Experimental Archaeology – The House Archaeologist

Deliberate Destruction in the Bronze Age

People love to destroy things. Always have done. Always will. It is thus no surprise that the archaeological record is filled with deliberately damaged and buried objects. I became interested in this while studying a 3000-year-old Bronze Age axe at Somerset County Museum that had been broken in half, crushed and melted. How was it done? And why?

A broken, burnt and crushed socketed axe from Greylake in Somerset (author’s photo, courtesy of the South West Heritage Trust, Museums Service)

This was not an isolated instance. Deliberately destroyed Bronze Age metalwork is found across Europe. My curiosity in this phenomenon led to me undertaking a PhD in 2014. I began from the simple question: why did people destroy things?

This question has been debated for Bronze Age metalwork since the 1800s. However, few archaeologists have considered how metalwork was destroyed or how one might identify deliberate destruction.

Often Bronze Age metalwork is considered destroyed by its obvious nature. A sword bent in half and thrown in a river is certainly an intentional action; so is a group of bracelets crushed into a ball. I call this the ‘common sense’ approach to destruction. Broken axeheads found in the ground are often considered to have broken through overuse. Broken swords in the same situation are still considered to be deliberately destroyed though.

Broken sword pieces from Marazion, Cornwall (author’s photo, courtesy of the Royal Cornwall Museum)

This is problematic because it makes assumptions about what humans did to different objects without considering how it was done or the significance of different objects. Instead, modern assumptions about the importance of a sword over an axe are projected onto the past.

To tackle this, I studied many (many!) Bronze Age metal objects across my study region (South West England). I also commissioned Neil Burridge to produce experimental replicas of archaeological artefacts, including swords, spears and axes. I then tested different modes of destruction to see how easily one might break a Bronze Age metal object. The aim was to replicate prehistoric damage.

The easiest method for breaking a bronze object is to heat it and hit it. Stick a sword, spear, or axe into a fire, remove it and strike with a blunt object and it will usually fragment.

Me breaking a replica sword. — Me breaking a replica sword

Of course, it’s slightly more complicated than this, with factors such as the temperature and the metal composition of the objects playing important roles. Meanwhile, it is much more difficult to damage an object that has not been heated. Different conditions mean damage will occur in different ways. By identifying the various techniques used for destroying metalwork, we can begin to more clearly understand prehistoric techniques and decision-making processes.

These experiments thus added a new dimension to the study of metalwork in the South West in much the same way using replica swords in combat experiments helps us understand how these weapons were used in the past. Experimentally destroyed pieces could be compared with damaged archaeological artefacts to determine the likelihood that they were deliberately destroyed. This could be strengthened by analysing patterns of damage, as well as the depositional context in which objects were found (e.g. a hoard, a settlement or a burial).

The material from South West England was particularly interesting as a variety of practices occurred across the region. In the Early Bronze Age (c.2200-1600 BC), metalwork was burnt and broken with bodies during cremation. In the Middle Bronze Age (1600-1100 BC), gold objects or large hoards were most commonly damaged. By the Late Bronze Age (1100-800 BC), lots of metalwork destruction was taking place. It was more common to break axes and ingots in Cornwall and Devon and bury them in hoards.

A hoard of fragmented metalwork from Talaton, Devon (author’s photo, courtesy of the Royal Albert Memorial Museum, Exeter)

Meanwhile very little deliberate destruction was undertaken in Dorset. In Somerset, metalwork destruction was influenced by other areas. This means there was no overall pattern that could be observed. This indicates that destruction was not part of a uniform ideology. People undertook different practices at different times for different reasons. There is no ‘one-size-fits-all’ approach.

It is important to consider that it wasn’t just metalwork that was destroyed. Stone objects and ceramic vessels were also commonly destroyed. Additionally, roundhouses were often burnt and dismantled. The destruction of Bronze Age metalwork was part of a broader set of concepts that allowed people to express certain ideas. Some objects may have been destroyed for recycling. Meanwhile, others were destroyed for symbolic reasons, perhaps as votive offerings. These are ideas that archaeologists have been grappling with for decades. By combining these questions with an understanding of how destruction was done, we can begin to appreciate the skills, processes and decisions involved in the practice. This will ultimately give us a better understanding of the past, which after all is what archaeology is all about.

Acknowledgements: My thanks go to Neil Burridge for engaging with this project, as well as countless museums for accommodating research visits.

Matthew Knight is Curator of the Bronze Age collections at the National Museum of Scotland. Further details about his work can be accessed at: www.alifeinfragments.wordpress.com.

The Hunter, The Dog Men, and the House by the Shore: How an archaeologist writes an archaeological novel.

To begin with, I have a wide range of interests, including experimental archaeology which provides a fusion between my environmental knowledge, interests in Palaeolithic and Mesolithic archaeology and my fascination in the Prehistoric use of organic materials.

A major recent project for me has been to work on the west coast of Scotland trying to establish how Mesolithic hunter-gatherers were living. I did this by restricting myself to the natural resources and tool kit of a Mesolithic hunter-gatherer so that I could I go through similar thought processes and experiences. Using experimental archaeology and bushcraft skills to fill in some of the gaps in the archaeological record, the human facets that are often missing. Making and testing a wide range of fishing gear, travelling thousands of miles over 4 years and starting to feel like a Mesolithic hunter-gatherer; lugging fishing gear to remote sites, planning to maximise the use of tides, and often experiencing awful weather.

These experiences provided me with an insight into the world of the Prehistoric coastal hunter-gatherer, revealing the extent of organisation and knowledge that they must have had in order to fully utilise their environment. The planning needed to maximise returns, whether foraging, hunting or collecting natural resources.

Experimental archaeology is often used to engage public interest in our past, most notably through reconstruction or experiential learning. With a view to further communicating our understanding of the Mesolithic to a wider audience I recently wrote a novel; The Hunter, The Dog Men and the House by the Shore.

I had three objectives in mind.

Firstly, to illustrate what a fascinating and diverse ecosystem we have lost in the UK since the Mesolithic. With over 30 years’ experience in the environmental sector, I have long been aware of the relationship between human activities, however small, and their environmental consequences. The environmental and ecological knowledge required; the places to find the best materials for a particular task, knowledge of seasons and the seasonal movement of species. When and where to be, at a particular place at a particular time of year. My novel takes the reader on a journey through north-west England (what is now Merseyside, Cheshire and North Staffordshire), 8000 years ago, in a landscape where aurochs, elk, wolf, lynx and wild boar roam.

Secondly, to bring to the modern reader an insight into the daily lives of Mesolithic hunter-gatherers, the food they ate, how they might have cooked it, how they travelled, the tools, the buildings, the boats. The novel is based on the latest archaeological research and is packed full of natural history and bushcraft skills. The main character is a lone Prehistoric hunter who works his way through this diverse and changing landscape. On his travels he encounters a range of characters; from traders to killers and ultimately meets his new mate who lives in a house by the shore.

Thirdly, to demonstrate the extensive skills and knowledge that our ancestors would have employed day in, day out, skills that most people now lack. As an experimental archaeologist I use ancient technologies and bushcraft skills to understand how our ancestors used to live. Some of my projects have included; stone and bone bead making in Romania, tree bast comparisons in Denmark, skin-on-frame boat building, and Neanderthal birch bark tar production. In short, a range of exciting and fascinating projects that have provided me with a genuine insight into the range of skills required by our Prehistoric ancestors.

It is of course very difficult to understand the mind-set of someone who lived 8000 years ago, but by using some of those ancient hunter-gatherer skills together with experimental archaeology, we can move some way toward them.

Peter Groom has a PhD in Mesolithic Archaeology, is a freelance experimental archaeologist and primitive skills/bushcraft practitioner, a founding member of the Mesolithic Resource Group and is the course manager and principal instructor of the Environmental Archaeology and Primitive Skills course at Reaseheath College. He lives in Staffordshire, England.

The novel is available to purchase via Amazon: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Hunter-Dog-Men-House-Shore/dp/153981971X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1478876612&sr=8-1&keywords=The+Hunter%2C+The+Dog+Men+and+the+House+by+the+Shore

Stones and people: how do we determine function?

As you may have understood from this blog, archaeologists do many things outside of The Excavation. One such thing happens after something has been dug. When something is discovered, it often has undefined entities. While you can often tell that something was manipulated by humans, it is rarer to immediately see what the thing in question was for. Most often, finds have to go through a period of analysis to bear meaning, and certainly to be relevant for our understanding of the entire excavation as a whole.

One type of analysis is functional analysis of lithics. Through thousands, and sometimes millions of years, stones have been worked into specific types of tools. But, even if something looks like an axe today, that doesn’t mean that it was in fact an axe thousands of years ago. We therefore carefully investigate each artefact, first to group and label them for magazines, and later to research their actual role in our society. The latter can be achieved by many means, such as residue analysis or placement on a site (for instance in a grave). However, sometimes we want to look at the practical function that a stone tool had, and we often do this through experimental means. One method that is closely linked to experimental archaeology, is use-wear analysis. Through this method, a researcher will scrutinise the tool for worn facets or edges under a microscope, and look at the patterning of the wear. Sometimes it may be criss-cross scratches, sometimes chipped edges, sometimes patches that are worn to the extent that they shine. Often, these traces are not visible to the naked eye, and we use a variety of microscopes to get the best or most detailed view of the pattern. Then, ideally the archaeologists will aim to create a replica pattern, and this is done through experimentation.

For instance, an axe will be investigated along the axe edge to determine whether it was a) used at all, b) heavily worn, and c) what the pattern looks like. After that, the archaeologist will make a replica tool and use it in one or more fashions to see if the resulting wear pattern is similar to the one on the archaeological tool.

Last year, I made a use-wear analysis of my own, on a mysterious find category from the Norwegian Mesolithic period. The tools are typically found along the coast, and often in relation to settlement sites. The artefact type consists of a hand sized beach pebble with one or two heavily worn facets, usually on either side of the stone. Not only are the stones worn, but the facets are also carefully prepared prior to use, by pecking at them with another stone. But, no one really knows what they were for, and I set out to try and come closer to this mystery.

One of the mysterious stones (C53854/22 from Rørbekk 1, Svinesund, Norway)

So, I had to come up with a number of tasks that people in the Mesolithic may have done with such a tool. Then I did those tasks with replicated tools, in the hope that I would make a pattern similar to the archaeological ones. Out in the woods, I cracked 6 kg of hazelnuts, and with other stones I ground them up. Neither of the wear patterns showed any similarity to the real stones. But, with a third set of stones I bashed up some dried deer sinew, and this pattern of wear was almost identical to the archaeological stones.

Hazelnut cracking with replica tool well under way.

Separated deer sinew after 20 minutes of bashing.

In hindsight, I should probably also have rubbed some hides with the stones, as the wear trace did indicate that the stones were used on a soft, pliable surface. I will hopefully have the opportunity to go back and do that another day. But for now, a preliminary interpretation is that the stones were used with something soft that is most likely not a plant material, but not as soft as meat. It could very well be that inhabitants of the coastal settlement sites in Mesolithic Norway used these little stones to soften dried sinew before they used it to haft arrows and harpoons, or sew seal skins into bags, clothes, or tents. With more experiments, we may find out!

Tine Schenck is an experimental archaeologist with a special interest in Boreal, seasonal exploitation of resources.

The first chemists of Europe: Neanderthal production of birch bark tar

For the last few years, I have been working with colleagues Peter Groom and Grethe Moéll Pedersen on the procurement of tar without using pottery. If you, like me, work with Stone age cultures, some things are more spectacular than others, and in this post I am going to introduce you to one of those – pieces of birch bark tar that may be up to 250 000 years old.

250 000 years ago, someone made and used birch bark tar in Central and Southern Europe, well before modern humans entered European history. The people who hafted their flint implements with tar, were Neanderthals: sturdy humans with stocky limbs and big brains well adapted to the cold climate of Europe. Neanderthals are technically called Homo neanderthalensis, first recovered in Neanderthal, Germany. They did, however, live as far east as Georgia and as far west as the Iberian peninsula.

Neanderthals had a complex stone technology centering around Levallois flakes: large-ish flint flakes with two sharp edges, often made into spear points or used as base for other tools.To make a Levallois flake demands a level of skill in flint knapping which is currently beyond my level. You first have to elaborately shape a piece of flint to resemble a tortoise shell, before you strike off the Levallois flake with a well-aimed blow. Around 250 000 years ago, someone made one and hafted it with birch bark tar to form an unknown implement, maybe a spear. This is the earliest find of birch bark tar that has ever been made, found at Campitello quarry, Italy. In Germany, a similar find has been made at Königsaue, but dated to c. 50 000 years ago.The site Inden-Altdorf in Germany also yielded 81 artefacts with tar specks all over, from 120 000 years ago; a number that indicates an ability to produce tar repeatedly and when needed.

But what is the big deal with this tar? Although it may not seem particularly impressive today, there are two reasons for why Neanderthal tar making is special: The only other artefacts we have recovered after this enormous amount of time are made of stone, and tar provides an interesting variation to the discussion. But more importantly, to make tar is actually a complex process that demands a carefully controlled temperature between c. 250-400°C, airtight environments, and a good plan. The fact that Neanderthals were making tar shows a skillful mastery of fire, an understanding of the concept of airtight (and therefore the concept of air), and an ability to plan and monitor a demanding process. This all credits Neanderthals with quite the intelligence!

The author monitoring a tar experiment. Note the necessary provisions.

Many researchers have tried, and most have failed, to make birch bark tar the way Neanderthals did. To achieve tar, you must force birch bark to undergo slow pyrolysis, where bark changes from mass to liquid (tar), gas (volatile, smelly fumes) and waste matter (char). From 6-7000 years ago onwards, the airtight conditions could easily be created by pottery. But before this, we have as of yet found no evidence for how the tar was made. Remains from a bonfire at Abric Romani in Spain, dated up to c. 70 000 years ago, shows evidence of a hydrocarbon spill, but that is all. Many have been puzzled by this mystery of production.

Peter, Grethe and I did 16 experiments with various pit structures in 2009, scratching our heads when structure after structure failed us. Peter and I went on to do a set of experiments with standing structures in 2013. And finally, we made it! We were beyond excited to see tar trickle out of the structures (even though it trickled down a precious piece of equipment..).

The resulting tar after a successful experiment. While not plentiful, it is most definitely viscous.

Basically, we had made tar in small heaps of sand, and all that remained was a spill of hydrocarbons in bonfire remains. But it did take us 5 years to get there! Boy, are we impressed with Neanderthals: We barely made it to their everyday level of thought, and I have, for sure, learnt to never call them primitive again.

Tine Schenck is an experimental archaeologist with a special interest in Boreal, seasonal exploitation of resources, and one of the founders of ArchaeologistsEngage. You can read more about the first experiments here.

Tracking hunter-gatherers in Scotland, using experimental archaeology.

I am an experimental archaeologist, as such I use primitive technologies and ancient skills to understand how our ancestors used to live. Some of my projects have included; stone bead making in Romania, tree bast experiments in Denmark, and Neanderthal birch bark tar production. In short, a range of exciting and fascinating projects. A major recent project for me has been to work on the west coast of Scotland trying to figure out how Mesolithic (11,500–6000 cal BP) hunter-gatherers were living. Archaeologists have evidence for the importance of fish and shellfish to their diet, but virtually nothing is known as to how these were caught or collected.

My research attempted to change this by using a combination of bushcraft/primitive skills and experimental archaeology. Initially, my work focussed on the prehistoric environments of Scottish west coast Mesolithic coastal sites. I then looked at a range of archaeological/traditional fishing gear and food collection strategies to see what might have been used in the Mesolithic. These perspectives, together with the prehistoric environmental data, guided my construction and use of fishing gear, working with the resources and technologies available to Mesolithic hunter-gatherers. Using my bushcraft/primitive skills I was able to make fishing lines from a range of materials; this included nettles as well as the bark from various trees. I also made basketry fish and crab pots that varied in size and shape depending on the type of natural vegetation that I had used. It was vital that I only used natural un-managed vegetation typical of the habitats of the Scottish Mesolithic and that I only used tools of stone, bone or shell. Only by restricting myself to the resources and tool kit of a Mesolithic hunter-gatherer could I go through similar thought processes and experiences.

The author extracting bramble fibres using a mussel shell.

I ended up spending much of my time grubbing around on remote Scottish islands, testing whatever I could find to see if I could make fishing lines, hooks or basket traps. This involved travelling to some of the most beautiful parts of Scotland and sitting on the coast fishing with my hand made gear.

I made and tested a wide range of fishing gear and travelled thousands of miles over 4 years and started to feel like a Mesolithic hunter-gatherer; lugging fishing gear to remote sites, planning to maximise the use of tides, experiencing lousy weather. These experiences provided me with an insight into the world of the Mesolithic coastal hunter-gatherer, revealing the extent of organisation and knowledge that they must have had in order to fully utilise their environment. The planning needed to maximise returns, whether foraging, hunting or collecting resources. The knowledge required of the environment; the places to find the best materials for a particular task, knowledge of seasons and the seasonal movement of species, when and where to be at a particular place at a particular time. This is how experimental archaeology can fill in some of the gaps in the archaeologicalrecord, the human facets that are missing.

It is of course very difficult to understand the mind-set of someone who lived 8000 years ago, but by using those ancient hunter-gatherer skills together with experimental archaeology, we can move some way toward them.

Dr Peter Groom is Course Manager of the Environmental Archaeology and Primitive Skills Programme at Reaseheath College, Nantwich, Cheshire, and a Director of the Mesolithic Resource Group mesolithic.org.uk.