Scientists have demonstrated that an ancient human skull excavated from a tomb at Ephesos was not that of Arsinoë IV, half-sister to Cleopatra VII. Rather, it’s the skull of a young male between the ages of 11 and 14 from Italy or Sardinia, who may have suffered from one or more developmental disorders, according to a new paper published in the journal Scientific Reports. Arsinoë IV’s remains are thus still missing.
Arsinoë IV led quite an adventurous short life. She was either the third or fourth daughter of Ptolemy XII, who left the throne to Cleopatra and his son, Ptolemy XIII, to rule together. Ptolemy XIII didn’t care for this decision and dethroned Cleopatra in a civil war—until Julius Caesar intervened to enforce their father’s original plan of co-rulership. As for Arsinoë, Caesar returned Cyprus to Egyptian rule and named her and her youngest brother (Ptolemy XIV) co-rulers. This time, it was Arsinoë who rebelled, taking command of the Egyptian army and declaring herself queen.
She was fairly successful at first in battling the Romans, conducting a siege against Alexandria and Cleopatra, until her disillusioned officers decided they’d had enough and secretly negotiated with Caesar to turn her over to him. Caesar agreed, and after a bit of public humiliation, he granted Arsinoë sanctuary in the temple of Artemis in Ephesus. She lived in relative peace for a few years, until Cleopatra and Mark Antony ordered her execution on the steps of the temple—a scandalous violation of the temple as a place of sanctuary. Historians disagree about Arsinoë’s age when she died: Estimates range from 22 to 27.
Archaeologists have been excavating the ancient city of Ephesus for more than a century. The Octagon was uncovered in 1904, and the burial chamber was opened in 1929. That’s where Joseph Keil found a skeleton in a sarcophagus filled with water, but for some reason, Keil only removed the cranium from the tomb before sealing it back up. He took the skull with him to Germany and declared it belonged to a likely female around 20 years old, although he provided no hard data to support that conclusion.
It was Hilke Thur of the Austrian Academy of Sciences who first speculated that the skull may have belonged to Arsinoë IV, despite the lack of an inscription (or even any grave goods) on the tomb where it was found. Old notes and photographs, as well as craniometry, served as the only evidence. The skull accompanied Keil to his new position at the University of Vienna, and there was one 1953 paper reporting on craniometric measurements, but after that, the skull languished in relative obscurity. Archaeologists at the University of Graz rediscovered the skull in Vienna in 2022. The rest of the skeleton remained buried until the chamber was reopened and explored further in the 1980s and 1990s, but it was no longer in the sarcophagus.
We may owe our tiny sliver of Neanderthal DNA to just a couple of hundred Neanderthals.
The artist’s illustration shows what the six people buried at the Ranis site, who lived between 49, 500 and 41,000 years ago, may have looked like. Two of these people are mother and daughter, and the mother is a distant cousin (or perhaps a great-great-grandparent or great-great-grandchild) to a woman whose skull was found 130 kilometers away in what’s now Czechia. Credit: Sumer et al. 2024
Two recent studies suggest that the gene flow (as the young people call it these days) between Neanderthals and our species happened during a short period sometime between 50,000 and 43,500 years ago. The studies, which share several co-authors, suggest that our torrid history with Neanderthals may have been shorter than we thought.
Pinpointing exactly when Neanderthals met H. sapiens
Max Planck Institute of Evolutionary Anthropology scientist Leonardo Iasi and his colleagues examined the genomes of 59 people who lived in Europe between 45,000 and 2,200 years ago, plus those of 275 modern people whose ancestors hailed from all over the world. The researchers cataloged the segments of Neanderthal DNA in each person’s genome, then compared them to see where those segments appeared and how that changed over time and distance. This revealed how Neanderthal ancestry got passed around as people spread around the world and provided an estimate of when it all started.
“We tried to compare where in the genomes these [Neanderthal segments] occur and if the positions are shared among individuals or if there are many unique segments that you find [in people from different places],” said University of California Berkeley geneticist Priya Moorjani in a recent press conference. “We find the majority of the segments are shared, and that would be consistent with the fact that there was a single gene flow event.”
That event wasn’t quite a one-night stand; in this case, a “gene flow event” is a period of centuries or millennia when Neanderthals and Homo sapiens must have been in close contact (obviously very close, in some cases). Iasi and his colleagues’ results suggest that happened between 50,500 and 43,000 years ago. But it’s quite different from our history with another closely related hominin species, the now-extinct Denisovans, with whom different Homo sapiens groups met and mingled at least twice on our way to taking over the world.
In a second study, Arev Sümer (also of the Max Planck Institute) and her colleagues found something very similar in the genomes of people who lived 49,500 to 41,000 years ago in what’s now the area around Ranis, Germany. The Ranis population, based on how their genomes compare to other ancient and modern people, seem to have been part of one of the first groups to split off from the wave of humans who migrated out of Africa, through the Levant, and into Eurasia sometime around 50,000 years ago. They carried with them traces of what their ancestors had gotten up to during that journey: about 2.9 percent of their genomes were made up of segments of Neanderthal ancestry.
Based on how long the Ranis people’s segments of Neanderthal DNA were (longer chunks of Neanderthal ancestry tend to point to more recent mixing), the interspecies mingling happened about 80 generations, or about 2,300 years, before the Ranis people lived and died. That’s about 49,000 to 45,000 years ago. The dates from both studies line up well with each other and with archaeological evidence that points to when Neanderthal and Homo sapiens cultures overlapped in parts of Europe and Asia.
What’s still not clear is whether that period of contact lasted the full 5,000 to 7,000 years, or if, as Johannes Krause (also of the Max Planck Institute) suggests, it was only a few centuries—1,500 years at the most—that fell somewhere within that range of dates.
Artist’s depiction of a Neanderthal.
Natural selection worked fast on our borrowed Neanderthal DNA
Once those first Homo sapiens in Eurasia had acquired their souvenir Neanderthal genes (forget stealing a partner’s hoodie; just take some useful segments of their genome), natural selection got to work on them very quickly, discarding some and passing along others, so that by about 100 generations after the “event,” the pattern of Neanderthal DNA segments in people’s genomes looked a lot like it does today.
Iasi and his colleagues looked through their catalog of genomes for sections that contained more (or less) Neanderthal ancestry than you’d expect to find by random chance—a pattern that suggests that natural selection has been at work on those segments. Some of the segments that tended to include more Neanderthal gene variants included areas related to skin pigmentation, the immune response, and metabolism. And that makes perfect sense, according to Iasi.
“Neanderthals had lived in Europe, or outside of Africa, for thousands of years already, so they were probably adapted to their environment, climate, and pathogens,” said Iasi during the press conference. Homo sapiens were facing selective pressure to adapt to the same challenges, so genes that gave them an advantage would have been more likely to get passed along, while unhelpful ones would have been quick to get weeded out.
The most interesting questions remain unanswered
The Neanderthal DNA that many people carry today, the researchers argue, is a legacy from just 100 or 200 Neanderthals.
“The effective population size of modern humans outside Africa was about 5,000,” said Krause in the press conference. “And we have a ratio of about 50 to 1 in terms of admixture [meaning that Neanderthal segments account for about 2 percent of modern genomes in people who aren’t of African ancestry], so we have to say it was about 100 to maybe 200 Neanderthals roughly that mixed into the population.” Assuming Krause is right about that and about how long the two species stayed in contact, a Homo sapiens/Neanderthal pairing would have happened every few years.
So we know that Neanderthals and members of our species lived in close proximity and occasionally produced children for at least several centuries, but no artifacts, bones, or ancient DNA have yet revealed much of what that time, or that relationship, was actually like for either group of people.
The snippets of Neanderthal ancestry left in many modern genomes, and those of people who lived tens of thousands of years ago, don’t offer any hints about whether that handful of Neanderthal ancestors were mostly male or mostly female, which is something that could shed light on the cultural rules around such pairings. And nothing archaeologists have unearthed so far can tell us whether those pairings were consensual, whether they were long-term relationships or hasty flings, or whether they involved social relationships recognized by one (or both) groups. We may never have answers to those questions.
And where did it all happen? Archaeologists haven’t yet found a cave wall inscribed with “Og heart Grag,” but based on the timing, Neanderthals and Homo sapiens probably met and lived alongside each other for at least a few centuries, somewhere in “the Near East,” which includes parts of North Africa, the Levant, what’s now Turkey, and what was once Mesopotamia. That’s one of the key routes that people would have followed as they migrated from Africa into Europe and Asia, and the timing lines up with when we know that both Homo sapiens and Neanderthals were in the area.
“This [same] genetic admixture also appears in East Asia and Australia and the Americas and Europe,” said Krause. “If it would have happened in Europe or somewhere else, then the distribution would probably look different than what we see.”
Archaeologists excavating a paleolithic cave site in Galilee, Israel, have found evidence that a deep-cave compound at the site may have been used for ritualistic gatherings, according to a new paper published in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences (PNAS). That evidence includes the presence of a symbolically carved boulder in a prominent placement, and well as the remains of what may have been torches used to light the interior. And the acoustics would have been conducive to communal gatherings.
Dating back to the Early Upper Paleolithic period, Manot Cave was found accidentally when a bulldozer broke open its roof during construction in 2008. Archaeologists soon swooped in and recovered such artifacts as stone tools, bits of charcoal, remains of various animals, and a nearly complete human skull.
The latter proved to be especially significant, as subsequent analysis showed that the skull (dubbed Manot 1) had both Neanderthal and modern features and was estimated to be about 54,700 years old. That lent support to the hypothesis that modern humans co-existed and possibly interbred with Neanderthals during a crucial transition period in the region, further bolstered by genome sequencing.
The Manot Cave features an 80-meter-long hall connecting to two lower chambers from the north and south. The living section is near the entrance and was a hub for activities like flint-knapping, butchering animals, eating, and other aspects of daily life. But about eight stories below, there is a large cavern consisting of a high gallery and an adjoining smaller “hidden” chamber separated from the main area by a cluster of mineral deposits called speleothems.
That’s the area that is the subject of the new PNAS paper. Unlike the main living section, the authors found no evidence of daily human activities in this compound, suggesting it served another purpose—most likely ritual gatherings.
Aztec death whistles don’t fit into any existing Western classification for wind instruments; they seem to be a unique kind of “air spring” whistle, based on CT scans of some of the artifacts. Sascha Frühholz, a cognitive and affective neuroscientist at the University of Zürich, and several colleagues wanted to learn more about the physical mechanisms behind the whistle’s distinctive sound, as well as how humans perceive said sound—a field known as psychoacoustics. “The whistles have a very unique construction, and we don’t know of any comparable musical instrument from other pre-Columbian cultures or from other historical and contemporary contexts,” said Frühholz.
A symbolic sound?
Human sacrifice with original skull whistle (small red box and enlarged rotated view in lower right) discovered 1987–89 at the Ehecatl-Quetzalcoatl temple in Mexico City. Credit: Salvador Guillien Arroyo, Proyecto Tlatelolco
For their acoustic analysis, Frühholz et al. obtained sound recordings from two Aztec skull whistles excavated from Tlatelolco, as well as from three noise whistles (part of Aztec fire snake incense ladles). They took CT scans of whistles in the collection of the Ethnological Museum in Berlin, enabling them to create both 3D digital reconstructions and physical clay replicas. They were also able to acquire three additional artisanal clay whistles for experimental purposes.
Human participants then blew into the replicas with low-, medium-, and high-intensity air pressure, and the ensuing sounds were recorded. Those recordings were compared to existing databases of a broad range of sounds: animals, natural soundscapes, water sounds, urban noise, synthetic sounds (as for computers, pinball machines, printers, etc.), and various ancient instruments, among other samples. Finally, a group of 70 human listeners rated a random selection of sounds from a collection of over 2,500 samples.
The CT scans showed that skull whistles have an internal tube-like air duct with a constricted passage, a counter pressure chamber, a collision chamber, and a bell cavity. The unusual construction suggests that the basic principle at play is the Venturi effect, in which air (or a generic fluid) speeds up as it flows through a constricted passage, thereby reducing the pressure. “At high playing intensities and air speeds, this leads to acoustic distortions and to a rough and piercing sound character that seems uniquely produced by the skull whistles,” the authors wrote.
Rapa Nui, often referred to as Easter Island, is one of the most remote populated islands in the world. It’s so distant that Europeans didn’t stumble onto it until centuries after they had started exploring the Pacific. When they arrived, though, they found that the relatively small island supported a population of thousands, one that had built imposing monumental statues called moai. Arguments over how this population got there and what happened once it did have gone on ever since.
Some of these arguments, such as the idea that the island’s indigenous people had traveled there from South America, have since been put to rest. Genomes from people native to the island show that its original population was part of the Polynesian expansion across the Pacific. But others, such as the role of ecological collapse in limiting the island’s population and altering its culture, continue to be debated.
Researchers have now obtained genome sequence from the remains of 15 Rapa Nui natives who predate European contact. And they indicate that the population of the island appears to have grown slowly and steadily, without any sign of a bottleneck that could be associated with an ecological collapse. And roughly 10 percent of the genomes appear to have a Native American source that likely dates from roughly the same time that the island was settled.
Out of the museum
The remains that provided these genomes weren’t found on Rapa Nui, at least not recently. Instead, they reside at the Muséum National d’Histoire Naturelle in France, having been obtained at some uncertain point in the past. Their presence there is a point of contention for the indigenous people of Rapa Nui, but the researchers behind the new work had the cooperation of the islanders in this project, having worked with them extensively. The researchers’ description of these interactions could be viewed as a model for how this sort of work should be done:
Throughout the course of the study, we met with representatives of the Rapanui community on the island, the Comisión de Desarrollo Rapa Nui and the Comisión Asesora de Monumentos Nacionales, where we presented our research goals and ongoing results. Both commissions voted in favor of us continuing with the research… We presented the research project in public talks, a short video and radio interviews on the island, giving us the opportunity to inquire about the questions that are most relevant to the Rapanui community. These discussions have informed the research topics we investigated in this work.
Given the questionable record-keeping at various points in the past, one of the goals of this work was simply to determine whether these remains truly had originated on Rapa Nui. That was unambiguously true. All comparisons with genomes of modern populations show that all 15 of these genomes have a Polynesian origin and are most closely related to modern residents of Rapa Nui. “The confirmation of the origin of these individuals through genomic analyses will inform repatriation efforts led by the Rapa Nui Repatriation Program (Ka Haka Hoki Mai Te Mana Tupuna),” the authors suggest.
A second question was whether the remains predate European contact. The researchers attempted to perform carbon dating, but it produced dates that made no sense. Some of the remains had dates that were potentially after they had been collected, according to museum records. And all of them were from the 1800s, well after European contact and introduced diseases had shrunk the native population and mixed in DNA from non-Polynesians. Yet none of the genomes showed more than one percent European ancestry, a fraction low enough to be ascribed to a spurious statistical fluke.
So the precise date these individuals lived is uncertain. But the genetic data clearly indicates that they were born prior to the arrival of Europeans. They can therefore tell us about what the population was experiencing in the period between Rapa Nui’s settlement and the arrival of colonial powers.
Back from the Americas
While these genomes showed no sign of European ancestry, they were not fully Polynesian. Instead, roughly 10 percent of the genome appeared to be derived from a Native American population. This is the highest percentage seen in any Polynesian population, including some that show hints of Native American contact that dates to before Europeans arrived on the scene.
Isolating these DNA sequences and comparing them to populations from across the world showed that the group most closely related to the one who contributed to the Rapa Nui population presently resides in the central Andes region of South America. That’s in contrast to the earlier results, which suggested the contact was with populations further north in South America.
Enlarge/ Statues depicting the high dignitary Nefer and his wife (Abusir, Egypt).
Martin Frouz/Czech Institute of Egyptology/Charles University.
Repetitive stress injuries are a common feature of modern life, especially for office workers who spend a good chunk of their working days at a desk typing on a computer. Apparently, scribes in ancient Egypt suffered from their own distinctive repetitive stress injuries, according to a new paper published in the journal Scientific Reports that provides fresh insights into how these scribes lived and worked during the third millennium BCE.
Egyptian kings, royal family members, and other elite people from this Fifth Dynasty era were buried in tombs in the acropolis at Abusir rather than at neighboring Giza, which by then had largely filled up thanks to all the activity during the Fourth Dynasty. The Czech Institute of Egyptology at Charles University in Prague has been conducting research at the site since 1960, leading to the discovery of nearly 200 tombs dating back to the Old Kingdom (between 2700 and 2180 BCE). The first human skeletons were excavated in 1976, and there are currently 221 Old Kingdom skeletons in the collection, 102 of which are male.
Scientists started looking into the health status and markers for specific activities in 2009, but it wasn’t until quite recently that there were enough skeletons to conduct a comprehensive study. That’s what Petra Brukner Havelková of Charles University and the National Museum in Prague, Czech Republic, and colleagues set out to do, analyzing the remains of 69 adult males of different social status and different ages at which they died.
The results show the scribes and the reference group differed in just under 4 percent of the various evaluated skeletal traits, which the authors attribute to the overall similarities in the sample (male, same age distribution, no physically demanding activities). However, the individuals identified as scribes had more degenerative joint issues clustered in several well-defined regions compared to males from other occupations, including the joint connecting the lower jaw to the skull, the right collarbone, where the right humerus meets the shoulder, the right thumb’s first metacarpal bone, where the thigh meets the knee, and all along the spine (but especially at the top). These bone changes can be indicators of repetitive stress.
Bad ergonomics?
Working positions of scribes. (A) cross-legged (sartorial) position, (B) kneeling-squatting position, (C) standing position. (D) Different position of the legs when sitting.
Martin Frouz/Jolana Malátková
Osteoarthritis of the temporomandibular joint of a supposed family member of Khemetnu, the presumed owner of family tomb AS 79.
Šárka Bejdová
Drawing indicating the most affected regions of the skeletons of scribes with higher prevalence of changes compared to reference group.
olana Malátková
For instance, the osteoarthritis in the jaw joints may have been caused by the rush stems the scribes used to write hieroglyphics. The scribes would chew on the ends to make a brush, and whenever a pen started getting ragged or too clogged with ink, they would cut off the end and chew the next section to make a new brush.
Most scribes likely wrote with their right hands and used their left to roll papyrus into cylindrical scrolls. Writing with a rush pen required considerable dexterity, and as anyone with carpal tunnel syndrome could tell you, these sorts of repetitive motions can cause excessive stress in the hands and wrists. There were only minor wrist differences between scribes and the control group, but the significant right thumb degeneration in scribes likely corresponds to specific frequently used thumb motions and positions—probably the act of repeatedly pinching their pens, although the authors say more research is needed to make a definitive determination.
The degenerative signs noted in the cervical spines are likely due to the scribes’ typical working position. “The head had to be forward and the spine flexed, changing the center of gravity of the head and putting stress on the spine,” the authors wrote—a posture common to many modern occupations. Prolonged stretches of sitting cross-legged could also have contributed to the observed damage to the cervical spines. There were signs of stresses to the right rotator cuffs, which usually occurs when the arm is in an extended elevated position and is common among painters, for example. It’s also common in people prone to sitting for a long time and typing with unsupported arms.
As for the degenerative changes noted in the knees, hips, and ankles, the authors suggest this indicates that scribes may have sat with the left leg in a kneeling or cross-legged position and the right leg pointed upward—more of a squat or a crouch. Iconography and statues from that era frequently depict scribes in such positions, as well as standing. The authors concluded that scribes probably alternated their arm and leg positions, but the head and cervical spine were always in that stress-inducing forward position.
Where’s a good ergonomic office chair when you need one?
Enlarge/ New research lends further credence to the “population crash” theory about Easter Island being just a myth.
Arian Zwegers/CC BY 2.0
For centuries, Western scholars have touted the fate of the native population on Easter Island (Rapa Nui) as a case study in the devastating cost of environmentally unsustainable living. The story goes that the people on the remote island chopped down all the trees to build massive stone statues, triggering a population collapse. Their numbers were further depleted when Europeans discovered the island and brought foreign diseases, among other factors. But an alternative narrative began to emerge in the 21st century that the earliest inhabitants actually lived quite sustainably until that point. A new paper published in the journal Science Advances offers another key piece of evidence in support of that alternative hypothesis.
As previously reported, Easter Island is famous for its giant monumental statues, called moai, built some 800 years ago and typically mounted on platforms called ahu. Scholars have puzzled over the moai on Easter Island for decades, pondering their cultural significance, as well as how a Stone Age culture managed to carve and transport statues weighing as much as 92 tons. The first Europeans arrived in the 17th century and found only a few thousand inhabitants on a tiny island (just 14 by 7 miles across) thousands of miles away from any other land. Since then, in order to explain the presence of so many moai, the assumption has been that the island was once home to tens of thousands of people.
But perhaps they didn’t need tens of thousands of people to accomplish that feat. Back in 2012, Carl Lipo of Binghamton University and Terry Hunt of the University of Arizona showed that you could transport a 10-foot, 5-ton moai a few hundred yards with just 18 people and three strong ropes by employing a rocking motion. In 2018, Lipo proposed an intriguing hypothesis for how the islanders placed red hats on top of some moai; those can weigh up to 13 tons. He suggested the inhabitants used ropes to roll the hats up a ramp. Lipo and his team later concluded (based on quantitative spatial modeling) that the islanders likely chose the statues’ locations based on the availability of fresh water sources, per a 2019 paper in PLOS One.
In 2020, Lipo and his team turned their attention to establishing a better chronology of human occupation of Rapa Nui. While it’s generally agreed that people arrived in Eastern Polynesia and on Rapa Nui sometime in the late 12th century or early 13th century, we don’t really know very much about the timing and tempo of events related to ahu construction and moai transport in particular. In his bestselling 2005 book Collapse, Jared Diamond offered the societal collapse of Easter Island (aka Rapa Nui), around 1600, as a cautionary tale. Diamond controversially argued that the destruction of the island’s ecological environment triggered a downward spiral of internal warfare, population decline, and cannibalism, resulting in an eventual breakdown of social and political structures.
Challenging a narrative
Lipo has long challenged that narrative, arguing as far back as 2007 against the “ecocide” theory. He and Hunt published a paper that year noting the lack of evidence of any warfare on Easter Island compared to other Polynesian islands. There are no known fortifications, and the obsidian tools found were clearly used for agriculture. Nor is there much evidence of violence among skeletal remains. He and Hunt concluded that the people of Rapa Nui continued to thrive well after 1600, which would warrant a rethinking of the popular narrative that the island was destitute when Europeans arrived in 1722.
For their 2020 study, the team applied a Bayesian model-based method to existing radiocarbon dates collected from prior excavations at 11 different sites with ahu. That work met with some mixed opinions from Lipo’s fellow archaeologists, with some suggesting that his team cherry-picked its radiocarbon dating—an allegation he dismissed at the time as “simply baloney and misinformed thinking.” They filtered their radiocarbon samples to just those they were confident related to human occupation and human-related events, meaning they analyzed a smaller subset of all the available ages—not an unusual strategy to eliminate bias due to issues with old carbon—and the results for colonization estimates were about the same as before.
Enlarge/ Binghamton University’s Robert J. DiNapoli stands next to a rock garden on Rapa Nui, or Easter Island.
Robert J. DiNapoli
The model also integrated the order and position of the island’s distinctive architecture, as well as ethnohistoric accounts, thereby quantifying the onset of monument construction, the rate at which it occurred, and when it likely ended. This allowed the researchers to test Diamond’s “collapse” hypothesis by building a more precise timeline of when construction took place at each of the sites. The results demonstrated a lack of evidence for a pre-contact collapse and instead offered strong support for a new emerging model of resilient communities that continued their long-term traditions despite the impacts of European arrival.
Fresh evidence
Now Lipo is back with fresh findings in support of his alternative theory, having analyzed the landscape to identify all the agricultural areas on the island. “We really wanted to look at the evidence for whether the island could in fact support such a large number of people,” he said during a media briefing. “What we know about the pre-contact people living on the island is that they survived on a combination of marine resources—fishing accounted for about 50 percent of their diet—and growing crops,” particularly the sweet potato, as well as taro and yams.
He and his co-authors set out to determine how much food could be produced agriculturally, extrapolating from that the size of a sustainable population. The volcanic soil on Easter Island is highly weathered and thus poor in nutrients essential for plant growth: nitrogen, phosphorus and potassium primarily, but also calcium, magnesium, and sulfur. To increase yields, the natives initially cut down the island’s trees to get nutrients back into the soil.
When there were no more trees, they engaged in a practice called “lithic mulching,” a form of rock gardening in which broken rocks were added to the first 20 to 25 centimeters (about 8 to 10 inches) of soil. This added essential nutrients back into the soil. “We do it ourselves with non-organic fertilizer,” said Lipo. “Essentially we use machines to crush rock into tiny pieces, which is effective because it exposes a lot of surface area. The people in Rapa Nui are doing it by hand, literally breaking up rocks and sticking them in dirt.”
There had been only one 2013 study aimed at determining the island’s rock-garden capacity, which relied on near-infrared bands from satellite images. The authors of that study estimated that between 4.9 and 21.2 km2 of the island’s total area comprised rock gardens, although they acknowledged this was likely an inaccurate estimation.
Enlarge/ A map of results from the analysis of rock gardens on Easter Island.
Carl Lipo
Lipo et al. examined satellite imagery data collected over the last five years, not just in the near-infrared, but also short-wave infrared (SWIR) and other visible spectra. SWIR is particularly sensitive to detecting water and nitrogen levels, making it easier to pinpoint areas where lithic mulching occurred. They trained machine-learning models on archaeological field identifications of rock garden features to analyze the SWIR data for a new estimation of capacity.
The result: Lipo et al. determined that the prevalence of rock gardening was about one-fifth of even the most conservative previous estimates of population size on Easter Island. They estimate that the island could support about 3,000 people—roughly the same number of inhabitants European explorers encountered when they arrived. “Previous studies had estimated that the island was fairly covered with mulch gardening, which led to estimates of up to 16,000 people,” said Lipo. “We’re saying that the island could never have supported 16,000 people; it didn’t have the productivity to do so. This pre-European collapse narrative simply has no basis in the archaeological record.”
“We don’t see demographic change decline in populations prior to Europeans’ arrival,” Lipo said. “All the [cumulative] evidence to date shows a continuous growth until some plateau is reached. It certainly was never an easy place to live, but people were able to figure out a means of doing so and lived within the boundaries of the capacity of the island up until European arrival.” So rather than being a cautionary tale, “Easter Island is a great case of how populations adapt to limited resources on a finite place, and do so sustainably.”
Binghamton University archaeologist Carl Lipo has shed light on some of the ancient mysteries of Easter Island (Rapa Nui) through his ongoing research. Credit: Binghamton University, State University of New York
Enlarge/ Three female skeletons found in a Neolithic storage pit in France show signs of ritualistic human sacrifice.
. Beeching/Ludes et al., 2024
Archaeologists have discovered the remains of two women in a Neolithic tomb in France, with the positioning of the bodies suggesting they may have been ritualistically murdered by asphyxia or self-strangulation, according to a recent paper published in the journal Science Advances.
(WARNING: graphic descriptions below.)
France’s Rhône Valley is home to several archaeological sites dating to the end of the Middle Neolithic period (between 4250 and 3600/3500 BCE in the region); the sites include various storage silos, broken grindstones, imported ceramics, animal remains (both from communal meals and sacrifices), and human remains deposited in sepulchral pits. Saint-Paul-Trois-Châteaux is one such site.
According to Bertrand Ludes of the Université Paris Cité and his co-authors, the remains of the three women were found in Pit 69, a structure aligned with the summer and winter solstices, as was often the case in ancient agrarian societies. But the body positioning was decidedly atypical. One woman (No. 1), around age 50, was in the center of the pit, reclining on her side with a vase near her head. The other two bodies were just beneath an overhang. Woman No. 2 was on her back, legs bent, with a piece of grindstone placed on her skull. Woman No. 3 was in a prone position, knees bent, with her neck on the thorax of Woman No. 2 and two chunks of grindstone placed on her back.
The unusual positions imply a forceful, deliberate placement, according to the authors, suggesting they died in the pit rather than being tossed in after death. As for the cause of death, the archaeological evidence combined with recent forensic studies suggests “homicidal ligature strangulation” and “forced positional asphyxia”—at least for two of the three women. Woman No. 2, for example, would have struggled to breathe on her back, especially with the weight of Woman No. 3 pressing down on her neck (positional asphyxia), further exacerbated by the placement of the grindstone fragment.
Enlarge/ Saint-Paul-Trois-Châteaux and the area surrounding pits 69 and 70.
Ludes et al., Sci. Adv. 10, eadl3374 (2024)
Woman No. 3’s prone position would mean she also would have struggled to breathe, and the volume of blood pumped by the heart would have sharply decreased, leading to cardiac arrest, a form of positional asphyxia now known as “prone restraint cardiac arrest.” All these clinical terms don’t quite capture the horrifically cruel nature of the manner of death. Given the placement of the woman’s knees—bent at more than a 90-degree angle, making the legs almost vertical—it’s possible she was tied up lying on her stomach, with the ligature connecting her ankles to her neck (similar to being hog-tied). In this position, “self-strangulation becomes inevitable,” the authors wrote, particularly if the mouth and nose are obstructed or there is cervical compression—say, from the strategic placement of grindstone fragments.
This form of torture, known as incaprettamento, has been used by the Italian Mafia, per Ludes et al., often to punish traitors, and dates as far back as the Italian Mesolithic era, “suggesting a highly ancient origin within ceremonial sites.” Sometimes, the victim would be strangled and the body tied up postmortem before the remains were disposed of. Ludes et al. believe Woman No. 3 would probably have been placed in the burial pit and tied up while still alive before self-strangling to death.
Reconstruction of the remains, blocked under the overhang of the wall of the storage pit lined with straw.
Ludes et al., Sci. Adv. 10, eadl3374 (2024)
Reconstruction of skeletal remains for Woman No. 2 positioned on her back with bent knees.
Ludes et al., Sci. Adv. 10, eadl3374 (2024)
Reconstruction of skeletal remains for Woman No. 3 in a prone position on her stomach with bent knees. The feet are behind the pelvis/toward the lower back, and the hands are tied behind the back.
Ludes et al., Sci. Adv. 10, eadl3374 (2024)
Mesolithic rock art scene from the Addaura Cave is believed to depict ritual sacrifice by ligature strangulation (bolded figure).
B. Ludes et al., 2024
In fact, one scene from Mesolithic rock art found in the Addaura Cave in Sicily, Italy, seems to depict a ritual sacrifice by ligature strangulation. There are 11 human figures and the figure of a slain deer. Nine of the human figures form a circle, within which are the other two human figures (male, judging by the erect genitalia). Those figures are shown lying on their stomachs in a prone position, legs folded beneath them, with a rope stretched between their ankles and necks. The erect male genitalia, and one figure drawn with his tongue hanging out, are both signs of strangulation or hanging, per the authors.
It is notoriously difficult to distinguish between a merely violent death and one with ritualistic overtones when it comes to prehistoric remains. So Ludes et al. combed through existing literature for reports of similar cases. They found 20 cases of probable ligature strangulation or positional asphyxia in total across 14 different archaeological sites in Eastern Europe and Catalonia, spanning nearly 2,000 years. The individuals were found lying on their backs or sides, lower limbs flexed until the feet aligned with the pelvis, indicating hip extension. The oldest remains were found at sites in the Czech Republic and date back to between 5400 and 4800 BCE; the three women found at Saint-Paul-Trois-Châteaux are the most recent.
The latter site in particular has elements that “suggest a profound interconnection between religious systems and power structure in an agricultural society,” the authors concluded—namely, various structures aligned with summer and winter solstices indicative of an agricultural cycle and the placement of two women facing the central woman. It’s unclear why the women were sacrificed, the authors added, but such ritualistic sacrifice likely developed across central and southern Europe sometime in the Mesolithic and evolved over the course of two millennia before culminating in the late Middle Neolithic.
Enlarge/ The cranial remains of Vittrup Man, who was bludgeoned to death and tossed in a peat bog between 3300-3100 BCE.
Stephen Freiheit via Fischer A., et al./PLoS ONE
In 1915, peat diggers recovered the fragmented skeletal remains of a man with a severely fractured skull in a peat bog near the village of Vittrup in Denmark. The remains were kept in a museum for the next century, but scientists have now conducted an in-depth analysis of the remains using various techniques to learn more about the so-called Vittrup Man’s life and violent death. They described their findings in a recent paper published in the journal PLoS ONE—including the surprising fact that Vittrup Man grew up in a coastal foraging community along the Scandinavian coast before his murder as an adult in a farming culture in Neolithic Denmark.
Vittrup Man is one of numerous “bog bodies” unearthed from peat bogs in northwestern Europe. These are human cadavers that have been naturally preserved and frequently mummified by the unique chemistry of the bogs. As peat ages, it releases humic acid, which has a pH level similar to vinegar. The bog bodies are basically pickled, and decomposition is dramatically slowed because of the anaerobic conditions of the bog. The best-preserved bog bodies are those that were put there during the winter or early spring when the water is very cold—less than 4° Celsius (39° F), i.e., too cold for bacteria to thrive—because the bog acids were able to saturate the tissues before decay could begin.
Peat has been a common fuel source since the Iron Age, and there are records of peat diggers coming across bog bodies dating back to 1640 in Germany. Bog bodies became of interest to antiquarians in the 19th century and archaeologists in the 20th century. One of the most famous examples is Tollund Man, a bog body found in the 1950s and dating back to the 5th century BCE. Tollund Man was so exquisitely mummified that he was originally mistaken for a recent murder victim, although only the head was preserved for posterity; the rest of the body was allowed to desiccate, given the less advanced state of preservation techniques in the 1950s.
But many bog bodies are only partially preserved, or only the skeletons (or parts thereof) survive. Vittrup Man falls into the latter category, consisting of a right ankle bone, the left tibia, the fractured skull, and a jawbone. He was discovered along with a wooden club, which archaeologists believe may have been the weapon used to bludgeon him to death. Various radiocarbon dating and isotope analyses confirmed that the bones all belonged to the same individual, while genetic analysis confirmed the remains were those of a male. He was likely deposited in the peat bog sometime between 3300–3100 BCE.
Left lower leg bone and right ankle bone of Vittrup Man.
Marie Louise Jorkov/Fischer A., et al./PLoS ONE
The jawbone of Vittrup Man showing several worn teeth.
Arnold Mikkelsen/Fischer A., et al./PLoS ONE
Drawing of Vittrup Man’s cranium showing front and back views of impact lesions and radiating fracture lines.
Fischer A., et al./PLoS ONE
Drawing of Vittrup Man’s cranium showing right and left side views of impact lesions and radiating fracture lines.
Fischer A., et al./PLoS ONE
Vittrup Man was included in a sweeping 2014 genomic project to learn more about Eurasia’s Mesolithic and Neolithic gene pools, but the resulting genetic profile was markedly different from other remains from the same region and time period. This intrigued University of Gothenburg (Sweden) archaeologist Karl-Göran Sjögren and his co-authors, and they decided to take a closer look, integrating data collected with various genetic, isotopic, physical, anthropological, and archaeological techniques. “To our knowledge, this is the first time that research has been able to map a north European inhabitant’s life history in such a high degree of detail and in such a high distance of time,” the authors wrote.
The size and distinctive characteristics of the skull, lower leg bones, and teeth indicate that at the time of his death, Vittrup Man was an adult male in his 30s. The cranium was shattered by at least eight blows delivered by a blunt object (like the wooden club), and the injuries were fatal, with no signs of healing post-trauma. There are no marks on the surviving bones indicating dismemberment, so the authors believe the body may have come apart while decomposing in the bog. It’s possible more Vittrup Man fragments have yet to be recovered.
But the clues gleaned from two of Vittrup Man’s teeth (sacrificed to science) are what provided the most interesting insights. Sjögren et al. found isotopes of strontium, carbon, and oxygen and concluded that the man had grown up along the coast of the Scandinavian Peninsula. Genetic analysis showed commonalities with Mesolithic people of Norway and Sweden; Vittrup Man had blue eyes and darker skin than the usual Neolithic farmer. The teeth and bones also had proteins and isotopes indicating a shift in diet from marine mammals and fish as a child, to sheep, goat, cereals, and dairy as an adult—the latter more typical of a farming community as opposed to a coastal foraging community.
Why Vittrup Man left the Scandinavian coast and ended up in Denmark remains a mystery. He may have been captured and enslaved or immigrated, or he may have been a foreign merchant selling goods like flint axes between foraging and farming communities. Either way, he eventually integrated into the farming community—at least until they killed him.
As for why he was killed, “At that time, it was commonplace in present-day Denmark to sacrifice humans in bogs, and these acts were often conducted in violent ways,” the authors concluded. “Evidently, such dubious honor was also given to persons of nonlocal provenance.”
There’s rarely time to write about every cool science-y story that comes our way. So this year, we’re once again running a special Twelve Days of Christmas series of posts, highlighting one science story that fell through the cracks in 2020, each day from December 25 through January 5. Today: Archaeologists found two stone engravings in Jordan and Saudi Arabia that may represent the oldest architectural plans for desert kites.
During the 1920s, aerial photographs revealed the presence of large kite-shaped stone wall mega-structures in deserts in Asia and the Middle East that most archaeologists believe were used to herd and trap wild animals. More than 6,000 of these “desert kites” have been identified as of 2018, although very few have been excavated. Archaeologists found two stone engravings—one in Jordan, the other in Saudi Arabia—that they believe represent the oldest architectural plans for these desert kites, according to a May paper published in the journal PLoS ONE.
“The discovery of these very ancient representations highlights the question of the methods used by kite builders,” the authors wrote. “Kites are large material structures that could not be designed without what we call today planning. The ability to transpose large spaces into a small two-dimensional surface represents a milestone in intelligent behavior. Such structures are visible as a whole only from the air, yet this calls for the representation of space in a way not seen at this time.”
The eight kites at Jibal al-Khashabiyeh in Jordan were discovered in 2013, and archaeologists began excavations in 2015 and 2016. Looters had targeted one such site, so archaeologists conducted a rescue excavation, noting numerous carved cigar-shaped limestones scattered around the surface. One such stone had a very well-preserved engraving. The engraving’s shape is characteristic of the two desert kites at Jibal al-Khashabiyeh that are nearest to where the engraved rock was found, and the authors estimate the age of the engraving to be about 7,000 years old.
The engraving was likely carved with a lithic tool, employing a combination of fine incisions to mark out the contours of the kite and pecking. The kite-shaped engraving comprises two primary converging curved lines, which the researchers interpreted as representing driving lines. These lead to a carved star-shaped enclosure with eight circular cup marks at the circumference representing pit traps. The characteristics are typical of desert kite structures in southeastern Jordanian kites. The archaeologists remain puzzled by a zigzagging chevron pattern running perpendicular to the corridor, but hypothesize that it might represent a slope break feature.
The kites at Jebel az-Zilliyat in Saudi Arabia were discovered in 2014 and excavated the following year. The engraved sandstone boulder in this case—found during rock art surveys—was studied in situ and dated to around 8,000 years ago. The carving was likely made by pecking the contours using a lithic tool or a handpick. While the eastern engraving on the boulder was very readable, the western one had been badly damaged by erosion. Both feature the same two short, widely spaced driving lines that gradually converge into a star-shaped enclosed surface surrounded by six cup marks (pit traps). Once again, the authors noted clear similarities between the engraved representations of kites on the boulder and actual desert kite shapes nearby.
There have been other maps, plans, or representations in human history, per the authors, such as Upper Paleolithic engravings in Europe that seem to be maps of hunting strategies, or a mural in Turkey from about 6600 BCE that seems to depict a village. There is even a reed-bundle boat found in Kuwait, dated 5000 BCE, that is considered to be the oldest three-dimensional model of a large-scale object. However, the two engravings found in Jordan and Saudi Arabia are unique because they were done to scale: approximately 1: 425 and 1: 175, respectively.
As for why the engravings were made, the authors considered three hypotheses: it was a detailed kite construction plan; it was a plan for preparing hunting activities; or it could be more symbolic—a means of passing on knowledge of the pace and/or its function. Of those, the authors consider the second to be the most credible, given the careful graphical representation of the functional elements of the trap, but cannot rule out the other two possibilities.
“A map would most probably be used here as a means of communication (almost like an ancestral way of writing) and would enable the collective interaction required for the smooth running of hunting operations,” the authors concluded. “These two major innovations, i.e., building what would become the largest structures in human history at that time and making cartographic representations to scale, are closely linked by a common point: mastering the three-dimensional perception of a space, and translating it into an inscribed form of communication.”
