province of Nuevo Mexico marked the end of an extended period of low rainfall and higher-than-average temperatures beginning by the mid 1660s (Ivey 1994:98 n.25; see also Herr and Clark
1997:Figure 2) that was accompanied by famine, disease, and intensified Athabaskan raiding in the late 1660s and into the 1670s. Scholars have taken various positions on the role of drought in that revolt, focusing on 1667-1672 as the interval when conditions were most severe. Gamer (1999:69) has argued that the economic toll of drought and resulting famine formed the chief impetus for the rebellion, hi a similar vein, Weber
(1992:133-134) cites drought and Apache raiding as outside forces that provided the stimulus for such large-scale, imified indigenous resistance. For Bowden (1999) and
Gutierrez (1999), drought was merely the spark that lit the fuse to an explosion fueled by deep religious and cultural differences (Weber 1999:55).
Only Ivey (1994) has critically assessed the drought and the resulting famine's effects on both Pueblos and Spaniards. From his research with mission supply 23 distribution records, we leam that 1667-1672 did in fact represent the worst years of food shortages, but that shortages were not uniform throughout the province. Spatial variability in rainfall patterns (Herr and Clark 1997:Figure 2) meant that farms and ranches in different areas during different years were fortunate enough to produce sufficient or maybe even surplus crops and livestock, which could be traded or otherwise distributed to stricken missions, pueblos, and settlers. Connecting drought and famine to the abandonment of numerous pueblos and missions during the 1670s, Indian uprisings and attacks, and general strife, Ivey (1994:92) has suggested that the Pueblo Revolt actually began in piecemeal fashion as early as the late 1660s, "and simply took ten or twelve years to become organized into a single effort."
APPROACHING THE ECOLOGY OF REBELLION
Much of the research on the causes for Sonora's mid-eighteenth-century indigenous rebellions has emphasized the conflicts played out between the Jesuit missionaries and
Spanish colonial officials, miners, and ranchers, treating the insurrections rather simply as Indian reaction to Spanish oppression. Ethnohistorical studies attempting to incorporate an indigenous perspective on the rebellions have stressed the political motive of indigenous self-determination—identifying the development of Indian leadership fighting to retain some measure of political autonomy—^more than the closely related ecological motive of subsistence. Despite the recognition that drought and flooding probably contributed to Yaqui raiding behavior during 1740, the combined impact of climatic fluctuations and colonial rule on the success of indigenous subsistence practices in lowland Sonora has yet to be explored (but see Radding 1997 for an excellent treatment of subsistence among the highland villagers).
The present study represents an effort to fill that gap by approaching the problem
from an ecological perspective that recognizes human beings as inseparable from their
physical environment (Dincauze 2000; Halstead and O'Shea 1989; Kolata 2000). The
environment imposes conditions and constraints that influence human decisions
regarding basic needs such as food, shelter, and reproduction, while human activities in
turn modify the environment, either inadvertently or by volition. In a relationship of
dynamic interdependence, continually changing environments prompt human societies to
respond to new conditions even as their responses generate further change—creating, as
noted by Sheridan (1992:155-156), "a constant interchange between geographic factors
(hydrology, geology, pedology, climate, flora, and fauna) and political, economic, and
demographic forces."
Anthropological Approaches to Environmental Change and Human Responses
During recent years, the anthropological study of human responses to environmental
change has focused on the character and consequences of environmental crises, or natural
disasters (Moseley 2000; see Bawden and Reycraft 2000; Oliver-Smith and Hoffrnan
1999). Many researchers have been influenced by the natural hazards approach
developed by geographer Gilbert F. White (1974) and his students over the decades
following the great drought of 1934, in the United States (see also Burton et al. 1978).
White's hazard approach explicitly recognizes the interaction of both nature and people in natural disasters, and identifies several key attributes of extreme natural events and human cultural systems that shape human responses to such events. Among the environmental variables to be considered are the magnitude of the event, as well as its frequency, duration, speed of onset, areal extent, spatial dispersion, periodicity, and time or season of onset. Social variables include resource distribution, level of capital investment in resource exploitation, level of technological efficiency, type of economic system, experience with the type of event, population density, and wealth, to which Ust
Reycraft and Bawden (2000:2) add level of sociopolitical complexity, and areal extent of a given polity, hnplicit in this approach is the assumption that natural disasters are departures from normal systemic functions.
Although a general theory of human-environment interaction has yet to be frilly realized among anthropologists, the emerging perspective, known as political ecology or the vulnerability approach, views natural disasters as basic and even chronic features of environments. The severity of the disaster, or the vulnerability of the human community, depends on particular configurations of various social factors—such as size and location of settlement, social organization and land tenure policies, economic distinctions in access to power, quality of infrastructure, changes in technology, and individual assessments of risk—as well as the character and quality of the natural disturbance itself
(Halstead and O'Shea 1989; Reycraft and Bawden 2000). Climatic Variability and Human Vulnerability
Within this framework, variabihty is considered an inherent feature of environments that brings risk and uncertainty to human efforts to secure a food supply (Halstead and
O'Shea 1989:1-2). A major source of environmental variability is climate, which affects precipitation, streamflow, soils, plant cover, and animal hfe (Moseley 2000:219-220).
Human communities develop strategies for lessening the adverse effects of climatic variability on food production and consumption as well as health and wealth. These involve technology, social processes, and social organization. The usefulness of a given practice depends on the environmental and social context in which it is employed.
Any source of variabihty is characterized by temporal and spatial structure as well as relative intensity, which shape envirormiental context and have some bearing on predictability (Halstead and O'Shea 1989:3). The recurring nature of cyclical, short-term climatic variation, such as seasonal or annual rainfall patterns, renders it relatively predictable and allows human societies to identify a range of variation to which they can adapt by means of diverse cultural strategies. Isolated and sporadic short-term crises, such as abnormally heavy flooding or unseasonal freezes, or cyclical variation on a time scale too long to be recognized, are more difficult to predict and leave human subsistence systems vulnerable to environmental stresses, especially those high in scale and intensity.
As the stress increases in duration and shifts from short-term to chronic, a community's resiliency diminishes with the resulting environmental degradation and loss of critical assets as well as income. Profracted adverse conditions also raise the probability of convergent catastrophes, such as floods, fires, or disease outbreaks occxirring during a prolonged drought (Moseley 2000:221-222). hi this way, environmental stresses constrain or alter the socioeconomic development of a community as it seeks new ways to adapt (Halstead and O'Shea 1989:5-6; Kolata 2000:165-166).
Human vulnerability to such environmental stresses is relative, dependent on the interplay of environmental factors with a number of social factors. The technology employed by a society and the diversity of its subsistence base make it more or less susceptible to environmental changes created by climatic fluctuations, as do size, location, and nature of settlement; population density; and socioeconomic organization and structures (Kolata 2000:176; Morrison 2000:21-22). Subsistence systems that are broadly based and flexibly adapted to the limitations and possibilities of their habitat are better able to cope with stepped-up constraints (Scarborough 2000), whereas the
"structural rigidities" of a highly specialized and narrow economic base leave a society more vulnerable to environmental change (Kolata 2000:166). Intensive exploitation of natural resources significantly alters ecological processes and can exacerbate the effects of environmental perturbations, although large urban societies with ties to distant markets may be able mitigate the effects of localized environmental crises by mobilizing labor and resources from a wider geographic region (Kolata 2000:163; Moseley 2000:222).
Cultural Responses to Climate Variation
To insulate themselves fi-om anticipated food shortfalls caused by predictable—and predictably unpredictable—climate variation, societies employ diverse strategies calculated to dampen the adverse effects of environmental changes. Played out at the 28 community and/or household level, depending on the society's structural characteristics, these buffering strategies exploit favorable spatial or temporal aspects of variability in their asset base, and involve using interrelated responses that involve technology as well as social organization and processes. Technological responses center on features of the subsistence system, such as diversity of resource base, crop selection, labor investment, field settings, cultivation techniques, water control, and storage of surplus, whereas responses of a more social nature include residential flexibihty, labor organization, kinship ties and obhgations, trading networks, and raiding. Halstead and O'Shea
(1989:3-4) group these into four basic categories: 1) mobility, or moving away from scarcity to abundance; 2) diversification, or spreading the risk of scarcity by broadening the subsistence base in terms of resources and technology; 3) physical storage, or preventing scarcity by banking present abundance against lean times; and 4) exchange, or counteracting future scarcity by converting present resource abundance into future obligations.
Any single buffering strategy may involve more than one category of response, and a number of strategies are likely to be pursued. The most effective, in terms of withstanding the more extreme and unpredictable climate fluctuations, are not likely to be the most productive or the most efficient in terms of normal subsistence activities
(Halstead and O'Shea 1989:4). Knowledge of a region's environmental tolerances strongly affects which strategies are chosen (Scarborough 2000:200), as do the asset base available—dependable water sources, arable land, pasture, abundance and variety of wild resources, and such socioeconomic features as size and density of both local and regional 29 populations, intensity of subsistence exploitation, and level of technological sophistication.
Coping with the scarcity that results when buffering strategies fail typically leads to a hierarchy of responses that increase in severity with each step. These begin with measures that will not affect the productive future, such as reducing daily food consumption, deciding not to plant in order not to waste seed, and trading labor, crafts, or skills for food. As the crisis increases, people deplete their savings (including stored foods and planting seed), and take more drastic measures that include divesting themselves of tools, selling productive assets (animals and land), and, finally, migrating to areas where food resources are less impaired. Alternatively, they may resort to raiding.
Famine and Rebellion
Morrison's (2000) discussion of rainfall patterns and famine emphasizes the complex interplay of environmental conditions with socioeconomic factors in disasters represented as "natural." We are reminded that famine does not automatically result from rainfall deficits, but is also influenced by human actions involved in practices of food production and distribution—including agricultural and other land use practices; structures of access to land, labor, water, seed, draft animals, and other agricultural assets; the organization of markets and transportation; mobility options; and power relations—^which may mitigate or exacerbate the shortage of rainfall.
The role of distribution in famine is especially significant in stratified societies, where political power and market forces come into play. Differential access to agricultural assets, markets, and power lead to the uneven distribution of resources and, consequently, of subsistence distress, usually across social classes. Morrison's research on famines and unrest in South hidia, based on archaeological patterns and historical texts, suggests an association between severe famines during the fifteenth century and documented resistance movements by the lower classes of newly conquered provinces, who protested tax assessments and the loss of control over both land and its produce—
"precisely those people who are most severely affected by famines in stratified, market- based societies...." (Morrison 2000:29-30). In other words, the open rebellion of disenfi-anchised people may have been a response to the human component of "natural" disaster.
Resistance by Subordinate Classes
The suggested connection between enviroimientally based crises and rebellion accords well with ideas advanced by Scott (1985) in his study on forms of resistance used by
"peasantry," or groups with relatively little power. Resistance from subordinate classes typically centers on "the material nexus of class struggle—appropriation of land, labor, taxes, rents, and so forth," according to Scott (1985 :xvi, 32-33), who also argues that open rebellion is usually a sign of "great desperation." Direct confrontation with authority is dangerous, if not suicidal, for revolts almost always are crushed, and whatever gains they might achieve are only temporary (Scott 1985:29).
Building tensions might be detected, however, in the less overt ways that subordinate classes find to defend their interests against those who seek to extract labor. 31 surplus, or taxes, or appropriate the land, water, and pastures that provide the means of production. Furtive acts of defiance such as "foot dragging, dissimulation, desertion, false compliance, pilfering, feigned ignorance, slander, arson, sabotage, and so on" make up what Scott (1985:xvi) calls "everyday forms of resistance." Although carried out by individuals more concerned with alleviating their immediate situation than achieving some gain for the class as a whole, these acts of resistance are reinforced by a subculture of similar resistance—^perhaps extending throughout the entire commxmity—^that reduces individual risk. The lack of formal organization or leaders makes such activities unnoticeable or rarely accorded significance (Scott 1985:33-35).
The cumulative effect of countless individual acts of insubordination or evasion can create a real pohtical or economic barrier behind the public mask of compliance, and their anonymous, undeclared nature makes it difficult for authorities to assign blame. Nor do authorities wish to publicize the insubordination and thereby expose the unpopularity of their policy or the tenuousness of their rule (Scott 1985:34-36). Although the state may move to apply greater coercion in enforcing its pohcies, so might it choose to revisit those policies and bring them in line with more realistic expectations, or retain them with incentives for voluntary compliance. Thus, everyday forms of resistance are generally the most effective over the long run (Scott 1985:xvi), and periodic explosions of overt action, such as rebellions, among subordinate classes can be viewed as a sign that eveiyday resistance is failing or has reached a point of crisis. A Study in the Ecology of Rebellion
The present study examines the possibility that the disturbances and uprisings of the
Seris, Pimas Bajos, and Yaquis during 1725-1742 signal crises created through the interaction of climate-related environmental stresses with socioeconomic factors influenced by Spanish colonial policies and institutions. To approach this complex relationship between climatic variability and the uprisings, this study investigates the relationship between climate patterns and indigenous subsistence practices in the region, and whether Spanish colonial policies and institutions rendered these practices more or less vulnerable to environmental perturbations. Further, because the same environmental factors shaping indigenous subsistence strategies also affected Spanish decision-making, the development of Spanish colonization in Sonora is reviewed within an ecological framework that recognizes the interaction among geographic, political, economic, and demographic factors.
Following a discussion of methodological considerations in Chapter 2,1 set the stage in Chapter 3 with a reconstruction of Sonora's physical environment, emphasizing patterns and variation in terrain, precipitation, streams, temperatures, soils, vegetation, and wildlife. In this same chapter, I discuss climatic variabihty, climate patterning during the study period, and anticipated ecological responses.
Investigation of the relationship between climatic variability and indigenous subsistence practices begins with Chapter 4, where I delve into how indigenous groups in different ecological zones practiced subsistence at the time of Spanish contact. My focus in this chapter is on the organization of subsistence in terms of production (land use. 33 reliance on crops versus wild resources, scheduling, harvest, and storage), on subsistence patterns by ecological zone, and on indigenous responses to the effects of climate
extremes such as drought, heavy rains, or floods. In Chapter 5,1 provide an overview of how Spanish policies and institutions developed in Sonora, identify changes they
engendered in the organization of indigenous subsistence and in the environment, and evaluate the effectiveness of those changes in the face of climate fluctuations. Indigenous
responses to Spanish-induced subsistence changes come under scrutiny in Chapter 6,
where I discuss escalating colonial pressures and the disturbances and insurrections that
broke out among the Seris, Pima Bajos, and Yaquis during 1725-1742.1 conclude in
Chapter 7 with a summary of the interactions among climatic variability, indigenous
responses, and Spanish colonial policies, which ultimately resulted in crisis. 34
CHAPTER 2
METHODS
The present study explores the relationship between climatic variability and indigenous rebellions in mid-eighteenth-century Sonora. Three basic questions guide the research for this study: 1) how were indigenous subsistence systems organized prior to or at the time of Spanish contact, and how vulnerable were they to climatic variability?; 2) in what ways did Spanish religious, political, and social influences and institutions operate to transform indigenous subsistence systems, and how did they make those systems more or less vuhierable to environmental perturbations?; and 3) how did indigenous groups
compensate for these changes when confronted with fluctuations in climatic conditions?
As a means of answering these questions, I adopt a multidisciplinary approach integrating paleoclimatic, ethnohistorical, ethnographic, and archaeological sources of data.
My inquiry focuses on the time period of 1725-1742, when conditions in Sonora
culminated in a series of native disturbances and uprisings that coincided with a
prolonged interval of predominant drought. In geographic terms, the wider study area
encompasses the region known in Spanish colonial times as the province of Sonora,
whose jurisdiction included the Pimeria Alta and the Papagueria (Gerhard 1982:280). The
region today comprises the present Mexican state of Sonora from the Rio Yaqui
northward, along with southern Arizona between the Colorado and San Pedro Rivers, as 35 far north as the Gila River. For purposes of limiting the scope of inquiry, however, the
Mexican portion comes under the closest scrutiny.
At the time of Spanish contact, the Sonora province was occupied by several indigenous groups of people whom they broadly referred to as the Pimas Bajos (Lower
Pimas), Pimas Altos (Upper Pimas), Papagos (known today as Tohono O'odham),
Opatas, Eudeves, Jovas, and Seris (or Comca'ac). Residing at the southern limit of the province, along the Rio Yaqui, were the Yaquis (or Yoeme). Although their settlements initially fell within the jurisdiction of the Sinaloa province, and later the province of
Ostimuri, I include the Yaquis in this study of Sonora because much of their territory lay in that province and their actions loomed large in its history. My research centers on the region's agricultural groups who participated in the disturbances of 1725-1742—the
Yaquis and the Pimas Bajos—as well as the coastal Seris, who, although traditionally hunters and gatherers, had been encouraged and/or compelled to move inland and take up farming under the direction of Jesuit missionaries.
Changes in the subsistence strategies of these groups are gauged by reconstructing and comparing their patterns of food production and procurement, both at the time of
Spanish contact and during the period under study. Such patterns are reconstructed through a consideration of indigenous settlement and land use, crops and wild resources, scheduling of subsistence activities, and labor and technology employed in production as well as storage; this reconstruction covers most of Sonora's indigenous groups, to explore the range of possibilities open in the broader region. Examining subsistence systems within their local environments, with an emphasis on such factors as terrain, precipitation patterns, water sources, temperature regimes, and available flora and fauna, sheds light on the nature of indigenous vulnerability to climatic extremes within ecological zones, as well as indigenous methods for coping with periods of drought or flooding.
SOURCES OF DATA
This study draws upon multiple sources of data to reconstruct indigenous subsistence systems within their local environments. Patterns of precipitation at the time of Spanish contact and during the study period are established fi^om paleoclimatic reconstructions based on tree-ring data and corroborated and/or supplemented by evidence from colonial documents, most of them written in Spanish. Archaeological reconstructions of late prehistoric subsistence strategies in the broader study area augment information culled from Spanish exploration and early missionary accounts regarding indigenous subsistence during the contact period. Information on subsistence systems operating during the study period derives from later missionary accounts and various secular
Spanish reports and correspondence, and at times is interpreted through the lens of more recent ethnographic observations.
Paleoclimatic Reconstructions
To establish past patterns of precipitation and temperature, this study makes use of climate reconstructions resulting from the research of others into the long-term behavior of the Pacific basin air-sea interaction known as the El Nino-Southem Oscillation
(ENSO). Tree-ring chronologies built from decades of sampling in regions of the southern United States and subtropical Mexico sensitive to the ENSO—^Arizona, New
Mexico, Utah, southwestern Colorado, Texas, Oklahoma, Durango, and Chihuahua— have allowed climatologists to develop an uncalibrated approximation of the timing, magnitude, and persistence of the ENSO from as early as A.D. 1706 (Stable et al. 1998a,
1998b), an index with implications for our understanding of climate fluctuations affecting mid-eighteenth-century Sonora. Another reconstruction associated with this work, and holding particular importance for this study, is one of drought in the U.S. Southwest for the period of 1408-1978 (Cook 2000).
Researchers have developed these reconstructions from earlywood-width and/or total-width tree-ring chronologies, both of which reflect tree growth largely in response to precipitation during the previous winter and early spring. Although the early-width, cool-season signal corresponds nicely with the period of strongest ENSO influence in the region (December-February) (Stable et al. 1998a:2139), it fails to address variability of the North American Monsoon System (NAMS), which delivers summer moisture to the
U.S. Southwest and northern Mexico from different (but not necessarily independent) climatic origins (Cayan et al. 1998; Cleaveland et al. 2003:370). Nor can sunmier precipitation be separated out from indices based on total-width tree-ring data, which reflect moisture conditions from the previous winter and spring as well as the summer.
Recent work with latewood-width chronologies, however, holds great promise for yielding information on summer precipitation patterns (Meko and Baisan 2001). The present study makes use of as-yet-unpublished data kindly provided by David M. Meko of the Laboratory of Tree-Ring Research at the University of Arizona, based on 38 latewood-width chronologies developed from conifers in the United States portion of the
San Pedro River basin and the Chiricahua Mountains, both in southeastern Arizona, and covering the period of 1528-1997.
Another avenue of useful information lies with Swetnam's and Betancourt's
(1998) investigation into the correlation between the ENSO and regionally synchronous fires. Using 63 fire-scar chronologies compiled from conifers in 25 southwestern mountain ranges—including six in southeastern Arizona and one near the headwaters of the San Pedro River in Sonora, just south of the international border—^they discovered 15 years in a 201-year period, from 1700-1900, when one-third or more of the 63 sites shared the same fire date (Swetnam and Betancourt 1998;Figures 4 and 5). This rate, they argue, defies chance probability and instead "must reflect regional to subcontinental-scale drought for one or more seasons. Direct comparison of the fire-scar records with independent PDSI [Palmer Drought Severity Index] reconstructions confirms the importance of extreme drought in synchronizing fire activity across the region"
(Swetnam and Betancourt 1998:3132). The correlation between the strength of the climate signal and the area burned (Swetnam and Betancourt 1998:3142) suggests that droughts associated with rapid switching from strong El Nino conditions to severe La
Nina events led to regional fire activity.
Kaib's (1998) fire history spotlights canyons in the Chiricahua and Huachuca
Mountains in southeastern Arizona, and the Sierra de los Ajos in Sonora, one or two of which probably represent sample sites in Swetnam's and Betancourt's (1998) study. His
research area largely coincides with much of the region represented in Meko's and 39
Baisan's latewood-width chronology, and the data from the two studies are complementary.
Limitations and Interpretive Problems. Most climate reconstructions focus on the
paleoclimate of the U.S. Southwest rather than Sonora, which, while sharing many similarities in its climate patterns, also features some differences. This problem is
somewhat mitigated through use of indices that integrate tree-ring chronologies from different parts of the broader region, including the Sierra Madre of northern Mexico,
thereby heightening variability common to the entire region while suppressing the
variability of specific sampling stations (Dean 1988:136).
Tree-ring data used in these climate reconstructions derive mainly from
conifers—^Douglas fir, ponderosa pine, and pinyon—found in the upper elevations of the
U.S. Southwest and northern Mexico, and cannot be used to precisely assess moisture
conditions in the desert lowlands. Upland and lowland weather are highly correlated,
however, and high-elevation tree-ring series generally are calibrated against lowland
weather station data. In addition, reconstructions developed from early- and total-width
rings are usefiil for gauging broad patterns of winter precipitation because they reflect
moisture accumulated during the previous winter and early spring, when storms cover
large areas in Sonora and the Southwest. As discussed in Chapter 3, rain-and snowfall
generally increase with altitude, and whereas we cannot automatically infer that higher-
than-normal precipitation in the mountains also prevailed in the deserts to the same
degree, we can assume that drought would have been more severe in the lower elevations 40 than in the uplands. In addition, we can conclude that higher precipitation in the mountains would have increased streamflow in the rivers that drain them of excess snowmelt or rainfall, carrying water across the desert toward the Gulf of California, whereas lower-than-average precipitation would have led to lower stream discharges.
The latewood-width tree-ring data present a somewhat different problem. In addition to deriving from conifers and thus reflecting upland rather than lowland moisture conditions, the data available at this time are based on a limited sample from a relatively narrow geographical range (Meko and Baisan 2001). Given the localized nature of summer rains, this data set cannot be used to estimate summer moisture beyond the San
Pedro River Valley with any precision. Still, studies of the southwestern and Mexican monsoons (Douglas and Englehart 1994; Higgins et al. 1998) indicate that the summer monsoon rains, although widely scattered, fall over a broad region encompassing much of southern Arizona and the modem state of Sonora. This pattern suggests that higher-than- normal levels of summer precipitation in the San Pedro basin may be viewed as signaling the probability that above-average summer moisture prevailed over at least the more mountainous parts of Sonora. Because monsoonal patterns develop in the south and move to the north, below-normal rainfall in the San Pedro region does not necessarily translate
to the same conditions in Sonora, but does call our attention to the potential for them.
Similarly, the fire-scar data derive primarily from pine-oak and mixed-conifer
forests in mountain ranges north of the international border, and do not directly reflect
fire patterns in most of Sonora's highlands, much less its lower elevations. The
association demonstrated by Swetnam and Betancourt (1998) between BNSO cycling and 41
regional fire activity, however, point to the potential for comparable fire activity in
Sonora during major drought years. Kaib's (1998) data, in particular, should hold greater
relevance for inferences about possible fire activity in northeast Sonora—^where, as in the
Southwest, there are high levels of lightning activity. We can also infer, because grasses
"provided an important component in the fuel matrix" (Kaib 1998:104), that regional
fires probably reflect a spread across grasslands and canyons between mountain ranges,
whether ignited in the forests or more open areas.
Ethnohistorical Evidence
In addition to synthesizing information from numerous secondary works that include
narrative histories, ethnohistories, and geographical histories, this study makes use of
various seventeenth- and eighteenth-century primary documents, most of them written in
Spanish, as a source of information regarding: 1) the Sonoran environment and
indigenous subsistence systems prior to the influences of sustained Spanish contact, 2)
indigenous subsistence within the Spanish colonial fi*amework, 3) significant climatic
events such as droughts or floods, and 4) the events of specific insurrections. These
primary sources include letters, reports, testimonies, and other accounts written by
contemporary missionaries, military officers, and civil authorities. Key texts are provided
in the Appendix, in both transcription and translation.
Accounts penned by the earliest missionaries among Sonora's various peoples are
generally the most usefiil for understanding indigenous subsistence systems at contact,
for missionaries maintained the most consistent presence among indigenous groups and had the greatest opportunity to observe their lands and customs firsthand. These accounts range in date from the early to the late seventeenth century, depending on when priests first established missions among particular groups, and they vary in their level of detail.
Particularly important among these is the history published in 1645 by the Jesuit missionary Andres Perez de Ribas (1944, 1999), who, with fellow Jesuit Tomas Basilio, was the first to work among the Yaquis; his account offers eyewitness descriptions of the land and the customs of the Yaquis as well as the Nevomes, or Pimas Bajos, and at least some of the Seris. He also reproduced and incorporated firsthand accoimts written by other early Jesuits, such as Father Pedro Mendez (1628).
Other important contact-period observations come from the accounts of military officers who accompanied the early missionaries and strove to maintain peace among the diverse groups during early missionizing efforts. These include the travel diaries of Capt.
Juan Mateo Manje, who traveled with Father Eusebio Francisco Kino among the Pimas
Altos during the 1690s and early 1700s (Burrus 1971; Manje 1954), zinAAlferez Juan
Bautista de Escalante, who conducted a military inspection of Seri and Pima Bajo territory in 1700 (Sheridan 1999a). Less helpful are the more ambiguous accounts of the earliest, sixteenth-century explorers such as Alvar NMez Cabeza de Vaca, Fray Marcos de Niza, Francisco Vasquez de Coronado, and Francisco de Ibarra, who spent relatively little time among Sonoran peoples and whose lack of familiarity with the region made it difficult to convey precise locations (Adomo and Pautz 1999; Hammond and Rey 1928,
1940); their routes through the region's uplands continue to be debated by scholars (see
Di Peso 1974; Doolittle 1988; Gurule 1997; Hartmann 1997; Hedrick 1978; Hu-DeHart 43
1981; Pailes 1997; Reff 1981, 1991,1997; Riley 1995, 1997; Rodack 1997; S^chez
1997a, 1997b for discussion and various reconstructions).
The events and circumstances of indigenous insurrections during the period of
1725-1742 are described in various contemporary accounts written by missionaries, military officers, and civil authorities—^who, in the process, also provide glimpses of cUmatic trends and their effects on indigenous subsistence within the Spanish colonial framework. Missionary accounts tend to furnish the greatest amount of information on environment and subsistence, due to the extent to which the Jesuit mission program had come to organize or otherwise influence indigenous agriculture and labor, but important details and alternative perspectives or interpretations of developments are also to be found in the military and civil correspondence, reports, and testimonies included in the legal documentation arising fi*om the insurrections.
Many of the documents, both early and late, contain reporting at some level on various aspects of the Sonoran environment, but the most comprehensive and detailed description was penned in 1764 by the Jesuit Father Juan Nentvig (1764,1971,1980).
Because his account postdates this study's period of focus by some 2-4 decades, it must be read in the light of intervening historical events, yet the picture Nentvig paints of the rivers and terrain of the province, the types of crops and livestock it produced, and the wild plants and animals used by indigenous groups, conforms with other, earlier descriptions and does not reflect any significant changes. 44
Methodological Considerations. Working with the colonial documentary record poses several concerns beyond the selection of documents (see Wood 1990, for an excellent discussion of historical method with regard to documents). One important issue is authenticity. Because the texts used in this study also inform various published secondary works, and many have been published as transcriptions or made even more available to researchers through translation into English (Adomo and Pautz 1999; Burrus 1971;
Manje 1954; Meredith 1975; Nentvig 1971, 1980; Perez de Ribas 1944, 1999; Polzer and
Sheridan 1997; Sheridan 1999a; Treutlein 1945), I proceed under the assumption that their authenticity has been already established by other historians in terms of both authorship and date.
The authenticity of a document does not guarantee the integrity of its text, however. The credibility of individual statements within a document hinges upon the abihty and willingness of the writer to accurately portray observations (Wood 1990). A narrative written by an individual who was not actually present in the place or at the event described may be authentic beyond a doubt, but is generally not as credible as an
firsthand account. Similarly, a narrative written several years after the fact—^Perez de
Ribas's (1944,1999) account of the Sinaloa and Sonora mission, for example—is more susceptible to the fallacies of memory and generally less credible than one written during
or immediately after events. There may be some mitigating circumstances, as in the case
of Perez de Ribas, who began his history the year after leaving the Rio Yaqui and worked
on it off and on over the next twenty-five years, availing himself of Jesuit reports and
correspondence archived in Mexico City (Reff et al. 1999:3). Still, Hu-DeHart (1981:111 45 n.l9) has noted that he intenningled many retrospective thoughts with his recollections, and tended to omit specific dates and statistics.
Whether or not the chronicler was a competent witness also has some bearing on a text's credibility. An individual's education, experience, and personal values, as well as his or her role in a given event, will have shaped that person's understanding of the event.
A description written by a Jesuit missionary will be quite different from one written by a governor or a military captain. Furthermore, the imderlying motives of the author must be weighed. Why was the text written, and who was its intended audience? Many of the documents associated with the Yaqui rebellion, for example, are testimonies from witnesses accusing others of negligence and/or misconduct, or defending their own actions, or both. As such, they are likely to contain exaggerations or inaccuracies, either deliberate and unintentional.
Regardless of the chronicler's general credibility, particular details from the account must be weighed separately. The ability or willingness of the observer to accurately portray something may vary with the particular. As Wood (1990:90) has remarked, "We can place greater confidence in details that are of little consequence to the author." Although more reliable, such details ideally are corroborated by the independent testimony of another credible witness or supported by other forms of evidence.
Another point of concern is the source of the text. The documentary record is subject to formation processes, and the Spanish documentary record especially so. The enormous bureaucracy underlying Spanish conquest, colonization and missionization required documents of all sorts to be copied for various purposes, and documents from 46 which historians derive their transcriptions or translations often are copies, which may contain copyists' errors. Even when based on an original source, the very act of transcription or translation introduces the potential for additional errors. Old, faded, handwritten documents—in which the grammar may be poor, the spelling inconsistent, and the punctuation nonexistent—^present a challenge to even the most experienced transcribers. Legible words and phrases do not always translate well to another language, and different translators often arrive at different interpretations. Words that have changed in meaning over time can be misleading, ambiguities in the original document may be incorrectly interpreted or edited out, and excessive "glossing" of a phrase into English results in the omission of crucial words. Translators interested in people and events may not be particularly concerned about the precise rendering of references to subsistence systems or material goods.
The Appendix provides a listing of key texts by author, in both transcription and translation, and includes the source(s) of each along with the nature of the account (first- or secondhand), its purpose(s), and other information with some bearing on the credibihty of the text, such as author's background. The sources of these texts are mixed. When possible, I have worked out my own translations from microfilm or photographic copies of Spanish archival documents. In some instances where the archival documents were not available, I have relied upon published and unpublished transcriptions. Only in one case have I relied upon another scholar's translation; the relation of the Jesuit missionary
Philipp von Segesser, because it was written in German, lies beyond my ability to translate, nor is it clear whether the original is still in existence (Treutlein 1945:141). 47
Limitations. Although contemporary colonial documents can provide valuable insight into the subsistence systems of Sonora's indigenous groups and their relations with both their enviroimient and their neighbors, both Indian and Spanish, they give us partial views at best—glimpses that are "always filtered and often distorted by European and
Euro-American beliefs, values, and preconceptions" (Sheridan 1999b:7), and that often fail to offer the level of detail we would like. This limitation can be mitigated to some extent through the use of other sources of data, such as the ethnographic and archaeological records, and by reading texts in light of the physical environment as we know it both today and through paleoenvironmental research.
There is also the question of whether or not European diseases reached the indigenous populations of Sonora prior to the arrival of the Spaniards themselves. The timing and magnitude of disease episodes are germane to imderstanding how well early
Spanish observations described local indigenous subsistence systems and agricultural productivity prior to Spanish influences (see Dobyns 1983, Lycett 1989, Ramenofsky
1987, Reff 1991, and Upham 1986, but also see Henige 1986,1989 and Snow and
Lanphear 1989). Ideally, a comparison of early Spanish descriptions with the late prehistoric archaeological record will reveal continuities or disruptions.
Ethnographic Evidence
Ethnographic studies of traditional fanning conmnmities in northern Sonora and the U.S.
Southwest are used in this inquiry to interpret and flesh out the descriptions of Spanish chroniclers, lending insight into the range of possibilities open to the broader region's indigenous occupants. I have relied on studies specific to agriculture and subsistence
(e.g., Castetter and Bell 1942, 1951; Castetter and Underbill 1935; Crosswhite 1981;
Doolittle 1980,1984,1985; Nabhan 1979,1986a; Rea 1997; Sheridan 1988c) as well as more general ethnographies (e.g., Kelly 1977; Pennington 1980) for information on field systems and water needs, technology and labor requirements for water control, productivity, crops, cropping practices, wild resources, and storage. Although many of these studies tend to postdate the adoption of twentieth-century agricultural practices and technology, they typically incorporate firsthand observations—^both published and unpublished—^made by earlier ethnographers, when indigenous agriculture was less affected by introduced practices such as ground-water mining and cash cropping.
Limitations. Ethnographic portrayals of indigenous agriculture and other subsistence practices, although potentially enlightening, can also be misleading in that their use involves projecting the ethnographic present back into the past. By comparing such portrayals to both the documentary and archaeological records, however, we can identify discrepancies that signal change and avoid assigning a static quality to indigenous subsistence.
Archaeological Evidence
Archaeological reconstructions of late prehistoric subsistence—^based on material evidence such as vestiges of fields and field features in the broader study area, as well as plant and faunal remains—demonstrate the antiquity of indigenous strategies as they are 49 described in colonial documents and ethnographic literature and help us to better understand traditional indigenous agriculture. This inquiry relies extensively (but not exclusively) on the synthetic studies of William Doolittle (2000) and Jonathan Mabry
(2004), which provide comprehensive surveys of indigenous North America's cultivated landscapes and the U.S. Southwest's early prehistoric farming systems, respectively.
Doolittle's focus is on fields, field features, and field systems rather than cultivars or farming societies; a geographer with fieldwork experience in both the Southwest and
Northern Mexico, including along the Rio Sonora, he has drawn largely from secondary sources consisting of colonial documentary accounts and ethnographies as well as archaeological studies. Archaeologist Mabry's participation in the discovery of2,400-
3,000-year-old irrigation canals along the middle Santa Cruz River, in southeastern
Arizona, has prompted him to review archaeological evidence for early agricultural systems throughout the Southwest, including crop plants and complexes, technologies, and cultivation techniques; he combines this evidence with ethnographic and experimental data to develop a model of agricultural development in the region.
Limitations. Relatively little archaeological investigation has been conducted in Mexican
Sonora. Most direct evidence for the region derives from a limited number of sites along the Rio Concepcion watershed, the middle reaches of the Rio San Miguel, the Rio
Sonora, and the Rio Moctezuma, the lower and upper reaches of the Rio Bavispe, the delta region of the Rio Mayo, and central-coast Seri country (e.g., Alvarez Palma 1990;
Bandelier 1892; Bowen 1976a, 1976b; Braniff 1984; Doolittle 1988; Hinton 1955; Johnson 1963; Lumholtz 1902; McGuire et al. 1993; McGuire and Villalpando 1993;
Pailes 1984, 1993; Sauer and Brand 1931; Villalpando 1997, 1999). The Yaqui delta and the Pimeria Baja remain largely unknown, archaeologically speaking, with survey only recently begun in the middle reach of the Rio Yaqui (Gallaga 2003).
More than a century of intensive research in the U.S. Southwest, however, has produced a considerable body of information about prehistoric subsistence strategies in that region (see Doolittle 2000; Mabry 2004). hi particular, investigations of numerous sites in southern Arizona, which shares the arid environment of Sonora and many of its plant and animal resources, are viewed here as useful for providing a broad sense of the agricultural techniques available to Sonora's farmers prior to Spanish arrival 51
CHAPTER 3
ENVIRONMENTAL SETTING
What the Spaniards termed la provincia de Sonora encompasses a broad region at the southern end of the Northern American Basin and Range Province, roughly bounded by the Gila and Colorado rivers on the north, the Sierra Madre Occidental on the east, the
Rio Yaqui on the south, and the Gulf of California on the west.' This study focuses on the larger part of the province that lies south of today's international border (Figure 3.1).
ENVIRONMENTAL PARAMETERS
Sonora geographically divides into two distinct areas (Doolittle 1988:6; Dunbier 1968:4;
Radding 1997:21-22, Figure 1.1; West 1993:1). To the west lies the Sonoran Desert, an arid coastal plain with widely separated, low mountains, which rises steadily and with increasing steepness as it extends eastward from the gulf to the foothills of the Sierra
Madre. These desert uplands form the western margin of the serrana, a transitional, semiarid-to-subhumid mountainous zone that also increases in elevation as it continues eastward until culminating in the escarpment of the Sierra Madre. Within this zone, a series of more narrowly spaced and rugged, generally north-south-trending ranges separate elongated river valleys that drain the higher elevations and funnel runoff to the desert. 1/Cij.:vinMS
Sonora, Mexico MM) kin
MI iiiiirs
Figure 3.1. Watersheds and terrain of Sonora (adapted from Yetman 1996). 53
Precipitation
Some important trends characterize precipitation in Sonora. First, the distribution of rainfall follows changes in elevation from west to east; although limited throughout most of the region, it generally increases with altitude (Doolittle 1988:7; Dunbier 1968:4, 15,
90; West 1993:Figure 1). The western half of the desert receives an average of 100-250 mm (4-10 inches) of rainfall annually, whereas its eastern and upland margins receive as much as 300-400 mm (12-16 inches). Average precipitation for the serrana is somewhat greater, but seldom reaches 500 mm (20 inches) except in a few higher-altitude areas, with valley floors generally receiving less rain than the neighboring mountain slopes and summits.
Precipitation in the region is also predominantly biseasonal, the result of Sonora's location between two major sources of atmospheric moisture: the Pacific Ocean and the
Gulf of Mexico (Dean 1988:122). Periods of maximum rainfall during the summer and winter are separated by intervals of very little rainfall during the fall and practically none during the spring, hi most of Sonora, a summer-dominant pattern prevails, especially as one moves southeast. Regardless of season, however, the eastern uplands receive more rain than the desert to the west, with the mountains of the Sierra Madre receiving the greatest amount of precipitation (Dunbier 1968:20-22; West 1993:5-7).
Summer rains, called las aguas, fall mostly during July, August, and September as widely scattered and brief but powerful thunderstorms that give rise to flash- or sheet- flooding (Figure 3.2). Convectional storm activity begins in the south in late June and makes its way north as a moisture-laden, southeasterly monsoonal wind drawing on Sonora, Mexico
Summer Rainfall Totals
Under 125 mm
Between 125-250 mm
Over 250 mm
100 150 m 100 km By Emillano Gallaga
Figure 3.2. Summer rainfall totals for Sonora (adapted from Dunbier 1968). tropical air from both the Gulf of Mexico and the Pacific Ocean replaces the drier, westerly flow from the North Pacific (Cleaveland et al. 2003:370; Dean 1988:123;
Dunbier 1968:18-20). Although the resulting rains are highly erratic—temporally, spatially, and quantitatively—at a local level, for the broader region summer rainfall is more predictable than winter rains from year to year, and provides the higher proportion of annual precipitation throughout most of the province (roughly everywhere south of
Tucson). Yet summer rains are subject to higher rates of evaporation, and tend not to penetrate the soil as deeply as winter rains (Dean 1988:123; Doolittle 1988:7; Dunbier
1968:20-22, 93; West 1993:5).
The winter season, which typically begins in late November and continues into
March, brings relatively soft, soaking rains (equipatas) that can last for days over large areas, falling as snow in the higher elevations (Figure 3.3). Winter rains occur when the
Pacific subtropical high moves far enough south to allow large-scale frontal storms originating over the northern Pacific Ocean to sweep over the southern portion of the continental land mass (Cleaveland et al. 2003:370; Dean 1988:122-123; Dunbier
1968:18). Most of these cyclonic storms are stronger to the north, where they track eastward across the northwest desert to the highlands of central Arizona. Typically, their energy diminishes considerably to the south, and only the northwestemmost part of
Mexican Sonora receives as much as half of its annual rainfall during the winter
(Montane 1993:50-53). Winter precipitation from one year to the next is variable in
Sonora, however—probably more so than summer precipitation—and unusually wet 56
&
Sonora, Mexico
Winter Rainfall Totals
• Under 125 mm • Between 125-250 mm Over 250 mm
150 m mi 100 km •J By Eiiiiliaiio Gallaga \ Figure 3.3. Winter rainfall totals for Sonora (adapted from Dunbier 1968). 57 years tend to coincide with greater-than-average winter precipitation deUvered by more southerly tracking storms (Dean 1988:123; Dunbier 1968:22).
Despite the seasonal predictability of rainfall, its amount is quite variable for the whole of Sonora and especially so in the western desert. Drought may grip the region for consecutive seasons, or even years. Alternatively, tropical hurricanes centered off the west coast of Mexico in late summer and fall may generate prolonged storms that unleash enough rain to cause disastrous floods, and a few days of unusually heavy rains during the winter can produce flooding that well exceeds the summer's total streamflow (Dean
1988:123; Dunbier 1968:22, 95; West 1993:5-7). This variability and its effects on ecosystems will be discussed at greater length below.
Temperatures
Temperatures in the Sonoran Province are somewhat more consistent than precipitation, with less year-to-year or spatial variation. Northern locations and those at higher elevations are likely to experience freezing weather several times during a three-to-four month winter season. Frosts seldom occur, however, at lower desert elevations, where winter daytime temperatures may reach as high as 80 or 90 degrees F. hi the extreme south, where a tropical semiarid climate gradually replaces the arid desert, killing frosts are practically unknown (Doolittle 1988:10; Dunbier 1968:26-28), although the post-
Christmas freeze experienced in the Rio Yaqui delta region this past winter (late 2003) serves as a pointed reminder that they cannot be completely ruled out. 58
Accordingly, growing seasons also are governed by latitude and elevation, with frostfree periods ranging from 220 days in the northern and upland margins of the desert to all year long in the south. Every 1,000 ft. increase in elevation reduces the length of a growing season by about 30 days. All the major basins of the Sonoran Desert enjoy a growing season long enough to plant and harvest two crops, however, and sometimes three (Dunbier 1968:28).
Drainage
Three major watersheds drain the Sonoran province south of today's international border
(see Figure 3.1). Although their downstream flows have been significantly diminished by the construction of modem waterworks and diversions for commercial agriculture, their sources and the nature of their flows remain more or less unchanged from what they were during the Spanish colonial period (Nentvig 1764, 1971). Of the three, the Rio Yaqui is the only river system to originate well outside of the desert, and the only one with permanent flow that regularly ran all the way across the desert to the Gulf of California.
The other two river systems—the Rio Sonora watershed and the Rio Concepcion watershed—originate on the desert margins and flowed for only part of the year, as did a fourth, minor stream known as the Rio Matape (Dunbier 1968:73).
Rio Yaqui Watershed. The Rio Yaqui, largest of the perennial rivers in this region, channels runoff down from the highland zone of the Sierra Madre and the higher elevations of the s errana all the way to the Gulf of California. Two other perennial streams feed the Yaqui: the Rio Papigochic-Rio Aros drainage, which draws from the high elevations of the Sierra Madre to the east and southeast and provides most of the water; and the Rio Bavispe, which drains the more extensive but less-watered catchment of the northeastern serrana. The Rio Moctezuma, an intermittent stream that rises in the central portion of the serrana, also contributes to the Yaqui's flow at the river's middle reach, as do numerous minor tributaries, including the intermittent Rio Tecoripa at the
Yaqui's lower reach.
The Yaqui typically flows at its maximum level during July through October, in response to the summer rains, carrying roughly a third of its total annual runoff during
August. The less reliable winter storms during January and February also create a somewhat elevated flow, and unusually heavy winter rains can bring about some of the greatest flooding (Dunbier 1968:88-90). Much of this pattern is controlled by the Yaqui's more southerly headwater stream, the Rio Papigochic, which drains the highest elevations of their seasonal load. The Rio Bavispe's contribution to the Yaqui's waters—less than one third of the Papigochic's—is relatively balanced between summer and winter; although summer runoff is greater and more reliable, the season's higher temperatures and increased evaporation along the river's large, semiarid drainage basin take their toll and render its streamflow only slightly higher than that of winter. The Rio Moctezuma discharges an intermittent flow amounting to roughly half of the Bavispe's (Dunbier
1968:29, 92, 95-96). 60
Rio Sonora Watershed. Also originating in the serrana are the Rio Sonora and its major tributary stream, the Rio San Miguel. Both intermittent rivers flow west of and roughly parallel to the Rio Moctezuma, until the Sonora turns west where it is joined by the San
Miguel to flow across the desert toward the gulf The Rio Sonora's headwaters reach into a high upland area where annual rainfall exceeds 500 mm (20 inches), but in its middle and lower reaches the river flows through increasingly arid terrain as it descends to the serrana's edge and enters the desert plain (Dunbier 1968:19, 92). The Rio San Miguel, which forms the western boundary of the serrana, rises and courses through an area of somewhat lesser rainfall (Dunbier 1968:19; West 1993:4, Figure 1).
To an even greater extent than the Rio Yaqui, the Rio Sonora carries its highest runoff—approximately 90 percent of its average annual total—during the summer rainy season, with July and August accounting for its highest streamflow (almost 30 and 50 percent, respectively) (Dunbier 1968:89). Substantially lower runoff occurs during the winter months of December-February, but unusually heavy winter rain can produce floodwaters exceeding the summer's total flow. The driest season extends from March through June (Doolittle 1988:9; Dunbier 1968:89, 93-95).
Rio Concepcion Watershed. To the northwest of the serrana, the Rio Magdalena and the
Rio Altar drain the upland area of higher rainfall at the desert margin south and southwest of modem Nogales, respectively, converging to the west to form the Rio Concepcion
(also known today as the Rio Asuncion). The Magdalena runs first to the south and then bends to the west, where it is joined by the southwest-flowing Altar in the desert plain. Their combined waters soon disappear into the desert gravels just west of Caborca, only occasionally reaching the coast (Dunbier 1968:78; Nentvig 1764:217v-218, 1971:63;
West 1993:7).
Both headwater streams run full during the summer months of July-October, and are typically intermittent during the drier winter season (West 1993:23). As is the case with other Sonoran streams, however, unusually strong winter storms can produce flows much higher than normal.
Rio Mdtape. In the desert basin and range country, south of the Rio Sonora's bend, rises the Rio Matape. A minor stream, its intermittent flow provides a small amount of surface water only in its upper reach; for most of its stretch the river is no more than a desert arroyo (Dunbier 1968:78; Nentvig 1764:216, 1971:61).
Nature of Intermittent Rivers. Although Sonora's intermittent rivers rise from springs, their significant streamflow commences with seasonal rains, as the water table rises and comes into contact with the streambed. Thunderstorms bring flash floods, which, as they descend from the mountainous areas, decrease rapidly in volume due to water infiltration and evaporation, channel storage, and bank stream runoff. After the rains cease, the water table falls again and the streambeds dry up. The streams, as they pass through arid terrain, become especially susceptible to evaporation and percolation. Rarely do the waters of the
Rio Concepcion empty into the gulf, and the Rio Sonora's waters generally sink below ground just past Pitic (present-day Hermosillo), whereas the meager surface flow of the 62
Rio Matape has never been known to reach the coast (Dunbier 1968:73-74, 78, 92;
Nentvig 1764:216v-217, 1971:62; Waters 1992:116-120).
Only during seasonal rains do these rivers run without interruption, especially in lower elevations, and seldom do they otherwise run from bank to bank. During dry seasons, their flows dwindle and sink down below surface in those stretches where bedrock is low. Permanent or semipermanent surface flow exists only in places where higher bedrock forces groundwater up into the streambed, or where short, spring-fed tributaries merge with the main stream. From prehistoric times onward, these favorable locales of dependable water have supported human settlement (Doolittle 1988:9; Dunbier
1968:73-74; Nentvig 1764:214-221, 1971:58-67). In numerous other places, bedrock brings the water table close enough to the streambed's surface to be tapped by shallow, hand-dug wells. Captain Juan Mateo Manje, reporting on his February, 1694 expedition with Father Kino to explore the Concepcion drainage, mentioned such a stretch in the riverbed beginning about two leagues (~5 miles) west of Caborca (Burrus 1971:293;
Manje 1954:13).
Arroyos. Ephemeral streamways abound in both the serrana and the desert, flowing only in immediate response to rain storms. The largest originate on the slopes of mountain ranges or on the higher alluvial plains. Under conditions of aggradation, surface runoff spreads widely as sheetwash over the alluvial plains at the foot of the more steeply inclined slopes and can be captured using small checkdams and channels. On the desert floor, however, most of the water evaporates in the summer heat before it can flow any distance, preventing much ground penetration (Dunbier 1968:74; Waters 1992:120; West
1993:7-8).
Agricultural Soils.
Sonora's landforms and climate largely determine the character of its soils and the vegetation they can support. Textural differences, surface nature, and depth of soil vary in a vertical sequence from mountain top to floodplain, with important implications for moisture retention (Dunbier 1968:35).
Floodplains. Floodplains offer uniformly fine, level, alluvial silts carried down from mountain slopes and deposited along low-lying river margins during periods of overbank flooding (Waters 1992:91). Although most concentrated at the wide delta plains of the larger rivers, these soils also form along the rivers in the serrana, restricted to narrow floodplains varying in width from 1 km to 4 km and separated by narrow box canyons
(Doolittle 1988:6; Dunbier 1968:36). With heavy rains, floodwaters wash over these plains and saturate the soil, dropping a new layer of silt as they soak down into the ground. The soil's fine texture encourages water unable to drain away underground to gradually move back up to the surface, where it evaporates. Rapid evaporation can cause the surface to be topped with a crust of soluble salts left out of solution. Most desert plants cannot survive either the long-period saturation or concentrations of harmful salts.
Many cultigens, however, thrive in the fertile soils of floodplains that are watered 64 regularly enough—through rainfall or flooding—to dissolve and remove the salts
(Dunbier 1968:36-37).
Bajadas. Located above the floodplains are the bajadas, broad, sloping plains formed as adjacent alluvial fans extend down from the mountains and converge. Their sediments derive from two processes: gravity-induced mass wasting of the higher slopes in catastrophic flow events, such as debris flows and mudflows; and streamflow emerging from mountains in arroyos that shallow to gullies and then to sheetflood, depositing lighter material over the low-gradient plains. The resulting mixtures of colluvial-alluvial soils, generally composed of sand and gravel, are much coarser than the fine floodplain sediments and better able to collect and hold rainfall, conserving moisture and releasing it gradually. Coarseness decreases as elevation declines, hi the steep upper bajadas, where alluvial fans are distinct, sandy gravels and gravels with a considerable amount of larger material accumulate at the fan heads. Here the soils are too thin and rocky for cultivating crops, however, and subject to rapid runoff and erosion. Moving down toward the more gently sloping lower bajadas, where stream velocity slows and alluvial fan bases coalesce, grain size decreases to gravelly sands and sandy loams that may even approach silty clays near the floodplain. Although thin, the soils of wide, aggrading arroyos are free of rocks, permeable, and moisture retentive, containing sufficient nutrients and minerals to support relatively dense vegetation (Doolittle 1988:14, 18; Dunbier 1968:12,
37-38; Waters 1992:154-156). Vegetation and Wildlife
Elevational differences in climate and soil greatly influence the biotic communities of the
Sonoran province, which are defined largely by their vegetation and broadly coincide with three of the vertical climatic zones—Lower Sonoran, Upper Sonoran, and
Transition—outlined by Lowe and Brown (1994:10-11, 13). In general, the variety, density, and size of plants increase with precipitation as one moves from northwest to southeast and from the desert to the serr ana.
Sonoran Desert Vegetation. Falling squarely within the Lower Sonoran zone, the
Sonoran Desert is dominated by four subdivisions of Sonoran Desertscrub comprising a number of species of shrubs, low trees, cacti, agaves, and grasses (Brown and Lowe
1994; Dunbier 1968:46-68; McGinnies 1981:43-69;West 1993:9-13). These subdivisions roughly correspond with regions of the desert that, while sharing many species and/or genera, offer diverse soil and water conditions leading to differences in size, density, and variety of plants, although the transition between subdivisions tends to be gradual.
Driest of the desert subregions are those covered by the Lower Colorado River
Valley and the Central Gulf Coast subdivisions, to the west (Figure 3.4). With the lowest terrain and dominated by broad, nearly level expanses of gravelly outwash and sand, these areas suffer the highest average temperatures and receive the least average rainfall
(100-250 mm, or 4-10 inches). Low, open stands of shrubs prevail on the arid plains— mainly creosote bush (Larrea tridentada) and white bursage {Ambrosia dumosa) in the 66
t N I \ Biotic Communities
Cenlral Gulf Madrean Evergreen C.oast Woodland Lower Colorado Seinidesert • River Valley Dn Grassland Arizona • Upland IZ3][••*i (;rassland Plains of lontane Conifer • Sonora HIE "orest Sinaloan ThornKcrui)
100 150 m
100 km By Kitiiliuno C>ullu^>ii
Figure 3.4. Biotic communities in the Sonoran province (adapted from Brown and Lowe 1994; Dunbier 1968). sandy soils to the north, and Frankenia and saltbush {Atriplex, spp.) in the more saline soils, especially along the coast to the south. The widely spaced mountains are too low to receive significantly greater precipitation, but their coarser soils and those of the bajadas offer somewhat improved moisture conditions, as do the intermittent desert streamways that carry water after summer downpours. These more favorable areas support a greater variety and density of shrubs and small trees, such as ocotillo (Fouquieria spendens), brittlebush (Encelia farinosa), whitethorn and catclaw acacias {Acacia, spp.), mesquite
{Prosopis, spp.), palo verde {Cercidium, spp.), ironwood {Olneya tesota), and copal
{Bursera, spp.), with chuparosa {Justicia californica), desert honeysuckle (Anisacanthus thurberi), canyon ragweed {Ambrosia ambrosioides), and desert willow {Chilopsis linearis) found along the larger arroyos. Cacti include scattered cholla and prickly pear
{Opuntia, spp.), hedgehog {Echinocereus, spp.), and barrel cactus {Ferocactus, spp.), as well as several species of columnar cacti—saguaro {Carnegiea gigantea), organ pipe or pitahaya {Stenocereus thurberi), cardon {Pachycereus pringlei), and senita {Lophocereus schottii), the latter three being more common to the south. Various agaves {Agave, spp.) grow on rocky hillsides (Dunbier 1968:46-50, 52, 60-61; McGinnies 1981:46-51, 67;
Turner et al. 1995; Turner and Brown 1994:190, 193-217; West 1993:10).
The eastern half of the desert marks the west-east transition from the low-profile, arid coastal zone to the rugged, semiarid-to-subhumid serrana. hi its northern sector, the
Arizona Upland vegetational subdivision covers elevations varying from 150 m (500 feet) up to about 900 m (3,000 feet). The higher elevations bring greater rainfall, ranging from about 200 mm (8 inches) on the west to 400 mm (16 inches) on the east, with winter 68 precipitation roughly equal to that of summer. Except for the broadest valleys, vegetation covers some 20-60 percent of the surface area, most of which comprises mountains, mountain pediments, and bajadas with coarse soils that sustain larger desertscrub forms, such as mesquite, palo verde, and saguaro. Trees are taller and more abundant, with a greater number of associated shrubs and cacti in a wider variety of species. The size, density, and variation of vegetation increase even more along small streamways, whereas the alluvial floodplains of larger desert streams provide water and soil conditions that support entire bosques of large mesquite trees. In addition, the region's biseasonal precipitation regime encourages the growth of numerous grasses and small annuals
(Dunbier 1968:52-54; McGinnies 1981:56-62; Turner and Brown 1994:200; West
1993:11).
To the south, the Plains of Sonora subdivision derives its name from the long, gently sloping bajadas that extend down from the region's fewer and lower desert mountains to dry arroyos and playas, creating intermontane plains characterized by coarse, gravelly-to-sandy outwash. Although somewhat lower than in the Arizona Upland subregion, elevations gradually rise from a low of 100 m (330 feet) in the west to 750 m
(2,500 feet) in the east. Annual precipitation amounts in this region also range from about
200 to 400 mm (8 to 16 inches), west to east, but rain falls mostly during summer thunderstorms and can fail altogether for season upon season. Summer temperatures are moderate as compared to the western desert, and the infrequent winter frosts are less severe than in the Arizona uplands. All of these conditions combine to create a northwest-southeast transition in vegetation from desertscrub to thomscrub with a gradual 69 enrichment of flora. In the northern part of this region, ironwood, palo verde, and mesquite reach their maximum size and abundance, growing in an open forest that also includes ocotillo and irregularly placed shrubs such as creosote, bursage, and brittlebush; widely spaced columnar cacti, such as organ-pipe, senita, hecho {Pachycereus pectin- aboriginum), and the occasional saguaro; infrequent but dense stands of prickly pear and cholla; and grasses in favorable spots. The central and southern parts contain a larger proportion of low-lying plains once characterized as savanna grassland, with grasses forming as much as 75 percent of vegetative cover. Twentieth-century grazing practices have since transformed grassland to desertscrub, although summer rains still produce abundant grasses and summer annuals, and revive numerous herbaceous perennials. Here, cacti drop off in density whereas trees and shrubs become more plentiful and interspersed with new species such as tree ocotillo {Fouquieriea macdougalii), palo santo or guaycan
(Guaiacum coulteri), palo bianco {Piscidia mollis), Sonoran paloverde {Cercedium sonorae), ]\io {Forchammeria watsoni), tree morning glory (Ipomoea arborescens), and pochote (Ceiba acuminata). This vegetation is particularly dense in the area southeast of
Hermosillo, where the higher summer rainfall on more broken terrain creates improved soil moisture conditions (Brown 1994a:137-141; Dunbier 1968:61-66; McGinnies
1981:62-64; Turner and Brown 1994:218-220).
In addition to these subdivisions of desertscrub, the Lower Sonoran Zone includes
Sinaloan thomscrub (Brown 1994b), a semidesert vegetation community in the southeastemmost part of the Sonoran Desert that occupies a transitional moisture gradient between desertscrub to the west and woodland or forest to the north and east. Sinaloan thomscrub mostly covers a broad region extending northeastward from the Rio Yaqui delta at near sea level and rising gradually to about 1,000 m (3,330 feet) in the serrana, in the vicinity of Axizpe on the Rio Sonora. With average annual precipitation ranging from
250 mm (10 inches) at the gulf to more than 500 mm (20 inches) at the eastern margins, this region receives greater rainfall than any others of the Sonoran Desert. Some 65-70 percent of rain falls during the summer, however, leaving the winter rainy season so insignificant as to slow or arrest plant growth from December to June, and long periods of drought can set in—a pattern accentuated in the south by a longer warm season with slightly higher temperatures (Brown 1994b:100-101, Table 12; Brown and Lowe 1994;
Dunbier 1968:66-67; McGinnies 1981:64-65; West 1993:Figure 1).
Prior to the alteration of habitat by grazing and fire suppression, thomscrub generally occupied the rockier, thinner soils of low hills, bajadas, mesas, and mountain slopes, ceding plains and river valleys to subtropical savannah grasslands. Thomscrub tends to be heavier and more continuous than desertscrab, dominated by thorny, pinnate- leaved, multitmnked species of trees and shmbs that range in height from 2 to 7-1/2 m.
Most common among these are mesquite, palo yerde, jatropha (Jatropha cordata), torote
(Bursera odorata), desert hackberry (Celtis pallida), tree morning glory, guayacan, ironwood, palo bianco, various acacias, tree ocotillo, brittlebush, limberbush {Jatropha cardiophylla), and lantana (Lantana velutina), with shmbs more numerous in the north and trees more prevalent in the south as well as in the plains and valleys. Large cacti are generally less frequent and less conspicuous than in other desert regions, but common species include the columnar organ pipe to the north and hecho to the south, as well as 71 various prickly pears and chollas, among others. Several agaves and sotol are found at higher elevations (Brown 1994a, 1994b; Dunbier 1968:67-68; McGinnies 1981:65).
Serrana Vegetation. The correspondence among elevation, climate, and vegetation patterns is even more pronounced in the serrana, where the peaks of its generally parallel mountain ranges increase markedly in height from about 1,200 m (4,000 feet) in the west to more than 2,600 m (8,660 feet) in the east, in contrast to the less discernible rise in bajada elevations from approximately 600 m (2,000 feet) along the lower reach of the Rio
San Miguel to more than 1,000 m (3,330 feet) along the upper segment of the Rio
Bavispe (Doolittle 1988:6). Within this elevational range he vegetation communities of all three vertical chmatic zones (see Lowe and Brown 1994:10-11, 13), their extent influenced by whether they occupy ridges or valleys, or the north or south slopes of mountains (McGinnies 1981:81).
The Lower Sonoran zone encompasses the lower intermontane valleys, which are mostly populated by Sinaloan thomscrub, as discussed above, although vegetation along the middle reach of the Rio Bavispe is classified as the Arizona Upland subdivision of
Sonoran desertscrub (see Brown and Lowe 1994). On the bajadas, this desert vegetation includes a rich mix of trees and shrubs such as mesquite, palo verde, ironwood, desert hackberry, and numerous species of acacia, ocotillo, and agaves. Organ pipe cacti are scattered all over, but various forms of prickly pear and cholla grow most abundantly near the bajada edges. Grasses and other ephemeral plants, although generally sparse, become more abundant with copious rainfall, and Doohttle (1988:16) has argued that 72 grass cover was more prominent, with fewer trees and shrubs, in pre-Hispanic days.
Vegetation grows denser and taller along the margins of arroyos, with the richest and heaviest stands populating the larger arroyos and mountain canyons. Above the bajadas, in the shallow soils of the pediments, vegetation begins to take on the character of thorn forest, presenting fewer shrubs and more trees and cacti. Between about 1,050 and 1,200 m (3,500-4,000 feet) in the northern serrana, all desert forms are still found but the frequencies of shrubs and many cacti decline, while mesquites become more abundant and larger, and yuccas and Palmer agave (A. palmerii) appear on the northerly slopes. By about 1,200-1,350 m (4,000-4,500 feet), most desert species are constrained to the warmer, south-facing slopes, having found their uppermost limit (Doolittle 1988:7, 12-
13; McGinnies 1981:86-91; Turner etal. 1995).
The uplands of the serrana lie in the Upper Sonoran zone, where vegetation mostly takes the form of Madrean evergreen woodland and semidesert grassland, but also includes plains grassland (Brown and Lowe 1994; Doolittle 1988:7). At its lower limits,
Madrean evergreen woodland typically consists of encinal, a Spanish-derived term referring to an open woodland of evergreen oaks (Quercus, spp.) that often begins to include junipers (Juniperus, spp.) and pinyon {Pinus, spp.) as elevation increases. To the south, the transition from thomscrub to encinal occurs at relatively low elevations of about 900-1,200 m (3,000^,000 feet). Farther north, however, where the lower encinal shares much of the same elevational range as grassland, it makes contact with semidesert grassland at roughly 1,200-1,350 m (4,000-4,500 feet) to the northwest, and with plains or semidesert grassland at 1,500-1,800 m (4,500-6,000 feet) to the north and east (Brown 1994c:60); grassland groundcover forms much of the woodland understory, but at lesser densities. With increasing altitude, the encinal gives way to an oak-pine woodland, where the evergreen oaks are joined or replaced by a large variety of deciduous oaks and numerous species of pine, and the density of both trees and shrubs increases. Most common among the larger shrubs are manzanita {Arctostaphylos pungens), and silk tassel
{Garrya wrightii), whereas catclaw mimosa {Mimosa laxiflord), sages {Salvia, spp.), penstemons {Penstemon, spp.), and beans {Phaseolus, spp.) number among the herbaceous perennials. Sotol, beargrass, and Palmer agave continue to flourish as far up as 6,000 feet (1,800 m) on southern slopes (Brown 1994c:59-62; McGinnies 1981:91-
92).
Semidesert grassland forms a transitional landscape mostly between desertscrub and woodland, but in some areas between desertscrub and plains grassland. It is the more extensive of the two serrana grasslands and lower in elevation, ranging from about 1,100 m (3,650 feet) at its west and northeastern margins to as high as 1,900 m (6,330 feet), with annual precipitation averaging between 250 and 450 mm (10 and 18 inches), some
50-60 percent of which falls during the summer (Brown 1994a:123-124). Although vegetation prominently features numerous short, perennial grass species such as gramas
{Bouteloua, spp.), Arizona cottontop {Digitaria californica), bush muhly {Muhlenbergia porteri), and pappusgrass (Pappophorum vaginatum), it also includes of a mixture of forbs, shrubs, small trees, and cacti, many with Sonoran Desert affinities (McClaran
1995:8, Figure 1.3). Lupines {Lupinus, spp.), wild buckwheats {Eriogonum, spp.), mallows {Sphaeralcea, spp.), spiderlings {Boerhaavia, spp.), devils-claws {Martynia, 74 spp.), and amaranths number among the many weeds and forbs, and stem and leaf succulents such as sotols {Dasylirion, spp.), beargrasses (Nolina, spp.), and yuccas flourish in abundance. Common trees and shrubs include mesquites, one-seed juniper
{Juniperus monosperma), ocotillo, acacias, burroweed (Isocoma tenuisecta), snakeweed
{Gutierrezia sarothrae), desert hackberry, and mimosa {Mimosa, spp.), and various species of cacti (prickly pear, cholla, and barrel, among others) and agaves are important
(Brown 1994a:123-127).
Restricted to the northern serrana at the somewhat higher elevations of about
1,500-2,200 m (5,000-7,330 feet), plains grassland hes between semidesert grassland and woodland (Brown 1994a:115-116). Grasses dominate this landscape, including a number of gramas as well as plains lovegrass {Eragrostis intermedia), and big sacaton
(Sporobolus wrightii) in the seasonally flooded bottomlands. The cooler temperatures and slightly greater precipitation (averaging 300-450 mm, or 12-18 inches, annually) inhibit the presence of many desertscrub plants, however, instead encouraging a scattering of species with strong woodland affinities, such as the evergreen Emory oak (Quercus emoryi), Arizona white oak {Q. arizonica), and one-seed juniper. Also common are short succulents such as sotol {Dasylirion wheeleri) and beargrass {Nolina microcarpa)
(McClaran 1995:10, Figure 1.4).
At the time of Spanish contact, the grasslands were undoubtedly more open and brush-free than they are today (Bahre 1995:230-231; Van Devender 1995:94). Since the latter portion of the nineteenth century, a combination of intense grazing and agricultural practices, drought, intensified settlement, and fire-suppression has led to the reduction or 75 even elimination of grasses, facilitating the invasion of woody trees and shrubs, various succulents, and nonnative grass species. Fire-control practices may be a particularly important factor in this change; Bahre (1995:234-235) has suggested that periodic fires set by indigenous groups in the past—whether by accident, by intention, or both—swept over the grasslands and probably kept them largely free of brush.
The Transition zone is populated by montane conifer forest, which, although widespread in the Sierra Madre, is confined to only the highest summits of the serrana, typically beginning at elevations of about 2,200-2,300 m (7,330-7,670 feet), where its contact is with Madrean evergreen woodland (Brown and Lowe 1994; Pase and Brown
1994:43—48). This is the zone that receives the greatest precipitation, ranging from 460-
510 mm (18-20 inches) to as high as 635 mm (25 inches), more than half of which falls during a limited growing season of mid-May to mid-September (Dunbier 1968:19; Pase and Brown 1994:43, Table 2). The oak-pine woodland at its lower limits gives way to stands of Ponderosa pine—mainly Pinus ponderosa—that form the principal vegetation.
A few shrubs, but mainly various grasses and other herbaceous plants populate the understory, with grasses and sedges especially prevalent among the more open tree stands. At the uppermost elevations, above approximately 2,450 m (8,160 feet),
Ponderosa pines are joined by Douglas-fir (Pseudotsuga menziesii) and Mexican white pine {Pinus ayacahuite) in a mixed conifer forest, where the dense canopy cover restricts undergrowth largely to a few areas opened up by fires or other disturbances. Wetland Vegetation. Sonera's rivers and springs create wetland environments within its other biotic communities. Periodically or seasonally inundated floodplains and slow- draining, spring-fed marshlands, or cienagas, produce conditions wet enough to support riparian plant species that may thrive in distinct stretches along rivers or integrated with adjacent plant communities—which often attain greater size and density—or as intermittent stands within those communities. In general, changes in elevation lead to changes in species, but the cooler and moister air of river canyons encourages higher elevation species to extend further downslope than they would under drier conditions
(Minckley and Brown 1994:224).
In the upper elevations of the serrana (ca. 1,700-2,300 m, or 5,660-7,660 feet) montane riparian wetlands are characterized by a "canyon bottom forest" formed along perennial and nearly perennial streams (Minckley and Brown 1994:240). Narrowleaf
Cottonwood (Populus angustifolia) and willows (Salix, spp.) are principal species in this forest, which also includes maple (Acer grandidentatum), box elder {Acer negundo), and alder {Alnus oblongifolia) as well as the oaks, pines, shrubs, and grasses of adjacent montane conifer forest.
With decreasing elevation, the montane riparian forest gives way to interior riparian deciduous forest and woodlands along both perennial and seasonally intermittent streams and springs. Communities of short-lived Fremont cottonwood {Populus fremontii) and willows {Salix gooddingii, S. exigua, S. bonplandiana) characterize the alluvial sands, clays, and gravels of the floodplains, nurtured and maintained by periodic spring floods more than summer precipitation and runoff (Minckley and Brown 77
1994:250-251). Along the rubble of the streams themselves the cottonwoods and willows are joined by a mixed broadleaf series of trees that includes sycamore {Platanus wrightii), velvet ash {Fraxinus pennsylvanica var. velutina), walnut (Juglans major) and alder, and oaks and conifers from upstream and adjacent uplands maintain a presence. At the lower elevations of about 1,100-1,500 m (3,670-5,000 feet), trees of a more southerly disposition appear, including netleaf hackberry {Celtis reticulata) and Mexican elder
{Sambucus mexicana).
As the streams descend to elevations below 1,100-1,200 m (3,670-4,000 feet), the more broadleaf trees taper off and the willow and cottonwood take on a tropical- subtropical quality characteristic of Sonoran riparian deciduous forest and woodlands, restricted at these desert levels to the immediate floodplains of perennial or spring- flowing streams (Minckley and Brown 1994:269-273). On the higher, secondary floodplains where the water table is somewhat lower, mesquite woodlands, or basques, dominate the landscape (Doohttle 1988:11). Historically, the bosque interiors were generally open, with an understory of grasses and forbs such as amaranth and chenopods.
Mexican elder and hackberry maintain a presence, and blue paloverde, catclaw acacia, and ironwood are common in more arid locations.
Along the lower reach of the Rio Yaqui, below about 760 m (2,530 feet) in elevation, stretches the northernmost extension of Sinaloan riparian evergreen forest and woodland, a streamside community of tropic-subtropic vegetation in the midst of
Sinaloan thomscrub. Closer forests and more open woodlands of cottonwood, willow, wild figs {Ficus, spp.), palms (Sabal uresana, Erythea aculeata, Clethra lanata), and 78
Montezuma cypress, or cedros (Taxodium mucronatum) contain an understory that might include mesquite {Prosopis juliflora) as well as numerous shrubs typically found further south (Minckley and Brown 1994:275). And at the river's mouth lie mangrove swamps of considerable extent, containing three species of mangrove (Avicennia germinans,
Rizophora mangle, Languncularia racemosa) (Minckley and Brown 1994:280.
At elevations below 1,000 m (3,330 feet), relatively recent cycles of arroyo cutting—triggered by drought beginning in the 1880s, but compounded by increased diversion and impoundment of streamflow as well as ground water pumping—have rendered the stream margins and adjacent floodplains considerably less mesic than they once were (Minckley and Brown 1994:225). The higher water tables of yesteryear fostered the development and maintenance of riverine marshlands in stream meanders and oxbows, as well as nearby spring-fed marshlands. The deeper, less saline of these supported communities of various cattail (Typha, spp.), bulrushes, reeds, sedges, and grasses, as well as several more herbaceous plants (Minckley and Brown 1994:258, 282).
Vegetation along the gulf coast is thickest on the tidal flats, where a number of tidalscrub species—including eelgrass (Zostera marina) (Sheridan 1999a:129, n.45)— thrive in wet, salty soils, although the density of plant cover varies significantly depending upon the frequency of tidal flooding and soil conditions. On the beach dunes, plant growth is largely deterred by the westerly wind and gulf spray, and sparse populations of deep-rooted, low forbs and a very few grasses are restricted to the less exposed dunes that are furthest inland. Likewise, vegetation on the rock rubble and cliff shores is extremely sparse, consisting of nonvascular species, annuals, and some hardy desertscrub and thomscrub perennials more commonly found on inland cliffs (Minckley and Brown 1994:284),
Animals: The mobility of animals and their relative tolerance of varying ecological conditions allow many to range widely, and each of Sonora's vegetational and climatic zones has its mix of ungulates (hoofed animals), large predators, various smaller mammals, amphibians and reptiles, and birds. Yet that mix is shaped by differences in plant communities and patterns of temperature and rainfall, which place constraints on the geographic distribution and numbers of particular species.
In the low, western desert region, for example, large mammals are relatively few.
Bighorn sheep {Ovis canadensis) browse in the open, rugged terrain of the scattered mountains, mostly in the vicinity of tinajas, or pools of captured rainwater in the bedrock, whereas Sonoran pronghom {Antelocapra americana var. sonorensis) prefer the low brush country of the open plains, feeding on sagebrush and grasses; the opportunistic, carnivorous coyote roams far and wide. Better suited to the region's high daytime temperatures are smaller animals with burrowing or nocturnal habits, such as the large populations of mice, ground squirrels, and rats that make their home in the sandy plains, or the kit fox (Vulpes macrotis) and numerous snakes and lizards that prey on them. Thickets in and along desert drainages support fairly dense populations of desert cottontail rabbits {Sylvilagus auduboni) as well as Gambel's quail (Lophortyx gambeli) and, if the brush is tall enough, mourning and white-winged doves. Otherwise, vegetation and water generally are too sparse to attract and support many birds—with the notable 80 exceptions of interior marshlands, which serve as wintering grounds for various waterfowl and host several bird species year round, and the Gulf of California coast, where shore birds abound. Offshore sea animals include the sea lion (Zalophus californianus), the green sea turtle (Chelonia mydas carrinegra), and many kinds of fish
(Minkley and Brown 1994:258, 278, 282-283; Palmer 1954:307-308, 315-316; Turner and Brown 1994:200, 217; Van Gelder 1982:229, 293, 297; West 1993:15).
Greater precipitation and density of plants support larger ungulate populations in the higher desert regions to the east and adjacent grasslands. Mule deer (Odocoileus hemionus var. crooki) are common in the brushy desertscrub areas and the semidesert grasslands, feeding on the grasses and herbs that thrive during the summer as well as on low woody plants, cactus fruits, and flowers; white-tailed deer (O. virginianus), however, prefer to browse the more tropical desert thomscrub region to the south. Of tropical origin, the collared peccary or javelina (Dicotyles tajacu) today ranges broadly in desert- and thomscrub and grasslands for a wide variety of plant and animal foods, particularly favoring the pads and fruits of prickly pears as well as the roots, beans, and pods of mesquites, but appears to have not yet ventured beyond the serrana during Spanish colonial times (Nentvig 1764:228-232, 1971:78-79). Among the smaller mammals are jackrabbits {Lepus, spp.) and desert cottontails, in addition to various mice, rats, ground squirrels, and bats. Bobcats {Lynx rufus) prey mainly on the rabbit and rodent populations to the north, as do ocelots (F. paradalis) to the south; other small-mammal predators include the coyote, the kit fox, and the gray fox {Urocyon cinereoargenteus). Numerous birds find suitable habitat in the mixed scrub, including the Harris' hawk {Parabuteo 81 unicinctus), roadrunners {Geococcyx californianus), quail (Lophortyx, spp.), doves, owls, flycatchers, woodpeckers, curve-billed thrasher, and cactus wrens. Reptiles are well represented by many kinds of lizards and snakes, as well as the desert tortoise {Gopherus agassizi) and box turtles (Brown 1994b: 104; Palmer 1954; Turner and Brown 1994:203,
220; Van Gelder 1982; West 1993:13-15).
Prior to the mid-nineteenth century, the grasslands were more open and free of scrub, supporting abundant pronghom and prairie dogs (Cynomys ludovicianus) as well as the Mexican gray wolf (Canis lupus baileyi) (Bahre 1995:230-231). Today, scrub- feeding mule deer and javelina are replacing antelope, and human efforts to protect livestock have chased the wolf to the uppermost elevations of the serrana. Prairie dogs and numerous other rodents, as well as jackrabbits, fall prey to the coyote, swift fox
{Vulpes velox), and the badger (Taxidea taxus), which also feeds on the many ground- nesting birds, eggs, lizards, and snakes (Brown 1994a:121, 130).
The streams cutting through the high desert and grassland regions create ribbons of subtropical riparian woodlands that support beaver, raccoon, jaguar {Felis onca), and tree-dwelling bats and attract the practically omnivorous ring-tail {Bassariscus astutus), which resides in canyons and nearby cliffs, ledges, and caves. Various wild ducks and other water birds are drawn to the waters, and the riparian trees provide nesting sites for the southernmost bald eagle and the northernmost gray hawk {Buteo nitidus).!:^^ wetlands support frogs, toads, and salamanders, as well as a few snakes and lizards. A few freshwater fish species are known to swim in the desert rivers, but tend to be specific to only one or two streams (Minckley and Brown 1994:270-272; Palmer 1954; Van
Gelder 1982; West 1993:15).
A number of large mammals make their home in the cooler, better watered environment of the serrana's higher elevations. The sole ungulate is the white tailed deer, whose principal habitat is mixed or deciduous woodland, usually near water, where it selectively feeds on aquatic plants, grasses, nuts, leaves, and twigs. This deer population attracts mountain lions {Felis concolor), whereas coyotes prey on the smaller mammals such as eastern cottontails (Sylvilagus floridanus) and representative species of mice, rats, squirrels, and gophers. Rodents are likewise an important source of meat for the black bear (JJrsus americanus), which also consumes fish and insects, rounding out its diet with prodigious quantities of fruits, berries, nuts, buds and leaves, green grass, and conifer bark; a similar niche was shared in earlier times by the Mexican grizzly {U. horribilis), which augmented its meat regimen with other mammals, as well as lizards and snakes.
Coati (Nasua nasua), most commonly found in the oak-pine zone, tend to inhabit canyons in proximity to streams, which at these elevations provide suitable habitat for river otters (Lutra canadensis), raccoons, ring-tails, skunks, and numerous bats as well as amphibians, snakes, and lizards. A rich assortment of birds inhabits the woodlands, including quail, woodpeckers, owls, jays, and hummingbirds, and wild turkeys
(Meleagris gallopavo mexicana) in the higher, oak-pine zone. Minnows, chub, and Yaqui sucker {Catostomus bernardini) number among the diverse fish in the upland streams
(Brown 1994c:62-65; Minckley and Brown 1994:252-254; Palmer 1954; Van Gelder
1982; West 1993:14-15). 83
In the cold temperate forests at the serrana's uppermost heights, large mammals are limited. This is the territory of the Mexican gray wolf (Canis lupis), which preys on the white-tailed deer that grazes the open understory of the forest edges and stream margins and browses during the winter on twigs, conifer branches, or tree lichens. The wolf also feeds on eastern cottontails, which are most abundant in the higher, mixed conifer forests, as well as on the many types of rodents distributed generally throughout the zone: shrews {Sorex, spp.), chipmunks {Eutamias, spp.), voles {Microtus, spp.), woodrats (neotoma mexiand), and mice {Peromyscus maniculatus)', porcupines
(Erethizon dorsatum) and tree squirrels (Sciurus aberti) favor the yellow pine forests of somewhat lower altitude. Other small mammals include a number of cave-dwelling bats
(Myotis, spp., Eptesicus fuscus), and the beaver {Castor canadensis) and raccoons
{Procyon lotor) reside in the riparian habitat along the streams, also inhabited by wild turkeys and the thick-billed parrot (Rhynchopsitta pachyrhyncha). Various other birds make their home in the forest or streamside, as do numerous snakes, lizards, and amphibians. The relatively few coldwater fish species include trout (Salmo, spp.)
(Minckley and Brown 1994:240-241; Palmer 1954; Pase and Brown 1994:47^8).
hi the tropical-subtropical streamside vegetation along the lower Rio Yaqui, the jaguar and ocelot (Felis pardalis) subsist on a variety of small animal life, and the coati forages grubs, lizards, roots, and fruits. Birds include the very colorful military macaw
{Ara militaris), parrots and parakeets {Amazonia finschi, Forpus cyanopygius, Aratinga holochlora), and hummingbirds, as well as many songbirds and other species found in riparian communities to north. Among the diverse reptiles and amphibians are mud 84 turtles {Kinosternon, spp.) and pond turtles (Rhinoclemmys pulcherrima), as well as numerous snakes and frogs. Streams support several tropical fishes, including the Yaqui catfish ilctalurus pricei), the Yaqui sucker {Castostomus bernardini), and the Roundtail chub {Gila robusta robusta), and a few marine fishes have been known to penetrate the
Rio Yaqui far above tidal influence. The mangrove swamps at the river's mouth support several bird species and form a nursery for sport fishes such as snappers {Lutjanus, spp.)
(Minckley and Brown 1994:275-276, 280; Palmer 1954:139-140; Van Gelder 1982:253-
254).
CLIMATIC VARIABILITY AND ECOLOGICAL RESPONSES
Variability of climatic parameters such as precipitation and temperature shape the ecological rhythms of Sonora, influencing streamflow and the diversity, range, and productivity of plants and animals. Interannual and multiyear climate trends modify seasonal patterns by modulating the frequency, magnitude, and spatial scale of natural disturbances—^high-magnitude flooding events, drought, fire, and insect outbreaks—that can significantly alter water supplies and/or affect plant and animal populations, predisposing the landscape to further disturbances (Cayan et al. 1998; Swetnam and
Betancourt 1998). Thus, paleoclimatic reconstructions aimed at understanding climatic variability and ecological responses offer us a window on prevailing environmental conditions in mid-eighteenth-century Sonora. 85
Sources of Climatic Variability
Recent studies indicate that a significant amount of chmatic variability in the U.S.
Southwest and northern Mexico is associated with the El Nifio/Southem Oscillation
(ENSO) cycle (Cayan et al. 1998; Cleaveland et al. 2003; Stable et al. 1998a; Woodhouse
1997). El Nino is the name given, due to its appearance around Christmas, to an occasional warming of the normally cool sea surface temperature (SST) along the Pacific coast of South America. It represents one SST extreme of the Southern Oscillation (SO), a sea-level pressure seesaw that moves back and forth between the southeastern tropical
Pacific and the Australian-Indonesian region. The other, cold extreme is known as La
Nina.
Under "normal" conditions, cool SSTs prevail along the western coast of South
America, produced by strong oceanic upwelling associated with trade winds along the equatorial regions and a south-to-north flow along the coast. These combine with high pressure in the southeastern Pacific to create an extremely arid coastal zone along
Ecuador and Peru. At the other end of the seesaw is a low-pressure, wet zone that extends from the equatorial regions of Indonesia eastward to New Guinea and the western Pacific, expanding northwestward into India and southeast Asia during the northern summer and southward into northern Australia and the southwestern tropical Pacific during the northern winter.
During an El Nino event, these patterns are reversed. A weakening of the high pressure to the east accompanies a decrease in the strength of the trade winds, reducing oceanic upwelling and allowing an increase in the SSTs. The warming of the ocean 86 surface effectively draws the main regions of convection and rainfall eastward from the northern Australian and southwestern tropical Pacific monsoon regions to the central and eastern tropical Pacific, bringing heavy rainfall to the normally arid coastal zone of northern South America while substantially reducing monsoon rainfall in hidonesia and the western Pacific. In contrast, a La Nina event amplifies the already heavy rainfall over normal monsoon regions to the west and the relatively cool SSTs over the eastern equatorial Pacific, creating climatic anomalies that are, for the most part, opposite to those experienced during warm events (Diaz and Kiladis 1992:9-11).
The strength of El Nino and La Nina events is highly variable, with the greatest interannual variance of mean annual precipitation observed in the core region of the El
Nino-Southern Oscillation (ENSO) cycle (Diaz and Kiladis 1992:8). Studies on remote atmospheric and oceanic responses—or teleconnections—associated with these events, however, suggest that the ENSO cycle is an important force in the interannual variance of cool-season climate in subtropical North America, hi fact, a recent dendroclimatic study by Stable et al. (1998a) shows that the combined tree-ring data from the U.S. Southwest and northern Mexico register a boreal winter ENSO signal strong and stable enough to provide a reasonable proxy for ENSO reconstruction.
In general. El Nino events tend to enhance normal winter precipitation patterns in the Southwest and northern Mexico, whereas La Nina events tend to reverse them (Cayan and Webb 1992). Normal precipitation patterns are influenced by the Pacific North
American (PNA) mode of atmospheric circulation characterizing North American winters, which generally keeps the winter storm track north of Southwestern and Sonoran 87 latitudes. Wet conditions develop in Sonora when PNA circulation phases into a pattern of deep low pressure over the eastern Pacific, south of the Aleutians, that displaces the high pressure generally dominating the region while pushing the storm track southward and tapping into southwesterly flow from the tropical Pacific. This modified PNA pattern tends to be associated with ENSO conditions, but does not always accompany El Nino events, and can occur independently of them (Cayan et al. 1998; Woodhouse 1997). In concert, the two are likely to deliver much greater-than-usual winter precipitation to
Sonora, with warm El Nino SSTs boosting the moisture available to developing storms.
Conversely, the cold currents of a La Nina event suppress or reduce storm development.
Woodhouse (1997:860-861) has recently discussed another circulation feature that appears to increase winter precipitation in the Sonoran Desert—in Arizona, at least— characterized by the presence of a low-pressure trough centered over southern Nevada and the lower Colorado River basin, with the coincident westward displacement of the high pressure center over the Pacific Ocean. The displacement of the high pressure center steers disturbance flows around it, causing them to cross into the continent at a more southerly point. Although this Southwest low pattern appears to be responsible for more than 50 percent of total winter precipitation in the northern desert region, there are insufficient data to assess the extent of its effect south of the international border. And whereas it represents a different mode of atmospheric circulation, it may not be independent of the ENSO/PNA pattern.
Variability of the North American Monsoon system (NAMS), which delivers summer rainfall to northern Mexico and the U.S. Southwest and has its origins in 88 different air masses, has been regarded as largely independent of variability in winter precipitation (Cleaveland et al. 2003:370; Dean 1988:123). Recent studies, however, suggest that ENSO conditions and PNA circulation phases may be associated with the variability of summer precipitation in the Southwest, in that dry summer monsoons tend to follow wet winters and springs and wet monsoons tend to follow dry winters and springs (Higgins et al. 1998; Swetnam and Betancourt 1998:3131). "This association arises," according to Higgins et al. (1998:2601-2602), "at least in part, from memory imparted to the atmosphere by the accompanying patterns of Pacific SSTA [sea surface temperature anomalies] during the winter and spring preceding the monsoon." They propose that the ENSO, rather than driving the monsoon's variability, more likely modulates it (Higgins et al. 1998:2605).
Although El Nino and La Nina patterns tend to develop during the period of
March through May, their effects are not experienced as far north as Sonora until the following winter. They last for at least one year and frequently longer, and can strongly influence not only the interannual variability of the winter-spring climate, but also wet and dry cycles on a decadal scale (Cayan et al. 1998; Cleaveland et al. 2003:369-370;
Swetnam and Betancourt 1998).
Climate Patterning Prior To and During the Study Period
Climate reconstructions built on tree-ring chronologies from the U.S. Southwest and northern Mexico give us an outline of climatic variability for the broader region. Figures
3.5 and 3.6 graph data from Cook's (2000) Southwestern U.S.A. Drought Index 89
2
SWD
-3 ^ ^^ 1600 1620 1640 1660 1680 1700
Figure 3.5. Southwestern U.S.A. Drought hidex reconstruction, 1600-1700 (based on Cook 2000).
Reconstruction for the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, respectively. The graphs show several periods that, while marked by interannual fluctuations in precipitation, were characterized by lower-frequency cycles of pronounced wetness or dryness, some of which lasted for a decade or more. Notably wet periods include 1603-1621, 1634-1663,
1689-1695, 1718-1726, 1743-1747, and 1758-1771, whereas dryness dominated the intervals of 1622-1628, 1664-1676, 1728-1742, 1748-1757, and 1773-1782. Because tree growth generally varies directly with precipitation and inversely with temperature 90
SWD
1700 1720 1740 1760 1780 1800
Figure 3.6. Southwestern U.S.A. Drought hidex reconstruction, 1700-1800 (based on Cook 2000).
(Dean 1988:133), we can expect wet periods to have been relatively cool and dry periods relatively warm.
From this broad-scale reconstruction for the Southwest, we can infer that abnormally hot, dry conditions also prevailed in Sonora during the period of 1728-1742, marked by a profound drop in precipitation in 1729 followed by one of somewhat lesser magnitude in 1733, and persistently below-average levels during 1735-1740. A reconstruction of the Southern Oscillation Index (SOI) by Stable et al. (1998b) indicates 91 that the period was characterized by abrupt shifts between roughly normal conditions and moderate La Nina events until 1737, when the magnitude intensified to a seesaw between moderate-to-strong El Nino and strong La Nina events (Figure 3.7). The driest year,
1729, coincided with a moderate La Nina event, whereas a strong La Nina event in 1739 was associated with drought of a more moderate level. This suggests that the ENSO was in phase with PNA circulation at the beginning of the period, but out of phase during the latter part.
10
-10 -—
-15 ^ 1700 1720 1740 1760 1780 1800
Figure 3.7. Southern Oscillation hidex reconstruction, 1700-1800 (based on Stable et al. 1998b). As a measure of sea-level pressure in the eastern Pacific, high values are associated with La Nina events, whereas low values signal El Nino conditions. Cook's (2000) data, derived from earlywood or total tree-ring widths, largely reflect precipitation during the winter and early spring. "Abnormally wet years tend to occur when the winter precipitation component is greater than average," according to
Dean (1988:123). "Li short, the winter component accounts for much of the variability in annual precipitation in most areas of the Southwest." In Sonora, however, where as much as 70 percent of annual precipitation falls during the summer, the summer component may have a greater impact on the annual total. Data from a pilot study of summer rainfall variability by Meko and Baisan (2001)— derived from latewood-width rings of trees on mountains flanking the San Pedro river basin, in southeastern Arizona—indicate that summers in that region were relatively dry more than wet during the period of 1728-
1742, following a particularly dry summer in 1727 (Figure 3.8). This is especially the case during the latter half of the period, beginning with 1736. Due to the preliminary nature of the study, as well as its limited sample size and localized sources, these data cannot be used with any degree of confidence to reconstruct summer precipitation patterns for Sonora. Further, because monsoon storms move from south to north, it is possible that summer precipitation was somewhat higher in the mountains of Sonora than along the San Pedro basin. Nevertheless, the data suggest that the summer component of annual rainfall may have contributed appreciably to the predominantly dry character of the period. 93
2.5
2
1.5
1 M J Summer 1 \ iVlJii ^
1 0.5
0 1700 1720 1740 1760 1780 1800
Figure 3.8. Adjusted Latewood-Width Index for San Pedro River Basin (normal =1) (based on data provided by David M. Meko, Laboratory of Tree-Ring Research, University of Arizona.
Ecological Responses
The region of Sonora for which these data are most applicable is in the high elevations of the serrana, where conifers grow. Because the data reflect precipitation patterns on a regional scale, however, and because the serrana contributes vital runoff to the desert, the variability of rainfall indicated has important implications for the environment of the entire province, particularly in terms of streamflow and biota. Streamflow. Patterns of precipitation and temperature in Sonora's arid and semiarid environments have a profound effect on streamflow, influencing the amount of water available and variation in that availability within the annual cycle and over longer periods of time. Heavy rains turn shallow, slow-moving, dry-season flows into fast-flowing flood torrents, while prevailing temperatures affect rates of evaporation and soil porosity.
Variability in these parameters creates changing conditions of water discharge and sediment load, which in turn set in motion changes in the channel's morphology and slope that further affect water discharge (Graybill et al. 2004:9, 21). These changes vary according to conditions that are specific to individual streams and their different reaches, a point underscored by recent long-term reconstructions of streamflow for Arizona's Salt and Gila Rivers (Graybill 1989; Graybill and Nials 1989; Graybill et al. 2004; Nials et al.
1989; Waters and Ravesloot 2000, 2001). Yet the study of those two streams provides a model for the common process by which rivers in arid and semiarid lands adjust their channels to prevailing conditions over time.
Graybill et al. (2004:10) describe the process as one of "punctuated trends toward equilibrium," with equilibrium represented by a single stream channel with a minimal active floodplain. Changes in channel and floodplain morphology tend to be induced by relatively infrequent, high-magnitude floods or closely spaced clusters of high annual flows that erode channel banks and lead to the development of a wide, braided channel.
Followed by a sufficiently long period of near-average flows, the active floodplain will stabilize, gradually narrowing until it develops into single, meandering channel. In reality, however, channel-changing events take place often enough that the stream seldom completely regains this condition. Smaller floods occur with greater frequency, scouring
the active floodplain and sometimes creating secondary channels, and given sufficient
magnitude can cause a shift back to wide, braided conditions (Graybill et al. 2004:Figure
3, Table 5).
Although tree-ring chronologies can be used to measure relative fluctuations in
precipitation and temperature from year to year, they are not sensitive to individual
precipitation events (Dean 1988:135-136). Studies of the Salt and Gila Rivers, however, reveal a strong correlation between years with high annual streamflow and years in which floods occur (Graybill et al. 2004:13). The relationship is not linear, and the magnitude of annual flow does not indicate the magnitude or timing of any individual flood event during a given year, but annual flows of high magnitude do appear to signal the potential occurrence of flood events some time during that year.
Because there have been no comparable tree-ring chronologies and streamflow reconstructions created for Sonora's rivers, it is not possible to discuss their streamflow patterns during the mid-1700s with any precision. Nor can we automatically equate precipitation levels with streamflow levels, without consideration of moderating factors such as evaporation, infiltration, and the biological processes of the trees from which samples have been obtained (Graybill et al. 2004:2). Nevertheless, by using Graybill et al.'s (2004) model of stream behavior in conjunction with Cook's (2000) regional drought index as a guide to longer-term climatic trends, we can infer probable responses among the rivers to the predominantly dry cycle of 1728-1742. Drought can figure prominently in a river's channel-changing behavior by
exacerbating the potential effects of subsequent floods (Graybill et al. 2004:10-11, 22).
During a prolonged period of low or no precipitation, streamflow and the alluvial water
table decline and the landscape dries out, causing a general reduction in vegetation,
although there may be a localized increase along channel margins and in the channel
bottoms (Graybill et al. 2004:Table 5). These conditions predispose the soil to erosion
and increase the potential for high flows that follow—^whether single, high-magnitude
floods or multiple, closely spaced, moderate or larger discharges—to rearrange the channel through the development of braided conditions, or intensify old patterns through
lateral erosion and/or downcutting. Drought in headwater areas affects channel
morphology downstream, with increased erosion elevating the sediment load carried by
the floodwaters. The sandier and more easily eroded the floodplain and channel-bottom deposits, the more susceptible the river to change-producing flood events (Graybill et al.
2004:10-11).
The period of 1728-1742 was a prolonged period of mostly lower-than-average
precipitation, beginning with particularly low levels that appear to have coincided with
relatively moderate La Nina events in 1729 and 1733. If the San Pedro Basin latewood tree-ring data are any indication of events in northeastern Sonora, the extremity of drought in both years was caused by low precipitation during the summer and winter rainy seasons. It seems likely that conditions conducive to significant channel alteration during high-flow events developed early in the period and persisted until the mid-1740s, when a wetter cycle prevailed. High flows amidst the more pronounced seasonal and annual shifts in precipitation from 1729 to 1735 may well have provided the impetus for major channel changes—as would any high-magnitude floods caused by isolated, heavy rainfalls that might have occurred during the less variably dry years of 1736-1742
(Graybill et al. 2004:10-11). If water tables were low enough and soil sufficiently desiccated, even lesser floods could reshape streambeds.
Although all of Sonora's rivers were probably affected by the prolonged drought, differences among them would have influenced the timing, rate, magnitude, and nature of channel adjustments. The greatest differences lie between the Rio Yaqui, a major river with southern tributaries draining the Sierra Madre, and the smaller rivers originating to its north in the serrana—the Rios Bavispe, Moctezuma, Sonora, and San Miguel. The
Rio Yaqui carries vastly greater streamflow fed by higher rainfall and melting snows that spill down the steep slopes of the Sierra over narrow floodplains, scarcely hindered by the thin alluvial mantles intermittently covering the bedrock. Rainfall in the serrana is generally lower than in those higher elevations, and more quickly absorbed into the wider, intermontane plains; as a result, the rivers flood less frequently and less violently than the Yaqui (Dunbier 1968:88-98). The desert uplands drained by the Rio Magdalena and the Rio Altar receive still less rainfall, much of which sinks into the coarse soils. The sandy streamways of the smaller rivers, as well as the middle and lower reaches of the
Rio Yaqui, render them susceptible to shifts and erosion.
Summer convective storms dominate the patterned annual distribution of flow for all these rivers, but to varying degrees. For example, winter precipitation makes a contribution to the Rio Yaqui's annual flow that, while low, is proportionately greater 98 than the Rio Sonora's winter allocation (Figure 3.9). Even so, channel-changing flows are most likely to occur during the months of highest mean precipitation and discharge (July-
September), with spatial variability of summer rainfall leading to greater localization of flooding in the smaller watersheds. High-magnitude flooding events are also quite possible during the early-fall hurricane season, and some of the greatest flooding— especially in the Rio Yaqui—is brought on by unusually heavy or sustained winter rains
(December-February) (Dunbier 1968:88-98).
Monthly Percentages of Total Streamflow
Yaqui
JFMAMJ JASOND
Sonora 50% 40% 30% 20% • 10% 0 JFMAMJ JASOND
Figure 3.9. Monthly percentages of total streamflow for the Rio Yaqui and Rio Sonora (adapted from Dunbier 1968). Biota. Sonera's seasonal patterns of precipitation and temperature establish the baseline water supply that looms large in plant and animal diversity, range, recruitment, productivity, and mortality. Although generally not so ample as summer rainfall, winter and early spring precipitation penetrates more deeply into soils, renewing moisture lost over the dry fall and preconditioning the soils for the spring growth of vegetation— something also encouraged by the lower temperatures that tend to accompany spring rains. Summer rains bring relief from the annual late-spring-early summer drought, supplying plants with critical moisture during the hottest time of the year and promoting the production of annual grasses and other ephemeral plants (Stable et al. 1998a:2139;
Swetnam and Betancourt 1998:3129).
Seasonal or longer droughts create lulls in plant recruitment (Swetnam and
Betancourt 1998:3129). Low precipitation or drought during the winter and early spring depletes soils of moisture and inhibits seed germination and the growth of plants, which wither under higher-than-usual temperatures; new seedlings that survived a dry fall and winter frost succumb to the continuing drought. Similarly, the failure of summer rains extends the annual spring drought into months with soaring temperatures, placing even established plants under great stress.
Seasonal to multiyear variability in climatic parameters that include wind and lightning regimes, as well as precipitation and temperature, also influences wildfire, which in turn affects plant mortality. Wet winters increase the production of vegetation that dries out during the arid months of April-June, supplying fuel for fires sparked by the dry, convective storms that start to generate lightning in June. Winter droughts, while 100
adding little if anything to already existing fuels, leave vegetation in a dry state that only intensifies throughout the spring. Extreme June drought is the foremost factor influencing the severity of fire activity for a given year, and fires tend to bum the maximum area during that month (Swetnam and Betancourt 1998:3129, 3133). Full development of the monsoonal pattern in July, while potentially increasing the number of fires ignited, typically delivers rains to dampen fuels and douse fires. Early rains reduce or curtail fire activity, whereas failure of the rains to allows fires to exhaust existing fuels while suppressing new grass production. Climatic conditions from years preceding the season affect the drought-fire relationship insofar as they shape the fuel load. Large fire events often involve a build-up of fuels during prior years of wet conditions, while smaller fires bum fewer fuels accumulated over successive dry years.
Interannual cycles of wetness and dryness appear to be connected with insect outbreaks as well (Swetnam and Betancourt 1998:3131-3132). Although the temporal and spatial dynamics of the relationship still await research, evidence suggests that wet conditions encourage population increases among some leaf- or bud-feeding insects, whereas the stress of drought reduces a tree's defenses against cambium-feeders such as bark beetles. Such outbreaks influence fire activity by adding dead leaves and wood to the fuel load. A good example of this is the recent outbreak of bark beetles among the pine forests of Arizona and New Mexico, which, having developed in the midst of a regional, long-term drought, has considerably elevated the risk of wildfire in both states.
Fire-scar chronologies attest to the effects of interannual and multiyear wet-dry cycles on drought-fire relations, and the potentially regional nature of wildfire during 101 severe drought. In their discussion of regionally synchronized wildfires in the Southwest,
Swetnam and Betancourt (1998:3132-3136, Figure 5) show that trees from 27 of 63 sampled sites—approximately 43 percent—bore the scars of a regional-scale fire during
1729, a year of deep drought that coincided with a moderate La Nina event on the heels of a fairly strong El Nino and wet conditions in 1726-1727 (see Figures 3.6 and 3.7). Fire activity during the rest of the period ending 1742 is subdued in comparison, with the most active years (1733, 1735, 1737, and 1738, affecting 22-29 percent of the sample) characterized by drought following relatively wet years (1732, 1734) or years of less dryness (1736). The low activity in 1730-1731 can probably attributed to the scale of fire activity in 1729 and continued dry conditions inhibiting vegetation. Similarly, dry conditions during 1739-1741 (possibly including the summer; see Figure 3.8) probably retarded fuel buildup until 1742, a year of moderate fire activity (affecting 19 percent of the sampled sites).
Kaib's (1998) fire history, which focuses more narrowly on the international four- comers region and may better reflect conditions in Sonora, shows that his sample sites, at least, escaped the 1729 fire activity. That accords well with Meko's summer precipitation data, which indicate the year was characterized by somewhat less-than-average rainfall that may have translated to relatively few lightning strikes. Kaib's data do, however, point to synchronous fires occurring the following year, 1730, and well as in 1738, in the
Chiricahua and Huachuca Mountains but not in the Sierra de los Ajos; both probably involved desert grassland blazes that spread between mountain canyon sites (Kaib
1998:Figures 2.11 and 2.12). The 1730 fire occurred during the second year of a 102 moderate La Nina, with somewhat higher-than-average summer rainfall that may have curtailed the blaze (see Figures 3.6-3.8). The 1738 event took place during the second year of a moderate El Nino that, apparently out of phase with PNA circulation, did little to alleviate the continuing drought; summer rainfall was lower than average for the third consecutive year, having approached average levels the year before.
The consequences of wet and dry cycles for vegetation and fauna are significant.
Whereas wet conditions stimulate recruitment pulses of plants (Swetnam and Betancourt
1998:3129) and increase their production of leaves, fruits, and seeds, fostering an increase in the populations of animals that depend on them as well as their predators, drought can lead to massive die-offs of vegetation with a resulting reduction in wildlife.
As we have learned from the 1950s drought—which, granted, was worse than the drought of the 1730s—^prolonged dry cycles can overwhelm the stress tolerance of even drought- adapted species such as desert grasses, mesquite, and cacti (Swetnam and Betancourt
1998:3139). Beyond a simple lack of rainfall, drought following a wet cycle results in elevated wildfire and degradation of the floodplain through depressed alluvial water tables and erosion, creating conditions unfavorable for either vegetation or wildlife—or agriculture (Dean et al. 1994:54).
NOTES TO CHAPTER 3
'The modem Mexican state of Sonora includes the Rio Mayo. During the period in question, however, the region between the Rio Mayo and the Rio Yaqui comprised the province of Ostimuri. 103
CHAPTER 4
INDIGENOUS SUBSISTENCE AT SPANISH CONTACT
Most of the indigenous groups the Spaniards encountered in Sonora were agriculturists to some extent, whose dependence on farming ranged along a continuum from minor supplementary practice to a major means of subsistence (Burrus 1971; Pennington 1980;
Perez de Ribas 1944, 1999; Radding 1997; Spicer 1962). Just where any particular group fell along that continuum, and the techniques employed to raise crops, depended largely on the availability of a reliable water supply that was shaped by the ecological zone in which the group lived and by the predominant climate regime of the moment.
To leam about indigenous subsistence at the time of Spanish contact, we logically start with the accounts of those who made initial contact with indigenous groups: explorers, pioneering missionaries, and the military men who accompanied them. These accounts rarely provide the level of detail we seek, however, and to piece together a more complete reconstruction we must turn to a variety of other sources: ethnographic observation of traditional practices and techniques, including historical accounts from later periods of Spanish contact; the archaeological record; and our understanding of environmentally influenced possibilities and constraints.
This chapter begins with a discussion of traditional indigenous subsistence in general terms, focusing first on agriculture and its water needs, technology and labor requirements for water control, productivity, crops, cropping practices, and storage. The 104 role of wild resources also comes under consideration, including their availability and the scheduling of gathering and hunting with agricultural activities. Underlying all this is a concern with the effects of climatic extremes—that is, drought or heavy rains/flooding— on the ability to successfully cultivate crops and otherwise secure adequate subsistence.
Discussion then shifts to the agricultural potential of Sonora's ecological zones— serrana, desert uplands and plains, and Rio Yaqui delta—and patterns of indigenous subsistence within the constraints of each zone, winding up with responses to climatic variability.
AGRICULTURE
Agricultural Ecosystems'. Water Needs, Fields, Labor, and Productivity
The successful cultivation of crops in Sonora depends on available arable land, a sufficiently long growing season, and, most importantly, a reliable water supply. Prior to the modem use of mechanical pumps, water for agriculture was available from four sources—direct precipitation, shallow groundwater, runoff, and streamflow—all of which are influenced by the region's variable rainfall and its arid-to-semiarid climate (Doolittle
1980:330-331). We know from ethnographic and ethnohistorical research that Sonora's indigenous groups have traditionally employed a variety of techniques for supplying their crops with water (Doolittle 2000; Nabhan 1979, 1983, 1986a, 1986b; Pennington
1980:117-164; Sheridan 1988c:51-81), and archaeological investigations of prehistoric agricultural systems in Sonora and in southern Arizona confirm that these techniques 105 have considerable antiquity in the broader region (Alvarez 1990; Bayman and Fish 1992;
Ciolek-Torrello 1998; Crown 1984; Doolittle 1988; Ezzo and Deaver 1998; Fish et al.
1985; Gasser 1990; Gregory 2001; Haury 1976; Huckell 1995; Mabry 2003; Wellman
2000; see Doolittle 2000 and Mabry 2004 for overviews).
Basic techniques relying solely on direct rainfall (Table 4.1) would have been impractical or impossible in the arid environment that prevails throughout most of
Sonora, but farmers may have practiced them in the higher elevations, where the greatest amount of rain falls (Nabhan 1979:246, Figure 1). Mabry (2004:22) estimates 5,500-
6,000 feet (1,650-1,800 m) in elevation to be the lower limit for rainfed farming in the
U.S. Southwest. This estimate can probably be adjusted downward for the Sonoran serrana given the summer dominance of rainfall in the region, perhaps following the lower limits of the encinal, which transitions to thomscrub at elevations as low as 3,000-
4,000 feet (900-1,200 m) to the south. Doolittle (2000:193) cautions that the "less-than- ideal soils" of the mountains make conditions there marginal, however, and has suggested that rainfed farming, when practiced, probably constituted the indigenous farmer's only alternative.
Soil moisture, more than rainfall itself, is the key to successfully cultivating crops.
According to Doolittle (2000:219), soils supplied with adequate moisture at critical stages of a crop's growth and development can produce yields approximately 80 percent as great as those receiving moisture throughout the growing season. Water-table farming, which relies more on groundwater than rainfall (see Table 4.1), by Mabry's (2004:31,
Tables 3.6 and 3.7) estimate produced the "the most consistently high yields for early 106
Table 4.1 Indigenous Cultivation Techniques in Sonora/ Cultivation Technique, Description by Water Source
Direct Rainfall Rainfed Farming Relies solely on direct, properly timed rainfall for watering crops in "plain" fields that lack features designed to retain or drain water.
Dry Farming Rainfed farming that endeavors to even out effects of erratic rainfall by employing strategies for retaining soil moisture; examples include the placement of fields in sandy locales with natural water-storing qualities, and the creation of microenvironments by adding features such as gravel mulches and rock piles that allow soils to retain moisture during periods when they would normally dry out.
Groundwater Water-Table Farming Exploits soil moisture in areas with sandy soils and high water tables, where sands fiinction to percolate water upward as well as slow its evaporation; examples include "seepage fields" saturated by upslope springs, and locales along the margins of lakes and streams where sands absorb and retain subsurface waters.
Runoff Water Harvesting Uses diverse watershed-modification features designed to slow, capture, concentrate, divert, and/or store runoff from slopes or ephemeral streams and conduct it to fields.
Streamflow Floodwater Agriculture Locates fields in naturally flooding areas, where soils are watered by the seasonal spillover of swollen streams. Includes flood recession farming and seasonal flood farming.
Canal Irrigation Diverts surface, perennial flows from rivers to floodplain fields using canals or ditches.
" Based on Doolittle (2000) and Mabry (2004).
maizes" per hectare. The technique is little discussed by ethnographic observers (but see
Hack 1942) and by its very nature leaves few, if any, archaeological traces; we have no evidence that Sonoran farmers practiced water-table farming—but should not rule out the possibility. Conditions for the technique would have been found in spring-fed meadows and dunes, or areas in or near river channels where bedrock forced underground flows up near the surface (Mabry 2004:23-24). Small plots would have limited the yield, but because water-table fields can survive short periods of drought, farmers may have employed them where possible.
Generally, the most successful indigenous cultivation techniques involve making use of streamflow and runoff to offset variable rainfall and better control the critical timing of water delivery to crops. Through ethnographic observation we have gained considerable insight regarding traditional techniques for canal irrigation (Sheridan
1988c), flood recession farming (Castetter and Bell 1951; Kelly 1977; Stewart 1966, in
Doolittle 2000), and water harvesting (Nabhan 1979, 1986a), which are discussed in greater detail below (see Table 4.1). Yet these also are susceptible to Sonora's variable climate, and individual farmers in earlier times probably often used more than one technique simultaneously, taking advantage of more than one water source—for different fields or in the same field—as they exploited local water conditions and particular geomorphic habitats (Nabhan 1979:246-247).
Canal Irrigation. The deep, nutrient-rich, alluvial soils of floodplains along perennial rivers offer some of the most important agricultural land in Sonora. Farmers have traditionally made these soils productive by using rivers' surface flows to water their floodplain fields, constructing stone or stake-and-brush weirs across the river channels and digging acequias, or canals, to divert and carry the water to nearby fields. This system is not practical on all floodplains, however, for it requires fields to be placed in locations where the river's normal flow is not so strong as to wash out diversion weirs, 108 and where the gradient of land permits water to run by gravity in canals. Along interrupted rivers, locations at or just below riverbed springs offer optimal conditions for successful floodplain irrigation, providing a source of streamflow over short distances during the dry season (Doolittle 1988:9). Other favorable locations he below the mouths of tributaries that empty runoff into the main river channels.
Controlling the delivery of river waters to fields on the floodplain involves considerable labor for Sonora's traditional farmers, who must work within the constraints of the region's variable precipitation patterns (Doolittle 1980:336-337, 1984:131-132;
Sheridan 1988c:54-55, 66-74). Reduced streamflow during dry months forces farmers to allocate water by closing off intakes at other locations up or across the river in order to increase the intake at any one location. What little water remains is maximized by extending intake canals upstream to capture more flow, by keeping their canals free of algae accumulations, and by removing vegetation from canal banks to reduce the loss of moisture to transpiration. During times of sustained drought, when water is available only from the trickle of a few permanent springs or shallow wells dug into the streambed to access subterranean flow, farmers carry it by hand to nurse their crops along.
When the summer rainy season finally commences, localized thunderstorms generate floodwaters that break apart brush-and-stake diversion weirs and silt in canals.
Regular maintenance during this time involves reconstructing weirs and cleaning out and repairing canals after each flood. Historically, farmers have also endeavored to protect their canals and fields by planting "living fencerows" of cottonwood and willow trees 109 along the edges as a means of harnessing floodwaters and using them to extend and enrich agricultural soils (Sheridan 1988c:62-63).
Although the system works well with moderate discharges, heavy floods can wipe out whole segments of the earthen canal systems, tear past fencerows, and sweep crops away. Such floods come the most frequently—requiring the greatest amount of labor— toward the end of the season, when the ground is saturated and the crops are ripening. But the worst damage tends to come from the more widespread winter storms, which can settle in for days across entire watersheds and generate floods capable of rearranging the landscape. "Every year," observed Sheridan (1988c:70) along the upper Rio San Miguel,
"a handful of farmers lose entire harvests or suffer greatly reduced yields. They do so because the acequia flow has either been disrupted by floods or is insufficient to irrigate their crops at critical periods in the growth cycle."
Notwithstanding the labor requirements and risk, canal-irrigation farming is capable of producing large yields that can support large populations (Doolittle 1980:336-
337). Perhaps its greatest benefit is the ability to double crop, a practice that depends on mild temperatures and availability of water. In much of Sonora, it is the lack of rainfall during April, May, and June that constrains the successful cultivation of winter-spring crops. By using the rivers' waters—particularly the permanent springs—farmers can entertain the possibility that crops planted during or immediately following the winter rains will come to fruition during those critical months, the driest time of the year
(Doolittle 1988:46; Sheridan 1988c:54). hrigation also allows farmers to better control the initiation of their summer crop season; if there is sufficient water in the streams, they 110 can plant a com crop after their winter crops are harvested in late May or early June, even before the summer rains commence (Sheridan 1988c:60). Canal irrigation thus reduces the chance of crop failure and increases crop regularity, boosting total production
(Doolittle 1988:51).
Floodwater Agriculture. A more passive strategy for exploiting streamflow involves locating fields in naturally flooding areas, where soils are watered by the overbank flooding of swollen streams (Doolittle 1984:126, 2000:414; Mabry 2004:24-25; Nabhan
1979:246). One technique, which I follow Doolittle (2000) in referring to as "flood recession farming," entails cultivating the floodplains along the lower courses of large perennial rivers, where seasonal inundations of floodwaters collected from vast watersheds saturate soils deeply and predictably; in these areas, farmers plant their crops as the waters recede. "Seasonal flood farming" is my term for a second technique that is transitional in using the seasonal spillover of runoff from streams—intermittent or perennial—to water crops planted in areas where the floodwaters naturally slow down and spread over them. Both strategies require little labor, with flood deposition of sediment and organic matter making fertilizing or fallowing unnecessary.
Flood recession farming. Doolittle (2000:421-426) presents a general picture of traditional flood recession farming by drawing upon ethnographic studies of agriculture among the Yumans (Castetter and Bell 1951), Cocopas (Kelly 1977), and Mojaves
(Stewart 1966), who have cultivated the floodplains of the lower Colorado River. The technique involves no modifications of the landscape other than clearing trees and brush Ill to prepare the fields, burning the vegetation after it has dried. Due to the tendency of floodwaters to rearrange the floodplain, farmers select new fields each year, favoring large, open areas where floodwaters move rapidly enough to deposit coarse sediments.
Any needed clearing typically takes place prior to the expected floods to encourage this deposition, even though stronger-than-anticipated flows might alter plot conditions and force farmers to scramble to locate other suitable parcels and quickly clear those for planting. As soon as the waters begin to draw back, farmers commence planting in the freshly exposed mud, following the waters' line of retreat from high to low ground, the entire process taking as long as a month. They plant crops separately, according to soil moisture needs and time required for maturation.
Potentially more productive than canal irrigation (Mabry 2004:29, Table 3.5), flood recession farming in Sonora would have required far less labor. By planting quickly maturing species and varieties in saturated, sandy soils that, with nutrients replenished, retained their moisture through months of hot temperatures and high evaporation rates, farmers were reasonably assured of an abundant harvest before the next floods occurred
(Doolittle 2000:414).
The technique presented farmers with much greater risk than canal irrigation, however, for its success relied on the predictability of seasonal precipitation in higher elevations and the regularity of flooding. As long as sufficient precipitation fell during its expected season, the resulting floods provided enough residual soil moisture to compensate for lack of rainfall in lowland areas. Absent that predictability, the blessing became a bane. In the event of drought in the higher elevations—if the floods did not 112 come—no crops could be planted. Although sufficient water might flow in the river for canal irrigation, such systems required considerable time and labor to construct and then stood at high risk of being lost to sudden storms and flash floods. Alternatively, if heavy rains came during a normally dry period, when crops were in the fields, the resulting floods would be devastating.
Seasonal flood farming. Limited to sites where the flow of water will not consistently be so strong as to wash out crops or bury them with silt, seasonal flood farming fields are typically few and small. Favorable conditions exist at various locations such as gently sloping flood terraces along shallow, braided rivers; islands within the channels of rivers or large arroyos; and the alluvial fans or flats of arroyos—all areas where floodwaters naturally decelerate and spread out in a sheetwash. Farmers might enhance these conditions by building low check dams of rock or simple brush-and-stake weirs perpendicular to the water's flow, which even out the velocity and spread of floodwaters over their fields, enriching soils with water-borne silt and organic debris.
Channel-bottom weirs capture sediment as they slow the waters, in the process creating low, fertile terraces that serve as new "islands" for planting (Doolittle 1984:132-133,
1988:Figures 4.4 and 4.5; Nabhan 1979:Figure 2).
The labor involved in building and maintaining a few check dams and weirs is comparatively low, but even with their use, seasonal flood fields remain vulnerable to the ravages of major floods and shifting watercourses. Their dependence on runoff leaves them susceptible to drought, as well, and the poorly controlled water supply leads to tremendous variance in crop yields (Doolittle 1984:126; Mabry 2004:28-32). Some of 113 that variance can be mitigated by adding water control features and shifting toward a strategy of water harvesting, but ultimately, seasonal flood farming faces many of the same constraints as water harvesting, as discussed below.
Water Harvesting. Historically, the Tohono O'odham have employed a variety of techniques for harvesting the runoff from seasonal rainfall, each adapted to local conditions of climate, soil, and geomorphology (Doolittle 2000; Nabhan 1979, 1986a).
Varying considerably in size and complexity, these techniques involve altering the watershed upslope or upstream of fields using diverse features designed to slow, capture, concentrate, divert, channel, and/or store runoff (see Table 4.1). All call for an intimate knowledge of the local environment on the part of the farmer, who, when selecting a suitable field location, must consider factors such as intensity and timing of rainfall; the amount of likely runoff, as determined by soil permeability and vegetative cover; and the velocity and volume of waterflow, as conditioned by watershed area and incline (Nabhan
1979:249).
Water harvesting techniques aimed at capturing slope runoff can be as simple as removing loose rocks and clearing vegetation to encourage the shedding of rainfall
(Doolittle 1984:126). By building rock alignments or brush-and-stake structures perpendicular to a slope's gradient, which slow runoff and trap sediments, farmers create terraces that manage the flow of water, control soil erosion, and provide nearly level planting surfaces with deep, fertile soils on slopes where rainfall otherwise would not be absorbed into vegetation or soil (Doolittle 2000:254-263). Long, low, converging dikes 114 made from earth, rock, and/or brush collect slope runoff from large expanses and funnel it down to carefully selected locations with soils suitable for farming. Bolsas, or shallow depressions dug by hand to catch water, provide damp earth for planting and can retain sufficient moisture for crops to reach maturation (Gasser 1990:4.17; Sheridan 1988c:74).
Alternatively, farmers might build low, earthem berms around the downslope sides of their fields to increase moisture retention.
When planting on alluvial fans or flats of arroyos, farmers can better manage the overflow of stream runoff by using a variety of water-spreading and/or water- concentrating features (Nabhan 1979:249-251, 1986a; Doolittle 1984:128). Strategically placed weirs, earthem berms, dikes, and ditches concentrate runoff in arroyo channels and divert it onto fields, or to temporary holding basins or charcos for later release to fields by means of shallow ditches (Nabhan 1979:Figures 3 and 4). Weirs scattered or grouped among the crops function as water spreaders, while berms bordering the far edges of fields retain and conserve the captured moisture.
These features make the practice of water harvesting more elaborate and labor- intensive than seasonal flood farming—weirs decay or get washed away by runoff, and canals routinely fill in with sediment, for example—^but the investment pays off in reducing the overall risk of damage to crops from floods. By providing greater control over a sporadic water supply, such features generally secure greater crop yields.
Nevertheless, overall productivity using either technique is typically limited by small field size and by the seasonality of rainfall in Sonora, which precludes double cropping in the absence of some amount of permanent streamflow (Doolittle 1984:126, 1988:48). 115
Moreover, given their dependency on seasonal runoff, the successfiil cultivation of even one crop using seasonal flood farming or water harvesting techniques is quite susceptible to the caprices of summer rainfall. Throughout most of the region, as much as
70-75 percent of annual precipitation comes in the form of summer thunderstorms, and although these are capable of dropping considerable amounts of rainfall at a time, even during prolonged droughts (DooHttle 1985:295), their timing is critical. Farmers cannot commence planting until the rains arrive, which might be as early as late June or as late as mid-August (Gasser 1990:4.8-4.10; Nabhan 1986b:43). On the heels of the dry season, an initial rain of at least 2.5 cm (~1 inch) is needed to saturate the soil sufficiently for seed germination, with slightly more (3.1 cm, or ~1.5 inches) required to generate runoff on poor soils. And whereas a flood of about 30 cm (-12 inches) is required at least once or twice a season to sustain crops, several well-spaced, lesser inundations of 7.5-15 cm
(~3-6 inches) are more useful (Nabhan 1979:249, based on data from Fogel 1975). Too long an interval between storms or too light a rainfall will cause crops to wither and die, yet storms that come too close together or at too high an intensity will bring flooding that can wash crops away; in either case, the farmer may plant again after the next good rain.
In the event that the rains are very late in coming, however, farmers may hold off from planting at all.
Adapting Agricultural Systems. Doolittle (1988:49-51) has suggested that seasonal flood farming and canal irrigation lie at opposite ends of a continuum of agricultural intensity as measured by frequency of cultivation and technology. Arroyo-based water harvesting 116 systems, dependent on rainfall runoff but employing diverse combinations of water- spreading and water-concentrating features to produce annual crops, fall somewhere in between. These intermediate systems evolve incrementally over time from simple floodwater fields involving minor ground preparation (partial clearance, shallow tillage), erosion control (weir terraces), and soil fertility maintenance (intermittent weeding) into more elaborate and labor-intensive runoff fields, as farmers gradually increase their cultivated area and yields by clearing more ground and adding water control features such as diversion weirs and small canals (see Doolittle 1984).
The evolution Doolittle perceives in farming systems is influenced by environmental factors, however. For example, variability in the fi-equency and intensity of storms affects the amount of water and sediment transported in rivers and arroyos, influencing the slope of streambeds and erosion and deposition patterns along them
(Nabhan 1986a:70-71). The most favorable sites for different farming systems change with the meander of the stream, and farmers adapt by abandoning fields drowned or starved of water and clearing new fields in areas where water spreads out, either naturally or with some encouragement. Floodplains subject to frequent, heavy flooding may simply be better suited for less labor-intensive, floodwater techniques than canal irrigation. With this in mind, Sonora's indigenous farming systems should also be viewed as collections of techniques and features selectively combined to take advantage of different water sources and particular geomorphic and soil conditions (Nabhan 1979:246-247). They are adaptive, with individual techniques or features added or dropped to adjust to changing 117 conditions, an important quality for farming in an arid or semiarid region where water sources are governed by a variable climate.
Crops and Cropping Practices
Early Spanish accounts broadly identify maize, beans, various kinds of squash, cotton, and other seeds ("otras semillas") among the crops grown by indigenous groups in
Sonora (Adomo and Pautz 1999:229-235; Hammond and Rey 1940:64-74; Perez de
Ribas 1944:1:127, 2:64; 1999:87, 328). More specific information comes from archaeological research conducted at prehistoric sites in the Bavispe and Sonora river valleys—which has identified five varieties of maize as well as common beans, gourds, cultivated squash, and amaranth seeds (Doolittle 1988:44; Lister 1958; Mangelsdorf
1958)—as well as from numerous sites in the Salt, Gila, Santa Cruz, and San Pedro river valleys. Ethnographic research among traditional farmers in present-day eastern Sonora and Arizona's Tohono O'odham and Gila River Pimas provides still greater detail on crop species and cropping practices (Felger et al. 1976, cited in Doohttle 1988:44;
Nabhan and Felger 1978; Pennington 1980:123-141; Rea 1997:286-352). Although we can assume that temporal and regional differences in crop production undoubtedly existed based on ethnic patterns of subsistence as well as access to water (e.g., variability in Hohokam subsistence as discussed by Gasser and Kwiatkowski [1991:418-444]), the combined weight of ethnohistorical, archaeological, and ethnographic evidence suggests widespread similarities. 118
Maize, Beans, and Squash. In general, traditional farmers of the Sonoran Desert select varieties of the three major food crops for characteristics of fast maturation, drought resistance, a minimum of foliage (to minimize water loss through transpiration), and a maximum of seed (Rea 1997:44-45). At least seven Pima strains of maize {Zea mays) identified by Rea (1997:344-352; see also Pennington 1980:125-131) require only sixty days from planting to putting on seeds, and an additional three to four weeks to ripen.
With as few as one or two waterings, tepary beans (Phaseolus acutifolius)—of which there were possibly as many as forty-six varieties cultivated in earlier times—germinate, grow, and ripen in two months; high-yielding but sensitive to overwatering and relatively tolerant of salinity, teparies are particularly suitable for floodwater farmers (Nabhan and
Felger 1978; Rea 1997:321-325). They also outproduce by four to one the slower- growing, big-leaved common beans {Phaseolus vulgaris, a.k.a. kidney, pinto, pink, black, navy, string, and wax bean), which are more likely to be cultivated by floodplain- irrigation farmers (Rea 1997:327-328; see also Pennington 1980:137). A third species of bean planted and grown by Pima farmers today may be an aboriginal variety of lima bean
{Phaseolus lunatus) adapted for hot country, according to Rea (1997:325-327). Squashes
{Curcurbita spp.) require only two waterings before setting fruit, after which too much water will cause them to rot, making them an ideal crop—like the tepary—for floodwater farming (Rea 1997:303-306).
These three crops complement each other nutritionally and, when grown together, facilitate and promote each other's growth (DooHttle 1988:45). Earlier-growing stalks of maize support the climbing of beans planted later, which in turn help to maintain soil 119 fertility with their root systems. The drought- and disease-resistant tepary bean is especially beneficial; when intercropped with com, it helps to control weeds and is less likely than other types of beans to be eaten by insects (Nabhan and Felger 1978:3; Rea
1997:321-325). Meanwhile, the squashes cover the ground with broad leaves and vines that reduce splash erosion and evaporation of soil moisture, and inhibit weed growth with their shade.
As noted above, it is the seasonal availability of water that places the greatest constraint on the planting schedule of the traditional Sonoran farmer. With the possibility of frost generally ending by mid-March, crops can be planted just in time for the driest season of the year to begin. Farmers with fields on river floodplains that draw on continual streamflow, or are sufficiently saturated by the river's receding seasonal overflow, take advantage of the mild temperatures to get in an early planting and maximize their production potential. Those with rain-fed fields in fi-ost-fi"ee areas to the south can plant as early as January or February, if the winter rains supply enough moisture (Pennington 1980:148).
Prior to the Spanish introduction of Old World crops, such favorably situated farmers, alerted to the passing of frost danger by the leafmg-out of mesquites (Rea
1997:44), would have planted at least four types of maize, any number of beans, and select varieties of squash (Doolittle 1988:45; Pennington 1980:140, 148). A successfial harvest in June renewed food supplies depleted over the winter and spring, and lessened the need for gathering various wild resources (Rea 1997:351). A second, summer planting of maize, beans, and summer squashes allowed farmers to secure additional food stores for the coming winter and accumulate seed supplies for future plantings, or, in the event of a failed spring crop, to try to recover their losses. If streamflow was high enough, irrigating farmers could plant before the onset of the summer rains.
For floodwater farmers, however, the summer growing season began with las aguas. Historically, the Gila River Pimas used "the rise in the river from the summer rains falling in the headwaters" as their guide (Rea 1997:44). Planting in the last part of
July or early August could produce a harvest in September or October, but any maize planted later than mid-August ran the risk of succumbing to a mid-November frost. The earlier the planting, the better, for the earlier crop would produce larger kernels on more robust ears, whereas a later crop would yield smaller ears likely to have irregular rows. If caught by an early frost, maize suitable for boiling, at least, could be salvaged by cutting down whole plants and stacking them for processing during the winter (Rea 1997:344,
348, 351-352). The deadline for planting beans would have been late August, or perhaps as late as the beginning of September in the western desert region, although such a late planting could force an early harvest of crops that were still immature, but edible
(Castetter and Bell 1942:150; Gasser 1990:4.9; Nabhan 1983:73). Squashes were more cold-hardy.
Maize can be stored for a considerable period of time. Gila River Pimas pit roast the ears while they are still in the husks, then remove them from those wrappings, dry them thoroughly, and pack them away in big baskets. Seeds last longer when left on the cob; if shelled, they get wormy within a year (Rea 1997:350). Squashes stored whole, either outdoors and covered with cornstalks or in storehouses built of such breathing 121 materials as arrow-weed, willow, and cornstalks, can be kept through the late winter or spring. Perez de Ribas (1944:1:127; 1999:87) observed that when cut into strips and dried in the sun, squashes lasted for much of the year, but storing such strips or dried chips in jars may keep them as long as five years, according to Rea's (1997:305) informants.
In the event of crop failure—whether from drought, flooding, or blight—or rains that come too late to plant, farmers would have been left with little choice but to eat their seed-com and beans and whatever wild foods they could gather, until their next chance of a crop harvest (Castetter and Underbill 1935:30). Only in extreme need would they consume all of their seed-com and beans, however, for to do so would leave them with nothing to plant the following year, effectively eliminating any chance for recovery.
Cotton. Although aboriginal cotton {Gossypium hirsutum L.) was cultivated by Sonoran farmers mainly for its fiber, cottonseed could be parched and eaten or ground into a meal and incorporated with other flour into cakes (Rea 1997:308-310). Derived from a subtropical perennial, cotton would have required a considerable amount of water, best assured in an arid environment through floodplain irrigation. It could also be grown successfully without "trae irrigation," however, in flood-saturated fields along major rivers as exemphfied by the Maricopas along the Gila (Spier 1933:58, 61-62, in Jones
1936:8), or with adequate water channeled from seasonal rainfall (Teague 1998:23).
The successful germination of cotton seeds and seedling growth requires mild temperatures as well as substantial water. Gossypium hopii, the form of G. hirsutum known to have been cultivated prehistorically in the Southwest and adapted to an 122 extremely short growing season of 84-100 days, would have been capable of reaching maturity within the constraints of the summer rainy season under optimal conditions. But the additional fiber development and seed maturation permitted by a longer growing season of 150-180 days, possible with floodplain irrigation or floodplain inundation along a major river, would have maximized production in terms of both quality and quantity (Benedict 1984:176, 178; Jones 1936:6-7; Kent 1983:27-28; Teague 1989:100-
102), and it seems likely that farmers in a position to take advantage of a longer growing season would have done so. This inference is supported by statements made by one of
Rea's (1997:309) elderly Gila River Pima informants, who recalled planting "original
Pima cotton" about the first of April and that the fibers were "real thick;" taken together, these statements suggest a longer growing season that began as soon as the danger of frost was past and that ended in late September or October, before the possibility of frost loomed again. Farmers restricted to the less predictable water conditions of the summer rainy season would have needed to plant their crops by about mid-July.
Owing to cotton's high water needs and tendency to deplete the soil of nutrients, farmers would have devoted separate fields to this crop. Yet because it grows best in silt loams, which have greater water-holding capacity, the fiber crop would have competed with the major food crops for field space on the floodplains (Waddle 1984).
Other Seeds. The "other seeds" referred to in Spanish reports may have included a number of wild plants producing edible seeds and greens that were encouraged and manipulated, if not actually cultivated, by indigenous peoples. In fact, many researchers have suggested that an "Early Southwestern crop complex" made up of weedy, large- seeded and leafy annuals such as amaranth {Amaranthus, spp.), goosefoot {Chenopodium, spp.), and tansy mustard {Descurainia, spp.), in addition to perennial grasses such as dropseed {Sporobolus, spp.), was at least semicultivated prior to the arrival of the more tropical maize, squash, and beans (Mabry 2004; see also Bohrer 1991; Fish et al. 1990;
Haury 1983; Minnis 1992; Wills 1995). Archaeological studies indicate that rehance on at least part of this complex continued into late prehistoric times, with grain amaranth {A. hypochondriacus, alternatively^, hybridus) and goosefoot (C. berlandieri) widely cultivated in southern Arizona (Bohrer 1991; Gasser and Kwiatkowski 1991:437, Table
10.5), and grain amaranth grown in the valley of the Rio Sonora valley (Doolittle
1988:44). That their cultivation also continued into historical times is suggested by ethnographic research among Pimas Bajos (Pennington 1980:168-169) and Gila River
Pimas (Rea 1997:289-291, 297-298).
Amaranth, a hot-season food plant, supplies young, nutritious greens in the spring and summer, and copious quantities of seeds in the summer and fall that can be parched and ground into a flour possessing all the carbohydrates of true grains but greater protein and fat (Hodgson 2001:77; Rea 1997:289). Goosefoot, likewise valued for its leaves and seeds, is part of what Bohrer (1991:232-233) terms a "cool season complex" of Sonoran
Desert plants that mature during the period of February to May, complementing the warm season cultigens and extending the growing season (Bohrer 1991:232; Hodgson
2001:151-152; Rea 1997:202-203). Tansy mustard is another member of this complex. 124 and its oily seeds historically have been used for medicine, as well as food (Hodgson
2001:98).
If not actively cultivating these species, farmers probably encouraged, protected, and harvested them (Bohrer 1991; Crosswhite 1981:64; Dobyns 1993; Hodgson 2001:77-
80, 151-152; Huckell 1998:337; Mabry 2004; Nabhan 1985:93-105; Rea 1997:289,
298). All three flourish in the disturbed soils of prepared fields and canals and on nearby active floodplains. Near Akimel O'odham fields, Crosswhite (1981:64) took note of
"second gardens" comprising relatively salt-tolerant wild and semiwild greens growing in areas where irrigation tail-waters were allowed to flow out across the desert, and from which nonedible weeds were systematically eliminated. "Well managed" second gardens, according to Crosswhite, "provided food to take home almost every day of the year . . ."
It seems likely that indigenous groups also continued to encourage, if not actively cultivate, various dropseed and other grasses—although we have little ethnographic or ethnohistoric documentation for their use, due largely to the destruction of grassland habitat resulting from nineteenth- and twentieth-century land-use and water-control practices. We do know that Tohono O'odham historically collected and processed dropseed grains (Sporobolus airoides) (Castetter and Underbill 1935:24-25; Hodgson
2001:70). And archaeological evidence indicates that Hohokam farmers in the Phoenix
Basin were cultivating little barley grass (Hordeum pusillum), an armual apparently modified by human selection (Bohrer 1991).
As perennials, dropseed grasses would have been particularly important for their ability to produce an abundance of seeds more reliably during drought years than annual 125 grasses, and for the earlier maturation of those starchy seeds. Because it once thrived in river bottomlands and cienagas, dropseed was within easy reach of many farmers. Even if no efforts were made to protect the plants or weed out competitors, the soil disturbance and unintentional dispersal of seeds during harvesting activities may well have promoted plant growth and reproduction (Hodgson 2001:64, 70; Mabry 2004; Rea 1997:57, 107-
108).
WILD RESOURCES
Wild resources formed an important component of subsistence for even those indigenous groups who regularly cultivated crops. Gila River Pimas, for example, typically gathered roughly 40-50 percent of their food supply, as estimated by Castetter and Bell (1942:56-
57). During years when there was sufficient water for irrigating fields, a variety of plant and animal resources supplied nutrients lacking in crops, and added seasonal flavors to daily fare. But during times when crops failed, due to flood, drought, disease, or infestation, wild resources provided essential alternative foods.
Many wild plants and animals were widely distributed and eaten by most, if not all, of Sonora's peoples; others, more restricted in their range but particularly favored, might be procured through trade (Crosswhite 1981:65). The greatest constraints on availability came from the seasonal and interannual variability of rainfall, particularly in the lower elevations. As winter's stores ran out, the long, dry prelude to the summer rains could be a time of privation, and even those farmers able to accumulate and store enough 126 of a surplus to carry them through two or three years were hard pressed to cope with the onslaught of a multiple-year drought.
Food Plants
In his descriptive report of 1764, Jesuit missionary Juan Nentvig (1764:233-237v,
1971:83-90) listed twenty-six "wild fruits" of Sonora, protesting that if he wanted to enumerate all that the province produced for the benefit of its inhabitants, he would never finish. While obviously exaggerating, he clearly recognized the enormity of the task.
Hodgson (2001) discusses 534 edible plants that grow in the Sonoran Desert, and the serrana offers a host of others (Brown 1994a, 1994b, 1994c; Brown and Lowe 1994;
Doolittle 1988:Table 2.1; Minckley and Brown 1994; McGinnies 1981; Pase and Brown
1994), enough to bear out Nentvig's (1764:237v, 1971:89) claim that there is "practically no month during the year that does not produce something" (my translation). It is during the spring through fall seasons, however, that most food plants produce their edible parts—cactus fruits; agave hearts, stalks, and flower buds; yucca stalks and flowers; pods and seeds from leguminous trees and shrubs; seeds from grasses; weedy greens; and various roots, nuts, and berries (Table 4.2; also see Hodgson 2001:Appendices I-III).
Aside from seasonality, several interdependent factors affect the importance of a food plant, not the least of which are the plant's dependability, availability, and storage characteristics (Hodgson 2001:8). Among the most rehable, abundant, and widely accessible food plants are mesquites, agaves, and select cactus fruits, which in the past constituted major food sources. Discussion of these resources in greater detail helps to Table 4.2. "Sampling" of Commonly Used Food Plants' Food Plants Plant Parts Used Seasonal Availability Common Name Species Name Season Month
Agave Agave, spp. Caudex; flower buds, Spring and fall March-April, October-November base of young stalks, flowers, leaves Amaranth Amaranthus, spp. Leaves and stems, seeds Spring-summer; Young greens April-July; seeds late summer-fall summer (August?)-October Canyon grape Vitus arizonica Fruit, leaves Spring May-June Cardon Pachycereus pringlei Fruits, seeds Spring-summer Flowers March-July; fruits May- September Chiltepin Capsicum annuum var. Fruit Late summer-fall August-October glabriusculum Cholla Opuntia, spp. Flower buds, new stem Spring-summer Varies by species: flowers February- shoots, fleshy fruits, June, fruits ripen over summer, can flowers, joints persist through winter
Goosefoot, chenopods Chenopodium, spp. Leaves and stems, seeds Late winter-early Varies w/ species; young greens late summer winter-early summer, seeds spring- summer Elderberry Sambucus nigra Berries Summer July-August Hackberry Celtis, spp. Berries Summer-fall C. pallida {garambullo ) fruits in April and August, per Nentvig Hecho Pachycereus pecten- Fruits Summer Flowers January-late spring; fruits aboriginum June-July Indigo-berry Randia, spp. Fruits Fall September-November Ironwood Olneya tesota Seeds Spring-summer May/June - August Maqui Manihot chlorosticta Roots, leaves All seasons Mesquite (honey) Prosopis glandulosa var. Pods, seeds Summer Late June-August torreyana Mesquite (screwbean) Prosopis pubescens Pods, seeds Summer Late June-August Mesquite (velvet) Prosopis velutina Pods, seeds Summer, fall June, October Mulberry Moms microphylla Berries Summer June-July Food Plants Plant Parts Used Seasonal Availability Common Name Species Name Season Month Oak Quercus, spp. Acorns Late summer, late Varies w/ species: Q. emoryi late fall July-August, Q. agrifolia November- December Organ pipe, pitahaya dulce Stenocereus thurberi Fruits, seeds Summer June-August Palo verde Cercidium, spp. Seeds, pods Summer Flowers late April to late May; early summer fruiting Pinyon Pinus edulis Nuts Fall Prickly pear Opuntia, spp. Pads, fruits, seeds Spring-summer, late Pads spring-summer; fruits late summer-fall summer-fall Saguaro Carnegiea gigantea Fruits, seeds Summer Late May-mid July Saiya, temaqui Amoreuxia palmatifida Roots, pods, seeds. Spring, summer-fall Roots spring; leaves and fruiting in leaves summer, die-back in fall Senita Lophocereus schottii Fruits Summer Flowers April-August, fruits July- October Sina, sinita Stenocereus alamosensis Fruits Spring-summer; Flowers March-May, again July- summer-fall August Tescalama, higuera Ficus, spp. Fruits Spring-summer April-August Walnut Juglans major Nuts Fall September Yuccas Yucca arizonica, Y. baccata, Y. Young stalks, flowers, Spring-summer: Flowers March-June; fruits approx. thomberi fruits sporadic, does not 10 weeks later flower every year
"Based on Brown 1994; Doolittle 1988:Table 2.1; Hodgson 2001; Nabhan 1985; Rea 1997; Turner et al. 1995 129 illustrate how wild plants in general figured prominently in indigenous subsistence procurement and, indeed, were often manipulated or encouraged even to the point of cultivation.
Mesquite. Three species of mesquite trees (Prosopis, spp.; see Table 4.2) provided edible and nutritious pods and seeds:
From the mesquite,... of which there are great basques throughout all the hot or temperate [lands] of the province, the natives also make two harvests: one in April, when it has finished putting out tender pods, which they collect, boil, and dry, and then eat in their stews; the other is when these pods have matured—in June—and are collected. Some they eat raw, because they are pretty sweet, and some (most) they save and make atole and other stews from them. (See Appendix, Nentvig 1-9)
Dried pods were pounded or ground to produce a flour, which, depending on the amount of water added, could be used to make mesquite cakes rich in protein and carbohydrates, a porridge or gruel {atole), or a thinner, sweet beverage (pinole). Seeds could be separated from the pods, parched, and also ground to flour, but seem to have been less favored (Hodgson 2001:178-189). Either pods or flour could be stored for later use.
All three mesquite types—the honey mesquite, most common on the desert plains, particularly in the areas of the Rio Yaqui's mouth and the Colorado-Gila River confluence; the screwbean mesquite, with a more restricted distribution mainly along the
Colorado and Gila Rivers; and the velvet mesquite, less common on the desert plains but a dominant plant in desert upland areas—typically produce a spring crop of pods that ripen as early as June. The number of pods per tree varies greatly, however, as does the timing of pod development, and entire bosques can fluctuate from year to year; the 130 greatest risk appears to come from strong winds when pods are setting at the end of flowering, which, especially when coupled with cold temperatures, can significantly diminish fruiting (Hodgson 2001:187). But generally, the drought-resistant mesquite was a source that could be depended upon to generate a perennial crop of pods in substantial quantities at a critical time when stored food supplies were exhausted and crops not yet in the field or ready to harvest. Pod production could be enhanced by keeping the lower branches of the tree trimmed, improving the light needed for establishment of seedlings
(with the side benefit of providing wood for use as fuel) (Hodgson 2001:182). hi addition, velvet mesquites often produce a second crop of pods in July or August, in response to summer rains. These ripen in mid-September or October, fewer in number but very sweet, supplying a timely resource for those farmers whose summer crops failed.
Although Nentvig speaks of a June harvest, the scheduling of gathering activities would have been influenced by the subsistence patterns of specific indigenous populations, as well as the timing of fruit production. Pods might ripen just as the monsoon rains began, when planting activities required every able body (Hodgson
2001:180). That being the case, the mesquite harvest could be delayed until late July or
August, when crops were in field and the sun-ripened pods that had fallen to the ground could be collected in huge quantities. The tendency for mesquite basques to form along rivers and large arroyos made them a particularly ready resource for floodwater farmers to fall back on, but one that shrank as farmers cleared and committed floodplain to domestic crops (Doolittle 1988:51). 131
Agaves. Represented by various species and widely distributed throughout Sonora, agaves historically have been an important food, especially during times when other foods were in short supply (Hodgson 2001:14-43). According to Nentvig,
in times of scarcity the poor people take their sustenance from the [agave] heads, roasted, from which the leaves thrust out. This is the usual seasonal fare of Indians, and non-Indians in unproductive lands, although generally one sees reduced to this [practice] those little inclined toward work and planting. From the head itself—roasted, povinded, and brought to a boil in liquid—good alcohol is made, and although it has been suggested that this liquor is of bad quality and pernicious to human health, I, as an eyewitness, can affirm with all truth that the eldest who live today in the province (some being close to 100 years) I know to be quite fond of a swallow from this drink.... The tender shoots (or quiotes, as they are commonly called ...) that this plant puts out. .. are eaten half roasted in the fire, the way that [people] eat and suck on sugar cane, and in their season the natives do not customarily carry other provisions. (See Appendix, Nentvig 1-8)
In addition to the heads (or hearts) and young flower stalks, the tender flower buds and, less commonly, the flowers of the agave can be rendered into nutritious food, and agave leaves provide a source of moisture. Not all agaves are edible, some being too bitter for most tastes, and variation within species requires that the harvester be familiar with local types in order to distinguish flowering from nonflowering and bitter from nonbitter specimens (Hodgson 2001:14-15).
Agaves can be harvested and prepared any time of year, but the optimal time is just before the plant sends up its flower stalk, when large amounts of carbohydrates are stored in the heart, or, if the stalk has already developed, before it has reached one meter in height. This stage is most commonly reached after a season of good rain, particularly during the early spring but also during the fall. For those who did not cultivate agaves, harvesting in the wild could involve extensive travel over uneven terrain and the substantial labor of hauling the heavy plant material back to camp for preparation, but cooked agave hearts can be stored for as long as a year, and harvesters often gathered enough plants to last several months (Hodgson 2001:14-15, 25).
The practice of cultivating agave for food and fiber may have been widespread, as suggested by Perez de Ribas's (1944:1:127; 1999:88) early observations among the peoples of the Rio Yaqui watershed and by archaeological research on Hohokam sites in southern Arizona (Gasser and Kwiatkowski 1991:425^27). One advantage of agave cultivation is a dramatic acceleration by years of the long-lived plant's maturation; agaves receiving supplemental water can reach a flowering stage in less than half the time normally required (Hodgson 2001:35). Rainfall captured with stormwater harvesting features would have supplied sufficient water for the diverse species available to farmers.
Because agaves need significantly less water than other crops and thrive in rocky, well-drained soils such as those found on the bajadas, away from the floodplain, the plant's cultivation would have complemented other crops instead of competing with them. Root offsets or small plantlets developing from the flower stalk could be transplanted with little difficulty, any time of year, and the plants themselves would have required minimal attention other than the optional construction and maintenance of stormwater harvesting features. Most of the labor involved would have centered on harvesting activities (Hodgson 2001:17, 35).
Cactus Fruits. Distributed throughout the desertscrub and thomscrub regions are various forms of columnar cacti—organ pipe, senita, hecho, cardon, and saguaro (see Table 4.2)—whose bulbous fruits, or pitahayas, can be eaten fresh or made into preserves or syrup that can then be stored for several weeks or fermented into wine. Organ pipe and saguaro fruits can be dried whole and stored, as well, and the seeds of organ pipe, cardon, and saguaro are eaten, often ground into a flour and mixed with other foods (Hodgson
2001; Nabhan 1985; Pennington 1980:225; Turner et al. 1995). All flower in the spring, producing fruits that mature throughout the late spring and summer according to timetables varying with species, latitude, and elevation. Senitas have been observed to flower and develop fruits twice a year, with a second fruiting as late as December
(Hodgson 2001:122), and the organ pipe's more sprawling relative, the sina {S. alamosensis), flowers a second time in July-August, presumably producing a second fruiting in the fall (Turner et al. 1995:376). Ripened fruits could be collected as early as late May or June, prior to the planting of summer crops, and following the spring harvest for double-cropping farmers.
The effect of climatic extremes on fruit production among the columnar cacti is not clear. Hodgson (2001:131) notes that cardon fhiits have been considered "an unfailing resource" during extended periods of drought, probably due in large measure to the considerable water storage capacity of that plant's massive stems. It stands to reason, however, that a prolonged period without measurable precipitation would lead to a decline in flower and fruit development, as indicated by the saguaro's failure to flower in more arid habitats (Hodgson 2001:100). Conversely, too much rain at the end of the summer season may cause overripe and maturing organ pipe fruits to drop and spoil or lose their sweetness, according to missionary accounts cited by Hodgson (2001:141). 134
Numerous types of prickly pear and cholla (Opuntia, spp.) also form an important food source (Hodgson 2001:106-116, 125-130). The edible new pads, or nopales, of several prickly pear species were harvested in March or April, according to Nentvig, then dried and stored "to add their tart flavor to their pinole" (see Appendix, Nentvig 1-7).
Almost all species produce relatively fleshy fruits, or tunas, that ripen during the late summer and into the fall, and are eaten raw (with or without seeds), dried and pounded or ground for pinole, or cooked down to syrup or marmalade. One of the most commonly used, O. engelmannii, is collected from September through November, with those at higher elevations collected later in the year. Likewise, the flower buds and new stem shoots of chollas can be eaten as a green vegetable, harvested as they form in the spring, and some types produce fleshy fhiits that ripen during the summer and into the fall.
Cholla flowers are also edible, but not particularly desirable, and joints are eaten only when other foods are scarce. Opuntia pads and stems develop in response to winter, and occasionally summer, rains, often in coincidence with flower buds, the numbers of which vary according to species and rainfall. Nentvig reports that the plants, although wild, were also cultivated.
Game Animals
Lacking domestic livestock, indigenous groups hunted and trapped animals for meat, for skins and bone put to various uses, and to prevent damage to crops (Perez de Ribas
1944:1:134-135, 1999:93). Hunting techniques involved bows and arrows and expertly thrown stones, as well as pit traps and snares, and dogs might have been used for flushing 135 birds from hiding places and treeing some animals (if they could be prevented from eating the smaller game before hunters could reach it) (Pennington 1980:212). Hunters also employed fire drives as a method of flushing game from thicketed areas (Perez de
Ribas 1944:1:135, 1999:93), and in 1737, Jesuit missionary Felipe Segesser complained that Pimas set fires in the grasses to comer game even though the practice was prohibited and heavily punished by Spanish authorities (Treutlein 1945:157).
Large game included the region's ungulates: white-tailed deer, the larger mule deer, pronghom, and bighom sheep—and javelina in the serrana and more tropical regions to the south, as indicated in accounts by Perez de Ribas (1944:1:134; 1999:93) in the 1640s, Segesser (Treutlein 1945:186) in 1737, andNentvig (1764:228v-229,
1971:78-79) in 1764. Carnivores such as jaguars, mountain lions, wolves, and foxes were sought more for their skins than meat (Perez de Ribas 1944:1:134; 1999:93), although the ocelot and mountain lion are known to have been spitted, roasted, and eaten by Onavas
Pimas (Pennington 1980:205-206), and in the higher elevations, the occasional bear would have provided a substantial amount of protein. The optimal time for hunting and trapping most large animals is late summer into early winter, when they have benefited— directly or indirectly—from the warm season's fmits and carry the greatest amount of meat and fat. By winter's end, prey become severely fat-depleted (Speth 1991:22), offering limited nutritional value for people running low on stored resources. For farmers, the best time to hunt would have been in the fall, after crops were harvested and stored.
Although communal hunts might be organized, tracking large game was mostly a solitary 136 affair, involving one or maybe two individuals to keep from making so much noise as to frighten game away.
Deer seem to have been a particularly important quarry, judging from linguistic evidence (Permington 1980:212-213) and the observations of early Spanish explorers and missionaries in Sonora (Adomo and Pautz 1999; Hammond and Rey 1928, 1940; Perez de Ribas 1944, 1999). Probably the most common of the ungulates, deer often get into crops and historically have been caught with snare traps or stake traps placed near field fences (Pennington 1980:207-209). Deer also would have been tracked and shot with bow and arrow, or driven over cliffs. The entire animal can be exploited, with the meat roasted for immediate consumption or cut into strips and dried for future meals; the brains, heart, and kidneys fried; and the bones crushed and used to make soup
(Pennington 1980:211).
Among the smaller game hunted and trapped were jackrabbits, cottontails, and numerous rodents such as gophers, field mice, and squirrels—all crop-damaging pests drawn to the weedy disturbance habitat provided by field margins and canals (Szuter
1991:279-282; West 1993:14). These were trapped and killed by men, women, and children as they gathered wild food plants and firewood or tended their crops. Jackrabbits were often taken in communal hunts, as described by Nentvig (1764:229-229v, 1971:79), whereby villagers—usually males (Szuter 1991:281)—^would form a large circle around the village and fields and noisily drive the animals toward the center to be clubbed or shot among the houses. Drawn, spitted, and roasted, these animals constituted an important source of meat. Less important, perhaps, but eaten in a similar manner were the raccoons. 137 coatis, and badgers that also were attracted to crops (Pennington 1980:201-205). And snakes that preyed on rabbits and rodents made a meal when roasted or boiled (Treutlein
1945:150).
Sought for both meat and feathers, birds were hunted with snares or bows and arrows. Food species include the various quail, bobwhites (Colinus virginianus), wild turkeys, and doves that inhabit brushy areas and field margins, as well as water birds such as herons, ibis, ducks, and even pelicans, which Seris have been known to eat (Nentvig
1764:23lv-232, 1971:82-83; Pennington 1980:190-199; West 1993:15). The meat of birds was spitted and roasted, and the eggs of quail, in particular, were valued.
hi modem times, freshwater fishing in the streams of the serrana has been important mainly during lean periods, such as the months before the rainy-season crops are harvested. It may have been more important in earlier times, however, especially for farmers at higher elevations prior to wheat's introduction as a viable winter crop.
Linguistic evidence and ethnographic observation among the Onavas Pimas points to a number of different techniques for fishing, including trapping fish in swiftly flowing water using mats or baskets lodged among stones; trapping them in slower currents using mats placed along weirs, or stretching a line of people out in the river to gather fish with nets or scoop them into baskets; catching fish with hook and line; spearing fish in shallow pools along the river; and stupefying fish in shallow riverbed pools using certain plants that served as piscicides (Pennington 1980:216-219; West 1993:15). Fish were eaten fried, roasted, boiled, or, according to Segesser, raw (Treutlein 1945:258). Or they could be cut into pieces, dried in the sun, and stored for consumption at a later time. 138
Implications of Agriculture for Wild Resource Availability
Human settlements and farming practices would have affected both plant and animal communities. As farmers cleared floodplains to establish and expand their fields, they reduced the supply of some important wild plant resources such as mesquite trees, which reached their greatest heights and densities in these well-watered areas. The relative productivity and dependability of crops generally compensated for this decline of wild food plants (Doolittle 1988:51); indeed, the culturally modified environment of agricultural fields created new habitats that concentrated other important food plants such as amaranth and goosefoot within easy reach and enhanced their predictability (Fish
1982:6, in Szuter 1991:278-279).
Changes in vegetative cover brought changes in animal populations, and may have intensified small game hunting among farmers (Szuter 1991). Disturbance plant communities provided food and refuge for numerous small animals; riparian birds and some fish found suitable habitat in irrigation canals, as did diverse rodents amidst areas of permanent weedy vegetation, fencerows, untilled fields, and cultivated fields.
Jackrabbits would have preferred the sparser vegetation of lands cleared for settlements and fields, which gave them room to flee, whereas cottontails were more likely to hide in the thicker vegetation along streams and canals. "Garden hunting" likely developed as a subsistence strategy that exploited the accessibility of small animals, allowing farmers to easily procure meat while tending their crops and reducing, if not eliminating, the need to schedule major hunting parties (Szuter 1991:280, 284). In addition, deer lured by the 139 tender shoots of crop plants may have provided an occasionally close source of larger game.
Crop failure would have upset the balance of this culturally modified environment, however, especially if caused by drought or flood, hi the event of diseased or infested crops, small animals could continue to feed—although probably in reduced numbers—on the diverse disturbance plants that presumably would survive the blight.
But drought would wither both wild and cultivated plants, and flood could drown or completely uproot them, driving animal populations away, hi either case, farmers would have found it necessary to move beyond their immediate settlements to search for both plant and animal food sources.
SUBSISTENCE PATTERNS BY ECOLOGICAL ZONE
All of Sonora's indigenous groups depended on a variety of resources for their subsistence, and even farmers moved in seasonal patterns to procure them. Patterns changed, however, as year-to-year variations in precipitation and temperatures altered planting cycles and crop yields as well as the distribution and availability of wild plant and animal resources. Over time, this movement blurred and shifted ethnic affiliations and boundaries (Radding 1997:22), making it difficult for Spanish explorers and missionaries to precisely delineate all of Sonora's ethnic groups and territories.
Nonetheless, their practice of identifying groups narrowly by settlement name or leader, more broadly by geographic location, and broader still by language spoken, gives us a general sense of which groups occupied which ecological zone. More germane to this 140 study, however, are the distinct patterns of indigenous subsistence practices adapted to the agricultural potential and constraints of Sonora's different ecological zones.
For purposes of discussing these patterns, the Spanish province of Sonora can be broadly divided into three zones: the highlands of the serrana, the uplands and plains of the desert, and the exceptionally fertile delta region of the Rio Yaqui. Different combinations of precipitation, temperatures, terrain, drainage, and soil characteristic of each zone made them more or less suitable for particular cultivation techniques, with implications for their agricultural potential in terms of yield and risk.
Our notions of environmentally influenced constraints on, or opportunities for, cultivation techniques are predicated largely on modem observations and measurements of environmental features. To borrow from paleobotanist Vorsila Bohrer (1978, in
Hodgson 2001:3), changes in watersheds and biological communities over the years may give us a "historically nearsighted" understanding of the landscape and resources used by indigenous groups 300-400 years ago. This nearsightedness can be mitigated to some extent through the lenses of archaeology and ethnohistory, however, hi Sonora, where archaeological investigation has been relatively limited, Spanish documentary accounts currently provide the main source of information on indigenous subsistence patterns at the time of contact. The following discussion relies mostly on documentary evidence, supported or augmented where possible by archaeological evidence, to develop an outline of those pattems.
Given the importance of a reliable water supply to successful agriculture, a consideration of watersheds as they existed in Sonora during Spanish colonial times is fundamental to understanding the agricultural potential of the three zones. Nentvig's
(1764:214-222v, 1971:58-70) Descripcion . . . de Sonora provides the most detailed contemporary description of watersheds that I know of, and a careful reading of his account elicits some important clues as to which cultivation techniques would have been practical or likely at specific locales on the rivers. First, Nentvig identifies the permanent river as a "r/o," whereas he refers to intermittent streams as "arroyos," even if they are formally named "rivers." His recognition of the stream types as they flowed during the mid-1700s is consistent with that made by modem geographers (Dunbier 1968; West
1993), arguing for some continuity. Second, when he says a river or arroyo "'riega las tierras" at a site, we can construe that to mean the stream "waters the lands" there, an apparent reference to lands prone to overbank flooding of either stormwaters or the seasonal drainage of snowmelt, where farmers might have practiced flood farming or water harvesting techniques. And third, when the river "deja a mano derecha" a site, it flows past "leaving on the right hand" the site; similarly, when a pueblo "queda sobre la izquierda," it "remains on the left" as the river flows by. By these turns of phrase,
Nentvig seems to designate the locales where farmers might have been able to divert permanent or semipermanent streamflow to fields via canals, if permitted by the gradient of the streambed. This interpretation, supported by comparing Nentvig's description of the Rio Sonora to Doolittle's (1988) discussion of irrigable sites along that river, forms the basis for much of the following discussion. 142
Serrana
Prior to modem techniques for exploiting the soils and aquifers of the desert's deltaic plains, the major river valleys of the central serrana constituted one of the most favorable environments for agriculture in Sonora. Rainfall throughout the broader region, despite its local variability, was on the average far greater than on the lower desert plains.
Floodplains, although narrow and short, offered fertile, alluvial soils well watered by surface flow from the rivers and by runoff from the flanking mountain slopes, which generally receive more rain than the lower valleys; in addition, there were permanent springs to turn to in dry seasons (Doolittle 1988:6, 9-10; West 1993:2-4). Arroyos with large drainage areas could collect enough water to substantially lessen the effects of erratic rainfall (Doolittle 1988:19-20). hi this region, farmers variously enjoyed multiple options for cultivation techniques: canal irrigation, seasonal flood farming, water harvesting, water-table farming, and even dry farming, if necessary. Severe drought could be experienced periodically, but obstacles to producing a good crop were more likely to stem from heavy flooding and erosion, or from late or early frosts.
When Spaniards entered the region, they found these central mountains and valleys to be controlled largely by groups they came to call Opatas, with the linguistically related and culturally similar Eudeves occupying the western and southern fringes
(Figure 4.1; Pennington 1980:15; Radding 1997:24). Both groups farmed the floodplains of the rivers, many of which offered conditions conducive to irrigation (Nentvig
1764:214-215v, 1971:58-61), and archaeological and ethnohistorical evidence suggests that these conditions were put to full advantage when possible (Doolittle 2000:348-350, 143
Yuma ) Coco Pima \ Alto, N
I Eudeve, \ \ <£
Eudev
Pima Sonora, .Tarahumara Mexico ijif'aqui^r
too 150 m wJkmmmmmmJk 100 km wJl By Emlliano Gallaga Mayos
Figure 4.1. Ethnic groups of Sonora (adapted from Radding 1997). 144
Figure 10.2). Doolittle's (1988:46-50) research along the Rio Sonora indicates that farmers of that valley have long employed diversion weirs and canals to irrigate their floodplain fields, and that many present-day canals and ditches follow or parallel the routes of prehistoric systems. Ancient farmers of the region also exploited flash floodwaters in arroyos, using channel-bottom weir terraces to plant in the downstream ends of large arroyos as well as in the smaller arroyos of the serrana's higher elevations.
Father Pedro Mendez, first missionary to the Sisibotari Opatas along the Rio
Sahuaripa, wrote in 1628 of a people who skillfully irrigated their fields of maize and other vegetables—situated in level valleys—with "fine waters" from the streams
(Appendix, Mendez 1-1). Eudeves at Batuco, in the lower Rio Moctezuma valley to the northwest, irrigated their fields with so many draws of water that their fields looked like vegetable gardens, according to the description of Father Martin de Azpilcueta, who observed in 1630, "They never have hunger whether it rains or not" (see Appendix,
Azpilcueta 1-1). These Jesuits and earlier explorers to the region found an abundance of food grown in the region, including com, beans, various types of squash, and agave, as well as cotton and tobacco (Reff 1991:58). Using canal irrigation in that region, valley occupants would have been able to double crop, planting during the spring season as well as during the summer.
Although greatly dependent on growing crops for their food supply, groups of this region undoubtedly made use of the rich variety of wild food resources available to them.
Within the elevational range of their territories, they had access to plants and animals from three climatic zones encompassing the floodplain's riparian woodland and streams. 145 the thomscrub of the adjacent bajadas, semidesert grasslands, evergreen and oak-pine woodlands, and, in some areas, conifer forests. It is for the central serrana that Nentvig's
(1764:237v, 1971:89) claim of almost never-failing resources rings most true. Especially plentiful were velvet mesquites, which grew in bosques along the rivers and large arroyos and had the advantage of producing two crops of pods over the summer.
The serrana to the south of the Opatas and Eudeves was occupied by Piman- speaking groups, called Nevomes by the Spaniards who encountered them living in settlements "on the banks of arroyos with good, flowing water" during the early seventeenth century (see Appendix, Perez de Ribas 1-5). Those inhabiting the higher altitudes from the middle Rio Yaqui eastward, known as Nevomes Altos (Upper
Nevomes), were regarded favorably by missionaries for their relatively permanent houses with adobe walls and terraced roofs.
Like their neighbors to the north, the Nevomes Altos farmed, but they faced more limited possibilities for canal irrigation despite their proximity to flowing water. Alluvial soil deposits along their mountain streams were narrow, and along the middle Rio Yaqui were downright unpredictable. Even without the river's propensity for changing its course with floods that periodically washed away soils or entire milpa plots, the steep gradient of land along its margins would have made canal irrigation impractical in most places (Pennington 1980:143, 145-146), although canal segments discovered during
Gallaga's (2003) recent survey of the region near Onavas indicates that it was possible in some spots. Pennington (1980:147) has suggested that canal irrigation may have been practiced along the Rio Chico, a tributary of the Rio Yaqui—specifically at the locales of 146
Movas and Rio Chico, where the streambed gradient permits gravity flow. Alternatively, farmers may have simply relied on seasonal flooding; Nentvig confirmed in 1764 that the stream "watered the lands" at Movas (see Appendix, Nentvig 1-1). Where possible,
Nevome Alto farmers appear to have harvested runoff from arroyos, as indicated by
Perez de Ribas's observation that "in some suitable places they even created irrigated fields, drawing water from their arroyo by means of ditches for irrigation" (see Appendix,
Perez de Ribas 1-5).' Otherwise, they likely irrigated by hand, as they have been known to do historically, digging shallow wells on the margins of the river to water their nearby plots (Pennington 1980:146), or took advantage of abundant summer rainfall to plant on natural terraces.
These cultivation techniques translated to lesser yields and greater risk for
Nevomes Altos than for their northern neighbors, leaving them more dependent on wild foods. A similar elevational range gave them access to wild plant and animal resources comparable in broad terms to those available to the Opatas and Eudeves. These surely constituted a greater proportion of the Nevome Alto diet, particularly in times of drought.
Perez de Ribas (1944:150, 1999:391) was much impressed by the agaves the Nevomes
Altos cultivated in gardens next to their houses, as well as their skill in hunting the deer and birds that were so plentiful in that terrain.
Desert
Differential access to water and arable land gave rise to various combinations of planting and foraging in the desert, which generally provided a less secure environment for 147 farming than did the serrana. Average temperatures were higher than in the highland river valleys and, with the exception of the southeastemmost portion of the desert, rainfall was lower (Dunbier 1968:19, 21, 23, 27; Montane 1993:50-53). The most favorable conditions for cultivating crops existed along the rivers, which flowed mostly in intermittent stretches through the broad swath of semiarid uplands along the western margin of the serrana. Farming was also possible in the arid desert plains, but only a very few locations offered the permanent or semipermanent streamflow needed for crop yields of any significance.
Subject to higher rates of evaporation than in the highlands, the desert's river stretches varied more in terms of predictable streamflow. During wet years, seasonal rains caused the rivers to flow with some measure of regularity, although extremely wet years could bring devastating floods. Dry years limited surface flow to spring locales, and a succession of dry years could reduce the water table to the point where even those places might fail, perversely leaving streambeds susceptible to major changes from even the moderate flows generated by occasional storms. With possibilities for canal irrigation limited, many farmers in the desert uplands would have watered their crops by carefully managing surface runoff conveyed by aggrading or stable streamways, both rivers and large arroyos, or by capturing the runoff shed by nearby slopes. When necessary, they could hand-carry water from permanent springs or wells that tapped subsurface flow in river beds. Successful cultivation of crops in this zone was more susceptible to drought and stream downcutting, as well as flooding. 148
Although agricultural conditions, by and large, were more favorable in the desert uplands than in the lower plains, by no means were they uniform or constant. Northwest- southeast-trending differences in precipitation patterns and terrain shaped the agricultural possibilities and constraints of lands along and between the river systems, and farming practices and productivity varied accordingly.
To the northwest, Spaniards found O'odham groups whom they called Pimas
Altos occupying the Rio Concepcion watershed, living in rancheria settlements and planting crops in fertile soils. Originating in the desert uplands and largely intermittent during the winter, the Rios Magdalena and Altar typically ran full in response to summer rainfall, which, although less than in the more southerly upland watersheds, was enough to offer farmers the opportunity to water their summer crops from streamflow. Relatively few sites offered possibilities for canal irrigation, judging from Nentvig's description of the rivers (see Appendix, Nentvig 1-5, 1-6). Most productive of these were undoubtedly
Pitiquito and Caborca, located on the desert plain just below the confluence of the two rivers, where bedrock forced the flow of water up above ground; streamflow and warm winter temperatures enabled farmers there to double crop. Manje, when traveling through these settlements with Kino in February, 1694, noted the fertility of the numerous fields irrigated with acequias and commented that Caborca had enough arable land to support, if cleared, some 3,000 hidians (Burrus 1971:293). Archaeological investigation of canal segments found at Caborca indicates that canals were rebuilt periodically, suggesting that farmers "were constantly battling a very dynamic fluvial system" (Doolittle 2000:370; see also Bowen 1976b:28, 56). Other possibilities for canal irrigation may have existed 149 farther upstream on the Rio Magdalena, on the floodplains at the settlements of
Buquivaba (Magdalena), Caborica (San Ignacio), and Imuris. Nentvig's description of the river as flowing past rather than washing over the lands at those sites suggests that farmers may have been diverting streamflow, whether permanent or seasonal (see
Appendix, Nentvig 1-5).
Along the Rio Altar, the river "watered" the land in several locales, beginning with Tubutama, where, according to Nentvig, the river's interrupted flow welled back up to the surface and flowed as it did downstream at Santa Teresa, Atil, Oquitoa, and the site of the future presidio of Altar (see Appendix, Nentvig \-6)? Manje reports that although its current was slight, the river was "adorned" by cottonwoods and rich agricultural lands
(see Appendix, Manje 1-2). He fails to mention acequias being used, but his observation of planted com fields in mid-March indicates that farmers at Tubutama, Santa Teresa, and Atil were venturing an early spring crop—that year, at least—planting in time to harvest before the summer rains as a supplement to the main crop that would be planted during the summer, when the river carried runoff. Given Nentvig's description, it seems likely that farmers used seasonal flood farming or water harvesting techniques to cultivate their crops, perhaps watering by hand as the spring's dry season wore on.
The rolling hills of the Rio Concepcion's upper watershed also offered innumerable ephemeral streams as well as marshy lands where farmers could successfully raise crops in small plots by harvesting stormwaters or by water table farming. For example, Manje encountered a rancheria group at Tupo, in the hills between the Rio Magdalena and Rio Altar, who farmed without irrigation—^probably by capturing 150 runoff from surrounding slopes and/or planting in soils kept moist with water seepage from a nearby cienaga (see Appendix, Manje 1-1).
The middle Rio Sonora and the lower Rio San Miguel provided reasonably favorable conditions for agriculture, with water seasonally flowing to just below Pitic
(present-day Hermosillo) on the desert plain (see Appendix, Nentvig 1-4). Here, broad floodplains provided ample arable lands, and the uplands in this region received somewhat more summer rainfall than they did to the northwest. We have little in the way of description available to us from Jesuit missionaries who first entered the region,^ but we do know that they found it occupied by Pimas Bajos whom they identified by the settlement names of Ures, on the Rio Sonora, and Nacameri, on the Rio San Miguel
(Ortiz Zapata 1678:252; Pennington 1980:13; Perez de Ribas 1944:2:148, 1999:390).
Because Nentvig does not indicate that streamflow "watered" the land at either of these locations, we can infer that seasonal flood farming was not an option (see
Appendix, Nentvig 1-4). Each settlement was downstream from a series of irrigating communities along its respective river, and although farmers were probably diverting streamflow it seems likely that they were largely dependent on stormwaters. Father
Tomas de Miranda (1749; see Sheridan 1999a:146, 155) remarked on a spring of water that frequently dried up near Nacameri, suggesting that without storm-generated runoff, streamflow at that locale may have been too low for irrigation; it should be pointed out, however, that Miranda had only recently arrived to the area and that the previous year had seen very severe drought, possibly affecting the water table (Cook 2000).
Downstream from Nacameri, the river "watered" lands from Populo to San Miguel, but farther down for about four leagues, irrigation was required for cultivating crops (see
Appendix, Nentvig 1-4). Canal irrigation would have been possible on the Ures plain along the Rio Sonora, according to West (1993:21-22), but any channels constructed would have carried water largely in response to seasonal rains. Farmers may have chanced double cropping, watering by hand as streamflow dwindled in the spring, but the most important crops would have been those planted in July or early August, after the summer rains had commenced. The unpredictability and relative scarcity of winter rains, more than low temperatures, made winter-spring crops a much riskier proposition.
Agriculture was also possible on the desert plain downstream of the rivers' confluence, at Pitic, where the Rio Sonora typically shed its last load of water and silt.
During his inspection tour of the region in 1700, Alferez Juan Bautista de Escalante met up with a rancheria of Pimas Bajos—referred to as Cocomacaques by the Spaniards— who farmed "good lands" there (Sheridan 1999a:63, 90). He does not elaborate on their cultivation methods, but Nentvig's description of the river "watering" those lands before sinking down below ground is suggestive of seasonal flood farming, or perhaps water harvesting (see Appendix, Nentvig 1-4).
The Rio Matape, an intermittent, interrupted stream rising out of low mountains, provided a meager flow with limited, if any, possibilities for irrigation. Even at the river's headwaters, according to Nentvig, ". . . its volume is so poor that, upon watering a mid sized orchard and 10 or 12 fanegas of wheat, there scarcely remains in its streambed the
[water] necessary for the pueblo's consumption, particularly during dry years"(see
Appendix, Nentvig 1-3). Settlements were located at those few sites where the water 152 flowed above ground for short stretches, or where it ran close enough to the surface to reach with wells dug into the streambed. When missionaries arrived, the river's upper reach was populated by Eudeves, who lived in pueblos and cultivated small fields, probably by harvesting summer stormwaters from the river. Farmers may have attempted to plant a second crop during the winter, using the lesser runoff generated by winter rains.
It is not clear whether the lower reach of the river was populated at that time; a couple of locations existed where scant waters welled up into the streambed and flowed for short stretches; at San Jose de los Pimas, for example, the flow "watered" a small amount of land (see Appendix, Nentvig 1-3). It seems likely that part-time farmers, at least, would have taken advantage of these conditions and, indeed, Pimas Bajos resided there a century later under the guidance of the missionaries (Treutlein 1945:165, 179).
Occupying the region immediately west of the middle Rio Yaqui were Piman groups referred to as Nevomes Bajos (Lower Nevomes) by early missionaries, who recognized a cultural and linguistic affiliation to the Nevomes Altos east of the river while marking the river as a dividing line between different elevations, terrain, and subsistence practices (see Appendix, Perez de Ribas 1-6). The Nevomes Bajos resided in the vicinity of the Rio Tecoripa, an intermittent stream that is dry for much of the year
(Pennington 1980:142), as well as on the middle reach of the more steadily flowing Rio
Yaqui near its confluence with the Tecoripa. By the time Perez de Ribas wrote his
Historia in 1645, those whom the Jesuits had successfully gathered into mission communities were clustered in three pueblos. Two of these pueblos were sited at locations on the Rio Tecoripa where that river "watered" the lands: Tecoripa, about one 153 league below the river's headwaters, and Suaqui, about ten leagues farther downstream.
Relatively narrow floodplains would have constrained the size of fields at both locations.
The third pueblo, Cumuripa, was the most advantageously situated for farming at the confluence of the two rivers, with agricultural lands "watered" by the Rio Tecoripa and
"bathed" by the Rio Yaqui (see Appendix, Nentvig 1-2; Perez de Ribas 1-6).
From Perez de Ribas we learn that "the Indians who were reduced to the aforementioned pueblos for the most part were farmers, availing themselves of the streams of water which they enjoyed for watering their fields; they had their houses built of adobes and terraced, and in all other respects similar to the other, principal Nevomes
Altos . . ." (see Appendix, Perez de Ribas 1-6). His use of the past tense indicates that many Nevomes Bajos were already farming when the missionaries arrived. Based on the nature of their environment and the fact that the missionaries deemed it necessary to concentrate them into three communities, we can infer that the Nevomes Bajos had lived in a scattered fashion along the river and its tributaries, selecting locations where they could take advantage of intermittent streamflow and surface runoff. Whether conditions for canal irrigation existed at Tecoripa, Suaqui, and Cumuripa is not clear; there is a spring, or upwelling, that provides permanent or semipermanent flow in the riverbed just upstream from Tecoripa (David Yetman, personal communication). Perez de Ribas fails to specify any acequias (canals or ditches) being used, however, and given the intermittent nature of the Rio Tecoripa and Cumuripa's location at a bend in the Yaqui, it seems more likely that farmers were using a mix of floodwater agriculture and water harvesting techniques. 154
Writing from Tecoripa almost a century later, in 1737, Fr. Felipe Segesser
(Treutlein 1945:179) describes what appears to have been the harvesting of seasonal streamflow: "Water from the meager brooks or springs is collected in deep ditches. When brooks dry up or are exhausted and the plantations can no longer be watered, everything wilts. Vegetation revives again only during the rainy season in winter." Although he is speaking of the Pimeria Baja in general, he would have been most familiar with conditions along the intermittent Rio Tecoripa and its tributaries. Streamflow would have been available for ditches to collect during the summer rains, which can begin in late
June and last into September. This suggests that crops along this stream were planted after rains had commenced in the summer, and harvested in the fall, which is confirmed by Segesser (Treutlein 1945:182). Winter rains might have created streamflow as well, falling mostly in December but also in much lighter amounts as early as November and even October (Pennington 1980:121, Table 8), and it is possible that farmers chanced planting a second crop during this time, taking advantage of mild winter temperatures.
With rainfall significantly higher in the summer than in the winter, however, summer crops would have been the most important. Notably, Segesser's own orchard was watered by hand, using a mule to carry bags of water to the trees and vines (Treutlein 1945:181).
A different situation obtained at Cumuripa, located at a bend on the right bank of the middle Rio Yaqui. Although fields along the intermittent Rio Tecoripa shared the same watering constraints as those at Tecoripa and Suaqui, lands along the perennial
Yaqui would have received regular, deep saturations from that river's seasonal floods.
Because their location at the river's bend made them vulnerable to the force of the 155 floodwaters, these lands were better suited for flood recession farming, with planting taking place after the floodwaters receded. And indeed, that is what Segesser describes for Cumuripa:
This river swells during the rainy season [July-September] like the Danube in Germany, although in summer [May-June?] it contains hardly as much water as does the Emme at Lucerne. When the Rio Grande [Rio Yaqui] overflows it floods the entire country and like the Nile makes it fertile the entire year, even though no rain falls. On the other hand, when this river does not overflow, there is no harvest. (Treutlein 1945:179)
Because the Yaqui's streamflow from summer rains peaks during August (Dunbier
1968:88-90), planting on floodplains could not take place until September or October, and farmers would have had to harvest their crops in December or January, before the river swelled again with runoff from winter storms. If those storms came in too early or forcefully, however, farmers stood to lose entire fields. Alternatively, they might have taken advantage of summer rainfall and planted less productive, rainfed fields away from the floodplains, if suitable land was available. But they were more likely to secure a good yield from a spring planting, in soil sufficiently saturated from the previous summer and winter floods for crops to flourish during the dry season, with time to harvest in late May or June before the summer rains began.
By no means were all the desert's peoples committed farmers, even in the uplands. For example, Perez de Ribas writes of the Nevomes Bajos, "Some of them were quite wild and seldom settled in one place, living off game from the monte [wilderness] more than the fruits of the land they might cultivate" (see Appendix, Perez de Ribas 1-9).
And at the oasis of Sonoita, far to the northwest, where Manje observed Piman-speaking, 156
Papago (Tohono O'odham) farmers irrigating fertile lands along a stretch of semipermanent flow in the otherwise intermittent Rio Sonoita, farmers planted less com than they could have, in Manje's view, and hved "with some necessity" (see Appendix,
Manje 2-1, 1-3; see also Dunbier 1968:77-78). Although lacking the elevational range of the serrana, the desert uplands offered diverse ecological settings—the riparian environment of the immediate floodplains, thomscrub and savannah grasslands to the south, desertscrub and semidesert grasslands to the north, and the evergreen and oak-pine woodlands of the highest altitudes along the western margin of the serrana—that supported relatively dense plant and animal populations. Game animals, mesquites and other leguminous trees, various cacti, and agaves were always important to the farming peoples of this zone, regardless of where they fell within the continuum of agricultural dependence. And during times of drought, these resources would have become vital.
Pima territory continued west and northwest into the desert plains, where small, variously mobile groups ranged in a territory that often overlapped with that of the coastal Seris. In this region, low, erratic rainfall coupled with high temperatures and evaporation rates constrained farming opportunities considerably. It was a terrain dominated by ephemeral streams flowing in response to rains, only to dry up again as soon as the rains cease. Very few locations offered water and soil conditions conducive to crop yields of any significance, as could be found at Pitiquito, Caborca, and Pitic.
Instead, part-time farmers cultivated small plots where they could, in thin, sandy soils near springs or by harvesting waters from small arroyos. For most, however, cultivated plants probably supplied no more than about one-fifth of the food supply (Crosswhite 157
1981:56-60). Far greater reliance was placed upon wild fhiits and game available from the surrounding desertscrub and/or thomscrub, and marine resources from the gulf coast—even to the exclusion of farming. Seris were known to trade deer hides and sea salt for maize at riverine settlements; otherwise, their subsistence derived from plants and animals of the desert and the sea (see Appendix, Perez de Ribas 1-4; see also Perez de
Ribas 1944:1:127-129, 1999:88-89; Sheridan 1999a:4-5). Historically, they could name eight stages of fruit growth for the honey mesquite, a measure of their dependence on that plant (Hodgson 2001:181).
Rio Yaqui Delta
The Cahitan-speaking Yoeme, whom the Spaniards called Yaquis, occupied a unique location on a wide coastal plain near the mouth of the second largest river in the province of Sonora. In terms of streamflow, the Rio Yaqui was exceeded only by the Colorado
River at the northwestern margin of the province, and it provided a regular and abundant supply of water (Alvarez Palma 1999:111; Dunbier 1968:87). The Yaquis practiced flood recession farming, taking advantage of the river's rhythms :
When the river brings its swells and floods, which are common almost every year, it leaves [the lands] watered and saturated [enough] that it is possible to plant in the summer, without rainfall being necessary for their abundant fruits to ripen and be enjoyed, so that before the rains come in, usually commencing at the beginning of July, the Indians have already raised their seeds, and this is their principal harvest. Nevertheless, during the rainy season, some of them are apt to plant again, although they little value this harvest because their principal sustenance is provided by that of the summer—ordinarily an abundance of maize, beans, squash, cotton, and other seeds that they use. (See Appendix, Perez de Ribas 1-2.) Perez de Ribas makes it quite clear that Yaqui farmers planted their principal crops as winter floodwaters receded and the dry season, or "summer" commenced, when they could feel reasonably secure that no new floods would come to wash away the fruits of their labor. Somewhat less comprehensible—at first—is his mention of a second planting during the summer rains, when the Rio Yaqui would have flowed at its maximum level. The river's broad catchment compensates for the temporal, spatial, and quantitative variability of summer rainfall, which accounts for approximately 70 percent of the river's average annual streamflow (Dunbier 1968:89). It seems unlikely that farmers risked any crops on the floodplains during that time. Rather, they probably situated their fields above the floodwaters' reach and relied instead on the rains to water their crops, hand-watering from the river as necessary (Alvarez Palma 1999:112). That they "little valued" this second harvest suggests that productivity was limited, perhaps by field size as well as cultivation technique.
Winter runoff from the high sierras also causes streamflow in the Rio Yaqui to rise considerably, although typically less so than during the summer, and prior to the installation of modem dams, floodwaters regularly washed over the river's deltaic plains during January and February, subsiding in March (Dunbier 1968:88-90; Spicer 1980:5).
This second flooding season was beneficial, if not essential, for it renewed the previous summer's irrigation and left fields sufficiently saturated to support the germination and growth of a crop that would mature in late May or early June.
Yaqui flood recession fields were highly productive—the Jesuits considered the region as the breadbasket of Sonora—^but they were not without risk. Intense winter rains at times brought floods of catastrophic proportions, and drought occasionally prevented the river's waters from rising at all. At the very least, the regular seasonal flooding forced settlements to change location as the river shifted its channel back and forth (Spicer
1980:5). To supplement their diet and offset these risks, Yaquis cultivated agave in drier fields and harvested it in the wild; managed wild greens such as amaranth; and took advantage of the wealth of wild plant foods—including mesquite pods and seeds, as well as fruits from various cacti—available in the tropical-subtropical bottomlands and the surrounding desert. They hunted many of the same animals available to others—white- tail and mule deer, javelinas, rabbits, quail, and rodents—in addition to harvesting aquatic resources from the river and the gulf—fish, oysters and other shellfish, and sea turtles.
Spicer (1980:9-10) estimates that as much as half of the Yaqui diet was derived from noncultivated resources.
INDIGENOUS RESPONSES TO CLIMATIC VARIABILITY
Ethnic and regional differentiation in crops and farming techniques undoubtedly existed among Sonora's indigenous farmers, but access to water and arable land had the greatest influence on their ability to successfully cultivate crops and was a significant factor in the degree of their dependence on cultivated plants for subsistence, hi general, those with access to a dependable source of water, such as a permanent river, relied more on crops than those without access to such a source. Environmental variables—^precipitation, temperatures, watershed, soils, and plant cover—operated with such cultural variables as 160 settlement patterns, population density, and social organization to influence any given group's vulnerability to a normally fluctuating climate.
Prior to Spanish contact, indigenous groups variously employed a number of interrelated strategies for buffering against the stresses of climatic variability. Strategies involving technology included selecting fast-growing crops, exploiting a variety of field settings using multiple cultivation techniques, intensifying water control features and labor investment, exploiting a mixed subsistence base of both cuhivated and wild resources, and storing surplus foods. Others of a more social nature included calling on kinship ties and obligations, trading, or raiding in order to obtain needed foodstuffs, or shifting residential patterns and reducing population densities to ease demands on scarce resources. Which strategies were chosen depended greatly on the asset base available within an ecological zone—dependable water sources, arable land, and the abundance and variety of wild resources—with some zones holding less economic and cultural utility than others (Doolittle 1988:10).
Serranos, who enjoyed greater access to permanent streamflow and the widest range of ecological zones, were best positioned to adopt technological strategies that maximized their agricultural productivity and spread their risk. The ability to farm both arroyo bottoms and floodplains, coupled with the proximity and variety of wild resources, allowed them to maintain a significant degree of residential stability whether populations were small or large."^ Town-like settlements along the rivers were recognized as pueblos by early missionaries, who were impressed with their terrace-roofed houses built of adobes and wooden beams (see Appendix, Perez de Ribas 1-6, 1-7).^ Mendez wrote that 161 among the Opatas, even the rancheria settlements in the hills were relatively large, with as many as 20-30 houses built with wooden beams and compacted mud (see Appendix,
Mendez 1-2). Large populations, although limiting the option of residential flexibility for groups, allowed individual movement to procure wild resources and would have enabled groups to employ labor-intensive cultivation techniques and to better protect their lands and crops from encroachment.
Farmers of the desert regions had considerably less access to reliable water sources, being largely dependent on seasonal rains. Faced with fewer options for field settings and cultivation techniques, as well as wider spacing of wild resources, desert farmers were more likely to employ residential flexibility as a hedge against crop failure—whether from drought, flood, insects, or blight—^by picking up and moving to where the food was if conditions precluded growing it. This strategy would have worked well as a buffer against short-term, well-spaced environmental stresses. Yet, even plants adapted to dry conditions will suffer the effects of a prolonged drought, and a continued, elevated demand for wild resources would have aggravated the toll on both plant and animal populations, leading to increased competition among people for a dwindling pool of resources. One answer might be a scattered settlement pattern within a wide resource procurement zone, and in fact, Spaniards encountered most desert groups living as rancherias during the seventeenth century (Burrus 1971; Sheridan 1999a:36-96).
Although often occupying fixed points of settlement, rancherias themselves were flexible. Rancheria groups controlling lands with relatively advantageous conditions for cultivating crops might maintain a constant presence there year-round, sending out 162 smaller parties to range at some distance in pursuit of game and wild plant foods. Other, less favorably situated groups might maintain settlements of scattered houses at more than one location, and over the course of the year shift from one to another to take advantage of localized resources (Spicer 1962:12). This was probably the pattern Perez de Ribas referred to when commenting on the "wild" Nevomes Bajos (see Appendix,
Perez de Ribas 1-6). Still others might move among favored base camp sites with no houses or fields at all, as did the coastal Seris (see Appendix, Perez de Ribas 1-4).
The term residential flexibility takes on added meaning with regard to the Yaquis, who occupied a uniquely productive niche in the desert and whose rancheria settlement pattern exhibited a more stable, concentrated character. When Perez de Ribas and his fellow missionary, Tomas Basilio, arrived at the Rio Yaqui in 1617, they found roughly eighty rancherias with an estimated total population of thirty thousand scattered along the lower twelve leagues of the river (see Appendix, Perez de Ribas 1-2). Yaqui farmers resided next to their fields, and moved or rebuilt their brush structures as dictated by the river's floodwaters. When drought prevented the river from flooding, the few options open to farmers for cultivation produced relatively low yields, and the exploitation of wild resources would have increased proportionately. Many wild resources were within close range, and easily enough procured while rancherias remained more or less in place.
As a drought wore on, however, the lack of rainfall and drop in streamflow coupled with higher levels of exploitation would have diminished both plant and animal populations, straining the ability of the rancherias to secure an adequate food supply and placing their numbers in jeopardy. 163
Although trading for needed foods undoubtedly took place, less peaceful options also were exercised. Ranges for hunting and gathering, less defined than agricultural territories, overlapped to varying degrees. Perez de Ribas describes an environment of fierce competition, with the indigenous nations of Sonora and Sinaloa "totally at odds in their relations," engaged in "continuous wars that they wage among themselves, killing one another, and also in guarding the boundaries, lands, and places that each one of these nations occupies and holds for its own, in such a way that he who dared to enter another's
[territory] did so at risk of leaving his head in the hands of whatever enemy he might encounter"(see Appendix, Perez de Ribas 1-1, 1-2 ). His assessment is echoed by
Olinano, who found that the Eudeves situated their pueblos "on hilltops in order to defend themselves from the Nevomes [Bajos], with whom they have always been at war"
(see Appendix, Oliiiano 1-1). Li a land where access to permanent water and wild resources played such a vital role in subsistence, it is no surprise that groups would have struggled to gain or retain control over territories best able to provide during times of climatic stress.
NOTES TO CHAPTER 4
'Doolittle (2000:312) interprets the mention of an arroyo as an indication of water harvesting; Spaniards sometimes referred to small, intermittent rivers as arroyos (for example, seeNentvig 1764, 1971).
According to Manje, the Rio Altar's streamflow was interrupted at the site of Altar, where it sank down below the surface (see Appendix, Manje 1-2).
According to Sauer (1935:24-25), most of the Jesuit annual reports for the period of conversion among the Pimas Bajos are lost. 164
•^Doolittle (1980:337-342) has argued that broad floodplains were desirable as agricultural fields only to support large populations. The broader the floodplain to be farmed, the longer and more numerous the canals to be constructed and maintained, and the greater the labor requirement. Arroyo bottoms would have made better agricultural lands for small populations.
^The terms pueblo and rancheria referred to very different settlement sizes and patterns, often—but not always—with architectural implications. Pueblo applied to a town or village of several hundred people, living in tightly clustered houses tending toward structural permanence, whereas a rancheria usually denoted fewer people living in a smaller, more openly spaced grouping of less substantial houses or huts (an aldea was a small village or hamlet that fell somewhere in between.) According to Reff (in Perez de Ribas 1999:87 n.l5), a pueblo was an "economic and political center . .. that had some public architectural feature(s)," and a rancheria had "upwards of a dozen or so houses." He is probably defining the terms more rigidly than is warranted by Spanish colonial usage. 165
CHAPTER 5
INDIGENOUS SUBSISTENCE WITHIN THE SPANISH COLONIAL REALM
Spanish colonial policies brought enormous change to the indigenous cultures of Sonora, yet change was not uniform. As colonial institutions and economic interests encountered a variety of physical and cultural landscapes, Spanish settlement and influence developed along diverse patterns, evoking indigenous responses that exhibited regional and societal differences.
This chapter explores the ways that Spanish policies and institutions operated to transform the subsistence systems of indigenous groups, especially those who participated in various disturbances or uprisings during the period of 1725-1742. The Yaquis, Pimas
Bajos, and Seris under consideration employed diverse strategies for securing their subsistence in largely different but sometimes overlapping ecological settings, but all faced the overarching constraints of the Sonoran Desert, with its low, erratic rainfall and/or high temperatures and rates of evaporation that differentially affected streamflow, crops, wild food plants, game animals. At issue here is how Spanish religious, economic, political, and social forces altered indigenous subsistence strategies, and the extent to which those changes impinged upon the flexibility these lowland groups needed to successfully sustain themselves through a multiyear cycle of drought. 166
The chapter begins with a historical overview of Spanish colonization during the seventeenth century, covering the early stages of sustained Spanish contact with indigenous groups. Missions, mines, ranches, presidios, and disease are first treated discretely as components of colonization (Sheridan 1992), then considered in their interaction, with an eye toward features and characteristics affecting indigenous ways of life. Discussion then moves to resulting changes in subsistence organization among indigenous peoples, and how such changes would have constrained their ability to cope with ecological stresses imposed by prolonged drought.
POLICIES AND INSTITUTIONS OF SPANISH COLONIZATION
The earliest Spanish encounters with indigenous peoples of Sonora were sporadic and brief. Beginning soon after the conquest of central Mexico, explorers such as Nuno
Beltran de Guzman, Fray Marcos de Niza, and Francisco Vasquez de Coronado set out to find another Tenochtitlan, whose large, nucleated, sedentary populations with well- defined hierarchies presented an existing structure of social and political control readily dominated and exploited by Spanish conquistadors (Farriss 1984:57; Gibson 1964;
Simpson 1950); whose highlands boasted an amenable climate and rich, volcanic soils that sustained intensive agriculture; and whose far-reaching empire collected and integrated a wide variety of resources through a tributary mode of production that
Spaniards lost no time in appropriating (Wolf 1982). A similarly fabulous kingdom had been discovered to the south, in Peru; surely another existed to the north. 167
What these early explorers found, however, was a far cry from central Mexico.
Beyond the bounds of the Mexica empire, the less populous Northwest featured scattered, relatively autonomous communities who varied greatly in their degree of sedentism, reliance upon agriculture, social differentiation, and language. Dominated by an arid or semiarid climate, the region's vast, rugged terrain constrained agriculture to river valleys and dispersed areas with high water runoff. Subsistence ranged from a complete dependence on wild foods to irrigation agriculture, and kin-ordered production prevailed
(Wolf 1982). Mastering such a daunting combination of cultural and physical landscapes would be no easy task, and held no immediate appeal.
Yet over time, the prospect of controlling the region that came to be known as
Sonora grew more attractive. Despite the dearth of rich kingdoms, early explorers brought back reports indicating Sonora's potential. Guzman's slaving expeditions, which reached as far north as the eastern portion of the lower Rio Yaqui in the early 1530s, reported that river to be well populated with many people, with larger and better pueblos than those found to the south along the Rio Mayo and the Rio Fuerte (Dabdoub 1995:18-27; Hu-
DeHart 1981:14-16; Spicer 1980:5). Alvar NMez Cabeza de Vaca, whose odyssey from
Florida brought him with his three companions through the serrana in 1536, told of stores of maize and beans, cotton mantas, turquoises, permanent settlements, and populations ripe for Christianity (Adomo and Pautz 1999:229-235). Niza, traveling through the region three years later, also took away a favorable impression of Sonora's people and the bounty of their river valleys (Hammond and Rey 1940:64-74). A small, second 168 reconnaissance expedition led by Capt. Melchior Diaz in the late fall and winter of the same year encountered far less bounty in the region, but acknowledged that it had been "a poor year" (Hammond and Rey 1940:157). Still other observers in Coronado's expedition saw a region with river valleys that were populous and productive, albeit recovering from the "poor year" mentioned by Diaz (Hammond and Rey 1940: 209, 233, 250-251, 284-
285, 296-297). Francisco de Ibarra's 1565-1566 survey confirmed that Sonora's rugged terrain held out great promise for mineral wealth (Hammond and Rey 1928).
These sixteenth-century expeditions shaped the course of future colonization in the region. While disabusing Spaniards of the notion that great cities lay to the north, ready for the taking, they provided an alternative, two-fold attraction. Sonora offered
"souls and silver," if not easy pickings, and its fertile valleys could support any mining enterprise. The frequently hostile encounters between its native groups and sixteenth- century explorers influenced the strategy by which the region's potential would be realized, however. By the early seventeenth century, a colonization program centering on missions, mines, ranches, and presidios was underway (Radding 1997:32; Sheridan
1992).
The Lure of Souls: Missions
Missions figured prominently in the colonization of Sonora, preceding other Spanish settlement by as much as decades. By the last quarter of the sixteenth century, viceregal policy recognized that missionaries could prove more effective than military force in pacifying hostile tribes through what amounted to a program of acculturation. An arbitrary period of ten years, according to viceregal plan, should be sufficient to transform pagan Indians into civilized, tithe-paying Christians prepared to take part in Spanish colonial society—at which point missionaries could then be replaced by secular priests in the new parishes, and the Crown could assess its new subjects for payment of tribute.
Anxious to secure the success of mining in the northwestern region, the Crown agreed to subsidize the mission endeavor of the Jesuits, who commenced their missionization efforts in 1591, at the sparsely populated San Felipe y Santiago on the Rio Sinaloa, and whose field came to embrace the northern parts of Nayarit, most of Durango and
Chihuahua, as well as northern Sinaloa and all of Sonora and Baja California (Hu-DeHart
1981:23-24; Naylor and Polzer 1986:21; Polzer 1976:7; Radding 1997:32-34; Sheridan
1992:162-163).
Nonetheless, military force continued to be an vital part of the colonization process. As the Jesuits worked their way northward, moving one or two at a time into established indigenous communities, they frequently faced violent resistance and came to rely upon the garrison of 25 soldiers from the newly estabUshed presidio of San Felipe y
Santiago de Sinaloa to clear the way for their fledgling mission program. This combination of military might followed by mission administration succeeded in steadily pushing the mission field forward until 1610, when it reached the banks of the lower Rio
Yaqui. There, the Yaquis forced a shift in strategy by thrice fending off the garrison and its indigenous allies, then surprising everyone by asking for missionaries—with the stipulation, however, that no military escort should accompany the priests. Seven years passed before the Jesuits could supply the requested missionaries, but in 1617, Fathers
Andres Perez de Ribas and Tomas Basilio arrived at the Rio Yaqui, sans soldiers, to found a mission among the Yaquis at the southern limit of what would become the province of Sonora. Only after these missionaries had met with some success did soldiers enter the region, in order to support and defend the priests as they implemented their changes and expanded their mission (Hu-DeHart 1981:25; Perez de Ribas 1999:330-361;
Polzer and Sheridan 1997: 253-254, 313; Radding 1997:34; Sheridan 1992:162; Spicer
1962:46-48).
The Yaqui conversion proceeded apace. Within six months the priests had baptized all Yaqui newborns and young children, according to Perez de Ribas (1999:355), and by the end of that first year they had established three principal missions, or cabeceras, and three secondary mission stations, or visitas, at six locations (Figure 5.1;
Polzer 1976:33). Additional priests arrived in 1620 to assist with the rapidly growing northern mission, and by 1645, when Perez de Ribas wrote his Historia, the Jesuits had reduced some eighty rancherias to eight "well-planned" pueblos administered by four priests, and had overseen the construction of permanent churches (Perez de Ribas
1944:2:126, 1999:375).
Soon after they had established themselves among the Yaquis, the Jesuits turned their attention northward. In response to repeated Nevome requests for baptism and missionaries, Father Diego de Guzman paid a visit to the middle reaches of the Rio Yaqui 171
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Itahum Cocorii Jg Baroyeca li^cum JJ Presidio Vicam -r,; Navflijoa 9 Detachments of Sinaloa Presidio i Elchojoa 0 100 150 m H Martin Burgensio arrived the following winter (1619-1620) to found a permanent mission among the Nevome Bajo settlements along the Rio Tecoripa, while Father Diego de Bandersipe concentrated his efforts, beginning perhaps as early as 1620, among the Nevomes Altos and some of their Cahita-speaking neighbors along the middle Rio Yaqui and the Rio Chico, establishing two cabeceras by 1622 (Pennington 1980:55-56; Perez de Ribas 1999:375, 392-393, 401). It was a pattern by which most missions would be founded, for the initial visits to petitioning hadian groups enabled missionaries, accompanied by military escorts, to safely gauge the sincerity of their prospective converts and scout appropriate sites for mission communities; the permanent missions followed, some sooner than others. During the next three decades, the Jesuits continued their course up the Rio Yaqui and its tributaries and moved on to the Rio Matape, the Rio Sonora, and the Rio San Miguel, reducing Eudeve, Opata, and northwestern Pima Bajo rancherias to pueblos along all these river drainages by mid-century (see Figure 5.1). Seri raiding of Christian settlements along the western rivers during the second half of the century and the need to control these hunter-gatherers prompted the Jesuits to venture bringing them into the Christian fold. Encouraged by a request from a Seri group of Salineros, Father Juan Fernandez founded a mission in 1679 at Populo, on the west bank of the Rio San Miguel, downstream from the Pima Bajo mission at Nacameri (Sheridan 1999a:26-35, 40 n.38; see Figure 5.1). An epidemic forced the settlement's abandonment in 1683, but the mission was re-estabhshed in 1688 by Father Adam Gilg, and some time between 1692 and 1700, the Jesuits founded two additional missions on the Rio San Miguel for the Seris (Di Peso and Matson 1965; Sheridan 1999a:19-20). Ultimately, only two of the Seri missions—Populo and Los Angeles—survived for any length of time (Sheridan 1999a:41 n.43, 246). The last years of the century brought a flurry of expansion under the direction of Father Eusebio Francisco Kino, who, after an abortive attempt to establish a mission on the California peninsula in the early 1680s, assumed the task of bringing Christianity to the various Pima Alto groups in the far north of the Sonoran province. Between 1687 and 1705, Kino founded some 26 mission cabeceras and visitas, baptizing various Pima Alto groups along virtually every drainage they occupied, as well as numerous Papagos inhabiting nonriverine parts of the desert and Cocomaricopas along the Gila River (Bolton 1948; Burrus 1971; Manje 1954; see Figure 5.1). The Jesuit Mission Program. By design, missions functioned as centers for religious formation and directed culture change (Polzer 1976:3). As the Jesuit missionaries moved in among established indigenous settlements, they sought first to expose Indians to the word of God, then to educate them in the rudiments of Christianity and train them in basic forms of Spanish social and political order, hi Sonora, this process frequently involved reduccion, whereby missionaries gathered or "reduced" their converts from scattered rancherias to concentrated communities in which they could be effectively and efficiently overseen in both spiritual and temporal matters (Polzer 1976:7). The priests 174 exercised a certain amount of political control over these new communities, filling positions within the church organization—including(sacristans) and temastianes (catechists), among others—with Indian candidates of their choosing. They also retained power of veto over nominees for hidian governor or alcalde (municipal judge)—who, in accordance with Spanish custom, were selected by the local populace (Spicer 1980:26- 27, 32). The mission program also became one of economic development, whereby the Jesuits strove to move indigenous agricultural communities beyond immediate subsistence toward a system that would provide during lean times and allow them to expand the mission system. They introduced new crops, new tools, more sophisticated agricultural techniques, and herds of livestock—all geared toward producing a surplus that the missionaries stored and disposed of as they deemed best for the needs of the mission community, although they never actually owned the mission lands (Pennington 1980:64; Sheridan 1988b:8, 1992:161, 163; Spicer 1980:30; Treutlein 1939:292). The annual stipend provided each missionary by the Crown came nowhere near covering the cost of running a mission, and missionaries raised additional revenues by selling excess field produce, hides, tallow, and meat to miners and other Spanish settlers in exchange for silver and gold ores. These they shipped to the Jesuit steward in Mexico City to procure supplies and luxuries that the missions could not produce themselves—^white wax candles and wine for services, medicines for the sick, various tools for the mission, and cloth, tobacco, and tools for the Indians, as well as supplies for the personal needs of the 175 missionaries (including sugar, spices, and chocolate). A large part was also devoted to the building and ornamentation of mission churches and for priestly vestments (Treutlein 1939:290-295). Coerced labor in the mission's economic enterprises was countenanced by the Crown. By royal edict, each missionary could require mission hidians to labor three days per week at various tasks held to be for the general good of the community. These included tilling, planting, and harvesting the communal fields set aside for the mission (over and above their own household plots), as well as helping to build and repair mission structures and other nonsubsistence-related work (Spicer 1980:27; Treutlein 1939:289, 292). In exchange, missionaries fed work crews two or three meals per day, whereas herdsmen, artisans, house servants, and other workers who performed special duties around the mission received wages in addition to food for themselves and their families. The Jesuits doled out cloth and tobacco semiannually to maintain the good will of their charges. Indian magistrates and those in any position of authority were given more elaborate clothing in accordance their office or employment, to bolster their status among other Indians (Radding 1997:80; Treutlein 1939:292-293), Through a mix of gifts, persuasion, and harsh punishments, as they deemed appropriate, missionaries endeavored to maintain strict control over the mission community. 176 The Lure of Silver: Mining Northwest Mexico's geological and climatic conditions have combined over time to produce abundant deposits of silver, gold, copper, and lead ores concentrated near the surface along outcrops (West 1993:44, 51). Ibarra discerned this mineral potential during his 1565-1566 expedition, yet some seven decades passed before miners crossed the Sierra Madre Occidental into Sonora. Spanish prospectors may have entered the region from the northern plateau in search of new deposits as early as 1633, motivated by the silver strike two years earlier at Chihuahua's San Jose de Parral (West 1993:45), but it was not until Jesuit missionaries had largely pacified Sonora with the assistance of Spanish military forces that civil settlement commenced. In 1637, Sinaloa's Capt. Pedro de Perea, having led an expedition against the Opata in the northeast, during which he had ample opportunity to reconnoiter the serrana's mountains and valleys, obtained viceregal authorization to settle and create a new province north of the Rio Yaqui at his own expense. Granted the temporary use of a number of soldiers from his garrison, he established a ranch that year near the Eudeve village of Tuape on the Rio San Miguel—just north of the Jesuit missions—to serve as a base from which his men might search for mineral deposits (West 1993:45). They found four silver deposits near the Rio Sonora valley, two leagues east of the Opata village of Sinoquipe, in early 1640. The following year Perea was appointed alcalde mayor (chief magistrate) of the new political jurisdiction that became known as Sonora (although Perea called it Nueva Andalucia). With most of his soldiers ordered back to Sinaloa, he invited 177 colonists from Nueva Vizcaya and Nuevo Mexico to come settle Sonora's central and northern valleys, thus laying the groundwork for the development of mining and ranching interests in the region (Naylor and Polzer 1986:417 n.22, 585 n.3; Radding 1997:35; West 1993:45-46). Over the course of the years, reales de minas and realejos (mining settlements large and small) proliferated in Sonora's uplands (Figure 5.2). The 1640s saw several silver deposits discovered in the mountains along the San Miguel, Sonora, and Bavispe River Valleys, and the mining frontier expanded to the ranges along the Moctezuma and middle Yaqui river valleys during the next three decades. Following the discovery in 1657 of particularly rich deposits at San Juan Bautista, southwest of Cumpas, the center of settlement and administration shifted from the Rio San Miguel to the upper Rio Moctezuma (then called Rio Oposura), where the Real de San Juan endured as Sonora's alcaldia mayor (provincial capital) for nearly a century (Radding 1997:35-36; West 1993:46-48). Other notable silver-producing mines were estabhshed during the 1660s at Nacozari, amidst the hills bordering the upper reaches of the Rio Moctezuma, and at San Miguel Arcangel, in the mountains just west of the Rio Yaqui's middle reaches. A series of significant silver discoveries in the higher elevations east of the middle Rio Yaqui attracted droves of colonists during the late 1660s and early 1670s. The silver rush led to the creation of Ostimuri as a civil province whose jurisdiction encompassed the territory between the Yaqui and Mayo river drainages as far northward as the Rio Aros; the largest of the reales, San Ildefonso de Ostimuri, functioned as Ostimuri's 178 t N Bacaruichl a«78)^^ Nailvldad (!«?•') Reyes(1649) X^Ss.. Algamc cruij lonQclo (i6&e) \ Aguaj«ini7) ^ (1^6) SwMucial Sonora, Mexico >r Baroyuca (1701) Mining Center (Real de Minas) Aiamos (1683) 100 150 m wmimm 100 km By Einiliaiio GaUaga Figure 5.2. Mining centers in Sonora during the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries (adapted from West 1993). 179 alcaldia mayor (Gerhard 1982:266; Polzer and Sheridan 1997:313; Radding 1997:35-36; West 1993:49). In 1683, silver deposits were discovered south of the Rio Mayo in Sinaloa's Sierra de Alamos (West 1993:53-55); one of the two nearby settlements to develop from the following rush was the Real de Los Frailes de los Alamos, which went on to become one of the most productive and lasting mining centers in New Spain. Mining as an Enterprise. The surficial nature of Sonora's mineral deposits nicely accommodated the unsophisticated methods employed by Spanish miners, who could exploit silver lodes simply by digging shallow, open pits or short, vertical shafts along the vein outcrops (West 1993:44). Because ore quality tended to decrease with depth, however, and the pits flooded when they were excavated below the water table, few mines remained profitable for very long. As a result most reales were temporary mining camps, lasting only so long as the near-surface deposits. Miners—and mining settlement—tended to follow the strikes. Those few reales de minas that did become permanent settlements, such as San Juan Bautista, San Miguel Arcangel, and Alamos, boasted mines with deep, reinforced shafts, where flooding was controlled through the intensive use of Indian labor drafted from nearby villages (Radding 1997:37). The relative stability of these enterprises attracted settlers and merchants from within and without the province, turning mining camps into centers of commercial exchange surrounded by ranches that, with the missions, supported the growing Spanish population. 180 Even the more permanent settlements were not immune to eventual decline, however, inextricably tied as their fortunes were to the richness and accessibility of mineral deposits. San Juan Bautista, after enjoying spectacular levels of silver production during the years immediately following its discovery, had already begun a downward spiral as early as 1681. Decreased output from a greatly reduced number of badly flooded mines brought a concomitant reduction among the town's merchants, and within another three decades miners and merchants had all but abandoned the Sonoran capital to ranchers (West 1993:48). Despite the boom-and-bust character of mining settlements, the colonial population of Sonora grew steadily in the uplands during the decades that followed Perea's invitation to settlement; as one real declined, another would rise to prominence. Research by West (1993:46) indicates that the Spanish civil population for the entire province in 1649 included about 45 men, according to a militia roster from that year. Nearly all were miners centered near the real of Santiago de los Reyes—^which, established east of the Rio San Miguel the year before, served as the provincial capital until 1657. Another call to arms thirty-five years later, in 1684, listed 186 militiamen, miners, and ranchers from mining settlements and nearby stock-raising areas along the Sonora, Moctezuma, and middle Yaqui river valleys (West 1993:49). The influx of settlers pulled Sonora into northern New Spain's mining economy, in which miners and merchants played interdependent roles. Through merchants based in Parral, where they were better connected to the markets of central New Spain, inhabitants of the reales de minas had access to merchandise otherwise unavailable or difficult to obtain on the northwestern frontier: iron tools and equipment needed for extracting and processing ore; luxury goods such as wine, brandy, olive oil, and tobacco; craft wares that included pottery, leather goods, hats, tailored clothing, and footwear; and many types of cloth, ranging from fine silks and ribbons imported from Spain and the Orient to the more humble sayal (coarse woolen sackcloth) and bayeta (flannel) produced by central New Spain's obrajes (workshops). Particularly important to mine owners were the ruder forms of cloth, which became the common form of wages paid to Indian workers. As a rule, the more affluent miners and officials acquired their goods on credit through Parral's merchants, extended in return for consignments of silver bullion and lead ore that mule trains hauled eastward across the Sierra Madre—the silver to be assayed and shipped from Parral, and the lead ore to be used in the silver-smelting process at Nueva Vizcaya's mining centers such as Cusihuiriachic, north of Parral, and Santa Eulalia. The less prosperous miners and native workers made their purchases from small, locally owned shops in the mining towns, using smaller bits of silver as a medium of exchange. Merchants and shop owners also functioned as bankers in the reales, suppying mine owners the credit needed to establish and operate their mines (Radding 1997:36; West 1993:51-53, 55-56). 182 The Lure of the Land: Ranching and Agriculture Mineral wealth may have provided the lure for Spanish settlement, but stockraising and agriculture furnished the means, and agrarian pursuits developed right along with mining endeavors (Sheridan 1992:160, 2003). Mine owners required a local source of provisions such as hides and tallow for operation of their mines, and wool, meat, cheese, milk, grains, and other agriculture produce for the subsistence of their workers. The Jesuit missions, which came to control much of the land and native labor, supplied much of this demand with their surplus crops and excess livestock (West 1993:60), but during the late 1630s and early 1640s, when Perea initiated civil settlement in the serrana, the Jesuits were still working their way up its river valleys and had not yet installed themselves along the upper reaches, where so many mineral deposits were to be found. The isolation of the mining districts among the region's scattered and sometimes hostile indigenous communities fostered a certain measure of self-sufficiency and opportunism among the miners, many of whom established stock ranches and farms near the mines that formed their market (Sheridan 1992:160, 2003). Stock Ranching. One could argue that secular stock ranching pioneered mining. From its beginnings in the ranch base that Perea established along the Rio San Miguel in 1637, stockraising among settlers soon reached to the headwaters of the Rio Sonora, where Perea's son was operating a cattle ranch in the Bacanuchi Valley by 1649 (Jordan 1993:142; West 1993:58)—well in advance of the nearby silver strike that came some 183 two decades later. Grants in 1645 for a ranch in Ostimuri's Cedros Valley, to the south, and in 1655 for pasture land in the mountains near San Juan Bautista, west of the Rio Moctezuma, also preceded significant silver discoveries (West 1993:150 n.72). As early as 1658, an estancia (livestock ranch) was operating near Onavas on the east side of the middle Rio Yaqui (Pennington 1980:74), some six years before mines were opened at San Miguel Arcangel. In addition to supplying essential provisions, ranching offered miners the opportunity to leam the lay of the land and prospect for mineral deposits. Cattle ranching, in particular, complemented mining pursuits. Iberian longhoms were well suited to Sonora's uplands, thriving on the abundant grasses of the river valleys and on mountain scrub such as mesquite (Jordan 1993:141; Sheridan 1992:160-161, 2003; West 1993:58-59). The longhoms' abihty to fend for themselves for much of the year, going without water for several days at a time, allowed Spanish miner-ranchers to employ an open-range system of grazing that required relatively little time and labor. Free-ranging cattle were periodically rounded up for branding, slaughter, or simply to keep them from wandering too far or becoming completely feral. Essential to this system of herd management were the horses ridden by vaqueros (cowboys) while roping and gathering cattle, and stock ranches frequently included droves of Iberian horse breeds that, like the cattle, were adapted to a dry climate and rough terrain (Sheridan 1992:160). Mules were raised, as well, for service as pack animals in supply trains and in the mines. Stock-raising operations also included smaller livestock, although sheep and goats seem to have taken second place to larger livestock among Sonora's secular ranches. 184 during the earlier years at least. Whereas cattle and mules were so abundant as to be exported to Parral during the last quarter of the seventeenth century and as late as 1715, sheep were of local importance only (Jordan 1993:142; West 1993:59). Raising sheep involved greater labor, requiring herdsmen to protect the stock from predators such as coyotes, wolves, mountain lions, and bears, and fleeces did not fare well in thorn thickets (Jordan 1993:142; Sheridan 2003). Adapted as it was to Sonora's upland environment, stock ranching grew to become an important economic activity, second only to mining in the northeastern portion of the province (Sheridan 1992:161; West 1993:58). By 1685, several miners were running cattle on a number of ranches scattered throughout the serrana, from the middle Rio Yaqui to the headwaters of the northward-flowing San Pedro and Santa Cruz Rivers (Bolton 1984:256, 358; Burrus 1971:432; Kessell 1970: 51 n.l2; Officer 1987:31;West 1993:58-59). Pennington (1980:74) has suggested that ranching had probably been established in the lower-elevation Ures area as well, citing its greater browse potential; he offers no evidence of secular outfits there, however, and it seems more likely that the area was already being grazed by mission herds. We know far less about how stockraising progressed in southeastern Sonora, yet the 1645 establishment of a ranch in the Cedros valley prior to the Ostimuri silver strikes, as mentioned above, suggests that the enterprise there followed a pattern similar to the north. According to West (1993:59), "several ranches and haciendas" were established in 185 the foothills throughout eastern Sonora by the early eighteenth century, which is not surprising given the wide scattering of mines by that time. Agriculture. Non-native agriculture in Sonora during the first century of Spanish settlement remains poorly understood. Patterns of settlement, land tenure, labor, and production among Spanish colonial farmers, in particular, await further research, as does the relationship between land holdings and markets (Deeds 1985:458; Sheridan 1992:160). Still, it is evident that farming by Spanish settlers was constrained by the scarcity of irrigable land available—^particularly in the serrana, where native agricultural communities occupied the narrow, discontinuous stretches of floodplain in the river valleys. By the 1670s, two Spanish farmers in the region—Capt. Matias Pereyra and Capt. Jose Romo—^reportedly were sowing wheat, yet only one harvested enough to market (Navarro Garcia 1967:206-207). Neither were the small plots cultivated on ranches sufficient for subsistence. Most miners and other settlers acquired their wheat, com, beans, and other produce from the surplus of the nearby missions (Navarro Garcia 1967:218-219; West 1993:60). Frontier Security: Presidios and Militias Sonora's military system, like its mission program, grew out of earlier developments on the eastern side of the Sierra Madre Occidental. During the 1550s and 1560s, mounting Indian hostilities threatened Spanish mining and settlement in that region, taking an 186 alarming toll on Spanish lives and potential Crown revenues. The viceregal response was to attempt to impose peace by waging war through a system of strategically placed, royally funded presidios, first realized by 1570 along the royal road between Mexico and Zacatecas (Moorhead 1975:5-10; Naylor and Polzer 1986:33-36). Over the next fifteen years, the presidio system expanded dramatically at great cost to the king's treasury, although with seemingly little effect, as warfare continued to escalate. The growing Spanish practice of enslaving captives simply provoked more attacks by Indian groups, many of whom by this time had acquired Spanish horses and arms. The year 1585 saw a shift in viceregal policy, which now sought to reduce Crown expenditures and bring about peace through less expensive means. Presidial commanders were ordered to parley with rebel leaders, offering a package of material goods and provisions as well as religious instruction and governmental protection in exchange for peace. The change proved effective, and by the time the presidio system reached the Pacific slope of the Sierra Madre in the 1590s, its role had been modified to form, like the mission, an important component in a program of native acculturation. Presidial commanders became "protectors" of indigenous peoples, charged not only with keeping peace among those reduced to mission settlements, but also with buffering the converts from the harmful influence of their still-hostile neighbors and mistreatment from Spanish settlers. Accordingly, the number of presidios was reduced to those deemed necessary for protecting Christian settlements and moving the mission frontier forward (Moorhead 1975:11-14; Naylor and Polzer 1986:37-40). Frontier security in less volatile areas fell largely to civilian militias and Indian allies. Throughout most of the seventeenth century, the Sinaloa presidio remained the sole professional military force operating in Sonora. Its garrison, which appears to have numbered no more than fifty men, provided soldiers to accompany missionaries while they worked their way northward into new territories (Dunne 1957:2; Moorhead 1975:23; Naylor and Polzer 1988:113); as long as the priests were able to reduce and pacify indigenous peoples with a modicum of military reinforcement, the Crown could keep its defense expenditures to a minimum. With the continued advance of both missions and Spanish settlement, the garrison was stretched thinner and thinner, and civilian militias and Indian allies came to form an essential component of Sonora's defense strategy. By the late 1680s, however, the need for additional military strength in northeastern Sonora became apparent. Raiding by Apache, Janos, Jocome, and Suma groups increasingly taxed the capabilities of the region's civilian forces, jeopardizing both missions and Spanish settlements and effectively paralyzing the transportation of ores from the mines. At the same time, Spanish authorities grew apprehensive of unrest among settled Indian peoples in the wake of the 1680 Pueblo Revolt, in the province of Nuevo Mexico. These concerns culminated in a viceregal decree issued during the latter part of 1692, authorizing the Presidio de las Fronteras de la Provincia de Sonora as a compama volante (literally "flying company") and adding, after some negotiations, another fifty 188 men to Sonora's professional military force (Hackett 1926:23-24; Naylor and Polzer 1986:486, 487 n.6). Although the Fronteras garrison initially rode with no fixed residence, some time near the turn of the century it became headquartered at the site of Santa Rosa de Corodeguachi, in the middle watershed of the Rio Bavispe, well within the Apaches' strike zone. Its principal tasks included fending off their intensifying attacks and pursuing the raiders to the north and northeast—often in cooperation with the presidios of Janos and El Paso, to the east—in addition to maintaining peace among the Opatas, who were increasingly pressed by Spanish settlement activities. As it turned out, the presidio also proved useful for helping to contain the more recently missionized, lowland groups to the west—the Pimas Altos, Seris, and western Pimas Bajos (Naylor and Polzer 1986:583- 718; Sheridan 1999a:36-96). The Presidio. Often loosely translated as "garrison" or "fort," the term "presidio" is better understood as referring to the unit of soldiers commissioned by the Spanish Crown that typically occupied a fortified outpost on the frontier (Naylor and Polzer 1986:15-19; Polzer and Sheridan 1997:254). This unit of men, although governed by its royal charter, was subject to change. The number of soldiers the Crown would support could be modified by royal decree, and the presidio might be moved from one strategic location to another as called for by circumstances. At the extreme end of this policy fell the compania volante, which, stationed in a general region, was constantly on the move. 189 Beyond its military role, the presidio functioned as a basic social institution of Spanish colonization in the northern hinterlands (Naylor and Polzer 1986:15). The nascent community formed by a garrison of officers and soldiers, some of whom were joined by their families, soon attracted other Spanish settlers in turn, providing simultaneously a local market and a means of defense for neighboring ranchers, farmers, and merchants. Because they required arable land and water for irrigation, presidios necessarily tended to be located in proximity to indigenous settlements, whose populations they quickly brought within the realm of secular Spanish influence. While commandeering the land and water of their Indian neighbors, Spanish soldiers and settlers coerced them to labor as military scouts and auxiliaries, domestic servants, miners, vaqueros, and fieldhands, adding to the depopulation of their communities and furthering their eventual assimilation into Spanish society. Also assimilated in a similar fashion were captives taken during military campaigns and sentenced to servitude (Moorhead 1975:4; Naylor and Polzer 1986:19-20; Polzer and Sheridan 1997:257). The Toll of Disease Arriving with—or more likely, ahead of—the missionaries, miners, ranchers, and soldiers was a host of pathogens of Old World origin to which the "virgin soil" immune systems of New World populations were wholly susceptible (Borah 2001:7-8). The result for Sonora's indigenous groups, as in the rest of the Americas, was sudden and catastrophic population decline (Reff 1991). Exactly when and how European diseases first reached 190 Sonera's various native groups is not entirely clear. Dobyns (1983:Table 1) has argued that the smallpox pandemic of 1518-1525, moving along native trade networks, extended as far as "across the present United States." Dobyns built his hypothesis on patterns in central Mexico and Inca Peru, however, both of which had extremely dense populations and extensive systems of trade, tribute, and communication. As Reff (1991:5, 102) has pointed out, population densities in northwestern Mexico were significantly lower, trade and communication systems were far simpler, and "little or no evidence" exists for regular exchange between central and northwestern Mexico at the time of the Spanish conquest. Based on a critical examination of historical documents—primarily Jesuit correspondence, reports, and censuses, rife with references to disease and epidemics— Reff (1991:276) has suggested it was the establishment of Jesuit missions at the Rio Sinaloa in 1591 that first created the conditions by which European pathogens were introduced to the region.' By the time the Jesuits made their way to the Rio Yaqui in 1617, they had been preceded by smallpox, measles, typhus, and probably dysentery and/or typhoid. Systems of exchange and social interaction, both Spanish and indigenous, formed the principal corridors of contagion, for the regular flow of people, livestock, and goods facilitated the movement of disease agents. When the Jesuits arrived at San Felipe y Santiago in 1591 and began supplying and staffing their mission with goods and people from Mexico City, where many disease epidemics originated, they inadvertently created a conduit by which European pathogens could move northward into what seems to have 191 remained, until then, a relatively isolated region (Reff 1991:15, 98, 103, 130-134). Once introduced, those pathogens spread rapidly among virtually all of Sonora's indigenous peoples, although infections undoubtedly advanced at different rates depending on the nature of interaction among various groups and other variables such as settlement patterns, climatic conditions, and the degree of subsistence prosperity. Spanish settlement increased indigenous exposure to diseases by creating additional pathways by which infections might travel. Disease Agents. Identifying specific diseases from historical accounts has its difficulties. Lacking an understanding of how diseases originated and spread, sixteenth- and seventeenth-century observers often failed or were unable to distinguish one malady from another and undoubtedly mistook symptoms of smallpox, as it passed through progressive stages, for other diseases—and vice versa (Cook and Lovell 2001:218). Accounts often refer to disease episodes simply as cocoliztli, a Nahuatl term used in a general sense for great sickness, pestilence, or plague (Cook and Lovell, ed. 2001:244; Reff 1991:127). To further confound interpretations, epidemics typically included more than one disease (Reff 1991:97). By focusing on the clinical symptoms described by Jesuits and other observers, however, and scrutinizing them under modem precepts of disease pathogenesis and epidemiology, Reff has deduced that the primary maladies affecting Sonora's indigenous peoples included smallpox, measles, typhus, dysentery, and malaria, among others. 192 Smallpox and measles, both highly communicable viral infections that result in heavy mortality, are transmitted by human contact and spread rapidly in densely populated areas (Cook and Lovell 2001:218, 220-222, Reff 1991:100-101, 111). Both diseases have their highest incidence during the winter or dry season, and populations become particularly vulnerable during times of drought, when they are weakened by famine and less capable of resistance. Typhus and malaria are arthropod-bome diseases, carried by lice, fleas, or ticks and mosquitoes, respectively. The most dangerous form of typhus is epidemic typhus, transmitted by body and head lice. Associated with crowded and unsanitary conditions, typhus tends to occur during periods of war and famine, with its highest incidence during cold months, and can persist as a subclinical infection for years (Cook and Lovell 2001:225-226; Reff 1991:115, 157). The highest incidence of malaria coincides with intervals of heavy rains that leave large pools of standing water where anopheline mosquitoes—the only known malaria vector, and possibly introduced to the New World—can flourish (Reff 1991:106-107). The stagnant waters of cienagas or wetlands also provide an ideal breeding ground for the mosquito, which can hibernate between seasons and carries the infection for its entire life (Cook and Lovell 2001:229). Human survivors of malaria carry the infection as well, for an indefinite period during which they might suffer occasional chills and anemia while remaining a source from which mosquitoes might draw. In a suitable environment the disease can become endemic rather 193 quickly, causing high infant mortality and debilitating the adult population, rendering it more susceptible to other diseases (Cook and Lovell 2001:229; Reff 1991:108, 175). Dysentery and typhoid, intestinal diseases caused by bacterial infection and spread by contaminated water and food, were regarded as campaign diseases during the Spanish colonial period, so chronic were they among European armies. Characterized by diarrhea and bloody stools, both diseases can be harbored by afflicted individuals for months, or even years, and like malaria can lower the resistance of a population to other diseases (Reff 1991:104-105, 109, 113). The Spread of Disease in Sonora. The Yaquis, although probably having limited their exposure to infection during an epidemic in 1606-1607 through their overt hostility toward Spaniards and Christian hidians (Reff 1991:151), may have unwittingly already admitted some disease agents in their midst when they harbored some forty Ocoroni families who sought refuge from the missions to the south in 1604, offering up their daughters and some cotton clothing in exchange. When Fathers Perez de Ribas and Basilio arrived at the Rio Yaqui in 1617, they found many Yaquis suffering from el cocoliztli—likely measles and/or smallpox (Reff 1991:158). A high number of infant deaths coupled with a relatively low mortality rate for adults suggests an earlier exposure to these diseases, and a possible motivating factor behind the Yaquis' surprising request for missionaries in 1610. 194 The Nevomes of the middle Rio Yaqui likewise requested missionaries as early as 1610. If they had not already done so by that time, they may have picked up some pathogens by traveling south to San Felipe to make their request, or through the occasional visits paid by their kinsmen from the colony settlement of Bamoa on the Rio Sinaloa. In 1615 and 1616, three separate delegations totaling more than 500 Nevomes, some of whom were deathly ill, made the journey to San Felipe, and another group came to petition Perez de Ribas among the Yaquis, their traditional enemies (Perez de Ribas 1999:392; Reff 1991:157-158). As Reff (1991:157) wryly observes, "Although the Jesuits attributed this exodus to an impatience for baptism, it is apparent that the [Nevomes] hoped that baptism would provide some measure of protection from and a cure for disease." Sent from Bamoa to visit the Nevomes in June 1619, in the midst of a famine and another cocoliztli epidemic, Father Guzman over a few months baptized 1,516 adults in danger of dying, as well as 5,096 infants (Reff, in Perez de Ribas 1999:392 n.20). The petitions of indigenous groups for missionaries and baptism may, in fact, provide our best gauge for the spread of disease in Sonora. Time and time again, initial visits of Jesuits to various groups revealed populations already stricken. Thus were the Rio Matape Eudeves, northwest of the Nevomes, found to be suffering—^presumably from European diseases—during the 1619-1620 epidemic (Reff 1991:161). Following petitions as early as 1619 from Rio Moctezuma Eudeves and Rio Sahuaripa Opatas, who made the journey to San Felipe in 1620 to press their case, an unidentified priest responded with a visit to the Opatas and baptized several children or adults in danger of dying (Reff 1991:164-165). Similarly, the Jesuits received requests in 1623 from the Pimas Bajos of Ures, whose regular visits with their Nevome relatives may have introduced infections to the Rio Sonora and Rio San Miguel during the epidemic that began that year, or even earlier (Reff 1991:163). Diseases apparently advanced beyond the mission system via indigenous interactions, and the subsequent founding of missions only served to intensify exposure to infections. We can infer, then, that petitions from northern Opatas for missionaries and baptism in 1635 reflect the presence of European diseases in those uplands. This inference is supported by Father Basilio's observation of their many dying children, and by the visit Father Lorenzo de Cardenas made in 1636 to the middle and upper Rio Sonora, where he baptized a number of adults presumably in danger of dying and gathered the Opata into villages (Reff 1991:169-170). By the time Perea estabhshed his men along the Rio San Miguel valley, one year later, northern Opata populations had probably already decreased significantly, opening the door to Spanish settlement between their reduced communities. Opata population loss could only have been exacerbated by the 1639-1640 epidemic—coincident with the Jesuit establishment of a mission along the middle Rio Sonora—which may have spread east to the neighboring Rio Moctezuma and Rio Bavispe Valleys via Opata relatives attending religious celebrations at the newly estabhshed missions on the Rio Sonora. 196 The possibility exists that infections advanced west, as well, through exchange with Pimas Altos from the Rio Magdalena (Reff 1991:172). From there, exchange and social networks among the Pimas Altos undoubtedly moved pathogens along the rivers and into the Papagueria. The relative isolation and scattered settlement patterns of the Seris may have hindered the spread of infection among those hunter-gatherers, but their reduction along the Rio San Miguel in 1679 opened them to exposure, and the epidemic- caused abandonment of their mission four years later undoubtedly carried disease into the coastal desert. When Kino visited a stretch of coast to the southwest of Caborca in 1706, he baptized many infants and some sick adults among what was probably a mixture of Pimas Altos and Seris (Bolton 1948:2:160-162). Spanish settlement served to reinforce indigenous exposure to European pathogens, quite possibly introducing new infections. Reff (1991:173-174) conjectures that Perea's death in October of 1645 was caused by malaria, to which he exposed the Opatas of the Rio Sonora valley; the Opatas continued to suffer from "malicious fevers" three to four years later. Because he first fell ill when returning to the valley from the Rio Magdalena, he also may have exposed the Pimas Altos to the disease. The Relationship between Mission and State The historical development of Spanish colonization in Sonora created regional differences in the distribution of power that centered on the degree of Jesuit involvement in governing indigenous peoples and setting policy, ha the lower elevations of the province's south and south-central regions—including the delta and lowlands of the Rio Yaqui, as well as the desert lowlands and foothills of its tributaries and the Rios Matape, Sonera, and San Miguel—Jesuit missionaries were the first to establish and maintain a permanent European presence. As they rapidly assumed control over Yaqui, Pima Bajo (Nevome Alto and Nevome Bajo), lower Eudeve, and lower Opata agricultural communities between 1617 and 1637, the Jesuits grew accustomed to shaping frontier development virtually unchallenged by other Spanish colonial interests, despite their reliance on occasional military assistance from the Sinaloa presidio. In the serrana country to the north, east, and southeast, however, Spanish mining settlements and ranches preceded or were contemporary with Jesuit missions, beginning in 1637 with Perea's ranching and prospecting activities along the mid-to-upper reaches of the Rio San Miguel and the Rio Sonora. Although the Jesuits hastened during the 1640s to establish missions among the Opatas, Eudeves, and Jovas along the upper river valleys, Spanish settlers were just as quick to locate mining settlements and ranches throughout the uplands in their ongoing quest for mineral and land wealth. A struggle soon began between colonists and the Jesuits for control over Indian labor, water, and lands that intensified as Spanish settlement gained momentum. The Independent Nature of Jesuit Administration. The Society of Jesus, although it served at the pleasure of the Crown, administered its missions with relative autonomy. Instead of deferring to royal authority in the domain of ecclesiastical appointments and activities. 198 Jesuit missionaries submitted to the general of their order in Rome and to the pope through their Father Provincial, who acted as the Society's representative in Mexico City, and through his delegate to the missions, the Father Visitor. Operations of the northwestern missions were governed by codes of rules developed by assembhes of missionaries, together with precepts issued by the provincial and the visitor (Hu-DeHart 1981:23-24; Polzer 1976:13-32). In the early years of conquest in Sonora, this administrative independence posed little threat to the order of things. The Jesuit goal of evangelizing and converting indigenous peoples conformed with royal objectives of pacifying hostile groups and turning them into tithe-paying Christians. With the expansion of Spanish settlement, however, Jesuit and secular purposes began to diverge. Although the missions were supposed to be temporary, the Jesuits—convinced that Spanish society would exploit and corrupt their mission charges, whom they believed required continual instruction to avoid falling into apostasy—sought to maintain the isolated neo-Christian communities indefinitely. Prolonging the missions also served the Jesuit field of endeavor from a material perspective, for so long as they held doctrina status wherein neophytes were not yet deemed fully formed in the Christian faith, missions were subsidized from royal coffers, exempt from taxation, and privileged with the use and control of Indian labor. Growing Jesuit concern with retaining control over Indian souls, lands, water, and labor led to a less accommodating relationship with neighboring Spaniards and secular authorities, as reflected in the Society's Cabrero Code of 1662, which regulated 199 missionary contact with Spanish settlers in terms of commerce and communication (Polzer 1976:19-20; Sheridan 1988c:8, 1992:162; Spicer 1980:55; Treutlein 1939:298- 299). The Structure of Civil Administration. Spanish civil authorities administered Sonora from a distance throughout most of the seventeenth century. Following Ibarra's expedition in 1565, the entire west coast north of Cuhacan was considered part of the province of Nueva Vizcaya, with the Sinoloa and Fronteras presidios falling under the control of the viceroy instead of the provincial governor. While Sinaloa remained the sole presidio, its captains effectively functioned as governors—often using the title—of the entire Sinaloa- Sonora region. By the last quarter of the seventeenth century, however, that region had been divided for the purposes of civil administration into the smaller jurisdictions, or alcaldias mayores, of Sinaloa, Ostimuri, and Sonora, each ruled by its own local magistrate (alcalde mayor) appointed first by the governor of Nueva Vizcaya, and later by the Council of the Indies. After the Fronteras presidio was founded in 1692, Sinaloa and Sonora maintained separate military commanders, each with the title of gobernador although nominally subordinate to the governor of Nueva Vizcaya (Barnes et al. 1981:55; Gerhard 1982:245-246, 282; Moorhead 1975:19). At times the Fronteras commander also served as Sonora's alcalde mayor (Donohue 1969:24). 200 Arenas of Conflict. Ironically, it was the very success of the Jesuit evangelical enterprise that led to the complaints of Spanish settlers (Navarro Garcia 1967:174-175), for the strength of that enterprise rested on the prosperity of the missions made possible through the high productivy of Indian land and labor. With the control they exercised over both, the Jesuit missions held a distinct economic advantage over Spanish settlers. Few of the ranches could compete with the mission estancias, which the Jesuits had established on the most favorable rangelands, near the well-watered missions (West 1993:58). As missionaries assumed control of indigenous agricultural communities along the rivers, they jealously guarded the river meadows from the encroachment of Spanish settlers and appropriated prime pasturage and water sources for mission herds. The missions as a rule maintained herds that, tended by their neophytes, were at least of moderate size and could number as many as 40,000-50,000 head of cattle (Jordan 1993:141). More labor-intensive sheep and goats frequently equaled or outnumbered cattle on mission lands, introduced by missionaries as a means of feeding and clothing their converts, who supplied the labor for tending the animals (Radding 1997:77, 92-95; Sheridan 2003). Still, some Spanish ranchers managed to maintain sizeable cattle herds on rougher upland terrain with scattered springs and waterholes, or well-watered grasslands beyond the limits of the Jesuit mission system. Capt. Jose Romo de Vivar's herds near the headwaters of the Santa Cruz River, for example, numbered greater than 9,000 head according to Manje (Burrus 1971:432). The missions dominated Spanish agriculture to an even greater degree than stockraising. Mission lands represented the best agricultural lands in the province, in terms of both soil and dependable sources of water, and through their administration of the mission Indians, missionaries had plenty of manpower at their disposal for maximizing the jdeld of those lands. In addition, Jesuit missionaries were astute managers who instituted a regular six-day work week and pushed Indian farmers to produce a surplus in their own fields as well as the communal fields, while doing their best to prevent or restrict direct trade between those farmers and Spaniards (Hu-DeHart 1981:48; Spicer 1980:30). Under the direction of the missionaries, who effectively controlled everything from production to distribution, the missions became highly fruitful enterprises that consistently generated surpluses for marketing to the mining communities, whereas Spanish settlers—lacking both irrigable lands and the regular access to labor—were mostly limited to subsistence farming. To make matters worse, by purchasing their supplies through their own agent in Mexico City, the Jesuits excluded local merchants from the chance to make any profits, thus failing to contribute to the local economy (Treutlein 1939:297). The biggest bone of contention, perhaps, was what Spanish settlers viewed as the Jesuit stranglehold on Indian labor. With the expansion of mining during the closing decades of the century came an increased need for workers to drain shafts, cut wood for smelters, and haul ore (Deeds 1989:441; Sheridan 1992:160). Mission communities represented efficiently organized pools of labor (Deeds 1989:431), which miners and 202 ranchers were entitled to draw upon through repartimiento, a system whereby hidians were forced to work for individuals but were nominally paid both for their labor and their time spent traveling to and from the work site. In theory, quotas of laborers representing 1-A percent of a community's able-bodied males were drafted in a rotational cycle and sent to nearby Spanish mines and estates to work for a specified period of time. Given the toll on mission populations from myriad diseases, however, in practice, workers frequently were drafted in numbers above the legal quota, taken to locations a considerable distance from their home villages, and/or forced to work for longer periods of time than stipulated—and employers often failed to pay a wage, or paid it in overvalued items of food or clothing, rather than coin (Deeds 1989:436-437; Radding 1997:38; West 1993:63). Requests to missionaries for hidian workers were often coordinated by alcaldes mayores, and presidio captains also asked for hidian auxiliaries to assist with various military actions (Donohue 1969:39). The Jesuits, for both moral and economic reasons, were reluctant to acquiesce to repartimiento drafts of mission Indians. Not only did they wish to protect their converts from the corrupting influence and/or exploitation of those secular employers, but the timing of the drafts frequently conflicted with the seasonal demands of the missions' agrarian pursuits. Nor were they eager, for the same reasons, to allow mission Indians to travel voluntarily to mines to work for free wages. Their resistance to sharing the ever-declining labor pool was resented by many Spanish colonists and led to periodic agitation for secularization of Sonora's mission system. 203 Summary. The relationship between the Jesuit missionaries and secular interests was never simple. On the one hand, the Jesuits regarded secular Spanish society as a corrupting influence, and they aimed to keep mission Indians isolated from the vices and demands of colonists. It was in this context that Kino obtained a royal cedula specifically exempting his future Pima Alto converts from having to work for Spanish miners and other settlers (Kino, in Bolton 1948:1:107-109). On the other hand, Spanish soldiers and colonists represented non-Indian allies in a world where, despite the disastrous impact of diseases, missionaries were vastly outnumbered by their converts and increasingly at risk from raids by indigenous groups beyond the mission fold. Spanish settlement in all its forms also brought greater opportunities for trade, providing a market for the missions' surplus products and thus the financial means by which the Jesuits could support their missions, decorate their churches, and expand the mission system. From the settlers' perspective, that mission system largely formed an obstacle. Under the direction of the Jesuits, what was supposed to be a temporary institution—in place only so long as needed to accomplish the Indians' conversion—^became a never- ending monopoly on Indian labor, lands, and water that prevented Spanish mining, ranching, and farming interests from developing to their full potential. At the same time, however, the missions rendered the region habitable and enabled settlers to pursue their various interests with minimal fear of indigenous resistance or internal attack. Soldiers, in particular, recognized the importance of the missions to the region's defenses in keeping Indians pacified and the presidios and militias supplied with livestock and provisions for 204 campaigns (Sheridan 1988c:9). Additionally, the missions' priests often furnished settlers and soldiers with their only access to Christian sacraments and comforts, especially along the outermost fringes of Spanish settlement where lay clergy had not yet penetrated. Thus the relationship between individual missionaries and Spanish secular society was often cooperative, despite their very different goals. Many Spanish settlers— particularly those of Basque heritage, who were "disproportionately involved" in the economic, military, and political affairs of New Spain's far northern regions (Garate 1999:60-61)—held the Jesuits in high esteem, assisting the missionaries when they could, even while furthering their own competing interests; at times, a prominent settler might serve as padrino (godfather) to one or more Indian converts. Spanish officials often sought the counsel of experienced missionaries, who numbered among the province's best educated and most knowledgeable men. Not surprisingly, priests stationed at missions for years at a time developed friendships with their secular neighbors (Donohue 1969:22), and some missionaries were even known to assist Spanish settlers materially (Dunne 1957:97-98; also see Donohue 1969:44-45). Through these relationships missionaries endeavored to continue shaping Sonora's development, while various secular parties attempted to win Jesuit support and influence for their own purposes. By the end of the seventeenth century, however, the continuing influx of Spanish settlers and the geographic expansion of Spanish mining and agrarian activities had increased competition for indigenous resources. The Jesuit advance into the Pimeria Alta created resentment among Spanish miners and ranchers loathe to see the as-yet-unreduced 205 Pimas Altos come under the sway of the missionaries. In the view of the settlers, missions among the fertile valleys of the Pimeria Alta constituted a misappropriation of Indian land and labor (Spicer 1962:120). CHANGES IN THE ORGANIZATION OF INDIGENOUS SUBSISTENCE Disease is likely to have been the earhest and most pervasive aspect of Spanish colonization in Sonora, reaching many of the region's indigenous peoples before they ever saw a European face, and reducing populations by perhaps as much as 30-50 percent prior to sustained contact with Spain's missionaries, settlers, and soldiers (Reff 1991:277). Each community, by the time the first European observers reached it, may have already been considerably altered in terms of settlement size and structure, social systems, exchange networks, and organization of subsistence, and consequently susceptible—and perhaps receptive at the same time—^to additional change and influence from oncoming Spanish institutions and precepts. During the seventeenth century, it was the Jesuit mission system that brought the greatest change and influence to Sonora's lowland indigenous peoples. Although declining mission populations in the uplands may have prompted miners to extend their reach for laborers from among the Nevomes Bajos and Yaquis, it was not until the early 1700s that they and other Spanish settlers began to venture into the lower elevations. As a result, there was a delay in the pressures exerted by Spanish settlement on the missions in 206 terms of both land encroachment and the inevitable struggle between priests and civil authorities over control of indigenous resources (Spicer 1980:20). Indigenous Subsistence within the Mission Regime The scope of change under the mission program was comprehensive, for it was the priests' intention to transform how people lived as well as what they believed, and they left few domains of life unaffected. Through the process of reduccion, missionaries physically relocated small, scattered rancheria populations and concentrated them around churches—^built by hidian hands—that became important centers of community activities. Over time, a hierarachical structure emerged for governmental and religious organization that was overseen by the missionaries (Sheridan 1992:163; Spicer 1980:26-30). Seasonal movements to forage wild foods, perceived by missionaries as a primitive and dangerous way of life, were discouraged in favor of greater sedentism in a village-based residential pattern resting on agrarian pursuits. These changes were particularly pronounced for missionized Seris, who had traditionally relied on hunting and gathering wild resources from land and sea for their subsistence, and had no previous experience with cultivating crops. hidigenous ecological adaptations were further altered through the economic development program instituted by the missionaries, whose push to realize the potential of the region's fertile soils and produce a marketable surplus centered on agricultural intensification and stockraising. Under the priests' direction, hidian farmers added new 207 tools and techniques to their own farming traditions as they adapted a whole host of new cultigens to their environment—including wheat, oats, millet, cabbage, onions, garlic, leeks, radishes, garbanzos, broad beans, lentils, watermelons, various muskmelons, sugarcane, mustard, mint, anise, pepper, parsley, and coriander, many of which were cool-season plants (Pennington 1980:64, 133-151; Radding 1997:52; Sheridan 1988b:157). Most pervasive of these were winter wheat and melons, the latter integrated into the indigenous diet so rapidly that their seeds reached many groups well ahead of the missionaries (Rea 1997:299-303). Wheat was a particularly productive plant that grew well in many parts of Sonora; planted anywhere from late October to early February, depending upon the rains, and harvested in May or early June, it ripened as much as a month earlier than spring com and bean crops (Castetter and Bell 1942:49-50; Pennington 1980:133; Sheridan 1988b:159). Other European fruits such as grapes, apples, peaches, citrus, quinces, plums, pomegranates, apricots, and figs were grown in mission orchards (Radding 1997:52). The introduction of cattle, oxen, mules, horses, goats, and sheep added a whole new dimension to agrarian life for people whose only domesticated animals had been dogs and turkeys. Not only did the animals provide new sources of meat, hides, fiber, and other animal products, but some could be ridden or harnessed and used to pull a plow or transport firewood. Under the tutelage of the priests—or more likely, their hired foremen—mission Indians learned the art of actively managing herd animals, something that imposed a new set of daily and seasonal scheduling requirements. Although the 208 extent to which they raised their own livestock probably varied considerably among missions and individuals, all would have had access to at least some meat through their labor obligation for the mission. As an enticement, missionaries added fresh or salted meat to the pozole (a stew of maize or wheat cooked with beans) they fed to work crews and other mission laborers; Segesser used ox-flesh, noting that chicken and veal were reserved for guests (Treutlein 1939:292; 1945:151, 161). Village life under the mission regime involved considerably more labor for indigenous farmers accustomed to spending no more time or effort on resource procurement than what subsistence demanded. Traditionally, families had directed their labor toward sustaining their households and much smaller communities, probably devoting as much or more time to hunting and gathering wild resources as to agricultural activities (Radding 1997:63). Under the missionaries' ethic of sedentary hfe and communal labor, however, hidians were obliged to fuel the mission's economic engine as well. While men toiled in the mission fields and gardens or tended livestock, women were put to work grinding com and wheat (which brought a higher price as commeal and flour than as grain) and caring for the mission church. Mission hidians also worked at various crafts. Weavers already accomplished at producing cotton and pita cloth on their traditional, horizontal looms adapted their techniques to wool and the larger, vertical looms of European manufacture; other occupations included tailors, carpenters, wood- carvers, and masons, and church cantors (Radding 1997:62-63, 67, 69, 79; Spicer 1980:30). 209 Missionaries resorted to both persuasive and coercive means to induce their charges to labor at levels that would exceed their immediate subsistence needs and produce a marketable surplus. Persuasion often came directly from the priests in material form, with their semiannual distributions of cloth, tobacco, and other gifts, or the provision of planting seed and cattle. Coercion, however, tended to operate within the mission's political system, with elected Indian officials made responsible for organizing the labor needed to cultivate mission lands and care for livestock, imposing work discipline, policing religious conduct, and administering punishment as deemed necessary by the priests, hi addition, missionaries frequently employed trusted hidians from other missions—often members of other indigenous groups—or vecinos (Spanish citizens) as foremen to supervise fieldwork. The whipping post and arrest were generally reserved for offenses against Catholic codes of conduct or suspected rebellion; if the threat was judged severe enough, the missionary might request military intervention (Radding 1997:67-69). Through the mission system, indigenous peoples were gradually incorporated into the colonial market economy. Through the agency of missionaries, the products of indigenous labor—surplus grains and other field produce, brown sugar, meat, dairy products, hides, tallow—made their way to Spanish settlements, while the livestock tended by hidians supplied pack animals, draft animals, and mounts to mines and presidios. And although the missionaries assumed control of communal harvests (in lieu of collecting tithes and religious fees as was done in secular parishes), a large part of their trading activity involved acquiring merchandise for distribution to Indian households— 210 including cloth, medicines, and various tools such as knives, scissors, and needles—as well as money for payment of wages (Radding 1997:67-68, 72, 79-80; Sheridan 1988b:161). Yet indigenous participation in the new economic system did not always filter through the missionaries. For example, among the Yaquis, some individuals appear to have taken advantage of, and even embraced, the market economy beyond the confines of the mission: Many of the Yaquis now use horses on which they travel and transport their loads, purchasing them with the produce they harvest with such cupidity that for that reason they are motivated to increase their fields. Their valley is usually so bountiful that in barren years the Spaniards and other nations enter to barter for their produce, exchanging some things for others, and that they call bartering. The change is great with regard to clothing, which they desire and procure, and for this reason they devote themselves more to planting cotton. Besides that, in order to correct the barbarousness they were accustomed to with regard to covering or not covering themselves, the fathers have managed to bring into Sinaloa a quantity of sheep so that the Indian women might make blankets with the wool to clothe themselves, as they now do. Once they are made to wear clothing, they so greatly feel the need for it that at times it is excessive. Because in order to acquire clothing and, moreover, that it be something splendid, they leave their land and their women and travel sometimes fifty leagues or more beyond the province to seek it with their labor. This is the reason, in part, why the Yaqui population has somewhat decreased, as was written of the Mayos earlier. And although some return, others make their life among the Spaniards and remain with them, or in the mining towns, where the daily wages are higher and the clothing in exchange more splendid. . . . (Appendex, Perez de Ribas 1-3) By the time Perez de Ribas wrote his book in 1645, according to Spicer (1980:30), some Yaquis were raising their own sheep in order to sell the wool to Spaniards in the mining communities to the east and north, and women began to weave textiles on European 211 looms to appeal to the Spanish market. Yaqui women, also, were known to work in the closer Spanish towns to secure cash for dress goods. Indian migration out of the missions intensified with growing Spanish settlement and the concomitant increase in demands for Indian workers on ranches and in mines, as well Indian scouts and auxiliaries for presidios and civilian militias, affecting most if not all of Sonora's indigenous groups to varying degrees. This expanding contact network, along with the general movement of people, livestock, and goods within the colonial market economy, opened up new corridors for pathogens to reach indigenous groups, introducing repeated episodes of disease that disrupted food production and distribution, kinship ties, and trading relationships as it decimated populations (Radding 1997:39; Reff 1991). Environmental Impact of Spanish Colonization Mission-based economic development as well as Spanish ranching and mining enterprises modified the ecological landscape in Sonora in ways that affected both foraging habitat and the agricultural land base. As farmers cleared floodplain for additional fields to accommodate new plants and cultivate a surplus, they removed important wild plant resources, such as the mesquite bosques that lined the streams. Although these activities probably enhanced conditions for "garden hunting" small animals (Szuter 1991), larger game was driven further away from human settlement by stockraising, which required the 212 elimination of competitors for grazing grounds as well as predators (Dincauze 2000:12- 13). Plows broke the soil much more effectively than digging sticks, opening it to the forces of wind and water. The water needs of large livestock herds affected water tables and acted with grazing to reduce vegetation, baring soils and reducing the frequency of fires that maintained the grasslands (Turner et al. 2003:259-260). Deforestation accompanied mining, as trees were felled for use in constructing mine shafts or as smelter fuels. This removal of vegetative cover and subsequent soil exposure altered patterns of runoff and stream discharge, increasing sediment load and exacerbating the effects of wet and dry cycles on shifting stream channels and floodplains. Moreover, the increase in bare soils may have influenced the climate to some degree by changing the reflectivity of the Earth's surface, thereby modifying air currents and rainfall patterns (Dincauze 2000:15; Radding 1997:38). The extent of environmental degradation undoubtedly varied among missions, shaped by the nature of the local environment, patterns of economic organization and mission discipline administered by individual missionaries, the proximity of Spanish mines and ranches, and the strength of indigenous societies. Responses to Climatic Variability In modifying the settlement size and structure, social systems, exchange networks, and organization of subsistence, Spanish colonial policies and institutions—^whether 213 purposefully or inadvertently—modified the options available to indigenous groups with regard to strategies for buffering against the stresses of climatic variability. Changes involved technology as well as strategies of a more social nature, with some strategies deemphasized as new ones were promoted. Which strategies were adopted by a group at any given time depended on the asset base available (i.e., dependable water sources, arable land, abundance and variety of wild resources), the strength of mission rule, proximity of Spanish mines, ranches, and presidios, and the strength of the group in the face of population loss stemming from disease. The enforced sedentism of mission life strained the ability of indigenous groups to exploit the wild food resources that had formed such an important part of their subsistence base. For farmers, such resources filled gaps in the agricultural cycle and provided nutrients that crops lacked. More importantly, because they were adapted to arid and semiarid conditions, they were better able than cultigens to tolerate seasonal and interannual variability in rainfall and provided essential alternatives during times of crop failure. In contrast, the Jesuit pursuit of surplus production placed greater reliance on the relative productivity and dependability of cultigens and livestock at the expense of wild plants and animals, essentially shifting the weight of subsistence to strategies requiring dependable sources of water, an increase in human labor, and a greater emphasis on storage. The loss in nutritional variety was partially compensated for by the introduction of new crops, many of which also complemented the indigenous agricultural cycle, as 214 well as domesticated animals, which provided a source of meat that could be managed. The increased diversity of cultigens, however, still fell short of the variety available in the wild, and their short-term predictability was countered by the ecological risk of relying on relatively few plants and leaving such a large part of the subsistence base vulnerable to diseases, insects, animal predators, and drought or flood (Dincauze 2000:14). Although the storage component was intended to buffer against seasonal, and to some extent interannual, variation in rainfall and temperatures, the Jesuit approach made little allowance for the possibility of region-wide, prolonged drought. Instead, the mission program rested on a presumed ability to accumulate material wealth that could be used to secure needed supplies and restock depleted provisions through the broader colonial market economy. That wealth largely consisted of produce harvested from the missions' communal fields, however, and it was the missionaries who held the keys to the storeroom doors (Radding 1997:Table 3.6). Although their converts variably exercised some level of direct participation in the colonial economy, that level was constrained by life in the mission. The mission program of economic development both fostered and was made possible by indigenous sedentism. The Jesuit ethic of communal labor, reinforced by the religious component of mission life (Radding 1997:68), placed scheduling and labor constraints on mission Indians that had the effect of reducing their mobility and their participation in the world outside the mission. In turn, the resulting high productivity supported the large, concentrated settlements developed by the missionaries and, in their eyes at least, obviated the need for such participation. Through reduccion and their organization of mission life around communal labor and church discipline, missionaries moved productive and ceremonial labor from the realm of individual households and small social units to the mission community at large (Radding 1997:64). In the process, they diminished the importance of extended kinship ties and broad networks of gift exchange that had characterized indigenous subsistence— a development exacerbated by population decline from disease—in favor of a centralized system of surplus production and distribution that the priests controlled through their oversight of various Indian officials. Within this system, Indian farmers also were encouraged to clear new fields and raise a surplus of their own, but to store their harvests rather than sell them to Spanish settlers, in order to provide for their households throughout the year; in that hope, missionaries often supplied both seeds and tools (Donohue 1969:39-40; Radding 1997:67). It was a pragmatic approach calculated to benefit both individuals and the mission community—the more that individual households stored from their own fields, the less that would be required from communal stores to support the mission populace, freeing surplus for a "higher purpose." Nevertheless, everyone short of food had recourse to the mission's stores, including widows, orphans, the elderly, the incapacitated, and the families of Indian officials or those who performed some service in the mission (Treutlein 1939:292). 216 Despite the best efforts of the missionaries to keep them within the mission community, many hidians were drawn to labor among the Spanish mines and ranches, where they worked for wages and likely retained some greater measure of autonomy. Although probably organized under the repartimiento system, much of this movement appears to have been seasonal (Hu-DeHart 1981:52), suggesting that labor-for-hire served to replace old foraging patterns to some extent. Others opted out of the mission system altogether and reverted to shifting residential patterns in the wild that involved foraging, some farming where possible, and probably a certain amount of raiding Christian settlements. These, in particular, incurred the ire of the missionaries, who viewed apostates as worse than the most barbarous heathen. In the end, the policies of the missions—as well as other Spanish institutions that depended on Indian labor organized by the missions—undermined the flexibility of indigenous subsistence strategies that had enabled groups to cope with the uneven rhythms of their arid and semiarid environments. This flexibility was replaced with a relatively rigid approach that, even as it increased short-term productivity and storage, left indigenous peoples more vulnerable to such climatic stresses as prolonged, region-wide drought, and in fact may have exacerbated the effects on agricultural soils and wild resources. In addition, by centralizing a large part of indigenous food production and distribution, yet keeping it out of Indian control, missionaries cultivated a culture of dependency on mission stores, a paternalistic system in which it was largely up to the missionary father to determine when those stores should be opened to alleviate the hunger 217 of his mission children. This was bound to also create—at least among some—a culture of resentment. NOTES TO CHAPTER 5 'By Reff s reckoning, Sonoran peoples do not appear to have been significantly affected by foreign pathogens until the first decade of the seventeenth century, when smallpox, measles, and other ailments may have reached the lower Rio Yaqui. hi support of this argument, he reasons: 1) that neither Niza nor Coronado mentioned any illnesses or disease-induced changes that might have been triggered by either Diego de Guzman's slave-raiding foray to the Rio Yaqui or Cabeza de Vaca's passage among the Opatas and Pimas Bajos, nor did they allude to native peoples falling ill during their own expeditions; 2) that the rate of infection among the Rio Sinaloa's C^ita and Guasave populations during the 1593 epidemic was consistent with a "virgin soil" population's exposure; and 3) that early Jesuit accounts of the Cahitas and Guasaves indicate that these peoples were healthy and populous at contact (Reff 1991:113-114, 130-134, 276). 218 CHAPTER 6 CLIMATE OF REBELLION Despite its flaws, the Jesuit mission system did protect indigenous communities from the land-grabbing by Spanish agrarian interests that occurred east of the Sierra Madre (Deeds 1989). The missions served as the framework through which the Spanish Crown maintained an unwritten "colonial pact" with indigenous groups, who, in return for their labor and service as military auxiliaries, retained much of their territorial integrity and some measure of local autonomy under the governance of their own officials (Radding 1998). This pact, along with the missions, came under increasing pressure during the closing decades of the seventeenth century and into the eighteenth century, as Spanish settlement and economic development intensified in the serrana and Spanish miners and rancher-farmers began to move down into the lowlands. Tensions mounted as different interest groups—^missionaries, miners, ranchers, merchants, colonial and military officials—competed for scarce resources and pursued their own social, economic, and political agendas (Sheridan 1992). Missionaries and civil officials clashed with greater frequency over how indigenous affairs were to be handled, leaving very little of what went on among mission Indians unaffected. Far from passively observing what was happening, mission Indians actively strove to defend and shape their own social, economic, and political interests under colonial rule. For most, this meant operating within the colonial system and endeavoring to make it work to their advantage, or at least to their minimum disadvantage, rather than risking open attempts to change the larger structure of colonial rule (Scott 1985:xv). This strategy had worked reasonably well for the Yaquis, in particular, whose territory remained free of Spanish settlement until the early decades of the 1700s. Beginning in 1725, however, as the struggle over missionary and civil authority continued to grow and Spanish miners and ranchers moved into what was critical indigenous foraging habitat, various open acts of defiance erupted among many of the lowland desert's indigenous groups: first among the Seris and the western Pimas Bajos, and then, more surprisingly, among the long-missionized Pimas Bajos of the Rio Tecoripa region and the Yaquis. hi the background during most of this period, from 1728-1742, a prolonged drought undoubtedly added subsistence stress to the tensions already brewing. This chapter explores the so-called rebellions of 1725-1740 in light of prevailing climatic patterning during the period as indicated by tree-ring drought reconstruction data, and taking into account the effects of that patterning on the environment in which the Seris, Pimas Bajos, and Yaquis pursued their subsistence as they navigated the constraints and opportunities of Spanish colonial rule. Following a review of colonial developments over the first three decades of the 1700s, to set the stage, each of the insurrections is individually summarized and discussed in chronological sequence. 220 ESCALATION OF COLONIAL PRESSURES By 1730, Sonera's nonindigenous population had more than doubled to 3,000, from 1,400 in 1678 (Gerhard 1982:285). The steady increase of Spanish settlers intensified competition both for arable land and Indian labor, pressing on the missions. At the same time, mission populations were declining. Beyond the great toll on indigenous communities taken by disease epidemics, missions were increasingly losing their converts to secular settlements, where many Indians migrated to work for wages or European material goods rather than rations, or to the monte (wilderness) of the deserts and mountains, where they sought refuge from missionaries and settlers alike (Sheridan 1988c:9-10). Spanish Mining, Agrarian, and Military Developments Numerous mines and haciendas had penetrated the desert regions of the Pimeria Baja by the 1730s, and others lay at the eastern fringes of Yaqui territory, where they impinged on long-established Jesuit authority. At least two mines were present in the desert regions between the ephemeral reaches of the lower Sonora and Matape rivers by 1700 and 1701, followed by a third some time before 1717—San Marcial, Aigame, and Aguaje, respectively; by 1717, Aguaje boasted ten stores that supplied food and equipment to five mines, with three smelters for reducing ores (West 1993:50, Figure 16). Segesser reported at least four silver mines populated by numerous miners in the vicinity of Tecoripa in 1737 (Treutlein 1945:143). 221 Farther north, the real of Motepore was estabhshed in 1700 on the middle Rio Sonera, and by 1720 had become a sizeable Spanish settlement with a population of about 200 miners, ranchers, and workers. In the Pimeria Alta to the northwest, the real of Agua Caliente had been established near the headwaters of the Rio Altar's eastern branch by 1736, when a remarkable find of large silver nuggets and natural planchas (slabs or plates) on a nearby hill sparked a rush of prospectors to that area, soon known as Arizona (Garate 1999:54-60; Officer 1987:31-32). To the south, San Ildefonso and most its smaller neighbors were eclipsed after 1700 by several profitable mines established in the southern part of the province of Ostimuri, and the title of alcaldia mayor officially passed to the real of Rio Chico in 1720. In the meantime. Alamos, to the southeast of Yaqui territory, was on its way to becoming a populous administrative and ecclesiastical hub as well as the largest commercial market in northwestern Mexico (Radding 1997:36; Polzer and Sheridan 1997:313; West 1993:55). Ranching operations clustered around Rio Chico and Alamos, and Segesser refers to large numbers of cattle, sheep, horses, and mules near Tecoripa in the 1730s, belonging to both the missions and nearby Spanish ranches (Radding 1998:59; Treutlein 1945:184-185). By 1726, Spanish haciendas had displaced the rancheria of Cocomacaques who had been farming the site of Pitic in 1700 (Sheridan 1999a:63, 90, 110 n.25. 111, 119). One such hacienda was established around that time by Agustin de Vildosola, who in 1728 became sargento mayor de milicias (sergeant major of militias) (Donohue 1969:61, 108-109). The mines operating to the south and southeast 222 presumably provided a market for the harvest from his fields and orchards, and at some point Vildosola acquired ownership of some nearby mines for which he no doubt controlled the supply of provisions (Polzer and Sheridan 1997:335, 358).' By the 1720s, Spanish settlers had infiltrated and formed a significant part of the population at the mission community of Opodepe on the Rio San Miguel, where they grazed their livestock in the foothills and desert plains west of the river. Ranchers were known to allow their livestock to venture too close to the missions. In 1713, the Jesuits complained of a rancher-miner from the real of Nacozari who was grazing some 7,000 cattle—far in excess of the legally permitted 1,500—near the Oposura mission, damaging the mission's crops. They also protested another 12,000 head run by Spaniards in the mountain scrub between the Rio Sonora and Rio Moctezuma, and on the Llano de Tepache, a high mountain plain east of Oposura (Donohue 1969:21; West 1993:3-4, 59). Few of the early miner-ranchers are known to have held legal title to lands over which their animals freely ranged; it is more likely that neighbors reached agreements on rough boundaries and cooperated with each other on roundups. By the 1720s, however, private ranch-holdings had grown to the extent that the Spanish Crown felt compelled to inspect land titles and cattle brands. Although missionary complaints undoubtedly factored into this increase of governmental control, inspections may also have been a response to changes in herding practices brought on by Apache raiding, which not only forced ranchers to corral their livestock at night, but likewise motivated them to pasture their animals by day closer to missions and presidios for better protection; this practice increased competition for the forage and water of the more densely populated bottomlands (Donohue 1969:24; Sheridan 2003; West 1993:59). Livestock introduced by both missionaries and settlers proved an irresistible target for hunter-gatherer groups on the margins of Spanish settlement. Apache incursions from the northeast had begun to threaten the thriving colonial economy as early as the 1680s, and by the early 1700s had effectively arrested the northward expansion of Sonora's mission, mining, and agrarian endeavors. The raiding intensified during most of the eighteenth century, penetrating deeper into Spanish territory and making life increasingly tenuous in Spanish and indigenous settlements alike. Seri raiding from the west also intensified during this time, compounding the problem significantly by the 1730s. Together, Apache and Seri depredations presented a daunting barrier to economic development and taxed the region's defenses. Ironically, the Fronteras presidio, although established to address the worsening Apache problem, was of little help. The presidio sat largely idle from 1701 to 1726, in the hands of two corrupt captains—Jacinto de Fuensaldana and his nephew, Gregorio Alvarez Tunon y Quiroz—^neither of whom ever maintained their residence with the presidio, and both of whom paid more attention to their business interests than their military obligations. Tunon y Quiroz was finally removed fi"om office by Brig. Gen. Pedro de Rivera Villalon, who, appalled by the conditions he found during his inspection in late 1726, packed him off to Mexico City to stand trial for embezzlement and neglect of duty (Naylor and Polzer 1988:80-82, 341-343; Polzer and Sheridan 1997:277-278). In his place, Rivera appointed the capable Juan Bautista de Anza (the elder). He also 224 formalized the garrison's duties in the Reglamento of 1729 that resulted from his inspection tour of the presidio system. The Reglamento also outlined the Sinaloa presidio's duties, charging that garrison with maintaining peace among the Yaquis and the Pimas Bajos of the Rio Tecoripa, as well as keeping a watchful eye on the Seris and Cocomacaques (western Pimas Bajos) in the region stretching from Cerro Prieto to the lower Rio Sonora (Donohue 1969:62-63; Naylor and Polzer 1988:275). At the time of Rivera's visit in early 1727, Sinaloa's captain-governor Manuel de Huidobro had recently quelled an insurrection among the western Pimas Bajos, leading Rivera to consider moving the presidio to Pitic, on the lower Rio Sonora. hi the end he decided to leave the garrison where it was on the Rio Sinaloa but, lulled by the apparent peacefulness of the Yaquis and the Tepehuanes in the presidio's vicinity, he reduced the garrison's number by almost one third, to thirty soldiers plus its captain (Moorhead 1975:39—41, n.l8; Naylor and Polzer 1988:113, 153- 156). That reduction proved to be a mistake, for military resources grew increasingly strained during the 1730s by the ongoing restlessness of the Seris and lowland Pimas Bajos, combined with continuing Apache depredations and the need to quell a revolt that had erupted in Baja California in 1734. By 1736, Manuel Bemal de Huidobro, as governor of the newly created province of Sinaloa y Sonora, was petitioning the viceroy for additional soldiers in Sinaloa as well as a new presidio for the north (Donohue 1969:77). It was the shock of the unexpected 1740 Yaqui revolt, however—a disorganized series of insurgencies among the long-missionized Yaquis and Mayos in 225 alliance with some Pimas Bajos and Seris—that finally won approval for not just one, but two new presidios. Missions During the first three decades of the eighteenth century, mission expansion in Sonora was brought to a virtual standstill, victim of a withdrawal of royal financial support during the War of the Spanish Succession (1702-1713), as well as the increasing menace of Apache attacks in the northeast (Donohue 1969:15; Dunne 1957:19-20). The Jesuits were hard pressed to keep their missions staffed, and a shortage of priests led to some missions being effectively abandoned for periods of time until new missionaries arrived. Between 1711 and 1730, only three groups of Jesuit priests made their way to New Spain; of these, Sonora received three missionaries in 1712, eight in 1719, and none in 1723. In 1730, five incoming German Jesuits were stationed among the northwest missions. One of these was Felipe Segesser von Brunegg, who was transferred to Tecoripa from the Pimeria Alta in 1734 (Donohue 1969:67-69). It was Baja California that provided the arena for Jesuit expansion during this period. Since the founding of its first mission at Loreto in 1697, on the peninsula's gulf coast, the California system had grown to encompass ten missions by 1730, when the eleventh was added (Crosby 1994:10-26, 150-152, Table 7.1). From its very inception the California mission system influenced the history of Sonora's missions, for Kino's later explorations in the Pimeria Alta were largely motivated by his desire to establish a land route to California for the purpose of supplying the Baja missions (Bolton 1948; 226 Crosby 1994:151-152). Never able to entirely support itself over the years, the California mission system relied heavily on regular shipments of produce and livestock from Sonora's missions for survival, which increasingly became the main motive underlying missionary objectives to boost Sonora's mission productivity and control its surplus. It was a situation that would loom large in events leading up to the Yaqui revolt of 1740 (Crosby 1994:150-154; Hu-DeHart 1981:52-53, 68, 83). Those objectives came under increasing assault in the lowlands as Spanish settlement edged closer. Greater numbers of mission Indians were pressed into service under repartimiento, and many Indians sought wage work outside the mission pueblos, where they had growing opportunities to practice various trades as well as labor in the mines (Deeds 1989:435; Radding 1998:58; West 1993:67). Yaquis were frequently called upon to serve as auxiliaries in campaigns waged by presidial and militia forces against Seri and Apache marauders, often for extended periods of time and at a considerable distance from their pueblos. As Indians were drawn away from the missions, they received greater exposure to influences from all walks of Spanish life. They also received greater exposure to diseases that continued to claim Indian lives, although patterns of illness changed over time as indigenous populations acquired some resistance to infections. Less frequent were the large-scale, major epidemics that swept across the province; many sicknesses became endemic, and outbreaks of disease often were contained to one or two communities, unsustainable in populations so greatly reduced in size and density (Cook and Lovell 2001b:240-241; Reff 1991:179). Epidemics still took a toll, however, and a significant drop in population among many of 227 the Sonoran missions between 1723 and 1730 can probably be attributed at least partially to an epidemic of measles in 1728 (Canas 1730; Donohue 1969:67). Missionaries, losing mission population to Spanish settlement, military service, and disease, feared the erosion of mission productivity and their own authority as well as the relapse of their mission charges into heathen ways. Jesuits in the lowland missions whose rule had previously gone uncontested found themselves embroiled in disputes over issues of Indian lands and labor as well as military defense, and many did not hesitate to pick up their pens to complain about the failings of some civil or military official, or to support someone they viewed as sympathetic to their cause. In the process, they became more domineering and less compromising in their administration of mission communities, alienating themselves from those communities as well as Spanish vecinos and officials. INDIGENOUS RESISTANCE TO COLONIAL RULE Spanish colonial rule in Sonora did not develop without resistance from the region's indigenous peoples. Unidentified serrana groups took up arms against those Spaniards first entering the region whom they understood to be a threat—such as Coronado's settlement of Corazones and Ibarra's exploratory expedition (Hammond and Rey 1928, 1940)—and the Yaquis successfully faced down Hurdaide's forces three times. It was indigenous interest in what the Jesuit missionaries had to offer—new plants, new animals, new tools, and new rituals that might offer some protection from strange, new diseases—that opened the way for Spanish colonization. 228 Once missions were established and Spanish settlement was underway, armed rebellion grew to be a much riskier option. Although vastly outnumbered by indigenous peoples, Spaniards possessed more powerful weaponry and quickly learned to exploit the autonomous nature of local communities, successfully manipulating existing animosities between groups or creating factions within them (Sheridan 1992:166). The few attempts at armed resistance that did occur, such as the Pima Alto revolt of 1695, were answered decisively with Spanish military force aided by Indian auxiliaries and gained few, if any, concessions. hidigenous groups often attempted to work within the imposed colonial system to protect their holdings. For example, the Pima Bajo villages of Obiachi, Xecatacari, and Buenavista, endeavoring to stave off the encroachment of Spanish settlers in the mission district of San Pedro de Cumuripa, turned to the local magistrate in 1716 for official recognition of their lands as well as their formation of a new pueblo in Buenavista (Radding 1998:61). More frequently, however, indigenous people found other ways of undermining colonial rule and defending their interests while avoiding direct confrontation (Scott 1985), and missionaries faced daily acts of resistance. Segesser complained of laziness among the Pimas Bajos, who required constant supervision of their labors. His house servants were careless, neglectful, and stole food. Mission Indians would "do nothing for the church and for the house of the missionary without receiving an order," although they were quite "able and mindful in their own affairs" (Treutlein 1945:163). Such acts as foot dragging, false compliance, feigned ignorance, deception, pilfering, and even desertion— 229 all of which involved little or no coordination or planning—were mostly employed by individuals seeking to extract themselves from or mitigate demands for labor or surplus, to assert their rights to the resources by which they could sustain themselves, and/or to continue cultural traditions. These individual acts, because they were regarded by missionaries and other authorities as an annoyance more than a threat, in the aggregate created a real barrier to the successful implementation of both Jesuit and Spanish goals and pohcies. Resistance was often attributed by missionaries to indigenous religious and ritual specialists, known as hechiceros or witches. Competing with the missionaries for the faith, confidence, and respect of their people, hechiceros posed a somewhat different problem. Many missionaries regarded them as malevolent and even dangerous; Segesser was convinced that he and other missionaries had been poisoned by them (Treutlein 1945:155-156). Hechiceros acted as individuals, however, generally holding influence only within their own communities and usually unable to mobilize any serious resistance. They, too, tended to be tolerated by the Jesuits as long as their actions remained unobtrusive (Hu-DeHart 1981:31-32). The abandonment of normal, largely covert tactics in favor of more open forms of resistance is usually an indication of "great desperation," according to Scott (1985:xvi). A series of collective acts of open defiance among the Seris, the Pimas Bajos, and the Yaquis during the period of 1725-1740 suggests that colonial pressures on lowland Sonorans escalated to crisis proportions under which everyday forms of resistance were no longer adequate to mitigate Spanish and missionary demands. Each of these events 230 was sparked by different sets of circumstances, but a common thread through most was subsistence stress associated with the prolonged drought of 1728-1742. Seri and Pima Bajo Disturbances of 1725 On September 29, 1725, a group of nearly fifty Seris attacked and burned the home of rancher Salvador de la Huerta near Opodepe on the Rio San Miguel, killing Huerta and twenty other men, women, and children as well as slaughtering cattle and running off horses and mules (Figure 6.1). A couple of weeks earlier, a Seri rancheria had stolen cattle and horses from Huerta and fellow rancher Geronimo Loera, who had in turn led a group of seventeen other vecinos (Spanish citizens) and hidian allies in tracking down the Seris to recover their livestock, hi the fighting that ensued they had killed three Seris, and now the Seris—mainly Salineros, including a number associated with the mission pueblos of Los Angeles and Populo—were taking their revenge (Almada 1983:738-740; Sheridan 1999a:97-121). Testimony from a Tepoca Seri prisoner by the name of Geronimo indicates that it was the intention of the Salineros to kill all of the Spaniards, one by one (Sheridan 1999a:109, 119). Due largely to the inadequacy of Spanish military forces at the time, most of the Seris involved in the attack were never punished. On the same day, some Pimas Bajos from the western desert region attacked the mission pueblo of Tecoripa, where they sacked and burned some houses, shot up the mission's mule herd, and freed some prisoners (Alvarez de la Bandera 1725; Sheridan 1999a:99; see Figure 6.1). The attackers—^who may have been a mixed group including "southern" Pimas, Cocomacaques, and Guaymas Indians (Pedro de Rivera, in Naylor and 231 Fronteras n r J 9 Dolores luhut.ini \ S:iii |uii:K-i(i'(^ V Baserac |il Huasabas i Nacori Chico li9A \N:ic:iim'ii 'Kviiiii Onosura a '>•"> A l.iiN Aii!:i'l('\y Matape Batuc I'iinay i ifc. 1 To'nichi Yecora Isia ril)iii'(>n V Ci-i ro^ ii'r»ri|):i i i»rieU)>N: k ivOnava$ Sii:ii| C iiiiiiiri|i:i^ +• {iuarniai Movas •JBuenavista I Bvlcni Huirivis-. • Cdcorit , Brfciim X^Baroyeca Sonora, Mexico Ti^rim PotamVicaiii • Seri Range Navojoa t-— AlamosJ • Town i Mission or Vhita ' i Etchojoa ]ll Presidio Mining Center M^EIFuerte 100 150 m wJk 100 km By Rmiliano Gallaga Figure 6,1. Region of Seri range (adapted from Sheridan 1999a). Polzer 1988:155)—took refuge in the Cerro Prieto, where they were "pacified" without bloodshed by a force of twenty-two soldiers under the command of Manuel Bemal de Huidobro, captain of the Sinaloa presidio. According to Navarro Garcia (1966:18, n.3), Huidobro reduced the rebels to the settlement of San Cayetano de Xecatacari at the site of Buenavista, on the banks of the Rio Yaqui below Cumuripa; the Jesuits later attributed this reduction to the efforts of Father Luis Maria Marciano, then missionary at Tecoripa (Nicolas de Perera, in Sheridan 1999a:131, 137). Nonetheless, Huidobro's handling of the affair earned the approbation of the viceroy at the end of 1726. Discussion. Despite the missions established for the Seris along the lower Rio San Miguel, missionary control over the Seris was limited. Although a few Seri families seemed to settle down to mission life, many returned again and again to their coastal territory, only to be led back to the missions by Spanish soldiers. Others, who remained full-time hunters and gatherers, continued to take advantage of the numerous wild resources along the gulf coast and probably traded with groups inland. Many periodically raided the missions and Spanish ranches, seeming to regard them as a convenient source of food. A similar situation appears to have existed among the Cocomacaques and other western desert Pimas Bajos. Although some were reduced to missions along the Rio Matape and at Guaymas, on the gulf coast, the strength of those missions was tenuous; the Pimas of Pitiquin (Pitic), in particular, had a history of allying themselves with the Guaymas Indians in raiding activities in the Rio Matape and Rio Tecoripa region as early 233 as 1700 (Juan Bautista de Escalante, in Sheridan 1999a:64-68, 92-94). Some Seris and western Pimas Bajos probably operated in concert on occasion—the Guaymas may have included both Seris and Pimas, and even Yaquis, for example (Sheridan 1999a:9-10)— but Salinero Seris and Cocomacaques, at least, often fought against each other, competing for much of the same territory and resources. Those resources included the cattle and horses of missions and Spanish ranches (Escalante, in Sheridan 1999a:63, 90- 91; Valdez 1720). Given the animosity between Salineros and Cocomacaques, it seems improbable that the two attacks were connected in any way. Nor is it likely that the raiding was induced by climatic stress, although precipitation was somewhat below average during 1724 and 1725. As Spanish settlement intensified on the fringes of Seri and western Pima Bajo range, so, too, did Seri and Pima raiding for cattle and horses as an extension of their subsistence activities. The attacks of 1725 mark an escalation of violence on the part of both groups, however, that appears to be a reaction against Spanish efforts to exert control. Seris were avenging what they considered to be unjust killings, and Pimas Bajos were intent on liberating their kinsmen—much to the alarm of Spanish settlers and officials. The Seri "Insurrection" of 1729 Although Spanish mining and ranching settlement had not entered the forbidding Seri coastal territory, which lacked rivers to irrigate fields and offered little pasture on which cattle and horses might graze, a pearl-fishing industry had developed in the Gulf of 234 California. As many as a dozen licensed pearling operations had been stationed on the gulf shores of both Sonora and Cahfomia between 1632 and 1694, and pearling rights had been held by the provincial governor in Sinaloa, Gen. Andres de Rezabal, from 1696 to until his death in 1723 (Crosby 1994:70-71). Huidobro, his successor, likewise obtained a license from the viceroy to build a boat for pearling and for keeping an eye out for pirates (Navarro Garcia 1966:17). By 1729, the industry appears to have involved more than one thousand men, who maintained at least some base camps on the Sonoran coast in Tepoca Seri territory but may have been diving off Tiburon Island (Huidobro 1729; Sheridan 1999a:122-124; see Figure 6.1). Just the presence of the pearl fishermen and the strain they placed on fresh water supplies would have antagonized the Tiburon Seris, but if they prevailed upon the Tecopas to find the oyster beds and do the actual diving, their activities may have aggravated already existing animosities between the two Seri groups by intensifying competition for important food resources. In 1729, Huidobro mounted an expedition to remove the Seris from Tiburon Island and the coastal area and bring them to the mission of Populo, responding to Seri harassment of pearl fishermen off Tiburon Island's northeast coast as well as Seri abandonment of mission pueblos. In the course of his campaign, Huidobro ordered a rancheria of Tepoca Seris along the Bacoachi drainage to go to Populo, as there was no land to cultivate and little water where they were. He also took control of a rancheria of 27 Seris, probably Salineros, on the way to Carrizal. These were taken to Populo, along with two rancherias from Tiburon Island, comprising 151 people, whom he talked into leaving without having to actually cross his forces over to the island (Perera, in Sheridan 1999a;127-130, 134-137). After Huidobro returned to Sinaloa, the Tiburon Seris went back to their island, where they killed the pearl fishermen whose complaints had caused them to be removed, according to Father Nicolas de Perera, missionary to the Seris at that time and for many years after (Sheridan 1999a:132, 137). The Tiburon Seris became allied with the Tepoca and Salinero Seris, but in the end their rebellion was put down by Juan Bautista de Anza, who, as captain of the presidio of Fronteras, invaded Tiburon Island in 1729 and returned more than 700 Seris to Populo some time in 1730. Huidobro then announced an inspection whereby he intended to remove the rebellion's ringleaders in chains and punish the rest, causing the Seris to scatter once again. During his actual inspection at Populo, Huidobro purportedly told the Seris that "they could live wherever they wished as long as they lived together and did not harm anyone," to the dismay of Perera (Sheridan 1999a:132, 137). The date of the governor's inspection is not clear, however. Discussion. As we can see from Cook's (2000) drought index reconstruction data (see Figure 3.6), 1729 was a particularly dry year and the downward trend in precipitation had gotten well underway in 1728. Documentary information from several sources also points to subsistence stress consistent with drought. Huidobro wrote to Father Agustin de Campos, missionary at the Pima Alto settlement of San Ignacio, asking him to send 200 Pimas Altos with supplies for one month by August 25, to help in the expedition. Campos balked, citing their need to protect their settlements against Apache attacks and to harvest their maize in late August. Nor, he argued, could they could gather enough food supplies to campaign for one month (see Appendix, Campos 1-1). On August 1, Campos advised his superior that Pima leaders had told him: that they still had not planted their beans, that they had to clear the fields, plant them, irrigate them, and weed them, that their maize was very slow in ripening for harvest, and that if they and so many Indians were absent, they would lose their food for the entire year, and then who would give them and their poor families food? They could go and accompany the expedition once their poor crops were raised. (See Appendix, Campos 2-1). The slow ripening of the maize that summer suggests less-than-optimal rainfall, which supports Meko's summer precipitation data (see Figure 3.8). According to Juan Bautista de Anza, "the matter of supplies will not be easy due to the poverty of the fathers, for although wheat is harvested in Tubutama, the scarcity [the mission] has is great" (see Appendix, Anza 1-1). All of this indicates that a poor spring harvest created a strong need for the later harvest in August, which was slow in coming. It fits well with the tree-ring evidence for a drought that year, with a strong La Nina event causing the greatest shortage of water during that previous winter (see Figure 3.7). When Huidobro led 178 Seris back to Populo, the mission was ill-prepared to receive them. Perera, the mission's priest, wrote to the father visitor on September 17, 1729, begging him for a "little wheat for seed, as I do not have any. Because I was assisting Father Pedro for two months and the day I left was the day the cutting of the wheat began, not as much was gathered as could have been, notwithstanding its diseased state. And with such a long absence, I missed the summer [harvests], which is why I 237 bother your reverence with this request" (see Appendix, Perera 1-1). A problem feeding the Seris may well have motivated them to return to Tiburon, where as long-time hunters and gatherers they were more assured of finding adequate resources; it may have also added fuel to their desire for revenge on the pearl fishermen. Food provisions likely were still in short supply when Anza brought the 700 Seris back to Populo in 1730. Assuming that Perera had obtained the wheat seed requested and that he had enough workers to plant and tend it, the continuing drought would have compromised the spring yield. Both Populo and Los Angeles, the only Seri missions remaining by then, were located downstream from other Pima, Eudeve, and Spanish settlements and at the bottom of the line when it came to receiving water from the Rio San Miguel's rainfall-dependent flow (see Figure 6.1). This may have had as much to do with the subsequent scattering of the Seris as Huidobro's threats of punishment, and his permission for them to settle wherever they wished—if in fact he did grant it—^may have been in recognition of legitimate problems the Seris faced in securing adequate subsistence at the mission sites. Drought probably also contributed to disease-related deaths that year. The father visitor's report on Populo, as he found it in July of 1730, indicates a considerable drop in population by that time: Nuestra Senora del Populo has 54 families, 27 unmarried men and women, [and] 60 boys and girls under doctrine; 146 baptisms have been performed, 108 adults and small children have died, and 28 have been married. ... At the pueblo of Populo ... are present many insolent Indians, as are [the] Tepocas, Seris, [and] Salineros, who live on what they steal, and they have been joined by others from an island in the South Sea [Gulf of California] that they call the island of Tiburon, who, at the time this is written, have the entire province of Sonora in great 238 consternation because these, alUed with the Tepocas, Seris, Sahneros, and some Pimas, have committed many regrettable killings among the Spaniards who enter there to search for pearls; they have threatened all the pueblos and churches of this river [Rio San Miguel] with a general conflagration. . . . (See Appendix, Canas 1-1). Although part of the population decline was undoubtedly due to Seri desertion from the mission, the high number of deaths is suggestive of disease outbreak. The previous relative isolation of the Tiburon Seris would have rendered them particularly susceptible to European diseases, and that susceptibility would have been exacerbated by subsistence stress associated with drought. The "Extraordinary" Uprising of the Pimas Bajos, 1737 In 1737, a so-called uprising occurred among the Pimas Bajos and Guaymas that Capt. Juan Bautista de Anza called "one of the most extraordinary cases ever heard of in the realm" (Anza 1737:5, my translation). The uprising took place in two phases, described in considerable detail by Segesser (Treutlein 1945:165-177) and in somewhat lesser detail by Anza (1737:5-14).^ The first phase occurred toward the end of Lent, when almost all of the inhabitants of Tecoripa and the five other mission settlements under the administration of Segesser, as well as Pimas who had been working in the nearby mining settlements, deserted their pueblos and the reales. Summoned by an hechicero—a Guaymas Lidian by the name of Agustin Ascuhul, who represented himself as the arisibi, prophet of the newly risen god, Moctezuma—the errant Pimas gathered at "a somewhat distant village" to the west, beyond San Marcial (Figure 6.2), to listen to this prophet and, as they later 239 Fronteras n ijX Siiric Dolores Caborca sjubutama'ili San I gnacio Baserac Magdalena'^ Arizpe\ Cucurpe Opodepe Huasabas i Nacori Chico |i Nacameri Oposura •Po'puloi^ Los Angeles , ,kMatape • S.ni ' rilic *''' Tonichi Yecora IC'crro^ lecorip ll'rii lo Onavas Suuqui ^ +' L(jua\nias> (.'tniiii ip.iZ Movas Belcm. •fliut^Mvi.vta HiifrivisJ Cocorit Sonora, Mexico •Brfcum Baroyeca ["o'tam I I Estimated Range of the Ralium L,_J Pima Bajo uprising of 1737 Navojoa X- Sierra Alamos # Town Bacatete 't Etcliojoa i Mission or Visita tt Presidio Mining Center H(E1 Fuerte 100 150 m 100 km By Emiliano Gallaga Figure 6.2. Estimated territory affected by the Pima Bajo uprising in 1737. 240 informed Segesser, to hear the preaching of Father Baierca, a deceased missionary who had served among the Yaquis at Belem and was now returned from the dead. Anza, having heard rumors about the arisibi in March, had already dispatched his alferez southward to investigate; the alferez soon reported that the Pimas had peacefully returned to their pueblos, where all were visited and admonished by Segesser and Anza's teniente de justicia mayor, and expressed repentance for having listened to false teachings. The second phase unfolded the week after Easter. During the night of May 8, the Pimas once again deserted all the pueblos, rancherias, and mines within one hundred leagues. This time they traveled farther west into the Cerro Prieto, taking with them all the horses and mules they could lay their hands on, including those belonging to the missions and Spaniards as well as their own. The Pimas also slaughtered cattle, goats, and sheep; cut the ripe grain in mission fields; and broke into and emptied the food stores. Their actions created considerable consternation among Spanish settlers in both Sonora and Ostimuri. Fearing other hidian groups would follow their example and cause a general uprising, Anza gathered a force of twenty-seven soldiers and twelve vecinos and set off to quell this disturbance. According to Segesser, the arisibi told his followers that Moctezuma had arisen from the dead and ordered all Pimas to go to the Black Mountain because within four days the earth would open up and swallow all Spaniards and any Pimas who had not sworn allegiance to him. His followers would never want for food or water, and later the Spaniards would rise again to serve the Pimas. Anza learned from various witnesses captured on his march that the arisibi had proclaimed that all who failed to believe would 241 be turned to stone, that the world would end, and that in the new world created by Moctezuma the Indian dead would be resurrected as Spaniards, and the Spaniards as hidians to serve them. Moctezuma would provide fragrant clothing and food in abundance. The arisibi was soon proved wrong, however; after some twenty days had passed, most of the livestock had been devoured and some of his followers were becoming skeptical. When he learned that Anza was leading an expedition into the Cerro Prieto, he ordered the assembled Pimas and Guaymas—numbering some three thousand strong, according to Segesser, and four to five thousand, according to Anza's informants—to disperse and return to their pueblos, whereupon he fled. Anza tracked him to San Jose de las Guaymas, on the coast, where he arrested and hanged the hechicero on June 1, as an example. Chastened, the Pimas returned to their villages. Discussion. On the face of it, this episode seems an anomaly, the culmination of a brief messianic movement with a mixture of indigenous and Christian elements. The arisibi had erected an altar decorated with ornaments stolen from the mission church at Belem, according to Segesser, and had his followers pray the rosary and sing in unison as they were accustomed to doing in church, after which he preached the Christian doctrine to them. A figure he claimed was Moctezuma and allowed to be viewed only by moonlight was dressed in black with a white linen cloth over it, like a surplice, and on its head was a mitre or bonnet, as a bishop would wear. Certainly, Segesser regarded it as "a wicked deception by the hellish enemy, and not a rebellion" (Treutlein 1945:169). 242 Overlooked or dismissed by Segesser are the broader implications of this movement, which revealed distinct undertones of indigenous dissatisfaction with life under the collective thumb of the Spaniards as well as a real concern with food and water. Much of that dissatisfaction may have been directed toward missionaries, who controlled surplus food stores during a time of increasing subsistence stress resulting from an ongoing drought. Segesser paints a fairly bleak picture of agriculture in the Pimeria Baja that is consistent with the prolonged drought indicated by tree-ring data (see Figure 3.6): Pimeria Baja lies in the so-called torrid zone. Being exposed, therefore, through the greater part of the year to great heat and warm winds it suffers drought and water shortage.... Lack of water explains why the Pimas cannot be brought together in larger villages. ... I would have liked to bring together several tribes at mission Tecoripa, where the soil is good and fruitfiil, but the water deficiency did not permit this. ... At Comuripa and Pecatecavi [Cumuripa and Xecatacari] soil and water are sufficient because these villages are situated on the Rio Grande [the Yaqui River]. . . . Other villages like St. Martial and St. Joseph [San Marcial and San Jose, on the Rio Matape] are situated in the most beautiful country, but have no water and the inhabitant[s] must nourish themselves on fhiits from the hills or on what I send there, hi St. Joseph I planted a wheat field near a small brook. (Treutlein 1945:179) Judging from his comments on the chronic shortage of water and its constraints on settlement size, it is not clear whether Segesser comprehended the atypical endurance of the drought, which was already in progress when he arrived in Sonora in 1731. The Tecoripa mission pueblos had once supported significantly larger populations; by 1730, the pueblos' numbers were greatly diminished from the levels reported by Ortiz Zapata in 1678, with Tecoripa reduced from 85 to 15 families, Suaqui from 163 to 30 famihes, and Cumuripa from 166 to 50 families (Canas 1730:620; Ortiz Zapata 1678:253-254v). 243 Relative to the Rio Tecoripa pueblos, the higher populations at Cumuripa and at Xecatacari, which had 65 families in 1730, are consistent with the greater agricultural productivity afforded by the permanent streamflow of the Rio Yaqui. Population decline at the missions was likely due to a combination of factors, including disease, migration of workers to the mining settlements, and food shortages due to drought. Many community members were lost to periodic disease episodes, such as the epidemic of what may have been measles in 1728. Exacerbating this was the increasing contact of mission hidians with the mining reales, of which there were at least four in the immediate vicinity by 1737 (Treutlein 1945:143); as more workers moved back and forth between mission and mines, they inadvertently increased the exposure of their mission relatives to pathogens. Drought, in turn, created subsistence stress and rendered mission inhabitants less capable of resisting diseases. Drought also drove more hidians to seek work in the mining settlements, to secure food and/or wages. When Segesser arrived at Tecoripa in 1734, the mission had been without a resident missionary since about 1730, when Father Luis Maria Marciano administered its three pueblos of Tecoripa, Suaqui, and Cumuripa, in addition to the pueblo of Xecatacari downstream from Cumuripa (Canas 1730; Treutlein 1945:181). During the interval between missionaries, the pueblos' Pima inhabitants had enjoyed greater autonomy, which translated to greater freedom of movement and control over their food supply. Mission stores undoubtedly were depleted early on, and given the enduring nature of the drought that had begun in 1728, subsistence strategies during this time probably involved a considerable amount of wild food procurement. 244 These strategies continued even after the arrival of the new missionary, who was faced with the problem of rebuilding the mission regime and mission stores in the midst of a drought: The usual fare of the Pimas is maize. Missionaries derive the greater part of their income, with which they meet necessary expenses, from raising this crop. The missionary who has the largest harvest is also in the best position to take care of church decorations and clothing for his people. Wheat also is planted in many places in the province of Sonora. Because I was in a very dry section where it hardly rained at all last year, I harvested no maize. This circumstance was most unfortunate for me this year. (Treutlein 1945:149) Segesser was intent on generating income with which he could properly outfit his church and the mission Indians—^perhaps at the expense of Indian subsistence. He became consumed by mission economics and husbanded his resources, seeming to begrudge the meals required to entice mission hidians to divine services, and even the posole fed to mission workers (Treutlein 1945:151, 161). He admired the Pimas' sharing ethic but was wary of their tendency to "eat everything available, and all at one time," and kept the storehouse tightly locked (Treutlein 1945:146, 161). Observing that Pimas subsisted "mainly on hill fhiits" that they used when unable to get grain (Treutlein 1945:149, 259), he may have found it expedient to allow them to continue pursuing that strategy. In this way, he negotiated for their agricultural labor and reserved scarce water resources for the communal mission fields. The year of Segesser's arrival at Tecoripa, 1734, provided a brief respite from the drought (see Figure 3.6). Precipitation that year, although not enough to restore falling water tables, was probably sufficient for growing crops. Meko's latewood-width index data (see Figure 3.8) suggest that summer rainfall supplied the moisture for crops in 1734 245 and 1735, giving Segesser the opportunity to observe that the rainy season was "of great value because enough can be planted and harvested at this time to last for the entire year" (Treutlein 1945:182). The flooding event that occurred two years prior to Segesser's 1737 account, earning his admiration for the Rio Yaqui, likely occurred during the summer of 1735 (Treutlein 1945:179). Of a magnitude to destroy "entire mission villages and churches in the Yaqui country," the flood probably created significant changes in the river channel and may well have damaged fields at Cumuripa and Xecatacari. Segesser's failure to mention any such damage suggests that both pueblos were able to secure at least an adequate yield from a spring planting, following the winter floods. The drought was back in full force during 1736, however, and Segesser's inability to harvest maize, a summer crop, is consistent with Meko's latewood-width index data indicating below-average summer rainfall that year (see Figure 3.8). With hardly any rainfall during the entire year, crop yields would have been down at all the mission's pueblos, even those on the Rio Yaqui. Pasturage for the mission's herds would have been in short supply, pushing animals to range farther and graze on other plants potentially of use in indigenous subsistence. Judging from the drought index data (see Figure 3.6), the wheat crop under cultivation in mission fields at Tecoripa and San Jose de los Pimas during the spring of 1737 was probably being irrigated by hand, as was other field produce at all the mission's settlements (Treutlein 1945:167, 170, 179). The scarcity of even drinking water is underscored by Segesser's wry comment, "Perforce one must be satisfied with the water jug and must even thank God that the water is fresh and plentiful, which often it is not" (Treutlein 1945:162). His remarks regarding Piman appetites and 246 food pilfering reveal an underlying tension at the mission regarding subsistence, and the other everyday forms of resistance of which he complains—lying, laziness, carelessness, and neglect—suggest that the Pimas were chafing under mission rule. An additional suggestion of subsistence stress at this time is also found in the aftermath of the uprising. Anza (1737:13) noted that many Pimas were stricken with smallpox iyiruelas) and other illnesses, and Segesser remarked that children died "almost entirely of malicious pustules" in 1737 (Treutlein 1945:159). Famine caused by the drought would have weakened the Pimas and made them more vulnerable to the disease, which they likely contracted while assembled in the Cerro Prieto. hi this context of a drought-induced food shortage, then, we gain better insight into what motivated the "extraordinary" uprising of 1737. Certainly its proximate cause was the summons and promises of the newly risen Moctezuma through his prophet, the arisibi. But like Segesser (Treutlein 1945:167), we are left wondering how the Pimas Bajos, who "had been enlightened for a hundred years," could be so credulous as to be deceived by the arispil First, it is quite probable that not all of the Pimas Bajos at the Tecoripa mission pueblos had been "enlightened" for as long as Segesser believed. The Nevomes Bajos had received missionaries in the early seventeenth century, but as the Nevomes dwindled in number, falling victim to European diseases or slipping away from the mission, missionaries assuredly encouraged various Piman peoples from the western desert region to settle in the pueblos, leading to a gradual mingling with, or even replacement of, the original population. Huidobro's (or Marciano's) action of setthng Pimas Bajos at 247 Xecatacari is a case in point. This may explain why the use of the term Nevome to designate either the people or their language seems to have been largely abandoned by the 1680s (Pennington 1980:5-6). The periodic influx of newcomers also would have strengthened ties between the pueblos of the Tecoripa mission and the western Pimas Bajos and Guaymas. Second, and possibly of greater significance, there appeared in the night sky, just prior to the uprising, a comet described by Segesser in his 1737 account (Treutlein 1945:260) and later noted by the contemporary Jesuit historian, Francisco Xavier Alegre (1960:376:4). Appearing from February 7 to March 4, this comet, which had a tail length of at least 3 degrees and was within a few degrees of Venus, would have been "visually stimulating, especially since Venus was connected with Quetzalcoatl and other similar deities," according to researcher W. Bruce Masse (written communication 2004).^ In addition, a "visually stunning" total lunar eclipse occurred on September 19, 1736 (Alegre 1960:4:376; Masse, written communication 2004; Treutlein 1945:259). Segesser himself, in retrospect, regarded these as "forebodings of evil times." It seems likely that the comet was linked by the Pimas and Guaymas with the claimed appearance of Moctezuma. The Aztecs, also Uto-Aztecan speakers, regarded comets as omens for rulers that foreshadowed the death or imprisonment of a ruler or other nobihty, warfare, or famine (Sahagiin 1953:13, in Masse and Espenak 2004:17). Subsistence stress then being experienced in the midst of the drought would have reinforced the comet's traditional significance and lent credence to the claims of the arisibi. 248 It is also possible that the Pimas, or the arisibi, at least, were aware of other significant portents occurring that year in central Mexico: an earthquake on September 7, 1736, had preceded the lunar eclipse, which was followed by extraordinary rains at the end of the fall, numerous and frequent shooting stars, strong hurricanes in December, and a total solar eclipse on February 1, 1737 (not visible in Sonora). Meanwhile, a plague of matlazahuatl (a Nahuatl term for what may have been typhus) had erupted in August of 1736, raged for several months, and was beginning to fade only with the seasonal heat of May in 1737, continuing in some cities until the beginning of 1738 (Alegre 1960:4:376, 381, 384; Donohue 1969:82-83; Prem 1992). Although the epidemic does not appear to have reached Sonora, word of its terrible toll probably did, adding to a growing sense of unease and making the Pimas more receptive to the threats and promises of Moctezuma through his prophet. The Yaqui Rebellion of 1740 The seeds of the 1740 Yaqui rebellion were sown several years before the outbreak of hostilities, and appear to have been embedded in a power struggle between Jesuit missionaries and Spanish civil and military authorities over control of Yaqui labor and lands. Further complicating matters was a concerted effort on the part of some Yaqui leaders to secure greater Yaqui control over their government and the products of their own labor, which would require making fundamental changes in the mission system, if not the secularization of the Yaqui pueblos. 249 Military and civil authority merged when a royal cedula (decree) dated March 14, 1732, united the civil provinces of Sonora, Ostimuri, and Sinaloa, along with Rosario and Culiacan to the south, into one gobierno (government) independent of Nueva Vizcaya, called Sinaloa y Sonora. In April, 1733, the viceroy named as governor and captain general of the new province Manuel Bemal de Huidobro, who assumed office the following October 25, at the official capital of the Villa de San Felipe y Santiago. The joint designation placed the former presidial captain at the head of both civil and military affairs, empowered to select his own deputy magistrates—except in Sonora, which continued to have an alcalde mayor appointed from Spain—and to command the captain of the Fronteras presidio (Donohue 1969:19; Gerhard 1982:247-248, 282; Navarro Garcia 1966:20). From this reorganization emerged a more localized secular governing structure with sufficient authority to threaten Jesuit power in the region. Within months of taking office, Huidobro announced his intention to visit all the territories within his jurisdiction, enumerating several points that he was interested in addressing. Among these, he proposed that each pueblo should have a community field in which they would plant a certain amount of beans and maize each year, then deposit the harvest in a storehouse controlled by the pueblo's governor and the closest Spanish magistrate, to take care of any necessity that might arise. In this way, the Indians would not have to go into the wild to look for food, and the soldiers could avoid having to go every year to search them out and conduct them back to their pueblos to plant their fields. He also proposed that the Indians elect their own officials, instead of having them chosen by the missionaries, and that they pay taxes and tribute to the Spanish Crown (Navarro Garcia 1966:20-21, 23; Spicer 1980:39). The Jesuits understood these proposals to be a direct challenge to their authority, and fought to keep the control of mission produce in their hands. They countered that: 1) the proposed community fields were unnecessary because Indians had access to produce from church lands, and 2) allowing the hidians to elect their own officials would permit their hechiceros to gain power, resulting in the election of whoever would grant them the greatest hcense to live as they pleased (Navarro Garcia 1966:22-23; Spicer 1980:39). Having reached that impasse in July, 1735, Huidobro received orders from the viceroy to cross over to Baja California, where he was to reestablish order among some newly missionized Indians on the southern peninsula, who had risen up the previous October and killed two missionaries (Crosby 1994:114-117). Huidobro made his arrangements and crossed to Loreto in December, 1735, accompanied by 50 soldiers and 100 Yaqui auxiliaries. He did not return to the mainland until the end of June, 1738. Meanwhile, during the fall of 1735, Spanish vecinos in Ostimuri, east of the Yaqui pueblos, began to complain of a critical shortage of mine workers. They had experienced difficulty the year before (1734-1735) in recruiting labor—either forced or voluntary—from the mission pueblos, and they accused the missionaries of keeping the hidians away. Jesuits later admitted their intervention, asserting that miners paid their workers a ridiculous wage, or with worthless goods (Hu-DeHart 1981:61-62; Navarro Garcia 1966:25-26). 251 The following March, in 1736, two Yaqui leaders—the Yaqui militia captain and governor of Rahum, known by the nickname of Muni, and the governor of Huirivis, Bemabe—led a group of Yaquis to the mining real of Baroyeca (Figure 6.3), to see the alcalde mayor, Miguel de Quiroz. They were unhappy with their missionary-appointed Yaqui captain-general, Cristobal de Gurrola, and a small group of mixed-blood or non- Yaqui outsiders, whom they called coyotes, employed by the missionaries in various positions of trust. Gurrola and the coyotes were accused of usurping lands, abusing their authority, and turning the missionaries against the Yaquis. The Jesuits retaliated with counter-accusations that Muni and Bemabe were inciting rebellion. Gaining the ear of Lt. Gov. Manuel de Mena during his investigation of the matter several months later, the Jesuits convinced him to arrest the two men and eight of their comrades at Potam, as well as Quiroz, whom they accused of influencing the Yaquis in their sedition. There they were held until an estimated 2,000 Yaquis, armed with bows and arrows, demanded their release. Caught off-guard with only a few soldiers as escort, Mena capitulated, freeing the Yaquis while keeping Quiroz prisoner. The Spanish vecinos, who sought to use Yaqui discontent to their own advantage, complained to the viceroy that Mena had grossly mishandled the affair, refusing to listen to their own grievances and taking the side of the Jesuits. The outcome of the episode was the removal of Mena from office, a blanket pardon for the Yaquis who had rebelled against him, and an invitation to the Yaqui leaders to air their grievances with the viceroy by writing or coming to see him personally. Father Diego Gonzalez of Potam and Rahum and Father Ignacio Duque of Huirivis appear to have been shuffled to other Yaqui pueblos. Administration of the three 252 jif Sf/ric Dolores Caborca Tubutaina't San Ignado'^ Baseiac Magdalena'^ Arizpe\ Cucui'pe 9 Opodepe Huasabas t Nacorl Chico Nacameri Oposura (PopuIoiV ^^i,»»^»Ures Los Angeles Matape Batuc San Jose Pitic fePimas # To'nichi \ecora ' lecori^!^^^^ ionavas Cerro Suaipii/ i) % Prieto ( uinurip.i • Mo\iis Huinvis I iCijoirit Sonora, Mexico Bifciini >.ini>i-ra Range of the Yaqui PAlain Kahuin Rebellion of 1740 • Town iac.ili-li jli Mission or Visita m Presidio Mining Center iierte 150 m 100 km By Emiliano Gallaga Figure 6.3. Region of the Yaqui Rebellion, 1740 (adapted from Spicer 1980). western pueblos was assumed in November by Father Ignacio Maria Napoli, upon his return to Sonora from Baja California (Hu-DeHart 1981:62-65; Navarro Garcia 1966:27- 32; Spicer 1980:39-40). Under Napoli, the situation deteriorated. Bent on asserting his authority over the increasingly defiant Muni and Bemabe, he was quick to take advantage of what was probably political posturing on their part—during which they reportedly renounced their positions—to replace them with candidates of his own choosing during the late fall of 1737. Muni and Bemabe traveled to Sinaloa to protest to the new lieutenant-governor, Cayetano Femmdez de Peralta, who, threatened with excommunication by the Jesuits, managed to soothe ruffled feathers but did not reinstate the Yaqui leaders (Hu-DeHart 1981:65-66; Navarro Garcia 1966:33-37; Spicer 1980:40-41). When Huidobro returned from Baja California in July, 1738, he immediately went to the pueblo of Potam to hear the complaints of both sides. Napoli detailed all the ways in which Muni and Bemabe had manifested increasing insubordination, including holding themselves as equals to Spaniards, among other things, and taking possession of all the goods of the missions in order to make the missionaries dependent on them, hi turn, Muni and Bemabe cited once again the abuses of Gurrola and the missionaries' coyote assistants, and complained about the excessive workloads demanded by the missionaries (Fuenclara 1744:346, 348). They were especially incensed about the labor involved in producing and transporting food and cattle that ended up going to the California missions or being sold to Spanish miners in exchange for silver, while the Yaquis who provided 254 the labor enjoyed none of the profits (Hu-DeHart 1981:66-67; Navarro Garcia 1966:40- 42; Spicer 1980:40-41). Huidobro ended up holding new elections in Potam, Huirivis, and Rahum to replace the unpopular governors imposed by Napoli, and privately encouraged Muni and Bemabe to take their grievances to the viceroy in person (Navarro Garcia 1966:43-44). The pair set out for Mexico City in October, with five companions and passports issued by the governor; they would not return until late in the summer of 1740. Huidobro's actions were interpreted by the Jesuits as hostile and an incitement to rebellion, and tensions mounted. During the remainder of 1738 and throughout 1739, any acts of insubordination on the part of Yaquis were perhaps too quickly labeled by missionaries as sure signs of revolt, while perhaps too quickly dismissed by Huidobro and other Spanish officials as insignificant (Hu-DeHart 1981:67; Navarro Garcia 1966:45^6; Spicer 1980:42). September of 1739 brought poor harvests and widespread food shortages. Incredibly, Napoli decided to reserve most of the surplus provisions from the Yaqui missions for those of California. He angered Spanish vecinos by initially turning them away when they wanted to barter for maize from the Yaquis' summer harvests, then finally relented and selectively sold to some of them small amounts of maize at an exorbitant price. Napoli and the other missionaries also were disinclined to permit the Yaquis to go to work in the mines, complaining of having too few workers, although Ostimuri's alcalde mayor counted sixty Indians working as goatherds and many more who served as vaqueros and muleteers, fished for shrimp, or performed various other 255 duties, in addition to the sixty-eight Yaquis laboring in Napoli's mission fields, (Mesla 1744:238; Navarro Garcia 1966:46). The food shortages were rendered more acute by disastrous flooding that winter, and the loss of crops and food stores to drought and floodwaters forced many Indians to abandon their pueblos and forage for wild foods. By February, 1740, a group of Indians at loose ends—comprising Yaquis, Mayos, and Eudeves—had gathered at the eastern edge of Yaqui territory, in Ostimuri, forming a temporary settlement in the vicinity of Spanish ranches from which they stole hvestock (Navarro Garcia 1966:50; Spicer 1980:42-43; see Figure 6.3). During March and April, the raiding intensified and escalated in violence as Spanish ranchers and officials fought back. A mood of defiance spread throughout the region of the Rios Yaqui and Mayo, encouraged by the inability of Spanish soldiers and militias to control the mounting crisis, and inflamed in mid-May by rumors that Muni had been killed by Spaniards on his return from Mexico City and that Spaniards planned to massacre all Indians. By June, the spirit of insurrection had spread to the Rio Tecoripa to the north, and the Rio Fuerte to the south, and all non-Indians, including Huidobro, had been forced to retreat to the fringes at Tecoripa, Alamos, or El Fuerte, except for the slightly more than 100 prisoners taken and held by the Indian rebels (Hu-DeHart 1981:68-70; Meredith 1975:226; Navarro Garcia 1966:50-90; Spicer 1980:43-46; see Figure 6.3). Hostilities continued to increase in scope during June and July, as the rebels attacked and sacked several Spanish settlements and ranches. During the first week of July, however, they met their first defeat when Spanish forces led by Agustin de 256 Vildosola, sergeant major of the Sonoran militia, successfully fought back an attack on Tecoripa. Spanish forces prevailed in a minor skirmish at Tepahui one week later, and another near Alamos toward the end of the month. On August 26, Vildosola's forces again achieved victory during a second battle at Tecoripa; this, along with a similar success three days later by militia forces at Bacori, near El Fuerte, effectively marked the end of the rebellion (Meredith 1975:226; Navarro Garcia 1966:91-116; Spicer 1980:46- 48). Most hostilities ceased by end of September, following the return from Mexico of Muni and Bemabe, who were instrumental in peacemaking efforts. By December, when Huidobro made a tour of the Rio Yaqui pueblos, calm had been restored among all the towns along the Rios Fuerte, Mayo, and Yaqui. Huidobro was relieved of office by the viceroy and replaced with Vildosola. Unlike his predecessor, Vildosola subscribed to the Jesuits' theory of a planned conspiracy behind the rebellion and paid attention to rumors that Muni and Bemabe—whom Huidobro had named captain-general and lieutenant, respectively, of the Yaquis—^were plotting a new outbreak of rebellion. He ordered the two seized and executed, with no trial, on June 23, 1741, at Torim. Disturbances erupted fitfully for several more months, as rebels continued to operate north of the Rio Yaqui, in the Cerro Prieto and Sierra Bacatete, but were brought to an end with a final skirmish early in 1742 (Meredith 1975:226; Navarro Garcia 1966:116-155; Spicer 1980:48-49). Discussion. The Yaqui rebellion of 1740 was not a coordinated revolt. It just appeared that way to Jesuits and Spaniards because so many groups were involved, including 257 Yaquis, Mayos, Pimas Bajos from the Rio Yaqui and Rio Tecoripa, Guaymas, and Cahita-speaking groups along the Rio Fuerte. As pointed out by more recent scholars, this so-called rebellion is better characterized as a series of local disturbances growing out of local developments that included serious food shortages, resentments against particular missionaries or encroaching Spaniards, and a desire for greater freedom from the demands of both (Hu-DeHart 1981:59-87; Meredith 1975:255-259; Polzer and Sheridan 1997:314; Spicer 1980:50-53). There was no consistent strategy or unified leadership throughout the course of events, and not all of the Yaqui and Mayo pueblos were directly involved. Violence was aimed more at Spanish food resources and property than Spanish lives, and the rebels seemed mostly content to harass and humiliate their Spanish and missionary targets, rather than kill them. These more recent interpretations recognize that the widespread famine of late 1739 and early 1740 was an important factor in the Yaqui rebellion (Crosby 1994:153- 154; Hu-DeHart 1981:58-103; Meredith 1975; Navarro Garcia 1966; Polzer and Sheridan 1997:313-315; Spicer 1980:32-57). Based on documentary information, Meredith (1975:258) has linked food shortages not only to the raiding by which the rebellion began, but also to its uncoordinated nature and the geographical distribution of most skirmishes, toward the centers of Spanish settlement. Hu-DeHart (1981:68) noted that the famine was caused by "alternating floods and droughts in the Yaqui Valley and vicinity [that] caused the destruction of crops and cattle . .." Yet these discussions, while acknowledging a couple of extreme climatic events, have otherwise focused on the social and cultural factors leading up to the rebellion, such as the power struggle among Jesuit missionaries, Spanish civil and mihtary authorities, and the Yaquis themselves over Yaqui autonomy, land, and labor. By comparing the documentary record with tree-ring drought reconstruction data, we gain a better understanding of the larger role of climate in the rebellion, as an important variable in a multivariate context. The climatic patterning leading up to the famine—that is, the cumulative effect of prolonged drought on streamflow and agrarian productivity throughout the 1730s—created conditions that influenced the dynamics of tensions building among the Jesuits, Spanish settlers and officials, and the Yaquis. Particularly low levels of moisture appear to have coincided with relatively moderate La Nina events in 1729 and 1733 (see Figures 3.6 and 3.7). If the latewood- width tree-ring data are any indication of events in northeastern Sonora (see Figure 3.8), the extremity of drought in both years was caused by low precipitation during both the summer and winter rainy seasons. It seems likely that dry soil conditions conducive to significant alteration of the stream channel during high-flow events developed early in the period and persisted until the mid-1740s, when a wetter cycle prevailed. High flows amidst the more pronounced seasonal and annual shifts in precipitation from 1729 to 1735 may well have provided the impetus for major channel changes—as would any high-magnitude floods caused by isolated, heavy rainfalls that might have occurred during the less variably dry years of 1736-1742. If water tables were low enough and soil sufficiently desiccated, even lesser floods could reshape streambeds. The onset of drought likely reduced the agricultural productivity of flood recession fields along the lower Rio Yaqui during the period of 1728-1733 (see Figure 259 3.6). Although the latewood-width index data suggest that summer runoff flowed at average or even above-average levels in 1728, 1730, and 1732 (see Figure 3.8), it was spring's dry-season crops that provided the principal harvest of the Yaquis, and a deficiency of winter runoff during most of the period may have prevented sufficient saturation of the river's floodplains for the germination and growth of those crops. Because water continued to flow in the channel of this permanent river, the successful cultivation of crops during the spring would have been possible but also would have required more labor-intensive cultivation techniques, such as transporting water by hand from the river to fields above the floodplain that may have been fewer and smaller in size. Digging irrigation ditches to channel water from floodplain fields from the river, while possible, was problematic given the heightened propensity for streambed modifications. Conditions would have been most severe in 1729,1731, and 1733, with low runoff and streamflow during both summer and winter. Again, agriculture would have been possible, but less productive and more labor intensive, and farmers may have opted to forage for wild foods more than usual. Wage labor in Spanish mines or on ranches during this time also may have provided a practical alternative. If reduced productivity were simply a matter of subsistence for the Yaquis, there probably would not have been a real problem. Under the Jesuit economic program, however, the Yaqui delta region had become a major source of foodstuffs and livestock for non-Yaqui groups as well. Li addition to providing nearby mining settlements and ranches with much of their provisions, Yaqui surplus had been supplying shipments of 260 grain and livestock to the mission system in Baja California—which, never able to entirely support itself since its founding in 1697, had continued to grow nonetheless; with the addition of its eleventh mission in 1730, the California system depended increasingly on Yaqui mission support. At the same time, however, Yaqui population had been reduced significantly, due somewhat to out-migration, but largely to disease; an epidemic of measles had run through the missions farther north as recently as 1728, the year the drought began. And the drought, as it progressed, would have increasingly strained the Yaqui mission's ability to meet both the growing demands of the California system and the needs of the Spanish mining communities. The missionaries appear to have responded by tightening their control over community stores, as well as over the Yaqui authorities through whom they could regulate Yaqui labor and trading activities; the proposals Huidobro made upon assuming his office suggest there was already growing dissatisfaction among both Yaquis and vecinos. The initial complaints from Spanish vecinos that the missionaries were keeping Yaqui workers away from the mines surface in the documentary record during the fall of 1735, with references to a similar shortage during the previous year's November-May mining season. These complaints coincide with a year (1734) in which annual precipitation levels were above average, followed by a year (1735) in which winter levels were low but summer rainfall was high, if the latewood-width index data are any indication (see Figures 3.6 and 3.8). The return of both summer and winter flooding in 1734 would have offered Yaqui farmers the opportunity to renew food stores using 261 traditional cultivation methods; the mining season conflicted with the most productive agricultural season for the Yaquis, and it seems likely that farmers were in accord with the missionaries who obstructed Spanish demands for workers that fall. The following year brought flooding of charmel-changing magnitude to the Yaqui valley, judging from Segesser's account (Treutlein 1945:179). The flooding probably occurred during the summer rains, following a relatively dry winter, and may or may not have affected crops in the field, but undoubtedly created a great deal of work in the form of field clearing and preparation and provided the moisture for a much-needed wheat crop to be planted that fall—once again conflicting with the mining season. At the same time, the indigenous uprising in Baja California in October, 1734, adds another dimension to this scenario. Recognizing California's dependence on food and supplies from the Yaqui mission, the Jesuits had developed a practice, noted by Crosby (1994:152), of stationing California veteran missionaries at mission posts along the Rio Yaqui, where they served as supply officers, or procuradores. Napoli had served in the California mission from 1721 to 1726, when he was transferred to Sonora. By 1735—and probably before—he was functioning as a padre procurador, in charge of shipping food and hvestock from Rahum to Loreto as needed (Crosby 1994:153). The uprising in California heightened the need for supplies, and intensified the focus on producing as large a surplus as possible among the Sonoran mission pueblos. During the mining seasons of both 1734 and 1735, then, the Yaquis' missionaries would have wanted to keep as much labor as possible under their control in order to get new fields prepared and planted. 262 The drought resumed with a vengeance in 1736, with both annual and summer precipitation levels remaining below average until 1741 (see Tables 3.6 and 3.8). Both streamflow and the alluvial water table would have declined and the landscape dried out as the drought dragged on, reducing vegetation and predisposing the soil to erosion. By the winter of 1739-1740, the drought's cumulative effects had caused conditions to become particularly severe and summer rainfall may have been at its lowest level in more than a decade. Cultivation of fields during these years required greater labor while harvests were poor and grazing for livestock became increasingly scarce, and foragers found it necessary to venture farther afield to find the ever-declining populations of wild food plants and animals. The Jesuit response to these conditions was shaped largely by increasing pressure to produce a surplus for the mission in Baja California, which also had been suffering the effects of the drought since at least 1736. Napoli had made the crossing to California in 1735, as an advisor to Huidobro. By the time he returned to the western Yaqui pueblos one year later, one of California's worst famines was underway, following closely on the heels of the revolt (Crosby 1994:153, 232). His acute awareness of California's hardships, coupled with his continuing role as procurador, may at least partly explain his insensitivity to the growing strain on his own mission and his unyielding stance against Yaqui grievances. The petition that Muni and Bemabe presented to the viceroy, which he approved with some minor changes on February 26, 1740 (Navarro Garcia 1966:47^8), indicates that their missionaries endeavored to continue producing a surplus during the drought by: 263 1) increasing the amount of "communal" labor required of the Yaquis, with no payment; 2) appropriating Yaqui lands by placing them under communal status; 3) controlling the distribution of all Yaqui food surplus, including what was produced in noncommunal fields; and 4) impeding Yaquis from working in the Spanish mines, in order to keep them working at the mission pueblos (see Appendix, Fuenclara 1-4). hi order to carry out these measures, the missionaries apparently found it necessary to employ non-Yaqui assistants to supervise labor and discipline workers, a move that was deeply resented by the Yaquis. As Muni and Bemabe explained to Huidobro on July 22, 1738, the motives they had for the complaints against the fathers, [when appearing] before [alcalde mayor] Quiroz, had been the many extortions they had experienced from the coyote Juan Frias, and his allies, who had appropriated from Juan Ignacio [Muni] his rancho under the pretext that he had caused harm to the fathers' livestock [probably cattle], and that likewise, they had accused him of stealing a key, and even though everyone knew who had [really] stolen it, they punished him. They made [people] work without paying them, wearing out their mantas in carrying the grain as far as the beach, for the Califomias, and also made the women and children work; in order to transport the harvests from the missions, they removed from the women their mantas, leaving them totally naked; .. . (see Appendix, Fuenclara 1-2) In general, the drought itself does not appear to have seriously threatened Yaqui subsistence in the mission pueblos. The fact that a surplus of maize existed for which Napoli could overcharge vecinos during the fall of 1739, suggests that Yaqui farmers willing to intensify their cultivation efforts were still able to produce enough to feed their families (see Appendix, Mesia 1-1). Not all farmers necessarily had sufficient, suitable lands available to them, however, as suggested by the eighth item included in Muni's and Bemabe's petition, requesting that missionaries stop appropriating Yaqui lands (see Appendix, Fuenclara 1-4). hiterestingly, former Lt. Gov. Mena, in a written statement 264 meant to support the Jesuits in response to the Yaquis' petition, let slip that "because the Yaqui hidians were many and their lands few, they themselves voluntarily went in teams to the mines, where they became familiar with the slander of Quiroz" (see Appendix, Fuenclara 1-5). The greater effort necessary and a shortage of suitable lands promoted alternative Yaqui subsistence patterns. Many Yaquis found the idea of working at Spanish mines and ranches preferable to the labor demands of the missionaries—there, at least, they would be paid for their work—while others opted to leave their pueblos and live in the monte, where they could pursue their subsistence on their own terms. One of the countless Jesuit complaints against Huidobro was his failure, from early on in his governorship, to send out soldiers for the customary annual roundup of "hidians who had left for the monies and the marshes as well as the idlers wandering around the ranches and other places," (see Appendix, Ansaldo 1-1). By 1737-1738, according to the Jesuits, armed Yaquis were "wandering without subjection or masters, without instruction or obedience" in the mining reales as well as the monte and the marshes (see Appendix, Ansaldo 1-2). Napoli's coyote assistant, Juan Maria de Alcala, testified in the fall of 1738 that Indians unhappy with mission rule simply left their pueblos (see Appendix, Fuenclara 1-3). What the Yaquis seem to have resented most were the changes the missionaries implemented to maintain a surplus for the California missions in the face of drought, changes they recognized as promoting Jesuit goals instead of working to their own benefit (Crosby 1994:154). Compromising both Yaqui autonomy and territorial integrity, the missionaries' policies constituted a breach of the colonial pact negotiated more than a century earlier, which had produced the enduring, collaborative relationship between Jesuits and Yaquis noted by Spicer (1980:18-20). While Muni and Bemabe, as highly respected leaders of their communities, openly struggled within the imposed colonial system to reaffirm that pact and drew the ire of the Jesuits, most of the other Yaquis avoided direct confrontation in favor of more covert forms of resistance; they voted with their feet, so to speak. The Spanish response to the prolonged drought, if Jesuit accusations are to be believed, centered on efforts to gain control of Indian lands and labor—and beneath all the vitriol probably lies some amount of truth. Spanish vecinos had settled in the area at the eastern edge of Yaqui and Mayo country, drawn by the mining opportunities (Meredith 1975:225; see Figure 6.3). Generally prohibited from estabhshing residence close to the Indian pueblos, which were jealously guarded by the Jesuits, they did establish ranches in what had been traditional foraging territory for the Indians and probably had become grazing lands for mission and Indian-owned livestock. In doing so, they increased competition for water and pasturage, and both Indians and vecinos would have seen their livestock herds dwindle as the drought wore on, vegetation became scarce, and sources of water dried up. In addition, because the mission pueblos controlled the best agricultural lands, vecinos were forced to acquire much of their grain and other field produce either from the missionaries or from the Indians directly, but as the Jesuits tightened their control over Indian surpluses, vecinos were at the mercy of the missionaries' willingness or ability to part with mission produce—the risk of which became obvious during the food shortage in 1739. And Jesuit attempts to block Spanish 266 access to a labor pool in decline, as Indians abandoned mission pueblos for the monte, threatened mining operations and revenues. The solution to this predicament, as anticipated and portrayed by the Jesuits, lay with secularizing the missions, whereby the missionaries would be replaced with secular priests and hidians would pay tribute. Lacking the protection of the Jesuits, the Indians would be more easily separated from their lands and their means of subsistence, without which they could be compelled to work for the Spaniards in the mines and on the ranches. By Jesuit reasoning, it was in the interest of Huidobro, who had attempted to survey the lands around the Yaqui pueblos some time prior to 1735, to allow the Indians to roam freely and carry arms, even to the point of rebellion against the missionaries. Quiroz and his brother also were known to covet Indian lands, and it was with ulterior motives, the Jesuits claimed, that Quiroz and other Spaniards had counseled and encouraged Muni and Bemabe in their disobedience (Ansaldo, in Meredith 1975:227- 232). Whether or not the motives of Huidobro and Quiroz were as menacing as the missionaries believed, there is no question that loosening the grip the Jesuits held on Yaqui productivity would serve to improve the circumstances of Spanish settlers, which grew worse with the continuing drought. In December of 1735, Quiroz had written to Huidobro to complain of the control the missionaries exerted over the Yaquis, even to the point of installing and deposing Yaqui governors at their whim (see Appendix, Fuenclara 1-1). That he was at least supporting Muni and Bemabe in their defiance of the missionaries is suggested by their fourteenth and final request to the viceroy, that Quiroz be recognized as the Yaquis' protector (see Appendix, Fuenclara 1-4). With the catastrophic flooding that occurred in January, 1740, the food shortage reached crisis proportions. Although none of the Indians interrogated during the "pacification" could say what started the rebellion, almost all alluded to the previous existence of a group of rebellious Yaquis in the wild who dedicated themselves to raiding, and common opinion held that the famine caused by the last flooding of the rivers was the reason many Indian rebels had abandoned their pueblos to seek their subsistence in the monte (Navarro Garcia 1966:50). Rains that winter came in several storms, judging from Father Miguel del Barco's observations of patterns in Baja California: In the winter of 1739-1740 it rained there several times, and so much on one occasion, many arroyos swelled up and ran swiftly, an event that I witnessed only this time in the thirty years that I was there,... but the pitahayas did not bear fruit that year of 1740. It seems they complained of having had so much moisture. (Barco 1980, in Hodgson 2001:141) The magnitude and timing of the event Barco describes is consistent with the effects of the relatively strong El Nino conditions in force that year (see Figure 3.7), which likely boosted moisture available to developing storms. A series of storms such as those affecting the California missions would have created multiple, closely spaced discharges in Sonora's rivers, any one of which, coming on the heels of prolonged drought, could have been capable of modifying stream channels. The high-magnitude floodwaters of a particularly heavy or sustained storm, however, would have rearranged the floodplain as well. 268 The Rio Yaqui flood of early 1740 did more than that, however. As indicated by the testimony of the coyote Juan Frias, the river's waters raged well above the normal flood levels, carrying away the hvestock and grain of Bacum (see Appendix, Fuenclara 1- 6). His use of the word semillas (seeds) suggests it was harvested grain that was lost, rather than crops in the field—although any wheat planted in the fall would have been washed away as well. The other two easternmost pueblos, Torim and Cocorit, likely sustained similar damages. The western Yaqui pueblos seem to have fared better than those to the east, probably spared by the slowing of floodwaters as they spread out over the valley. Despite the loss of winter crops already planted, they likely possessed enough food stores to sustain them through the spring, given their relative productivity in general and their being under the particularly watchful eye of Napoli—who, ironically, was able to report at the end of April that the three pueblos under his administration had remained quiet (Navarro Garcia 1966:64; Spicer 1980:30). Whether or not there were sufficient stores to lend assistance to the eastern pueblos is not clear, however. Missionaries and farmers would have been loathe to part with seed for planting, especially when they could anticipate a good harvest that spring as they resumed their traditional flood-recession farming methods. hi the wake of the flood, inhabitants of the three eastern pueblos swelled the ranks of Yaquis and other Indians already wandering the landscape, where they faced a scarcity of vegetation brought on by years of drought—the effects of which were exacerbated by livestock grazing—during the least productive season for wild food resources. Although spring crops could be planted in the newly saturated soils as the floodwaters receded, they would not be ready for harvest until June. Li such circumstances, the livestock and food stores of Spanish ranches presented tantalizing options, especially when it could be argued that the ranches were encroaching on Indian lands. Huidobro's assessment of enemy strength, as pointed out by Sheridan (Polzer and Sheridan 1997:314), was based on his perception of a "mighty pan-Indian alliance." In a letter to the viceroy, dated September 4, 1740, he listed thirty enemy pueblos who had participated in the rebellion. Among these were four Pima pueblos along the middle reach of Rio Yaqui, including Cumuripa and Buenavista; all eight of the Yaqui pueblos; the pueblo of Guaymas; and eleven pueblos along the Rio Mayo and six along the Rio Fuerte (Polzer and Sheridan 1997:323, 331). In addition, he alluded to Tecoripa and Suaqui Pimas among the Yaquis and Guaymas who had attacked Tecoripa (Polzer and Sheridan 1997:318, 328; see Figure 6.3). All of these groups would have been feeling the effects, to varying degrees, of the widespread famine. Cumuripa and Buenavista shared a planting regime similar to that of the Yaquis, but, with narrower floodplains and a nonresident missionary, were not so productive. Pimas along the Rio Tecoripa, whose most important crops were grown during the summer rainy season, would have been counting on the winter's wheat crop that likely was destroyed in the flooding of that river. The pueblos along the two southern drainages probably suffered catastrophic flooding as well, especially the Rio Fuerte, which has a streamflow more than twice as large as the Yaqui's (Dunbier 1968:88). 270 The raiding activities of the hidian rebels exacerbated an already existing scarcity of food and horses that hindered Huidobro's ability to pursue a war against them. As he pointed out, even if he had the troops he needed, he could not obtain supplies at any price (Huidobro, in Polzer and Sheridan 1997:315-333). The settlers had no resources to supply military actions, many of the militia troops were extremely poor, and he was at that moment hoping to seize from the hacienda of Bacora, which some rebel Indians had made their base, a considerable store of "maize that [the Indians] have collected from the summer harvests, in order to relieve in part the considerable scarcity of provisions we are suffering due to the sterility of the previous years" (Polzer and Sheridan 1997:329, my translation). While Huidobro may be viewed as having overestimated the enemy and exaggerated the danger, evidence suggests that with regard to supplying any troops, the problems he faced were quite real. NOTES TO CHAPTER 6 'in 1741, Vildosola was named governor of the province of Sinaloa y Sonora. His placement of a presidio at Pitic in 1742 conveniently served to expand his market further. ^Garate (2003:183-189) provides a frill translation of Anza's account. Garate worked from a different copy of the document in the holdings of the Archivo General de la Nacion (AGN), Reales Cedulas, Vol. 59, f. 215. ^For comparison, the full moon is approximately 0.5 degrees; thus the comet's tail would have been six times as long as the full moon is wide (Masse, written communication. May 24, 2004). CHAPTER 7 SUMMARY AND CONCLUSIONS Climatic variability is a basic and chronic feature of Sonora's semiarid environment to which all of the region's indigenous peoples were vulnerable—some more so than others, depending on the ecological zone in which they lived and their access to reliable water sources, arable land, and/or important plant and animal resources. At the time that Spanish colonization began, indigenous subsistence strategies ranged from the full-time hunting and gathering activities of the coastal Seris, who inhabited Sonora's driest regions, to the diverse cultivation practices of the Opatas, who farmed along the well- watered valleys of the serrana. Seris effectively buffered themselves against the predictable scarcity of their habitat by living in small bands that traveled widely to take advantage of seasonally available plants and game from the open desertscrub and/or thomscrub, as well as marine resources from the gulf; Seris also traded with, and probably raided, their farming neighbors to the east. Their low population densities and residential mobility, combined with the drought-tolerant characteristics of their varied resource base, gave them the flexibility to withstand both short-term and long-term variation in climate. For farming groups, even short-term fluctuations in precipitation and temperature such as ill-timed rainfall, drought, freeze, or flooding, could cause crops to fail and lead to food shortages. Short-term fluctuations in Sonora were "predictably unpredictable," however, and farmers, drawing on knowledge that came with deep ancestral roots. 272 employed buffering strategies involving diverse combinations of responses: a mixed subsistence base of cultivated and wild foods, fast-growing crops, storage of surpluses, multiple field settings and/or cultivations techniques, intensification of water control and labor, scattered settlement, residential flexibility, kinship ties and networks of gift exchange, trade, and raiding. Environmental possibilities and constraints weighed against population densities, settlement patterns, and other socioeconomic factors strongly affected which strategies were chosen and the degree of reliance placed on a given response, but all strategies maintained a significant amount of flexibility. It was long-term climate variation that created the greatest environmental stresses. Although cultivation techniques and cropping practices were geared toward mitigating the effects of variable rainfall effectively sustained the semiarid environment by encouraging moisture retention and soil enhancement, climatic events such as prolonged drought, recurring catastrophic floods, or prolonged drought punctuated with floods lowered water tables, accelerated soil erosion, and altered stream channels. As the rate and level of environmental degradation increased during extended periods of stress, so did the rate and degree of recoverability for farmers decrease, forcing them to consider coping strategies that worked against their productive future, such as consuming planting seed and abandoning normally productive land. At a group level, crises of this nature compromised health and could bring about significant population decline, threatening a group's viability. In the face of such a threat, raiding and conflict over available resources became much more likely, and defense warfare became a coping strategy for groups with the most productive territories, such as the Opatas and the Yaquis. 273 CHANGES RESULTING FROM SPANISH COLONIZATION Indigenous vulnerability to climate variation generally increased under Spanish rule. Changes instituted primarily by the Jesuits undermined the flexibility of indigenous adaptations, replacing it with a more rigid approach less suited to the environmental constraints of local settings. Under mission policies of reduccion and surplus production, the emphasis of buffering strategies shifted from mobility and resource diversification toward agricultural intensification, storage, and exchange or redistribution. Populations and settlements that had been widely scattered to spread risk were concentrated, increasing population densities; mobility was restricted, disrupting the seasonal exploitation of important natural resources, as well as kinship networks; the subsistence base was narrowed, with new planting techniques, crops, and livestock introduced at the expense of wild plants and animals; and networks of gift exchange and trade were sacrificed to a centralized system of surplus production, increased storage, and distribution within the framework of the Spanish colonial market economy. Raiding faded as a strategy for coping with scarcity, as missionaries and Spanish authorities suppressed old patterns of conflict between indigenous groups and redirected belligerent energies toward frontier defense. These changes came at some cost to mission hidians, not the least of which was population decline. The net reduction in nutritional diversity resulting from the tradeoff of wild plants and animals for new cultigens and livestock left mission Indians more susceptible to European diseases, the herds themselves provided a vector for diseases. 274 and the higher population densities that made agricultural intensification possible facilitated the spread of those diseases. Moreover, Spanish demands for labor, surplus foods, and crafts conflicted with indigenous traditions of feasting and sharing harvests during times of bounty, the means by which present abundance was converted into future obligations to counteract future seasons of scarcity (Halstead and O'Shea 1989; Radding 1997:60-65). Mission Indians were required to expend considerably more labor producing a community surplus they did not control, and to depend instead upon the largesse of their resident missionary to carry them through food shortages. Alternatively, wage labor provided a resource during times of hunger, forming a substitute for old foraging patterns. Many Indians were drawn to work in Spanish mines and on ranches, or to serve as auxiliaries with Spanish troops or militias, as a way of achieving some measure of independence from the missions. Under Jesuit organization, agricultural intensification and increased storage provided a strategy capable of effectively buffering short-term, localized variation in rainfall and temperatures. Through the broad network of the mission system, missionaries mobilized resources to offset scarcity in one area with abundance from another, as they did routinely for Baja Cahfomia. It was the cumulative effect of long-term, broad-scale variation during the 1730s that tested the limits of the Jesuit strategy and revealed its failings from an indigenous perspective. Widespread food shortages resulted from the region-wide, prolonged drought and catastrophic floods, leaving insufficient surpluses to redistribute among everyone in need. In restricting mobility and disrupting the seasonal exploitation of wild food plants and animals—^pushed ever further away by intensified 275 agricultural activities—the strategy's rigid approach overlooked or discounted important resources best able to withstand the environmental crisis. And rather than buffering the region's populations from the effects of climatic extremes, the Jesuit strategy unintentionally contributed to the environmental degradation that led to food shortages. The isolation of the Sonoran province and the tight control the Jesuits exercised over the region's best agricultural lands made regional subsistence—^both indigenous and Spanish—largely dependent on the agricultural production of the missions. Both missionaries and Spanish settlers, lacking the knowledge that came with generations of living within the region's environmental constraints, and failing to fully appreciate indigenous adaptations to its climatic variations, instituted changes in land use patterns that seemed to best suit their economic goals. The operations of missions, ranches, and mines involved modifications to the landscape that altered ecological processes and contributed to the degradation of both foraging habitat and the agricultural land base. Field clearing, livestock herding, and tree felling reduced water tables and removed important vegetative cover, exposing soils to greater erosion from wind and water (perhaps even influencing air currents and rainfall patterns), altering patterns of runoff, and exacerbating the effects of wet and dry cycles on stream channels and floodplains. GROWING DEMANDS AND MOUNTING TENSIONS Through the framework of the Jesuit mission program and the repartimiento labor requirement, mission Indians were incorporated into Spanish colonial society and its market economy. 276 Indigenous peoples formed a subordinate class in the stratified Spanish colonial world, however, despite whatever measure of local autonomy mission communities were granted through the unwritten "colonial pact" (Radding 1998), and the mission structure provided a means through which higher classes—meaning missionaries, miners, ranchers, government officials, and presidial commanders—gained access to Indian lands, labor, and/or surplus. Such had not always been the case. Vastly outnumbered in early years, and without military protection, missionaries out of necessity had operated by persuasion more than coercion. Among the Yaquis, in particular, the conversion process had been a collaboration in a very real sense, with missionaries eliciting the advice and cooperation of community leaders in order to make any changes. This collaboration had continued over decades without any significant interference from other Spanish interests as long as Spanish settlement concentrated in the northeastern part of the province. But by the 1730s, Spanish settlement and economic development had moved into the lowlands. Growing Spanish demands for labor, surplus foodstuffs, and various other products conflicted with Jesuit goals of supplying the ever-growing needs of the mission system in Baja California, and brought increasing pressure to bear on the Yaqui, Pima Bajo, and Seri mission communities, while a prolonged drought caused agricultural productivity to drop. Missionaries striving to maintain surplus levels in the face of the drought began to turn more often to coercion in order to secure the greater labor required. Mounting tensions can be detected in the various ways mission hidians found to protest while avoiding direct confrontation with missionaries, employing what Scott 277 (1985) calls "everyday forms of resistance." The laziness, carelessness, neglect, and theft that Segesser cited among his Pima Bajo servants, which he regarded as an annoyance more than a threat, can be viewed as covert acts of insubordination that defended individual interests and rights to resources during a time of food shortage (Treutlein 1945:163). Likewise, the desertions by individual Yaquis of their mission communities throughout the 1730s constituted a mute defiance of the mission regime. CLIMATE VARIATION AND INDIGENOUS UPRISINGS, 1725-1742 Tensions erupted in a series of collective, open acts of defiance during the period of 1725-1742. The earliest of these took place in 1725 and in 1729-1730, and involved Seris and western Pimas Bajos outside of or only marginally incorporated into the Jesuit mission system and Spanish rule. The two, independent attacks carried out by Seris and western Pimas Bajos in late September, 1725, were probably unrelated to unusual environmental stresses; they are better viewed as conflicts arising from both groups expanding their subsistence resource base to include the free-ranging livestock belonging to missions and Spanish ranches. Seri and Pima rustling of cattle and horses—^which, feeding on the grasses and herbs of the brushy desertscrub and thomscrub areas and semidesert grasslands, were replacing deer on the landscape—collided with Spanish concepts of property ownership. In turn, the efforts of Spaniards to recover their animals and punish the theft affronted indigenous ethics regarding resource consumption and sharing the bounty on hand, as reflected in the Seris' taunts—"Oh, good Huerta, look at how we are eating your fat calves!"—during 278 their attack (Testimony of Jose de Uzarraga, in Sheridan 1999a:100, 113). This clash of beliefs predictably led to an escalation of violence on both sides as Spanish settlement in the region increased. Drought does appear to be associated with the Seri "insurrection" in 1729-1730, which is better characterized as Seri resistance to missionization. Unusually dry conditions probably factored into the Seri harassment of pearl fishermen that triggered efforts to reduce the hunters and gatherers to the missions and sedentary life, and appear to have greatly hindered those efforts. Whereas the lack of rainfall may have made it easier to persuade the Seris to go to Populo, holding out the promise of food, the reality of the continuing drought would have made it difficult to convince them to stay—the successful cultivation of crops was far more labor intensive and less productive during drought conditions than was hunting and gathering wild resources. It also seems likely that the drought contributed to a drastic loss of Seri population to disease at the mission, which undoubtedly reinforced their decision to leave. Ironically, the features of Seri life that the Spaniards abhorred—low population densities with widely scattered, small bands; residential mobility; exploitation of a broad range of wild food resources from land and sea—were the features that made the Seri adaptation to their environment successful. The later uprisings among the Pimas Bajos in 1737 and the Yaquis in 1740-1742 were not ethnic struggles so much as class struggles against the demands of Spanish rule, carried out by indigenous groups incorporated into colonial society to varying degrees as a subordinate class (Deeds 1998; Radding 1998). These acts of open defiance or rebellion 279 signal crises reached over indigenous land, labor, surplus, and/or autonomy, indicating that everyday forms of resistance were no longer sufficient to mitigate worsening conditions (Scott 1985). A combination of paleoclimatic and documentary evidence indicates that the crises developed in association with accumulating environmental stresses created by the prolonged drought and sporadic, catastrophic floods during 1728- 1742. hi the case of the Pima Bajo uprising, famine arising from severe drought appears to have reinforced the credibility of a short-lived, messianic movement led by a Guaymas Indian claiming to be the prophet of the newly resurrected god, Moctezuma. The arisibVs, prophecy— which called for the world's end, and a new world in which the Indian dead would be resurrected as Spaniards and Spaniards as hidians to serve them—did not reject Spaniards so much as it called for a reversal of power. His promise that Moctezuma's followers would never want for food or water hints at the crisis at hand, but the stronger message lies in the response of the Pimas, who abandoned their settlements to follow the arisibi into the Cerro Prieto, taking with them all the food sources they could lay their hands on—including the livestock belonging to the missions and neighboring Spaniards, the ripe grain from the mission fields, and even the food stores of the mission. These actions suggest an overriding concern with food and water, as well as a generalized dissatisfaction with Spanish rule. The Pimas' preoccupation with food was caused by the ongoing drought, which by 1737 was beginning to take its toll on wild food resources, having thwarted the successful harvest of the previous summer's maize crops. Segesser's description of 280 scarcity along the Rio Matape, and his observation of the Pimas Bajos' substantial reliance on wild foods in the absence of crops, suggest a time of hunger. Whether he was storing surpluses at the expense of Indian subsistence or for the measured relief of famine is not clear; regardless, he was not distributing the mission's food stores as liberally as the Pimas desired. In addition, a number of ominous portents—among them a comet and a lunar eclipse occurring the previous fall—may have added to the growing unease of the Pimas and made them more receptive to the prophet's message. The Yaqui rebellion was a response to the intensification of colonial pressures that sought to appropriate Yaqui land, labor, and surplus while threatening the autonomy negotiated by the Yaquis more than a century earlier (Deeds 1998; Scott 1985). That intensification developed, however, within an environmental context strongly affected by climate variation over the decade or more leading up to the rebellion, influencing decisions made by all the players as well as the dynamics of their behaviors. Although drought and flooding in themselves did not cause the rebellion, their cumulative effects on streamflow, stream channels, water tables, soils, and vegetation created changing conditions that evoked diverse responses from the Jesuits, Yaquis, and Spanish vecinos, heightening tensions among them. The constraints drought placed on agrarian productivity stimulated the Jesuits to push Yaquis harder to generate the surplus they deemed necessary to supply the increasing needs of the California mission, even at the expense of other, more local needs. These constraints also shaped options open to the Yaquis within both traditional and colonial-based subsistence strategies, and motivated Spanish officials and vecinos to challenge Jesuit authority and control over Yaquis while more aggressively pursuing Indian lands. Famine caused by flooding in January, 1740, was offered by hidian witnesses as the proximate reason for the raiding that triggered the rebellion (Navarro Garcia 1966:50). As discussed by Morrison (2000), famine is influenced by human actions involving food production and distribution, as well as by climate extremes. In this case, famine was the result of environmental degradation caused by years of drought punctuated with at least two extreme flooding events, the effects of which were exacerbated by intensified agrarian activities and Jesuit decisions regarding the distribution of surplus foods. CONCLUDING REMARKS The events examined in this study illustrate some of the ways that environmental changes interact with human behavior and influence decisions made in response to changing social factors. These particular events highlight the environmental stresses imposed by long-term drought and sporadic flooding on indigenous Sonoran agricultural systems, the strategies indigenous farmers employed to buffer the effects of those stresses, and the changes to indigenous buffering strategies under pressure from the Jesuit mission regime and Spanish settlement. Evidence suggests that the traditional strategies employed by indigenous farmers prior to Spanish colonization were flexible enough to adequately buffer the effects of most climate variation; within the Spanish colonial framework, however, many of these strategies were discouraged or suppressed, replaced with a more 282 rigid structure. The mission system and Spanish colonial market economy, while able to buffer short-term, local variation, proved inadequate for long-term, broad-scale duress. As the crisis deepened, first the Pimas Bajos in 1737, and then the Yaquis and other lowland groups in 1740, responded by reverting to raiding, an old coping strategy disrupted under Spanish governance. Famine was widespread by the spring of 1740, and indigenous groups, as a subordinate class whose ethnic boundaries were becoming blurred, targeted the food stores of the higher, Spanish classes. Although their aggression was aimed more at Spanish food resources and property than Spanish lives, it was interpreted as revolt by both missionaries and Spaniards. And so it became, as the ineffective response by Spanish authorities—who were hampered by shortages of food and horses brought on through climatic extremes and the Indian raiding, as well as their own indecision—emboldened indigenous resistance. What had begun as raiding escalated into more generalized rebellion. 283 APPENDIX A KEY TEXTS, BY AUTHOR ANSALDO Y FERRARI, MATEO, S.J. Bom in Genova, Italy in 1689, Mateo Ansaldo y Ferrari arrived in New Spain in 1708, and went on to study theology in Mexico City, where he received his minor orders in 1714. Much of his Jesuit career was spent teaching theology in central Mexico. Despite ill health, Ansaldo was named Provincial in 1739. He served in that capacity until 1743, privy to all Jesuit records concerning events leading up to and including the Yaqui rebellion. In 1743, he assumed the post of rector of the Colegio Maximo de San Pedro y San Pablo in Mexico City. Ansaldo died December 18, 1749, in that city (Meredith 1975:224; Gutierrez Casillas 1977:144-163). Document #1 Date: November 1743 Type: Summary account Title: Extracto hecho de la raiz, causas y progresos hasta su conclusion de la rebelion de los indios Yaquis, mayos y circunvecinos en la gobemacion de Sinaloa el ano de setecientos cuarenta, siendo gobemador vitalicio D. Manuel de Huidobro Period Covered: Approximately 1734-1743 Original Language: Spanish Archival Location: Archivo General de Indias, Sevilla, Audiencia de Guadalajara, Legajos 89, ff. 226-286v (per Navarro Garcia 1966:157-158 n.32-33); Archivo Romano Societatis Jesu, Ramo Mexico, Legajo 18, ff 72-104 (per Meredith 1975:224); Archivo General de laNacion, Temporahdades, Legajos 258-13, 314- 28, 286-44, 282-16 (per Gutierrez Casillas 1977:163) Summary: Intended Audience: Viceroy Conde de Fuenclara, King Felipe V, Council of Indies Document Purpose: To register the Jesuit account of the Yaqui rebellion; provides a summary of the rebellion exculpating the Jesuits from any responsibility in the uprising, then offers legal arguments supporting the Jesuit case against the restoring Huidobro to office of governor. 284 Region Covered: Ostimuri, southern Sonora Source of Text Used: Document Form: Unsigned, handwritten Document Location: DRSW: JHIIII-B-8, ARSJ, Mexico, Legajo 18, ff. 72-104 Quote #1-1 Folio/Page No(s): f. 75 Transcription: "Avia sido costumbre muy observada por todos los tiempos anteriores de salir una Esquadra de soldados al menos cada ano, para recorrer los Pueblos, y castigar lo que se cometia en ellos, y expecialm.*^ para recoger a los Indios, q.® se ausentaban a los montes, y marismas, y los ociosos vagantes por ranchos, y otros parages, reducirlos a sus Pueblos,... que desde que entro Huidrobo [sic], falto la vissita de esta Esquadra annual. Translation: "There had been a much-observed custom throughout all the earlier times of sending out a squadron of soldiers at least once a year to visit the towns and punish [the wrongdoings] that were committed in them, and especially to gather the Indians who had left for the montes and the marshes as well as the idlers wandering around the ranches and other places, and reduce them to their towns. . . . But since Huidobro had entered [the picture] the annual visit had not been carried out." Quote #1-2 Folio/Page No(s): f 77v Transcription: "Desde entonces fue tambien quando ya el Gov.""^ d." Manuel de Huidrobo [sic], tenia noticia de estas reboluciones, y que como en sus principios pudo haverlas sofocado con solo las providencias de desarmar a los Yndios, recogerlos de los montes, y marismas por donde andaban vagando, y otros por los Reales, y Ranchos de Minas, sin sugecion, sin amo, sin Doctrina, ni obediencia;. . ." 285 Translation: "It was also from that time forward when Governor Huidobro had news of these disturbances, and that he could have snuffed them out at the beginning merely with the measures of disarming the Indians and rounding them up from the montes and the marshes where they were wandering—and others in the mining towns and camps—without subjection or masters, without instruction or obedience; ..." Assessment of Credibility: Nature of Secondhand information, based on reports from resident Observation: missionaries and those Spaniards sympathetic to the Jesuit cause Time Lapse: 9 years to current Role of Witness: Jesuit Provincial Accuracy or An extremely one-sided account, but undoubtedly contains Veracity: some truth. ANZA, JUAN BAUTISTA DE, CAPT. A Basque bom in Spain, Anza emigrated to New Spain as a young man. He served with great distinction as captain of the Fronteras presidio from 1725 until 1740, when he was ambushed and killed by Apaches. Involved in campaigns against the Apaches, Seris, and Pimas Bajos, Anza was familiar with most if not all of the province of Sonora. Document #1 Date: July 11, 1729 Type: Letter Title: Carta al Reverendo PadreVisitor Nicolas de Oro Period Covered: July, 1729 Original Language: Spanish Archival Location: Archivo Historico de Hacienda, Mexico City, Temporalidades, Legajo 17, Exp. 21 Summary: Intended Audience: Jesuit Father Visitor Nicolas de Oro Document Purpose: To convey a packet entrusted to him by Campos, and discuss his actions and thoughts regarding the upcoming campaign against the Seris. Region Covered: Northern Sonora 286 Source of Text Used: Document Form: Author's original, handwritten Document Location: DRSW: JHIIII-C-6, microfilm Quote #1-1 Folio/Page No(s): N/A Transcription: . . esto de bastim.'°® no alio fasilidad respectto a la pobreza de los P.P. pues aunque en Tubutama se coxe trigo es mucha la corttedad que tiene." Translation: ". . . the matter of supplies will not be easy due to the poverty of the fathers, for although wheat is harvested in Tubutama, the scarcity [the mission] has is great." Assessment of Credibility: Nature of Possibly firsthand observation, but may be relying on word of Observation: Campos Time Lapse: None Role of Witness: Captain of Fronteras presidio, responsible for security in northern portion of province Accuracy or As presidial captain, Anza rode widely and was familiar with Veracity: Pima Alta missions; was also a good friend of Campos AZPILCUETA, MARTIN DE, S.J. Martin de Azpilcueta was bom in Navarra, Spain in September, 1594. Entering the Society in April 1615, he traveled to New Spain as a novice ten months later, in 1616, destined for the mission of Sinaloa. There he went on to serve as the first missionary to the Batucos on the lower Rio Moctezuma, entering that region in 1630. Azpilcueta died in 1636 or 1637 (Zambrano 1963:794-816). Document #1 Date: December 3, 1630 Type: Letter Title: Carta al Padre Ignacio Zabala Period Covered: 1629-1630 Original Language: Spanish 287 Archival Location: Archivo General de la Nacion, Mexico, Misiones, Legajo 25, ff. 234-235. Summary: Intended Audience: Ignacio Zabala, father rector of the Sinaloa mission Document Purpose: To describe his entry and establishment of a mission among among the Batucos Region Covered: Lower Rio Moctezuma Source of Text Used: Document Form: Author's original, handwritten Document Location: DRSW: JHIII-D-8, AGN, Misiones, Legajo 25, ff 234-235 Quote #1-1 Folio/Page No(s): f 235 Transcription: Gente toda .. . que nunca tiene hambre que llueba o no, por q. q.*° siembran es de regadio como estos vatucos, que sus milpas parecen todas huertas con tantas sacas de agua, [y?] o[r?]as como de ortaliza, para regarlo con mas comotidad ., Translation: "All [these] people ... never have hunger whether it rains or not, because whatever they plant is under irrigation, as with these Batucos, whose milpas all appear as gardens with so many draws of water and [arranged?] in the same manner as garden stuff, in order to irrigate with greater ease . . Assessment of Credibility: Nature of Firsthand account Observation: Time Lapse: None Role of Witness: Resident missionary, recently arrived Accuracy or Although in a position to have witnessed what he described, Veracity: Azpilcueta had not been in place long enough to have experienced longer-term climate variation 288 CAMPOS, JOSEPH AGUSTIN DE, S.J. Bom in Logrono, Spain, Joseph Agustin de Campos entered the notiviate in Aragon in 1684, and came to New Spain in 1692. hi 1695, he took charge of mission San Ignacio de Caburica on the Rio Magdalena, where he served until 1736. For much of that period, Campos was one of a few missionaries in the Pimeria Alta and in addition to his own mission, he attended to the mission populations at San Xavier del Bac, Guevavi, and Soamca until those missions were staffed in 1732. A staunch defender of the Pimas, Campos spoke fluent O'odham (Sheridan 1999a:125 n.39). Document #1 Date: July 15, 1729 Type: Letter Title: Carta a Gov. Manuel Bemal de Huidobro Period Covered: Summer, 1729 Original Language: Spanish Archival Location: Archivo Historico de Hacienda, Mexico City, Temporalidades, Legajo 17, Exp. 34 Summary: Intended Audience: Governor Manuel Bemal de Huidobro Document Purpose: Tuming down request for Pimas auxiliaries to help in campaign against Seris Region Covered: Pimeria Alta (Rio Concepcion watershed, Santa Cmz River, upper Rio San Miguel) Source of Text Used: Document Form: Author's copy of original, handwritten Document Location: DRSW: JHIIII-C-6, microfilm Quote #1-1 Folio/Page No(s): N/A (2nd document in expediente) Transcription: "Descendiendo aora a la ida de los 200 Pimas, aunq. sin influxo mio, tengo por licito advertir que por Agosto no solo no han cogido maizes los que los siembran; sino que estm entonces en el maior cuidado para el logro de sus milpillas. Otros se sustentan lo mas de el Ano de lo que el campo y el Monte les ofrecen en sus rancherias. Como podran pues salir los 200 Pimas bastimentados de sus casas, y no menos que para un mes?" 289 Translation: "Moving on now to the Pimas going, although without [any] influence of mine, I think it just to advise that in August, not only have those who planted maize not yet harvested it, but they have at that time the greatest concern for the success of their crops. Others sustain themselves most of the year on what the countryside and wilderness offer them in their rancherias. How, then, can the 200 Pimas set out from their homes provisioned and for a month, no less?" Assessment of Credibility: Nature of Firsthand account Observation: Time Lapse: Current Role of Witness: Resident missionary among Pimas Altos Accuracy or More than 30 years residence among Pimas Altos and fluency Veracity: in their language gave Campos an intimate knowledge of Piman subsistence vulnerability. Document #2 Date: August 1, 1729 Type: Letter Title: Carta al Reverendo Padre Marcos de Somoza Period Covered: Summer, 1729 Original Language: Spanish Archival Location: Archivo Historico de Hacienda, Mexico City, Temporalidades, Legajo 17, Exp. 34 Summary: Intended Audience: Marcos de Somoza, S.J. Document Purpose: To explain to his superior that the Pimas cannot gather a month's food supply to take with them on a campaign against the Seris, and suggest that the campaign be delayed. Region Covered: Pimeria Alta (Rio Concepcion watershed, Santa Cruz River, upper Rio San Miguel) Source of Text Used: Document Form: Author's copy of original, handwritten Document Location: DRSW: JHIIII-C-6, microfilm 290 Quote #2-1 Folio/Page No(s): N/A (9th document in expediente) Transcription: .. me respondieron que aun no avian sembrado sus fiixoles, que tenian que Umpiar las tierras, sembrarlos, regarlos, y escardarlos; que sus maizes estaban mui despacio para sazonarse, y cogerlos, que ausentes ellos, y tantos yndios perderian la comida de todo el ano, y despues quien les daria a ellos y sus pobres familias la comida? que a la funcion podrian ir y asistir, levantadas sus pobres cosechas." Translation: ... they answered me that they still had not planted their beans, that they had to clear the fields, plant them, irrigate them, and weed them, that their maize was very slow in ripening for harvest, and that if they and so many Indians were absent, they would lose their food for the entire year, and then who would give them and their poor families food? They could go and accompany the expedition once their poor crops were raised." Assessment of Credibility: Nature of Firsthand account Observation: Time Lapse: Current Role of Witness: Resident missionary among Pimas Altos Accuracy or More than 30 years residence among Pimas Altos and fluency Veracity: in their language gave Campos an intimate knowledge of Piman agricultural practices. 291 CANAS, CRISTOBAL DE, S.J. Cristobal de Canas was bom in Santa Maria de Cadiz, Spain, on August 25, 1680. He entered the novitiate in 1697, and nine years later was ordained a priest in Oaxaca. Canas was stationed at the mission of Arizpe, on the middle Rio Sonora from 1720 until at least 1735, during which time he served as father visitor from 1727 to 1732. He died in Sonora on May 9, 1740 (Barnes et al. 1981:120; Gutierrez Casillas 1977:408^09). Document #1 Date: July, 1730 Type: Report Title: Estado de la Provincia de Sonora Period Covered: 1728-1730 Original Language: Spanish Archival Location: Summary: Intended Audience: Jesuit Provincial Document Purpose: Triennial report on the state of the Sonora mission Region Covered: Province of Sonora Source of Text Used: Document Form: Transcription, typed Document Location: DRSW files: xerox copy of Documentos para la Historia de Mexico, Ser. Ill, Vol. I, pp. 617-637 (original in Bancroft Library, Film 3321, Rl. 4) Quote #1-1 Folio/Page No(s): pg. 619 Transcription: "Primero, Nuestra Senora de Populo, tiene cincuenta y cuatro familias, solteros y solteras veintisiete, ninos y ninas de doctrina sesenta, se han hecho ciento cuarenta y seis bautismos, se han muerto entre adultos y parbulos cincuenta y ocho, se han casado veintiocho.... En en pueblo del Populo . . . acuden muchos indios altaneros, como son tepocas, seris, salineros, que viven de lo que roban y se les juntan otros de 292 una isla del mar del Sur que llaman la isla del Tiburon, quienes tienen al tiempo que esto se escribe, en gran constemacion a toda la provincia de Sonora, porque coligados estos con los tepocas, seris, salineros y algunos pimas, han ejecutado muchas y lastimosas muertes en los espanoles que entraban al busco de perlas; tienen amenazados a todos los pueblos e iglesias de este rio con un general incendio. . . Translation: "First, Nuestra Senora del Populo has 54 families, 27 unmarried men and women, [and] 60 boys and girls under doctrine; 146 baptisms have been performed, 108 adults and small children have died, and 28 have been married. ... At the pueblo of Populo ... are present many insolent Indians, as are [the] Tepocas, Seris, [and] Salineros, who live on what they steal, and they have been joined by others from an island in the South Sea [Gulf of California] that they call the island of Tiburon, who, at the time this is written, have the entire province of Sonora in great consternation because these, allied with the Tepocas, Seris, Salineros, and some Pimas, have committed many regrettable killings among the Spaniards who enter there to search for pearls; they have threatened all the pueblos and churches of this river [Rio San Miguel] with a general conflagration . . . ." Assessment of Credibility: Nature of Probably a combination of firsthand observations and reports Observation: from Perera, resident missionary at Populo. Time Lapse: Current Role of Witness: Father visitor to missions of Sonoran province Accuracy or As father visitor, Canas traveled widely among the missions Veracity: and would have been familiar with conditions based on his own observations, but likely would have relied on census figures provided by the various resident missionaries. The triennial report was an internal document for Jesuit purposes of administration 293 FUENCLARA, CONDE DE, VICEROY Pedro Cebrian y Agustm, the Conde de Fuenclara (1687-1752), hailed from an illustrious family in Zaragoza, Spain. He arrived in Mexico in October, 1742, to take up the mantle of viceroy of New Spain, a post in which he served from November 3, 1742 to July 8, 1746. His was the job of sifting through the evidence and deciding whether or not Huidobro should be returned to office. After relinquishing his own office in 1746, he returned to Zaragoza (Sarrablo Aguareles 1955, 1966). Document #1 Date: June 25, 1744 Type: Report with a briefing of testimonies and proceedings Title: Carta del Virrey de Nueva Espana, Sr. Conde de Fuenclara a S.M. [Su Majestad]; con el Memorial Adjustado Period Covered: 1735-1744 Original Language: Spanish Archival Location: Archivo General de Indias, Sevilla, Audiencia de Guadalajara, Legajos 88-89 (per Navarro Garcia 1966:13) Summary: Intended Audience: King Felipe V Document Purpose: A final report on the investigation into the Yaqui Revolt of 1740, with a summary compilation of testimonies and proceedings Region Covered: Sonora and Ostimuri Source of Text Used: Document Form: Transcription, handwritten Document Location: DRSW; JHIII-B-7, Pastell's collection 32:323-712 Quote #1-1 Folio/Page No(s): pg. 333 Transcription: "Y en la misma hacienda hiso consulta [el Alcalde Mayor Quiros] al Govemador remitiendole los autos expresando en ella que los padres Misioneros, son causa de que los Yndios no ovedescan a la justicia, pues los tienen tan sugetos que no hacen otra cosa que lo que quieren los padres, y estos quieren ser Senores despoticos, que ponen y quitan Govemadores a su antojo . . 294 Translation: "And in the same hacienda [Alcalde Mayor Quiroz] made a report to the governor, sending him the autos [and] expressing in it that the father missionaries are the reason why the Indians do not obey the justice, for they have them so dominated that they do nothing other than what the fathers wish, and these wish to be despotic lords, who install and depose governors at their whim. . . Assessment of Credibility: Nature of Based on documentation provided by Miguel de Quiroz to Observation: Huidobro, who probably supplied it to higher authorities at some later point in time. Quiroz made his report detailing the missionaries' failure to supply hidian labor to the mines in early December, 1735. Time Lapse: 8.5 years Role of Witness: Local magistrate of Ostimuri Accuracy or Fuenclara, as judge; Quiroz, as alcalde mayor, had all the facts Veracity: of the dispute, but as a vecino was decidedly biased toward the interests of Spanish settlers. Quote #1-2 Folio/Page No(s): pg. 350 Transcription: ". . . declararon que los motives que habian tenidos para las quejas contra los Padres, ante Quiros, havian sido las muchas extorciones que todos esperimentados del coyote Juan Frias, y sus aliados que a dho Juan Ignasio, le habian quitado su rancho con el pretesto de que havia hecho dano a los ganados de los Padres; y que assi mismo le habian imputado haberse hurtado una Have, y aunque todos sabian q" la habia hurtado, lo castigaron a el, que los hacian trabajar sin pagarles, rompiendo sus mantas en acarrear las semillas, hasta la playa, para Califomias, y hacian trabajar tambien a sus mugeres e hijos; y que para acarrear las cosechas de las Misiones, les quitaban a sus mugeres las mantas, dejandolas totalm'® desnudas;..." 295 Translation: . . they declared that the motives they had for the complaints against the fathers, [when appearing] before [alcalde mayor} Quiroz, had been the many extortions they had experienced from the coyote Juan Frias, and his allies, who had appropriated from Juan Ignacio [Muni] his rancho under the pretext that he had caused harm to the fathers' livestock [probably cattle], and that likewise, they had accused him of stealing a key, and even though everyone knew who had [really] stolen it, they pimished him. They made [people] work without paying them, wearing out their mantas in carrying the grain as far as the beach, for the Califomias, and also made the women and children work; in order to transport the harvests from the missions, they removed from the women their mantas, leaving them totally naked; . . Assessment of Credibility: Nature of Based on proceedings recorded by Gov. Manuel Bemal de Observation: Huidobro when he interviewed Muni and Bemabe on July 22, 1738 Time Lapse: 6 years Role of Witness: Both viceroy (Fuenclara) and governor (Huidobro) acted as judge Accuracy or Although Huidobro was not an impartial observer, the Veracity: proceedings were probably recorded by a scribe or notary, rather than the governor, who would have approved them for the record. Quote #1-3 Folio/Page No(s): pp. 353-354 Transcription: ". . . que nunca haber tenido el declarante el menor indicio de que se quisieren alsar los Yndios; pues aunque todos estaban displicientes, por lo mucho que los hacian trabajar, y los excesivos castigos con que los oprimian; lo mas que hazen es salirse de sus pueblos a los montes . . ." Translation: ". . . that the declarant [Juan Maria de Alcala] never had the slightest indication that the Indians wanted to rise up, although all were disgruntled due to the great amount they made them work and the excessive punishments with which they burdened them; the most they did was to leave their pueblos for the montes . . ." 296 Assessment of Credibility: Nature of Based on the proceedings recorded when the unnamed Indians' Observation: defender examined Juan Maria de Alcala in October, 1738 Time Lapse: 6 years Role of Witness: Figueroa as judge; Alcala was one of NapoH's coyote assistants Accuracy or Alcala had written down statements listing accusations against Veracity: seventeen Yaquis; dictated by Napoli, these statements were represented to Huidobro as originating from Yaqui Capt. Gurrola and the three governors of Potam, Rahum, and Huirivis, who presented them to Huidobro on July 1, 1738. The Spanish governor closely questioned the men and discovered the deception (Navarro Garcia 1966:38-39). It would have been in Alcala's best interests to be generally truthful while downplaying Yaqui dissatisfaction. Quote #1-4 Folio/Page No(s): pp. 354-356 Transcription: "Primeram*^ q® en consecuencia de no resultar culpa alguna contra ellos en las expresadas diligencias, se declarase assi absolviendolos de todos los cargos que los habian imputado. Segunda que en atencion a que de todo el proceso se manifestava, que el origen de todas las perturvaciones habian sido los Padres Micioneros, principalm'®, los Padres, Diego Gonzalez, e Ygnacio Maria Neapoh, pues por sus malos consejos terrors, y malos tratamientos, se habian conmovido aquellas naciones, y que podria ser se continuase la inquietud, hasta llegara a ser irremediable; por lo desconsolado que estaban los Yndios si no se daba providencia de sacar de las Miciones a dhos Padres pedian de mandose assi. Tercera que se depusiese al Capitan Gurrola del cargo de tal [oficio?] [ivan?]dolo perpetuamente. Que en conformidad de la ley de Yndias se echasen fuera de las miciones a Juan Frias, a Ygnasio Alipasaga y otros sirvientes de los padres, coyotes, que expresaron. Quinta que Don Manuel de Mena como causa de los gastos y extorciones que se habian causado a los Yndios en aquella pricion que egecuto, [su[b]levinado?] por los Padres con plata, y perlas, les pagarse a los Yndios todo lo que justificaran. Sexta que por haber seiscientas familias en Guirivis, Raun, Potan, y Bethlene, donde antiguamen'® havia havido dos Padres Micioneros; y no haber a la presente mas de uno, se le pusiese el otro. Septima, que no se les privase a los Yndios Hiaquis de sus armas conforme a su construmbre. 297 Octava; que se guardase el auto de vista provetido por el Gover"*^, no compeliendo a los Yndios a travajar sin paga; y que los Padres no le quitasen a los Yndios sus tierras, como lo hacen convirtiendola en sus propios usufructos. Nona, que se guardase dho auto, en quanto a la livertad de las elecciones. Decima, que se rogase y encargase el Padre Provincial de la Compania, contuviera a los Padres Micioneros en los perjuicios y extorciones que los inferian; pues aun los dias de fiesta hacian que les llevasen lena; y las Yndias cantaros de agua, a mas del transporte de las semillas para Califomias sin pagarles cosa alguna. Undecima, que respecto a que los Padres, no les dejaran vender sus semillas, si no era a determinados sugetos, se rogase, y encargase, la mismo que en las ntecedents al P® Provincial. Ducadecima, que los Padres no les impidiesen al lavorio de las minas. Decima tercia, que se restituyeran al Muni las tierras que le havia quitado al Padre Gonzalez. Decima Quarta y ultima que se les nombrase a Don Miguel de Quiros por su protector." Translation: "First, that in consequence of no guilt having redounded against them in the aforementioned measures, they be declared absolved of all the charges imputed against them. Second, seeing that as manifested by everything in these proceedings the father missionaries—principally Fathers Diego Gonzalez and Ignacio Maria Napoli—have been the origin of all the perturbations, for due to their evil counsels, terrors, and bad treatments, those nations have been stirred up and the disquietude might continue until becoming beyond remedy, because of how disconsolate the Indians would be if a judgment is not given to remove the said fathers from the missions, they request that it be so ordered. Third, that Capt. Gurrola be deposed from the command of such [an office, and banned] in perpetuity. [Fourth,] that in conformance with the law of the hidies, Juan Frias, Ignacio Alipazaga, and other servants of the fathers, the coyotes mentioned, be thrown out of the missions. Fifth, that Don Manuel de Mena, as cause of the expenses and extortions brought upon the Indians in that prison—^which he put into execution, [incited?] by the fathers with silver and pearls—^pay to the Indians all that they will justify [in court?] Sixth, that because there are six hundred families in Hufrivis, Rahum, Potam, and Belem, where previously there have been two missionary fathers, and at present there is no more than one, the other be installed. 298 Seventh, that the Yaqui hidians not be dispossessed of their arms, according to their custom. Eighth, that the auto de vista provided by the governor, of not compelUng hidians to work without payment, be observed, and that the fathers not take away hidian lands as they have been doing, converting them to their own profits. Ninth, that the aforementioned auto be observed with regard to freedom of elections. Tenth, that the father provincial of the Society be entreated and ordered to restrain the missionary fathers in the damages and extortions that they inflicted, for even on fiesta days they made [the Indians] carry firewood and the women jars of water, in addition to the transport of grain for California without paying them anything. Eleventh, that with respect to the fathers not allowing [the Indians] to sell their grains, except to certain individuals, that the reverend father provincial be entreated and ordered the same as in the previous [matters]. Twelfth, that the fathers not impede [the Indians] from laboring in the mines. Thirteenth, that the lands Father Gonzalez had taken away from Muni be restored. Fourteenth, and finally, that Don Miguel de Quiroz be named as [the Yaquis'] protector." Assessment of Credibility: Nature of Based on written complaints of Muni and Bemabe presented in Observation: 1739 to Fuenclara's predecessor, Viceroy Juan Antonio de Vizarron y Eguiarreta Time Lapse: 5 years Role of Witness: Viceroy; reviewed all testimony and proceedings of the case, acting more or less as a judge Accuracy or Fuenclara was working from written testimonies and Veracity: proceedings, but was not in office during the events described. His was a relatively objective role, but he undoubtedly was feeling political pressure from the Jesuits as well as other colonial officials. It is unlikely that he would have misrepresented the Yaquis' complaints, however. Quote #1-5 Folio/Page No(s): pg. 357 Transcription: "... que por ser muchos los Yndios Hiaquis y cortas sus tierras ellos mismos voluntariam'^ ivan en quadrillas a las Minas de donde se conocia la calumnia de Quiroz." 299 Translation: "because the Yaqui hidians were many and their lands few, they themselves voluntarily went in teams to the mines, where they became familiar with the slander of Quiroz." Assessment of Credibility: Nature of Based on written statement of former Lt. Gov. Mena, presented Observation: to Viceroy Vizarron in early 1740 Time Lapse: 4 years Role of Witness: Figueroa as judge; Mena had taken the side of the Jesuits in an earlier dispute between them and the Yaqui leaders. Muni and Bemabe Accuracy or Mena had been removed from office as a result of his handling Veracity: of the arrest of Muni and Bemabe; his only path toward credibility lay with supporting the Jesuits Quote #1-6 Folio/Page No(s): pg. 391 Transcription: "Y preguntado por la causa del alsamiento dijo que con la oca- cion de haber crecido mucho el Ryo, y llevadose los ganados y semillas del Pueblo de Vacun, se havia oirrido los Yndios al cerro, desde donde comsaron a hacer various rovos;. . Translation: "Asked about the cause of the uprising, he [Juan Frias] said that with the occasion of the river having risen a great deal, carrying away the livestock and grain of the pueblo of Bacum, the hidians had fled to the cerro , from where they began to carry out various thefts;.. Assessment of Credibility: Nature of Based on recorded statement of Juan Frias to Huidobro on Observation: September 3, 1740, which was probably secondhand information Time Lapse: 4 years Role of Witness: Fuenclara as judge; Frias was one of NapoH's coyote assistants Accuracy or Frias had just fled from Huirivis, where he had served under Veracity: Napoli. He probably was not witness to events at Bacum, but would certainly have heard about them—^possibly from Bacum residents who may have come to Huirivis seeking food. 300 MANJE, JUAN MATEO, CAPT. Born in 1670 in the province of Aragon, Spain, Juan Mateo Manje came to New Spain in 1692 at the request of his uncle, Gen. Domingo Jironza Petris de Cruzate, who had distinguished himself as twice-govemor of New Mexico. When his uncle was appointed alcalde mayor of Sonora and Captain Governor of the newly established compama volante ("flying company"), Manje traveled to the province with him as ensign of the company. He was soon chosen to accompany the Jesuit Father Kino on his expeditions of discovery throughout the Pimeria Alta and the Papagueria, appointed lieutenant alcalde mayor and military captain for that purpose (Burrus 1971:47^8; Manje 1954:5-7). Manje made a total of nine expeditions with Kino between 1694 and 1701, which he recorded in travel diaries. His writings reflect an educated man with broad interests that included the history of the region, science, astronomy, and mathematics. He tried to furnish an accurate account of the region's native inhabitants, as well as the potential for agriculture, ranching, and mineral wealth (Burrus 1971:52-55; Manje 1721, 1954). hi October, 1701, Manje was appointed alcalde mayor of Sonora and held that office for two years, after which he settled down in Banamichi on the Rio Sonora. By 1723, he was residing a little farther north on the river, in Arizpe, and later was living in the nearby mining real of Motepore, which he had founded while serving as alcalde mayor. He maintained an active voice in regional affairs over the years, consistently supporting the Jesuits in their complaints against the governance of Tunon y Quiros, and making recommendations to Huidobro for a new presidio at Terrenate. The exact date of his death is not established, but appears to have been some time after 1735 (Burrus 1971 ;51; Polzer and Sheridan 1997:281 n.8, 283 n.l2, 304). Document #1 Date: 1721 Type: Boole/memoir Title: Libro Segundo Luz de Tierra hicognita en la America Septentrional de todos los viajes de tierras, rios y naciones que descubrieron varios padres de la Comp[ani]a de Jesus, con el Cap[ita]n Juan Matheo Mange, autor de la presente obra . . . Period Covered: 1694-1721 Original Language: Spanish Archival Location: Archivo General de la Nacion, Historia, Legajo 393, ff. 47-95v Summary: Intended Audience: Book-buying public 301 Document Purpose: To describe the people and terrain of the Pimeria Alta, mostly through travel diaries from expeditions with Father Eusebio Francisco Kino. Region Covered: Pimeria Alta (northern Sonora and southern Arizona) Source of Text Used: Document Form: Author's original, handwritten Document Location: DRSW: JHIII-D-7, AGN Historia, Legajo 393, ff 47-95v. Quote #1-1 Folio/Page No(s): f48v Transcription: "Es valle de fertiles tierras en q.® siembran y cogen mucho maiz, pero de temporal y sin riego ni mas agua q.® p.® vever; y a sus contomos cerros, lomas, llanos, y dehesas p.® cria de caballadas y ganados en la cienaga q.® ay ynmediata distante una legua hacia el Poniente, apastadas, y con salitrales." Translation: [Re: valley of Tupo] "It is a valley of fertile lands in which they plant and harvest much com—but seasonally and without irrigation, nor is there more water for drinking, hi its vicinity [are] hills, slopes, plains, and grazing lands for raising horses and cattle, [and] in the nearby cienaga a league to the west, pasture and saltpeter beds." Assessment of Credibility: Nature of Firsthand account Observation: Time Lapse: Approximately 25-27 years (journey took place February 7- 23, 1694) Role of Witness: Lt. alcalde mayor of Sonora, capitan de Guerra, military escort for Jesuit fathers Kino and Marcos Antonio Kappus on their trip to visit the Soba Pimas and the Mar de California [Gulf of California]. Accuracy or The expedition was Manje's first into the region of the Rio Veracity: Magdalena-Rio Concepcion drainage and he was careful to note areas with agricultural lands, water, and/or good pasture, as well as indigenous populations and places without sufficient water to practice agriculture. Many of his descriptions are relatively detailed, and based on notes or a travel diary recorded at the time. 302 Quote #1-2 Folio/Page No(s): £52 Transcription: "En 18, oido Misa y despedidos del Padre, caminando al sudueste por el valle y rio del Tubutama Abajo de frondosa Alameda lo hermosea y Adoma y aunque de corto raudal, mas con muchas feraces, y pingues tierras de Agricultura y las muchas milpas de mais sembradas, andadas 3 leguas llegamos a las Rancherias de S.® Teresa, y Ati, divididas a trechos , y parcialidades de familias emparentadas en buenas, y fertiles tierras y milpas de Maiz; y congregados los Yndios Gentiles en una para rezivimos con cruzes y demostraciones de jubilos contamos 90 personas y haviendolos Ynformado de Dios y su santa ley, dadoles 2 baras de Justicia p'' Govemarse rendido vasallaje a su Mag."^ y Bapticado a 3 Parvulos, nos despedimos y prosiguiendo el rumbo el rio avajo andadas ctras 5 leguas, llegamos a la rancheria de S." Antt. de Uquitoa; cuios naturales Gentiles nos rezivieron con jubilo de los contamos cien Almas, y hablandoles de Dios y su salvacion eternal nos noticiaron que estavan 4 Yndios gentiles quienes pedian fuesemos con ellos a ver y consolar unas rancherias q^ estavan distantes y asta una sierra del norueste en las quales avia algunos enfermos. p'^ lo q® proseguimos 2 leguas adelante al remate del Rio q® aqui se sume a un paraje aue llamamos el Altar donde dormimos p." p"^ la manana yr a ver los." Translation: [Re: valley of the Rio Altar] "On [March] 18, we heard Mass and bid farewell to the father [Daniel Januske], traveling to the southwest along the valley and river of Tubutama— downstream, adorned and beautified by leafy cottonwoods and, although of slight current, [even] more with many fruitful and rich agricultural lands and the many milpas of sown maize. Having walked three leagues, we arrived at the rancherias of Santa Teresa and Atil, divided by intervals and groupings of families related by marriage, on good and fertile lands, and milpas of maize. The hidians were congregated in one, to receive us with crosses and demonstrations of jubilation; we counted 90 persons. Having informed them of God and his holy law, given them two varas of justice for governing themselves—after rendering vassalage to His Majesty—and baptized three infants, we said farewell. We continued our way downstream [and], walking another five leagues, arrived at the 303 rancheria of San Antonio de Oquitoa, whose heathen natives received us with jubilation. We counted 100 souls. After we talked with them of God and his eternal salvation, they informed us that there were four heathen hidians who requested that we go with them to see and console some distant rancherias, toward a mountain to the northwest, in which there were some sick people. For this reason we continued two leagues forward to the end of the river which sinks down here, at a place we called Altar, where we slept, in order to go see them in the morning." Assessment of Credibility: Nature of Firsthand account Observation: Time Lapse: Possibly as much as 25-27 years (journey took place March 16-April 4, 1694) Role of Witness: Lt. alcalde mayor of Sonora, capitan de Guerra, military escort for Kino on his journey to the gulf coast Accuracy or The expedition was Manje's first into the region of the Rio Veracity: Altar drainage and he was careful to note areas with agricultural lands, water, and/or good pasture, as well as indigenous populations and places without sufficient water to practice agriculture. Based on notes or a travel diary recorded at the time, many of his descriptions are relatively detailed. Quote #1-3 Folio/Page No(s); f 67v Transcription: "En 16 Proseguimos a norueste por llanos Apastados, carrizales y salitrales, y Andadas 4 leguas llegamos a la rancheria de q.® Yntitulamos de S" Marzelo del Sonoyta cuyos Yndios salieron trecho del camino a rezivimos con vayle y fiesta cruzes y Arcos triumfales y conte 80 personas, y solo nos dieron frixol, q® con tener un racanable Arroyo de Agua permanente tierra pingues con Acequias p^ su riego son poco lavorios y no les llega el maiz q^ cogen a todo el Ano." 304 Translation: [Re: Sonoita] "On [February] 16, we continued to the northwest along plains of grass and beds of reed-grass and saltpeter. Having walked four leagues, we arrived at the rancheria that we named San Marcelo del Sonoita, whose Indians came out [along a] stretch of the trail to receive us with dancing and fiesta, crosses and triumphal arches; I counted 80 persons. They gave us only beans, for despite having a reasonable arroyo of permanent water, rich land, and acequias for its irrigation, they farm but little, and the com that they harvest does not last them the entire year." Assessment of Credibility: Nature of Firsthand account Observation: Time Lapse: As much as 20-22 years (journey took place February 7- March 14, 1699) Role of Witness: Lt. alcalde mayor of Sonora, capitan de Guerra, military escort for Kino and Adamo Gilg on their journey in search of the mouth of the Rio Grande de Jila [Gila River], which Kino believed emptied into the Gulf of California. Accuracy or The expedition was Manje's first into the Papagueria region Veracity: and the lower Gila River (to its confluence with the Salt River) and he was careful to note agricultural lands, water, crops and other food resources, and population counts. Although written much later, his descriptions are based on notes recorded during his travels. Document #2 Date: February-March, 1699 Type: Travel diary Title: Relacion ytineraria del nuevo descubrimiento que hizimos los reverendos Padres Eusevio Francisco Kino y Adamo Gilg, y el capitan Juan Matheo Manje, llevando el cargo de theniente de alcalde mayor y capitan a guerra, a descubrir las nuevas naciones cocopas, yumas y pimas, desde 7 de febrero hasta 14 de marzo deste presente ano de 1699, caminando, de ida y buelta, 360 leguas, como consta en la diaria relacion Period Covered: February 7-March 14, 1699 Original Language: Spanish Archival Location: Biblioteca Nacional, Madrid, Manuscript 3165, ff. 182-195v 305 Summary: Intended Audience: For the official record Document Purpose: Details Manje's 1699 (February 7-March 14) exedition with Fathers Eusebio Kino and Adamo Gilg in search of the mouth of the Rio Grande de Jila [Gila River], which Kino believed emptied into the Gulf of California. Region Covered: Upper Rio Magdalena and Rio Altar, Papagueria (across the Rio Sonoyta), lower to middle Gila River, Santa Cruz River Source of Text Used: Document Form: Transcription, typed Document Location: Burrus 1971:405^33 Quote #2-1 Folio/Page No(s): Pg. 411 Transcription: . .pues, corriendo, por aqui, su lindo arroyo, de agua permanente, de muchos tulares y carrisales, de cuia caja tienen sacadas algunas azequias, para su riego, y aver buenas tierras, se contentan en sembrar poco mais, y lo pasan con alguna nesisidad." Translation: [Re: Rio Sonoyta] .. for [even though] their fine arroyo runs through here with permanent water and many stands of tules and reed grass, from which streambed they have drawn some acequias for irrigation, and there are good lands, they content themselves with planting little maize, and live with some necessity." Assessment of Credibility: Nature of Firsthand account Observation: Time Lapse: None; current Role of Witness: Lt. alcalde mayor of Sonora, capitan de guerra, armed escort for Jesuit fathers Eusebio Francisco Kino and Adamo Gilg Accuracy or The Papagueria and the lower Gila River (as far as its Veracity: confluence with the Salt River) were new territory for Manje, and the level of detail provided for them is reasonably good. Once the travelers left Tucubavia, Manje was more likely to record agricultural lands and practices, crops, other food resources, and population counts. 306 MENDEZ, PEDRO, S.J. Bom around 1555, in Braganza, Portugal, Pedro Mendez entered the novitiate in 1575, sailed to New Spain some time between 1586 and 1588, and was ordained as a priest in 1593, in Puebla. He was one of the earUest missionaries of the Sinaloa mission, arriving in 1594; he worked his way northward over the years, stationed at Ocoroni on the Rio Ocoroni (-1595), Tehueco on the Rio Fuerte (1606), on the Rio Mayo (1614), and Potam on the Rio Yaqui (1620). He arrived among the Sisibotari Opatas in May, 1628, when he was 70-some years of age. Mendez died in Mexico City fifteen years later, on July 22, 1643 (Zambrano 1969:365-455). Document #1 Date: 1628 Type: Letter Title: Carta al padre rector del Colegio de Sinaloa Period Covered: May, 1628 Original Language: Spanish Archival Location: Archivo General de laNacion, Mexico, Historia, Legajo 15, ff. 345-348V Summary: Intended Audience: Juan de Varela, father rector of Sinaloa Document Purpose: To describe his arrival and establishment of a mission among the Sisibotaris (Opatas) Region Covered: Rio Sahuaripa, a tributary of the Rio Bavispe Source of Text Used: Document Form: Transcription, handwritten Document Location: DRSW: JHIII-D-1, Historia, Legajo 15, ff. 345-348v Quote #1-1 Folio/Page No(s): f 346v Transcription: "El citio de tres Pueblos que tengo ya juntos y congregados con sus crazes e Yglecias es en dos valles mui fertiles de maiz, y otras legumbres, los Rios de lindas aguas con que riegan todas sus sementeras con notable artificio, y assi nunca parece tienen hambre, aunque son templadissimos en el comer. No comen mas de un poco de arina de maiz desecha en agua, y quizas por esta templanza tienen tanta salud. Algunos han pensado que esta gente son serranos, por estar cercados de 307 cerros mui apacibles, pero no lo son, sino gente de llano hechos a sus poblaziones y sementeras, mui quietos y sin resavios. . . Translation: "The site of three pueblos which I now have together and congregated with their crosses and churches is in two valleys, very fertile with maize and other vegetables, the rivers of fine waters with which they irrigate all their fields with notable skill; and so it appears that they are never hungry, although they are extremely moderate in their eating. They eat no more than a little maize flour dissolved in water, and perhaps because of this moderation they have such [good] health. Some have believed that these people are mountain-dwellers, being surrounded by very pleasant hills, but they are not; rather, [they are] people [whose] settlements and fields are made on level [ground], very peaceable and without bad habits. . . ." Quote #1-2 Folio/Page No(s): f. 347v Transcription: "En lo que mas he hechado de ver la bondad, y buena dispossission de esta gente es, en que Rancherias que tenian en algunos cerros de a veinte y de a treinta, y otras de muy casas fuertes, abastecidas de comidas y haciendillas sin violencia ni brazo de capitan, y soldados, las han hechado por el suelo y bajadose con sus familias y haciendas a los Pueblos, y junto a la iglesias, con las maderas de arriva han hecho sus casas de terrado sin temores ni rezelos... . Son las casas de barro y de terrado, al modo de las de adobe, aunque mejores porque hacen el barro sin mezcla de paja, y pisanlo y aprietanlo de manera, que queda como piedra, y luego lo cubren con sus maderas, y quedan fuertes y vistosas." Translation: "Where I have most noted the goodwill and good disposition of these people is, that having in some hills rancherias of up to twenty, or thirty (and others besides) strong houses provisioned with food and household goods, without violence or force from captain and soldiers, they have torn them down and descended with their families and households to the pueblos, and next to the churches, with the timbers from above, they have built their terrace-roofed houses with no fears or reservations. . . . The houses are of mud and terrace-roofed, like the ones of adobe, although better because they make the mud without mixing it 308 with straw, and they stamp on it and compact it in such a way that it stays like rock, and then they cover it with their timbers, and [the houses] stand strong and fine." Assessment of Credibility: Nature of Firsthand account Observation: Time Lapse: Current Role of Witness: Resident missionary, newly arrived Accuracy or hi a position to have witnessed what he described; details of Veracity: little consequence to author MESIA DE LA CERDA Y VARGAS, JOSEPH Licenciado Don Joseph Mesia de la Cerda y Vargas served as auditor in the proceedings in Mexico City regarding Huidobro's reinstatement. Document #1 Date: March 18, 1744 Type: Opinion statement Title: Rpta. del Liz.'^° D." Joseph Mezia de la Cerda y Barg.^ Period Covered: Fall, 1739 Original Language: Spanish Archival Location: Archivo General de hidias, Sevilla, Audiencia de Guadalajara, Legajos 89, ff. 287-326v (per Navarro Garcia 1966:157-158 n.32-34) Summary: Intended Audience: Viceroy Conde de Fuenclara, King Felipe V, Council of Indies Document Purpose: To assess the charges against Huidobro Region Covered: Ostimirri, southern Sonora 309 Source of Text Used: Document Form: Transcription, handwritten Document Location: DRSW: JHIII-B-7, Pastell's collection 33:215-355 Quote #1-1 Folio/Page No(s): pg. 238 Transcription: .. es aquella carta ... en que por el mismo mes de Septiembre escrive Afedo al Govemador, que el Padre Napoli Ympide a los pobres el rescate de Semillas, para su manutenfion, que todos se quejan de su Reberensia, por que les toma los Generos a menos presio y les da el Mayz a Seis pesos, dandole tambien razon de los muchos Yndios que dho Padre tiene ocupados en la pesca de los Camarones, y en la Guarda de sus Ganados." Translation: . . is that letter ... in which during the same month of September [1739], Acedo writes to the governor that Father Napoli impedes the poor from bartering for grain for their subsistence, and that all complain of his reverence because he takes goods at lesser prices and gives them maize for six pesos, and also advising [the governor] of the many Indians the said father has occupied in fishing for shrimp and in caring for his livestock." Assessment of Credibility: Nature of Based on letter written by Alcalde Mayor Jose de Acedo y Bea Observation: to Huidobro, submitted as evidence in case against Huidobro Time Lapse: 4.5 years Role of Witness: Mesia as auditor; Acedo was alcalde mayor of Ostimuri Accuracy or Mesia is simply summarizing what was said by Acedo, who, as Veracity: alcalde mayor, would have been dealing with the Jesuits over the issue of Indian labor. As a vecino, Acedo can be assumed to have been biased toward the welfare of Spanish settlers. 310 NENTVIG, JUAN, S.J. Juan Nentvig, bom in Schlessen, Germany (now Klodzko, Poland) on March 28, 1713, entered the Society in August, 1734, and arrived as a missionary in New Spain in August, 1750. He was first assigned to the mission of Tubutama on the Rio Altar, then soon reassigned to Saric, upstream, where he served until displaced by the Pima revolt of 1751-1752. Having survived the revolt, he officiated at Santa Maria Suamca, at the headwaters of the Santa Cruz River, until March 18, 1753, at which time he was assigned to Tecoripa. On March 15, 1757, Nentvig was transferred to Guasabas on the Rio Bavispe. While there, he was appointed rector in 1763, and assisted the ailing regional visitor. Father Manuel Aguirre, until the Jesuits were expelled in 1767. He died en route to Guadalajara, on September 11, 1768, at Ixtlan, in Nayarit (Pradeau and Rasmussen 1980:xix-xxi). Document #1 Date: 1764 Type: Relation Title: Descripcion geografica, natural, y curiosa de la Provincia de Sonora. Period Covered: 1750-1764 Original Language: Spanish Archival Location: Archivo General de la Nacion, Historia, Legajo 393, ff. 210- 306. Summary: Intended Audience: Viceroy Joaquin de Monserrat, Marques de Cruillas; and Father Provincial Francisco Ceballos Document Purpose: To provide a description of the province, in response to viceroy's request Region Covered: Province of Sonora Source of Text Used for Study: Document Form: Bureaucratic copy, handwritten Document Location: DRSW: JHIII-D-7, Archivo General de la Nacion, Historia, Legajo 393, ff. 210-306 311 Quote #1-1 Folio/Page No(s): f. 215 v Transcription: "• • • y despues de regar las tierras de el [pueblo] de Movas, dexa [el rio Chico] a su izquierda el R.' [Real] de su nombre a 4 leg.® [leguas] de su union con el grande [el rio Yaqui]." Translation: .. and after watering the lands of the [pueblo] of Movas, [the Rio Chico] leaves the mining town of its name on the left, four leagues from its union with the Grande [the Rio Yaqui]." Quote #1-2 Folio/Page No(s): f 215 v Transcription: "A 10 leguas de este rumbo Sudoeste baiia [el Rio Yaqui] el pueblo de Cumuripa sobre de derecha, y recibe de la ppria [propria] banda un corto arroyo, que nace, como una legua al norte de Tecoripa, y riega sus tierras, como a 10 leguas adelante las de el Zuaqui, y a otras tantas unos cortos ancones de el de Cumuripa antes de su junta." Translation: "At ten leagues in this southwest direction, [the Rio Yaqui] bathes the pueblo of Cumuripa on its right, and receives from the same bank a small arroyo that rises about a league north of Tecoripa and waters its lands, as well as those of Suaqui 10 leagues farther and other similar [lands], some narrow inlets of Cumuripa, before its confluence [with the Yaqui]." Quote #1-3 Folio/Page No(s): £216 Transcription: "• • • Y es tan pobre su caudal, que regando una mediana huerta, y 10 6 12 hanegas de trigo, apenas queda en su lecho la necessaria para el gasto del pueblo, mayormente en anos escasos. En Nacori, dos leguas Melante, es tanta su pobreza, que aun menos, que en Matape riega, de suerte que hasta para beber es necessario abrir pozos, pues la mayor parte ba sumido debajo de tierra. En Mazatan corre un trecho, y otro en el puesto de Cobaichi, desde dondo no parece mas, que su cama, hasta S[a]n Joseph de los Pimas, donde riega unas tres 6 quatro fanegas de trigo, y a corta distancia de el se pierde del todo." 312 Translation: [Re: Rio Matape] . . its volume is so poor that, upon watering a mid-sized orchard and 10 or 12 fanegas of wheat, there scarcely remains in its streambed the [water] necessary for the pueblo's consumption, particularly during dry years. At Nacori, two leagues farther, its poverty is such that it waters even less than in Matape; just in order to drink, it is necessary to sink wells, for the larger portion [of water] flows down below the ground. At Mazatan, a stretch flows [above ground], and another at the spot of Cobaichi, after which nothing more than the streambed appears as far as San Jose de los Pimas, where [the river] waters some 3 or 4 fanegas of wheat; a short distance from there, [the water] vanishes entirely." Quote #1-4 Folio/Page No(s): ff. 216v-217 Transcription: "Desde aqui tuerze al Ueste por unas 12 leguas, y deja sobre la izquierda el pueblo de Ures, y a 6 leg.® mas abajo el despoblado R.' del Gavilan, desde el qual rompe por entre una sierra pequena, y sale a una legua al de S." Joseph de Gracia; A tres, o quatro leguas adelante al pueblo desierto de S." Fran.*^", y a otras 13 riega, y junto con el de Opodepe las tierras, y vina del Pitic; y en anos no mui abundantes de aguas en ello se acaba su corto caudal, pero siendo las aguas copiosas, passa mas adelante de los 7 cerritos, y siempre se pierde del todo en los arenales del Tenuage, sin llegar una gota al mar. "Otro arroyuelo nace en Zaracatzi. . . ; desde Cucurpe passa por un cajon de 5 a 6 leg.® rumbo Sudueste, y dejando a la izquierda el pueblo de Toape, dondo tira otra vez hacia el Sur, y a 6 leguas mas abajo, queda el R.' de S." Joseph a su derecha, como a una legua de aqui, sobre la izquierda el pueblo de Opodepe; a otras 7 esta el de Nacameri, desde el qual va dicho arroyo encaxonado, como otras 7 leguas, hasta el puesto de Antunes, a dos leguas mas abajo esta el Populo, pueblo que era de los Seris, y a una Legua adelante esta el R.' Presidio, y Villa de S." Miguel a la izquierda de dho arroyo, que riega desde el Populo a S." Miguel, y de aqui hasta los Angeles, otro pueblo, que era de los Seris, y Cerro Pelon unas quarto leguas de tierras de pan llevar, y como a 12 leg.® la Hacienda del Pitic se junta con el de Ures, cuyo fin se dixo arriba." 313 Translation: "From here, [the Rio Sonora] turns to the west for some 12 leagues and leaves on the left the pueblo of Ures and, after 6 leagues farther downstream, the abandoned mining camp of Gavilan, after which it penetrates through a small range and flows on for one league to the mining camp of San Jose de Gracia. After 3 or 4 leagues more it flows to the deserted pueblo of San Francisco and, at another 13 [leagues], now combined with the river of Opodepe [Rio San Miguel], it waters the lands and vineyards of Pitic; and in years without much rain it ends its meager flow there, but when the rains are plentiful it flows on past Siete Cerritos and always becomes lost entirely in the sands of Tenuage, without a drop reaching the sea. [Re: Rio San Miguel] "Another small arroyo rises in Saracachi . . . ; from Cucurpe it flows through a box canyon of five to six leagues toward the southwest, leaving on the left the pueblo of Toape, where it turns once again toward the south and six leagues farther down, the mining town of San Jose remains on the left, and about one league from here, on the left, the pueblo of Opodepe. At another seven [leagues] is the [pueblo] of Nacameri, from which the said arroyo narrows for about another seven leagues, as far as the pass of Antunes. Two leagues farther down is Populo, which was a Seri pueblo, and another league further is the royal presidio and villa of San Miguel to the left of the said arroyo, which waters from Populo to San Miguel. From here until Los Angeles, another former Seri pueblo, and Cerro Pelon [are] some four leagues of tierras de pan llevar [arable lands that require irrigation (Radding 1997)], and about twelve leagues [from] the hacienda of Pitic [the Rio San Miguel] is joined with that of Ures, whose final stretch is described above." Quote #1-5 Folio/Page No(s): f 217v Transcription: "El 4.*^ tiene su origen en un ojo de agua cerca de Cocospera y desde el corre al Sur quasi tres leguas, donde tuerze por un cajon de cerca de dos leguas hacia el Sudoueste, aviendose antes incorporado un corto arroyuelo, que baxa a dho caxon del despoblado pueblo de Remedies. 2 leguas adelante de el cajon esta el pueblo de Himuri, dondo se augmentan algo sus aguas, don las que le tributa otro bien corto arroyo, q.® nace en 314 Sucurisutac, rancho despoblado a unas 5 leg.® de Himuri al norte. De aqui a 4 leg.® dejando a S." Ignacio sobre mano izquierda, como a 2 leg.® del dho a S.'^ M.® Magdal.® y tres mas abajo el desierto R.' de S." Lorenzo, y a otras 5 el de Ana, todo a dha mano, se ba a perder a poco mas abajo en los llanos, que llaman de S.'^' Rosa; aunque suele reventar unas 40 leguas mas abajo, cerca del Puertecito del Pitic, unas 5 leg.® del Presidio del Altar." Translation: [Re: Rio Magdalena] "The fourth has its origin in a spring of water near Cocospera, and from there it flows to the south almost three leagues, where it turns through a narrow valley of about two leagues toward the southwest, having previously incorporated a short, small arroyo that descends to the said valley from the depopulated pueblo of Remedios. Two leagues onward from the valley is the pueblo of Himuri [Imuris], where [the river's] waters are somewhat augmented with those contributed by another good, short arroyo that rises in Sucurisutac, a depopulated rancho some five leagues north of Himuri. From here [the river flows] 4 leagues, leaving San Ignacio on the left hand [side], as it does Santa Maria Magdalena two leagues on, and the deserted mining settlement of San Lorenzo three more [leagues] downstream, and that of Santa Ana another five leagues [further], all on the aforementioned [side of the river]. A little further downstream it disappears in the plains, which are called Santa Rosa, although it is apt to burst forth some forty leagues further downstream, near the small pass of Pitic [Pitiquito], some five leagues from the presidio of Altar." Quote #1-6 Folio/Page No(s): ff. 211\-218 Transcription: "A donde ba a tener tambien el rio de Tubutama, que nace de un ojo de agua en Arizona, passa por el R.' del Aguacaliente, cuyo ojo le acrecienta, despues por Aquimuri, y unas 3 leg.® mas abajo se junta con el otro arroyo, nacido en Bussani de unas cienegas, de donde sale por un caxon de 2 leg.® al Saric, y una legua mas abajo lo recibe el de Aquimuri, aunque la mayor parte de el aiio, desde dha junta hasta 6 leg.® adelante ba cortado, hasta como legua y media de Tubutama, juntandosele un corto ojo de agua en las cercanias de dho Pueblo, que queda a su izquierda, riega muy buenas tierras, como en los que se 315 siguen, y son a 2 leg.'^ el de S.'^ Theresa, el de el Ati, el de Oquitoa a su derecha, y 2 leguas adelante el Pres.° de el Altar de el pprio lado, en el arriba citado Puerto del Pitic recibe al de Ana, y dexa a 2 leguas mas abajo al dho pueblo del Pitic, tambien a mano derecha, a otras dos leg.^ al de Caborca sobre la izquierda, y ba a consumir sus pobres aguas 10 leguas adelante, cerca de Bisani, 22 leguas de el mar." Translation: "To [this pass] also flows the Rio de Tubutama [Rio Altar], which rises from a spring of water in Arizona, passes by the mining settlement of Agua Caliente—^whose spring increases [the flow]—then by Aquimuri, and some three leagues further downstream is joined with another arroyo that rises in Busani from some cienagas, from which it flows out through a narrow valley two leagues long to Saric. One league further downstream, [the river] receives the [arroyo] of Aquimuri, although most of the year [the flow] is interrupted for six leagues, from the said confluence to about one and a half leagues from Tubutama. Becoming joined with a small spring of water in the vicinity of the said pueblo, which remains on its left, [the river] waters very good lands, as it does at those [pueblos] that follow. Two leagues [apart], these are Santa Teresa, Atil, [and] Oquitoa, [all] on the right, and two leagues further, the presidio of Altar on the same side. At the pass of Pitic, cited above, [the river] receives [the Rio] de Santa Ana [Rio Magdalena]. Two leagues further downstream, it leaves the said pueblo of Pitic, also on the right hand side, [and] another two leagues that of Caborca on the left. It goes on to spend its poor waters ten leagues further, near Bisani, twenty- two leagues from the sea." Quote #1-7 Folio/Page No(s): f 233v Transcription: "Siguese la Tuna, in Opata Nabu, y es una especie de las que in Espana llaman: higos de Indias. Es silvestre; bien que tambien seda, y mejor cultivada. Los indios hacen de ella dos cosechas: la 1 por marzo 6 Abril, quando la planta (dha Nopal, en Opata Naco) hecha sus renuevos, 6 nopalitos; los que recojen tiemos, y cozidos los secan, y secos los guardan, para con su agrete dar sainete a su pinole. La 2.^ cosecha hacen de la misma fmta, ya madura, que es de differentes colores y tamanos; y por ser 316 conocida ya en Espana, dejo su descripcion; solo si digo, que no es tan saludable, como la pitahaya; pues causan calenturas, etc." Translation: "Next is the tuna—in Opata, nabu—a type of the [fruits] that they call hidian figs in Spain. It is wild, although also prickly, and better cultivated. The Indians make two harvests from it: the first in March or April, when the plant (called nopal—in opata, nacd) puts out its new shoots, or nopalitos, which they collect while still tender, dry when cooked, and store when dried, to add their tart flavor to their pinole. The second harvest they make from the fruit itself that, when mature, is of different colors and sizes. Because it is already known in Spain, I leave out its description. I say only that it is not as healthful as the pitahaya, for it causes fevers, etc." Quote #1-8 Folio/Page No(s): ff234-23 5 Transcription: "El Mescal, en Opata Vitzo es una mata, armada en cada una de sus ojas de una punta fuerte, muy aguda: es de la hechura del maguey, pero mucho menor. El Vitzo es de la hechura de la Pita de Espana. De sus ojas descamadas hacen los arrieros de la tierra razonable Pita; y de las cabezas, de que brotan dhas ojas tatemadas, saca la gente pobre, en tiempo de carestia su bastim.'°, y suele ser la comida ordinaria en temporadas de Indios, y no Indios en tierras escasas, aunque por lo comun se ven reducidos a ellas los poco aplicados al trabajo, y siembra. De la misma cabeza tatemada, y machucada, hechada en infusion, hsta que hierba, se saca buen aguardiente; y aunque se ha procurado darle a este licor por de mala calidad, pemiciosa a la salud humana; yo como testigo de vista, puedo asseverar con toda verdad, que los mas viejos, que viven hoi en la Prov." algunos ya de mui cerca de cien anos, los conozco por muy amigos de un trago de esta bebida. . . . Los vastagos 6 quiotes como llama el vulgo, y en Opata Varet, tiemos, que hecha esta mata, y otra que Ilamamos Palmilla, y en Opata Corogue se los comen soassados en la lumbre, al modo que comen, y chupan la cana dulce; y en su tiempo no suelen llevar los naturals para sus caminos otro bastimento." 317 Translation: "Mescal—in Opata, vitzo—is a plant armed on each of its leaves with a strong, very sharp point. It is similar in form to the maguey, but much smaller. The vitzo is similar in form to the pita of Spain. From its defleshed leaves, the muleteers of the land make reasonable pita, and in times of scarcity the poor people take their sustenance from the heads, roasted, from which the leaves thrust out. This is the usual seasonal fare of Indians, and non-Indians in unproductive lands, although generally one sees reduced to this [practice] those little inclined toward work and planting. From the head itself— roasted, pounded, and brought to a boil in liquid—good alcohol is made, and although it has been suggested that this liquor is of bad quality and pernicious to human health, I, as an eyewitness, can affirm with all truth that the eldest who live today in the province (some being close to 100 years) I know to be quite fond of a swallow from this drink. . . . The tender shoots (or quiotes, as they are commonly called—and in Opata, varet) that this plant puts out, and another that we call palmilla—and in Opata, corogue—are eaten half roasted in the fire, the way that [people] eat and suck on sugar cane, and in their season the natives do not customarily carry other provisions." Quote #1-9 Folio/Page No(s): ff. 235V-236 Transcription: Del Mesquite en Opata Quiot, de que se dan grandes bosques por todo lo caliente, y templado de la Prov.® hacen los naturals tambien dos cosechas; la una por Abril quando acaba de hechar bainas tiemas, que recojen, hierben, y secan; y despues las comen en sus guisados; la otra es, qdo essas mismas vainas ya maduran por Junio, y cojidas, las comen parte assi crudas, por q'^ son bien dulces; parte, y lo mas guardan, y hacen de ellas atole, y otros guisados;..." Translation: "From the mesquite—in Opata, quiot—of which there are great bosques throughout all the hot or temperate [lands] of the province, the natives also make two harvests: one in April, when it has finished putting out tender pods, which they collect, boil, and dry, and then eat in their stews; the other is when these pods have matured—in June—and are collected. Some they eat raw, because they are pretty sweet, and some (most) they save and make atole and other stews from them." 318 Assessment of Credibility: Nature of Likely a mixture of firsthand observations and secondhand Observation: information collected Time Lapse: Current Role of Witness: Resident missionary Accuracy or By the time he wrote his Descripcion in 1762, Nentvig had Veracity: served among the Pimas Altos, Pimas Bajos, and Opatas and become acquainted with a large part of the Sonoran province. OLINANO, FRANCISCO, S.J. Bom in Genova, Italy around 1585, Francisco Olinano entered the Jesuit order in 1604. He was one of four missionaries sent to replace Perez de Ribas among the Yaquis in 1620, but was soon sent farther north to work among the Nevomes Bajos at Cumuripa, Suaqui, Tecoripa, and the Eudeves at Aivino, Matape, and Toapa. Olinano served at Tecoripa until his death in January, 1647 (Reff et al. in Perez de Ribas 1999:401^03; Zambrano 1970:580-588). Document #1 Date: 1622 Type: Letter Title: Untitled Period Covered: June, 1622 Original Language: Spanish Archival Location: Archivo General de laNacion, Misiones, Legajo 25, ff. 73v-74 Summary: Intended Audience: Father rector Document Purpose: To describe visit of Olinano and Tomas Basilio among the Eudeves Region Covered: Upper reach of Rio Matape Source of Text Used: Document Form: Bureaucratic copy, handwritten Document Location: DRSW: JHIII-D-8, AGN Misones, Legajo 25, ff. 73v-74 319 Quote #1-1 Folio/Page No(s): ff. 73v-74 Transcription: "En esta dare relacion a [vuestra reverencia] de la entrada que e hecho en compania del P.® Thomas Basilio en los pueblos de los aybines teopa y matapa. Caen los Aybines [Eudeves] y los demas dichos hacia el norte que por eso aun en el mes de Junio que alii estuvimos tubimos mui buen frio. Estan todos situados en lomas para defenderse de los nebomes con los quales siempre an tenido guerra. Entramos en el pueblo de los Aybines [Eudeves] el primero de Junio . . . Esta la gente de toda esta tierra adentro siempre de asiento en los pueblos; de ninguna manera tienen casas en las milpas, i si alguno de dia las guarda de noche se buelve al pueblo." Translation: "In this I will give an account to your reverence of the entrada I have made in the company of Father Tomas Basilio in the pueblos of the Aybines, Teopa[s], and Matapa[s]. The Aybines [Eudeves] and the others are located toward the north, [and] for that reason, even in the month of June when we were there, we were very cold. All on situated on hilltops in order to defend themselves from the Nevomes [Bajos], with whom they have always been at war. We entered in the pueblo of the Aybines the first of June.... The people of all this interior land always remain settled in the pueblos; in no manner do they have houses among the milpas, and if someone watches over them by day, at night he returns to the pueblo." Assessment of Credibility: Nature of Firsthand account Observation: Time Lapse: None (current) Role of Witness: Missionary visiting to baptize infants and the sick, and ascertain conditions for establishing a mission Accuracy or First impressions of missionary who was there for only about a Veracity: week. 320 PERERA, NICOLAS DE, S.J. Nicolas de Perera was born in Zacatlan, Puebla on September 23, 1696. He entered the novitiate in 1719, and by 1725 was serving in the missions of Sonora, becoming rector in 1736. While stationed at Cucurpe, his longest post (lasting into the 1740s), he oversaw the downstream Seri visitas of Populo and Los Angeles and became fluent in the Seri language. He was moved to the Rio Sonora in his later years. Perera died in Ixtlan del Rio, in Nayarit, while the Jesuits were being deported (Gutierrez Casillas 1977:357-358; Sheridan 1999a:130-131 n.48). Document #1 Date: September 17, 1729 Type: Letter Title: Letter to Father Visitor Nicolas de Oro Period Covered: August 16-September 17,1729 Original Language: Spanish Archival Location: Archivo Historico de Hacienda, Mexico City, Temporalidades, Legajo 17, Exp. 57 Summary: Intended Audience: Father Visitor Nicolas de Oro Document Purpose: To report on events of the campaign led by Gov. Huidobro against the Seris, and how the Seris were brought back to Populo; also describes Tiburon Island, as seen from the mainland Region Covered: Central gulf coast, Populo Source of Text Used: Document Form: Author's original, handwritten Document Location: DRSW: JHIIII-C-6, microfilm Quote #1-1 Folio/Page No(s): N/A Transcription: No ay otra cosa que noticiar a VR." Solo si le supp.®° de orden en Ures me den un poco del trigo para semilla que no lo tengo, y por haver esta asistiendo a el P.® Pedro dos meses, que fue el dia en que sail en el que se comenzo el corte del trigo con lo qual no se cojio el que podia no obstante el estar achaguistlado. Y con tan larga auciencia se me perdieron los veranos motivo porque molesto a VR. con esta supp.°".. 321 Translation: "I have nothing else to report to your reverence, except I beg you to give orders in Ures to give me a little wheat for seed, as I do not have any. Because I was assisting Father Pedro for two months and the day I left was the day the cutting of the wheat began, not as much was gathered as could have been, notwithstanding its diseased state. And with such a long absence, I missed the summer [harvests], which is why I bother your reverence with this request." Assessment of Credibility: Nature of Firsthand account Observation: Time Lapse: Current Role of Witness: Resident missionary Accuracy or No reason to doubt this plain statement of need. Veracity: PEREZ DE RIBAS, ANDRES, S.J. Andres Perez de Ribas was bom in 1575 in Cordoba, Spain. Upon entering the Jesuit order in 1602, he promptly sailed for New Spain, where he completed his novitiate in 1604. He spent the next 15 years working in northern Sinaloa and southernmost Sonora, first among Ahomes and Suaques on the Rio Fuerte, then among the Yaquis. Perez de Ribas arrived at the Rio Yaqui with Tomas Basilio in 1617, and traveled to visit the Nevomes as well as ministering to the Yaquis. He was recalled to Mexico City in 1619, due to failing health. While convalescing the following year, Perez de Ribas apparently completed a first draft of Part 1 of the Historia, then drafted the history of missions covered in Part 2 between 1626 and 1637, while serving as rector of the Colegio Maximo and Casa Profesa in Mexico City, availing himself of Jesuit reports and correspondence housed there. After an interlude in which he served as Jesuit provincial from 1638 to 1641, he spent the next four years revising and updating his manuscript, finally getting it ready for publication in 1645 (Reff et al. 1999:3-5). Historia written over the course of many years Document #1 Date: 1645 Type: Book 322 Title: Historia de los trimphos de nuestra santa fee entre gentes las mas barbaras y fieras del nuevo Orbe Period Covered: 1521-1644 Original Language: Spanish Archival Location: Newberry Library, Chicago, Ayer Collection (copy of original edition published in 1645) Summary: Intended Audience: King Felipe IV, fellow Jesuits Document Purpose: Written to attract and inform new missionaries, as well as to make sure king was aware of Jesuits' good works Region Covered: Northern Sinaloa and southern Sonora Source of Text Used: Document Form: Published transcription, typed Document Location: Perez de Ribas 1944 Quote #1-1 Folio/Page No(s): pg. 1:126 Transcription: "Pero llamolas naciones diferentes, porque aunque no son tan populosas, pero estm divididas en trato de unas con otras: unas veces en lenguas totalmente diferentes, aunque tambien sucede ser una la lengua, y con todo estar desunidas y encontradas: y en lo que todas ellas estan divididas, y opuestas, es en continuas guerras que entre si traian, matmdose los unos a los otros; y tambien en guardar los terminos, tierras y puestos que cada una de estas naciones poblaban, y tenian por propios; de suerte, que el que se atrevia a entrar en los ajenos, era con peligro de dejar la cabeza en manos del enemigo que encontrase. Y fmalmente, este grande numero de gentes estaba totalmente dividido en su trato." Translation: "But I call them different nations because, although they are not so populous, they are divided in dealing with one another. Sometimes [they speak] totally different languages, and although it also can happen to be one language, nevertheless, they are disunited and hostile. And what all are divided and opposed in [are the] continuous wars that they wage among themselves, killing one another, and also in guarding the boundaries, lands, and places that each one of these nations occupies and holds for its own, in such a way that he who dared to enter another's [territory] did so at risk of leaving his 323 head in the hands of whatever enemy he might encounter. Ultimately, these numerous peoples were totally at odds in their relations." Assessment of Credibility: Nature of Probably a combination of firsthand and secondhand Observation: observations Time Lapse: 25 years to current; written over the course of many years Role of Witness: Resident missionary for 2-3 years in Rio Yaqui delta region, privy to numerous accounts from other resident missionaries Accuracy or Perez de Ribas was in a position to know about ongoing Veracity: hostilities between various groups; may have played it up to demonstrate the good accomplished by the Jesuits in pacifying such fierce peoples Quote #1-2 Folio/Page No(s): pg. 2:64 Transcription: "El Rio Hiaqui, que es de los mayores que corren por la provincia de Sinaloa, viene a ser casi tan caudaloso, como el de Guadalquivir en Andalucia: tiene su nacimiento como los demas de aquella provincia, de las altas serranias de la Cordillera de Topia, a distancia de cincuenta leguas de la villa que los espanoles tienen en Sinaloa a la parte del norte, y en treinta grados de su altura. Desde que sale de las serranias, corre por llanadas y entre algunas lomas, por espacio de treinta leguas, hasta desembarcar en el brazo de Califomias. En las doce ultimas, a la mar, esta poblada la famosa nacion de Hiaquis, auq goza de muchos valles, alamedas, y tierras se sementeras, las cuales cuando el rio trae sus avenidas y crecientes, que son ordinarias casi cada ano, las deja regadas y humedecidas para poderse sembrar de verano, sin que tengan necesidad de lluvias para sazonarse y gozarse sus abundantes frutos. De suerte que antes que entren las aguas, que suelen comenzar a principio de Julio, ya han alzado sus semillas los indios y esta es su principal cosecha; no obstante que por tiempo de aguas suelen algunos volver a sembrar, aunque desta cosecha poco caso hacen, porque su principal sustento les da la de verano, que lo ordinario es abundante de maiz, frijol, calabaza, algodon y otras semillas que ellos usan.A tiempos tambien se valen del fruto de arboles tepeguajes o mezquites, que tienen muchos en sus tierras: y son unas algarrovillas, que molidas, en morteros grandes de palo, su harina es algo dulce y 324 sabrosa, y de que se sirven para bebida y comida. La gente toda is labradora, y aunque el sustento principal era de sus semillas: a ese se anadia la caza de monte, que tienen mucha; y los vecinos a la mar grandes pesquerias, donde cogen con grande abundancia varios generos de pescado.Cuando los hiaquis en su gentilidad poblaban este rio, era en forma de rancherias tendidas por sus riberas y junto a sus sementeras, y el numero destas rancherias seria de ochenta, en que habia treinta mil almas. Y aunque este seria muy corto numero para formar una Nacion de las de Europa, pero para diferenciarlas de estas provincias barbaras, no es menester tanto numero de gente, porque en mucho menor se dividen y apartan unas de otras, sin comunicarse si no es para matarse las unas con las otras." Translation: "The Rio Yaqui, which is one of the largest that flows through the province of Sinaloa, comes to be almost as powerful as the [Rio] Guadalquivir in Andalucia. It has its source, like the rest [of the rivers] of that province, in the high sierras of the Topia range, at a distance of fifty leagues from the villa that the Spaniards have in Sinaloa at thirty degrees north. From where it emerges from the mountains, it runs through plains and between some hills for a distance of thirty leagues, until it empties into the arm of the [sea of] Califomias. hi the last twelve [leagues], toward the sea, it is populated by the famous Yaqui nation, which enjoys many valleys, poplar groves, and agricultural lands. When the river rises and overflows, as ordinarily happens almost every year, it leaves [the lands] watered and saturated [enough] that it is possible to plant in the summer, without rainfall being necessary for their abundant Ihiits to ripen and be enjoyed, so that before the rains come in, usually commencing at the beginning of July, the hidians have already raised their seeds, and this is their principal harvest. Nevertheless, during the rainy season, some of them are apt to plant again, although they little value this harvest because their principal sustenance is provided by that of the summer— ordinarily an abundance of maize, beans, squash, cotton, and other seeds that they use.Seasonally, they also avail themselves of the fruit of tepehuaje [Lysiloma watsonii] or mesquites, of which they have many in their lands; these are carob beans and, when ground on large wooden mortars, their flour is somewhat sweet and flavorful. They use this for beverage and food. All the people are farmers, and although their principal sustenance is from their seeds, to that was added game from 325 the monte, which they have much of, and those who Uve near the sea have large fishing grounds, where they catch various types of fish in great abundance. When the Yaquis occupied this river in their heathendom, it was in the form of rancherias extended along its banks and next to their fields, and the number of these rancherias would be eighty, in which there were thirty thousand souls. And although this would be a very small number for forming a nation such as those of Europe, in contrast, such a [large] number of people is not necessary in these barbarous provinces, because they are divided in much smaller [groups] and separate from each other, with no contact except to kill one another." Assessment of Credibility: Nature of Firsthand Observation: Time Lapse: Probably 7-18 years Role of Witness: Resident missionary Accuracy or Perez de Ribas had 2-3 years to observe subsistence practices Veracity: among the Yaquis; these observations are general enough that memory should not be an issue. Quote #1-3 Folio/Page No(s): pg. 2:127 Transcription: ". . . Muchos de los hiaquis usan ya de caballos, en que andan y traginan sus carguillas, comprmdolos con los frutos que cogen, con tanta codicia que per ese respecto se animan a hacer mayores sementeras, de que suele ser tan abundante su valle, que en anos esteriles entran a rescatar los espanoles y otras nactiones sus frutos, con permutas que hacen de unas cosas por otras y a eso llaman rescatar. "En lo que toca al vestido, es grande la mudanza que desean y procuran y por este respecto se dan mas a sembrar algodon. Demas deso por reparar los Padres la barbaridad, que en razon de cubrirse o no cubrirse estas gentes usaban, han procurado que entre en Sinaloa alguna cantidad de ovejas, para que con la lana pudiesen las hidias labrar mantas de que vestirse, como, ya lo hacen: y una vez hechos al vestido, sienten tanto el carecer del, que a veces es con demasia. Porque por ganar un vestido, y mas porque sea algo galano, dejan su tierra y sus mujeres y salen a veces cincuenta y mas leguas fuera de la provincia a buscarlo con su trabajo. Razon porque en parte 326 tambien se ha disminuido algo el genti'o de hiaquis, como de los mayos se escribio: y aunque algunos vuelven, otros se hacen a la vida entre espanoles y quedan con ellos; o en reales de minas, donde los jomales del trabajo son mas crecidos y los vestidos para ellos mas galanos.. . Translation: . . Many of the Yaquis now use horses on which they travel and transport their loads, purchasing them with the produce they harvest with such cupidity that for that reason they are motivated to increase their fields. Their valley is usually so bountiful that in barren years the Spaniards and other nations enter to barter for their produce, exchanging some things for others, and that they call bartering. "The change is great with regard to clothing, which they desire and procure, and for this reason they devote themselves more to planting cotton. Besides that, in order to correct the barbarousness they were accustomed to with regard to covering or not covering themselves, the fathers have managed to bring into Sinaloa a quantity of sheep so that the Indian women might make blankets with the wool to clothe themselves, as they now do. Once they are made to wear clothing, they so greatly feel the need for it that at times it is excessive. Because in order to acquire clothing and, moreover, that it be something splendid, they leave their land and their women and travel sometimes fifty leagues or more beyond the province to seek it with their labor. This is the reason, in part, why the Yaqui population has somewhat decreased, as was written of the Mayos earlier. And although some return, others make their life among the Spaniards and remain with them, or in the mining towns, where the daily wages are higher and the clothing in exchange more splendid. . . ." Assessment of Credibility: Nature of Secondhand observations Observation: Time Lapse: Probably fairly contemporary with time of writing, as evidenced by references to Spanish mining towns Role of Witness: Rector of Colegio, father provincial Accuracy or These observations clearly came from accounts written by Veracity: other resident missionaries, which Perez de Ribas was in a position to peruse. 327 Quote #1-4 Folio/Page No(s): Pg- 2:148 Transcription: . . [el] gran gentio de otra nacion, que llaman Heris: es sobremanera bozal, sin pueblos, sin casas ni sementeras. No tienen rios, ni arroyos y beben de algunas lagunillas y charcos de agua: sustentandose de caza; aunque al tiempo de cosecha de maiz, con cueros de venados, y sal que recogen de la mar, van a rescatarlo a otras naciones. Los mas cercanos destos a la mar, tambien se sustentan de pescado y dentro de la misma mar, en isla, se dice, que habitan otros de la misma nacion, cuya lengua se tiene por dificilisima sobre manera." Translation: . . another populous nation, whom they call Heris [Seris], is excessively wild, without pueblos, houses, or fields. They have no rivers or arroyos and drink from some small ponds and pools of water, sustaining themselves with game, although during the season of the maize harvest, they go with deerskins and salt they collect from the sea to barter these to other nations. Those nearest the sea also sustain themselves on fish. It is said that within the sea itself, on an island, dwell others from the same nation whose language is considered to be extremely difficult." Assessment of Credibility: Nature of May include firsthand observations, but is likely based largely Observation: on secondhand accounts Time Lapse: Current to 25 years Role of Witness: Rector of Colegio, father provincial Accuracy or Probably based on missionaries' observations of Seris who Veracity: may have come to trade with Yaquis or Pimas Bajos, or what they had been told by their Yaqui or Pima Bajo converts. Quote #1-5 Folio/Page No(s): pp. 2:149-150 Transcription: "Poblados estaban los nebomes a orillas de arroyos de buenas aguas y corrientes; sus casas eran mejores y mas de asiento que las de otras naciones; porque eran de parades de grandes adobes, que hacian de barro y cubiertas de azoteas y terrados. Algunas de ellas edificaban mucho mayores y con troneras a modo de fuertes, a proposito para si acometiesen enemigos, recogerse en ellas la gente del pueblo y valerse de su flecheria. 328 Casi toda la gente era labradora; reconocian sus tierras, sembraban las semillas que dijimos ser generales a los indios; y aun en algunos puestos acomodados, hacian sementeras de riego, sacando por acequias el agua de su arroyo para regarlas." Translation: "The Nevomes [Altos] were settled on the banks of arroyos with good, flowing water. Their houses were better and more permanent than those of other nations, because they were [built] with walls of large adobes that they made from mud, and covered with flat, earthen roofs. Some of these they built much larger and with small windows in the manner of a fort, for the purpose of gathering the people of the pueblo in them and availing themselves of their bows and arrows if enemies attacked. Almost all the people were farmers; they inspected their lands, sowed the seeds that we [have] said to be common among the Indians, and in some suitable places they even created irrigated fields, drawing water from their arroyo by means of ditches for irrigation." Assessment of Credibility: Nature of Firsthand Observation: Time Lapse: Possibly as much as 20-25 years Role of Witness: As resident missionary among Yaquis 1617-1619, Perez de Ribas also visited the Nevomes. Accuracy or Although possibly writing this passage some twenty years after Veracity: having seen the Nevome settlements, Perez is likely to have correctly remembered something so basic. He also had access to reports written by Olinano and Bandersipe, the first resident missionaries among the Nevomes. Quote #1-6 Folio/Page No(s): pp. 2:162 Transcription: "Los indios que a esta parte de Mision pertenecen son llamados nebomes bajos, por estar emparentados muchos de ellos con los de los pueblos altos, que son los principales de esta Nacion y habitan mas la sierra arriba, que los bajos de que ahora se escribe y estan reducidos a los pueblos llamados Comoripa, Tecoripa, Zuaque y Aivino, en que habria de tres a cuatro mil personas; de ellas algunas muy montaraces y que hacian poco pie y asiento en un lugar, viviendo de caza de 329 monte, mas que de frutos de tierra que labrasen. Gente muy dificil de reducir a vida humana y por consiguiente a la cristiana, . . . Pero los indio que se redujeron a dichos pueblos, por la mayor parte eran labradores, aprovechmdose de los arroyos de aguas de que gozaban para regar sus sementeras; tenian sus casas fabricadas de adobes y terrados y en lo demas parecidos a los otros principales nebomes altos, con cuyo ejemplo y casi a un mismo tiempo pidieron Padres que los doctrinasen. . . Translation: "The Indians belonging to this part of the mission are called Nevomes Bajos, because many of them are related to those of the upper pueblos, who are the principal ones of this nation and inhabit the higher sierra. The lower [Nevomes] of whom now I write are reduced to the pueblos called Cumuripa, Tecoripa, Suaqui, and Aivino, in which there must be three to four thousand persons. Some of them were quite wild and seldom settled in one place, living off game from the monte [wilderness] more than the fruits of the land they might cultivate. [They are people very difficult to reduce to human, and therefore Christian, life. . . . But the Indians who were reduced to the aforementioned pueblos for the most part were farmers, availing themselves of the streams of water which they enjoyed for watering their fields; they had their houses built of adobes and earthen-roofed, and in all other respects similar to the other, principal Nevomes Altos, with whose example and almost at the same time they asked for fathers to give them religious instruction." Assessment of Credibility: Nature of Firsthand Observation: Time Lapse: Possibly as much as 20-25 years Role of Witness: As resident missionary among Yaquis 1617-1619, Perez de Ribas also visited the Nevomes. Accuracy or Although possibly writing this passage some twenty years after Veracity: having seen the Nevome settlements, Perez is likely to have correctly remembered something so basic. He also had access to reports written by Olinano and Bandersipe, the first resident missionaries among the Nevomes. 330 Quote #1-7 Folio/Page No(s): Pg- 2:163 Transcription: .. el mayor niimero de gente [los Aivinos (Eudeves) cerca de los Nevomes Bajos] estaba fortificada en su pueblo y casas de paredes de adobes, y una de ellas grande con sus troneras, que les servia de fortaleza. Donde en tiempo de guerra se recogia la gente menuda y por las troneras jugaban a su salvo de su flecheria." Translation: . . the larger number of people [the Aivinos, or Eudeves near the Nevomes Bajos] were fortified in their pueblo and houses with adobe walls; one of them, large with small windows, served them as a fortress where in times war the common people were collected, and through the windows, without injury, they shot their arrows." Assessment of Credibility: Nature of Secondhand Observation: Time Lapse: Possibly as much as 20-25 years Role of Witness: Rector of Colegio, father provincial Accuracy or Perez de Ribas probably got his information from Capt. Diego Veracity: Martinez de Hurdaide, who led a military action against the Aivinos/Eudeves and with whom Perez de Ribas maintained a friendship. He may also have received some input from Olinano, who later worked among the Aivinos/Eudeves. SEGESSER von BRUNEGG, PHILIPP [FELIPE], S.J. Philipp Segesser von Brunegg was bom in Luzem, Switzerland on September 1, 1689, son of a senator and provincial governor. Entering the Jesuit order in 1708, he was ordained in 1721. He journeyed ten years later to New Spain, where he was posted to the Sonora mission, initially sent to San Ignacio in to learn the Piman language with veteran missionary Agustin Campos. Segesser spent two years ministering to San Xavier del Bac and Guevavi, then due to failing health was transferred south to Tecoripa in 1734. While at Tecoripa, he weathered the 1737 uprising among the Pimas Bajos, and helped Agustin de Vildosola to defeat Yaqui and Pima Bajo rebels during the 1740 revolt. He went on to become rector in 1744, transferring to Ures, and served from there as local visitor in 1750-1752 (Donohue 1969:68-69, 95-96; Polzer and Sheridan 1997:418 n.28; Sheridan 1999a:145 n.ll). 331 Note: Treutlein (1945), who translated Segesser's account, reports that the translation was not an easy one, and he was forced to sacrifice style for the sake of meaning. Segesser himself stated that he had almost forgotten his mother tongue. This suggests that key passages ideally should be checked against the original or a transcription, if available, to verify their accuracy. Document #1 Date: July 31, 1737 Type: Letter/report Title: Relation of Philipp Segesser Period Covered: 1732-1737 Original Language: German Archival Location: As of 1933, Jesuit college library in Bonn am Rhine; it is not clear whether this institution was holding the original document or a copy of the published transcription edited in 1886 by Segesser's probable relative (see Treutlein 1945:141). Summary: Intended Audience: Ulrich Franz Josef Segesser, brother, and Jost Ranutius, uncle Document Purpose: Written at his uncle's request, a description of his missionary life in the Pimerfas, including the people and their customs, the environment, etc. Region Covered: Pimeria Alta and Pimeria Baja Source of Text Used: Document Form: Translation, typed Document Location: Mid-America 27(3):139-187, 27(4):257-260 332 REFERENCES CITED Adomo, Rolena, and Patrick Charles Pautz 1999 Alvar Nunez Cabeza de Vaca: His Account, His Life, and the Expedition of Pdnfilo de Narvdez, Vol. 1. 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