Archeology Research Trends - PDF Free Download (2024)

ARCHAEOLOGY RESEARCH TRENDS

No part of this digital document may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means. The publisher has taken reasonable care in the preparation of this digital document, but makes no expressed or implied warranty of any kind and assumes no responsibility for any errors or omissions. No liability is assumed for incidental or consequential damages in connection with or arising out of information contained herein. This digital document is sold with the clear understanding that the publisher is not engaged in rendering legal, medical or any other professional services.

ARCHAEOLOGY RESEARCH TRENDS

ALEX R. SUÁREZ AND

MARC N. VÁSQUEZ EDITORS

Nova Science Publishers, Inc. New York

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means: electronic, electrostatic, magnetic, tape, mechanical photocopying, recording or otherwise without the written permission of the Publisher. For permission to use material from this book please contact us: Telephone 631-231-7269; Fax 631-231-8175 Web Site: http://www.novapublishers.com NOTICE TO THE READER The Publisher has taken reasonable care in the preparation of this book, but makes no expressed or implied warranty of any kind and assumes no responsibility for any errors or omissions. No liability is assumed for incidental or consequential damages in connection with or arising out of information contained in this book. The Publisher shall not be liable for any special, consequential, or exemplary damages resulting, in whole or in part, from the readers’ use of, or reliance upon, this material. Independent verification should be sought for any data, advice or recommendations contained in this book. In addition, no responsibility is assumed by the publisher for any injury and/or damage to persons or property arising from any methods, products, instructions, ideas or otherwise contained in this publication. This publication is designed to provide accurate and authoritative information with regard to the subject matter covered herein. It is sold with the clear understanding that the Publisher is not engaged in rendering legal or any other professional services. If legal or any other expert assistance is required, the services of a competent person should be sought. FROM A DECLARATION OF PARTICIPANTS JOINTLY ADOPTED BY A COMMITTEE OF THE AMERICAN BAR ASSOCIATION AND A COMMITTEE OF PUBLISHERS. LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA Archaeology research trends / Alex R. Suárez and Marc N. Vásquez (editors). p. cm. ISBN 978-1-60876-257-6 (E-Book) 1. Archaeology. I. Suárez, Alex R. II. Vásquez, Marc N. CC65.A75 2008 930.1--dc22 2008015178

Published by Nova Science Publishers, Inc.

New York

CONTENTS Preface Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

vii “Natural and Cultural Formation Processes on the Archaeological Record: A Case Study Regarding Skeletal Remains from a Brazilian Shellmound” Maria Mercedes M. Okumura and Sabine Eggers The Archaeology of Human-Environment Interactions: History and Current Trends Emily Lena Jones

When It Rains It Pours: Multiple Congenital Pathologies In Single Individuals E. Weiss

Chapter 4

Archaeology and Ancient DNA: Assessing Domestication Joana Seco-Morais and Carney D. Matheson

Chapter 5

Metric and Geometric Methods Applied to the Analysis of Architectural Design. Urbanism Changes and the Emergence of Mathematical Thinking José Antonio Esquivel

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Stress Diagrams as a Structural Documentation of an Architectural Heritage Iqbal Marie Tracing Minimal Cultural Signatures: Combining Non-Linear and Linear Micro-Artefact Patterning for Investigating Cultural Site Formation Processes Dimitris Kontogiorgos

101

121

133

vi Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Index

Contents A Peculiar Funerary Rite in the Phoenician-Punic Necropolis of Monte Sirai (Carbonia-Sardinia-Italy) Studied by XRD and FT-IR Techniques Giampaolo Piga, Michele Guirguis, Piero Bartoloni, Assumpcio Malgosa, Sergio Scognamillo, Maria Luisa Ganadu and Stefano Enzo Using Multivariate Statistics for Pattern Recognition in Archaeology Grant S. McCall

145

165 189

PREFACE Archaeology studies human cultures through the recovery, documentation, analysis and interpretation of material remains and environmental data, including architecture, artifacts, features, biofacts, and landscapes. Because archaeology's aim is to understand mankind, it is a humanistic endeavor. The goals of archaelogy vary, and there is debate as to what its aims and responsibilities are. Some goals include the documentation and explanation of the origins and development of human cultures, understanding culture history, chronicling cultural evolution, and studying human behavior and ecology, for both prehistoric and historic societies. This new book presents important research in the field. Chapter 1 – Formation processes are the natural and cultural processes that make up the archaeological record. Whereas natural formation processes are the environmental factors that influence the survival of the archaeological evidences, cultural formation processes include the accidental or deliberate human activities that can affect in a positive or negative way the archaeological record. Special attention should be given to the archaeological contexts associated with human skeletal remains, once natural phenomena can disguise or even be confused with cultural aspects, leading to misinterpretations of burial and activity patterns, as well as health, diet and nutritional status of humans in the past. The excavation of burial grounds lays down the basis on which to infer past funerary customs, and sometimes they represent the only evidence on which to reconstruct an extinct people’s origin, way of life and decline. The combination of the social position (burial structure, grave goods, position of the deceased) and the ritual (what happens before, during and after burial according to tradition) make up the funerary customs of a human group. These customs, together with bioarchaeological data such as sex, age, health and nutritional status serves as a basis to understand the demographic and social structure of past populations. Such an integrative research strategy requires close collaboration between human biologists and archaeologists and is totally different from the still prevailing tradition to relegate osteological data to the appendix of archaeological papers interpreting the significance of mortuary rituals. The aim of this work is to alert archaeologists about the importance of clearly documenting and distinguishing natural and cultural factors to better understand formation processes not only related to human burials, but archaeological sites in general. In order to illustrate this, the authors identify and discuss these processes influencing the interpretation of burial patterns in a prehistoric Brazilian shellmound, named Jabuticabeira II, dated between 2890 ± 55 and 2186 ± 60 BP. This site is especially informative to illustrate the application of this approach since it contains many burials and is classified as a cemetery shellmound. This

viii

Alex R. Suárez and Marc N. Vásquez

work also argues in favour of true multidisciplinary research where specialists such as bioarchaeologists participate in the decision processes of the exact location and strategy of excavation, coordinate sample collection of and documentation on burials, and, as usually already routine, carry out their specialized work in the laboratory. Chapter 2 - The last 25 years have seen the development of a thriving literature on the archaeology of human-environment interactions. A review of the literature shows three distinct histories of work on human-environment interactions: “environmental archaeology” as represented by the Association for Environmental Archaeology; human paleoecology, which looks at human impacts on the environment from an anthropological viewpoint; and environmental studies, which uses archaeological data within the conservation biology literature. These bodies of work have explored different data sets, used different methods, and, by and large, come to very different conclusions about the nature of human-environment interactions both past and present. Despite the fact that their conclusions are often highly relevant to each other, there is very little cross-fertilization of theoretical or methodological approaches. This chapter critically reviews these bodies of work, assesses the current state of research, and discusses emerging trends in the archaeology of human-environment interactions. Chapter 3 - This study examined congenital pathologies of 284 prehistoric California Amerinds to determine whether skeletal individuals exhibit multiple pathologies including excessive limb length asymmetries (i.e., greater than average asymmetries calculated from prehistoric populations) as reported in medical literature. Skeletal condition varied from fragmentary to complete (i.e., all major bones present). Pathological individuals were examined twice to ensure pathologies were congenital and avoid including asymmetries related to trauma. Using conservative diagnoses, sixty individuals (21%) have congenital pathologies; half of them exhibit multiple pathologies (29/60). Excluding fragmentary individuals, 60% (28/47) of individuals have multiple pathologies; in complete skeletons, 79% (19/24) of individuals have multiple pathologies. Differences in pathology frequency within individuals compared to skeletal condition are significant (Chi-Square = 19.33; P < 0.01). One-third (20/60) of pathological individuals show asymmetry; half of these individuals have asymmetry in multiple sets of limbs. Multiple asymmetries are found more frequently in complete skeletons (Spearman’s rho = 0.479; P < 0.001). This hunter-gatherer population has a fairly high rate of congenital pathologies possibly due to inbreeding. Pathologies are often minor, such as supernumerary teeth, spina bifida occulta, and bony growths. However, one individual has a cleft palate and four other pathologies. Fused bones, such as ribs, vertebrae, and foot phalanges, are also present. This study supports that individuals born with a congenital pathology often have other congenital pathologies. Anthropologists are disadvantaged in documenting congenital pathologies due to incomplete remains and the fragility of subadult remains. Chapter 4 - Since the early stages of its domestication, the horse has been an important means of mobility for human populations. On the contrary, cattle, sheep and goat are more related to human early settlements. This is probably why the estimated date for the domestication of horse is set at a later time than the other species. From early times, and precisely because of their transportation capabilities, horses from distinct geographical regions have been crossbred which has led to the mixing of their genetic legacy. This has made it difficult to assign a genetic pattern to a specific geographical location and thus, to

Preface

establish centers of domestication for this species. Because of this, horses are objects of interest for teams from a broad range of research fields. The processes that led to domestication and to the diversity of modern domestic populations are areas of focus for geneticists, evolutionists, archaeologists and anthropologists, among others. The identification of domestication centers of wild populations is important for the understanding of both human and livestock migrations and distribution as well as the impact of the first human settlements on local wild populations of livestock ancestors. These questions have been addressed in several studies for several species using not only archaeological data, but also molecular data obtained from archaeological specimens. The possibility of using DNA from archaeological remains and thus to analyze data from original sources which possibly were directly involved in the first steps of domestication is one of the major advantages of the application of molecular technology to Archaeology. Several molecular markers can be used to assess domestication processes, points and dates for several species. Mitochondrial DNA is the most commonly used marker to address migration, demography and phylogenetic relationships and the domestication process for today's domesticates, but sex chromosome related markers (such as SNPs) and whole genome sequencing have a bright future among researchers looking for answers related to human evolution and domestication as one of the consequences of this evolution. This is because of the recent developments of molecular technologies and because of the properties of the markers which are optimal for Ancient DNA analysis. This chapter aims to review what has been done to investigate domestication related issues and what can still be done to improve the knowledge that archaeological and molecular techniques have allowed so far. The authors aim to suggest future directions to be taken in Archaeological research using molecular approaches. Chapter 5 - Architecture is a feature of cultural expression and the interpretation of the culture by means of its architecture allow us to obtain relevant information about this culture. The geometric and statistical analysis from obtained data by means of new technologies (georreferencied CAD plans and 3D models mainly) constitutes an important tool to obtain the basic features of design of the prehistoric constructions. These methods applied to daily architecture relates the use of buildings to structure social relations, and the changes of the geometric design and the metric parameters in prehistoric dwellings are an important indicator of social transformations, social complexity, emergence of social hierarchy and other social modifications. Also reveal settlement planning and urbanism concepts, and the changes produced in these concepts reveals the evolution in the prehistoric urbanism. The results obtained provide that the inhabitants of prehistoric periods acquired concepts of descriptive geometry, and the used geometric features to design the prehistoric buildings emphasize that the construction was accomplished using a previous geometric and metric design with great accuracy, and encapsulates a more general perception of power and space. The existence of metric and geometric rules used in the architectural constructions proves the emergence of a basic mathematical thinking in prehistoric times. Several examples from Prehistory to Roman times are provided. Chapter 6 - The architectural heritage is the most cognizant element of the cultural heritage and considered as a major tourist attraction in the cultural heritage aspects. The value of any architectural heritage goes beyond its appearance to focus on its stability and on the consistency of all its components. The advancement of modeling and engineering analysis techniques helps to attain the required understanding of the morphology and the structural behavior of the construction. As early as civilization evolved, documentation of events,

Alex R. Suárez and Marc N. Vásquez

religion, culture and significant structures has been of utmost importance for further study and preservation. Therefore, the structural details with the graphical stress distribution for its main structural components may act as an essential engineering documentation for the building. An approach is the use of the structural software (SAP2000) to obtain the structural model of any historical building or its structural components depending on previously documented plans and sections and then analyzed. The obtained stress distribution contours could be useful to all personnel who may be involved in conservation and restoration problems. These documents serve as a tool to make structural information accessible to the archeologists or engineers during restoration to visualize the critical supporting structures that maintain stability for the building. Checking the documented stress contours for the structure will help reinforcing the structure where needed so as not to intrude upon the aesthetic and historical or archeological quality of the property by selecting the repair methods that are appropriate to the cultural context. The stress distribution contours in addition to other engineering documents can help thoroughly understanding the building in an effective, least destructive, most efficient and economical means. For complicated structural forms of architectural heritage that may cause a challenges in diagnosis and analysis, an experimental photoelastic method may be used to obtain a graphical stress distribution contours with clear optical identification of overstressed and understressed areas. From which, the intensity of stress at any point can be determined using lengthy mathematical calculations and should be scaled to indicate the behavior of the actual structure. This technique has been used widely in the past before the advancement of computer engineering analysis techniques. The choice between “experimental” and “analytical” techniques should be determined on a case-by-case basis depending on the complicity of the structural element and the difficulty of its modeling. Chapter 7 - The information potential of micro-artefacts can assist in archaeological interpretation. This paper presents a combination of a non-linear method (i.e., the spherical self-organizing feature map) and a linear one (i.e., Spearman’s rho) that may improve the interpretation of micro-artefacts when investigating cultural site formation processes. An example is given on micro-artefact data from the Neolithic tell/extended site at Paliambela (Northern Greece). Chapter 8 - The recent summer 2007 campaign of excavations of the Phoenician–Punic necropolis of Mount Sirai, located in the South-West part of Sardinia (Italy) has brought to light a number of tombs contextually attributed to a period from early VIth to the early Vth century B.C, which is simultaneous to the beginning of the Carthago influence in Sardinia. In the interred burials recently brought to light the skeletal remains, sometimes of two superposed bodies, were discovered in a primary position and with fine anatomic connection. Some of the bones were visually stained, suggesting they were possibly subjected to a fire treatment. In order to ascertain more objectively whether the bodies were subjected to burning, the bones from all the tombs were investigated by the X-ray powder diffraction (XRD) and Fourier Transform Infra-Red (FT-IR) spectroscopy techniques. After excluding the role of important diagenetic effects, from line broadening/sharpening analysis of hydroxylapatite in the bones according to the Rietveld method it was evaluated that the bodies were likely subjected to a regime of temperature from 300 to 700 °C. These data were supplemented and confirmed by an analysis of the splitting factor SF of apatite phosphate peaks in the Infrared spectrum of the bones. Our results point out to the existence of a rite intermediate between

Preface

incineration and inhumation. This sort of “semi-combustion”, perhaps limited to the period of early Vth century B.C, appears to be peculiar just of this site. Chapter 9 - Pattern recognition is of primary importance to the field of archaeology, given that recognizing patterns is the key to both understanding problems with our current beliefs about the past and the generation of new and better ideas to resolve them. This chapter discusses the use of multivariate statistics for data reduction and pattern recognition in large archaeological datasets. Most archaeological research is at least partially quantitative, but most of this research has traditionally focused on hypothesis testing and the calculation of probability statistics. While statistical hypothesis testing is an important aspect of scientific approaches to archaeological research, the field has largely overlooked the use of nonprobability based statistical approaches to pattern recognition. The chapter begins with a brief discussion of the philosophy of science and the role of archaeological pattern recognition in the construction of accurate generalizations about the archaeological record based on material remains, the construction of hypotheses based on these generalizations, and the critical testing of hypotheses based on new and better understandings of archaeological patterning. This chapter then outlines the use of multivariate statistical approaches including factor analysis, principal components analysis, and multiple regression, which are powerful and underutilized approaches to large archaeological datasets. The chapter illustrates the use of these techniques by discussing several important case study analyses of some major categories of materials and situations commonly encountered by archaeologists.

In: Archaeology Research Trends Editors: A. R. Suárez, M. N. Vásquez

Chapter 1

“NATURAL AND CULTURAL FORMATION PROCESSES ON THE ARCHAEOLOGICAL RECORD: A CASE STUDY REGARDING SKELETAL REMAINS FROM A BRAZILIAN SHELLMOUND” Maria Mercedes M. Okumura*1 and Sabine Eggers2† 1. Leverhulme Centre for Human Evolutionary Studies, The Henry Wellcome Building, University of Cambridge, UK 2. Laboratório Antropologia Biológica, Depto. de Genética e Biologia Evolutiva, Instituto de Biociências, Universidade de São Paulo, Brazil

ABSTRACT Formation processes are the natural and cultural processes that make up the archaeological record. Whereas natural formation processes are the environmental factors that influence the survival of the archaeological evidences, cultural formation processes include the accidental or deliberate human activities that can affect in a positive or negative way the archaeological record. Special attention should be given to the archaeological contexts associated with human skeletal remains, once natural phenomena can disguise or even be confused with cultural aspects, leading to misinterpretations of burial and activity patterns, as well as health, diet and nutritional status of humans in the past. The excavation of burial grounds lays down the basis on which to infer past funerary customs, and sometimes they represent the only evidence on which to reconstruct an extinct people’s origin, way of life and decline. The combination of the social position (burial structure, grave goods, position of the deceased) and the ritual (what happens before, during and after burial according to tradition) make up the funerary customs of a human group. These customs, together with bioarchaeological data such as sex, age, health and nutritional status serves as a basis to understand the demographic and social structure of past populations. Such an integrative research strategy requires close collaboration between human biologists and archaeologists and is *

Fitzwilliam Street, Cambridge, CB2 1QH, UK. [emailprotected]. † CP 11461, 05422-970, São Paulo, SP, Brazil. [emailprotected].

Maria Mercedes M. Okumura and Sabine Eggers totally different from the still prevailing tradition to relegate osteological data to the appendix of archaeological papers interpreting the significance of mortuary rituals. The aim of this work is to alert archaeologists about the importance of clearly documenting and distinguishing natural and cultural factors to better understand formation processes not only related to human burials, but archaeological sites in general. In order to illustrate this, we identify and discuss these processes influencing the interpretation of burial patterns in a prehistoric Brazilian shellmound, named Jabuticabeira II, dated between 2890 ± 55 and 2186 ± 60 BP. This site is especially informative to illustrate the application of this approach since it contains many burials and is classified as a cemetery shellmound. This work also argues in favour of true multidisciplinary research where specialists such as bioarchaeologists participate in the decision processes of the exact location and strategy of excavation, coordinate sample collection of and documentation on burials, and, as usually already routine, carry out their specialized work in the laboratory.

Keywords: Brazilian archaeology, bioarchaeology, taphonomy, burial pattern

INTRODUCTION What are Formation Processes of Archaeological Sites? Formation processes are the natural and cultural processes that make up the archaeological record. The studies that are currently related to what is called “formation processes” were carried out by several authors since 1960 (Pyddoke 1961; Gladfelter 1977; Hassan 1978; Limbrey 1975; Renfrew 1976), but the idea was better accepted by the archaeological community after the works of Michael Schiffer (1972, 1975, 1976, 1983, 1987), who called the attention of archaeologists to the increasing need of integration between the Earth Sciences and Archaeology (Araujo, in press). Natural formation processes are the environmental processes that influence the survival of the archaeological record. Schiffer (1987:7) defined these processes as “any and all events and processes of the natural environment that impinge upon artefacts and archaeological deposits”. Cultural formation processes are defined as “the processes of human behaviour that affect or transform artefacts after their initial period of use in a given activity” (Schiffer 1987:7). In other words, cultural formation processes include the accidental or deliberate human activities that can affect in a positive or negative way the archaeological record. Gifford (1980:105) stresses that the “key to elucidation of the past by studies of the present lies in assuming a comprehensive approach to the study of process and effect. By closely defining site formation processes, one can frame and test hypotheses concerning areas of knowledge which at present remain hazy”. Special attention should be given to the archaeological contexts associated with human skeletal remains, once the natural processes can disguise or even be confused with the cultural processes, leading to misinterpretations of burial and activity patterns, as well as health, diet and nutritional status of humans in the past. There are various instruments and approaches possible to aid differentiation of cultural and natural formation processes when dealing with burials. These are addressed in the following sections.

Formation Processes in a Brazilian Shellmound

Observable Processes Today Can Explain Phenomena in the Past: Taphonomy Literally meaning the “laws of burial”, taphonomy presents several definitions. Previously seen exclusively as a branch of paleontology, nowadays, taphonomy is seen as a discipline itself, which studies the processes involved in the formation of the geological and archaeological record, issues worked on by experimental archaeologists. The basic epistemological framework of taphonomy is that of actualism, which means the explanation of past phenomena according to processes observable today. Therefore, observations in the present, which can be based on experiments on field or laboratory or on studies of the in situ formation of modern comparative assemblages, can be informative of the processes that created similar assemblages in the past (Stutz, 2003:132). One of the main criticisms concerning actualism is that it has to be assumed, not only because it cannot be tested directly, but also because it assumes that there are properties in the universe that have remained uniform in time and space. In this sense, conclusions have to be made based on induction because it is not possible to prove that the natural laws currently observed were the same in the past. Eventually, these generalizations based on actualism can lead to circular reasoning (Martin 1999:7). Lyman (1994: 69) criticizes the presence of analogies that only take into account similarities between the past and the present, ignoring the causal connections between process and observed phenomena. In fact, Stutz (2003:134) stresses that we have to understand why a certain process leads to a certain result. Nonetheless, Wylie (1985) argues that although these problems cannot be ignored, the use of analogy in archaeology can be done as long as certain guidelines are observed and when arguments about the importance of similarities between observed and inferred can be established. Interestingly, although humans can be important taphonomic agents, there is a bias towards the idea that taphonomy mainly deals with the ‘natural disturbance’ of the archaeological record. This idea emerged probably because, in archaeology, the context of concern is generally human behaviour. Nonetheless, because humans form the archaeological site together with natural processes, they are very important taphonomic agents to a deposit’s history (Lyman, 1994:33; Stutz, 2003:138).

Ethnographic Accounts, Formation Processes and Mortuary Ritual The excavation of burial grounds often lays down the basis on which to infer past funerary customs. The combination of the social position (burial structure, grave goods, position of the deceased) and the ritual (what happens before, during and after burial according to tradition) make up the funerary customs of a human group. These customs, together with bioarchaeological data such as sex, age, health and nutritional status, serve as the basis to understand the demographic and social structure of past populations. Gifford (1980) stresses that there is an overlapping in both theory and method regarding ethnoarchaeology and taphonomy due to a common concern with biological and geological processes forming deposits of prehistoric materials. However, the author says that the two fields differ in the sense that ethnoarchaeology is also concerned about the role of human behaviour in forming archaeological accumulations.

Maria Mercedes M. Okumura and Sabine Eggers

Based on ethnographic studies some authors claim that burial practices were part of the intangible domain of religious belief (Piggott, 1973). Nonetheless, Stutz (2003:320) states that there was a shift “from a referential focus to a focus on the practices, and that from a practice theoretical point of view the major questions about the mortuary rituals should not be what the actions meant, but what they consisted of. In the case of archaeology this is fortunate, since the traces of the practices are all we have left for our study. If the essence of the ritual is not in the verbal meaning but in the experience and practice of it, archaeology can actually get at some of the most fundamental aspects of it when the archaeologist studies the remains of the mortuary ritual he/she faces the result of what people did with their dead”. The author acknowledges the fact that mortuary practices involved elements that left no material trace to archaeologists, such as speech, song, dancing, and crying. However, the fact that the material remains of the mortuary practices, and the body itself are available for study, means that archaeologists have access to a significant part of the mortuary ritual (Stutz, 2003: 231) and therefore, can greatly contribute towards our understanding of the whole mortuary ritual. Also based on ethnographic analysis, Ucko (1969) stated that there is no correlation between social structure and burial rites. On the other hand, for Childe (1945), there is a correlation of burial pattern and social functioning. He hypothesized that the more material progress is made, the less social energy is invested in the burial rituals. In contrast, the Archaeology of Death developed in the 1970´ postulated that mortuary practices are an expression of social reality, where social identity is an equivalent of social status (Goodenough, 1965, but see Gilman, 1983 for a different view). Binford (1971), counterbalancing the view of Childe, assumed that form and structure of mortuary practice are conditioned by the form and complexity of the society in question where the more complex the social structure, the more complex the burial ritual. Anyway, Gifford (1980) highlights that ethnoarchaeological studies provide an actualistic arena for framing, testing, and refitting general models of human behaviour and its material effects, thus allowing the researchers to go beyond the limits of strict analogy as an explanatory tool. In decreasing isolation from western archaeological reasoning, Marxist approaches developed a scenario until the 1990s where burial sites are seen as deposits of social labour. Since funerary rituals denote the material conditions (in form of homage, payment of tributes or covering up of inequalities) of the society, their meaning can only be made explicit by studying also their living contexts (Lull, 2000). One example of a materialistic view of mortuary practices is the one developed by Alekshin (1983). The basic informational units necessary to reconstruct and understand funerary rituals in the past, according to this view, include: a) conceptions of death and the other world, b) the development and succession of cultures, c) sex and age differences regarding wealth of grave offerings, d) social stratification on basis of number, type, material, rarity of grave offerings, e) form of marriage and family structure, that gain more and more informative potential as ancient DNA and other biodistance methods are used to identify kinship, and finally f) demographic and epidemiologic patterns. Other authors report different informational units, especially regarding the rich information source skeletal analyses can offer to reconstruct societies’ life in the past (Bartel, 1983), mainly in the light of recent advances in the detection of pathogen DNA, differential diagnosis of pathologies using microscopy, tomography and 3D reconstructions among others. More recent advances stemming from this view consider three aspects crucial for studying funerary practices in the past (Lull, 2000): a) constructive characteristics of the

Formation Processes in a Brazilian Shellmound

burial containers, the raw materials and the technology employed; b) a systematic study of the human remains (including dietary patterns, pathologies, and demography); and c) the establishment of the social value of the grave goods. Whenever available, the study of formation processes should include ethnographic accounts. However, some reports have proven that ethnography does not necessarily parallel archaeological evidences drawn from burial studies (Binford, 1971; Brown, 1971a, 1971b; Shennan, 1975; O´Shea, 1984). In fact, ethnographers concentrate on social phenomena that do not reflect material culture, whereas material culture is the only evidence archaeologist can rely upon to reconstruct social structure in the past (Alekshin, 1983). However, postdepositional processes may distort inferences from simplistic observation (Chapman and Randsborg, 1981) and sometimes counterintuitive ritual behaviour can influence archaeological interpretation (Hodder, 1982). Therefore an integrative approach based on bioarchaeological studies is necessary.

Integrative Approaches to Study Formation Processes: Bioarchaeologists at the Excavation and in the Laboratory A key element in an integrative approach to study formation processes and mortuary analyses is the growing emphasis on bioarchaeological studies. Such an integrative research strategy requires close collaboration between human biologists and archaeologists and is totally different from the still prevailing tradition to relegate osteological data to the appendix of archaeological papers interpreting social significance of mortuary rituals (Gamble et al., 2001; Stutz, 2003:139). When bioarchaeologists work in the laboratory as well as directly at the excavation, there are good chances to obtain enough data to reconstruct formation processes based not only on the skeletal material but also on the archaeological context involved and the features associated with the burial. Two examples show how: The first example, a classical review of burial practices in Central and South America (Lowie, 1948), relies on some ethnographic reports, and shows a great variety of funerary customs often including the manipulation of the corpse. Before definite burial corpses were exposed or temporarily interred, then exhumed and scraped, bundled, pulverized, burned, drunk with alcoholic liquids, or dyed. Afterwards they may have been buried in urns, kept in baskets, hung in trees or houses, interred in individual or multiple burials, as whole skeletons or only consisting of certain parts of them. With the technologic advances available for bioarcheological studies today, most of these customs can be reconstructed even in the absence of ethnographic accounts. The second example is the study by Nelson (1998), who describes extended funerary rituals among the Moches using skeletal evidences of the deceased and forensic data on decomposition in an arid environment. He analyzed those burials where the position and the preservation of the individual departed from the expected for bodies articulated at the time of burial. Considering decomposition processes specific for the dry climate in this region, and excluding post-depositional disturbances of geological and biological nature, Nelson concludes that these bodies must have been prepared before burial in such a manner as to preserve only the strongest ligaments. However, the individuals must have been buried in different stages of decomposition. The more disturbed the burial the more advanced must

Maria Mercedes M. Okumura and Sabine Eggers

have been the state of putrefaction prior to burial. The deceased was manipulated or left to deliberate natural mummification, wrapped in cotton shroud (that would in some cases aid mummification) either shortly after death or when totally desiccated, followed by a long distance transport of the corpse. The body in the bundle was then lowered in different ways into differently constructed and elaborate tombs. Thus it is clear from these examples that cultural as well as natural phenomena influencing the formation processes of burials can be detected by technological implements today available for bioarchaeologists working not only in the laboratory, but directly at the excavation. Details on the interaction of natural and cultural formation processes are addressed below.

Natural and the Cultural Processes Influencing Burials and Bones The taphonomic influences acting on a corpse include a large number of factors. The external factors, such as time interval between death and burial, treatment of the body before inhumation, and the environment where it is buried, are all primarily cultural factors. Internal or natural factors include the cause of death, the state of the body at death, age, sex, body mass and existing, as well as past pathologies (Garland and Janaway, 1987). Both the cultural and natural factors can influence two, non-exclusive but very important aspects of a burial: the preservation and conservation of bone elements and the position of them at the time of excavation. Bone is one of the most resistant biological materials, since it is the main calcified tissue in vertebrates (Schultz, 1997a). It is the main tissue that supports the weight of the body. Bone is formed by proteins (collagens) and minerals (hydroxyapatite), and is a living tissue that can repair and reshape itself in response to external pressures (White, 1991). Often, natural and cultural formation processes act upon the bone after the individual’s death, damaging it. However, as discussed below, some of these processes can actually favour the preservation of the bone material. The deterioration of any buried material depends on two factors: the chemical nature of the material itself and the type of environment where it is buried (Cronyn, 1990). Therefore, the resistance of a bone element to the detrimental natural or cultural processes is determined by its density, its size and its shape, and it is mediated by the chemical or mechanical processes involved (Marean, 1991). Besides these natural factors, there are also cultural factors that affect the preservation, because cultural rules determine who will be buried, when, where and how it will happen. The place and the way to dispose of the individual will not just influence the position in the grave or pit, but also the preservation of the burial and its contents (Roksandic, 2002).

Formation Processes in a Brazilian Shellmound

NATURAL FORMATION PROCESSES The Process of Death The definition of death is a complicated one. In this sense, Stutz (2003:142) quotes Bernard Knight (1991:12): “[T]here can be no single definition of death, since death is a process, not an event”. The idea that death is a process and not a unique event makes sense not just because in western modern societies technology can keep a person alive through a “life support”, but also because many body tissues, as well as cells and enzymes can remain viable for a certain time after the circulation has ceased (Mant, 1984). The cause of death and the condition of the body before death are some among several factors that can explain the individual variation in the post-mortem processes. Usually, the first physical sign that follows death is a general relaxation of the muscle tone, resulting in the muscles becoming soft and the joints becoming flexible (Mant, 1984). At the same time, the body starts to cool because the metabolic activity of muscles and liver, which produce most of the body heat, are ceased. Of course, individual variation related to body weight and subcutaneous fat, as well as environmental variation, like atmospheric temperature and air circulation, will affect the rate of temperature decrease of the body (Mant, 1984). The blood settles in the body by gravity, mainly because it is still liquid, but not circulating anymore, causing the postmortem hypostasis. In general, two to four hours after death, rigor mortis occur due to the release of actin and myosin from the muscles. Again, individual variation can occur, depending on how much of these elements were present in the muscle tissue. Very young or very old individuals, as well as those severely affected by illness, might never present rigor mortis (Knight, 1991:129). Usually this cadaveric rigidity gradually disappears after a peak around 12 hours after death. Stutz (2003:144) alerts to the fact that many times the process and timing of rigor mortis is misunderstood, leading to wrong interpretations of the mortuary ritual. Therefore, even when the mortuary ritual involves a primary burial, it is not possible to assume that arrangement of the body position took place prior to rigor mortis. In most cases, rigor mortis disappears after 24 hours, giving way to corporeal flaccidity (Mant, 1984). This late phase of post-mortem changes in the body involves decomposition, which usually leads to the consumption of the soft tissues of the body. Due to the primary importance of this stage to the understanding of formation processes in the funerary record, the process of decomposition will be explored in more detail in the next part.

Decomposition, Disarticulation and Movement of Bones The consequences of soft tissue decomposition, the sequence of disarticulation or disintegration of the connective tissues, and the potential range of displacement of the skeletal elements are natural processes which are some of the key factors in determining the state of the deceased after exhumation. Lyman (1994:140) states that decomposition is a process divided into three or more stages, depending on the author. Basically, there is decay (decomposition of protein under

Maria Mercedes M. Okumura and Sabine Eggers

aerobic conditions), putrefaction (bacterial breakdown of protein under anaerobic conditions) and autolysis (the digestion of cells by autolytic enzymes inside them). Stutz (2003:145) stresses that archaeologists should be aware of how putrefaction and other processes related to decomposition occur, because this has important implications when considering how the body of the dead is handled by the living in human societies. Although aerobic fungi, insect larvae and adult insects will also contribute to the process of putrefaction, the activity of bacterial enzymes plays a major role in this process. In fact, after death, there is a spread of the anaerobic organisms that inhabited in the bowel in vivo throughout the body through the blood vessels. Due to the spatial proximity, the organs that are close to the intestines and more vascularised are affected first (Mant, 1984). In most of the cases the primary putrefaction signs (like marbling, when blue and purple lines appear over the trunk, neck and limbs) will occur between 48 and 72 hours after death (Mant, 1984), but again, this process will depend both on individual and environmental factors. For example, in a warm climate the signs of putrefaction will appear within few hours after death. After the first signs of putrefaction, the production of gases lead to marked changes of the appearance of the cadaver. The body begins to swell, especially in the face and abdomen. The gases increase the pressure inside the body, making the stomach contents being forced upward into the mouth or out of rectum, the lungs being forced upward and the decomposing blood escaping from mouth and nostrils. Gases pressure can also empty the bladder (Mant, 1984). Saponification is the process in which the fat of the body is transformed into a hard fatty wax named adipocere. Obviously, it will occur in areas of the body with high concentration of fat. Because water is essential for the process of saponification, it contributes indirectly to the dehydration of muscles and internal organs, hindering the process of putrefaction (Mant, 1987). Because the dehydration of muscles prevents their putrefaction, saponification is considered a process very important in terms of preserving skeletal elements in articulation (Allison and Briggs, 1991:36). Here it is important to say that disarticulation is the total reduction of soft tissues that surround and hold the bones together when the individual is alive. Therefore, even when each bone is in its right anatomical position, the skeleton is considered disarticulated, as long as there is no soft tissue connecting it. Usually this soft tissue removal (also known as skeletonization) occurs not only due to micro-organisms such as bacteria and fungi, but also to small organisms such as insects, and to medium and large organisms, such as vultures, hyenas, armadillos, and other scavenging carnivores (Lyman, 1994: 137). Environmental conditions play an important role in terms of the speed with which putrefaction will occur. In general, the warmer the environment, the greater the bacterial growth and the quicker putrefaction will take place. Therefore, in colder conditions, there can be a gradual skeletonization of the cadaver, with the soft tissue persisting for about one to two years. On the other hand, in a warmer climate the skeletonization process can be completed within only a couple of weeks (Knight, 1991:41). Bodies in contact with air, when in a relatively warm place, will decompose faster than bodies buried on the ground or submerged in water. In the same way that the environment plays an important role in increasing or decreasing the rate of putrefaction, cultural processes like clothing, shroud or any covering of the body can either stimulate or hinder this rate. In a first moment, covering would stimulate the process of putrefaction because it retards the cooling of the body, allowing bacteria to

Formation Processes in a Brazilian Shellmound

multiply. Later, the covering can decrease the rate of putrefaction because it prevents the access of insects to the body and stimulates the formation of adipocere (Stutz, 2003:147). As said before, the rate of putrefaction also varies according to the spatial conditions of the internal organs. Therefore, organs close to the bacterial source of the bowel will putrefy faster than organs far from it. In this sense, muscular organs can be preserved for many months, and the ligaments and tendons of the joints will be one of the last elements to decompose (Polson 1955:15). In fact, the post mortem decompositional interval between death and disarticulation is highly influenced by the kind of joint and the nature of the ligaments holding the bones together (Lyman 1994:142). Usually the articulations that putrefy early are the ones between the phalanges of the feet, the bones of the hands, the cervical vertebrae, the costo-sternal articulations and the scapulo-thoraxic junction. On the other hand, the most robust articulations, which can persist for months to years, depending on the conditions, are those between atlas and the occipital, the lumbar vertebrae, the sacrum and the last lumbar vertebra, the sacrum and the ilium, the femur and the pelvis, the tarsal bones, and the articulations of knees and ankles (Duday et al., 1990). After burial, the potential of post-depositional movement of a corpse and its bony elements as a result of the decomposition process depends obviously on its stage of decomposition. The more intact the corpse, the higher the potential degree of movements of the bones due to decomposition (Roksandic, 2002). Another factor that influences the changes in situ of the original position of a corpse is the position in which the individual was deposited and the space available in which the movement can happen. Consequently, if bones are in a stable position in the burial, they will move just a little after the disarticulation of the skeleton. However, if the position of the body implies in an unstable position of the bones, once the soft tissues are decomposed, the bones will move according to the gravity and the spatial architecture of the burial. The empty space left around the corpse allows some changes in its position due to the gas concentration that occurs during the decomposition or due to the collapse of the articulations. Examples of these movements include fingers that spread on the abdomen and the aperture of arms or legs. Even if the burial is confined to a very small space in relation to the size of the individual, additional room appears after the soft tissue decomposition. In spite of this, the space of burial can vary accordingly to the presence of elements that delimit the room available in the grave, like stones put around the body, bodies tied up to fit in tiny baskets, and, of course, the infiltration of sediment adjacent to the corpse during the decomposition process (Roksandic, 2002). The filling of body cavities by the sediment can be progressive (slowly filling of body cavities) or differential (more filling in one than another body cavity) (Duday, 1985). Therefore, when the sediment directly covers the corpse, as soon as the decomposition begins, it can fill the body cavities. However, this kind of filling depends on the characteristics of the sediment (humidity, compactation, granulometric aspects, etc.).

Burial as a Taphonomic Process Burial as a taphonomic process has not been studied in an extensive way in comparison with the biostratinomic processes (processes affecting the organic remains during deposition and before final burial) (Lyman, 1994:404). Straus (1990) argues that these processes were initially ignored because most of the archaeologists were more interested in building cultural

Maria Mercedes M. Okumura and Sabine Eggers

chronologies than in understanding how deposition and formation were taking place in the archaeological record. Another possible explanation for this initial lack of interest was the fact that the better known taphonomic processes such as abrasion, weathering, and trampling occur at the sediment-air interface, therefore, they are mainly biostratinomic processes. As Lyman (1994:411) highlighted in his book, the ritualistic disposal of conspecifics seems to be a unique feature of humans. Often, such disposal included purposeful burial, usually marked geologically by the presence of human remains in a stratigraphically distinct unit, usually a pit. There is a common belief among taphonomists that if the bones (or corpses) are rapidly buried, this would buffer these remains from the several biostratinomic processes that might otherwise modify them. However, this does not mean that bones stop being modified by taphonomic processes after the burial. What happens is that the diagenetic processes that modify bones after burial are different from the biostratinomic processes (Lyman, 1994:413114). Diagenesis refers to the alterations that happen after burial (Lyman, 1994:417), and the diagenesis of bones can be affected by intrinsic factors of the specimen, such as size, porosity, chemical and molecular structure, and by extrinsic factors such as sediment pH, water and temperature regimes, and bacterial action (Von Endt and Ortner, 1984). There are some major factors that could influence the difference between the deposited assemblage and the buried assemblage. Clark and Kietzke (1967) suggested that the time interval between episodes of sedimentation, the thickness of sedimentary increments, the velocity of depositional forces in contact with bones (or corpses), the nature of the sediment (such as the amount of compaction and grain size), the post depositional action of roots and burrowing animals, and the permeability of the sediment and chemical nature of the permeating solutions could be some of these factors.

Soil Characteristics Within some years after burial, the type of soil can affect the body in different ways. For example, heavy clay soils may stimulate the adipocere production and thus have a certain preservative effect, while very dry soils will tend to preserve the body while mummifying it (Stutz 2003:147). In a long term perspective, the soil characteristics are extremely relevant for the preservation of bones (Mant, 1953; 1987; Janssen, 1984; Henderson, 1987; Johansson, 1987), specially the pH. Soil pH usually varies between 4 and 9 (Knight, 1990), but occasionally can surpass these values. High or alkaline pH values are due to the presence of soil carbonates (Fitzpatrick, 1980), such as calcium or magnesium carbonates. An important property of carbonates is that they are easily soluble in water that presents carbon dioxide and, therefore, can be rapidly transported through the soil by the percolation of rain water or from water tables. Bones are usually better preserved in environments with neutral or slightly alkaline pH than in places with acid pH (Janaway, 2002). Waselkov (1987:149) alerts that “although shell middens are renowned for their enhanced bone preservation, the calcium-rich environment still allows transport in solution of exchangeable calcium from bone and shell”.

Formation Processes in a Brazilian Shellmound

Post-Mortem Fractures and Deformations Usually, the more deeply the corpse is buried the better is its preservation (Henderson, 1987), since low and stable temperatures, low gas diffusion and the inaccessibility of natural agents (such as animals, plants, erosion) hinder the rapid decay of the body. However, the pressure of extensive layers of soil upon a burial can result in distortion/deformation of bones (Brain, 1981; Janaway, 2002). Several factors affect the degree and kind of deformation, including the composition of the sediment, the original morphology, the elasticity and orientation, as well as mineralization and leaching (Lyman, 1994:425). The deeper the bones are buried, the greater is the weight of the sediment overlying. Besides this, the pore spaces between sedimentary particles become smaller and fewer, resulting in a greater bulk density and a higher compaction of the underlying sediments (Lyman, 1994:423). It is frequently assumed that the action of sedimentary processes on bone results in abrasion of bone (Gifford, 1981). Although abrasion has not been rigorously defined, it is usually diagnosed by rounding of natural features or break surfaces of bone. Most of the taphonomic studies about abrasion of bone linked this to aqueous transport, although sandblasting of bone on a land surface or bioturbation (for example, trampling against an abrasive substrate by animals, Brain, 1967) cannot be ignored as abrasive agents. In the same way that bones react to other stresses at different rates, they would be differentially liable to damage by abrasive processes. It is possible that weathered bone would be more damaged by abrasion than fresh bone. In fact, Gifford (1981) stresses the high positive correlation between advanced stages of weathering and degree of abrasion in fossil bone. She also suggested that elements with greater proportion of spongy compared to compact bone would be more easily damaged by abrasion. Erosive processes caused by the pressure of layers of sediment can also be mistaken by losses of bone tissue due to pathologic processes active during life time. Erosion, if acting during long periods of time, can completely destroy bone. Moreover, pressure resulting from sediment layers that cover the burial can cause fragmentation and dislocation of bones. Villa and Mahieu (1991) say that bones broken by the excessive weight of the sediment can be recognized by conjointing fragments lying in contact or adjacent to one another. They also argue that the fracture of bones lying on concave or convex surfaces can be explained by an increase in the bending forces applied to them. But it is not only the surface features that module breakage of bone layed upon them. The shape of human bones also influences the mechanics of bone fracture, so the cranium is especially prone to break due to its globular shape, as is also the case for flat bones such as pelvis and scapula. Tubular bones (femur, tibia, fibula, radio and ulna) are a little more resistant to sediment pressure due to their elongated shape and their thicker cortical bone. Besides compression forces induced by overburden weight, other factors like feeding carnivores, trampling and factors related to climate such as subaereal weathering can also be listed as major causes of bone fracture. Osseous fragmentation caused by natural processes (pseudopathologies) must clearly be distinguished from that caused by antemortem and /or perimortem causes (true pathologies). This is important, since the relative prevalence of certain types of ante and/or perimortem bone fractures are used to infer past behaviour, such as the degree of interpersonal violence, the frequency of accidental falls or the existence of idiopathic fractures, such as vertebral fractures following tuberculosis.

Maria Mercedes M. Okumura and Sabine Eggers

Size, Sex and Age at Death Bone size is also a very relevant factor that affects the vulnerability of bone decay. Waldron (1987) says that the phalanges and the small tarsal bones are less preserved than the other bones of the skeleton and can disappear completely, as a consequence of the large surface (acted upon by the decay agents ) in relation to the volume. However, depending on the burial context, these small bones can be the best preserved ones, since their small size avoids breakage (Currey, 1984; Darwent and Lyman, 2002). Nonetheless, the small size favours the dispersion and consequent loss of these bones (Waldron, 1987) through natural agents like small animals and roots, and cultural formation processes (e.g., “secondary burials”, as discussed below). Behrensmeyer (1978) observed that smaller mammal bones weather at faster rates than do those of larger mammals, although not all bones of the same individual weather at the same time. Again, it is the relation of surface area to volume that determines also the natural break down rate of bones (Gifford, 1981). Bone density is also a factor that influences bone preservation. The proportion between cortical and trabecular bone varies accordingly to the type of bone and plays an important role in the differential decomposition of the skeleton. Although the basic organic and inorganic makeup of mammalian bone is not highly variable, the wide range of functions of different elements results in a great diversity in the structural variability of bone tissue, which will influence the resistance of different skeletal elements to destructive forces. Obviously, thicker compact bone resists damage better than thin bone, since the ratio of bone tissue per unit of volume is positively correlated with its resistance to stress. Therefore, compact bone, with its high ratio of bone tissue per unit of volume, resists localized stress better than cancelous, or spongy bone, with its low ratio of bone tissue to volume. However, compact bone readily transmits stress causing fractures that may propagate more extensively than cancellous bone (Gifford, 1981). Age and sex of the individual also affect bone diagenesis. Women tend to be more gracile than men, and children have thinner and smaller bones than adults, whereas in older individuals, bones can be less dense due to osteoporotic processes, and therefore more prone to decay (Janaway, 2002). There are only a few studies on decomposition of juvenile skeletons but practical experience shows that juvenile skeletal remains are less prone to preserve than adult remains (Hill, 1980; Crist et al., 1997), mainly because of their smaller size and lower density that facilitate dispersion and even complete ingestion by scavengers (Morton and Lord, 2002). This differential preservation of juvenile skeletal remains in comparison with adult remains was also confirmed by Gordon and Buikstra (1981). The authors found a strong negative correlation between the sediment pH from which the bones were recovered and the frequency of ontogenically mature bones preserved within particular preservational categories, meaning that even if the pH value is adequate for bone preservation, juvenile bones preserve less well that bones from mature individuals. However, Hill (1980) alerts that some old individuals present a tendency to resorb bone and that this also may influence the susceptibility of bones to damage. Nevertheless, the lack of a high proportion of a certain age group in a cemetery is not necessarily due to the differential preservation of these remains. Basically, there are four major factors that influence how much a given funerary sample represents the demographic distribution of the corresponding living group (Waldron, 1994). The first is the proportion and distribution of individuals buried in the cemetery. An example would be that a given group

Formation Processes in a Brazilian Shellmound

buries juveniles somewhere else than adults. Thus, this factor results from a clearly cultural process. The second factor is a natural process, because it refers to the proportion of individuals that, once buried, are preserved. The last two factors are related to the proportion of individuals that are found and that are exhumed during archaeological excavation.

Bioturbation Apart from intrinsic factors of the human bones themselves (such as size, sex and age), extrinsic factures caused by other living beings (like plants and animals) are natural processes that affect the preservation of human skeletal remains. These are collectively called bioturbation. Floral turbation involves all the natural processes related to the action of plants on the archaeological record, most of them caused by roots. In fact, the presence of roots in burials is not rare. The principal cause probably is the decomposition of the corpse that releases important nutrients for root growth (Rodriguez and Bass, 1985). The roots can act in two different ways upon the bones: through physical effect and through chemical destruction (Botella et al., 1999). The physical effect results from the growth of the root that may travel through the medullary canals and split sturdy long bone shafts, or penetrate through the cortex causing holes. This chemical destruction of bone is caused by the liberation of acids released by the roots and can leave dendritic patterns of shallow grooves on bone surfaces (Behrenmeyer, 1978). The presence of root etching indicates that the bone existed in a plantsupporting sedimentary environment for at least part of its history. The marks that the roots leave on bone may sometimes be mistaken by the unaware as pathologies such as trepanation, bullet injuries, or infectious disease (Schultz, 1997b; Saul and Saul, 2002). In the case of lichen, their presence indicates a period of at least partial exposure without much disturbance (Cook, 1986). Besides plants, animals also can be important agents of bioturbation. Hungry scavengers may excavate bones and cause their fragmentation and dislocation, also being responsible for the “creation” of pseudopathologies or pseudotraumas (Haglund, 1997a; b; Haskell et al., 1997; Merbs, 1997; Murad, 1997; Rodriguez, 1997; Ubelaker, 1997; Symes et al., 2002). Mammals and insects are the animals more often associated with bioturbation of burials for feeding purposes (Henderson, 1987). Although quite common in North American archaeology and forensic sciences (Morse, 1983; Krogman and Iscan, 1986; Haglung et al., 1989; Berryman, 2002), studies about natural processes related to mammal and insect action in tropical regions are scarce (for an exception, see Araujo, 1995; Araujo and Marcelino, 2003). Mammals like rodents and armadillos can move the bones from their original contexts, can originate marks that may be potentially mistaken with pathological processes that occurred during life and may completely destroy the bones through chewing (Sorg, 1985; Patel, 1994). Insect activity depends on the burial’s condition, the season, latitude and longitude (Erzinclioglu, 1983; Rodriguez and Bass, 1983; Catts and Haskell, 1990; Schultz, 1997b; VanLaerthoven and Anderson, 1999; Anderson and Cervenka, 2002). Some experiments show that animal carcasses not buried can be completely skeletonised in just 96 hours of intense activity of insect larvae (Haskell et al., 1997), therefore insects as agents of soft tissue removal, can be very important for the decomposition process. Coe (1980) describes that in a wet season in Kenya, dermestid beetles removed the skin and sinews of an elephant carcass at

Maria Mercedes M. Okumura and Sabine Eggers

the astonishing rate of 8kg per day. Soil covering is not a totally effective barrier against insect larvae, although it can inhibit it partially (Nuorteva, 1977), since the infestation can initiate before burial or because the saprophagous insects have adapted senses for corpse localization. Lyman (1994:393) highlights that Derry (1911) was the first to report on the gnawing action of insects resulting in damage to bones, although Smith (1908) also described gnawing damage found in human bones related to beetles, after discarding this damage as an antemortem pathological condition. While Derry (1911) and Smith (1908) described grooves gnawed by moth larvae and beetles, Watson and Abbey (1986) found that Australian termites gnaw bone and create “scratches” in bone surfaces. Holes found in fossil bovid bones were reported by Kitching (1980) as caused by dermestid beetles. Lyman (1994:142) argues that it is important to note that some insects do eat bone tissue (Behrensmeyer 1978), while others move bones from their original position (Shipman and Walker, 1980). However, because small-scale removers like insects are less likely to separate a bone and soft tissue package from a carcass and then move that package, the role of animals as agents that can move bones was better studied in large-scale agents like mammals and birds (Lyman, 1994:142). On the other hand, the removal of soft tissue and the movement of bones resulting from the action of large-scale agents happen simultaneously, making the distinction between skeletonization and disarticulation very difficult and sometimes impossible. Obviously, the potential for transport of skeletal elements by animals varies accordingly to its appeal to them. Therefore, the amount of muscle and fat associated with, or blood and marrow contained in, a bone are very important factors that will reflect also in the frequency with which it will be subject to damage and transport by such animals (Gifford, 1981). Rodents are the best known gnawers of bone (Miller, 1969), favouring bone that is somewhat weathered and free from fat and sinew. It is very important to distinguish these marks from those related to cultural processes, like defleshing, disarticulation, or even cannibalism. Rodent tooth marks on bone surfaces are described as channels, grooves or parallel striations (Johnson, 1985; Sorg, 1985). However, sometimes it is not possible to find the characteristic parallel grooves indicating the rodent action, especially on spongy (trabecular) bone and on small bones, like metacarpals, metatarsals and phalanges, where the cortex is thin (Haglund, 1997b). Therefore, the identification of those marks is not always possible. The pattern of tooth marks left by carnivores is even more complicated, because the marks are usually less specific and more irregular (Haglund, 1997b). Carnivore tooth marks can indicate the time of exposure of the corpse before complete skeletonization, being the most often gnawed element those with little overlying soft tissue (Hurlburt, 2000).

Weathering Weathering is the process by which the original components of bone are separated and destroyed by physical and chemical agents operating on the bone in situ, either on the surface or within the soil zone (Behrenmeyer, 1978). This process can result not only in splits and cracks that develop between collagen fibers, but also in the separation of bones of the skull along sutures, and teeth falling out of their alveoli (Lyman, 1994:358). Chemical weathering begins on the bone surface and progresses into the bone tissue mass (Bromage, 1984). Although bones weather in both surface and subsurface contexts (Behrenmeyer, 1978), the

Formation Processes in a Brazilian Shellmound

distinction between subaereal (surface) and subsurface weathering have not been studied in detail. The fact that buried bones seem to weather much slower than exposed ones, does not mean that they are free from this process (Lyman, 1994:360). The importance of this discussion for bioarchaeological studies can be highlighted in cases where the funerary ritual does not involve the burial of the corpse, or involves it in a later stage. Humidity, temperature, and pH in the immediate environment of a bone are some of the factors that can influence the rates at which weathering occurs (Behrenmeyer, 1978). This could explain why one end of a single bone can weather at a much faster rate than the other. Bone exposed to direct sunlight weathers more swiftly than those in shaded areas, including those shaded by vegetation (Gifford, 1981). The variation in the structural density of different bones results in a different rate of weathering (Behrenmeyer, 1978). Besides this, even bones from animals of similar constitution, size or taxa will weather at different rates due to constructional differences (Gifford 1981). It is well known that the weathering process is more intense when the bone is freed from the soft tissues. Therefore, the timing when bones from the same individual were exposed and the exposure duration could explain the variation of weathering between bones from the same individual (Lyman, 1994:363). Unfortunately, most of the studies involving weathering are based on non-human remains, making inferences quite difficult in terms of funerary studies. Weathering acts along lines of structural weakness in the bone, resulting in a fine network of “split lines” over time. Coe (1980) describes that the bones and teeth begin to crack (and flake, in the case of bones) within five weeks of death when they were submitted to a diurnal temperature range of 35oC. Apparently the range of temperature that the bones are exposed can be ameliorated by covering (in this case, the author was considering vegetation covering, but in the case of human remains, it is possible to consider a hut, cloths or baskets as covering elements). This observation was confirmed by Behrensmeyer and Boaz (1980), who describe that except for the teeth of recently dead individuals, the only uncracked tooth observed were either those unexposed to the air in semiburied crania or mandibles. In the same way, Hill (1980) says that unburied bones shielded by vegetation, are more likely to survive than are those exposed to harsher conditions.

Water Exposition and Calcium Deposits The action of water can be directly (while raining) or indirectly (through percolation). Calcium deposits are formed when the atmospheric carbon dioxide is dissolved by water producing carbonic acid. This decreases pH. Rain water, which is acid, reacts with calcium carbonate, producing calcium bicarbonate. The calcium bicarbonate dissolved by rain drops falls on the soil and when the partial pressure of carbon dioxide is diminished, it is transformed again into calcium carbonate (Botella et al., 1999). Calcium carbonate often is distributed as a layer upon the bones, protecting them from other natural processes. However, if there is too much overlapping of these layers, the bones can be totally covered by them. If bone fragments are dislocated before the deposition of calcium carbonate layers, they become agglutinated in a messy way, sometimes preventing their reconstruction and analysis. Calcium deposition also precludes the visualization of bone surfaces, making paleopathological analyses impossible. Besides the macroscopic deposition of calcium, there

Maria Mercedes M. Okumura and Sabine Eggers

are also microscopic depositions that incorporate calcium carbonate on the bone matrix. In the latter, it is not always possible to detect the deposition of calcium macroscopically.

Fungi, Bacteria and Algae Regardless the role of micro-organisms in the decomposition process, important biological alteration of bone can be caused mainly by algae, fungi, and bacteria (Davis, 1997; Schultz, 1997b; Jans et al., 2004). Algae are, together with other organism, reported to be responsible for microscopic focal destructions (MFD) of bone (Davis, 1997). These MFD are small holes or hypermineralized nodules. They alter histomorphological features of bone, and may facilitate decomposition of bone and thus prevent fossilization. Fossilization was thought to occur to bone not attacked by bioerosion, but a systematic study of fossil bone revealed that about one third on them did show evidences of microbial attack (Trueman and Martill, 2002). Nevertheless, the resulting bioerosion in fossilised bone affects only rare specimens and if, affects only diminute areas of the bony tissue. It appears, thus, that bioerosion is a very early post mortem process that rapidly destroys bone and that bioerosion can be haltered through chemical inhibition resulting from different still unknown processes of microbes attacking mainly collagen (Trueman and Martill, 2002). Apparently, fungi penetrate bone within 30 days after exposure (Marchiafava et al., 1974), creating MFD of 1 to 8 micron in diameter, in an attempt to gain access to collagen. Surrounding these tunnels, there is a redeposition of hidroxyapatite, which can be very useful in order to differentiate these post-mortem processes from pathological ones (Hackett, 1981; Piepenbrink, 1986). It is relatively easy to identify fungal action on bones when they leave irregular usually green (sometimes also black or white) patches and spots on the bone surfaces (Botella et al., 1999). However, in some instances the fungal action can only be distinguished from bacterial attack by histological analyses on the basis of size differences in the tunnels left by them (Hackett, 1981; Jans et al., 2004). Additionally, when the tunnels created by fungal action gradually coalesce to form large patches of resorbed cortical bone, it can be easily mistaken by the unaware as remodelling and bone loss that happened when the individual was alive. In contrast to the usually macroscopically identifiable fungal action on bone, bacteria leave tiny tunnels of 5-10 micrometer in diameter only detectable through microscopic analyses, as early as months to many decades after death (Jans et al., 2004). This resulting porosity then accelerates bone decomposition through other agents such as water percolation and roots, and thus reduces the chances of biomolecular research, such as ancient DNA analyses (Bar et al., 1988). Histology and mercury intrusion porosity metrics on bones of 41 archaeological sites with different environmental characteristics revealed microbial attacks in as much as 68% of samples (Jans et al., 2004). Primary burials are more likely to be attacked by bacteria, indicating their action during putrefaction. Secondary burials, in contrast, are more likely to show better conservation. However, fungal attack can occur at any time during burial and until excavation and depends on the surrounding environment (darkness and humidity favouring their growth). The reduction in the structural density and increase of the porosity of the bone (Hanson and Buikstra, 1987; Bell, 1990) caused by the small tunnels created by fungal and bacterial

Formation Processes in a Brazilian Shellmound

activity may exacerbate the effects of diagenetic processes such as crushing from sediment overburden weight (Garland, 1987).

CULTURAL FORMATION PROCESSES Primary and Secondary Burials One of the most important cultural formation processes is the arrangement of a burial because it has relevant consequences on bone preservation. Basically, the arrangement of a burial can be classified as primary and secondary. The primary arrangement refers to the initial place where the corpse shortly after death is left. If the initial arrangement is the same as the final one, it is classified as a primary burial. On the other hand, secondary burials are those where the human remains are removed from their initial place to be definitely inhumed either in the same place or somewhere else. This happens when the individual is buried, exhumed and then buried again or when the corpse is left exposed until the partial or total skeletonization and only then is interred. Charnels are defined according to O’Shea (1984:37) as rooms used to accumulate the remains of the dead, often in a multistage program of disposal that may include a period of primary “interment”, not always below ground (Nelson et al., 1992). Although the presence of secondary burial can be quite easily identified when the reburial includes just the largest bones (Duday, 1978), the loss of small bones‡ can also indicate that the primary disposal of the individual was different from the final one, and that in some moment between the primary and the final disposal, these small bones were lost. Accordingly, when juveniles are involved in a secondary burial, the loss of bones is quite common, depending on the stage of decomposition. However, not always the identification of primary or secondary burials is straightforward. Even when all bones are present and in anatomical position, one cannot rule out a secondary burial in the sense that the corpse could have been removed from an initial to a final place of burial before the complete decomposition and subsequent disarticulation took place (Roksandic, 2002). Nonetheless, corpses wrapped in textiles or bound together with the aid of ropes and baskets can be removed from their initial places without loss of bones. Consequently, no indication about this displacement would be left over for the bioarchaeologist to identify, except the possible movement of bones due to the decomposition of soft tissues. It is important to note that even in a primary and undisturbed burial, not all the bones of the skeleton will necessarily occupy the same position as they did in the cadaver before skeletonization. There will always be a (slight or great) difference between the original in vivo position of the skeleton and what archaeologists discover in the exhumation. This can be explained by the decomposition of soft tissues, which affects the balance of the bones in two ways: due to the lack of articulation of these bones and due to the presence of empty spaces left after the decomposition of these soft tissues (Stutz, 2003: 150-151). Although decomposition and the subsequent movement of bones is a natural process, it will be strongly

‡

The loss of small bones can also happen as a consequence of natural formation processes, as already discussed.

Maria Mercedes M. Okumura and Sabine Eggers

influenced by cultural factors, including the structure and size of the grave, as well as the way that the corpse is placed (sitting, on its back, on the lateral side, etc) into it. Besides the anatomical position, the way that the skeleton was laid down into the burial pit can also give important clues about what could have happened before skeletonization. In fact, acute angles of arms and legs indicate manipulation of the body before burial, once some of these angles are impossible to attain while the soft tissue of the corpse is still intact. In addition, dismemberment at the time of death, under most circ*mstances, would leave parallel cut marks especially at the greater and lesser trochanter and the greater tubercle and medial epicondile of the humerus (Marshall, 1989; Nelson et al., 1992), although depending on the stage of decomposition dismemberment can be done more easily and not necessarily leaving marks on bones. Bleached and friable bones, presenting longitudinal cracking can suggest that they were exposed to the elements for quite a long period (Nelson et al., 1992), suggesting that the final burial did not take place immediately after death. Usually secondary burials evoke moral and social obligation during which death does not occur and is not perceived as a moment in time, but is a drawn out process. In some groups, the dead person is still considered as a part of society and the spatial proximity between the living and the corpse in treatment for secondary burial, put the mourning persons apart from society. For the Dayak of Kalimantan in Indonesia, for example, the soul only definitely detaches from the corpse when the body is ready for secondary interment and the mourners have carried out their obligations. The second interment has three main functions in this Indonesian group: bury the remains, ensure the soul access to the land of the death, and free the living from the obligations of mourning. The secondary burial is a collective affair, in the contrary to the temporary burial (Hertz, 2006).

Cannibalism Probably one of the most polemic cultural processes involving death is the practice of cannibalism. Cannibalism has disturbed and fascinated researchers since a long time. There are numerous ethnographic as well as prehistoric evidences on cannibalism all over the world. Only in southwest North America there are about 30, mostly Anasazi Pueblo sites (400-1350 AD) with anthropogenic bone modification interpreted as signs of cannibalism (Hurlburt, 2000). Behavioural inferences were drawn upon different signatures left on osteological collection of these Anasazi sites, based on taphonomy, demography, ethnohistorical accounts, and analogy. There are seven basic criteria that can aid cannibalism identification: pot polishing, perimortem breakage, burning, anvil abrasions, cut marks, underrepresentation of vertebrae (White, 1992; Turner and Turner, 1999) and similarities with butchering marks on faunal bones. Due to the disarticulation and defleshing marks secondary burials can in some rare cases resemble cannibalism (Hurlburt, 2000). It is important to state that even if one or more of the basic criteria on cannibalism are met, there are no evidences that human flesh has ever been part of subsistence strategies and thus for nutrition purposes. Evidences usually point to ritualistic situations when cannibalism was practiced.

Formation Processes in a Brazilian Shellmound

Where to Bury the Dead Although the physical characteristics of the place where the individuals are buried will influence the preservation of the corpse, the place where someone is buried is determined by a cultural choice. Therefore, although pH and humidity, among others are key factors for the preservation or not of the body, these factors will be influenced and often manipulated (as in the case of deliberated practices that modify the physical characteristics of the burial place) by people. This manipulation can accelerate the decomposition process (like cremation or watering the grave – Ramos, 1951:181-182) or can reduce smelly odours and aid preservation of bones (when the corpse is covered with lime, for example).

Aims The aim of this chapter, besides presenting a review of the literature about formation processes involving human remains in general, is to identify and discuss the natural as well as the cultural formation processes influencing the interpretation of burial patterns in a prehistoric Brazilian shellmound. Therefore we chose the site Jabuticabeira II, a site especially informative for this approach since it contains mainly burials and therefore is classified as a cemetery shellmound. Furthermore it should alert archaeologists about the importance of documenting and distinguishing these factors clearly to better understand formation processes of archaeological sites in general. This should be undertaken in situ as well as in laboratory. This work also argues in favour of true multidisciplinary research where specialists such as bioarchaeologists participate in the decision processes of the exact location and strategy of excavation, coordinate sample collection of and documentation on burials, and, as usually already routine, carry out their specialized work in the laboratory.

MATERIAL AND METHODS Archaeological Background: Brazilian Shellmounds and the Case of Jabuticabeira II Brazilian shellmounds are archaeological sites that can be found in almost the entire coast, especially the Southern regions. Although more than one thousand of these sites have been catalogued, not many were systematically studied yet (Gaspar, 1998). Most of these shellmounds are dated to between 5,000 to 1,000 years BP (Lima, 1999-2000), and the great number of them, the long period of time and large area of occupation, associated with the huge size of many of these sites (reaching up to 70 m in height), suggests that these populations were very well adapted to the coastal environment (De Blasis et al., 2007). Because of their use for the extraction of lime, the Portuguese colonists knew the Brazilian shellmounds already in the Sixteenth century, but these sites have only been a target for archaeological studies from the Nineteenth century onwards (Lacerda, 1885). Apart from craniometrical studies, most of the research carried out on skeletal remains to date is restricted to the description of pathologies in single sites (Salles Cunha, 1959; 1963a; 1963b;

Maria Mercedes M. Okumura and Sabine Eggers

Araujo, 1969; 1970; Mello e Alvim et al., 1991; Mello e Alvim and Gomes, 1992). Recently, archaeological excavations in shellmounds and the reassessment of osteological collections housed in museums have been more systematic, allowing more meaningful analyses of population history at specific sites or regions (Mendonça de Souza, 1995; Storto et al., 1999; Wesolowski, 2000; Scheel-Ybert et al., 2003; Rodrigues-Carvalho, 2004; Hubbe, 2005; Neves and Okumura, 2005; Okumura and Eggers, 2005; Filippini and Eggers, 2005-2006; Bartolomucci, 2006; Marinho et al., 2006; Okumura, 2007; Okumura et al., 2007; Wesolowski, 2007). The skeletal material analyzed in this chapter was exhumed from burials at the Brazilian shellmound Jabuticabeira II, one of 68 shellmounds located close to Camacho Lake, Jaguaruna, Santa Catarina State, Brazil (Figure 1). More than 40 radiocarbon dates indicate that this site was built between 2890 ± 55 and 2186 ± 60 BP (De Blasis et al., 1998; Gaspar et al., 1999; Fish et al., 2000). The part that remained of the site after the mining activities measures about 400 x 250 x 6 meters. The osteological material from Jabuticabeira II derives from profiles and horizontal excavations, showing a long and continuous depositional history of recurrent burial and mortuary activities as well as the lack of habitation structures. The high number and great density of burials, most of which lay out with shells and covered over by a layer of sand mixed with shells, suggest that the utilization of this shellmound as cemetery was linked to its construction process (De Blasis et al., 1998; Fish et al., 2000). Primary and secondary burials are distributed over most of the locations excavated, presenting hearths, post holes, as well as lithic artefacts, beads, fish remains (interpreted as offerings for the dead and food for the living, depending on completeness and state of conservation of their skeletons), and red pigment (De Blasis et al., 1998; Edwards et al., 2001; Klokler 2001). Based on the mean number of burials per cubic meter excavated until then, Fish et al. (2000) estimated that an astonishing number of about 40,000 individuals must have been buried in this site. Even if this is an overestimate, it suggests a large number of people living nearby Jabuticabeira II, possibly sharing a social identity and getting together for the construction of and the rituals carried out at this site. The material described here consists of the remains of a minimum number of 89 individuals (using the criteria established by White, 1991) excavated from the site Jabuticabeira II during three field campaigns in 1997, 1998 and 1999. The state of conservation of some of the individuals is far from being ideal. In many cases there are only a few skeletal elements.

Curation and Analyses The curation was carried out in the laboratory according to internationally accepted criteria. The distinction between juveniles and adults was based on classical osteological features, like the fusion of spheno-occipital suture, the degree of epiphyseal closure, tooth formation and eruption (Ubelaker, 1989) and the size of the long bones (Johnston, 1962). Adult individuals were sexed based on pelvic and cranial morphology (Buikstra and Ubelaker, 1994). More details on age and sex distribution as well as a palaeopathological analysis on these individuals can be found in Okumura and Eggers (2005).

Formation Processes in a Brazilian Shellmound

Brazil

Jabuticabeira II

Figure 1. Map showing Brazil (a), the geographical location of the Jabuticabeira II site amongst many other shellmounds (b), and a general overview of it (c).

The analysis of natural and cultural processes was carried out macroscopically. Due to the fragmentary character of the sample, not all individuals were included in every analysis. Burial forms and photographs taken in the field were also used to access information for the analysis.

RESULTS Evidences of Natural Formation Processes Due to the great concentration of shells, the soil pH of shellmounds is usually higher than that found in other tropical soils, neutralizing their acidic destructivity and allowing the conservation of human remains. The fact that the majority of Brazilian skeletal remains were exhumed from shellmounds (Okumura et al., 2007) supports the notion that the soil alcalinization in these sites is a natural formation process that allows the preservation of human remains. However, the accumulation of shells in shellmounds is a cultural phenomenon, since these were accumulated on purpose by the dwellers while constructing the site (Gaspar and De Blasis, 1992; Gaspar, 1998; 2000; Fish et al., 2000). Calcium deposition is often found on skeletons buried in shellmounds, due to the calcium rich environment provided by the abundance of shells. This kind of deposition can sometimes prevent the surface visualization, not allowing the analyses of pathologies that affect the surface of the bones. An advanced mineralized state of a skeleton exhumed in Jabuticabeira II was described by Edwards et al. (2001), showing evidences that the calcium carbonate was being incorporated into the phosphatic hydroxyapatite. Therefore, the mineralization process

Maria Mercedes M. Okumura and Sabine Eggers

happens through the absorption of carbonaceous material into the inorganic matrix on sites previously occupied by the collagen component. Raman spectroscopy analysis on a forearm of this highly mineralised individual revealed a layer of limewash (Edwards et al., 2001). This could be the product of heating shells to 700900 oC and applying the produced lime onto the corpse. If molluscs are heated to high temperature calcium oxide is released; this reacts with sodium bicarbonate solutions in the midden soil to form powdered calcium carbonate to precipitate on the shells (Waselkov, 1987). Whether this procedure was intentional, in order to avoid putrefaction smells and attraction of flies and scavengers is not known. Therefore, in the same way that the soil alkalinisation was a natural process related to a cultural habit, the consequences of the spread of lime on the corpses is a natural process that could be linked to a cultural one. The presence of human bones deformed due to sediment pressure is quite common in shellmounds, due to the mountain shape and huge size as well as the presence of burials in every stratigraphic layer. Although there is no evidence of artificial cranial deformation in vivo among these shellmound dwellers, it is very important to distinguish intentional deformations from the ones that occurred after death, as a result of a natural process. In Jabuticabeita II, at least one individual presenting a postmortem cranial deformation was recovered and although recent construction material was covering this burial, it is more likely that cranial natural deformation occurred while the bone was still fresh (recently deceased). Among the skeletal material from Jabuticabeira II, evidences of weathering or water exposition are extremely rare but numerous bones show fractures caused by post-mortem natural processes, while antemortem and perimortem fractures, indicating accidents and violence are extremely scarce. In a sample of 21 adults that presented enough bones to be analysed, seven presented traumas, but none classically related to interpersonal violence (Okumura and Eggers, 2005). The human remains described previously (Okumura and Eggers, 2005) reveal that about one third of the individuals died before 21 years of age, a proportion that agrees with the percentage observed in other prehistoric cemeteries (Waldron, 1994), meaning that, a priori, the natural and cultural processes related to the differential bone preservation between adults and juveniles did not distort the original (and expected) demographic composition of these group.

Figure 2. Example of a natural process related to insect action in bone material. See the extensive bone loss on the endocranium.

Formation Processes in a Brazilian Shellmound

Photo: Wagner Sousa e Silva Figure 3. Rodent marks on ulna of a mid-adult female.

Figure 4. Black spots caused by fungi on long bone fragment of a young adult.

Another demographic parameter concerns sex distribution. The fact that both sexes are represented in a very similar proportion and that all age classes are represented in the osteological collection of Jabuticabeira II (Okumura and Eggers, 2005), indicates that no strong selection processes (being they cultural or natural) acted on the people buried and exhumed. It is important to stress that the exhumed individuals, apart from indicating no selection processes regarding age or sex of whom was buried, are, at the same time, an example of recent selection processes (such as the decision of which part of the site to excavate and which of the individuals recorded to exhume). The presence of roots was observed and documented (although not systematically) in many occasions during the curatorial process of the human skeletal material from Jabuticabeira II. Furthermore, another evidence of bioturbation was identified among the individuals analysed. An adult of undetermined sex presented an extremely modified surface of the inner table of the cranium, with extensive bone loss. In some regions, all that was left from the cranium was the outer table.

Maria Mercedes M. Okumura and Sabine Eggers

Figure 5. Locus 2. The tightly flexed skeletons were layed down on shell beds (such as at top left) in small, non-intruding burials surrounded by postholes. Some burials were covered with stones.

Pathological processes, such as meningitis, can be confounded with this bone loss. However, a detailed examination of the cranium revealed that the damage was possibly caused by insects (Figure 2). The ulna of a mid-adult female found in a hyperflexed position, depicted on Figure 3 is a good example for the action of rodents, showing shallow and short parallel grooves. The presence of superficial fungi was also observed. One example is a long bone fragment of a young adult of undetermined sex, with clear black spots of fungi with no associated macroscopic alteration (Figure 4).

Evidences of Cultural Formation Processes After initial field campaigns focussed on the stratigraphic analysis of the profiles, Locus 2 was chosen for horizontal decoupage aimed at investigating funerary rituals. Locus 2 is a stratigraphically well defined funerary area, with dark organic sediment and shells, presenting faunal remains, numerous burials with extremely flexed individuals of all age categories and both sexes lay down on whole shell beds and covered with shells and hearths containing fish as offering and feast remains, and surrounded by many postholes (Figure 5). All 12 burials from Locus 2 are neatly delimited from each other through vestiges of wooden posts surrounding the graves. These posts probably helped to avoid the intrusion of new burials in old ones and to prevent scavengers to reach the deceased (indeed gnawing marks are very rare in the Jabuticabeira II bones). Additionally, small shellmounds covered each of the individual burials, and groups of burials too. Two human bones, one from a burial located at the basis and another one from a burial at the top of this 25cm thick funerary layer were dated to 2,340 ± 50 and 2,320 ± 50 BP respectively (Beta 188381 and Beta 188382 - De Blasis et al., 2004). The concomitance of these dates suggested that the individuals buried in this area were linked to each other by some kind of affinity, be it biological or cultural or both. However, dental and cranial non-metric data, as well as osteoarthrosis frequencies and patterns revealed no significant differences between the individuals exhumed from Locus 2 in comparison to those exhumed from other areas of this same site (Filippini 2004; Petronilho, 2005; Bartolomucci, 2006).

Formation Processes in a Brazilian Shellmound

Figure 6. Possible defleshment marks left on the pelvis of a young individual.

Figure 7. General aspect of Burial 26B. The very acute angles of the lower limbs suggest a period between death and burial long enough for the soft tissue to deteriorate.

Curiously, preliminary data on stable isotopes reveal that the individuals from Locus 2 had a diet richer in proteins than those excavated elsewhere at Jabuticabeira II (Richards et al., 2007). The majority of Locus 2 burials in Jabuticabeira II contained complete or nearly complete skeletons. Most of these bones are not bleached, not friable, and exhibit no longitudinal cracking and as such do not suggest that they were exposed for the elements for a very long time (Nelson et al., 1992). However, the presence of very acute angles on lower limbs, probably made with the help of ropes, strings or bundles in some burials especially at Locus 2 indicates that some of the corpses were exposed until decomposition of most soft tissue in a place different than that chosen for final burial. Another possibility would be the intentional defleshment carried out by members of the group (as discussed in Fish et al., 2000), leaving

Maria Mercedes M. Okumura and Sabine Eggers

cut or scraping marks (Marshall, 1989; Nelson et al., 1992), similar to those seen in Figure 6. However, among the 89 individuals analyzed, this is the only one with evidences of such type, rendering defleshment, if any, a rare ritual among the people buried in Jabuticabeira II. On the other hand, as seen in Figure 7, very acute angles of the lower limbs probably could not be obtained while the soft tissues were still on the corpse. These so called hyperflexed skeletons (and in fact secondary and not primary burials) are frequent in Jabuticabeira II and since defleshing marks are extremely rare or absent, deceased bodies must have been left to deteriorate naturally before secondary interment. Another evidence of cultural mark left on the bones from the Jabuticabeira II shellmound, are small starshaped antropogenic marks, possibly of anthropogenic origin, such as that seen in Figure 8. Since these marks are tiny and localized, and since no hard implement was found associated to them, a natural cause for their occurrence can be excluded. These marks certainly do not resemble rodent marks, and although they are not the typical marks related to defleshment, we hypothesise that they represent marks carved onto the bones during preparation of the deceased for secondary burial. Secondary burials can lead to absence of small bones, that can be deliberately ignored (when the burial includes just the largest bones) or accidentally lost (Duday, 1978). This process is more common in the secondary burial of juveniles. A case described in detail by Okumura and Eggers (2005) shows a secondary double burial of a six-month old infant and a three-year-old child. In this case, the skeleton of the older child was relatively complete, presenting more than 50% of the bones, while the youngest child presented just a few long bones. The presence of pigments associated with funerary rituals which stain bones is relatively frequent in shellmound burials. This was also often observed in Jabuticabeira II. Raman spectroscopy studies on a pigment covered forearm revealed that it was pure red haematite (instead of the most often used mixture of pigments known as ochre) applied over a layer of limewash onto the corpse (Edwards et al., 2001), as seen in Figure 9.

DISCUSSION Natural and cultural formation processes are usually inter-related, because cultural choices in mortuary rituals strongly affect natural formation processes. This influence or alteration can be clearly seen in Brazilian shellmounds, where the accumulation of shells, a cultural practice (Gaspar and De Blasis, 1992; Gaspar, 1998; 2000; Fish et al., 2000), changes the natural tropical acid pH of the soil. In the same way, the mineralization that occurs in some skeletons in these sites can also be linked to the cultural practice of accumulating shells. The limewash applied onto the deceased body (Edwards et al., 2001) is another example of cultural practice that alters the environment where the body is buried. The importance of recognizing and distinguishing natural formation processes from cultural ones is essential when dealing with skeletal samples, especially in palaeopathological studies. In fact, deformed bones due to sediment pressure can be misdiagnosed as cultural practices, such as artificial deformations performed during growth, or can be confounded with true pathologies (like bended legs in rickets, etc). Also, it is essential to separate pre, peri and post mortem fractures that can be a reliable indicator of accidents and interpersonal violence.

Formation Processes in a Brazilian Shellmound

Photo: Wagner Sousa e Silva Figure 8. Starshaped carved mark found in a few long bones.

Figure 9. Massive layer of red pigment on humerus.

The rarity of trauma, be they accidental or violent in nature, observed in Jabuticabeira II was also reported for other Brazilian shellmounds, indicating rare conflicts between groups, in spite of the proximity of living and dwelling areas inferred through the existence of nearby contemporaneous shellmounds (Mendonça de Souza, 1995; Lessa and Medeiros, 2001; Lessa, 2005; Okumura and Eggers, 2005; De Blasis et al., 2007). Clearly, the same mortuary context can be representative of different funerary behaviours. For example, tightly flexed individuals can, a priori, be indicative of: a) an extended funerary ritual where the body, already partially decomposed is interred in a secondary burial; b) the deceased may alternatively have been actively defleshed, put in bundles and only then buried; or c) the manipulation of a primary inhumation in the same place, moving long bones to a different position. In these cases, sometimes it is impossible for a bioarchaeologist to distinguish among these possibilities, although some features observed in the burial can indicate which possibility is the more likely one. For example, secondary burials can involve weathering, carnivore gnawing, dismemberment, and/or defleshment. However, to characterize a secondary burial certain features must be excluded, such as perimortem trauma, intentional percussion breakage, or evidences of cooking. On the other

Maria Mercedes M. Okumura and Sabine Eggers

hand, while cannibalism may resemble secondary burials, extensive carnivore gnawing could exclude cannibalism. The high frequency of hyperflexed complete individuals in Locus 2 from Jabuticabeira II suggests secondary burial, where the corpses must have been left to decompose naturally until the lack of soft tissue allowed the individual to be wrapped or tied very tightly and then buried. Obviously, the fact that the lower limbs were found forming acute angles in the grave does not necessarily mean that the decomposing bodies were tied together or wrapped, but this is a possibility that should not be ignored. The absence of friable and cracked bones as well as the rarity of rodent marks suggests that the decomposition took place in a sheltered place and that the definite burial was performed as soon as it was possible to hyperflex the limbs. Also, the absence of systematic cut marks makes it very unlikely that rituals of defleshment or cannibalism were performed. Although there are no extant Brazilian groups which can be culturally associated with shellmound builders, some ethnographic accounts can be used in order to support or inspire models about the mortuary ritual of these coastal groups. Specifically in the case of Jabuticabeira II, as mentioned above, the burial pattern at Locus 2 is of secondary burials with hyperflexed individuals on top of whom little individual mounds of shell were put shortly after final interment. Besides this, groups of burials were also covered by a bigger mound, contributing to the construction (or increase) of the main mound. The cultural practice related to individual mounds on top of burials was described in ethnographic accounts for Brazilian Kaingang (Lozano, 1873-1874:423), although the mounds where build with sediment, and not with shells. Also, the fact that Locus 2, a quite small area of about 25m2, presented a considerable amount of burials (about 0.5 per m2) and none of them where intruding into each other, strongly supports the idea that the posts found around the burials could be used to delimit the burial space. This cultural practice was also reported in ethnographic accounts on contemporaneous Brazilian indigenous groups that presented the same custom. These include again the Kaingang who delimited their cemetery using wooden posts (Baldus, 1979:20), but also the Botocudo who erected a small cabin or shed above the burials (Métraux, 1946; SaintHilaire, 1838; Manizer, 1919), the Mbaya who buried their dead in mortuary huts where each family owed a piece of ground demarked by posts (Métraux, 1948), the Kamayura who surrounded the burial place with a low fence (Métraux, 1948), the Guayaki who used to build a miniature hut over the grave (Métraux and Baldus, 1946), and the Tupinamba who sometimes suspended the corpses in hammocks over a pit lined out with posts and covered with branches (Métraux, 1948). This widespread cultural practice documented in ethnographic reports can help to propose and test new models about the funerary practices of ancient shellmound groups. The picture that emerges taking the abovementioned observations into account is that the funerary practices in Jabuticabeira II probably lasted for several weeks (until the soft tissue on the deceased body decomposed). In case the deceased was put to naturally decompose in a closed charnel with no access of scavengers and rodents, the shellbed, the lime, as well as the offerings (such as mortars and shell bead strings) had to be prepared. The wood for the posts that later surrounded each burial had to be selected, transported and prepared. The pure hematite had to be collected and the fish for the offering needed to be caught. Finally, when all these arrangements were ready, the group of people who participated in the preparation of the secondary burial gathered nearby the burial and participated, perhaps in the presence of other people of the community, at an interment ritual. At this occasion the remaining bones

Formation Processes in a Brazilian Shellmound

(with some of the strongest ligaments still intact) were transported to the final burial place, where they were bundled or hung up between the posts on top of the shell bed, and surrounded by funerary offerings. At a certain point the bones must have been laid down and covered with some heaps of shell. On top of this little shellmound a ceremonial fire, using already dead wood (Scheel-Ybert et al., 2003) was lit. Judging from the burned fishbone, however, this fire also was used to prepare a meal. Only after this complex funerary ritual the mourning people were released to reassume their normal life (if the ethnographic accounts on secondary burial can be applied to this archaeological context). This picture, although compelling, needs to be confirmed through various new analyses. This will be the subject of a future work, since the dilemma of the bioarchaeologist is how to consider all the evidence together to reconstruct behaviour and formation processes. Only very careful examination can result in the identification of those processes. And this should be carried out in collaboration with specialists from other areas, gathering data on osteology, archaeological context, anthracology, geology, demographic composition, taphonomy, associated artefacts and ethnohistoric accounts (Hurbult, 2000).

CONCLUSION The understanding of natural and cultural formation processes and the discrimination between them are essential for any kind of morphological, palaeopathological, dietary or demographic analysis performed on human skeletal remains. This demands a more intense participation of bioarchaeologists in the recovering and recording of human skeletal remains and their respective burial settings. In this chapter, we limited our discussion to the natural and cultural processes related to the funerary ritual of the Jabuticabeira II cemetery shellmound. In this case the construction of the shellmound itself is intimately associated with the funerary rituals, since consecutive layers of little individual shellmounds on top of burials contributed in an important way to the make up of the entire mound. However, each funerary context must be analyzed in its own particularity; therefore, distinct funerary contexts probably must take into account the understanding of other natural and cultural processes that were not mentioned here.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS The human skeletal remains used in this paper derive from archaeological excavations undertaken by several specialists under the joint coordination of Paulo De Blasis, Maria Dulce Gaspar, Suzanne Fish and Paul Fish. Financial support was received from Wenner Gren Foundation, FAPESP (98/8114-3; 03/02059-0; 04/11039-0), USP and CEPID/ FAPESP (98/14254-2). We would like to thank Fabiola Silva for inspiring the first draft of this article, Camila Storto Frochtengarten and Ila Fazzio for a helping hand during the curation process, and Astolfo Araujo for his helpful comments. Errors or omissions remain the sole responsibility of the authors.

Maria Mercedes M. Okumura and Sabine Eggers

REFERENCES Alekshin, V. A. (1983). Burial customs as an archaeological source. Current Anthropology, 24(2), 137-149. Allison, P. A. and Briggs, D. E. G. (1991). Taphonomy: releasing the data locked in the fossil record. New York: Plenum Press. Anderson, G. S. and Cervenka, V. J. (2002). Insects associated with the body: their use and analyses. In W. D. Haglund and M. H. Sorg (Eds.), Advances in forensic taphonomy: method, theory, and archaeological perspectives (pp.173-200). Boca Raton: CRC Press. Araujo, A. G. M. (1995). Peças que descem, peças que sobem e o fim de Pompéia: algumas observações sobre a natureza flexível do registro arqueológico. Revista do Museu de Arqueologia e Etnologia (USP), 5, 3-25. Araujo, A. G. M. and Marcelino, J. C. (2003). The role of armadillos in the movement of archaeological materials: an experimental approach. Geoarchaeology, 18, 433-460. Araujo, A.G.M. (in press). Geoarqueologia em sítios abrigados: processos de formação, estratigrafia e potencial informativo. In J.C. R. Rubin (Ed.) Geoarqueologia: Teoria e Prática. Goiânia: Editora da Universidade Católica de Goiás. Araujo, E. M. (1969). Análise do material ósseo humano do sambaqui do Rio Lessa (SC.LF.39). Anais do Instituto de Antropologia (UFSC), II(2), 175-188. Araujo, E. M. (1970). Afecções dentárias: hipercementose e abrasão das populações do litoral de Santa Catarina. An Mus Antrop UFSC, 3, 71-90. Baldus, H. (1979). Ensaios de etnologia brasileira. Companhia Editora Nacional, 101. Bar, W., Kratzer, A., Machler, M. and Schmid H. (1988). Postmortem stability of DNA. Forensic Science International, 4,150-162. Bartel, B. (1983). Comment on Alekshin. Current Anthropology, 24 (2), 145-146. Bartolomucci, L. B. G. (2006). Variabilidade biológica entre sambaquieiros: um estudo de morfologia dentária. MSc dissertation, University of São Paulo (USP). Behrenmeyer, A. K. (1978). Taphonomic and ecologic information from bone weathering. Paleobiology, 4,150-162. Behrenmeyer, A. K. and Boaz, D. E. D. (1980). The recent bones of Amboseli National Park, Kenya, in relation to East African palaeoecology. In A. K. Behrenmeyer, and A. P. Hill (Eds.), Fossils in the making: vertebrate taphonomy and palaeoecology (pp. 72-93). Chicago and London: the University of Chicago Press. Bell, L. S. (1990). Paleopathology and diagenesis: a SEM evaluation of structural changes using backscattered electron imaging. Journal of Archaeological Science, 17, 85-108. Berryman, H. E. (2002). Disarticulation pattern and tooth artifacts associated with pig scavenging of human remains: a case study. In W. D. Haglund and M. H. Sorg (Eds.), Advances in forensic taphonomy: method, theory, and archaeological perspectives (pp. 487-495). Boca Raton: CRC Press. Binford, L. R. (1971). Mortuary practices: their study and their potential. In: J. A. Brown (Ed.), Approaches to the social dimension in Mortuary Practices (pp. 6-29). Washington D. C.: Memoirs of the Society of American Archaeology 25. Botella, M. C., Alemán, I. and Jiménez, S. A. (1999). Los huesos humanos: manipulación y alteraciones. Barcelona: Bellaterra.

Formation Processes in a Brazilian Shellmound

Brain, C. K. (1967). Bone weathering and the problem of bone pseudo-tools. South African Journal of Science, 63, 97-99. Brain, C. K. (1981). The hunters or the hunted? An introduction to African cave taphom*omy. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Bromage, T. G. (1984). Interpretation of scanning electron microscopic images of abraded forming bone surfaces. American Journal of Physical Anthropology, 64, 161-178. Brothwell, D. (1981). Digging up Bones (Third Edition). New York: Cornell University Press. Brown, J. A. (1971a). The dimensions of status in the burials at Spiro. In J. A. Brown (Ed), Approaches to the Social Dimensions of Mortuary Practices (pp 92-112). Washington D. C.: Memoirs of the Society of American Archaeology 25. Brown, J. A. (1971b). Introduction. In J. A. Brown (Ed.), Approaches to the Social Dimensions of Mortuary Practices (pp 1-5). Washington D. C.: Memoirs of the Society of American Archaeology 25. Buikstra, J. E. and Ubelaker, D. H. (1994). Standards for data collection from human skeletal remains. Arkansas Archaeological Survey Research Series 44. Catts, E. P. and Haskell, N. H. (1990). Entomology and death: A procedural guide. In E. P. Catts and N. H. Haskell (Eds.), Forensic entomology specialities (pp. 9-37). Clemson, SC. Chapman, R. W. and Randsborg, K. (1981). Approaches to the archaeology of death. In R. W. Chapman, I. Kinnes and K. Randsborg (Eds.), The Archaeology of Death (pp.1-24). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Childe, V. G. (1945). Directional changes in funerary practices during 50,000 years. Men, 45, 13-19. Clark, J. and Kietzke, K. K. (1967). Paleoecology of the Lower Nodular Zone, Brule Formation, in the Big Badlands of South Dakota. In J. Clack, J. R. Beerbower and K. K. Kietzke (Eds.), Oligocene sedimentation, stratigraphy and paleoclimatology in the Big Badlands of South Dakota (pp. 111-137). Fieldiana Geology Memoir 5. Coe, M. (1980). The role of modern ecological studies in the reconstruction of palaeoenvironmnets in sub-Saharan Africa. In A. K. Behrenmeyer and A. P. Hill (Eds.), Fossils in the making: vertebrate taphonomy and palaeoecology (pp 55-67). Chicago and London: the University of Chicago Press. Cook, J. (1986). The application of scanning microscopy to taphonomic and archaeological problems. In D. A. Roe (Ed.), Studies in the Upper Paleolithic of Britain and northwest Europe (pp. 143-163). British Archaeological Reports International Series 296. Crist, T. A.J., Washburn, A., Park, H., Hood, I. and Hickey, M. (1997). Cranial bone displacement as taphonomic process in potential child abuse cases. In W. D. Haglund and M. H. Sorg (Eds.), Forensic taphonomy: the postmortem fate of human remains (pp. 319336). Boca Raton: CRC Press. Cronyn, J. M. (1990). The elements of archaeological conservation. London: Routledge. Currey, J. (1984). The mechanical adaptations of bones. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Darwent, C. M. and Lyman, R. L. (2002). Detecting the postburial fragmentation of carpals, tarsals, and phalanges. In W. D. Haglund and M. H. Sorg (Eds.), Advances in forensic taphonomy: method, theory, and archaeological perspectives (pp. 355-377). Boca Raton: CRC Press.

Maria Mercedes M. Okumura and Sabine Eggers

Davis, P. G. (1997). The bioerosion of bird bones. International Journal of Osteoarchaeology, 7, 388-401. De Blasis, P. A. D., Fish, S. K., Gaspar, M. D. and Fish, P. R. (1998). Some references for the discussion of complexity among the Sambaqui moundbuilders from the southern shores of Brasil. Revista de Arqueologia Americana, 15, 75-105. DeBlasis, P., Gaspar, M.D., Giannini, P.C., Figuti, L., Eggers, S., Scheel-Ybert, R., Afonso, M.C., Farias, D.S., Kneip, A., Mendonça, C.A., Ybert, J.P., Klökler, D., Sawakuchi A., Barbosa, P.N., Bendazzoli, C., Souza, J.B., Ribeiro, F.V.A., and Ariza, M. (2004). Processos formativos nos sambaquis do Camacho, SC: Padrões funerários e atividades cotidianas. Unpublished report (FAPESP 03/02059-0). De Blasis, P., Kneip, A., Scheel-Ybert, R., Giannini, P. C., Gaspar, M. D. (2007). Sambaquis e Paisagem: Dinâmica e arqueologia regional no litoral sul do Brasil. Arqueologia SulAmericana, 3(1), 29-61. Derry, D. E. (1911). Damage done to skulls and bones by termites. Nature, 86, 245-246. Duday, H. (1978). Archéologie funéraire et anthropologie: Application des relevés et de l'étude ostéologiques à l'interprétation de quelques sépultures pré-et protohistoriques du Midi de la France. Cahiers d'Archéologie, 78(1), 55-101. Duday, H. (1985). Nouvelles observations sur da décomposition des corps dans un espace libre. In Méthode d'Étude des Sépultures (pp. 6-13). Saint-German en Laye. Duday, H.,Courtaud, P.,Crubezy, E.,Sellier, P., and Tillier, A.-M., (1990). L'anthropologie de "terrain": reconnaissance et interpretation des gestes funeraires. Bulletins et Memoires de la Societe d'Anthropologie de Paris, 2(3-4), 26-49. Edwards, H. G. M., Farwell, D. W., Faria, D. L.A., Monteiro, A. M. F., Afonso, M. C., De Blasis, P. and Eggers, S. (2001). Raman spectroscopic study of 3000-year-old human skeletal remains from a sambaqui, Santa Catarina, Brazil. Journal of Raman Spectroscopy, 32, 17-22. Erzinclioglu, Y. Z. (1983). The application of entomology to forensic medicine. Medicine, Science and the Law, 23, 57-63. Filippini, J. (2004). Biodistância entre sambaquieiros fluviais e costeiros: Uma abordagem não-métrica craniana entre três sítios fluviais do vale do Ribeira – SP (Moraes, Capelinha e Pavão XVI) e três costeiros do sul e sudeste do Brasil (Piaçaguera, Jabuticabeira II e Tenório). MSc dissertation. University of São Paulo (USP). Filippini, J. and Eggers, S. (2005-2006). Distância biológica entre sambaquieiros fluviais (Moraes-Vale do Ribeira- SP) e construtores de sítios litorâneos (Piaçaguera e Tenório – SP e Jabuticabeira II-SC). Revista do Museu de Arqueologia e Etnologia (USP), 1516,165-180. Fish, S. K., De Blasis, P., Gaspar, M. D. and Fish, P. (2000). Eventos incrementais na construção de sambaquis, litoral sul do Estado de Santa Catarina. Revista do Museu de Arqueologia e Etnologia (USP), 10, 69-87. Fitzpatrick, E. A. (1980). Soils: their formation, classification and distribution. London: Longman. Gamble, L. H., Walker, P. L. and Russell, G. S. (2001). An integrative approach to mortuary analysis: social and symbolic dimensions of Chumash burial practices. American Antiquity, 66(2), 185-212. Garland, A. N. (1987). A histological study of archaeological bone decomposition. In A. Boddington, A. N. Garland and R. C. Janaway (Eds.), Death, decay and reconstruction:

Formation Processes in a Brazilian Shellmound

approaches to archaeology and forensic science (pp. 109-126). Manchester: Manchester University Press. Garland, A. N., Janaway, R. C. (1987). The taphonomy of inhumation burials. In C. A. Roberts, F. Lee and J. Bintliff (Eds.), Burial archaeology: current research, methods and developments (pp. 14-38). Oxford: University of London, British Archaeological Reports International. Gaspar, M. D. (1998). Considerations of the sambaquis of the Brazilian coast. Antiquity, 72, 592-615. Gaspar, M. D. (2000). Sambaqui: arqueologia do litoral brasileiro. Rio de Janeiro: Jorge Zahar. Gaspar, M. D. and De Blasis, P. A. D. (1992). Construção de Sambaquis. Anais da VI Reunião da Sociedade de Arqueologia Brasileira, 2, 811–820. Gaspar, M. D., Afonso, M., De Blasis, P. A. D., Eggers, S., Figuti, L., Fish, P., Fish, S., Klokler, D. M., Lahr, M. M. and Moeley, E. (1999). Uma breve história do projeto de pesquisa "Padrão de assentamento e formação de Sambaquis: arqueologia e preservação em Santa Catarina". Revista do Centro de Estudos e Pesquisas de Arqueologia, 23,108117. Gifford, D. P. (1980). Ethnoarcheological contributions to the taphonomy of human sites. In A. K. Behrenmeyer and A. P. Hill. Fossils in the making: vertebrate taphonomy and palaeoecology (pp. 94-106). Chicago and London: the University of Chicago Press. Gifford, D. P. (1981). Taphonomy and paleoecology: a critical review of archaeology’s sister disciplines. In M. B. Schiffer (Ed.), Advances in archaeological method and theory: Volume 4 (pp. 365-438). New York: Academic Press. Gilman, A. (1983). Comment on Alekshin. Current Anthropology, 24 (2), 146-147. Gladfelter, B. G. (1977). Geoarchaeology: the geomorfologist and archaeology. American Antiquity, 42(4), 519-538. Goodenough, W. H. (1965). Rethinking ‘status’ and ‘role’. Toward a general model of the cultural organisation of social relationships, in M. Banton (ed.), The relevance of models for social anthropology (pp. 1-24). London: Tavistock. Gordon, C. C. and Buikstra, J. E. (1981). Soil pH, bone preservation, and sampling bias at mortuary sites. American Antiquity, 46, 566-571. Hackett, C. J. (1981). Microscopical focal destruction (tunnels) in exhumed human bones. Medicine, Science and the Law, 21, 243-265. Haglund, W. D., Reay, D. T. and Swindler, D. R. (1989). Canid scavenging/disarticulation sequence of human remains in the Pacific Northwest. Journal of Forensic Sciences, 34, 587-606. Haglund, W. D. (1997a). Dogs and coyotes: postmortem involvement with human remains. In W. D. Haglund and M. H. Sorg (Eds.), Forensic taphonomy: the postmortem fate of human remains (pp. 367-381). Boca Raton: CRC Press. Haglund, W. D. (1997b). Rodents and human remains. In W. D. Haglund and M. H. Sorg (Eds.), Forensic taphonomy: the postmortem fate of human remains (pp. 405-414). Boca Raton: CRC Press. Hanson, D. B. and Buikstra, J. E. (1987). Histomorphological alteration in buried human bone from the Lower Illinois Valley: implications for palaeodietary research. Journal of Archaeological Science, 14, 549-563.

Maria Mercedes M. Okumura and Sabine Eggers

Haskell, N. H., Hall, R. D., Cervenka, V. J. and Clarck, M. A. (1997). On the body: insects' life stage presence, their postmortem artifacts. In W. D. Haglund and M. H. Sorg (Eds.), Forensic taphonomy: the postmortem fate of human remains (pp. 415-448). Boca Raton: CRC Press. Hassan, F. (1978). Sediments in archaeology: methods and implications for paleoenvironmental and cultural analysis. Journal of Field Archaeology, 5, 197-213. Henderson, J. (1987). Factors determining the preservation of human remains. In A. Boddington, A. N. Garland and R. C. Janaway (Eds.), Death, decay and reconstruction: approaches to archaeology and forensic science (pp. 43-55). Manchester: Manchester University Press. Hertz, R. (2006). A contribution to the study of the collective representation of Death. In A. C. G. Robben (Ed.), Death, Mourning and Burial: a cross cultural reader (pp.197-212). Malde, USA: Blackwell Publishing. Hill, A. P. (1980). Early post-mortem damage to the remains of some contemporary East African mammals. In A. K. Behrenmeyer, and A. P. Hill (Eds.), Fossils in the making: vertebrate taphonomy and palaeoecology (pp. 131-152). Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press. Hodder, I. (1982). Symbols in Action. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hubbe, M. (2005). Análise biocultural dos remanescentes ósseos humanos do sambaqui Porto do Rio Vermelho 02 (SC-PRV-02). PhD thesis. University of São Paulo (USP). Hurlburt, A. S. (2000). The taphonomy of cannibalism: a review of anthropogenic bone modification in the American Southwest. International Journal of Osteoarchaeology, 10, 4-26. Janaway, R. C. (2002). The decay of buried human remains and their associated materials. In J. Hunter, C. Roberts and A. Martin (Eds.), Studies in crime: an introduction to forensic archaeology (pp. 58-85). Londres: Routledge. Jans, M. M. M., Nielsen-Marsh, C. M., Smith, C. J., Collins, M. J. and Kars, H. (2004). Characterization of microbial attack on archaeological bone. Journal of Archaeological Sciences, 31,87-95. Janssen, W. (1984). Forensic histopathology. Berlin: Springer. Johansson, L. U. (1987). Bone and related materials. In H. W. M. Hedges (Ed.), In situ archaeological conservation (pp. 132-137). Getty conservation Institute and Instituto Nacional de Antropologia y Historia de Mexico. Johnson, E. (1985). Current developments in bone technology. In M. B. Schiffer (Ed.), Advances in archaeological method and theory (pp. 157-235). New York: Academic Press. Johnston, F. E. (1962). Growth of the long bones of infants and young children at Indian Knoll. Human Biology, 33, 66–81. Kitching, J. M. (1980). On some fossil Arthropoda from the Limeworks, Makapansgat, Potgietersrus. Palaeontologia Africana, 23, 63-68. Klökler, D. M. (2001). Construindo ou deixando um sambaqui? Análise de sedimentos de um sambaqui do litoral meridional brasileiro- processos formativos. Região de Laguna – SC. MSc dissertation. University of São Paulo (USP). Knight, B. (1990). A review of the corrosion of iron from terrestrial sites and the problem of post excavation corrosion. The Conservator, 14, 37-43. Knight, B. (1991). Simpson’s Forensic Medicine (10th edition). London: Edward Arnold.

Formation Processes in a Brazilian Shellmound

Krogman, W. M. and Iscan, M. Y. (1986). The human skeleton in forensic medicine. Springfield, Illinois: Charles C. Thomas. Lacerda, J. B. (1885). Nota sobre os cranios dos sambaquis de Santos (Passa-Mirim). Boletim da Comissao Geographica e Geologica do Estado de Sao Paulo, 9, 89–90. Lessa, A. (2005). Reflexões preliminares sobre a paleoepidemiologia da violência em grupos ceramistas litorâneos: I sítio Praia da Tapera (SC). Revista do Museu de Arqueologia e Etnologia (USP), 15, 199-207. Lessa, A. and Medeiros, J. C. (2001). Reflexões preliminares sobre a questão da violência em populações construtoras de sambaquis: análise dos sítios Cabeçuda (SC) e Arapuan (RJ). Revista do Museu de Arqueologia e Etnologia (USP), 11, 77-94. Lima, T. A. (1999-2000). Em busca dos frutos do mar: os pescadores-coletores do litoral centro-sul do Brasil. Revista USP, 44, 270-327. Limbrey, S. (1975). Soil Science and Archaeology. London: Academic Press. Lowie, R. H. (1948). The tropical forest: an introduction. In Handbook of South American Indians: Volume 3 (pp. 1-56). Washington D. C.: Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 143, Smithsonian Institution. Lozano, P. (1873-1974). Historia de la conquista del Paraguay: Río de la Plata y Tucumán. Biblioteca del Río de la Plata. Buenos Aires: Andres Lamas, 1. Lull, V. (2000). Death and society: a Marxist approach. Antiquity, 74, 576-80. Lyman, R. L. (1994). Vertebrate taphonomy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Manizer, H. H. (1919). Les Botocudos d’après les observations recueillies pendant un séjour chez eux en 1915. Archivos do Museu Nacional do Rio de Janeiro, 22, 234-273. Mant, A. K. (1953) Recent work on postmortem changes and timing death. In K. Simpson (Ed.), Modern trends in forensic medicine (pp. 147-162). London: Butterworths. Mant, A. K. (1984). Post-mortem changes. In A. K. Mant (Ed.), Taylor’s principles and practice of medical Jurisprudence (pp. 128-155). Edinburgh: Churchill Livingstone. Mant, A. K. (1987). Knowledge acquired from post-war exhumations. In A. Boddington, A. N. Garland and R. C. Janaway (Eds.), Death, decay and reconstruction: approaches to archaeology and forensic science (pp. 65-78). Manchester: Manchester University Press. Marchiafava, V., Bonucci, E. and Ascenzi, A. (1974). Fungal osteoclasia: a model of dead bone resorption. Calcified Tissue Research, 14, 195-210. Marean, C. W. (1991). Measuring the post-depositional destruction of bone in archaeological assemblages. Journal of Archaeological Science, 18, 677-694. Marinho, A. N. R., Miranda, C. R., Braz, V., Ribeiro-dos-Santos, A. K., Mendonça de Souza, S. M. F. (2006). Paleogenetic and taphonomic analysis from bones from Moa, Beirada, Zé Espinho Sambaquis, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. Memórias do Instituto Oswaldo Cruz, 101(II), 15-23. Marshall, L.G. (1989). Bone modification and the “laws of burial”. In R. Bonnichsen and M. H. Sorg (Eds.), Bone Modification (pp. 7-24). Center for the Study of the First Americans, Institute for Quarternary Studies, University of Maine, Orono. Martin, R. E. (1999). Taphonomy: a process approach. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Mello e Alvim, M. C. and Gomes, J. C. de O. (1992). Hiperostose porosa: anemia malárica? Indios Guajajara— estudo de um caso. In A. J. G. Araujo and L. F. Ferreira (Eds.), Paleopatologia e paleoepidemiologia: Estudos multidisciplinares (pp. 141–157). Rio de Janeiro: Escola Nacional de Saúde Pública

Maria Mercedes M. Okumura and Sabine Eggers

Mello e Alvim, M. C., Uchoa, D. P. and Gomes, J. C.O. (1991). Cribra orbitalia e lesões cranianas congêneres em populações pré-históricas da costa meriodional do Brasil Revista do Museu de Arqueologia e Etnologia (USP), 1, 21–53. Mendonça de Souza, S. M. F. (1995). Estresse, doença e adaptabilidade: estudo comparativo de dois grupos pré-históricos em perspectiva biocultural. PhD thesis, ENSP/FIOCRUZ. Merbs, C. F. (1997). Eskimo skeleton taphonomy with identification of possible polar bear victims. In W. D. Haglund and M. H. Sorg (Eds.), Forensic taphonomy: the postmortem fate of human remains (pp. 249-262). Boca Raton: CRC Press. Métraux, A. (1946). The Botocudo. In J. H. Steward (Ed.), Handbook of South American Indians (pp. 531-540). Bureau of American Ethnology, Bulletin no. 143, vol 1. Washington D. C.: Smithsonian Institution. Métraux, A. (1948). The Guarani. In J. H. Steward (Ed.), Handbook of South American Indians (pp. 69-94). Bureau of American Ethnology, Bulletin no. 143, vol 3. Washington D. C.: Smithsonian Institution. Métraux, A. and Baldus, H. (1946). The Guayakí. In J. H. Steward (Ed.), Handbook of South American Indians (pp. 435-444). Bureau of American Ethnology, Bulletin no. 143, vol 3. Washington D. C.: Smithsonian Institution. Miller, G. J. (1969). A study of cuts, grooves, and other marks on recent and fossil bone. I. Animal tooth marks. Tebiwa, 12, 20-26. Morse, D. (1983). The time of death. In D. Morse, J. Duncan and J. Stoutamire (Eds.), Handbook of Forensic Archaeology and Anthropology (pp. 124-144). Tallahassee: Florida State University Foundation. Morton, R. J. and Lord, W. D. (2002). Detection and recovery of abducted and murderes children: behavioral and taphonomic influences. In W. D. Haglund and M. H. Sorg (Eds.), Advances in forensic taphonomy: method, theory, and archaeological perspectives (pp. 151-171). Boca Raton: CRC Press. Murad, T. A. (1997). The Utilization of Faunal Evidence in the Recovery of Human Remains. In W. D. Haglund and M. H. Sorg (Eds.), Forensic taphonomy: the postmortem fate of human remains (pp. 395-404). Boca Raton: CRC Press. Nelson, A. J. (1998). Wandering bones: archaeology, forensic science and Moche burial practices. International Journal of Osteoarchaeology, 8, 192-212. Nelson, B. A., Darling, G. A. and Kice, D. A. (1992). Mortuary Practices and the Social Order at La Quemada, Zacatecas, México. Latin American Antiquity, 3(4), 298-315. Neves, W. A. and Okumura, M. M. M. (2005). Afinidades biológicas de grupos pré-históricos do vale do rio Ribeira de Iguape (SP): uma análise preliminar. Revista de Antropologia (FFLCH-USP), 48(2), 525-558. Nuorteva, P. (1977). Sarcosaprophagous insects as forensic indicators. In C. G. Tedeschi, W. G. Eckert and L. G. Tedeschi (Eds.), Forensic medicine: a study in trauma and environmental hazards (pp. 1072-1095). Philadelphia: WB Saunders. Okumura, M. M. M. (2007). Diversidade morfológica craniana, micro-evolução e ocupação pré-histórica da costa brasileira. PhD thesis. University of São Paulo (USP). Okumura, M. M. M. and Eggers, S. (2005). The people of Jabuticabeira II: reconstruction of the way of life in a Brazilllian shellmound. hom*o, 55, 263-281. Okumura, M. M. M. Boyadjian, C. H. and Eggers, S. (2007). Auditory exostosis in coastal prehistoric settlements in Brazil. American Journal of Physical Anthropology, 132(4), 558-567.

Formation Processes in a Brazilian Shellmound

O´Shea, J. M. (1984). Mortuary Variability: an archaeological investigation. Orlando, FL: Academic Press. Patel, F. (1994). Artifact in forensic medicine - postmortem rodent activity. Journal of Forensic Sciences, 39, 257-260. Petronilho, C. (2005). Marcadores de atividades em populações pré-históricas e atuais: testando a diversidade. MSc dissertation, University of São Paulo (USP). Piepenbrink, H. (1986). Two examples of biogenous dead bone decomposition and their consequences for taphonomic interpretation. Journal of Archaeological Science, 13, 417430. Piggott, S. (1973). Problems in the interpretation of chambered tombs. In G. Daniel and P. Kjaertum (Eds.), Megalithic graves and rituals: III Atlantic Colloquium (pp. 9-15). Moesgard-Jutland Archaeological Society. Polson, C. J. (1955). Essentials of Forensic Medicine (1st edition). London: Eng. Univ. Press. Prous, A. (1991). Arqueologia brasileira. Brasília: Universidade de Brasília. Pyddoke, E. (1961). Stratification for the Archaeologist. London: Phoenix House. Ramos, A. (1951). Introdução à antropologia brasileira: as culturas não-européias. Coleção Estudos Brasileiros. Rio de Janeiro: CEB, 1. Renfrew, C. (1976). Archaeology and the Earth Sciences. In D. A. Davidson and M. L. Shackley (Eds.), Geoarchaeology: Earth Science and the Past (pp. 1-5). Westview Press, Boulder, Colorado: Gerald Duckworth. Richards, M., De Blasis, P. and Eggers, S. (2007). What stable isotopes reveal about diet at the shellmound Jabuticabeira II, Santa Catarina, Brazil. Anais da XVI Reunião da Sociedade de Arqueologia Brasileira. Rodrigues-Carvalho, C. (2004). Marcadores de estresse ocupacional em populações sambaquieiras no litoral fluminense. PhD thesis, University of Rio de Janeiro (UFRJ). Rodriguez, W. C. (1997). Decomposition of buried and submerged bodies. In W. D. Haglund and M. H. Sorg (Eds.), Forensic taphonomy: the postmortem fate of human remains (pp. 459-467). Boca Raton: CRC Press. Rodriguez, W. C. and Bass, W. M. (1983). Insect activity and its relationship to decay rates of human cadavers en East Tenessee. Journal of Forensic Science, 23, 423-432. Roksandic, M. (2002). Position of skeletal remains as a key to understand mortuary behavior. In W. D. Haglund and M. H. Sorg (Eds.), Advances in forensic taphonomy: method, theory, and archaeological perspectives (pp. 99-117). Boca Raton: CRC Press. Saint-Hilaire, A. (1838). Voyage dans l’interieur du Brésil: Voyage dans le district des diamants et sur le littoral du Brésil - 1830-1833. Volume 2. Paris. Salles Cunha, E. De M. (1959). Patologia odonto-maxilar do homem dos sambaquis. Revista Brasileira de Odontologia, 17(103), 1-11. Salles Cunha, E. De M. (1963a). Patologia alvéolo-dentária do homem dos sambaquis de Vitória. Revista de Farmácia e Odontologia, XXIX(264), 249-262. Salles Cunha, E. De M. (1963b). Sambaqui e outras jazidas arqueológicas: paleopatologia dentária e outros assuntos. Cientifica, Rio de Janeiro. Saul, J. M. and Saul, F. P. (2002). Forensics, archaeology, and taphonomy: the symbiotic relationship. In W. D. Haglund and M. H. Sorg (Eds.), Advances in forensic taphonomy: method, theory, and archaeological perspectives (pp. 72-97). Boca Raton: CRC Press. Scheel-Ybert, R., Eggers, S., Wesolowski, V., Petronilho, C., Boyadjian, C. H., De Blasis, P. A. D., Barbosa-Guimarães M. and Gaspar M. D. (2003). Novas perspectivas na

Maria Mercedes M. Okumura and Sabine Eggers

reconstituição do modo de vida dos sambaquieiros: uma abordagem multidisciplinar. Revista de Arqueologia, 16, 109-137. Schiffer, M. B. (1972). Archaeological context and systemic context. American Antiquity, 37(2), 156-165. Schiffer, M. B. (1975). Archaeology as behavioural science. American Anthropologist, 77, 836-848. Schiffer, M. B. (1976). Behavioural Archaeology. New York: Academic Press. Schiffer, M. B. (1983). Toward the identification of formation processes. American Antiquity, 48(4), 675-706. Schiffer, M. B. (1987). Formation Processes of the Archaeological Record. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. Schultz, M. (1997a). Microscopic structure of bone. In W. D. Haglund and M. H. Sorg (Eds.), Forensic taphonomy: the postmortem fate of human remains (pp. 187-199). Boca Raton: CRC Press. Schultz, M. (1997b). Microscopic investigation of excavated skeletal remains: a contribution to paleopathology and forensic medicine. In W. D. Haglund and M. H. Sorg (Eds.), Forensic taphonomy: the postmortem fate of human remains (pp. 201-222). Boca Raton: CRC Press. Shennan, S. E. (1975). The social organization at Branc. Antiquity, 49, 279-287. Shipman, P. and Walker, A. (1980). Bone-collecting by harvesting ants. Paleobiology, 6, 496-502. Smith, G. E. (1908). The alleged discovery of syphilis in prehistoric Egyptians. Lancet, 2, 521-524. Sorg, M. H. (1985). Scavenger modification of human remains. Current Research in Pleistocene, 2, 37-38. Storto, C. Eggers S. and Lahr M. M. (1999). Estudo preliminar das paleopatologias da população do sambaqui de Jaboticabeira II. Revista do Museu de Arqueologia e Etnologia (USP), 9, 61-71. Straus, L. G. (1990). Underground archaeology: perspectives on caves and rockshelters. In M. B. Schiffer (Ed.), Archaeological Method and Theory: Volume 2 (pp. 255-304). Tucson: University of Arizona Press. Stutz, L. N. (2003) Embodied rituals and ritualized bodies: tracing ritual practices in late Mesolithic burials. Acta Archaeological Lundensia, series in 8o, no. 46. Lund: Wallin and Dahlholm Boktryckeri AB. 395p. Symes, S. A., Williams, J. A., Murray, E. A., Hoffman, J. M., Holland, T. D., Saul, J. M., Saul, F. P. and Pope, E. J. (2002). Taphonomic context of sharp-force trauma in suspected cases of human mutilation and dismemberment. In W. D. Haglund and M. H. Sorg (Eds.), Advances in forensic taphonomy: method, theory, and archaeological perspectives (pp. 403-434). Boca Raton: CRC Press. Trueman, C. N. and Martill, D. M. (2002). The long-term survival of bone: the role of bioerosion. Archaeometry, 44(3), 371-82. Turner, C. G. and Turner, J. A. (1999). Man Corn: Cannibalism and Violence in the Prehistoric American Southwest. Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press. Ubelaker, D. H. (1989). Human skeletal remains: Excavation, analysis, interpretation (Second Edition). Washington, D.C.: Taraxacum.

Formation Processes in a Brazilian Shellmound

Ubelaker, D. H. (1997) Taphonomic applications in forensic anthropology. In W. D. Haglund and M. H. Sorg (Eds.), Forensic taphonomy: the postmortem fate of human remains (pp. 77-90). Boca Raton: CRC Press. Ucko, P. J. (1969). Ethnography and archaeological interpretation of funerary remains. World Archaeology, 1, 262-281. VanLaerthoven, S. L. and Anderson, G. S. (1999). Insect sucession on buried carrion in two biogeoclimatic zones of British Columbia. Journal of Forensic Science, 44, 31-41. Villa, P. and Mahieu, E. (1991). Breakage patterns of human long bones. Journal of Human Evolution, 21, 27-48. Von Endt, D. W. and Ortner, D. J. (1984). Experimental effects of bone size and temperature on bone diagenesis. Journal of Archaeological Science, 11, 247-253. Waldron, T. (1994). Counting the dead: the epidemiology of skeletal populations. New York: John Wiley and Sons. Waldron, T. (1987). The relative survival of the human skeleton: implications for paleopathology. In A. Boddington, A. N. Garland and R. C. Janaway (Eds.), Death, Decay and Reconstruction:Approaches to Archaeology and Forensic Science (pp. 55-64). Manchester: Manchester University Press. Waselkov, G. A. (1987). Shellfish gattering and shell midden archaeology. In M. B. Schiffer (Ed.), Advances in archaeological method and theory: Volume 10 (pp. 93-210). London: Academic Press. Watson, J. A. L. and Abbey, H. M. (1986). The effects of termites (Isoptera) on bone: some archaeological implications. Sociobiology, 11, 245-254. Wesolowski V. (2000). A prática da horticultura entre os construtores de sambaquis a acampamentos litorâneos da região da Baía de São Francisco, Santa Catarina: uma abordagem bio-antropológica MSc dissertation. University of São Paulo (USP). Wesolowski, V (2007). Cáries, desgaste, cálculos dentários e micro-resíduos da dieta entre grupos pré-históricos do litoral norte de Santa Catarina: É possível comer amido e não ter cárie? PhD thesis. Escola Nacional de Saúde Pública Sergio Arouca (ENSP). White, T. D. (1992). Cannibalism at Mancos 5MTUMR-2346. Princeton: Princeton University Press. White, T. D. (1991). Human Osteology. New York: Academic Press. Wylie, A. (1985). The reaction against analogy. In: M. Schiffer (Ed.), Archaeological Method and Theory: Volume 8 (pp. 63-112). London: Academic Press.

In: Archaeology Research Trends Editors: A. R. Suárez, M. N. Vásquez

Chapter 2

THE ARCHAEOLOGY OF HUMAN-ENVIRONMENT INTERACTIONS: HISTORY AND CURRENT TRENDS Emily Lena Jones* Division of Social and Behavioral Sciences, Diné College, USA

ABSTRACT The last 25 years have seen the development of a thriving literature on the archaeology of human-environment interactions. A review of the literature shows three distinct histories of work on human-environment interactions: “environmental archaeology” as represented by the Association for Environmental Archaeology; human paleoecology, which looks at human impacts on the environment from an anthropological viewpoint; and environmental studies, which uses archaeological data within the conservation biology literature. These bodies of work have explored different data sets, used different methods, and, by and large, come to very different conclusions about the nature of human-environment interactions both past and present. Despite the fact that their conclusions are often highly relevant to each other, there is very little crossfertilization of theoretical or methodological approaches. This chapter critically reviews these bodies of work, assesses the current state of research, and discusses emerging trends in the archaeology of human-environment interactions.

INTRODUCTION … [G]iven the impact of Quaternary climate changes on plant and animal communities, on sea level, on rivers, on lakes, and on all other components of the environment, human prehistory must be inextricably linked to Quaternary environmental changes, although the degree and nature of the linkages are hotly debated….Coping with or even (more recently) distancing ourselves from Quaternary environments and environmental changes is arguably a key aspect of human prehistory and evolution. Archaeology is thus one of the Quaternary

* Tsaile, AZ 86556, USA, Email: [emailprotected], Telephone: 928-724-6621, Fax: 928-724-6625.

Emily Lena Jones sciences and, therefore, understanding the record of the Quaternary and some basic principles of the Quaternary geosciences is an important part of archaeology…. (Holliday 2001: 3-4) Thus, as ecologists initiate new research projects and address environmental concerns, as conservationists turn to protect or restore species, as the larger population tries to understand the wildlife in its backyards, let us not forget to look back to understand the forces and changes that shape the ecosystems we seek to understand…. [P]ast processes in the landscape condition the present and loom as legacies in modern and future landscapes. For us to succeed in our science, our environmental interpretations and predictions, and our management objectives we must heed the past. (Foster 2000: 29)

Statements such as these two, asserting the importance of both environmental studies in archaeology and archaeology in environmental studies, have become increasingly common in the literature over the past twenty-five years. Archaeologists often pin the development of recent interest in human-environment interactions to the emergence of an environmental movement in the 1970s (Fieller, Gilbertson et al. 1985; Trigger 1989; Evans and O'Connor 1999; Dincauze 2000; McIntosh, Tainter et al. 2000); ecologists who are interested in the effects of prehistoric human impact on present environments generally claim an even more recent genesis (Meffe and Carroll 1997; Peterson, Allen et al. 1998; Foster 2000; Holland 2000; i.e., Burgi and Russell 2001). When one examines the literature closely, however, it quickly becomes evident that prehistoric human-environment interactions have been a topic of scholarly attention for over a century, both in the ecological community (Thoreau 1860; Nash 1967; Runte 1987) and among archaeologists (Grayson 1984; Trigger 1989; Willey and Sabloff 1993). The ways in which changing environments affected humans, and the ways in which humans changed their environments, have been of interest to archaeologists since the origins of the discipline. In 18th and 19th century Europe, archaeology was considered a part of geology and the “natural sciences” (Willey and Sabloff 1993; Stein 2000). John Lubbock (1865) created his periods of European prehistory by stratigraphically correlating archaeological remains and the extinct fauna of the Pleistocene. For some time, the environmental changes that accompanied the end of the Pleistocene were thought to be so traumatic for foragers living in Europe at the Pleistocene-Holocene transition that they suffered a huge population crash (Childe 1925; Daniel 1950; Clark 1980), a clear case of environmental cause-and-effect. The development of human ability to transform environments, specifically in regards to agriculture—considered a hallmark of “civilization”—was a hot topic in the early 20th century, as it is now (Childe 1925; Trigger 1989). Researchers who today advocate integration of archaeological/historical studies and conservation biology (Denevan 1992; Kay 1994; Lyman 1996; Kay 1998; Foster 2000; Butler 2001; Grayson 2001; Pitcher 2001; Yochim 2001; Redman 2005; Costanza, Graumlich et al. 2007) might be surprised to learn that as early as the 19th century, scientists argued that archaeology and a diachronic approach had the potential to contribute to wildlife management and biological studies (Wintemberg 1919). Although many of the issues that were of interest to earlier archaeologists remain the subject of debates today, some scholars assert that the ways in which these questions are framed and understood have changed.

The Archaeology of Human-Environment Interactions

Table 1. Some definitions of goals from authors using different approaches to the study of prehistoric human-environment interactions "Environmental archaeology is a wide and multi-disciplinary science which seeks to understand past ecology -- with emphasis on man's role -- and past human economy and living conditions. Its sources of evidence are diverse but the main stream of the subject is founded upon analysis of the remains of plants and animals and the sediments in which they are buried." -Kenward et. al 1984, cited on the AEA Web site (http://www.envarch.net/) “… [T]he primary goal of environmental archaeology should be to define the characteristics and processes of the biophysical environment that provide a matrix for and interact with socioeconomic systems…." (Butzer 1982) "[Environmental archaeology] arose from widespread concern with environmental issues…and from consequent rapid development of techniques to delineate, describe, and explain past and present ecological systems…." (Reitz, Newsom et al. 1996) "[Environmental archaeology] is an area of archaeology that lies very firmly within the realms of the natural sciences, more specifically biological and earth sciences….The term ‘environmental archaeology’ is seen by many as a convenience to collectively describe a group of archaeological studies carried out using biological and geological materials….” (Wilkinson and Stevens 2003) "The study of how human groups survived in particular environments: the examination of why these survival methods changed through time." (review in O'Connor 2001) "Study of past environments, with particular emphasis on man's impact on the landscape." (review in O'Connor 2001) "Historical ecology or landscape history is study of past ecosystems by charting the change in landscapes over time. Thus, evidence for the historical interrelatedness of humans and environments may be read in the landscape....changing human attitudes may also be identified and their effects studied." (Crumley 1994) “Environmental archaeology is the study of past human environments, traditionally from archaeological investigations, sections, and boreholes but increasingly from written sources, and the relationship between humans and those environments.” (Evans 2003) “… [T]o seek a better understanding of the interaction between society and the environment, to use that knowledge to preserve, nurture, and perhaps even improve on what we value in the environment, and, further, to ensure that our future actions are consistent with these goals. These interactions can best be understood from a perspective that takes those long-term dynamics into account…” (Redman 2005)

Emily Lena Jones

The development of conservation biology as a discipline in and of its own right (Meffe and Carroll 1997), the growth of environmentally-related, methodically-defined subdisciplines such as zooarchaeology, paleoethnobotany, and geoarchaeology (Dincauze 2000), and a growing interest in human impacts on surrounding environments (Grayson 2001) have contributed to the development of what some archaeologists call “human paleoecology”; but was this really a revolutionary event that caused a radical break from previous approaches? Such a question is difficult to assess, because the history of archaeological inquiry into prehistoric human-environment interactions is marked by such a wide variety of approaches. In this chapter, I explore this history to address the above question, and consider the future for an archaeology of human-environment interactions. Although there are almost as many approaches to studying prehistoric humanenvironment interactions as there are researchers (see table 1), interest in this topic can be broken down into three main categories, each of which is increasingly restricted in scope. In Great Britain, archaeologists interested in environment often call themselves “environmental archaeologists,” and focus primarily on methodological developments and paleoenvironmental reconstruction; some North Americans have been involved with this school as well. In North America, archaeology concerned with environmental issues has been dominated by the more theory-based “human paleoecologists,” who focus on the ways in which human-environment relationships shaped prehistoric cultures, and recently have been particularly interested in issues of “global environmental change” (Driver 2001; Redman, James et al. 2004; Kirch 2005). Finally, there are ecologists and conservation biologists (sometimes archaeologists) who use archaeological data to make arguments within ecology (Martin and Szuter 1999; Lyman 2006; Etnier 2007; Frazier 2007). In recent years, the last two categories have become far less distinct, with many researchers publishing the same results for different audiences. The past 15 years have also been marked by a growth of theory-driven work in humanenvironment interactions. In particular, two bodies of theory – optimal foraging theory (Stephens and Krebs 1986) and resilience theory (Holling 1973; Gunderson and Holling 2002) – are frequently employed in the current literature. Both bodies of theory are “borrowed” from ecology, and archaeologists using them frequently publish in both the archaeological and ecological literature.

“NATURAL SCIENCE” AND ARCHAEOLOGY Archaeology had its beginnings as one aspect of what was then termed “natural science” or “earth science.” In the 18th century, natural scientists began using geological stratigraphy, paleontology, and archaeology to answer questions about the antiquity of the earth (Grayson 1983; Trigger 1989; Willey and Sabloff 1993; Stein 2000). As Stein (2000) explains: Associations among extinct fauna, primitive artifacts, and stratigraphically superimposed layers were sought, but these eighteenth century scholars were generalists, not specialists. The disciplines that were much later to become separate and distinct entities shared, at this moment, the same history. Archaeology, stratigraphy, paleontology, and geology began simultaneously as earth science. (18)

The Archaeology of Human-Environment Interactions

In the beginning, the focus was on stratigraphic correlation; with no “absolute” dating methods, the establishment of the antiquity of humans relied heavily on the ability of these “natural scientists” to establish the contemporeneity of extinct mammals (paleontology), glacial landscapes (palynology, geology), and prehistoric humans (archaeology). Researchers were primarily interested in establishing a chronology, but also participated in what today we might call paleoenvironmental reconstruction—trying to understand what past landscapes looked like. Their approach was what today might be labeled both interdisciplinary (involving personnel from and methods of a variety of academic disciplines) and problem-oriented (focused on a particular research question, in this case, the antiquity of humans) environmental research. By the mid-19th century, the antiquity of humans was widely accepted in the scientific community (Lyell 1863). With the publication of On the Origin of Species (Darwin 1859) and contemporaneous interest in cultural evolution, questions of human antiquity turned in a new direction: demonstrating the “progress” of the human species through time, and developing unilinear evolutionary schemes of human development. Questions of environment here took on an entirely new character, as the degree to which societies “controlled” their environment was one of the hallmarks of “civilization” (see Lubbock 1865; Tylor 1865; Morgan 1877). The important fact that mankind commenced at the bottom of the scale and worked up, is revealed in an expressive manner by their successive arts of subsistence. Upon their skill in this direction, the whole question of human supremacy on the earth depended. Mankind are the only beings who may be said to have gained an absolute control over the production of food; which at the outset they did not posses above other animals….It is accordingly probably that the great epochs of human progress have been identified, more or less directly, with the enlargement of the sources of subsistence. (Morgan 1877: 19)

Again, this research was thoroughly interdisciplinary, with archaeological, paleontological, geological, and ethnographic data all being used together to make arguments about the degree to which various cultures had “progressed.” 19th century evolutionary anthropologists, however, had a significant problem: clearly, not all peoples in the world had progressed to the same level. As an explanatory mechanism, some of these theorists adopted a perspective of environmental determinism (i.e., Semple 1903; Semple 1911; Huntington 1914; Huntington 1915; Semple 1931). Huntington suggested that climate determined why some cultures raced along evolutionary trajectories while others slowed down; warmer climates slowed progress while colder ones advanced it (Huntington 1915). Semple’s formulation of environmental determinism was rather more complex, taking into account a variety of environmental variables in addition to climate, and postulating a variety of potential results from environment (Semple 1903). In many ways, Semple’s heavily interdisciplinary research—technically a geographer, she drew from history, archaeology, anthropology, geology, and biology, among others—foreshadows Jared Diamond’s (1997; 2005) work on environment and human history. Both unilinear evolution and environmental determinism produced a fierce backlash, and were justly criticized for being overly simplistic; the backlash was particularly violent in the United States, where the Boasian approach dominated. The Boasians argued strongly that history, not environment, explains cultural differences. Thus archaeologists in the early 20th century tended to be in one of two camps: either they were adherents of environmental

Emily Lena Jones

determinism, or they avoided environment altogether. Julian Steward described these latter: “Environment is relegated to a purely secondary and passive role. It is considered prohibitive or permissive, but not creative” (1955: 35). While environment continued to be presented as a (more or less important) factor in determining culture, the integrated approach to archaeology, paleontology, and geology disappeared at the beginning of the 20th century. Specialization in individual topics became more common, and many of the interdisciplinary roots of inquiry into human antiquity were forgotten. Archaeology became a discipline in its own right, rather than a part of “earth science” (Trigger 1989; Stein 2000; Holliday 2001). In addition (in part following divisions within cultural anthropology), environmental research in archaeology acquired distinct continental differences at this time (Trigger 1989; Watson 1997; Pearsall 2000). In Europe, methodology and reconstructions of past environments became the foci of research. In North America, archaeologists were more theoretically oriented, attempting to understand the causes and meanings of human adaptations to particular environments. Ecologists, meanwhile, focused on human-caused environmental changes.

ENVIRONMENTAL ARCHAEOLOGY As noted above, in Europe the study of prehistoric human-environment interactions focused on paleoenvironmental reconstruction and on methodology. This stemmed in part from the “gap” or “hiatus” debate mentioned earlier and Grahame Clark’s reaction to it (Mithen 1999; see essay 2 for detailed discussion of this issue). The apparent disjunction between the Paleolithic and Neolithic led some researchers to conclude that the end of the glacial period caused Paleolithic hunters to die. As the large herds of animals died out, the theory went, so did the people who hunted them; Europe was then repopulated by peoples from the Near East who brought domesticated plants and animals with them (see review in Daniel 1950). As more research was conducted, and assemblages intermediate in age between the Paleolithic and Neolithic emerged, this position became less and less tenable. As evidence against a “gap” mounted, the theory was reworked with continued emphasis on the way changing environmental conditions affected remnant Paleolithic hunters (Childe 1925). Mesolithic peoples were seen as scarce, as having returned to a barbaric state after the shock of changing environment. Although curiously absent from many of the timelines put forth in “environmental archaeology” texts (Evans and O'Connor 1999; O'Connor 2001; Evans 2003; Wilkinson and Stevens 2003, but see Dincauze 2000 and Mithen 1999), Grahame Clark’s (1932; 1936; 1939) reactions to Childe and subsequent excavations at Star Carr (1954; 1972) had a huge effect on the development of interdisciplinary paleoenvironmental work, particularly in Great Britain. Clark argued against the hypothesis that there was no substantial Mesolithic occupation of Europe (1980). At Star Carr, he assembled a team of archaeologists, faunal analysts, palynologists, and geologists to reconstruct the interaction between the Mesolithic occupants of the site and their surrounding environment. It soon became evident that the most promising way of gaining an adequate picture of the achievements of the inhabitants of Europe between the end of the Ice Age and the adoption of

The Archaeology of Human-Environment Interactions

a Neolithic way of life was to adopt an ecological approach and deploy the full armoury of Quaternary research. (Clark 1980: 38)

This multidisciplinary approach set a standard to which environmentally-inclined archaeologists still aspire today (Mithen 1999; Dincauze 2000). Clark’s excavations at Star Carr established a new protocol: no longer were archaeologists generalists, rather archaeological projects employed a team of specialists to focus on different aspects of the archaeological record. One could argue that it was from Clark’s excavations that the archaeological subdisciplines of zooarchaeology, archaeobotany or paleoethnobotany, and geoarchaeology graduated into subdisciplinary specialties of their own. Since the 1950s it has been a fundamental tenet of Mesolithic studies that human behaviour cannot be understood without knowledge of the environment within which it takes place….[I]t was Clark that pioneered the development of a multidisciplinary approach to the past. The establishment of the Fenland Research Committee in Cambridge during the 1930s brought together Clark and a range of specialists from disciplines including botany, geology, geomorphology and historical geography. The multidisciplinary spirit of this group became institutionalized in Cambridge in 1948 by the founding of the Sub-department of Quaternary Research which then played a central role in the first major excavation of a Mesolithic site in Britain—Star Carr, Yorkshire. And it is the long history of research related to Star Carr that is perhaps the most effective demonstration of both the need and ability for ‘cultural’ and ‘environmental’ approaches to be thoroughly integrated. (Mithen 1999: 477)

The environmental archaeology subdisciplines were born at Star Carr. Although few sites since have been excavated with massive multidisciplinary teams such as the one Clark assembled (Dincauze 2000), an interest in reconstructing both paleoenvironments and considering how humans used those environments has been a driving force behind research in geoarchaeology, paleoethnobotany, and zooarchaeology. Early work in these three environmental subfields was largely divergent in the years immediately following the excavations at Star Carr; boundaries within the subdisciplines were being sorted out. Most work focused on paleoenvironmental reconstruction, or on methodological developments (Shackley 1981). Site formation processes and taphonomy became major interests (Butzer 1982). In the 1970s, the environmental movement outside archaeology fostered rapid development of the environmental subdisciplines within archaeology; what Shackley (1981) terms “the limp environmental appendix model” became widespread. While Star Carr inspired many to include environmental data in site reports, this was generally done by tacking reports by a number of specialists on to the end of the monograph, and never addressing the data in the actual reporting of the site. By the late 1970s and early 1980s, this compartmentalization was widely recognized as a problem, and calls for integration became widespread (i.e., Shackley 1981; Butzer 1982). As a response to the calls for integration, archaeoenvironmental specialists in Great Britain joined forces to establish a subdiscipline called “environmental archaeology,” and as part of this effort, founded an organization called the Association for Environmental Archaeology in 1979 (see http://www.envarch.net for a detailed history). The membership was made up of archaeologists working in the various environmental subfields, and their communications focused on methodological concerns and on descriptive work, rather than on theory; this is

Emily Lena Jones

not surprising as the available theory at the time was overly complex and thus not very helpful. Today the “environmental archaeology” subdiscipline and the Association for Environmental Archaeology (AEA) continue work in this vein. The AEA publishes a journal called Environmental Archaeology, and has put forth a series of books and reports attempting to define the subfield. A perusal of their journal establishes why; there is little to bind these archaeologists together other than the fact that they use methods drawn from “environmental sciences” (i.e., zoology, biology, geology) to understand “human-environment interactions.” The “environmental archaeologists” of today are thus a loosely grouped set of zooarchaeologists, archaeobotanists, and geoarchaeologists who initially defined their subdiscipline as a set of methodological techniques for studying the past (Evans 1978; Shackley 1981). Many members have apparently become dissatisfied by this methodological approach, and have endorsed a theoretical approach, focused on “human-environment interactions” (Luff and Rowley-Conwy 1994; Reitz, Newsom et al. 1996; Evans and O'Connor 1999; Reitz and Wing 1999; Dincauze 2000; Albarella 2001; O'Connor 2001). Others suggest the solution can be found in the incorporation of social theory (Evans 2003; Wilkinson and Stevens 2003). Most work, however, still seems to be method-based and only loosely tied together (Reitz, Newsom et al. 1996; Albarella 2001; O'Connor 2001). As a one paper suggests, “…[E]nvironmental archaeology suffers from too many identities, and a lack of consensus about which face to present to the world” (O'Connor 2001: 19).

JULIAN STEWARD AND HUMAN PALEOECOLOGY If British “environmental archaeology” began with Star Carr, one could argue that “human paleoecology” in North America, the other trajectory taken by archaeologists interested in human-environment interactions, derives from the work of cultural ecologist Julian Steward. Steward, better known as an ethnologist than as an archaeologist (but see, for example, Steward 1937; Steward 1937), nevertheless had an important effect on the development of the study of environment in prehistory, particularly in the United States. He developed a school of anthropological inquiry that he called “cultural ecology,” which focused on understanding the ways that cultures adapt to environmental differences (Steward 1955). He and Seltzer (1938) argued that archaeology should play a large role in the ecological analysis of human behavior, but that new data (rather than the previous focus on typology) would be necessary for them to do so: data on subsistence, population, and settlement. Any culture must, of course, rest upon a basic economy which is adapted to its environment. This adaptation is human ecology. To varying degrees, it produces a configuration that interrelates a large number of elements; e.g., food getting, storing, grinding, and cooking. A description of it would, so far as data permit, make explicit the relative importance and kind of horticulture, fishing, or hunting and gathering; the relation of these traits to soils, altitudes, rainfall, flora, and fauna, that is, to the natural landscape. It would ascertain whether particular types of economy did or did not correlate with certain environments, and whether unlike economies occurred in the same environment. It would also make explicit the kind of villages, evidence of clustering or lack of clustering of houses,

The Archaeology of Human-Environment Interactions

number and distribution of villages in an area, and inferences about population density and stability. (Steward and Setzler 1938: 7-8)

Steward was responding to the typical archaeological report of the day, which focused on describing typologies and stylistic variation rather than on explaining human behavior. In apparent frustration with this, Steward and Setzler wrote “One wonders whether the frequent limitation of interest to measurements and tabulation of data and refinements of techniques is an unwillingness to grapple with the problems of objectives” (1938: 6). Their efforts, however, resulted in productive new fields of archaeological inquiry: encouraged by Steward, archaeological research on the origins of agriculture, settlement patterns, and the meaning of changing patterns of subsistence advanced dramatically. Steward (along with the contemporaneous work by Clark at Star Carr) encouraged and inspired large multidisciplinary archaeological projects attacking theoretically-based problems of human adaptation. The most famous are Willey’s Virú Valley project (1974), Braidwood’s expedition to Iraq (1974), and MacNeish’s work in Mexico (1974). All these projects were concerned not just with describing paleoenvironments, but with understanding how humans adapted to the paleoenvironments in which they lived. This ecological focus continued in North American archaeology; by the time of Binford and the start of the “New Archaeology,” however, the archaeology of human-environment interactions in the New World was suffering from a lack of attention to methodological problems; an interest in pursuing the “big questions” had left methods obsolete. The study of what Trigger calls “middle range theory” during this time—of site formation processes and taphonomy—began to help the methods catch up with the more well-developed theory that had evolved in response to Steward’s work (Trigger 1989). A focus on quantitative methods, the development of the flotation technique for paleoethnobotany (Streuver 1968; Pearsall 2000), taphonomy (i.e., Thomas 1971), and a growing emphasis on geoarchaeology stemmed from a recognition that understanding how a site was formed was imperative if one wanted to extract behavioral information from that site (Binford and Binford 1968; Watson, LeBlanc et al. 1971; Schiffer 1975). In the early 1970s the study of the environment within archaeology underwent several shifts. One was related to the development of the environmental movement, which stressed the ways in which humans could negatively affect their environments; a specific aspect of this was the assertion that human population could grow out of control and have significant results on surrounding environments (Boserup 1965; Ehrlich 1968). Another was the search for public relevance for archaeology, which caused some to make the argument that understanding past human impacts was important for the present (Fritz 1973; Martin and Plog 1973; for example, Dymond 1974). All this, plus a reaction against some of the more simplistic schemes in which environment was seen as causal, led to the development of systems theory. Systems theory was borrowed from biology’s “general systems theory” (Bertalanffy 1968). Early systems-theory archaeologists conceived of human culture as a system, the behavior of which could be modeled by mapping feedback between the various parts. Led by Flannery (1968), archaeologists used computer programs to model the potential variables (often environmental) that led to archaeological change. The results of all this work were primarily complex flow charts, which were both hard to read and descriptive rather than explanatory. The complexity of variables involved made it virtually impossible to draw any

Emily Lena Jones

concrete conclusions about how change came about. By the 1980s, it was largely abandoned as an approach to archaeology (Trigger 1989). In the last decade, however, systems theory in archaeology has been reborn in the form of resilience theory (Gunderson and Holling 2002; Redman 2005). Resilience theory centers on a figure-eight diagram of a four-stage “adaptive cycle”; the four stages, through which socioenvironmental systems are said to pass, are exploitation, conservation, release and reorganization (Holling and Gunderson 2002). Resilience theory thus simplifies the earlier flow charts, makes a systems approach easier to operationalize, and, proponents point out, “emphasizes the inevitability of both stability and transformation” (Redman 2005: 72). Resilience theory is relatively new on the scene in archaeology; thus far, researchers using this paradigm have produced work which seems more descriptive than explanatory (i.e., Redman and Kinzig 2003; Delcourt and Delcourt 2004; Nelson, Hegmon et al. 2006; Peeples, Barton et al. 2006). Time will tell if resilience theory is here to stay in archaeology, or if it is a passing fad. By contrast, the research tradition of human behavioral ecology—which also made its debut in the 1970s, and borrowed from a biological theoretical tradition—has gained archaeological adherents slowly and steadily since it was first introduced (Winterhalder and Smith 2000). Human behavioral ecology uses models, originally developed to analyze the behavior of non-human animals, to study human behavioral diversity (Smith 1983; Kaplan and Hill 1992; Winterhalder and Smith 2000). These models have been successfully adapted to address issues of prey choice, dietary shifts, and responses to exogenous environmental change, among other topics (O'Connell, Hawkes et al. 1988; Layton, Foley et al. 1991; Smith 1991; Hawkes and O'Connell 1992; Winterhalder and Goland 1993; Bliege Bird, Bird et al. 1995; Kelly 1995; Bird and Bliege Bird 1997; Winterhalder and Lu 1997; Bird and O'Connell 2006; Lupo 2007). From the earliest days of this research agenda, some archaeologists have worked to adapt models designed for ethnographic time to archaeological time, with increasing success (see discussions in Grayson and Delpech 1998; Grayson and Cannon 1999; Winterhalder and Smith 2000). Archaeological work on human behavioral ecological topics has grown steadily since the 1970s (Winterhalder and Smith 2000). This approach has brought robust theory and an ecological approach to a wide variety of classic archaeological questions: for example, residential mobility and settlement patterns (Kelly 1995; Zeanah 2000; Waters 2006), transport costs (O'Connell, Hawkes et al. 1988; Metcalf and Barlow 1992), resource intensification (for instance, Bettinger 1991; Broughton 1997; Broughton 1999; Grayson and Cannon 1999; Grayson, Delpech et al. 2001; Nagaoka 2002; Butler and Campbell 2004; James 2004; Nagaoka 2006), domestication and agriculture (Cannon 2000; Kohler 2004), trade and resource sharing (Rautman 1996; O'Connell, Hawkes et al. 1999), and “showing off” and the sexual division of labor (Broughton and Bayham 2003; Hildebrandt and McGuire 2003). In recent years, human behavioral ecology has provided a perspective from which archaeologists have been able to explore prehistoric conservation, impacts on the environment, and landscape management.

The Archaeology of Human-Environment Interactions

PLEISTOCENE EXTINCTIONS, ENVIRONMENTAL STUDIES, AND DIACHRONIC RESEARCH Of the three main approaches to prehistoric human-environment interactions, the environmental studies approach is often considered the most recent; authors tend to cite an origin in the late 1980s for this line of research (Denevan 1992; Kay 1994; Lyman 1996; Kirch 1997; Kay 1998; i.e., Burgi and Russell 2001). Although this is true in many ways, there is at least one major exception: the “Pleistocene overkill” hypothesis dates to the nineteenth century (see discussion in Grayson 1984). Even prior to the widespread acceptance of human antiquity, researchers suggested that human hunting could be responsible for the extinctions of the suite of mammals that died out at the end of the Pleistocene; once the scientific community was largely in accord that humans and the Pleistocene fauna had coexisted, this suggestion was widely accepted. Grayson writes: … [T]he overkill hypothesis gained adherents because other hypotheses seemed inadequate. At the same time, a human role in the extinctions helped lessen the impact of the new realization that people had coexisted with Pleistocene mammals: extinction due to human activities was very clearly a part of the modern world….Those who remained convinced that the vicissitudes of the earth’s surface had been of sufficient magnitude to account for the extinctions continued to reject the overkill hypothesis. (1984: 34)

The current argument about whether climate change is enough to account for the rash of extinctions that occurred at the end of the Pleistocene thus has a long history. However, more data—both about climate change and about human impacts on animal populations—was available when Paul Martin put forth his argument that a wave of Paleoindian hunters was responsible for the extinction of 35 genera of mammals at the end of the North American Pleistocene (Martin 1958; Martin 1967), and thus his argument was more complete. Martin’s work inspired a huge response, both in the archaeological and the biological community; the debate over whether humans caused Pleistocene extinctions in North America (and in other places too, for instance Siberia) continues to rage. Interestingly enough, this debate, from its beginnings, involved both archaeologists and environmental scientists. Archaeologists often support climate change as an explanatory mechanism; environmental scientists seem far more likely to support the overkill hypothesis or a mixed explanation. I will not review the argument over Pleistocene extinctions here (see Grayson 1984; Martin and Klein 1984; Beck 1996; Grayson 2001; Surovell, Waguespack et al. 2005; Grayson 2007); however, this debate has been of great importance in the development of archaeology as a part of conservation biology. This was one of the first arguments since the development of ecology as a field of research that involved archaeological data in a discussion of significance to environmental science; it brings up all the questions central to debate in this field today: under what conditions can humans cause extinctions? Can huntergatherers cause extinctions through hunting, or are the current wave of extinctions the result of massively increased population, improved technology, what some might call the “growth of the human footprint”? Not only does the Pleistocene overkill argument involve archaeological data, it has involved a wide number of archaeologists, many of whom have

Emily Lena Jones

broadened their outlook to consider the historic and prehistoric aspects of conservation biology-based questions from around the world. Conservation biology-oriented archaeologists have considered questions about human impacts on the environment in a variety of different ways. One of the most important developments in this subfield has been the incorporation of human behavioral ecology (see discussion in the previous section), specifically optimal foraging theory, into investigations of impacts of prehistoric peoples on their environments. Optimal foraging theory has provided both a theoretical framework and testable hypotheses about how humans might impact environments (Grayson and Cannon 1999). Many archaeologists have demonstrated that resource depression, or a situation in which the activities of a predator result in reduced capture rates of prey by that predator (Charnov, Orians et al. 1976), is omnipresent in the archaeological record (e.g., Broughton 1997; Janetski 1997; Cannon 2000; Stiner, Munro et al. 2000; Butler 2001; Nagaoka 2001; Stiner 2001; Butler and Campbell 2004). Although much of the conservation-oriented literature has involved studies of resource depression, other human effects on environment have been studied as well: animal translocation, for one, has been demonstrated to have had a large effect on prehistoric biotas. The extinctions debates (now numerous, applying to various locales) continue on, with differential success in island (Simmons 1992; Steadman 1995; Simmons 1999; Burney, James et al. 2001; Kirch 2005; Fitzpatrick and Keegan 2007) and continental settings (Grayson 1989; Grayson 1991; McDonald and Brown 1992; Beck 1996; Stahl 1996; Surovell, Waguespack et al. 2005; Firestone, West et al. 2007). Finally, resilience theory seems to be especially prominent in the conservation literature on archaeology (e.g., Redman and Kinzig 2003; Folke 2006; Peeples, Barton et al. 2006; Costanza, Graumlich et al. 2007); this is perhaps not surprising, given resilience theory’s origins in ecology. Yet another avenue of research on prehistoric impacts concerns landscape transformation, generally through burning, erosion, and/or agriculture-mediated vegetation change (Piperno, Bush et al. 1990; Balee 1993; Aronsson 1994; Amorosi, Buckland et al. 1997; Hörnber, Östlund et al. 1999; Niklasson and Granström 2000; Frazier 2007). Interestingly enough, this area of study has inspired far more work among ethnobotanically-inclined cultural anthropologists (Anderson 1991; Blackburn and Anderson 1993; Peaco*ck and Turner 2000) than among archaeologists, and the language used to describe the impacts is also startlingly different: what is referred to as “landscape management” in the anthropological literature is called “landscape degradation” by some archaeologists. The archaeological focus on the various ways in which prehistoric humans have impacted their environments has produced literature far too extensive to cite here (Lyman 1996; Kirch 1997; Grayson 2001; Kirch 2005; but see Costanza, Graumlich et al. 2007). One interesting aspect of the literature of archaeology of human impacts that they cite is that, although many archaeologists (Wintemberg 1919; Fritz 1973; Martin and Plog 1973; Lyman 1996; Grayson and Cannon 1999; Martin and Szuter 1999; Pitcher 2001; Redman 2005) have argued that diachronic studies are a necessary component of understanding how current environments should be managed to preserve biological diversity in the face of “global environmental change,” only relatively recently have articles on the importance of a diachronic effect begun to be published in the ecology literature (Peterson, Allen et al. 1998; Foster 2000; Holland 2000; Burgi and Russell 2001; Kirch 2005; Lyman 2006; Costanza, Graumlich et al. 2007; Emery 2007; Etnier 2007; Frazier 2007). Perhaps, as both Kirch (1997) and Grayson (2001) suggest, this indicates that the conservation community is changing.

The Archaeology of Human-Environment Interactions

DISCUSSION This chapter argues that in many ways the questions about human-environment interactions in prehistory currently prominent in archaeology are not new, but rephrase older concerns in a new light. From its origins, archaeology has been concerned with how humans interact with the environment, although the ways in which archaeology has approached environmental issues have varied significantly through time. Archaeological-environmental research has ranged from broad questions about human reactions to environment, to more archaeologically-focused investigations of paleoenvironmental reconstruction, to a recent focus on integration with biological sciences (particularly conservation biology). A careful review of the history of archaeological interest in human-environment interactions, however, shows not a continual rephrasing of questions to match current approaches, but rather an increasing focus of questions and precision of answers. From asking the broadest questions about how environment affects humans, archaeologists have come to ask more focused questions using theory from a variety of sources (Steward, systems theory, human behavioral ecology), and with the current focus on conservation, have focused their questions still further. The accumulation of archaeological data and refinement of archaeological method in the last century has made more, and better, archaeological data available. Theory in anthropology, ecology, and archaeology has also become more sophisticated over the years, providing environmentally-oriented archaeologists with the tools to successfully tackle a more interesting and increasingly focused array of questions. While archaeological investigations into human-environment interactions still vary dramatically in scope, theoretical orientation, and method, a subset of such investigations are considering questions that are more focused—and thus more possible to answer correctly. In her textbook, “Environmental Archaeology,” Dincauze (2000) makes the argument that the goals of paleoenvironmental studies can be split into three categories: historical (i.e., “environmental archaeology”), theoretical and philosophical (“human paleoecology”), and policy (“environmental studies”). Dincauze remarks on the lack of integration and coherence between researchers in all these fields. Certainly, environmentally-oriented archaeological research, as the review above demonstrates, varies widely in method, goals, and scope, and I find it unlikely that this will change. Without work on method and paleoenvironmental reconstruction, the more focused work on theoretical and policy-oriented research will not succeed (e.g., Driver 2001). That said, while I acknowledge that broad methodological and descriptive works are important, there is little room for substantial change in this field. In particular, the “environmental archaeology” recovered from textbooks and the Association for Environmental Archaeology seems to have stagnated with the struggle to make this school of research more theory-driven and rigorous (Driver, 2001; O'Connor, 2001). While further development of methods has the potential to contribute to this area, such contributions seem unlikely given the current state of affairs. Methodological refinements and useful paleoenvironmental data have been more profitably produced by the more theoreticallydriven approaches to prehistoric human-environment interactions of late (O'Connor 2001). “Human paleoecology,” on the other hand, has flourished since it has taken advantage of the theory provided by human behavioral ecology. This theoretical direction has led this line of inquiry to more or less merge with that part of archaeology that has been interested in

Emily Lena Jones

conservation biology and anthropogenic landscapes, an exciting field of inquiry that has grown massively over the last twenty years are so. Thus far, archaeologists have been so busy arguing that their data is important to conservation biology, however, that there has been little work devoted to making concrete policy recommendations. Pitcher (2001) is an interesting exception, though not written by an archaeologist. Archaeologists have argued persuasively that archaeological training is necessary to understand and interpret archaeological data; thus, it is time now for archaeologists to start making the leap from merely providing background information to drawing conclusions about how to proceed in the light of global environmental change. Of course, to do this archaeologists will need to be educated in policy-making; this is, however, a logical outgrowth of the conservation-based work that archaeologists have been doing for the past twenty years. Education for such archaeologists would have to include a background in conservation biology science and policy; rather than being archaeologists with environmental interests, such archaeologists will be environmental scientists who study archaeology. A related but potentially more academic recommendation involves the development of new methods. More knowledge of work being conducted in environmental studies would be of great use to archaeologists interested in conservation issues. Although conservation has not been widely observed in ethnographic small-scale populations (Hames 1991; Redford and Stearman 1993; Bodmer, Eisenberg et al. 1997; Alvard 1998; Alvard 2000; Smith and Wishnie 2000), both sustainable practices and landscape management have (Anderson 1991; Blackburn and Anderson 1993; Moreno and Villafuerte 1995; for example, Alvard 2000; Peaco*ck and Turner 2000). Archaeologists, however, have primarily documented “negative” impacts on environments—because that is what archaeologists (and conservation biologists) have been looking for. Ethnographers have developed scenarios under which conservation, sustainable practices, and landscape management may occur (Alvard 1998; Smith and Wishnie 2000). Observing any of these prehistorically will be difficult, unless we develop strategies to do so, archaeologists may not be observing the whole picture. Testing for neutral or “positive” prehistoric human impacts will require the development of new methods; nonetheless, it is imperative for archaeologists to determine if the record of human impacts we have been presenting to the world is, in fact, biased. Another aspect of research that is increasingly important concerns the feedback between exogenous climate change and human impacts on biological diversity. With the threat of global warming, it is important to understand the effects that human impacts will have on a landscape that is already changing dramatically. Now that human impacts have been wellestablished, we need to take a deeper look at the record and understand true humanenvironment interactions: situations where exogenous changes are affecting humans and humans are changing their environments. Some of the recent work on climate (Rautman 1996; Dean 2000; Gunn and Folan 2000; Hassan 2000; Johnson 2000; McIntosh, Tainter et al. 2000; Tainter 2000; van der Leeuw 2000; Fish and Fish 2004; Dean and Doyel 2006) and in historical ecology (Crumley 1994; Crumley 2000; Fitzpatrick and Keegan 2007) is a promising start in this area.

The Archaeology of Human-Environment Interactions

CONCLUSION This chapter has not reviewed all the literature or even all the schools of thought related to archaeology and environment; there is far too much material. Instead, I have attempted to place the divergent array of literature on “human-environment interactions” into broad, telescoping categories that emphasize their origins in older questions. I expect that new research foci will develop in future years. However, the recent developments in archaeology of human behavioral ecology and particularly in conservation biology and archaeology suggest that topics will remain productive areas of research for years to come.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Thanks are due to Melvin Charley and Garin Greyeyes for help with the literature review; to David Hurley and David Stevick for assistance in locating resources; and to Don Grayson and Eric Smith for discussions and critical feedback.

REFERENCES Albarella, U. (Ed.) (2001). Environmental archaeology: meaning and purpose. Dordrecht: Kluwer. Alvard, M. S. (1998). Evolutionary ecology and resource conservation. Evolutionary Anthropology, 7, 62-74. Alvard, M. S. (2000). The potential for sustainable harvests by traditional Wana hunters in Morowali nature reserve, Central Sulawesi, Indonesia. Human Organization, 59, 428440. Amorosi, T., Buckland, P., Dugmore, A., Ingimundarson, J. H. and McGovern, T. H. (1997). Raiding the landscape: Human impact in the Scandinavian North Atlantic. Human Ecology, 25, 491-518. Anderson, M. K. (1991). California Indian horticulture: management and use of redbud by the Southern Sierra Miwok. Journal of Ethnobiology, 11, 145-157. Aronsson, K.-Å. (1994). Pollen evidence of Saami settlement and reindeer herding in the boreal forest of northernmost Sweden--an example of modern pollen rain studies as an aid in the interpretation of marginal human interference from fossil pollen data. Review of Palaeobotany and Palynology, 82, 37-45. Balee, W. (1993). Indigenous Transformation of Amazonian Forests - an Example from Maranhao, Brazil. Homme, 33, 231-254. Beck, M. W. (1996). On discerning the cause of late Pleistocene megafaunal extinctions. Paleobiology, 22, 91-103. Bertalanffy, L. v. (1968). General system theory. New York: Braziller. Bettinger, R. L. (1991). Aboriginal occupation at high-altitude Alpine villages in the White Mountains of eastern California. American Anthropologist, 93, 656-679. Binford, S. R. and Binford, L. R. (1968). New perspectives in archaeology. Chicago: Aldine.

Emily Lena Jones

Bird, D. W. and Bliege Bird, R. L. (1997). Contemporary shellfish gathering strategies among the Meriam of Torres Strait Islands, Australia: testing predictions of a central place foraging model. Journal of Archaeological Science, 24, 39-63. Bird, D. W. and O'Connell, J. F. (2006). Behavioral ecology and archaeology. Journal of Archaeological Research, 14, 143-188. Blackburn, T. C. and Anderson, M. K. (Eds.) (1993). Before the wilderness : environmental management by native Californians. Menlo Park, CA: Ballena Press. Bliege Bird, R., Bird, D. and Beaton, P. (1995). Children and traditional subsistence on Mer (Murray Island), Torres Strait. Australian Aboriginal Studies, 1, 2-17. Bodmer, R. E., Eisenberg, J. F. and Redford, K. H. (1997). Hunting and the likelihood of extinction of Amazonian mammals. Conservation Biology, 11, 460-466. Boserup, E. (1965). Conditions of agricultural growth: the economics of agrarian change under population pressure. Chicago: Aldine. Braidwood, R. J. (1974). The Iraq Jarmo project. In G. R. Willey (Ed.) Archaeological researches in retrospect (59-83). Cambridge: Winthrop. Broughton, J. M. (1997). Widening diet breadth, declining foraging efficiency, and prehistoric harvest pressure: ichthyofaunal evidence from the Emeryville shellmound, California. Antiquity, 71, 845-862. Broughton, J. M. (1999). Resource depression and intensification during the late Holocene, San Francisco Bay: evidence from the Emeryville shellmound, California. Anthropological Records 32. Berkeley: University of California Press. Broughton, J. M. and Bayham, F. E. (2003). Showing Off, Foraging Models, and the Ascendance of Large-Game Hunting in the California Middle Archaic. American Antiquity, 68, 783-789. Burgi, M. and Russell, E. W. B. (2001). Integrative methods to study landscape changes. Land Use Policy, 18, 9-16. Burney, D. A., James, H. F., Burney, L. P., Olson, S. L., Kikuchi, W., Wagner, W. L., Burney, M., McCloskey, D., Kikuchi, D., Grady, F. V., Gage, R. and Nishek, R. (2001). Fossil evidence for a diverse biota from Kaua'i and its transformation since human arrival. Ecological Monographs, 71, 615-641. Butler, V. L. (2001). Changing fish use on Mangaia, Southern Cook Islands: Resource depression and the prey choice model. International Journal of Osteoarchaeology, 11, 88-100. Butler, V. L. and Campbell, S. K. (2004). Resource intensification and resource depression in the Pacific Northwest of North America. Journal of World Prehistory, 18, 327-405. Butzer, K. W. (1982). Archaeology as human ecology: method and theory for a contextual approach. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Cannon, M. D. (2000). Large mammal relative abundance in Pithouse and Pueblo period archaeofaunas from southwestern New Mexico: resource depression among the MimbresMogollon? Journal of Anthropological Archaeology, 19, 317-347. Charnov, E. L., Orians, G. H. and Hyatt, K. (1976). Ecological implications of resource depression. The American Naturalist, 110, 247-259. Childe, V. G. (1925). The dawn of European civilization. New York: Knopf. Clark, J. G. D. (1932). The Mesolithic age in Britain. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

The Archaeology of Human-Environment Interactions

Clark, J. G. D. (1936). The Mesolithic settlement of northern Europe. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Clark, J. G. D. (1939). Archaeology and society. London: Methuen. Clark, J. G. D. (1954). Excavations at Star Carr: an early Mesolithic site at Seamer near Scarborough, Yorkshire. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Clark, J. G. D. (1972). Star Carr: a case study in bioarchaeology. New York: AddisonWesley. Clark, J. G. D. (1980). Mesolithic prelude: the paleolithic-neolithic transition in Old World prehistory. Edinburgh: University Press. Costanza, R., Graumlich, L., Steffen, W., Crumley, C. L., Dearing, J., Hibbard, K., Leemans, R., Redman, C. L. and Schimel, D. (2007). Sustainability or to collapse: what can we learn from integrating the history of humans and the rest of nature? Ambio, 36, 522-527. Crumley, C. L. (1994). Historical ecology: a multidimensional ecological orientation. In C. L. Crumley (Ed.) Historical ecology: cultural knowledge and changing landscapes (1-16). Santa Fe: School of American Research Press. Crumley, C. L. (2000). From garden to globe: linking time and space with meaning and memory. In S. K. McIntosh (Ed.) The way the wind blows: climate, history, and human action (193-208). New York: Columbia University Press. Daniel, G. E. (1950). A hundred years of archaeology. London: Duckworth. Darwin, C. (1859). On the origin of species by means of natural selection, or, the preservation of favoured races in the struggle for life. London: John Murray. Dean, J. S. (2000). Complexity theory and sociocultural change in the American Southwest. In S. K. McIntosh (Ed.) The way the wind blows: climate, history, and human action (89118). New York: Columbia University Press. Dean, J. S. and Doyel, D. E. (2006). Culture, environment, and adaptation: perspectives from the ancient Southwest. In D. E. Doyel and J. S. Dean (Eds.), Environmental change and human adaptation in the ancient American Southwest (1-9). Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press. Delcourt, P. A. and Delcourt, H. R. (2004). Prehistoric native Americans and ecological change: human ecosystems in eastern North America since the Pleistocene. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Denevan, W. M. (1992). The pristine myth: the landscape of the Americas in 1492. Annals of the Association of American Geographers, 82, 369-385. Diamond, J. (1997). Guns, germs, and steel: the fates of human societies. New York: W. W. Norton. Diamond, J. (2005). Collapse: how societies choose to fail or succeed. New York: Viking. Dincauze, D. F. (2000). Environmental archaeology: principles and practice. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Driver, J. (2001). Environmental archaeology is not human palaeoecology. In U. Albarella (Ed.) Environmental archaeology: meaning and purpose (43-53). Dordrecht: Kluwer. Dymond, D. P. (1974). Archaeology and history: a plea for reconciliation. London: Thames and Hudson. Ehrlich, P. R. (1968). The population bomb. New York: Ballantine. Emery, K. F. (2007). Assessing the impact of ancient Maya animal use. Journal for Nature Conservation, 15, 184-195.

Emily Lena Jones

Etnier, M. A. (2007). Defining and identifying sustainable harvests of resources: archaeological examples of pinniped harvests in the eastern North Pacific. Journal for Nature Conservation, 15, Evans, J. G. (1978). An introduction to environmental archaeology. Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Evans, J. G. (2003). Environmental archaeology and the social order. London: Routledge. Evans, J. G. and O'Connor, T. (1999). Environmental archaeology: principles and methods. Sutton. Fieller, N. R. J., Gilbertson, D. D. and Ralph, N. G. A. (Eds.) (1985). Palaeoenvironmental investigations: research design, methods, and data analysis. BAR International Series. Oxford: BAR. Firestone, R. B., West, A., Kennett, J. P., Becker, L., Bunch, T. E., Revay, Z. S., Schultz, P. H., Belgya, T., Kennett, D. J., Erlandson, J. M., Dickenson, O. J., Goodyear, A. C., Harris, R. S., Howard, G. A., Kloosterman, J. B., Lechler, P., Mayewski, P. A., Montgomery, J., Poreda, R., Darrah, T., Que Hee, S. S., Smith, A. R., Stich, A., Topping, W., Wittke, J. H. and Wolbach, W. S. (2007). Evidence for an extraterrestrial impact 12,900 years ago that contributed to the megafaunal extinctions and the Younger Dryas cooling. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America, 104, 16016-16021. Fish, S. K. and Fish, P. R. (2004). Unsuspected magnitudes: expanding the scale of Hohokam agriculture. In C. L. Redman, S. R. James, P. R. Fish and J. D. Rogers (Eds.), The archaeology of global change: the impact of humans on their environment (208-223). Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian. Fitzpatrick, S. M. and Keegan, W. F. (2007). Human impacts and adaptations in the Caribbean Islands: a historical ecology approach. Transactions of the Royal Society of Edinburgh - Earth Sciences, 98, Flannery, K. V. (1968). Archaeological systems theory and early Mesoamerica. In B. J. Meggers (Ed.) Anthropological archaeology in the Americas (67-87). Washington, D. C.: Anthropological Society of Washington. Folke, C. (2006). Resilience: the emergence of a perspective for social-ecological systems analysis. Global Environmental Change - Human and Policy Dimensions, 16, 253-267. Foster, D. R. (2000). From bobolinks to bears: interjecting geographical history into ecological studies, environmental interpretation, and conservation planning. Journal of Biogeography, 27, 27-30. Frazier, J. (2007). Sustainable use of wildfire: the view from archaeozoology. Journal for Nature Conservation, 15, 163-173. Fritz, J. M. (1973). Relevance, archeology, and subsistence theory. In C. L. Redman (Ed.) Research and theory in current archeology (59-82). New York: Wiley. Grayson, D. K. (1983). The establishment of human antiquity. New York: Academic Press. Grayson, D. K. (1984a). Archaeological Associations with Extinct Pleistocene Mammals in North-America. Journal of Archaeological Science, 11, 213-221. Grayson, D. K. (1984b). Nineteenth-century explanations of Pleistocene extinctions: a review and analysis. In R. G. Klein (Ed.) Quaternary extinctions: a prehistoric revolution (5-39). Tucson: University of Arizona Press. Grayson, D. K. (1989). The Chronology of North-American Late Pleistocene Extinctions. Journal of Archaeological Science, 16, 153-165.

The Archaeology of Human-Environment Interactions

Grayson, D. K. (1991). Late Pleistocene Mammalian Extinctions in North-America Taxonomy, Chronology, and Explanations. Journal of World Prehistory, 5, 193-231. Grayson, D. K. (2001a). The archaeological record of human impacts on animal populations. Journal of World Prehistory, 15, 1-68. Grayson, D. K. (2001b). Did human hunting cause mass extinction? Science, 294, 1459-1459. Grayson, D. K. (2007). Deciphering North American Pleistocene extinctions. Journal of Anthropological Research, 63, 185-213. Grayson, D. K. and Cannon, M. P. (1999). Human paleoecology and foraging theory in the Great Basin. In R. Elston (Ed.) Models for the Millennium : Great Basin Anthropology Today Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press. Grayson, D. K. and Delpech, F. (1998). Changing diet breadth in the Early Upper Paleolithic of southwestern France. Journal of Archaeological Science, 25, 1119-1130. Grayson, D. K., Delpech, F., Rigaud, J.-P. and Simek, J. F. (2001). Explaining the development of dietary dominance by a single ungulate taxon at Grotte XVI, Dordogne, France. Journal of Archaeological Science, 25, 1119-1129. Gunderson, L. H. and Holling, C. S. (Eds.) (2002). Panarchy: understanding transformations in human and natural systems. Washington, D.C.: Island Press. Gunn, J. D. and Folan, W. J. (2000). Thee rivers: subregional variations in earth system impacts in the southwestern Maya lowlands (Candelaria, Usumacinta, and Champotón watersheds). In S. K. McIntosh (Ed.) The way the wind blows: climate, history, and human action (223-270). New York: Columbia University Press. Hames, R. (1991). Wildlife conservation in tribal societies. In J. B. Alcorn (Ed.) Biodiversity: culture, conservation, and ecodevelopment (172-199). Boulder, CO: Westview Press. Hassan, F. (2000). Environmental perception and human responses in history and prehistory. In S. K. McIntosh (Ed.) The way the wind blows: climate, history, and human action (121-140). New York: Columbia University Press. Hawkes, K. and O'Connell, J. F. (1992). On optimal foraging models and subsistence transitions. Current Anthropology, 33, 63-66. Hildebrandt, W. R. and McGuire, K. R. (2003). Large-game hunting, gender-differentiated work organization, and the role of evolutionary ecology in California and Great Basin prehistory: A reply to Broughton and Bayham. American Antiquity, 68, 790-792. Holland, P. (2000). Cultural landscapes as biogeographical experiments: a New Zealand perspective. Journal of Biogeography, 27, 39-43. Holliday, V. T. (2001). Quaternary geoscience in archaeology. In C. R. Ferring (Ed.) Earth sciences and archaeology (3-35). New York: Plenum. Holling, C. S. (1973). Resilience and stability of ecological systems. Annual Review of Ecology and Systematics, 4, 1-23. Holling, C. S. and Gunderson, L. H. (2002). Resilience and adaptive cycles. In L. H. Gunderson and C. S. Holling (Eds.), Panarchy: understanding transformations in human and natural systems (25-62). Washington, D.C.: Island Press. Hörnber, G., Östlund, L., Zackrisson, O. and Bergman, I. (1999). The genesis of two PiceaCladina forests in northern Sweden. Journal of Ecology, 87, 800-814. Huntington, E. (1914). The climatic factor as illustrated in arid America. Washington, D.C.: Carnegie Institution of Washington,. Huntington, E. (1915). Civilization and climate. New Haven,: Yale University Press.

Emily Lena Jones

James, S. R. (2004). Hunting, fishing, and resource depression in prehistoric Southwest North America. In C. L. Redman, S. R. James, P. R. Fish and J. D. Rogers (Eds.), The archaeology of global change: the impact of humans on their environment (28-62). Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian. Janetski, J. C. (1997). Fremont hunting and resource intensification in the eastern Great Basin. Journal of Archaeological Science, 24, 1075-1088. Johnson, J. R. (2000). Social responses to climate change among the Chumash Indians of south-central California. In S. K. McIntosh (Ed.) The way the wind blows: climate, history, and human action (301-327). New York: Columbia University Press. Kaplan, H. and Hill, K. (1992). The evolutionary ecology of food acquisition. In B. Winterhalder (Ed.) Evolutionary ecology and human behavior (167-202). Hawthorne, NY: Aldine de Gruyter. Kay, C. E. (1994). Aboriginal overkill: the role of Native Americans in structuring western ecosystems. Human Nature, 5, 359-398. Kay, C. E. (1998). Are ecosystems structured from the top-down or the bottom-up: a new look at an old debate. Wildlife Society Bulletin, 26, 484-498. Kelly, R. L. (1995). The foraging spectrum: diversity in hunter-gatherer lifeways. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press. Kirch, P. V. (1997). Microcosmic histories - Island perspectives on ''global'' change. American Anthropologist, 99, 30-and. Kirch, P. V. (2005). Archaeology and global change: the Holocene record. Annual Review of Environment and Resources, 30, 409-440. Kohler, T. A. (2004). Pre-Hispanic human impact on upland North American Southwestern environments: evolutionary ecological perspectives. In C. L. Redman, S. R. James, P. R. Fish and J. D. Rogers (Eds.), The archaeology of global change: the impact of humans on their environment (224-242). Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian. Layton, R. H., Foley, R. and Williams, E. (1991). The transition between hunting and gathering and the specialized husbandry of resources: a socio-ecological approach. Current Anthropology, 32, 255-274. van der Leeuw, S. E. (2000). Land degredation as a socionatural process. In R. J. McIntosh, J. A. Tainter and S. K. McIntosh (Eds.), The way the wind blows: climate, history, and human action (357-383). New York: Columbia University Press. Lubbock, J., Sir (1865). Pre-historic times, as illustrated by ancient remains, and the manners and customs of modern savages. London: Williams and Northgate. Luff, R. and Rowley-Conwy, P. (1994). The (dis)integration of environmental archaeology. In R. L. a. P. Rowley-Conwy (Ed.) Whither environmental archaeology? (1-3). Oxford: Oxbow Books. Lupo, K. D. (2007). Evolutionary foraging models in zooarchaeological analysis: recent applications and future challenges. Journal of Archaeological Research, 15, 143-189. Lyell, C. (1863). The gological evidence of the antiquity of man, with remarks on theories of the origin of species by variation. London: John Murray. Lyman, R. L. (1996). Applied zooarchaeology: The relevance of faunal analysis to wildlife management. World Archaeology, 28, 110-125. Lyman, R. L. (2006). Archaeological evidence of anthropogenically induced twentiethcentury diminution of North American wapiti (Cervus elaphus). American Midland Naturalist, 156, 88-98.

The Archaeology of Human-Environment Interactions

MacNeish, R. S. (1974). Reflections on my search for the beginnings of agriculture in Mexico. In G. R. Willey (Ed.) Archaeological researches in retrospect (205-234). Cambridge: Winthrop. Martin, P. S. (1958). Pleistocene ecology and biogeography of North America. American Association for the Advancement of Science Publication, 51, 375-420. Martin, P. S. (1967). Prehistoric overkill. In H. E. Wright (Ed.) Pleistocene extinctions: the search for a cause (75-120). New Haven: Yale University Press. Martin, P. S. and Klein, R. G. (Eds.) (1984). Quaternary extinctions: a prehistoric revolution. Tucson: University of Arizona Press. Martin, P. S. and Plog, F. (1973). The archaeology of Arizona: a study of the southwest region. Garden City: Natural History Press. Martin, P. S. and Szuter, C. R. (1999). War zones and game sinks in Lewis and Clark's west. Conservation Biology, 13, 36-45. McDonald, K. A. and Brown, J. H. (1992). Using montane mammals to model extinctions due to global change. Conservation Biology, 6, 409-415. McIntosh, R. J., Tainter, J. A. and McIntosh, S. K. (2000). Climate, history, and human action. In S. K. McIntosh (Ed.) The way the wind blows: climate, history, and human action (1-42). New York: Columbia University Press. Meffe, G. K. and Carroll, C. R. (1997). Principles of conservation biology. Sunderland, MA: Sinauer Associates. Metcalf, M. D. and Barlow, K. R. (1992). A model for exploring the optimal tradeoff between field processing and transportation. American Anthropologist, 94, 340-356. Mithen, S. J. (1999). Mesolithic archaeology, environmental archaeology and human palaeoecology. Journal of Quaternary Science, 14, 477-483. Moreno, S. and Villafuerte, R. (1995). Traditional Management of Scrubland for the Conservation of Rabbits Oryctolagus-Cuniculus and Their Predators in DonanaNational-Park, Spain. Biological Conservation, 73, 81-85. Morgan, L. H. (1877). Ancient society; or, researches in the lines of human progress from savagery, through barbarism to civilization. New York: H. Holt and Company. Nagaoka, L. (2001). Using diversity indices to measure changes in prey choice at the Shag River Mouth Site, Southern New Zealand. International Journal of Osteoarchaeology, 11, 101-111. Nagaoka, L. (2002). The effects of resource depression on foraging efficiency, diet breadth, and patch use in southern New Zealand. Journal of Anthropological Archaeology, 21, 419-442. Nagaoka, L. (2006). Declining foraging efficiency and seal carcass exploitation in southern New Zealand. Journal of Archaeological Science, 33, 1474-1481. Nash, R. (1967). Wilderness and the American mind. New Haven: Yale University Press. Nelson, M. C., Hegmon, M., Kulow, S. and Schollmeyer, K. G. (2006). Archaeological and ecological perspectives on reorganization: a case study from the Mimbres region of the US southwest. American Antiquity, 71, 403-432. Niklasson, M. and Granström, A. (2000). Numbers and sizes of fires: long-term spatially explicit fire history in a Swedish boreal landscape. Ecology, 81, 1484-1499. O'Connell, J. F., Hawkes, K. and Blurton Jones, N. (1988). Hadza scavenging implications for Plio/Pleistocene hominid subsitence. Current Anthropology, 29, 356-363.

Emily Lena Jones

O'Connell, J. F., Hawkes, K. and Jones, N. G. B. (1999). Grandmothering and the evolution of hom*o erectus. Journal of Human Evolution, 36, 461-485. O'Connor, T. (2001). Economic prehistory or environmental archaeoogy? On gaining a sense of identity. In U. Albarella (Ed.) Environmental archaeology: meaning and purpose (1727). Dordrecht: Kluwer. Peaco*ck, S. L. and Turner, N. J. (2000). "Just like a garden": traditional resource management and biodiversity conservation in the interior plateau of British Columbia. In W. J. Elisens (Ed.) Biodiversity and native America (133-179). Norman, OK: University of Oklahoma Press. Pearsall, D. M. (2000). Paleoethnobotany: a handbook of procedures. San Diego: Academic Press. Peeples, M. A., Barton, C. M. and Schmich, S. (2006). Resilience lost: intersecting land use and landscape dynamics in the prehistoric southwestern United States. Ecology and Society, 11, 22 [online]. Peterson, G., Allen, C. R. and Holling, C. S. (1998). Ecological resilience, biodiversity, and scale. Ecosystems, 1, 6-18. Piperno, D. R., Bush, M. B. and Colinvaux, P. A. (1990). Paleoenvironments and Human Occupation in Late-Glacial Panama. Quaternary Research, 33, 108-116. Pitcher, T. J. (2001). Fisheries managed to rebuild ecosystems? Reconstructing the past to salvage the future. Ecological Applications, 11, 601-617. Rautman, A. E. (1996). Risk, reciprocity, and the operation of social networks. In B. B. Tainter (Ed.) Evolving complexity and enivronmental risk in the prehistoric southwest (197-222). Redding, MA: Addison-Wesley. Redford, K. H. and Stearman, A. M. (1993). Forest-dwelling native Amazonians and the conservation of biodiversity: interests in common or in collision. Conservation Biology, 7, 248-255. Redman, C. L. (2005). Resilience theory in archaeology. American Anthropologist, 107, 7077. Redman, C. L., James, S. R., Fish, P. R. and Rogers, J. D. (Eds.) (2004). The archaeology of global change: the impact of humans on their environment. Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian. Redman, C. L. and Kinzig, A. P. (2003). Resilience of past landscapes: resilience theory, society, and the Longue Durée. Conservation Ecology, 7, 14 [online]. Reitz, E. J., Newsom, L. A. and Scudder, S. J. (Eds.) (1996). Case studies in environmental archaeology. New York: Plenum. Reitz, E. J. and Wing, E. S. (1999). Zooarchaeology. Cambridge manuals in archaeology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Runte, A. (1987). National parks: the American experience. Lincoln, NE: University of Nebraska Press. Schiffer, M. B. (1975). Behavioral archaeology. New York: Academic Press. Semple, E. C. (1903). American history and its geographic conditions. Boston: Houghton, Mifflin Co.,. Semple, E. C. (1911). Influences of geographic environment, on the basis of Ratzel's system of anthropo-geography. New York: H. Holt and Co. Semple, E. C. (1931). The geography of the Mediterranean region; its relation to ancient history. New York: H. Holt and Company.

The Archaeology of Human-Environment Interactions

Shackley, M. (1981). Environmental archaeology. London: George Allen and Unwin. Simmons, A. H. (1992). Early hippopotamus hunters in Cyprus. Recherche, 23, 1318-1320. Simmons, A. H. (1999). Faunal extinction in an island society: pygmy hippopotamus hunters of Cyprus. New York: Kluwer Academic/Plenum. Smith, E. A. (1983). Anthropological applications of optimal foraging theory: a critical review. Current Anthropology, 24, Smith, E. A. (1991). Inujjuamiut foraging strategies: evolutionary ecology of an Arctic hunting economy. Foundations of Human Behavior. Hawthorne, NY: Aldine de Gruyter. Smith, E. A. and Wishnie, M. (2000). Conservation and subsistence in small-scale societies. Annual Review of Anthropology, 29, 493-524. Stahl, P. W. (1996). Holocene biodiversity: An archaeological perspective from the Americas. Annual Review of Anthropology, 25, 105-126. Steadman, D. W. (1995). Prehistoric Extinctions of Pacific Island Birds - Biodiversity Meets Zooarchaeology. Science, 267, 1123-1131. Stein, J. K. (2000). Stratigraphy and archaeological dating. In S. E. Nash (Ed.) It's about time: a history of archaeological dating in North America (14-41). Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press. Stephens, D. W. and Krebs, J. R. (1986). Foraging theory. Monographs in Behavior and Ecology. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Steward, J. H. (1937a). Ancient caves of the Great Salt lake region. Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office. Steward, J. H. (1937b). Ecological aspects of southwestern society. Anthropos, 32, 87-104. Steward, J. H. (1955). Theory of culture change: the methodology of multilinear evolution. Urbana: University of Illinois Press. Steward, J. H. and Setzler, F. M. (1938). Function and configuration in archaeology. American Antiquity, 2, 4-10. Stiner, M. C. (2001). Thirty years on the "Broad Spectrum Revolution" and paleolithic demography. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America, 98, 6993-6996. Stiner, M. C., Munro, N. D. and Surovell, T. A. (2000). The tortoise and the hare: small-game use, the broad-spectrum revolution, and paleolithic demography. Current Anthropology, 41, 39-73. Streuver, S. (1968). Flotation techniques for the recovery of small-scale archaeological remains. American Antiquity, 33, 353-362. Surovell, T. A., Waguespack, N. M. and Brantingham, T. J. (2005). Global archaeological evidence for proboscidean overkill. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America, 102, 6231-6236. Tainter, J. A. (2000). Global change, history, and sustainability. In S. K. McIntosh (Ed.) The way the wind blows: climate, history, and human action (331-356). New York: Columbia University Press. Thomas, D. H. (1971). On distinguishing natural from cultural bone in archaeological sites. American Antiquity, 36, 366-371. Thoreau, H. D. (1860). An address on the succession of forest trees. In M. A. Society (Ed.) Transactions of the Middlesex Agricultural Society for the year 1860 (12-24). Concord, MA: Middlesex Agricultural Society.

Emily Lena Jones

Trigger, B. G. (1989). A history of archaeological thought. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Tylor, S. E. B. (1865). Researches into the early history of mankind and the development of civilization. London: J. Murray. Waters, M. R. (2006). Prehistoric human response to landscape change in the American Southwest. In D. E. Doyel and J. S. Dean (Eds.), Environmental change and human adaptation in the ancient American Southwest (26-45). Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press. Watson, P. J. (1997). The shaping of modern paleoethnobotany. In K. J. Gremillion (Ed.) People, plants, and landscapes: studies in paleoethnobotany (13-22). Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama. Watson, P. J., LeBlanc, S. J. and Redman, C. L. (1971). Explanation in archaeology: an explicitly scientific approach. New York: Columbia University Press. Wilkinson, K. and Stevens, C. (2003). Environmental archaeology: approaches, techniques, and applications. Stroud, Gloucestershire: Tempus. Willey, G. R. (1974). The Virú Valley settlement pattern study. In G. R. Willey (Ed.) Archaeological researches in retrospect (147-176). Cambridge: Winthrop. Willey, G. R. and Sabloff, J. A. (1993). A history of American archaeology. New York: W. H. Freeman. Wintemberg, W. J. (1919). Archaeology as an aid to zoology. Canadian Field Naturalist, 33, 63-72. Winterhalder, B. and Goland, C. (1993). On population, foraging efficiency, and plant domestication. Current Anthropology, 34, 710-715. Winterhalder, B. and Lu, F. (1997). A forager resource population ecology model and implications for indigenous conservation. Conservation Biology, 11, 1354-1364. Winterhalder, B. and Smith, E. A. (2000). Analyzing adaptive strategies: human behavioral ecology at twenty-five. Evolutionary Anthropology, 9, 51-72. Yochim, M. J. (2001). Aboriginal overkill overstated - Errors in Charles Kay's hypothesis. Human Nature-an Interdisciplinary Biosocial Perspective, 12, 141-167. Zeanah, D. W. (2000). Transport costs, central-place foraging and hunter-gatherer land-use strategies. In D. B. Madsen and M. D. Metcalf (Eds.), Intermountain archaeology Salt Lake City: University of Utah.

In: Archaeology Research Trends Editors: A. R. Suárez, M. N. Vásquez

Chapter 3

WHEN IT RAINS IT POURS: MULTIPLE CONGENITAL PATHOLOGIES IN SINGLE INDIVIDUALS E. Weiss Department of Anthropology, San Jose State University

ABSTRACT This study examined congenital pathologies of 284 prehistoric California Amerinds to determine whether skeletal individuals exhibit multiple pathologies including excessive limb length asymmetries (i.e., greater than average asymmetries calculated from prehistoric populations) as reported in medical literature. Skeletal condition varied from fragmentary to complete (i.e., all major bones present). Pathological individuals were examined twice to ensure pathologies were congenital and avoid including asymmetries related to trauma. Using conservative diagnoses, sixty individuals (21%) have congenital pathologies; half of them exhibit multiple pathologies (29/60). Excluding fragmentary individuals, 60% (28/47) of individuals have multiple pathologies; in complete skeletons, 79% (19/24) of individuals have multiple pathologies. Differences in pathology frequency within individuals compared to skeletal condition are significant (Chi-Square = 19.33; P < 0.01). One-third (20/60) of pathological individuals show asymmetry; half of these individuals have asymmetry in multiple sets of limbs. Multiple asymmetries are found more frequently in complete skeletons (Spearman’s rho = 0.479; P < 0.001). This hunter-gatherer population has a fairly high rate of congenital pathologies possibly due to inbreeding. Pathologies are often minor, such as supernumerary teeth, spina bifida occulta, and bony growths. However, one individual has a cleft palate and four other pathologies. Fused bones, such as ribs, vertebrae, and foot phalanges, are also present. This study supports that individuals born with a congenital pathology often have other congenital pathologies. Anthropologists are disadvantaged in documenting congenital pathologies due to incomplete remains and the fragility of subadult remains.

E. Weiss

INTRODUCTION Much of current anthropological research on skeletal remains involves using living populations to understand and reconstruct the lives of prehistoric populations; ethnographic accords of hunter-gatherers and reconstructions of prehistoric hunter-gatherers is a typical example. Examining sports medicine literature and the injuries of athletes has also been used to understand the injuries prehistoric populations. One example comes from Trinkaus (1995) who compared the injuries sustained by Neanderthals and various competitive sports players. Trinkaus found that professional rodeo athletes were most similar in their injuries to Neanderthals. He, therefore, concluded that Neanderthal injuries were the result of close contact with large animals in hunting endeavors that would be comparable to the close contact with large animals bull and bronco riders experience in rodeos. Another example comes from studies of spondylolysis, which are back fractures resulting from activity. Recent studies find a correlation with spondylolysis to sports that require extensive use of one upper limb side, such as cricket, baseball, and tennis (Merbs, 1996). Many of these activities involve hyperextension of the hip and torsion of the back, such as in swinging a bat and throwing a ball. Furthermore, musculoskeletal stress markers, which are locations of bones where muscles attach and increase in robusticity with use of specific muscles, have been measured in skeletal populations and activities have been reconstructed using sports literature in conjunction with artifacts. The California population examined in this study, for example, was also examined for musculoskeletal stress marker variation. I found that males had larger musculoskeletal stress markers than females (even after controlling for body size) in the pectoralis and the latissimus dorsi muscles, which are usually associated with throwing or pitching motions as in baseball (Weiss, 2007). These motions mapped onto the artifactual evidence of hunting suggests that males were throwing spears rather than pitching balls, but the effect on the arm is the same since the motion is similar. Other examples of using present populations to understand and reconstruct past populations’ lives are abundant in the crosssectional bone strength (e.g., Cowgill & Hagar, 2007; Mays, 2001; Weiss, 2003), limb bone asymmetry (e.g., Rhodes & Knüsel, 2005; Rhodes, 2006; Wanner et al., 2007), and osteoarthritis studies (for a review of this literature see Weiss & Jurmain 2007). The above detailed examples and the hundreds more that have been published in anthropology journals show promising results for reconstructing the past using present peoples. On the other hand, recent studies have arisen that highlight the difficulty of using present populations with data and reconstructing the past. Some of these difficulties arise due to the nature of modern populations, such as in the case of using femoral head size to calculate body mass or weight. Modern peoples have a great deal of variation in body mass and this variation is not accurately reflected in the femoral head size; thus, the use athletes’ and other fit individuals’ femoral sizes and body masses have been proposed as a good fit for prehistoric population body mass reconstructions (Ruff, 2000). Another example comes from the osteoarthritis literature; there is good evidence now that individuals with extra body weight have more arthritis in their weight bearing limbs than do slimmer individuals (Weiss & Jurmain, 2007). In prehistoric populations, conversely, osteoarthritis of weight bearing joints seems to have a negative correlation with body mass (Weiss, 2006). Females, moreover, have greater osteoarthritis in weight bearing joints than do males. Thus, we must ask ourselves whether the extra weight on females is actually increasing osteoarthritis on small joints

When It Rains It Pours: Multiple Congenital Pathologies In Single Individuals

because they have less area to spread the forces bearing down on them. So, weight and size are interacting in the onset of osteoarthritis. We also see a disconnect with modern populations and spondylolysis in which spondylolysis seems to be correlated with greater flexibility in modern populations and females are more flexible than males, but males of prehistoric populations have greater frequencies of spondylolysis than do females (e.g. Merbs, 1996, Weiss, in press). In order to complicate things further, anthropologists have had difficulty obtaining comparative data in living peoples of musculoskeletal stress markers, bone strength, and other non-injury related activity indicators since much of the data on present populations is only collected when individuals go to the hospital due to the experience of pain. To further obscure the situation, severe pathologies are rarely found in skeletal collections of prehistoric populations due to the early death of individuals with severe pathologies (which is in part due to the lack of modern medicine in these populations) coupled with the taphonomy of infant and child bodies, which makes their remains extremely rare regardless of their health (e.g., Bello et al., 2006; Guy et al., 1997). A good example of these confounding difficulties arises from the study of spinal defects. Spina bifida occulta is found in many prehistoric popu