The Cat Shield Site

About This Experience

The Cat-Shield Site became one of those Utah rock-art searches that looked deceptively simple at first. The panel was not terribly far from the highway, and we had a few clues about where it should be, so we assumed it would be a relatively straightforward excursion. As so often happened while searching for rock art in Utah, that confidence disappeared almost immediately once we were actually standing in the landscape. Leaving the highway behind, we first had to make our way down a steep hillside toward the bottom of the creek drainage. From above, the descent did not look particularly difficult, but once we started down we realized how loose and awkward the slope was. Gravel shifted beneath our shoes, exposed sandstone created uneven steps and in several places we had to move sideways or use our hands for balance. It was not a technical climb, but it demanded concentration because one careless step could easily have turned into an uncontrolled slide toward the creek below. The strange thing was that the highway was still relatively close. We had not travelled deep into some remote wilderness, yet after only a short distance the road already seemed surprisingly far away. The steep slope created a natural barrier between the highway and the canyon bottom, and by the time we reached the creek we felt as though we had entered a completely different landscape. At the bottom we faced the next obstacle: the creek itself. It was not especially wide or dangerous, but there was no bridge and no obvious crossing point waiting for us. We walked along the bank for a while, looking for somewhere shallow enough to cross without getting soaked. Eventually we found a reasonable place where stones and exposed patches allowed us to make our way across carefully. A few cautious steps later we were on the opposite side, and only then did the real search begin. We knew that the Cat-Shield panel should be somewhere among the sandstone walls around us. The clues we had were enough to tell us that we were in roughly the right area, but not precise enough to identify the actual rock face. At first we were still optimistic. We expected to recognize the distinctive figure almost immediately. Instead, every wall seemed to offer another possibility. The canyon contained dark panels of desert varnish, isolated boulders, recesses, broken cliffs and sheltered surfaces that all looked as though they might contain petroglyphs. We began checking them one by one. A pale mark in the distance would catch our attention, so we would walk toward it only to discover that it was a natural fracture. Another dark wall looked perfect for rock art, but contained nothing. Sometimes a few small pecked marks appeared and raised our hopes, but they were not the panel we were looking for. Our clues kept us from wandering completely aimlessly, yet they were just vague enough to make the search surprisingly long. We would stop, look around, compare the landscape with what we remembered and decide that the panel must surely be just beyond the next bend. Then we would reach that bend and find another twenty sandstone faces waiting to be inspected. After a while the search became almost systematic. We moved slowly, scanning every dark varnished surface from bottom to top. If anything looked suspicious, we approached it. We checked ledges, looked around corners and repeatedly retraced short sections because we were convinced we must have passed the site without noticing it. That possibility became increasingly believable. Photographs of rock-art panels can be misleading because they isolate the image from the surrounding landscape. A figure that fills an entire photograph may occupy only a small section of a huge wall when seen from a distance. Even something as bold as the Cat-Shield could easily disappear among the natural patterns of sandstone and varnish. So we kept searching. The highway was not far away, the steep hillside we had descended was still somewhere behind us and the creek crossing had not taken us very deep into the canyon. We knew the panel had to be close. That made giving up impossible. Eventually one dark rock surface caught our attention because of several small animal figures near its lower edge. We walked toward it, and as the distance closed, something much larger began to emerge above them. First we noticed a broad rounded outline. Then the interior divisions became visible. Finally two pointed projections appeared at the top. Suddenly there was no doubt. We had found the Cat-Shield. After such a long search, it seemed almost absurdly obvious. The great figure occupied a prominent area of dark desert varnish, its lighter pecked surface contrasting sharply with the surrounding rock. The main body was broad and rounded, almost circular, and divided internally by strong horizontal and vertical lines into a grid of rectangular sections. A vertical line through the middle emphasized the symmetry of the design. Beneath the body were short leg-like projections, while two large pointed forms rose from the top like ears. Those two projections completely changed the character of the image. Without them, the figure might have looked like a large decorated shield. With them, it suddenly seemed almost animal-like. The resemblance to a cat was impossible to ignore, and the modern nickname “Cat-Shield” immediately made sense. From one angle it looked like an enormous shield covered with geometric patterns. From another it seemed like a strange feline creature staring out from the rock with pointed ears and a patterned body. Of course, there is no way to know whether the original carvers intended anything resembling a cat. The pointed forms may have represented horns, feathers, ceremonial decorations or something entirely symbolic. Even our interpretation of the main body as a shield may be wrong. We were applying familiar names to an image created within a visual language that has largely disappeared. Still, the combination of geometry and animal-like features made the figure extraordinarily memorable. Beneath the large Cat-Shield were several beautifully carved animals. Their narrow bodies, long legs and antler- or horn-like extensions contrasted with the massive geometric figure above them. Some appeared darker and more weathered than others, suggesting that they may have been carved at different times. One particularly pale animal stood out strongly from the surrounding varnish, while nearby figures were much subtler and could easily have been missed if the large Cat-Shield had not drawn us toward the wall. Around them were other small motifs: curves, abstract forms and tiny figures that gradually became visible the longer we looked. The panel that had seemed simple in photographs turned out to contain far more detail than we expected. Nearby, another section of sandstone held equally fascinating imagery. Tall shield-like figures rose vertically across the rock, their bodies densely pecked and much more elongated than the rounded Cat-Shield. One particularly large figure had a long rectangular body and two curved projections at the top, with a wavy line extending outward above it. Its interior had been heavily pecked, creating a broad light surface against the darker sandstone. Beside it were smaller anthropomorphic figures, another patterned shield-like form and additional carvings whose meanings were no easier to understand. The repetition of shield-shaped motifs across the site immediately encouraged speculation. Perhaps these forms represented actual shields associated with individuals or groups. Perhaps their internal patterns functioned as identifiers, symbols of status or ceremonial emblems. The Cat-Shield might then have represented a particular person, group or supernatural association rather than an animal at all. Yet every explanation remained uncertain. Were the figures contemporary? Had the large Cat-Shield been carved first, with the animals added generations later? Did the tall rectangular shields belong to the same tradition? Were the anthropomorphs connected to them, or did they simply share the same wall because different people returned to this location over a long period of time? The sandstone provided the images but not the chronology or the stories that once explained them. After spending so long searching for the site, we were in no hurry to leave. We photographed the figures from different angles and moved slowly along the rock face, noticing more details every few minutes. The changing light altered the contrast dramatically. On the darkest varnished surfaces, the pecked figures appeared almost luminous, while on lighter sandstone they blended much more easily into the rock. Up close, the large Cat-Shield lost some of its graphic simplicity because individual peck marks became visible. Someone had created that enormous design one impact at a time, repeatedly striking the rock to remove the dark surface and expose the lighter sandstone beneath. The outer shape, the internal grid, the pointed projections and the smaller details all required patience. Whatever the figure meant, it was clearly important enough for someone to invest considerable effort in making it. That physical act was something we often forgot when looking at photographs of petroglyphs. We tend to see the finished image, but creating it meant standing here with tools and striking the wall hundreds or perhaps thousands of times. The sound must once have echoed through the creek drainage. Perhaps other people watched. Perhaps the meaning of the image was obvious to everyone present. What felt mysterious to us may once have required no explanation at all. Eventually we had to begin the return journey. This time we knew exactly where we were, and the landscape that had seemed confusing during the search suddenly felt much simpler. We retraced our route toward the creek and crossed it again at the same place. The stones and shallow sections were familiar now, and the crossing that had required careful inspection on the way in seemed almost routine. Once on the other side, however, we looked up toward the steep hillside and were reminded that we still had to regain all the elevation we had lost at the beginning. The climb back was tiring but straightforward. Loose gravel slid beneath our shoes and we occasionally used our hands for balance, but steadily the creek dropped farther below us. With each step upward, the landscape opened again. Eventually we reached the top of the slope, and almost immediately the presence of the highway returned. It was remarkable how close the site actually was to the road. Cars could pass only a relatively short distance away without their occupants having any idea that beyond the edge of the highway, down a steep hillside and across a creek, an extraordinary collection of ancient carvings waited on the sandstone. That contrast became one of the most memorable aspects of the Cat-Shield Site. It was not hidden dozens of miles into the wilderness. It was relatively close to modern traffic, yet the terrain concealed it remarkably well. The steep descent to the creek, the crossing itself and the confusing collection of sandstone walls beyond created just enough separation to make the site feel far more remote than it really was. By the time we reached the car, the long search had become part of what made the panel special. We remembered descending the steep hill toward the creek, carefully finding our way across, following clues that seemed useful until we actually tried to apply them and then wandering through the canyon inspecting one wall after another. We remembered the growing suspicion that we had somehow missed the panel completely. And finally we remembered the moment when that great rounded form emerged from the dark varnish and the two pointed “ears” made the Cat-Shield instantly recognizable. The original meaning of the figure remained completely unknown. Perhaps it represented protection,…