The mayan headdress Spectacle

Terry Roderick the maker behind the Mayan Headdress

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The Mayan Headdress Crop Circle: A Spectacle Opposite Silbury Hill
On the misty dawn of 5 July 2009, a vision emerged opposite Silbury Hill that would electrify the crop circle season. Spanning nearly 400 feet across, the formation unfurled like a ceremonial crown of feathers—an intricate Mayan headdress, shimmering in the wheat as though conjured by ancient hands. To many, it was Quetzalcoatl’s Headdress, a symbol of cosmic wisdom and spiritual awakening. To others, it was simply one of the most breathtaking designs ever etched into the Wiltshire landscape.

Key Facts
• Date & Location: 5 July 2009, opposite Silbury Hill, Wiltshire
• Size: 400 feet (122 meters) in diameter
• Design: A stylized feathered headdress, echoing Mayan and Native ceremonial regalia
• Season Context: 2009 was a year of wonders—the Jellyfish at Wayland’s Smithy, the Dragonfly at Yatesbury, the Phoenix rising at Yatesbury—yet the Mayan Headdress towered above them all in complexity and grandeur.
• Community Fascination: Researchers, photographers, and seekers of mystery flocked to it, convinced they were witnessing a bridge between ancient myth and modern enigma.

Behind the Curtain: The Story of Its Creation
The 2009 season was already ablaze with activity—arguably the most prolific year in crop circle history. Into this whirlwind stepped a film crew from Los Angeles, connected to researcher Colin Andrews, intent on capturing the phenomenon for a documentary. Their footage, however, risked blending into the sea of ordinary crop circle films—unless they could secure a spectacular finale, a “mic drop” moment to eclipse all others.
The answer lay not in chance, but in design.
At the Barge Inn, the unofficial headquarters of circle makers, fate intervened. Terry Roderick, a circle maker living aboard a barge on the Avon Kennet canal, found himself in conversation with the crew. Over pints of “alien ale” and whispers of much-needed funds, a plan began to crystallize.

The Plan
It was deceptively simple. The crew would climb Silbury Hill in the pre-dawn hours, set up their cameras, and wait. Terry’s instructions were clear: do not roll until dawn. Whether they obeyed is anyone’s guess. Perhaps they have more footage than meets the eye, they did after all have some decent night vison recording equipment. 
As the first light broke through the mist, the miracle unfolded. Out of the clearing haze, the outline of the Mayan Headdress revealed itself—majestic, fresh, and untouched. The cameras rolled. The crew had captured what every documentarian dreams of: the birth of a crop circle, shimmering into existence as though summoned by the gods of the hill.
They entered the formation, breathless, declaring themselves the first humans to step into its sacred geometry. The footage was gold—the kind of capture that could make their entire journey worthwhile.

The Aftermath
Later that month, the crew appeared on George Noory’s radio show with Linda Moulton Howe, recounting their extraordinary luck. The audience was spellbound. Yet behind the curtain, whispers spread. Circle makers, never shy of boasting, began to spill the truth.
When the radio segment surfaced on YouTube, Howe had it swiftly removed. Why? Perhaps because the illusion of mystery was too precious to lose.
The documentary itself A Field Full of Secrets remains a curious artefact. Part satire, part sincere exploration, it dances between revelation and enigma. Like most crop circle films, it clings to the mystery, because without mystery, the magic fades.

Legacy
The Mayan Headdress remains one of the crown jewels of crop circle lore. Whether seen as a divine message, a masterwork of land art, or a staged spectacle for the cameras, its impact endures. Opposite Silbury Hill, where ancient earthworks whisper of forgotten civilizations, the headdress seemed to remind us: myth and mystery are never far apart.

Footnote
It is whispered—half in jest, half in reverence—that after the harvest of the Mayan Headdress formation, a tonne of grain from the circle was exported to Mexico, where it was transformed into “tortilla wraps.” Whether fact or folklore, the tale adds yet another layer of myth to a crop circle already steeped in a deceptive frame.

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