Acacia Survey

Last week I conducted an archaeological survey near our office. Generally when we do these surveys we walk in a straight line, covering the area where the proposed action, meaning earth disturbing activity, will take place. Usually this is done with two or more people walking at a 15 meter spacing. On this particular day, we were surveying a powerline alignment, which trended through some particularly bad terrain and vegetation.

Most plants in the desert have developed some type of thorn or other protective measure to keep their water from being stolen from other desert creatures. The straight thorn acacia thrives along the distal alluvial fans and is usually found in association with creosote bush. In many places the plants in the desert are spaced so that it is easy to walk between them. However, alluvial fans are cut with many small and large arroyos, allowing the plants to clump together.

Given that I knew where the survey area was, and that previous surveys of such kind had destroyed several pairs of pants due to the ripping nature of acacia, I chose an old pair of slacks that I didn't need anymore. Bad choice. If I had chosen the pair of blue jeans that I usually wear to the field (the ones that have many holes from trying to climb over barbed wire fences), I would have been just fine.

Walking through the densely populated acacia fields, it is always good to go for the plant with the least amount of thorns. In decreasing order, that would be cactus (any kind), ocotillo, catclaw acaica (the really evil cousin of straight thorn acacia, mesquite, and finally creosote bush. Holding my recording sheet in one hand, and the GPS in the other, we moved through these fields with deftness and caution, all the while scanning our 15 meter area for cultural resources. We didn't find any isolated artifacts or sites within these areas of thick brush, either because these areas may have been the same during prehistoric times (and blue jeans hadn't been invented yet) an they didn't want to come through these areas, or we spent all the time ferreting our way through the brush, not concentrating as hard on what might be on the ground.

By the end of the day, I felt that the old slacks hadn't done a good job of holding out the thorns. I returned home to find my legs cut up with about a hundred small scratches, making it difficult to sleep that night.