Advances in Andean Archaeology 9783110810011, 9789027975508

Table of contents :
General Editor’s Preface
Preface
PART ONE: ANALOGY AND CULTURAL RECONSTRUCTION OF LITHIC INDUSTRIES
Introduction
The Aguas Verdes Industry of Northern Chile
Toolmaking and Tool Use Among the Preceramic Peoples of Panama
PART TWO: ORIGINS OF PLANT AND ANIMAL DOMESTICATION
Introduction
Population Pressure and the Origins of Agriculture: An Archaeological Example From the Coast of Peru
Origins and Distribution of Plants Domesticated in the New World Tropics
Animal Domestication in the Andes
The Pre-Columbian Araucanian Chicken (Gallus inauris) of the Mapuche Indians
PART THREE: CULTURAL DEVELOPMENT IN THE NORTHERN ANDES
Introduction
Formative-Period Interaction Spheres in the Intermediate Area: Archaeology of Central America and Adjacent South America
Ridged-Field Excavations in the Central Orinoco Llanos, Venezuela
Ecology, Economy, and Warfare in Lowland South America
The Formative Cultures of the Venezuela Oriente
Majolica Pottery: Determination of Its Provenience Using Thermoluminescence
Interpretation of Buried Structures: Coastal Sites of the State of Sao Paolo, Brazil
PART FOUR: ECONOMIC AND URBAN DEVELOPMENT IN THE CENTRAL ANDES
Introduction
The Cultural and Ecological Context of the Mantaro Valley During the Formative Period
Toward the Development of the Tiahuanaco (Tiwanaku) State
Cerro Sechin: Medical Anthropology’s Inauguration in Peru?
Prehistory and Petroglyphs in Southern Peru
Ecological Factors Affecting the Urban Transformation in the Last Centuries of the Pre-Columbian Era
Toward a Typology of Architecture and Urbanism in the Pre-Columbian Andes
Manifestations of Inca Culture in Two Provinces of Chile
PART FIVE: PALEOECOLOGICAL STUDIES IN ARGENTINA
Introduction
Considerations on the Periodizations of Northwest Argentina
Paleoecology of the Calchaquí Valley, Salta Province, Argentina
Concerning the Archaeology of the Humahuaca Quebrada
Contribution to the San José and Santa María Cultures, Northwest Argentina
Biographical Notes
Index of Names
Index of Subjects

Citation preview

Advances in Andean Archaeology

World Anthropology

General Editor

SOL T A X Patrons CLAUDE LfiVI-STRAUSS MARGARET MEAD L AIL A SHUKRY EL HAMAMSY Μ. N. S R I N I V A S

MOUTON PUBLISHERS · THE HAGUE · PARIS D I S T R I B U T E D IN T H E U S A A N D C A N A D A BY A L D I N E , C H I C A G O

Advances in Andean Archaeology

Editor

D A V I D L. B R O W M A N

MOUTON PUBLISHERS

· THE H A G U E · PARIS

D I S T R I B U T E D IN T H E U S A A N D C A N A D A BY A L D I N E , C H I C A G O

Copyright © 1978 by Mouton Publishers. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the written permission of Mouton Publishers, The Hague Distributed in the United States of America and Canada by Aldine Publishing Company, Chicago, Illinois ISBN 90-279-7550-7 (Mouton) 0-202-90056-8 (Aldine) Jacket photo by David L. Browman Cover and jacket design by Jurriaan Schrofer Indexes by Society of Indexers, Great Britain Printed in Great Britain at the University Press, Cambridge

General Editor's Preface

The wondrous and mysterious civilizations whose sixteenth-century manifestations the Conquistadores encountered in Mexico and Peru are only slowly being rediscovered in the late twentieth century. The process of discovery, through the painstaking piecing together of archaeological, historical, and ethnographic bits of new information, is well illustrated in this book and in its companion volume, Cultural continuity in Mesoamerica. In each case, new discoveries - largely independent and disparate themselves - are put into the largest geographic-temporal perspective that is manageable in the light of previous knowledge. The specific new contributions were in this case especially varied because they were independently prepared for a Congress that encouraged worldwide and interdisciplinary participation. Like most contemporary sciences, anthropology is a product of the European tradition. Some argue that it is a product of colonialism, with one small and self-interested part of the species dominating the study of the whole. If we are to understand the species, our science needs substantial input from scholars w h o represent a variety of the world's cultures. It was a deliberate purpose of the IXth International Congress of Anthropological and Ethnological Sciences to provide impetus in this direction. The World Anthropology volumes, therefore, offer a first glimpse of a human science in which members from all societies have played an active role. Each of the books is designed to be self-contained; each is an attempt to update its particular sector of scientific knowledge and is written by specialists from all parts of the world. Each volume should be read and reviewed individually as a separate volume on its own given subject. The set as a whole will indicate what changes are in store for anthropology as scholars from

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the developing countries join in studying the species of which we are all a part. The IXth Congress was planned from the beginning not only to include as many of the scholars from every part of the world as possible, but also with a view toward the eventual publication of the papers in high-quality volumes. At previous Congresses scholars were invited to bring papers which were then read out loud. They were necessarily limited in length; many were only summarized; there was little time for discussion; and the sparse discussion could only be in one language. The IXth Congress was an experiment aimed at changing this. Papers were written with the intention of exchanging them before the Congress, particularly in extensive pre-Congress sessions; they were not intended to be read aloud at the Congress, that time being devoted to discussions - discussions which were simultaneously and professionally translated into five languages. The method for eliciting the papers was structured to make as representative a sample as was allowable when scholarly creativity - hence self-selection was critically important. Scholars were asked both to propose papers of their own and to suggest topics for sessions of the Congress which they might edit into volumes. All were then informed of the suggestions and encouraged to re-think their own papers and the topics. The process, therefore, was a continuous one of feedback and exchange and it has continued to be so even after the Congress. The some two thousand papers comprising World Anthropology certainly then offer a substantial sample of world anthropology. It has been said that anthropology is at a turning point; if this is so, these volumes will be the historical direction-markers. As might have been foreseen in the first post-colonial generation, the large majority of the Congress papers (82 percent) are the work of scholars identified with the industrialized world which fathered our traditional discipline and the institution of the Congress itself: Eastern Europe (15 percent); Western Europe (16 percent); North America (47 percent); Japan, South Africa, Australia, and New Zealand (4 percent). Only 18 percent of the papers are from developing areas: Africa (4 percent); Asia-Oceania (9 percent); Latin America (5 percent). Aside from the substantial representation from the U.S.S.R. and the nations of Eastern Europe, a significant difference between this corpus of written material and that of other Congresses is the addition of the large proportion of contributions from Africa, Asia, and Latin America. "Only 18 percent" is two to four times as great a proportion as that of other Congresses; moreover, 18 percent of 2,000 papers is 360 papers, 10 times the number of "Third World" papers presented at previous Congresses. In fact, these 360 papers are more than the total of all papers published after the last International Congress of

General Editor's

Preface

VII

Anthropological and Ethnological Sciences which was held in the United States (Philadelphia, 1956). The significance of the increase is not simply quantitative. The input of scholars from areas which have until recently been no more than subject matter for anthropology represents both feedback and also long-awaited theoretical contributions from the perspectives of very different cultural, social, and historical traditions. Many who attended the IXth Congress were convinced that anthropology would not be the same in the future. The fact that the next Congress (India, 1978) will be our first in the "Third World " may be symbolic of the change. Meanwhile, sober consideration of the present set of books will show how much, and just where and how, our discipline is being revolutionized. In addition to the companion volume on the Maya, the editor of this book has edited two others for this series: Pre-Columbian human biology and Early Americans, ecology, and Eskimoes: prehistoric economies and technologies. Readers will also be interested in other volumes in the World Anthropology series on evolution and archaeology; on architecture and the arts; on Latin America; and on processes of cultural development in various parts of the world. Chicago, Illinois September9, 1976

SOL T A X

Table of Contents

General Editor's Preface Preface

ν XIII

PART ONE: ANALOGY AND C U L T U R A L RECONSTRUCTION OF LITHIC INDUSTRIES Introduction The Aguas Verdes Industry of Northern Chile by L. Lewis Johnson Toolmaking and Tool Use Among the Preceramic Peoples of Panama by Anthony J. Ranere

3 7

41

PART TWO: ORIGINS OF PLANT AND ANIMAL DOMESTICATION Introduction Population Pressure and the Origins of Agriculture: An Archaeological Example From the Coast of Peru by Mark N. Cohen Origins and Distribution of Plants Domesticated in the New World Tropics by Barbara Pickersgill and Charles B. Heiser, Jr. Animal Domestication in the Andes by Elizabeth S. Wing The Pre-Columbian Araucanian Chicken (Gallus inauris) of the Mapuche Indians by Ο. E. Wilhelm

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91

133 167

189

χ Table of

Contents

P A R T T H R E E : C U L T U R A L D E V E L O P M E N T IN THE NORTHERN ANDES Introduction Formative-Period Interaction Spheres in the Intermediate Area: Archaeology of Central America and Adjacent South America by Thomas P. Myers Ridged-Field Excavations in the Central Orinoco Llanos, Venezuela by William M. Denevan and Alberta Zucchi Ecology, Economy, and Warfare in Lowland South America by Robert V. Morey, Jr. and John P. Marwitt The Formative Cultures of the Venezuela Oriente by Mario Sanoja and Iraida Vargas Majolica Pottery: Determination of Its Provenience Using Thermoluminescence by J. Eduardo Vaz and Jose M. Cruxent Interpretation of Buried Structures: Coastal Sites of the State of Sao Paolo, Brazil by L. Pallestrini

199

203

235 247 259

277

291

PART FOUR: ECONOMIC AND URBAN D E V E L O P M E N T IN T H E C E N T R A L A N D E S Introduction The Cultural and Ecological Context of the Mantaro Valley During the Formative Period by R. Matos Mendieta Toward the Development of the Tiahuanaco (Tiwanaku) State by David L. Browman Cerro Sechin: Medical Anthropology's Inauguration in Peru? by Francis X. Grollig, S.J. Prehistory and Petroglyphs in Southern Peru by Eloy Linares Mdlaga Ecological Factors Affecting the Urban Transformation in the Last Centuries of the Pre-Columbian Era by Duccio Bonavia Toward a Typology of Architecture and Urbanism in the PreColumbian Andes by Frederic Engel Manifestations of Inca Culture in Two Provinces of Chile by Jorge Iribarren Charlin

303

307 327 351 371

393

411 443

Table of

Contents

χι

P A R T F I V E : Ρ A L E O E C O L O G I C A L S T U D I E S IN ARGENTINA Introduction Considerations on the Periodizations of Northwest Argentina by Victor A. Nunez Regueiro Paleoecology of the Calchaqui Valley, Salta Province, Argentina by Myriam N. Tarrago Concerning the Archaeology of the Humahuaca Quebrada by Jose Antonio Perez Contribution to the San Jose and Santa Maria Cultures, Northwest Argentina by Elena Perrotta and Clara Podesta

451 453

485 513

525

Biographical Notes

553

Index of Names

561

Index of Subjects

567

Preface

The native societies of South America had their beginnings at least 25,000 years ago, and possibly more than 40,000 years ago. Descendants from the earlier immigrants who crossed the Bering land bridge from Siberia gradually drifted south, and ultimately crossed the Darien region of Panama and entered Colombia at this early time period. These early inhabitants moved into zones whose ecological resources were unfamiliar to them, and the early prehistory of the continent is basically that of the slow discovery of the riches of the new lands, and subsequent experiments with the most efficient techniques to exploit the resources available. Papers by Ranere and Johnson in this volume contribute greatly to our capabilities in reconstructing the lifeways of these early generalized hunting-and-gathering folk. Approximately 8,000-10,000 years ago, man in South America reached a new level of achievement, which his fellow humans in Mesoamerica, Mesopotamia, China, and other areas of the world were also just reaching - a stage distinguished by the first tentative experiments in the domestication of plants and animals. The next five or six millennia are characterized by the development of such modern major agricultural crops as potatoes and beans, sweet potatoes and manioc, and by an increasingly sophisticated agricultural technology in those areas where agriculture was an appropriate technique for exploiting natural resources. In some areas in the sierra with low population density, this included llama pastoralism; only in more recent epochs, as the population pressure increased, do archaeologists see a shift from pastoral life styles to more efficient and more intensive exploitation techniques encompassed in agriculture. These epochs are also marked by the stabilization of the sea level following the postglacial variations due to climatic warming. With this stabilization, new

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fishing cultures sprang up, exploiting an incredibly rich marine resource base, giving rise on the Pacific coast to the first settlements which achieved that level of cultural complexity referred to as "civilization." The development of these marine, agricultural, and pastoral economic bases is the major sphere of interest of the papers presented by Cohen, Wing, Wilhelm, and Pickersgill and Heiser in this volume. With shifts from more nomadic life styles to more sedentary life styles, ethnic groups began to accumulate material possessions in greater abundance, and began leaving a much greater wealth of clues for the archaeologist to uncover so he could reconstruct the varied life styles and begin asking questions regarding ethnic boundary maintenance, economic organization, and religious symbolism on prehistoric levels. For example, the dyadic social structure which so fascinates structural anthropologists such as Levi-Strauss can now be suggested to have a minimum time depth of 5,000 years, and the " m i t a " type of tax levy in terms of labor levies can be shown to have a time depth of at least 2,000 years. Very basic to all archaeological research are the statements of prehistoric peoples of their ethnic identity, preserved for us in terms of ceramic vocabularies, settlement patterns, and motif inventories. Thousands of years of sociocultural and technological evolution, trade, migration, and conflict have resulted in a cultural kaleidoscope, the dimensions of which we are just beginning to explore. It is to the question of unfolding this vast panorama of rich cultural heritage, and to the proper scientific methodology required in so doing, that the majority of the contributions in this volume are devoted. This volume contains most of the papers presented in the sessions on Andean Archaeology at the IXth ICAES meetings in Chicago. Realizing that the three-hour session officially assigned to us was insufficient, we arranged with the congress an additional fifteen hours of special meetings over a period of three days in which all papers were thoroughly discussed, additional slides were presented, heated and stimulating arguments ensued, and in general a very productive interchange of ideas occurred. I dearly wish that these discussions could be shared with the reader. In the interest of economy, however, I have presented only short introductions to the major intellectual groupings of the papers. During those times when I was called away on other duties, Dr. Ramiro Matos Mendieta (Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos, Lima, Peru) ably served as my co-chairman, and I wish to thank him for his aid. Presentations were made by the following individuals: Dr. Carlos Aguilar, Sr. Hugo Burgos, Dr. Mark Cohen, Dr. William Denevan, Dr. David Browman, Dr. Jose Cruxent, Dr.

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Alberto Rex Gonzalez, Dr. Lucy Johnson, Dr. Eloy Linares Malaga, Dr. Ramiro Matos Mendieta, Dr. Thomas Myers, Padre Pedro Porras, Dra. Vera Penteado Coelho, Dra. Elena Perrotta, Dr. Mario Sanoja, Dr. Eduardo Vaz, Dr. Elizabeth Wing, and Dra. Alberta Zucchi. Eleven of these contributions are included in this volume; regrettably the other papers were not available. In addition to these presentations, a number of contributions from individuals unable to attend the congress session were discussed; these are also included in the following pages. A particular debt of gratitude is owed by the editor to Dr. Sol Tax, through whose assistance and wisdom the session became a reality, and to Ms. Karen Tkach, through whose assistance and encouragement the volume achieved substance. DAVID L.

Washington University St. Louis, Missouri

BROWMAN

PART O N E

Analogy and Cultural of Lithic Industries

Reconstruction

Introduction

The papers here on toolmaking in Chile by Johnson and in Panama by Ranere mark a major new epoch in lithic studies in South America. Previously lithic studies have been mainly typological and functional, in contrast to these new technological analysis studies. Most preceramic studies have concentrated on creating orderings and seriations of tool types and changes in artifact forms through time, to be used as temporal indices; and they have utilized these indices to trace historical diffusion and change through time in various areas, such as the studies by Lanning and Hammel (1961) and Lanning (1970). These new studies (see also Swanson 1975) combine former methodologies with new techniques to arrive at more adequate explanatory constructs concerning the lithic technology of prehistoric cultural groups. Moreover, they define more precisely the functional and morphological attributes of the tools as conceived by their original fabricators, rather than as imposed on the data by the modern typologist. Johnson and Ranere have combined the investigation of archaeological materials with the experimental replication of these tools, combining the microscopic analytical techniques of Semenov (1964) with experimental replicative flint-knapping such as Crabtree (1971, 1972) has developed, and also applying more powerful mathematical tools in an attempt to reify concepts. A major contribution in both papers is to point out the information contained in chipping debris - material which most frequently has been discarded or ignored in previous studies. Johnson, particularly, developed a model of quarry waste in order to understand how the attributes of chipped stone artifacts come to be associated. In deducing the cultural patterning of lithic artifacts, quarries and asso-

4

Introduction

ciated chipping debris can be even more informative than the finished tools, since we can study tools in various stages of manufacture, and we can study the processes and techniques utilized to bring the tools to their final desired shapes and forms. Thus we can study not only the normative models of the prehistoric flint knappers through the finished forms, but also the technological level and competence of the people through the various stages in the manufacturing process, including the identification of technological error through the analysis of pieces abandoned and discarded at various stages of fabrication. As with recent studies for the European Paleolithic, such as those of Binford and Binford (1966) or Movius, David, Bricker, and Clay (1968), these new studies in South America analyze the attributes of the chipped-stone artifacts, thereby providing a technologicalfunctional typology plus the identification of technological assemblages and industrial activity components. This will permit much more meaningful historical reconstructions and much more powerful models for investigating cultural change and dispersion. One of the most useful new approaches has been the use of attribute cluster analysis to generate hypotheses. Pioneered primarily in the lithic studies of Bordes, Binford, Movius, and their students in the late 1960's, the method has proven to be equally useful when applied to lithic studies in the New World. In the present volume, Johnson has applied a refined and much improved multivariate analysis to materials from two quarry sites in Chile of the Aguas Verdes phase of 8000-7000 B.C. The graph-theoretic cluster analysis model she proposes appears to be particularly useful, since it allows greater flexibility in the manipulation of data, and in grouping and reorganizing the data as earlier hypotheses are abandoned and new, more sophisticated ones are formulated. Though the model was tested on singleuse quarries, it is theoretically extendable to multiple-use quarries as well. Replicative experiments clearly enhance the capabilities of the archaeologist to postulate prehistoric economic activities and to determine functional attributes of the lithic assemblages. Ranere's studies of some 45,000 stone flakes and artifacts from the Talamanca phase (4500-3000 B.C.) and the Boquete phase (3000-500/100 B.C.) in Panama are based to a large extent on such experiments, particularly on the experimental replication of the tool types and experiments with these replicated tools to identify functional tasks through the analysis of microscopic wear patterns. Such experiments, along with those of Tringham and her students (Tringham, Cooper, Odell, Voytek, and Whitman 1974) have added another dimension to lithic analysis through providing more confident identification of function and more complete understanding of morphological variation, thus enabling us

Introduction

5

to provide better answers to the questions surrounding the processes of cultural change.

REFERENCES BINFORD, L. R., S. R. BINFORD

1966 A preliminary analysis of functional variability in the Mousterian of Levallois facies. American Anthropology 68 (2, pt. 2): 238-295. Washington, D.C. CRABTREE, D . E.

1971 1972

Experiments in flintworking. Pocatello: Idaho State University. An introduction to flintworking. Occasional Papers of the Idaho State University Museum 28. Pocatello.

L A N N I N G , E.

1970 Pleistocene man in South America. World Archaeology 2( 1): 90-111. London. L A N N I N G , E. P . , E. A. HAMMEL

1961

Early lithic industries of Western South America. American quity 27(2): 131-154. Salt Lake City.

Anti-

MOVIUS, H. L . , N. C. DAVID, H. M . BRICKER, R. B. CLAY

1968

The analysis of certain major classes of Upper Palaeolithic tools. American School of Prehistoric Research Bulletin 26. Cambridge, Mass.: Peabody Museum, Harvard University.

SEMENOV, S. A.

1964 Prehistoric technology (and experimental study of the oldest tools and artifacts from traces of manufacture and wear). New York: Barnes and Noble. SWANSON, EARL, editor 1975 Lithic technology: making and using stone tools. World Anthropology. The Hague: Mouton. TRINGHAM, R . , G. COOPER, G. O D E L L , B. VOYTEK, A. W H I T M A N

1974

Experimentation in the formation of edge damage: a new approach to lithic analysis. Journal of Field Archaeology 1 (1/2): 171-1%. Boston.

The Aguas Verdes of Northern Chile

Industry

L. L E W I S J O H N S O N

This paper reports on a graph-theoretic analysis of stone tools from northern Chile. In another paper (Johnson 1975) I concentrated on the methods of analysis which I used. Here I wish primarily to discuss the theoretical model developed during the analysis of quarry waste and the conclusions which were reached. Artifacts from two sites belonging to the Aguas Verdes complex were studied. The sites, which are located in the Central Loa region, contain well-controlled percussion-struck or possibly punch-removed blades, large side-edge retouched pieces and plano-convex and biconvex lanceolate points. Most of the material is percussion flaked, but, as the sites analyzed are quarry workshops, the industry may contain pressure-flaked materials at other loci. Through seriation to other north Chilean materials and comparison to other Andean materials, Aguas Verdes dates roughly between 8000 and 7000 B.C. The radiocarbon dates which we have for the Central Loa sequence and the estimated dates for as yet undated Pre-ceramic industries are given in Table 1. Talabre is related to Ghatchi (Le Paige 1964; Orellana 1962), Chivateros (Lanning 1967), Ampajango (Cigliano 1962), and other Andean biface sites. It is characterized by large bifaces, percussion blades with large, unprepared striking platforms and denticulated edge tools. Melzer (n.d.) has divided it into four phases, the third of which he correlates with Chivateros I. Ayquina, which follows Aguas Verdes, has pressure-flaked projectile points which resemble those from Lauricocha (Schobinger 1969: Figure 25). Tambillo (Schobinger 1969: Figure 33), and Penoncito (Schobinger 1969: Figure 41) and its date of 7130 B.C. are also comparable to these industries. From the preceding arguments, Aguas Verdes falls between the

8

L. L E W I S

Table 1. Years B.C.

JOHNSON

Radiocarbon dates Industry

Radiocarbon dates

Chiu Chiu

2705-1675 B.C. (8 dates)

Isla Grande

4130 B.C., 3930 B.C.

1000 3000 4500 Calama 6000 Ayquina

7130 B.C.

7000 Aguas Verdes 8000 Talabre

8480 B.C. (cross date from Chivateros)

10,000

biface industries and the Ayampitin industries. The Viscachanense II (Ibarra Grasso 1963: 84) or proto-Ayampitin laurel-leaf points illustrated by Schobinger (1969: Figure 31) resemble the Aguas Verdes points as do the Tulan points illustrated by Le Paige from the type site (1964: Lamina 34-40). I found only one point which, if whole, might be similar to those illustrated by Le Paige in Lamina 38. If the Aguas Verdes knappers made points like these, they might have done so elsewhere than on my sites. Most of the other materials Le Paige refers to as Tulanense do not resemble Aguas Verdes material, the exception being Guaytiquina, a habitation site on the Argentine-Chile border (1964: Lamina 86, 87). Aguas Verdes, then, both chronologically and typologically, appears to be transitional between the Andean Biface Horizon and the later, pressure-flaked laurel-leaf and willowleaf industries. Aguas Verdes tools are made of welded tuff which is found on eroded volcanic remnants in the mid-Loa region. These are part of the Loa Formation which . . . is mainly a sedimentary and aquiferous deposit. It consists principally of limestone and chert as well as welded tuffs. The tuffs, which are interbedded in aquiferous deposits, originated as incandescent ash falling upon wet surfaces, possibly lakes or swamps. Also interbedded are dark gravels of redeposited volcanic rocks. Except for products of recent aeolian activity, there are no other deposits (Melzer n.d.: 22).

Sites RAnL 199B and RAnL 200B are quarries located on a remnant ridge, Cerro Las Balas, overlooking the town of Calama and the village of Chiu Chiu. The tools found indicate that these outcrops were used only during a short time in the Prehistoric Period. The later Preceramic and Ceramic Period residents of the area preferred to use cherts and basalts, which are available, although rarer, in the region.

The Aguas

Verdes Industry

of Northern

Chile

9

RAnL 199B extends 60 meters along the crest of Cerro las Balas and is a continuous workshop. Material was collected from two-by-two meter squares and from a one-by-one meter test pit. Three of the surface squares, RAnL 199B-1, 3, 7, and the excavated square, RAnL 199B-12, are analyzed in this report. In the test pit, which was subsurface under 1/4 of RAnL 199B-1, there was no evidence of stratigraphy, and bedrock was encountered at an approximate depth of fifty centimeters. RAnL 200B begins 528 meters to the southwest of RAnL 199B along the same ridge. It is a group of four small workshops, each measuring about four meters in diameter, strung out along the ridge for a distance of eighty-eight meters. The two collections analyzed here, 200B-1 and 3, were obtained from two-by-two meter squares in the most easterly and most westerly of the workshops.

RECORDING SYSTEM The aim of this study is to understand the technology of the Aguas Verdes knappers. In order to do so, it is necessary to study all of the artifactual material which comes out of the test areas. In addition, it must be studied in much detail since a great many factors go into the creation of a stone tool (see Johnson 1975 for a fuller discussion of this point). In order to recover the necessary information from the artifacts, a system containing seven subsystems was devised. Four of these - cores, flakes, blades, and obscured blanks - refer to the blanks for and the by-products of tool manufacture; two - points and edges - refer to retouched tools; and the last, not to be considered further in this analysis, is debitage. Any stone from the site is recorded as belonging to one of the first four categories or to the last; it may also, if it belongs to categories one to four, be recorded as a retouched object. A blade is a blank which is at least twice as long as it is wide; the long dimension conforms to the axis of percussion, and the dorsal surface has one or more ridges which also parallel the axis of percussion/maximum length. Any other blank which has a recognizable bulb of percussion and is larger than three-by-five or fourby-four centimeters is recorded as a flake. Smaller blanks are debitage, and tools on which the bulb of percussion has been removed by retouch are recorded as obscured blanks. The size limit for debitage is determined by the minimum-sized blank used for tools in this industry. My use of the terms "point" and " e d g e " is similar to that established by Allchin:

10

L. L E W I S

JOHNSON

A point is defined in the Shorter Oxford English Dictionary as "A sharp end to which anything tapers; as of a weapon, tool, pin, etc." I have therefore taken the term to cover all flaked tools in which a point is the primary functioning part of the tool (1966: 205). An edge-tool is defined in the Shorter Oxford English Dictionary as "Any tool having a sharp cutting edge." It is taken to cover all those flaked tools in which an edge, as opposed to a point, is the primary functioning part. It includes the full range of knives, spokeshaves, scrapers, adze blades and chopping-tools (1966: 195).

Because I am working with quarry material, my determination of the differences between points and edges is due more to formal than to functional characteristics. I define a point as a tool which is retouched to a point at at least one end and an edge as a tool which is not retouched to a point. My recording subsystems, as they finally evolved, are presented in Tables A-E in the Appendix. They will not be discussed in detail here: those interested in using them may consult Lewis (1973) for a full description.

MODEL In order to analyze technological aspects of stone tools I have developed a model of stone tool manufacture which is based on my experience as a flint knapper, on Hammond's (n.d.) consideration of cognitive factors in stone toolmaking, and on preliminary study of the Aguas Verdes collections. The first step in flint knapping is to choose a piece of stone appropriate to the artifact to be made. Its modification will depend on whether a core tool or a flake/blade tool is desired. In making a core tool, the workman must visualize its form in the nodule before beginning work, and his aim is to "release" this form, in much the same way as a sculptor does. Although the flakes removed may be useful, the workman is not consciously concerned with their form. In producing a core, on the other hand, the shape given to the nodule depends on the blank which is desired. The care in producing a particular blank varies from negligible, as is the case for New Guinean knappers (White 1969), to extremely precise, as is the case for blade cores. The model which follows is geared specifically to the material gathered from the Aguas Verdes sites. In these quarries there is clear evidence of the manufacture of both core and flake tools and of the careful preparation of some cores for the production of blades. The process of making a core tool has been analyzed by Hammond (n.d.), whose diagram of the process, somewhat modified, is on the

The Aguas Verdes Industry of Northern Chile

Figure 1.

Flow chart of stone tool manufacture

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12

L. L E W I S

JOHNSON

left side of Figure 1. I have added, on the far right, the remains which would be left behind at the quarry. These would include waste flakes, which might receive further modification or direct use as tools, and broken tools in various stages of completion. In making a core a major decision is whether to produce flakes or

The Aguas Verdes Industry of Northern

Chile

13

blades. The former require less elaborate core preparation, but in both cases some waste flakes will be produced before desired blanks can be removed. Once the core is prepared, the blanks will be acceptable to the artisan or will be broken or unsuitably shaped and, therefore, rejected. Also, some of the cores will break or will have internal fractures which make them unsatisfactory for continued use. If more acceptable blanks are produced than are needed, the surplus will be rejected; the trajectory of those to be modified further will overlap after this point with that of the core tools. Given this model of stone tool production, a number of questions remain to be answered: What will remain at the quarry? What can be found out about it? How can it be found out? In order to answer these questions I will describe an extremely simplified version of Aguas Verdes quarrying activities and follow a tool through the system. In making a bifacially chipped point on a flake (tool IV in Figure 2), the flake is first removed from a core (step 1). In step 2, one edge of the dorsal surface is retouched, in step 3 the second edge of the dorsal surface is retouched, and in steps 4 and 5 the edges of the ventral surface are retouched. Further, imagine that there are only four tools in this industry: the bifacial point (IV), a unifacial point chipped only on the dorsal surface (III), a flake tool retouched along one dorsal edge (II) and a flake chipped along one ventral edge (I). Once the bifacial point has been completed through step 4, it is uniquely identifiable as a bifacial point. However, as of step 3 it could be a finished unifacial point or an unfinished bifacial point, and as of step 1 it could be any of the four tool types. During manufacture, a tool can break and be discarded at any of these steps; therefore, any quarry analysis must deal with this ambiguity. In a real situation, there will probably be more final tools involved, more attributes which are of significance to the definition of the tools, and no knowledge beforehand of what the desired tool types were. Given these ambiguities, the analysis should not be expected to produce unique groupings of the tools, and an analysis which does should be suspected of overstructuring the material. In addition, not all of the artifacts will fall into defined groups. Those that were rejected by the artisan because they exceeded the limits of variation would not be expected to share a great deal of similarity with the other artifacts in the collection and therefore will remain outside the analysis.

14

L. L E W I S JOHNSON

ANALYSIS In analyzing quarry materials one must look at artifacts f r o m various stages in the manufacturing process, sort out the desired patterns of attribute states from the " r e j e c t s , " and then reconstruct the process of tool manufacture f r o m the remains. What is desired, then, is a descriptive analysis which can place objects in many different groups to be evaluated according to the purposes of the analyst. As there cannot be rigorous statistical control, all of the options chosen by the analyst must be carefully specified so that others can judge the validity of the results (de la Vega 1967: 507-508). First, one must consider what variables to use. As we do not yet understand the full range of variables which go into tool production, it is necessary to use all possibly significant variables in setting up a classification system: One of the major aims in the metrical description of such objects as the stone flake, where there is considerable variation in shape, must be to choose as many parameters as possible to ensure that the maximum information is recorded. In the event that too many parameters are chosen, resulting in repetitive information, adjustments can easily be made at a subsequent stage of analysis (Leach 1969: 54). Attempts to set up such systems for various groups of artifacts have proliferated in the last few years; the most common artifacts given a detailed attribute analysis are points (Binford 1963; Mayer-Oakes 1966; McPherron 1967), edges (Sackett 1966; Movius, et al. 1968; Glover 1969; White 1969; Wilmsen 1970) and flakes including blade-like flakes and blades (Mayer-Oakes 1968, n.d.; Leach 1969; Coutts 1970; Wilmsen 1970; Phagan n.d.). All of these systems use a large number of attributes with many states to describe a stone artifact. This plethora of data, combined with a large number of examples, has led to the exploration of various methods of computer analysis for descriptive study. I decided to use cluster analysis because it is designed for use in situations in which . . . little or nothing is known about the category structure. All that is available is a collection of observations whose category memberships are unknown. The operational objective in this case is to discover a category structure which fits the observations (Anderberg 1972: 3-4). Cluster analysis has been used in archaeology for about ten years, although results began appearing only five years ago (e.g. Cowgill 1968; Hodson 1969, 1970, 1971; Kendall 1971;Sibson 1971). A number of principles presented by Anderberg approximately define the method. First, " a n y given set of data may admit of many different but meaningful classifications" (1972: 40); there is no best classifica-

The Aguas Verdes Industry of Northern

Chile

15

tion and to search for one narrows the investigation needlessly. Various classifications may pertain to different aspects of the data. I am interested in one which brings out technological information and am not concerned, at this point, with either spatial or temporal aspects of the data. Second, cluster analysis suggests hypotheses. The results of an analysis have no value except in leading to suggestions about the structure of the data which might otherwise not have been considered (Anderberg 1972: 41). The results should be carefully examined, but if no explanation for the clusters can be found, they, rather than archaeological intuition, should be scrapped. Third, the clusters are not the final result of the analysis but are only an outline (Anderberg 1972: 41). Fourth, the structure revealed is partially imposed on the data and partially present in it. "To a considerable extent a set of clusters reflects the degree to which the data set conforms to the structural forms embedded in the clustering algorithm" (Anderberg 1972: 42). Fifth, "the results of a cluster analysis method rarely suggest a satisfactory structure for the total set of d a t a " (Anderberg 1972: 42). For example, in the present analysis, those objects which do not show technologically important attribute clusters will not cluster well if the method of clustering chosen is appropriate to a technological analysis. The method I used removed from consideration all artifacts which were not sufficiently similar to some other artifact to suggest significant clustering and did not cope at all with the internal structure of the rejected subset of the data. These principles aid in the use of cluster analysis by making explicit most of the assumptions behind the method. Various uses of cluster analysis are present in this study: "to generate hypotheses about category s t r u c t u r e . . . to reveal structure and relations in the data. . . to reduce a very large body of data to a relatively compact description. . .to develop inductive generalizations" and " a series of interconnected hypotheses may suggest models for the mechanisms generating the observed data " (Anderberg 1972: 7). Most of the model presented above was derived after the cluster analysis was completed while studying the results to discover their archaeological meaning. The structure and relations revealed in the data will be discussed below. The actual procedures necessary to perform a cluster analysis have been generally discussed by Anderberg (1972), and those used in this study have been detailed in Lewis (1973) and Johnson (1975). Here I will only briefly discuss the clustering criteria used to generate my results. A major division in clustering methods separates hierarchical and

16

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JOHNSON

non-hierarchical methods. The former begin with each artifact in a cluster of its own and join them according to their degree of similarity until the whole collection becomes a single cluster. Non-hierarchical methods start with a certain number of center points and divide up the collection so that groups are formed around each of these centers in which the members are more similar to each other than to objects located in the other groups (Anderberg 1972: 272-303; Hodson 1970, 1971). I am using a graph-theoretic method which was developed for information systems (Auguston and Minker 1970) and modified for sociometric analysis (Alba 1973). A brief digression into sociometric analysis is necessary in order to understand the basis for the method and to see where the assumptions built into the algorithm are not paralleled by the assumptions of lithic quarry analysis. The first term which we need to define is the sociometric clique: . . . in a very intuitive way when we use the term sociometric clique, we mean a highly cohesive subgroup of individuals. Cohesiveness, however, has two possible dimensions. In one dimension, which we will call completeness, a cohesive subgroup would be one in which a high proportion of its pairs possess the appropriate relation. In the other, which we will call the centripetalcentrifugal dimension, a cohesive subgroup would be one in which relations among members of the subgroup are more important or more numerous than relations between members and non-members (Alba 1973).

Taking the individuals as points and their relationships as lines, a cohesive group in a sociometric sense would have many lines joining members within the group and few joining members to outsiders. In the archaeological situation, the ideal group would show high values both for the completeness measure and for the centripetal measure. The stones included within a particular group should certainly have many connections with one another. However, as I am hypothesizing that the Aguas Verdes quarry debris basically represents the remains of the activities of people sharing a single industry, there would also be strong connections to the stones which do not form part of the group. These artifacts are not recognizably patterned at the level of similarity under consideration, but, if they are part of the same industry, they should not be far distant from the group (Figure 3). In this clustering method "an individual may be assigned to more than one clique of diameter n " (Alba 1973). This means, in archaeological terms, that an artifact is not uniquely placed in a single group, but that, if its attributes so indicate, it can be placed in two groups or more. The advantages of this can be seen by referring back to the model of artifact manufacture: an artifact which was rejected near a nodal point in the manufacturing trajectory might possess character-

The Aguas

Verdes Industry

A

of Northern

17

Chile

Β

Figure 3. Graphic portrayal of ideal situations: A. ideal sociometric situation - many connections within subgraphs, f e w with each other or with nonaffiliated points; B. Ideal archaeological situation - many connections within subgraphs and with other subgraphs and nonaffiliated points

istics pertaining to two different final tool types. Using Alba's clustering criterion, it can be placed in both groups, and the attributes which are present pertaining to both postnodal trajectories can be appreciated. Note that this means that this clustering scheme cannot be used for taxonomy or for typology as these require unique placement of each object.

RESULTS The results from Complt, Alba's graph-theoretic analysis program (Alba n.d.), are the graphs, a list of which artifacts are members, which outside artifacts have connections to the graphs, and which have no connections to the graphs. I will now present a summary of the characteristics of the Aguas Verdes industry as they emerged from the analysis and will follow this with a discussion of the hypotheses which arose during the analysis. Those interested in the detailed results may refer to Johnson (1975) and Lewis (1973). The total collection recorded comprised 3,766 artifacts (Table 2). Flakes comprise 64 percent of the collection, the other 36 percent being divided about equally between blades, obscured blanks, and cores. The retouched objects comprise 18 percent of the collection with 287 points and 380 edges. The cluster analyses were run on all of the cores, blades, points, and edges. The flakes, which totalled 2,377, were too numerous for the computer programs to handle, so a random sample of 500 was analyzed. The Aguas Verdes industry is an industry based on the manufacture of tools from flake and blade blanks. Although the points most often have obscured blanks, their size and the prevalence of flakes and blades suggest that they are not core tools. There are differences between RAnL 199B and RAnL 200B; however, these do not seem

18

L. L E W I S

Table 2.

JOHNSON

Basic artifact counts

Site

Total

199B-1

1126

Flake

Blade

100

48 543

30

23

529 14

15 58

100 I99B-7

175

101 5

916

24

680

75

9

10 64

100 3766

2399 100

8

32

248

7

100

566 100

7

11

4

3

10

8 287

100

4 14

9 345

100

11 3

9

15

6 41

12

4

30 3

9 39

12 456

31 19

6 21

114

4 30

10

12

10

12

48

4

3 89

7

9

23 100

330

30

9 15

5 43

6 41

561 18

Total

27

12 5

9

171

83

10 9

19

8 44

18

4

40 5

15 32

14 124

100

200B-3

4

46 28

14

13 152

10

11 24

63 578

43 51

10

4

24 200B-1

10

12 133

12 65

18

100 199B-12

9

Edge

13 150

42

48 45

Point

21 237

70 368

Core

17 196

100 199B-3

Other

380 100

100

to be technological differences but to be due to the nature of the raw material. The green tuff which was used at 200B occurs in smaller nodules than the tan tuff at 199B. This accounts for smaller tools being produced at 200B and for less core preparation and more flakes and blades with cortex in 200B. It may also account for flatter bulbs of percussion at 200B because blanks with flatter bulbs are thinner and therefore use less raw material than those with medium bulbs. In beginning work on a core, the first step is to remove the cortex. The Aguas Verdes knappers took off thin flakes in order to waste as little material as possible. These primary decoration flakes are isolated from the rest of the collection to a significant degree. This is not surprising since decoration flakes should be expected to differ from the blanks produced for further industrial use. The cores are not carefully pre-formed before blanks are removed. The largest group of cores consists of flake cores with one or two striking platforms. Flakes were removed from the nodules until they became exhausted. Those which were abandoned before becoming exhausted show a basic lack of preparation and polyhedric form; those which continued in use sometimes came to have a flat regular outline and an appearance of preparation. It is easier to remove flakes along already used faces of a core; therefore, a core which has been used extensively tends to take on a regular appearance even though it was not consciously prepared by the workman. This fortuitous preparation cannot be distinguished from intentional preparation, but, at the

The Aguas

Verdes Industry of Northern

Chile

19

Aguas Verdes quarries, a prepared appearance occurs primarily with exhausted cores suggesting that the apparent preparation is not intentional. The flakes produced tend to be expanding with unprepared striking platforms and very little cortex on their dorsal surface. The knappers usually hit the core in a single spot, producing flakes with normally formed bulbs which are moderate in size. The subgraph which indicates these attributes as significant is well connected to the rest of the collection, indicating that these are general characteristics of the industry. Smaller numbers of cores seem to have been prepared in order to produce specific blanks, mainly blades. However, one desired form seems to have been a fairly large, wide flake. These were produced on block-shaped, two-platform cores which were considerably used but not exhausted. The cores are large, averaging 970 by 597 by 448 millimeters. Although this core form separated out strongly in the analysis, the flakes which would correspond to it did not, which suggests that all of the flakes produced to this pattern were retouched into tools; possibly represented by a group of wide, thick, planoconvex-edge, retouched tools which separated out in the edge analysis. The major focus of technological expertise among the Aguas Verdes knappers was blade production. In the analysis of the cores, those which were partially or totally prepared had flake and blade scars present on them or only blade scars. This indicates that their preparation, which distinguishes them from the majority of the Aguas Verdes cores, is due to a desire on the part of the workmen to produce blades. It is not surprising that most of the cores have both flake and blade scars remaining on their surfaces if one remembers that these are percussion blades rather than pressure blades. In creating percussion blades it is necessary to take off flakes occasionally in order to clean up a face of the core which contains hinge or step fractures or to prepare a new area of the core for blade removal. Therefore, one can interpret the flake/blade cores as imperfect blade cores. Two major forms of these flake/blade cores were prepared and used by the Aguas Verdes knappers. The first is a flat core with one or two striking platforms, all of the examples of which are exhausted. Those with two platforms tend to have striking platforms at opposite ends of the core and are smaller than the majority of the cores. The second group of flake/blade cores contains conical cores with single or joint platforms. This core type is shaped to get the greatest number of blanks from the material. The exhausted state of these cores is indicated both by the remaining angles on the cores and by their small

20

L. L E W I S

JOHNSON

size. About half have cortex remaining where there are no scars, suggesting that the core was worked around until no area remaining was workable from the existing platform. One group of flakes may come from the early stages in the preparation of these cores; another definitely does. Although the straight flakes in the first group do not have blade-like dorsal surfaces, their thinness, collapsed platforms, and dorso-ventral curvature suggest that they may have been the first round of blanks removed after the cortex. The scars they left on the core would be vertical to the platform, preparing it for blade removal. The collapsed platforms and thinness suggest that the knappers were trying to waste as little material as possible in preparing the core. The prepared blade cores are definitely a specialized group. Almost all come from 199B-1 and 12. They all have single platforms and are exhausted. Their shapes vary but are regular - conical and flat - rather than irregular. The cores are long, narrow, and thin, and the blade scars are long and narrow. All of these mean measurements except core length and thickness have very small variances. The most common technological error made in the production of the blades was that of hitting the platform in two places at once and thus producing blades with side split bulbs. These tend to have two ridges on their dorsal surfaces and to be long, narrow, and flat. Another problem of the Aguas Verdes knappers seems to have been blade breakage. However, the seriousness of this problem is hard to assess because the majority of the blades came from 199B-1 and 12 which were along the jeep route and near the crest of the hill where earlier travellers might also have broken them. The blades also may have been snapped in order to create flat sections for hafting. Unfortunately, I could not distinguish snaps from breaks on the Aguas Verdes blades. Two major blade forms were produced by the Aguas Verdes knappers, both flat rather than curved. The first was short, averaging 6.50 centimeters in length, and thin with a single non-centered ridge on the dorsal surface. Platforms tended to be unretouched or cortex, when not collapsed, and curvilinear; widely spaced rings were commonly produced on the ventral surface. The second form consisted of long (about 10 centimeters) blades with two ridges on the dorsal surface. As would be expected in producing double-ridged blades, the striking platform is quite large. These have a shallower angle of percussion than the first form. Another form, which was recognized only at 199B-1 and 12, has one and a fraction ridges on the dorsal surface and the dorsal edge of the striking platform retouched. In its other attributes, it is similar to the second form discussed above. The Complt analysis of the points contrasted with the analysis of

The Aguas Verdes Industry of Northern

Chile

21

cores and blanks in that a much smaller percentage of the total sample was included in the aggregated subgraphs (about 20 percent versus 50 percent). This result indicates that there was much breakage of points in the early stages of manufacture at a time when the patterning which the people were imposing on the stone was not evident and, conversely, that there was little breakage in the final stages of manufacture when the artifact was almost finished and therefore recognizable and patterned. This suggests that the knappers were much more careful in the latter stages of manufacture, when the artifacts were more fragile than in the earlier. If the above hypothesis is true, then the attribute states shared by the fifty-nine tools found in the aggregated subgraphs should be indicative of completion. In testing this, the nature of the blank and the average size of the artifact are important to examine because, as the point is worked down, it should become smaller, and evidence of the nature of the blank should also be removed. The mean size of the aggregated points is 493.14 by 346.16 by 136.59 millimeters, whereas the mean size of the total collection, the 59 plus the 228, is 527.09 by 364.15 by 155.60 millimeters. Thus, the non-aggregated points are larger than the aggregated ones. Of the aggregated points, 90 percent have obscured blanks; the comparable percentage for the nonaggregated points is 70 percent. These attributes are particularly important for testing the stated hypothesis because they were not revealed by the Complt analysis but were suggested by it and then tested on the collection. The transverse cross-section tends to be symmetrical and centered, and the second side tends to be convex on the aggregated points more frequently than on the remainder of the collection. Similarly, the long cross-section tends to be symmetrical and bi-convex. The blade shape is more regular, and the overall symmetry is greater. The retouch on both the dorsal and ventral surfaces is almost always total; the flakes are medium strong and expanding. The non-aggregated group contains a higher proportion of points with heavy retouch. Two point forms were made in approximately equal frequency. These might represent projectile points and knives, although the nature of quarry debris is such that no true functional interpretations of the industry can be made. The first group contains plano-convex points, the second, bi-convex. This is true of their transverse and long cross-sections. The first has a higher proportion of symmetrical points, but the second has many broken points. The distal blade juncture tends to be rounded on the plano-convex points and pointed on the bi-convex ones. Dorsal retouch tends to cover the total surface of the points of both groups; however, several of the plano-convex points do not have their ventral surface totally retouched. Of the plano-convex points,

22

L. L E W I S

JOHNSON

64 percent have secondary retouch which tends to be partial, fine, continuous, and lammelar, or lammelar and expanding. The bi-convex points with secondary retouch (51 percent) are either totally or partially retouched, and crushing retouch occurs as well as lammelar forms. The first group, then, contains plano-convex, oval, symmetrical, round-based points; the second contains bi-convex, variously shaped, pointed-based points. In the analysis of the edges it was discovered that many edges which did not enter graphs had characteristics which suggested they were points in early stages of manufacture. Because points and edges were recorded and analyzed separately, other characteristics of these artifacts indicative of the early stages of point manufacture are unknown. However, the bi-convex points belong to several subgraphs which seem to represent at least two stages of manufacture. Their first early-stage group has points with asymmetrical transverse crosssections which suggests that their original blanks were the single, non-centered, ridged blades which are the most common blade form. These points have pointed or rounded distal ends and square proximal ends. They have no secondary retouch on the ventral surface. The next stage is represented by a group with non-centered transverse cross-sections. The distal end continues to be pointed or rounded, and the proximal end has also been rounded. The second trajectory starts with a group of points which are symmetrical in cross-section but have irregularly shaped blades. Their distal end is rounded, the proximal squared, and one-third have secondary ventral retouch. The second group in this trajectory contains points whose blades have been made into a symmetrical oval shape, the distal end pointed, and some of the proximal ends pointed or rounded. The final subgraph of bi-convex points seems to be a stage near termination. It contains whole points with centered, symmetrical cross-sections, and oval blade shapes. These are pointed at the distal end and pointed or squared at the proximal. Half have secondary retouch, none of it crushing (see Plate 1). The edges have a higher proportion of their total number included in subgraphs than the points do. In addition, there are more recognizable blanks because the tool, in order to fulfill its function, does not need to be shaped all over. Almost all of the aggregated edges have different curvatures to their dorsal and ventral surfaces. The transverse cross-section is usually plano-convex or piano-triangular, the long cross-section is planoconvex or bi-plano. The facial and marginal retouch areas are usually unifacial dorsal. The form of the aggregated edges is fortuitous only 13 percent of the time as opposed to 28 percent for the rest of the collection. The retouched edge is usually the total left lateral edge and

Plate 1. Examples of Aguas Verdes edges f r o m site RAnL centimeters

199B. Scale is in

24

L. L E W I S

JOHNSON

The Aguas

Verdes Industry of Northern Chile

25

Plate 2. Examples of Aguas Verdes points. Scale is in inches. A & B: Points from 200B. C & D: Points from 199b (points in upper right-hand corner reversed in D)

The Aguas Verdes Industry of Northern

Chile

27

is more likely to be denticulate and less likely to be straight than those of the rest of the collection. Facial retouch tends to be moderate and smooth, and the marginal tends to be fine crushing (see Plate 2). The most commonly produced edge tools at the Aguas Verdes sites are made on a flake or blade and are usually oval in shape, either long or short. Their transverse cross-section is usually plano-convex or triangular and centered. The long cross-section shows more variability but is usually piano on one side and convex or piano on the other. It is also usually centered. The longitudinal juncture varies. The tools are usually moderately symmetrical and their form appears to be intentional. The retouch is usually both facial and marginal on the dorsal surface. It is most commonly denticulate or convex but occasionally straight or concave and, rarely, notched. The facial retouch is moderate, expanding, and smooth; the marginal is fine and smooth or, more commonly, crushing. Both the facial and marginal retouch tend to be fairly shallow. During the recording of the collection, I had noted edges with a short, oval shape, strongly triangular, or convex dorsal surfaces and weakly convex or piano ventral surfaces as occurring with some regularity and being something which would traditionally be called a "keeled scraper." After the analysis these pieces emerged as a subgraph, showing the value and pertinence of the analytical method. Other attributes characteristic of these tools include two retouched areas, moderate, expanding, and smooth facial retouch, and crushing marginal retouch, with one retouched edge being denticulate and the other denticulate or straight. Most of the other aggregated tools would traditionally be called "side scrapers " and were also noted before the analysis. The analysis did not distinguish between edge shapes, which indicates that this attribute, which is often one of the primary ones on which edge tools are evaluated, does not cluster with other attributes in the Aguas Verdes collections. On the whole, the Aguas Verdes industry can be seen to be a single industry differing from site to site mainly in the nature of the raw material available and the constraints it put on the manufacturing possibilities. However, one technological subdivision exists within the analyzed Aguas Verdes material which separates sections 199B-1 and 12 from the rest of the industry. This area of 199B was noted for having a denser accumulation of material than other areas during the collection of the material, and during the recording the artifacts also seemed to show finer workmanship. Most of the aggregated blade cores and flake/blade cores come from 199B-1 and 12. This area has a disproportionately large number of blades, points, and edges. In addition, this proportion is even greater in the aggregated groups, suggesting that not only is the majority of the fine work done here,

28

L. L E W I S

JOHNSON

but also that that which is done displays a higher standard of craftsmanship than elsewhere. It can be suggested that the finest Aguas Verdes artisans worked in this area or that preliminary work was done elsewhere on the site and the finishing work here. A s this is the highest point on the site, where a lookout could be kept for game, it would be reasonable for the time-consuming fine work to be done here.

CONCLUSIONS AND

HYPOTHESES

I have reported on a preliminary analysis of lithic materials from northern Chile designed to test the value of flint-knapping experience combined with multivariate analysis in understanding lithic technology. I developed a model of quarry waste which permits an understanding of how the attributes of chipped-stone artifacts come to be associated. A s the knapper works down from a nodule of raw material to a finished tool, he imposes cultural patterning on it. The number of attributes significant for technological analysis are continually increased. H o w e v e r , simultaneously there is a decrease in attributes as continued work destroys the traces of earlier manufacturing processes. A major advantage of working with quarry materials rather than with collections of finished artifacts lies in the remains of tools in various stages of manufacture which can be studied. The results of the graph theoretic analysis were supportive of the model and nowhere contradicted it. It has been possible to arrive at a description of the industry which gives an idea of the process of toolmaking carried out by the Aguas Verdes knappers. More important is the general understanding which has been gained of the generation of quarry waste. The model has indicated that despite the lack of finished tools, quarry waste can provide insights into both the process of manufacture and the nature of the tools which have been produced. A graph-theoretic analysis could also be applied to the study of multi-use quarries. The patterning which people impose on their tools extends not only to the final product of their effort but also to the interim products. When studying a single-use quarry, the majority of the aggregated subgraphs should be complete but not particularly centripetal because the objects that do not cluster into graphs are purportedly made by the same people or by people with the same cultural technology as those that do cluster and, therefore, they should not be very different from the clustered artifacts. In studying a multi-use quarry, on the other hand, the obverse of this expectation should hold. If the quarry were used twice, each subsystem (i.e. cores, flakes, blades, points, and edges) should contain two subsets of aggregated

The Aguas Verdes Industry of Northern

Chile

29

graphs. Within each subset the graphs should be significantly complete and centrifugal; however, between the subsets there would be few connections. Similarly, a quarry used at three different periods should contain three mutually isolated subsets, and so on. A tentative hypothesis of the analytical results which would emerge from the study of a quarry which was used continuously for a long period of time makes use of the definition of a tree or spanning subgraph of a graph. A tree is a graph which is connected, but there is only one path between each pair of nodes. In the Complt analysis, trees are ignored in forming maximal complete subgraphs because they are only minimally complete. The use of a tree in analyzing continuously utilized quarries comes after the formation of aggregated subgraphs. Those subgraphs which belonged to the same period of use of the quarry would be expected to be closely connected to one another. If the residents of the area are continually returning to the quarry and are not disrupted by outside forces, artifacts produced within short intervals of each other would also be closely connected. On the other hand, as the cultural inventory of the people changes over time, the similarities with the earliest produced artifacts should diminish. Therefore, many aggregated subgraphs should be produced in the analysis which could be ordered into a structure much like a biological cline, with connections between every pair of graphs but none between those located at the ends. This method of seriation would not produce isolatable groups of artifacts which could be assigned to definite periods of time but would produce an understanding of the changes in the process of tool manufacture during the period of use of the quarry. It might also be possible to use graph-theoretic analysis in the study of non-quarry materials. In working with finished tools, a graphtheoretic analysis might reveal aspects of the material different from those revealed by formal or functional analyses. In an industry containing straight-edged tools ("scrapers") and denticulate-edged tools ("denticulates ") a functional or formal analysis would be likely to make the basic split in the collection according to the edge form. A graph-theoretic analysis based on detailed attribute description might well produce subgraphs in which the edge forms were not grouped together. As the edge of a tool is the last part to be completed, other attributes of the tool may not be directly related to it, and, therefore, in trying to elucidate the technology of the industry it is a minor feature - only one attribute out of many. Technologically and, to an extent, functionally also, it is more important that the two tools are, for example, made for strength, on large thick blanks with strongly convex dorsal surfaces, and deep, strong preliminary retouch scars, than that the final retouching produced an even edge on one and a

30

L. L E W I S

JOHNSON

denticulated edge on the other. The information about the edge shape is, of course, essential in understanding what materials the object was used on and what the people wanted to do to the materials, and would have to be discovered by another line of analysis. The information given by the graph-theoretical analysis would concern primarily the technology of the industry, the way that the attributes in the cultural inventory are combined to form tools. These projections or hypotheses of the patterns to be found at re-used quarries and quarries used continuously for long periods of time, and of the use of the method at non-quarry sites remain to be tested on actual collections or archaeological material. In addition, other singleuse quarries belonging to different periods should be analyzed in the same manner in order to elucidate the technological changes indicated by the seriational ones. As many early Andean sites are quarries or quarry/workshops, the method should be particularly valuable for archaeologists working in this area. APPENDIX Table A. Column(s)

Recording subsystem for cores Attributes and states

Column(s)

Attributes and states

1-2

Site 1 2 3 4 5 6

10-11

3

Tool category F Flake Β Blade C Core 0 Obscured or unidentifiable blank

Shape 1 Polyhedric 2 Flat 3 Keeled (any # individual platforms) 4 Keeled, joint (at least) 5 Pyramidal (any # ) 6 Pyramidal, joint 7 Conical (any # ) 8 Conical, joint 9 Tongue-shaped 10 Discoidal 11 Discoidal, joint 12 Block 13 Fragment

4-6

Individual artifact number 12

7

Core 1 2 3 4 5 6

Blanks 1 Flakes 2 Flakes and blades 3 Blades 4 Uncertain

13

Condition 1 Whole 2 Broken

14

Termination 1 Exhausted 2 Considerable use 3 Minimally used 4 Probably exhausted 5 Broken

15-16

Total number of visible scars

17

Weathering 1 U η weathered 2 Weathered

8-9

number RAnL 199B-1 RAnL 199B-3 RAnL 199B-7 RAnL 199B-12 RAnL 200B-I RAnL 200B-3

preparation Prepared Partially prepared Unprepared Probably prepared Probably unprepared Fragment

Platforms 1 Single, partial, unretouched 2 Single, partial, cortex 3 Single, complete, unretouched 4 Single, partial, prepared 5 Two, double-ended 6 Two, right angle 7 Two, polymorphic 8 Three, individual 9 Four, individual 10 Joint, alone 11 Joint, plus one 12 Joint, plus two 13 Multiple, complex

The Aguas

Table A. Column(s) 18

Verdes Industry of Northern

Recording subsystem for cores (continued) Attributes and states

Column(s)

Attributes and states

Uncore area 1 Platform 2 No uncore area 3 Cortex 4 Unidentifiable 5 Break 6 Positive bulb, i.e. flake 7 Platform and cortex 8 Cortex and positive bulb 9 Platform and bulb or cortex and unidentifiable

28-30

Thickness

31-32* 42-43 53-54 64-65 76-77 33-35

Angle of percussion, low end of range

Condition of length 1 Whole 2 Broken

19

20-23

Length

24

Condition of width 1 Whole 2 Broken

25-27 *

Column(s)

3

Width

44-46 55-57 66-69 78-80 36-38 47-49 58-60 70-72

Scar length

39-41 50-52 61-63 73-75

Scar width

Recording subsystem for flakes and blades Attributes and states Site 1 2 3 4 5 6

number RAnL RAnL RAnL RAnL RAnL RAnL

Tool F Β C 0

category Flake Blade Core Unidentifiable blank

Column(s) 9

199B-1 199B-3 199B-7 199B-12 200B-1 200B-3

4-6

Individual artifact number

7

Material 1 Tan tuff 2 Light green tuff 3 Dark green tuff 4 Light brown tuff 5 Cream tuff 6 Black tuff 7 Beige tuff 8 White tuff 9 Not tuff

8

Angle of percussion, high end of range or only number

From here on each category must be repeated for each platform - up to four times plus angle of percussion for 1

Table B.

1-2

31

Chile

Shape 1 Straight 2 Expanding 3 Contracting 4 Circular 5 Expanding-contracting 6 Subparallel 7 Parallel

Attributes and states Weathering 1 None 2 Total 3 Dorsal 4 Ventral 5 Ventral, >/4 dorsal 6 'Λ Dorsal 7 'Λ Ventral 8 Vi Ventral and 'Λ dorsal

10

Condition 1 Whole 2 Broken across, central 3 Broken across, distal 4 Broken across, proximal 5 Broken along 6 Broken oblique 7 Side split 8 Multiple breaks

11: Flakes

Nature of dorsal surface 1 Flake-like 2 Blade-like 3 Core-like 4 Biface thinning 5 Primary decortation 6 Core rejuvenation 7 Positive bulb 8 Retouched

11: Blades

Nature of dorsal surface 1 One ridge, centered 2 One ridge, not centered 3 One and one to three halves ridges 4 Two ridges

32

L.

LEWIS

Table B. Column(s)

JOHNSON

Recording subsystem for flakes and blades (continued) Attributes and states 5 6 7 8 9 10

T w o and one to four halves ridges Three ridges or more Core rejuvenation Retouched Obscured Primary decortation

Back cortex Primary decortation Secondary decortation Tertiary decortation Quaternary decortation N o cortex 13-14

15

16 (16)

17

18

19

Striking platform 1 Cortex 2 Unretouched 3 Retouched from dorsal 4 Retouched platform back 5 Retouched f r o m dorsal and platform back 6 Retouched along 7 Retouched away 8 Minuscule 9 Retouched back, minuscule 10 Retouched back, platform collapsed 11 Platform collapsed 12 Crushed, bashed Bulb 1 2 3 4

shape Flat Medium Heavy Obscured

Bulb 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

type Normal Cone split Side split Double Obscured Bulbar scar removed Triple or more Concave

Bulbar scar 1 Absent 2 Present, small 3 Present, flat 4 Present, large 5 Obscured Rings 1 Unpalpable 2 Linear 3 Curvilinear, close together 4 Curvilinear, widely spaced 5 Curvilinear, wide and linear 6 Curvilinear, close and linear 7 Obscured 8 Not recorded (applies to site 199B-1) Long 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

20

shape Flat Dorso-ventral curve Longitudinal ventral twist Sinuous Dorso-ventral curve and sinuous Longitudinal ventral twist and sinuous Reverse dorso-ventral curve

" U s e " retouch 1 Absent

Column(s)

Attributes and states Present Real retouch present

21; Flakes

Length 1 0-450 mm. 2 460-520 mm. 3 530-620 mm. 4 630- mm.

22

Width 0-390 mm. 400-460 mm. 470-550 mm. 560- mm. Broken

23

Thickness 1 0-100 mm. 2 105-135 mm. 3 140-175 mm. 4 180- m m . 5 Broken

24

Striking platform length 1 0-130 m m . 2 140-190 m m . 3 200-270 mm. 4 280- mm. 5 Broken

25

Striking platform width 0-045 m m . 050-070 mm. 075-105 mm. 110- mm. Broken

26

Angle of percussion 1 0-64 degrees 2 65-71 degrees 3 72-77 degrees 4 7 8 - degrees 5 Broken

28-30

Length

32-34

Width

36-38

Thickness

40-42

Striking platform length

44-46

Striking platform width

48-50

Angle of percussion

51-53

Actual thickness

21: Blades

Length condition I Whole 1 Broken

22-25

Length

26-28

Width

29-31

Thickness

32-34

Striking platform length

35-37

Striking platform width

38-40

Angle of percussion

41-43

Actual thickness

33

The Aguas Verdes Industry of Northern Chile

Table C.

Recording subsystem for retouched objects with obscured blanks

Column(s)

Attributes and states

1-2

Site 1 2 3 4 5 6

number RAnL RAnL RAnL RAnL RAnL RAnL

Tool F Β C Ο

category Flake Blade Core Obscured

3

I99B-1 199B-3 199B-7 199B-12 200B-1 200B-3

4-6

Individual artifact number

7

Material 1 Tan tuff 2 Light green tuff 3 Dark green tuff 4 Light brown tuff 5 Cream tuff 6 Black tuff 7 Beige tuff 8 White tuff 9 Not tuff

8

9

Table D. Column(s)

Weathering 1 None 2 Total 3 Dorsal 4 Ventral 5 Ventral, '/i dorsal 6 'Λ Dorsal 7 Vi Ventral 8 Ά Ventral/dorsal

Column(s)

(9)

10

Attributes and states 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Broken Broken Broken Broken Broken Broken Broken Broken

across, central across, proximal across, distal oblique along across, twice oblique and across along and across

Cortex 1 No cortex 2 Present on 3 Present on 4 Present on 5 Present on 6 Present on

one side, extensive one side, much one side, some one side, minimal both sides

11

Length condition 1 Whole 2 Broken

12-15

Length

16

Width condition 1 Whole 2 Broken

17-19

Width

20-22

Thickness

23

Probable blank 1 Obscured 2 Flake or blade 3 Flake 4 Blade 5 Core

Column(s)

Attributes and states

Condition 1 Whole

Recording subsystem for points Attributes and states

1

Artifact " t y p e " 1 Edges 2 Points

2

Site 1 2 3 4 5 6

number RAnL RAnL RAnL RAnL RAnL RAnL

3

Tool F Β C Ο

category Flake Blade Core Unidentifiable blank

4-6

Individual artifact number

7

Transverse XS-symmetry 1 Asymmetrical 2 Symmetrical 3 Two sides different 4 Irregular 5 Not recorded

199B-I 199B-3 199B-7 199B-12 200B-1 200B-3

8

Transverse XS-side one 1 Convex 2 Triangular 3 Piano 4 Sinuous 5 Concave 6 Irregular 7 Not recorded

9

Transverse XS-side two 1 Convex 2 Triangular 3 Piano 4 Sinuous 5 Concave 6 Irregular 7 Pyramidal 8 Not recorded

10

Transverse XS-centering and strength I No designation 2 Weak 3 Moderate 4 Strong 5 Not centered 6 Not centered, weak

34

L.

LEWIS

Table D.

JOHNSON

Recording subsystem for points (continued) Attributes and states 7 8 9

Not centered, strong Irregular Not recorded

Long XS-symmetry 1 Asymmetrical -> Symmetrical 3 Two sides different 4 Irregular 5 Not recorded Long XS-side one 1 Convex *» Triangular 3 Piano 4 Sinuous 5 Concave 6 Irregular 7 Rhomboidal 8 Rectangular 9 Not recorded Long XS-side two I Convex 2 Triangular 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Piano Sinuous Concave Irregular Rhomboidal Rectangular Pyramidal Not recorded

Long XS-centering and strength 1 No designation 2 Weak 3 Moderate 4 Strong 5 Not centered 6 Not centered, weak 7 Not centered, strong 8 Not recorded Long juncture 1 Bi-squared 2 Squared-pointed 3 Squared-broken 4 Bi-pointed 5 Pointed-squared 6 Pointed-broken 7 Bi-broken 8 Broken-squared 9 Broken-pointed Blade shape 1 Triangular 2 Strongly biconvex 3 Biconcave 4 Excurvate-incurvate 5 Ovate 6 Sinuous 7 Irregular Symmetry 1 Symmetrical 2 Moderately symmetrical 3 Asymmetrical 4 Broken

Column(s)

Attributes and states

18

Stem 1 2 3 4 5

Absent Convex Superconvex Straight Broken proximal end

19

Blade juncture - distal end 1 Pointed 2 Rounded 3 Squared 4 Broken

20

Blade juncture - proximal end 1 Pointed 2 Rounded 3 Squared 4 Broken

21-22

Left lateral proximal angle

23-24

Left lateral central angle

25-26

Left lateral distal angle

27-28

Right lateral proximal angle

29-30

Right lateral central angle

31-32

Right lateral distal angle

33-34

Point angle

35

Place 1 2 3 4

36

Place of maximum thickness 1 Central 2 Proximal 3 Distal 4 Broken

37* 47 57

Dorsal retouch 1 Total or bilateral 2 Left lateral 3 Right lateral 4 None 5 Not recorded 6 Proximal 7 Distal

38 48 58

Ventral retouch 1 Total or bilateral 2 Left lateral 3 Right lateral 4 None 5 Not recorded 6 Proximal 7 Distal

39 49 59

Retouch area: left dorsal 1 Total 2 Central 3 Distal 4 Proximal 5 Central and distal

of maximum width Central Proximal Distal Broken

The Aguas Verdes Industry of Northern Chile

Table D.

Recording subsystem for points (continued)

Column(s) Attributes and states 6 Central and proximal 7 Distal and proximal 8 None 9 Not recorded 40 50 60

41 51 61

42 52 62

35

Retouched area: right dorsal 1 Total 2 Central 3 Distal 4 Proximal 5 Central and distal 6 Central and proximal 7 Distal and proximal 8 None 9 Not recorded Retouch area: left ventral 1 Total 2 Central 3 Distal 4 Proximal 5 Central and distal 6 Central and proximal 7 Distal and proximal 8 None 9 Not recorded Retouch area: right ventral 1 Total 2 Central 3 Distal 4 Proximal 5 Central and distal 6 Central and proximal 7 Distal and proximal 8 None 9 Not recorded

Column(s) Attributes and states 43 53 63

Type 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

of flakes - strength Fine percussion Medium fine percussion Medium percussion Medium strong percussion Strong percussion Not recorded Pressure

44 54 64

Type 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

of flakes - shape Expanding Conchoidal Lamellar Mixed Expanding-lamellar Expanding-conchoidal Lamellar-conchoidal Expanding-crushed Crushed Obscure

45 55 65

Type 1 2 3 4 5

of flake angularity Smooth Angular Smooth and angular Not recorded Crushing

46 56 66

Spacing of flakes 1 Continuous 2 Discontinuous 3 Continuous/discontinuous 4 Fortuitous star cluster 5 Patterned star cluster 6 Other 7 Not recorded

* From here on each category must be repeated for primary, secondary and tertiary retouch.

Table E.

Recording subsystem for edges

Column(s) Attributes and states 1

Artifact "type" 1 Edges 2 Points

2

Site 1 2 3 4 5 6

3

Tool category F Flake Β Blade C Core 0 Unidentifiable blank

number RAnL I99B-1 RAnL 199B-3 RAnL 199B-7 RAnL 199B-12 RAnL 200B-1 RAnL 200B-3

4-6

Individual artifact number

7

Stage 1 Completed 2 Recognizable 3 Start of manufacture 4 Questionable retouch 5 Almost completed

Column(s) Attributes and states 6 7 8

Partial Possibly started If worked, is completed

8

Shape 1 Long oval 2 Short oval 3 Long rectangle 4 Short rectangle 5 Circular 6 Square 7 Triangular 8 Rhomboidal 9 Irregular 10 Broken

9

Transverse XS-symmetry 1 Asymmetrical 2 Symmetrical 3 Two sides different 4 Irregular

10

Transverse XS-side one 1 Convex 2 Triangular 3 Piano

36

L. LEWIS

Table E. Column(s)

(10)

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

*

JOHNSON

Recording subsystem for edges (continued) Attributes and states 4 5 6

Sinuous Concave Irregular

Transverse XS-side two 1 Convex 2 Triangular 3 Piano 4 Sinuous 5 Concave 6 Irregular 7 Pyramidal Transverse XS-centering and strength 1 No designation 2 Weak 3 Moderate 4 Strong 5 Not centered 6 Not centered, weak 7 Not centered, strong 8 Irregular Long 1 2 3 4

XS-symmetry Asymmetrical Symmetrical Two sides different Irregular

Long 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

XS-side one Convex Triangular Piano Sinuous Concave Irregular Rhomboidal Rectangular

Long 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

XS-side two Convex Triangular Piano Sinuous Concave Irregular Rhomboidal Rectangular Pyramidal

Long 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

XS-centering and strength N o designation Weak Moderate Strong Not centered Not centered, weak Not centered, strong

Longitudinal juncture 1 Bi-squared 2 Squared-pointed 3 Squared-broken 4 Bi-pointed 5 Pointed-squared 6 Pointed-broken 7 Broken-broken 8 Broken-squared 9 Broken-pointed

Column(s)

Attributes and states

18

Symmetry 1 Asymmetrical 2 Moderately symmetrical 3 Symmetrical 4 Broken

19

Continuity of retouch 1 Continuous 2 Partially discontinuous 3 Continuous facial, discontinuous marginal 4 Continuous-discontinuous 5 Discontinuous 6 Continuous dorsal, discontinuous ventral

20

Facial retouch area 1 Unifacial, dorsal 2 Unifacial, ventral 3 Unifacial, indeterminate 4 Minimally bifacial 5 Fairly bifacial 6 Totally bifacial 7 Ridge to left 8 Ridge to right

21

Marginal retouch area 1 Unimarginal, dorsal 2 Unimarginal, ventral 3 Alternate lateral 4 Minimally bimarginal 5 Fairly bimarginal 6 Totally bimarginal

22

Number of distinct retouched areas 1 One 2 One and a half 3 Two 4 Two connected 5 Three 6 Four 7 Continuous

23

Form 1 2 3 4 5

Fortuitous Probably intentional Intentional Broken Not recorded

24* 38 52 66

Place of retouched edge-side 1 Left 2 Right 3 Both 4 Total 5 Not recorded

25 39 53 67

Place 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

26 40

Place of retouched edge-face 1 Dorsal

of retouched edge-place Point Transverse Lateral Ventral Dorsal Tubular Oblique Not recorded

From here on each category must be repeated for each retouched area on the piece - i.e., up to four times.

The Aguas Verdes Industry of Northern Chile

Table E. Column(s)

Recording subsystem for edges (continued) Column(s)

Attributes and states

54 68

2 3 4

27 41 55 69

Place 1 2 3 4 5

28-29 42-43 56-57 70-71

Shape of retouched edge 1 Straight 2 Straight-concave 3 Straight-denticulate 4 Straight-convex 5 Convex 6 Convex-concave 7 Convex-denticulate 8 Concave 9 Notch 10 Sinuous 11 Other 12 Not recorded

30 44 48 72

Facial type-strength 0 No facial retouch 1 Fine 2 Medium fine 3 Medium 4 Medium strong 5 Strong or heavy 6 Not recorded

31 45 59 73

Ventral Bifacial Not recorded of retouched edge-section Proximal Distal Central Total Not recorded

Facial type-shape 0 No facial retouch 1 Expanding 2 Conchoidal 3 Lamellar 4 Mixed 5 Expanding lamellar 6 Expanding-conchoidal 7 Conchoidal-lamellar

32 46

37

Facial type-angularity 0 No facial retouch

Attributes and states

60 74

1 Smooth 2 Angular 3 Smooth and angular 4 Not recorded

33 47 61 75

Marginal type-strength 0 No marginal retouch 1 Fine 2 Medium fine 3 Medium 4 Heavy 5 Not recorded

34 48 62 76

Marginal type-shape 0 No marginal retouch 1 Expanding 2 Conchoidal 3 Lamellar 4 Mixed 5 Expanding-lamellar 6 Expanding-conchoidal 7 Expanding-crushed 8 Lamellar-crushed 9 Crushed

35 49 63 77

Marginal type-angularity 0 No marginal retouch 1 Smooth 2 Angular 3 Smooth and angular 4 Not recorded

36 50 64 78

Angle of facial retouch 0 No facial retouch 1 20-61 degrees 2 62-70 degrees 3 71-78 degrees 4 79-102 degrees

37 51 65 79

Angle of marginal retouch 0 No marginal retouch 1 20-75 degrees 2 76-82 degrees 3 83-87 degrees 4 88-115 degrees

REFERENCES ALBA, RICHARD D.

1973 n.d.

A graph-theoretic definition of a sociometric clique. Journal of Mathematical Sociology 3(1): 113-126. "Complt: a graph theoretic sociometric analysis and clustering program." Xeroxed manuscript.

ALLCHIN, BRIDGET

1966

The stone-tipped

arrow. N e w York: Barnes and Noble.

A N D E R B E R G , M I C H A E L R.

1972

Cluster analysis for applications. Springfield: National Technical Information Service, U.S. Dept. of Commerce.

38

L. L E W I S

JOHNSON

A U G U S T O N , J. G A R Y , JACK M I N K E R

1970 An analysis of some graph theoretical cluster techniques. Journal of the Association for Computing Machinery 17: 571-588. BINFORD, LEWIS R.

1963

A proposed attribute list for the description and classification of projectile points. University of Michigan Anthropological Papers 19: 193-221. C I G L I A N O , E D U A R D O M A R I O , editor 1962 El Ampajanguense. Publication de la Facultad de Filosofia y Letras, Instituto de Antropologia 5. COWGILL, GEORGE L.

1968 Archaeological applications of factor, cluster and proximity analysis. American Antiquity 33: 367-376. COUTTS, PETER J. F.

1970

The archaeology of Wilson's Promontory. Australian Aboriginal Studies 28. Prehistoric and Material Culture Series 7.

D E LA V E G A , W . F E R N A N D E Z

1967 Techniques de classification automatique utilisant un indice de resemblance. Revue Frangaise de Sociologie 8: 506-520. GLOVER,IAN

1969 The use of factor analysis for the discovery of artifact types. Mankind 7: 36-51. HAMMOND, W . MICHAEL

n.d.

"Palaeocognitive manuscript.

patterns

in

tool

manufacturing."

Xeroxed

H O D S O N , F. ROY

1969 Searching for structure within multivariate archaeological data. World Archaeology 1: 90-105. 1970 Cluster analysis and archaeology: some new developments and applications. World Archaeology 1: 299-320. 1971 "Numerical typology and prehistoric archaeology," in Mathematics in the archaeological and historical sciences. Edited by F. R. Hodson, D. G. Kendall, and P. Tautu, 30-45. Edinburgh: University of Edinburgh Press. IBARRA GRASSO, DICK EDGAR

1963 Comparaciön de las culturas pre-cerämicas de Bolivia y el Norte de Chile. Anales de la Universidad del Norte 2: 81-96. JOHNSON, L. LEWIS

1975

"Graph theoretic analysis of lithic tools from northern Chile," in Lithic technology: making and using stone tools. Edited by Earl Swanson, 63-95. World Anthropology. The Hague: Mouton.

KENDALL, DAVID G.

1971

"Seriation from abundance matrices," in Mathematics in the archaeological and historical sciences. Edited by F. R. Hodson, D. G. Kendall, and P. Tautu, 215-252. Edinburgh: University of Edinburgh Press.

L A N N I N G , E D W A R D P.

1967

Peru before the Incas. Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall.

L E A C H , B. F.

1969

The concept of similarity in prehistoric studies: a test case using New Zealand stone flake assemblages. University of Otago Anthropological Papers 1.

The Aguas Verdes Industry of Northern Chile

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LE PAIGE, GUSTAVO, S. J.

1964

El precerämico en la Cordillera Atacamena y los cementerios del periodo agro-alfarero de San Pedro de Atacama. Anales de la Universidad del Norte 3.

L E W I S , L. G.

1973

"A computer aided attribute analysis of a lithic industry from Northern Chile." Unpublished doctoral dissertation, Columbia University.

MAYER-OAKES, WILLIAM J.

1966 El Inga projectile points. American Antiquity 31: 644-661. 1968 "Obsidian flake studies," in Adas y Memorias del 37° Congreso International de Americanistas, 261-273. n.d. "Obsidian 'tell-tales' useful in studies of stone flaking techniques." Unpublished manuscript. McPHERRON, ALAN

1967

The Juntunen site and the late Woodland prehistory of the Upper Great Lakes area. Anthropological Papers, Museum of Anthropology, University of Michigan 30.

MELZER, STANLEY

n.d.

"The Salar de Talabre, Northern Chile: the utilization of a Paleoindian locality." Draft, doctoral dissertation, Columbia University.

MOVIUS, HALLAM L . , J R . , et

1968

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The analysis of certain major classes of Upper Palaeolithic tools. American School of Prehistoric Research, Peabody Museum, Harvard University, Bulletin 26.

ORELLANA, MARIO

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Descripcion de artefactos liticos en Ghatchi: el problema del precerämico en el norte de Chile. Notas del Museo de La Plata 20, Antropologia 79.

PHAGAN,CARL

n.d.

"Flake attributes." Xeroxed manuscript.

SACKETT, JAMES R.

1966 Quantitative analysis of Upper Palaeolithic stone tools. American Anthropologist 68: 356-394. SCHOBINGER, JUAN

1969 Prehistoria de Sudamerica. Barcelona: Labor. SIBSON, ROBIN

1971

"Computational methods in cluster analysis," in Mathematics in the archaeological and historical sciences. Edited by F. R. Hodson, D. G. Kendall, and P. Tautu, 59-61. Edinburgh: University of Edinburgh Press.

W H I T E , J. PETER

1969 Typologies for some prehistoric flaked stone artefacts of the Australian New Guinea highlands. Archaeology and Physical Anthropology in Oceania 4: 18-46. W I L M S E N , E D W I N N.

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Lithic analysis and cultural inference: a paleo-Indian case. Anthropological Papers of the University of Arizona 16.

Toolmaking and Tool Use Among the Preceramic Peoples of Panama

A N T H O N Y J. R A N E R E

We present here an initial attempt to make some sense out of preceramic lithic assemblages recently discovered in western Panama. The analysis of these assemblages has been heavily dependent on experiments in replicating stone tools and on experiments in using these replicated tools to perform various tasks. The technological characteristics (of both the tools and the chipping waste) and wear patterns resulting from these experiments have been compared with those of the archaeological specimens with the aid of a binocular microscope. Although this analysis is far from being completed, it seems worthwhile to present the results obtained thus far for two reasons. First, a general characterization of the lithic assemblages can be made now with some confidence that further research will enlarge upon, but not force a revision of this characterization. Second, it seems valuable to make available for comparative purposes a description of one of the few preceramic lithic assemblages known from tropical contexts in the New World. The excavations of the Chiriqui River sites were financed by a National Science Foundation Grant (2846) awarded to Olga F. Linares, a National Science Foundation dissertation improvement grant, and Ford Foundation traineeships awarded to me for three field seasons. The work was done with the permission and cooperation of the Direccion de Patrimonio Historico, Panama. Much of the analysis and the writing of this paper were done during my tenure as a postdoctoral fellow at the Smithsonian Tropical Research Institute, Balboa, Canal Zone. A Sigma Xi grant-in-aid helped defray the costs of producing the illustrations. I gratefully acknowledge the support provided by these institutions. I am indebted to Olga Linares for aiding me in innumerable ways throughout the duration of the project. I wish to thank my wife, Joan, and Richard McCarty for reading and commenting on parts of the manuscript. Richard McCarty also did the drawings in Figures 1,4-7, 10-12, and 18-21, and spent long hours working with me on various aspects of the analysis. I also thank Robert McNealy for drawing Figures 2, 3, 8. 9, and 13-17, which originally appeared in my dissertation.

42

A N T H O N Y J. R A N E R E

continents

Figure lb. The location of the Chiriqui River study region is marked by the small rectangle on this map of Panama

43

Toolmaking and Tool Use Among the Preceramic Peoples of Panama

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E L I Z A B E T H S. W I N G

are not complete enough for many comparable measurements, but those available indicate animals of the size of Inca dogs. The other described types are all small and differ mainly in their snout length and leg length. Techichi, the small Indian dog, is smaller than the Inca dog but has similar proportions. Hairless dogs have been reported from the Peruvian lowlands, but no measurements are available for comparison. Finally, two short-snouted types existed: the "shortnosed dog," which also had very short legs, and the Peruvian "pugnosed dog," which not only had an extremely short snout but also an undershot jaw. The mummified dog from a horizon which dates about 2400 b.p. at Rosamachay Cave in Ayacucho, is in the same size range as the pug-nosed dog, but has a longer snout and narrower skull. The humerus from Minaspata may be from a similar small dog. In summary, remains of dogs are scant but are present in most sites between 2,000 and 4,000 meters elevation. They are rarely found in sites above 4,000 meters. The four measurable specimens include two small types, and two similar in size to the Inca dog described from the coast.

G U I N E A P I G (Cavia spp.) Guinea pigs never achieved the worldwide popularity of dogs, even though both play the same basic roles as camp and household scavengers and are themselves a source of food. They still play a part in folk medicine and are offered as sacrifices to pagan spirits. Outside of South America, guinea pigs have not been successful as a socially acceptable food source (Gade 1967); they have, however, been used widely as experimental animals and through this scientific use much has been learned about the biology of the domestic species Cavia porcellus. The wild ancestry of this species is, however, still poorly understood. Cabrera (1960) recognized three major widespread species of the genus Cavia: Cavia aperea, ranging through southern Brazil and northern Argentina in southeastern South America; Cavia tschudii, ranging in the highland valleys of Peru, Bolivia, and northwestern Argentina; and Cavia porcellus (including the domestic species), which occurs in the wild state in Guyana, Venezuela, and Colombia. In addition to these, three species have been described from Argentina, Uruguay, Brazil, and Bolivia. Too little is known about these minor species to suggest how they might be related. The three major species appear to be ecologically, geographically, and morphologically separate. For this reason I am following the classification proposed by Cabrera, rather than the synonymy pro-

Animal Domestication

in the Andes

173

posed by Hiichinghaus (1961), in which he placed these three major populations together into the single species Cavia aperea. The domestic form Cavia porcellus has, through the agency of man, widely increased its range to include the entire area occupied by the genus Cavia and well beyond. The domestic Cavia is easily distinguishable, on the basis of a number of cranial and external characteristics, from Cavia porcellus anolaimae (Cabrera 1960). An explanation for the circumscribed distribution of C. p. anolaimae only near Bogota, Colombia, is that this is a feral population (personal communication from Dr. Philip Hershkovitz). If true, the animals have diverged a great deal from the domesticated ancestor. I will therefore discuss characteristics which are useful in separating domestic guinea pigs (Gilmore 1950) and which are found in the fragmentary remains of the skull, such as the conformation of the naso-frontal and fronto-parietal sutures, and presence or absence of the palatal spine (Table 3). A sample of Cavia tschudii(from Arequipa, Peru) is more similar to modern domestic (Peruvian) C. porcellus than is a sample C. aperea (from Argentina, Uruguay, Paraguay, and Brazil) in respect to the absence of a palatal spine. Such a spine is present in all C. aperea except the Brazilian specimen. Many of the remains of Cavia from the archaeological sites share more than the palatal characteristic with C. tschudii. Slightly less than half of the archaeological specimens also have the straight fronto-parietal suture and the M-shaped naso-frontal suture, as does C. tschudii. Cavia tschudii (Cavia aperea tschudii of Hiichinghaus 1961a, 1961b) does indeed seem to be closest to the ancestral form of the domestic guinea pig. The development of domestic Cavia was by selection for genetic loss of wildness, for increased size, and for genes for particular colors. Only on rare occasions are the coat colors of the prehistoric guinea pigs preserved. A mummified guinea pig was found at Rosamachay Cave (Chupas Period), and has an agouti or "wild" coat color and otherwise cranial characteristics of domestic C. porcellus. Degree of tameness can only be surmised from archaeological remains by the relative abundance of one species. Of the domestic characteristics, size is the most easily measured in the skeletal remains, and changes resulting from selection for large size can be traced. The most common part of the skull found is the symphyseal end of the dentary, and the best measurement that can be taken on this fragment is the height of the jaw in the middle of the diastema. Several size characteristics of Cavia are revealed by these measurements (Table 4). Two general trends are evident: in each area - Huanuco, Ayacucho, and Cuzco the most recent samples available are the most variable; in two of these areas - Ayacucho and Cuzco - the mean of the diastemal measurement of the recent samples shows a large and significant increase in

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Animal Domestication

Table 4.

175

Cavia: height of jaw taken from the middle of the diastema

Kotosh Higueras and Sajarapatac 2700-1600 B.P. K. Chavin 3000-2700 B.P. K. Kotosh 3400-3000 B.P. K. Mito 5000-4000 B.P. Wari 500-800 A.D. Rosamachay 2400 B.P. Pikimachay E5-E6 3000 B.P. G1-G2 4000 B.P. VIII 5000 B.P. X 6500 B.P. U 7000 B.P. Puente II-III 6500 B.P. V 6700 B.P. VII 7100 B.P. IX 7500 B.P. XI 7800 B.P. XIII 9100 B.P. Minaspata 1300-1500 A.D. 1900-1300 B.P. 3000-2200 B.P. Pikicallepata 3400-2200 B.P. Chilca 1000-1400 A.D. a

in the Andes

Number

Range

Mean±SE a

Standard deviation

Coefficient of variation

15

3.8-6.9

5.55±0.22

0.85

15.32

5

5.0-6.2

5.84±0.215

0.48

8.22

10

5.3-6.9

6.14±0.18

0.56

9.12

22

5.3-7.5

6.17±0.119

0.56

9.08

7

5.1-7.8

6.22±0.51

1.24

19.94

2

5.9-6.5

6.20

12

3.4-6.6

4.84±0.30

1.03

21.24

2 6 8 2 4

4.1-4.4 3.6-4.8 3.7-4.7 3.9-4.4 4.8-5.2

4.25 4.30±0.20 4.21 ±0.11 4.15 5.00±0.08

0.48 0.31

11.16 7.36

0.16

3.20

7 11 31 26 15 5

4.8-5.5 5.1-5.8 4.2-5.9 4.0-6.4 4.1-6.1 5.2-7.9

5.16±0.10 5.37±0.07 5.15 ±0.07 5.16±0.12 5.15+0.12 5.78±0.51

0.26 0.25 0.41 0.60 0.47 1.14

5.04 4.66 7.96 11.63 9.13 16.81

13 28 15

4.4-5.8 4.0-6.2 4.9-6.2

5.11 ±0.13 5.29±0.10 5.61 ±0.12

0.46 0.51 0.46

9.00 9.64 8.20

10

4.4-7.1

5.54±0.27

0.85

15.34

Mean ±standard error.

size over the older samples. This general increase in size and greater coefficient of variation, both clear evidences of the processes of domestication, occurred in the sample of A.D. 1300-1500 from Minaspata. This change is seen earlier in the Ayacucho Valley, probably by 3000 B.P., in the last sample from Pikimachay Cave. The samples from Kotosh do not appear to include the stages of initial size increase. Very little difference is seen in diastemal size in the first two samples from Kotosh, which date from about 5000 to 3000 B.P. The decrease in size that follows, as seen in the sample from the last two phases (which date from about 2700 to 1500 B.P.). is attributable to the inclusion of more juveniles in the sample. An alternative explanation is that individual size in the native population of Cavia was larger than

176

E L I Z A B E T H S. W I N G

in other populations to the south, and we are seeing only a change in the use of more juveniles in the later periods. Only samples from earlier times in this area can solve this problem. Caution must be taken in comparing sizes of Cavia from different populations, even those represented in neighboring sites such as the sites of Puente and Pikimachay in the Ayacucho Valley, separated by only 10 kilometers. Cavia tend to form closely interbreeding population clusters, a situation which results in these differences between samples. These two sites had populations of Cavia that differed significantly in size, and this difference was consistent throughout the occupation of the sites of Puente and Pikimachay, with the exception of the sample from the most recent cultural period at Pikimachay, in which half the specimens are larger than any found previously in that site and the mean is almost 20 percent larger than the means of the earlier samples. The presence and relative abundance of Cavia in the faunal samples (Table 1) reflect their use. They are exceedingly abundant in early cultural levels (those dating from almost 9000 B.P. to about 3000 B.P.) of central Peruvian sites located below 4,000 meters. They are absent, or virtually so, in sites above 4,000 meters and in preceramic sites of the Callejon de Huaylas and further north. In central Peru, in the three sites of Kotosh, Pikimachay, and Puente for which we have faunal samples from long periods of occupation, we find close correspondence in abundance of guinea pigs. In occupations dating from 9100 to 6700 B.P. at Puente and Pikimachay, guinea pigs constitute 40 percent or more of the fauna. In the three thousand years that follow, only about a quarter of the fauna is composed of guinea pigs. After about 3000 B.P. the relative abundance of guinea pigs in faunas is still further reduced, in most cases to about 10 percent. During this period (3000 B.P. to and including the time of the Spanish conquest), fully domestic guinea pigs were introduced to sites north of central Peru. Remains of Cavia are included in the mixed ceramic levels (Early Intermediate and some late Early Horizon) at Guitarrero Cave in the Callejon de Huaylas, and in fact have been identified from sites as far north as the Lesser Antilles and the Dominican Republic (Wing, Hoffman, and Ray 1968). We do not have information on the extent of the spread of this animal southward. The great relative abundance of guinea pigs in the Early Horizon is unique. A great preponderance of a single species occurs either when there is a dependence on a domesticated animal or when a highly specific method of hunting has been devised. As the guinea pigs of this period (9000-6000 B.P.) show no increase in size or greater variability in size, they cannot be considered fully domesticated. If, when more material is studied, the cranial characteristics used are found to be reliable in distinguishing domestic C. porcellus from its

Animal

Domestication

in the

177

Andes

wild ancestor, then this early sample would seem to show some indications that selection for the ultimately domesticated guinea pigs had already begun. Although it is possible that hunting concentrated on capturing guinea pigs and excluded other small to medium-sized animals that live in the same habitat, it seems more likely that the initial taming stage of domestication had been achieved and that guinea pigs were being attracted to human occupation sites by food debris, warmth, and protection (Gade 1967).

L L A M A S A N D A L P A C A S (Lama glama and Lama

pacos)

Very difFerent associations are evident between man and the camelids. The Camelidae is the family which includes the vicuna (Vicugna vicugna or Lama vicugna) and guanaco (Lama guanicoe), both of which are wild, and the llama (Lama glama) and alpaca (Lama pacos), both of which are domestic. The vicuna is the most physically distinct of this group. It is the smallest, has continually growing incisors, and has never been domesticated. The lamoids other than vicuna form a highly variable group of animals. The guanaco is wild, and may be close to the wild ancestor of both domestic forms. The two domestic animals have quite distinct though overlapping roles. The llama, the larger of the two, is basically a beast of burden, a task now increasingly shared by donkeys and motor vehicles. Llama wool is used for coarse fabrics, while the long fine fiber of the alpaca is of great value and may in fact prove to be this animal's salvation as alpaca wool becomes an increasingly important commercial product. Both animals impart prestige and wealth to their owners, as well as provide meat and other by-products such as hides, dung (used for fuel), and bone (a raw material for tools). The domestic camelids also produce bezoar stones which are reputed to have medicinal uses, and which also were important in Inca religious ceremony. Several breeds of the two domestic forms were developed. Breeds of the llama are consistently larger than those of the alpaca. At least two breeds of llama with vague characteristics can be distinguished - a large burden-bearing llama and the smaller common type. Two types of alpaca are distinguished by the characteristics of their wool - the Suri with long straight hair and the Huacaya with shorter curly hair. Crosses between llamas and alpacas are frequent and distinctive enough to be named: "huarizo" when the male parent is a llama and "misti" when the male is an alpaca. Hybridization between these two animals obviously adds to the problems in distinguishing between their fragmentary remains. I have used the size difference between the llamas and alpacas in attempting to trace the biological history of these

178

ELIZABETH

S. W I N G

Table 5. M e a s u r e m e n t s of the lamoid astragalus, greatest width (a), following 25.1 decision rule f o r distinguishing between large and small-sized groups

N u m b e r Range Callejon de Huaylas Ρ An 12-58 large small PAn 3 large small Kotosh Huanuco Higueras large small Sajarapatac large small Chavin large Kotosh large Mito large Junin Tarma large small Pachamachay adult large small Avacucho Wari large small Ac 117 large Cuzco Marcavalle large small Minaspata large small Pikicallepata large small Qaluyu large small a

Mean±SE"

Standard deviation

Coefficient of variation

4.71 3.46

17.67 12.14

4 3 1 9 6 3

21.0-32.5 26.1-32.5 21.0 22.5-31.0 27.0-31.0 22.5-23.3

26.65±2.36 28.53+2.00 21.0 27.31±I.I7 29.50±0.64 22.93±0.23

9 5 4 12 6 6 6 1 1

21.0-28.0 25.2-28.0 21.0-25.0 21.0-29.0 25.3-29.0 21.0-24.0 27.3-30.8 30.0 27.3

25.01 ± 0 . 6 7 26.32±0.49 23.38±0.85 24.90 ± 0 . 7 6 27.18+0.53 22.62±0.42 28.43±0.58 30.0 27.3

12 5 7

20.1-31.0 28.0-31.0 20.1-25.0

25.38±0.996 28.84±0.57 22.91+0.72

3.45 1.28 1.92

13.59 4.44 8.38

24 8 17

19.8-31.4 29.2-31.4 19.8-24.0

24.29±0.08 30.10±0.08 22.16+0.03

0.38 0.22 0.14

15.52 7.28 6.23

32 18 13 1

22.1-31.5 26.0-31.5 22.1-24.8 28.4

26.99 + 0 . 7 6 28.45 ± 0 . 4 4 23.61 ± 0 . 2 5 28.4

4.30 1.86 0.91

15.93 6.54 3.85

15 13 2 11 6 5 11 8 3 6 3 3

24.1-31.0 26.2-31.0 24.1-24.9 21.1-32.7 25.2-32.7 21.1-24.5 23.6-33.6 27.1-33.6 23.6-24.9 23.5-31.6 27.5-31.6 23.5-24.2

28.33±0.65 28.92+0.60 24.5 25.95 ± 1 . 0 7 28.27+1.26 23.18±0.61 29.02±1.09 30.74±0.87 24.43 ± 0 . 4 2 27.03± 1.53 30.17ztl.33 23.90+0.21

2.53 2.15

—

—

3.51 1.56 0.40

12.85 5.29 1.74

2.02 1.09 1.70 2.64 1.30 1.04 1.41

8.08 4.14 7.27 10.60 4.78 4.60 4.96

—

—

—

—

—

—

3.55 3.10 1.36 3.61 2.47 0.72 3.74 2.31 0.36

—

8.93 7.43 —

13.67 10.% 5.85 12.44 8.04 2.95 13.84 7.66 1.51

M e a n ± s t a n d a r d error.

two animals back to their wild ancestral form (Wing 1972). Other characteristics can be used to distinguish between these lamoids (Herre 1952), but these are rarely found on the very fragmentary remains excavated from the archaeological sites studied. A number of measurements have been taken on all major skeletal elements (Wing

Animal Domestication

in the Andes

179

Table 6. Measurements of the calcaneum, greatest height (a), following 37.6 decision rule

Number Range Callejon de Huaylas 2 8-126 large 8 PAn3 large 3 5 small 2 Ρ An 12-58 large 1 1 small Chavtn de Huantar 21 PIRC large 8 13 small Kotosh Huanuco 23 4 Higueras 1 large small 3 7 Sajarapatac large 1 Wairjiraca large 3 Mito large Junin Tarma large 12 11 small Pachamachay adult 12 large 2 10 small Ayacucho Wari 5 large 3 2 small Ac 100 (VIII) 1 small Cuzco 19 Marcavalle large 15 small 4 Minaspata PC2 12-9 large 1 5 Pikicallepata 4 large 1 small a

Mean±SE a

Standard deviation

Coefficient of variation

—

—

6.70 0.50 4.87

20.78 1.28 17.26

—

—

42.2-43.3 22.6-39.5 38.5-39.5 22.6-35.0 32.3-42.0 42.0 32.3

42.75±0.55 32.24±2.37 39.00±0.29 28.18±2.18 37.15±4.85 42.0 32.3

32.0-40.0 37.1-40.0 32.0-37.2 32.0-43.0 32.9-44.5 44.5 32.9-37.0 40.2-44.0 38.3 41.0-45.6

36.64 ±0.48 38.75 ±0.35 35.35±0.44 37.78±0.65 36.90 ±2.70 44.5 34.37±1.32 41.69+0.66 38.3 43 v57 ±1.35

2.18 0.99 1.60 3.09 5.40

2.35

5.39

38.2-43.0 32.0-38.0

40.10±0.49 35.25±0.63

1.68 2.10

4.19 5.96

32.5-44.9 41.5-44.9 32.5-35.2

35.15±01.12 43.20±1.70 33.55±0.27

3.90 2.40 0.86

11.09 0.56 2.56

33.1-40.3 38.0-40.3 33.1-33.7

36.86± 1.46 39.17±0.66 33.40±0.30

3.27 1.15

8.87 2.94

35.7

—

—

—

—

—

5.60 2.55 4.53 8.19 14.63 —

2.29 1.73 —

6.66 4.15 —

—

—

35.7

—

—

29.2-47.4 38.2-47.4 29.2-36.9

40.83 ±1.02 42.71 ±0.57 33.75±1.68

4.45 2.22 3.56

44.2 30.9-46.0 41.5-46.0 30.9

44.2 40.68 ±2.57 43.13±1.01 30.9

—

5.74 2.02 —

10.90 5.20 10.55 —

14.11 4.68 —

Mean±standard error.

1972); examples of these, the greatest width of the astragalus and greatest height of the calcaneum, are presented in Tables 5 and 6. Although these are the largest samples available at this time, they are still too small for as thorough an analysis as would be desirable. They do, however, illustrate certain size-related characteristics. One of the most obvious characteristics is the very high coefficient of variation

180

E L I Z A B E T H S. W I N G

for each of the total adult samples. These variations are in fact so high, ranging from 8.08 to 20.78, that the samples could not be considered single uniform interbreeding populations. When they are divided into small and large forms, according to the decision rules based on the results of a multivariate analysis of measurements of modern comparative skeletons (Wing 1972), this coefficient of variability is greatly reduced. All the samples from sites from 3000 B.P. to Inca times include both large and small lamoids. This increase in variability as in the case of the guinea pigs, is an indication of selection which was undoubtedly controlled by man. I think we may assume that both large and small forms from the Formative Period and the periods that followed are primarily domestic, although the large forms may include guanaco and the small ones may not be alpaca as we now know them. The earliest indications of domestic lamoids in valley sites are from the Chihua Period (6550-5100 B.P.) at Pikimachay Cave in the Ayacucho Valley, where we find a moderately great dependence on camelids. The few skeletal elements that are complete enough to measure include both large and small adult individuals. These two features, variable size and relative abundance, suggest a domesticated state, although larger samples from this time period must be studied to verify this. If we are correct in the belief that a guanaco-like animal was the ancestor of llamas and alpacas, the earliest stage in domestication that could be detected on the basis of purely meristic data would be not before reduction in size to the size range of the alpaca. The distinction between guanaco and llama is extremely difficult to make. This may be explained in part by continual interbreeding between domestic and wild animals that occurred at least until Inca times. Early chronicles describe . . .a hunt in the valley in 1534 by Manco Inca in honor of Pizarro, 11,000 heads of guanaco, vicuna, deer and other animals were taken. . . some shorn of their fleece and released, some killed for the celebration, and some taken to tame and add to the domestic herds (Browman 1972: 6).

To pinpoint the earliest stages in domestication we may have to rely on patterns of use reflected in the faunal remains. An example of this is seen in the camelid remains from Pachamachay Cave, where a third to one half of the camelids are juveniles. The ages of these juveniles can be narrowed down to eighteen months, the age at which the first molar starts to erupt. This piece of information points to a precise butchering schedule in May through July, during the highland dry season. This time would be a good one to make charqui, the sun-dried meat. Faunal samples from the early periods in valley sites do not include many camelids. Those for which we have measurements (from the earliest cultural periods at Kotosh, for example) are from large animals

Animal Domestication

in the Andes

181

and are not highly variable. The sites located in the puna (4,000 meters or over) have far greater quantities of camelid remains, and these sites therefore hold the secrets of the initial stages of domestication. The fauna of Lauricocha Cave is associated with cultural phases that span the period of camelid domestication (Cardich 1958, 1960). Lauricocha I, which dates from about 10,000 to 8000 B.P., contains a predominance of deer. Lauricocha II (8000 to 5000 B.P.) includes a few deer and smaller animals, but mainly has a predominance of camelids, both domestic and wild. Measurements of the camelid remains are not available for comparison with our data. Other early sites at high elevation in the Junin and Ayacucho areas are now being studied by Kent Flannery. Preliminary study of these faunas indicates that they too are composed largely of deer and camelids. Results of these studies will undoubtedly help to fill the gaps in our knowledge of the early stages of camelid domestication. A technique being developed by Isabella Drew (Drew, Perkins, and Daly 1971) for determination of domestication in animals by examination of thin sections of bone under polarized light, has been applied to camelid remains excavated in northern Chile (Pollard 1972). By this technique, ten of eleven camelid specimens from the Vega Alta II Period (about 2500 to 2200 B.P.) were classified as domestic. The northern and southern limits of the early domestication of llamas have not as yet been worked out. Both llamas and alpacas are distributed south of Peru, particularly in Bolivia, with the center of their ranges in the area of Lake Titicaca. At this time, however, we have no data on faunal samples from archaeological sites south of Lake Titicaca other than the site reported by Pollard. To the north, no camelid remains are found in the early faunal sample from Sigsig, Ecuador. Later sites in southern Ecuador may include introduced llamas. Other data relating to the center of camelid domestication are the predominance of the small form in the northern part of Peru south to Tarma, and the predominance of the large form in the southern part of Peru north of Ayacucho. This suggests the earlier development of a small breed in the more northerly region of the Peruvian Andes, although, again, more samples are needed to verify this.

I N T E R A C T I O N B E T W E E N MAN AND HIS DOMESTICATES Man benefits in many ways from the domestication of animals. In exchange for rudimentary care, domestic animals provide a source of both goods (such as meat, bone, dung, and wool) and services (as, for example, companionship, protection, and transportation). With

182

ELIZABETH

S.

WING

Figure 1. (a) Diagram of the energy flow for the cultural system in Andean valleys between 8000 and 5000 B.P.; (b) diagram of the energy flow for the cultural system at high altitudes (the puna) between 8000 and 5000 B.P. (Symbols used are those of Odum 1971)

Animal Domestication

in the Andes

183

Figure 2. Diagram of the network of energy flow for the cultural system in Andean valleys between about 3000 B.P. and A.D. 1500 Key to Symbols in Figures 1 and 2 (after Odum 1971):

Γ \ v_y

- Energy Source

^y.

- Passive Energy Storage

^ — Pure Energy Receptor

Ο v^/ i

~

Self

"maintaininß Consumer Population

_ Heat Sink

- Work Gate

these goods and services available throughout the year, life is less precarious, and ultimately less energy needs to be expended for basic subsistence activities, thereby providing an energy surplus. The dynamics of this interaction between man and his animal resources may be summarized in an energy-flow diagram of the kind used by systems ecologists (Odum 1971). By this technique I have summarized in Figures 1 and 2 what appears to be the basic interaction between man and the domestic species. At this stage, the energy contributed

184

ELIZABETH

S. W I N G

by each domesticate and by wild plant and animal sources to human subsistence cannot be quantified. The energy-flow diagram does place man and his various environmental resources in a framework and points clearly to the types of data needed to clarify further these interrelationships. Although not directly equivalent to energy contribution, a measure of relative importance may be demonstrated by the percentage of each species in the faunal assemblages associated with each cultural period (see Table 1). By comparisons of the relative abundance of the domesticates and wild game in the faunal assemblages studied, three distinct patterns of use of animals are apparent. These differences in usage of animal resources correlate closely with the time period of the site and the life zone in which it is located. Sites at high elevation, those over 4,000 meters, are all huntingand-herding camps (Figure lb). Faunas excavated from sites located in the puna life zone (over 4,000 meters) consist almost entirely of remains of deer and camelids. The faunal assemblage reported by Cardich from the Lauricocha caves reflects dependence on these two groups - deer and camelids. The faunal samples reported here from these high elevations are associated with the Inca site of Tarma and with three Formative sites, one in Junin and two near Lake Conococha in the upper Callejon de Huaylas Valley. In each of these four samples camelids predominate, constituting between 64 and 88 percent of the total faunal assemblage. The camelids are of various ages and adult sizes, indicating that they are principally domesticated. Today, as in the past, the domestic social animals, both llamas and alpacas, provide numerous and varied benefits in exchange for their care. Man provides rudimentary care, primarily protection from predators, by corralling the animals at night and turning them out to graze in natural unfenced pasturage by day. The llamas, a component of the culture, provide a great variety of goods and services. They provide energy directly in the form of meat, reduce the expenditure of heat energy by providing wool and fuel, and also reduce expenditure of energy by transportation of goods. The transportation of goods in and out of the local environment obviously provides cultural benefits. The exchange of products with both the Amazonian lowlands and the coast, facilitated by the beast of burden, has and has had far-reaching consequences for broad interaction between different cultural groups. Other cultural benefits derived from herds are wealth and prestige to the owners, all of which add to the human sense of well-being. During the earliest stage in taming these animals, as also earlier, while they were only hunted, they probably provided only meat and other by-products such as skins, wool, and dung. Documentation of these stages in the history of animal use must come from faunal material excavated from early high-elevation sites such as those being studied by Kent Flannery.

Animal Domestication

in the Andes

185

During pre-Formative times, the use of animals in the highland valleys was quite different from that just described. From about 9000 B.P. until about 6000 B.P. guinea pigs were extremely abundant in the faunal assemblages. A few camelids were also present, as may be seen in the faunal summary for the first four periods of Puente and the first period at Pikimachay. We have no osteological evidence that either the guinea pigs or the camelids were domestic at this time period. The tremendous abundance of guinea pigs, however, does suggest that they were selectively caught, and this may have been possible if they were attracted to sites of human occupation by food debris and warmth. Guinea pigs scavenge human waste and are in turn consumed. When fully domesticated (Figure la), they also bestow a variety of cultural benefits such as protection and companionship. Guinea pigs have been used for divination, medicinal purposes, and sacrifice. During the time period from 6000 B.P. to 3000 B.P., the process of domestication progressed to the point where control of the domesticates' genetics is reflected in their skeletons. This period is also one during which a relative abundance of these social mammals typical of high altitude becomes evident in valley sites (Figure 2). The increase in camelids is accompanied by a decrease in the number of guinea pigs. At high elevations a transformation from hunting camps to herding camps must have gradually taken place. This change would appear to reflect a shift from a predominance of wild game to a predominance of domestic herd animals, as evident from the relative abundance of each. Much evidence is accumulating for a long history of transhumance in the Andes (Lynch 1971, n.d.; Browman 1972). Specialized sets of tools for diverse activities and resource utilization at different elevations have been associated with preceramic sites. The differences in the associated faunal assemblages also point to periodic use of the resources of both valley and puna. When herding became established, the herds (animals perhaps initially used as beasts of burden) were introduced in larger numbers into the subsistence economy of the valleys. The fullest development of herding at high elevation and valley-use of dogs and guinea pigs with introduced lamoids starts during the Formative Period, about 3000 B.P. and continues until the time of conquest in A.D. 1500. The diagram for energy flow (Figure lb) for the high-elevation economy during this most recent period may be exemplified by faunas from such sites as Tarma, where lamoids constitute 70 percent of the fauna, and Pachamachay, where they constitute 82 percent of the fauna. At the same time, in the valleys at sites such as Wari, virtually the entire fauna (95 percent) is composed of domestic animals, with 66 percent lamoid, 24 percent guinea pig, and 5 percent dog.

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SUMMARY AND CONCLUSIONS 1. Dogs are represented in small numbers at most sites. They appear to include both a small and a large type of dog. They were introduced into the southern continent during early preceramic times, and since their introduction several distinctive breeds have been developed. 2. Guinea pigs are present in great numbers, associated with early cultural materials from valley sites. This abundance suggests that they were attracted to the site of occupation or perhaps tamed and kept in enclosures ready for use. The earliest osteological evidence of domestication, increased size, is seen in Formative times. 3. The South American camelids are adapted to life at high elevations in the Andes. It was in this life zone that they were first hunted and then tamed and domesticated. Great variability in size is our first and most dependable indication of domestication. Domestic camelids have been reported as early as 5000 B.P. from Lauricocha by Cardich. We also have evidence of domestic camelids from this period in the Ayacucho Valley, but we must look to faunal material from sites at high elevations for the earliest indications of camelid domestication. 4. Three stages can be recognized in the use of animals in the Andes. Between 9000 and 6000 B.P. there appears to have been a great dependence on guinea pigs (which may have been tamed) in valley sites, whereas in the puna sites subsistence was based on hunting deer and camelids. During the period 6000 to 3000 B.P. both guinea pigs and camelids were undergoing domestication. Valley sites indicate an increased use of camelids and continued use of guinea pigs and dogs. Sites at high elevations were probably undergoing transition from hunting to herding camps, although further study of these changes is needed to document the transition. From 3000 B.P. to the time of conquest there is an increased use of domestic animals as opposed to the hunting of wild game. Sites at high elevations were primarily herding camps. Valley sites show a diverse use of camelids, guinea pigs, and dogs.

REFERENCES A L L E N , G L O V E R M.

1920

Dogs of the American aborigines. Bulletin of the Museum of Comparative Zoology 63: 431 -517.

B R O W M A N , D A V I D L.

1972

"Prehistoric pastoral nomadism of the Jauja-Huancayo Basin (central Peru)." Paper presented in 1972 at the Annual Meeting, Society of American Archaeology, Bal Harbour, Florida.

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Domestication

in the

Andes

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CABRERA, A N G E L

1957-1961 Catälogo de los mamiferos de la America del Sud. Revista del Museo Argentine de Ciencias Naturales "Bernardino Rivadaria" Ciencias Zoologicas 4(1,2). C A R D I C H , AUGUSTO

1958

Los yacimientos de Lauricocha, nuevas interpretaciones de la prehistoria peruana. Studio Praehistorica 1: 1-65. 1960 "Investigaciones prehistoricas en los Andes peruanos," in Antiguo Peru: trabajos presentados a la semana de arqueologia peruana, 89-118. CARDOZO, ARMANDO

1954

Los auquenidos. La Paz: Editorial Centenario.

D R E W , ISABELLA, D . PERKINS, J R . , P. DALY

1971

Prehistoric domestication of animals: effects on bone structure. Science 171: 280-282.

F E R N A N D E Z BACA, SAUL

1971

La alpaca, reproduccion y crianza. Centro de Investigacion, Instituto Veterinario de Investigaciones Tropicales y de Altura, Boletin 7.

F L A N N E R Y , K E N T V.

1972

"Herding communities." Paper presented at the Ayacucho-Huanta project meeting, R. S. Peabody Foundation, Andover, Massachusetts.

FRANKLIN, WILLIAM L.

1973

High, wild world of the vicuna. National Geographic 143: 77-91.

GADE, DANIEL W .

1967 The guinea pig in Andean folk culture. The Geographical Review 57: 213-224. 1969 The llama, alpaca and vicuna: fact vs. fiction. Journal of Geography 68: 338-343. G H E E R B R A N D T , A L A I N , editor 1961 The Incas. The royal commentaries of the Incas by Garcilaso de la Vega. Translated by Maria Jolas from the critical, annotated French edition. New York: Avon Library Books. GILMORE, RAYMOND M.

1950

"Fauna and ethnozoology of South America,"in Handbook of South American Indians, volume six, 345-464. Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 143.

HERRE, W O L F

1952

Studien über die wilden und domestizierten Tyrlopoden Südamerikas. Zoologischer Garten 19 (2-4): 20-98.

HERSHKOVITZ, PHILLIP

1969 The evolution of mammals on southern continents VI. The recent mammals of the Neotropical Region: a Zoogeographie and ecologic review. Quarterly Review of Biology 44: 1-70. HÜCHINGHAUS, FOLKHART

1961a Zur Nomenklatur und Abstammung des Hausmeerschweinchens. Zeitschrift für Säugetierkunde 26(2): 65-128. 1961b Vergleichende Untersuchungen über die Formenmannigfaltigkeit der Unterfamilie Caviinae Murray 1886. Zeitschrift für Wissenschaftliche Zoologie 166: 1-98. K O F O R D , C . B.

1957 The vicuna and the puna. Ecological Monographs 27: 153-219.

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LATCH AM, RICARDO Ε.

1922

Los animales domesticos de la America pre-Columbiana. Publicaciones del Museo de Etnologia y Antropologia 3(1): 1-199.

LYNCH, THOMAS F.

1967

The nature of the central Andean preceramic. Occasional papers of the Idaho State University Museum 21. 1971 Preceramic transhumance in the Callejon de Huaylas, Peru. American Antiquity 36(2): 139-148. n.d. "Seasonal transhumance and the preceramic occupation of the Callejon de Huaylas, Peru." Unpublished manuscript. MURRA, JOHN V.

1965

"Herds and herders in the Inca state," in Man, culture and animals: the role of animals in human ecological adjustment. Edited by Anthony Leeds and Andrew P. Vayda, 185-215. Washington D.C.: American Association for the Advancement of Science.

O D U M , HOWARD T .

1971

Environment, power, and society. New York: Wiley-Interscience.

PEARSON, OLIVER P.

1951

Mammals in the highlands of southern Peru. Bulletin of the Museum of Comparative Zoology 106: 117-174.

POLLARD, GORDON C.

1972

"Sedentism and desert adaptation in northern Chile." Paper presented in 1972 at the Annual Meeting, Society of American Archaeology, Bal Harbour, Florida.

THOMSON, CHARLOTTE

1971

Ancient art of the Americas from New England collections. Boston: Museum of Fine Arts.

W I N G , ELIZABETH S., CHARLES A. HOFFMAN, CLAYTON E. HAY

1968

Vertebrate remains from Indian sites on Antigua, West Indies. Caribbean Journal of Science 8: 123-139.

W I N G , ELIZABETH S.

1972

"Utilization of animal resources in the Peruvian Andes," in Andes 4 excavations at Kotosh, Peru. Edited by Seiichi Izumi and Kazuo Terada. Tokyo: University of Tokyo Press.

The Pre-Columbian Araucanian Chicken (Gallus inauris) of the Mapuche Indians

Ο. E. W I L H E L M

The Mapuches ['men from the e a s t ' or ' f r o m the land'], also called the Araucanians, came to Chile from the Argentine side of the Andes cordillera. They crossed the mountains through the low southern passes, from Lonquimay to the south, where the forests of araucaria pines (Araucaria Juss. Dombeya chilensis Lamb.) provided them with highly nutritional pine nuts, which were and are today a favorite reserve food in isolated Andean areas. These Indians settled between the Rio Βίο Bio (parallel 37 south) and the Rio Calle Calle (parallel 40 south), between regions occupied by the Picunches ['men from the north'] and the Huiliches ['men from the south']. The Incas gave the name of Promaucaes [savage warriors] to all the Indians who migrated from the north to the south and east of the cordillera. And they specifically gave the name of Moluches [violent men] to the Araucanians (Housse 1940: 22). In 1470 the tenth Inca Yupanqui, after the adverse results of his predecessors in their attempts to extend the empire to southern Chile, explored the central and southern parts of these lands with the intention of forcing the Araucanians to adopt Inca ways. But his general, Sinquiruca, was driven back to the Rio Rapel (at parallel 34), upon the banks of which the Incas built a fortress. In any case, the Inca influence on Araucanian civilization is obvious. (The Araucanians were also affected to a certain extent by the primitive coastal Indians who - like all the races of the extreme south - demonstrate signs of a Polynesian influence.) For a century and a half before this significant battle, and for almost a century after (until the Spanish arrived in 1540), the Araucanians inhabited this fertile land with its abundant vegetation and forests, unmolested in family groups of independent tribes. They practiced a

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primitive, original agriculture near their simple dwellings (Latcham 1936; Bullock 1958) and kept a few domestic animals. Among these was the dog (which they called thegua, a word which has today been transformed into tregua [truce]). Long before Columbus's first voyage, domestic dogs were in existence throughout the Americas, from Alaska and Greenland to Tierra del Fuego. The most valuable animal for the ancient Mapuches before the Spanish Conquest was the hueque, an Auquenid very similar to the alpaca of Peru (probably a variety of the alpaca) which the Spanish called Chili-hueque. The Mapuches reared the hueque for its wool (for their looms) and for its meat. They also kept another Auquenid, the lama (the name of the genus, predecessor of the animal known as the llama), which they used as a beast of burden (especially for carrying pine nuts). They even used the bones of these mammals for fashioning agricultural implements, such as hoes (cf. a hoe made from a llama's carved tibia, number 2587, in the Museo Dillman Bullock, Angol, Chile [Bullock 1958: 148, Figure 5]). It is most probable that these two domestic Auquenids (now extinct in southern Chile) were adopted by the Mapuches from the Inca culture. All that remains in the southern Andes cordillera today is the wild species known as the guanaco, which unfortunately is also on its way to extinction. This is also the case for the guemal and the deer, which have been hunted by the original Indians and their successors. It is interesting to note that before the arrival of the Spanish, the Mapuches also kept a chicken which is known today as the Araucanian chicken because of the peculiar green or blue color of its eggs and other phenotypic features. As I have described in earlier publications (Wilhelm 1953, 1963, 1965-1966), according to the sixteenth- and seventeenth-century Spanish historians (Acosta 1590; Capa 1890; and others), chickens existed in South America before the arrival of the Spanish. The claims of Nordenskiöld (1922) - that the expeditions of Magellan in 1519 and Cabot in 1526 were supplied with hens which had been introduced by Cabral in 1500 on the coasts of Brazil - were corrected by Sauer (1950, 1952, 1953), and Sauer's ideas were confirmed by many investigations, as I will show below. Carl O. Sauer, who personally verified the exceptional color of the chickens raised by the Araucanian Indians in Chile, recommended the investigation of them to Latcham (1922), the father of Chilean archaeology. In 1914 the Spanish professor Castello organized the International Poultry Breeding Exhibition in Santiago. He too had been struck by the blue and green eggs, which he had observed first in Magallanes and later in Concepcion. He was accompanied from Concepcion by Dr. Ruben Bustos who, as a young army officer, had taken part in the

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Chicken (Gallus inauris)

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pacification of the Araucanian Indians in 1880. Bustos was familiar with the chickens, having traveled throughout the Araucanian area gathering a representative sample. Castello exhibited this collection for the first time in Santiago and then took the chickens to Spain to breed and study. Bearing the name Araucanian, they were exhibited at the Second World Poultry Breeding Congress in Barcelona in 1924 and at the third congress, held in The Hague. At the third congress it was agreed to call them Gallus inauris Castelloi 1914 because of the ear t u f t s around the auditory canal; they were described as the only breed to lay blue or green eggs. L a t c h a m (1922) says: As for South America, there were a number of species; but these were different from the Old World Species. Not all of these have been classified. But in Chile, Bolivia, and Peru, at least, three indigenous species or varieties, domesticated by the natives, were known. The terms gallo and gallina [hen and rooster] were not adopted for them, not even for the fowl introduced by the Spaniards, since [the natives] had their own words. Apparently the Peruvians first domesticated these fowl, since the Quechuan word hualpa was also used by the Aymaras and, with a slight modification, achahualpa by the Araucanians. The rooster is called alca or alca achahualpa in Araucanian; alca indicated the masculine sex. The three clearly South American species are still bred in Peru, Bolivia, and Chile. In this country [Chile] they are called trintre, colloncas, and francolinas respectively. There seems to be no doubt that the two latter varieties, and perhaps all three, came to Chile from Peru, but in any case this occurred before the Spanish Conquest. When Latcham made these c o m m e n t s , he was not a w a r e of Castello's publications (1920, 1924a, 1924b). European interest in the Araucanian chickens dates f r o m 1907, when they were brought f r o m Chile to H e r n e , G e r m a n y . There they were bred by C. Yerosch f o r many years (Professor L. Schwarz, personal communication; Professor Schwarz of Hamburg-Riesen, to w h o m I have sent eggs, is a keen student of the Araucanian chicken). In Wierden, Holland, A. G. von Wulften-Palte breeds Araucanian chickens; his chickens have tails but no ear t u f t s and lay beautiful blue eggs (van Gink 1962). In England they were bred by G. Beewer in 1928. Punnet described them in Feathered world (1931) and has carried out genetic studies (1933). The Araucana Club of Great Britain has established a standard type, disqualifying those which do not lay green or blue eggs. Araucanian chickens reached the United States by various channels. In 1924, through the assistance of the Consulate in Valparaiso, Mr. Kellar, then Director of the Prat Food C o m p a n y in Philadelphia, received two roosters and five hens which had been bred in the Morton Islands, Chile (Jull 1927). Dr. A. W e t m o r e , a distinguished ornithologist f r o m Washington, D . C . , took three chickens

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from Chile and kept them for several years in the Zoological Gardens of the Smithsonian Institution. In 1930 W. Brower, Jr., received three chickens from Professor J. Sierra, a Chilean poultry breeder, and bred them in the United States (Steward and Vosburgh 1948). The International Araucana Club, presided over by Professor I. N. Cuthbert of the University of Michigan, developed a number of varieties from its members during the period between 1953 and 1964. The International Araucana Society, founded by G. F. Wright in 1925, today counts among its numerous affiliates the regional Araucana societies of the United States, Canada, and England. These organizations possess valuable genetic material, all of which came originally from southern Chile.

THE C H I C K E N S OF EASTER ISLAND Since 1934 I have been on Easter Island on six occasions as a member of the Chilean commission for the exploration of the island and have conducted the studies of the chickens found there. We know that when King Hotu Matua disembarked on this isolated Pacific island (which was called Tepito te Henua ['omphalos' or 'center of the earth']) with the intention of colonizing it, the only animals which accompanied him were his chickens, from which he was inseparable. In the ancient Easter Island culture, which used ideographic writing of the boustrophedon type, the domestic chicken appeared in traditional rites, customs, and legends; there was a rich vocabulary concerning this fowl. Many stone constructions, called hare moa, still exist on the island; these were buildings used to protect the chickens of the ancient inhabitants. The rooster is called maotoa; the hen uha; small chickens moa riki riki; the chick moa mohanga; the chicken moatonga. Each anatomical detail has its own name, as do the different feathers. The long tail feathers are called vaero\ the other tail feathers are called pinge; and the fine, small feathers poukura. Each toe has a different name: the back one is reke and the three front ones, starting from the outside, are hoke, pou, and kauhanga. The owners placed their identifying brands between the front toes and the reke. The different feathers had special uses in ornaments, wreaths, tiaras, and caps which served as headdresses, particularly the ha u mingo worn by the chiefs or arikis. At all koro ceremonies, and particularly at the ancient gna gnoro moa festival (also called koro tuha moa the 'feast of the distribution of chickens') which honored one's parents-in-law, the son-in-law had to provide no less than 300 chickens, which were then distributed in accordance with a strict ceremony.

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Chicken (Gallus inauris)

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When Admiral Roggeveen discovered the island in 1722, the commander of the landing troops, C. F. Behrens (the first European to set foot on this mysterious land) reported: "When they saw that we were treating them as friends, they later brought us another 500 chickens. These chickens resemble [ähneln] European ones." They were not, therefore, similar or identical. (Cf. the Spanish translation of the original report in Wilhelm 1935.) Following my first voyage to Easter Island in 1934, during which I made contact with the Franco-Belgian Expedition of Metraux and Lavachery, I posed the question: from where did the ancient Easter Island inhabitants bring these chickens? Metraux (1940: 43) says: "The hypothesis that the Easter Island inhabitants originate from Mangareva presents two difficulties. In the first place, the Easter Island inhabitants could not have brought their chickens from Mangareva, because they do not exist there." Metraux supports the hypothesis of the Asian origin for the Easter Island chicken, and for the South American as well. Metraux was not familiar with the works of Castello, Latcham, or the other authors cited above, nor had the findings of the Heyerdahl expedition been published at that time (Heyerdahl and Ferdorn 1961, 1965). Furthermore, in 1934 I had not yet published my studies on the Easter Island and Araucanian chickens. By 1957, after breeding Easter Island chickens which I had brought to the Instituto de Biologia at the Universidad de Concepcion, I was able to confirm that certain phenotypic features were shared with those of the Araucanian chickens (Wilhelm 1957). I was particularly struck by two varieties, the striped black and white and the black and golden yellow variety which the Easter Islanders call kirikirimiro and for which they seem to have a certain predilection. I have seen the golden-yellow striped feathers (which are taken from the neck of the rooster), in the ha u mingo [headdresses] of the Thomson collection in the Museum of Natural History (Smithsonian Institution), as well as among the materials gathered by Policarpo Toro, found in the Museo de Historia Natural, Santiago, and in the Museo de Concepcion. These golden feathers also occur in the ha u mingo of my own collection from Easter Island (this collection has been presented to the Instituto de Antropologia at the Universidad de Concepcion). My investigations of the Araucanian chicken started with genetic experiments in April 1944, using over one hundred chickens which had laid green or blue eggs. The chickens came from rural areas in the provinces of Concepcion and Arauco from isolated indigenous areas in southern Chile, including Chiloe Island. The phenotypic features of this first group were very heterogeneous in terms of body and crest shape and size, and in terms of the color and nature of the plumage. I first formed two and later three separate

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groupings. By inbreeding for eight to ten years with as many generations, I obtained homozygotes in the first two groups: (1) black Araucanians, and (2) striped Araucanians, all having ear tufts. With the appearance of atavistic recessive features (Wilhelm 1953: 124), a fourth group was formed. Its descendants exhibited phenotypes of an accentuated sexual dimorphism similar to the Gallus bankiva. Based on these recessive characteristics, I continued with retrograde crossbreeding, or backcross. In 1957 I presented a second report to the Chilean Sociedad de Historia Natural (Wilhelm 1963). By that time I had twelve generations; in the fourth recessive group, greenish pigmentation frequently appeared on the tarsus. I also succeeded in intensifying the eggshell pigmentation (i.e. the oocianin) through selection. After twenty-two years of genetic control on as many generations (consisting of over 10,000 chickens), I have been able to clarify many of the somatic and psychic features of this interesting pre-Columbian fowl (Wilhelm 1965-1966). Today, after a quarter of a century of experiments with twenty-five generations, I can reaffirm the conclusions published in 1965-1966. The three varieties described by Latcham and Castello in their work in the 1920's merit comment. The first variety, colloncas, is tailless, anurous-pygidial, and rumpless. The words collonco [rooster] and collonca [hen] come from the Aymara collunku ['trunk which lacks something' or cropped off, i.e. that which lacks a tail]. According to Sierra, the Chilean poultry breeder (personal communication), colloncas must possess a lethal gene because they are so difficult to breed. With my collaborator, Dr. G. Beddings, I have proven that by eliminating the caudal feathers which replace the tail and the perianal feathers (which frequently hinder copulation), one can obtain a considerable increase in fertility (Wilhelm 1963: 101). The anurouspygidial (tailless) characteristic is a well-known mutation. It can even be induced, by injecting the eggs with insulin before incubation (Landauer gene mutant Rprp in Sinnot, Dunn, and Dobzhansky 1950: Figures 174 and 175). I do not believe that this tailless feature alone (i.e. without the presence of ear tufts or the green, blue, or olive pigment of the egg) is specific to the Araucanian chicken Gallus inauris, since this " p h e n e c o p i e s " mutation is also found in Japan and elsewhere. Tailless chickens also occasionally appear on Easter Island, where they are called uha pinge huti-huti. Because they have no tails, the Araucanian colloncas are handicapped in egg-laying when they are placed in individual laying cages; this problem is resolved by artificial insemination. The second variety, trintres, is also a mutant in which only the shape

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Araucanian

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of the plumage is affected. The third variety, francolinas, has ear tufts or crowns, features regarded as ornamental and distinctive. I have verified that pedunculate ear tufts, which originate from an internal protuberance in the auditory canal, are actually tactile auditory organs, since the chickens are bothered by them when they pass their heads through the bars of their feed containers. I believe that the inauris type of pedunculate ear tufts - which appear in backcross in a very well-developed form - must have served a useful purpose before the chicken was domesticated (as is also the case with the atavistic instincts of flight, fear, protection, aggression, etc. - the ear tufts would have been useful for crossing the thick jungle and forest undergrowths). Many of the genetic features obtained in backcross can be recognized in different phenotypes and agriotypes of rustic chickens kept by the natives in isolated country regions along the Andes cordillera and the Pacific coast, particularly in southern Chile, where the green and blue eggs are still found. However, they are unfortunately on their way to extinction because of crossbreeding and substitution. The only chicken which lays eggs with oocianin is the Araucanian type (Gallus inauris Castelloi 1914) which originated in South America. To my knowledge all varieties of Araucanian chickens bred today come from isolated Araucanian areas in Chile. I leave open the questions of the origin of this pre-Hispanic chicken in South America and the development of the pigmentation of its eggs.

REFERENCES ACOSTA, R. P. J.

1590

Historia natural y moral Las Indias. Archivos Indias. Seville.

BULLOCK, D. s .

1958

La agricultura de los mapuches in tiempos prehispänicos. Bol. Soc. Biol. 33: 141. Concepcion, Chile.

BUSTOS, R.

1922

Chile avicula 1: 36-37. Santiago, Chile.

CAPA, R. P. R.

1890

La Industria agricola y pecuaria llevada a American por los espaholes (reprinted in Madrid).

CASTELLO, s .

1920 Zootecnica de las aves domesticadas (third edition). Barcelona. 1924a Mundo avicola de Barcelona. 1924b Adas del Segundo Congreso Mundial de Aves. Barcelona. HEYERDAHL, Τ . , Ε. N. FERDORN, JR.

1961 1965

Reports of the Norwegian archaeological expedition to Easter Island and the east Pacific, volume one. School of American Research and Museum of New Mexico Monograph 24. Santa Fe. Reports of the Norwegian archaeological expedition to Easter Island

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and the east Pacific, volume two. School of American Research and Museum of New Mexico Monograph 24. Santa Fe. H O U S S E , R. E.

1940

Epopeya India. Santiago, Chile: Zig-Zag. (Originally published in French as Epopee Indienne. Paris: Plön.)

J U L L , M . A.

1927 The races of domestic fowl. National Geographic 51(4): 379-452. Washington, D.C. L A T C H A M , R.

1922

Los animates domesticos de la America precolombina. Publicaciones del Museo de Etnologia y Antropologia. Santiago, Chile. 1936 La agricultura precolombina en Chile y los paises vecinos. Santiago: Universidad de Chile. M E T R A U X , A.

1940

Ethnology Honolulu.

of Easter Island.

Bernice P. Bishop, Bulletin 160.

N O R D E N S K I Ö L D , E.

1922

Comparative ethnological studies. Göteborg.

P U N N E T , R. c .

1931 Feathered world. London. 1933 Article in the Journal of Genetics 27(3). Cambridge. SAUER, c . o .

1950

"Cultivated plants of South and Central America," in Handbook of South American Indians, volume six, 486-543. Washington, D.C. 1952 Agricultural origin and dispersals. American Geographical Society 110. New York. 1953 Origenes y difusion de la agricultura de los animales domesticos. Ciencias Sociales (21): 126. Union Panamericana. Washington, D.C. S I N N O T , E. W . , L. C. D U N N , T . D O B Z H A N S K Y

1950 Principles of genetics. New York: McGraw-Hill. S T E W A R D , Β. Α . , F. G. V O S B U R G H

1948 Easter egg chickens. National Geographic 94: 377-387. Washington, D.C. V A N G I N K , C. S. T .

1962

Araucanos, merkwürdige Hühner aus Chile. Geflügelbörse deutsche Ausgabe 83 (8) 2-3. Munich.

West-

VIVANTE, Α.

1953-1954 La gallina precolombina. Runa: Archivo para las ciencas del hombre 4 (1-2): 210-215. Instituto de Antropologia, Universidad de Buenos Aires. W I L H E L M , Ο. E.

1935

Isla de Pascua. Revista de Marina (4) 464: 1-21. Valparaiso, Chile: Imprenta de la Armada. 1953 La gallina araucana. Boletin de la Sociedad Biologica 28: 119-127. Universidad de Concepcion, Chile. 1957 La gallina de la Isla de Pascua. Boletin de la Sociedad Biotögica 32: 133-137. Universidad de Concepcion, Chile. 1963 Observaciones acerca de la gallina araucana (Gallus inauris Castelloi 1914). Revista Chilena de Historia Natural 55: 93-107. Santiago, Chile. 1965-1966 La gallina araucana (Gallus inauris Castelloi 1914). Third report. Boletin de la Sociedad Biologica 40: 5-26. Universidad de Concepcion, Chile.

PART T H R E E

Cultural Development in the Northern Andes

Introduction

In our studies of the indigenous civilizations of the New World, we have too often focused on the centers in Mexico and Peru and ignored the cultural developments of the intervening areas. Archaeologists have become ethnocentric in their studies - specialists in Mexico see Mexico as the home of all cultural innovations in its sphere of influence, and Peruvianists construct models in similar isolation. Recent studies, however, have demonstrated that Mexican metallurgy was in fact derived from South America, and that the ceramic technology of both Peru and Mexico is not indigenous, but rather was borrowed from a not yet clearly defined homeland in the Northern Andes. A common criticism of all social and cultural anthropology, prehistoric or contemporary, is that it tends to treat the microcosm as the universe. The ethnographer tends to look at his study village as representative of the whole ethos, while the archaeologist similarly sees his particular site or prehistoric peoples as prime movers. The strong attachment that the researcher develops for "my people," whether they be contemporary or prehistoric, is an occupational hazard. It is difficult to shed our emotional attachments to the people we have come to identify with, and to stand back and dispassionately observe the data against the wider spectrum. The papers on the intermediate area of the Northern Andes are thus of particular importance to all Latin American prehistorians, whether Peruvianists, Mexicanists, or other specialists. The paper by Myers, in fact, takes an entirely novel approach: rather than viewing the intermediate area as a cultural backwater, which catches a few of the traits developing in the nuclear centers of Peru and Mexico, Myers suggests that, during the Formative Period, it was in the tropical forest regions of the intermediate area where the most important cultural

200

Introduction

developments were taking place, and that the Valley of Mexico and the Central Andes were merely the northern and southern ends of the tropical forests. To Myers, the early Formative cultures of Peru and Mexico are not independent developments with roughly convergent evolutionary tendencies, but are rather merely the ends of a cultural area centered in the intermediate area, which is just now being uncovered. Myers points out that the intermediate area was not lagging during the Formative, but actually leading in technological advances such as ceramics. Though much of the argument is couched in the discussion of vessel form, decorative field, and decorative design of various ceramic traditions, Myers also points out similar primacy for a number of the religious motifs found in the Formative Period cultures of Chavin and Olmec in the intermediate area. N o " L o s t Atlantis" or unknown mother culture is postulated; rather Myers argues that the Olmec and Chavin were mainly local intensifications and elaborations of a number of interrelated cultural developments taking place in the tropical forests of the intermediate area. The paper by Denevan and Zucchi highlights another area of our increasing understanding of man-environment relationships. Two decades ago, the chinampas of the Valley of Mexico were frequently cited as unique examples of man's modification of the local ecology to enhance its food-producing capabilities. However, Plafker (1963) and Denevan (1963, 1966) have since pointed out fields for similar purposes in lowland Bolivia, a growing number of reports have discussed the phenomenon in coastal Peru, and Denevan and Zucchi now indicate that it was equally common in the intermediate area. Two recent studies (Denevan 1970; Bennett 1974) suggest that we still have much to learn from prehistoric land- and water-management studies. The resolution of the problems of periodic flooding coupled with the poor physical structure of the savanna soils - by the reclamation of marginal lands, as detailed for the Central Orinoco - demonstrates a level of sophistication in agricultural sciences previously unsuspected. In response to growing populations and increasing competition for limited resources in terms of productive land, two alternative means are explored. While Denevan and Zucchi have studied construction of large, raised-field systems as methods of increasing agricultural potentials, Morey and Marwitt emphasize another adaptive mechanism, the use of warfare, for achieving the same end. Perennial and institutional warfare is proposed to result from similar demographic pressures; rather than seeking to enhance food production through increasing field sizes or through increasing productivity, however, warfare enlarges the food base through the acquisition of new fields

Introduction

201

by conquest or through the acquisition of food resources in terms of tribute given to the conquering group. Aggression has an ecological component in addition to genetic and psychological components; once again we are reminded that models of cultural development based on a single causative factor rarely are adequate approximations of reality. The vastness of Amazonia has acted as a generating source for great waves of peoples, waves which appear to be similar to those generated by the steppes of Asia but which are as yet poorly understood. Amazonian migrations of about A.D. 800-1000 may have been partly responsible for the collapse of the Wari-Tiwanaku empire (Lumbreras 1967), and the Guarani invasions of the Inca empire brought with them the first European contact with the Incas in A.D. 1526 (Nordenskiöld 1917). On the northern fringes, the waves are best documented in the Caribbean islands (Rouse 1964; Rouse and Cruxent 1969), but we can also now identify them in Venezuela, as Sanoja and Vargas have in their paper. The new groups of immigrants about A.D. 600-700 and again about A.D. 1200-1300 correlate well with the data from the West Indies and from the Amazonian slopes of the Andes. Gradually piecing together information such as settlement patterns, subsistence systems, technology, and so on, such as are reported by Sanoja and Vargas for the Orinoco, for example, we will ultimately be able to detail not only the life ways of the migrating intruders, but also the evolutionary sequences in the lands they impinged upon. Pallestrini's work in this section on the typology of structures from the coastal shell middens in Brazil should allow us to identify these same demographic movements as they also reach the Atlantic and southern coastal areas. The last migration into the area, the European conquests of the sixteenth century, paradoxically does not mark a time when there is abundant information, even though we do now have written records being produced. Our histories are full of the lives and battles of important conquistadores, and later the political intrigues of the colonies, but these represent less than one percent of the populace. Information concerning the economic functioning and social interaction of the bulk of the population is woefully scanty; thus it is particularly important that thermoluminescence, previously used only as a technique for dating, now can be extended to determining the provenience of pottery styles. The analyses of the Majolica pottery (by Vaz and Cruxent), which was widespread in the Caribbean area in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, allows us to reconstruct Indo-Hispanic relations and gives us new insight into trade networks, permitting us to fill in some of the missing pages of history.

202 Introduction

REFERENCES BENNETT, J. W .

1974

"Anthropological contributions to the cultural ecology and management of water resources," in Man and water: the social sciences in management of water resources, 34-81. Edited by L . D . J a m e s . Lexington: University of Kentucky Press.

DENEVAN, W . M.

1963 Additional comments on the earthworks of Mojos in northeastern Bolivia. American Antiquity 28(4): 540-545. Salt Lake City. 1966 The aboriginal cultural geography of the Llanos de Mojos of Bolivia. Ibero-Americana 48. Los Angeles: University of California Press. 1970 Aboriginal drained-field cultivation in the Americas. Science 169: 647-654. Washington, D.C. LUMBRERAS, L. G.

1967 Acerca de la historia del pueblo del Peru. Cantuta 1: 129-159. Lima: Universidad Nacional de EducacitSn. NORDENSKIÖLD, Ε.

1917 The Guarani invasion of the Inca empire in the sixteenth century: a historical Indian migration. Geographical Review 4(2): 103-121. New York. PLAFKER, G.

1963 Observations on archaeological remains in northeastern Bolivia. American Antiquity 28(3): 372-378. Salt Lake City. ROUSE, I.

1964

Prehistory of the West Indies. Science 144(3618): 499-513. Washington, D.C.

ROUSE, I . , J. M. CRUXENT

1969

Early man in the West Indies. Scientific American 22(5): 42-52. New York.

Formative-Period Interaction Spheres in the Intermediate Area: Archaeology of Central America and Adjacent South America

T H O M A S P. M Y E R S

Maritime contact between Mesoamerica and the Central Andes is one of the truisms of American archaeology. Most frequently cited are supposed contacts during Middle and Late Formative times when there are indeed remarkable similarities between the two centers of New World civilization. However, during the Classic and Post-Classic Periods, when both the Maya and coastal Peruvians are known to have had ocean-going craft, relatively few plausible instances of similarity can be cited (Lathrap 1966). There are no Chimu pots in Mexico nor are there Zapotecan urns in Peru. In view of the ease with which Formative peoples are supposed to have traversed the coast prior to the time of Christ it is remarkable that such voyages did not continue into the Protohistoric Period. The view taken here is that such direct contacts rarely, if ever, took place and that the frequency with which such contacts are proposed is a measure of the inadequacy of our knowledge concerning the Intermediate Area. There is another factor leading to the ready embrace of sea contacts which probably has its roots in the history of American archaeology: the "Mother Culture " theory of New World civilization. To the best of my knowledge a generalized Mother Culture theory in the sense that I employ it here has never been seriously proposed although it colors a great deal of archaeological thinking. This makes it all the more dangerous because it exists as a given rather than as an hypothesis which can be tested. Although there are gaps in its internal logic, because its precepts have never been formalized, its major precepts can be summarized or, better, caricatured because so many internal twists, turns, subtleties, and ad hoc explanations exist within it. Put briefly, it is axio-

204

T H O M A S P. M Y E R S

matic that there are two centers of N e w World civilization which have existed from time immemorial. The corollary is that all lesser cultural manifestations must in some manner be derived from these centers. It is not to be assumed, however, that the two nodal areas were entirely independent. During the course of their existence they have had occasional contacts which account for their similarity, particularly at the Formative level. Concerning these similarities, Coe is explicit: . .elaborate concepts which found their way into Chavin from central M e x i c o . . .presumably diffused southward by s e a " (1962: 176). It is remarkable that the twin apogees of N e w World civilization, by which I mean the Valley of Mexico and the Central Andes, are at the northern and southern ends of the tropical forests which cover the Intermediate Area. The fact that the forests of Veracruz shroud the Mother Culture of Mesoamerica does not materially affect the generalization but is rather an ad hoc appendage to it. It is our position that it was within the tropical forest regions that the most important developments of the Formative Period were taking place. These forests were not a "green h e l l " nor did they stunt the intellectual growth of their inhabitants. On the contrary, whereas the inhabitants of highland Mexico and highland Peru had to scramble and scrounge to make a living (MacNeish 1964; Lynch 1967), the inhabitants of the tropical forests had a variety of subsistence resources at their fingertips (Coe and Flannery 1967). Consequently, a much larger portion of the forest dweller's time could be diverted from subsistence activities into intellectual and cultural development. If so, why did civilization not develop in the Intermediate Area? The answer to that question lies in the fact that what is generally recognized as civilization is equivalent to the Conquest State, which is possibly only where there is a capital investment in the land. When people are tied to the land they can be conquered and taxed to support the public works by which a Conquest State is recognized. It is not to be assumed, however, that class differences do not arise in anything less than a Conquest State. They also exist in chiefdoms. Nevertheless, extreme care must be taken with ethnographic analogy. Almost all of the ethnographically known chiefdoms are island societies in which productive land is sharply circumscribed - a condition which did not generally exist in the Intermediate Area during the Formative Period although the Olmec heartland may be an exception. In any case it is apparent that the Olmec were able to mobilize a considerable labor f o r c e to construct their ceremonial centers at San Lorenzo Tenochititlän and L a Venta. T o our present knowledge the Olmec heartland attained the highest level of cultural development within the tropical forest during the Formative Period. Its trade routes f o r prestige goods extended at least

Formative-Period

Interaction

Spheres

in the Intermediate

Area

205

as far north as the Valley of Mexico (Coe 1965), as far west as the Valley of Oaxaca (Flannery 1968), and as far south as northern Costa Rica (Easby 1968). It seems no accident that the earliest large communities in Oaxaca were contemporary with the San Lorenzo Phase at San Lorenzo Tenochtitlän and that water-control systems necessary to produce two crops a year were already in evidence at this time. The earliest irrigation canals date from the succeeding phase but must have developed earlier (Flannery, et al. 1967; Flannery 1968). With these irrigation canals in Oaxaca, and probably also in the Valley of Mexico, were laid the foundations for the Conquest States which held power during the Classic and Post-Classic Periods. It is our thesis that the Olmec development was merely the most elaborate of a number of interrelated cultural developments that were taking place in the Intermediate Area. No one of them should be viewed as the Mother Culture since none of them was responsible for all of the innovations. What these cultures had in common was a heritage they had shared since the Paleo-Indian Period. They also existed in roughly similar ecological circumstances with a consequent opportunity to divert time from subsistence activities. Although cultural innovations may have taken place at a number of locations in the Intermediate Area, it is evident that not all of them were evenly distributed throughout the entire area. Predictably, what we find is that adjacent cultures tend to resemble each other more closely than they resemble more distant cultures. Conceptually, this could be viewed as a series of overlapping cultural circles which link the civilizations at each end of the Intermediate Area. Continuing the analogy, each circle can be viewed as a funnel-filter which concentrates and selects cultural traits. Thus we would expect that a culture at one end of the Intermediate Area would have a relatively small number of traits in common with a culture at the other end. The problem is that there are vast gaps in the areal coverage. Even in areas that are relatively well known, the sequence is based on one or a very small number of sites, which still leaves considerable gaps in the evidence. What would we know about Mesoamerica if only three or six Middle Formative sites were known? This is roughly the state of knowledge about the Intermediate Area. Obviously the funnel-filter concept will not account for site-unit intrusions which may have taken place. Even if we allow that such sea contacts did take place we might wonder at the reason for such voyages. Accident? While accidents do happen they don't usually result in the total redirection of a successfully adapted culture. Was there a defeated king who sought a new land in the manner of Kukulcän? Or were there traders who sought to bolster the position of their chief by the acquisition of prestige goods? Such trade was widespread in the Mesoamerican Middle Formative,

206

T H O M A S P. M Y E R S

with jade being imported from as far south as Costa Rica (Easby 1968), where there was also an indigenous Olmec style. We must also account for the fact that there are remarkably few cultigens that are found in both nodes of New World civilization (Charles Heiser, Jr., personal communication). If sea contacts were as frequent and influential as they are supposed to be, more plants should be shared since there are no environmental geographical dictates that would prevent their transplant.

THE COMMON CULTURAL HERITAGE While it is hardly revolutionary to suggest that there are numerous cultural parallels between the North and South American continents, contemporary American scholarship rarely permits mention of the fact. The ethnological evidence led Nordenskiöld to postulate a series of migrations between the two continents, followed by a period in which ideas rather than people moved across the Isthmus of Panama. Cast in modern terms, Nordenskiöld identified a migration during the Paleo-Indian Period at a time when stone projectile points were already in use. This was followed by a migration at the MesoIndian level by people who were either collectors or low-level horticulturalists. An agricultural migration followed at a still later date; but migrations had ceased by the time the Indians of Mexico and the Central Andes had reached a high level of culture. Nevertheless, ideas continued to flow (Nordenskiöld 1931: 13-14). Although seldom examined by contemporary students, Nordenskiöld's hypotheses bear a remarkable similarity to the conclusions being reached by modern archaeologists - a situation which suggests that reexamination and expansion of his evidence might be in order although it is outside of the scope of this discussion. Surely all Americanists are familiar with Willey's article in which he indicates his belief that the Chavin and Olmec styles are not closely related even though certain underlying mythological concepts seem to have been held in common. He sees a striking absence of stylistic linkages in the Intermediate Area which, he concludes, reflects the absence of a mechanism capable of "knitting together the smaller parts of the social universe. . . i n t o a . . .unified whole" (1962: 9). In short, the complex ideologies that would have fostered the rise of civilization in the Intermediate Areas were not present. Willey may be on the right track but it is important to recognize that far more primitive societies have elaborated complex cosmological models, as Levi-Strauss has clearly shown for the Borroro (1963, 1966) without an accompanying elaboration of material culture.

Formative-Period

Interaction

Spheres in the Intermediate

Area

207

The principal subject matter of the Olmec and Chavin sculptural styles (felines, raptorial birds, snakes, caymans, and fish) also appears in widespread iconographic elements in the Intermediate Area. The genealogy of the Olmec jaguar-child is demonstrated by Olmec sculpture which, in one case, shows a jaguar copulating with a woman and, in another, a woman holding a jaguar child. Thejaguar-copulatingwith-women motif is also found in San Agustin where men with feline characteristics are commonly represented (Reichel-Dolmatoff 1972a, 1972b). Men with feline attributes are also commonly represented in Chavin sculpture. In all three of these styles the raptorial bird motif appears to be subsidiary to the feline or the man with feline characteristics. In contrast, moving south from Veracruz the raptorial bird motif is increasingly important. In the Reventazon area and on the western slopes of the Irazu volcano in Costa Rica a principal theme is " a large beaked bird fertilizing and creating m a n " (Stone 1961: 202). While it seems quite likely that the Costa Rican and San Augustin sculptures date from a later time than the Olmec and Chavin styles, it does not follow that the mythological elements are of a later date. Although nothing of unquestionably Costa Rican workmanship has been found at La Venta, some of the raw material used by Olmec artists must have come from Costa Rica (Easby 1968: 86-87). It is also appropriate to compare the form and concept of some Olmec celts found at La Venta (e.g. Bernal 1969; Plate 38) with some of the bird celts from Costa Rica (e.g. Easby 1968: Figures 15-19). One of the Costa Rican celts even combines human and avian characteristics (Easby 1968: Figure 20). Although the state of Costa Rican archaeology makes such things very difficult to date by direct means there are some grave associations which lend themselves to cross-dating. Hartman found an Olmecoid celt associated with a dentate stamped ocarina of the Zoned Bichrome Period (Easby 1968:29-32), and a small bird celt was found in a Zoned Bichrome cemetery in Guanacaste Province (Lange and Scheidenhelm 1972: 242, Figure 2i). Given the presence of Costa Rican jade at La Venta it seems most likely that the Olmecoid celt was an heirloom which did not drop out of the culture until the Zoned Bichrome Period, although it was acquired much earlier. It should also not be presumed that the mythological elements so prominent in the cosmological schemes of Mesoamerica, the Central Andes, and the Intermediate Area are exclusive to that zone. Although the Akwe-Shavante of central Brazil are not deep religious thinkers, they attribute the discovery of maize to a gift of the parakeet and the discovery of fire to a gift of the jaguar (Maybury-Lewis 1967: 285). For the Desana the jaguar is the principal representative of the sun

208

T H O M A S P. M Y E R S

and is also associated with fire. H e is the principal protector of the maloca and of the forest. The anaconda is a feminine symbol associated with destruction, while the boa is a masculine symbol associated with the joy of the dance. The parakeet symbolizes maternal protection of children, and the alligator and crane are also included in the symbolic system of the Desana (Reichel-Dolmatoff 1968: 72-77). The symbolic character of these animals is reiterated in the mythologies of many other tribes but listing them would serve no purpose here. The point is that the characteristic symbolic elements of preColumbian art are widespread among modern as well as ancient peoples. While exponents of the Mother Culture theory might attribute their modern distribution to difFusion from the nodal areas, their dissemination might also be indicative of a very ancient underlying cosmological theory which accounts f o r the origin and ordering of the universe. Archaeological evidence in the Americas tends to support the latter point of view.

THE PRECERAMIC

PERIODS

Although no effort will be made to detail comparisons between the preceramic periods of Meso- and South America, it is worthwhile to point out certain facts that suggest long-term cultural relationships between the two areas. In the Paleo-Indian Period, comparison of the projectile point succession in Tamaulipas (MacNeish 1958), Chiapas (MacNeish and Peterson 1962) and Tehuacän (MacNeish, Nelken-Terner, and Johnson 1967) establishes the priority of fluted points followed by bipoints or points with slightly rounded bases which are followed in turn by triangular points. Since there is nothing inherently logical about this particular succession, the fact that it recurs in the Central and Southern Andes (Bell 1965; Bird 1938; Gonzalez 1960; MacNeish 1969) is strongly suggestive of continuing interrelationships between the two zones. Scattered fluted points have also been found in lower Central America but the Darien has always been considered a major obstacle to herd animals which, presumably, were the major f o o d resource f o r these early hunters. This problem may be less severe if it is realized that portions of the Gulf of Panama would have been exposed when the sea levels were forty or fifty meters lower (Fairbridge 1960; U.S. Naval Oceanographic Office 1970). Evidence related to the Meso-Indian Period is remarkably sparse in Mesoamerica and the Intermediate Area, so there is little that can be brought to bear upon the question of continuing interconnections

Formative-Period

Interaction

Spheres

in the Intermediate

Area

209

between the two continents. However, in the Formative Period there is a scattering of information that is relevant to the problem of intercontinental relationships.

FORMATIVE

PERIOD

The preferred approach to a synthesis of nuclear American culture history in the Formative Period would be to establish a culture sequence for selected geographic areas and then to compare the progress and interchange among these areas. This was essentially the approach attempted by Ford (1969), with limited success because so little is known about most of the areas with which he attempted to deal. His stratigraphic column of northern Colombia is particularly misleading because it includes materials from the Pacific Coast, the Sinu River, and the lower Magdalena River, each of which seems to have had a rather different culture history. Unfortunately, no one of these zones is sufficiently well published to enable one to construct the kind of stratigraphic column that Ford had in mind. Since the stratigraphic column approach is barred essentially because of the gaping holes in the data, I shall attempt a somewhat different formulation to search for order in the disparate information available. Essentially, I shall attempt to identify several traditions and horizons based upon a variety of comparative evidence. Traditions will be formulated when it can be shown that the member archaeological complexes share particular vessel forms. It would be desirable to utilize information on the relative frequency of those vessel forms in each ceramic complex but only rarely is it possible to make such calculations since this kind of information is not generally furnished even in a final report. The legitimacy of this approach is based upon an assumption that the basic vessel forms tend to be fairly stable because they are associated with particular productive or ceremonial functions in addition to having a cultural value because they are traditional (Lathrap 1970: 110). Functional association is fairly well demonstrated for tecomates and comales, but not for flat-bottom or composite-silhouette bowls which have a remarkable tenacity in the archaeological record. In examining the prehistoric cultural traditions close attention is also paid to decorative style with respect to the selection of zones chosen for decoration and to the ways in which these zones were subdivided. Of lesser importance are specific motifs such as zone fillers (e.g. rocker stamping) that are used within these subdivided zones. If two cultures share all three levels of comparison we may conclude that they are closely related. If they share only the first it is possible that they are

210

T H O M A S P. M Y E R S

generically related, though proof must await discovery of some third archaeological culture. If two archaeological cultures share only the third level of comparison it is most likely that, while they were in contact, they belong to distinct archaeological traditions. When it is not possible to determine vessel forms on which to base a comparison I prefer to speak of horizons in which certain design characteristics are shared. Prior to 2000 B.C. it is possible to recognize no fewer than three distinct ceramic styles in northwestern South America. Ford pointed to the Valdivia Complex of coastal Ecuador and to the Puerto Hormiga Complex of northern Colombia. Radiocarbon dates suggest that the Rancho Peludo Complex from western Venezuela should also be included in this group. Each of these archaeological manifestations appears to have given rise to a series of later cultural developments which spread quite widely in South America, though it is not my purpose to trace their diffusion in this paper. Although a date earlier than 3000 B.C. has been claimed for Valdivia, a more cautious reading of the stratigraphic and radiocarbon evidence suggests that a starting date on the order of 2700 B.C. is more likely. This puts Valdivia about 500 years later than Puerto Hormiga and brings it to within some 350 years of the date for the Monagrillo Culture of western Panama.

The Puerto Hormiga

Tradition

Recent evidence indicates that the Valdivia Phase of coastal Ecuador was preceded by the San Pedro Phase (Bischof and Viteri Gamboa 1972). The published definition of this phase is based upon only twenty-seven sherds, but even the description of these is somewhat confusing. At one point it is stated that the only shape present is a jar with a constricted neck and outflaring rim, similar to Valdivia Form 18. But Valdivia Form 18 is a jar with a slightly upturned rim (cf. Meggers, Evans, and Estrada 1965: Figure 54). Later it is stated that San Pedro forms include open bowls and jars. For our purposes here it will be assumed that the only San Pedro vessel form is the jar shape of Valdivia Form 18, an assumption which seems to correspond with the published photographs of the San Pedro Phase. The zone of decoration of San Pedro pottery is defined by two circumferential lines a short distance below the rim and by another circumferential line near the shoulder. Incised designs are rectilinear, the most common being a triangle with its apex just below the uppermost circumferential lines. The Puerto Hormiga Complex would seem to be slightly earlier than the San Pedro Phase. Puerto Hormiga ceramics are characterized by

Formative-Period

Interaction

Spheres in the Intermediate

Area

211

a single vessel form: a globular jar with a somewhat incurved direct rim, not too different from Valdivia Form 18. Decoration tends to be confined to a band near the rim of the vessel, typically defined by broad circumferential incised lines. The area between these lines is frequently filled with shell stamping, drag-and-jab punctuation or, in the upper levels, with fine-line hachure. When the decorative band is extended below this rim band, curvilinear zone designs are characteristic. Where curvilinear lines meet, there is frequently an excised triangular area. Excision is also found in the form of small discs which seem to have been employed as a curvilinear zone. Lines which end in punctates are also characteristic of the Puerto Hormiga Complex (Reichel-Dolmatoff 1965a).1 Excavations in other sites near the mouth of the Magdalena indicate a local development of the ceramic tradition that is earliest identifiable at Puerto Hormiga. Identified archaeological complexes include Puerto Hormiga, Canapote, Tesca, Barlovento and Malambo (Angulo Vaides 1962; Bischof 1966; Reichel-Dolmatoff 1955, 1965b) which cover a time span from about 3000 B.C. into the early part of the Christian Era. By the Tesca Phase, which should date to around 1500 B.c., red paint was used to cover portions of the vessel including both incised and nonincised areas (Bischof 1966). At least by the late Barlovento Phase, about 1050 B.C., shallow restricted bowls were present although the restricted-mouth, neckless olla remains the dominant form. 2 On the basis of Reichel-Dolmatoff's preliminary report on the Puerto Hormiga site (1961), Bischof expressed the opinion that it was a multi-component site which included material from several phases from Puerto Hormiga to Barlovento. However, the stratigraphic evidence in the final report (Reichel-Dolmatoff 1965a) does not confirm Bischofs suggestion, although the possibility remains that Reichel-Dolmatoff was dealing with a thoroughly mixed site. Incised pottery from the Monagrillo Culture on the Pacific Coast of Panama (Willey and McGimsey 1954) has a number of unmistakable similarities with Puerto Hormiga pottery; but there are also a number of equally unmistakable differences. Prominent among the similarities are the use of spiral decorations in a zone below the circumferential banding; the use of punctates at the end of incised lines; and the 1

Observations on the decoration of Puerto Hormiga pottery are based upon ReichelDolmatoff's description (1965a) supplemented by my own observations on Puerto Hormiga pottery deposited in the Museo Nacional in Bogota. 1 am indebted to the Director of the Instituto Colombiano de Antropologia, Dr. Gonzalo Correal U., for the opportunity to examine these materials. 2 I am indebted to Dr. Gerardo Reichel-Dolmatoff for the opportunity to examine Barlovento shards on deposit in the Department of Anthropology, Universidad de los Andes.

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T H O M A S P. M Y E R S

occasional use of excised areas where lines meet. An important dissimilarity is the absence of zones that are filled with stamping, punctuation, or hatching. The dominant vessel form in Monagrillo is a restricted mouth, neckless vessel (Rim Form 1), but an unrestricted deep bowl (Rim Form 3) is also common. Both of these forms are also typical of Puerto Hormiga pottery, where it is at least possible that they are both variations of a single culturally defined form. However, Monagrillo vessel forms also include a shallow bowl which is not found until a later date at the mouth of the Magdalena. On Monagrillo pottery, painting was occasionally combined with incising either in the form of a slip or band designs which might or might not parallel the incised designs. Painted designs not combined with incisions include simple banding, pendant triangles and semicircles, and vertical zones pendant from the rim but without the rim band. The similarities between the painted decoration of Monagrillo and the Tesca Phase should not go unremarked and there are also similarities with the Machalilla Phase of Pacific Ecuador. Before leaving this group of complexes characterized by neckless jars some attention should be given to Valdivia A (Meggers, Evans, and Estrada 1965). Although the Valdivia Phase is generally characterized by composite silhouette vessels, this is not true of Valdivia A in which a hemispherical open bowl (Vessel Shapes 6 and 7), a hemispherical closed bowl (Vessel Shapes 3 and 5), and a neckless jar with slightly upturned upper walls (Vessel Shapes 13, 14, and 18) predominate. Decoration in Valdivia A tends to be strongly rectilinear and confined to narrow bands near the mouth of the vessel. Subdivisions of this zone are frequently filled with cross hachure or occasionally with diagonal hachure. The only nod toward curvilinearity is the rounding of corners on the rectilinear designs. In later periods there is an increasing use of curvilinear designs, which are still confined to horizontal bands, and a tendency toward increasing coverage of the vessel surface. Shell stamping is found in Valdivia A but it is not used to fill zones which are outlined by incised lines in the fashion of the Puerto Hormiga Complex. While Bischof and Viteri Gamboa (1972: 549) argue that there is enough difference between the San Pedro and Valdivia A to warrant separate designation of the phases, there is also enough similarity between them to suggest continuity of the ceramic tradition. 3 Comparison of the ceramic characteristics of the Puerto Hormiga Tradition (Table 1) suggests that Puerto Hormiga is very much more closely related to Monagrillo than to Valdivia A or San Pedro. If all four complexes have a common ancestor as suggested by the vessel 3

I am indebted to Jorge G. Marcos for an informative discussion of the Valdivia sequence and for an opportunity to examine a large Valdivia collection.

Formative-Period

Table 1.

Interaction

Spheres in the Intermediate

Area

213

Ceramic traits of the Puerto Hormiga tradition

Vessel form Neckless olla Open bowl Closed bowl Decorative zone Band adjacent to rim Zone defined by circumferential incised lines Design character Rectilinear Curvilinear Broad line, narrow line contrasted Zoned decoration Zone filler Hachure Punctation Other Excision Lines end in punctation Red paint areas not corresponding to incised zones Shell stamp Spiral Sigmoid S.P.: San Pedro V.A: Valdavia A P.H.: Puerto Hermiga C.: Canapote

C.

B.

S.P.

V.A

P.H.

χ A

χ χ χ

χ χ

χ

χ χ

χ χ

χ A A χ

χ A A χ

A

A

χ

A

M.

late

late

χ χ

χ

X

X X A X

R A

late

X X

R A

A A A

A A A

X X A

A X X

χ

A A A

χ A A

R A A

A A

A X A

T.: Tesca B.: Barlovento M.: Monagnillo

χ χ A

χ

X X

χ: present in some quantity R: rare A: absent - : no data

form similarities, it must be sufficiently removed in time to have allowed the development of distinct decorative traditions. Puerto Hormiga and Monagrillo, on the other hand, do share design organizational characteristics as well as certain specific motifs that suggest a much closer culture-historical relationship. All four complexes share a subsistence orientation toward marine resources. Nevertheless, because Puerto Hormiga and Monagrillo are on opposite oceans it is inconceivable that land or riverine routes were not already developed prior to 2000 B.C. In fact, it is surprising that Puerto Hormiga pottery tradition did not work its way eastward along the Caribbean Coast into Venezuela. Although certain shell and stone artifacts from sites of the Manicuaroid Series in northern Venezuela appear to be related to artifacts from Puerto Hormiga (ReichelDolmatoff 1965a: 48-49), no pottery is associated until quite late. Likewise, no pottery resembling that of early Puerto Hormiga has been reported from the Maracaibo Basin where pottery of the Dabajuroid Series appears to have been in place as early as 2600 B.C. (Rouse and Cruxent 1963a).

214

T H O M A S P.

MYERS

Yet there is a strong similarity between the pottery of the lower Magdalena River and the Barrancoid Series of the Orinoco and the Amazon Basin (Angulo V aides 1962; Cruxent and Rouse 1958-1959; Lathrap 1970). Given the marine/riverine orientation associated with all of these ceramic materials it seems most likely that if they are related, the contact zone would be somewhere in southeastern Colombia where the headwaters of these rivers meet (Lathrap 1970: 127). Unfortunately, what little is known of the archaeology of the upper Magdalena does not include ceramic materials earlier than 1000 B.C. On the Orteguaza River, a tributary of the Caqueta, Gary Brouillard has located a multicomponent site that includes material of the Zoned Hachure Horizon (Meggers and Evans 1961), which fits best with the Carinated Bowl Tradition to be discussed below. While the relationships between the Puerto Hormiga Tradition f r o m the mouth of the Magdalena with the Barrancoid Series material f r o m the Orinoco and Amazon drainages appear to be fairly clear-cut, the similarities between the San Pedro Phase and the Puerto Hormiga Complex are of a much lower order. If they are indeed generically related, the relationship probably existed at a time that is earlier than any pottery yet found in the Western Hemisphere.

The Carinated

Bowl

Tradition

The Carinated Bowl Tradition is first identifiable in Valdivia C, beginning about 2200 B.C. and continuing into the Machalilla Phase. The closed-mouth variety (Vessel Shapes 1, 2, 8, and 9) is characteristic of Valdivia C and becomes increasingly popular in the Machalilla Phase (Vessel Shapes 1-4, 7), which goes as late as 1000 B.C. In Valdivia D open-mouth carinated bowls (Vessel Shape 10) appear suddenly in some quantity, but the frequency of this form drops off sharply in the Machalilla Phase. N e w decorated types also gain prominance in Valdivia D. In short Period D, beginning about 1900 B.C. stands out quite sharply f r o m the rest of the Valdivia/Machalilla continuum. The discontinuities between Valdivia D and the rest of the Valdivia Phase might be taken as evidence of a Machalilla intrusion during the Valdivia Phase. Yet the development f r o m Valdivia into Machalilla seems to be confirmed by the work of Lanning and his associates as well as by the work of Ecuadorian scholars. For the present the change in carinated bowl f o r m s must simply be recognized as an unexplained anomaly. Other vessel f o r m s that are characteristic of the Valdivia Phase

Formative-Period

Interaction

Spheres in the Intermediate

Area

215

include simple silhouette open and closed bowls which are common to all periods. Jar rims of the Valdivia Phase seem to follow a general progression from upturned to outturned to flared although this latter tendency is partially obscured by the practice of cambering jar rims. It would be superfluous for me to attempt to summarize the decoration of the later Valdivia phases and the Machalilla Phase on the basis of information presented by Meggers, Evans, and Estrada (1965) since a much more detailed work has already been completed (Hill 1971) on the basis of more ample information. Nevertheless, a few comments do seem to be in order. First, Valdivia and Machalilla motifs are overwhelmingly rectilinear with the exception of some undulating designs. Second, zone fillers are restricted to cross-hatching, hatching, punctuation, gouging and, in Machalilla, red paint. Although rocker stamping and shell stamping do occur to some degree, they are employed as independent motifs rather than as fillers between incised lines. The Carinated Bowl Tradition also includes the early occupation at the Momil site in northern Colombia (Reichel-Dolmatoff and ReichelDolmatoff 1956), which I have discussed extensively with Donald W. Lathrap. The site was excavated in artificial levels which they have attempted to correlate with the natural stratigraphy that was discernible in at least part of the trench. Many of the artificial levels cross-cut the natural stratigraphy, resulting in a mixture of things that do not belong together. Nevertheless, certain trends are visible. In level 13, which falls largely below the first humus line, open-mouth carinated bowls (Vessel Forms Ο and J) make up about 24 percent of the vessel forms identifiable at this level. Flaring rim jars (Vessel Forms Ε and M) make up about 32 percent and simple silhouette bowls about 33 percent of the assemblage. Also present are comales and closed-mouth carinated bowls, each constituting less than 1 percent of the assemblage. As a whole the vessel form complex is most similar to Valdivia D, which dates to about 1900 B.C., suggesting that the first occupation of the Momil site must have occurred at about that time. Like the pottery of the coastal Ecuadorian sequence, the decorated ceramic types characteristic of the earliest levels of Momil are predominantly rectilinear although there is some small presence of curvilinear decoration, particularly sigmoid volutes. Also, like the later Valdivia designs, the Momil decoration seems to cover a fair percentage of the upper body wall. Zone fillers include cross-hatching, dentate stamping, punctation and, at least occasionally, red paint. There is also some occurrence of undulating lines between parallel circumferential lines of the type Momil Negra Incisa which is characterized by white paint rubbed into the incised lines. A closely related type is Momil Negra Dentada Fina, which uses dentate stamp

216

THOMAS

P.

MYERS

for fill but also includes some curvilinear designs. In both types white pigment is frequently found in the incisions. Although an early date is generally accepted for Momil I, such placement has recently been challenged by Bischof largely on the basis of three winged pendant fragments found in Levels 11 and 13 at Momil (Bischof 1969: 272; Reichel-Dolmatoff and Reichel-Dolmatoff 1956: 230, 232). While it is true that winged pendants can generally be assigned a relatively late date in eastern Colombia and western Venezuela (Bischof 1969: 272; Wagner 1967: 53-56; Wagner and Schubert 1972), the same form is also found at La Venta (Bernal 1969: Plate 42), where it must be very much earlier. Consequently a date prior to 1000 B.c. continues to seem reasonable for Momil la. There are few sites from the interior of Colombia that bear upon the problems of the Carinated Bowl Tradition. Although a great deal of time, effort and money has been expended at the sites of Tierrandentro and San Agustin, the principal thrust of these researches has been toward the exhumation of the more spectacular prehistoric remains at these sites. The most useful summary of our knowledge of Tierradentro is Patterson's seriation based entirely upon the fragmentary information available in the literature (Patterson 1965). To this may be added the data presented by Long and Yangüez (1971), who excavated at several habitation sites and who also opened two graves in the Segovia cemetery which seem to fit very well with Patterson's characterization of the Segovia Phase. Additionally, Long and Yangüez present photographs of vessels from the Pedregal site, but without information on the site itself. The Pedregal material seems to fit best with Patterson's La Montana Phase and suggests that open-mouthed carinated bowls also belong to the phase. Likewise, the material from the habitation sites also fits best with the La Montana Phase. Although Patterson's suggested date for his earliest phase, the Segovia, is on the order of 800 B.C. it has little in common with the Valdivia/Machalilla material. About the only trait that the Segovia Phase shares with either of the other two sequences is the presence of white-filled incisions - certainly not enough to suggest any close connections between the prehistoric occupants of these sites. The La Montana Phase may very well indicate the arrival of a new ceramic tradition. Among the traits added in this phase are tripod ollas, double-spout and bridge bottles, and open-mouthed carinated bowls. On the other hand, ceramic decoration appears to have been virtually absent among the grave goods as well as on the excavated sites. Even more has been published about San Agustin, but as yet there is little consensus about cultural succession at the site. Patterson's seriation (1965) was made without the benefit of Duque Gomez' major

Formative-Period

Interaction

Spheres in the Intermediate

Area

217

report (1966) in which ceramics are alloted to three archaeological phases: Mesitas Inferior, Mesitas Medio, and Mesitas Superior. Reichel-Dolmatoff (1972a) evidently disagrees profoundly with Duque's divisions as he adopts an entirely different set which consists of four archaeological periods, assigned to three cultural traditions, but which suffers from a 1,000-year gap in the evidence so there is no easy way to correlate the Reichel-Dolmatoff sequence with that of Duque. Confusion inevitably results, although there are a few scraps of information which can be salvaged for the purposes of this paper. Open-mouth carinated bowls with rectilinear decoration appear to belong both to the Reichel-Dolmatoffs' earliest period (Hornqueta) and to Mesitas Inferior, which also includes flaring-rim jars. However, there is little evidence of zone-filling of the sort found in the Valdivia/Machalilla sequence and in Momil I. Duque includes tripod vessels and double-spout and bridge vessels in Mesitas Inferior, whereas Reichel-Dolmatoff indicates that double-spout and bridges do not appear until the Isnos Phase in the late first century; and tripods are not found until the Sombrerillos Phase around 1400 a.d. Also characteristic of the Isnos Phase is a virtual absence of incised decoration but an emphasis on bright shiny surfaces, often with red slip. Considering the proximity of San Agustin and Tierradentro it is remarkable that the relationships between them are not more clear-cut. The best point of comparison is between the Isnos Phase of San Agustin and the La Montana Phase of Tierradentro. These complexes share double-spout and bridge bottles and an emphasis on polished decoration to the virtual exclusion of incised decoration. Both appear to be intrusive and may be associated with mound building and statue carving which the two sites have in common. However, the antecedent phases appear to have been quite different, assuming that the sedations hold up. However, Patterson's ordering of the phases of Tierradentro is based exclusively upon the supposition that the caches of San Agustin-style pottery were more recent than the Segovia Phase pottery found above them. Segovia Phase pottery may, in fact, come much later. Clearly, more data are desperately needed to clarify this point. There is little enough evidence to go on for unraveling the relationships between the early cultures of highland Colombia and the cultures of the Ecuadorian and Caribbean coasts. Clearly the Mesitas Inferior/Hornqueta material from San Agustin shares the open-mouth carinated bowl form as well as the flaring-rim jar with Valdivia D and Momil la. All three also share rectilinear decoration, but the San Agustin material does not utilize zone-filling to any appreciable degree.

218

T H O M A S P. M Y E R S

However, there does seem to be a certain similarity in the pottery types and in the presence of everted rim bowls between Momil I and the early material from San Agustin. If all three groups of pottery are related, as the guidelines suggested earlier would seem to indicate, then the most probable relationship is between Valdivia D to Momil la to early San Agustin. It is at least clear that all three of these manifestations are much more closely related to one another than any of them is to the Puerto Hormiga Tradition. Assuming the validity of a Valdivia/Machalilla-Momil-San Agustin grouping in the Carinated Bowl Tradition, it is evident that the relationships among them cannot possibly be attributed to maritime routes. River routes seem much more likely. Examination of a physiographic map suggests that contacts were established up the Pacific coast and through the coastal lowlands of Colombia, where the San Juan and Atrato rivers offer ready passage to the Caribbean coast. What little is known from the Pacific coast of Colombia offers no support for or against this theory because everything that is known dates from considerably later. However, Reichel-Dolmatoff did note stirrup-spout vessels among the Noanamä Indians who occupy the interior between the coast and the San Juan River (Reichel-Dolmatoff 1960: Lamina XVI, 4, and 5), although there are no archaeological antecedents in this region for this form. Given the worldwide rarity of the stirrup spout it seems likely that these examples are derived from nearby prehistoric traditions such as Machalilla(Meggers, Evans, and Estrada 1965: Plate 155), which also used this form. Interestingly, the Noanamä also use a bottle with two spouts separated by a handle (Reichel-Dolmatoff 1960: Lamina VIII), which is conceptually very close to the double-spout-and-bridge bottle found in the Isnos Phase of San Agustin, and there is also a spout from an unknown form in Momil Id (Reichel-Dolmatoff and Reichel-Dolmatoff 1956: 212). These arguments for the relationships among the various members of the Carinated Bowl Tradition in the Intermediate Area rest entirely upon the presumption that the tradition originated in northwestern South America. The assumption may well be false because a number of ceramic complexes from eastern South America are best understood as members of the Carinated Bowl Tradition. These include the Yasuni Phase from eastern Ecuador, the early and late Tutischcainyo complexes of eastern Peru, and the Saladoid series from the lower Orinoco River in Venezuela (Lathrap 1970: 112). If we make some presumptions in accord with the age-area hypothesis, the center of diffusion of the Carinated Bowl Tradition could be somewhere in the Tropical Forest. Present evidence suggests that this possibility is at least as likely as an origin in the Intermediate Area. In any case, maritime travel is not indicated as a major factor.

Formative-Period

Interaction

Spheres

in the Intermediate

Area

219

The possibility of ancient relationships between northern Colombia and Guanacaste Province, Costa Rica, is suggested by a comparison of Momil Negra Incisa (Reichel-DolmatofF and Reichel-Dolmatoff 1956: 146) with Ballena Incise of the Catalina Phase (Baudez 1967: 72). The two types share vessel forms, undulating lines between incised lines, and white pigment in the incisions, although the Momil type uses cross-hatching as a zone filler while diagonal hachure is used by the Catalina Phase type. This comparison suggests that at least certain aspects of the Catalina Phase may be much earlier than is proposed by Baudez.

The Rancho Peludo (Dabajuroid)

Tradition

The third early ceramic tradition in northwestern South America has not yet been adequately described nor do the radiocarbon dates reported by Rouse and Cruxent (1963a) seem to justify its placement prior to 2500 B.C. Nevertheless, even the most cautious reading of the evidence does suggest that at least some part of Rancho Peludo does belong to the Formative Period. Both the vessel forms and decorative attributes of the Rancho Peludo material are very different from those found in the Puerto Hormiga and Carinated Bowl traditions. Rancho Peludo vessel forms include jars with slightly flaring necks and direct rims, simple silhouette bowls, sometimes with pedestal bases, and comales. Decorative techniques are apparently limited to fabric impressing on the lower part of vessels and applique strips which might be further embellished with punctuations or slashes (Rouse and Cruxent 1963b). If the common use of zone filling by the Carinated Bowl and Puerto Hormiga traditions indicates a common cultural heritage as so many have suggested, it is manifest that the Rancho Peludo development was entirely separate. Also of considerable interest in the Rancho Peludo materials is the presence of comales which have a widespread South American association with the preparation of bitter manioc which, given its low protein content, must be coupled with an adequate protein resource. Most South American groups who rely on manioc supplement it with fish protein, as the inhabitants of the Rancho Peludo site may have done. Certainly there is little evidence of the shellfish resources exploited on coastal Ecuador and on the lower Magdalena. At this early date game might also have provided sufficient protein. Comales also appear in the Momil sequence, associated with the earliest levels. At Momil, fish resources also seem the most likely protein supplement.

220

T H O M A S P. M Y E R S

The Pacific Coast

Tradition

The Pacific coast from lower central America to Ecuador is not generally considered as a unit, but there are enough common elements to suggest that the area as a whole belonged to a single interaction sphere during the Formative Period. Within this interaction sphere two generalized horizons can be established: the Scarified Horizon appears to be established for the Chiriqui Gulf and for Cupica. Evidence from coastal Ecuador, the Diquis Delta and the lower Tempisque Valley also attests to the relative antiquity of the Scarified Horizon although it has not yet been identified as a separate component at most sites. One major difficulty with this preliminary formulation is that it covers a very large span of time and a very large area with only a very little data, much of which is difficult to evaluate. Aside from the difficulties created by the virtual absence of radiocarbon dating and the very small number of sites reported, many of the sites that have been reported appear to be multiphase sites in which the various components have not been separated. Such problem sites include Panama Viejo (Biese 1964), Taboga 1, Taboguilla 1 and Taboguilla 2 (Stirling and Stirling 1964b), southern Veraguas (Lothrop 1950) and the Diquis Delta (Lothrop 1963). Other materials such as the Concepcion and Aguas Buenas complexes from the Chiriqui Gulf, Venado Beach and Lake Madden and the Chouera Phase are inadequately described. In fact, the only materials that are adequately described are on the periphery of the area: the lower Tempisque Valley (Baudez 1967), Cupica (Linne 1929: ReichelDolmatoff 1961) and Valdivia/Machalilla phases of coastal Ecuador (Meggers, Evans, and Estrada 1965).4 Given the shortcomings of the data available it is impossible to make any reliable statements about vessel form although Haberland (1962: 386) does indicate a shift in vessel form between the Concepcion Complex (Scarified Horizon) and the Aguas Buenas Complex (Zoned Bichrome Horizon). In the face of Haberland's observation I am still inclined to suspect that the two horizons are related. Decorative elements which are diagnostic of each of Haberland's complexes do occur together at some sites. For example, an applique animal figure is found on a scarified pottery drum in southern Veraguas (Lothrop 1950: Figure 68a); and another applique animal figure is associated with material that Haberland (1969: 238) identifies as "Scarified" at Taboguilla 1 (Stirling and Stirling 1964b: Plate 68a). 4

Other relevant materials are reported in the Panama Archaeologist been able to examine this journal.

but I have not

Formative

Period Interaction

Spheres in the Intermediate

Area

221

The fundamental paper in the definition of the Scarified Horizon is Haberland's (1962) definition of Scarified Ware. His definition is based largely on materials from the Solano burial site, apparently identified with the Concepcion Complex on the Gulf of Chiriqui. Into this definition he is able to fit most of the materials described by Holmes (1888) who coined the term Scarified Ware and by MacCurdy (1911) who added to the number of vessels included in that category. It should be emphasized, however, that Haberland's definition is based heavily upon materials drawn from a single burial site which may be expected to cover only a portion of the time span which will ultimately be alloted to the Scarified Horizon. Moreover, if the Scarified Horizon covers any appreciable area its characteristics may be expected to vary in time as well as in space so the definition of the horizon necessarily will be somewhat broader than that of the ware. THE SCARIFIED HORIZON.

Throughout its extent the Scarified Horizon is characterized by the liberal use of deeply incised lines, typically covering a substantial portion of the vessel surface. In other cases, the incised designs may be limited to the upper part of the body wall - possibly a late characteristic. The most common organizational pattern is the splitting of the vessel surface into vertical decorative panels with (at least) paired vertical lines. Frequently the zones between these paired lines are filled with diagonal incisions in a manner to render the characteristic fern design (compare: Holmes 1888: Figures 122, 123; Stirling and Stirling 1964a: Figure 17; Meggers, Evans, and Estrada 1965: Plate 76). In other instances this zone may be left blank, filled with red paint or with horizontal lines (see Table 2). Another common motif of the Scarified Horizon is the placing of closely spaced vertical lines around the exterior of the vessel. Most commonly the space between these lines is left blank, though occasionally it may be filled with horizontal dashes or with horizontal cross hachure (see Table 2). Closely spaced diagonal lines seem to be a variation of the vertical line motif. Similarly, the space between the diagonal lines may be left blank or filled with diagonal cross hachure. Typically associated with the vertical panel and vertical line motifs is a horizontal panel commonly outlined with incised lines, applique strips or, less commonly, by abrupt changes in the vessel wall. This horizontal panel may be filled with blank space, diagonal hachure or with chevrons (see Table 2). The fourth commonly associated motif is a series of multiline arcs executed with incised lines or applique strips. In the latter case the fillets are usually embellished with punctuations or notches. This summary of design organizational characteristics by no means exhausts the variation to be found in pottery belonging to the Scarified

222

T H O M A S P. M Y E R S

Table 2.

Organizational design patterns of the Scarified Horizon C.

I.

II.

III.

IV.

V.

Field of vertical lines a. Incised b. Applique fillets 1. Blank space 2. Red paint 3. Fern motif 4. Horizontal lines Closely spaced vertical lines a. Incised b. Applique fillets 1. Blank space 2. Horizontal cross hachure 3. Horizontal dashes Horizontal band a. Incised b. Vessel angle c. Applique fillets 1. Blank space 2. Diagonal hachure 3. Chevrons Concentric arcs a. Incised b. Applique fillets Diagonal incised lines 1. Blank space 2. Diagonal cross hachure

C.: Concepcion V.: Veraguas T.I: Taboguilla 1

T.2: Taboguilla 2 E . L . : El Limon

V.

T.l

T.2

E . L . C.I

X X

X

X

X

X X X X

X

V.C

X X

X X

X

X

X X

X

X

X

X

X

X X X

X X X

X

X

X

X

X

X X X X X X

X

X X

X X

X

X X

X

X X

X X X

X X

X

X

X X

X X

X X

C.I: Cupica I V.C: Valdivia C

Horizon but it does seem to cover the bulk of the materials associated with it. While the evidence presented strongly suggests that there was a shared decorative tradition from northern Panama to the Guayas Basin the case cannot be proved until more materials are described in detail. What is impressive about this formulation is not the number of blank spaces or apparent divergences among sites but rather that so many organizational patterns are so widely shared. A major criticism which could be leveled at my compilation is the inclusion of certain materials from Valdivia C while others, deemed to be more characteristic of the subphase, are ignored. In response, it is worth while to point out that Valdivia Incised, which shows the greatest similarity to other materials of the Scarified Horizon, is in fact the dominant decorated type of Valdivia C. Brushed decoration, also important in Valdivia C, appears at Taboguilla 1 and 2 and in Cupica II. Shards reminiscent of Valdivia Excised also appear in the very small sample from Cupica II. In short, in spite of the many limitations on comparison because of the incompleteness of the data,

Formative-Period

Interaction

Spheres in the Intermediate

Area

223

Table 3. Ceramic traits of the Zoned Bichrome Horizon in the southern part of the Intermediate Area Archaeological phase or area C. D.D. A.B. P.V. T.l

Ceramic trait 1. Red slip ware 2. Red lipped ware 3. Rectinlinear incised decoration with zoned painting 4. Curvilinear incised decoration with zoned painting 5. Triangular incised zone, with incised circle 6. Line of punctates between incised lines 7. Fantastic animal 8. Applique animals 9. Applique circle and dot eye with incised circle 10. Horizontal strap handles 11. Broad lug handles C.: Catalina D.D.: Diquis Delta A.B.: Aguas Buenas P.V.: Panama Viejo T . l : Taboga 1

x x

x

x x

x

x x

x x

Mach. Chor. Mal.

x V

x

χ

χ

x x

x

χ

x

x R

C.III

χ

R

χ χ

x

V

x

x

χ

R

R

χ

χ

χ

χ

χ

χ χ

χ

χ χ

χ

χ

x

x

χ

x

x

x

χ χ

R

C.III: Cupica III Mach.: Machalilla Chor.: Chorrera Mai.: Malambo

χ

x: present in quantity R: rare V: variation

the evidence is at least strongly suggestive of long-term interaction along the Pacific Coast during the Scarified Horizon. As a chronological marker in the Intermediate Area, Zoned Bichrome was first identified as a period in Costa Rican archaeology where it is believed to have been closely related to developments taking place to the north (Coe and Baudez 1961). The concern of this paper is to show that related developments were also taking place in Panama, Colombia, and even as far south as Ecuador. Given the geographical, and probably also the temporal, spread from which these materials are drawn it seems most appropriate to consider these interrelationships as a horizon rather than as a period. Ceramic traits characteristic of the Zoned Bichrome Horizon in the southern Intermediate Area are summarized in Table 3. Diagnostic of this horizon is the use of zones of red paint alternated with unpainted zones frequently filled with punctuations. Often these zones are long THE ZONED

BICHROME

HORIZON.

224

THOMAS

P.

MYERS

and narrow in which case the unpainted zone may be filled with a single file of punctuations. This particular combination is found in all the complexes for which there is adequate documentation with the exception of the Catalina Phase in northern Costa Rica for which there is very complete documentation. Hence, it seems likely that the file of punctates between incised lines is a southern characteristic. Red slip ware is associated with Zoned Bichrome pottery at all of the sites; and a red lipped brown ware is also universal on Pacific sites. Its rarity at Panama Viejo may have chronological significance. An incised fantastic animal motif also appears to be a southern or south-central characteristic. In addition to its occurrence at Panama Viejo and Cupica, it is found at Venado Beach and Madden Lake (Biese 1964) as well as on the Pearl Islands (Linne 1929). It may be generically related to the applique animals found in the Aguas Buenas Complex, the Diquis Delta and the Catalina Phase, all in the northern part of the area. But, from Managua (Nicaragua) comes a pottery drum on which rectilinear incised decoration is associated with an incised animal whose lines are reminiscent of the fantastic animal from the south (Lothrop 1926: Plate CXXXIVb). Often associated with the fantastic animal is an applique pellet punctate eye surrounded by an incised circle. This motif is also found in the Aguas Buenas Complex, where it is associated with a curvilinear incised design, possibly representing a parrot, on the rim of a bowl (Haberland 1955: Figure 6). The motif is also associated with the fantastic animal design from Lake Managua, mentioned above. The facts summarized in Table 3 also point up that while the Machalilla Phase has certain characteristics in common with the Zoned Bichrome Horizon, the affiliations are not really very strong. Perhaps the Chorrera Phase (Estrada 1958) is a better candidate although most of the pertinent details have not yet been published. Moving away from the Pacific Coast, the Malambo Phase of northern Colombia (Angulo Valdes 1962) also has a remarkable number of traits which have been considered characteristic of the Zoned Bichrome Horizon (Table 3). These include rectilinear incised bichrome decoration; applique animals; the pellet punctate eye; the triangular zone with punctate fill and the file of punctates between incised lines. Additionally, the curvilinear incised designs characteristic of the fantastic animal from the Pacific Coast are quite at home in the North Coast ceramic tradition which developed out of the Puerto Hormiga Phase. These designs can also be compared favorably with certain of the adornos, figurines and tripod legs from the Diquis Delta (Lothrop 1963). Similar use of curvilinear decoration also occurs in the Aguas Buenas Complex (Haberland 1955) and in Panama Viejo (Biese 1964).

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Spheres in the Intermediate

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225

Biese indicates that traits characteristic of Panama V i e j o extend across the Isthmus in the vicinity of the Canal Zone. Although in part he is probably referring to polychrome traits also found at Panama V i e j o , some of the Madden Lake material clearly fits the pattern of the Zoned Bichrome Horizon. Further, some of the material illustrated by Linne (1929) f r o m the Caribbean Coast may help to fill the gap. On the other hand, material from the Sinti River (Reichel-Dolmatoff and Reichel-Dolmatoff 1956; 1957) does not look particularly similar to materials of the Zoned Bichrome Horizon although Reichel-Dolmatoff draws certain comparisons between them (1962: 309-310).

DISCUSSION In the foregoing pages certain hypotheses have been made about the interrelationships of a series of Formative Period archaeological cultures in the Intermediate Area. These hypotheses have been made from the standpoint of a particular theoretical position which emphasized the evidence of vessel form, decorative field and decorative designs, in that order. In several instances the conclusions reached are at variance with those attained through other theoretical formulations. Discussion can take place on two levels: (1) the validity of the theoretical position; and (2) the appropriateness of the material utilized to reach the conclusions. Additionally, new information can be brought to bear on the question at hand. The data which can be brought to bear on an hypothesis of long standing cultural interaction throughout the Intermediate Area are frankly not very good nor was the reporting of them designed to be utilized f o r such an hypothesis. In the case of the Malambo materials, for example, Angulo V aides' argument was designed specifically to demonstrate Malambo's relationship to the Barrancoid Series of Venezuela. Briefly mentioned materials, collateral to his argument, provide the best evidence for relationships with lower Central America. The chronological implications of the comparisons made in this paper (see Table 4) are in some cases quite different from those that have been proposed by other authors. The rationale f o r my placement has been argued extensively in the preceding pages but a word about the rationale of competing chronologies is appropriate. Considering first Reichel-Dolmatoff's column for the Pacific Coast (1965: Figure 5) it will be observed that Cupica is placed about 1200 A.D. This placement is probably based upon a radiocarbon date of 1227± 100 A.D. for the Cupica II (Reichel-Domatoff 1962:331-332). On the comparative evidence cited above, I reject the date. I am unable to identify Reichel-DomatofTs Mataje phases from the published

226

THOMAS

Table 4. Area

P.

MYERS

Tentative chronology of some Formative Period cultures in the Intermediate

Years Coastal B.C. Ecuador

Pacific Colombia

Pacific Panama

Cupica III

Zoned Bichrome

Pacific Costa Rica

Lower Magdalena

Sinu River

Malambo

Tierra Alta

0 500

Zoned Bichrome

Engoroy

Momil

Cupica II Chorrera (Sarigua)

1000 Machalilla

Barlovento

1500 Cupica I Valdivia D

Canapote

Early Momil I

2000 Valdivia C Valdivia Β

Scarified Monagrillo

2500 Valdivia A 3000

Puerto Hormiga

literature although surely they are involved in the Tumaco material reported by Cubillos (1955). Reichel-Dolmatoff states that characteristics of Mataje I include double-spout-and-bridge vessels, tall tripods and bowls with bulbous mammiform supports. The last two characteristics are found in the lower Tempisque Valley, Costa Rica, but are apparently not found together until the Ciruelas Phase (Baudez 1967), which follows the Catalina Phase considered in this paper. If Reichel-DolmatofT's dates and their associations hold up, the mammiform supports from southern Pacific Colombia are earlier than those from southern Mesoamerica. It is not possible to specify the relationships between Mataje I and Cupica II or III at this time. In any case there were only nineteen vessels from Cupica III, but included among them is a double-spouted vessel. I do not believe that there are any other serious differences between Reichel-Dolmatoff's chronological scheme and the one presented in this paper. The principal differences between Baudez' chronological scheme (1970: 224-225) and my scheme revolve around the relative placement of the Zoned Bichrome and Scarified Horizons. I find Haberland's argument (1969) convincing in this regard. Further, there is the evidence from Taboga and Taboguilla Islands, where materials belonging to the Zoned Bichrome and the Scarified Horizon are found on different sites. Additionally, there is the evidence from the Ecuadorian coast which seems to confirm the relative placement proposed by

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Haberland. There is one radiocarbon date which may be in conflict with the early placement of the Scarified Horizon in Panama based upon comparative evidence from ValdiviaC. However, Haberland has questioned this date on what seem to be good and proper grounds (1969: 236). Hence the date can be ignored. Following the logic of the argument it would seem that the most ancient pottery tradition in the Intermediate Area was a neckless olla tradition whose earliest member is the Puerto Hormiga Complex on the Caribbean coast of Colombia, where it had a long in situ development. At first the materials are principally associated with shell mounds, indicating a reliance on marine resources, but even at the Puerto Hormiga site there are stone tools which are presumed to indicate the exploitation of the land's resources as well. In keeping with the marine orientation it is reasonable to suppose that the bearers of this tradition moved along the coast in a manner analogous to that of the Yahgan of Tierra del Fuego. That they somehow crossed the Isthmus of Panama can be explained best by reference to their exploitation of the land's resources. Such overland mobility is surprising only in view of the emphasis which has been placed on sea contact and on mollusk resources. The question of cultural relationships between the Puerto Hormiga tradition and Barrancoid materials from the Orinoco and the Amazon has been accepted as a valid research hypothesis by even the most cautious investigators. It is considerably more dubious that the San Pedro and Valdivia A ceramics should be included within the same ceramic tradition because there are profound differences in the character of vessel decoration. If all of these materials are related it is most probably through as yet undiscovered archaeological complexes, possibly somewhere east of the Andes as Lathrap (1970) has suggested. Present evidence suggests that, after the neckless olla tradition had been introduced to the Ecuadorian coast, carinated vessels were developed or introduced. Whether these were acquired through local innovations or external influences, possibly even from Japan, cannot be answered from present evidence. It is at least clear that even in Valdivia A there was considerably more variation in vessel form than was to be found on the north coast of Colombia until much later. Likewise, the vessel forms of the Monagrillo Culture are considerably more varied than those of northern Colombia. It is also of interest to note that evidence of maize in Panama dates from about 2000 B.C. (Bartlett, et al. 1969) and that maize is also associated with the Valdivia Phase (Zevallos Menendez 1966-1971). Nevertheless it is difficult to identify ceramic similarities between Monagrillo and Valdivia. At least by Valdivia C it is possible to note numerous decorative

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parallels between coastal Ecuador and the Scarified Ware of Panama. Scarified Ware reaches at least as far south as the Gulf of Panama; and Valdivia Phase sites are scattered along the coast to the north of the Santa Elena Peninsula. Cupica I cannot really be considered a good intermediary between Valdivia C and the Scarified Ware of Panama. If Cupica I belongs to the Scarified Horizon at all it must be quite late, after the deep incisions which characterize the horizon had already been abandoned, but before the spread of the Zoned-Decorated Horizon. Yet, Cupica I seems to retain certain concepts of design organization which unified ceramics of the Scarified Horizon, hence my inclusion of it within the Scarified Horizon. As pointed out above, there are a number of discontinuities between Valdivia C and Valdivia D. In many ways Valdivia C is a better antecedent for the Machalilla Phase than is Valdivia D. Yet it is precisely Valdivia D which is most similar to Momil la, at least in vessel form. Momil la is also characterized by zones filled with cross-hachure as are the Valdivia and Machalilla phases. I do not think that it is too risky to hypothesize that the Sinu River and the coast of Ecuador belonged to the same interaction sphere by 1000 B.C. Again, we find that two prehistoric cultures which are apparently closely related are found on different oceans. One could conceive of a route up the Daule River, where Valdivia sites have been identified, through the mountains and down the Cauca drainage. As yet, however, there is not one whit of evidence from the interior which could be used to support such a hypothesis. Although prehistoric cultures of this timeframe have not yet been identified from the interior of Colombia, the earliest known cultures from San Agustin and Tierradentro are not particularly similar to either Valdivia D or to Momil la. The question must be left open, though on present evidence the coastal and riverine route through the San Juan and Atrato drainages to the Caribbean coast, then up the river to San Agustin seems most likely (see Map 1). The Rancho Peludo Tradition appears to remain isolated from the other early ceramic traditions. According to the analysis of Rouse and Cruxent (1963 b), Rancho Peludo is the earliest member of the Dabajuroid Series which enjoyed a long-standing isolation in the Maracaibo Basin throughout the perious under discussion in this paper. Mention should also be made of the early relationships between the Intermediate Area and the centers of civilization in Mesoamerica and the Central Andes. While the full range of evidence cannot be considered within the confines of this paper it is worth mentioning that ceramics appear considerably later in these nuclear areas than in the Intermediate Area. Nevertheless, the earliest ceramic complexes in both areas share the tecomate and the flat bottom bowl as their

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principal vessel forms (Lathrap 1966) although these forms are not prominent among early ceramic industries in the Intermediate Area. Yet, according to the standards set forth above, we should postulate underlying cultural relationships between these two nuclear areas. Four possible explanations can be suggested. First, the evidence from the Intermediate Area may be inadequate. Second, there might be a sea contact between the nuclear areas which entirely bypassed the Intermediate Area. Third, independent invention is always a possibility. Fourth, the two ceramic traditions might have developed independently out of a common preceramic predecessor. At the moment I am inclined to favor the fourth hypothesis. Earlier in this paper it was observed that early projectile point forms followed the same order of appearance in Mesoamerica and the Central Andes. In the Tehuacan sequence there is evidence of a flat-bottomed stone bowl and tecomate tradition prior to the appearance of ceramics in which these same forms are found (MacNeish,

230

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Nelken-Terner, and Johnson 1967: 114-118). In the Central Andes spherical stone bowls are sporadically found on preceramic sites dating as early as 6000 B.C. A flat-bottomed specimen in the Estero Complex is aberrant (Richardson 1969: 56, 134). Flat-bottomed stone bowls are associated with Formative pottery in the north highlands of Peru (Lathrap 1970: 108-109). In conclusion, I believe that the evidence already available is sufficient to postulate several distinct ceramic traditions in the Intermediate Area prior to 2000 B.C. The cultures associated with at least two of these traditions, Puerto Hormiga and Carinated Bowl, were in all likelihood adapted to maritime, riverine, and land resources because it is only in this way that we can readily account for their appearance on both oceans. Further, evidence cited by Lathrap (1970) suggests that both traditions were also spreading in the Amazon Basin by 2000 B.C. The relationships between the Scarified/Zoned Bichrome Tradition and the other two are not clear owing to the apparent time differential and to the fact that the earliest materials have not yet been adequately described. Nevertheless, it is at least apparent that it is not necessary to invoke long distance sea contacts to account for the similarities between the coast of Guatemala and the coast of Ecuador.

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Recherches archeologiques au Costa Rica. Travaux et Memoires de l'lnstitut des Hautes Etudes de l'Amerique Latine 18. Paris. The ancient civilization of Central America. London: Barrie and Jenkins.

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Pre-Valdivia occupations on the southwest coast of Ecuador. American Antiquity 37: 548-551.

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1962 Costa Rican archaeology and Mesoamerica. Southwestern Journal of Anthropology 18: 170-183. 1965 The jaguar's children: Pre-classic central Mexico. New York: Museum of Primitive Art. C O E , M I C H A E L D . , C L A U D E F. B A U D E Z

1961 The Zoned Bichrome Period in northwestern Costa Rica. American Antiquity 26: 505-515. C O E , M I C H A E L D . , K E N T V. F L A N N E R Y

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1960 The changing level of the sea. Scientific American 202: 70-79. FLANNERY, KENT V.

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F L A N N E R Y , K E N T V . , Α. V . KIRKBY, M . J. KIRKBY, A . W . W I L L I A M S

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G O N Z A L E Z , A L B E R T O REX

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HABERLAND, WOLFGANG

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1962 The Scarified Ware and the early cultures of Chiriqui (Panama). Akten des 34. Internationalen Amerikanistenkongresses, Wien, 381-389. 1969 "Early phases and their relationship in southern Central America," in Verhandlungen des XXXVIII. Internationalen Amerikanistenkongresses, Stuttgart und München, volume one, 229-242. H I L L , BETSY

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"Proposed seriation of Valdivia pottery." Unpublished manuscript (cited by Bischof and Gamboa 1972).

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1888 Ancient art of the Province of Chiriqui, Colombia. Sixth Annual Report of the Smithsonian Institution: 13-187. L A N G E , FREDERICK W . , KRISTIN K. S C H E I D E N H E L M

1972 The salvage archaeology of a Zoned Bichrome cemetery, Costa Rica. American Antiquity 37: 240-245. LEVI-STRAUSS, CLAUDE

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1929 Darien in the past: the archaeology of eastern Panama and northwestern Colombia. Goteborgs kunglige Vetenskaps- ach Vitterhetssamhalles Handlingar. Femte foljden, Ser. Α., Band 1 (3). L O N G , S T A N L E Y V . , J U A N A . Y A N G Ü E Z B.

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MACNEISH, RICHARD S., A. NELKEN-TERNER, I. W . JOHNSON

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Ceramic sequences at Tierradentro and San Agustin, Colombia. American Antiquity 31: 66-73.

REICHEL-DOLMATOFF, GERARDO

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Excavaciones en los conchales de la costa de Barlovento. Revista Colombiana de Antropologia 4: 247-272. 1960 Notas etnograficas sobre los indios del Choco. Revista Colombiana de Antropologia 9: 73-158. 1961 Puerto Hormiga: un complejo prehistorico marginal de Colombia. Revista Colombiana de Antropologia 10: 347-354. 1962 Una nueva fecha de carbono-14 de Colombia. Revista Colombiana de Antropologia 11: 331-332. 1965a Excavationes arqueologicas en Puerto Hormiga (Departmento de Bolivar). Ediciones de la Universidad de los Andes, Antropologia 2.

1965b Columbia. New York: Praeger. 1968 " D e s a n a : simbolismo de los Indios Tukano del Vaupes." Universidad de los Andes, Bogota. 1972a San Agustin: a culture of Colombia. London: Thames and Hudson. 1972b " T h e feline motif in prehistoric San Augustin culture," in The cult of the feline. Edited by Elizabeth P. Benson. Washington: Trustees f o r Harvard University. REICHEL-DOLMATOFF, GERARDO, ALICIA REICHEL-DOLMATOFF

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RICHARDSON, JAMES B.

1969

The preceramic sequence and Pleistocene and Post-Pleistocene climatic change in northwestern Peru. Ann Arbor: University Microfilms.

ROUSE, IRVING, JOSE M. CRUXENT

1963a Some recent radiocarbon dates for western Venezuela. America Antiquity 28: 537-540. 1963b Venezuelan archaeology. New Haven: Yale University Press. STIRLING, M A T T H E W W . , MARRION STIRLING

1964a El Limdn, an early tomb site in Coclö Province, Panama. Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 191: 247-254. 1964b The archaeology of Taboga, Urabä and Taboguilla Islands, Panama Bureau of American Ethnology Bulletin 191: 285-348. STONE, DORIS

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1970 Pacific coast of Mexico and Central America: San Bias to the Panama Canal. Map No. N.O. 527. WAGNER, ERIKA

1967

The prehistory and ethnohistory of the Carache area in western Venezuela. Yale University Publications in Anthropology 71.

WAGNER, ERIKA, C. SCHUBERT

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Artifacts, Venezuelan Andes, and possible raw material source. Science 175: 888-890.

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1962 The early great styles and the rise of the pre-Columbian civilizations. American Anthropologist 64: 1-14. W I L L E Y , GORDON R . , CHARLES R. McGIMSEY

1954

The Monagrillo culture of Panama. Papers of the Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology 49(2).

ZEVALLOS Μ Ε Ν έ Ν ϋ Ε Ζ , CARLOS

1966-1971 La agricultura en el formativo temprano del Ecuador (cultura Valdivia). Guayaquil: Casa de la Cultura Ecuatoriana.

Ridged-Field Excavations Central Orinoco Llanos,

in the Venezuela

W I L L I A M M. D E N E V A N and A L B E R T A Z U C C H I

Remnants of pre-Columbian ridged fields, which provided well-drained surfaces for cultivation during flooding, have been described for several regions in South America, including eastern Bolivia, northern Colombia, portions of coastal Surinam, Peru, and Ecuador, and several Andean basins (Denevan 1970). We discuss here the preliminary results of the first such fields, located in Venezuela, to be examined archaeologically. In view of the widespread occurrence of relic fields in seasonally inundated lands elsewhere, the Llanos Bajos of Venezuela seemed a likely place for further discoveries. Historical evidence was encouraging but unfortunately vague as to location. Juan de Castellanos (1955: I, 539) said that in the sixteenth century there were labranzas de viejos camellones in association with causeways in the llanos. Padre Gumilla (1945: 430-^t31) observed that in the eighteenth century tribes in the llanos still cultivated savanna using macanas [spades; wide-ended digging sticks] to throw up earth on both sides of a trench in wet places. The grass was covered up with the excavated earth, and then maize, manioc, other tubers, and peppers were planted. In the State of Barinas, previous archaeological work has turned up other types of pre-Columbian earthworks (mounds and causeways); Cruxent (1966: 19) suggested that one of the functions of the causeways may have been agricultural (see also Zucchi 1972a). Initial inquiries about ridged fields and air photo examinations proved fruitless until 1968, when J. H. Terry of the Inter-American Geodetic The project is supported by the National Science Foundation, the University of Wisconsin, Madison, and the Institute Venezolano de Investigaciones Cientificas, Caracas.

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ALBERTA

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Survey (personal communication) noted apparent ridged fields on air photos of southeastern Barinas. Examination of the photos confirmed the probable artificial nature of the ridges and led to the present study. Field research on ecology and archaeology was carried out in February and April of 1972, and additional work was conducted in the spring of 1973. The Barinas ridged fields are located 20 kilometers north-northeast of El Sarnan on the Rio Apure and 120 kilometers west-northwest of

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the city of San Fernando de Apure (Map 1). They are all on Hato La Candelaria and most are near Cano Ventosidad. The Hato is one of several large cattle ranches in the Sabanas de Mata de Barbara in the region of Cano Guanare Viejo, a tributary of the Rio Apure. The ridged fields only number between 500 and 525, a small fraction of the numbers found in other lowland savannas in South America. No other ridged fields have been verified to date in Venezuela.

LAS S A B A N A S DE MATA DE B A R B A R A 1 The savanna/forest landscape of Hato La Candelaria and Cano Ventosidad and the locations of many of the ridged fields are shown in Map 2. The entire region of Las Sabanas de Mata de Barbara is subject to inundation during the wet season, but to variable depths and durations. Three main types of terrain can be differentiated: monte [forest], sabana [savanna], and estero [swamp]. Most of the highest land is covered by a low, usually secondary, semi-deciduous forest, including gallery forest (calceta) along the natural levees of the canos [streams]. Small patches of forest within the savanna are called matas, including some on the raised surfaces of former settlement sites and some others occurring as linear strips on top of ridged fields. Further west there are larger sectors of forest (montaha). Forest invariably is on terrain that is relatively well drained and is subject to flooding only briefly during periods of highest water. The savanna is dominated by grasses (species of Panicum, Paspalum, Trachypogon, and Sporobolus), with a few scattered pyrophytic trees. The savanna is now burned off regularly and has been for a long time. However, while the savanna undoubtedly has been expanded at the cost of forest, savanna is probably natural in the zones of marked seasonal flooding alternating with seasonal drought, most woody species being unable to adapt to both conditions. The savanna with the ridged field remnants is subject to inundation, with depths averaging between one to two feet for three to five months, with peak flooding between July 1st and October 1st. The esteros are on the lowest ground where there is standing water well into the dry season or even all year long. 2 The esteros in the Sabanas de Mata de Barbara are dominated by grasses and sedges, with no trees, although other esteros in the llanos have Mauritia palms. Analysis of the savanna soil adjacent to Cano Ventosidad shows 1

For a description of the terrain, soils, vegetation, climate, and agricultural potential of the savannas of the State of Barinas, see Venezuela (1957). 2 The climatic dry season (months with less than 100 millimeters each) is from November through April. The total annual rainfall at San Fernando de Apure, the nearest recording station with a long record, is 1,450 millimeters.

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it to be nearly a Solonetz or Black Alkali soil, with a high level of exchangeable sodium (110-330 pounds per acre), a low topsoil pH (5.0-5.2) but alkaline subsoil (7.5-8.0), high silt ( 3 9 ^ 4 percent) and clay (29-44 percent) fractions, and moderate levels of organic matter (36 tons per acre), potassium (25 pounds per acre), phosphate (300 pounds per acre), and calcium (1,100 pounds per acre). Thus, the soil has fairly good nutrient levels, but high sodium content may cause toxicity, and a very hard, blocky Β horizon makes the soil difficult to work. 3 The levee soil of Cano Ventosidad is even more fertile than that of the savanna, but more important is its superior physical structure and lower sodium levels (23-69 pounds per acre). It is a very friable silt loam (25 percent sand, 58 percent silt, and only 17 percent clay). Organic content is 65 tons per acre, potassium 130 pounds per acre, phosphate 275 pounds per acre, calcium 4,400 pounds per acre, and the pH is neutral (6.6-7.1). Animal life is extremely rich. Deer were seen almost daily during excavations in the dry season, and capybara and babo [caiman] were numerous in the wet esteros. Other game includes iguana, peccary, armadillo, turtles, tapir, and monkeys. Game is concentrated on the high ground during the long flood period and in and around the esteros during the dry season, so that hunting by aboriginal people would have been simplified and profitable. Fish are plentiful in the streams and on the savanna during flooding, and bird life is extremely diverse and plentiful throughout the year. Thus, the Sabanas de Mata de Barbara were potentially very attractive to aboriginal settlement because of relatively fertile soil (compared to the highly leached, tropical red soils of the South American rain forests), rich wildlife resources, and ease of movement. The levee soils are of limited extent, however, and the savanna soils are subject to lengthy flooding and have a poor physical structure. Nevertheless, at least one group of pre-Columbian people resolved these problems through the construction of large, raised fields.

THE RELIC FIELDS The ridged fields on Hato Candelaria are situated at right angles to Cano Ventosidad and other nearby streams, running down the gentle backslopes of the natural levees. As shown in Map 2, the majority extend from the edge of the Ventosidad gallery forest across the 3

Soil analyses were conducted by the Soil/Plant Analysis Lab of the University of Wisconsin and soil descriptions were provided by Professors Gerhard B. Lee and Richard B. Corey.

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savanna to the upper edge of Estero Gaujaral along a gradient dropping from about 68 to 62 meters elevation. Thus, flood water from the stream flows between the artificial ridges toward the lower ground of the estero. At Cano Ventosidad the ridges disappear 50 to 100 meters from the stream, the ends of the fields being buried by sediment. At the other (southern) end, the fields terminate before the deeper portion of the estero is reached. The length of the ridges is considerable, with many between 1,000 and 1,500 meters. The ridges are arranged in pairs, with a ditch between the ridges in each pair and open savanna between pairs (see Plate 1). The sides facing the ditches are the steepest, while the back sides slope gradually onto the savanna. A measured sample of 16 ridges and 9 ditches gave an average of 15.5 meters (range 6.7-25.3 meters) for the width of the ridges, 4.4 meters (range 3.7-6.7 meters) for the width of the ditches, and 48.8 meters (range 26.2-59.4 meters) for the average width of the space between pairs of ridges. Present relief from ridge top to ditch bottom ranges between 25 and 75 centimeters, but the depths of the ditches have been considerably reduced by sediment accumulation since the ridges were constructed. For the same reason, the general level of the savanna relative to the base of the ridges has risen an undetermined amount. The total area of raised field surface is roughly 15.5 square kilometers.

RIDGED FIELD EXCAVATION A pair of ridged fields and the intervening ditch were excavated in 1972, with hopes of determining structure, function, antiquity, and cultural associations. A trench was dug 22 meters from ridge crest to ridge crest, with a width of 1.5 meters and a maximum depth of 2.4 meters. Soil samples were taken and analyzed for the different horizons of the west ridge and the ditch, as well as from the adjacent savanna and from the natural levee of Cano Ventosidad at the north end of the two ridges. Figure 1 shows the excavation profile. The profile and the data on soil chemistry and structure indicate several important things: 1. A savanna soil profile buried by a non-savanna soil confirms the artificiality of the ridges. 2. The original base level of the west ridge, if correctly identified, is 1.69 meters below the ridge top and 1.02 meters below the present surface of the ditch. If the ditch was not deeply excavated, as seems the case, but is essentially the space between ridges, then 1.02 meters of sediment has accumulated since the ridges were built. About two-thirds of the ridge has been buried, and, therefore, other ridges

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Plate 1. Aerial view of ridged fields at Cano Ventosidad. Pairs ofridges (light-colored grass) are separated by ditches (darker strips)

constructed at the same time in the central and western llanos might be completely buried by now. 3. If the ditch was not dug considerably below the original base level of the ridges, then the quantity of fill material in the ridges could not have come from the ditch. The alternative sources are the general savanna soil or the natural levee of Cano Ventosidad. Analyses of soils from the three possible sources show that the material in the ridges probably came from the cano levee. Particularly indicative is the fact that both the cano and the ridge soils are silt loams, with only 13-29 percent clay content, while the savanna and ditch soils are clays or clay loams with a significantly higher clay percentage (27-45 percent). In addition, the color of the ridge and cano soils is the same (yellow brown or yellow orange), while the other soils are gray or grayish yellow. It appears, then, that the ridges were constructed mainly by carrying soil from the canos for long distances, in some cases up to 2.5 kilometers, rather than simply piling up material from areas adjacent to the ridge sites. The advantages of the alluvial cano soils over the savanna soils have been mentioned. The greater ease of cultivation of the silty and friable cano soil may have been the most important reason why they were used for constructing the ridges. Because of flooding, the cano soil carried to the savanna could only be utilized by building raised fields. The ridges could be looked at as artificial extensions of the natural levees in so far as soil and better drainage are concerned. The ridges near Cano Ventosidad contain about six times as much high

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ground as do the adjacent cano levees. Considerable effort went into building the large ridges, so they must have been utilized intensively to justify high labor inputs, rather than being used for long-fallow shifting cultivation. This would have meant frequent weeding, working the top soil, and probable use of vegetation mulches to maintain fertility at a high level. Such techniques are practiced with contemporary ridge and mound farming in tropical Africa and Melanesia (Denevan and Turner 1974). Other functions of ridging besides drainage and fertility control, include aeration, weed control, better growth of tubers, and easier harvesting. Ridged fields elsewhere in the tropics are mostly planted in tubers, which require well-drained soil. However, maize could also have been grown at Ventosidad if fertility was adequate, as suggested by the earlier quotation from Gumilla. Carbon specimens of unidentified material were taken from the side of the west ridge, but unfortunately they were too small to obtain a C-14 date. It is to be hoped that adequate samples can be collected during a future field season. Pollen samples were taken from several layers of both ridge and ditch, with hopes of identifying former crops, but results are not yet available. Three small sherds were taken from the 25-50 centimeter level of the mid-slope of the west ridge. In the spring of 1973, the Ventosidad relic field site was investigated by geomorphologist-ecologist Marshall S. Chrostowski. The original trench was reexamined and new trenches were taken and are in the process of analysis. Preliminary interpretation suggests that portions of some of these ridges may be natural, but we still believe that the majority of the ridges are man-made structures.

THE CULTURAL

EVIDENCE

The best-described ceramic complexes in Barinas are the polychrome Cano del Oso and related La Betania found in the west-central part of the State (Zucchi 1972a, 1972b, 1973). The sites are associated with artificial mounds and causeways dating around a.d. 500. The sherds in the Ventosidad ridged field clearly belong to a different and simpler complex. Our archaeological survey in the Sabanas de Mata de Barbara did not discover any settlement sites in the immediate vicinity of the ridges, although there must be some nearby; however, six sites were found within a distance of twenty kilometers. Three of these (El Choque, El Mamon, and Copa del Oro) are in gallery forests. All the archaeological deposits are fairly shallow (the maximum is fifty centimeters), suggesting moderate but not lengthy occupation. The pottery found at El Choque is most similar to the three sherds found in the ridged field. The ceramic material in the six sites belongs to several different

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but related complexes, all previously undescribed. They are characterized by incised and plastic decorative techniques and the use of sponge spiculae (cauxi) for temper. The presence and preliminary analysis of these features indicates that these complexes were part of, or influenced by, the Arauquinoid expansion out of the Upper Orinoco to the Middle and Lower Orinoco after a.D. 500 (periods Late III and IV of the Venezuelan Relative Chronology; Rouse and Cruxent 1963: 90-95). The expansion overflowed into the llanos, and marginal habitats were occupied and utilized. The excavated Sabana de Mata de Barbara settlements probably date to around a . d . 1000. Whether Arauquinoid people brought the technique of savanna cultivation via ridging with them or borrowed it from the earlier Cano del Oso people has not yet been determined.

CONCLUSIONS The archaeology of the Central Orinoco Llanos remains poorly known and the present project is still continuing, but some preliminary conclusions can be reached about the Ventosidad ridged fields. 1. The ridges, or most of them, are man-made and are preColumbian. 2. Ceramic evidence indicates an Arauquinoid influence and a date of construction around a . d . 1000. 3. The main use of the ridges was undoubtedly agricultural, and they functioned to provide raised surfaces for cultivating an area subject to flooding and to relocate and concentrate superior alluvial soil from the stream levees. 4. Arauquinoid people relied on manioc as their staple food crop. Such grain food must be supplemented by wild game and fish for protein, and the contemporary local habitat is rich in both. 5. Whether other people farmed the flooded savannas using raised fields prior to the Ventosidad people or at the same time in other parts of the Orinoco Llanos is still unknown. However, it is unlikely that the ridged fields are an isolated occurrence. They may well have been more numerous, but given the rapid rate of sedimentation most of them could now be covered up and hidden from view. 6. The existence of intensive forms of agricultural production and reclamation of marginal land by subsistence farmers in the humid tropics is invariably a result of relatively dense populations. Thus, the presence of enormous ridged fields at Cano Ventosidad is indicative of a large regional population which could not be sustained by shifting cultivation in the available forest on high ground.

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7. The presence of relic ridged fields in the Orinoco Llanos as well as in Amazonia and the Andes raises the possibility of direct cultural links.

REFERENCES C R U X E N T , JOSE M .

1966 Apuntes sobre les calzadas de Barinas, Venezuela. Boletin Informative), Instituto Venezolano de Investigaciones Cientificas 4: 10-22. DE C A S T E L L A N O S , J U A N

1955

Eligias de varones ilustres de Indias, four volumes. Bogota: ABC.

DENEVAN, WILLIAM M.

1970

Aboriginal drained-field cultivation in the Americas. Science 169: 647-654.

D E N E V A N , W I L L I A M Μ . , B. L. T U R N E R II

1974

Forms, functions, and associations of raised fields in the Old World tropics. Journal of Tropical Geography 39: 24-33.

G U M I L L A , JOSE

1945

El Orinoco ilustrado. Madrid: Tipografia Cläsica Espanola.

R O U S E , I R V I N G , JOSE M . C R U X E N T

1963

Venezuelan archaeology. New Haven: Yale University Press.

VENEZUELA, MINISTERIO DE AGRICULTURA Y CRfA

1957

Recursos agricolas y forestales del estadoBarinas. Caracas: Consejo de Bienestar Rural.

ZUCCHI, ALBERTA

1972a Aboriginal earth structures of the western Venezuelan llanos. The Caribbean Journal of Science 12: 95-106. 1972b New data on the antiquity of polychrome painting from Venezuela. American Antiquity 37 : 439-446. 1973 Prehistoric human occupations of the western Venezuelan llanos. American Antiquity 38: 182-190.

Ecology, Economy, and Warfare in Lowland South America

R O B E R T V. M O R E Y , JR., and J O H N P. M A R W I T T

Warfare, along with its origins and functions, has been an especially popular subject for study and debate among anthropologists in the last several years. In general, anthropological explanations of aggression and warfare have been based upon three models: (1) the genetic model; (2) the psychological model: and (3) the ecological model. The genetic model, probably the best known (Ardrey 1961, 1966, 1970; Lorenz 1966) but least accepted, stresses the biological continuity between man and other animals and views human aggression as instinctive. The psychological model (Murphy 1957; Steward 1958), often associated with the genetic model, "explains " warfare as a safety-valve mechanism or institution that serves to release suppressed aggressions and hostilities while at the same time promoting intragroup social solidarity. The ecological model, on the other hand, emphasizes the distinctive cultural nature of warfare as an adaptive mechanism structured by particular socioenvironmental conditions. The genetic and psychological models, then, assume, and must ultimately derive, the origin of war from individual human nature. The ecological model makes no such assumption, but views interpersonal (sociocultural) factors as being of primary importance. These models have not necessarily been viewed as exclusive, and studies using any of them have tended to present the analysis of warfare in a functionalist framework (see Vayda 1967). With few exceptions, these models have also agreed in excluding economic variables as unimportant in the context of primitive warfare. While we reject arguments of a genetic or instinctual basis for An earlier and abbreviated version of this paper was delivered at the annual meeting of the American Anthropological Association in N e w York City on 19 November, 1971.

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warfare as unproven and find psychological explanations unsatisfactory, we admit that ecological models also lack verification. However, it is the object of this paper to further explore the explanatory potential of an ecological model in a restricted geographic area where an ecological basis for and economic motives in warfare have been specifically and traditionally denied. We will focus here on lowland, eastern South America, 1 the area with which we are more familiar and where we have conducted fieldwork. The ethnographic cases discussed here have been selected for their support, or apparent support, of our hypothesis that warfare in this region had a clear ecologic-economic foundation. We hope to show, frankly in a speculative and perhaps inadequate manner, that warfare for economic gain, including territorial acquisition, does occur, at least in certain types of environments, and that such warfare can be adequately explained in an ecological framework. Negative cases which do not appear to support our hypothesis have been discussed elsewhere (Morey and Marwitt 1971) and will receive only brief mention here. Despite the obvious and admitted bias of such an approach, we believe that our general conclusions are suggestive, and that they may be applicable to other parts of the world. Vayda's (1961) hypothesis that warfare among swidden horticulturalists is ecologically based may be viewed as parallel to ours, and his data can be seen as indicating that our conclusions may apply more generally. We have elected to follow Alland (1972: 128) in defining war as "armed conflict among socially defined groups of human beings." We shall also focus on so-called "primitive" warfare, that is, the armed conflict that takes place in technologically simple (pre-industrial) societies. Warfare for economic gain, especially for territorial acquisition, has most often been associated with a level of societal complexity characterized by centralization of political authority (Otterbein 1970). Such centralization is ordinarily correlated with large communities, leaders with more than nominal authority, a religious system with a highly stratified hierarchy of deities, and other features of a complex socioeconomic system. Except for the circum-Caribbean and subAndean chiefdoms, political centralization of this order is usually stated to have been absent in the eastern lowlands of South America. Warfare throughout this vast region, although common and often intense, has been described as small-scale and the result of supernatural motivations, such as the acquisition of human trophies and the taking of captives for cannibalistic rites; or as being prompted by social offenses such as sorcery, murder, and the kidnapping of women 1 Arbitrarily defined as that area east of the Andes characterized in the main by tropical forest and savanna. This eliminates such areas as Patagonia.

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(Metraux 1949: 383-400; Steward and Faron 1959: 304-305). Murphy (1957) employs a psychological model to explain warfare among the Brazilian Mundurucu. Chagnon's (1967) recent and detailed study of Yanomamö warfare explicitly rejects the operation of economic factors. Warfare with an ecological basis and with economic motives or objectives, "conquering land or exacting tribute, and capture of slaves" was supposedly rare and almost totally a post-contact phenomenon (Steward and Faron 1959: 304). Thus, most studies have denied both the presence of large-scale planned campaigns and an ecological-economic base for pre-contact warfare in this region. We do not deny that small-scale raiding was a widespread practice in both pre- and post-contact lowland South America, nor that SpanishPortuguese contact gave an economic incentive to the warfare of many groups. Neither do we deny that warfare can, in fact, promote social solidarity and cohesion within a local group or tribe. Instead, we will attempt to show: (1) that in the floodplains of the major rivers, developed warfare emphasizing the acquisition of territory and/or exaction of tribute was a pre-contact practice arising among politically centralized groups as a response to population pressure and limited resources largely in the form of productive land; (2) that pre-contact warfare among some politically uncentralized tribes and bands frequently emphasized economic objectives; (3) that the effects of European contact included an intensification of traditional aboriginal warfare patterns and the introduction of yet another reason for war in the form of competition for Western trade goods; and (4) that the aggressiveness of many groups, i.e. their "fierceness," had an ecological basis. This latter part of our hypothesis has been succinctly stated by Leeds (1964: 168) in relation to the cultures of the VenezuelanColombian llanos: . . . cultural characteristics ascribed to each of the peoples... are ecologically functional, in that they tend to mirror value orientations that tend to drive people to maximize the food resources in ways appropriate to their socioecological environments. We have collected and reviewed data covering several groups which appear to support one, two, or even all of our specific hypotheses. These data have been obtained from three primary sources: (1) the Human Relations Area Files (hereafter referred to as HRAF); (2) printed ethnohistorical sources, e.g. missionaries' and explorers' reports; and (3) contemporary ethnographic descriptions. Cases derived from the HRAF which fail to completely support our hypotheses include the Caingang, Caraja, Jivaro, and Tucano. Data from other groups such as the Siriono, while not specifically supportive, do indicate the extent of cultural displacement and disruption which occurred in the area.

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Traditional interpretations of eastern, lowland South American cultures have been essentially negative, in that they have tended to assume a lack of cultural complexity. But a number of recent studies have stressed that the area in question contained several distinct ecological-habitat zones associated with variable resources. These zones supported a number of diverse socioeconomic adaptations and levels of cultural complexity (Denevan 1970; Meggers 1971). At the time of the first European contact (circa A.D. 1500), the Amazon and Orinoco basins, at least, had a wide range of cultural patterns in terms of size and complexity of social units, complexity of material culture, and even in basic patterns of subsistence economy (Lathrap 1968:23). The floodplains of the major rivers and their main tributaries sustained large, sedentary populations that practiced root-crop horticulture in combination with an intensive exploitation of aquatic resources. In distinct contrast to the cultural situation in the major floodplains and other favorable regions such as lowland savannas, the interfluvial areas were characterized by sparse populations organized into small, scattered, and mobile social units. Farming was simple and relatively unproductive; use of riverine resources was replaced by heavier reliance on the hunting of terrestrial and arboreal game, and the collection of wild plant foods. This distribution of socioeconomic patterns according to ecological zones is crucial to an explanation of warfare patterns. Lathrap has emphasized these points in a number of publications (1962,1968,1970) and has specifically suggested that ecological conditions may explain warfare in tropical-forest South America, with such conflict reflecting ecologically based population pressure on the floodplains of the major rivers (Lathrap 1968: 28). Although there is now general agreement that the resources in this region are/were unevenly distributed, what evidence is there bearing upon the size and complexity of cultures inhabiting the most productive niches at the time of European contact? It is necessary to show that these cultures were not only large, with a high degree of political centralization, but also that they were expanding through warfare which resulted in the extension of the group's territory and the establishment of new colonies. In the central Amazon basin, our most suggestive data are for the Omagua (Metraux 1948b: 689-703; Meggers 1971). Omagua settlements are reported to have formed an almost complete line of houses for 200 leagues along the shores and islands of the Amazon. When first contacted, the Omagua were in full expansion. "Annual war parties followed the innumerable water roads of the Amazon basin and penetrated remote regions to raid villages or settle as independent tribelets" (Metraux 1948b: 689). "The rulers of the provinces of

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Omagua and Machipero. . . were friends and joined forces in warfare against inland tribes." "The Omagua were in a continual state of war with tribes of the interior" (Meggers 1971: 129-130). Early missionaries found Omagua colonies far up the Napo, Aquarico and Quebeno rivers. Omagua villages were large and closely spaced, containing as many as thirty houses with as many as fifty to sixty people per house; Meggers (1971: 124) indicates that one village containing twenty-eight houses had a population of 330 individuals. There is little information available on Omagua social organization, but we know that there were "provincial chiefs " who controlled large areas and had authority over several villages. Each village had its individual chief as well. There also seems to have been a class of nobility and a lower class of slaves formed by war captives. While the data for the Omagua are somewhat ambiguous, it seems clear that the middle reaches of the Amazon near its confluence with the Rio Napo were occupied by a series of complex cultures, that this area supported a dense population, and that the Omagua were expanding their territory through organized warfare. Significantly, continual conflict with interior tribes (e.g. groups not located on the floodplain), and the alliance of the Omagua with their riverine neighbors, the Machipero, against these groups are probably best explained as reflecting the struggle for control and access to this more favorable zone. 2 According to Jesuit missionary reports, the Orinoco riverbanks were also heavily populated (for example, see Cassani 1967: 190). Warfare and disease were so extensive that huge portions of the Orinoco region were virtually abandoned and the cultures which remained were badly disorganized (Gumilla 1955: 250; Rivero 1956: 46, 434; Gillij 1965: 279). In the Orinoco basin, numerous Caribanspeaking groups were expanding and forming colonies shortly after the establishment of the first European settlements on the coast of South America. Early explorers report meeting large Carib war parties far up the Orinoco, Meta and Vichada rivers. These war parties were organized into orderly formations led by a hierarchy of officers who received commands from a paramount leader by means of shell signal trumpets (Kirchoff 1948: 481-494). Defensive measures taken by enemy tribes were also elaborate. Giiipunave villages were well fortified (Gillij 1965: 188-189); the Maipures retreated into specially constructed defensive positions when under attack (ibid.: 188-190); and the Caveres had a series of watchtowers which communicated the 2

Meggers in a personal communication, 1971, with Marwitt has indicated that the Omagua expansion may have been the result of European contact. But even if this was exclusively a post-contact phenomenon, the ecologic-economic factors involved seem apparent.

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approach of war parties by means of signal drums (ibid.: 325). The Carib are best known for their slaving expeditions against the inhabitants of the riverine zones, but some populations were left unmolested to provide them with tribute (Acosta 1961: 67). Gumilla (1955: 269) observes that the Guaiqueries were not exterminated, as they provided the Carib with a diversity of products as tribute. According to the same writer (Gumilla 1955: 324) the major motive for Carib warfare was the acquisition of women and booty, but under the influence of the Dutch the " c a u s e " changed to trade and gain - that is, to the acquisition of European trade goods through the exchange of slaves. While the Carib raiding was undoubtedly intensified by early European settlement along the coasts and major streams, there is reason to suspect that the pattern of raiding and settlement was established well before European contact and was due to population pressures. It is well known, for example, that the Carib were raiding and establishing colonies in the West Indies by a . d . 1000 (Rouse 1966: 397) and that this expansion was still under way at the end of the fifteenth century. The most important indigenous occupants of the Orinoco basin riverbanks (floodplains) seem to have been the Achagua and the Saliva. Little is known about Achagua social organization, although at least incipient social stratification is reported by Rivero (1956: 38, 47, 111, 429). The Achagua were provided with slaves by other groups; rich (noble?) Achagua paid others to work for them, and at drinking parties "chiefs and nobles" occupied special stools which set them off from the commoners. Among the Achagua-Amarizanas, a high chief had authority extending over several communities. However, in contrast to the Amazon basin, these groups (Achagua and Saliva) do not appear to have been as culturally complex or as militarily powerful. Constantly at war with interior groups such as the Guahibo-Chiricoa, the Achagua and Saliva appear to have been forced into defensive resistance rather than the aggressive expansion and territorial control characteristic of the Omagua. Villages were enclosed by palisades, and at least one Achagua communal dwelling is reported as having a capacity of 500 occupants (Rivero 1956: 429), much larger than indigenous villages in the region today. 3 An Achagua village on the Meta River was reported to have been forced to move to an area less favorable for cultivation due to repeated Guahibo incursions. The Guahibo are also said to have raided riverine villages every year at the time of the harvest, a practice also attributed to the Carib (Rivero 1956: 221; Cassani 1967: 200-202, 268). The Achagua were persuaded :1

A recent archaeological survey by the authors in the Ariari River region of the southwestern Colombian llanos has revealed extensive sites covering several acres with considerable depth of occupation. Such large indigenous concentrations were not previously considered to be characteristic of this region.

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by the Jesuits to return to a more favorable riverine location, but they continued to fall victim to Guahibo attacks. The new site was assailed by groups of Guahibo who were divided into squads under a powerful head chief. Despite resistance, the Guahibo repeatedly attacked, for "they knew they would lose their reputations [as fierce warriors] if they did not defeat the Achagua village, and if this should happen they would also lose their f o o d " (paraphrased from Cassani 1967: 221). At times, the Guahibo even allied themselves with the Carib in order to achieve their military objectives (Cassani 1967: 219). It is interesting to note that even today the Guahiban-speaking Cuiva, persecuted and decimated though they may be, still retain their reputation as fierce and aggressive warriors (Arcand 1972: 10). The aggressiveness, or reputed aggressiveness, of these people was obviously advantageous in a region characterized by differential access to strategic resources and constant warfare. Rivero (1956: 40-41) observed a Chiricoa (Guahibo) chief who had authority over several local groups and directed a well-organized war party. Such a paramount chief and cooperative behavior are not known among the contemporary Guahibo, although small-scale raiding f o r crops, Western goods, and women still occurs infrequently. Such attacks are almost always perpetrated by nomadic and/or seminomadic Guahibo upon settled village populations. It has been suggested that this contemporary conflict may have an ecological basis (Morey 1970). In the Casanare-Meta river region of Colombia, where the contemporary Cuiva find their traditional hunting territories and even their cultural existence endangered by invading colonists, they have, as in the past, managed to survive by retreating to less accessible locations on smaller streams. H o w e v e r , when the opportunity has offered itself, they have returned to the floodplains of the major rivers (Arcand 1972: 8). The aboriginal Guahibo and related subgroups seem to have been well organized for warfare. They collected tribute and took slaves, and there is some evidence that, once having driven groups such as the Achagua from the rivers, they then annexed the conquered territory (Cassani 1967: 342). The fact that the inhabitants of the floodplains do not seem to have been as strong militarily as the inland tribes may reflect the contact situation. Most of the available information from the Orinoco region dates from the seventeenth century - much later than that for the Amazon - and, by this time, European predation, settlement and disease had decimated what were once strong and vigorous floodplain cultures. Certainly warfare and slaving by the Spanish had much to do with population decline in the case of the Achagua (Rivero 1956: 23, 29). The Saliva, as well as the Achagua and Cuiva, were forced to flee to less accessible regions in fear of their indigenous enemies (Cassani 1967: 268).

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At the time of European contact, the Riode la Plata-Parana-Paraguay lowlands were densely occupied by the Guarani. At the end of the fifteenth century, bands of Guarani had crossed the Chaco to raid along the Inca frontier, and they even attacked tribes directly under Inca control. Some of the Guarani bands settled in the conquered territory, while others returned downriver with loot and captives (Metraux 1948a: 60-94). Guarani villages were closely spaced, especially in the Parana basin, and like the Omagua there seems to have been a centralization of political authority with a chief having control over more than one village. Chieftainship was hereditary, passing from a father to his most capable son, and the chiefs - or perhaps a class of hereditary nobility - were supported by corvee labor by the commoners, who built houses and tilled fields for the support of the chiefly class. Based upon the distribution of ceramic artifacts and a form of stone celt linked to the historic Guarani, Hurt (1970) has proposed that an expansion by the Guarani, up the Parana River and its tributaries, began about A.D. 1000. Although the impetus for this expansion cannot be identified from the archaeological record, remains are so plentiful as to suggest a considerable population density in prehistoric times for the lower Parana basin. It is possible that population pressure on the floodplain was responsible, at A.D. 1000, for this upriver expansion by the Guarani at the expense of less highly organized groups. The Tupinamba are one of the most famous of the warring tribes in eastern South America. Revenge is usually mentioned as their main motive for going to war, and they placed great emphasis on ritual cannibalism. However, we know that their population was increasing at contact (Fernandes 1952: 64) and that they were expanding their territory. The Tapuya, previous occupants of the coast, had been pushed into the interior by Tupinamba invaders shortly before European contact (Metraux 1948c: 97). An ecological basis for the Tupinamba expansion seems likely and has been suggested previously by Vayda (1961: 350). Certainly, economic motives for warfare are indicated by Staden and Vasconcellos (HRAF SO 9): At this season the savages are accustomed to sally forth to make war, so that they may be well supplied with food. . . Indians who have cashews on their territory consider themselves fortunate and they wage wars on account of these trees. Among the Timbira, there is no evidence for the operation of ecological factors in warfare. In pre-contact times the Timbira expressed varying degrees of hostility to almost all nonrelated neighboring groups. There is, however, some evidence there were economic motives in Timbira warfare. Nimuendaju (1946: 73), for example,

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states that war was waged over the ownership of Babassu palms, which were common to the left bank of the Tocantins River. Chagnon (1967: 110-111) explicitly denies that territorial gain and economic motives were objectives in Yanomamö warfare. However, his emphasis on, and discussion of, their militant ideology and "fierce " personality may be as clearly related to ecological conditions as are those of the Guahibo and Cuiva discussed above. There is a large number of obvious examples of economic objectives in post-contact indigenous warfare. Perhaps the most well-known of these is that of the Mundurucu who served as mercenaries for the Portuguese against unpacified Indians; for these services they received Western manufactured goods (Murphy 1957: 1028). The post-contact slaving expeditions of such groups as the Carib and the Guahibo were in part motivated by the desire to obtain European material goods (see above). The Caraja (HRAF SP 9) plundered Brazilian plantations and the Caingang (HRAF SM 3) raided European settlements for iron utensils and other goods. The Kamayura and Suya apparently raided the Trumai for Western goods, while the Trumai (HRAF SP 23) went to war for revenge, loot, and women. Despite the obvious post-contact origin of these practices, the desire to acquire specialized goods may have been a motivating factor in warfare generally. But because material surplus as well as regional economic and craft specialization were low throughout the area - and retaliation for raids was almost c e r t a i n - a n aboriginal basis is doubtful. However, the capture of women had a clear economic basis as they were the principal potters. In addition to motives such as revenge and the desire to acquire prestige, female captives were also sought by the Jivaro (HRAF SD 9) and here there is little doubt of their economic significance. The Siriono and the Warao (HRAF SF 21; HRAF SS 18) were not warlike, but it is important to note that these groups (in addition to the Caingang) were displaced by more powerful neighbors. The Siriono retreated into the forest and left their lands to be occupied by indigenous and European enemies; the Warao were pushed by the Carib from the plains and highlands into the low, flooded lands of the Orinoco delta. The data presented here are admittedly sketchy and incomplete. Good descriptions of warfare for lowland South America are rare, and they are necessarily restricted to post-contact observations. Certainly a more systematic and intensive survey would yield additional information, but even in the absence of such information the currently available evidence indicates that the traditional picture of lowland, eastern South American warfare is at least partially in error. There is a substantial body of evidence that indicates that both the size and complexity of many aboriginal cultures occupying the floodplains of

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the major rivers have been badly underestimated - not by early travelers and explorers, but by their ethnographic successors. Archaeological and ethnohistorical evidence suggests that the conditions favoring expansion warfare, and perhaps the warfare itself, were part of a developed lowland pattern with considerable time depth in the area. Warfare in many areas, particularly in the major river basins, had an ecological base involving competition for limited resources in the form of productive land. Warfare for territorial gain and/or tribute such as food crops was a widespread practice. The maintenance of this system depended upon a set of socioenvironmental conditions which disappeared with European contact. The introduction of firearms, metal tools, and disease lowered the level of cultural complexity, drastically reduced population density, and fostered a new form of economic competition which supported aboriginal warfare patterns. European conquest, however, did not eliminate conflict. Instead, European conquest with its induced migration, resultant population decline, and the introduction of new, economically desirable goods perpetuated and intensified intertribal hostilities.

REFERENCES ACOSTA S . , MIGUEL

1961

Estudios de etnologia antigua de Venezuela. Caracas: Universidad Central de Venezuela.

A L L A N D , A L E X A N D E R , JR.

1972

The human imperative.

N e w York: Columbia University Press.

A R C A N D , BERNARD

1972

The urgent situation of the Cuiva Indians of Colombia. International Work Group for Indigenous Affairs.

Copenhagen:

ARDREY, ROBERT

1961 1966 1970

African genesis. N e w York: Atheneum. The territorial imperative. N e w York: Atheneum. The social contract. N e w York: Atheneum.

CASS AN I, JOSEPH

1967

Historia de la provincia de la Compania de Jesus del nuevo reyno de Granada en la America. Estudio preliminar y anotaciones al texto por Jose del Rey. Biblioteca de la Academia Nacional de la Historia, volume 85. Caracas. (Originally published 1741.)

C H A G N O N , NAPOLEON A.

1967

Yanomamö social organization and warfare," in War: the anthropology of armed conflict and aggression. Edited by Morton Fried, Marvin Harris, and Robert Murphy. Garden City, N e w York: Natural History Press.

D E N E V A N , WILLIAM M.

1970

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The Formative Cultures of the Venezuela Oriente

M A R I O S A N O J A and IR A I D A V A R G A S

The early pottery cultures of the Orinoco may be considered as a marginal expression of American Formative culture in the sense that they introduced a series of new cultural patterns for the region. These new patterns in turn conditioned and stimulated the development of a sedentary life through a process of village development. Beginning with the integration of simple, stable agricultural communities, through the successive fragmentation of the central unity, a network of satellite villages arose; and though they were not joined together under a central power, these settlements were relatively homogeneous with regard to their culture. They had a similar technoeconomy, which they used to obtain energy from a vast ecosystem held in common, and possibly a very similar social system. The ultimate accomplishments of this marginal Formative were not spectacular in comparison with those of nuclear America. Instead, they limited themselves to the creation of an elementary infrastructure necessary to achieve a moderate level of cultural development. They achieved an effective system of subsistence for populations of average size within specified areas and a system for the redistribution of goods which, if not permitting accumulation of a surplus to be used for greater stratification of the social group, did permit the enrichment of certain sectors of the technology, such as pottery, which reached standards comparable to the most advanced cultures of South America. In light of the published evidence, it is apparent that the early pottery cultures of the Orinoco did not develop independently of the other Formative cultures with which they co-existed chronologically. Various authors have pointed out the similarities that appear to exist among Barrancas and other early complex cultures like Valdivia, Puerto Hormiga, Chavin, Tutishcayno, Barlovento, etc. But little has

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VARGAS

been said about the resemblances, in decorative techniques and certain vessel forms, between the Ronquin-Saladero painted tradition and other early cultural complexes of the nuclear Andean area (such as those of the white-on-red horizon of the Andean Late Formative, or those of the Ecuadorian coast, e.g. Chorrera, and the late polychrome phases of the Ecuadorian Amazon). Moreover, the similarities are not limited to South America alone, but also reach the Mesoamerican Formative. We do not believe that at this time it is possible to pinpoint the original source of the Venezuelan marginal Formative culture, but it is possible to consider it as the result of the re-interpretation of a varying gamut of cultural influences which spread from the Andes' high plateau to the coast of Ecuador. If we were to make a summary of the stylistic elements of the Barrancoid and Ronquin-Saladero pottery, we would find that they correspond in general to those elements present in the Formative cultures of the area mentioned above, with the exception of the "rocker-stamping" and other decorative techniques of local importance. Among such characteristics we can mention the use of broad incision; broad and fine incision; excision; incision filled with postfired red pigment; use of graphite painting; model-incised, zoomorphic or anthropomorphic adornos; opposing human faces attached to the sides or necks of the vessels; red slipped vessels; combination of red zoned painting with scraped or polished zoned areas; white-on-red or red-on-white painting; zoned hatching; open vessels with fluted or labial rims; carinated vessels; plain, anular, or concave bases; oval vessels tapered toward the middle; and double spout and bridge vessels. The absence of such Formative characteristics as rocker-stamping could be interpreted as a result of the chronological and geographical distance existing between the early pottery cultures of the Orinoco and the nuclear Formative centers of South America, or as a result of the selection of certain pottery patterns on the part of the Orinoco cultures. We might point out an interesting parallel in the development of pottery styles. In the Central Andes and on the coast of Ecuador, Chavin pottery, which is basically decorated with modeling and incision, is followed by the white-on-red horizon style and, on the Ecuadorian coast, the white-on-red is accompanied by hatching in zones. Similarly, in the Orinoco we see that Barrancas, whose decoration is reminiscent of the model-incised style of the early and middle South-American Formative, is followed by the white-on-red and redon-white painting tradition, associated generally with the incised zoned hatching style. We do not wish to repeat mechanically the outline of cultural

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development of the nuclear Formative cultures, but rather to bring out the fact that marginal Formative cultures of Venezuela seem to reflect an orderly development of the decorative techniques which are observable in that area. We also wish to make the observation that in nuclear Formative areas of South America, the characteristics of early pottery are presented as patterns in a unified manner. However, as one moves toward the periphery of this area, and as one moves away chronologically, the elements that were presented as linked to a single complex or cultural horizon begin to "float " f r e e l y , forming particular resemblances with other elements, resulting in new cultural complexes which, though resembling their ancestors in certain respects, form a different configuration when considered as a whole. They represent a reinterpretation of the old pottery patterns.

THE ABORIGINAL CULTURES OF THE ORINOCO RIVER BASIN The Lower

Orinoco

The first Barrancoid groups appear to have settled the Lower Orinoco region between 1200 and 1000 B.C. (see Maps 1 and 2). In the Saladero site, next to the Barrancas area, in the state of Monagas, the archaeological remains are to be found in an area of about one kilometer along the riverbank. The abundance of archaeological material and the extensive chronological sequence that we have obtained for this site indicate that the Barrancoids succeeded in developing a stable population center of moderate dimensions with a relatively large population density which was supported by a high level of social integration and cultural cohesion until the first half of the first millennium after Christ (see Tables 1 and 2). The economic base which permitted the development of a relatively complex society on the Lower Orinoco was agriculture complemented by fishing and hunting. The possibility of developing stable cultivated fields, possibly with a relatively high productivity, must have had as its basis the annual flooding of the Orinoco which regenerated the vegetation of the low riparian regions and the islands found in the middle of the river across from Barrancas. If we extrapolate from the present situation of traditional agriculture in the area of Barrancas, we find that today the predominant crops are yuca, cotton, maize, and beans. The cultivated fields are nearly all found on the river islands, and the men periodically visit them to attend to the fields during the dry season. The campesinos avoid

The Formative Cultures of the Venezuela Oriente

263

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