Gazelle Exploitation at Urkan E-Rubb Iia, Jordan Valley

Hunting Specialisation and the Broad Spectrum Revolution in the Early Epipalaeolithic: Gazelle Exploitation at Urkan e-Rubb IIa, Jordan Valley

Emma Suzanne Humphrey

A thesis submitted in conformity with the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy Department of Anthropology University of Toronto

Hunting Specialisation and the Broad Spectrum Revolution in the Early Epipalaeolithic: Gazelle Exploitation at Urkan e-Rub IIa, Jordan Valley

Emma Suzanne Humphrey

Doctor of Philosophy

Department of Anthropology University of Toronto

2012 Abstract

This present research explores the impact of Flannery’s (1969) Broad Spectrum Revolution model within the context of the Levantine Epipalaeolithic, specifically the early (Kebaran)

Epipalaeolithic. This model attempts to explain changes in subsistence behaviour associated with the end of the Pleistocene leading up to the development of agriculture. The Jordan valley represents an ideal model for Flannery’s marginal habitat because of the range of different flora and fauna required more intensive resource exploitation strategies. The discussion here focuses on the zooarchaeological and taphonomic analysis of two faunal assemblages (representing two sub-horizons) from Urkan e-Rubb IIa, a Kebaran site located in the lower Jordan Valley, and excavated by E. Hovers (Institute of Archaeology, Hebrew University Jerusalem), in 1986 and

1988. This site shows evidence of specialised gazelle hunting and processing. Initial interpretations of the site argued for a multi-purpose residential base camp, supported by lithic tool and shell bead manufacturing.

Recent discussions of Epipalaeolithic diet breadth have concentrated on the end of the

Pleistocene (Munro 2001, 2003, 2004, 2009; Stiner 2001; Stiner & Munro 2002; Stiner et al.

1999, 2000; Stutz et al. 2009) and have been directed towards explaining changing subsistence

patterns towards the end of the Epipalaeolithic (i.e. the Natufian), where an increased use of wild

cereals and small game has been well documented. The view that it is not until the Natufian that

broad spectrum resource strategies were used is questioned here. Major questions that are

addressed with this research include: What do the faunal assemblages from Urkan e-Rubb IIa tell

us about Kebaran subisistence behaviour? Do broad spectrum models help to shed light on

subsistence adaptations at the end of the Last Glacial Maximum? What can recent analyses of

Jordan Valley faunal assemblages contribute to the discussion? These are addressed through a

detailed zooarchaeological and taphonomic analysis of the Urkan e-Rubb IIa fauana, followed by

synchronic and diachronic analyses of Levantine Epipalaeolithic assemblages, through a

combination of taxonomy-based diversity indices and prey-ranking indices.

iii

Acknowledgments

To begin, I would like to thank my core committee, Dr. Michael Chazan, Dr. T. Maxwell Friesen, and Dr. Genevieve Dewar, for their continued support and advice, without which this research would not have been possible. I would also like to thank Dr. E.B.Banning and Dr. Ariane Burke for their thoughtful comments and suggestions. Your support and encouragement are greatly appreciated.

A special thank you to Dr. Erella Hovers, Institute of Archaeology, Hebrew University Jerusalem, for allowing me to access and base my dissertation on the material from her excavations. I appreciate your trust in me. Thank you to Dr. Liora Kolska Horwitz, for your guidance and suggestions on how to approach the faunal material from Urkan e-Rubb IIa, and for sharing your incredible experience and knowledge on the subject. Thank you also to Dr. Rivka Rabinovich, both in your capacity as the curator of the Zoology Laboratory, Department of Systematics, Evolution, and Ecology, Hebrew University Jerusalem, where the fauna from Urkan e-Rubb IIa is stored, as well as for being a helpful colleague and friend. You welcomed me both into the lab ‘family’ and into your home, helping this lonely Canadian feel less alone in a foreign land (even if you always did make me dress up for Purim!).

Thank you to Dr. Haskel Greenfield and Tina Greenfield, for very helpful comments while we sat at our respective work tables in the zoology lab in Israel, as well as for advice and suggestions for approaching my data.

I would like to give very grateful appreciation to Andrea and Charles Bronfman for their generous financial support (through the Andrea and Charles Bronfman Philanthropies). Without your support in 2006, 2007 and 2009, this research would not have been possible. Thank you also to The University of Toronto Fellowship for their partial funding of my graduate studies.

I would also like to thank the Kenyan Institute and its staff, the Jerusalem branch of the Council for British Research in the Levant. You were my home-away-from-home for months at a time. Despite the eccentricities of the place, the staff and other visitors often helped me stay sane.

A very large ‘thank you’ to Peter Bikoulis for help with my maps. I only wish we could have made all of your mapping ideas work! As well, thank you to Danielle MacDonald for help with digging up mapping coordinates for some of the pesky sites mentioned in the text, and Dr. Jennifer Campbell for help with constructing many of my images.

I want to thank my friends who have supported me over the years, while I have been working on this project. We have whined, moaned, supported and cheered each other along, and I couldn’t have done this without you.

I dedicate this to my father, and in loving memory, to my mother. Dad, you have encouraged my interest in archaeology since I was in the 6th grade, and you’ve always been ready to talk about new archaeological and palaeoanthropological discoveries. Mum, you always believed in me, no matter what I chose to do with my life. I love you both so much.

Table of Contents

Abstract ………………………………..………………………………………………………….ii Acknowledgments ……………………………………………………………………………….iv Table of Contents …………………………………………..………………………………….…vi List of Tables ………………………..…………………………………………………………...ix List of Figures ……………………………..…………………………………………………....xiii List of Appendices ………………………………..…………………………………………...xviii Chapter 1 Introduction …………………………………..………………………………………..1 1.1 Current Paradigm in Epipalaeolithic Faunal Research ……………………………………….1 1.1.1 The Broad Spectrum Revolution Model …...……….…………………….………1 1.1.2 Recent Discussion of the BSR Model ………...…………………………...…...... 6 1.2 Broad Spectrum Diets and the Kebaran …………………………………………………..9 1.3 Dissertation Structure ……………………………………………………………………13 Chapter 2 Environment and Cultural Context of Levantine Epipalaeolithic ……………....…....15 2.1 Terrain and Palaeoenvironment …………………………………………………………15 2.1.1 Palaeoclimate……...……………………………………………………………..18 2.1.1.1 Pollen …………………………………………………………………...23 2.1.1.2 Speleothem Deposits ……………………………………………………25 2.1.1.3 Lake Lisan ………………………………………………………………28 2.2 Epipalaeolithic Culture History …………………………………………………………31 2.2.1 Early Epipalaeolithic (23,000 to 17,500 cal. years BP) ………...……………….31 2.2.1.1 Masraqan ………………………………………………………………..33 2.2.1.2 Qalkhan …………………………………………………………………33 2.2.1.3 Nebekian ………………………………………………………………..34 2.2.1.4 Kebaran …………………………………………………………………34 2.2.1.5 Nizzanian ……………………………………………………………….36 2.2.2 Middle Epipalaeolithic (17,500 to 14,600 cal. years BP) ……………..…….…..37 2.2.2.1 Geometric Kebaran ……………………………………………………..37 2.2.2.1 Mushabian ……………………………………………………....………39 2.2.3 Later Epipalaeolithic (14,600 to 11,600 cal. years BP) …………………………41 2.2.3.1 Ramonian ……………………………………………………………….41 2.2.3.2 Natufian …………………………………………………………………42 2.2.3.3 Harifian …………………………………………………………………43 Chapter 3 Upper Jordan Valley ………………………………………………………………….45 3.1 Jordan Valley Geology and Environment …………………………………...…………..45 3.2 Urkan e-Rubb IIa ……………………………………………………………………….48 3.2.1 Site Stratigraphy …………………………………………….…………...... 50 3.2.2 Excavation Description ………...…………………………………………….....50 3.2.3 Artefacts and Dating …………………………………………...………………..53 3.3 Northern Jordan Valley Kebaran Sites ……………………………………...…………..63 3.3.1 Ohalo II ………...………………………………………………………………..63 3.3.2 Ein Gev I………...…………………………………………………………….…67 3.4 Wadi Fazael ………………………………...…………………………………………...69 3.5 Summary …………………………………...……………………………………………71

Chapter 4 Zooarchaeological and Taphonomic Methodology …….. ……………………………74 4.1 Taxonomic Identification and Bone Recording ………………………….……………...74 4.2 Quantification …………………………………………………………………………...77 4.3 Bone Density …………………………………………………………………………….80 4.4 Diagenetic Processes and Bone Preservation …………………………………………...82 4.4.1 Fragmentation …………………………………………………………………...82 4.4.2 NISP : MNE Ratios ……………………………………………………………...83 4.4.3 Bone-Based versus Tooth-Based MNI Ratios …………………………………..84 4.4.4 Tarsal and Carpal Survivorship …………………………………………………84 4.4.5 Proximal/Distal Humerus and Tibia ………………………………….…………85 4.5 Carnivore Modification ………………………………………………………………….86 4.6 Shaft Circumference and Shaft Length ………………………………………………….86 4.7 Natural Attrition …………………………………………………………………………87 4.7.1 Fluvial Transport ………………………………………………………………...87 4.7.2 Weathering and Root Damage ……………………………………………...... 88 4.8 NISP : MNE Ratios and Marrow Weight ……………………………………………….89 4.9 Fracture Patterns: Angle, Outline, and Texture …………………………………………90 4.10 Cut Marks ………………………………………………………………………………..91 4.11 Burning ………………………………………………………………………………….93 4.12 Species Demographics Area A ………………………………………………………….94 4.12.1 Age Profiles: Epiphyseal Fusion and Tooth Wear ………………………………94 4.12.2 Sex Profiles of Gazelle Based on Osteometric Measurements ……………….…97 Chapter 5 The Faunal Assemblage …………………………………………………………….100 5.1 Behaviour and biology of animals in the sample ………………………………………100 5.1.1 Vulpes vulpes (Red fox) …………………………………………….………….100 5.1.2 Sus scrofa (Eurasian wild pig) …………….…………………………………...101 5.1.3 Capreolus capreolus (roe deer) ………………..………………...…………….103 5.1.4 Cervus elaphus (red deer) ……………………….……………………………..105 5.1.5 Dama mesopotamica (Persian fallow deer) ………….………………………...107 5.1.6 Gazella gazella (mountain gazelle) ……………………………………………109 5.1.7 Capra aegagrus (Bezoar goat) ………………………………….……………..112 5.1.8 Lepus capensis (Cape hare) ……………………………………………………113 5.1.9 Alectoris chukar (Chukar partridge) ……………………………………….…..114 5.2 Taxonomic Abundance ………………………………………………………………...114 5.2.1 Area A …………………….……………………………………………………115 5.2.2 Area B ………………………….………………………………………………117 5.2.3 Area C and Test Pit ………………….…………………………………………118 5.2.4 Trench I …………………………………….…………………………………..119 5.2.5 Trench II ………………………………………….…………………………….120 5.3 Skeletal Completeness ………………………………………………………………....121 5.4 Discussion of Element Estimation Methodology ……………………………………...133 5.4.1 Shaft Portions versus End Portions …………………………………………….133 5.4.2 Fraction Summation versus Fragment Overlap in Estimating MNE ……….….137 5.5 Conclusion ……………………………………………………………………………..144 Chapter 6 Taphonomy …………………………………………………………………………145 6.1 Bone Density versus Food Utility ……………………………………………………..145

vii

6.2 Fragmentation Intensity ………………………………………………………………..151 6.3 Ratio of NISP : MNE …………………………………………………………………..158 6.4 Bone-Based versus Tooth-Based MNI Ratios …………………………………………159 6.5 Tarsal and Carpal Survivorship ………………………………………………………..160 6.6 Relationship between Proximal and Distal Tibiae and Humeri …………………….….164 6.7 Carnivore Modification ………………………………………………………………...169 6.7.1 Shaft Circumference versus Shaft Length …………………………...………...169 6.8 Natural Attrition ………………………………………………………………………..172 6.8.1 Fluvial Transport ………………………….……………………………………172 6.8.2 Weathering and Root Damage …………………………………………………173 6.9 Summary ……………………………………………………………………………….175 Chapter 7 Human Use of Animals ……………………………………………………………..177 7.1 NISP : MNE Ratios and Marrow Weight ……………….……………………………..177 7.2 Fracture Patterns: Fragment Angle, Outline, and Texture ……………………………..180 7.3 Cut Marks ………………………………………………………………………………184 7.4 Burning ………………………………………………………………………………...200 7.5 Species Demographics Area A ………………………………………………………...213 7.5.1 Age Profiles: Epiphyseal Fusion and Tooth Wear ……………………………..209 7.5.2 Sex Profile of Gazelle Based on Osteometric Measurements …………………217 Chapter 8 Site Interpretation …………………………………………………………………...224 Chapter 9 Site Comparison with Epipalaeolithic Sites ………………………………………...235 9.1 Kebaran sites within the Jordan Valley ………………………………………………..235 9.2 Kebaran Sites on the Mediterranean Coast ……………………………………………254 9.3 Species Diversity: Richness, Evenness, and Rank Prey Difference within the Epipalaeolithic ...... ………………………………………………………………….266 Chapter 10 Conclusions ...... …………………………………………………………………280 References ……………………………………………………………………………………...288 Appendices ……………………………………………………………………………………..338

viii

List of Tables

Table 2.1 Summary of dune field changes in the Negev and Sinai during the Epipalaeolithic ...………………………………………………………….…...…....21

Table 2.2 Main cultural-chronological periods of the Epipalaeolithic of the southern Levant ………….………………………………………………………………..….……….31

Table 3.1 Debitage frequencies from the first season of excavation at UR IIa…...... …….…….54

Table 3.2 Tool category frequencies from the first season of excavation at UR IIa…………….54

Table 3.3 Radiometric and Bayesian Calibrated Dates (BCal) for UR IIa……...…………….....61

Table 3.4 Radiometric and Bayesian Calibrated Dates (BCal) for Ohalo II…………………….66

Table 4.1 Body size class breakdown………………….………………………………….….….75

Table 4.2 Summary of taxa and body size group NISP for Area A, Horizons 1A and 1B…..….77

Table 4.3 Fusion ages for gazelle bones…………………………………………...…………….95

Table 4.4 Gazelle tooth wear and eruption stages for individual teeth in the mandible………....96

Table 4.5 Goat tooth wear stages for individual teeth in the mandible……………………….…97

Table 5.1 Taxonomic abundance (NISP and MNI) for Area A Horizon 1A and Horizon 1B…………………………………………………………………………116

Table 5.2 Abundance (NISP and MNI) of fragments identified to element and body size category, Area A Horizon 1A and Horizon 1B…………………………116

Table 5.3 Taxonomic abundance (NISP and MNI) for Area B………………………….……..117

Table 5.4 Abundance (NISP and MNI) of fragments identified to element and body size category, Horizon 1B Area B…………...…………………………………….118

Table 5.5 Taxonomic abundance (NISP and MNI) for Area C and Test Pit…………..……….118

Table 5.6 Abundance (NISP and MNI) of fragments identified to element and body size category, Area C and Test Pit………………………..……………….……….119

Table 5.7 Taxonomic abundance (NISP and MNI) for Trench I…………………………...…..119

Table 5.8 Abundance (NISP and MNI) of fragments identified to element and body size category, Trench I…………………...………………….……………………..120

Table 5.9 Taxonomic abundance (NISP and MNI) for Trench II……………………………...120

Table 5.10 Abundance (NISP and MNI) of fragments identified to element and body size category, Trench II……………………………………..……………………...120

Table 5.11 MNE, MNI, and MAU estimates of complete elements for gazelle Horizon 1A and 1B, based on refitted fragments……………………………………..……..122

Table 5.12 MAU and %MAU values for gazelle, BSGD, fallow deer and bezoar goat, Area A Horizon 1A………………………..……………………………………….123

Table 5.13 MAU and %MAU values for gazelle, BSGD, fallow deer and bezoar goat, Area A Horizon 1B…………………………………..…………………………….124

Table 5.14 Skeletal part representation of gazelle and BSGD ungulates Area A Horizon 1A and 1B……………………………………………………………..….130

Table 5,15 Comparison of MNE counts for bone ends to shaft portions for gazelle in Horizon 1A and 1B ……………………………….……………………………….137

Table 5.16 Comparison of Fraction-Summation and Fragment Overlap Calculations for MNE and MNI, Horizon 1A ……………………………...…...………………142

Table 5.17 Comparison of Fraction-Summation and Fragment Overlap Calculations for MNE and MNI, Horizon 1B ……………………………...………………..….143

Table 6.1 Number of identified diaphyseal and non-diaphyseal bone fragments (NISP and %NISP) for gazelle in Horizon 1A and 1B, grouped by fragment class size (mm)………………………………………………...………………….……..153

Table 6.2 Number of identified diaphyseal and non-diaphyseal bone fragments (NISP and %NISP) for BSGD ungulate in Horizon 1A and 1B, grouped by fragment class size (mm)………………………………………………………..…155

Table 6.3 Number of identified diaphyseal and non-diaphyseal bone fragments (NISP and %NISP) for fallow deer, in Horizon 1A and 1B, grouped by fragment class size (mm)…………………………………………………………………………..156

Table 6.4 Number of identified diaphyseal and non-diaphyseal bezoar goat bone fragments (NISP and %NISP) for Horizon 1A and 1B, grouped by fragment class size (mm)……………………………………………………………………..157

Table 6.5 NISP : MNE ratios for gazelle long bones and phalange, Horizons 1A and 1B ……159

Table 6.6 Gazelle tooth: cranial MNI ratios, Horizon 1A and 1B…………………...…...…….160

Table 6.7 Comparison of tarsal, carpal and axial element abundance (MAU and %MAU) for gazelle, BSGD ungulates, fallow deer and goat for Horizon 1A and 1B…...….162

Table 6.8 Abundance (MAU and %MAU) of proximal and distal humerus and tibia

element portions for gazelle and BSGD ungulates in Horizon 1A and 1B, compared to caribou assemblages………………………………….………………165

Table 6.9 Frequencies of carnivore tooth marks and digestion on gazelle bone elements….....168

Table 6.10 Combined tabulation of shaft length and circumference, gazelle Horizon 1A and Horizon 1B………………………..…………………………….…………170

Table 6.11 Gazelle skeletal part frequencies from different fluvial groups ...……….………...173

Table 6.12 Weathering modification of gazelle long bone shaft fragments…………...……….174

Table 6.13 Frequencies of root etching on gazelle bone fragments, Horizon 1A and 1B...……175

Table 7.1 Average marrow yields (Kcal) and NISP/MNE ratios for gazelle long bones and phalanges, Horizon 1A and 1B………………………………………………..178

Table 7.2 Average marrow yields (Kcal) and NISP/MNE ratios for BSGD ungulate long bones and phalanges, Horizon 1A and 1B...……………………….…………179

Table 7.3 Fracture freshness index scores for long bone fragments for gazelle and BSGD ungulates, Horizon 1A and 1B…………………..…...…………………….182

Table 7.4 Fracture freshness index scores for long bone fragments from fallow deer and goat, Horizon 1A and 1B………………...……………………………..……..182

Table 7.5 Butchery marks on gazelle fragments, Horizon 1A………………………………….185

Table 7.6 Butchery marks on gazelle fragments, Horizon 1B………………………………….188

Table 7.7 Butchery marks on BSGD ungulate fragments, Horizon 1A and 1B………….…….192

Table 7.8 Cut marks on fallow deer fragments, Horizon 1A and 1B…………………………..193

Table 7.9 Cut marks on goat fragments, Horizon 1A and 1B……………………...………..…193

Table 7.10 Complete cut element estimates and proportional cut element estimates for gazelle Horizon 1A…………………...…….….……………………………….195

Table 7.11 Complete cut element estimates and proportional cut element estimates for gazelle Horizon 1B………………..……………………...…………………….196

Table 7.12 Proportion of complete elements with cut marks (%cMNEcut) for fallow deer, Horizon 1A and 1B…………………………………………………………..198

Table 7.13 Proportion of complete elements with cut marks (%cMNEcut) for goat, Horizon 1A and 1B……………………………………….………………………..199

Table 7.14 Ratio of unfused to fused bones for gazelle, fallow deer, bezoar goat and wild pig, Area A, Horizon 1A and 1B…………………………………...…….210

Table 7.15 Tooth wear and ages of individual mandibular gazelle teeth from Horizon 1A……215

Table 7.16 Tooth wear and ages of individual mandibular gazelle teeth from Horizon 1B……216

Table 9.1 Proportion of gazelle and fallow deer remains in published Epipalaeolithic faunal assemblages…………………………………………………………………236

Table 9.2 Identified species frequencies for UR IIa (Horizon 1A and 1B), OH II and EG I…………………………………………………………………...……………238

Table 9.3 Species distribution by locus for OH II………………………….…………………..238

Table 9.4 Comparison of NISP counts and relative frequencies of ungulate prey animals between OH II Locality 3, 10, and North Area, EG I, and UR IIa Horizon 1A and 1B…………………………………..……………………………..……….240

Table 9.5 Relative proportions (%NISP and %MNE) of gazelle portions, UR IIa Horizon 1A, Horizon 1B and EG I……………………………….…………………………244

Table 9.6 MAU and %MAU counts for gazelle UR IIa and EG I…………………………..….247

Table 9.7 Bird species represented at UR IIa Horizon 1A and 1B, and EG I…………………..250

Table 9.8 Bird species represented at OH II………………………………………...………….252

Table 9.9 Identified fish remains from Hut 1, Ohalo II………………………………………...253

Table 9.10 Identified Species Frequencies for HAY C and MEG and NHV…………………..259

Table 9.11 MAU and %MAU values for UR IIa (1A and 1B), HAY C, and MEG …………...261

Table 9.12 MNI and %MNI values for UR IIa (1A and 1B) and NHV………………………..264

Table 9.13 Summary of richness and evenness index values for Kebaran, Geometric Kebaran, Early Natufian, and Late Natufian sites……………………...269

Table 9.14 NISP values for all taxa included in the regional analysis………………………....272

Table 9.15 Proportions of small ungulates, small game and slow small game………………...275

xii

List of Figures

Figure 2.1 Map of Levant, with geographic locations indicating area boundaries……………....16

Figure 2.2 Inferred distribution of forest, woodland, forest-steppe, and steppe-desert- steppe for the Early, Middle and Late Epipalaeolithic………….…………………...18

Figure 2.3 Locations giving palaeoclimatic information mentioned in text……………………..20

Figure 2.4 Lake Lisan levels throughout Epipalaeolithic……….……….………………………30

Figure 2.5 Early Epipalaeolithic sites in the Levant mentioned in the text……………………...32

Figure 2.6 Middle Epipalaeolithic sites in the Levant mentioned in the text……………………38

Figure 2.7 Late Epipalaeolithic sites in the Levant mentioned in the text……………………….41

Figure 3.1 View of the Dead Sea (vestigial Lake Lisan) and Jordan Valley basin from Qumran……………………………………………………………………………...46

Figure 3.2 Topography and drainage in the Lake Kinneret basin…………………………….….47

Figure 3.3 Location of Urkan e-Rubb IIa in the Jordan Valley, with Ohalo II and Ein Gev I………………………………………………………………………….....49

Figure 3.4 Site plan of Urkan e-Rubb IIA.……………………………..………………………..51

Figure 3.5 Backed bladelets and micropoints from Area A……………………………………...55

Figure 3.6 Bone awl from Area A, Horizon 1A…………………………………………..……..56

Figure 3.7 Worked bone from Area A …………………………………………………………..57

Figure 3.8 Face A of incised pebble found in Area B…………………………………………...58

Figure 3.9 Incised gazelle metapodial fragment from Area A (Horizon 1A)….………………...59

Figure 3.10 Incised BSGD ungulate long bone fragment, Area A (Horizon 1A)……………….59

Figure 3.11 Site Exploitation Territory of UR IIa, with Lake Lisan at -240 m………….………62

Figure 3.12 Main area of excavation at Ohalo II……………………………………..………….64

Figure 3.13 General plan of Ein Gev I, Layers 3-5……………………………………………...68

Figure 3.14 Location of Kebaran sites in the Wadi Fazael .…………………………………….70

xiii

Figure 4.1 Left humerus divided into fragment zones……………………..…………………….75

Figure 4.2 Measurements for determining sex in sexually dimorphic ungulate species…………………………………………………………………………….....98

Figure 4.3.Placement of callipers to measure medial wall thickness of the acetabula region in Bovidae…………………………………..………………………………..99

Figure 5.1 Correlation between skeleton completeness frequencies for gazelle and BSGD ungulates, Area A Horizon 1A………………………………………..……………….……….126

Figure 5.2 Skeletal part representation of gazelle and BSGD ungulates from Horizon 1A, pooled into five carcass parts……………………………….…………………130

Figure 5.3 Skeletal part representation of gazelle and BSGD ungulates from Horizon 1B, pooled into five carcass parts…………………………………….……………131

Figure 5.4 Skeletal part representation of gazelle from Horizon 1A and 1B, pooled into five carcass parts………………………………………………………………132

Figure 5.5 Skeletal part representation of BSGD ungulates from Horizon 1A and 1B, pooled into five carcass parts………………………..……………………………..132

Figure 5.7 Complete and fragmentary proximal metacarpals, Fraction Summation…….……..139

Figure 6.1 Relationship between skeletal part frequency (%MAU), A) bone density and B) food utility for gazelle, Horizon 1A………………………………………..148

Figure 6.2 Relationship between skeletal part frequency (%MAU), A) bone density and B) food utility for gazelle, Horizon 1B………………………………………..149

Figure 6.3 Relationship between skeletal part frequency (%MAU), A) bone density and B) food utility for BSGD ungulates, Horizon 1A……………………………..150

Figure 6.4 Relationship between skeletal part frequency (%MAU), A) bone density and B) food utility for BSGD ungulates, Horizon 1B………….………………….151

Figure 6.5 Cumulative frequency of gazelle bone fragments in different size classes, Horizon 1A…………………………………………………………………………152

Figure 6.6 Cumulative frequency of gazelle bone fragments in different size classes, Horizon 1B…………………………………………………………………………152

Figure 6.7 Cumulative frequency of BSGD ungulate bone fragments in different size classes, Horizon 1A. …………………………………………...………………….154

Figure 6.8 Cumulative frequency of BSGD ungulate bone fragments in different size classes, Horizon 1B………………………..………………………………….…….….154

xiv

Figure 6.9 Comparison of gazelle, BSGD ungulate tarsal and vertebrae element survivorship from Horizon 1A and 1B……………………………………………...….163

Figure 6.10 Comparison of gazelle, BSGD ungulate carpal and vertebrae element survivorship from Horizon 1A and 1B……………………………………………...... 163

Figure 6.11 Relationship between proportional frequencies of A) proximal and distal humeri; and B) proximal and distal tibiae for gazelle and BSGD ungulates compared to a series of control assemblages with known degrees of destruction……………………………………………………………………….…166

Figure 6.12 Pitting and puncture marks on gazelle elements ...………………………….…….168

Figure 6.13 Relative frequencies of gazelle fragment shaft length by shaft circumference in Horizon 1A and 1B……………….……………………………………………..171

Figure 6.14 Relative frequencies of gazelle long bone shaft fragments per weathering stage for Horizon 1A and Horizon 1B………………………..……………………174

Figure 7.1 Fracture Freshness Index scores for all ungulate long bone fragments, Horizon 1A and Horizon 1B…………………………...…………………………..181

Figure 7.2 Cut marks on a gazelle proximal radius fragment, Horizon 1A…………………….190

Figure 7.3 Diagonal cut marks on a gazelle distal humerus shaft fragment, Horizon 1A…..….187

Figure 7.4 Cut marks on a gazelle proximal metatarsal fragment, Horizon 1B………..………191

Figure 7.5 Diagonal cut marks on a gazelle proximal metatarsal shaft fragment, Horizon 1B…………………………………………………………………………………..191

Figure 7.6 Proportion of complete elements with cut marks (%cMNEcut) for gazelle, Horizon 1A…………………………………………………………………………194

Figure 7.7 Proportion of complete elements with cut marks (%cMNEcut) for gazelle, Horizon 1B…………………………………………………………………………196

Figure 7.8 Gazelle scapula from Horizon 1B with characteristic fracture suggesting damage by human weapons……………………..…………………………………198

Figure 7.9 Proportional distributions of identified burned bone between animals of different body sizes from Horizon 1A and Horizon 1B………………………...….200

Figure 7.10 Spatial distributions of burned gazelle fragments, showing burning concentrations for Horizon 1A……………………………………………..………202

Figure 7.11 Spatial distributions of burned gazelle fragments, showing burning concentrations for Horizon 1B………………………………….………………….203

Figure 7.12 Proportional distributions of burned skeletal elements of gazelle from Horizon 1A and Horizon 1B…………………………...…………………………..204

Figure 7.13 Comparison of burned articular and shaft MNE frequencies, gazelle Horizon 1A…………………………………………………………………………205

Figure 7.14 Comparison of burned articular and shaft MNE frequencies, gazelle Horizon 1B…………………………………………………………………………206

Figure 7.15 Proportional distributions of scorched (brown-red), carbonised (blue-gray) and calcined (white) gazelle specimens, Horizon 1A………………..…………….207

Figure 7.16 Proportional distributions of scorched (brown-red), carbonised (blue-gray) and calcined (white) gazelle specimens, Horizon 1B………………..…………….207

Figure 7.17 Proportion of scorched, carbonised and calcined gazelle bone fragments within the burned bone samples from Horizon 1A and 1B…………………..…….208

Figure 7.18 Scatterplot of distal humerus measurements comparing gazelle of known sex with A) fossil gazelle from Horizon 1A; B) fossil gazelle from Horizon 1B……………………………………………………………………………….….219

Figure 7.19 Scatterplot of distal metacarpal measurements comparing gazelle of known sex with A) fossil gazelle from Horizon 1A; B) fossil gazelle from Horizon 1B……………………………………………………………………………….….221

Figure 7.20 Line plot of acetabulum thickness comparing individuals of known sex with A) fossil gazelle from Horizon 1A; B) fossil gazelle from Horizon 1B……...222

Figure 8.1 Summary of osteometric results showing sexual dimorphism in gazelle ……….….230

Figure 9.1 Comparison of anatomical portion frequencies (%NISP) for gazelle……………....243

Figure 9.2 Comparison of relative frequencies (%MNE and %NISP) of gazelle anatomical portions between UR IIa Horizon 1A, Horizon 1B and EG I…………245

Figure 9.3 Relationship between bone density and skeletal part frequency; and between standardised food utility and skeletal part frequency for gazelle from EG I .………248

Figure 9.4 Double-notched pebble from Locality 13 (Hut 13), Ohalo II………………………254

Figure 9.5 Location of Epipalaeolithic sites discussed in text………………………………….255

Figure 9.6 Relationship between skeletal part frequency (%MAU), bone density and food utility for gazelle at HAY C………………………….……………………….262

Figure 9.7 Relationship between skeletal part frequency (%MAU), bone density and food utility for gazelle at MEG…………………….………………………………262

xvi

Figure 9.8 Relationship between A) bone density and standardised MNI (%MNI); and B) between food utility and standardised MNI (%MNI) for gazelle at UR IIa (Horizon 1A and 1B) and NHV…………………………...……………………265

Figure 9.9 Species richness for Kebaran, Geometric Kebaran, Early Natufian, and Late Natufian sites…………………………………………………………………270

Figure 9.10 Species evenness for Kebaran, Geometric Kebaran, Early Natufian and Late Natufian sites…………………………………………………………………270

Figure 9.11 Proportion of small ungulates to large ungulates in Epipalaeolithic assemblages………………………………………………………………….……..274

Figure 9.12 Proportion of small game in the Epipalaeolithic faunal assemblages…………………………………………...……………………………276

Figure 9.13 Proportion of slow small game (tortoises) to fast small game (fish, birds, small mammals) in the Epipalaeolithic faunal assemblages…………….…………277

xvii

List of Appendices

Appendix 1: Body part frequencies of each taxon represented, Area A Horizon 1A……..……338

Appendix 2: Body part frequency for each body size category, Area A Horizon 1A…...……..342

Appendix 3: Body part frequencies for each taxon, Area A Horizon 1B……..…….………….343

Appendix 4: Body part frequencies for body size categories, Area A Horizon 1…...…...... 347

Appendix 5: Body part frequencies for identified taxa and body size class, Area B…………..348

Appendix 6: Body part frequencies for identified taxa and body size class, Area C and Test Pit……...... ……..……………………………………………….…350

Appendix 7: Body part frequencies for identified taxa and body size class, Trench I……..…..352

Appendix 8: Body part frequencies for identified taxa and body size class, Trench II…….…..354

Appendix 9: Comprehensive MNE MNI, and MAU whole element estimates for BSGD ungulates Horizon 1A and 1B, based on refitted fragments…………..…………...356

Appendix 10: Gazella gazella measurements (mm) from Horizon 1A and 1B. Distal Humerus………………..………….………………………………………..357 Distal Metacarpus………….…………….………………………………………...358 Distal Radius……………………………………………………………………….358 Distal Tibia…………..……………………………………………………………..359 Distal Metatarsus……………………….……………………………………….…361

Appendix 11: %MAU, bone density and food utility values, gazelle Horizon 1A……….……362

Appendix 12: %MAU, bone density and food utility values, BSGD ungulates Horizon 1A……………………..…………………………………………………..363

Appendix 13: %MAU, bone density and food utility values, gazelle Horizon 1B……..………364

Appendix 14: %MAU, bone density and food utility values, BSGD ungulates Horizon 1B..………………………………………………………………………..365

Appendix 15: Fragmentation intensity, indeterminate fragments Horizon 1A…..……….…….366

Appendix 16: Fragmentation intensity, indeterminate fragments Horizon 1B………..…….….367

xviii

Appendix 17: Abundance (MAU and %MAU) of proximal and distal humerus and tibia element portions for caribou assemblages………………………….…………………..368

Appendix 18: Ratio of unfused to fused bones for gazelle, fallow deer, bezoar goat, wild pig, cape hare and fox, Areas A, B, C……………………………..………….369

Appendix 19: Gazelle cut marks, Horizon 1A. Percussion marks gazelle Horizon 1A…..…………………………………………371 Other cut marks (indeterminate intent) gazelle Horizon 1A…………………….....371

Appendix 20: Gazelle cut marks Horizon 1B. Percussion marks gazelle Horizon 1B….……………………….…………………372 Other cut marks (indeterminate intent) gazelle Horizon 1B………...….……..…...372

Appendix 21: Gazelle cut mark quantification: comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (cMNEcut), comprehensive minimum number of elements (CMNE), and proportion of comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (%cMNEcut).…...………..…………………………………………....…374

Appendix 22: Cut mark diagrams, Gazella gazella Horizon 1A….……………………………375

Appendix 23: Cut mark diagrams, Gazella gazella Horizon 1B….……………………………378

Appendix 24: Capra cut marks. Other cut marks (indeterminate intent) Capra Horizon 1A…..…..…….……….…382 Other cut marks (indeterminate intent) Capra Horizon 1B…..……………………382 Capra Cut mark quantification: comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (cMNEcut), comprehensive minimum number of elements (CMNE), and proportion of comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (%cMNEcut)………...…………………...…………………………..…..382

Appendix 25: Dama cut marks. Other cut marks (indeterminate intent) Dama Horizon 1B…..…………….....……383 Dama cut mark quantification: comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (cMNEcut), comprehensive minimum number of elements (CMNE), and proportion of comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (%cMNEcut)……....……………………...………………………….…..383

Appendix 26: Capreolus cut marks. Primary butchery Capreolus Horizon 1B….…..…………………………………..384 Capreolus cut mark quantification: comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (cMNEcut), comprehensive minimum number of elements (CMNE), and proportion of comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (%cMNEcut).....…………………………...……………………………..384

Appendix 27: Sus cut marks. Primary butchery Sus Horizon 1B………….…..………………………………….385

xix

Sus cut mark quantification: comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (cMNEcut), comprehensive minimum number of elements (CMNE), and proportion of comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (%cMNEcut)...……………………………………………….....………..385

Appendix 28: Canis cut marks Primary butchery Canis Horizon 1B....…………………………………………….386 Canis cut mark quantification: comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (cMNEcut), comprehensive minimum number of elements (CMNE), and proportion of comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (%cMNEcut)……….……………………...……………………………..386

Appendix 29: Lepus cut marks. Primary butchery Lepus Horizon 1A…...….………………………………………387 Secondary butchery marks Lepus Horizon 1A…………..………………………...387 Primary butchery Lepus Horizon 1B………………………………………………387 Lepus cut mark quantification: comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (cMNEcut), comprehensive minimum number of elements (CMNE), and proportion of comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (%cMNEcut)……………………………………...……………………..387

Appendix 30: Alectoris cut marks. Primary butchery Alectoris Horizon 1A…………………..……………………….388 Alectoris cut mark quantification: comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (cMNEcut), comprehensive minimum number of elements (CMNE), and proportion of comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (%cMNEcut)...…………………………………...………………..388

Appendix 31: BSGB cut marks. Primary butchery BSGB Horizon 1A…………………….………………………..389 BSGB cut mark quantification: comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (cMNEcut), comprehensive minimum number of elements (CMNE), and proportion of comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (%cMNEcut)………………………………………………...…………..389

Appendix 32: BSGC cut marks. Primary butchery BSGC Horizon 1A……..……………………………………….390 Secondary butchery marks BSGC Horizon 1A……….…….……………………..390 Other cut marks (indeterminate intent) BSGC Horizon 1A……….……………....390 Primary butchery BSGC Horizon 1B…………………………………………...…390 Secondary butchery marks BSGC Horizon 1B……….……………………………390 Percussion marks BSGC Horizon 1B…………………………………………..….390 Other cut marks (indeterminate intent) BSGC Horizon 1B……..…………..……..390 BSGC cut mark quantification: comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (cMNEcut), comprehensive minimum number of elements (CMNE), and proportion of comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (%cMNEcut)…….………………………...……………………………..391

Appendix 33: BSGD cut marks. Primary butchery BSGD Horizon 1A…….……..…………………………………392 Other cut marks (indeterminate intent) BSGD Horizon 1A……………………….392 Primary butchery BSGD Horizon 1B…………………..………………………….392 Secondary butchery marks BSGD Horizon 1B….……………….……….………..393 Other cut marks (indeterminate intent) BSGD Horizon 1B…….………………….393 BSGD cut mark quantification: comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (cMNEcut), comprehensive minimum number of elements (CMNE), and proportion of comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (%cMNEcut)……………….……………………...……………………..393

Appendix 34: Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations Kharaneh IV Phase A (Kebaran)……………………..…..………………….…….394

Appendix 35 Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations Kharaneh IV Phase B (Kebaran)…………….…………...………………………...395

Appendix 36: Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations Kharaneh IV Phase C (Kebaran)………………...... ……………………………...396

Appendix 37: Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations Wadi Jilat 6 (Kebaran)…………………………..……….………………………...397

Appendix 38: Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations Hayonim C (Kebaran)…………………...………………………………………....398

Appendix 39: Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations Meged Rockshelter (Kebaran)……………………………………………………..399

Appendix 40: Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations Nahal Hadera V (Kebaran)…..…………………………………………………….400

Appendix 41: Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations Ohalo II (Kebaran)………………………….……………………………………...401

Appendix 42: Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations Ein Gev I (Kebaran)………..………………………………………………………402

Appendix 43: Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations UR IIa Horizon 1A (Kebaran)……………...……………………………………...403

Appendix 44: Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations UR IIa Horizon 1B (Kebaran)………….…………………………………………..404

Appendix 45: Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations Kharaneh IV Phase D (Geometric Kebaran)……………………………………….405

xxi

Appendix 46: Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations Neve David (Geometric Kebaran)……………..…………….…………………….406

Appendix 47: Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations Hefzibah (Geometric Kebaran)…………………………………………………….407

Appendix 48: Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations El-Wad Cave (Early Natufian)……………….…………………………………….408

Appendix 49: Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations Hayonim Cave (Early Natufian)…..……………………………………………….409

Appendix 50: Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations El-Wad Terrace (Late Natufian)…………………………………………………...410

Appendix 51: Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations Hayonim Cave (Late Natufian)…...………………………………………………..411

Appendix 52: Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations Hayonim Terrace (Late Natufian)……………..…………………………………...412

Appendix 53: Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations Hilazon Tachtit (Late Natufian)…………..………………………………………..413

Appendix 54: Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations Hatoula (Late Natufian)………………….………………………………………...414

xxii

Chapter 1 Introduction

One of the primary areas of research in Late Pleistocene faunal studies in the Levant has been the exploration of subsistence strategy changes following the Last Glacial Maximum. This area of research began over 40 years ago and has concentrated on terminal Pleistocene culture complexes, such as the Natufian. In order to fully understand the process of agricultural origins, it is important to understand the periods leading up to the end of the Pleistocene and the beginning of the Holocene. However, not enough attention has been paid to the Early Epipalaeolithic, particularly the Kebaran. As such, long term trends of subsistence change are difficult to discern.

This deficit will be addressed in this dissertation, by analysing and interpreting an important Kebaran faunal assemblage (Urkan e-Rubb IIa) in order to interpret the context of Kebaran subsistence at a single site; as well as comparing this site to contemporaneous Kebaran sites in the region so as to gain an understanding of Kebaran subsistence as a whole. These results will then be compared to Geometric Kebaran and Natufian assemblages to refine our understanding of Epipalaeolithic subsistence changes, in particular the degree that broad spectrum resource strategies played throughout this period.

1.1 Current Paradigm in Epipalaeolithic Faunal Research

1.1.1 The Broad Spectrum Revolution Model

In 1969, Kent Flannery proposed the Broad Spectrum Revolution (BSR) model to explain changes in subsistence behaviours associated with the end of the Pleistocene. This model has been integral in constructing explanations of Late Pleistocene subsistence behaviour in the Near East, particularly leading up to the development of agriculture and animal domestication. The model is based on the argument that an important change in subsistence behaviour took place between the end of the last glacial period and the development of agriculture. This was a change from the hunting of primarily medium- and large-sized ungulates to an intensified use of habitats through the increased exploitation of smaller ungulates, small prey (such as hare, tortoise, fowl, fish and shellfish) (Davis et al. 1988; Binford 1968: 332; Flannery 1969: 77), and wild cereals.

These behavioural changes, according to Flannery (1969: 74) began directly after the end of the Last Glacial Maximum (LGM) and gradually culminated in the development of food production. In formulating his model, Flannery was greatly influenced by Binford’s (1968) discussion of habitat equilibrium. Within this scenario, hunting-gathering populations are naturally regulated below the carrying capacity of the local food supply, regardless of variation in population density and resource availability. This suggests that, in a situation where conditions are relatively stable, there is no adaptive pressure to increase the food supply beyond what is immediately necessary (Binford 1968: 325). This essentially moved the discussion of subsistence change and intensification out of the realm of ‘progressive’ adaptations, where it was argued that the shift to food production was the natural result of humanity’s ongoing drive to increase the food supply (i.e. Childe’s ‘Neolithic Revolution’; see also Braidwood 1960). Instead, following an assumption of a natural habitat equilibrium, in situations where there is evidence of increased food collection and production (i.e. disequilibrium), there must be causal factors that put selective pressure on a population to adapt to changing conditions in order to re-establish equilibrium through increased food productivity. Binford (1968: 328) argued that only two conditions could lead to this change in subsistence. The first involves a change in the physical environment, which would bring about a reduction in the available resources. This could refer to catastrophic events such as a flood, or a forest fire, but could also refer to climate change. The second condition involves a change in the demographic structure of a region, where more than one population (in this case, hunter-gatherers) is exploiting the same territory, thereby putting additional stress on the carrying capacity of the habitat. To take this second condition further, when a migrating group moved into a territory that was already occupied by a different group, the ‘native’ group would be put under adaptive pressure to develop more efficient and intensive technological strategies to exploit the staple food items, and to begin to use less favourable resources to fill dietary gaps. The incoming group, on the other hand, would have to adapt their already pre-existing strategies to a new, increasingly stressed, habitat (Binford 1968: 331).

According to Binford, this situation did not come to a ‘head’ until the very end of the Pleistocene, with direct food production (agriculture and animal domestication) the solution to the habitat imbalance caused by population pressure. Evidence of possible migration of different groups within the Levant can be seen in the Early Epipalaeolithic, where the Negev and Sinai- based Masraqan culture can also be found along the Coastal Plain and the Jordan Rift Valley, as

well as the Azraq basin. This culture would have come into contact with Kebaran cultures groups along the Mediterranean coast and along the Jordan River; with Nebekian culture groups also along the Jordan River; and Qalkhan culture groups in Transjordan (for detailed discussion of these cultural entities, see Chapter 2).

Flannery expanded this idea of adapting to situations of disequilibrium caused by a combination of changing environment (climate change) and population pressure. He argued that in climatically unstable situations where population density was increasing, with either a single band expanding its membership, or an increase in the number of bands within a single territory (for instance, post LGM), resource diversification was adopted to increase the carrying capacity of a region. Evidence of greater population density can be found at the onset of the Middle Epipalaeolithic, where sites attributed to the Geometric Kebaran culture (which emerged directly out of Late Kebaran culture entities) increase in number both along the Jordan River Valley, as well as in more marginal areas such as the Negev and Sinai deserts and into the highlands of Lebanon, the Golan and Galilee (Bar-Yosef & Vogel 1987; Goring-Morris 1987). This led to a greater reliance on ‘high cost, low yield’ resources, such as small game (hares, waterfowl) and plant foods (Flannery 1969: 79).

Putting this into a Levantine context, following the end of the LGM, hunter-gatherer groups would have increasingly turned to more intensive collection strategies as critical resources became more unevenly distributed, especially along the Jordan River Valley, as Irano-Turanian steppe increasingly encroached on former Mediterranean woodland ecozones. There would have been no real change in the base diet, in terms of what ungulate species were exploited. However, there would be changes in the diversity of resources exploited over time, with consequent increases in the energy spent in collecting and processing activities as more ‘high-cost, low- yield’ resources are added to the diet. Species diversity relates to the amount of variability within a given sample or population, and is made up of two main component parts, as identified by Bobrowsky and Ball (1989: 5; see also Neely & Clark 1993: 226). Species richness is defined as the number of species or types in a given sample. While this component of diversity is invaluable, it does not shed any light on the issue of individual species abundance. Instead, it gives a value of the number of species present, not the relative importance of each species within an assemblage. For this, one needs to look at species evenness, which measures the proportional

distribution of a species within a sample and makes it possible to determine whether or not all species are represented more or less equally (or evenly) in a sample, or if the sample is dominated by a single species or a group of more abundant species (Bobrowsky & Bull 1989: 6; Neeley & Clark 1993: 226).

Along with this subsistence change, Flannery (1969: 77) argued that archaeological settlement patterns from this period suggest a change from a residentially mobile settlement pattern to more long-term residential base camps that shifted on a seasonal basis, and which sent out task- specific groups to collect specific resources, essentially describing Binford’s (1980) logistically organised settlement system. Within this type of settlement pattern, specifically constituted groups leave a seasonally occupied residential site and move to selected localities where particular resources will be accessed. Under Binford’s model (1980: 10), these groups are generally small and are composed of individuals who are skilled and knowledgeable about the specific task. Because each of these logistical groups has a specific goal, Binford argues that it is possible to identify the functional specificity of a site produced under a logistically organised system.

In addition to the ‘base camp’ and the resource acquisition ‘location’ shared in common with more residentially mobile foraging groups, logistically organised systems also include temporary field camps, where a task group lives and maintains itself while away from a base camp. Depending upon the activity and the occupation duration at the field camp, there is the possibility of a great deal of archaeological variability (following Binford 1978: 487; 1980: 12) between field camps, as additional activities can also occur. This differentiates a field camp from a residential base camp (which will have the highest degree of archaeological heterogeneity), as well as from a resource acquisition site (i.e. a kill site, with a high degree of archaeological homogeneity).

Binford argues (1980: 15) that the use of a logistical strategy solves the problem of patchy distribution of resources in situations where the residential base camp is located in order to exploit one resource, but is lacking in another critical resource. When resources are not equally distributed across a given territory, moving the residential base will not solve the issue, as it will only move the group towards one resource, but away from another. There is also an increased

5 reliance on storage as a strategy to mitigate patchy resource distribution. This extends the temporal availability of certain resources beyond their natural period of availability. The drawback of extensive storage strategies is that they come with a higher residential transport cost. As a group’s dependence on storage increases, Binford argues that there will be a corresponding increase in logistically organised behaviour. This is because the residential base moves throughout the region less frequently, and locally available resources become exhausted more quickly.

Binford has argued (1980: 15) that environment and climate are strong contributing factors to the distribution of critical resources within a habitat, and consequently, the degree of logistical organisation used by a group of hunter-gatherers. The more variation between seasonal temperatures in a given environment, the higher the number of critical resources, presumably distributed unequally within the territory. As the number of critical resources increases, the distribution of these critical resources is likely to be more uneven, and the expected role of logistical mobility in the settlement strategy is greater.

Under the BSR model, human population density would have increased. This would be due to both climatic amelioration that provided a wider resource base, and through the use of a logistical residential system, which allowed longer occupations at a single site, potentially decreasing individual mortality (i.e. greater survival for very young or injured/ill individuals). Flannery argued that the shift to a broad spectrum resource strategy would have occurred first in more marginal areas (for instance, along the Jordan River Valley), where resource stress would have been felt more keenly than in more resource ‘rich’ areas, such as along the Mediterranean coast (1969: 78), and that the use of these strategies began not at the Pleistocene/Holocene boundary, but during the Upper Palaeolithic (pre-20,000 years ago in the Levant). The pattern of increased diet breadth caused by an increase in population, changes in climatic conditions, adoption of new technologies (i.e. ground stone tools) and changes to the organisation of the subsistence system eventually led to the appearance of domestication economies (Flannery 1969: 79).

Within this framework, Stiner (2001: 6993) notes that evidence for increasing dietary breadth is expected to be expressed in more species being exploited (i.e. richness) (following Flannery

1969), with the addition of greater proportional evenness among high- and low-ranked prey species. The latter would be expected if the change to a wider resource base is a response to declining availability of more preferred food types. This change is often linked to the climatic deterioration of the Younger Dryas, as well as population growth pulses at the end of the Palaeolithic. If human population growth reached a density beyond a level which the carrying capacity of the habitat could support, then predation pressure on higher ranked, large prey species would increase to a level that would subsequently depress those prey populations. Human foragers would then be forced to turn to lower-ranked resource options, which were smaller and harder to capture (Stutz et al. 2009: 294).

1.1.2 Recent Discussion of the BSR Model

Critiques of the diet breadth model (see Stiner et al. 1999, 2000; Stiner & Munro 2002) have pointed out that, while the general premise of the model is correct, the beginnings of the adaptation can be traced further back in time, to the Middle Palaeolithic. Henry (1989: 15) states that the adoption of a broad spectrum subsistence pattern should be directly visible within a faunal assemblage, as evidenced by a higher ratio of small to large organisms (shown through relative diversity indices). Edward (1989) argues that this change in relative diversity is not significantly different at the end of the Epipalaeolithic than at the beginning. Instead, the early Epipalaeolithic is as diverse (in terms the number of species present in a faunal assemblage) as the Natufian. This is supported by Neeley and Clark (1993), despite their critique of Edward’s reliance on only evenness measures of diversity. Stiner (2001) argues that there is no clear zooarchaeological evidence (based on taxonomic diversity) to support a BSR hypothesis for expanding dietary breadth at the end of the Pleistocene. Studies focusing on showing species diversity throughout the Epipalaeolithic (e.g. Edwards 1989; Neely & Clark 1993; Davis 1982) show only a major decline in subsistence diversity in the early Neolithic with the development of agriculture and the sudden increase of caprines in faunal samples.

Stiner and colleagues (1999; 2000) note that a broad spectrum resource strategy was used as far back as the Middle Palaeolithic. What seems to change is the emphasis placed on three general types of small prey over time. For instance, Stiner states (2001: 6994) that Middle Palaeolithic foragers exploited small prey, but only those that were easy to catch and required little effort (‘low-cost’). She further states that variation within small game frequencies show an increasing

trend towards a more even dependence on both high- and low-ranked small game prey types, indicating an increasing dietary breadth from the early Upper Palaeolithic onwards.

Stiner and colleagues (1999, 2000) and others (Bar-Oz et al. 1999; Neely & Clark 1993; Dunnell 1989; Stiner 1994) do not argue that there was no subsistence variation throughout the Upper Palaeolithic and Epipalaeolithic, however. They argue that the tools used to determine shifts in subsistence behaviour, namely taxonomy-based analyses, are too limited to shed light on the issue. They state that the main limitation of these types of studies is that they are body mass oriented (in terms of prey species), and do not consider the habits and physical properties of the prey animals and how human decision making must recognise these behaviours in order to exploit them successfully (Stiner et al. 2000: 42). Although small animals have basically equivalent food values, in terms of the amount of meat that can be exploited, the handling costs can differ greatly among animals, with some animals being easy to collect (eg., tortoises) and other requiring much greater effort (eg., hares, birds, fish), what Munro (2001) refers to as ‘catchability’. Tied to this is the ability of a particular prey animal to withstand heavy predation. Animals with a high degree of resilience quickly replace their populations because they tend to produce many young, have high juvenile mortality and live relatively short lives. Animals with lower resilience have much slower population-replacement strategies. Here, fewer offspring are produced or survive, both in a single season and between seasons, and individual development is slow (Munro 2001: 27; Stiner et al. 1999, 2000).

Recent discussions of Epipalaeolithic diet breadth have concentrated on the end of the Pleistocene (see Cope 1991; Davis 1991; Munro 2001, 2003, 2004, 2009; Stiner 2001; Stiner & Munro 2002; Stiner et al. 1999, 2000; Stutz et al. 2009) and have been directed towards explaining the changing subsistence patterns towards the end of the Epipalaeolithic (the Natufian), where an increased use of wild cereals and small game has been well documented (Pichon 1991; Kislev et al. 1992; Simmons & Nadel 1998; Stiner et al 1999, 2000; Hillman et al. 2001; Stiner 2001, 2005; Stiner & Munro 2002; Munro 2001, 2003, 2004; Weiss et al. 2004a, 2004b; Savard et al. 2006). Stiner and colleagues (2000: 42) argue that, although diversity analyses may be accurate in describing what prey animals made up various faunal assemblages, they rely too heavily on taxonomy-bound assumptions and interpretations. Despite cultural, technological, and biological changes from the Middle Palaeolithic to the Neolithic, the only

8 major economic change that is visible using taxonomic-diversity measures is when foragers become farmers. The argument that subsistence changes did not take hold until the end of the Epipalaeolithic is supported by a wide range of archaeological evidence, including the more sedentary nature of Natufian settlement systems as evidenced through architectural structures and the presence of commensal rodent remains, the proliferation of ground stone tools used for cereal grain processing (Wright 1991, 1994), and the rare presence of storage facilities and preserved plant remains (Bar-Yosef & Belfer-Cohen 1989; Bar-Yosef & Meadow 1995; Byrd 1994; Cowan & Watson 1992; Henry 1985, 1989; Hillman et al. 1989; Kislev 1989; Kislev et al. 1992; Miller 1992). Through their analysis of Middle Palaeolithic to late Epipalaeolithic faunal assemblages from Italy and Israel, Stiner and colleagues (1999, 2000) argue that throughout the Middle Palaeolithic, the trend shows an emphasis on immobile small prey (shellfish) and slow moving prey (tortoises). In the early Upper Palaeolithic, there is increasing use of game birds, with the addition of lagomorphs (hares) by the Epipalaeolithic. Although slow moving prey remained a staple in the diet throughout these periods, they were increasingly supplemented by more agile prey (which would have required greater effort to collect). This change may have resulted both from technological advancements, and from the need to replace a valued food source that had diminished due to hunting pressure.

Beyond looking for evidence of dietary shifts in the Palaeolithic, one of the driving concerns of the recent analysis has been the connection between prey demography and changing human demography throughout the Epipalaeolithic (Stiner et al. 1999, 2000; Stiner & Munro 2002; Stutz et al. 2009). Stiner and colleagues (2000: 56) argue that data on small game exploitation can show subtle variations in subsistence throughout the later Palaeolithic, and can give some indication of changes to human population demography. On the basis of the high frequencies of non-resilient species in Middle Palaeolithic assemblages, together with large individual body sizes of these prey species, it is suggested that human population density at this time was quite low and highly dispersed; whatever hunting pressure existed, it was not enough to cause a body size diminution in tortoises or shellfish. During the Upper Palaeolithic and early Epipalaeolithic, an increase in human population density is indicated by the increased hunting pressure on tortoises (as evidence by the decrease in overall body size of this prey animal in archaeological assemblages from these periods) and in the increasing presence and reliance on birds and lagomorphs. It is argued that at this time, there is an overall evenness in the exploitation of slow,

9 easy to catch prey (high ranked) and fast, hard to catch prey (low ranked prey). Hunting pressure may have increased, evidenced by the diminution of tortoise body sizes, but not enough that these non-resilient prey species were no longer available for exploitation. It is instead argued that it is not until the later Epipalaeolithic (i.e. the Natufian) that there is a notable increase in dietary breadth, where a larger proportion of the resource base is made up of low-ranked, hard to catch prey animals, thus agreeing, in part, with Flannery’s (1969) BSR model.

1.2 Broad Spectrum Diets and the Kebaran

In reference to the early Epipalaeolithic in the Levant, and in particular within the Jordan Valley, the question then becomes, do broad spectrum models help to shed any light on subsistence adaptations at the end of the Last Glacial Maximum? What can recent analyses of Jordan Valley faunal assemblages contribute to the discussion? This last is particularly important because the Jordan Valley, throughout the Epipalaeolithic, perfectly represents both Binford’s (1968) and Flannery’s (1969) marginal habitat. Unlike the Mediterranean coastal sites, which have been the primary source of data for the discussion of BSR models in the Epipalaeolithic Levant, the Jordan Valley was (and is) dominated by a combination of grassland steppe and desert scrub environments. This contrasts dramatically with the Mediterranean woodland environment of the coastal region. As mentioned previously, Stiner and colleagues (1999; 2000; see also Munro 2001, 2003, 2004; Stiner 2001; Stiner & Munro 2002; Stutz et al. 2009) argue that throughout the Upper Palaeolithic and Epipalaeolithic, it is not so much that a more diverse resource base is used at this time, but that the existing resource base is used more intensively, in particular small game. In more marginal areas, it would be expected that resource acquisition strategies would differ from those used in more ‘abundant’ areas.

The view that it was not until the Natufian that hunter-gatherers in the Levant adopted a broad spectrum resource strategy has been questioned by some researchers. For instance, Henry (1989: 17-18) states that, within many Natufian sites, a broad-spectrum pattern is not apparent, and instead it appears that the subsistence pattern of this period is based more on increased specialisation in hunting gazelle and in collecting wild cereals and nuts. Although he does recognise that small game use does increase at this time, the absolute quantities represented within faunal assemblages indicate that they did not contribute significantly to the overall diet of site inhabitants. He cites his work at Hayonim Terrace (Henry et al. 1981: 47; Henry 1989: 18),

where, although the variety of animals identified showed a broadening of the general diet, the total dietary contribution of the small game would have only amounted to 40 kg of food, while the ungulate portion of the assemblage (primarily gazelle) would have contributed approximately 4000 kg. As well, Edwards (1989) argues that there is little evidence of any broadening of prey diversity from the Middle Palaeolithic to the Neolithic, based on taxonomic diversity studies. He states (1989: 237) that throughout a 100,000 year period, the faunal record indicates a persistent reliance on a small number of ungulate species, supplemented by a large range of additional small prey, and that the overall trend appears to show less diversity in the later periods (i.e. Epipalaeolithic), where foragers relied on a smaller number of faunal categories. One critique of Edwards’s method is his use of Shannon’s Evenness index (Var 1974) to determine dietary diversity and breadth. As Neeley and Clarke point out (1993), Shannon’s Evenness index is a measure of evenness, not diversity. It gives an indication of how evenly distributed a set of data are (in this case, species representation). It does not, strictly speaking, indicate diversity. This would require a discussion of both evenness and richness.

Stiner argues (2001: 6994) that a reliance on taxonomic diversity studies to delineate the BSR can be misleading, because foragers’ perceptions of prey do not always follow the rules of biological systematics and optimal foraging theory. Under these models, it is thought that natural selection guides the actions and choices of individuals towards maximising their fitness and reproductive success, and that their behaviour can be predicted on the basis of what would be the most optimal choice (Charnov 1976; Emlen 1966; Krebs et al. 1983; MacArthur & Pianka 1966; Perry & Pianka 1997; Pyke et al. 1977; Schoener 1971; Stephens & Krebs 1986). Although prey body size should be a primary contributing factor for ranking prey (i.e. the largest available animal equals the most valuable), capture and processing costs can complicate the decision-making process. Based on her research in southern Italy (1994), Stiner notes that there appears to be no trends over time in terms of differences between large and small ungulate body sizes. This seems to suggest that ungulates were hunted whenever they were available, regardless of body size.

When BSR models are used to explain subsistence patterns within Natufian assemblages, these patterns are often compared against earlier periods within the Epipalaeolithic so as to highlight the apparent diversity of species present in the later periods. This is problematic because these

Natufian samples are often compared against a single or limited earlier sample. An example of this is the recent study conducted by Stutz and colleagues (2009), where two Early Natufian and three Late Natufian assemblages are compared against a single Kebaran assemblage (Nahal Hadera V). Why is this problematic? Not only is one site being used to represent an entire cultural period, but within the Levantine Kebaran (and in the Geometric Kebaran) there is little evidence of large scale, long-term (i.e. year-long) occupations. Instead, early Epipalaeolithic sites represent seasonal base camps or more ephemeral activity sites. Of key importance, Henry (1989: 18) states that the presence of a wider variety of small game animals in Natufian middens could be the result of the year-round subsistence pattern adopted at this time. He argues that staying in one location on a long-term basis would have brought within that sites debris of the various foodstuffs that would have previously been contained within the annual mobile cycle, effectively enlarging the appearance of dietary breadth. If a site is occupied over only a short period of time, the likelihood of there being the same range of faunal debris as found at a semi- permanent or permanent (year round) occupation would be very low.

Very few studies have actually explored the issue of the BSR using taxonomy-based data sets set in the Levantine Epipalaeolithic. Two frequently cited studies include the previously mentioned Edwards (1989), who questions whether a broad spectrum exploitation strategy was ever used during the later Palaeolithic; and Neely & Clarke (1993), who broadly agree with Edwards’ conclusions, but criticise his methods. Both studies require re-analysis. On the one hand, Edwards confuses evenness (or prey distribution) for diversity (or richness), and thus does not give complete details concerning the overall proportion of species exploited in his samples. It is difficult to understand and explore the relationship between these two components, as only one aspect is discussed. It is possible that a faunal assemblage could be both even and not very rich, and vice versa. This is the issue with Edwards’ analysis. He shows that there is just as much evenness in the early Epipalaeolithic (Kebaran) as there is in the later Epipalaeolithic (Natufian), but does not, and can not (based on his method of analysis) discuss the actual range of species diversity (richness) and whether or not this has changed.

Neely and Clark (1993) do attempt to correct this error, looking at both richness and evenness in Levantine assemblages spanning the Middle Palaeolithic to the Iron Age. However, they group a number of sites belonging to contemporaneous cultural entities (Nebekian, Qalkhan, etc.), as

well as a Geometric Kebaran site (Hefzibah), as Kebaran sites. The first group does not require a great deal of criticism, as the Nebekian and Qalkhan are roughly contemporaneous with the Kebaran, although these cultures are primarily associated with purely desert adaptations. Therefore, it is to be expected that there would be differences in taxonomy-based diversity indices when different regional adaptations are compared with each other. The second group is problematic, as the Geometric Kebaran is a cultural entity that lies between the Kebaran and the Natufian. It is interesting that, although Neeley and Clark (1993) argue that it is necessary to include a very wide range of culture periods in a diachronic discussion of diet-breadth in the Levant, they virtually exclude any discussion of the Geometric Kebaran, a time of climate amelioration (Maher et al. 2011) when habitats would have opened up for both animal and human population expansions.

Following a detailed zooarchaeological and taphonomic analysis of the faunal assemblage from Urkan e-Rubb IIa, this present study will include a taxonomy-based diversity analysis using both coastal and Jordan River valley faunal assemblages, as well as assemblages from the Azraq Basin, and will involve a diachronic comparison of Kebaran, Geometric Kebaran, and Natufian assemblages. This will determine what the actual range of variation in prey choice is throughout the Epipalaeolithic, using both evenness and richness measures.

A second approach to the data will be to look at rank differences between large prey (ungulates) and small-prey use within these assemblages. This has been done for the Natufian, and to a limited extent, the Mediterranean Kebaran by Stiner and Munro (2002) and Munro (2003, 2009), but their approach does not include Jordan River valley Kebaran sites. Instead, the Kebaran sites in these studies are located relatively close to each other along the Mediterranean coast (Nahal Hadera V, Hayonim Cave, and Meged Rockshelter). In this analysis, three relative abundance indices based on the number of identified specimens (NISP) will be generated, following Munro (2009), based on taxa of different ranks and which are independent measures of hunting efficiency (Munro 2009: 4). The first abundance index compares the relative abundance of small ungulates (gazelle and roe deer) to medium (fallow deer, bezoar goat, wild boar, and red deer), and large ungulates (aurochs, equids and hartebeest). This will give some indication concerning relative rank, within each assemblage, of the prey species based on body size. The second abundance index compares the abundance of ungulates to small-bodied prey animals. This

includes both high-ranked slow animals (tortoise) and low-ranked fast animals (hares, birds, and fish). This is to show whether there are ranking differences between ungulates as a group and small-prey animals, in order to discern any differences in prey choice. The third index will compare the relative abundance of small game taxa with different escape strategies (i.e. slow versus fast). Analysis of this type will provide a more fine-grained picture of subsistence change throughout the region and period. Although this analysis has been undertaken along the coast, it is argued here that the inclusion of early Epipalaeolithic data sets from the Jordan River valley (namely Urkan e-Rubb IIa, Ohalo II, and Ein Gev I) can shed greater light on the issue of economic change within the Epipalaeolithic.

1.3 Dissertation Structure

This research is presented in ten chapters, beginning with the preceding discussion of the research problem and its general theoretical basis. Chapter 2 presents a review of the terrain and palaeoenvironment of the Mediterranean Levant during the Epipalaeolithic, with special emphasis on palynology studies, speleothem deposits and Lake Lisan reconstructions. As well, a survey of Epipalaeolithic cultural entities is outlined, with emphasis on Levantine phenomena.

Chapter 3 outlines the site background of Urkan e-Rubb IIa (UR IIa), including a specific discussion of Jordan Valley geology and environment. Included in the discussion of the site is a description of the site stratigraphy and excavations, as well as a description of the archaeological artefacts and radiometric dating. A brief discussion of the environment, artefacts and dating of Ohalo II and Ein Gev I are included, as the main contemporary sites within the Jordan Valley.

In order to explore how Jordan Valley faunal data contribute to the discussion of diet-diversity studies in the Epipalaeolithic, the focus of this study will be the faunal assemblage from the Kebaran site of UR IIa, located along the west bank of the Jordan river. As a part of this discussion, a full zooarchaeological analysis was conducted in order to fully outline the range of species that were exploited by the hunter-gatherers at this site, including prey demographics. As well, the taphonomic history of the faunal assemblage was analysed in order to understand (as much as possible) the pre- and post-depositional processes that have affected the assemblage.

Chapter 4 outlines the zooarchaeological and taphonomic methodology used in this study. .

Chapter 5 is an overview of the faunal assemblage from UR IIa, giving details of species representation (both ungulate and small prey animals), as well as element distribution for the ungulate prey. This includes a critical discussion of the use of shaft fragments in determining element counts.

Chapter 6 details the taphonomic history of the faunal assemblage. Information concerning weathering, root etching, fluvial transport, and carnivore damage is outlined here. The focus is primarily on gazelle (as the dominant prey species), but also includes a discussion of the ungulate body class size most similar to gazelle. Here, bone abundance is explored in relation to bone density and food utility.

Chapter 7 discusses the human use of animals at UR IIa. The primary focus here will be on butchery patterns and evidence of cooking. It will also include a discussion of age and sex profiles (again, primarily of gazelle due to sample size), and their relevance to interpretations of selective hunting.

Chapter 8 describes the interpreted function of the site, based on the zooarchaeology and taphonomic evidence.

Chapter 9 discusses the place of UR IIa within a discussion of the broad spectrum revolution. In this chapter, data from UR IIa are compared against other Kebaran sites along the Jordan River valley, the Mediterranean Coastal Plain and the Azraq Basin that have received recent analyses in a synchronic discussion of early Epipalaeolithic faunal assemblages. These data sets will be compared against data from Geometric Kebaran and Natufian assemblages found along the Mediterranean Coastal Plain, as this is the area of primary research at this time. This diachronic analysis focuses on an application of taxonomy-based diversity analyses, using both evenness and richness measures, as well as prey-rank indices.

Finally, Chapter 10 outlines the conclusions that have been reached concerning how the Jordan River valley sites compare to the Mediterranean coastal sites, and what this tells us about diet- breadth analyses within the Epipalaeolithic.

Chapter 2 Environmental and Cultural Context of the Mediterranean Levantine Epipalaeolithic

This chapter has two purposes. First, it outlines the reconstructed environment and climate of the Mediterranean Levant during the Epipalaeolithic, with specific emphasis on the early stages just following the Last Glacial Maximum. This is done through a discussion of geology and geography, palynology and pollen cores, cave speleothem deposits and finally reconstructions of the Pleistocene Lake Lisan. Following this, the cultural sequence of the Epipalaeolithic will be summarised, giving a description and chronology of the changing cultural phenomena of the period.

2.1 Terrain and Palaeoenvironment

The Mediterranean Levant is a small region in southwest Asia, approximately 1,100 km long, and approximately 250-350 km wide (Figure 2.1). This area stretches from the southern foothills of the Taurus Mountains in Turkey to the Sinai Peninsula. Its eastern border is marked by the Middle Euphrates Valley, Palmyra Basin, Jabal al-Druze, the Azraq and al-Jafr Basins (Bar- Yosef & Belfer-Cohen 1989: 484). The area is divided into elongated strips, which are aligned roughly on a north-south direction and correspond to the Mediterranean coast, the coastal mountains, the Jordan Valley, the inland mountain ridge, which includes the Anti-Lebanon Mountains, and the Syro-Arabian plateau. The coastal strip is narrow in the north, in Lebanon and northern Israel, and widens in the south towards the Gaza strip and northern Sinai. The coastal mountain ridge declines from a maximum height of 3,000 m above modern sea level (amsl) in Lebanon, to approximately 1,000 m amsl in the Negev. The Jordan Valley, which represents the northern portion of Great Rift Valley system, stretches from the Gulf of Eilat along the eastern edge of the Sinai Peninsula northwards into Lebanon and Syria (Bar-Yosef & Belfer-Cohen 1989: 448). The inland mountain range is higher along most of its length than the coastal ridge and receives a higher amount of annual precipitation. It is also less continuous and,

Figure 2.1 Map of Levant, with geographic locations indicating area boundaries.

except for the Anti-Lebanon Mountains (2,400 to 2,800 m amsl), it often drops rapidly eastward into a plateau-like landscape. This Syro-Jordanian plateau consists of a series of inland basins, including the Palmyra and Azraq Basins, where small lakes existed during the Upper Palaeolithic (Bar-Yosef & Belfer-Cohen 1989: 449-450).

The Levant consists of three primary vegetation zones: the Mediterranean Woodland zone; the Irano-Turanian Zone; and the Saharo-Arabian zone (Figure 2.2). Within the Mediterranean Woodland geographic zone, annual precipitation is approximately 400-1,200 mm a year, which produces a predominantly Mediterranean Woodland and open parkland biomass (Bar-Yosef & Belfer-Cohen 1989: 450). Over 800 plant species occur solely within this zone, and an additional 400 species are found overlapping with other geographic zones. The vegetation varies and includes: deciduous forest dominated by Quercus ithaburensis (Tabor oak), Pinion halepensis (Aleppo pine) and Quercus calliprinos (Palestine oak); evergreen maquis consisting of small, scattered tree species such as Ceratonia (Carob tree), Quercus (oak), and Pistacia (pistachio nut tree), as well as large shrubs and bushes; and the more marginal Mediterranean scrubland, consisting of small shrubs such as Calicotome (spiney broom), Salvia (sage), and Poterium (burnet) (Fellner 1995:9; Zohary 1962: 43-44, 83-109; Bar-Yosef & Belfer-Cohen 1992: 21).

The Irano-Turanian geographic zone, where the annual precipitation falls below 400 mm (usually between 200-350 mm/year), consists of various types of steppic vegetation. Over 300 plant species are specific to this zone, while an additional 300 species also exists in the Mediterranean zone (scrubland). Typically, plant types include steppe forest dominated by Pistacia atlantica (Mt. Atlas mastic tree); brushwood, dominated by Zizyphus lotus (Jujube); and shrub-land, with Artemisia herba-alba (wormwood) and Retama raetam (weeping broom) (Fellner 1995: 9; Zohary 1962: 46-47, 131-137; Bar-Yosef & Belfer-Cohen 1992: 21).

Within the Saharo-Arabian zone, where precipitation falls below 200 mm/year (and in some areas of the Sinai and the Negev, mean precipitation levels reach only 50 mm/year), desert plants dominate. Arboreal species consist of Acacia (thorntree) and Zizyphus spina-christi (Jerusalem thorn), as well as shrub plants including Balamites aegytica (Egyptian balsam), Hammada salicornica (Hammada), Gypsophila arabica (‘gyp’ flowers), Artemisia judaica (Judean wormwood), and Zygophyllum dumosum (bean caper) (Fellner 1995: 9; Zohary 1962: 45-46, 146-152; Mundy 1976: 12-13).

A. B. Figure 2.2 Inferred distribution of 1) Mediterranean woodland/forest, 2) Irano-Turanian Steppe and 3) Saharo-Arabian desert for the Early and Middle Epipalaeolithic (modified from van Zeist & Bottema 1991: Figures 38 & 39; calibrated dates from Maher et al. 2011).

2.1.1 Palaeoclimate

During the early Epipalaeolithic, January/February temperature would have been close to or below 0°C in the mountains and high plateaux, and it is argued that these high altitudes would have been less desirable as site locations during the winter months (Henry 1989: 177). Instead, in winter and spring time, the lowland areas (the coastal plain, Jordan Valley, and inland basins) would have provided better living conditions (Bar-Yosef & Vogel 1987: 229; Henry 1989). However, rather than temperature fluctuations being the cause of the expansion and contraction of vegetation belts, it is instead the variation in decadal and centennial averages of precipitation that is reflected in the palynological sequence (Bar-Yosef & Belfer-Cohen 1992: 21; Bottema & Van Zeist 1981; Van Zeist & Bottema 1982; Bottema 1987; Baruch & Bottema 1991). It is generally accepted (Bar-Yosef & Belfer-Cohen 1989: 450) that two rainfall patterns prevailed throughout the Pleistocene and Holocene, carrying moisture from the Mediterranean and leaving

most of the southern Levant dry. The first is controlled by storm tracks, which carry moisture from the Mediterranean Sea towards the south. The second comes down from Europe, and exhausts itself before reaching the Southern Levant.

Globally, sea levels during the Early Epipalaeolithic (23,000 to 17,500 cal. years BP) were approximately 120 metres below current levels, which would have doubled the size of the coastal plain in both Israel and northern Sinai. The Gulf of Suez did not exist, and the Gulf of Aqaba would have been almost entirely cut off from the Red Sea at the straits of Tiran, forming a lagoon (Goring-Morris 1998: 146). At the same time, the margins of Lake Lisan (covering approximately 2,850 km²) were 210 m below modern sea level (bmsl) (Bartov et al. 2003: 440; Yechieli et al. 1993: 60; Begin et al. 1985), which would have created a geographic barrier between human groups on opposite sides of the Jordan valley in much of the central/southern Levant (Goring-Morris 1998: 146). Inland basins on the Transjordan plateau, such as Wadi Hasa, in west-central Jordan and Wadi Sirhan in southern Jordan, probably also supported shallow, year-round lakes (Goring-Morris 1998: 146; Schuldenrein & Clark 2001: 24; Maher 2010: 14).

During this time, conditions in the southern Levant were colder and drier than they are today. The snowline in the upper altitudes was lower (Van Zeist & Bottema 1982: 288), making the highland areas in the Lebanese and Anti-Lebanese Mountains, as well as highland areas of the Sinai, less habitable during the winter season. Along the coastal lowlands, forest cover would have been more open than today, although pollen records do indicate that these areas were the most heavily forested in the Mediterranean Levant (Van Zeist & Bottema 1982: 288). Based on pollen diagrams generated from lake cores (discussed in more detail in the next section) it is assumed that humidity levels in northern Israel did not change dramatically throughout this period. In contrast, humidity and precipitation levels in north-western Syria were relatively high during this period (Van Zeist & Bottema 1982: 291). The Irano-Turanian zone shrank, while the Sahara-Arabian zone grew in the Negev, Sinai and southern and eastern Transjordan and Syria, and the Mediterranean zone would have been restricted to lower lying areas (Goring-Morris 1998: 146). As a consequence, Goring-Morris (1998: 146) states that bands of hunter-gatherers would probably have retreated into a number of

Figure 2.3 Locations giving palaeoclimatic information mentioned in text.

isolated refugia, such as along the coastal plain and the Rift Valley, as well as along the central and northern shores of Lake Lisan, the Negev highlands, and along the shores of the inland lake basins. He argues that the resulting competition may have triggered an increasing emphasis on group identities and territoriality expressed in the stylistic elements of the material remains.

Beginning approximately 17,500 years ago, temperatures were on the increase globally, reaching a maximum between 14,670 and 12,900 cal BP (coinciding with the Bølling-Allerød climate event), where average July temperatures were only 2-3° C lower than current temperatures, which can reach up to 40 °C (van Zeist & Bottema 1982: 291; Issar 2003: 2). This increased temperature brought with it an increase in evaporation rates; however, the high arboreal pollen values for this period (discussed in the next section) indicate that precipitation levels also increased. This warmer, wetter period was followed by a global temperature depression (the Younger Dryas), which returned the region to a cold and dry climate for approximately 1,200 years (Maher et al. 2011). The only area that appears not to have been affected by an increase in aridity at this time is north-western Syria, where a high level of humidity was maintained which allowed forests to thrive (van Zeist & Bottema 1982: 292).

Table 2.1 Summary of dune field changes in the Negev and Sinai during the Epipalaeolithic. Chronology (cal. years Negev and Sina Dune Fields BP) Dune migration into Negev and Sinai; wadi drainage blocked; low to zero 25,000 vegetation Rise in humidity levels; creation of playas and oases; increased human 17,500 settlement Gradual rise in aridity levels begins; existing vegetation stabilises dune 14,500 progression

13,000 Aridity levels similar to LGM due to Younger Dryas; dune fields increase

11,500 Region devoid of human settlement

In the Negev and Sinai regions, extensive dune fields advanced rapidly from the Nile Delta across the flood plains of northern Sinai and western Negev (Goring-Morris & Goldberg 1990) (changes in dune progression are summarised in Table 2.1). Prior to the LGM, wadi drainage systems within the Negev Highlands and the Sinai were poorly developed, resulting in a large floodplain throughout the region. Starting at approximately 25,000 years BP, the degree of aridity increased in the region, causing localised erosion and allowing sand dunes from the

formerly submerged Nile Delta to migrate progressively into the Negev and Sinai in a west to east pattern. Goring-Morris and Goldberg (1990: 121) state that in order for the dune incursions to have been initiated, northern Sinai and western Negev would have had to have been almost devoid of vegetation (as this would have stabilised dune progression). The incoming dunes created linear fields across the area, effectively blocking drainage systems throughout the region.

When climatic conditions improved (at approximately 17,500 cal BP, associated with the beginnings of the Geometric Kebaran and Mushabian), localized playa-type environments (small basin ponds or oases) were created, and humidity levels increased, becoming locations that encouraged human settlement. The following 3,000 years saw aridity levels fluctuate a number of times, when it was considerably more humid until approximately 14,500 cal BP (during which time it is assumed that vegetation growth helped stabilise and halt further dune progression), followed by a return to arid conditions (beginning approximately 13,000 cal BP and associated with the later Natufian). At this time, the dune fields would presumably have begun migrating again. Local conditions improved again, so that by ca. 11,500 cal BP, areas in the Negev highlands again were relatively humid. This lasted until approximately 11,000 cal. BP (associated with the Harifian), when archaeological evidence for settlements entirely disappears from the region (Goring-Morris & Goldberg 1990: 120) (calibrated dates based on Maher et al. 2011).

2.1.1.1 Pollen

Lake pollen cores from the southern Levant (Tsukada, in van Zeist & Bottema 1982: 283-284) indicate that the current Mediterranean climate, characterised primarily by winter rainfall, existed in the southern Levant throughout the Epipalaeolithic. This is based on the relative abundance of deciduous oak pollen, as well as an overall consistency in the pollen spectra over the last 20,000 years.

Studies of pollen cores indicate that, during the Epipalaeolithic, changes in temperature affected the region as a whole, as well as creating regional variations in humidity levels (van Zeist & Bottema 1982: 287). The seasonality of rainfall can be tested through analysis of the percentage of evergreen tree pollen relative to deciduous tree pollen from dated pollen cores. A high percentage of deciduous oak (Quercus ithaburnesis) relative to evergreen oak (Quercus

calliprinos) is indicative of summer rainfall (Weinstein 1979); however the deciduous oak is able to thrive in well-watered areas with shallow aquifers such as the Hula Basin, despite highly seasonal precipitation levels (Horowitz & Gat 1984).

Two principal sources of palynological evidence in the Levant for determining the palaeoclimate during the Epipalaeolithic come from the Syro-African Rift system: the Ghab I core from north- eastern Syria; and the Hula core from northern Israel (Figure 2.3). The Ghab I core comes from a valley sandwiched between the Alouite Mountains on the west and the Zawiye Mountains in the east. The area tends to be dry and hot in the summer, and mild in the winter (Baruch & Bottema 1991: 11). The core spans the Late Pleistocene to the Holocene, and shows high arboreal pollen values throughout: from approximately 28,000 to 23,000 years BP (late Upper Palaeolithic), arboreal pollen values were as high as 50%, while during the early Epipalaeolithic (23,000 to 17,500 years BP), they fluctuated between 20-45%. There is a sharp decline from approximately 17,000 to 12,900 years BP, where arboreal pollen values drop to almost 10% (Baruch 1994: 112). Baruch and Bottema (1991: 12) note that, although global temperatures were on the rise during this time, in the Ghab area, it seems that there was not a sufficient rise in precipitation to compensate, resulting in severe aridity in the region. After about 12,900 cal BP, temperatures dropped and precipitation increased, allowing forest once again to expand in the area, causing the arboreal pollen values to rise to 60% (van Zeist & Bottema 1982: 282). This period coincides with the Younger Dryas. This core seems to show a highly regional climate signature, in that precipitation levels and arboreal pollen patterns seen here are different from those found elsewhere in the Mediterranean Levant and could indicate that topography played a large role in local climatic models.

The Hula Core comes from a valley located in the northern-most basin of the Syro-Arabian Rift, north of Lake Kinneret/Sea of Galilee. In the south, the Jordan River flows through the valley, and it is bordered on the east and west by the Golan Heights and the Upper Galilee, respectively. The portion of the pollen core that pertains to the bulk of the Epipalaeolithic (Pollen Zone A [Tsukada in van Zeist & Bottema 1982]) can be divided into two main sections. The lower section is dated to approximately 20,000 and 14,600 cal BP, during which the southern Levant was drier and cooler than current conditions (van Zeist & Bottema 1982:283; Bar-Yosef 1990; Baruch 1994: 105). With the decreased and highly seasonal precipitation, it is suggested that

24 forest cover would have been limited, while steppe and desert plants would have been fairly extensive (especially in the Negev and the Sinai) (Lieberman 1993: 68), and that the climate would have been colder and dryer than today throughout the first half of the phase, becoming more humid during the second half (Baruch & Bottema 1991: 16). This latter phase, dated from approximately 17,500 to 14,600 cal BP, shows a gradual rise in arboreal pollen values, from 20% to 40%. This suggests that rainfall increased, causing an expansion of continuous evergreen oak forests into the hilly regions between the coastal plain and the Jordan Valley, as well as along the margins of the Transjordan Plateau. Increases in the amount of Quercus ithaburensis in the pollen core indicate that summer rainfall may also have occurred – the percentage of this arboreal pollen is double that of current levels (20-40%), and arboreal pollen is also found in the south (Lieberman 1993: 67; Horowitz 1988). The absence of Mediterranean xerophytic evergreens such as Olea and Pistacia might indicate that winter temperatures were rather low (Henry 1983: 106).

The upper section of the core, beginning approximately 14,600 cal. years BP, shows a rapid increase in arboreal pollen values, reaching a maximum of 75% at approximately 13,000 cal BP. This coincides with a global phenomenon of rising temperatures and precipitation levels, creating a very humid environment where forests thrived. This warm and wet climatic period was followed by a return to a colder, drier phase (the Younger Dryas), beginning at approximately 12,900 cal BP and lasting for close to 1,200 years (Maher et al. 2011; van Zeist & Bottema 1982: 283; Baruch & Bottema 1991; Henry 1983). Arboreal pollen values drop to about 20% by 10,500 cal BP (Baruch & Bottema 1991: 16-17; Baruch 1994: 112), indicating that forests contracted to their Pleniglacial boundaries. During this more arid period, a rapid desiccation of Irano-Turanian environments in the southern marginal regions, such as the Negev, Sinai, and Southern Jordan occurred (Lieberman 1993: 73-74).

2.1.1.2 Speleothem Deposits

The timing of speleothem growth (stalactite and stalagmite cave deposits) provides an ideal indication of climatic conditions because the formation and growth rates depend on the availability of water. In colder climates, speleothems do not grow during glacial conditions because water is frozen. In warmer areas, such as in the Levant, the timing of speleothem growth can serve to indicate when the amount of precipitation is less than the degree of

evaporation (Vaks et al. 2003: 184). Once periods of growth and stasis are determined and a chronology is created (using U-series dating techniques), isotopic analyses of the low magnesium-calcite (LMC) component of speleothems can be used to determine precipitation and temperature levels during growth periods (δ18O) as well as indicating the type of soil (and consequently the type of plant life) that contributed to the makeup of the speleothem (δ 13C).

δ18O variations in speleothems directly reflect the temperature of deposition, and can be indicative of changes in the isotopic composition of cave water which is directly related to that of rain (Bar-Matthews et al. 1997: 161; Bar-Matthews et al. 2003: 3181). δ18O values increase as rainfall amounts decrease; therefore, the more arid it is, the higher the δ18O values and vice versa. Enrichment in 13C of the calcitic deposits in speleothems usually reflects an increase in the contribution of C4 plants (tropical grasses) to the CO2 of the soil. Under conditions of water

deficiency and high temperatures, C4 plants are better adapted than C3 plants, and thus more

common. However, many C3 plants (broad, round-leafed and temperate plants), which do better in environments with moderate temperatures and abundant ground water, generally have more positive δ13C values in arid environments, because higher temperatures cause an increase in

photorespiration, leading to a loss in CO2 into the soil (Bar-Matthews et al. 2003: 3182). Variations in the 13C values generally reflect changes in the vegetation type found in the vicinity of the cave.

Soreq Cave is a karstic cave located in the steeply westward dipping flank of the Judean Hill anticline, 40 km east of the Mediterranean Sea and is about 400 m amsl (Figure 2.3. Today, it is located in a semi-arid climate zone, receiving an average of 500 mm of rainfall per year, most of which (70%) falls between December and February (Bar-Matthews et al. 1997: 155). During the period 25,000 to 17,000 cal BP, speleothem deposits have a δ18O value of -4.5 to -2.7%, which is equivalent to a cave-water temperature between 12° and 16°C and an annual rainfall amount of 300 – 450 mm. This indicates that at this time, the eastern Mediterranean area had colder temperatures and less rainfall than they do today (Bar-Matthews et al. 1997: 162). This is corroborated by high-resolution analyses conducted by Kolodny and colleagues (2003: 25). According to their results, between 18,000 and 17,000 cal BP, the rate of speleothem formation in Soreq cave was 1 mm/ka. Approximately 1,000 years later (16,500 to 16,000 ya) the rate had increased to 30mm/ka. These conditions would have decreased the ratio of evaporation to

precipitation so that, although it was drier than current humidity levels, it was also cooler, thus reducing evaporation levels. As well, δ13C values found for this period are -11 to -7.5%. These

values indicate that the soil above the cave contained a mixture of C3 and C4-type vegetation (Bar-Matthews et al. 1997: 162). The colder and drier conditions would have led to scarce grassy/bush or steppe vegetation. This is corroborated with pollen data, indicating a more steppic Irano-Turanian vegetation type for this region.

From 17,000 to 15,000 years BP, there is a sharp drop in δ18O in the speleothem deposit, which indicates a temperature increase, as well as a simultaneous rise in δ13C values, coming into the

range expected for C3-type plants. This is not a steady decline in either isotopic value, as Bar- Matthews and colleagues (1997:164) note that a few oscillations occurred in both analyses: δ18O values increased dramatically at approximately 16,500 cal BP and again at approximately 15,500 cal BP (Bar-Matthews et al. 1997: 159 Figure 4a); δ13C values peaked at 17,000 cal BP (interrupting a decline experienced in the previous period), followed by another sharp increase at approximately 14,500 cal BP (Bar-Matthews et al. 1997: 159 Figure 4b). Despite these short- lived interruptions, the general interpretation for this period, temperature-wise, is that it was 2.5°C warmer than in the previous period, giving a temperature range of 14.5°-18.5°C inside the cave. The δ18O values associated with this (-5 to -3.75%) are equivalent to 375-540 mm of mean rainfall per year.

From 15,000 to 12,000 years BP, the δ18O and δ13C isotope values continued to drop, but the rate of decline slowed, showing values of -6.1 to -5.1% for δ18O and -13.5 to -12% for δ13C (Bar- Matthews et al. 1997: 164). This indicates that temperatures during this time increased slightly

and C4 plants dominated. Within the cave environment, it is assumed that temperatures were similar to the previous period (14.5°-18.5°C), and that the lower δ18O values are due to it being much wetter, with the annual rainfall being between 550 and ~725 mm (Bar-Matthews et al. 1997: 165).

The final stage of speleothem growth associated with the Epipalaeolithic covers the time frame of approximately 12,000 to 10,000 years BP. At this time, δ18O values reached the lowest point in the period (-6.5 to -5.8%), but δ13C values began to increase (-12.0 to -10.5%). The temperature range of this period is estimated to be between 14.5° and 18°C. The two lowest

27 readings for δ18O values during this phase are associated with the beginning and end of the Younger Dryas at 12,900 and 11,700 cal. years BP (where the global cooling event is marked by increased aridity), showing that the transition from a moist-to-dry-to-moist climate was dramatic (Bar-Matthews et al. 1997: 159 Figure 4a). For the next 5,000 years, the δ18O values fluctuate dramatically. In terms of δ13C values, there is not a corresponding oscillation. The lowest values appear to be about 11,700 cal BP and, following this, there is a steady and dramatic increase, indicating that although the humidity levels improved following the Younger Dryas, the flora spectra transitioned steadily towards C3-type plant domination by 10,000 cal BP (Bar-Matthews et al. 1997: 159 Figure 4a), which continued until about 7,000 cal BP when values returned to those expected for C4-type plants.

These data are corroborated by findings from Ma’ale Efrayim Cave, located in the rain shadow on the eastern side of the Central Mountain ridge of Israel, 250 m above sea level, 60 km inland from the Mediterranean Sea and approximately 60 km northeast of Soreq Cave. The speleothem deposits from Ma’ale Efrayim have slightly different growth patterns than those found at Soreq Cave. Instead of continuous growth of the deposits, there are instead a number of hiatuses (periods where no speleothems were deposited), one of which occurred throughout the LGM (25,000 to 19,000 years BP), and another beginning 16,000 years BP and continuing to the present (Vaks et al. 2003: 186). These hiatuses represent periods when evaporation increased such that ground water did not seep into the cave system in sufficient quantities for further speleothem growth. Both of these caves received their rainfall from the same source (the eastern Mediterranean Sea), although the isotopic values found at Ma’ale Efrayim are generally higher than those found at Soreq cave, which suggests that a major part of the annual rainfall evaporated before reaching the Ma’ale Efrayim area due to the rain shadow effect of the ridge.

When speleothem growth does occur in both locations, the δ18O values are similar (Ma’ale Efrayim δ18O values are on average approximately 0.5% lower), which suggests that the climates for each of these sites were similar in terms of precipitation and that the eastern site had a slightly higher temperature. This is supported by the δ13C data, which is also largely similar between the two locations, indicating similar vegetation. Similarly, Vaks and colleagues (2003: 190) note that the δ13C values at Ma’ale Efrayim are approximately 0.4% higher than at Soreq, which indicates that the eastern site contained slightly more C4-type vegetation. Towards the

end of the speleothem growth record at Ma’ale Efrayim (approaching 16,000 years BP), values for δ18O and δ13C became relatively higher than at Soreq Cave, due to a decrease in the amount of precipitation coming across the central mountain ridge (Vaks et al. 2003: 192).

2.1.1.3 Lake Lisan

Lake Lisan was a long, narrow, saline lake running the length of the Jordan valley between the Lake Kinneret/Sea of Galilee in the north to the Hazeva area south of the Dead Sea. It first formed approximately 70,000 years ago and lasted until approximately 15,000/17,000 years BP (Goldberg 1994: 90; Neev & Emery 1967; Stein 2001: 275; Begin et al. 1980: 182), after which it steadily shrank, becoming the modern Dead Sea. The Lisan Formation (deposited from Lake Lisan and its surrounding fan deltas) consists of chemical aragonite, diotomes, and gypsum facies inter-layered between layers of clayey detritus, which precipitated from the lake water (Stein 2001: 275; Hazan et al. 2005: 61). Diatomic facies are found only in the northern portion of the Lisan Formation (near the Lake Kinneret/Sea of Galilee), while gypsum facies are found near the present Dead Sea (Begin et al. 1980: 186). This north-south trend was controlled by the influx of freshwater into Lake Lisan, which increased the amounts of detritus and diluted the upper lake waters. Moving southwards from Lake Kinneret/Sea of Galilee, the diatomic facies transitions from dolomite to aragonite, and then to gypsum (more saline) within the Dead Sea basin (Begin et al. 1980: 187-189). This also conforms to the present day pattern of rainfall over the area.

The change in lake levels over time is the result of climate (precipitation, evaporation, global sea-levels) and tectonic changes to basin shape and catchment area. Lake level reconstruction is based on sedimentological identification of shorelines and their dating through radiocarbon, luminescence, and U-Series dating. High lake levels are correlated with periods of high precipitation (i.e. the amount of precipitation exceeds the amount of evaporation), most commonly cold and/or wet periods. The formation of soils in the desert fringes also supports high precipitation-high lake level periods (Yechieli et al. 1993: 60). At its highest level at approximately 25,000 years BP, Lake Lisan reached between -180 m bmsl and -164 m bmsl (Bartov et al. 2002: 18; Landmann et al. 2002: 55), where it converged with Lake Kinneret/Sea of Galilee (Hazan et al. 2005: 66).

Figure 2.4 shows reconstructions of Lake Lisan levels over the course of the Epipalaeolithic (20,000 to 10,000 years BP) in 2,000 year intervals. These levels are based on an integrated, schematic lake level curve calculated by Robinson and colleagues (2006: 1523 Figure 6) using averaged data from Neev and Emery (1995: 62 Figure 3.6), Bartov and colleagues (2002: 442 Figure 3; 2003: 18 Figure 7), and Landmann and colleagues (2002: 55 Figure 9) for the stages between 20,000 and 14,000 years BP. For the last phases of the Epipalaeolithic (12,000 and 10,000 years BP), data from Neev and Emery (1967), Yechieli and colleagues (1993: 63, Figure 6) and Stein (2001: 279 Figure 7) are used. At 20,000 cal BP, Lake Lisan sat at -210 m bmsl. At this point, the southern edge of Lake Kinneret/Sea of Galilee was still joined to the southern lake by a marshy swampland. By 18,000 years BP, the aridity associated with the end of the LGM can be seen in the shrinking of the lake level to an elevation of 240 m bmsl. At this time, the lake was no longer connected to Lake Kinneret/Sea of Galilee, and no longer received steady influxes of freshwater, increasing the salinity of the lake waters. The northern portion of the Lisan became increasingly narrow at this point.

By 16,000 cal BP, the level of Lisan had dropped to 370 m bmsl, due largely to the preceding cold and arid climate associated with the Early Epipalaeolithic and the LGM and Heinrich I climate events, as well as possibly to the increasing salinity of the Lisan. After this phase, climatic amelioration can be seen by the increasing size of Lake Lisan, reaching -285 m bmsl at 14,000 cal BP. This is associated with the warmer and wetter phase of the Middle Epipalaeolithic and the Bølling-Allerød climate event, which is corroborated with data from speleothem analysis, showing both an increase in temperature and an increase in C3 plants.

At around 12,900 cal BP, a large halite layer was deposited in the southern portion of Lake Lisan (in the area of the current Dead Sea), which Neev and Emery (1967) and Yechieli and colleagues (2003) have associated with the increased aridity of the Younger Dryas, and suggest that Lake Lisan levels dropped to approximately 700 m bmsl. Yechieli and colleagues (2003: 60) mark this phase as the transition from Lake Lisan to Dead Sea. Following this climatic event and the beginnings of the early Neolithic, climatic conditions again improved with the onset of the Pre- Boreal climate event, allowing lake levels to increase to 350 m bmsl by 10,000 cal BP. Levels once again peaked at 285 m bmsl around 9,500 cal BP and then steadily declined to modern sea levels.

A. B.

C. D.

E. F. Figure 2.4 Lake Lisan levels throughout Epipalaeolithic. Following Robinson et al. (2006: 1523), A-D – levels based on approximate average of Neev and Emery (1995), Bartov et al. (2002, 2003), and Landmann et al. (2003). E-F – levels based on data from Neev and Emery (1967), Begin et al. (1985) and Yechieli et al. (1993). Red marker indicates location of URIIa.

2.2 Epipalaeolithic Culture History

Table 2.2 Main cultural-chronological periods of the Epipalaeolithic of the southern Levant (modified from Maher et al. 2011: Table 1; Table 2). Approximate Mediterranean Palaeoclimate Dates (ka cal. BP) Zone Arid Zone Event Climate Warm 11.6‐10.4 PPNA PPNA Pre‐Boreal and wet Rapid Younger onset 12.9 ‐ 11.6 Late Natufian Harifian Dryas of cold and dry Warm Bølling‐ 14.6 ‐ 12.9 Early Natufian Ramonian and Allerød wet Geometric Mushabian/Geometric Rapid 17.5 ‐ 14.6 Heinrich 1 Kebaran Kebaran cooling Kebaran Cold 23.0 ‐ 17.5 Kebaran Nebekian/Nizzanian LGM and dry Masraqan/Qalkhan

Table 2.2 summarises the main cultural periods of the Epipalaeolithic, with a calibrated chronology (following Maher et al. 2011).

2.2.1 Early Epipalaeolithic (23,000 to 17,500 cal BP)

Figure 2.5 illustrates the locations of Early Epipalaeolithic sites mentioned in the text. Goring- Morris (1998: 146) notes that although there is a great deal of continuity in terms of the techno- typological description of the lithic industries throughout the Early Epipalaeolithic, there do appear to be quite pronounced differences among the different ‘cultural’ complexes.

Figure 2.5 Early Epipalaeolithic sites in the Levant mentioned in the text.

2.2.1.1 Masraqan

The geographical spread of this culture ranged from the Negev and Sinai in the south, north through the Coastal Plain and the Rift Valley, to Transjordan and northeast Sinai. It is characterised by finely retouched and elongated bladelets with little or no modification. Long, narrow, single-platform cores, used for the production of bladelets, are common, sometimes with removal surfaces at either end of the core. These removal surfaces often display evidence of intensive prepatory abrasion, resulting in carination (Goring-Morris 1998: 148). Bladelet blanks tend to be long, narrow and thin, with slightly curved profiles. Scrapers are common (notably concave scrapers on blades); the microburin technique, however, is absent. This technique can be described as an oblique fracture scar, as opposed to a notch. It is achieved by holding the blade or bladelet diagonally on an anvil and notching it with a light hammerstone. This technique can occur as a result of blunting blade or bladelet edges; however, when they appear in large quantities, it signifies the systematic use of this technique (Bar-Yosef 1970: 220). Ground-stone tools are also rare, indicating that there was little reliance upon vegetal foods.

Spatial arrangements within sites are available from a number of sites in the Negev, such as Azariq XIII (a small temporary camp with a single hearth), Shunera XVI, Lagama X, and at ‘Ein Aqev East (larger, more complex sites with several hearths). Site size varies from approximately 25 m² to 250 m² (Goring-Morris 1998: 151).

2.2.1.2 Qalkhan

The known distribution of this cultural entity seems to be primarily in the eastern steppic regions. Sites have been found in the Ras en-Naqb/Hisma region of southern Transjordan (Henry 1982; 1983), in Petra (such as Mdamagh Rockshelter [Schyle & Uerpmann 1988]), at Azraq and at Yabrud III/5 (Rust 1950). Radiocarbon dates centre around 22,000-21,000 cal BP (Goring- Morris 1998: 152), although it seems to have a longer duration in Jordan, with dates between 23,000 and 18,000 cal BP (Henry 1995: 215; Byrd 1988; Garrard & Byrd 1992)

Lithic industries from this culture tend to favour large blade blanks, described as being larger than the generally accepted range for microliths, and which include characteristically shouldered triangles made using the microburin technique (the Qalkhan point), and are commonly un-

retouched (Goring-Morris 1998: 152). Henry (1995: 215) notes that certain techno-typological characteristics found within the Qalkhan (for instance, those linked to the microburin technique) occurred much earlier within this unit than in the other Epipalaeolithic lithic assemblages. Qalkhan toolkits are dominated by non-geometric microliths with narrow, arched backed and pointed bladelets, La Mouillah points, and to a lesser extent (but present in all assemblages) large, triangular ‘Qalkhan’ points (Henry 1995: 219).

Qalkhan settlements appear to be relatively ephemeral and covered only a small area, ranging from 50 to 200 m². Henry (1995: 230) states that there is a high probability that the occupations as a whole were relatively homogenous with very little evidence to indicate that the space within a site was segregated into specialised activity areas.

Qalkhan sites contain typical steppe fauna, with Persian gazelle (Gazella subgutturosa) dominating, but also including in smaller frequencies aurochs (Bos primigenius), hare (Lepus capensis), equid (Equus sp.), camel (Camelus sp.), wolf (Canis lupus), ovicaprid and tortoise (Testudo graeca) (Henry 1995: 234).

2.2.1.3 Nebekian

This cultural entity may be contemporary with the Masraqan and Qalkhan, dating to approximately 23,000 to 12,000 cal BP (Goring-Morris 1998: 152), although the geographical distribution appears to be restricted to the area east of the Rift Valley. The characteristic features of this industry seem to include high frequencies of finely-made, long, narrow and symmetrically curved, pieces that are pointed, with an arch-backed truncation, and often made using the microburin technique.

Little can be said about the range in site sizes – Yabrud III is quite small (roughly 50 m²) (Goring-Morris 1988), while Byrd (1990), Garrard and colleagues (1994a; 1987) and Goring- Morris (Belfer-Cohen & Goring-Morris 2003) indicate that sites in the Azraq, such as Wadi Jilat 6 and Uwaynid 18, were larger.

2.2.1.4 Kebaran

The Kebaran cultural levels can be found at a number of sites in the Mediterranean vegetation belt and along the inland mountainous range from the Anti-Lebanon Mountains to southern

Jordan, including Nahal Hadera V, Kebara Cave C, Hayonim Cave C, Meged Rockshelter on the coastal plain, Ein Gev I, Fazael III, Ohalo II, and Urkan e-Rubb IIa in the Jordan Valley, as well as Kharaneh IV Phase A-C in the Azraq Basin. This culture can be approximately dated between 23,000 and 17, 500 cal BP (Maher et al. 2011; Lieberman 1993: 7; Bar-Yosef 1990; Edwards 1990; Hovers & Marder 1991; Byrd 1994b: 208). Following Bar-Yosef (1970; 1981a: 392) and Hours (1976), Goring-Morris (1998: 153; 1987:15) outlines four separate lithic sub-divisions which fall under the ‘Kebaran’ title and which indicate that there appears to be a wide range of diversity within the Kebaran across both space and time. These sub-divisions are:

 Group A: narrow, curved micropoints. This group could be further subdivided into: 1) narrow micropoints with basal truncations; and 2) broad micropoints. Sites appear to be centred on the southern portion of the Coastal plain (Azariq VI; Kiryath Arieh II; Kefar Darom 3; Kefar Darom 8; and Soreq 33Q and 33T), with site densities further east.  Group B: large, curved and pointed backed bladelets, some with basal truncations. Sites in this group are found in the central Coastal plain, the lower Jordan Valley, the Negev, and the Azraq Basin (Fazael IIIA and B; Urkan e-Rubb IIa; Poleg 18M II; Azariq VI ).  Group C: narrow micropoints and obliquely truncated backed bladelets. Sites in this group are found widely distributed throughout the known Kebaran territory (Hayonim Cave C; Meged Rockshelter; Nahal Oren V-VI; IX, Nahal Hadera V; Ksar Akil; Kebara

Cave C; Soreq 33M2; Kefar Darom 13; Abri Bergy IV; Jiita I-III; and Yabrud II).  Group D: large, obliquely truncated backed bladelets (Kebara points) and narrow, curved backed-bladelets. Sites within this subdivision are also widely distributed and are usually classified as Late Kebaran (Ein Gev I, II, and III; Nahal Oren; Nahal Hadera; Ohalo II) (Bar-Yosef & Belfer-Cohen 1989: 459; Maher 2005: 176).

West of the Rift Valley, and south of Lebanon, groups appear to have practiced a seasonal mobility strategy, shifting between the highland and lowland zones from the Coastal Plain across the Samarian Hills to the Jordan Valley in the spring (Lieberman 1993: 7; Goring-Morris 1998: 153). Kebaran sites are generally small, usually around 15-100 m², and rarely exceeding 250 m² (Goring-Morris 1998: 153; 1987: 18; Bar-Yosef & Vogel 1987: 229). In terms of topography, sites are generally confined to the lowlands at elevations rarely more than 900 m amsl (Bar-

Yosef 1981a: 395; Bar-Yosef & Vogel 1987: 229; Henry 1983: 125; Bar-Yosef & Belfer-Cohen 1989: 457) except in the south, particularly in the Har Harif of the Negev, where sites are located most often near the centre of the plateau (approximately 900 m amsl). At these elevations, permanent water sources are not readily available, and thus site proximity to water must not have been a driving concern. Instead, these sites seem to be chosen for the vista that they provided to inhabitants, as open views to the East and West were easily accessible (Marks & Simmons 1977: 233, 266). In the Jordan Valley, larger winter sites can be found at elevations above the highest Lake Lisan level of 180 m bmsl, while their summer counterparts are probably in the Samarian- Judean Hills or on top of the Golan and Jordanian Plateaus (Bar-Yosef & Belfer-Cohen 1989: 457).

Lieberman (1993: 263) argues that there are strong indicators that the pattern of high seasonal mobility during the Upper Palaeolithic may have been even more marked during the Kebaran as a result of climatic deterioration. He argues that it seems likely that the highlands were occupied during the spring and summer and the lowlands were occupied during the fall and winter – this is based on the seemingly single-season occupation of a number of Kebaran sites found in the coastal plain and along the Jordan Valley. As previously discussed, the Kebaran coincides with the end of the LGM, when the Levant was colder and dryer than today. The highland areas during the winter would have been cold, wet and unpleasant, and probably sparse in terms of vegetal resources (Lieberman 1993: 267).

Primary prey choice was mountain gazelle (Gazella gazella), often followed closely by fallow deer (Dama mesopotamica), and occasionally wild boar (Sus scrofus) (Bar-Oz 2004; Bar-Yosef & Vogel 1987: 230).

2.2.1.5 Nizzanian

This cultural industry appears to be contemporary with the Kebaran in Jordan and is very similar to the Nebekian (Maher 2005: 179). Stratigraphically, it lies below Geometric Kebaran levels at Hamifgash IV-I and Kharaneh IV Phase A, with dates clustering between 20,000 and 18,000 cal BP (Goring-Morris 1998: 155). It is characterised by minute scalene and isosceles triangles made using the microburin technique, exhausted cores that are commonly of a pyramidal single-

37 platform type, as well as scrapers and burins, typically of a dihedral variant (Goring-Morris 1998: 155).

Sites have been located east of the Jordan Valley (Mediterranean and Irano-Turanian steppic zones), including the Rift Valley, and south of the Lisan, west of the Rift, in the Negev. On the Coastal Plain, sites have been found in Lebanon at Ksar Akil (Phase III) and in Israel at Nahal Oren (VII). Occupations appear to vary in size from huge (approximately 20,000 m² at Wadi Jilat 6 Upper and Kharaneh IV Phase A), to smaller, more ephemeral camps and hunting stands.

2.2.2 Middle Epipalaeolithic (17,500 to 14,600 cal BP)

2.2.2.1 Geometric Kebaran

The Geometric Kebaran culture emerged directly out of the Late Kebaran and expanded into previously unoccupied marginal areas (both in the desert in the Negev and Sinai and at high elevations in Lebanon, the Golan and Galilee) (Bar-Yosef & Vogel 1987: 225; Goring-Morris 1987: 21, 142), possibly as a reaction to the ameliorative change in climate. In the Mediterranean zone, the number of sites decline along the Coastal Plain of both Israel and Lebanon from earlier Epipalaeolithic numbers (with Neve David and Hefzibah) (Goring-Morris 1998: 158), possibly because of a shrinking of coastal territory due to rising sea levels, but increase in former marginal areas, such as the Jordan Valley (e.g. ‘Uyyum al-Hammâm, Wadi Hammeh, Wadi Khawwan, Ohalo I, Fazael VIII, Ein Gev III-IV, Urkan e-Rubb IV), northeast Syria (El Kowm), into the Negev and Sinai in the south (Hamifgash, Har Harif, Wadi Mataha), and as far as the Azraq Basin in the West (Lieberman 1993: 8, 269; Maher 2005). Regional variability is evident in various aspects of geometric microlithic assemblages, although overall the Geometric Kebaran is characterised by high frequencies of blades and bladelets, shaped primarily into microlithic trapeze-rectangles. The narrow geometrics seem to be a continuation of earlier Kebaran microlithic types, while the wider trapeze-rectangles represent a new stylistic development (Bar-Yosef & Belfer-Cohen 1989: 462; 1992: 25).

Figure 2.6 Middle Epipalaeolithic sites in the Levant mentioned in the text.

In the Negev and Sinai, the Geometric Kebaran is characterised by noted clustering of sites of all sizes in the lowlands (100-400 m amsl), corresponding to the large dune fields of northern Sinai and the western Negev. Throughout the Mediterranean Levant, small sites tend to be between 15 and 25 m², medium-sized sites are between 100 and 150 m², while a few large sites are between

300 and 600 m² (Bar-Yosef & Belfer Cohen 1989: 463; 1992: 26; Hours 1976; Kaufman 1986; Bar-Yosef 1975; Bar-Yosef 1981a). Bar-Yosef and Belfer-Cohen (1991: 188) state that communities moved between lowland locations in the winter and highland locations in the summer, at least in the case of communities based along the hilly ranges of the Galilee or along the Jordan Valley. In general, sites are located close to water sources (such as perennial springs at the fringes of the highlands, areas of high land between river branches in major drainage systems, or seasonal dune-created beaches); however, Bar-Yosef and Belfer Cohen (1992: 25; 1989: 462) state that within the arid zone, numerous sites are situated away from any perennial water source, a trend seen in the Negev Kebaran. The differences between the two regions might represent logistical adaptations to different environmental ecozones. The only feature that is consistently documented from these sites is the presence of simple hearths, usually demarcated with only a few stones. In general, Geometric Kebaran populations seem to have exploited the landscape in small, family-based mobile groups (Goring-Morris 1998: 158).

Very little information is available concerning the economic activities of Geometric Kebaran hunters-gatherers in the south, because faunal material is not easily preserved in the sandy soils of the western Negev and northern Sinai (Bar-Yosef & Belfer-Cohen 1992: 26). It is assumed that the primary game animals were gazelle, ibex, wild goat, and hare, based on the location of sites and on what animals would have been present. In the north, the main sources of meat were mountain gazelle, fallow deer and wild boar (Bar-Oz 2004; Davis 1982; Bar-Yosef 1981b; Kaufman 1986), depending on local availability.

2.2.2.2 Mushabian

The Mushabian appears to be a cultural manifestation restricted to the northern Sinai and the Negev (Azariq, Shunera, Nahal Rut, Nahal Lavan, Lagama), as well as the southern foothills of the Judean Hills (Bar-Yosef & Belfer-Cohen 1992: 26; Marks 1977; Lieberman 1993: 9; Goring- Morris 1987), and was contemporaneous with local Geometric Kebaran manifestations (Byrd 1994b: 209; Bar-Yosef & Belfer Cohen 1989: 464; Henry 1989: 144). It is argued that this culture probably originated in North Africa, based largely on the habitual use of the microburin technique, as well as general morphological similarities with some assemblages from Nubia (Goring-Morris 1998: 161; 1987: 21; Phillips & Mintz 1977: 183; Bar-Yosef 1981a: 398; Bar- Yosef & Vogel 1987). It is thought that, with the climatic amelioration associated with this

period, new territories opened up in the southern arid region, and groups of foragers from the Nile Valley began to expand into the Sinai (Bar-Yosef & Belfer-Cohen 1992: 28). Others have disputed this North African origin, however. Based on techno-typological features, it has been argued (Henry 1982) that the Mushabian has more in common with cultures found either locally (in the Negev and the Sinai) or in Transjordan, such as the Nizzanian (Goring-Morris 1987; 1989), and the Nebekian and Qalkhan (Garrard et al. 1994a). Regardless of its origin, stratigraphic evidence and radiocarbon dates indicate that the Mushabian began approximately 17,500 cal BP (coinciding roughly with the Geometric Kebaran) and ended approximately 14,000 cal BP, overlapping with the Early Natufian (Bar-Yosef & Belfer-Cohen 1989).

The Mushabian lithic industry has been described as consisting of short and wide blade and bladelet blanks produced from globular cores (Goring-Morris 1998: 162; Bar-Yosef & Vogel 1987: 227). A prominent characteristic of the lithic reduction sequence is the intensive use of the microburin technique.

Broadly speaking, the Mushabian displays a similar pattern to the Geometric Kebaran in terms of the elevational distribution of site numbers and total tool frequencies. Most sites appear to cluster in lowland dune locations (between 200 and 400 m amsl), although a few sites have been documented in the highlands, at elevations of approximately 600 m amsl. Multiple hearths seem to be a common feature of the largest Mushabian sites, although lithic tool assemblages display very little diversity between sites. This regularity indicates that it is probable that these sites represent single occupational events (Goring-Morris 1998: 162). Goring-Morris (1998: 164) states that the clustering and sizes of the sites associated with a Mushabian tool-kit indicate a pattern of fission and fusion on a sub-regional level; however, there is no obvious evidence from the lithic items within the tool-kits to indicate that the sites represented differential environmental exploitation strategies. Bar-Yosef and Belfer-Cohen (1992: 28) state that the techno-typological uniformity found within these desert assemblages reflects a higher degree of mobility practised by a few bands than was practised in the Mediterranean vegetation belt.

2.2.3 Later Epipalaeolithic (14,600 to 11,600 cal BP)

2.2.3.1 Ramonian

This culture is found only in the Negev and the Sinai, where sites can be dated to between 14,600 and 12,900 cal BP (contemporaneous with Early Natufian cultures elsewhere) (Goring-

Figure 2.7 Late Epipalaeolithic sites in the Levant mentioned in the text.

Morris 1998: 164). The lithic assemblages differ from the earlier Mushabian in that there is a tendency to use chalcedony as a preferred raw material, as well as blades and bladelets that are frequently narrow and long. It is similar, however in the habitual use of the microburin technique (Goring-Morris 1987: 23).

Settlement patterns also differ between the Ramonian and the Mushabian - instead of sites clustering primarily in the lowland areas of the western Negev, a significant number of sites are now located at the highest elevations on loess-covered surfaces in the Irano-Turanian zone (Goring-Morris 1998: 164; 1985; Marks & Simmons 1977). Sites found in the highland areas seem to have a wider variety of lithic tool types, as well as a reduced emphasis on microlithic elements. This might indicate that the highland sites represent longer occupational events. Also, while in the Mushabian shows was a clear connection between site location and proximity of water, the location of many Ramonian sites generally indicates a disinterest in water proximity. Instead, they seem to be more interested in exposed locations with extensive vistas along natural lines of communication (Goring-Morris 1998: 164), perhaps indicating a need to better control territory. This is similar to the Kebaran cultural entities in the region.

2.2.3.2 Natufian

The Natufian culture is found primarily in the central Levant, with a time range of approximately 14,600 to 12,900 cal BP for the Early Natufian, and 12,900 to 11,600 cal BP for the Late Natufian (Maher et al. 2011). Many of the lithic techniques found within this culture, as well as other artefacts found within Natufian contexts, are found in previous cultural entities but the scope and variety of the lithic industry, in combination with the other artefactual data (i.e. permanent structures, ground stone stools, bone tools, personal ornaments, etc.) are used to distinguish Natufian sites from pre-Natufian assemblages (Goring-Morris 1987: 23; Byrd 1994b: 209).

Lithic assemblages associated with the Natufian are dominated by geometric lunate microliths, especially within the Natufian core area (Bar-Yosef & Valla 1979; Bar-Yosef & Belfer-Cohen 1992: 29), as well as the use of smaller cores and the microburin technique, which resulted in high frequencies of small flakes, broad, short bladelets, backed bladelets, burins, scrapers and denticulated pieces (Lieberman 1993: 10; Byrd 1994b: 209; Goring-Morris 1987: 23).

Unlike previous cultural entities of the Epipalaeolithic, Natufian sites tend to be larger across all three size categories. Small sites range in size from 15 to 100 m²; medium sites are between 400 and 500 m²; and large sites tend to be more than 1000 m² (Bar-Yosef & Belfer-Cohen 1989: 468; 1992: 29). Along with the increase in size, Natufian sites also differ from Early and Middle Epipalaeolithic sites with the addition of clear architectural structures made of brick. Well preserved, rounded dwellings have been found at a number of sites, including ‘Ain Mallaha, Wadi Hammeh 27, Hayonim Cave and Terrace, and Wadi Mataha (Boyd 2006) measuring between 2 and 9 m in diameter, with a hearth present in almost every structure. There is also evidence that plaster was used to cover the living floors of the dwellings (Bar-Yosef & Belfer- Cohen 1992: 29; Valla 1988a). Fragmentary stone walls have also been found at el-Wad Terrace and Nahal Oren, which are dated to the Early and Middle Natufian (Valla 1987). Where sites have evidence of permanent settlements, they are located in the Mediterranean vegetation zones and in intermediate zones between relatively open woodland areas such as the coastal plain, and more inland forested areas, allowing multi-seasonal access to both floral and faunal resources (Lieberman 1993: 282). For instance, based on gazelle age profiles, there appears to be year- round hunting of gazelle at Hayonim Terrace (Lieberman 1993: 275). Outside of the Mediterranean zone, Natufian sites tend to be relatively small and are occupied during only one season (Lieberman 1993: 286; Garrard 1991).

The subsistence economy during the Natufian was dominated by gazelle, with an increased use of hare, tortoise, and waterfowl (Munro 2001) such as at Salibiya I, and Gilgal. There was also a much greater emphasis on plant foods, especially nuts and cereals, as indicated by the abundance and diversity of ground stone tools (such as portable and bedrock mortars, pestles, cupmarks, bowls, etc.), sickle blades found within Natufian sites, and wear patterns on human teeth attributed to chewing coarse food (Goring-Morris 1987: 25).

2.2.3.3 Harifian

This cultural entity is contemporaneous with, and potentially a continuation of, Late Natufian desert adaptations in the Negev, and is of relatively short duration (Magaritz & Goodfriend 1987; Bar-Yosef & Belfer-Cohen 1992: 31; Goring-Morris 1991). The lithic industry resembles that found in Late Natufian contexts, with a dominance of microliths (especially backed lunates), as well as intensive use of the microburin technique (Bar-Yosef & Belfer-Cohen 1992: 32). A

common element in all Harifian lithic assemblages is the Harif point, which has been described as “consisting of [either]...a backed or obliquely truncated edge which intersects with a normally unretouched edge, forming a sharp point at the basal extremity, and a stemmed to triangular shaped base” (Marks 1973: 97). Archaeologically, there does not appear to be any continuity between the Harifian and any later cultural complex in the Negev (Goring-Morris 1987), which is probably due to environmental deterioration in the arid regions at the end of the Epipalaeolithic.

Settlement patterns reflect an adaptation to the increasing aridity of the Negev and Sinai, as well as the harvest schedule of wild barley and pistachio nut collection. Summer aggregation sites are located on the Har Harif plateau and its surroundings (900 to 1000 m amsl) and smaller, more transitory winter sites are located in the sandy lowlands of the western Negev and northern Sinai (Bar-Yosef & Belfer-Cohen 1989: 475). Remains of dwelling and storage structures have been found at some of the larger aggregation sites (Goring-Morris 1987; Levy 1995) such as Abu Salem, Ramat Harif in highland areas, and Ma’ale Ramon in the lowlands. Inside and near these structures, a number of large, limestone slabs with ‘cup’ marks, as well as mortars, pestles and grinding stones have been found (Bar-Yosef & Belfer Cohen 1992: 31). The known size of the Harifian territory is approximately 8000 km² based on surveys of the area, but may be as large as 30,000 km², which includes most of the Negev and northern Sinai (Bar-Yosef & Belfer-Cohen 1992: 31). Davis and colleagues (1981) note that the primary prey choices seemed to be ibex and wild goat (Capra sp.), gazelle (Gazella gazella and Gazella dorcas), hare (Lepus capensis), and also possibly wild sheep (Ovis orientalis). Similar prey choices are found in Jordan (for example, at Wadi Judayid), with the addition of more steppic species such as wild ass (Equus sp.), aurochs (Bos primigenius), leopard (Panthera pardus), and small birds (Henry 1995: 327; Henry et al. 1985).

Chapter 3 Upper Jordan Valley

3.1 Jordan Valley Geology and Environment

The Jordan Valley is part of the Great Rift Valley, which runs 1000 km from north to south and marks where the African and Arabian tectonic plates are gradually pulling apart (Belitzky 2002: 53). A number of geoarchaeological surveys were conducted along the Jordan valley basin in the 1970’s and 1980’s (for example, Bar-Yosef et al. 1974; Begin et al. 1974; 1980; 1985; Goldberg 1981; Hovers & Bar-Yosef 1987; Schuldenrein 1983; Schuldenrein & Goldberg 1986). The Jordan Valley basin is filled with colluvial and alluvial deposits in non-sequential eroded strata, lying above lacustrine sediments formed through various high and low phases of Lake Lisan (Figure 3.1). The western topographic extent of the basin lies at -180 m bmsl, with numerous wadis cutting into the basin floor in a west-to-east trajectory (Schuldenrein & Goldberg 1981: 59). These wadis are set in relatively steep, rock-walled valleys, with bedrock floors with a slope dropping approximately 100 m per km as they converge with the Jordan River (Goring- Morris 1980: 5).

Lake Kinneret (Sea of Galilee) is a large freshwater lake that was formed in a composite basin that developed between the Hula Basin in the north and the retreating Lake Lisan in the south (Figure 3.2). Before to the lake formed, the area was included in the drainage system of the Hula Basin in the north, which drained south into Lake Lisan. The southern portion of Lake Kinneret is a depressed block of land bordered by parallel faults (graben), which during the late Quaternary, was covered by brackish to hyper-saline lake water in the south, forming lacustrine marls interspersed with lenses of gypsum (Belitzky & Nadel 2002: 455, 456; Ben-Avraham et al. 1996), which resemble those found in the Dead Sea (Belitzky 2002: 54), and suggest repeated salination-desalination events. Following the retreat of Lake Lisan, occurring sometime between 19,000 and 18,000 years BP, the northern portion of Lake Kinneret appears to have formed through a separate geological event, when tectonic subsidence (induced by active faults along the

northern Rift Valley) formed a deep depression where fresh water from local streams were collected (Belitzky & Nadel 2002: 456; Belitzky 2002: 54), forming the current Lake Kinneret.

Figure 3.1 View of the Dead Sea (vestigial Lake Lisan) and Jordan Valley basin from Qumran at 343m below modern sea level, with Lisan lacustrine/marl deposits on the left.

During the LGM, Lake Lisan began to shrink as a dryer climate prevailed in the eastern Mediterranean (Horowitz 1978; Weinstein-Evron 1993; see also Chapter 2) and outflow from wadi tributaries and springs was reduced, essentially cutting off the Hula basin from Lake Lisan. At the same time, tectonic subsidence took place in the Dead Sea Rift, creating another basin south of Hula, where freshwater from local streams collected, forming a freshwater lake several metres deep (Belitzky 2002: 54; Hazan et al. 2005).

Epipalaeolithic sites within the Jordan Valley largely appear in fluvial or colluvial deposits, which lie above the highest Lisan levels. During the early part of the Epipalaeolithic, the area would have supported a number of activity and occupation sites, through localised freshwater springs and sub-basins branching off from the numerous wadis draining into Lake Lisan. This

can be seen in the increase in terraced occupations along the western edge of the basin at this time, such as those in Wadi Fazael, Wadi Tal’at Za’arah and Wadi Salibiya (Schuldenrein & Goldberg 1981: 67; 70).

Figure 3.2 Topography and drainage in the Lake Kinneret basin (modified from Belitzky 2002: 55).

Pollen spectra from Wadi Fazael are dominated by Graminae or Compositae (grasses and wildflowers), with Arboreal Pollen (A.P.), largely from Quercus (oak), Pinus halepensis (Aleppo pine), or Olea europaea (olive), contributing only approximately 4-6% to the overall pattern. Following the LGM, the west bank of the Jordan Valley was much more forested than today, indicating a much more varied ecology. Sites associated with the Kebaran have higher A.P. values, with frequencies of oak and pine reaching 32% at Fazael VII and 26% at Fazael IIID (Goring-Morris 1980: 17).

3.2 Urkan e-Rubb IIa

The site of Urkan e-Rubb IIa (UR IIa) was found eroding out of the eastern bank of Wadi Ahmar, 169 m bmsl (Hovers & Bar-Yosef 1987: 80). It is one of 8 Kebaran sites found in the wadis within the Fazael-Salibiya basin (Bar-Yosef et al. 1974; Goring-Morris 1980). The position of the site allows a southern view, where the Wadi Ahmar flows into Wadi Fazael, as well as the slope of the hills to the west, with a partially obscured view to the north. The basin in which the site is found was formed by a fault situated stratigraphically between Middle Eocene and Pleistocene layers, and is filled with Pleistocene alluvial and fluvial sediments (Hovers et al 1988: 23, quoting Benjamin 1984). The site itself sits on a former alluvial surface of pink and brown silty sand, 11 m above the present wadi bed, deposited during a major post-Lisan alluviation phase (Hovers et al. 1988: 24; Schuldenrein & Goldberg 1981: 63), indicating that the regression of Lake Lisan was not a steady, stable process.

Modern annual rainfall for the area averages between 250 and 300 mm (Hovers 1989: 38; Rubin et al n.d.) with temperatures averaging 15°C in the winter and 32°C in the summer. The site is in the semi-arid Irano-Turanian vegetation belt, although Sudanian (desert) elements appear in the wadi itself, and Mediterranean semi-steppe vegetation grows on the mountain slopes nearby (Zohary 1982; Shmida & Aronson 1986: Figure 6). At the LGM, pollen and geological evidence from the nearby Wadi Fazael suggest that, although dry and cold conditions were prevalent throughout the Levant, the area near the site of UR IIa may have experienced somewhat more humid conditions (Goldberg 1981; Damon 1986; Hovers 1989). This is supported by the speleothem evidence from Ma’ale Efrayim cave, which lies approximately 3 km to the west of

Figure 3.3 Location of Urkan e-Rubb IIa in the Jordan Valley, with Ohalo II and Ein Gev I.

UR IIa, and which shows a growth phase between 19,000 and 16,000 years BP. This phase coincides with the occupation of UR IIa (Table 3.3). As discussed by Vaks and colleagues (2003: 186), speleothems can only grow in conditions where sufficient ground water is present.

The periods just prior to and following this 3,000 year phase do not show any evidence of speleothem growth. This suggests that, at the time that the site was occupied, conditions were not as severe in Wadi Ahmar and environs as they were in other areas of the Levant.

3.2.1 Site Stratigraphy

The site of UR IIa correlates with the upper terrace of the wadi basin, while the lower terrace is associated with Mousterian deposits (Hovers et al. 1988: 23; Bar-Yosef et al. 1974; Schuldenrein & Goldberg 1981). Begin and colleagues (1974, 1985) have suggested that drastic fluctuations of water level (specifically the spatial expansion and level of water of Lake Lisan) occurred in the time span of the Kebaran, Geometric Kebaran and Natufian occupations, as discussed in Chapter 2.

Within the wadi section, two main geological units can be seen. These are described in detail by Hovers and colleagues (1988) and Hovers and Marder (1991). In brief, the lower unit (7 m in depth) contains alternating layers of thinly laminated and chunky Lisan marls (lake deposits) with gravels and eroded terra-rosa soils, probably representing the overlap of the lake at its highest water stand (180 m bmsl [Neev & Emery 1967]) and the eroded sediments of the fluvial system of the wadi. Clay deposits in the upper parts of this section suggest the existence of a marshy environment at the edge of the lake at the time of formation (Hovers et al. 1988: 24).

The upper unit is 4 m thick, composed of layers of gravels and pink clay-silts, with the archaeological horizon sitting near the top within a clayey and eroded calcium carbonate matrix. A 10 cm thick calcitic layer consisting of palaeosols that post-date the site is found fifty cm above the archaeological layer (Hovers et al 1988: 24). This palaeosol layer appears in three separate test trenches, indicating a fairly even in situ formation of this layer. Both the archaeological horizon and the calcium carbonate layers were formed on a flat surface. Currently, the surface slopes to the south and the west due to erosion (Hovers et al. 1988: 25).

3.2.2 Excavation Description

The site of UR IIa was excavated by Erella Hovers of the Hebrew University in Jerusalem and the Israel Antiquities Authority. During the first season of excavation (1986), an area of 10 m2 (Area A) was excavated, as well as a 25 x 25 cm test pit (Area B) 14 m to the east of the main

excavation area (Hovers et al. 1988: 23). In 1988, a second season of excavations was conducted, where both Area A and B were enlarged (Area A was enlarged a further 2 m to the south, adding 6 m2 to the total excavated area, and Area B was enlarged to 4 m2) and a new 1 m2 test pit (Area C) was opened, to the south of and equidistant between Areas A and B (Figure 3.4). Also during this season, three trenches (T I-III) were dug in an attempt to define the site’s

Figure 3.4 Site plan of Urkan e-Rubb IIa (modified from Hovers & Marder 1991: 35). Blue lines (Area A, B, Trench 1I, III) represent possible boundaries of Horizon 1 (A and B). Red lines (Area C, Trench I) represent hypothetical boundary for Horizon 2.

stratigraphy, boundaries and size. These trenches were dug to a depth of approximately 230 cm below datum. The sediment was excavated by quadrants of 50 x 50 cm and every attempt was

52 made to use 5 cm horizontal spits, as the stratigraphic profile at the site indicated a relatively horizontal surface at the time of occupation (Hovers & Marder 1991: 36; Hovers 1990).

It has been suggested by Hovers and Marder (1991: 38-39) that two main occupations events are represented at UR IIa. The upper occupation, Horizon 1, is observed only in Areas A and B. No sign of Horizon 1 could be seen in the profiles of Trench I, which suggests that the southern boundary of this occupation ends within the single metre separating Area A from Trench I, although this is not certain due to erosion of the upper levels of the trench profile. Heavy erosion to the east has also removed evidence of a clear connection between Area A and Area B, although Trench II does reveal the continuation of the archaeological layer from Horizon 1 in Area A at least a further 2.5 m to the east (Hovers & Marder 1989: 106). Hovers and Marder (1991: 38) note that the distribution of artefacts (both lithic and faunal) is patchy horizontally and vertically, which has been interpreted as evidence of dispersed activity areas (Hovers et al. 1988: 36). In Trench III, a thin layer of lithic artefacts, typologically similar to those found in Area A and B, were found in a layer at the same elevation as Horizon 1. It has been suggested that this might represent the northern boundary of the horizon (Hovers & Marder 1989: 106). Based on fluctuating densities of faunal remains and lithic material within Horizon 1 (from the upper to lower levels), there appear to be two separate peaks of site use, with a short hiatus of approximately 20 cm between the upper (Horizon 1A) and lower (Horizon 1B) deposits.

Horizon 2, which lies below Horizon 1, can be found principally in Area C and Trench I, although traces are found at the bottom of Trench II, suggesting that this Horizon had a similar horizontal distribution as Horizon 1 in Area A. Because Horizon 2 is largely represented by material from only Trench I and Area C, it is difficult to determine the potential size of this horizon, and it is difficult to interpret the relationship between the two Horizons. Hovers and Marder (1991: 39) have noted that the lithic industry in Horizon 2 is practically identical to the overlying Horizon 1, and that this might reflect a pattern of repeated occupations over time at this location.

Hovers and colleagues (1988: 36) have suggested three distinct scenarios to explain the function of UR IIa, influenced primarily by the absence of clear stratigraphic connections between Areas A, B and C. The first hypothesis is that the three areas represent three separate but roughly

contemporaneous occupations, perhaps used by three different human groups. This seems unlikely, based on the stratigraphic separation between Horizon 1 and Horizon 2. The second hypothesis suggests that instead of being contemporaneous occupations, the horizons (Horizon 1A and 1B, and Horizon 2) represent the repeated reoccupation of the locality by the same group over a period of time. Finally, the third hypothesis suggests that the three areas represent the lateral extensions of a single Kebaran site, which would have extended up to 250 m2, and would have comprised a number of different activity areas. Hovers and colleagues lean towards the final interpretation, based on a number of lines of evidence. For instance, although the density of complete tools is low (only 5.1%), there is clear evidence of the full manufacturing process taking place on site (Hovers et al. 1988: 26; Hovers & Marder 1991: 39). Also, there is a large number (n = 254) of marine mollusc shells present, primarily Mitrella scripta from the North Mediterranean and Dentalium sp. but also a number of other Mediterranean and Red Sea species, many of which show signs of artificial perforations and bead manufacturing (Daniela Bar-Yosef, in Hovers et al. 1988: 30-32). The presence of these artefacts have been used to suggest a large overall site size, in order to incorporate a wide range of activities. This seems possible for Area A and Area B (both Horizon 1), which appear to be contemporaneous; however, Area C lies stratigraphically lower in Horizon 2, which suggests an earlier occupation for this phase. In this study, the second scenario is favoured, where Area A and B may be the eastern and western boundaries of separate occupations, but that the archaeological horizons represent successive reoccupations of the site. This is supported by the division of Horizon 1 into two separate sub- horizons, as well as the apparent hiatus between Horizon 1 and 2. Although roughly contemporaneous, the radiocarbon dates for Horizon 1A, 1B and Horizon 2 (discussed below) suggest frequent reoccupation.

3.2.3 Artefacts and Dating

On the basis of the microlithic bladelet assemblage, the UR IIa assemblage (from all Areas) most closely resembles Cluster B of the Early Kebaran typological classification (Bar-Yosef 1981) due to the predominance of curved backed bladelets, micropoints and pointed backed bladelets (Figure 3.5). The typochronology for the Kebaran is summarised in Chapter 2. Table 3.1 outlines the debitage frequency of lithic material from UR IIa. No division by Horizon or Area is given in the original publication.

Table 3.1 Debitage frequencies from the first season of excavation at UR IIA (Hovers et al. 1988: 26, modified from Hovers & Bar-Yosef 1987: Table 2).

n % Primary 637 12.3 Flakes 2019 38.95 Blades 2275 43.9 CTE* 237 4.6 Burin Spalls 15 0.3 TOTAL 5183 Tool/Core 283:46 6.15

Cores 46 0.4 Debitage 5183 41.2 Debris 7078 56.2 Tools 283 2.2 TOTAL 12590 * CTE refers to core trimming elements

Table 3.2 Tool category frequencies from the first season of excavation at UR IIa (Hovers et al. 1988: 27, modified from Hovers & Bar-Yosef 1987: Table 2). n % Scrapers 34 12 Carinated 10 3.5 Burin/Scraper ‐ 0 Burin 19 6.7 Retouched Blades 30 10.5 Truncations 17 5.1 Points ‐ 0 Microliths 146 51.6 Geometrics 2 0.7 Perforators ‐ 0 Notches/Dent. 9 3.2 Varia 16 4.7 TOTAL 283

Hovers and colleagues (1988: 26) describe the tool industry from UR IIa as being based on blade/bladelet production. Nine of the bladelet cores appear to have been used to exhaustion, based on their weight (13-40 g), and many of the cores follow the same core reduction sequence

described by Bar-Yosef (1970: 118-120) for Ein Gev I, creating what is termed narrow carinated scrapers (Hovers et al. 1988: 26). Bladelets appear to have been preferred as blanks for making tools; 54.4% of the tools are made on bladelets, while 28.9% are made on blade blanks. Table 3.2 outlines the frequency of tool types found at UR IIa from the first season of excavation (1986). Lithic counts of the 1988 excavation season have not been described in the literature.

Figure 3.5 Backed bladelets and micropoints from Area A.

Use-wear analysis on selected blades (n = 17) from UR IIa, conducted by Bueller (1993), show evidence of leather-working activities. Most of the hide-related use-wear appears to have been made on ochre-impregnated leather, apparently while the skin was still fresh (i.e. newly removed from the carcass) (Bueller 1993: 178). A consistent secondary activity (n = 7) undertaken with the blade tools was bone working, specifically sawing of bone (Bueller 1993: 179). One blade appears to have been specifically knapped for this purpose. Based on the size of the blades and the location of the sawing edge, it is suggested that these tools were used to manufacture bone beads, possibly out of bird bone (Bueller 1993: 181).

A number of worked bone tools have also been found within the bone assemblage at UR IIA. Hovers and colleagues (1988: 30) report a fragmented bone awl that was probably made from a gazelle metapodial. The awl is 77 mm long and has evidence of polish and smoothing on both the inner and the outer surfaces. Additional worked bone fragments were found during the

56 zooarchaeological and taphonomic analysis of the Area A bone assemblage, including another bone awl, made on a gazelle tibia shaft fragment (Figure 3.6a and 3.6b). This awl fragment measures approximately 50 mm long, and is smoothed on the inner surface, although it does not appear to have been completed. Other bone tools include bone points (n = 4) and spatulates (n = 5) (Figure 3.7).

B. Figure 3.6 Bone awl from Area A, Horizon 1A.

A. B.

C. Figure 3.7 Worked bone from Area A: A) bone point from Horizon 1A; B) bone point from Horizon 1B; C) spatulate from Horizon 1A.

In addition to the shell beads and bone tools found at UR IIa (Hovers et al.1988), three artefacts with non-functional markings have been found. The first is an engraved pebble (Figure 3.8) described by Hovers (1990). This pebble was found in Area B in square U13, presumably in Horizon 1A (based on the published elevations of 142 cm below datum, and 25 cm below the surface [Hovers 1990: 317]). The dimensions of the pebble (92 mm long, 65 mm wide, and 13.5 mm thick) are such that it could easily have fit in the palm of the hand of the carver. It is engraved on both faces, with one side completely covered with shallow incisions and the other side engraved with eight sets of incisions, three of which include repeated sets of ‘ladders’ and lines.

Figure 3.8 Face A of incised pebble found in Area B. (Photo courtesy E. Hovers).

Two incised bone fragments were also discovered during the analysis of the faunal material. The first (Figure 3.9) was found in square I11b of Area A, 65-70 cm below the surface, and identified as a gazelle-sized metapodial shaft fragment. It has 9 or 10 short, continuous parallel incisions. The second incised fragment (Figure 3.10), found in square I12a, 45-50 cm below the surface, is a BSGD sized (small) ungulate long bone fragment with approximately 21 short incisions. Similar incised bone fragments have been described by Rabinovich and Nadel (1994/5) from Ohalo II. It is difficult to define the meaning of engraved or incised objects from this period, as few examples have been described from the Levant for the Upper Palaeolithic and Epipalaeolithic, the exceptions being an engraved horse on a piece of limestone from the Aurignacian level (Layer D) of Hayonim Cave (Belfer-Cohen & Bar-Yosef 1981), an engraved bone from an early Epipalaeolithic layer from Ksar Akil, Lebanon (Tixier 1984), an incised bone from the final Geometric Kebaran level (Phase D) at Kharaneh IV Phase D (Muhesein 1988a: Figure 7; Martin et al. 2010: 126), several incised bone fragments from ‘Ain el-Buhira in Wadi al-Hasa, southern Jordan (Coinman 1996), and three incised bone fragments from Ohalo II

Figure 3.9 Incised gazelle metapodial fragment from Area A (Horizon 1A).

Figure 3.10 Incised BSGD ungulate long bone fragment, Area A (Horizon 1A).

(Rabinovich & Nadel 1994). Hovers has argued (1990: 321) that the engraved pebble may represent some kind of group identifier, and that this type of artistic expression is rare in this region because there was little competition for resources due to lower demographic pressure (as compared to contemporaneous populations in Europe). However, the presence of the objects, even if a rare occurrence, does suggest that non-related groups of hunter-gatherers were coming into contact with each, and that there was some need to differentiate or identify one group from another.

Following Maher and colleagues (2011), Bayesian calibrations of the published radiocarbon dates for UR IIa (Hovers & Marder 1991) were calculated (Table 3.3), using the BCal online software available through the University of Sheffield (Buck et al. 1999). Bayesian methods rely on the use of models based on certain assumptions about how archaeological units or horizons are related chronologically to each other. In order to avoid making any statements about horizon boundaries, calculations were modelled with the assumption that Horizon 2 was older than Horizon 1, following the stratigraphy. Based on the calibrated dates (68% confidence), occupation in Horizon 1A began between 18,085 and 17,730 years ago and ended between 17,605 and 17,230 years ago, while the occupation at Horizon 1B began between 18,330 and 18,180 years ago and ended between 18,215 and 17,860 years ago, with an occupation gap between 1 and 185 years Horizon 2 began between 18,260 and 18,230 and ended between 18,130 and 17,930, with a gap of between 1-98 years between the end of occupation in Horizon 2 and the beginning of occupation in Horizon 1B.

Hovers (1988; 1989) conducted site exploitation territory (SET) analyses on a number of lower Jordan Valley sites, in order to outline the potential environmental factors influencing the decision-making processes of site inhabitants concerning the choice of site locations. Following optimal foraging models, the location of a settlement would be situated in order to best exploit all available and desired resources. The underlying assumption is that people will tend to approach the use of resources on a least-cost (i.e. time cost) basis, where resources closer to the site location are used more intensively than resources located further away. SET analysis defines the limits of an exploitation territory, based on the size of the area habitually used by the site’s inhabitants (Hovers 1989: 39). As such, it can be used to reconstruct the resource structure of the territory around a site, and suggest the different influences for choosing site location.

Table 3.3 Radiometric and Bayesian calibrated dates (BCal) for Urkan e-Rubb IIa. Radiometric dates from Hovers and Marder (1991: 48). Depth Below Uncalibrated Calibrated (68% Confidence) Horizon Area Datum Sample Date Beginning‐End Date Range 1A A 125 cm OxA‐1503 14,440 ± 150 17726 to 17229 1A A 128 cm OxA‐2838 15,050 ± 160 18083 to 17603 1B B 151 cm OxA‐2837 14,650 ± 120 18231 to 17925 1B B 152 cm OxA‐2841 15,730 ± 130 18260 to 18130 2 Trench I 200 cm OxA‐2840 14,880 ± 120 18464 to 18303 2 Trench I 200 cm OxA‐2842 14,980 ± 200 18486 to 18325 2 Trench I 207 cm OxA‐2835 15,190 ± 130 18494 to 18345 2 Trench I 211 cm OxA‐2839 14,800 ± 130 18517 to 18376 2 C 217 cm OxA‐2836 14,860 ± 130 18538 to 18390 *INTCAL04 Calibration Curve was used to calibrate the radiocarbon dates.

Following Bailey and Davidson’s (1983) discussion of the Naismith rule, Hovers created SET limits of a 2-hour walking distance from the location of UR IIa (as well as other Epipalaeolithic sites within the Wadi Ahmar and Wadi Fazael region). For these calculations, it is assumed that a walker can travel 10 km in a 2-hour span of time over rough terrain. For every 300 m increase in elevation in this walk, an extra hour is added to the total walk time. These SET boundaries are first determined using a topographic contour map at a scale of 1: 25,000 and a pair of compasses. With the compasses set at 1 cm, each unit of distance on the map is equivalent to 3 minutes on the ground, and each contour is equivalent to an extra 5 minutes. Radiating out from the site location, a 2-hour SET was calculated (Figure 3.11A). These SETs were later tested on the ground to assess the accuracy of the proposed boundary-time limit. For UR IIa, a 2-hour SET of 54.6 km2 was calculated, with 21.7 km2 of this representing Lake Lisan (Hovers 1989: 41 Table 1). Following Begin and colleagues (1974), Hovers has argued that the territory represented by Lake Lisan (representing 39.7% of the total 2-hour SET) would not have been an exploitable resource due to high salinity levels (Hovers 1989: 43), although the presence of a small number of fish remains in the faunal assemblage from Area A (discussed in Chapter 9) might contradict this. This would have left 32.9 km2 of exploitable territory, which included a flat open area in the lower portions of the wadi thought to be a potential gazelle grazing ground, mixed habitats with cliff vegetation and associated fauna (for instance, bezoar goat)’ and a relatively flat highland area that was covered in park-forest vegetation, able to support deer.

A. B. Figure 3.11 Site exploitation territory of UR IIa, with Lake Lisan at 240 m bmsl (modified from Hovers 1989 Figures 4 & 5). (A) 2-hour SET; (B) ½-hour SET.

As a part of the analysis, Hovers also created geographically reduced SETs, of half-hour walking distances (Figure 3.11B), in order to remove the instances of overlap between the SETs of different sites in the region. In this instance, the restricted ½-hour SET for UR IIa includes both open areas with grasses and annuals, and cliff areas west of Wadi Ahmar (Hovers 1989: 45). In both scenarios, the location of the site is in the centre of the proposed gazelle grazing grounds, and it is argued by Hovers (1989: 45) that the human activity associated with the site occupation would have chased these highly territorial animals away from this area while it was being occupied, thereby making it unlikely that this site represents a gazelle kill site. Hovers also notes (1989: 45) that the location of the site would have reduced the ability to view distances both north and south, making it difficult to track animals into the centre of the territory.

3.3 Northern Jordan Valley Kebaran Sites

3.3.1 Ohalo II

The site of Ohalo II is a submerged site on the southwestern shore of Lake Kinneret (Figure 3.3), approximately 9 km south of Tiberius, at an elevation of 212.5 m bmsl (Nadel et al. 2004: 6821; Nadel 2002: 11; Nadel & Hershkovitz 1991: 632). The site was discovered in the autumn of 1989, following a period of prolonged drought and extensive water pumping, which reduced the water level of Lake Kinneret. Three successive excavation seasons took place (1989-1991), interrupted by a rise in lake water levels, which re-submerged the site until 1998. At this time, water levels once again dropped, to approximately 212 m bmsl and excavation resumed until 2001 (Nadel 2002: 11; 1991; 1990; Nadel et al. 2002: 18). The excavation was directed by D. Nadel of the University of Haifa.

An area of 370 m2 was excavated during the first phase of excavation, with a further 7.21 m2 excavated in the second phase (Nadel & Rabinovich 1994/5: 32; Nadel et al. 2002: 19 Table 1). Figure 3.12 shows the final excavation area (Nadel et al. 2004: 6822). As some areas remained unexcavated, it is unclear what the original size of the site was (Nadel 2002: 14). However, up to six separate hut constructions were discovered (Localities 1, 2, 3, 12, 13 and 15). These are all oval in shape, between 3-4.5 m long and aligned along a north-south axis. It appears that the floors of the huts were somewhat subterranean, being lower than the surrounding ground surface. Preservation of plant material is high at the site, indicating that Quercus (oak), Pistacio (pistachio) and Tamarix (salt cedar) wood was used, as well as various weeds and shrubs, as construction materials (Nadel 2002: 14; Nadel & Werker 1999). In Hut 1, a reconstruction of the living floor was undertaken by Weiss and colleagues (2008), using over 60,000 identified seeds and other plant remains, which revealed two clear activity areas; one associated with plant processing surrounding a grinding stone, and a second involving lithic tool manufacture. This apparent division of labour space has been used to cautiously suggest gender-specific roles (Nadel et al. 2006; Weiss et al. 2008: 2412) within the community. If this is true, it is the oldest documented case of a division of domestic space along gender lines (Weiss et al. 2008: 2412).

Figure 3.12 Main area of excavation at Ohalo II. 1 – brush hut; 2 – hearth concentration; 3 – excavation boundary; 4 – trench (from Nadel et al. 2002: 21, Figure 2).

A number of hearth concentrations were found alongside each hut structure (Localities 6, 7, 9, 14, 18, 19), each of which contained a number of separate fireplaces, apparently not used contemporaneously (determined by the presence of overlapping ash lenses between neighbouring fireplaces) (Nadel et al. 2004: 6822; Nadel 2002: 14). The remains of four individuals were also discovered during the first two seasons of excavation (1989-1990), one of which is an almost complete skeleton of an adult male 35-40 years of age at death (Locus 5), and apparently disabled (Nadel 1994: 115; Hershkovitz 2002: 16; Nadel et al. 2004: 6822). The skeleton was found in a flexed position on its side, with the head placed on a ‘pillow’ of stones, laying along a north-south axis similar to the hut constructions, and facing towards the east (and the camp).

Study of the site stratigraphy indicates that there were three successive occupation layers (Unit 2 of Loc. 1). Two charcoal-rich upper levels approximately 3-5 cm thick intermingle with non- laminated lacustrine muds. Beneath these is a thicker ashy-charcoal layer, approximately 10-15 cm thick, which represents the lowest occupation level (Tsatskin 2002: 29). Nadel argues (2002: 15) that the majority of the site features belong to a single occupation phase, including most of the hut structures, the hearths, and the grave. Locality 18 and 15-17 appear to belong to later phases, possibly associated with the upper charcoal levels from Unit 2.

A large number of plant remains were excavated and studied, amounting to a sample of 90,000 specimens, largely collected from the hut structures of Localities 1 and 3 (Nadel et al. 2004: 6822). The majority of the samples appear to be food remains, including edible grasses (wild oat, wheat grass, water whorlgrass, bulbous barley, wild barley, wild emmer), wild fruits (almond, hawthorn/thorn apple, olive, pistachio, wild pear, acorn, and grapes), as well as other edible plants (wild flowers, lentils, mallow, bull rush, beans/vetch, and succulent herbs) (Kislev et al. 1992: 162 Table 1). The majority of these plants can be found in the present sub- Mediterranean deciduous oak park-forest located near Lake Kinneret, with wild barley growing within a few hundred metres of the site, on top of the piedmont of the Lower Galilee (Kislev et al. 1992: 164). Based on the growing seasons of these plants, it is possible that the site was occupied at least twice per year – during the spring, when nearby grasses could be harvested; and during late summer/early autumn, when fruit trees ripened. Kislev and colleagues (1992: 165) have argued that the site may have been occupied on a continuous basis, either from spring to autumn or from autumn to spring. This latter proposition is supported by research conducted by Simmons (2002; Simmons & Nadel 1998; discussed in Chapter 9), who studied the numerous bird remains from Ohalo II. She was able to identify 68 different species, from 44 genera and 17 families. Based on her analysis, she argues that the site appears to have been occupied during the winter months, as the majority of the recovered bird species (from all localities) are only found in the area during the winter, either as seasonal residents or migratory visitors between the months of October and March (Simmons 2002: 33). These species are largely absent in the area from May to August.

Twelve radiocarbon dates for the main excavation area are available (Table 3.4, all from charcoal samples) (Nadel et al. 1995: 818 Table 2). These dates were calibrated using the same BCal

software used to calibrate the UR IIa radiocarbon dates, despite other publications offering calibrated ages for Ohalo II. This was done so that the same calibration parameters could be applied to the different sites, so that if any calculation errors occurred, they would occur for all site samples. Charcoal samples were taken from three huts (Localities 1-4), as well as

Table 3.4 Radiometric and Bayesian calibrated dates (BCal) for Ohalo II. Radiometric dates from Nadel et al. 1995: 818 Table 2. Uncalibrated Range (68% Locality Elevation bmsl Sample Date Confidence) 4 212.00‐03 RT‐1358 18760 ± 180 22450‐22169 3 212.08‐13 RT‐1343 18600 ± 220 22401‐22044 3 212.08‐28 RT‐1342 19500 ± 170 23426‐22929 3 212.12‐14 RT‐1251 19000 ± 190 22683‐22324 3 212.15‐16 RT‐1248 19800 ± 360 23669‐22913 3 212.15‐19 Pta‐5387 20100 ± 440 23887‐22930 3 212.15‐20 RT‐1244 18360 ± 230 22288‐21863 3 212.16‐18 Pta‐5374 19400 ± 220 23321‐22745 3 212.20‐25 Pta‐5386 19600 ± 400 23523‐22690 1 212.35 RT‐1625 21050 ± 330 25470‐24752 2 212.38‐43 RT‐1297 17500 ± 200 20887‐20435 10 212.50‐60 RT‐1624 20840 ± 290 25221‐24594 *INTCAL04 Calibration Curve was used to calibrate the radiocarbon dates

from a stone installation (Locality 10). Locality 1 was occupied from 25,470 years ago to 24,755 years (one sample); Locality 2 was occupied from 20,890 years ago to 20,435 years ago; Locality 3 was occupied beginning approximately 22,290 years ago and ending approximately 21,865 years ago (eight samples); Locality 4 was occupied from approximately 22,450 to 22,170 years ago (one sample); and Locality 10 was occupied from approximately 25,220 years ago to 24,595 years ago (one sample). These dates are similar to other published calibrated dates for Ohalo II (Nadel et al. 1995; Nadel et al. 2004; Nadel 2002).

3.3.2 Ein Gev I

The site of Ein Gev I is located 1 km east of Lake Kinneret (Figure 3.3), at an altitude of 150 m bmsl (approximately 50 m above current lake levels) (Davis 1974: 453). It was discovered by D. Ben-Ami and A. Prochter during a survey of the eastern edge of Lake Kinneret, where a series of four sites were found within 100 m of each other, on the lower slopes of a sandy hill situated on the flanks of the Golan Plateau (Arensburg & Bar-Yosef 1973: 201; Marom 2006: 10). The sites were excavated by M. Stekelis and O. Bar-Yosef in 1963 and 1964 (Stekelis & Bar-Yosef 1965; Stekelis et al. 1966; Bar-Yosef 1970) and again by O. Bar-Yosef in 1973 (Arensburg & Bar- Yosef 1973; Davis 1974). Bar-Yosef (Arensburg & Bar-Yosef 1973: 201) notes that the preservation was not uniform amongst the Ein Gev sites, as the upper deposits of EG I (Kebaran) were somewhat eroded, EG II (Kebaran) and EG III (early Geometric Kebaran) were partially destroyed by quarrying activities, and only EG IV (Geometric Kebaran) was entirely intact. The site is situated in a mixed ecotone, where humid lakeshore vegetation mixes with Irano-Turanian steppe vegetation from the foothills of the Golan heights (Marom & Bar-Oz 2008: 215). The lithic assemblage from Ein Gev I has been attributed to the Kebaran D, based on the dominance of obliquely truncated backed bladelets (referred to as Kebara points) and narrow, curved backed bladelets.

During the first two excavation seasons (1963-64), 38 m2 were cleared, to Layers 3-5 (Figure 3.13), in arbitrary 5-10 cm spits (Bar-Yosef & Leveson 1974, quoted in Marom 2006: 10). The third excavation season, in 1973, was conducted in a more rigorous manner, using 50 cm x 50 cm units and recording all artefacts in three dimensions. The focus of this excavation was to continue work in the squares where only Layer 3 had been reached previously, in an attempt to reach a uniform site depth to Layer 5/6. The overall size of the site is estimated to be between 100-150 m2 (Arensburg & Bar-Yosef 1973).

The site contains the remains of what has been interpreted as a hut (Marom 2006: 11, quoting Bar-Yosef & Leveson 1974) dug into the slope of the sandy hill, which shows at least six successive periods of occupation. Each occupational layer, visible only through changes in the density of artefacts, consists of a living floor with scattered lithic and bone artefacts, approximately 5-7 m in diameter, covered by a sandy layer (20-25 cm thick), also containing

artefactual material (Arensburg & Bar-Yosef 1973: 201; Stekelis & Bar-Yosef 1965). The hut was surrounded by a 50 m2 area of dense artefact concentration, with a wider and more minor

Figure 3.13 General plan of Ein Gev I, Layers 3-5, from the 1963-4 seasons (Arensburg & Bar-Yosef 1973: 203 Figure 1).

peripheral accumulation, extending the site size to approximately 150 m2. During the 1964 season, a skeleton of a female, between 30 and 40 years of age, was discovered buried in a shallow pit (Layer 3), apparently under one of the hut floors (Nadel 1994: 114). Only one radiocarbon date has been calculated from the site remains, coming from charcoal associated

69 with the burial and dated by Vogel and Waterbolk (1972: 49), giving an uncalibrated radiocarbon date of 15,700 ± 415 years b.p. Using the same BCal software used to calibrate the UR IIa and Ohalo II dates above, a calibrated (68% confidence) date of between 20520-18900 and 18955- 17165 years was calculated for the burial.

3.4 Wadi Fazael

Wadi Fazael lies just to the south of Wadi Ahmar, where UR IIa is located. Most of the wadi and its tributaries are set in relatively steep, rock-walled valleys, with the archaeological sites located approximately 3 km from the current Jordan River margins (Bar-Yosef et al. 1974: 416). Four Kebaran sites have been identified within this wadi system: Fazael IIIB, IIID, IIIA, and Fazael VII (Figure 4.14). No chronometric dates are available for these sites. Only brief descriptions of these archaeological deposits will be discussed here, as three of the four represent only ephemeral occupations with little or no faunal material. Where faunal remains have been recovered, they have not been studied to date. A detailed description of the geological setting and a diachronic description of lithic typology of the Fazael sites have been given by Bar-Yosef and colleagues (1974) and Goring-Morris (1980).

Fazael IIIB was discovered during preliminary survey activities in 1971, eroding from a small gully approximately 300 m east of where Wadi Fazael enters into the Jordan Valley. The majority of this site was destroyed by ongoing erosion, with only 2.5 m2 of deposits available for excavation. Based on the horizontal distribution of the greyish-brown alluvial deposits on which the site rests, it is unlikely that the site exceeded 50 m2 (Goring-Morris 1980: 41), and most likely represents an ephemeral occupation, where only a few unidentifiable bone fragments were recovered. It is associated with a blade/bladelet industry, with the majority of tools represented by micropoints (Goring-Morris 1980; 45).

Fazael IIID is another small Kebaran site, situated 75n m to the east of Fazael IIIB. It was found eroding out of a greenish-grey marly deposit near the top of the wadi section. The small number of lithic artefacts (n = 356) were concentrated within a 10-20 cm thick layer, which was highly restricted. No faunal remains were recovered from this archaeological layer. It is thought that the site did not exceed 10-20 m2, representing a very small, ephemeral occupation based primarily on bladelet production (Goring-Morris 1980: 45).

Figure 3.14 Location of Kebaran sites (circled) in the Wadi Fazael (modified from Bar- Yosef et al. 1974: Figure 2).

The largest Kebaran site in the wadi is Fazael IIIA, which was found eroding out of a section of the alluvial fan, 15m southwest of Fazael IIIB. It is estimated that the size of the site is between 75 and 100 m2, although only 13.5 m2 has been partially or completely excavated (Goring-Morris 1980: 47). Over 1000 identifiable faunal remains have been recovered from the site, although they have not been analysed to date. Based on preliminary identifications, gazelle dominate (73%), followed by fallow deer (18%). Also included in this sample are goat, roe deer, pig, aurochs and hare (Goring-Morris 1980: 48). The lithic assemblage is dominated by obliquely truncated bladelets and micropoints. Goring-Morris argues (1980: 52) that the site size, artefact and faunal densities, and depth of the archaeological deposit (30-150 cm thick) indicate that this site represents an intensive and protracted occupation.

The final Kebaran site found within the wadis is Fazael VII. This site was found at a much higher elevation than the other Kebaran sites (80 m bmsl, versus approximately 185-190 m bmsl). It was found eroding out of the base of a 4 m high section on the left bank of Wadi

Habala, approximately 100 m upstream from Wadi Fazael. This site was extensively eroded. What remained at the time of survey and excavation suggested a spatially limited site measuring approximately 50 m2; however, there does appear to be evidence of at least three separate occupational layers (Goring-Morris 1980: 53), based on changes in artefact densities. Bone preservation is apparently good, although only 12 items were identifiable to species in preliminary analysis. These include gazelle, fallow deer, goat, aurochs and tortoise (Goring- Morris 1980: 54).

Similar to the other Kebaran sites, Fazael VII’s lithic industry is based on blade/bladelet blank production, with an emphasis on obliquely truncated bladelets and microgravette variants (Goring-Morris 1980: 59). Based on the relatively small size of the site, as well as the evidence of possible reoccupation, it is suggested that the site represents an ephemeral site that was frequently re-used.

3.5 Summary

The main Kebaran sites that are a part of this study (UR IIa, Ohalo II, and Ein Gev I) all seem to exceed the average site size for the Kebaran (15-100 m 2) as outlined by Goring-Morris (1998, 1987) and Bar-Yosef and Vogel (1987). Of the three, Ein Gev I appears to be the smallest at 100-150 m2, followed by URIIa, with a possible site size of 160-250 m2. Finally, it is argued by Nadel et al. (2004) that Ohalo II extended out to more than 2000 m2, although the actual excavation area measures only 380 m2. The greater size of Ohalo II is most likely due to the wider resource base available to the site occupants. As well, the excellent site preservation has allowed researchers to determine the site’s boundaries using lithic, faunal, and organic materials, the latter of which is unavailable for the other two sites. The Fazael sites all fall within the typical size range of Kebaran sites, with the smallest being 10-20 m2 (Fazael IIID) and the largest being 75-100 m2 (Fazael IIIA).

In terms of chronology, UR IIa is the youngest of the three main Jordan Valley sites, with calibrated dates between 18,085 and 17,230 cal BP for Horizon 1A and 18,330 and 17,860 cal BP for Horizon 1B. Ein Gev I is relatively contemporaneous with URIIa, with a single calibrated radiocarbon date giving a range of 20,520 to 17,165 cal BP. Finally, the date for Ohalo II places it chronologically at the very beginning of the Epipalaeolithic, with calibrated dates of between

25,470 and 20, 435 cal BP. No radiocarbon dates are available for the Fazael sites; chronological placement within the Kebaran is based primarily on lithic typologies, as well as their geological and topographic location along the Jordan Valley.

Chapter 4 Zooarchaeological and Taphonomic Methodology

The collection of faunal material from UR IIa is housed in the Zoology Laboratory of the Department of Evolution, Ecology, and Systematics at the Hebrew University, Jerusalem, Israel. All of the material was heavily encrusted in calcium carbonate, such that identification was only possible for complete bones, such as calcanea and phalanges, and certain epiphyseal fragments, such as distal humeri. Because of the high degree of calcium carbonate encrustation, the calcite coating had to be removed by soaking the bone material in a dilute Ascetic Acid solution. Due to the destructive nature of acid soaking, a portion of each sub-horizon was set aside and not cleaned, in order to preserve any organic (i.e. collagen) material that might remain. Material from each excavation unit (1 m2 horizontal unit, 5 cm vertical unit), and from each quadrant (50 x 50 cm) when possible was set aside. For Horizon 1A, 30% of the material was not sampled and for Horizon 1B, 14% of the material was not sampled. This material was selected randomly, where one packet of bone material from each quadrant was set aside (approximately 100-150 g). The material that makes up the studied sample was soaked in a dilute Acetic acid solution (approximately 10 ml of acid to 500 ml of water) for 2.5 hours. The washed material was then soaked in clean water for two two-hour sessions in order to leach out any remaining acid. The cleaned bones were then set out to air dry for 24 hours. In some cases, material had to be acid washed an additional time.

The aim of taphonomic research is to evaluate the degree of bone destruction within an assemblage, and to understand the circumstances that have affected the assemblage. An assemblage’s taphonomic history is understood by using a wide range of comparative and actualistic studies that record the influence of specific destructive processes under controlled conditions. Much of this is based in basic zooarchaeological analysis, especially skeletal part representation (e.g. Binford 1981; Blumenschine 1986, 1988; Brain 1981; Capaldo 1998a; Castel 2004; Enloe et al. 2000; Hill & Behrensmeyer 1985; Lyman 1984; Marean 1985; Pickering et al. 2003, 2006; Outram 2000; Pickering & Egeland 2006; Speth 1991; Stiner 2002; Todd & Rapson 1988), the type of bone fractures (e.g. Bunn 1989; Herrmann & Bennett 1999; Oliver 1993;

Outram 1999, 2001, 2002, 2004; Outram et al. 2005; Patou 1985;Villa & Mahieu 1991), the presence and identification of specific activities on the surface of the bones (e.g. Alhaique 1997; Behrensmeyer 1982; Bennett 1999; Binford 1981; Blumenschine et al. 1996; Cain 2006; Capaldo 1998b; Costamango et al. 2002; Dewbury & Russell 2007; Egeland 2003; Gilchrist & Mytum 1986; Horwitz 1990; Koon et al. 2003; Lupo & Schmitt 1997; Lyman 2005; Marean & Bertino 1994; Nicholson 1992, 1993; Pickering & Egeland 2006; Roberts et al. 2002; Saint- Germain 1997; Selvaggio 1994; Shipman 1988; Shipman et al. 1984; Smoke & Stahl 2004; Speth 2000), and as ethnographic accounts of human impacts on bones (e.g. Binford 1978; Bunn 1993; Gifford-Gonzalez 1989; Leechman 1951; Lupo & O’Connell 2002; O’Connell et al. 1988; Vehik 1977). In order to outline the taphonomic history of the faunal assemblage from Area A (Horizon 1A and 1B), I will discuss bone density and food utility (in relation to bone abundance), bone fragmentation (fracture patterns and bone boiling), butchery patterns and burning, and natural attritional processes (weathering, fluvial activity, carnivore and rodent modification).

4.1 Taxonomic Identification and Bone Recording

The identification and taxonomic classification was based on the comparative mammal collections of the Department of Ecology, Systematics and Evolution at the Hebrew University, Jerusalem. Elements were identified to the closest possible taxonomic unit. This includes individual cranial bones, vertebrae, carpals, sesmoids, ribs and long bone shaft fragments.

The majority of bones were highly fragmented; as such, each identified bone fragment was documented with the following information: a description of the specific element, its side, the section of the bone (such as medial shaft or distal epiphysis) and what portion the fragment represented (i.e. antero-medial shaft fragment). In addition, each identified bone fragment was coded according to a zoning system developed by Dobney and Rielly (1988). This is a flexible coding system that relies on diagnostic zones to divide a skeletal element into a number of morphologically distinct zones that can be recorded as present or absent. Dobney and Rielly (1988: 83) state that this method can be applied to any bone assemblage and is most useful when a bone sample is heavily comminuted and poorly preserved, or where detailed recording of preservation, butchery practices or pathology is required. Going beyond a presence/absence description, proportional quantities of each zone represented on a bone fragmented were

75 documented. For instance, a particular fragment may include portions of more than one zone. In this case, the proportion of each zone represented on the fragment was recorded. This system was used for all elements except cranial elements, carpals, tarsals (excluding calcanea and astragali, which were measured according to the fragment zoning system), and sesmoids. For these, a description of the fragment and/or the degree of completeness was recorded.

Certain specimens could not be identified to genus, such as some cranial elements, portions of vertebrae, rib shaft fragments, certain long bone shafts, some pelvic and scapulae fragments (i.e. iliac and blade fragments) and highly fragmented teeth. As such, these were identified to general body size class (following Rabinovich 1998; Rabinovich & Nadel 2005). A breakdown of body size classes with example species is provided in Table 4.1. The body size categories are based on body mass, and serve as a general scale. The body size categories are based on body mass, and serve as a general scale for use in the absence of clearly diagnostic features that would allow taxa with similar body sizes to be identified with confidence (e.g., Gazella gazella and Capreolus capreolus).

Table 4.1 Body size class breakdown (modified from Rabinovich & Nadel 1994: 5). Body Size Class Mass (kg) Example species Aurochs (Bos primigenius), Rhino BSGA >1000 kg (Rhinocerotidae) Fallow Deer (Dama mesopotamica), Pig BSGB 80‐250kg (Sus scrofa), Red Deer (Cervus elaphus), Hartebeest (Alcephalus buselaphus) BSGC 40‐80kg Bezoar goat (Capra aegagrus) Mountain Gazelle (Gazella gazella), Roe BSGD 15‐40kg Deer (Capreolus capreolus) Hare (Lepus capensis), Fox (Vulpes BSGE ≤12 kg vulpes), small rodents

All complete specimens and bone fragments that could be identified to element were measured following Von den Driesch (1976) Table 4.2 summarises the identified sample from Hori\ons 1A and 1B.

Table 4.2 Summary of taxa and body size group NISP for Area A, Horizons 1A and 1B. Horizon Horizon Taxon 1A 1B Canis sp. 1 2 Vulpes vulpes 9 1 Sus scrofus 4 5 Capreolus capreolus 3 5 Cervus elaphus 1 0 Dama mesopotamica 21 25 Gazella gazella 1130 1459 Capra aegagrus 22 53 Rodent 3 2 Lepus capensis 35 12 Testudo graeca 3 3 Aves sp. 2 4 Struthio camelus 1 5 Alectoris chukar 2 3 Cygnus sp. 1 0 Anas sp. 3 1 Aquila sp. 3 1 Pices sp. 0 2 TOTAL 1244 1583 Body Size Class BSGA 1 0 BSGB 8 10 BSGC 55 57 BSGD 540 940 BSGE 14 22 TOTAL 618 1029 Indeterminate 11884 21104

4.2 Quantification

Because the site of UR IIa was not completely excavated horizontally, each of the excavation units was treated as a separate entity; although material from Area A and Area B were excavated from the same elevation, it is unclear how they are connected to each other. Horizon 1 and 2 were also treated as separate archaeological units, and Horizon 1 was further subdivided into sub-horizons (Horizon 1A for the upper sub-horizon and 1B for the lower sub-horizon), based on vertical fluctuations in lithic and faunal densities. Based on the vertical distribution of material, it is clear that there were two occupations in Horizon 1.

The relative abundance of different taxa within the assemblage was quantified using NISP (number of identified specimens) and MNI (minimum number of individuals), where bone side (left or right), age range (juvenile versus adult) and sex (where possible to determine) were considered for calculation. The MNI was calculated by plotting individual fragments on a bone template, following the fragment overlap technique outlined by Marean and colleagues (2001). Lyman (2008: 221) notes that a critical step in using this technique involves accurately drawing the specimen on the template, and that errors in overlap (either creating an overlap that did not, in reality, exist, or excluding fragments as not overlapping when in reality they do) tend to increase in frequency as specimens display fewer and fewer anatomical landmarks. In order to resolve this situation, the use of the fragment zone system developed by Dobney and Rielly (1988) (Figure 4.1) helped mitigate the difficulty of placing fragments with few diagnostic markers. Using a gazelle skeleton from the mammalian collection at the Hebrew University, Dobney and Rielly’s fragment zone system was drawn on the individual bones as a template. The proportion of each zone represented on a bone fragment was then measured (length and breadth in mm). In many cases, photographs were taken of the fragment lying on the zone-marked index bone so that each fragment could be reproduced in CorelDraw x4 as accurately as possible, as individual layers. Gazelle and BSGD ungulate fragments were plotted to determine the minimum number of elements represented (differentiating between left and right elements, as well as juvenile, adolescent, and adult elements). From this, an MNI estimate was determined. Fragment zone measurements were taken for the other ungulate specimens, although these were not plotted onto a digital template as the sample size was very small and little to no overlap between fragments was present.

A. B. Figure 4.1 Diagnostic zones on a humerus, following Dobney & Rielly (1988, Figure 9). A) Left humerus divided into fragment zones; (B) Left humerus with four gazelle fragments from Horizon 1A plotted. Dark shading indicates overlapping fragments, therefore different individuals.

Following Bar-Oz (2004), MNI was also calculated using the guidelines set out by Klein and Cruz-Uribe (1984), in order to create a dataset that could be directly compared to the results generated by Bar-Oz in his analysis of Epipalaeolithic assemblages from the Coastal Plain of Israel. Following this method, each bone is divided into zones (most zones are whole epiphyses or unfused metaphyseal areas), and an estimate is made of the fraction of that zone preserved on the fragment. Compact bones such as carpals and tarsals are recorded as the fraction of the total bone present. To calculate MNI, all fractions of similar skeletal element, side (optional), and taxon are summed to estimate the abundance of that skeletal element. One drawback of this method is the exclusion of shaft fragments in the calculation of MNI: “It should be noted that while shaft fragments without epiphyses may be entered and are included in the bone counts [NISP], they do not enter into the MNI calculations” (Klein & Cruz-Uribe 1984: 108). This proves somewhat problematic, since the portion of the bone that is most likely to survive taphonomic processes (i.e. the shaft portion) is excluded from the equation. In order to be able to

79 include this data for future studies, MNI for shaft portions were determined by estimating the fraction of preserved diaphysis, based on fragment length divided by the diaphyseal length (minus epiphysis and metaphysic, where present) for each bone element. This was not done in the other Epipalaeolithic samples; as such, comparisons between element survival and bone density is somewhat limited, as element estimates based on the denser shaft portion are not included by Bar-Oz. A greater discussion and comparison of the two different methods of estimating MNI’s will be discussed in Chapter 5. For this study, the estimates calculated using Marean and colleagues’ (2001) overlap approach are used.

An additional measure for quantifying relative abundance within the sample is to calculate an MNE (minimum number of elements) estimate. This is an estimate of the minimum number of possible elements that can account for the number of identified specimens. Minimum Animal Unit (MAU) values were calculated by dividing the MNE values for each anatomical part or portion by the number of times that part occurs in a complete skeleton, following Binford (1978, 1981, 1984). This standardises the observed MNE counts to individual skeletons, and makes it possible to then discuss transport decisions made by the inhabitants of UR IIa, as it mutes some of the variation between frequencies of skeletal parts and portions that occurs due to differences in how frequently a particular part is represented in a skeleton (Lyman 2008: 235). For instance, artiodactyls have 8 first phalanges and 2 femora. A situation might occur where the number of phalanges within a sample is much higher than the number of femora; however, the femora may be derived from more individual animals because this element occurs less frequently within the skeleton. MAU values are further standardised, in order to create what Binford (1978) refers to as %MAU. This allows samples of faunal remains of different sizes to be compared without variations in sample size influencing the results. %MAU values are calculated by dividing individual MAU values by the greatest observed MAU value in a particular taxon assemblage and multiplying each individual result by 100. These values are plotted against element in order to show the skeletal part frequency of the collection and to compare frequencies between the four ungulate groups with the highest MNI values (gazelle, BSGD ungulates, fallow deer and bezoar goat).

MNI values were also standardised following Binford (1978), where the observed MNI for each element portion was divided by the highest MNI estimate for the assemblage. For instance, for

gazelle in Horizon 1A, it is calculated that the complete bone sample is derived from a minimum of 24 individuals. In order to calculate the %MNI for humerus shaft portions, the MNI estimate for this portion (MNI = 11) is divided by 24, giving a %MNI of 45.8%. This was done in order to compare results to other studies where %MNI were used.

4.3 Bone Density

In order to determine if skeletal part frequencies can be explained with reference to transport or utility indices or through factors related to differential preservation, it is important to consider the relationship between bone preservation and bone density. In archaeological faunal assemblages, an inverse relationship between skeletal element frequencies and bone utility (characterised by an abundance of head and foot elements) at base camps can be due to preservation biases rather than transport decisions (Binford 1978; Lam & Pearson 2005: 100). The probability that skeletal parts will survive various taphonomic processes is in part a function of their structural density (Lyman 1994: 235; 1984). The denser the bone, the greater its ability to survive mechanical and chemical decomposition, while softer, lower density bones will decay much more readily. However, many low utility elements also have high structural densities, such as metapodials, tarsals and carpals, which can lead to a transport/utility profile that is weighted towards lower utility items because these items have survived (Grayson 1989).

For this analysis, bone density values measured through Photon Densitometry (PD) (Lyman, 1984, 1994) are used, following Bar-Oz (2004). This technique measures bone mineral content by how weak a photon beam of a known strength becomes when it passes through a selected part of a bone, or scan site (Lyman 1994: 238). A disadvantage of this method is that it does not directly measure bone density and cannot determine the size of the internal medullary cavity, which can greatly affect the density reading (Lam et al. 2003: 1702; Lam & Pearson 2005: 103). Instead, it measures the mineral content across a scanned section of bone, the volume of which must be predetermined before density can be calculated. This effectively treats all scan sites as boxes, and ignores differences in shape or diagnostic features (i.e. fossae) (Lam et al. 2003: 1702). Density values obtained through Computed Tomography (CT) are more accurate (Lam et al. 1998; 2003; Lam & Pearson 2005), as this technique produces a clear radiographic image of the bone cross-section, which allows the medullary cavity to be excluded from calculations of bone density. Lam and colleagues (1998) produced bone density values for goat using CT,

81 which gave higher values per scan site than Lyman (1984) gives for similarly sized goat; however, only long bones were measured in this study. As Bar-Oz (2004) notes, it is also important to have values for lower-density bone elements in order to measure the degree of bone preservation within an assemblage. As such, Lyman’s (1984) PD values for sheep are used as a proxy for gazelle and BSGD ungulates, following the standard set by Bar-Oz (2004). Currently, there are no bone density values available for gazelle.

Comparisons of bone abundance and bone density alone do not allow identification of particular destructive processes. To mediate this, results from this analysis will be discussed in relation to bone abundance versus food utility (following Binford 1978; Grayson 1988). Binford (1978) developed a series of quantifiable methods that could be applied to faunal material in order to help explain why some bone elements were found in some places, and why they were not found in others. Probably the most influential of all of these methods was the development of his General Utility Index (GUI), where each bone element was given a rank of importance based on the amount of meat, marrow and bone grease found within it. Although previously, some kind of intuitive ranking of bone elements had taken place, it was not until Binford’s Nunamiut study that a quantifiable method, which could be scientifically repeated, was developed.

Utility indices were formulated to quantify and scale the differences between meat, marrow and bone grease values in order to provide a reference dimension against which the archaeological record of human butchering, transport, and consumption decisions could be evaluated (Binford 1978). In this analysis, relative bone abundance values (%MAU) are plotted against Metcalfe and Jones’ (1988) Food Utility Index (FUI). The FUI was used, instead of Binford’s GUI because it is more widely applicable to different animal species and to different ecological settings (Metcalfe & Jones 1988: 487). Plotting %MAU against FUI allows the analyst to highlight potential butchery and transport decisions based on the amount of food; when constrained by transport limitations, hunters often select a limited number of bones (and food packets) for transportation from a kill site to a consumption/base site (Binford 1978, 1981; Bunn et al. 1988; Lupo 2001; O’Connell et al. 1988, 1990). High-utility elements are associated with large amounts of meat, marrow and grease, while low-utility elements have little food value. In ungulates, the femur is a high-utility element while metapodials, with little meat or marrow, are low-utility items (Lam & Pearson 2005: 99). The food utility index (FUI), modified by Metcalfe

and Jones (1988) following Binford (1978), is based on the assumption that the amount of usable tissue associated with a particular element, or set of elements is an important variable for determining the economic utility of a particular body part (Metcalfe & Jones 1988: 499). One drawback of the FUI is that Metcalfe and Jones (1988) do not give values for shaft portions. In order to generate approximate values for these portions in this analysis, shaft portions were either given the same value as proximal and distal portions (in cases where the values were the same for both ends of the bone, such as the femur) or were given a value midway between that given for proximal and distal ends, assuming that, all things being equal, utility would diminish the further one travelled away from the body. In assemblages that are not associated with a kill site location, a positive and statistically significant relationship between bone frequency and density, with a negative relationship between bone frequency and food utility, suggests that the main source of bias can be attributed to differential destruction (Klein 1989: 378). Selective transport is suggested when there is a significant, positive relationship between skeletal part frequency and food utility, with a negative relationship between bone frequency and density.

Relative bone abundance values for gazelle and BSGD ungulate bone abundance (%MAU) will be compared against bone density values for domestic sheep (Ovis aries; Lyman 1984) and food utility values, calculated by Metcalfe and Jones (1988, modified from Binford 1978) for caribou (Rangifer tarandis), following Bar-Oz (2004), as density and food utility values for mountain gazelle are not available.

4.4 Diagenetic Processes and Bone Preservation

4.4.1 Fragmentation

Klein and Cruz-Uribe (1984: 73) note that relying only upon comparisons of bone abundance and bone density/food utility assumes that the only factors affecting skeleton part numbers within an assemblage are pre-depositional transportation and destruction by the collector. However, post-depositional factors can affect bone abundance and fragmentation. In order to examine the intensity of fragmentation within a single horizon and between horizons, the size of diaphysis fragments are plotted in a histogram, following Villa and Mahieu (1991) and Lyman (1994: 334). The intensity of fragmentation refers to the size of the fragments (Lyman 1994: 333). Post-depositional and burial processes affect most zooarchaeological samples by

increasing the fragmentation of the bone, thus lowering its identifiability and making it difficult to determine the nature of human behaviour (Bar-Oz 2004: 27; Klein & Cruz-Uribe 1984: 70-71; Marean 1991: 677; Stiner et al. 2001: 644). It is important to make a distinction between deposition and burial – bones that are deposited have been placed either on a surface or into an existing sedimentary unit, while bones that are buried are covered with mineralogical or biological sediments. A bone can be deposited but remain unburied, which allows a distinction between pre-burial diagenetic processes and post-burial processes (Lyman 1994: 406).

Bones with low structural density are more easily fragmented through post-depositional attrition and will have higher frequencies of fragmentation, with the result that they will be absent or very difficult to identify in assemblages that are strongly affected by post-depositional processes. Because a number of agents, both human and animal, can affect and influence fragmentation (in particular marrow-bearing bones), Marean notes (1991: 680) that bones that are used for measuring post-depositional destruction should be those that are never or are rarely fragmented to extract nutrition. Through experimental analyses of hyena ravaged fore- and hindlimb elements, Marean constructed a Completeness Index for carpal and tarsal bones, which are commonly ignored by humans because of their low nutritional value, and are usually swallowed whole by carnivores. Index values are derived for each carpal and tarsal bone by recording the percentage of survival of the original element for each specimen, summing the values and dividing by the total number of specimens for that element. For example, for astragali, there is one complete astragalus (1.0), 75% of an astragalus (0.75), and 25% of an astragalus (0.25), the index value is calculated as 100[(1+0.75+0.25)/3] = 66.7%.

4.4.2 NISP : MNE Ratios

NISP : MNE ratios can be used to calculate a fragmentation ratio of long bones, which illustrates the intensity of fragmentation. If the ratio of NISP to MNE is equal, then either all of the specimens are complete skeletal elements, or all of the specimens represent the same portion of a skeletal element. If NISP is greater than MNE, then some specimens are fragmentary and the duplication of specimens representing the same element portion is limited. The intensity of fragmentation denotes the size of the fragments, as small fragments are less likely to overlap with one another than large fragments and are unlikely to be independent of each other. NISP : MNE ratios are calculated using counts derived only from fragments, following Lyman

(1994:337). The inclusion of whole bones in tallies of NISP and MNE reduces their proportional difference because both are increased the same absolute amount by the inclusion of whole bones. Incidences of high NISP : MNE ratios in a given assemblage reflect either bone breakage due to post-depositional processes (eg., trampling or carnivore scavenging), or fragmentation due to marrow extraction (Lyman 1994: 406). Marked differences in NISP : MNE ratios between two different species samples reflect that the bones of one species are more highly fragmented than the bones of another.

4.4.3 Bone-Based versus Tooth-Based MNI Ratios

Comparisons between MNI counts based on teeth versus cranial bones can be used to address the issue of bone attrition versus selective transport to the site. Teeth are the hardest skeletal tissues, while the cranial bones tend to be much more fragile, allowing for an estimation of the relative strength of taphonomic disturbances (Stiner 1994: 100). If MNIs derived from cranial bones are nearly the same as those for teeth, preservation is assumed to be good and specimen identifiability has not been seriously affected by fragmentation throughout the post-depositional history of the site (Bar-Oz 2004: 27). In situations of poor preservation, cranial and tooth-based MNI values will differ greatly, resulting in a low ratio, suggesting that fragmentation, decomposition, or both has reduced much of the original bone material. Bone values should decline faster than tooth values, as bone tissue is softer and will suffer greater attrition as fragmentation progresses. Stiner (1994: 100) notes that this type of cross-element comparison must be conducted within the head region, as attempting to compare elements from separate parts of the skeletal anatomy can confuse loss by attrition and transport decisions. MNI values for the bone-based MNI values are derived from mandibular condyle counts, as this is the most frequently identifiable skull portion represented in each gazelle assemblage.

4.4.4 Tarsal and Carpal Survivorship

In order to test the validity of the tooth/cranial bone MNI comparison, survivorship of the astragalus and the fused central and fourth tarsal (navicular-cuboid) are examined. When proportions of these elements are compared against axial portion survivorship, differences in survivorship can indicate significant differences in preservation among assemblages, which can be used support or clarify tooth/cranium ratio comparisons. Marean (1991: 680) argues that only

bones that are never or only rarely fragmented by people or animals should be used to measure post-depositional destruction. This is because an assemblage that has been strongly affected by post-depositional destruction will have a higher fragmentation of less dense elements, resulting in these lower-density elements being absent or rarely identified in the faunal assemblage (Marean 1991: 678). Through controlled experimental studies involving hyenas, as well as comparisons to Later Stone Age bone collections from Kenya, Marean (1991: 691) has determined that the compact bones most sensitive to post-depositional processes, such as cooking or carnivore ravaging, are the tarsal bones, because they are particularly dense, they are frequently consumed whole by carnivores, and because human consumers do not usually fracture them in order to extract within-bone nutrients (i.e. marrow). If these bones differ in survivorship between two assemblages when compared to axial portions (which tend to become fragmented much more frequently), it is probable that axial and appendicular elements have suffered differentially.

4.4.5 Proximal/Distal Humerus and Tibia

Humerus and tibia proportions are useful for identifying the actions of destructive agents, in particular the relationship between the proportional frequency of proximal humerus and proximal tibia to their distal parts. Binford (1981: 217) notes that there is a consistently greater difference between survival potentials of proximal and distal portions of these two elements (with a greater difference seen between proximal and distal humerus portions). The proximal portions of these elements are larger and contain more spongy cancellous bone than the distal portions, thus making them lower in density. For instance, Lyman (1984; using sheep) gives density values of 0.13 for the proximal humerus and 0.34 for the distal humerus. Proportional Minimal Animal Unit (%MAU) values are used in this analysis, following Binford (1978: 70), as destructive processes rarely make distinctions between right and left portions. These values are compared against values from a series of controlled assemblages with known degrees of bone destruction (outlined in Binford 1981: 220, with data from Binford & Bertram 1977 and Binford 1978). Both human and predator-scavenger activities are included in these controlled assemblages. An equal relationship between proximal and distal parts is expected in undisturbed bone assemblages (Bar-Oz 2004: 26), while a large difference in bone abundance (%MAU) between proximal and distal ends indicates that the bones have either been subjected to a large degree of

density-mediated attrition or bone portions have been removed from the assemblage (eg., carnivore scavenging or bone grease production) (Todd & Rapson 1988: 209).

4.5 Carnivore Modification

Among the most common animal categories to affect human-accumulated bone assemblages are mammalian carnivores. A large number of actualistic studies have been undertaken in the past in order to better understand the timing and taphonomic effects of carnivore-hominid activities on bone assemblages (e.g. Blumenschine 1986, 1987, 1988; Blumenschine et al. 1996; Brain 1981; Capaldo 1998a, 1998b; Gifford-Gonzales 1989; Hill 1989; Horwitz & Smith 1988; Haglund 1997a; Kerbis-Peterhans & Horwitz 1992; Lupo & O’Connell 2002; Selvaggio 1994; Shipman 1988; Shipman & Rose 1983). Carnivore activities include the consumption of bone epiphyses, which is indicated by gnaw marks, punctures, pitting, and furrows (synthesized by Lyman 1994: 206-210), as well as signs of digestion on shaft fragments or other compact elements (Lyman 1994: 204-205, 212; Horwitz 1990). Rodents can also affect the epiphyses and long bone shafts – these elements are often gnawed in order to wear down the incisors (Haglund 1997b; Lyman 1994). Brain (1981: 117) has noted that the incidence of rodent gnawed bones in an assemblage depends on the abundance of bones available, with defatted and weathered bones being the most attractive. Rodent gnawing can fall into two categories of damage that are often found together. In the first, gnawing has the appearance of broad, contiguous shallow scrape marks, while in the second category, the cancellous bone (in the epiphyses) is scooped out (Maguire et al. 1980: 91, 93). Indications of animal activity were documented for all identified bone fragments.

4.6 Shaft Circumference and Shaft Length

Each fragment within species/size classes was given a score indicating completeness of Shaft Circumference and Shaft Length. Shaft circumference is an attribute developed by Bunn (1983) to differentiate between assemblages accumulated by non-human predators (eg., hyenas), characterised by a majority of specimens with complete shaft diameter, and bones broken by human processing activity (which have a majority of splinters) (Villa & Mahieu 1991: 40). To measure shaft circumference, a score system is used to categorise each fragment. Bone circumference that is less than half of the original is given a score of 1. A score of 2 is given when a circumference is more than half of the original, in at least a portion of the bone length. A

87 score of 3 is given to a specimen that has a complete circumference in at least a portion of the bone length. High frequencies of complete diameters appear to characterise assemblages of post- depositionally broken bones. There may be some overlap with carnivore-created features, although this can be resolved by observing the incidence of other taphonomic variables (Villa & Mahieu 1991).

Shaft Length is a scoring technique used by Villa and Mahieu (1991), which is based on a combined tabulation of shaft circumference versus shaft length. It is important to note that epiphyseal ends are not included in determining the original length of the bone – only the original diaphyseal length is used. The scoring system is as follows: A score of 1 corresponds to shafts that are less than one-fourth the original length; 2 is given for a fragment with a length between one-fourth and one-half; 3 is given for fragments between one-half and three-fourths; and 4 is given for fragments that are more than three-fourths the original length (essentially a complete or almost complete shaft).

4.7 Natural Attrition

4.7.1 Fluvial Transport

Deletions in skeletal elements can occur through fluvial transport, creating differences in frequencies within and between assemblages. The hydraulic transport of a bone is directly related to its shape, or its ratio of surface area to volume. As this ratio increases, weaker hydraulic activities can wash bones from their locations. The more rounded the bone, the greater its vulnerability to low energy fluvial transport (Shipman 1981: 31; Lyman 1994; Voorhies 1969). Skeletal elements can be grouped into one of three different fluvial group based on their transport potential. The first group (Voorhies Group 1, VGI) contains bones that are immediately removed by low-velocity currents and is represented by ribs, vertebrae, sacrum and sternal elements. Voorhies Group 2 (VGII) includes bones that are gradually removed by moderate currents, represented by phalanges, long bones, pelves, and sometimes scapulae (this element is intermediate between VGI and VGII). Voorhies Group 3 (VGIII) contains bones that are transported in strong stream velocities and includes cranial elements and mandibles. Low ratios of observed bones (number of bones in each group) to the expected (based on MNIs) of VGI and high ratios of VGIII are indicative of differential bone loss owing to fluvial transport,

all else being equal (Bar-Oz 2004: 28). To estimate the influence of fluvial transport, the frequencies of gazelle skeletal elements (the dominant species in the assemblage) are examined to determine which group best matches their dispersal potential. An assemblage containing all three Voorhies Groups has probably not experienced significant fluvial transport activities (Shipman 1981: 31).

4.7.2 Weathering and Root Damage

Skeletal elements undergo environmental damage in both pre- and post-depositional and burial contexts, as outlined by Behrensmeyer (1978: 153), where the original organic and inorganic components of the bone become separated and are destroyed by physical and chemical agents. In certain environments, bones that have had all flesh, including the periosteum, removed can undergo rapid changes in their appearance, exhibiting large, longitudinal cracks after a short exposure. These changes are influenced by changes in ground and atmospheric humidity, temperature, and solar radiation. Behrensmeyer (1978: 151) outlined six distinct weathering stages centred on the appearance and severity of longitudinal cracking. In Stage 0, there is no cracking, and the bone is similar in appearance to a fresh bone. In Stage 1, parallel longitudinal cracks begin to appear. In Stage 2, the outermost surface of the bone shows increased cracks with flaking along the crack-edges. Flaking can be so severe that the outermost surface of the bone can be completely removed. In Stage 3, the bone surface has many rough, homogenously weathered patches, resulting in a fibrous texture. The depth of the longitudinal cracks does not penetrate deeper than 1.0-1.5 mm. In Stage 4, the bone surface has a very coarse and rough texture. Large and small splinters can occur and may crumble away from the bone. Longitudinal cracks are open. Finally, in Stage 5, the bone has become so weathered that it is very friable, may be difficult to identify due to changes in its appearance, and may be too delicate to move without some kind of preservative assistance. Although weathering proceeds at different rates in different environments (Shipman 1981: 115) and bone elements from animals of different sizes will weather at different rates (Behrensmeyer 1978: 153-154), it can be assumed that bones of a given species that were buried more rapidly will display earlier stages of weathering (i.e. stages 0-2) than bones of the same species that experienced more exposure. In order to control for this, following Bar-Oz (2004), weathering stages were determined for gazelle long bone shaft fragments from both sub-horizons.

The roots of many plants and fungi produce humic acid, which will leave distinctive shallow grooves on the bone surface (Behrensmeyer 1978: 154; Morlan 1980: 56-57), referred to as root etching. The presence of root etching indicates the bone existed in a plant-supporting environment for at least part of its depositional history. This can occur both before burial and after burial, depending upon the type of plant in question. As Lyman (1994: 376) points out, there is little data on the precise kinds of plant roots that create the etching, or whether the bone has to be exposed or buried in order to acquire the markings, and on the length of time that is required for the dendritic patterns to appear. Despite this, all identified bones were examined for root etching.

4.8 NISP : MNE Ratios and Marrow Weight

As outlined in previously, NISP: MNE ratios are used to illustrate the intensity of fragmentation. By considering long bone NISP: MNE ratios alongside nutritional data, it is possible to attribute human decision making processes to the fragmentation found within the gazelle assemblages. Dry marrow yields for gazelle bones containing a medullary cavity were determined by extracting the marrow and heating it in an oven at 50-60 °C. Marrow was repeatedly weighed until mass remained constant for three consecutive readings (Bar-Oz & Munro 2007: 949).

The potential value of bone fat and bone grease is well established in the taphonomic literature (see Bar-Oz & Munro 2007; Brink 1997; Blumenschine & Madrigal 1993; Marshall & Pilgrim 1991; Morin 2007; Munro & Bar-Oz 2005; Outram 1998, 1999, 2001, 2003, 2005; Speth & Spielman 1983). It has been suggested (Bar-Oz 2004; Munro 2004; Munro & Bar-Oz 2007: 224) that resource intensification should be expressed in the intensive use of individual gazelle carcasses, including the extraction of bone marrow and bone grease.

The presence of small bone fragments in archaeological sites is often used to infer bone grease extraction. This is based primarily on ethnographic accounts of this behaviour (for example Kinietz 1947; Skinner 1913; Lowie 1924, 1956; Leechman 1951; Grinnell 1972; Jenness 1922; Opler 1941; Binford 1978; Wilson 1924; Weltfish 1965; O’Connell et al. 2002). Based on many of these accounts, the process of manufacturing bone grease appears to be fairly universal. Once all the meat has been removed from the bone, the periosteal sheath is removed, either by cooking or scraping. The marrow is removed and the bones are broken down until they reach a ‘small

size’, although Church and Lyman (2003) note that small bone fragments are not required in order to maximise the amount of bone grease that is extracted. Instead, the resulting small fragment sizes appear to be due to changes in the structural integrity of boiled bone, making them more fragile. The fractured bone is placed in some kind of container with water and is either placed directly over a fire, or the water is heated with hot rocks. The water is brought to a low boil or simmer, either by adding colder water or by reducing the number of hot rocks added to the water. The grease is then skimmed off of the top during the process of boiling and stored in a separate container. According to Leechman’s account (1951), this rendered grease can be stored for up to three years, creating a long-lasting food source.

Frequently, this behaviour is inferred through fragmentation analyses (see Villa & Mahieu 1991; Binford 1978; Outram 1998; 1999; 2001, 2002, 2004; Johnson 1989; Lyman 1994). These strategies depend on the identification of human-caused fracture of diaphyseal bone by determining which fractures are likely to have occurred when the bone was in a green (fresh) state, and which ones occurred on bone that was dry. The fresher the bone, the more desirable it would be for grease extraction (due to both general levels of fat, and to degrees of putrefaction).

4.9 Fracture Patterns: Fracture Angle, Outline, and Texture

To determine if bones within an assemblage were deliberately destroyed in order to gain access to bone marrow or to produce bone grease, one first needs to demonstrate that the observed fragmentation patterns were the result of human action rather than due to post-depositional processes. Villa and Mahieu (1991) developed a series of criteria based on fracture angle, fracture outline, and fracture edge texture. Fracture angle refers to the angle formed by the fracture surface and the bone cortical surface. Obtuse or acute angles are commonly associated with green bone fractures, while right angles are associated with fracture of dry and largely mineralised bones (Villa & Mahieu 1991: 34; Outram 2002: 54; Johnson 1985: 176; Morlan 1984, 1980: 48-49). Fracture outline refers to the general shape of the fracture pattern. Fresh bone generally fractures along a curved line, which spirals its way around the diaphysis, combined with V-shaped or pointed fractures (Villa & Mahieu 1991: 34). Bones that are less fresh create outlines that are transverse, diagonal, or longitudinal, while mineralised bone that is fractured commonly has a straight or transverse outline. Weathered bone often has a stepped or columnar outline, due to micro-cracks along the fracture line. Fracture texture refers to the

quality of the fracture surface. The surface of a fresh fracture is usually smooth in texture, while on less fresh specimens, it may have a rougher appearance. It is important, however, to disregard roughness or jaggedness found on small areas, which is caused by stress relief features (Villa & Mahieu 1991: 40; Outram 2002: 54; Johnson 1985: 194).

In order to create a simplified cataloguing system that combines Johnson’s (1985) discussion of fracture mechanics, as well as Villa and Mahieu’s (1991) application of fracture angle, outline and texture into a single index, Outram (1998, 2001, 2002) has outlined an easy to apply coding method for categorizing these three criteria, referred to as the Fracture Freshness Index (FFI). For each criterion (angle, outline, texture), a score of 0 to 2 is given to each fragment from a marrow-containing element. A score of 0 is given to a fragment that is entirely consistent with fresh fracture, 1 is given to a fragment that displays some non-fresh features, and a score of 2 is given when non-fresh features dominate. For example, for fracture angle, if no more than 10% of the fracture surface is perpendicular to the cortical surface, a score of 0 is given. If the angle is between 10% and 50% perpendicular, the fragment is given a 1, and if the fracture surface is at right angles to the cortical surface, a score of 2 is given. For fracture surface texture, a score of 0 is given if the surface is entirely smooth apart from stress relief features, 1 is given if there is some roughness but the texture is still mainly smooth, and a score of 2 is given if a fragment has mostly rough edges. And finally, for fracture outline, a score of 0 is given if there are only helical fractures, 1 is given if there is a mixture of fracture outlines, and 2 is given when there is an absence of helical breaks (Outram 2001: 406). All scores are summed up for each fragment, which gives an FFI ranging from 0 to 6 (0 denoting a specimen entirely consistent with fresh fracture and 6 denoting a specimen that has lost almost all fresh fracture features) (Outram 2002: 56). If the FFI is very low (less than 2), one can argue that the assemblage has become fragmented because of fresh fracturing. If the assemblage had suffered greatly from other forms of fragmentation, the shaft fragments would bear marks of this and FFI scores would be much higher. If the median FFI score is high (above 4), the reverse situation is likely to be true (Outram 2001: 407), where the fragmentation occurred after the bone had become dry, most likely post-depositionally. Through a series of fracturing experiments (n = 13), each involving bone elements subjected to long or short durations of cold or heat treatment, as well as a control sample of fresh bone elements, Outram has demonstrated (2002: 60) that fracture angle, fracture outline and fracture texture all have high and significant correlations to the FFI index (angle-to-

FFI rs = 0.8514, P < 0.05; outline-to-FFI rs = 0.9808, P < 0.05; and texture-to-FFI rs = 0.9622, P < 0.05).

4.10 Cut Marks

The analysis of cut marks, while problematic, can be very helpful in interpreting the intended use of a carcass, through the variation of location, position, and frequency of cut marks. Because butchery practices are dictated by the anatomy of the animal (Lyman 1987), they tend to be located in a limited number of locations. Cut mark frequencies are sensitive to fragmentation from both human and nonhuman taphonomic processes (Bartram 1993). Cut mark counts are a tally of the number of cut mark events in a given skeletal location (Lyman 1994:304; Otárola- Castillo 2010: 2) found on a bone specimen (either whole or fragment). Typically, this is quantified as %NISPcut; however Abe and colleagues (2002) note that this measure underestimates the proportion of specimens with cut marks. They argue that if a given skeletal element is disarticulated and defleshed, the frequency of cut-marked specimens to the total number of specimens is 100%, since the complete element is also a specimen (Abe et al. 2002: Figure 1a). If this specimen is later fractured, for instance for marrow extraction, then the proportion of both cut marked specimens and total specimens can increase (in Abe et al. 2002: Figure 1b, the fragmentation proportion becomes 2:8, with a %NISPcut of 25). Otárola-Castillo (2010: 2) notes that unless a skeletal element is completely covered with cut marks, the total surface area of the skeletal element containing cut marks will be proportionally smaller in relation to the remaining, non-cut surface area, thus creating an imbalance where a higher ratio of uncut fragments to cut fragments will be produced.

In order to offset this effect, for the present research cut marked fragments are refitted digitally using CorelDraw x4 in the same manner as fragments plotted to develop MNE estimates, following Marean and colleagues (2001; also Abe et al. 2002) and using the zoning system outlined above (i.e. Dobney and Reilly 1988). These refits will be used to construct an estimate of the minimum number of complete cut elements (cMNEcut) (following Bunn & Kroll 1986, 1991; Otárola-Castillo 2010). Proportions of complete cut elements will be calculated by dividing the cMNEcut of each element by the estimated complete MNE (cMNE) for that element. This accounts for the minimum number of elements present in a sample, by including all of the fragments after they are rebuilt, in order to most closely account for the original

skeletal element frequency present in the sample. This will decrease the ratio of uncut to cutmarked fragments, reducing the impact of fragmentation.

All identified bone fragments were examined for cut marks using a 10x - 40x light microscope. Location, orientation, depth (i.e. superficial/scratch, shallow, medium, deep, far into cortical tissue, into marrow cavity), type and number of marks per cut mark event were noted.

4.11 Burning

Bones show signs of burning when they have been exposed to extremely high temperatures, temporally long exposures to heat, or both, which can modify or damage the heated object (Lyman 1994: 384). It is important to distinguish burning from cooking, however. When meat items are cooked, they are heated by either boiling, roasting, or baking – essentially making the item warm or hot (Marshall 1989: 17). Unless accidental burning has taken place, bone is rarely burned when cooked (an exception may be in roasting, where peripheral joint surfaces may be exposed). Brain has argued (1981: 54) that burned bones can be divided into two distinct burning categories that divide the burning process; the first category includes bones that have been initially treated to high heat and have turned black (due to collagen being carbonised). The second category includes bones that have been exposed to high heat for a longer period of time and the bone has become white and chalky, as the carbonised collagen oxidises. Johnson (1989: 441) included an additional two more categories, with bones that are unburned, and bones that are scorched and have only superficial burning.

The colour of a burned bone can be used to indicate a range of temperatures under which that bone was heated. Bones that are natural to light yellow in colour have experienced temperatures less than 300°C. Bones heated between approximately 300°C and 550°C tend to range in colour from yellow-red to purple-red. Bones that have been exposed to temperatures between 600°C and 900° C are blue-black to gray-white, and bones that are completely white are those that have reached temperatures nearing 1000°C (Shipman et al. 1984: 312-313). More recently, David (1990) has suggested the length of time that the bone has been subjected to a high heat source can also affect colour, such that bones subjected to a lower temperature for a longer period of time can achieve a ‘burn’ colour indicative of much higher temperatures. For instance, a bone can become calcined (bone that has turned gray, white, or blue) within 4 minutes at a

temperature over 450°C, and not just from intense 1000°C temperatures, as suggested by Shipman and colleagues (1984). This suggests that natural conditions, such as a brush fire which consumes organic material quickly, will carbonise bones but will not calcine them (David 1990: 75), making it possible to estimate the taphonomic agent responsible for the burning. For instance, in a brush fire scenario, a bone sample will have a frequency as high as 98.6% carbonised, and 0% calcined, and 1.1% unburned. If a bone sample is placed in a hearth and burned for 25 minutes, 75.5% of the sample will be carbonised, and 24.5% will be calcined. If this bone sample is left in the hearth for up to six hours, only 5% of the sample will be carbonised, but 95% will be calcined (Lyman 1994: 389). Each identified burnt specimen was examined under 40X magnification, to ensure that the colour modification was in fact burning, as opposed to sediment staining (following Stiner et al. 1995).

4.12 Species Demographics Area A

4.12.1 Age Profiles: Epiphyseal Fusion and Tooth Wear

Demographic data was collected where possible. Epiphyseal fusion, both proximal and distal, was recorded for all applicable long bone fragments, as well as phalanges and vertebrae. Fusion occurs at a particular age for each skeletal part. Fusion rates for gazelle, outlined by Munro and colleagues (2009) are used (Table 4.3), as they are a refinement of Davis’ (1980) original fusion study on gazelle. Munro and colleagues (2009: 757) divide fusion rates into six general groups defined as: Stage I – the beginning of fusion of the proximal radius, and the proximal first and second phalanges. All other bones remain unfused; Stage II – Proximal radius is completely fused. The first and second phalanges are still fusing, and the distal humerus and glenoid fossa of the scapula begin to fuse. All other elements remain unfused; Stage III – proximal first and second phalanges, distal humerus, and scapula glenoid are completely fused; Stage IV – distal tibia begins to fuse; Stage IV – distal tibia is completely fused and the proximal femur, tuber calcis of the calcaneum, distal metapodials, distal femur and proximal ulna begin to fuse; Stage VI – all skeletal elements are fused, including proximal humerus, distal radius, proximal tibia, distal radius, proximal tibia and distal ulna.

Constructing age profiles based on bone samples can be problematic, as there can be variation between individual development within a population, as well as variations between populations

(Reitz & Wing 1999). Because juvenile bone is not completely ossified and is much less dense than fully fused bone, it is much more prone to attritional processes, which could lead to a bias against younger animals. An additional problem is that that age classes determined by epiphyseal fusion tend to be very coarse, creating mortality profiles that distinguish only between the young and the old (Bar-Oz 2004: 33). Klein and Cruz-Uribe (1984) also note this disadvantage, as there is no way to distinguish between recently fused individuals and senescent individuals based on bone fusion.

Table 4.3 Fusion ages for gazelle bones (following Munro et al. 2009: 757, Table 4). Age RA P1 P2 HU SC TI FE CAL MP FE UL HU RA TI UL Stage (mos.) P P P D GL D P P D D P P D P D In 0 Utero U U U U U U U U U U U U U U U I 0‐7 J J J U U U U U U U U U U U U II 3‐7 F J J J J U U U U U U U U U U III 3‐18 F F F F F U U U U U U U U U U IV 7‐18 F F F F F J U U U U U U U U U V 7‐18 F F F F F F J J J J J U U U U VI 18 + F F F F F F F F F F F F F F F U = unfused; J = fusing; F = fused. Proximal radius (RA P); proximal 1st phalanx (P1 P); proximal 2nd phalanx (P2 P); distal humerus (HU D); scapula glenoid (SC GL); distal tibia (TI D); proximal femur (FE P); calcaneus, tuber calcis (CAL P); distal metapodial (MP D); distal femur (FE D); proximal ulna (UL P); proximal humerus (HU P); distal radius (RA D); proximal tibia (TI P); and distal ulna (UL D).

In order to balance the fusion data, tooth wear patterns are considered for both isolated teeth and for mandible and maxilla fragments with in situ teeth. Herbivores have high-crowned teeth that continue to undergo wear throughout the life of the individual. Beginning at tooth eruption, wear develops in distinctive patterns. As such, broad age classes such as ‘young’ and ‘old’ can be further refined to classes of young, sub-adult, adult, and elderly. Munro and colleagues (2009: 756) note that mandible-based wear stages are most useful for aging assemblages that are highly fragmentary and where complete mandibles are rare and only isolated teeth are present (Bar-Oz 2004; Bar-Oz & Dayan 2007; Marom & Bar-Oz 2008; Munro & Bar-Oz 2004; Rabinovich &

Hovers 2004; Speth & Clark 2006; Stiner 2005; Yeshurun et al. 2007a, b). Munro and colleagues (2009) have developed a wear stage system, based on observations of 65 skeletons and 61 complete crania of known age. Table 4.4 outlines the tooth wear and eruption stages for individual mandibular teeth.

Table 4.4 Gazelle tooth wear and eruption stages for individual teeth in the mandible (modified from Munro et al. 2009: 756, Table 3). Tooth Wear Stage Age (mo.)

dP4 Eruption 0 dP4 Wear begins 0 dP4 3 0 – 1 dP4 3 ‐ 20 2 – 7 dP4 21 7 ‐ 18 dP4 Replaced by P4 18 P4 Eruption 18 ‐ 20 P4 Wear begins 18 ‐20 P4 2 ‐ 3 18 ‐ 36 P4 4 36+ M1 Eruption 1 M1 Wear begins 1 M1 2 ‐ 9 2 – 7 M1 10 7 ‐ 18 M1 11 ‐ 14 18 ‐ 48 M1 14 48+ M2 Eruption 2 – 7 M2 Wear begins 7 M2 0 ‐ 10 7 to 14/18 M2 10 ‐ 11 14/18 to 48/60 M2 11 ‐ 12 48/60 to 80 M2 13 ‐ 14 80+ M3 Eruption 9 M3 Wear begins 14 ‐ 18 M3 4 ‐ 9 18 ‐ 36 M3 10 36 ‐ 96 M3 11+ 96+

In order to determine the wear stage (and subsequent age at death) for the small number of bezoar goat teeth, Payne’s (1973; 1987) wear-stage system was used (Table 4.5).

Table 4.5 Goat tooth wear stages for individual teeth in the mandible (following Payne 1973; 1987). Stage Wear Description Age

A dM3 still unworn 0‐2 months

B dM3 in wear M1 unworn 2‐6 months 1 C M in wear M2 unworn 6‐12 months

D M2 in wear M3 unworn 1‐2 years

E M3 in wear Posterior cusp unworn 2‐3 years

F Posterior cusp of M3 in wear M3 pre‐ 3‐4 years

G M M 4‐6 years 3 2

H M3 M2 post‐ 6‐8 years

I M post‐ 8‐10 years 3

4.12.2 Sex Profiles of Gazelle Based on Osteometric Measurements

Sex ratios within species assemblages can provide information concerning sex-based strategies of animal exploitation (Klein & Cruz-Uribe 1984: 39). For instance, males tend to be culled when strategies of herd management are used (Legge 1972), evidence of which has been used to suggest ‘proto-domestication’ of gazelle during the terminal Epipalaeolithic (Cope 1992). Horn- cores are, however, less durable than other skeletal elements and are particularly subject to selective removal by post-depositional leaching and profile compaction (Klein & Cruz-Uribe 1984: 39). Within species that exhibit sexual dimorphism, such as gazelle, fallow deer and bezoar goat (the major prey species in the studied assemblage), females are consistently smaller than males, and thus offer smaller economic returns in terms of meat package size. As Metcalfe

and Jones note (1988: 500), when hunters are choosing carcass parts that include males and females, it is expected that they will discriminate against female parts because of the lower utility value. In order to be able to discuss transport decisions, it is necessary to know the sex ratio of the prey population.

The size of horn cores (gazelle and bezoar goat) or antler nubs is one method of determining sex in ungulates. In sexually dimorphic species, where males have antlers or horns and females do not, or where male horns are larger than female horns, the difference in weight of the upper body between males and females is reflected in differences in the depth (anterior-posterior) and breadth of certain bones, in particular bones of the forelimb. Animals that have horns or antlers carry a greater proportion of their weight in the front of their bodies (Klein & Cruz-Uribe 1984: 40; Davis 1987: 45), making the distal portion of the humerus and metacarpal particularly useful. Measurements for these two portions are taken following Von den Driesch (1976) and Davis (1985) (Figure 4.2).

1 2 Figure 4.2 Measurements for determining sex in sexually dimorphic ungulate species 1) Distal Metapodial: A – breadth of distal end*; B – Diameter/height of condyles†; C – Width of condyles†; D – Width of trochlea†. 2) Distal Humerus: A – Breadth of trochlea*; B – Height of trochlea† * Measurements following Von den Driesch 1976. † Measurements following Davis 1985.

Certain features of the innominate can be used to determine sex in fossil assemblages, although most of the easily recognisable features are located on portions of the bone that are easily

fragmented and destroyed because of their relatively low density (Ali & MacLaughlin 1991: 57). The acetabulum, however, is primarily composed of hard cortical bone, allowing it to survive many attritional processes (Greenfield 2006: 69). Greenfield (2006: 70-71) notes that the thickness of the acetabulum wall can be useful in determining sex due to differences in the placement of the fossa for the rector femoris. In Bovidae, this fossa tends to be close to the ventral border in females because the medial wall of the acetabulum region is thin. In males, the medial wall of the acetabulum region is thicker, resulting in the fossa being closer to the centre of the divide between the ventral and dorsal regions. Medial wall thickness of the acetabulum is most consistently measured at the line of fusion between the ilium and the pubis. A calliper is held parallel to the medial wall (Figure 4.3A), with the points of the calliper held above and below the centre pit of the acetabulum (Figure 4.3B) (Greenfield 2006: 73). Morphologically, the pubic portion of the acetabulum also differs between the sexes (Greenfield 2006: 71), being thinner and longer in females, and more robust, short, and tubular in males. Greenfield notes (2006: 71) that even if a fragment of the pubis is attached to the acetabulum, differences between sexes can be distinguished on the basis of the shape and robustness of the bone. These differences were confirmed in gazelle through comparisons of archaeological samples to index specimens of known sex.

A. B. Figure 4.3. Placement of callipers to measure medial wall thickness of the acetabulum region in Bovidae (Greenfield 2006: 73 Figures 6 and 7).

100

Chapter 5 The Faunal Assemblage

In this chapter, the faunal assemblage of UR IIa will be described. This includes a description of the behaviour and biology of the identified species within the sample, as well as an overview of species representation within the excavation areas and trenches. This will be followed by a more detailed description and comparison of element frequencies of specific ungulate species within the two sub-horizons of Horizon 1 from Area A.

5.1 Behaviour and biology of animals in the sample

Only fauna identified to both genus and species are discussed in this section. Individual species within genera may vary greatly, in terms of preferred habitat, migration, diet, etc. Therefore it is not possible to make general statements about certain animals, for instance the avifauna of UR IIa.

5.1.1 Vulpes vulpes (Red fox)

This species is very variable in body size with only slight sexual dimorphism. Mean body mass for males is 3100 g and 3047 g for females (Mendelssohn & Yom-Tov 1999: 190). Red fox are found throughout the northern hemisphere (Corbet 1978) and is the most common carnivore in the Middle East (Lewis et al. 1967). In Israel, fossil remains have been dated to 250,000 years BP, and they are currently found throughout the country (Mendelssohn & Yom-Tov 1999: 192).

Red fox are mainly nocturnal, and are most active shortly after sunset. They are a territorial species, with territory sizes for males ranging from 7-15 km2 (depending on food availability), while female territory is usually 6.5 km2. Within each territory, each fox will have up to 10 separate burrows, frequently moving among them. Within the Jordan Valley, these burrows usually face north, possibly to prevent overheating. Red foxes are omnivorous, consuming small

101

to medium-sized vertebrates (rodents, birds, reptiles, hares), as well as fruit, insects, eggs, and carrion (Mendelssohn & Yom-Tov 1999: 192).

Within the Jordan Valley (‘Arava), the primary breeding season occurs in December, while in northern Israel it takes place in February. Gestation lasts 51-56 days and young are born in February (in the Jordan Valley) and April (northern Israel). Litter sizes range from 2 to 5 kits (although usually 3), and parents move the litter between burrows every 11-12 days. The young leave their parents when they reach 5 months of age, reach adult size at 6 months and become sexually mature at 10 months of age (Mendelssohn & Yom-Tov 1999: 192-193).

5.1.2 Sus scrofa (Eurasian wild pig)

The Eurasian wild pig is the largest wild mammal found in Israel. The mean body mass for males is 100.9 kg and for females the mean body mass is 61.4 kg (Mendelssohn & Yom-Tov 1999: 242). There is considerable size variation throughout Europe and Asia, with southern pigs being smaller than northern ones (Groves & Grubb 1993: 107). Sus scrofa is the ancestor of most ancient and modern domestic pig breeds, and is currently found on every continent occupied by humans. In its pre-domestic form, it has one of the largest distributions of any wild ungulate (Oliver et al. 1993: 112: Harrison & Bates 1991). It occurs throughout the steppe and deciduous forest regions of the Palaearctic, from Western Europe to eastern Asia, extending south into North Africa, the Mediterranean Basin and the Middle East, as well as into Southeast and Southwest Asia (Oliver et al. 1993: 113). Within this wide geographic range, the Eurasian wild pig also occupies a variety of habitats, including semi-desert, steppe and grassland, as well as temperate and tropical forests.

Wild pigs prefer dense thickets, forest areas near water holes, and riverine forests and swampy habitats (Graves 1984: 487; Mendelssohn & Yom-Tov 1999: 246). In the Levant, wild pigs are found in the Mediterranean region and in swampy areas south of the Dead Sea. Current populations survive along the Jordan River, from the Hula swamp (north of Lake Kinneret/Sea of Galilee) to the Dead Sea (Mendelssohn & Yom-Tov 1999: 241), as well as along Mount Carmel and the Coastal Plain. Pigs are largely nocturnal, but are active during the day when ambient temperatures are low. They are omnivorous, with fruit, seeds, nuts, acorns, roots and tubers making up approximately 90% of their diet (D’Eath & Turner 2009: 19). They will occasionally

102 eat small invertebrates, small amphibians, reptiles, rodents, and carrion, and infrequently they will hunt smaller animals such as deer fawns (Oliver et al. 1993: 113; Mendelssohn & Yom-Tov 1999: 247).

The social behaviour of the Eurasian wild pig is very similar to its domestic relative. They usually live in small family groups consisting of a sow and her offspring (up to nine piglets), although several such groups will sometimes join to form large herds of two to four females and their collective young (Mendelssohn & Yom-Tov 1999: 246; Graves 1984: 484; D’Eath & Turner 2009: 21), creating situations for social interaction from a young age. Within each family, a strict hierarchy exists, with the sow as the leader. Herds of young males also occur, with group sizes between six and 20 individuals, depending on season and location (Oliver et al. 1993: 114). Fully adult males are solitary, but will interact with one or more females when they become sexually receptive (Graves 1984: 483). Aggressive behaviour between adult males and females do not usually occur, although fights between males can take place, mainly during the breeding season (November-December).

Home range estimates for males and females vary from 1000 to 2000 and 500 to 1000 ha, respectively. Sub-adult male groups tend to have a much larger home range, which can cover an area between 500 and 5000 ha, largely due to being expelled from their natal group (Oliver et al. 1993: 114). Females reduce their home range and may become solitary just prior to birthing, after which they will often reform into groups with other females who have young of the same age. Although not strictly territorial, pigs do maintain home ranges that are not strongly defended (D’Eath & Turner 2009: 21). Solitary individuals are most common during the summer months, and are very rare in the winter and usually consist of males of sub-adult and adult age (over 2 years of age).

Reproductive activity appears to depend on the availability of mast (seeds and fruits) in the autumn; during years when trees fail to produce sufficient mast, wild pigs will enter an anestrous condition and will not ovulate; they will return to an oestrus condition when desirable food items become more available (Graves 1984: 485; Matschke 1964; Mauget 1981). Seasonal anestrous (periods when ovulation does not occur) also can take place during the summer and early autumn, possibly controlled by the length of the day (D’Eath & Turner 2009: 23). Breeding

103

typically occurs from November to December, but can begin as early as October in good years. Gestation lasts approximately 4.5 months (115-118 days), with litters of three to eight young (Mendelssohn & Yom-Tov 1999: 247). If breeding time is late, sows will produce one litter in April-May while, in years when food is more abundant and breeding takes place earlier, two litters can be produced. The first litter will be born in February, and the second in August- September (D’Eath & Turner 2009: 23). Females usually have their first litter when two years old, but occasionally they may enter oestrous as early as eight months and have their first litter at the age of one year (Mendelssohn & Yom-Tov 1999: 247). Older females tend to have litters of 6-8 young, while yearling mothers tend to only have only three or occasionally four.

5.1.3 Capreolus capreolus (roe deer)

Roe deer is one of a group of deer that originated in the cold-temperate regions of Pliocene North America and Siberia. They first appeared in north central Europe approximately 500,000 years ago and did not enter southern France, Italy and Spain until 200,000 years BP (Stubbe & Passarge 1979: 20, as discussed in Geist 1998: 308). During the Upper and Late Pleistocene, they have been found as far south as the Dead Sea area and along the eastern shore of the Mediterranean. They only seem to have disappeared from the Levant during historical times (Uerpmann 1981: 101). This small deer (approximately 20 kg) is characteristic of a woodland setting, with a preference for dense woodland or thicket in general, moving into dense cover in order to rest, and feeding in slightly more open habitats (Putnam 1988: 36). In a typical woodland environment, roe deer feed largely on ‘browse’, new leaves and shoots from trees, brambles and shrubs. They are generally classified as a ‘specialist feeder’, selecting small amounts of highly nutritious herbs and forbs, although they also tend to be seasonal in their food choices. They tend to be concentrated feeders in the growing season, when they select highly digestible forage, while in winter (or summer in the Middle East) they consume higher-fibred forage (Holand & Staaland 1992).

Unlike fallow deer, sexual dimorphism is fairly low, with only a 20% difference in body mass between males and females (Putnam 1988: 29). Also, roe deer are able to overcome the nutritional stress of going into rut at the end of autumn/beginning of winter that other deer experience, both by entering rut early and by delaying the implantation of the fertilised ovum. Males go into rut in August, and the fertilised ovum will essentially halt its development and

104 does not implant until approximately 4.5 months later, in mid-January (Geist 1998: 303; Stubbe & Passarge 1979: 193). This allows the males to avoid massive fattening up for a successful midwinter rut, and also allows the young (usually twins) to be born in late spring, when browsing resources are again plentiful.

Because the breeding season is in the summer, males establish their territories in spring. Those living in denser woodland have territories that vary in size depending upon the density of the population, the season and the quality of browse available. Territories are smallest in dense populations, in summer and in rich habitats, varying between 10 and 100 ha (Geist 1998: 308; Stubbe & Passarge 1979: 176-177). Both males and females establish their own territories – males establish their territories on an annual basis, while females establish their home range once, at the onset of oestrus. Each male territory has within it at least two female home ranges that may overlap (Geist 1998: 308-309). Yearlings (both male and female) are strongly encouraged to leave the home ranges of their mothers, although underdeveloped individuals may be tolerated (Geist 1998: 305). During the summer rut, yearling females come into heat before adult females. Once a young female has gained the attention of a territorial male, she selects a portion of his territory not already occupied by another female, and sets up a nursery territory. This then becomes the core of her permanent home range. Summer home ranges of females related by maternal descent tend to overlap, although hierarchical ranking does exist, so that subordinate females will avoid dominant ones (Geist 1998: 312).

Roe deer are generally solitary, although within forested and parkland settings, they may loosely group together within a clan and sometimes larger herds. This usually takes place after the rut (Geist 1998: 305), when groups of related females will come together in order to defend a clan territory (a series of overlapping home ranges). This grouping will last throughout the winter. Unrelated yearling females might be allowed to join this clan herd, although they are usually relegated to more marginal areas within the territory. The male, once he has recovered from the rut and shed his antlers, will join the clan herd of ‘his’ females, leaving only when antlers have regrown. Underdeveloped yearling males who have not shown any territorial behaviour are tolerated by adult males in these herds, but as dominant behaviours begin to show in both adult males and females, these younger individuals are dispersed from the herd, and may form temporary ‘bachelor’ herds (Bayern & Bayern 1977: 215, as discussed in Geist 1998: 313).

105

Within a herd situation, roe deer tend to avoid close proximity to each other, and prefer to stay 4 to 13 m away from other individuals (Kurt 1970: 94, as discussed in Geist 1998: 309).

5.1.4 Cervus elaphus (red deer)

Only a general discussion of red deer habitat, ecology and behaviour is possible, as this is the most widespread and diverse deer species, found throughout Europe and Asia, as well as being conspecific with wapiti (C. canadensis) in North America (Clutton-Brock et al. 1982: 10). Additionally, modern red deer have hybridized extensively throughout Eurasia (Geist 1998: 173), depending on contact and changing environments. Most data come from observations of extant populations found in Scotland.

Primitive red deer first appeared in Europe during the Middle Pleistocene, some time between 700,000 and 550,000 years ago, and are considered a Temperate (cold climate) fauna (Geist 1998: 186). Red deer are primarily a woodland animal, preferring dense woodland or thicket for cover and for resting, and moving out into slightly more open habitat for feeding on browse material or grass. They can also adapt to more open habitats, such as savannah-type grassland (Putnam 1988: 36; Geist 1998: 202). During the winter and spring, red deer will tend to graze on long grasses, switching to short grasses (i.e. new growth) in early summer. They are also known to chew on bones and shed antler in the spring and early summer (Clutton-Brock et al. 1982: 234).

Red deer are a highly sexually dimorphic species. Male body mass ranges between 150 and 200 kg (not including antler weight) with female body mass almost half that of males (88-118 kg). Clutton-Brock and colleagues (1982: 11) note that Late Pleistocene red deer in Europe were much larger than post-Pleistocene and recent populations, with some males reaching up to 400 kg (Geist 1998: 203).

Group size is dependent on habitat and time of year. Except during rut, males and females are segregated, not including male calves or yearlings still in close association with their mothers. Regardless of sex, within a woodland environment, red deer are usually solitary or form small, unstable groups of up to three individuals. These groupings ebb and flow in terms of number (as well as clusters of groups) as the deer move from dense thicket to forest clearings or glades, and

106

back to dense woodland (Putnam 1988: 69). In open grassland, clusters of individuals and smaller groups will aggregate, forming single-sex herds of up to 80 individuals. These herds last only as long as the resource lasts, perhaps only a few hours; once the grass is depleted, groups and individuals break off from the large aggregate and continue foraging elsewhere within their range (Clutton-Brock et al. 1982: 178). Group size tends to be smaller during winter (for both sexes), although male groups tend to be smaller than female groups. Male groupings tend to be more fluid than females groupings, with individuals moving in and out depending on the location. Female groups are based on matrilineal association, and individual females will rarely associate with other females who are not related (Clutton-Brock et al. 1982: 187). Males tend to have close associations with other individuals of the same age, with immature males tending to group together on the periphery of territories held by more mature males. Ageing males who are no longer reproductively active tend to remain solitary throughout the year (Clutton-Brock et al. 1982; 191).

Males and females establish core territories independent of each other. Within a woodland setting, these territories range from 150 to 460 ha, with males occupying ranges slightly larger in general than females. In grassland settings, these territories can be as large as 600 ha (Putnam 1988: 95). Typically, the core area of a female’s range will overlap with their mother’s range and may overlap with ranges claimed by sisters, aunts and nieces (Clutton-Brock et al. 1982: 186). There will typically also be core range overlap with at least one male deer. At the onset of rut (beginning in early September and lasting until the end of November), female range size becomes more restricted, as they move closer to areas where range overlap occurs. Mature males leave their normal ranges by mid-September and usually join a group of females by the beginning of October. The timing of breeding appears to be photoperiodic, and may be triggered by day length relative to the solstices or equinoxes. Clutton-Brock and colleagues (1982: 54; see also Fletcher 1974) note that within both hemispheres, red deer populations at different latitudes breed at approximately the same time, although breeding is displaced by exactly 6 months between hemispheres. The mature male acts to control the movement of his chosen ‘harem’, preventing females from leaving by continuously herding them together. At the same time, the male will attempt to recruit new females into the group and protect his females from other, interloping males. Despite the vigilance of the male, ‘harem’ membership does change, as some females leave to feed away from the group and are absorbed into another male’s ‘harem’, or

107

females may leave to join other members of their matrilineal group who are a part of another male’s ‘harem’ (Clutton-Brock 1982: 56). The closer the females are to oestrus, the more stable the ‘harem’ membership becomes. Once the rut period ends, female resume their normal range size and normal grouping behaviour.

Female sexual maturity occurs between 1 and 2 years of age, while male maturity depends on weight and nutrition level, usually sometime between 1 and 5 years of age (Putnam 1988: 102). Females avoid mating with immature males, preferring a male who is a minimum of 5 years of age, and no more than 11 years of age. Conception is highly synchronised, with 70% of all conceptions occurring within the 2nd or 3rd week of October. Gestation lasts approximately 34 weeks, with calves being born between the end of May and the middle of June, with a few stragglers continuing to produce young until the end of July (Putnam 1988: 93). Typically, births are not multiple.

5.1.5 Dama mesopotamica (Persian fallow deer)

Fallow deer were found throughout much of Eurasia approximately 100,000 years ago, due to population expansion during warmer interglacial periods. Following the LGM, populations of Persian fallow deer were reduced to the eastern Levant (Geist 1998: 96). The majority of behavioural studies on fallow deer come from observations of the European subspecies (Dama dama), as the Persian subspecies is very close to extinction in the wild, with only 100 to 120 animals surviving in wildlife refuges in Iran (Putnam 1988: 21). Fallow deer prefer dry deciduous woodland, woodland glades, and riverine environments. They are found less frequently in open grassland. This preference is due partially to dietary requirements and partially to protection from the elements. During heavier winter rains, fallow deer tend to stay in more protected environments (Putnam 1988: 39). Fallow deer are selective grazers – eating primarily grasses, but also make use of seasonal shrubs, leaves, fruit and brambles during the dry season. They are uniquely adapted to digesting high fibre foods (Geist 1998: 96).

Fallow deer are highly sexually dimorphic. Adult female fallow deer have body masses between 30 and 50 kg and adult males can have a body mass approximately twice as much, between 60 and 85 kg. Fallow deer tend to gather in small sex-based groups, normally between 3 and 7 individuals, and sometimes up to 14 individuals. When in areas with abundant resources, groups

108 can aggregate to form large herds of up to 40 animals, and occasionally numbering 150-200 animals. The smaller groups tend to vary day-to-day in their individual composition, with members of one unit intermingling with select members of other groups and ignoring other units entirely, although relative group size stays the same (Putnam 1988: 60). The environment appears to be the key deciding factor in determining group and aggregate size. Groups found within more closed habitats tend to be small, with 2 to 3 individuals, while groups in open woodland settings tend to be larger (between 7 and 8 individuals). The large aggregation herds only occur in open woodland settings. Small groupings of fallow deer are composed either entirely of males or of females and their young – young males may be found in the latter group, but once they reach 18 months of age, they are pushed out (Putnam 1988: 68). Generally speaking, males and females remain separate throughout the year, meeting only to mate. Within the large aggregations, however, groups of animals do come together and some temporary intermingling between the sexes does occur.

The size of each group also fluctuates seasonally. In groups consisting of females and their young, group size is usually 1-2 individuals throughout the year, although they are most common during the summer and autumn. Although not as common as the smaller groups, groups with 3 -5 individuals are usually spotted during the winter and spring. Groups of 10 or more individuals only make up a maximum of 15% of observations throughout a year, and this generally between March and May (Putnam 1988: 88). Solitary males are usually only seen between September and January – during the rut, these sightings usually consist of lone males defending rutting stands (Putnam 1988: 72). Group size increases to between 3 and 5 individuals from February to mid-March and then decreases again to single or paired individuals. Only rarely do groups of males exceed 10 individuals, and only in spring and later summer (Putnam 1988: 89). The range size of male groups is between 50 and 250 ha, while female ranges are much smaller, between 50 and 90 ha.

Breeding systems of fallow deer tend to be variable by population. In some, lone males defend discontinuous mating territories (leks), often on the edge of clearings where females gather (Chapman & Chapman 1975; Clutton-Brock et al. 1988: 282), while in others males defend groups of females. The oestrus period lasts for 21 days, resulting in a mating period that begins in early October, peaks in the second half of October and is largely complete by the end of the

109 first week of November. During much of this period, there is a marked reduction in the amount of time spent feeding, while herding, chasing and fighting behaviours increase. Gestation takes approximately 234 days, and single fawns (with rare exceptions) are born in mid-June (Clutton- Brock 1988: 282; Geist 1998: 98).

5.1.6 Gazella gazella (mountain gazelle)

The remains of mountain gazelle are found in the majority of Palaeolithic and Epipalaeolithic sites in the Levant. These animals prefer open areas with some trees and shrubs, although they also inhabit treeless, semi-desert and open woodland areas. They are essentially grazers, especially during the winter and spring, when their diet is composed of 73% grasses and 4% forbs, while browse species (primarily Zizyphus lotus and Prosopis farcata) comprise only 23%. The amount of browsing increases during the late spring and summer months (April to November), rising to 32%, but the diet is still heavily dependent on grasses and forbs (Baharav 1981: 66; 1983a: 64). The primary difference between grazing and browsing relates to the physical demands required for processing grasses versus browse. Grasses tend to be a lower quality food source, being both fibrous and abrasive, and require a greater intake and greater mastication (Janis 2008: 29). During the dry summer season, once the grasses and forbs have wilted, the only green plants available include browse shrub species such as Dwarf Mesquite (P. farcata), jujube (Z. lotus and Z. spina-christi), camelthorne (Alhagi maurorum), spiny broom (Calycotome villosa) and spineless caper (Capparis spinosa), as well as a number of flowering grasses (especially Cynodon dactlon and Aristida adscensionis) in late summer. Gazelles can often be observed around Z. lotus shrubs, feeding on the leaves and fruit, as well as the grasses growing under the shrub canopy (Baharav 1981: 66). Mountain gazelle do not appear to accumulate considerable fat reserves even under favourable conditions, which is perhaps reflective of their adaptation to an arid habitat (Mendelssohn et al. 1995; Mendelssohn & Yom- Tov 1999: 249).

The current distribution of mountain gazelle includes southern Lebanon, Syria, Israel, as well as southern and western Arabian Peninsula and isolated regions of Iran. Due to hunting pressure during the 20th century, they are no longer found in the northern Negev or Jordan (except in wild like preserves) (Mendelssohn & Yom-Tov 1999: 254; Mendelssohn et al. 1999).

110

Mountain gazelles are a sexually dimorphic species. Adult male gazelles have an average body mass of 25.2 kg, while the female has an average body mass of 18.3 kg (Baharav 1974). Adult mass for females is reached at 18 months of age, while males reach their adult mass at three years (Mendelssohn & Yom-Tov 1999: 260; Mendelssohn et al. 1995). This has some effect on their grouping and reproductive behaviour. Data concerning gazelle behaviour come from observations of two populations located along the Galilee – Ramat Qedesh in the eastern Upper Galilee, and Ramat Yissakhar in the eastern Lower Galilee (Baharav 1974, 1981, 1983a, 1983b; Grau & Walther 1976; Mendelssohn 1974; Walther et al. 1983). Based on these observations, gazelles tend to choose a number of different social groupings, depending upon season or gender. The most common social groups are: single individuals; lone females with fawns; female pairs, sometimes with fawns; and larger groupings of females and fawns, sometimes with a single male. Male groupings include sub-adult bachelor herds (aged 0.5-2 years) and adult bachelor herds; and territorial males aged 3 years or more (Mendelssohn & Yom-Tov 1999: 257; Mendelssohn et al. 1995). Lone adult males tend to be highly territorial, especially during December-January (the primary mating period). Groupings under the dominion of a single, territorial male often consist of 5 to 8 females and one dominant male, and it is this social grouping that is typically involved with mating. Territoriality for these males is continuous, where the dominant male will establish his territory and hold it for a number of years at a time, as long as population density remains stable (Walther et al. 1983: 45). Maturing young males either voluntarily leave these groups, or are expelled by the adult male by the time they reach 5-6 months of age (at the first appearance of horns) (Mendelssohn 1974: 729; Baharav 1974: 44). These single males will then form bachelor herds of various sizes, usually consisting of one or more mature males, and a varying number of sub-adult and yearling males. Although mixed herds (i.e. herds made up of several adult males and females) do not seem to occur in present-day gazelle populations, Walther and colleagues (1983: 35) note that they probably did occur in the past when population densities were much higher.

Although there are some similarities between these two populations, there are also distinct differences, particularly in mating behaviour and parturition cycles, the latter of which seems to be primarily due to the availability of water. Within the Qedesh population from the Upper Galilee, where regular water availability appears to be limited to the winter and spring months, the reproductive season of mountain gazelle is very circumscribed. Courting and mounting

111

activities are most intense during December and January, and fawning begins approximately 6 months later in late May, with a peak in June. Unlike ruminants from northern environments, pregnancy and fawning takes place at a time of year when resources are the most plentiful (due to the rainy winter), indicating that females are in prime conditions during parturition. Females reach sexual maturity at 18 months of age and usually have their first fawn at 2 years of age (Baharav 1983a: 67). Weaning begins two weeks after birth, when females are no longer able to keep their fawns hidden due to resource depletion from over-grazing in one location (Baharav 1983b: 451).

In the Ramat Yissakhar population, located 80 km south of Qedesh, the situation is different. Here, females have been observed to give birth during every month of the year, with a major peak in late spring, and a smaller peak during the autumn. It is not unusual for a female to parturate twice in a 14-month period, indicating a shorter post-partum period than among the Upper Galilee population (Baharav 1983a: 67; 1983b: 447). Females from this population reach sexual maturity at 12 months of age, so that 83% of the females between the ages of 6 and 12 months (at the time of observation) were pregnant (Baharav 1983b: 451). Fawns from this population are also not weaned until they are between 4 and 5 weeks of age. This increased nursing time and subsequent improved physical conditioning of fawns might explain the earlier maturation of females in this population (Meyer et al. 1990: 379).

Bar-Oz and Munro (2007: 947) focus on the Qedesh population as a template for gazelle behaviour, because the southern population from Yissakhar may misrepresent general gazelle behaviour, as it is an area where modern irrigation systems provide year-round access to water, and may therefore not be a true representation of wild gazelle behaviour. However, the Qedesh population may not be a perfect representation either. Baharav notes (1983b: 452) that this population times its parturition for the beginning of summer (late May), to coincide with the irrigation schedule in the Upper Galilee, when farmers begin to water their fields in mid-May. He notes that an April parturition would have resulted in more adequately fed older fawns, which would have stood a better chance at survival at the end of the summer, and would have been less taxing on lactating females. Mendelssohn (1974) has noted the extreme adaptability of gazelles and it seems likely that in the 25 years between the adoption of irrigation practices in the Upper

112

Galilee and the period of gazelle observation, that the Qedesh population shifted their reproductive schedules to match the season when available water was more predictable.

It is difficult to say which reproductive pattern is the most likely to represent the majority of gazelle populations. It does appear that, when water is readily available on a daily basis, reproductive stress is decreased. When water becomes scarce (as aridity levels increase), reproductive stress increases, sexual maturity occurs later, and parturition becomes increasingly circumscribed.

5.1.7 Capra aegagrus (Bezoar goat)

Modern populations of wild, free-ranging bezoar goats are rare in the Levant and the Mediterranean. In Israel, bezoar goat populations disappeared during the Neolithic (approximately 10,000 years ago), possibly due to climatic changes at the beginning of the Holocene, as well as the beginnings of domestic grazing practices (Alkon 1997: 57). Populations still exist in Iran, possibly Iraq, Turkey, Georgia, Azerbaijan, and Armenia (Shakleton 1997). Within the Mediterranean, bezoar goats (Capra aegagrus cretica) are found only on three Greek islands (Montecristo, Antimilos, and Youra) and small islands surrounding Crete (Horwitz & Bar-Gal 2006: 124). Adult females have body masses of approximately 30 kg, while fully adult males (minimum 7 years of age) have body masses of approximately 90 kg (Schaller & Laurie 1974: 116).

Bezoar goats are adapted to living in harsh mountainous environments, typically browsing on brush and shrub, but they can be extremely versatile in their diet and can eat just about anything, allowing them to adapt to a wide range of habitats (Prothero & Schock 2002: 113). During the dry season, they are known to drink seawater if no freshwater is available, although this can only be sustained if food sources contain at least 50% water; for instance, Pistacia lentiscus shrubs contain 55.63% water (Husband & Davis 1984: 415).

Most of the research in bezoar goat behaviour in the Mediterranean region comes from studies of the agrimi variant from the small island of Theodorou off the northwest coast of Crete. During the cool winter (October to May), these bezoar goats tend to be active during both the day and the night. However, during the summer (June to September), they become largely nocturnal.

113

Husband and Davis (1984: 415) note that there is a peak of activity just after sunset, with a steady decrease in activity and a pronounced drop at sunrise. Unlike domestic goats, the bezoar goats in Crete tend to be solitary, although animals of similar ages will tend to group and move together during the mating season or to isolated water spots (Nicholson and Husband 1992: 137). Between males, interactions appear to show a linear hierarchy based on age; the oldest male will always dominate an area where food and water are concentrated (Husband & Davis 1984: 416; Nicholson & Husband 1992: 137). In such areas, when an older male is present, younger males and all females will act with hesitation before approaching the resource, and will restrict themselves to the periphery. Males of the same age appear to be tolerant of each other, except during rut. Females are usually observed travelling alone or with their kids. Very rarely are they observed travelling with groups of males or with other females, and all females are subordinant to any male over the age of 1 year (Husband & Davis 1984: 416).

The mating season appears to be timed to the climate and the nutritional level of the region. Within two weeks of the winter rainy season beginning (usually at the end of September or early October), females will enter oestrus (Husband & Davis 1984: 417). Just prior to this, male dominance over females becomes more pronounced, where males will act aggressively towards females and sometimes demonstrate attack behaviour. This then levels off during the rut to become ‘courting’ behaviour, which can involve single or groups of males between the ages of 8 and 13 years following a female. If the female is not receptive, the males will conduct a ‘rape chase’, with the oldest, most dominant male in the group performing the eventual mounting (Nicholson & Husband 1992: 140).

Goat kids only stay in close proximity to their mothers during the first 6 months. Shortly after birth (in May-June), the kid will approach the mother whenever she stops. No attempt is made by the mother to aid in nursing, and kids belonging to other females are aggressively chased away. By autumn (October-November), kids begin to graze away from their mothers, from 5 to 10 m, and will follow if she leaves a given area (Husband & Davis 1984: 417).

5.1.8 Lepus capensis (Cape hare)

The mean body mass for male cape hares is 2640 g, while for females it is 2625 g. Depending upon the region within Israel an individual comes from, the body size can range greatly;

114

individuals are larger in the north than in the south, and appear to follow Bergman’s rule (Mendelssohn & Yom-Tov 1999: 281; Yom-Tov 1967). The species has a wide distribution, and is found throughout Africa from the southern Cape to Egypt and west to Senegal. It is also found throughout Eurasia, as well as North and South America and Australia (as an introduced species) (Harrison & Bates 1991; Mendelssohn & Yom-Tov 1999: 286). In Israel, it is found in open habitats, and is most common in plains and mountainous areas.

Hares are usually solitary, although males and females will pair up during the main breeding season (February-July). In good conditions, reproduction can take place year round, allowing females to give birth 2-4 times per year and, if food is especially plentiful, females can become fertile on the 38th day of the 42-day gestation period (Mendelssohn & Yom-Tov 1999: 287). Litter size is between 1 and 5 young, with larger litters occurring in central and northern Israel. Nursing stops at 1 month of age, when young hares become independent.

5.1.9 Alectoris chukar (Chukar partridge)

The chukar partridge is a common and abundant year-round resident throughout Israel except its desert regions (because they require a constant water supply). Greatest population densities occur within valleys near, or on the stony and rocky slopes of the Mediterranean coastal mountains. During most of the year, chukar partridges live in pairs or in groups of 10-20 individuals, with larger concentrations at feeding locations or near drinking sites. At mid- to end-of-winter, adult partridges may form flocks of up to 20 individuals with two to four dominant males within each flock. Breeding season usually begins in the first half of March, although in drier areas this may occur as early as February, and can last until the end of August. Typically the latter hatchings are replacement clutches, as more than 50% of clutches are abandoned, destroyed, or ravaged by scavengers (Shirihai 1996: 147). During this time individuals within these large flocks will divide into pairs. They are territorial at this time, usually with a minimum of 250 m between nests, and communal feed and drinking areas located between nests. These nest territories last until chicks hatch, after which some families may group together as chicks grow, creating concentrations of up to 50 juveniles by the end of the summer (Shirihai 1996: 146). Males typically distance themselves from the pairing when the chicks are one week old.

115

5.2 Taxonomic Abundance

For the purposes of this study only the ungulate species are discussed in detail. Although small mammals (i.e. hare and fox), birds, tortoise, and fish are present, they are excluded from the main discussion because of their relatively small abundance in each assemblage. A discussion of bird and fish remains will be presented in Chapter 9, with a discussion of UR IIa in the context of the broad spectrum revolution.

5.2.1 Area A

As mentioned in Chapter 3, Area A is the largest excavation area at UR IIa. Table 5.1 gives the NISP and MNI estimates (as well as %NISP and %MNI) for identified taxa for Horizon 1A and 1B. Table 5.2 gives the abundance (NISP %NISP; MNI and %MNI) for specimens identified to element, but only identified to body size class (total sample size, including identified and unidentified specimens are n = 13,746 for Horizon 1A and n = 23,716 for Horizon 1B). Within the identified (to species and element) assemblage for Horizon 1A, gazelle comprises the primary hunted species (90.8%), with fallow deer and bezoar goat adding only an additional 3.5%. Cape hare (Lepus capensis) has a higher NISP frequency and a higher MNI estimate than either bezoar goat or fallow deer in this sub-horizon, but did not contribute a great deal to the diet of the site occupants as the body mass is considerably lower (approximately 2.6 kg) when compared to either goat (30-90 kg) or fallow deer (30-85 kg). In Horizon 1B, a similarly high percentage of gazelle specimens are found (92.2%), while fallow deer and bezoar goat comprise approximately 5% of the hunted species. Although there appears to be a relatively wide range of species present at UR IIa, with a number of medium-large, medium, and small mammals represented, as well as several bird species, the species diversity is low, as all of the non-gazelle species are represented by a minimum of one to three individuals. Some of the species present may also not represent subsistence behaviour, at least not directly. Within both assemblages, Aquila sp. (eagle) is present. Two of the three specimens found in Horizon 1A and the single specimen found in Horizon 1B represent 3rd phalanges, which might have had some kind of decorative function, although no evidence of piercing was found on any of the specimens. Accipitriformes (large birds of prey) have been identified at Ohalo II (Simmons & Nadel 1998) and Falconiformes (small birds of prey) have been identified in the Kebaran layers at Hayonim

116

Cave and Meged Rockshelter (Stiner 2005), although the specific element descriptions are not given.

Table 5.1 Taxonomic abundance (NISP and MNI) for Area A Horizon 1A and Horizon 1B. Horizon 1A Horizon 1B Taxon NISP %NISP MNI %MNI NISP %NISP MNI %MNI Canis sp. 1 0.08 1 2.2 2 0.13 1 2.0 Vulpes vulpes 9 0.72 1 2.2 1 0.06 1 2.0 Sus scrofus 4 0.32 2 4.3 5 0.32 1 2.0 Capreolus capreolus 3 0.24 1 2.2 5 0.32 1 2.0 Cervus elaphus 1 0.08 1 2.2 0 0 0 0 Dama mesopotamica 21 1.7 1 2.2 25 1.6 3 5.1 Gazella gazella 1130 90.8 24 52.2 1459 92.2 29 59.2 Capra aegagrus 22 1.8 3 6.5 53 3.3 3 6.1 Rodent 3 0.24 1 2.2 2 0.13 1 2.0 Lepus capensis 35 2.8 3 6.5 12 0.76 2 4.1 Testudo 3 0.24 1 2.2 3 0.2 1 2.0 Aves sp. 2 0.16 1 2.2 4 0.25 2 4.1 Struthio camelus* 1 0.08 1 2.2 5 0.32 1 2.0 Alectoris chukar 2 0.16 2 4.3 3 0.2 1 2.0 Cygnus sp. 1 0.08 1 2.2 0 0 0 0 Anas sp. 3 0.24 1 2.2 1 0.06 1 2.0 Aquila sp. 3 0.24 1 2.2 1 0.06 1 2.0 Pices (indeterminate) 0 0 0 0 2 0.13 1 2.0 Total 1244 46 1583 49 * Struthio camelus eggshell

Table 5.2 Abundance (NISP and MNI) of fragments identified to element and body size category, Area A Horizon 1A and Horizon 1B. Body Size Class NISP 1A %NISP MNI NISP 1B %NISP MNI BSGA 1 0.16 1 0 0 0 BSGB 8 1.3 1 10 0.9 1 BSGC 55 8.9 2 57 5.0 2 BSGD 540 87.4 5 940 91.4 6 BSGE 14 2.3 1 22 2.1 1 TOTAL 618 1029

117

Somewhat similar frequencies are found when looking at fragments identified to body size class only (Table 5.2). For Horizon 1A, Body Size Group D (gazelle and roe deer-sized ungulates) comprises 87.4% of this assemblage, while Body Size Group C (goat-sized ungulates) comprise 8.9% and Body Size Group B (fallow deer, pig, and red deer-sized ungulates) comprise less than 1.3%. In Horizon 1B, Body Size Group D comprises 91.2% of the assemblage, while Body Size Group C and B comprise 5.5% and 1%, respectively.

5.2.2 Area B

Area B is located approximately 12 m east of Area A. Due to the small excavation exposure in Area B (4 m2), it is difficult to say whether the differences in species abundance and frequency are due to sample size or depositional history. The low frequency of faunal material here might also signal the eastern-most boundary of the site, at least in terms of the lower sub-horizon; however, the upper occurrence (Horizon 1A) was severely affected by heavy back-cutting and massive erosion 10 m to the east of the site (Hovers & Marder 1991: 39).

Although both Horizon 1A and Horizon 1B are found in Area B, only gazelle bone fragments are found in Horizon 1A (n = 3) (Table 5.3). All other fragments were found in Horizon 1B. There is also reduced species diversity in Horizon 1B of Area B as compared to Area A. Elements identified to Body Size Group were only found in Horizon 1B, Table 5.4). Body Size Group D comprises 63.3% of the specimens identified only to body size class, rather than to a specific taxon. Gazelle also represents the only clearly identified ungulate species from this area of the

Table 5.3 Taxonomic abundance (NISP and MNI) for Area B. Horizon Species NISP %NISP MNI 1A Gazella gazella 3 100 2 TOTAL 3 2 1B Gazella gazella 6 40 1 Rodent 2 13.3 1 Lepus capensis 5 33.3 1 Testudo 2 13.3 1 TOTAL 15 4

118

Table 5.4 Abundance (NISP and MNI) of fragments identified to element and body size category, Horizon 1B Area B. Body Size Class NISP %NISP MNI BSGA 0 0 0 BSGB 2 6.7 1 BSGC 1 3.3 1 BSGD 19 63.3 1 BSGE 8 26.7 1 TOTAL 30

site. From Horizon 1A, the three gazelle remains represent a minimum of two individuals: one adult and one juvenile (aged between 7 and 18 months, following Munro et al. 2009). Within Horizon 1B, the gazelle remains (n = 6) represent a minimum of one adult individual and consist of predominantly foot elements.

5.2.3 Area C and Test Pit

Tables 5.5 and 5.6 give the taxonomic abundance for identified (to element and taxon) and abundance for fragments identified to element and body size class, respectively. Area C (including the test pit) lies 3 m south and 6 m east of Area A. Only Horizon 2 is represented in this location. Only 1 m2 was excavated in this area; as such, the species representation illustrated here is only a limited sample of the faunal material from this Horizon. Like the other areas, Area C is dominated by gazelle (n = 96, with an MNI of four adults and one juvenile) and by Body Size Class D (gazelle and roe deer sized ungulates).

Table 5.5 Taxonomic abundance (NISP and MNI) for Area C and Test Pit. Species NISP %NISP MNI Vulpes vulpes 1 1 1 Gazella gazella 96 97 5 Capra aegagrus 1 1 1 Lepus capensis 1 1 1 TOTAL 99 8

119

Table 5.6 Abundance (NISP and MNI) of fragments identified to element and body size category, Area C and Test Pit. Body Size Class NISP %NISP MNI BSGA 0 0 0 BSGB 1 2.2 1 BSGC 0 0 0 BSGD 40 87.0 1 BSGE 5 10.9 1 TOTAL 46

The only other ungulate that was identified in this sample was bezoar goat, and this species is represented by only one bone element (a radial carpal).

5.2.4 Trench I

Trench I represents the boundary between Areas A and C, as well as between Horizon 1 and Horizon 2. This portion of the site has undergone heavy erosion and only Horizon 2 is preserved here. As such it is unknown if Horizon 1 extended into this zone, or if the single metre separating Trench 1 from Area A represents a true separating of occupation periods at the site.

Table 5.7 and 5.8 gives the species frequencies for Trench I. Similar to other localities, gazelle is dominant, representing slightly over 81% of the identified sample (MNI = 4, with 3 adults and 1 juvenile). Unlike Area C, which also contains Horizon 2, Trench I has fallow deer and roe deer present but not bezoar goat. However, these two species do not have a high frequency (MNI = 1 for both).

Table 5.7 Taxonomic abundance (NISP and MNI) for Trench I. Species NISP %NISP MNI Capreolus capreolus 1 2.1 1 Dama mesopotamica 4 8.3 1 Gazella gazella 39 81.25 4 Rodent 1 2.1 1 Lepus capensis 1 2.1 1 Testudo 2 4.2 1 TOTAL 48 9

120

Table 5.8 Abundance (NISP and MNI) of fragments identified to element and body size category, Trench I. Body Size Class NISP %NISP MNI BSGA 2 8.3 1 BSGB 3 12.5 1 BSGC 0 0 0 BSGD 17 70.8 1 BSGE 2 8.4 1 TOTAL 24

5.2.5 Trench II

Trench II is located two metres to the east of Area A, where Horizon 1A and 1B are shown to continue. As in other locations of the site, gazelle are dominant (Table 5.9), representing 85.7% of the assemblage, with roe deer only 7.1%. Within the Body Size categories, group D (gazelle- and roe deer-sized ungulates), is the only category of fauna present (Table 5.10).

Table 5.9 Taxonomic abundance (NISP and MNI) for Trench II. Species NISP %NISP MNI Capreolus capreolus 1 7.1 1 Gazella gazella 12 85.7 1 Rodent 1 7.1 1 TOTAL 14 3

Table 5.10 Abundance (NISP and MNI) of fragments identified to element and body size category, Trench II. Body Size Class NISP %NISP MNI BSGA 0 0 0 BSGB 0 0 0 BSGC 0 0 0 BSGD 9 100 1 BSGE 0 0 0 TOTAL 9

121

5.3 Skeletal Completeness

Degrees of skeletal completeness within faunal assemblages can identify species that were hunted close to the site (and are thus represented more evenly) from animals that are from more distant communities (Reitz & Wing 1999). The frequency of skeletal parts within a single taxon, as well as when taxa are compared, can illustrate different processing and transport decisions that were used by the occupants of a given site. For this analysis, gazelle, BSGD ungulates, fallow deer, and goat will be discussed. Skeletal completeness differs among ungulate species in Area A of UR IIa. Due to very small sample sizes, it is not possible to recognize difference in processing choices in Area B and Area C.

In order to determine the difference in preservation of proximal/distal epiphyses and diaphysis portions, MNE and MAU values for separate element portions have been calculated. However, Table 5.11 details complete MNE counts for gazelle, for whole elements constructed through refitting proximal, shaft and distal fragments (following Marean et al. 2001), which were used to determine MNI estimates by element.

Table 5.12 and 5.13 outlines the MAU estimates and %MAU values for gazelle, BSGD ungulates, fallow deer and bezoar goat for sub-horizon 1A and 1B, respectively. The two gazelle assemblages are strongly correlated (rs = 0.8319, P < 0.001), as do the BSGD ungulate

assemblages (rs = 0.6427, P < 0.001). This is illustrated in Figure 5.1A and 5.1B. The situation is different when fallow deer and bezoar goat assemblages are compared across sub-horizons.

Fallow deer assemblages (Figure 5.2A) show very little correlation (rs = 0.0682 P = 0.6926).

Similarly, bezoar goat assemblages (Figure 5.2B) show very little correlation (rs = 0.1733, P = 0.3120), although they are somewhat more similar to each other than the fallow deer assemblages.

122

Table 5.11 MNE, MNI, and MAU estimates of complete elements for gazelle Horizon 1A and 1B, based on refitted fragments (following Marean et al. 2001). Gazelle 1A Gazelle 1B Element MNE MNI %MNI MAU %MAU MNE MNI %MNI MAU %MAU Cranium 1 1 4.2 0.5 2.6 7 4 24.1 3.5 14 Mandible 17 10 41.7 8.5 44.7 20 13 44.8 10 40 Vert. Atlas 4 4 16.7 4 21.1 4 4 13.8 4 16 Vert. Axis 2 2 8.3 2 10.5 2 2 6.9 2 8 Vert Cerv 6 2 8.3 1.2 6.3 4 1 3.4 0.8 3.2 Vert Thor 7 2 8.3 0.538 2.8 7 2 6.9 0.538 2.2 Vert Lumb 9 2 8.3 1.5 7.9 12 3 10.3 2 8 Pelvis 8 4 16.7 4 21.1 11 8 27.6 5.5 22 Scapula 12 7 29.2 6 31.6 13 7 24.1 6.5 26 Humerus 24 13 54.2 12 63.2 50 29 100 25 100 Radius 23 13 54.2 11.5 60.5 24 13 44.8 12 48 Ulna 14 9 37.5 7 36.8 12 9 31 6 24 Femur 12 7 29.2 6 31.6 19 11 37.9 9.5 38 Tibia 34 19 79.2 17 89.5 35 18 62.1 17.5 70 Astragalus 23 12 50 11.5 60.5 13 7 24.1 6.5 26 Calcaneum 8 5 16.7 4 21.1 19 11 37.9 9.5 38 MC 22 11 45.8 11 5.9 23 14 48.3 11.5 46 MT 38 24 100 19 100 40 21 72.4 20 80 P 1 43 7 29.2 5.375 28.3 48 8 27.6 6 24 P 2 27 4 16.7 3.375 17.8 31 5 17.2 3.875 15.5 P 3 31 5 20.8 3.875 20.4 36 6 20.7 4.5 18

123

Table 5.12 MAU and %MAU values for gazelle, BSGD, fallow deer and bezoar goat, Area A Horizon 1A. Gaz 1A BSGD 1A Dama 1A Capra 1A Element MAU %MAU MAU %MAU MAU %MAU MAU %MAU Cranium 0.5 2.6 1.5 37.5 0 0 0 0 Mandible 8.5 44.7 1 25 1 100 0 0 Vert. Atlas 4 21.1 1 25 0 0 0 0 Vert. Axis 2 10.5 0 0 1 100 1 66.7 Vert Cerv 1.2 6.3 1.4 35 0 0 0 0 Vert Thor 0.538 2.8 0.31 7.8 0 0 0 0 Vert Lumb 1.5 7.9 0.33 8.3 0 0 0 0 Ilium 3 15.8 3.5 87.5 0 0 0.5 33.3 Ischium 3 15.8 2 50 0 0 0 0 Pubis 3.5 18.4 0.5 12.5 0 0 0 0 Scap GF 5.5 28.9 1 25 0.5 50 0 0 Scap Blade 3.5 18.4 2.5 62.5 0 0 0 0 Hum Prox 1 5.3 0.5 12.5 0 0 0 0 Hum Shaft 11 57.9 4 100 0 0 1 66.7 Hum Dist 5.5 28.9 1 25 0 0 0.5 33.3 Rad Prox 11 57.9 1 25 0 0 0 0 Rad Shaft 8 42.1 2.5 62.5 0 0 0 0 Rad Dist 2 10.5 0.5 12.5 0 0 0.5 33.3 Ulna Prox 6 31.6 0.5 12.5 0 0 1 66.7 Fem Prox 2 10.5 0.5 12.5 0 0 0 0 Fem Shaft 5 26.3 2 50 0 0 0 0 Fem Dist 2 10.5 0.5 12.5 0 0 0 0 Tib Prox 2 10.5 0.5 12.5 0 0 0 0 Tib Shaft 12.5 65.8 4 100 0 0 0.5 33.3 Tib Dist 12.5 65.8 1 25 0 0 0.5 33.3 Astragalus 11.5 60.5 1 25 0.5 50 0 0 Calcaneum 4 21.1 1 25 0.5 50 0 0 MC Prox 10 52.6 0.5 12.5 0 0 0 0 MC Shaft 6.5 34.2 1.5 37.5 0 0 0 0 MC Dist 3 15.8 0 0 0 0 0 0 MT Prox 19 100 1.5 37.5 0 0 1.5 100 MT Shaft 6 31.6 1 25 0 0 0.5 33.3 MT Dist 5.5 28.9 0.5 12.5 0 0 0 0 P 1 5.375 28.3 0.75 18.8 0.125 12.5 0.25 16.7 P 2 3.375 17.8 0.125 3.1 0.375 37.5 0.375 25 P 3 3.875 20.4 0 0 0.125 12.5 0 0

124

Table 5.13 MAU and %MAU values for gazelle, BSGD, fallow deer and bezoar goat, Area A Horizon 1B. Gaz 1B BSGD 1B Dama 1B Capra 1B Element MAU %MAU MAU %MAU MAU %MAU MAU %MAU Cranium 3.5 15.6 5.5 100 0 0 0 0 Mandible 10 44.4 2 36.4 0.5 33.3 1 50 Vert. Atlas 4 17.8 0 0 0 0 0 0 Vert. Axis 2 8.9 1 18.2 0 0 1 50 Vert Cerv 0.8 3.6 1.4 25.5 0 0 0.2 10 Vert Thor 0.54 2.4 0.38 6.9 0 0 0.13 6.3 Vert Lumb 2 8.9 2.17 39.5 0.17 11.1 0.1 5 Ilium 5 22.2 3 54.5 0 0 0 0 Ischium 4 17.8 2 36.4 0 0 0 0 Pubis 5 22.2 3 54.5 0 0 0 0 Scap GF 4.5 20 1.5 27.3 0.5 33.3 1 50 Scap Blade 5.5 24.4 4 72.7 0.5 33.3 0.5 25 Hum Prox 2.5 11.1 2 36.4 0 0 0 0 Hum Shaft 22.5 100 4 72.7 0 0 0.5 25 Hum Dist 7.5 33.3 2 36.4 0 0 0 0 Rad Prox 11 48.9 1 18.2 0 0 0 0 Rad Shaft 8.5 37.8 2 36.4 0 0 0 0 Rad Dist 5 22.2 0 0 0 0 0 0 Ulna Prox 6 26.7 0 0 1.5 100 0 0 Fem Prox 3.5 15.6 1 18.2 0 0 0 0 Fem Shaft 7.5 33.3 2 36.4 0 0 0.5 25 Fem Dist 6.5 28.9 1 18.2 0 0 0 0 Tib Prox 5.5 24.4 0 0 0 0 0 0 Tib Shaft 16 71.1 3.5 63.6 0.5 33.3 2 100 Tib Dist 12 53.3 0 0 0.5 33.3 0 0 Astragalus 6.5 28.9 0 0 0 0 0.5 25 Calcaneum 9.5 42.2 2 36.4 0.5 33.3 1 50 MC Prox 16.5 73.3 1 18.2 0.5 33.3 0.5 25 MC Shaft 6.5 28.9 0.5 9.1 0 0 0.5 25 MC Dist 4 17.8 0 0 0 0 0 0 MT Prox 17 75.6 1.5 27.3 0 0 0.5 25 MT Shaft 6.5 28.9 2 36.4 0 0 0 0 MT Dist 7.5 33.3 0 0 0 0 0 0 P 1 6 26.7 0 0 0.5 33.3 0.38 18.6 P 2 3.875 17.2 0.5 9.1 0.63 41.7 0.25 12.5 P 3 4.5 20 0.25 4.5 0 0 0.13 6.3

125

When ungulate samples within each sub-horizon are compared to each other (i.e. gazelle to BSGD ungulates), some samples show a certain degree of correlation (or similarity), while others do not. Table 5.14 describes the correlation between different ungulate assemblages within each sub-horizon. When the gazelle and BSGD ungulate assemblages are compared to each other, there is a weak correlation (rs = 0.3649, P < 0.05 Horizon 1A; rs = 0.2231, P = 0.1919), although only the correlation in Horizon 1A is statistically significant. Interestingly, there appears to be a relatively strong correlation between gazelle and bezoar goat assemblages in both sub-horizons (rs = 0.4760, P < 0.05 and rs = 0.3917, P < 0.05, Horizon 1A and 1B, respectively), which is not expected considering the differences in sample size. This might be due to the wider range of elements represented in the goat sample (compared to the fallow deer sample). No other correlations between assemblages were found.

Figures 5.1 and 5.2 illustrate the correlation of %MAU values of skeletal elements (proximal, distal and shaft portions of long bones are distinguished from each other) for gazelle, BSGD ungulates, fallow deer and bezoar goat for Horizon 1A (data in Table 5.12). Although not evenly distributed, a proportion of all elements identified as belonging to gazelle are represented, indicating that complete carcasses are present. The element with the highest representation is the proximal metatarsal, but astragali, shaft portions of the humerus, proximal metacarpals, proximal radii, and shaft and distal portions of the tibia all have frequencies higher than 50%. Vertebral portions have the lowest element frequencies, which may be due to their high degree of fragmentation. For BSGD ungulates, these elements are also relatively infrequent except for cervical vertebrae (35%), indicating that the small size of the gazelle vertebral sample is probably not due to problems of identification. Instead, the low proportions may be due to taphonomic factors, as these portions have low structural densities. The elements with the highest representation for BSGD ungulates are the humerus and tibia shafts, followed by ilium fragments, scapula blade fragments and radius shaft fragments. Interestingly, many of the elements with high relative proportions for gazelle have lower representations for BSGD and vice versa, for instance the cranium, cervical vertebrae, ilium, ischium, scapula blade, humerus shaft, femur shaft and tibia shaft portions. This could indicate that many of the remains classified under this group belong instead to gazelle, but were lacking clear diagnostic characters

126

100 Hum S

MT P 80 MC P Tib S 1B 60 Tib D Rad P Gazelle Mand Calc 40 MT D Rad S

%MAU Hum D Fem S Fem D MT S Astrag P1 MC S Scap Bl Tib P Ilium Ulna P Rad D Pubis 20 Ischium P3 Cran Fem P Scap Gl MC D Atlas Hum P P2 Lumb Axis Thor Cerv 0 0 20406080100 y = 0.8066x + 7.711 %MAU Gazelle 1A A. R² = 0.692

100 Cranium

80 Scap Bl Hum S

Tib S 1B

60 Pubis Ilium BSGD

Fem S Rad S 40 Lumb Hum P Hum D

%MAU Fem S Calc MT S Ishium Scap Gf MT P Cerv 20 Axis Fem P Rad P Fem D MC P P2 Thor MC S P3 MC D MT D Tib P P1 Atlas Astrag 0 Tib D 0Ulna P Rad D 20406080100 y = 0.6157x + 8.6617 %MAU BSGD 1A B. R² = 0.413 Figure 5.1 Correlation between skeleton completeness frequencies for A) gazelle and B) BSGD ungulates, Area A Horizon 1A and Horizon 1B.

127 to make the identification. Many elements, however, have relatively similar proportions, such as distal radii, proximal and distal femur, and distal tibia portions.

As in the profile for Horizon 1A, complete skeletons of gazelle appear to be represented in Horizon 1B. Elements with the highest frequencies include humeral shaft portions, followed by proximal metapodials, shaft and distal portions of tibiae, and proximal radii. Much as in Horizon 1A, many of the elements with very low frequencies consist of trunk portions (vertebrae). When these values are compared against the vertebral values for BSGD ungulates, it appears that the low frequencies for gazelle are due to problems with identification. For gazelle, atlas vertebrae have the highest representation at 17.8%, with axis, cervical, thoracic and lumbar vertebrae having representations ranging between 2.4% and 8.9%. Conversely, excluding atlas and thoracic vertebrae (with 0% and 6.9%, respectively), BSGD vertebra portions range between 18.2% and 39.5%. This might also be the case for pelvic elements. For gazelle, ilium, ischium and pubic portions have representations of 22.2%, 17.8% and 22.2% respectively. These are higher for BSGD, with proportions of 54.5%, 36.4% and 54.5%, respectively. The element with the highest representation for BSGD ungulates in this sub-horizon are cranial elements, specifically petrosum fragments. Other elements with high proportions include humerus shaft portions (similar to gazelle) and scapula blade portions (both at 72.7%), followed by tibia shaft portions (63.6%).

The element representation for fallow deer in Horizon 1A appears to be head and foot dominated (Table 5.12). The highest frequencies are associated with the mandible, axis vertebrae, and calcaneum, with lower frequencies for individual phalanges. There are also a relatively high proportion of scapula elements. This pattern could indicate that the fallow deer (MNI = 1) was processed on site, with the majority of elements (eg., limb portions) transported elsewhere. The pattern for fallow deer is slightly different in Horizon 1B, when compared to Horizon 1A. A somewhat wider range of elements is represented in this assemblage, possibly due to a slightly higher sample size. The element with the highest representation is the proximal ulna (100%) followed by the 2nd phalanx (41.7%), with mandible condyles, scapula glenoid fossae and blades, tibia shafts, calcaneum, proximal metacarpal and 1st phalanges with %MAU values of 33.3% each. Rather than being head-and-foot dominated, the pattern in this horizon suggests more of a

128 distal limb-foot dominated pattern. Because the sample size is small, it is not possible to say with any certainty what procurement strategy best explains the pattern.

Bezoar goat skeletal elements are more widely represented than fallow deer (Table 5.12), although not all elements are represented. Proximal metatarsals have the highest representation, followed by axis vertebrae, humerus shaft portions and proximal ulna portions (each with %MAU values of 66.7%). Distal humeri, distal radii, distal and shaft portions of tibia and metatarsal shafts are relatively low (with %MAU values of 33.3% each). Based on the proportions presented in Figure 5.2, it appears that the element frequency pattern is forelimb and foot dominated, with tibia shaft and distal portions also contributing. It appears that higher utility limb portions were transported to the site. However, similar to fallow deer in this sub- horizon, the sample size is small, with a minimum of only three individuals contributing to the sample.

The skeletal completeness pattern for bezoar goat in Horizon 1B appears to be head and trunk dominated, in terms of overall element types, although the element with the highest proportion is the tibia shaft. Mandible condyles, axis vertebrae, scapula glenoids and calcaneum have %MAU values of 50%. Elements belonging to the limbs (humerus and femur shafts and astragali) have %MAU of 25%, as well as proximal and shaft portions of metacarpals and scapula blades.

Because sample sizes for fallow deer and goat are small, it becomes difficult to compare them to the gazelle assemblages. Instead, the gazelle and BSGD ungulate assemblages will be compared against each other, to demonstrate differences in carcass part distribution between gazelle and the similarly sized BSGD group within a sub-horizon. As well, comparisons of change over time can be made between Horizon 1A and 1B assemblages.

Bone elements of gazelle and BSGD ungulates are grouped into five major carcass parts: head, represented by the petrosum (following Bar-Oz & Dayan 2007) or the mandible condyles (whichever had a higher representation); the trunk, represented by the thoracic and lumbar vertebrae (centrum, cranial and caudal articular processes) and ribs; the forelimb, represented by the scapula, humerus, and radius; the hind limb, represented by the femur and the tibia; and toes, represented by the first, second and third phalanges (following Bar-Oz 2004).

129

Differential survivorship of skeletal parts was examined, based on the ratio of observed to expected body parts, following Bar-Oz (2004). The observed values for each body part were calculated based on MNE values for each taxon involved, and the expected values were based on the number of these elements found in complete skeletons (based on MNI’s) obtained for each species. For example, the expected number of head parts, based on petrosum and mandible condyles for 24 gazelle in Horizon 1A, is 96.

The skeletal part distribution of gazelle and BSGD ungulates in each sub-horizon differed greatly from expected values (results of expected versus observed in Table 5.14). The ratio of observed values to expected values show a general under-representation of all skeletal portions, which is to be expected, with a particular under-representation of trunk portions (vertebrae), especially in Horizon 1A (0.07 and 0.12 for gazelle and BSGD, respectively). This might stem from the discard of axial elements at a kill site or from extensive processing of these elements in the rendering of bone grease (following Bar-Oz 2004: 54), as well as taphonomic factors acting on less dense bone. There is a greater difference between trunk expected : observed ratios in Horizon 1B for gazelle and BSGD ungulates. Here, gazelle have a ratio of only 0.03, while BSGD ungulates have a ratio of 0.20.

Figure 5.2 illustrates the relative distributions of gazelle and BSGD ungulate skeletal parts in Horizon 1A. Overall, the relative proportion of carcass parts is similar in these two groups, as it is likely that the greatest proportion of BSGD specimens are actually gazelle. Any differences between the two samples are most likely due to variable identifiability of fragments. For both assemblages, fore- and hindlimb portions have the largest observed vs. expected ratio, although the proportions are higher for BSGD than for gazelle, especially for hindlimb portions. This is likely due to difficulties in identifying shaft fragments to species. Interestingly, the observed vs. expected ratio for distal foot portions (i.e. toes) in gazelle is higher than in BSGD ungulates. This is probably due to a lower degree of fragmentation (and consequently greater identifiability) of these elements. Of note, in both sub-horizons, it is only the toe portion where gazelle have a higher observed vs. expected ratio than BSGD ungulates (see Figure 5.2 and 5.3 for comparison).

130

Table 5.14 Skeletal part representation of gazelle and BSGD ungulates Horizon 1A and 1B. Head Trunk Forelimb Hindlimb Toes Total UR IIa 1A Gazella gazella OBS. 18 34 69 35 74 230 MNI 24 EXP. 96 1080 192 96 576 2040 OBS./EXP. 0.19 0.07 0.36 0.36 0.13 0.16 X² Complete = 98.665, P < 0.05; X² w/t Trunk 30.738, P < 0.05; X² only Head & Toes 2.2921, P = 0.13003 BSGD Ungulates OBS. 5 28 19 12 7 71 MNI 5 EXP. 20 225 40 20 120 425 OBS./EXP. 0.25 0.12 0.48 0.60 0.06 0.17 X² Complete 80.323, P < 0.05; X² w/t Trunk 93.407 P < 0.05 ; X² Head & Toes 61.261 P < 0.05 UR IIa 1B Gazella gazella OBS. 27 33 90 47 68 265 MNI 29 EXP. 116 1305 232 116 696 2465 OBS./EXP. 0.23 0.03 0.39 0.41 0.10 0.12 X² Complete 137.85, P < 0.05; X² w/t Trunk 44.245, P < 0.05; X² only Head & Toes 16.223, P < 0.05 BSGD Ungulates OBS. 15 54 20 11 6 106 MNI 6 EXP. 24 270 48 24 144 510 OBS./EXP. 0.63 0.20 0.42 0.46 0.04 0.21 X² Complete 53.344, P < 0.05; X² w/t Trunk 104.2, P < 0.05; X² only Head & Toes 266.05, P < 0.05 Skeletal part representation of gazelle and BSGD ungulates from Horizon 1A and Horizon 1B, Area A pooled into five carcass parts. Expected values are based on MNI. Observed values are based on MNE. df Complete = 5; df w/t Trunk = 4; df Head & Toes = 2.

80%

70%

60%

50%

40%

30%

20%

10%

0% Head Trunk Forelimb Hindlimb Toes

Gazella gazella 1A BSGD Ungulates 1A

Figure 5.2 Skeletal part representations of gazelle and BSGD ungulates from Horizon 1A, pooled into five carcass parts (%expected based on MNI).

131

Figure 5.3 illustrates the carcass part distribution for gazelle and BSGD ungulates for Horizon 1B. The most striking difference between the two assemblages is in the proportion of skull elements. As in Horizon 1A, there is a lower than expected representation of trunk portions for gazelle, although there is a much higher representation of this body portion for BSGD (0.03 vs. 0.20, respectively). As in Horizon 1A, the difference in ratios is probably due to fragmentation and the subsequent difficulties in determining species for many of these elements. Fore- and hindlimb portions for both groups are relatively high, although the ratios between these two carcass parts are more similar than in Horizon 1A. For instance, for hindlimb portions in Horizon 1B, the ratios for gazelle and BSGD ungulate group are 0.41 and 0.46, respectively. In Horizon 1A, the ratios are 0.36 and 0.60, respectively. Within the BSGD ungulate assemblage,

80%

70%

60%

50%

40%

30%

20%

10%

0% Head Trunk Forelimb Hindlimb Toes

Gazella gazella 1B BSGD Ungulates 1B

Figure 5.3 Skeletal part representations of gazelle and BSGD ungulates from Horizon 1B, pooled into five carcass parts (%expected based on MNI).

the higher ratios for fore- and hindlimb portions are possibly due to difficulties in identification of shaft specimens. Also similar to Horizon 1A, is the observed vs. expected ratio for gazelle toe portions, which is higher than for BSGD ungulates.

When gazelle assemblages are compared, it can be seen that they are very similar (rs = 0.9747, P < 0.05) (Figure 5.4). In both assemblages, fore- and hindlimb portions have the highest

132

0.5

1B Hindlimb 0.4 Forelimb Gazelle

0.3

Head Proportion 0.2 Part

0.1 Toes Skelatal

Trunk 0 0 0.1 0.2 0.3 0.4 y = 1.2632x ‐ 0.0484 Skelatal Part Proportion Gazelle 1A R² = 0.9817 Figure 5.4 Skeletal part representations of gazelle from Horizons 1A and 1B, pooled into five carcass parts (%expected based on MNI).

0.7

Head 0.6 1B

0.5 BSGD

Hindlimb Forelimb 0.4 Proportion 0.3 Part

0.2 Trunk Skeletal 0.1 Toes 0 0 0.1 0.2 0.3 0.4 0.5 0.6 0.7 y = 0.619x + 0.1631 Skeletal Part Proportion BSGD 1A R² = 0.3847

Figure 5.5 Skeletal part representations of BSGD ungulates from Horizon 1A and 1B, pooled into five carcass parts (%expected based on MNI).

133

representation and trunk portions have the lowest representation (as discussed previously). There are some differences, however. In the earlier sub-horizon (Horizon 1B), head, fore- and hindlimb portions have a greater representation than in the later sub-horizon (Horizon 1A). This is probably not due to sample size, as there is only a difference of 329 identified bone fragments between the two sub-horizons. Also, in the remaining carcass portions (trunk and toes), there is a higher representation in Horizon 1A than in 1B.

A similar comparison between assemblages was conducted for BSGD ungulates (Figure 5.5). There appear to be more differences between carcass portions in the BSGD assemblages than for gazelle (rs = 0.7, P = 0.1881), although the relationship is not significant. Head portions have a much higher representation in Horizon 1B than in Horizon 1A. In both assemblages, fore- and hindlimb portions are relatively high, although for the forelimb, representation is higher in Horizon 1B than in 1A. For the hindlimb, the representation is reversed, with a higher representation in 1A than in 1B. When gazelle and BSGD ungulates within each sub-horizon are

compared against each other, gazelle and BSGD correlate strongly with each other (rs = 0.8721, P < 0.05) in Horizon 1A; however, in Horizon 1B, the correlation between these two taxa is not as strong and is not significant (rs = 0.6, P = 0.2848).

5.4 Discussion of Element Estimation Methodology

5.4.1 Shaft portions versus end portions

The methodology used in the analysis of the UR IIa fauna differed in two major ways from studies conducted by others working in the region (i.e. Stiner 1994, 2005; Bar-Oz 2004; Bar-Oz et al. 1999, 2004; Bar-Oz & Dayan 2002, 2003, 2005). The first difference is in the inclusion of shaft fragments in the calculation of MNE/MNI estimates for long bones, rather than focusing only on more easily identifiable bone ends. Much of the impetus for including shaft portions in the analysis of the UR IIa faunal assemblage was due to their overall high survivorship, as well as their identifiability. The importance of using these two separate bone portions began to be recognised in the 1970’s and 1980’s, with actualistic studies investigating the timing of hominin versus carnivore modification of bone assemblages (e.g. Sutcliffe 1970; Skinner et al. 1980; Binford et al. 1988; Blumenschine 1986, 1988; Capaldo 1990, 1998; Marean & Spencer 1991; Marean et al. 1992; Selvaggio 1994). In all of these examples, it was shown that, in the case of

134

hyena scavenging, limb bone shaft fragments are largely left untouched, while limb bone ends (and axial portions) are generally consumed. This taphonomic effect has a greater impact on assemblages where issues of predator access are in question (for instance, where the collection of bone remains may be the result of carnivores scavenging from hominids, or vice versa). Similarly, in stances of human processing behaviour, such as bone boiling to extract bone grease, shaft portions are largely ignored as they contain little valuable nutrient (Church & Lyman 2003), while bone ends are heavily comminuted (both in preparation for boiling, and as a consequence of boiling). It is therefore an important consideration for all zooarchaeological analyses because, as Lyman has shown (1984; 1994; see also Lam et al. 1998), the structural density of epiphyseal portions is lower than for the midshaft portion.

Much of the debate concerning using bone ends versus bone shaft portions seems to be polarised between two different ways of viewing fragmentation and anatomical portions. For instance, Stiner has developed a technique for estimating MNEs, referred to as the Anatomical Regions Profiling Technique (2002: 981), where identified skeletal portions are grouped together (i.e. head; upper front limb; lower front limb, etc.) and rates of survival are compared, as a way to balance out differences in structural density between different classes of identifiable bone. Her technique was developed in order to aid in the analysis of faunal material excavated from a series of Middle Palaeolithic cave sites in Italy (Grotta Breuil, Grotta Guattari, Grotta dei Moscernini and Grotta di Sant’Agostino, as well as Buca della Iena, which has been interpreted as a hyena den). The majority of these remains were excavated from the 1930’s to the 1950’s, where rigorous collection techniques were not employed (Stiner 1994: 238; see also 40-60 for a description of the vertical and horizontal provenience for each of the Middle Palaeolithic cave sites). In the earlier excavations, long bone shaft fragments were not collected (Stiner 1991: 459-460), although Stiner states that Tozzi (1970) published exhaustive summaries of the faunas from Grotta di Sant’Agostino. Upon review, these summaries consist of only NISP counts by taxon (not by element, or element portion) for specific areas within the site, with three- dimensional (presumably length, breadth, and depth) measurements given for some specimens. It is not clear what portion of each element is represented, although it is assumed here that they do not include shaft fragments. This is consistent with other published works of Tozzi, (for instance, 1974), where unidentified (to element and taxon) shaft fragments are published only because they have evidence of butchery behaviour. In more recent excavations from the 1980’s,

135

at Riparo Salvini, Grotta Breuil and Buca della Iena, shaft fragments were recorded and retained (Stiner 1994: 239, Table 9.2).

Similar to most techniques used to estimate MNE, the strategy used by Stiner (2002: 981) begins with identifying the most common morphological portion or feature of a given element, and basing counts on the presence of this feature. In the case of long bone estimates, she has focused primarily on the use of epiphyseal fragments, as she argues (1994: 987) that there is good quantitative agreement between MNE estimates calculated for shaft fragments and estimates from at least one bone end (proximal or distal) for most long bones. This is at odds with other analysis (eg., Pickering and colleagues2003: 1472), who argue that this essentially suggests that the analysis of shaft fragments is not necessary, and that any estimate calculated using shaft fragments will be as accurate as those calculated using bone ends. To support her arguments, Stiner states that her method is based on elements that fall within a narrow, well-defined range of bone structural density that is widely distributed within the skeleton (2002: 979). After conducting a controlled comparison of the relative frequencies of epiphyseal landmarks versus midshaft landmarks (i.e. nutrient foraminae) in the recent Italian excavations, Stiner found that shaft-based counts yielded either comparable or lower values than epiphyses-based counts, regardless of whether the bone collector was human or other predator (Stiner 1994: 240; 1998: S101). Conservatively, Stiner based her shaft counts on the presence of either a nutrient foramen or a muscle attachment location, whichever was more common. If a shaft fragment had neither of these (for instance, a lateral midshaft fragment from a femur), it did not contribute to the MNE count. This is possibly why her shaft-based counts are systematically low when compared to bone ends for the more recently excavated assemblages, considering the higher structural density of midshaft portions (see Lyman 1994, Table 7.6; Lam et al. 1998; 1999), especially when her results are compared against assemblages where specimen identification is less conservative.

The development of Stiner’s method for estimating MNEs was limited by what excavators chose to retain in the original studies, which Stiner admits (1994: 240). This seems to be the basis for the critique of her approach (Marean 1998; Marean & Kim 1998; Marean & Assefa 1999; Pickering et al. 2003). It is not the methodology that is questioned by other analysts, but rather the argument that epiphyseal portions have as high, if not higher, chance of surviving taphonomic processes as diaphyseal portions. Numerous actualistic studies show that long bone

136 end destruction of medium and large animals (classes 1-4, following Brain 1981) by carnivores will create patterns where long bone ends will be removed (because they are greasy and easily crushed) while long bone shaft portions will be largely ignored (for examples of such studies, see Bartram 1993; Binford et al. 1988; Blumenschine 1988; Brain 1967, 1969; Bunn 1993; Capaldo 1990; Hudson 1993; Lam 1992; Lyon 1970; Marean 1998; Marean & Spencer 1991; Payne & Munson 1985; Pickering et al.2003, 2006; Richardson 1980; Snyder 1988). Marean (1998: 123) has noted, based on the species abundance and skeletal element patterns initially found at Klasies River Mouth, that if shaft fragments are not included when calculating element count estimates for size 1-2 ungulates (following Brain’s 1981 size classes, where size 1 and 2 represent animals between 4-100 kg), head-dominated or head-and-foot patterns are found. Pickering and colleagues (2003: 1470) offer a test of the ARP method against actualistic data to determine if this method can in fact provide more realistic MNE estimates, as opposed to methods where a wider range of structural densities is considered. In this test, the ARP method is supported if a bone assemblage retains relatively equal representations of epiphyseal and diaphyseal portions both before and after it has come into contact with a taphonomic agent that is capable of creating density-mediated destruction. In other words, the quantity of epiphyseal portions versus diaphyseal portions will be the same, regardless of how a carnivore consumes them. Using data consisting of wolf bone modification behaviour from Klippel and colleagues (1987) and Snyder (1988), Pickering and colleagues (2003: 1471 Figure 1) show clear differential survival between anatomical regions after carnivore consumption and that post-ravaging assemblages do not resemble pre-ravaging assemblages.

Although Stiner has often been placed in the role of ‘bone-end advocate’, she clearly states that limb elements, which contain large sections of compact bone, are ideal subjects for estimating MNEs (2002: 981). She also agrees that, when possible, attempts should be made to identify shaft portions to the taxon level. Based on the critique of Marean and colleagues, it appears that Stiner’s Italian samples represent unique assemblages where either shaft fragments were consumed preferentially over more nutritious bone ends, or her analysis has been affected by the general lack of certain anatomical portions in her sample. A comparison of MNE estimates generated using bone end and shaft portions (Table 5.15) was conducted for gazelle remains in Horizons 1A and 1B, in order to test the validity of using bone ends to estimate MNE estimates.

Interestingly, the results are correlated, although this is not statistically significant (rs = 0.6496, P

137

= 0.1627). Despite the extensive literature for shaft portions exceeding end portions, end portions in the URIIa assemblages exceed shaft portions in a number of cases (Table 5.15). In Horizon 1A, end portions exceed shaft portions for radius, metacarpal and metatarsal. In all three cases, standardised food utility index (SFUI) values (Metcalfe and Jones 1988) are similar for the represented end portion and shaft portion, although all three are relatively low (especially the metacarpal, with values of 5.1 and 6.1 for the proximal end and shaft portion, respectively). Of the higher utility limb bones, there is either equal representation (femur) or shaft portions exceed end portions (humerus and tibia).

Table 5.15 Comparison of MNE estimates for bone ends (using highest estimate for either proximal or distal end) and shaft portions for gazelle in Horizon 1A and 1B. Horizon 1A Horizon 1B Element Shaft End Shaft: End Shaft End Shaft: End Humerus 22 11 2 45 15 3 Radius 16 21 0.76 17 22 0.77 Metacarpal 13 20 0.65 13 33 0.39 Femur 10 4 2.5 15 13 1.15 Tibia 25 25 1 32 24 1.33 Metatarsal 12 38 0.32 13 34 0.38 MNE estimates, using fragment overlap approach.

In Horizon 1B, there is a similar mix of shaft portions and end portions being more prominent, again with radius, metacarpal and metatarsal end portions exceeding shaft portions. The fact that the nutritional value is low for the end portions of these particular elements might indicate why they survive better than the end portions of the other long bones. This is something that should be considered, when one is discussing the value of bone ends versus bone shafts. Despite the higher structural density of metapodial bone shafts versus bone ends, a possible explanation for why metapodial shaft portions are less common than end portions is the production of bone tools using metapodials as raw material, where bones are split longitudinally, with the bone end acting as a handle. There is evidence of bone tool manufacture at UR IIa, as reported by Hovers and colleagues (1988) and discussed in Chapter 3. There is also evidence of longitudinal chopping marks on metapodial fragments: two in Horizon 1A, and 14 in Horizon 1B. There is the possibility that some of the ‘missing’ metapodial shaft portions were used to make bone tools, such as awls, needles, spatulates, etc. and transported out of the site. While it is not being argued

138

here that dietary specialities and bone tool manufacturing are the only explanations for the end- dominated estimates for some long bones, these interpretations do suggest that transport decisions should not be the only explanation for past human behaviour.

Based on this comparison, the two methods appear to be very similar, although this similarity is not statistically significant. It would appear that higher utility items are more easily identifiable based on their shaft portions (humerus and femur), while lower utility items (radius and metapodia) are more easily identifiable based on their end portions. In situations where time is a constraining issue, Stiner’s method of using bone ends to generate MNE estimates may be a valid option, although including shaft portions is more accurate, statistically speaking.

5.4.2 Fraction Summation versus Fragment Overlap in estimating MNE

The second difference in methodologies used in this analysis is in the use of the Fragment Overlap approach to estimate MNEs and MNI estimates, advocated by Marean and colleagues (2001), instead of the approach developed by Klein and Cruz-Uribe (1984), where bone fragments are recorded as fractions of complete bone portions, summed to give an approximate element count, and then added to the number of complete bone portions in order to generate an MNE estimate (from which an MNI can be generated). Using this method, each identifiable fragment is assigned to a skeletal element and taxon, side, portion (i.e. distal, proximal, complete), state of fusion, and the estimated fraction of either proximal or distal end present (based on breadth). For each identifiable fragment, estimates are based on intuitively obvious fractions, such as ⅓ (0.33), ½ (0.50), or ⅔ (0.67). For each skeletal element portion, these fractions are summed with any complete specimens, and then rounded to the next whole number. For instance, for a sample of four left proximal metacarpal fragments (Figure 5.7), with fraction estimates of 1.0 (complete), 0.67 (2/3rds complete), 0.50 (half complete), and 0.33 (1/3rd complete); the summed total would be 2.5. This would then be rounded up, to give an estimated MNE count of 3.

139

1.0 0.67 0.50 0.33 Figure 5.7 Complete and fragmentary proximal metacarpals, illustrating the approach developed by Klein and Cruz-Uribe (1984) for estimating MNE and MNI counts.

This counting system does have certain strengths, namely that it is very quick and easy to estimate fractions, as precision is not the goal, estimation of fragment fraction is intuitive, and process of summing the estimated fractions to reach an MNE count is very simple. This can be done both in the field and in the laboratory, and can reduce the amount of time needed to begin analysis. Marean and colleagues (2001: 336), however, point out a number of weaknesses. The primary weakness is the lack of inclusion of shaft fragments in their calculations. These fragments are commonly ignored by Klein and Cruz-Uribe (1984: 108), who argue that it is difficult, if not impossible to estimate the portion of a long bone shaft represented by a given fragment. It is only when a shaft portion is attached to an epiphyseal portion that it is included in their calculations. They do state that it is possible to include shaft fragments in the computer program they designed; however, these counts are not a part of the MNE and MNI calculations. Marean and colleagues (2001: 338) also point out that, because shaft fragments are not included in the estimate calculations, this fraction summation approach does not integrate well with studies of surface modifications when cut marks are quantified based on MNE counts, rather than NISP counts, as a way to compensate for fragmentation biasing modification abundance (following Bartram 1993; Otárola-Castillo 2010). Assuming that Binford’s (1981) identification of cut mark zones is accurate, then cut marks on long bones are often concentrated along the shaft portions (for instance, skinning and filleting). Using Klein and Cruz-Uribe’s method, if these fragments do not also include an epiphyseal portion, they are not included in the calculations, with the result that there is a lack of correspondence between cut mark frequencies and element counts.

In order to be able to incorporate long bone shaft fragments in the study of the UR IIa fauna, a modified version of Marean and colleagues’ (2001) Fragment Overlap approach was used to estimate MNE counts. This approach was influenced by Morlan (1994), who advocates

140 manually matching fragments, and counting where features and zones overlap. This can become cumbersome as sample size increases, as it is difficult to keep track of all overlapping fragments. In order to make this system more workable, a zoning system is used, to divide a whole bone into discrete, easily identifiable portions. Marean and colleagues (2001) suggest a zoning system developed by Münzel (1988), where each bone is divided into arbitrary zones using a grid system. In this current study, the zoning system developed by Dobney and Reilly (1988) is used, as it takes into account the morphology of individual elements. Permission was given by Dr. Rivka Rabinovich of the Zoology Laboratory in the Department of Evolution, Ecology, and Systematics, Hebrew University, to draw zoning templates on a gazelle skeleton. This made it easy to place individual fragments within a zone on a given element, and to determine how much of each zone was represented on each fragment. Based on these measurements, as well as photographs, each identified gazelle fragment (excepting cranial fragments) was digitally drawn onto a zoning template, using CorelDraw X4, thus replacing the need to physically hold each fragment to determine locations of overlap. Each fragment drawing represents a layer, which can be turned ‘on’ or ‘off’, and areas of overlap can easily be discerned. This method (whether using an illustration software program or more sophisticated ArcView GIS software, as advocated by Marean et al. 2001) has the potential to give a more accurate estimate for MNE counts because each fragment is mapped in its appropriate location on the element.

In order to test the validity of using Marean and colleagues (2001) approach for estimating MNE counts, a much more time-intensive method, over the more simplified method advocated by Klein and Cruz-Uribe (1984), MNI and MNE estimates were calculated using both methods for gazelle in Horizons 1A and 1B (Tables 5.16 and 5.17). As Klein and Cruz-Uribe’s approach does not readily incorporate shaft fragments, fraction estimates for these portions were calculated by determining the percentage of an element’s diaphysis represented by each shaft fragment. Rather than relying on intuitive ‘guess work’, an average diaphyseal length was calculated for gazelle, based on measurements of index specimens. The greatest length of each identified shaft fragment (excluding those with a recent break) was divided by the average diaphyseal length for that element. Similar to the method used for the proximal and distal ends, as well as other elements, the individual shaft fractions (separated by side and age class) were summed and rounded to the next whole number.

141

For both sub-horizons, the fragment overlap approach gave higher MNE estimates more frequently than did the fraction summation approach. For Horizon 1A, 22 out of 36 element classes (61%) had higher estimates, while 25% of the element classes had similar MNE estimates. Those elements where a higher MNE estimate was calculated with the fraction summation approach include cervical vertebrae, proximal and shaft portions of the humerus, and metatarsal shafts. Consequently, when MNE estimates are transformed into MNI counts, humerus shaft portions have the highest MNI counts using the fraction summation approach, with a MNI of 16 for gazelle. What seems to give higher estimates for humerus and metatarsal shaft portions using the fraction summation approach is the lack of specific zoning strategies used to distinguish specific morphologies or areas of the shaft. Instead, each fragment was given a %present based on the length of the fragment, rather than where on the shaft that fragment came from. This is perhaps why Klein and Cruz-Uribe did not include shaft portions in their calculations.

With generally lower MNE estimates calculated by the fraction summation approach, there is also a lower overall MNI estimate for gazelle in Horizon 1A. Compared to the fragment overlap approach estimates, where the MNI estimate is 24 individuals (based on proximal metatarsal fragments), the fraction summation method gives a lower estimated MNI of only 16 individuals (based on counts of the humerus shaft). If long bone shaft portions are removed from the calculations of all of the element estimates, the MNI for gazelle using the fragment summation method is only 13, while it remains 24 with the overlap approach.

In Horizon 1B, 83% of the elements have higher estimates using the fragment overlap approach compared to when the fraction summation approach is used. Here, only three elements have estimates that are the same using both methods; axis vertebrae, cervical vertebrae, and distal portion of the metacarpal. The fraction summation approach gives estimates that exceed the fragment overlap approach for only three element groups: distal humerus, proximal and distal second phalange. This difference is also reflected in the MNI estimates. Using the fraction summation method, the highest MNI is 18, while it is 25 (MNI estimate for whole elements is 29) using the overlap method, both calculated from humerus shaft fragments. If shaft portions are removed from the calculations, the MNI estimate drops for both methods, to 14 for the fraction summation approach, and to 18 for the fragment overlap approach (both represented by

142

Table 5.16 Comparison of Fraction-Summation (Klein & Cruz-Uribe 1984) and Fragment Overlap calculations (Marean et al. 2001) for MNE and MNI of gazelle, Horizon 1A. Fraction‐Summation Calculation 1A Fragment Overlap 1A MNE MNE MNE MNE Bone Left right MNE MNI Left right MNE MNI Vert. Atlas ‐ ‐ 4 4 ‐ ‐ 4 4 Vert. Axis ‐ ‐ 2 2 ‐ ‐ 2 2 Vert. Cervical ‐ ‐ 8 3 ‐ ‐ 6 2 Vert. Lumbar ‐ ‐ 6 1 ‐ ‐ 9 2 Vert. Thoracic ‐ ‐ 7 1 ‐ ‐ 7 2 Ilium 1 2 3 2 2 4 6 4 Ischium 1 2 3 2 3 3 6 3 Pubis 1 1 2 1 4 3 7 4 Scapula GF 6 3 9 6 7 4 11 7 Scapula Blade 3 4 7 4 3 4 7 4 Humerus P 1 1 2 1 1 1 2 1 Humerus S 16 9 25 16 11 11 22 11 Humerus D 5 6 11 6 6 5 11 6 Radius P 7 7 14 7 9 12 21 12 Radius S 8 4 12 8 10 6 16 10 Radius D 1 3 4 3 2 2 4 4* Ulna 2 6 8 6 3 9 12 9 Metacarpus P 6 8 14 8 9 11 20 11 Metacarpus S 5 4 9 5 8 5 13 8 Metacarpus D 2 3 5 3 2 4 6 4 Femur P 3 0 3 3 4 0 4 4 Femur S 3 5 8 5 3 7 10 7 Femur D 2 1 3 2 2 2 4 2 Tibia P 1 1 2 1 3 1 4 3 Tibia S 15 9 24 15 17 8 25 17 Tibia D 8 13 21 13 11 14 25 14 Astragalus 11 9 20 11 12 11 23 12 Calcaneum 3 4 7 4 3 5 8 5 Metatarsus P 13 10 23 13 24 14 38 24 Metatarsus S 7 6 13 7 6 6 12 6 Metatarsus D 5 6 11 6 5 6 11 6 Phalanx 1 P 3 3 20 3 4 5 29 5 Phalanx 1 D 4 4 24 4 6 5 40 6 Phalanx 2 P 3 3 23 3 3 3 23 3 Phalanx 2 D 4 4 26 4 4 3 26 4 Phalanx 3 P 4 5 29 5 4 5 29 5 * Distal radius is represented by 2 adult and 2 juvenile individuals. Counts in bold indicate highest MNI

143

Table 5.17 Comparison of Fraction-Summation (Klein & Cruz-Uribe 1984) and Fragment Overlap calculations (Marean et al. 2001) for MNE and MNI of gazelle, Horizon 1B. Fraction‐Summation Calculation 1B Fragment Overlap 1B MNE MNE MNE MNE Bone Left right MNE MNI Left right MNE MNI Vert. Atlas ‐ ‐ 4 4 ‐ ‐ 4 4 Vert. Axis ‐ ‐ 1 1 ‐ ‐ 2 2 Vert. Cervical ‐ ‐ 5 1 ‐ ‐ 4 1 Vert. Lumbar ‐ ‐ 19 2 ‐ ‐ 12 3 Vert. Thoracic ‐ ‐ 6 1 ‐ ‐ 7 2 Ischium Cranial 2 1 3 2 5 3 8 5 Ilium caudal 2 2 4 2 6 4 10 6 Pubis Cranial 1 1 2 1 8 2 10 8 Scapula GF 2 4 6 4 3 6 9 6 Scapula Blade 4 4 8 4 7 4 11 7 Humerus P 2 1 3 2 3 2 5 3 Humerus S 15 18 33 18 20 25 45 25* Humerus D 5 11 16 11 7 8 15 8 Radius P 8 10 18 10 9 13 22 13 Radius S 8 6 14 8 9 8 17 9 Radius D 4 4 8 4 5 5 10 5 Ulna 2 2 4 2 9 3 12 9 Metacarpus P 10 7 17 10 16 17 33 17 Metacarpus S 8 6 14 8 4 9 13 9 Metacarpus D 4 4 8 4 4 4 8 4 Femur P 3 2 5 3 5 2 7 5 Femur S 6 7 13 7 8 7 15 8 Femur D 2 6 8 6 2 11 13 11 Tibia P 3 4 3 2 4 7 11 7 Tibia S 17 12 29 17 17 15 32 17 Tibia D 8 11 19 11 10 14 24 14 Astragalus 5 8 13 8 6 7 13 7 Calcaneum 7 7 14 7 11 8 19 11 Metatarsus P 11 14 24 14 16 18 34 18 Metatarsus S 7 7 14 7 5 8 13 8 Metatarsus D 7 5 12 7 8 7 15 8 Phalanx 1 P 4 4 23 4 5 5 30 5 Phalanx 1 D 4 5 30 5 5 8 48 8 Phalanx 2 P 4 6 34 6 4 4 26 4 Phalanx 2 D 5 6 39 6 4 4 29 4 Phalanx 3 P 5 5 32 5 6 5 33 6 *MNI of 25 when calculated from element portions; MNI of 29 when calculated from reconstructed whole portions (Table 5.11); Counts in bold indicate highest MNI.

144

the proximal metatarsal). This shows the importance of including shaft portions in the calculations of MNE and MNI counts, as the deletion of this portion artificially deflates the estimate.

Despite this apparent difference in MNE and MNI estimates, the difference between the two

methods is not statistically significant, and are instead highly correlated (for Horizon 1A, rs =

0.9260 P < 0.001, and for Horizon 1B, rs = 0.8710 P < 0.001), despite the apparent difference in counts. The same can be said if shaft portions are removed (rs = 0.9365 P < 0.001 and rs = 0.8532 P < 0.001 for Horizon 1A and 1B, respectively). This suggests that, although a higher MNE estimate can be generated using the fragment overlap approach, it is not any more accurate in generating estimates than the fraction summation approach. The more time-intensive fragment overlap approach might be suitable for generating estimates that are useful for discussion of cut mark placement on shaft portions. However, the use of the fraction summation approach is statistically the same and is much easier to use, especially when time is a constraining issue.

5.5 Conclusion

The species representation at UR IIa in both sub-horizons suggests that the most readily available prey species was gazelle, while other ungulate species were available in a more peripheral way, perhaps because these prey required more effort to acquire. However, the environmental reconstruction of the site suggests that it was a mixed environment, with local and easy access to steppe (gazelle), Mediterranean woodland (fallow deer, roe deer), alpine (goat), and riverine (pig, fish, waterfowl) resources. Based on Hover’s (1988; 1989) description of the area around the site, a dominance of gazelle in the faunal assemblage may be expected, as the area around UR IIa appears to have been prime gazelle grazing territory. Although the surrounding hills and the nearby park-forest ecozone are within the 2-hour SET of UR IIa, the lower population densities of fallow deer, roe deer, and, to some extent, goats, plus the extra travel and transport time that would have been necessary to bring these resources back to the site, may have made them less attractive to the site inhabitants.

145

Chapter 6 Taphonomy

In order to interpret the human use of animals and their remains at the site, it is important to outline the taphonomic processes that have affected the faunal assemblages. These processes need to be described in order to distinguish human-related damage to the bones from nature- related damage to the bones. This includes a discussion of density-mediated attrition (bone abundance versus bone density and food utility), NISP: MNE ratios (for gazelle and BSGD ungulates), the deletion of elements by scavenging carnivores, description of carnivore damage, weathering, root-etching, and potential fluvial alteration to the assemblage.

An important aspect of faunal analysis is to determine the effect of natural and cultural attritional processes that have affected an assemblage. Archaeological bone assemblages can become highly fragmented through a number of processes, only some of which are related to human activity. This section looks at the role of density-mediated attrition in the formation of the faunal assemblage from UR IIa, in order to distinguish patterns of bone loss that resulted from natural depositional actions (eg., bone density, carnivore activity) from patterns attributed to human decision making (eg., food utility/bone transport, marrow processing, bone grease production).

6.1 Bone Density versus Food Utility

A traditional first step in discussing the degree of bone loss in an archaeological faunal assemblage is to try to determine the role that bone density and food utility played in the formation of the assemblage. As a first step, density values of all skeletal elements are compared against a measure of their relative abundance or survivorship (%MAU) (Lam & Pearson 2005: 105). If a statistically significant correlation exists between relative element abundance and density, it is possible to suggest that density-mediated destruction likely occurred and, to a limited extent, how much this type of destruction affected the assemblage. If there is no correlation, it can be interpreted that the faunal assemblage was primarily shaped by other types of action, for instance on transport decisions, where select elements have been removed from the assemblage due to their greater food utility. In order to test this, a second step involves comparing the food value of the bone elements (indicative of how frequently they would be

146

transported into or out of a site) to their relative abundance in the assemblage. A positive relationship here indicates that the nutritional value of the element was significant in its presence in the assemblage. The discussion in this section will be limited to gazelle and BSGD ungulates, as sample sizes for other ungulates (eg., fallow deer and goat) are too small. The discussion will focus on comparing the correlations of bone abundance (%MAU) and bone density to correlations of bone abundance and food utility (FUI) (density and food utility data in Appendices 11-14).

Figures 6.1 A and B show %MAU values for gazelle in Horizon 1A plotted against bone density values for domestic sheep and FUI values for caribou, respectively (Lyman 1984; Metcalf & Jones 1988). The nature of the regression line obtained for the two variables indicates the relative strength of density-mediated taphonomic processes. Density and food utility values are provided in Appendices 11-14. Spearman’s correlation indicates that there is a positive and

significant relationship (rs = 0.4545, P < 0.05) between gazelle bone abundance and bone density in Horizon 1A. The coefficient of determination (R2) confirms this, indicating that 20.65% of element abundance can be explained by bone density. This indicates that some degree of density- mediated attrition has affected the assemblage (Lyman 1994: 252). There appears to be no

relationship between element abundance and element transport decisions (Figure 6.1B) (rs = - 0.1309, P = 0.4334), with a coefficient of determination (R2) indicating that only 1.7% of the bone survivorship can be attributed to element transport decisions, indicating that the relationship is not statistically significant.

Much as in Horizon 1A, there is a significant positive relationship (rs = 0.3715, P < 0.05) between bone abundance and bone density in Horizon 1B (Figure 6.2A), although the relationship is not as strong as that found in Horizon 1A. This is supported by the R2 value, indicating that 13.8% of element survivorship can be explained by bone density. As in Horizon

1A, there is no relationship between abundance and food utility (Figure 6.2B) (rs = 0.0036, P = 0.9830). In terms of how gazelle compares to BSGD ungulates, there is a positive, reasonably

significant relationship between bone density and %MAU (Figure 6.3A) in Horizon 1A, (rs = 0.3233, P = 0.0501) for BSGD ungulates, with a coefficient of determination indicating that 10.45% of bone survivorship can be explained by bone density. As in gazelle in this sub- horizon, there is no relationship between food utility and %MAU (Figure 6.3B) (rs = 0.2534, P =

147

100

%MAU 40

0 0 0.2 0.4 0.6 0.8 y = 65.063x + 5.2832 Bone Density A. R² = 0.2065

100

%MAU 40

0 0 1000 2000 3000 4000 5000 6000 y = ‐0.0021x + 31.331 FUI B. R² = 0.0171 Figure 6.1 Relationship between skeletal part frequency (%MAU), A) bone density (Lyman 1984) and B) food utility (Metcalfe and Jones 1988) for gazelle, Horizon 1A.

0.1248). The weak correlation here appears to be driven by three outliers (proximal and distal femur at 12.5% and femur shaft at 50%).

148

100

%MAU 40

0 0 0.2 0.4 0.6 0.8 y = 52.716x + 11.529 Bone Density A. R² = 0.138

100

%MAU 40

0 0 1000 2000 3000 4000 5000 6000 y = 6E‐05x + 29.797 FUI B. R² = 1E‐05 Figure 6.2 Relationship between skeletal part frequency (%MAU), A) bone density (Lyman 1984) and B) food utility (Metcalfe and Jones 1988) for gazelle, Horizon 1B.

149

100

60 %MAU 40

0 0 0.2 0.4 0.6 0.8 y = 56.422x + 6.989 Bone Density A. R² = 0.1045

100

%MAU 40

0 0 1000 2000 3000 4000 5000 6000 y = 0.0049x + 19.012 FUI B. R² = 0.0642 Figure 6.3 Relationship between skeletal part frequency (%MAU), A) bone density (Lyman 1984) and B) food utility (Metcalfe and Jones 1988) for BSGD ungulates, Horizon 1A.

150

100

%MAU 40

0 0 0.2 0.4 0.6 0.8 y = 23.135x + 15.466 Bone Density A. R² = 0.0241

100

%MAU 40

0 0 1000 2000 3000 4000 5000 6000 y = 0.0037x + 18.589 FUI B. R² = 0.0361 Figure 6.4 Relationship between skeletal part frequency (%MAU), A) bone density (Lyman 1984) and B) food utility (Metcalfe and Jones 1988) for BSGD ungulates, Horizon 1B.

As in Horizon 1A, there is no relationship between bone density and %MAU (Figure 6.4A) (rs = 0.1554, P = 0.3584) in Horizon 1B, with a R2 value suggesting 2.41% of the bone survivorship is

151

related to bone density. There is also no relationship (Figure 6.4B) between this and %MAU (rs = 0. 1901, P = 0.2531), with a R2 value indicating only 3.61% of the bone survivorship is related to food utility. The suggestion of a weak positive relationship appears to be driven by the high proportion of skull elements (100%), and the relatively high proportions of femur portions (18.2% for proximal and distal femur, and 36.4% for femur shaft). It is unlikely that transport decisions played any greater role in the bone abundance here than it has in the gazelle assemblages, as the differences are more likely to be due to problems with identification. For instance, the BSGD samples have larger proportions of lower-density items, such as pelvic parts and vertebrae, than limb portions (see Figures 5.1 and 5.3). As these higher density elements ‘appear’ to be missing from the BSGD samples, it could be argued that these elements were removed from the site and transported elsewhere, thus explaining their absence. However, as discussed previously, it is likely that much of the BSGD sample could in fact be gazelle, but could not be clearly identified as such.

The lack of a significant relationship between bone abundance (%MAU) and food utility in the gazelle assemblages, coupled with the significant and meaningful relationship between bone abundance (%MAU) and structural density for gazelle suggests that bone survivorship was affected primarily by selective density-mediated destruction (i.e. based on density alone, some elements are fragmented according to their lower densities, and some elements either survive fragmentation when they should not, or are fragmented when they should survive). It follows that selective transport related to food value did not occur frequently. However, a large amount of the fragmentation cannot be explained by bone density alone. In order to determine what other factors affected the assemblages from Horizons 1A and 1B, beyond bone density, the following two sections will discuss evidence of human processing behaviours that appear to have contributed to the non-density-mediated destruction of the faunal assemblages.

6.2 Fragmentation Intensity

The size of diaphysis fragments, when compared to other fragments, can be a good measure of the intensity of fragmentation. For instance, if specimens of this bone type are small and highly fragmented, it can be suggested that this more structurally dense bone became fractured through some kind of deliberate destruction. If, however, diaphyseal fragments are large and do not appear to be highly fragmented, then it is possible to argue that any destruction can be related to

152 bone density. All identified bone fragments were measured to the nearest millimetre. Figures 6.5 and 6.6 illustrate the cumulative frequency of gazelle long bone shaft fragments (humerus,

0.8

0.6

%NISP 0.4

0.2

0 0‐20 20‐30 30‐40 40‐50 50‐60 60‐70 70‐80 80‐90 90‐100 >100 Size Class (mm)

Diaphyseal Bone Fragment Non‐Diaphyseal Bone Fragment

Figure 6.5 Cumulative frequency of gazelle bone fragments in different size classes, Horizon 1A.

0.8

0.6

%NISP 0.4

0.2

0 0‐20 20‐30 30‐40 40‐50 50‐60 60‐70 70‐80 80‐90 90‐100 >100 Size Class (mm)

Diaphyseal Bone Fragment Non‐Diaphyseal Bone Fragment

Figure 6.6 Cumulative frequency of gazelle bone fragments in different size classes, Horizon 1B.

153

radius, metacarpal, femur, tibia, and metatarsal) against non-diaphyseal bone fragments for Horizons 1A and 1B, respectively (NISP and %NISP in Table 6.1). In both assemblages, the majority of fragments for both categories of bone are less than 30 mm in length (57.9% for Horizon 1A and 62.8% for Horizon 1B). When the cumulative frequencies of gazelle diaphyseal fragments are compared, a Kolmogorov-Smirnov test indicates that there is only a small degree of difference between the two samples, although this difference is not statistically significant at a significance level of 0.05 (D = 0.175, P = 0.9973). When non-diaphyseal fragment cumulative frequencies are compared, a similar result is found (D = 0.2857, P = 0.8827).

Table 6.1 Number of identified diaphyseal and non-diaphyseal bone fragments (NISP, %NISP, Cum%) for gazelle in Horizon 1A and 1B, grouped by fragment class size (mm). Gazelle 1A Gazelle 1B Diaphyseal Non‐Diaphyseal Diaphyseal Non‐Diaphyseal Cum Cum Cum Cum NISP %NISP % NISP %NISP % NISP %NISP % NISP %NISP % 0‐20 85 10.3 0.216 164 19.8 0.477 138 12.5 0.254 265 24 0.57 20‐30 93 11.2 0.453 133 16 0.864 150 13.6 0.53 142 12.8 0.875 30‐40 98 11.8 0.702 33 4 0.959 108 9.8 0.729 34 3.1 0.948 40‐50 65 7.8 0.867 8 1 0.982 71 6.4 0.86 17 1.5 0.985 50‐60 26 3.1 0.937 3 0.4 0.991 31 2.8 0.917 6 0.5 0.998 60‐70 19 2.3 0.985 2 0.2 0.997 21 1.9 0.955 0 0 0.998 70‐80 5 0.6 0.995 1 0.1 1 18 1.6 0.988 1 0.1 1 80‐90 2 0.2 1 0 0 3 0.3 0.994 0 0 90‐100 0 0 0 0 2 0.2 0.998 0 0 >100 0 0 0 0 1 0.1 1 0 0 Fragment total Horizon 1A = 829; Fragment total Horizon 1B = 1106 Fragment counts do not include fragments with recent breakage, which prevented the measurement of fragment length.

Figures 6.7 and 6.8 show the cumulative frequency of diaphyseal and non-diaphyseal bone fragments for BSGD ungulates in Horizons 1A and 1B (NISP and %NISP values in Table 6.2). As with gazelle, the majority of fragments of both bone categories are below 30 mm in length (70.2% for Horizon 1A and 82.5% for Horizon 1B). For gazelle and BSGD ungulates in Horizon 1A, and for gazelle only in Horizon 1B, fragments less than 20 mm in length represent between 30% and 37% of the sample (30% and 36.4% for gazelle in 1A and 1B respectively, and

154

0.8

0.6

%NISP 0.4

0.2

0 0‐20 20‐30 30‐40 40‐50 50‐60 60‐70 70‐80 80‐90 90‐100 >100 Size Class (mm)

Diaphyseal Bone Fragment Non‐Diaphyseal Bone Fragment

Figure 6.7 Cumulative frequency of BSGD ungulate bone fragments in different size classes, Horizon 1A.

0.8

0.6

%NISP 0.4

0.2

0 0‐20 20‐30 30‐40 40‐50 50‐60 60‐70 Size Class (mm)

Diaphyseal Bone Fragment Non‐Diaphyseal Bone Fragment

Figure 6.8 Cumulative frequency of BSGD ungulate bone fragments in different size classes, Horizon 1B.

36.8% for BSGD in 1A). In Horizon 1B, (Figure 6.8) the BSGD assemblage appears to be more fragmentary than the BSGD assemblage from Horizon 1A, as well as the two gazelle

155

assemblages. Here, over half of the fragments (54.5%) for both diaphyseal and non-diaphyseal bone fragments are less than 20 mm in length (specimen counts in Table 6.2).

Table 6.2 Number of identified diaphyseal and non-diaphyseal bone fragments (NISP and %NISP) for BSGD ungulate in Horizon 1A and 1B, grouped by fragment class size (mm). BSGD 1A BSGD 1B Diaphyseal Non‐Diaphyseal Diaphyseal Non‐Diaphyseal Cum Cum Cum Cum NISP %NISP % NISP %NISP % NISP %NISP % NISP %NISP % 0‐20 33 6.1 0.254 166 30.7 0.559 53 6.6 0.239 386 48 0.663 20‐30 71 13.1 0.53 104 19.2 0.909 62 7.7 0.518 163 20.2 0.943 30‐40 77 14.2 0.729 16 3 0.963 54 6.7 0.761 26 3.2 0.988 40‐50 37 6.8 0.86 9 1.7 0.993 30 3.7 0.896 5 0.6 0.996 50‐60 16 3 0.917 2 0.4 1 15 1.9 0.964 1 0.1 0.998 60‐70 6 1.1 0.955 0 0 ‐ 8 1 1 1 0.1 1 70‐80 1 0.2 0.988 0 0 ‐ 0 0 ‐ 0 0 ‐ 80‐90 2 0.4 0.994 0 0 ‐ 0 0 ‐ 0 0 ‐ 90‐100 1 0.2 0.998 0 0 ‐ 0 0 ‐ 0 0 ‐ >100 0 0 1 0 0 ‐ 0 0 ‐ 0 0 ‐ Fragment total Horizon 1A = 541; Fragment total Horizon 1B = 805 Fragment counts do not include fragments with recent breakage, which prevented the measurement of fragment length.

Within the BSGD samples, the different proportions of diaphyseal and non-diaphyseal BSGD bone fragments appear to be very large in both sub-horizons, especially for fragments under 20 mm in length. The apparent difference in cumulative frequencies, however, is not statistically significant (D = 0.244, P = 0.974 Horizon 1A; D = 0.5, P = 0.318 Horizon 1B). When gazelle cumulative fragmentation frequencies are compared against BSGD ungulate cumulative fragmentation frequencies within each sub-horizon (data from Table 6.1 and 6.2), there is no statistically significant difference between the two groups (D = 0.175, P = 0.997 for diaphyseal fragments and D = 0.171, P = 0.999 for non-diaphyseal fragments from Horizon 1A; and D = 0.267, P = 0.909 for diaphyseal fragments and D = 0.238, P = 0.979 for non-diaphyseal fragments from Horizon 1B). This supports the suggestion that fragmentation intensity was similar, both within a sub-horizon and between sub-horizons.

156

Table 6.3 details the diaphyseal and non-diaphyseal bone fragments for fallow deer in Horizon 1A and 1B. As there are no diaphyseal fragments preserved in the Horizon 1A assemblage, comparisons between fragment categories are not possible. For Horizon 1B, the sample size is small and shows some difference among fragment categories, seemingly favouring non- diaphyseal fragments. However, because the sample size is so small, it is difficult to determine if this difference is ‘real’ or is instead a function of the sample size.

Table 6.3 Number of identified diaphyseal and non-diaphyseal bone fragments (NISP and %NISP) for fallow deer, in Horizon 1A and 1B, grouped by fragment class size (mm). Fallow deer 1A Fallow deer 1B Diaphyseal Non‐Diaphyseal Diaphyseal Non‐Diaphyseal NISP %NISP NISP %NISP NISP %NISP NISP %NISP 0‐20 0 0 3 15 2 8.3 4 25 20‐30 0 0 6 30 3 12.5 4 29.2 30‐40 0 0 4 20 0 0 4 16.7 40‐50 0 0 1 5 0 0 1 4.2 50‐60 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 60‐70 0 0 0 0 1 4.2 0 0 70‐80 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 80‐90 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 90‐100 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 >100 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 Whole 0 0 6 30 0 0 5 20.8 Fragment total Horizon 1A = 24; Fragment total Horizon 1B = 20 Fragment counts do not include fragments with recent breakage, which prevented the measurement of fragment length.

Table 6.4 details the intensity of fragmentation for diaphyseal and non-diaphyseal bone categories for goat in Horizon 1A and 1B. Compared to the fallow deer sample, there appear to be differences in fragment size frequencies between these two samples, as there are more fragments in general in the 40-50 and 50-60 size class categories, particularly for Horizon 1B. Despite this, the sample size for both assemblages is small, making interpretation of the possible pattern difficult, if not impossible.

157

Fragmentation plots of indeterminate (unidentifiable) bone fragments from Horizon 1A and Horizon 1B are in Appendix 15 and 16, respectively.

Table 6.4 Number of identified diaphyseal and non-diaphyseal bezoar goat bone fragments (NISP and %NISP) for Horizon 1A and 1B, grouped by fragment class size (mm). Goat 1A Goat 1B Diaphyseal Non‐Diaphyseal Diaphyseal Non‐Diaphyseal NISP %NISP NISP %NISP NISP %NISP NISP %NISP 0‐20 1 6.7 3 20 5 13.5 11 29.7 20‐30 0 0 0 0 1 2.7 7 18.9 30‐40 2 13.3 1 6.7 1 2.7 2 5.4 40‐50 3 20 0 0 1 2.7 2 5.4 50‐60 2 13.3 0 0 3 8.1 0 0 60‐70 0 0 0 0 1 2.7 0 0 70‐80 1 6.7 0 0 1 2.7 0 0 80‐90 0 0 0 0 0 0 1 2.7 90‐100 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 >100 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 Whole 0 0 2 13.3 0 0 1 2.7 Fragment total Horizon 1A = 15; Fragment total Horizon 1B = 37 Fragment counts do not include fragments with recent breakage, which prevented the measurement of fragment length.

To summarise, for both gazelle assemblages, the majority of diaphyseal fragments are below 30 mm in length. Proportions of this bone type are relatively low across all size categories, with the highest proportions reaching only 11.8% and 13.6%, for Horizon 1A and 1B respectively. There are also no whole diaphyseal portions present. When BSGD diaphyseal fragments are considered, it becomes apparent that these ‘missing’ gazelle fragments have not been misidentified as BSGD, as diaphyseal fragment proportions are very low here as well. This suggests that this portion underwent a higher degree of attrition than would be expected in a natural environment, and that diaphyseal fragments were removed from the assemblages, or became so small and fragmented that identification to taxon or body size group was not possible. This correlates with the significant degree of density-mediated attrition found for both Horizons 1A and 1B (Figures 6.1 and 6.2).

158

Another point of interest is the high degree of fragmentation of non-diaphyseal bone for both gazelle and BSGD ungulates. For gazelle, the highest proportion of non-diaphyseal bone is less than 20 mm in length (19.8% for Horizon 1A and 24% for Horizon 1B). For BSGD ungulates, the proportions are even higher for this size category (30.7% for Horizon 1A and 48% for Horizon 1B). Considering the lower density of this bone type, this is not surprising. However it does highlight the differential survivorship of these two bone types (diaphyseal and non- diaphyseal).

6.3 Ratio of NISP to MNE

NISP: MNE ratios are used to illustrate the intensity of fragmentation. If the ratio of NISP to MNE is equal, then either all of the specimens are complete skeletal elements, or all of the specimens represent the same portion of a skeletal element. If NISP values are greater than MNE, then some specimens are fragmentary and the duplication of specimens representing the same element portion is limited. The intensity of fragmentation denotes the size of the fragments, as small fragments are less likely to overlap with one another than large fragments and are unlikely to be shown to be independent of each other. The smaller the ratio is (i.e. the more similar the NISP and MNE counts are to each other), the lower the fragmentation will be. Table 6.5 details the NISP: MNE ratios for gazelle in Horizon 1A and 1B, based on constructed complete bone elements (data from Table 5.11). Horizon 1B demonstrates a higher degree of fragmentation than Horizon 1A, exhibited through the higher NISP: MNE ratios. The highest ratio in Horizon 1A is for the 2nd phalanx, with a ratio of 2.55, followed by the radius with a ratio of 2.0. In Horizon 1B, the highest ratio is for the tibia, with a NISP: MNE ratio of 4.8. There is only a weak correlation between gazelle NISP: MNE ratios from Horizon 1A and 1B, and is not

statistically significant (rs = 0.32336, P = 0.43464). This suggests that some of the fragmentation in Horizon 1B could be explained by selective destructive processes, not necessarily related to density (as bone abundance is not strongly determined by bone density for this sub-horizon, which the coefficient of determination indicates (R2 = 0.138)).

159

Table 6.5 NISP: MNE ratios for gazelle long bones and phalanges, Horizon 1A and 1B. Horizon 1A Horizon 1B

Element NISP MNE NISP/MNE NISP MNE NISP/MNE Humerus 36 24 1.5 133 50 2.66 Radius 46 23 2 78 24 3.25 Metacarpal 39 22 1.77 53 23 2.3 Femur 18 12 1.5 69 19 3.63 Tibia 54 34 1.59 168 35 4.8 Metatarsal 60 38 1.58 102 40 2.55 1st Phalanx 38 41 0.93 94 43 2.19 2nd Phalanx 28 11 2.55 55 16 3.44 MNE values based on reconstructed complete element counts, Table 5.11. Complete phalanges have been removed from the above counts.

6.4 Bone-based versus Tooth-based MNI Ratios

In order to determine if attrition is differentially affecting different classes of bone, Stiner (1994: 99-100) advocates the use of comparisons between tooth-based and cranial-based MNI counts. Ratios of cranial/tooth MNI values should be high wherever preservation is good, with correspondingly low ratios when preservation is poor. In this analysis, only the gazelle sample is suitable for study as the BSGD ungulate has no identifiable teeth, only tooth fragments. Table 6.6 outlines the tooth/cranium MNI ratios for Horizon 1A and 1B. The tooth MNI estimates are based on the number of individual sided teeth. In Horizon 1A, it is based on right 1st incisors; for Horizon 1B, it is based on the number of right lower second premolars. Cranial MNI estimates are based on mandibular condyle counts, as this is the most prevalent cranial portion. It is also less dense than the petrosum, thus mitigating any potential bias caused by the high degree of fragmentation of teeth. In Horizon 1A, the ratio is relatively high, at 60%. In Horizon 1B, the ratio is similar, at 53.8%. This appears to be due to the relatively low survivorship of gazelle teeth. It should be pointed out here that there does appear to be an unusual degree of tooth fragmentation in the UR IIa samples. These results suggest that both sub-horizons have similar post-depositional histories, in terms of preservation, and it appears to suggest that preservation is relatively “good”. However, because survivorship of complete teeth is low, these results instead appear to be biased towards the survivorship of less dense bone material in these assemblages,

160

which would suggest some kind of deliberate destruction. The following section will attempt to shed some light on this issue.

It is not really possible to discuss the role of bone attrition for fallow deer and goat in Horizon 1A and 1B, as both sample sizes are too small. For instance, no teeth are preserved for fallow deer in either assemblage, although both have an MNI of 1 for crania. Although goat has limited representation in Horizon 1B, at least two individuals are presented by both teeth and crania. This gives a high tooth/cranium ratio (i.e. 1.0), but the sample size is too small for this to adequately suggest good preservation. In Horizon 1A, no goat teeth were preserved.

Table 6.6 Gazelle tooth: cranial MNI ratios, Horizon 1A and 1B (MNI counts for teeth and cranium given for each column). Tooth/ Tooth Cranial Cranial MNI MNI Ratio Gazelle 1A 6 10 0.6 Gazelle 1B 7 13 0.54

6.5 Tarsal and Carpal Survivorship

In order to test the validity of the tooth/cranial bone MNI comparison, survivorship of the astragalus and the fused central and fourth tarsal (navicular-cuboid) are examined. This second test is used because of the unusual and highly fragmented state of the gazelle teeth. It is unclear if the fragmentation is due to human action or to natural attrition, and therefore it is difficult to say whether different classes of bone have been affected differently. When proportions of these elements are compared against axial portion survivorship, differences in survivorship can indicate significant differences in preservation among assemblages, which can be used support or clarify tooth/cranium ratio comparisons. Marean (1991: 680) argues that only bones that are never or only rarely fragmented by people or animals should be used to measure post- depositional destruction. This is because an assemblage that has been strongly affected by post- depositional destruction will have a higher fragmentation of less dense elements, resulting in these lower-density elements being absent or rarely identified in the faunal assemblage (Marean

161

1991: 678). Through controlled experimental studies involving hyenas, as well as comparisons to Later Stone Age bone collections from Kenya, Marean (1991: 691) has determined that the compact bones most sensitive to post-depositional processes, such as cooking or carnivore ravaging, are the tarsal bones, because they are particularly dense, they are frequently consumed whole by carnivores, and because human consumers do not usually fracture them in order to extract within-bone nutrients (i.e. marrow). If these bones differ in survivorship between two assemblages when compared to axial portions (which tend to become fragmented much more frequently), it is probable that axial and appendicular elements have suffered differentially. In Horizon 1A, 25 gazelle astragali are preserved, with only 6 navicular-cuboids. In Horizon 1B, the two element classes are more similar in number. Astragali are represented by 14 specimens, and navicular-cuboids are represented by 17 specimens. Discussion of BSGD ungulates, fallow deer and goat is limited by small sample sizes, as tarsal elements were not preserved in the BSGD and fallow deer assemblage from Horizon 1B, nor were they preserved in the goat assemblage from Horizon 1A.

When bone abundance (%MAU) values for hind appendicular portions (tarsals) are compared against axial portions (cervical, thoracic and lumbar vertebrae) (Table 6.7), the differences in preservation between sub-horizons are apparent (comparison of gazelle and BSGD ungulates in Figure 6.9). For gazelle, in both Horizon 1A and 1B, tarsals have a much higher representation than the axial portions (with a tarsal : axial MAU ratio of 4.32 for Horizon 1A and a tarsal : axial MAU ratio of 4.34 for Horizon 1B). This suggests that differential attrition occurred between appendicular and axial portions, following Marean (1991). Preservation is somewhat inconclusive for the other taxa. For BSGD ungulates in Horizon 1A, the ratio between tarsal and axial portions differs from gazelle. Although astragalus has a proportion of 25% and cervical vertebrae has a similarly high proportion of 35%, the tarsal : axial ratio (0.49) suggests that tarsals were more strongly affected by attrition than axial portions, although tarsal elements are easier to identify to taxon, which more likely explains their absence. For Horizon 1B, the BSGD assemblage does not contain any tarsals, again most likely because it was possible to identify these elements to taxon. As such, the imbalance between appendicular and axial elements seen here is potentially misleading. For fallow deer and goat, the samples sizes are too small to adequately make claims about differential attrition between carcass portions.

162

In order to determine if similar degrees of preservation can be shown with other dense bones, a similar comparison is conducted for carpal bones. When carpal and vertebral element survivorship values are compared against each other (Figure 6.10), the patterns for gazelle are similar to those for tarsals. For both Horizon 1A and 1B, carpals have a higher representation than vertebral elements (in particular, the scaphoid), with carpal : axial MAU ratios of 4.17 for Horizon 1A and 7.03 for Horizon 1B, suggesting some difference in attrition between appendicular and axial portions. However, the difference is not as great as between tarsals and vertebrae. For BSGD ungulates, it is somewhat inconclusive, as only magnum carpals (fused

Table 6.7 Comparison of tarsal, carpal and axial element abundance (MAU and %MAU) for gazelle, BSGD ungulates, fallow deer and goat for Horizon 1A and 1B. Gazelle 1A Gazelle 1B BSGD 1A BSGD 1B Element MAU %MAU MAU %MAU MAU %MAU MAU %MAU Astragalus 11.5 60.5 6.5 28.9 1 25 0 0 Nav‐Cuboid 2.5 13.2 8 35.6 0 0 0 0 Radial Carpal 4.5 23.7 6.5 28.9 0 0 0 0 Intermed. Carpal 1.5 7.9 4.5 19.7 0 0 0 0 Ulnar Carpal 2 10.5 3.5 15.6 0 0 0 0 2nd/3rd Carpal 3 15.8 5.5 24.4 1 25 0 0 4th Carpal 2.5 13.2 3.5 15.6 0 0 0 0 Cervical Vert 1.2 6.3 0.8 3.6 1.4 35 1.4 25.5 Thoracic Vert 0.54 2.8 2 8.9 0.31 7.8 0.38 6.9 Lumbar Vert 1.5 7.9 0.54 2.4 0.33 8.3 2.17 54.3 Fallow 1A Fallow 1B Goat 1A Goat 1A Element MAU %MAU MAU %MAU MAU %MAU MAU %MAU Astragalus 0.5 50 0 0 0 0 0.5 25 Nav‐Cuboid 0 0 0 0 0 0 0.5 25 Radial Carpal 0.5 50 0 0 0 0 0 0 Intermed. Carpal 0 0 0.5 33.3 0 0 0 0 Ulnar Carpal 1 100 0.5 33.3 0 0 0 0 2nd/3rd Carpal 0.5 50 0 0 0 0 0 0 4th Carpal 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 Cervical Vert 0 0 0 0 0 0 0.2 10 Thoracic Vert 0 0 0 0 0 0 0.13 6.25 Lumbar Vert 0 0 0.17 11.1 0 0 0.1 5

163

100

60 %MAU 40

0 Gazelle 1A Gazelle 1B BSGD 1A BSGD 1B

Astragalus Nav‐Cuboid Cervical Thoracic Lumbar

Figure 6.9 Comparison of gazelle and BSGD ungulate tarsal and vertebrae element survivorship from Horizon 1A and 1B (%MAU values for the elements are given in Table 6.7).

100

%MAU 40

0 Gazelle 1A Gazelle 1B BSGD 1A BSGD 1B

Scaphoid Lunate Cuneiform Magnum Unciform Pisiform Cervical Thoracic Lumbar

Figure 6.10 Comparison of gazelle, BSGD ungulate carpal and vertebrae element survivorship from Horizon 1A and 1B (%MAU values for the elements are given in Table 6.7).

164

2nd/3rd carpal) are represented in Horizon 1A. Although this element has an abundance of 25%, cervical vertebrae have a higher proportion, at 35% (although thoracic and lumbar vertebrae are appreciably smaller). There are no carpals in the BSGD assemblage from Horizon 1B, and, as for tarsals, this is probably because these elements are not usually fragmented and are thus relatively easy to identify to taxon. The sample sizes for fallow deer and goat are again too small to be able to say anything meaningful about post-depositional attrition.

In sum, tooth: cranial ratios and carpal/tarsal survivorship suggest that some degree of post- depositional destruction did take place. Based on tooth/cranial ratio comparisons, the gazelle assemblages from Horizon 1A and 1A underwent somewhat similar degrees of destruction, and that survivorship of less dense elements is relatively high in both assemblages. Comparisons of tarsal survivorship to axial element survivorship suggest that there is some bias in the apparently high preservation of cranial portions. Instead, there appears to be clear differences in survivorship between less dense axial portions and more dense appendicular portions, which suggests that some of the attrition experienced by the gazelle assemblages (and presumably by the other faunal assemblages) is related to differences in bone density. The combination of these two tests supports the relationship between bone density and bone abundance discussed previously. Although significant, the correlation is not very strong for gazelle, which suggests that more high-density elements are being affected than expected, such as teeth.

6.6 Relationship between Proximal and Distal Tibiae and Humeri

The ability of bone to survive destructive agents is a function of its strength. Binford notes (1981: 217) that the humerus and the tibia are particularly diagnostic for examining destructive agents. This is due to the differential survival potential of the proximal and distal portions of these two elements. In both cases, the proximal portion is less dense than the distal portion. The difference in survival frequencies between these two portions of each element can be used to indicate the relative role bone destruction has played in modifying the assemblage.

The ratios of distal to proximal epiphyses for both Horizons show similar trends (Table 6.7, based on %MAU). The distal portions of the humerus and the tibia are present in much higher frequencies than the proximal portions in both assemblages. Figures 6.11A and B compare the

165

combined ratio of gazelle and BSGD ungulate proximal and distal tibia and humeri portions (respectively) to reported values of caribou element destruction by dogs and people from a series of controlled and uncontrolled destruction events (Appendix 17; data from Binford and Bertram 1977; Binford 1978; summary of sites in Binford 1981 Table 5.05). This is in order to determine if the post-depositional destruction experienced by the faunal assemblages is due more to natural density-mediated attrition (i.e. burial and sub-surface compression; diagenesis and bone demineralisation, etc.) or to active deletions by either humans or carnivore scavengers. Yellow squares represent sites with no known destruction, while blue diamonds represent sites that experienced some kind of destructive activity (either human or animal) – Binford’s ‘zone of destruction’ (1981:219).

Table 6.8 Abundance (MAU and %MAU) of proximal and distal humerus and tibia element portions for gazelle and BSGD ungulates in Horizon 1A and 1B. Prox Tibia Dist Tibia Prox Hum Dist Hum MAU %MAU MAU %MAU MAU %MAU MAU %MAU Urkan e‐Rub IIa Gazelle 1A 2 10.5 12.5 65.8 1 5.3 5.5 28.9 Gazelle 1B 5.5 24.4 12 53.3 2.5 11.1 7.5 33.3 BSGD 1A 0.5 12.5 1 25 0.5 12.5 1 25 BSGD 1B 0 0 0 0 2 36.4 2 36.4 MAU and %MAU estimates for gazelle and BSGD ungulates from Table 5.12 and 5.13.

For both tibia and humeri, the gazelle assemblages from Horizons 1A and 1B group with the assemblages that are known to have been affected either by humans (intensive processing) or destroyed by dogs/wolves (scavenging of greasy portions, remnant meat scraps, etc.). In the case of the tibia, the assemblage from Horizon 1A is more firmly placed here than the assemblage from Horizon 1B. However, Binford notes (1981: 218) that with the tibia, there tends to be an overlap in zones, with some unravaged assemblages mixed with the ravaged assemblages below the diagonal line. This is apparently due to differential breakage and butchering of the tibia, where the tibia is disarticulated by breaking through the tibia shaft, separating the two ends for differential transport. Unlike the tibia, Binford notes that proximal:

166

100 Tibia 80 Proximal 60 Known Destroyed Known Not Destroyed 40 Frequnecy Gazelle

1B BSGD 20 1A Proportional 1A

0 1B 0 20406080100 Proportional Frequency Distal Tibia A.

100

80 Humerus

60 Proximal Known Destroyed Known Not Destroyed 40 1B Gazelle Frequency

BSGD 20 1A 1B

Proportional 1A 0 0 20406080100 Proportional Frequency Distal Humerus B. Figure 6.11 Relationship between proportional frequencies of A) proximal and distal tibiae; and B) proximal and distal humeri for gazelle and BSGD ungulates compared to a series of control assemblages with known degrees of destruction (data from Bertram & Binford 1977; Binford 1978). Zone of Destruction indicated by circled area.

167

distal humerus comparisons can clearly indicate differentiation between destroyed and not destroyed assemblages, because this element is rarely if ever disarticulated in this fashion. In this case, the gazelle from both Horizon 1A and 1B clearly group within Binford’s zone of destruction. This suggests that the gazelle assemblages were affected either by humans processing the bones after meat was removed (i.e. marrow extraction or bone grease extraction) or through the ravaging activities of carnivores. The role of carnivores will be discussed in more detail in the following section.

Interestingly, the BSGD ungulate assemblages from both sub-horizons show a different pattern. Like gazelle, when tibia values are plotted against each other, the assemblage from Horizon 1A groups close to the carnivore destroyed assemblages (Figure 6.11A); although it could be argued that they are border-line between the two classes of data. However, the assemblages from 1B groups more closely with the non-destroyed data set, suggesting that humans and/or other agents had little effect. A similar pattern is revealed when humerus values are considered. Again, the BSGD sample groups along the border-line between destroyed and not destroyed samples, while the sample from 1B clearly groups with the not-destroyed data set. This could suggest that these elements in Horizon 1B were not further processed, beyond disarticulation by human agents, and were not significantly affected by potential carnivore scavengers. It is unlikely however, that two assemblages of similarly-sized animals would be treated differently by humans or scavengers, especially since it is likely that much of the BSGD sample could belong to gazelle, but were lacking clear diagnostic features to allow this designation. Overall, this suggests that either humans or scavengers (or both) played a significant role in the formation of the gazelle (and BSGD) assemblage. This will be considered in the following sections.

6.7 Carnivore Modification

This section discusses the role that carnivores may have played in the attrition of faunal material at UR IIa. Carnivores are often responsible for removing certain portions of a faunal assemblage (eg., greasy epiphyseal portions), which can make identification of elements based on bone ends difficult, but it can also mimic the attrition signature left behind by bone grease exploitation (absent or highly comminuted cancellous bone material). It is therefore important to determine how large of a role carnivores played in the formation of the faunal assemblage.

168

All bone fragments were examined for evidence of carnivore chewing, gnawing and digestion. Low frequencies of carnivore tooth marks and digestion were found in both sub-horizons (7.1% of the total gazelle assemblage in Horizon 1A and 7.5% of the total gazelle assemblage in Horizon 1B) (Table 6.9). Types of marks found include pitting and puncture marks (Figure 6.12). These marks are found on both whole elements (eg., astragali, calcanea, phalanges) and on shaft fragments and near epiphyseal ends. There is also a small proportion of gazelle specimens that show evidence of digestion, with only 2% of the total gazelle sample from Horizon 1A, and only 2.7% of the gazelle sample from Horizon 1B showing similar evidence. For Horizon 1A, elements that show some degree of digestion include phalanges (n = 2), carpals and tarsals (n = 5), and distal and proximal epiphyses of long bones. In this latter group, it appears to be limited to distal metapodia (n = 8), with isolated examples of distal humerus (n = 1), distal tibia (n = 1), and proximal tibia (n = 2). In Horizon 1B, digestion is found on phalanges (n = 3), tarsals (n = 6), patella (n = 2), as well as distal humeri (n = 4), proximal radius (n = 2), distal ulna (n = 2), distal femur (n = 3), distal tibia (n = 2), distal radius (n = 1) and distal metapodia (n = 5). Additionally, a small number (n = 3) of cranial bones show signs of digestion, as well as vertebrae (n = 2), ribs (n = 2) and a scapula neck fragment (n = 1).

Table 6.9 Frequencies of carnivore tooth marks and digestion on gazelle bone elements. Tooth Mark Digestion NISP % NISP % Horizon 1A 80 7.1 23 2 Horizon 1B 109 7.5 38 2.7

169

A. B. Figure 6.12 Pitting and puncture marks on gazelle elements: A) calcaneus from Horizon 1A and B) proximal ulna from Horizon 1B.

The presence of carnivore marks, however small, does indicate that a large mammalian carnivore had access to at least some of the bones. However, as the frequencies are low, it is not likely that carnivores played a significant role in the accumulation of the bone assemblages, but this modifier may have played a role in deleting certain elements from the assemblages, such as epiphyseal fragments or other cancellous elements. Following from the discussion of proximal: distal humerus ratios, these data suggest that the principal destructive force on both of the UR IIa gazelle assemblages from Horizon 1 cannot have been due to carnivore damage.

6.7.1 Shaft Circumference versus Shaft Length

Comparisons of shaft circumference versus shaft length, developed by Bunn (1983) can be used to further test the extent to which carnivores played a role in the fragmentation of the faunal material. This discussion will be limited to the gazelle sample from Horizon 1A and 1B. Sample sizes for fallow deer and goat are too small, and use of the BSGD sample is hampered by the lack of fragments large enough to have a measureable (i.e. > 25%) circumference. This lack is due not to issues of attrition, but rather to the fact that if these shaft fragments had contained a

170

measureable circumference, complete identification to a taxon would have been possible. The majority (91.9%) of gazelle bone elements from Horizon 1A consist of specimens that are less than half of their original circumference, and less than 50% of the original diaphyseal length (Table 6.10, Figure 6.13A-B). A similarly high proportion (88.7%) of gazelle fragments from Horizon 1B also consist of shaft circumferences with scores of 1 and shaft length scores of less than 2. Villa and Mahieu (1991: 41) note that high frequencies of complete diameters characterise assemblages of post-depositionally broken bones.

Figure 6.13A indicates that the gazelle fragments from Horizon 1A consist primarily of short and narrow specimens. Both fragment length Classes 1 and 2 (< 25% of original and 25-50% of original) have circumferences less than half of the original. Very few fragments consist of complete shaft diameters (2.3%). No fragment is more than 75% of the original length. A similar pattern is seen in the fragments from Horizon 1B (Figure 6.13B). Both assemblages lack fragments that are long and narrow (shaft circumference = 1 and shaft length = 3-4). These types of elongate splinters are argued to be a pattern seen in bones broken by gnawing carnivores (Binford 1981: 56; Binford & Ho 1985: 414; 437) or late stage weathering. The virtual absence of these types of splinters from Horizon 1A and 1B (0.4% and 2.8%, respectively) indicates that

Table 6.10 Combined tabulation of shaft length and circumference, gazelle Horizon 1A and Horizon 1B. Length 75% or Circumference <25% 25‐50% 50‐75% Complete Horizon 1A 1 110 129 1 0 2 2 10 2 0 3 0 6 0 0 Total 112 145 3 0 Horizon 1B 1 180 164 9 2 2 4 9 3 0 3 2 11 3 1 Total 186 184 15 3 Circumference 1 = < 50% of original (complete); Circumference 2 = 50-99% of original; Circumference 3 = 100% complete.

171

Horizon 1A 60

40 %NISP 20

0 < 25% 25% ‐ 50% 50% ‐ 75% >75% Shaft Length

Circumference 1 Circumference 2 Circumference 3 A.

Horizon 1B 60

40 %NISP 20

0 < 25% 25% ‐ 50% 50% ‐ 75% >75% Shaft Length

Circumference 1 Circumference 2 Circumference 3 B.

Figure 6.13 Relative frequencies of gazelle fragment shaft length by shaft circumference in Horizon 1A and 1B. Shaft circumference categories are 1 = < 50% of original circumference; 2 = 50% to 99% of original circumference; 3 = 100% complete.

172 the breakage pattern is not likely to be due to the actions of carnivores, and is more closely patterned after marrow extraction activities (following Villa & Mahieu 1991). These results, combined with the relatively low frequencies of carnivore tooth marks and digestion damage on the gazelle remains, give strong support to the argument that carnivores played only a small role in the formation of the faunal assemblage.

There are only a few bone specimens that exhibit clear signs of rodent gnawing, the majority of which come from Horizon 1A. Here, two gazelle fragments (a zygoma-orbit fragment and a proximal tibia fragment), two BSGD ungulate long bone shaft fragments and one BSGD ungulate cranial fragment have evidence of rodent gnawing. In Horizon 1B, only one bone fragment appears to have rodent gnawing, in this case a pig rib shaft fragment. Based on these low numbers, rodent interference with the assemblages, in the form of gnawing, is not significant.

6.8 Natural Attrition

Possible natural agents of bone dispersal and destruction were also considered in this analysis, with evidence of specific attritional processes that could account for bone loss, fragmentation and preservation biases recorded for all bone elements.

6.8.1 Fluvial Transport

Certain bone elements are more likely to be moved by fluvial processes than others, largely influenced by their structural density, shape and size (Voorhies 1969: 69; Behrensmeyer 1978). Bones associated with Voorhies Group I (ribs, vertebrae, and sternal elements) tend to be removed in relatively low velocity fluvial action, while bones associated with Voorhies Group III (cranial elements, whole long bones, and mandibles) require strong stream velocities to remove elements from their primary deposition location. When VG I bones (ribs and vertebrae) are absent, it suggests that these lower density elements have been winnowed out of the assemblage, while the presence of these bones suggests that fluvial actions have not played a large role in the alteration of the assemblage. Behrensmeyer (1975:490-491) states that, presuming that the fluvial transport of the bones began at the animal’s death, then the proportion of different Voorhies Groups should provide evidence of how the original death assemblage, as well as the

173

habitat, of the living animals actually appeared. When gazelle skeletal part frequencies are compared between sub-horizons, there does not appear to be differential bone loss between Voorhies groups, which suggests that fluvial transport did not play a significant role in the formation of the bone assemblage (Table 6.11). In the case of Horizon 1A and 1B, both contain similar proportions of VG I and VG III bone elements (observed values are based on MNE and expected values are based on MNI). The low frequencies of VG I elements in both sub-horizons may be influenced by issues of identification, as many of the rib fragments were shaft portions, and MNE estimates calculated for this element in both sub-horizons under-represents the actual element count. Despite this low frequency, these elements (as well as vertebral fragments) would be the first to be removed from a site’s assemblage, so their presence indicates that fluvial disturbance was low.

Table 6.11 Gazelle skeletal part frequencies from different fluvial groups (based on surface-volume ratio; Voorhies Group (VG) I, II, III; Voorhies 1969; Shipman 1981). Value VGI VGII VGIII Horizon 1A Observed 46 243 18 Expected 1248 1056 96 Observed/Expected 0.04 0.23 0.19 Horizon 1B Observed 43 292 27 Expected 1450 1100 100 Observed/Expected 0.03 0.27 0.27

6.8.2 Weathering Alteration & Root Damage

The weathering profile (based on weathering stages outlined by Behrensmeyer [1978]) of a sample of gazelle long bone shaft fragments (humerus, radius, metacarpal, femur, tibia, metatarsal, metapodial) (Table 6.12, Figure 6.14) shows that the two assemblages are statistically identical. In both assemblages, there are differences in the frequency distributions of bone weathering stages. Both sub-horizons appear to have undergone similarly high degrees of surficial weathering, with 39.9% of bone elements in Horizon 1A and 38.2% of bone elements in Horizon 1B (n = 118 and 146, respectively) attributed to weathering stages 3-5

174

Table 6.12 Weathering modification of gazelle long bone shaft fragments, following stages outlined by Behrensmeyer (1978). Gazelle 1A Gazelle 1B Weathering Stage NISP %NISP NISP %NISP 1 28 9.5 36 9.4 2 150 50.7 200 52.4 3 111 37.5 137 35.9 4 7 2.4 9 2.36 5 0 0 0 0

30 %NISP

0 12345 1A 9.5 50.7 37.5 2.4 0 1B 9.4 52.4 35.9 2.36 0

Figure 6.14 Relative frequencies of gazelle long bone shaft fragments per weathering stage for Horizon 1A and Horizon 1B.

(Behrensmeyer1978). This high degree of weathering is in contrast to other open-air sites, such as Nahal Hadera V and Neve David, with only 13% and 10% of bone elements (respectively) being attributed to stages 3 to 5. However, the weathering at UR IIa is less severe than at Hefzibah 1-6, with 47.7% of examined bone elements categorised in stages 3-5 (Bar-Oz 2004: 57). The high degree of weathering at UR IIa may be due to the site’s location within a relatively arid environment (steppe-grassland, versus woodland on the coast), as well as the history of erosion at this location (see geological description in Chapter 3).All bone fragments

175

were examined for signs of root etching. The presence of root etching on a bone indicates that, at some point in the taphonomic history of that element, it existed in a plant-supported environment (Lyman 1994: 376), although it is not strictly possible to distinguish between root etching that occurred before or after burial. Root etching was found in similar proportions in the two sub-horizons (Table 6.13). As both sub-horizons have relatively high and similar root etching frequencies, this suggests that both assemblages experienced similar degrees of plant disturbance, and that the burial process was either relatively slow (to allow for shallow roots to leave marks) or the sediment was particularly high in organic content. Based on the weathering exhibited on the bones, and the relative aridity of the wadi location, it seems likely that the former situation is more likely. A slow burial would have caused the bone fragments to become increasingly weathered, and would have provided opportunity, in terms of being relatively close to the surface, for roots to come into contact and leave their mark on the bone remains.

Table 6.13 Frequencies of root etching on gazelle bone fragments, Horizon 1A and 1B. (Tooth and horn core NISP are excluded). Horizon 1A Horizon 1B Total NISP 1068 1354 NISP Root etched 396 584 % 37.1 43.1

6.9 Summary

The faunal assemblages at UR IIa appear to have undergone a significant degree of density- mediated destruction. For both gazelle and BSGD ungulates, diaphyseal (high-density) and non- diaphyseal (lower-density) elements are highly fragmented, with non-diaphyseal elements showing a higher degree of fragmentation. In addition, there appears to be greater survivorship among more dense appendicular elements (based on tarsals and carpals) than in less dense axial portions (vertebrae). This indicates that some of the fragmentation can be attributed to the relative structural weakness of certain elements over others. However, further evidence, from comparisons of proximal and distal tibiae and humeri survivorship, suggest that density-mediated attrition is not the sole explanation for element survivorship. Evidence suggests that within the

176 gazelle assemblages (and to a limited extent within the BSGD ungulate assemblages), other agents actively modified the faunal assemblages by preferentially removing certain portions (eg., proximal tibia or humerus) over other portions (i.e. distal tibia or humerus). This analysis does not provide an answer as to who or what the agent was, however, as humans and carnivores have similar effects on bone assemblages. This is supported by the high level of attrition of gazelle teeth. With the addition of carnivore modification data, such as evidence of tooth marks and punctures and evidence of digestion, it is possible to suggest that carnivores played only a limited role in the creation of the archaeological sample, and that the two primary formation processes involved with the creation of the faunal assemblages at UR IIa are density-mediated attrition and human processing activities. This is supported by the mid-range correlations between bone density and bone abundance for gazelle and BSGD ungulates, indicating that while density played a role in survivorship, another attritional factor removed higher density elements. Also the lack of correlation between bone abundance and food utility indicates that high utility elements (in terms of calorie yield) did not survive as well as lower utility elements, suggesting that these elements may have been removed through human processing activities (supported by the relatively low frequency of carnivore medication on gazelle elements).

177

Chapter 7 Human Use of Animals

This chapter outlines the human use of the prey animals found at UR IIa. This includes NISP: MNE ratios (for gazelle and BSGD ungulates) and marrow yields, and long bone fracture patterns for understanding intensive resource exploitation behaviour. This also includes a discussion of cut marks (and possible butchery behaviour) and evidence of cooking through a discussion of burned bone. Finally, the sex and age demographics of the gazelle assemblages are discussed, in terms of how certain prey was selected.

7.1 NISP : MNE Ratios and Marrow Weight

Table 7.1 details the NISP: MNE ratios for gazelle in Horizon 1A and 1B, based on constructed complete bone elements (NISP and MNE data from Table 5.11) and gazelle dry marrow yield (Kcal). As described in Chapter 6, gazelle long bones from Horizon 1B appear to have undergone a greater degree of fragmentation than long bones from Horizon 1A, suggesting that the fragmentation in 1B may be due to non-density-mediated factors. In Horizon 1A, food value (marrow mass) and degree of fragmentation do not appear to be related, having a negative 2 correlation that is not statistically significant (rs = -0.2225, R = 0.0495, P = 0.5965). For Horizon 1B, the situation appears to be completely different. Here, the degree of fragmentation 2 of marrow-carrying bones is strongly and significantly correlated to food value (rs = 0.7734, R = 0.5981, P < 0.05). This suggests that the post-depositional attrition experienced by long bone elements in Horizon 1B is not entirely related to the structural density of the bone elements, but is instead related to other actions, such as marrow extraction by humans. It is expected that degrees of fragmentation of these elements will increase with marrow yield, as humans are expected to prefer elements that contain the highest proportion of marrow (Bar-Oz and Munro 2007: 952). This can be seen in the Horizon 1B gazelle assemblage, as the elements with the highest caloric yield have the highest degree of fragmentation. Interestingly, for Horizon 1A, the element with the highest degree of fragmentation has the lowest caloric yield (2nd phalanx). Bar-

178

Oz and Munro (2007: 955) note that the frequency of marrow extraction from phalanges is an indicator of carcass processing intensity, and that the exploitation of phalangeal marrow may reflect dietary stress within the human population. This might be the case for Horizon 1A, as it appears that time was devoted to accessing the marrow from the 2nd phalanx. However, if the human occupants of this sub-horizon were under such extreme dietary stress that marrow from the 2nd phalanx was an important resource, the fragmentation of the other marrow-holding bones should also be high. This is not the case. For Horizon 1B, although the degree of fragmentation for the phalanges is relatively high, they are not significantly higher than the fragmentation for the other marrow-rich bones. Because fragmentation rates for phalanges are much more in line with the fragmentation of the other marrow bones in this sub-horizon, the idea of dietary stress driving the processing of these low calorie items becomes more reasonable. Interestingly, Morin (2007: 80) notes that bone elements that are high in unsaturated fats (i.e. distal tibia, distal metapodials, and phalanges) might be preferentially selected for processing and consumption on the basis of palatability (unsaturated fats have a lower melting point, and ‘taste’ better) and on a higher rate of putrefaction. Whether this characteristic of ‘red’ marrow played a role in the choice of bones to process is unclear.

Table 7.1 Average marrow yields (Kcal) and NISP: MNE ratios for gazelle long bones and phalanges, Horizon 1A and 1B. (Marrow yields from Bar-Oz and Munro 2007: Table 10). Horizon 1A Horizon 1B Average Element Kcal NISP MNE NISP/MNE NISP MNE NISP/MNE Humerus 20.5 36 24 1.5 133 50 2.66 Radius 15.42 46 23 2 78 24 3.25 Metacarpal 8.26 39 22 1.77 53 23 2.3 Femur 36.23 18 12 1.5 69 19 3.63 Tibia 49.36 54 34 1.59 168 35 4.8 Metatarsal 15.03 60 38 1.58 102 40 2.55 1st Phalanx 3.02 38 41 0.93 94 43 2.19 2nd Phalanx 0.55 28 11 2.55 55 16 3.44 MNE values based on reconstructed complete element counts, Table 5.11. Complete phalanges have been removed from the above counts.

179

In order to determine if the pattern of relatively low fragmentation for high-marrow elements outlined for Horizon 1A is actually a function of human decision making process, NISP: MNE ratios for BSGD ungulates (Table 7.2) are compared against dry marrow yields for gazelle. Both assemblages show patterns similar to gazelle in Horizon 1B, where marrow-rich elements show a relatively high degree of fragmentation, in particular the elements that have the highest marrow yield (tibia, femur and humerus). What is different is that for both assemblages, fragmentation of the phalanges is lower than for the other elements. This contrasts with both gazelle assemblages. The degree of fragmentation in both of the BSGD assemblages is also strongly correlated with marrow yield (rs = 0.6529, P = 0.0792 and rs = 0.8072, P < 0.05, for Horizon 1A and 1B, respectively). Approximately 43% of the fragmentation of BSGD marrow bones in 1A can explained by marrow yield (R2 = 0.4363), while approximately 65% of the fragmentation in 1B can be attributed to marrow yield (R2 = 0.6516). This suggests that the pattern found for gazelle in Horizon 1A may be a function of the difficulty in identifying (to taxon) long bone shaft fragments.

Table 7.2 Average marrow yields (Kcal) and NISP/MNE ratios for BSGD ungulate long bones and phalanges, Horizon 1A and 1B. (Marrow yields from Bar-Oz & Munro 2007: Table 10). Horizon 1A Horizon 1B Average Element Kcal NISP MNE NISP/MNE NISP MNE NISP/MNE Humerus 20.5 30 8 3.75 25 8 3.13 Radius 15.42 15 6 2.5 8 4 2 Metacarpal 8.26 4 3 1.33 4 2 2 Femur 36.23 16 5 3.2 12 5 2.4 Tibia 49.36 26 9 2.89 26 7 3.71 Metatarsal 15.03 11 5 2.2 9 6 1.5 1st Phalanx 3.02 10 6 1.67 6 3 2 2nd Phalanx 0.55 2 1 2 4 4 1

The sample sizes of fallow deer and goat are too small to examine adequately the degree of fragmentation of marrow-rich bones. For goat, although several of the long bones are present in the sample, most are represented by only a single element. In the case of fallow deer, only

180

phalanges and a single metacarpal (in Horizon 1B) are represented in the sample. Comparing degrees of fragmentation between these taxa and gazelle is not really possible.

7.2 Fracture Patterns: Fragment Angle, Outline, and Texture

A discussion of fracture patterns is relevant in understanding human-related attritional processes, as information from these analyses can aid in distinguishing between pre- and post-depositional destruction of select bone elements, particularly those containing within-bone nutrients such as marrow and bone grease.

As there are several different attritional forces that can lead to the fracture of bone following its disposal, it is necessary to try to distinguish the causes of the fragmentation in order to attempt to identify the most influential taphonomic agent in the formation of the assemblage. Following Outram (2002, 2005), all diaphysis fragments (humerus, radius, femur, tibia, metapodials, and phalanges) were studied for fracture type in order to determine each fragment’s Fracture Freshness Index (FFI) value. Determination of fracture freshness on the cortical bone covering cancellous material was problematic, due to weathering (discussed in Chapter 6). As such, fracture freshness of these remains could not consistently be established.

Cumulative scores (the sum of the individual outline, angle and texture scores) of 0, 1, and 2 represent bones that were broken in a relatively fresh state. Bones with a score of 3 are intermediate, indicating that fragments have some evidence of fresh fracture as well as evidence of later fracture, as the bone was becoming dry. Scores of 4 and 5 represent bones that were broken when fairly dry, and 6 represents bones that have no evidence of fresh fracture. Figure 7.1 demonstrates the cumulative frequency of FFI scores for all ungulate specimens (both those identified to species and to body size class) from Horizon 1A and 1B. The greatest proportion of fragments has a FFI score of 3 (with a cumulative frequency of 73.3% and 75.2% for Horizon 1A and 1B, respectively), with similar cumulative proportions exhibiting scores of 2 (30.1% and 34.3%, respectively) and scores of 4 (93.9% and 93.5%, respectively). This indicates that while many of the bones had some evidence of fresh fracture on them, they appear to have been further fragmented when not fresh.

181

0.8

0.6

0.4

0.2

0 0123456

Horizon 1A Horizon1B

Figure 7.1 Cumulative frequency of fracture freshness index scores for all ungulate long bone fragments, Horizon 1A and Horizon 1B.

The greatest number of gazelle fragments from Horizon 1A (Table 7.3) fall below an FFI score of 4 (74.5%), with 24.8% of fragments receiving a score of 2 and 43.8% of fragments receiving a score of 3 (average score is 3.03). Only 0.3% of fragments were considered to be completely fresh (a score of 0) in terms of fracture angle, outline and texture. This suggests that, although bones were fractured in order to access marrow, further processing (i.e. for bone grease) was probably not extensive. For the BSGD ungulate sample in this sub-horizon, a similar pattern is revealed. The majority of fragments have FFI scores of 4 or under (73.5%), with 22.1% of fragments receiving a score of 2, and 44.1% of fragments receiving a score of 3. The median score for BSGD fragments in this sub-horizon is 3.06, which is also similar to gazelle fragments. The fallow deer sample (Table 7.4) is based on only two fragments (phalanges), as the majority of fragments exhibited recent breakage on one or more of the fracture surfaces (making the FFI impossible to determine). The two fragments demonstrate that both were largely fresh when fractured, with an FFI index value of 1. Similarly, the goat sample is small (n = 7), although these fragments appear to exhibit more mixed and dry fractures. The median FFI score for this sample is 3.55. However, this is probably due to the limited sample size, rather than indicating a

182 difference in treatment of bone elements (in terms of processing behaviours) between fallow deer and goat.

Table 7.3 Fracture freshness index scores for long bone fragments for gazelle and BSGD ungulates, Horizon 1A and 1B. Gaz 1A Gaz 1B BSGD 1A BSGD 1B FFI NISP %NISP NISP %NISP NISP %NISP NISP %NISP 0 1 0.3 3 0.8 1 0.6 0 0 1 16 5.5 51 13.3 13 7.6 12 8 2 72 24.8 90 23.5 36 21.2 28 18.7 3 127 43.8 152 39.7 75 44.1 65 43.3 4 58 20 63 16.4 33 19.4 35 23.3 5 15 5.2 20 5.2 12 7.1 8 5.3 6 1 0.3 4 1 0 0 2 1.3 Fragments with recent breakage were excluded from sample.

Table 7.4 Fracture freshness index scores for long bone fragments from fallow deer and goat, Horizon 1A and 1B. Fallow deer 1A Fallow deer 1B Goat 1A Goat 1B FFI NISP %NISP NISP %NISP NISP %NISP NISP %NISP 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 1 2 100 1 16.7 0 0 1 7.1 2 0 0 0 0 1 10 4 28.6 3 0 0 4 66.7 2 20 5 35.7 4 0 0 0 0 6 60 3 21.4 5 0 0 1 16.7 1 10 1 7.1 6 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 Fragments with recent breakage were excluded from sample.

Horizon 1B offers a somewhat similar picture. As in Horizon 1A, the greatest number of gazelle fragments received scores below 4 (77.3%), with fragments receiving a score of 3 at 39.7%, with 23.5% of fragments receiving a score of 2. The median FFI score here is 2.87, which is somewhat lower (i.e. fresher) than the gazelle sample from Horizon 1A, although probably not significantly lower. This seems to suggest that a proportion of bones were broken while fresh,

183 perhaps to exploit bone marrow, but that further fragmentation occurred sometime after this activity as the bones were beginning to dry. The initial processing of bone elements for marrow is supported by the positive correlation between marrow yield and long bone fragmentation discussed previously (Table 7.1). For the BSGD ungulate sample, the pattern is broadly similar. The majority of fragments have a score below 4, at 70%. The median FFI score for this sample is 3.02, which is similar to the BSGD sample in Horizon 1A, as well as the gazelle sample in Horizon 1A.

The fallow deer sample (Table 7.4) is again small, similar to Horizon 1A, with only 6 bone fragments. It is not really possible to say if the FFI distribution is indicative of the overall ‘freshness’ of this sample – of the 6 fragments (5 of which are phalanges), 4 have an FFI score of 3, with the other two fragments evenly distributed between a score of 1 and 5. Similarly, the goat sample is small, with only 14 fragments. The distribution of FFI scores appears to be more evenly distributed, with the greatest number of fragments (n = 9) receiving an FFI score of 2-3 (64.3%). This is likely not a representative distribution, however, because of the small sample size.

Based on the Fracture Freshness Index values for gazelle and for BSGD ungulate long bone fragments, bone grease processing is inconclusive, but marrow extraction is likely. The scores do suggest that the majority of fragments were fractured while fresh, or in a partially fresh condition. This is supported by evidence of percussion marks on marrow rich elements for gazelle in Horizons 1A (n = 7) and 1B (n = 8) (see Appendix 18 and Appendix 19). A relatively large proportion of each of the gazelle samples (35.8% and 36.8%, respectively; see data from Table 6.1) consist of non-diaphyseal bone under 30 mm in length, which is higher in proportion than diaphyseal bone fragments within the same size classes. If extensive bone grease processing took place at the time of occupation, it is expected that the proportion of non- diaphyseal bone (%NISP) would be much lower than the proportion of diaphyseal fragments, as cancellous bone contains more bone grease than cortical bone, and would be fractured and boiled to extract the within-bone grease (Outram 2001: 408). This does not appear to be the case at UR IIa. If large-scale bone grease exploitation took place, it is not detectable archaeologically as it was not possible to determine the FFI values for most of the cancellous fragments. Small-scale bone boiling may have taken place; for instance, ethnographic studies of

184

the Kalahari San (Kent 1993; Yellen 1977) show that cancellous grease can be exploited on a smaller scale than direct boiling of fragments to obtain grease, by adding long bone ends to stews. The available data suggest that large-scale, intensive processing and collection of bone grease did not occur at this site, but that long bones were processed for marrow.

7.3 Cut Marks

A relatively high frequency of cut marks was observed on gazelle remains, with an %NISP of 5.2% for Horizon 1A and an %NISP of 6.4% for Horizon 1B, with a lower frequency seen on fallow deer and goat. This is a higher frequency than that found at other Epipalaeolithic sites (for instance, Nadel Hadera V at 0.6% and Hefzibah 7-18 at 1% [Bar-Oz 2004: 52]). This difference is probably due more to methodological approaches than to differences in actual occurrence frequencies (i.e. the difference between using a light 10x-40x microscope in this study, and the use of a 2.5x magnifying lamp used by Bar-Oz [2004]) and is not argued to be indicative of distinctive Kebaran butchery practices. Figures 7.6-7.9 show examples of butchery marks for gazelle in Horizon 1A and Horizon 1B.

Tables 7.5, 7.6, 7.7, 7.8, and 7.9 describe the location and number of cut marks on gazelle, BSGD ungulates, goat and fallow deer in Horizon 1A and Horizon 1B, respectively. Binford’s (1981) butchery pattern determination, based on his study of Nunamiut caribou processing, has been used as a guide to suggest potential intent behind the cut mark patterns. This is done with caution, as Lyman (2005: 1723) notes that there is often little correlation between butchering marks and taxa of differing sizes, or between butchery marks and environmental contexts. It should also be noted that a skilled butcher can skin and disarticulate a carcass and leave very little evidence of the process on the bones.

In both sub-horizons, gazelle cut-marked fragments can be grouped into three main categories (excluding fragments with chop marks and percussion marks): horizontal cuts at the proximal or distal epiphysis, often located medially/laterally; diagonal cuts on the proximal or distal shaft, often located medially/laterally; and vertical cuts located along the posterior surface of the diaphysis. The location of the majority of cut marks for gazelle suggest dismemberment of the limb bones, with cuts found near joint articulation points, such as the pelvis, proximal humerus

185

Table 7.5 Butchery marks on gazelle fragments, Horizon 1A. (n represents number of cut marks in a single cut mark event). Element n Location Orientation Cranial #1626 5 Posterior (Orbit‐Zygoma) Anterior‐Posterior Mandible #1100 3 Medial corpus Superior‐Inferior #1178 29 Lingual (gonion) Superior‐Inferior Thor. Vert #2309 4 Dorsal (Costal) Anterior‐Posterior Rib #3665 13 Lateral Anterior‐Posterior #3736 20 Proximal Lateral Anterior‐Posterior #1044 1 Midshaft Dorsal‐Ventral #1629 13 Medial (Shaft) Anterior‐Posterior #1959 1 Medial (Shaft) Anterior‐Posterior #2150 3 Lateral Midshaft Anterior‐Posterior #2430 1 Proximal (shaft) Anterior‐Posterior #2458 3 Lateral (Shaft) Anterior‐Posterior #2815 9 Lateral (Shaft0 Anterior‐Posterior #4417 6 Medial (Prox & Shaft) Anterior‐Posterior Pelvis #3165 2 Anterior‐ventral (Pubic Ramus) Anterior‐Posterior #3652 1 Anterior (Ischial Ramus & Acet.) Medial‐Lateral #3663 3 Anterior (Pubic Ramus) Dorsal‐Ventral #4428 1 Ventral (Ischial Ramus) Cranial‐Caudal (Chop) Humerus #2493 16 Medial (Prox‐Med shaft) Anterior‐Posterior #6480 5 Medial (Dist‐Post shaft) Anterior‐Posterior #1367 (j)* 2 Distal (Dist‐Post shaft) Medial‐Lateral #1073 11 Lateral (Dist‐Lat shaft) Proximal‐Distal #1985 1 Percussion (Midshaft) Medial‐Lateral #2383 1 Lateral (Epicondyle) Proximal‐Distal (Chop) Radius #1145 2 Posterior (Prox‐Lat Epi & Shaft) Medial‐Lateral #1153 6 Medial (Prox‐Med Epi & Shaft) Anterior‐Posterior #2474 2 Posterior (Prox shaft) Medial‐Lateral #1097 3 Lateral (Lat Shaft) Anterior‐Posterior #2828 1 Proximal (Prox Epi) Proximal‐Distal (Chop) Ulna #1624 3 Lateral (Olecranon) Anterior‐Posterior #3610 6 Lateral (Olecranon) Anterior‐Posterior CPR #1005 3 Posterior Medial‐Lateral CPU #2171 2 Lateral Anterior‐Posterior MC #1206 3 Medial (Prox‐Med & Shaft) Anterior‐Posterior #1823 1 Medial (Prox‐Ant & Shaft) Diagonal (Ant‐Post/Prox‐Dist) #4045 1 Anterior (Prox & Shaft) Medial‐Lateral #6586 1 Anterior (Ant Shaft) Diagonal (Prox‐Dist/Med‐Lat) #6440 1 Proximal (Prox & Shaft) Proximal‐Distal (Chop) Femur #1815 2 Medial (Shaft) Diagonal (Ant‐Post/Prox‐Dist)

186

Table 7.5 continued Element n Location Orientation Tibia #3592 8 Posterior (Prox‐Post Shaft) Medial‐Lateral #6487 2 Anterior‐Lateral (Dist‐Ant Shaft) Medial‐Lateral #1942 1 Percussion (Medial Midshaft) Medial‐Lateral #3755 1 Percussion (Med‐Dist s Shaft) Anterior‐Posterior #4298 1 Percussion (Dist Lat & Shaft) Anterior‐Posterior #6293 1 Percussion (Dist‐Lat Shaft0 Anterior‐Posterior #2384 1 Distal‐Medial (Dist Epi) Diagonal Chop (Prox‐Dist/Med‐Lat) #4302 1 Distal (Dist Lat Epi) Proximal‐Distal (Chop) Astra. #2394 1 Distal Medial‐Lateral TRS #2316 3 Lateral Anterior‐Posterior MT #1363 1 Medial (Dist Condyle) Anterior‐Posterior #2656 6 Lateral (Prox Post Epi) Anterior‐Posterior #3172 3 Proximal (Prox‐Med & Shaft) Anterior‐Posterior #6353 3 Lateral (Prox Lat Epi) Anterior‐Posterior #3631 5 Anterior (Prox Ant Shaft) Diagonal (Prox‐Dist/Med‐Lat) #1345 1 Proximal (Prox & Shaft) Proximal‐Distal (Chop) MP #1982 1 Percussion (Ant Shaft) Anterior‐Posterior 1st phal. #4344 1 Dorsal (Dist & Shaft) Medial‐Lateral (Chop) *”j” refers to a specimen from a juvenile individual

and proximal femur. Cut marks found circling the distal portion of long bone shaft (described as skinning marks by Binford [1981]) are found on only a few elements, namely the inferior surface of the mandible, around the medial and lateral surfaces of the carpals and tarsals, and on the distal portions of the long bones. A number of bones from both sub-horizons have chopping cuts, running longitudinally from proximal to distal ends. This may be associated with splitting of bones in preparation for making bone tools. This seems to be more frequent in Horizon 1B, with a relatively large proportion of modified metacarpals and metatarsals (n = 15) exhibiting longitudinal chops, splitting the bone in half.

187

Figure 7.2 Cut marks on a gazelle proximal radius (#1153) fragment, Horizon 1A.

A. B. Figure 7.3 Diagonal cut marks on a gazelle distal humerus shaft fragment (#1073), Horizon 1A.

188

Table 7.6 Butchery marks on gazelle fragments, Horizon 1B. (n represents number of cut marks in a single cut mark event). Element n Location Orientation Mandible #5786 1 Lateral (Coronoid) Medial‐Lateral (Chop) #3874 2 Lateral (Coronoid) Medial‐Lateral #5384 1 Lingual (Gonion‐Ramus) Anterior‐Posterior #4807 1 Percussion (Condyle) Medial‐Lateral #4912 1 Buccal (Premaxilla) Superior‐Inferior (Chop) #2776 1 Posterior (Condyle) Anterior‐Posterior (Chop) Atlas #3054 1 Posterior Anterior‐Posterior (Chop) Rib #5472 1 Lateral (Shaft) Anterior‐Posterior #5440 7 Lateral (Neck) Anterior‐Posterior #1731 5 Distal Lateral (Shaft) Anterior‐Posterior Pelvis #6106 2 Lateral (Ilium Ramus) Dorsal‐Ventral #4732 3 Medial (Ilium Acet) Proximal‐Distal #4600 7 Medial (Ischial Acet) Medial‐Lateral #4192 9 Dorsal (Pubic Acet) Cranial‐Caudal #1691 10 Ventral (Pubic Ramus) Cranial‐Caudal Scapula #3587 5 Distal Lateral (Neck) Cranial‐Caudal #3100 1 Medial‐Distal (Blade) Cranial‐Caudal Humerus #4885 4 Lateral (Dist‐Ant Shaft) Medial‐Lateral #2933 1 Anterior Midshaft Medial‐Lateral #5580 1 Percussion (Medial) Medial‐Lateral #2946 1 Percussion (Medial) Medial‐Lateral #2557 1 Percussion (Lateral) Medial‐Lateral #5394 1 Distal (Med Epicondyle) Anterior‐Posterior (Chop) #1240 1 Distal (Shaft) Proximal‐Distal (Chop) Radius #4399 1 Distal (Dist‐Med Epi) Proximal‐Distal #3079 3 Anterior (Prox Ant Epi) Medial‐Lateral #5668 1 Proximal (Prox Epi) Proximal‐Distal (Chop) #4778 1 Distal (Dist Epi) Proximal‐Distal (Chop) Ulna #3198 1 (Lateral (Olecranon) Anterior‐Posterior

189

Table 7.6 continued Element n Location Orientation MC #6021 3 Lateral (Prox Lat Epi & Shaft) Diagonal Chop (Prox‐Dist/Med‐Lat) #5503 1 Anterior (Prox Lat Epi) Anterior‐Posterior #4665 8 Prox‐Med (Prox Epi) Anterior‐Posterior #4921 2 Prox‐Med (Prox Epi) Anterior‐Posterior #4924 2 Prox‐Med (Prox Epi) Anterior‐Posterior #5373 1 Anterior (Ant Prox Shaft) Medial‐Lateral #3841 1 Lateral (Ant Shaft) Anterior‐Posterior #3522 1 Lateral (Prox Lat Epi) Diagonal (Prox‐Dist/Ant‐Post) #5887 1 Percussion (Ant Midshaft) Anterior‐Posterior #5987 1 Distal (Sm. Condyle) Proximal‐Distal (Chop) #5398 (j)* 1 Distal (Sm. Condyle) Proximal‐Distal (Chop) #4550 1 Proximal (Prox Epi) Proximal‐Distal (Chop) #4359 1 Proximal (Prox Med Epi) Proximal‐Distal (Chop) #1308 2 Proximal (Prox Lat Epi) Proximal‐Distal (Chop) #1232 1 Proximal (Prox Epi) Proximal‐Distal (Chop) Femur #4088 1 Posterior (Prox Epi) Anterior‐Posterior #5918 2 Medial (Midshaft) Proximal‐DIstal #2883 2 Lateral (Trochlea) Proximal‐Distal #5815 (j) 1 Percussion (Anterior) Anterior‐Posterior #5514 1 Percussion (Post Midshaft) Anterior‐Posterior #5977 1 Medial (Dist Shaft) Proximal‐Distal (Chop) Tibia #4077 2 Dist‐Post (Distal Epi) Medial‐Lateral #3076 1 Medial (Distal Epi) Anterior‐Posterior #1862 3 Posterior (Dist Lat Epi & Shaft) Diagonal (Prox‐Dist/Med‐Lat) #1120 2 Prox Ant (Tuberosity) Medial‐Lateral #2644 4 Distal Medial (Midshaft) Anterior‐Posterior #5573 5 Ant Midshaft (Crest) Medial‐Lateral #4356 3 Medial (Dist Med Epi) Proximal‐ Distal (+ Chop) #3082 2 Medial (Dist Shaft) Proximal‐Distal #2693 1 Lateral (Prox Shaft) Anterior‐Posterior #2637 1 Medial (Ant Shaft) Proximal‐Distal #5546 1 Percussion (Dist Med Epi) Anterior‐Posterior #3214 1 Distal (Dist Epi) Proximal‐Distal (Chop) #2415 1 Distal (Dist Epi) Proximal‐Distal (Chop) #1228 1 Distal (Dist Epi) Proximal‐Distal (Chop) Astrag. #4788 2 Distal Medial Anterior‐Posterior Calcaneus #3009 1 Posterior Medial‐Lateral TRC #4510 2 Medial Proximal‐Distal #4092 1 Medial Medial‐Lateral (Chop)

190

Table 7.6 continued Element n Location Orientation TRS #4664 2 Lateral Anterior‐Posterior MT #5894 1 Prox‐Ant (Prox Epi) Medial‐Lateral #5823 3 Prox‐Med (Prox Epi) Anterior‐Posterior #4097 4 Anterior (Prox Epi) Medial‐Lateral #1111 2 Proximal (Prox Epi) Medial‐Lateral #2763 1 Prox‐Ant (Prox Epi) Medial‐Lateral #3365 1 Anterior (Shaft) Medial‐Lateral #3323 5 Ant‐Lat (Prox Epi) Anterior‐Posterior #6116 1 Distal (Half‐Condyle) Proximal‐Distal (Chop) #5843 1 Medial (Lg. Condyle) Medial‐Lateral (Chop) #5383 1 Distal (Sm. Epicondyle) Proximal‐Distal (Chop) #4922 1 Proximal (Prox Epi) Proximal‐Distal (Chop) #4923 1 Proximal (Prox Epi) Proximal‐Distal (Chop) #4784 1 Proximal (Prox Epi) Proximal‐Distal (Chop) #4669 1 Proximal (Prox Epi) Proximal‐Distal (Chop) #4472 1 Dist‐Ant (Half‐Condyle) Diagonal Chop (Prox‐Dist/Med‐Lat) #4109 1 Proximal (Prox Epi) Proximal‐Distal (Chop) MP #2629 1 Distal (Lg. Condyle) Medial‐Lateral 1st Phal. #5462 2 Medial‐Ventral Medial‐Lateral #4795 (j) 3 Lateral‐Dorsal Medial‐Lateral #5443 1 Distal Dorsal‐Plantar (Chop) #4914 1 Distal Proximal‐Distal (Chop) #4114 1 Distal Proximal‐Distal (Chop) 2nd Phal. #5670 1 Distal Proximal‐Distal (Chop) *”j” refers to a specimen from a juvenile individual

191

A. B. Figure 7.4 Cut marks on a gazelle proximal metatarsal fragment (#4097), Horizon 1B.

A. B. Figure 7.5 Diagonal cut marks on a gazelle proximal metatarsal shaft fragment (#3323), Horizon 1B.

192

Table 7.7 Butchery marks on BSGD ungulate fragments, Horizon 1A and 1B. (n represents number of cut marks in a single cut mark event). Horizon Element n Location Orientation 1A Cranial #1043 7 Medial (Petrosum) Anterior‐Posterior Mandible #3624 1 Lateral (Corpus) Superior‐Inferior Pelvis #6193 1 Ventral (Ilium) Medial‐Lateral Rib #4444 2 Lateral Anterior‐Posterior Humerus #6290 3 Anterior Midshaft Medial‐Lateral Metapodial #3929 2 Posterior (Shaft) Medial‐Lateral 1B Cranial #4596 1 Lateral (Zygoma) Medial‐Lateral Mandible #4373 2 Lingual (Corpus) Superior‐Inferior Rib #3736 1 Prox‐Lat (Neck) Anterior‐Posterior #5036 1 Lateral (Shaft) Anterior‐Posterior #4217 1 Lateral (Shaft0 Anterior‐Posterior #3861 3 Prox‐Lat (Prox & Neck) Anterior‐Posterior #3862 1 Lateral (Shaft) Anterior‐Posterior #3863 4 Medial (Shaft) Anterior‐Posterior #2939 1 Lateral (Shaft) Anterior‐Posterior Lumb. Vert #4134 1 Cranial (Art. Process) Anterior‐Posterior (Chop) Scapula #4211 2 Caudal (Blade) Anterior‐Posterior #3130 (l) 2 Medial‐Caudal (Blade) Anterior‐Posterior #3106 (l) 4 Medial‐Caudal (Blade) Anterior‐Posterior Femur #4567 (l) 2 Lateral (Prox Shaft) Anterior‐Posterior Tibia #5067 (r) 1 Medial (Prox Shaft) Proximal‐Distal #4500 (l) 2 Posterior (Prox Shaft) Diagonal (Prox‐Dist/Med‐Lat) #4268 4 Lateral (Prox Shaft) Proximal‐Distal Metapodial #5004 1 Distal (Half Condyle) Proximal‐Distal (Chop) #4928 1 Medial (Lg. Condyle) Medial‐Lateral (Chop) #4866 2 Anterior (Prox & Shaft) Medial‐Lateral #4378 1 Medial (Sm. Condyle) Anterior‐Posterior #3300 1 Distal (Half Condyle) Proximal‐Distal (Chop) #2526 1 Lateral (Prox Epi) Medial‐Lateral

Cut marks were identified on a lower frequency of BSGD ungulate bone fragments, with 1.1% in Horizon 1A and 2.4% in Horizon 1B. For fallow deer and bezoar goat (Table 7.8 and 7.9), the proportion of cut to not-cut fragments is relatively higher than that found for gazelle or for BSGD ungulates. The frequencies of cut-marked fragments for goat and fallow deer are higher than those for gazelle, although this is due to small sample sizes. In Horizon 1A, cut-marked

193

goat fragments have a frequency of 13.6% and fallow deer cut marked fragments have a frequency of 7.5%. In Horizon 1B, goat has a frequency of 14.3% cut-marked specimens, while fallow deer has a frequency of 20% cut-marked specimens.

Table 7.8 Cut marks on fallow deer fragments, Horizon 1A and 1B. (n represents number of cut marks in a single cut mark event). Horizon Element n Location Orientation 1A Mandible #2843 10 Medial (Coronoid) Anterior‐Posterior 1st Phal #1322 1 Distal Proximal‐Distal (Chop) 2nd Phal #4320 1 Medial Medial‐Lateral (Chop) 1B Scapula #5899 4 Costal Anterior‐Posterior Ulna #5649 1 Medial (Olecranon) Medial‐Lateral (Chop) #4188 1 Proximal (Olecranon) Medial‐Lateral (Chop) Metacarpal #5902 1 Proximal (Prox‐Lat Epi) Proximal‐Distal (Chop) 2nd Phal #4098 5 Plantar Medial‐Lateral

Table 7.9 Cut marks on goat fragments, Horizon 1A and 1B. (n represents number of cut marks in a single cut mark event). Horizon Element n Location Orientation 1A Humerus #4321 2 Posterior (Shaft) Proximal‐Distal Metatarsal #3649 3 Prox‐Ant (Prox Epi) Diagonal (Ant‐Post/Med‐Lat) #3623 1 Proximal (Prox Epi) Proximal‐Distal (Chop) 1B Tibia #2940 1 Distal (Dist Epi) Anterior‐Posterior (Chop) Metacarpal #5972 1 Proximal (Prox Epi) Proximal‐Distal (Chop) Metatarsal #4515 3 Prox‐Lat (Prox Epi) Anterior‐Posterior Metapodial #2514 1 Distal (Sm. Epi) Proximal‐Distal (Chop)

Cut mark frequency is very sensitive to bone fragmentation. As Abe and colleagues (2001) note, the use of %NISP to quantify cut marks can underestimate the proportion of specimens with cutmarks, as the number of fragments without cutmarks will be much larger than the number of fragments with marks (presuming that a complete element would not be completely covered with cut marks). In order to offset a potential imbalance between cut and un-cut specimens, the following section will discuss gazelle cut marks in terms of complete elements (cMNE) and

194 complete elements that have been cut (cMNEcut). cMNE estimates come from Table 5.11, where complete elements were constructed by refitting fragments (using the overlap/refitting approach of Marean et al. 2001) to estimate the minimum number of elements that is required to account for the fragments (as opposed to MNE counts for specific element portions, such as proximal, distal and shaft). cMNEcut estimates were derived in a similar fashion; all fragments from a single element (sorted by side and gross age category) that displayed a cut mark were refitted in order to construct a minimum number of elements that could account for those cut fragments (see Appendices 22 and 23 for Horizon 1A and 1B, respectively gazelle cut mark diagrams). The relative proportion of cut elements (%cMNEcut) is calculated by dividing the estimate of cut elements (cMNEcut) by the estimate of complete elements (cMNE).

Figure 7.6 shows the proportion of cut marked elements for gazelle from Horizon 1A (data in Table 7.10). The cranium has a very high %cMNEcut value, although this is based on a complete MNE count of 1, so this is misleadingly large. If the cranium is excluded, the proportion of cMNEcut is relatively low. Only ribs and the pelvis have proportions greater than 20%. Only

100

40 %cMNEcut

0 Rib Vert Phal Phal Ulna Tibia

Pelvis Femur Radius Tarsals Cranial Carpals 1st 2nd Humerus Thor Mandible Astragalus Metatarsal Metacarpal Metapodial Elements Displaying Cutmarks

Figure 7.6 Proportions of complete elements with cut marks (%cMNEcut) (following Otárola-Castillo 2010) for gazelle, Horizon 1A.

195

Table 7.10 Complete cut element estimates and proportional cut element estimates for gazelle Horizon 1A. Horizon Element cMNEcut cMNE %cMNEcut 1A Cranial 1 1 100 Mandible 2 17 11.8 Thor Vert 1 7 14.3 Rib 4 18 22.2 Pelvis 2 8 25 Humerus 3 24 12.5 Radius 4 23 17.4 Ulna 2 14 14.3 Carpals 2 28 7.1 Metacarpal 4 22 18.2 Femur 1 12 8.3 Tibia 4 34 11.8 Astragalus 1 23 4.3 Tarsals 1 10 10 Metatarsal 3 38 7.9 Metapodial 1 14 7.1 1st Phal 1 43 2.3 2nd Phal 1 27 3.7

two elements (radius and metacarpal) have proportions between 15% and 20%, with a further four elements (mandible, thoracic vertebrae, ulna, and tibia) with proportions between 10% and 15%. This suggests that butchery intensity for gazelle in Horizon 1A was relatively low and does not appear to follow along with bone size (where it might be expected that larger elements are more likely to retain evidence of butchery). Instead, the larger elements (humerus, tibia, and femur) have relatively lower proportions of cut elements than the radius, the metacarpal and the thoracic vertebrae.

196

40.0

35.0

30.0

25.0

20.0

%cMNEcut 15.0

10.0

5.0

0.0 Phal Phal Ulna Tibia

Atlas Pelvis Femur Radius Tarsals Cranial Scapula 1st 2nd Humerus Mandible Calcaneus Astragalus Metatarsal Metacarpal Metapodial Elements Displaying Cutmarks

Figure 7.7 Proportions of complete elements with cut marks (%cMNEcut) (following Otárola-Castillo 2010) for gazelle, Horizon 1B.

Table 7.11 Complete cut element estimates and proportional cut element estimates for gazelle Horizon 1B. Horizon Element cMNEcut cMNE %cMNEcut 1B Cranial 1 7 14.3 Mandible 2 20 10 Atlas 1 4 25 Pelvis 4 11 36.4 Scapula 2 13 15.4 Humerus 3 50 6 Radius 4 24 16.7 Ulna 2 12 16.7 Metacarpal 2 23 8.7 Femur 4 19 21.1 Tibia 1 35 2.9 Astragalus 4 13 30.8 Calcaneus 1 19 5.3 Tarsals 1 24 4.2 Metatarsal 3 40 7.5 Metapodial 1 10 10 1st Phal 1 48 2.1 2nd Phal 1 31 3.2

197

Figure 7.7 shows the proportion of cMNEcut for gazelle in Horizon 1B (data in Table 7.11). The proportions are higher in this assemblage for a number of elements, when compared to Horizon 1A (with the exception of the cranium). Two elements have proportions higher than 30% (pelvis at 36.4% and astragalus at 30.9%). Cut atlas and femur elements are also relatively well represented (25% and 21.1%, respectively). Large elements, that one might expect to have high proportions based on their size alone, are relatively low, with humerus at only 6%, and tibia at only 2.9%. There appears to be greater butchery intensity in this sub-horizon, than that found in Horizon 1A. This greater intensity is supported by the positive correlation between marrow yield and long bone fragmentation discussed previously (Table 7.1) for this sub-horizon.

Although its connection to direct hunting strategies is tenuous at best, a partial scapula from Horizon 1B (Figure 7.8), was identified with a possible human-fractured blade. This fracture pattern is roughly similar to damage reported by Dewar and colleagues (2006) for a number of Sprinkbok scapulae from the Namaqualand coast, South Africa. Following Noe-Nygaard (1975), Dewar and colleagues argue (2006: 1269) that this type of damage can be tied to piercing the back of an animal by a projectile point, as the most accurate and quick method of killing an animal is to drive a point through the scapula in order to sever the blood vessels just above the heart. As this specimen is incomplete and fragmentary, with no clear and definite puncture point, it is not possible to determine if it was perforated in a pre-mortem context, and cannot be used as direct evidence of human hunting practices.

198

Figure 7.8 Gazelle scapula from Horizon 1B with characteristic fracture suggesting damage by human weapons (Noe-Nygaard 1975; Dewar et al. 2006).

The number of cut-marked elements for fallow deer in both Horizons 1A and 1B is relatively low (Table 7.12), which is to be expected considered the overall low frequency of this species in the assemblage., Proportionally, however, cut-marked elements appear to be high due to the small sample size. For instance, 100% of the mandible and 1st phalange elements in Horizon 1A, and 100% of the scapulae and metacarpal elements in Horizon 1B have cutmarks. However, this is misleading, as each of these skeletal portions is represented by a single element.

Table 7.12 Proportion of complete elements with cut marks (%cMNEcut) for fallow deer, Horizon 1A and 1B (following Otárola-Castillo 2010). Horizon Element cMNEcut cMNE %cMNEcut 1A Mandible 1 1 100 1st Phal 1 1 100 2nd Phal 1 2 50 1B Scapula 1 1 100 Ulna 2 3 66.7 Metacarpal 1 1 100 2nd Phal 1 5 20

199

Table 7.13 illustrates the frequency of cut marked elements for goat in Horizons 1A and 1B. For Horizon 1A, only two element classes show evidence of cut marks: the humerus and metatarsal. In Horizon 1B, a slightly wider range of elements exhibit cut marks, with one scapula, two ulnae, one metacarpal and one 2nd phalanx showing evidence of cutmarks. The sample size is too small to determine conclusively the butchery intensity based on the cutmarked elements.

Table 7.13 Proportion of complete elements with cut marks (%cMNEcut) for goat, Horizon 1A and 1B (following Otárola-Castillo 2010). Horizon Element MNEcut cMNE %MNE 1A Humerus 1 2 50 Metatarsal 2 3 66.7 1B Metacarpal 1 1 100 Tibia 1 4 25 Metatarsal 1 1 100

Other species within both sub-horizons exhibit low frequencies of cut-marked elements (Appendix 26-33), similar to fallow deer and goat. In Horizon 1A, wild hare (Lepus capensis) exhibits cut marks on elements associated with the upper limb, as does one partridge (Alectoris chukar) humerus. In Horizon 1B species with cut marked elements include wild pig (Sus scrofa) with a cut-marked rib, roe deer (Capreolus capreolus) with one cut-marked mandible, dog/wolf (Canis sp.) with a cut-marked humerus, and a cape hare with a cut-marked humerus. The cut mark on the dog/wolf specimen appears to be associated with dismemberment, which suggests that this animal was eaten. However, the sample size for this species is very low (n = 2) so it is difficult to assess whether or not it played a role in the subsistence regimen at this site.

The majority of butchery marks appear to have been generated during carcass dismemberment. For gazelle in Horizon 1A, cuts at joint articulations account for 58% of all cut marks, with marks found on the diaphysis near either the proximal or distal articulation (sometimes in a diagonal position) account for 18.6% and cut marks running longitudinally on the diaphysis account for 9.3%. Percussion marks, possibly associated with marrow extraction (based on location on long bones midshaft, or on the body of the mandible), account for 14% of all marks.

200

Somewhat similar frequencies are found for Horizon 1B. Cuts at joint articulations account for 51.6% of cut marks, with cut marks on the diaphysis near the articular ends accounting for 19.4% and longitudinal cut marks along the diaphysis accounting for 14.5%. Percussion marks account for 14.5%. Frequencies are somewhat different for fallow deer and wild goat, which appears to be due to sample size, although dismemberment generally has the highest representation.

7.4 Burning

Due to the significantly larger size of the two gazelle assemblages, compared to the other taxa, discussion of burning will be limited to this species. Burned bones are common in the gazelle assemblages in both sub-horizons in Area A, but do not exceed 12% of the total gazelle NISP (Figure 7.9). Burned specimens were found in both archaeological horizons with some patterning apparent in the distribution (Figure 7.10 and 7.11). Within the burned gazelle sample from Horizon 1A, the majority of burned material appears to be in squares I11, I12, and I13, with smaller concentrations to the south and west. The highest concentration of burned material is

35 30 25 20 % 15 10 5 0

Horizon 1A Horizon 1B

Figure 7.9 Proportional distribution of identified burned bone for animals of different body sizes from Horizon 1A and Horizon 1B. %NISP = NISPburn / total NISP for each species.

201

found in sub-square I11d, with a %NISPburn of 13%. In the sub-square immediately south of this concentration, in square I12B, several pieces of fire-cracked rock were discovered, which could represent the remains of a scattered hearth.

In Horizon 1B, the burned gazelle material appears to concentrate in squares H11 and H12, with smaller concentrations to the north and west (Figure 7.11). No burned material was reported for squares I11, I12, I13 in Horizon 1B. The sub-square with the highest concentration of burned material is H11b (25.7% of the burned gazelle material). This area is too far away from the sub- square of concentrated burning in Horizon 1A to be the result of the bones becoming burned due to being under a hearth (following Stiner et al. 1995: 230). This appears to be the result of in situ burning, as there is no evidence for any burning in H11b from Horizon 1A. As well, Stiner and colleagues (1995: 231) state that bones buried beneath a hearth structure do not become calcined, regardless of the intensity of heat and the depth of the burial. Within the burned sample, four specimens from this sub-square are calcined, further supporting the argument that this represents a separate burn location. There is no record of any fire-cracked rock being found within or near this square, which makes a claim that this area represents a hearth difficult.

The elements with the highest frequencies of burning in both horizons are the small, compact bones, specifically the carpals, tarsals, patellas (for Horizon 1B) and 3rd phalanges (for Horizon 1A) (Figure 7.12). Cranial bones and mandible fragments are also burned, somewhat more frequently in Horizon 1B than in Horizon 1A. Although mandible frequencies differ between Horizons 1A and 1B, body fragments make up 57% of mandible fragments in both horizons. This could relate to deliberate ‘baking’ of these elements in order to heat the marrow to make it easier to extract (Gifford-Gonzalez 1989: 193). Overall, the correlation of burned element 2 distribution between the two assemblages is moderate, and significant (rs = 0.44693, R = 0.2203; P < 0.05), indicating that the burning pattern seen in the two horizons was potentially created through similar activities.

202

Figure 7.10 Spatial distributions of burned gazelle fragments, showing burning concentrations for Horizon 1A. Legend refers to proportion of burnt gazelle specimens (%NISP)

203

Figure 7.11 Spatial distributions of burned gazelle fragments, showing burning concentrations for Horizon 1B. Legend refers to proportion of burnt gazelle specimens (%NISP)

204

15 %MNEburn 10

Gaz Horizon 1A Gaz Horizon 1B

Figure 7.12 Proportional distributions of burned skeletal elements of gazelle from Horizon 1A and Horizon 1B.

When portions of meat are roasted, only those portions of the bone that are thinly covered by flesh, or are exposed (ex. articular ends) will come into contact with a flame and become burned. On the other hand, a bone that has been burned all over has been directly exposed to fire after flesh has been removed, either from consumption or through intensive incineration. Gifford- Gonzalez (1989) notes that the variation in burning between articular and shaft portions can indicate the likelihood that roasting took place. Figure 7.13 illustrates the frequencies of burned articular ends and burned shaft portions (based on burned MNE’s) for gazelle long bones in Horizon 1A. For the majority of element portions, the frequency for burned shaft portions is higher than that for burned articular ends. Exceptions are found with the metapodials. Here, the frequency for burned articular portions is higher than shaft portions. Considering that the food utility value of the metapodials is relatively low (with values between 5-20% [Metcalfe & Jones 1988]), it is unlikely that these elements represent roasted portions of meat. The burning pattern seen in the other long bones is what would be expected after bone refuse has been put into a fire for disposal (Gifford-Gonzalez 1989: 193).

205

4 % 3

0 Hum‐ Meta‐ Meta‐ Meta‐ Radius Femur Tibia erus carpal tarsal podial Articular %MNEburn 1.2 1.2 6 1.2 2.4 4.8 3.6 Shaft %MNEburn 3.6 2.4 3.6 2.4 6 3.6 1.2

Figure 7.13 Comparison of burned articular and shaft MNE frequencies, gazelle Horizon 1A (frequencies were calculated by dividing MNEburn for shaft and articular portions of each element by complete MNEburn).

A similar pattern can be seen in the gazelle assemblage from Horizon 1B (Figure 7.14). Except for metacarpals, there are clear differences between burned articular ends and burned shaft portions. The majority of elements show a higher proportion of burned shaft portions compared to articular ends, with the exception of metatarsals, where the reverse is seen. It is more likely that this pattern is due to refuse burning than to roasting, although one cannot exclude the possibility that a two-stage event has taken place, with initial roasting causing damage to the articular ends, followed by subsequent discard in a fire which would further destroy the articular ends (in effect deleting them) and damaging the shaft portions. The low frequency of articular ends might also be explained by other processing and taphonomic factors, such as bone boiling for grease extraction or carnivore scavenging, both of which dramatically affect the proportion of surviving epiphyseal portions in a faunal assemblage.

206

5 % 4

0 Hum‐ Meta‐ Meta‐ Meta‐ Radius Femur Tibia erus carpal tarsal podial Articular %MNEburn 2.6 1.8 3.5 2.6 3.5 4.4 0.9 Shaft %MNEburn 5.3 3.5 3.5 3.5 7 2.6 3.5

Figure 7.14 Comparison of burned articular and shaft MNE frequencies, gazelle Horizon 1B (frequencies were calculated by dividing MNEburn for shaft and articular portions of each element by the complete MNEburn).

Through the analysis of bone fragments burned in experimental contexts, David (1990) has suggested that bones from different burning situations will demonstrate distinctly different burning patterns. He proposed (1990: 69) that in a brush fire context, the majority of the bone sample will be carbonised only (approximately 99%), while in the context of a short duration burning within a hearth context (approximately 25 minutes), 75.5% of the bones will be carbonised, and 24.5% will be calcined. For a longer duration burning in a hearth (approximately 6 hours), 95% of the bone sample will be calcined and only 5% will be carbonised. The higher the proportion of calcined bone fragments, the greater the human impact on the bone sample. Figures 7.15 and 7.16 illustrate the degree of burning found within the gazelle assemblages from Horizon 1A and 1B, respectively. In both sub-horizons, the frequency of scorched bone exceeds that of the carbonised and calcined bone. Within the burned sample from Horizon 1A, scorched bone fragments make up 69.4% of the sample, carbonised bone fragments make up 17.9% of the sample, and calcined bone fragments make up only 9% (Figure 7.17). This pattern does not match the patterns proposed by David (1990) for determining the

207

12%

10%

Scorched Carbonised Calcined

Figure 7.15 Proportional distributions of scorched (brown-red), carbonised (blue-gray) and calcined (white) gazelle specimens, Horizon 1A.

10%

Scorched Carbonised Calcined

Figure 7.16 Proportional distributions of scorched (brown-red), carbonised (blue-gray) and calcined (white) gazelle specimens, Horizon 1B.

208

condition under which burning has taken place. This is partially because David does not include fragments that are only scorched (i.e. receiving brown and/or red burn patterns, but not reaching the stage of carbonisation). If scorched fragments are removed from the sample, and only carbonised/calcined fragments are considered, carbonised bone fragments have a frequency of 66.7% while calcined fragments have a frequency of 33.3%. Although not a perfect match, this pattern has the closest fit with David’s short-hearth duration model, suggesting that these bone fragments experienced no more than 25 minutes within a hearth context.

90%

80%

70%

60%

50%

40% %NISPburn 30%

20%

10%

0% Scorched Carbonised Calcined 1A 69.4% 17.9% 9.0% 1B 80.1% 5.8% 14.0%

Figure 7.17 Proportions of scorched, carbonised and calcined gazelle bone fragments within the burned bone samples from Horizon 1A and 1B.

In Horizon 1B, a higher proportion of bone is in a calcined condition. The scorched bone sample has a frequency of 80.1%, the carbonised bone sample has a frequency of 5.8% and the calcined sample has a frequency of 14.8%. Again, this does not fit the patterns suggested by David (1990). If the scorched specimens are removed from the sample, carbonised bone fragments have a frequency of 29.4% and the calcined sample has a frequency of 70.6%. This fits loosely with David’s (1990) model for a long duration (6 hours, at approximately 230° C) in a hearth context. This type of burning is more suggestive of refuse disposal, as the bone fragments would

209

have rested in a smouldering fire for a majority of the burning session. Both of these data sets suggest that the burning damage was not a natural phenomenon (as natural conditions do not calcine bone [David 1990: 75]) and that it could be the result of some kind of low level heating in the case of Horizon 1A and refuse disposal in Horizon 1B.

7.5 Species Demographics Area A

Selective culling is often argued to be an early step in herd-management strategies, prior to any morphological changes in the mammal population (see Clutton-Brock 1989, 1999; Davis 1987; Legge & Rowley-Conwy 1987; Uerpmann 1996). It is therefore important to determine the demographic composition of the gazelle population at UR IIa, as it is the main hunted species. This will provide data on whether males or females, young or old animals were particularly selected by hunters. In a ‘proto-domestication’ context, one would expect that males, particularly young males, would be culled from a managed herd, while females are preserved. A similar pattern may be found in the context of specialised hunting, where male animals are selectively culled so as to avoid pregnant females. In instances where hunting pressure is the driving force behind specialisation, the ratio of males to females increases, such that males outnumber females (as seen in Natufian contexts, where males make up 60-80% of all samples [Cope 1991: 345]).

7.5.1 Age Profiles: Epiphyseal Fusion and Tooth Wear

Mortality patterns of gazelle, fallow deer, bezoar goat, wild pig, hare and fox are presented in Appendix 18, based on epiphyseal fusion for Areas A, B, and C. A summary of this data for Area A gazelle, fallow deer, bezoar goat, and wild pig is in Table 7.14. Within the other Areas, only gazelle has unfused specimens, and only in very low frequencies; as such, discussion here will centre on data from Area A because of its larger sample size. Except for roe deer and red deer, all of the ungulate species found in Area A have both young and old individuals.

The epiphyseal fusion criteria for gazelle (Table 4.3) are a re-evaluation of Davis’ (1980) gazelle fusion stages by Munro and colleagues (2009). For the gazelle sample, the fusion ages indicate the period during which fusion begins and ends. For example, for distal humerus, the fusion age is listed as 3-7 months. Fusion begins at 3 months of age and is complete (for this element) at 7 months of age. Therefore, if a distal humerus specimen is unfused, it is below 3 months of age.

210

Table 7.14 Ratio of unfused to fused bones for gazelle, fallow deer, bezoar goat and wild pig, Area A, Horizon 1A and 1B. 1A 1B Fusion Age Juv Juv (mo.) 1 UF2 FU3 T4 %UF MNI5 UF FU T %UF MNI G. gazella Radius prox 0 ‐ 7 0 0 25 0 0 1 0 28 3.6 1 Phal. 1 prox 0 ‐ 7 2 1 37 5.4 1 1 2 41 2.4 1 Phal. 2 prox 0 ‐ 7 0 0 24 0 0 0 1 38 0 1 Hum. dist 3 ‐ 7 3 0 15 20 2 4 1 30 6.7 1 Scap. Gl 3 ‐ 7 0 1 10 0 1 0 0 10 0 0 Tibia distal 7 ‐ 18 11 0 28 39.3 5 14 0 40 35 6 Femur dist 7 ‐ 18 1 0 5 20 1 4 0 17 17.6 3 Calcan. prox 7 ‐ 18 2 0 6 33.3 1 6 0 12 50 5 Femur prox 7 ‐ 18 2 0 5 40 2 2 0 8 25 2 Metapod. dist 7 ‐ 18 12 1 42 28.6 6 26 4 41 61 5 Hum. prox 7 ‐ 18 0 0 3 0 0 4 0 6 66.7 2 Radius dist 7 ‐ 18 3 1 6 50 3 4 0 11 36.4 2 Tibia prox 7 ‐ 18 0 1 9 0 1 6 0 21 28.6 2 Ulna prox 7 ‐ 18 2 0 13 15.4 1 0 0 12 0 0 Ulna dist 7 ‐ 18 0 0 1 0 0 1 0 3 33.3 1 D. mesopotamica Scap. 15‐16 0 0 1 0 0 0 0 1 0 0 Phal. 1 prox n.a. 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 4 0 0 Phal. 2 prox n.a. 0 0 3 0 0 0 0 3 0 0 Tibia dist 22‐25 0 0 0 0 0 1 0 1 100 1 Calcan. prox n.a. 0 0 2 0 0 1 0 1 100 1 Ulna prox 33‐39 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 2 0 0

211

Table 7.14 continued 1A 1B Age Juv Juv (mo.)1 UF2 FU3 T4 %UF MNI5 UF FU T %UF MNI C. aegagrus Hum. dist 12 0 0 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 Scap. GL 12‐13 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 2 0 0 Phal. 1 prox 35 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 3 0 0 Phal. 2 prox 35 0 0 3 0 0 1 0 4 25 1 Tibia dist 35 0 0 1 0 0 0 0 1 0 0 Calcan. prox 60 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 1 0 0 Metapodia 60 0 0 0 0 0 3 0 3 100 2 dist Radius dist 71 1 0 1 100 1 0 0 0 0 0 Ulna prox 72 0 0 2 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 Sus scrofa Fibula 24‐30 1 0 4 25 1 0 0 0 0 0 1 Minimum age of element fusion 2 UF = Unfused NISP 3 FU = Fusing NISP 4 T = Total (juvenile + adult) NISP 5 Juv MNI = Minimum Number of Juvenile Individuals, both unfused and fusing. Calculated using Fragment Overlap Method (Marean et al. 2001). Fusion data for gazelle (Munro et al. 2009); fusion data for fallow deer (Carden & Hayden 2006); fusion data for wild goat (Bullock & Rackham 1982); fusion data for pig (*fibula) (Bridault et al. 2000).

Based on epiphyseal fusion in Horizon 1A, it is estimated that the gazelle assemblage contains a minimum of five individuals under the age of 7 months, and a minimum of one individual between the ages of 7 and 18 months. Of the younger group, at least one of the individuals appears to be foetal or newborn (based on a distal humerus specimen). If an estimated single parturition period of April/May (based on modern data from water-stressed environments) is assumed, this suggests that these five individuals died some time between April/May and November/December. This group makes up 20.8% of the estimated minimum gazelle population of 24 individuals for this sub-horizon. The single individual within the age range of 7-18 months, whose age is determined by the partial fusion of a distal metapodial, a distal radius, a proximal tibia and a proximal ulna, (all of which fuse much more slow than other elements), died at the earliest, in November/December but could also have died anytime in the subsequent year.

212

If these two groups are combined into a single “juvenile” category, they represent 25% of the minimum gazelle population for this sub-horizon.

Determining seasonality and the relative importance of one age group over another based on fusion is problematic because of small sample sizes. However, based on these data, the season of death in Horizon 1A is most likely sometime between late spring and early winter. The one individual included in the latter age category (with a minimum age of 7 months), could provide some support for a winter season of death, if it is assumed that individuals from the younger group died just before fusion commenced, and the latter individual died just as fusion began (i.e. in November/December). Because the sample size is so small for this second age group, it is difficult to make this assumption. The presence of foetal remains could offer some additional support for a spring season of death.

Seasonality data from bird remains (presented in more detail in Chapter 9) can offer some further support for a spring occupation. Although the sample size is small, the presence of duck/widgeon (Anas) and eagle (Aquila) could suggest an early spring occupation. Both taxa are present in the region during the late autumn and/or spring. However, the presence of swan (Cygnus) and ostrich eggshell suggest a winter occupation, which the duck/wigeon data could also support. The ostrich eggshell should be considered with caution, as it could have entered the assemblage as a non-food item, and therefore could have been collected at any time during the year.

For Horizon 1B, there also appears to be two pre-adult groups. It is estimated that there are a minimum of six individuals who are under the age of 7 months, two of which are under 3 months of age (one foetal and one very young). This suggests that, of this group, a minimum of two individuals died between April/May and July/August, with the remaining minimum four individuals dying between April/May and November/December. This group makes up 20.7% of the estimated minimum hunted gazelle population. Based on the incomplete fusion of distal metapodia, there is at least one individual who died between the ages of 7 and 18 months of age. This suggests that this individual died, at a minimum, sometime in November/December of their first year, but could also have died anytime in the subsequent year, as metapodia fuse at a much slower rate than other elements. With the addition of this individual into the ‘juvenile’ age category, it is estimated that approximately 24.1% of the minimum hunted gazelle population

213

from Horizon 1B is not morphologically adult. Similar to Horizon 1A, the season of death for this assemblage is difficult to determine. Two individuals appear to have died in the late spring to early summer, with an additional four individuals dying between late spring and early winter. One individual could suggest a winter death (as in Horizon 1A), but it is also possible that this individual may have died in subsequent seasons. The presence of some foetal elements suggests an early spring season of death, although the sample size is very small.

Again, data from bird remains offer supports largely for spring, but some kind of winter presence cannot be ruled out. As mentioned previously, the presence of duck/widgeon remains could indicate either winter or a spring occupation. The presence of eagle remains could suggest a

spring occupation (supporting the cementum data and the M1eruption/wear data), while the presence of ostrich eggshell could support a winter occupation (supporting the data from the P4 eruption/wear data), if this specimen entered the assemblage as a food item.

Within pre-Natufian assemblages in the Levant, 20-25% of hunted gazelle populations are identified as juvenile (Davis 2005: 1413). Within a living population, Baharav (1974: 41) notes that the proportion of young animals (aged below 18 months) changes throughout the year, with a winter/spring estimate of approximately 35% and a summer estimate of approximately 50%. If this is accurate, then the proportion of juvenile individuals in the UR IIa samples are below that found in a living population in both sub-horizons, suggesting that juvenile prey was either not as available as adult prey (if no age-related selection of prey was taking place), or juveniles were deliberately avoided (assuming that these elements have not been deleted from the assemblage through density-mediated attrition and other taphonomic factors).

Epiphyseal fusion age estimates for fallow deer are calculated following Carden and Hayden (2006: 231). Within the fallow deer assemblage from Horizon 1A, all specimens that would indicate epiphyseal fusion are fused. In Horizon 1B, only two unfused specimens are preserved. One is a distal tibia fragment, which gives an approximate fusion age of under 2 years and a proximal calcaneum fragment. Unfortunately, Carden and Hayden do not provide epiphyseal fusion data for this element. Based on this very small sample, as well as the long period within which fallow deer distal tibia remain in an unfused condition, it is not possible to determine season of death from this sample.

214

Epiphyseal fusion data for bezoar goat is provided by Bullock and Rackham (1982: 74, Table 1). In Horizon 1A, there is only one juvenile specimen (distal radius) with a very broad age of less than 6 years. In Horizon 1B, there are two juvenile specimens. The first, a distal second phalanx, has an approximate fusion age of less than 2 years, and the second (a distal metapodial) has an approximate fusion age of less than 5 years. Similar to fallow deer, the small sample and broad fusion ages do not provide enough information to make a season of death estimate possible.

Age profiles constructed through epiphyseal fusion can only indicate the age range of juvenile individuals. Once fusion has occurred, an individual can only be classified as ‘adult’. In order to determine individual age classes, tooth wear patterns are considered (Munro et al 2009; Klein & Cruz-Uribe 1983; Payne 1973, 1987). Typically, profiles for gazelle are constructed according to the wear of the deciduous lower last milk molar (dP4) and the lower third molar (M3). Davis (1980: 130) has noted that in modern gazelle populations from northern and central Israel, juveniles shed their deciduous teeth and have fully erupted third molars by approximately 13-15

months of age. This allows the creation of a continuous age profile using dP4 and M3 wear patterns.

Although teeth are the densest portion of a skeleton, preservation of teeth at UR IIa is very poor. In Horizon 1A, only 35 teeth (from incisors to third molars) could be identified as specific gazelle specimens. In Horizon 1B, 59 teeth were identified. Proportionally, they are very similar (3.1% and 4.1% of the assemblage, respectively). Because fragmentation was so high, the majority of tooth fragments (largely enamel fragments) could only be confidently identified to Body Size group. Consequently, in Horizon 1A, tooth fragments make up 8.3% of the total BSGD assemblage and 13.9% of the total BSGD assemblage from Horizon 1B.

In order to make use of the preserved material, wear patterns from individual teeth of the mandible were noted for both sub-horizons, following Munro and colleagues (2009). Neither

deciduous dP4 nor M3 teeth were recovered, so analysis was restricted to P4, M1 and M2.

Following tooth eruption and wear patterns outlined by Munro and colleagues (2009) for P4, M1, and M2 (number in sub-script indicates a mandible tooth), it is possible to estimate the age of

three teeth in the gazelle assemblage from Horizon 1A (Table 7.15). One tooth, a P4, belongs to

215

an adult gazelle; the wear pattern suggests an age of about 18-20 months, indicating wear occurred soon after eruption. Assuming that parturition took place mid-April to mid-May, then this individual died sometime between Oct./Nov. and Dec./Jan. One juvenile individual can be identified, with an estimated age of 2 to 7 months based on the wear pattern of a M1 (which erupts at 1 month), suggesting an age at death sometime between June/Jul. and Nov./Dec. A

winter age at death is further supported by the wear pattern found on the remaining tooth, the M2

(which erupts between 2 and 7 months of age), with an estimated age at death of 7-14 (and possibly up to 18) months of age. The age range for the observed wear pattern would indicate a wide age-range; however, this age range outlined by Munro and colleagues (2009) covers wear

stages 0-10 (see Table 4.3). As the suggested wear stage pattern for the M2 is Stage 2, it is likely that the age of the individual can be attributed to the earlier part of the age-range, perhaps 7-9 months of age, suggesting that this individual died between Nov./Dec. and Jan./Feb.

Table 7.15 Tooth wear and ages of individual mandibular gazelle teeth from Horizon 1A. Wear Tooth Stage Eruption (mo.) Age (mo.)

P4 1 18‐20 18 ‐ 20 M1 2 1 2 ‐ 7 M2 2 2‐7 7 to 14/18

Samples of gazelle cementum layers from 5 tooth samples from Horizon 1B (in particular, square I11B, level 95-100) were analysed by Lieberman (1993a, 1993b). Cementum is a bone- like tissue that is deposited around mammalian teeth below the gum line. Once calcified, this material is rarely remodelled (unlike other bone tissue) and it is deposited throughout the life of the tooth. Cementum growth increments appear as alternating opaque and translucent bands that encircle tooth roots, and have been used by many researchers to determine seasonal growth. All things being equal, if it is known what season different cementum layers are formed, it is possible to determine the season of death of an individual animal (Lieberman 199a3: 89-90). Based on his analysis, Lieberman has argued for a spring occupation for this sub-horizon (1993a:

216

263). This would offer support of the epiphyseal data that suggests at least some of the gazelle in this assemblage died in the late spring, perhaps during parturition.

Table 7.16 shows the breakdown of tooth wear patterns for P4, M1, and M2 for gazelle in Horizon

1B. Based on this profile, two isolated M1 molars could support Lieberman’s suggested spring occupation. One of these teeth show wear patterns indicating Stage 1 wear (1 month of age) and the other tooth (somewhat less supportive of a spring occupation) indicates wear Stage 3, giving a range of 2-7 months of age at death. Similar to the potential wide age range associated with the

M2 in Horizon 1A, the age range associated with the M1 covers wear stages 2 through 9. Stage 3 is likely closer to the beginning of this age range, possible 2-3 months of age. This suggests that death occurred between June and August. A spring occupation is further supported by the wear pattern found on the M2. It is suggested that this tooth represents an individual that died between 7 and 10 (potentially up to 15) months of age. The wear stage (Stage 5) for this tooth is mid-way through the range of wear stages (0-10) covered by the 7-14/18 month age spread outlined by Munro and colleagues (2009). Assuming relatively even wear during this period, Stage 5 could indicate a death sometime between Nov./Dec. and June/July (spring or winter

season of death) Other analysed teeth suggest different seasons of occupation. Three P4 specimens indicate an age at death of between 18 and 20 months, with wear occurring soon after

tooth eruption, suggesting a winter death. A fourth P4 does not shed a great deal of light on the situation, as the wear pattern (Stage 3) suggests an age at death of between 18 and 36 months. This conflicting tooth wear analysis could indicate that more than one season of occupation occurred during the formation of Horizon 1B.

Table 7.16 Tooth wear and ages of individual mandibular gazelle teeth from Horizon 1B. Wear Eruption Tooth Stage (mo.) Age (mo.)

P4 1 18‐20 18 ‐ 20 P4 1 18‐20 18 ‐ 20 P4 2 18‐20 18 ‐ 20 P4 3 18‐20 18 ‐ 36 M1 1 1 1 M1 3 1 2 ‐ 7 M2 5 2‐7 7 ‐ 14/18

217

No teeth of fallow deer were preserved, from either Horizon 1A or Horizon 1B. As such, no further refinement of the age profile provided by epiphyseal fusion is possible.

For bezoar goat, Payne’s (1973; 1987) wear stage pattern was used (Table 4.4 for reference). Two teeth from Horizon 1B were well preserved enough to estimate an age based on wear

patterns. The first specimen is a M1 fragment, with a wear pattern indicating an age between 7 and 10 months of age (Stage C). The second specimen is a M2 fragment, with a wear pattern indicating an age of approximately 2 years (early Stage E). Based on tooth wear, the goat assemblage from Horizon 1B is made up of at least one kid or yearling and one 2 year-old sub- adult. One or more of the unfused bones could belong to this individual. With a birth season occurring in May-June, the presence of the yearling indicates a site occupation between December and April. The presence of the 2-year-old individual also supports this season of occupation. This correlates with a possible winter/spring occupation estimated for gazelle based on some of the tooth wear data, as well as potentially correlating with a spring occupation suggested by Lieberman.

7.5.2 Sex Profile of Gazelle Based on Osteometric Measurements

Horwitz and colleagues (1990) note that the most sexually dimorphic elements in gazelle are the atlas and the axis. However, these elements have very low representation and are very fragmentary in the gazelle assemblages from Horizon 1A and Horizon 1B. As well, due to the high level of fragmentation in the UR IIa faunal collection, only 3 horn-core fragments could be reasonably assigned to a sex in Horizon 1A (MNI – 1 male) and 3 fragments could be assigned to sex in Horizon 1B (MNI – 1 male, 1 female) in the gazelle assemblage. Distal humeri, distal metacarpus and acetabula elements survived somewhat better, making it possible to use these elements for sex determination. The fallow deer and bezoar goat assemblages had low survivability for these elements, so determination of sex for these samples was not possible. All fossil measurements were compared against measurements taken from recent specimens from the Zoology Laboratory, Department of Evolution, Ecology and Systematics, Hebrew University of Jerusalem (measurements of UR IIa sample in Appendix 10). For distal humerus, fossil measurements were compared to measurements for 11 male and 10 female adults; for pelvis acetabula, measurements were compared against 13 male and 14 female adults.

218

Distal humerus measurements for recent gazelle specimens do not show overlap between the sexes (Figure 7.18). A one-way ANOVA analysis of variance test was able to place the recent sample into the appropriate sex (P < 0.001) (Figure 7.18A). Although only three specimens were suitable for measurement, all three cluster with the known recent female population. Interestingly, there does appear to be a small difference in mean trochlear diameter measurements between the recent female population and the fossil sample from Horizon 1A, where the fossil sample seems to be somewhat shorter in trochlear height than the recent females. All three samples are fully fused, indicating that they are from adult females. A two-tailed Student t-test was run, comparing the fossil mean trochlear diameter measurement for Horizon 1A against the hypothetical gazelle population mean (pooled measurements from both male and female recent specimens). There was a significant difference in trochlear diameter between the two populations (t = 3.62, P < 0.005) but not a significant difference in trochlear breadth (t = 0.90, P = 0.553). It is difficult to say which variable is more informative in terms of distinguishing individual size differences, but this could indicate that the Kebaran population was smaller in size than the modern population. There is no evidence to suggest size diminution over time.

The comparison of trochlear diameter to trochlear breadth measurements for Horizon 1B (Figure 7.18B) indicates that at least two of the fossil specimens are male, one is female and two are indeterminate. A Student t-test does not show a significant difference in mean size between the fossil population mean measurements from Horizon 1B and the hypothetical pooled population mean measurements of recent gazelle (t = 1.62, P = 0.118 for mean diameter of trochlear and t = 0.57, P = 0.577 for mean breadth of trochlear). This might indicate that the population that was hunted in Horizon 1B was made up of equal proportions of males and females, although the small sample size could be distorting this. This also suggests, as with humerus measurements from Horizon 1A, that there is no significant difference in individual body size between fossil and modern populations.

219

15 (mm)

14 HDT 13

11 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 BT (mm)

Known Male Known Female 1A A.

15 (mm)

14 HDT 13

11 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 BT (mm)

Known Male Known Female 1B B. Figure 7.18 Scatterplot of distal humerus measurements (breadth of trochlea [BT] versus minimum diameter of trochlea [HDH]) comparing gazelle of known sex with A) fossil gazelle from Horizon 1A; B) fossil gazelle from Horizon 1B.

220

Distal metacarpal measurements (breadth of the distal condyles and depth of the distal trochlear) were also compared to the recent sample (Figure 7.19). Similar to the case with distal humeri, there is a clear difference in mean measurements between males and females from recent samples. When fossil samples from Horizon 1A are plotted against the known samples (Figure 7.19A), two of the specimens group with the female sample, while one specimen groups with the male sample. A Student t-test shows that there is no significant difference in mean measurements between the recent population and the fossil sample (t = 0.83, P = 0.415 for mean breadth of distal condyles, and t = -0.25, P = 0.808 for mean depth of distal trochlea). For Horizon 1B (Figure 7.19B), one fossil sample groups with the female population and one sample groups with the male population, with a third specimen grouping near the boundary between the two sexes. This specimen might be a small male, or a large female. The sample from Horizon 1B is not significantly different from the hypothetical population based on mean measurements (t = 0.32, P = 0.749 for mean breadth of condyles, and t = -0.003, P = 0.998 for mean depth of distal trochlea). Because the sample size is so small (one individual for each sex), it is not possible to state whether males were selected preferentially over females, vice versa, or if they were selected in equal proportions.

Measurements of the acetabula medial wall thickness of specimens from both Horizon 1A and 1B (Figure 7.20) were compared against recent gazelle populations. There are clear differences between male and female acetabula thickness, with the exception of one male and one female from the known population having very similar measurements. When the two acetabula from Horizon 1A are plotted against the hypothetical sample (Figure 7.20A), one specimen clearly groups with the female population and one groups with the male population. This grouping also correlates to the morphology of the pubic rami of the different sexes – the specimen charting as female clearly has ‘female’ morphology of the pubic ramus. Similarly, males have distinctly different and more robust pubic rami. There is no significant difference in mean acetabula

221

12 (mm) 11

MCSC 10

8 18.5 19 19.5 20 20.5 21 21.5 22 22.5 MCHDW (mm)

Known Male Known Female 1A A.

12 (mm) 11

MCSC 10

8 18.5 19 19.5 20 20.5 21 21.5 22 22.5 MCHDW (mm)

Known Male Known Female 1B B. Figure 7.19 Scatterplot of distal metacarpal measurements (breadth of distal end [BD] versus minimum depth of distal trochlea [MCSC]) comparing gazelle of known sex with A) fossil gazelle from Horizon 1A; B) fossil gazelle from Horizon 1B.

222

4 Thickness 3 Acet. 2

0 12345678910111213

Known Male Known Female 1A A.

4 Thickness 3 Acet. 2

0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Known Male Known Female 1B B. Figure 7.20 Line plot of acetabulum thickness (measured on medial wall) comparing individuals of known sex with A) fossil gazelle from Horizon 1A; B) fossil gazelle from Horizon 1B.

223 medial wall thickness between the hypothetical population and the sample from Horizon 1A (t = -0.14, P = 0.89). The sample from Horizon 1B is larger than that from Horizon 1A. When these measurements are plotted against the recent hypothetical population (Figure 7.20B), three specimens clearly separate as female and four specimens clearly group with the males. These groups are also supported by morphological characteristics of these specimens. There is no significant difference in mean acetabulum medial wall thickness between the hypothetical population of gazelle and the fossil population (t = -1.14, P = 0.26), indicating that the thickness of the acetabula wall is a characteristic that has not changed over time

Based on the different methods used to determine sex in the gazelle assemblages, there appears to be at least one male and three females from Horizon 1A, and four males and three females from Horizon 1B. Considering the difference between sexed individuals and MNI’s in both assemblages, the bone elements have undergone a great deal of attritional damage, deleting a fair proportion of the assemblage that could be used to outline the sex demographics more clearly. As such, it may not be appropriate to create and compare fossil herd structures with known samples. Based on the data available, there does not appear to be any preferential selection of one sex over another – the samples sizes are too small to argue that the somewhat higher frequency of identified females versus males is representative of the hunted sample, or is due to post-depositional destruction and disturbance. There also does not appear to be any evidence of hunting pressure on the UR IIa gazelle, as body sizes of the fossil assemblage fall within the size range for modern gazelle individuals. This suggests that the specialised exploitation of gazelle at UR IIa was not affecting the overall body proportions of gazelle, and that mixed herds, or both mixed herds and bachelor herds were exploited. This is in line with a broadly spring occupation, prior to females isolating themselves.

224

Chapter 8 Site Interpretation

Under the Broad Spectrum Revolution model proposed by Flannery (1969: 74), following the end of the LGM approximately 20,000 years ago, subsistence behaviour in the Levant changed from a reliance on large and medium-sized ungulates to an intensified use of resources, with a greater reliance on small ungulates (gazelle) and small game (hare, tortoise, waterfowl, etc.). Paul Mellars (1996: 196) defines hunting specialisation as the “deliberate selection of [a] particular species from the total resources potentially available for exploitation” (emphasis his). Increased use of a habitat, including intensified and specialised exploitation of particular animals, can over time have a demonstrable impact on prey population demographics, for instance on body size, age and sex ratios. Many of these would be similar to those seen when domestic animals are compared to their wild variants. For instance, modern domestic animals tend to be smaller when compared to their related wild populations (Jarmon & Wilkinson 1972: 84). This size decrease is usually attributed to human selection for small size, in order to produce more easily controllable animals (Herre 1963; Zeuner 1963; Reed 1969; Grigson 1969), although others (Morgan 1963; Jarmon & Wilkinson 1972) note that smaller versions of some animals, such as cattle, are no more easily controllable than the wild version.

Epipalaeolithic assemblages in the Levant are noted for their pronounced bias towards gazelle remains in ungulate relative frequencies (see Table 9.1 for a list of gazelle proportions from a series of Epipalaeolithic sites). However, a high frequency of a single species in a prey assemblage can reflect high-level game availability (e.g., gazelle) at a specific location and, in the case of UR IIa, may represent a seasonal gathering of gazelle hunters. Unlike Kharaneh IV and Wadi Jilat 6 in the Azraq Basin, both of which have similarly high gazelle proportions and which are characterised as being largely steppe-grassland (based on the large presence of Persian or goitered gazelle [G. subguttorosa] as well as wild horse/ass [Equus sp.]), the environment associated with UR IIa was very much a mixed environment. At the time that the site was occupied, Lake Lisan levels were approximately 240 m bmsl. This would have put the shoreline within 5 km of the site (Figure 3.11), providing an easily accessible resource. Speleothem data

225

(Bar-Matthews et al. 1997; Kolodny et al. 2003; Vaks et al. 2003) from both the nearby Ma’ale Efrayim Cave and Soreq Cave, indicate that the area supported a mix of wooded and grassland plants between 19,000 and 17,000 years ago, and that rainfall was slightly higher than today (between 300-450 mm/yr. versus the current 200-350 [max. 400] mm/yr. [Zohary 1962]), although colder. This description of a mixed environment is supported by the range of ungulate species found within the UR IIa assemblages: gazelle (steppe-grassland); fallow deer (deciduous woodland); roe deer (dense woodland/thicket); bezoar goat (subalpine); and wild pig (riverine and swamp). As well, Hovers (1989) has described the exploitable territory around the site as including park forest, cliffs and open plains. Importantly, Hovers (1989) has also described the location of the site as being in a position that would have blocked viewing aspects to the north and south, thus making it difficult to track animals (specifically gazelle), and that the location of the site would have disrupted the movement of gazelles, forcing hunters to go out and actively find their prey. Despite this, and despite the availability of a relatively wide range of ungulate prey species in the area, hunters at UR IIa focused their attention on the small-bodied gazelle.

Due to the highly territorial nature of mountain gazelle, it is unlikely that any attempt at managing wild herds of these animals occurred (Cope 1991: 351; Davis 2005: 1409; Mendelssohn 1974), yet there is clear evidence of body size diminution at the end of the Epipalaeolithic (for instance Bar-Oz 2004; Cope 1991; Ducos & Horwitz 1998; Marom & Bar- Oz 2008). Hunting pressure can affect average body mass within a prey population over time. Cope (1991: 353) notes that during the Levantine Natufian there is a decrease in the mean width of gazelle metapodial specimens, suggesting that the diminution of gazelle at this time was due to selective predation decisions. There does not appear to be a dramatic decrease in distal metapodial width in pre-Natufian samples (i.e. changes that cannot be explained by environmental adaptations) (Cope 1991). Cope (1991: 353) argues that the gazelle dwarfism found at the end of the Epipalaeolithic is due to the replacement of female choice on mate selection by human choice, with the deliberate culling of large and young male animals. She argues that this occurred because male animals would have been considered a more replaceable resource. An example of this is can be found at the Late Epipalaeolithic/Early Neolithic site of Ganj Dareh, Iran, where a disproportionate number of non-domesticated goat individuals are subadult males (Zeder & Hesse 2000). The consequence of this human interference is a removal from the gene pool of a great deal of potential variability, effectively isolating the reproductive

226

population (Cope 1991: 356), and overtime, the average body size within populations will decrease. This is one possible interpretation of the apparent body size change found in faunal assemblages associated with specialised hunting. Based on osteometric measurements of URIIa gazelle specimens (discussed in Chapter 7), there is no evidence of size differences between fossil and modern populations, suggesting that intensive exploitation strategies were not being used at this location.

Hunting pressure also affects the age demographics within a prey population, which can be illustrated through proportions of specific age groups (juvenile versus adult) within hunted gazelle populations found throughout the Epipalaeolithic, and in particular when Early and Middle Epipalaeolithic assemblages are compared against Natufian assemblages. For instance, in pre- and Early Natufian assemblages, 20-25% of gazelle found in archaeological assemblages are juvenile (based on bone epiphyseal fusion). By Late Natufian, this percentage increases, for instance at Hatoula, it reaches 39%, and by the PPNA (also at Hatoula), it reaches 59% (Davis 2005: 1413). Increased and intensified predation on a prey species can induce a greater ‘turnover’ in a population, resulting in a higher proportion of juveniles (Davis 1991: 386), both in a living population and in the animals selected for hunting. This suggests an increase in the selection and culling of juvenile gazelle from available herds.

In order to differentiate between single-species faunal assemblages that are formed through specialised hunting decisions (i.e. deliberate focus on a single prey species) as opposed to hunting pressure where resource exploitation is maximized to include both prime (adult) and sub-prime (juvenile) prey, it is important to demonstrate that there is a lack of balance between hunting pressure and prey reproduction (Martin et al. 2010: 113). As hunting pressure increases, the proportion of juveniles within a hunted population is expected to increase, as less care is taken to avoid immature animals (Davis 1983; Rabinovich 1998; Munro 2004). As such, juvenile frequencies within a hunted population should be larger than those found within a living population. Within the juvenile population, one would also expect to find more foetal and newborn remains in instances of hunting pressure, as low frequencies suggests a deliberate avoidance by hunters (Martin et al. 2010: 118). As well, following Cope (1991) and Davis (1991), it is expected that hunting pressure preferentially favours male prey over female prey, suggesting deliberate culling of ‘superfluous’ animals.

227

Species frequency data from UR IIa clearly indicate a preponderance of gazelle over other available species, as mentioned previously. Survival of complete mandibles and dentition is poor, and consequently age estimations to determine the proportion of juvenile individuals are based primarily on postcranial epiphyseal fusion (following Munro et al. 2009). A summary of epiphyseal fusion data can be seen in Table 7.14. Based on individual fragment counts, the proportion of foetal or newborn elements is very low in Horizon 1A and 1B (MNI = 1 for both sub-horizons), with proportions of 4.2% for Horizon 1A and 3.4% for Horizon 1B. For Horizon 1A, 5 individuals are identified as being below 7 months of age (including the foetal or newborn individual). For Horizon 1B, 6 individuals are identified as being less than 7 months of age, two of which are below 3 months of age, and 1 that is foetal or newborn. This generally low proportion of young animals indicates that, taphonomic factors notwithstanding, hunters at UR IIa were either avoiding young prey or this age group was not seasonally available. This is especially true for the foetal or newborn individuals. The proportion of individuals that could be considered ‘yearlings’ (i.e. between 7-18 months) in both sub-horizons is very low, with a minimum of only one individual represented in each assemblage. If these individuals are not included within the ‘juvenile’ group (i.e. only elements with no evidence of fusion), the proportion of young animals in the prey population is within the frequency found in all pre- Natufian Epipalaeolithic samples from Israel (20-25% [Davis 2005: 1413]), with frequencies of 20.8% for Horizon 1A and 20.7% for Horizon 1B. If the yearling individuals are included in the ‘juvenile’ group (assuming a minimum age of at least 7 months), these proportions increase to 25% and 24.1%, for Horizon 1A and 1B respectively. Both proportions (unfused and unfused + fusing) are within the frequency range for Epipalaeolithic assemblages, and are below the 34- 35% seen in living populations found in the region today (Baharav 1974: 41; Martin 2000).

Assuming that a spring season of occupation is correct for both sub-horizons, this is the only time of year when mixed herds of males, females and ‘yearlings’ come together. If wide-scale culling of herds was taking place, as opposed to selection of specific individuals, then it is expected that the proportion of young animals would more closely match the age profile found in a natural herd population. Instead, the pattern suggests a number of small-scale hunting events, where mothers with juveniles and young (either singly or in small sub-herds) as well as bachelor herds are killed. This suggests that hunting pressure played a relatively limited role in prey selection.

228

In terms of gazelle body size showing the effects of potential hunting pressure during the Kebaran, Marom and Bar-Oz (2008: 219 Table 3) argue that the gazelle remains from Ein Gev I are, on average, larger than gazelles in recent populations. This is most likely due to an adaptation to the colder, more arid environment (i.e. Bergman’s Rule) than what is experienced today, but could also be due to the effects of hunting pressure causing size diminution over time. They give mean distal metacarpal breadths of 20.1 mm (recent population) and 21.8 mm (EG I), and mean distal metatarsal breadths of 21.8 mm (recent) and 23.2 mm (EG I). This larger size suggests that hunting preferences during the Kebaran were not affecting individual proportions within gazelle populations, at least for the gazelle population hunted by the people at Ein Gev I. Although the sample from UR IIa is small for both sub-horizons (many identifiable metapodial fragments were incomplete and anatomical measurements were not possible), the mean breadths for distal metacarpals (19.9 mm, n = 3; and 20.3 mm, n = 3 for Horizon 1A and 1B, respectively) and mean distal metatarsals breadths (21.7 mm, n = 5; and 20.7 mm, n = 2 for Horizon 1A and 1B respectively) are more similar to the measurements from the recent population than they are to the hunted population from Ein Gev I, and broadly similar to the Natufian sample from Hayonim Cave and Hayonim Terrace (Cope 1991: 353 Figure 3) (see Appendix 10 for measurements). Since UR IIa and Ein Gev I are approximately contemporaneous, they experienced similar temperature variations, and roughly similar environments (i.e. it is unlikely that Bergman’s Rule was expressed differently at the two sites). This suggests that two different strategies were used to select suitable prey on either side of the Jordan River, or it might indicate a more localised effect on the gazelle population available to the UR IIa hunters. However, the small sample that could be measured in the UR IIa samples may also play a role in the apparent mean size of individual gazelle in the hunted population.

Within Natufian samples, where hunting specialisation and hunting pressure is generally agreed to have occurred, there is a clear sex bias seen in gazelle samples; males make up 60-80% of the total archaeological sample. In earlier periods (from later Upper Palaeolithic to the Kebaran), the ratio between males and females is more equal, and in the case of the Kebaran level from Hayonim Cave (Layer C), the female sample is larger than the male sample (59% : 41% [Cope 1991: 345]). The standard view here is that, during the pre-Natufian Epipalaeolithic, prey was selected on a largely encounter basis, rather than one sex being specifically targeted.

229

Although sample sizes are small, based on the combination of osteometric measurements (Figure 8.1), it is estimated that there is a relatively equal representation of males and females in Horizon 1B, with two inconclusive individuals representing either large females or small males. In the later occupation (Horizon 1A) females appear to outnumber males (based on metacarpal and humerus measurements), however the sample size is small. As mentioned in the previous chapter, sample sizes are very small and it is not possible to state with any degree of certainty that there was any preferential selection of one sex over another in either sub-horizon.

Lieberman (1993) has suggested a spring occupation for Horizon 1B, based on cementum layers from five tooth samples. Much of the epiphyseal fusion data, as well as wear data from three isolated teeth (two M1 and one M2), could support this interpretation. Alternatively, wear

patterns on three P4 teeth from this sub-horizon suggest a season of death of late autumn/early winter. This suggests that Horizon 1B may represent a series of separate occupations within subsequent seasons. Determining the season of occupation for Horizon 1A is somewhat more problematic, as cementum data does not exist. As mentioned previously, based on fusion data, the majority of juveniles from this level are below 7 months of age, suggesting a season of death of late spring to early winter. Two isolated teeth, a P4 and an M2, offer some support for a winter occupation. Based on the wear pattern, these teeth belong to an individual (or individuals) that died sometime around 6-8 months of age, suggesting that death occurred sometime between Oct./Nov. and Jan./Feb. Based on this somewhat poor evidence, it suggests that the hunting of gazelle took place during the time of year when the chances of encountering larger, mixed herds were higher, and possibly before females isolated themselves from others in order to give birth and rear newborn young. This is supported by the presence of possible foetal elements in both sub-horizons, as well as the relatively low numbers of very young individuals in the faunal sample.

230

0 Females Males Inconclusive

Humerus Metacarpal Acetabulum A.

0 Females Males Inconclusive

Humerus Metacarpal Acetabulum B. Figure 8.1 Summary of osteometric results showing sexual dimorphism (gazelle) A) Horizon 1A; B) Horizon 1B.

As outlined in Chapter 5, all of the major body parts of gazelle are represented in both sub- horizons, including ‘low-utility’ elements such as phalanges and sesmoids, as well as meat and fat-rich long bones, girdle elements (both shoulder and pelvic) and skull components. This is also seen in the BSGD ungulate group, which is probably composed largely of unidentifiable gazelle fragments. This pattern indicates that complete gazelle carcasses were brought to the site for processing. Skeletal element representation is not even, however. Based on %MAU values, comparisons between Horizon 1A and 1B show that cranium representation is relatively low,

231

particularly for Horizon 1A (2.6% and 14% for Horizon 1A and 1B, respectively). Despite the low frequencies, mandible representation is much higher (44.7% and 20%, respectively), suggesting that some partial heads were being brought back to the site. There is a positive correlation in both sub-horizons between bone survival and bone density (correlation coefficient 2 rs = 0.4545 and rs = 0.3715 P < 0.05, respectively) with 20.7% and 13.8% of the variance (R ) attributable to bone density. The low variance frequencies might be taphonomy-related, where low density items are either removed from the assemblage, or could suggest that bones were broken through extensive processing by humans, where elements with high structural densities are fragmented to a the same degree as that found for low density items.

There is good evidence to indicate that a wide range of gazelle butchery activities took place in both Horizons 1A and 1B (Table 7.5 and 7.6). All long-bone classes, including metapodials, show some evidence of cut marks, including marks at the proximal or distal articulation, on the proximal or distal shaft, and on the midshaft. This is also found on the elements within the BSGD ungulate taxon. Evidence of butchery behaviour is also found on mandible fragments, ribs, vertebrae, carpals and tarsals, and phalanges. Marrow processing also took place, as evidenced by signs of hammerstone percussion marks found on some long-bone fragments. There is also the possibility that some degree of bone grease manufacture took place, although clear indisputable evidence is lacking (for instance, fracture freshness indices show a mix of both fresh and not-fresh fracture types, with mean values of 3.03 and 2.87 for Horizon 1A and 1B, respectively). This is also supported by the high degree of fragmentation in both assemblages. Much of this fragmentation does not appear to be due to weathering, density-mediated attrition or burning. As well, the assemblages do not appear to have undergone a great deal of disturbance by carnivores.

After gazelle, fallow deer has the second highest representation in Epipalaeolithic sites in the Levant (except for the Azraq sites, where Equus sp. have the second highest representation, Table 9.1), indicating its relative importance in the subsistence strategies of this period. Based on the zooarchaeological data, it is argued that UR IIa represents a seasonally occupied, specialised hunting camp, where gazelle were the primary prey animal that hunters focused on. Although the estimated minimum number of fallow deer, goat, and pig individuals is small at UR IIa, these taxa are present. Sample sizes for these ungulates are too small to interpret

232

transportation strategies of elements to or from the site, however, the presence of these other animals do indicate that other prey, besides gazelle, were hunted, supporting the interpretation of UR IIa as a campsite, rather than a specialised gazelle hunting stand. There is also strong evidence of other activities taking place at the site, which are not directly related to hunting and carcass processing. For instance, there is evidence for ritualised behaviour. Although there are only three clear examples of this type of behaviour at the site, the carved pebble and two etched bone fragments (Figures 3.8, 3.9 and 3.10, respectively) found in and associated with Horizon 1A, qualifies as symbolic behaviour. This type of abstract representation is very rare in assemblages associated with the Upper Palaeolithic and early Epipalaeolithic in the Levant, with only 5 other sites in Lebanon, Israel and Jordan having similar examples (as discussed in Chapter 3).

Along with the evidence of artistic expression at UR IIa, other activities are visible. There is evidence that stone tools were at least partially manufactured on-site (Table 3.1 and Table 3.2). This is based on the number of cores of different types (i.e. blade, bladelet, and flake cores), as well as partially processed cores that were abandoned while still retaining workable material. Although relatively low in overall lithic proportions (based on analysis of the lithics excavated in the 1986 season [Hovers & Marder 1991]), a wide range of tool types are also present, including tools designed and used for non-meat-processing activities, such as burins.

A small amount (n = 11) of worked bone was also found in both assemblages from Horizon 1. In addition to the bone awl mentioned by Hovers and colleagues (1988: 30) (this is lacking the provenience information, so it is uncertain to what sub-horizon it belongs), another awl, made from a gazelle tibia fragment, was recovered from Horizon 1A (Figure 3.6), as well as two spatulates, and a bone point. A further three bone points and three spatulates were identified from the Horizon 1B sample (Figure 3.7). Based on use-wear analysis conducted by Bueller (1993) on a small number of blades collected from the site, these bone tools were likely made on-site. The number of longitudinal ‘chop’ marks on gazelle long bones, especially the metapodials, suggests that these bones were modified as an initial step in the manufacturing of bone tools.

233

Alongside the presence and potential manufacture of bone tools, there is also evidence that decorative items were manufactured on site. Use-wear analysis indicates that tools were made specifically to manufacture bone beads (Bueller 1993: 181), as well as for processing animal hides. As well, Bar-Yosef (in Hovers et al. 1988) describes a number of non-edible mollusc shells that either had artificial holes drilled into them, or were smoothed in preparation for eventual perforation. Of the total mollusc sample analysed (n = 254), 42% were worked in some way. If shells with a natural perforation were included in this sample (viewing them perhaps as ‘ready-made’ beads), the proportion rises to 50%.

Gazelle carcasses were brought whole to the site, and processed in situ, with no apparent transport of bone elements to other locations. There is also evidence of a number of different activities taking place at the site, including small-scale hunting of other ungulate species, lithic tool manufacture, bone tool manufacture, leatherworking, and shell bead manufacture. Along with the examples of symbolic expression, UR IIa appears to be a site where people came together for an extended period of time to access a specific resource (gazelle), but also set up a base camp with the intention of operating regular day-to-day activities.

UR IIa cannot be described as an aggregate site, as has been argued for the Kharaneh assemblages in the Azraq Basin by Martin et al. (2010). It does not fit the pattern in terms of the site size (UR IIa is too small to be support the idea that a number of different groups of people occupied the site at the same time); the environment and the resources available to UR IIa hunters; how other prey animals were treated, when compared to gazelle; and the lack of evidence indicating hunting pressure, as evidenced by no apparent gazelle size diminution. The majority of data suggest that UR IIa was a seasonal residential site, where hunters focused on the hunting and processing of gazelle. This site was occupied a number of times (Horizon 1A and 1B, as well as Horizon 2), primarily during the spring months, but also potentially during the winter. Gazelle hunting is clearly the primary hunting activity conducted during all occupations. Although a small number of other animals were also exploited, they were neither exploited in the same frequency, nor at the same intensity. A wide range of animals would have been available to hunters at UR IIa, based on the palaeoenvironmental description (a mix of Mediterranean woodland and Steppe grassland), yet these prey animals appear to be largely ignored. The general location of the site would have placed it within prime gazelle habitat, perhaps explaining

234 why there is a preponderance of this animal in the faunal assemblages. However, Hovers (1989) has argued that the actual location of the site would have disrupted the grazing behaviour of gazelle, which would have actively avoided any close contact with human predators (based on modern zoological studies of gazelle behaviour; see Baharav 1974, 1981, 1983a, 1983b; Mendelssohn 1974; Mendelssohn et al. 1999) This would have removed the supposed easy- access to gazelle that the location of the site implies.

Considering the high proportion of a single species in the UR IIa assemblages, a situation that is unique for Epipalaeolithic assemblages west of the Jordan River, is there any evidence to support the existence of broad-spectrum resource strategies at this time during the Epipalaeolithic? This will be discussed in the following chapter, where the assemblages from UR IIa will be compared to contemporaneous sites from the Jordan Valley (Ohalo II and Ein Gev I), as well as along the Mediterranean Coast (Hayonim Cave, Meged Rockshelter, and Nahal Hadera V). This will include a discussion of species richness and evenness, as well as a comparison of prey rank. In order to understand potential changes of subsistence behaviour throughout the Epipalaeolithic, these results will be contrasted against richness, evenness, and prey rank indices for Levantine Geometric Kebaran and Natufian faunal assemblages.

235

Chapter 9 Site Comparison with Epipalaeolithic sites

In this chapter, faunal data from UR IIa (Area A, Horizon 1A and 1B) will be compared first to other Jordan Valley Kebaran sites, namely Ein Gev I and Ohalo II. Following this, these results will be compared to Kebaran sites found along the Mediterranean coastal plain. This latter group of sites (Hayonim Cave, Meged Rockshelter, and Nahal Hadera V) have all received recent analysis (Bar-Oz 2004; Stiner 2005). The purpose of this comparison will be to highlight the variability found among Kebaran assemblages, which is likely due to site location and occupation duration. Finally, species evenness, richness and prey rank will be discussed. This discussion involves both a synchronic detailing of faunal data within the Kebaran period, as well as a diachronic comparison between periods within the Epipalaeolithic, in order to show changes in dietary breadth over time.

9.1 Kebaran sites within the Jordan Valley

Comparisons of species and element abundance among UR IIa, Ohalo II (OH II), and Ein Gev I (EG I) are somewhat hindered because of the different formats in which data have been presented. For instance, for OH II, only NISP counts by species are given, broken down into anatomical units (i.e. upper forelimb) as opposed to by element or element portion. For EG I, NISP, MNE and MAU estimates are given, but not MNI counts. As such, a thorough comparison between the three faunal assemblages is not possible. It is however possible to compare relative proportions of identified specimens (by species) between the sites. Also, to borrow somewhat from Stiner’s ARP method, relative proportions of specific anatomical portions of ungulates will be compared.

Discussion and assemblage comparison between Kebaran sites will be limited here to identified species. Although absolute NISP counts are available for BSGD/small ungulates for OH II and EG I (as well as for Mediterranean coast sites, referred to as small ungulates here), NISP counts for individual elements are not given. As is true for other Epipalaeolithic sites in the Levant, the dominant species in all assemblages within the Jordan Valley is gazelle (Table 9.1). Of the four assemblages discussed here, UR IIa has the highest proportion of gazelle (at 92-93%), with EG I

236

Table 9.1 Proportion (NISP) of gazelle and fallow deer remains in published Epipalaeolithic faunal assemblages. Site Gazelle % Fallow Deer % Reference Ohalo II (Kebaran) 74.9 15 Rabinovich and Nadel 2005 Kharaneh IV Phase A (Kebaran) 81.5 *10.5 Martin et al. 2010 Kharaneh IV Phase B (Kebaran) 90.8 *1.9 Martin et al. 2010 Kharaneh IV Phase C (Kebaran) 89.8 *2.4 Martin et al. 2010 Wadi Jilat Upper Phase (Kebaran) 72.1 *6.3 Martin et al. 2010 Nahal Oren (Kebaran) 77 15 Legge in Noy et al. 1973 Ein Gev I (Kebaran) 44.6 17.7 Marom 2006 Hayonim C (Kebaran) 44 8.4 Stiner 2005 Fazael IIIa (Kebaran) 73 18 Davis 1982 Urkan e‐Rub IIa Horizon 1A (Kebaran) 90.8 1.7 Current study Urkan e‐Rub IIa Horizon 1B (Kebaran) 92.2 1.6 Current study Nahal Hadera V (Kebaran) 64.7 28 Bar‐Oz 2004 Meged Rockshelter (Kebaran) 40.2 5.2 Stiner 2005 Kharaneh IV Phase D (Geometric Kebaran) 90.6 *2.6 Martin et al. 2010 Hefzibah 1‐6 (Geometric Kebaran) 67 21 Bar‐Oz 2004 Hefzibah 7‐18 (Geometric Kebaran) 73 2 Bar‐Oz 2004 Neve David (Geometric Kebaran) 61 31 Bar‐Oz 2004 Hayonim B (Early Natufian) 24 0.7 Munro 2001 Eynan (Early Natufian) 66 18 Bouchud 1987 Salibiya (Early Natufian) 89 0.2 Campana et al. 1991 Fazael VI (Early Natufian) 76 12 Tchernov 1993 El Wad Cave (Early Natufian) 57 10 Rabinovich 1998 El Wad Terrace (Late Natufian) 76 2 Bar‐Oz 2004 Hayonim Terrace (Late Natufian) 47 0.6 Munro 2001 Hilazon Tachtit (Late Natufian) 26 0.1 Munro 2001 Nahal Oren (Late Natufian) 83 3 Legge in Noy et al. 1973 Eynan (Late Natufian) 65 19 Bouchud 1987 Eynan (Final Natufian) 57 12 Rabinovich in Valla et al. 2001 * Fallow deer not present in Azraq sites; Equus proportions are substituted as second-most common ungulate Proportions calculated without counts for Aves, Fish, and specimens identified only to body size class.

having the lowest proportion (44.6%). Of interest, UR IIa has the highest gazelle representation for any Epipalaeolithic site west of the Jordan Valley and EG I has one of the lowest gazelle proportions in the Levant (only three sites – Meged Rockshelter [Kebaran], Hayonim Level B [Early Natufian], and Hilazon Tachtit [Late Natufian] – have gazelle proportions lower than EG

237

I). OH II sits roughly midway between the two, at 74.9%, a proportion not that dissimilar from other Kebaran, Geometric Kebaran and Natufian sites in the Levant.

Gazelle has generally held a position of dietary importance in the Epipalaeolithic because of its dominance in all assemblages, whether due to hunter preference or to possible ease of capture (see Campana & Crabtree [1990] for discussion of communal hunting practices in the Natufian). The pattern shown from comparing UR IIa, OH II and EG I faunal assemblages suggests that a wide variability in non-ungulate prey animals was exploited during the Kebaran period. As outlined in Chapter 5, the patterns for both studied sub-horizons at UR IIa suggest a clear preference for or a reliance upon gazelle, as all other species have lower than 5% representation. In Horizon 1A, hare (MNI = 3) has a higher or equal representation than bezoar goat or fallow deer (MNI = 3 and 1, respectively), although as a small animal, it did not contribute as much to the diet. The pattern is similar in Horizon 1B, where bezoar goat and fallow deer proportionally make up only 5% of the sample.

At OH II (Table 9.2), the pattern is much more similar to those found at other Epipalaeolithic sites. Following gazelle, fallow deer is the next most common species, represented by 15% of the studied sample. These appear to be the primary terrestrial prey animals at this site, as only red fox and hare have proportions greater than 1% (more will be discussed about non-terrestrial food items later). Rabinovich has stated (2002: 25) that only one to three gazelle are represented at each locus (NISP counts for each OH II locality are in Table 9.2). EG I appears to have the widest diversity of the three sites, with a larger proportion of medium-to-large bodied terrestrial prey animals contributing to the assemblage. Following fallow deer, at 17.7%, the assemblage also includes bezoar goat, red deer and aurochs, with a combined proportional representation of 16.7%. Hare and tortoise are also found in proportions greater than 5%, with presumed MNE counts of 22 and 24, respectively (from Marom 2006: 28, Table 4).

A comparison of element frequencies between the three sites is not possible, on an element-by- element basis, as these counts are not supplied for OH II. Instead, for three locations (the North

238

Table 9.2 Identified species frequencies for UR IIa (Horizon 1A and 1B), OH II (data from Rabinovich & Nadel 2005: 36, Table 1) and EG I (data from Marom 2006: Table 4). Ur IIa Horizon 1A UR IIa Horizon 1B Ohalo II Ein Gev I Species NISP % NISP % NISP % NISP % Carnivore spp. 0 0 0 0 12 0.4 0 0 Canis spp. 1 0.08 2 0.1 2 0.07 2 0.07 Vulpes vulpes 9 0.7 1 0.06 118 4.3 140 4.8 Felis silvestris 0 0 0 0 18 0.7 13 0.4 Equus hydruntinus 0 0 0 0 0 0 6 0.2 Sus scrofa 4 0.3 5 0.3 19 0.7 54 1.9 Cervidae 0 0 0 0 14 0.5 0 0 Capreolus capreolus 3 0.2 5 0.3 0 0 22 0.8 Cervus elaphus 1 0.08 0 0 11 0.4 149 5.1 Dama mesopotamica 21 1.7 25 1.6 413 15 515 17.7 Gazella gazella 1130 92 1459 93 2059 74.9 1296 44.6 Bos primigenius 0 0 0 0 2 0.07 99 3.4 Capra aegagrus 22 1.8 53 3.4 4 0.15 237 8.2 Rodent spp. 3 0.2 2 0.1 0 0 2 0.07 Lepus capensis 35 2.8 12 0.8 77 2.8 198 6.8 Testudo graeca 3 0.2 3 0.2 0 0 171 5.9 TOTAL 1232 1567 2749 2904 Counts do not include data for Aves or Fish, which will be discussed separately.

Table 9.3 Species distribution by Locus for OH II (Rabinovich & Nadel 2005: Table 3). Loc. Loc. Loc. Loc. Loc. Loc. Loc. Loc. Loc. Loc. North Species 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 Area Carnivore spp. 1 ‐ 5 1 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 5 Canis spp. ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Vulpes vulpes 8 10 23 ‐ ‐ 1 17 ‐ ‐ 5 54 Felis silvestris 2 3 1 ‐ 1 ‐ 2 ‐ ‐ ‐ 9 Equus hydruntinus ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Sus scrofa ‐ ‐ 10 ‐ ‐ ‐ 3 ‐ ‐ 2 4 Cervidae 1 1 4 ‐ ‐ ‐ 2 ‐ ‐ 1 5 Capreolus capreolus ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Cervus elaphus ‐ ‐ 2 ‐ ‐ ‐ 3 ‐ ‐ ‐ 6 Dama mesopotamica 63 19 58 ‐ 1 ‐ 27 3 ‐ 32 210 Gazella gazella 99 160 345 7 10 1 179 24 5 130 1098 Bos primigenius ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 1 1 ‐ ‐ ‐ Capra aegagrus 1 ‐ ‐ ‐ 1 ‐ 1 ‐ ‐ ‐ 1 Lepus capensis 11 4 29 1 ‐ ‐ 12 ‐ ‐ 1 18 Testudo graeca ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Total 186 197 477 9 13 2 247 28 5 171 1412

239

Area, Locality 3, and Locality 10), NISP counts for anatomical parts are given, in Table 9.3. These are derived from excavated material and in situ surface finds, as it is assumed that surface collection is an integral part of the site remains (Rabinovich & Nadel 2005: 37). Element NISP counts are divided into seven anatomical portions, initially modified by Rabinovich (1998) from Stiner’s ARP method (1994), and further modified here, so as to incorporate data from EG I (Table 9.4). These portions include: Head (cranial fragments, teeth, maxilla, and mandible fragments); Upper Forelimb (scapula, humerus, radius, and ulna); Lower Forelimb (carpals and metacarpals); Upper Hindlimb (femur, tibia, and fibula); Lower Hindlimb (tarsals, astragali, calcaneum, and metatarsals); Feet (phalanges); and Trunk (vertebrae, pelves, and ribs).

The gazelle assemblages from OH II are all head-and-foot or foot-dominated (Table 9.4), although all portions are represented. For the North Area, head portions have a relative frequency of 32.6%, and feet have a frequency of 20.8%. Trunk portions have the lowest representation, possibly due to their relative low density. Of the limb portions, there is a slight emphasis on the lower limb (both upper and lower portions). A similar pattern is seen with fallow deer. Again, the pattern is head-and-foot dominated (34% and 22.3%, respectively), followed by a relatively high frequency of lower hind limb portions at 17%. For other species (i.e. pig, cervids, bezoar goat and aurochs), the pattern seems to indicate that specific portions were brought to the site, indicating that primary butchery occurred elsewhere, although the sample sizes for these are very small.

For Locus 3, described as a pear-shaped hut structure (Nadel et al. 2002: 19; Rabinovich 1998: 49), the pattern for gazelle is more foot-dominated. 31.7% of the identified fragments are phalanges, with relatively low (less than 20%) frequencies for other portions. Similarly, fallow deer has relatively high proportions of foot and lower hindlimb portions (35.3% and 23.5%, respectively). Again, all anatomical portions are represented here, except for upper hindlimb portions. As these units have the highest food utility (in terms of meat and marrow), it is unclear why they have not been transported back to the site. It is possible that these portions are found in other loci.

Locus 10, which appears to be a waste area on the eastern edge of the site (Rabinovich 1998: 49), has a gazelle pattern that is more head-dominated than the other two localities. 47% of the

240 identified sample are head portions. This is followed by feet (30.1%) and upper forelimb (26.5%) portions. No trunk portions were identified. For fallow deer, the pattern is somewhat

Table 9.4 Comparison of NISP counts and relative frequencies of ungulate prey animals between OH II Locality 3, 10, and North Area (Rabinovich 1998: Table 27a), EG I (Marom 2006: 25 Table 5), and UR IIa Horizon 1A and 1B. Upper Upper Lower Lower Species Head Forelimb Hindlimb Forelimb Hindlimb Feet Trunk Total Ohalo II North Area Sus ‐ 1 (25) ‐ ‐ ‐ 3 (75) ‐ 4 Capreolus ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Cervus ‐ ‐ 1 (16.7) 1 (16.7) ‐ 4 (66.7) ‐ 6 Dama 70 (34) 20 (9.7) 20 (9.7) 15 (7.3) 35 (17) 46 (22.3) ‐ 206 Gazella 345 (32.6) 112 (10.6) 82 (7.8) 119 (11.2) 170 (16.1) 220(20.8) 10 (0.9) 1058 Bos ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Capra ‐ ‐ 12 (100) ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 12 Ohalo II Locus 3 Sus 5 (50) 1 (10) 2 (20) ‐ ‐ 2 (20) ‐ 10 Capreolus ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Cervus 1 (50) ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 1 (50) ‐ 2 Dama 10 (19.6) 8 (15.7) ‐ 2 (3.9) 12 (23.5) 18 (35.3) 1 (2) 51 Gazella 63 (19) 42 (12.7) 20 (6) 36 (10.9) 53 (16) 105(31.7) 12 (3.6) 331 Bos ‐ ‐ ‐ 3 (100) ‐ ‐ ‐ 3 Capra ‐ ‐ ‐ 1 (100) ‐ ‐ ‐ 1 Ohalo II Locus 10 Sus 1 (50) ‐ 1 (50) ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 2 Capreolus ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Cervus ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Dama 7 (15.2) 3 (3.6) 4 (4.8) 3 (3.6) 19 (22.9) 9 (10.8) 1 (1.2) 46 Gazella 39 (47) 22 (26.5) 11 (13.3) 11 (13.3) 5 (6) 25 (30.1) ‐ 83 Bos ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Capra ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Ein Gev I Sus ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Capreolus ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Cervus 44 (29.5) 28 (18.8) 8 (5.4) 7 (4.7) 30 (20.1) 26 (17.4) 6 (4) 149 Dama 114 (22.1) 97 (18.8) 30 (5.8) 39 (7.6) 91 (17.7) 94 (18.3) 50 (9.7) 515 Gazella 317 (24.5) 229(17.7) 72 (5.6) 117 (9) 222 (17.1) 201(15.5) 38 (10.6) 1296 17 Bos 16 (16.7) 13 (13.5) 3 (3.1) 4 (4.2) 9 (9.4) 34 (35.4) (17.7) 96 Capra 72 (30.4) 33 (13.9) 9 (3.8) 9 (3.8) 45 (19) 52 (21.9) 17 (7.2) 237

241

Table 9.4 continued Upper Upper Lower Lower Species Head Forelimb Hindlimb Forelimb Hindlimb Feet Trunk Total UR IIa Horizon 1A Sus ‐ 1 (25) ‐ 1 (25) ‐ ‐ 2 (50) 4 Capreolus ‐ 1 (33.3) ‐ ‐ 1 (33.3) ‐ 1 (33.3) 3 Cervus ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 1 (100) 1 Dama 3 (16.7) 1 (5.6) 5 (27.8) ‐ 4 (22.2) 4 (22.2) 1 (5.6) 18 Gazella 165 (15.4) 200 (18.6) 87 (8.1) 165 (15.4) 144 (13.4) 151 (14.1) 162 (15.1) 1074 Bos ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Capra 2 (9.1) 6 (27.2) ‐ 2 (9.1) 4 (18.1) 6 (27.2) 2 (9.1) 22 UR IIa Horizon 1B Sus 2 (40) ‐ ‐ 1 (20) ‐ ‐ 2(40) 5 Capreolus 1 (20) 2 (40) ‐ 1 (20) 1 (20) ‐ ‐ 5 Cervus ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Dama 2 (8.3) 5 (20.8) 3 (12.5) 2 (8.3) 1 (4.2) 10 (41.7) 1 (4.2) 24 Gazella 241 (17.2) 264 (18.9) 130 (9.3) 243 (17.4) 166 (11.9) 194 (13.9) 162 (11.6) 1400 Bos ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Capra 12 (24) 5 (10) 2 (4) 10 (20) 5 (50) 8 (16) 8 (16) 50 Relative frequencies in parentheses.

different; here, the portion with the highest relative proportion is the lower hindlimb, at 22.9%, with head portions (15.2%) the next highest proportion. The only other species represented at this locality is wild pig, and is only represented by two bones.

Despite the apparent head/foot/head-and-foot dominated patterns found at OH II, Rabinovich (2002: 24) states that the most common mammal bones found at the site are gazelle limb bones, and that the presence of femurs in many of the loci supports the argument that meat sharing and meat processing was occurring on site (Rabinovich 2002: 25). It is difficult to evaluate this interpretation, however, based on the published portion counts. In terms of NISP proportions, upper hindlimb portions have low relative frequencies in all three discussed localities. It is only in Locus 10 (the ‘waste’ area) where upper hindlimb frequencies are not lower than other limb portion frequencies. Without individual element fragment counts and MNE estimates, it is not possible to determine how much of each these portion samples represent femora, versus other hindlimb bones. Also, the discussion is somewhat hampered as all long bone shaft fragments

242

that were missing epiphyseal portions were defined only to a body size category. This potentially explains why these three samples, associated with an indisputable home base site, are giving patterns of low-utility portion frequencies. This is similar to what has been critiqued about Stiner’s Middle Palaeolithic Italian studies (Marean 1998; Marean & Cleghorn 2004; Marean & Kim 1998; Pickering et al. 2003). This demonstrates why caution must be used when developing behavioural explanations using element profiles that were created using a limited portion of the available assemblage.

Comparisons between the EG I assemblage and the two assemblages from UR IIa are made easier, as Marom (2006: 32, Table 5) provides NISP and MNE counts for both anatomical portions and for individual elements, particularly shaft portions of the long bones. Although initial publications of the EG I fauna (Davis 1972; 1974) followed more traditional models of element profiling, where shaft fragments were omitted from calculations due to a lower degree of identifiability, all faunal remains were recovered and retained, allowing for a more meticulous reanalysis by Marom. Similar to the system used in this study, Marom followed a protocol of identifying and counting bone fragments based on the zoning scheme developed by Dobney and Reilly (1988).

Looking first at anatomical portion frequencies based on NISP counts, EG I is similar to the OH II assemblages (illustrated in Figure 9.1), in that the gazelle sample appears to be head- dominated, although it is not a strong emphasis (24.5% versus the next highest proportion of 17.7% for the upper forelimb). The lowest proportions appear to be upper hindlimb (5.6%), the lower forelimb (9%) and the trunk (10.6%). Because a rigorous identification protocol was used here, it is unlikely that the low frequencies for these portions are due to fragment class omissions, as is possible for the OH II samples. As this site is interpreted as a small home base site, with one potential hut feature, the low frequencies could be due to either transport decisions or processing activities. The low frequency of lower forelimb elements could be explained by transport decisions, as this portion consists of carpals and metacarpals, with relatively low food utility values. The upper hindlimb, however, has the highest caloric yield, following Metcalfe and Jones (1988), and would be one of the portions most likely to be brought back to a base camp. Similarly, the trunk portions, especially thoracic vertebrae, have relatively high food utility due to stored bone grease. Considering the body size of gazelle and the relative ease in

243

transporting whole carcasses, it is likely that the low frequencies of upper hindlimb and trunk portions in this assemblage are due to processing activities, where femurs were exploited for bone marrow, and vertebrae were exploited for bone grease.

25 %NISP 20

0 Head Trunk Upper Lower Upper Lower Feet Forelimb Forelimb Hindlimb Hindlimb

Ohalo II North Area Ohalo II Locus 3 Ohalo II Locus 10

Ein Gev I UR IIa Horizon 1A UR IIa Horizon 1B

Figure 9.1 Comparison of anatomical portion frequencies (%NISP) for gazelle (data from Table 9.4).

For other fauna from EG I, such as fallow deer, red deer and bezoar goat, the samples are similarly head-dominated, particularly for bezoar goat with a head proportion of 30.4%. Aurochs differs here, both because of its general greater presence when compared to OH II, and also for being more foot dominated in element proportions. Head portions are present, although these seem to be isolated teeth. In terms of aurochs limb portions, there seems to be an emphasis on upper forelimb portions (13.5%) and trunk portions (17.7%), with lower frequencies of upper hindlimb (3.1%), lower forelimb (4.2%), and lower hindlimb (9.4%). Without an analysis of the fracture patterns of these portions, it is not possible to state whether the low frequency is due to

244

an absence in the sample, or to processing behaviours that targeted the portions with the lower proportions.

The gazelle assemblages from UR IIa differ from OH II and EG I by having relatively similar proportions for all anatomical portions. The highest frequencies in both Horizons 1A and 1B are for the upper forelimb (18.6% and 18.9%, respectively), although other portions differ by only approximately 3-5% in Horizon 1A, and 1-7% in Horizon 1B, suggesting relatively even portion representation. The exception to this, as mentioned previously, is the upper hindlimb, with proportions below 10% in both sub-horizons, similar to what is found at EG I.

Comparing relative proportions of NISPs can be problematic. The more fragmented an assemblage is, the more inflated the specimen count will be for a particular element, especially if that element was modified prior to deposition or burial (for instance, fracturing for marrow). To correct for this possible inflation, it helps to compare NISP and MNE frequencies by portion (Table 9.5; Figure 9.2). It is only possible to compare the UR IIa assemblages to the EG I assemblage, as element count estimates are not given for OH II.

Table 9.5 Relative proportions (%NISP and %MNE) of gazelle portions, UR IIa Horizon 1A, Horizon 1B and EG I. Upper Upper Lower Lower Head Forelimb Hindlimb Forelimb Hindlimb Feet Trunk UR IIa 1A %NISP 15.4 18.6 8.1 15.4 13.4 14.1 15.1 %MNE 5.3 21.6 10.9 14.7 24.1 12.5 10.9 UR IIa 1B %NISP 17.2 18.9 9.3 17.4 11.9 13.9 11.6 %MNE 4.8 21.5 11.2 19.1 22.5 11.5 9.3 EG I %NISP 24.5 17.7 5.6 9 17.1 15.5 10.6 %MNE 3.3 29.6 8.5 6.3 23.5 12.4 16.4

245

Gazelle UR IIa Horizon 1A 30 25 20 % 15 10 5 0 Head Trunk Upper Lower Upper Lower Feet Forelimb Forelimb Hindlimb Hindlimb

%MNE %NISP

Gazelle UR IIa Horizon 1B 25 20 15 % 10 5 0 Head Trunk Upper Lower Upper Lower Feet Forelimb Forelimb Hindlimb Hindlimb

%MNE %NISP

Gazelle Ein Gev I 35 30 25 20 % 15 10 5 0 Head Trunk Upper Lower Upper Lower Feet Forelimb Forelimb Hindlimb Hindlimb

%MNE %NISP

Figure 9.2 Comparison of relative frequencies (%MNE and %NISP) of gazelle anatomical portions between UR IIa Horizon 1A, Horizon 1B and EG I (data in Table 9.5).

246

Based on relative MNE proportions, the distribution between anatomical portions is not as even as the relative NISP proportions indicated. Although the upper forelimb is still dominant, the pattern for Horizon 1A at UR IIa based on relative element proportions is one dominated by lower hindlimb (24.1%) and upper forelimb (21.6%) portions. Head and foot portions are also less significant when %MNE values are considered, although the importance of the lower hindlimb increases by more than 10%. A similar pattern can be seen in Horizon 1B. Again, the pattern is one dominated by the upper forelimb (21.5%) and the lower hindlimb (22.5%). Head portions decrease in importance by over 12% and lower hindlimb portions increase in importance by almost 10%.

What becomes very interesting, when looking at the EG I assemblage, is that the pattern based on %MNE is much more similar to the patterns found at UR IIa than that generated by %NISP values. Rather than having a head dominated assemblage (based on NISPs), the pattern instead shows a dominance of upper forelimb (29.6%) and lower hindlimb (23.4%) portions. What does differ is the relative proportion of lower forelimb portions between the three assemblages. At EG I, this portion has a frequency of only 6.3%, versus 14.7% for Horizon 1A and 19.1% for Horizon 1B.

Based on the relatively high proportions of lower hindlimb portions in all three assemblages, the low values for upper hindlimb portions are most easily explained by either pre- or post- depositional destruction of these elements, as opposed to a preference for the lower utility (in terms of FUI) and higher density metapodial elements. Although Morin (2007) has outlined the relative importance of metapodial bone marrow (unsaturated fat), in terms of overall caloric value, gazelle do not store much in the way of useable marrow, indicating that selective transport of the nutritionally lower portion is unlikely, especially as the size of gazelle make them easily transportable as a whole carcass.

As discussed in Chapter 6 (Figures 6.1 and 6.2), the two gazelle assemblages from UR IIa show no relationship between bone abundance and food utility, but do show positive and significant relationships with bone density, indicating a density mediated bias in the formation of the assemblages. Figure 9.3 illustrates the relationship between bone density and bone survivorship

247

Table 9.6 MAU and %MAU counts for gazelle (EG I data from Marom 2006: 32 Table 5). UR IIa 1A UR IIa 1B EG I Element MAU %MAU MAU %MAU MAU %MAU Mandible 8.5 44.7 10 44.4 11 32.4 Scapula glenoid 5.5 29 4.5 20 21 61.8 Humerus prox 1 5.3 2.5 11.1 0 0 Humerus shaft 11 57.9 22.5 100 6.5 19.1 Humerus dist 5.5 29 7.5 33.3 26 76.5 Radius prox 11 57.9 11 48.9 8 23.5 Radius shaft 8 42.1 8.5 37.8 6.5 19.1 Radius dist 2 10.5 5 22.2 8.5 25 Ulna prox 6 31.6 6 26.7 7.5 22.1 MC prox 10 52.6 16.5 73.3 6.5 19.1 MC shaft 6.5 34.2 6.5 28.9 7.5 22.1 MC dist 3 15.8 4 17.8 10.5 30.9 Femur prox 2 10.5 3.5 15.6 4 11.8 Femur shaft 5 26.3 7.5 33.3 3 8.8 Femur dist 2 10.5 6.5 28.9 4 11.8 Tibia prox 2 10.5 5.5 24.4 5.5 16.2 Tibia shaft 12.5 65.8 16 71.1 6.5 19.1 Tibia dist 12.5 65.8 12 53.3 14 41.2 Astragalus 11.5 60.5 6.5 28.9 27 79.4 Calcaneus 4 21.1 9.5 42.2 34 100 MT prox 19 100 17 75.6 16 47.1 MT shaft 6 31.6 6.5 28.9 4 11.8 MT dist 5.5 29 7.5 33.3 9 26.5 Atlas 4 21.1 4 17.8 10 29.4 Axis 2 10.5 2 8.9 7 20.6 Cervical 1.2 6.3 0.8 3.6 2.8 8.2 Thoracic 0.538 2.8 0.54 2.4 0.7 2.1 Lumbar 1.5 7.9 2 8.9 1.2 3.5 Acetabulum 4 21.1 5 22.2 11.5 33.8 Phal 1 5.375 28.3 6 26.7 6.5 19.1 Phal 2 3.375 17.8 3.875 17.2 5.5 16.2 Phal 3 3.875 20.4 4.5 20 6.6 19.4 %MAU values for UR IIa differ from Table 4.18 and 4.19 due to the exclusion of certain element portions, in order to fit data to EG I data.

248

EG I y = 33.182x + 15.967 R² = 0.051

100

%MAU 40

0 0 0.1 0.2 0.3 0.4 0.5 0.6 0.7 0.8 Bone Density

EG I y = ‐0.099x + 30.811 R² = 0.0135

100

%MAU 40

0 0 20406080100 Food Utility (SFUI)

Figure 9.3 Relationship between bone density (Lyman 1994) and skeletal part frequency (%MAU; left) and between standardised food utility (Metcalfe & Jones 1988) and skeletal part frequency (%MAU; right) for gazelle EG I.

249

for EG I (data in Table 9.6). Certain portions were excluded (i.e. scapula blade) or combined to form complete elements (phalanges) in this analysis in order to fit the UR IIa data to the EG I data. Like the assemblages from UR IIa, the gazelle sample from EG I shows a small positive

relationship between bone density and bone abundance (rs = 0.2258 P = 0.2139) and no

relationship to food utility reflected in the element representation (rs = -0.1160. P = 0.5272). Although Marom and Bar-Oz (2008: 223) state that the assemblage is characterised by significant density-mediated attrition, this is not as apparent here, based on the data available for gazelle only (Marom 2006; in a later publication [Marom & Bar-Oz 2008], different MNE values are given, as all medium-sized mammals are combined into one group, resulting in a somewhat stronger correspondence). Based on the earlier data, only approximately 5.2% of the gazelle bone abundance is related to bone density. This is much lower than that found at UR IIa (in either sub-horizon). Some other factor, perhaps intensive processing activities, has affected the gazelle bone survivorship at EG I.

Due to the very low frequencies of bird and fish remains in both sub-horizons of Area A at UR IIa, these faunal groups were not discussed in Chapter 5. However, it is useful to discuss them here briefly, to show the relatively wide variability in Kebaran subsistence strategies. Both the UR IIa assemblages and the EG I assemblage have very low frequencies of bird remains (Table 9.7). At UR IIa, chukar partridge (Alectoris chukar), a year-round resident species found throughout Israel (Shirihai 1996: 146; Simmons & Nadel 1998: 91), is represent by only a few identified specimens (n = 2 Horizon 1A; n = 3 Horizon 1B). The partridge is also the only bird species with evidence of cut mark modification (one mark on the proximal end of a humerus). The swan (n = 1 Horizon 1A) and duck/widgeon (n = 3 Horizon 1A; n = 1 Horizon 1B) samples, although small, suggest a winter presence; both taxa arrive in Israel between October and December and leave between February and April (Shirihai 1996). The eagle sample (n = 3 Horizon 1A; n = 1 Horizon 1B) suggests either an autumn or spring presence (Simmons & Nadel 1998: 92 Table 5), although it is more abundant in the spring (Shirihai 1996; Paz & Eshbol 1992). This broadly fits with the spring occupation suggested by gazelle tooth eruption and wear rates for Horizon 1A. Also represented in this assemblage is a single ostrich (Struthio camelus) eggshell fragment. The breeding season for ostriches takes place between June and October, with the peak occurring in August. Eggs are layed and incubated for a period of 8 weeks (Brown et al. 1982: 37), suggesting that the ostrich eggshell (presuming the eggshell represents a food

250

item and not a utilitarian item) may have entered the Horizon 1A assemblage sometime between late summer (early August) and early winter (late December).

The case for Horizon 1B is less clear. Based on the duck/widgeon remains, it would indicate an autumn/winter occupation. This fits with a possible occupation of late-fall/winter, based on

some of the gazelle tooth eruption and wear rates (3 P4 specimens and possibly the M2 specimen), but does not fit well with Lieberman’s (1993) spring occupation, nor does it fit with the fusion data; however, the eagle remains could support his interpretation. Following Munro (2001), it is likely that the eagle remains do not represent a dietary product, as the species is represented by portions of the lower limb, namely the talons (see Appendix 1 and 3) and one of the eagle remains, a 3rd phalanx, shows evidence of burning (suggesting that these specimens are not intrusive). Although the sample size is small, it does support the possibility that Horizon 1B represents either two separate but temporally close occupation events, or a longer occupation period, from early winter to late spring. Ostrich eggshell is also present in this assemblage, represented by 5 fragments. Similar to Horizon 1A, the eggshell suggests a site occupation of sometime between late summer and early winter (assuming that the shell was collected as a food item).

Table 9.7 Bird species represented at UR IIa Horizon 1A and 1B, and EG I (data for latter from Marom & Bar-Oz 2008: 218). Order Family Taxon Common Name NISP UR IIa 1A Struthioniformes Struthionidae Struthio camelus *Ostrich 1 Galliformes Phasianidae Alectoris chukar Chukar partridge 2 Anseriformes Anatidae Cygnus sp. Swan 1 Anas sp. Duck/Widgeon 3 Accipitriformes Accipitridae Aquila sp. Eagle 3 UR IIa 1B Struthioniformes Struthionidae Struthio camelus *Ostrich 5 UR IIa IB Galliformes Phasianidae Alectoris chukar Chukar partridge 3 Anseriformes Anatidae Anas sp. Duck/Widgeon 1 Accipitriformes Accipitridae Aquila sp. Eagle 1 EG I Galliformes Phasianidae Alectoris chukar Chukar partridge 10 Anseriformes Anatidae Anser sp. Goose 36 Cygnus sp. Swan 1 Accipitriformes Accipitridae Buteo sp. Buzzard 1 Aquila sp. Eagle 16 * Struthio camelus eggshell only

251

Similar species are found at EG I, although in somewhat greater numbers, and with the addition of goose and buzzard. The case for a winter and/or spring occupation at EG I is more strongly supported by the bird remains. Again, the goose and swan remains indicate a winter-to-early- spring occupation, while the eagle remains indicate a spring occupation, and the buzzard remains point to either an autumn or spring migration (although also a common winter visitor) (Shirihai 1996). Marom (2006: 60) suggests that the site was most likely occupied from early winter to early summer.

OH II differs greatly from UR IIa and EG I in terms of the abundance of bird remains (Table 9.8). 68 separate species have been identified here, only ten of which are resident species. The most diverse group includes waterfowl (ducks, geese, swans), although game birds (eg., grebes) appear to have been the preferred prey (Simmons & Nadel 1998: 85). The relative importance of the birds of prey group has been interpreted as a deliberate harvesting of flight feathers and pedal phalanges (Simmons & Nadel 1998: 86-87), possibly for decoration and personal adornment. Based on the range of feeding and nesting habitats preferred by the bird species found at OH II, it is apparent that a wide range of microenvironments were exploited by the human inhabitants. The majority of winter-resident and passage-migrant (seasonally migratory) species indicates a site occupation from autumn to spring (Simmons & Nadel 1998:91; 92-93 Table 5).

There is also a high proportion of fish remains found at OH II, compared to UR IIa and EG I. Over 20,000 fish remains were recovered at OH II (Van Neer et al. 2005: 139; Zohar 2002: 29), with ~5000 remains from hut 1 (Locality 1) identified to species (Table 9.9), belonging largely to the families Cyprinidae (minnows and carp) and Cichlidae (cichlids). Because this is a submerged site, it was important to determine if the fish remains were present due to natural or anthropogenic causes. Based on taphonomic criteria outlined in Zohar and colleagues (2001) (criteria include: fish species identification; skeletal part frequencies; burning signs, cut marks, bone fragmentation patterns), it was determined that the presence of the remains was due to human activity, and represented a fish-dependent economy at OH II (Zohar 2002: 31). Based on the size of the individual fish, it is suggested that a variety of fishing techniques were used to capture this resource, including weirs, baskets, traps and nets (Van Neer et al. 2005: 139). Archaeological evidence to support this include pieces of burned string found on the floor of hut 1 (Locality 1) and four double-notched pebbles found in Locality 13, 1 and 18 (Nadel & Zaidner

252

Table 9.8 Bird species represented at OH II (Simmons & Nadel 1998: 83-84 Table 1). Order Family Taxon Common Name MNE Galliformes Phasianidae Alectoris chukar* Chukar partridge 7 Ammoperdix heyi* Sand partridge 2 Coturnix coturnix Common quail 34 Anseriformes Anatidae Anser fabalis Bean goose 19 Anser anser Greylag goose 16 Anser albifrons Greater white‐fronted goose 1 Cygnus columbianus bewickii Tundra swan 6 Cygnus cygnus Whooper swan 5 Alopochen aegyptiacus Egyptian goose 3 Tadorna tadorna Common shelduck 4 Anas capensis Cape teal 1 Anas strepera Gadwall 1 Anas penelope Eurasian widgeon 1 Anas platyrhynchos Mallard duck 11 Anas clypeata Northern shoveler 3 Anas acuta Northern pinwheel 4 Anas querquedula Garnaney 11 Anas crecca Common teal 1 Netta rufina Red‐crusted pochard 1 Aythya fuligula Tufted duck 3 Aythya marila Greater scaup 1 Melanitta fusca Velvet scoter 1 Bucephala clangula Common golden eye 1 Mergus merganser Common merganser 1 Mergus serrator Red‐breasted merganser 2 Podicipediformes Podicipidae Tachybaptus ruficollis Little grebe 3 Podiceps grisegena Red‐necked grebe 29 Podiceps cristatus Great crested grebe 114 Podiceps auritus Horned grebe 1 Podiceps nigricollis Black‐necked grebe 13 Pelecaniformes Threskiornithidae Plegadis falcinellus* Glossy ibis 1 Platalea leuorodia Eurasian spoon bill 2 Ardeidae Ardeola ralloides Squacco heron 1 Ardea cinerea Grey heron 3 Ardea purpurea Purple heron 1 Egretta garzetta* Little egret 4 Phalocrocoracidae Microcarbo pygmaeus Pygmy pygmaeus 1 Phalacrocorax aristotelis European shag 1 Accipitriformes Accipitridae Haliaeetus albicilla White‐tailed eagle 4 Circus aeruginosus Western marsh harrier 4 Circus cyaneus Hen harrier 11 Melierax metabates Dark chanting goshawk 1 Accipter nisus Eurasian sparrowhawk 13 Accipter gentilis Goshawk 14 Buteo buteo Common buzzard 18 Buteo rufinus* Long legged buzzard 5 Aquila rapax Tawny eagle 2

253

Table 9.8 continued. Order Family Taxon Common Name MNE Falconiformes Falconinae Falco tinnunculus* Common kestrel 4 Falco columbarius Merlin 3 Falco biarmicus* Lanner falcon 2 Falco cherrug Saker falcon 2 Otidiformes Otididae Otis tarda Great bustard 1 Tetrax tetrax Little bustard 13 Gruiformes Rallidae Porphyrio porphyrio* Purple swamphen 1 Fulica atra Eurasian coot 19 Charadriiformes Recurvirostridae Himantopus himantopus Black‐winged stilt 1 Recurvirostra avosetta Pied avocet 1 Charadriidae Vanellus vanellus Northern lapwing 1 Scolopacidae Numenius phaeopus Whimbrel 1 Numenius arquata Eurasian curlew 4 Arenaria interpres Ruddy turnstone 1 Laridae Xema sabini Sabine’s gull 1 Hydocoloeus minutus Little gull 1 Larus argentatus Herring gull 7 Strigiformes Strigidae Bubo bubo* Eurasian eagle owl 5 Passiformes Corvidae Corvus monedula Jackdaw 3 Corvus frugilegus Rook 3 Corvus corone* Carrion crow 2 *Year-round resident avian species.

Table 9.9 Identified fish remains from Hut 1, Ohalo II (Van Neer et al. 2005: 139 Table 3). Species NISP % Barbus sp. 178 3.57 Barbus canis 35 0.7 Barbus longiceps 87 1.74 Capoeta damascina 306 6.14 Barbus/Capoeta 1126 22.58 Tilapia aurea 2 0.04 T. zillii 9 0.18 Sarotherodon galilaeus 3 0.06 Tristamella sp. 43 0.86 Tilapiini 3189 64.13 Total 4987

254

2002) (Figure 9.4). In contrast to the other assemblages mentioned here, only two fish specimens were recovered in the UR IIa sample (from Horizon 1B), although it was not possible to identify these fragments to species. No fish remains were reported for EG I, despite the use of rigorous sieving protocols (Marom & Bar-Oz 2008: 218).

Figure 9.4 Double-notched pebble from Locality 13 (Hut 13), Ohalo II (Zaidner 2005: 50, Figure 4).

It is not clear why the frequencies for fish and bird species are so low at UR IIa. However, taphonomy may play a significant role in the survivorship of these elements, as they are often very fragile. This may also explain why fish appear to be absent from EG I, despite its location near Lake Kinneret.

9.2 Kebaran Sites on the Mediterranean Coast

How do the faunal assemblages from UR IIa compare to Kebaran sites found along the Mediterranean coastal plain? This is an important question to consider, as the Mediterranean coastal sites have been used to typify Kebaran subsistence. Three sites are considered here, all of which have undergone recent zooarchaeological and taphonomic analyses. They are Nahal

255

Hadera V (Bar-Oz & Dayan 2002; Bar-Oz 2004), Hayonim Cave and Meged Rockshelter (Stiner 2005) (Figure 9.5).

Figure 9.5 Location of Epipalaeolithic sites discussed in text (Map source ESRI 2009).

256

Nahal Hadera V (NHV) is located on the central coastal plain, on top of an elevated area on the first sandstone ridge overlooking the Hadera River, approximately 1 km southeast of the Mediterranean Sea (Bar-Oz 2004: 12; Bar-Oz & Dayan 2002: 146; Saxon et al. 1973: 253). The site is described as a large lowland open-air site, consisting of deep and rich cultural deposits with a high density of artefacts. The original extent of the site is not known, as the western edges of the hilltop have experienced dune incursions since the 1920’s, and the eastern slopes have been destroyed due to road construction (Saxon et al. 1973: 253). The archaeological layer does appear to be intact at least over a roughly oval area, measuring 50 m by 15 m. Excavation was conducted by E. Saxon and a small group of student volunteers during a 2-week period in May-April of 1973 (Saxon et al. 1973: 254). During this time, a 3m by 2m pit was excavated on the highest area of the hilltop through all stratigraphic layers to sterile sandstone (approximately 2.4 m) (Saxon et al. 1973: 254). All excavated material was dry and wet sieved (0.2 cm screen) and stored at the Institute of Archaeology, Hebrew University (Bar-Oz 2004: 9; Bar-Oz & Dayan 2002: 147). No radiometric dates are available for the archaeological layer, although lithic items recovered fall under Bar-Yosef’s (1970) typology for Kebaran C and D (see Chapter 2 for summary of Kebaran typology). This is supported by direct luminescence dating of sand associated with the site, suggesting an occupation sometime between 21,300 and 14,000 cal BP (Bar-Oz 2004: 13; Godfrey-Smith et al. 2003). New excavations, between 1997 and 1999, conducted by R. Barkai, focused on enlarging the excavated area to approximately 80 m2, on the southern slope of the hilltop. The faunal remains from both the original and the more recent excavation are now stored at the Tel Aviv University Zoological Museum (Bar-Oz 2004: 12).

Hayonim Cave and Meged Rockshelter lie within 1 km of each other in the Wadi Meged, a drainage system that drains into the Mediterranean roughly 20 km to the west (Stiner 2005: 4), and which represents the geographic boundary of the lower and upper Galilee. Hayonim Cave lies along the north bank of the wadi, and is one of several large, bell-shaped caves in the area. Its chronological history spans the Middle Palaeolithic to Byzantine period. Initial excavations took place from 1965-1973 and 1977-1979, conducted by O. Bar-Yosef, B. Arensburg and E. Tchernov, with a new period of excavations taking place from 1992 to 2000, directed by O. Bar- Yosef, L. Meignen, and B. Vandermeersch (Stiner 2005: 19). Hayonim Cave is divided into four separate chambers, two of which are still intact. The excavated chamber (Chamber I) is approximately 150 m2 (Stiner 2005: 20). The entire surface of the cave was superimposed with a

257

1 m by 1 m grid (divided by 0.25m quadrants). All sediments were dry and wet sieved progressively through 3 mm and 1 mm screens. Flotation was also used. The Kebaran layer (Layer C) is approximately 2.5 m thick and confined to the entrance of the cave. No dates are available for this layer, although the assumed placement within the Kebaran is based on lithic comparisons with other dated sites (Stiner 2005: 22). It is argued that these remains represent several short-term, ephemeral occupations, possibly during the summer (based on the location of the archaeological material being beneath the drip line, which would have been wet during the winter) (Stiner 2005: 29).

Meged Rockshelter (MEG) lies 500 m northeast of Hayonim Cave, and was first test excavated in the early 1970’s by the same team working upslope from Hayonim Cave. The main excavation of Meged took place between 1994 and 1997, by S. Kuhn and A. Belfer-Cohen (Stiner 2005: 19). The sheltered area is fairly small (compared to Hayonim) and is approximately 35 m2, with 18 m2 being excavated during the 1994-1997 field seasons (Stiner 2005: 33; Kuhn et al. 2004). All sediment was dry sieved through 2-3 mm screens, with a sample of 10% of this wet-sieved off site. The Kebaran layer has two uncalibrated radiocarbon dates (Kuhn et al. 2004), giving a calibrated date range with a 68% confidence interval, of 22,050 and 21,350 cal BP (based on BCal calibration). It is suggested that the rockshelter represents repeated brief visits to the site by a small number of individuals – the sheltered area is small, which would only allow a fixed number of people to occupy the space. The absence of formal hearths also suggests that occupations were not prolonged. It has been suggested by Stiner (2005: 38) that this site may represent a specialised gazelle hunting camp – this is based on the presence of only chipped stone tools (as opposed to ground stone), ornaments and raptor talons, and a few bone points and shell beads.

Only a limited discussion and comparison between faunal assemblages will be conducted here, because complete datasets are not available. For the Kebaran layer at Hayonim Cave (HAYC) and MEG, NISP counts are given for a range of taxa; however, MNI estimates are only given for common prey animals (Stiner 2005: Appendix 14), excluding other prey animals (roe deer, hartebeest) and all carnivores. Also, it is apparent that shaft fragments that did not contain a nutrient foramen were not included in the NISP and MNI counts, as shaft fragment frequencies are significantly lower than is expected based on their density. This follows Stiner’s other

258

research in the Italian Middle Palaeolithic, discussed in Chapter 4, where shaft fragments lacking a nutrient foramen were excluded from quantification. She does provide MNE estimates for gazelle elements, which can be converted to MAU estimates and standardised.

Bar-Oz (2004) provides standardised MNI values for Nahal Hadera V for a majority of element portions (excluding shaft portions) (Bar-Oz 2004 Appendix 15), but does not provide MNE estimates. Although %MAU values would be preferred, when %MNI and %MAU values for UR IIa gazelle assemblages are compared, they are strongly and significantly correlated to each

other (rs = 0.97368, P < 0.001 and rs = 0.96138, P < 0,001 respectively). As such, %MNI values for UR IIa and NHV are compared here, as it is assumed that a similar correlation would exist if %MNI and %MAU values were compared for NHV.

Table 9.10 details the identified species within the HAY C, MEG and NHV faunal assemblages. A much wider range of animals are represented in the coastal plain assemblages than in the Jordan Valley assemblages. Similar to UR IIa, OH II and EG I, gazelle has the highest representation in the HAY C and NHV assemblages, and is second highest in proportion at MEG. At HAY C, gazelle represents 45.9% of the sample, and at MEG, gazelle represents 39.1% of the identified sample. These proportions are somewhat similar to that at EG I, where gazelle make up 44.6% of the identified sample. NHV is more similar to OH II in its gazelle proportions, at 65.2% (compared with 74.9% at OH II). As with OH II and EG I, the three coastal plain sites fall well below UR IIa in gazelle frequencies. MEG is different from all of the other sites, as tortoise has a slightly higher representation (at 39.9%) than gazelle. This is significant, although considering its much smaller body size, it did not contribute as greatly to the diet of the MEG hunters.

259

Table 9.10 Identified species frequencies for HAY C and MEG (Stiner 2005) and NHV (Bar-Oz 2004). HAY C MEG NH V Taxa NISP %NISP NISP %NISP NISP %NISP Carnivore spp. 2 0.09 1 0.09 ‐ ‐ Canis spp. ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 5 0.03 Canis aureus 1 0.04 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Vulpes vulpes 9 0.4 6 0.52 190 1.0 Hyaena hyaena ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Panthera pardus 3 0.13 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Panthera leo ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Felis silvestris 6 0.27 1 0.09 ‐ ‐ Felis chaus ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 15 0.08 Ursus arctos 2 0.09 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Martes foina ‐ ‐ 4 0.35 ‐ ‐ Equus cf. hemionus 3 0.13 1 0.09 ‐ ‐ Equus hydruntinus ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 100 0.52 Sus scrofa 63 2.8 7 0.60 10 0.05 Capreolus capreolus 16 0.71 1 0.09 17 0.09 Cervus elaphus 72 3.2 10 0.86 ‐ ‐ Dama mesopotamica 198 8.7 58 5.0 5414 28.2 Gazella gazella 1039 45.9 453 39.1 12528 65.2 Bos primigenius 53 2.3 1 0.09 43 0.22 Capra aegagrus 36 1.6 19 1.6 ‐ ‐ Dicerorhinus hemitoechus 2 0.09 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Alcephalus busephalus ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 154 0.8 Lepus capensis 12 0.53 25 2.2 474 2.5 Scurius anomalous 4 0.18 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Erinaceus sp. 1 0.04 ‐ ‐ 106 0.6 Testudo graeca 453 20 462 39.9 320 1.7 Coluber sp. 164 7.2 4 0.35 ‐ ‐ Ophisaurus apodus 34 1.5 4 0.35 133 0.7 Agama stellio ‐ ‐ 3 0.26 1 0.01 Falconiformes ‐ ‐ 64 5.5 ‐ ‐ Aves sp. 91 4.0 35 3.0 9 0.05 Pices (indeterminate) ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ TOTAL 2264 1159 19211

260

A relatively wide variety of fauna come in at ‘next-to-highest’ proportions, when the three coastal sites are compared against the assemblages from UR IIa, although fallow deer plays a role in all of them. At HAY C, after gazelle, tortoise has the next highest representation followed by fallow deer (20% and 8.7%, respectively). At MEG, the next highest fauna after tortoise and gazelle, are birds of prey (falconiformes), and fallow deer (at 5.5%, and 5.0%, respectively). NHV differs from the other coastal plain sites, in that an ungulate species has the next highest proportion after gazelle, with fallow deer at 28.2%. Following these, the next highest proportions belong to small animals, with hare and tortoise (2.5% and 1.7%, respectively). At UR IIa, the non-gazelle species all have generally lower proportions than what is found at the coastal Kebaran sites: in Horizon 1A, below gazelle, hare, bezoar goat and fallow deer have the next highest proportions (2.8%, 1.8%, and 1.7%, respectively). In Horizon 1B, similar species fall below gazelle in representation, although in a different order, with bezoar goat, fallow deer and hare having the next highest representation (3.4%, 1.6%, and 0.8%, respectively).

Table 9.11 gives the bone abundance (MAU) and standardised MAU for HAY C, and MEG. The values for UR IIa have been modified from Tables 5.12 and 5.13 in order to fit better to the published data for HAY C and MEG. For instance, distal metapodial fragments have been grouped as a separate element, as opposed to distinguishing metacarpals from metatarsals. This causes some difficulty, in terms of allocating bone density and food utility values. It was decided to take the highest value for each separate element, as a proxy. The relationship between %MAU, bone density and food utility is illustrated in Figure 9.6 and 9.7, for HAY C and MEG, respectively.

Similar to what is found at UR IIa and EG I, there is a significant positive correlation between bone abundance and bone density in both the HAY C and MEG gazelle assemblages (rs = 0.3570

P < 0.05, and rs = 0.3175 P = 0.0718). This correlation appears to be driven by two outliers (distal metapodia and astragali) in both the HAY C and MEG assemblages. When these are

removed, the correlation between bone abundance and bone density is less apparent (rs = 0.2303,

P = 0.2125 for HAY C, and rs = 0.0256, P = 0.8914 for MEG). There is a general lack of a

relationship between bone abundance and food utility in both assemblages (rs = -0.0646 P =

0.7211 and rs = -0.0542 P = 0.7644). This is further highlighted when the outliers are removed (rs

261

Table 9.11 MAU and %MAU values for UR IIa (1A and 1B), HAY C, and MEG (Stiner 2005: Appendix 8). UR IIa 1A UR IIa 1B HAYC MEG Element MAU %MAU MAU %MAU MAU %MAU MAU %MAU Mandible 8.5 44.7 10 44.4 2 4.8 2 6.3 Scapula Glen 5.5 29 4.5 20 5.5 13.1 1 3.1 Humerus Prox 1 5.3 2.5 11.1 2 4.8 1.5 4.7 Humerus Shaft 11 57.9 22.5 100 2 4.8 2 6.3 Humerus Dist 5.5 29 7.5 33.3 10.5 25 5 15.6 Radius Prox 11 57.9 11 48.9 4 9.5 4.5 14.1 Radius Shaft 8 42.1 8.5 37.8 3.5 8.3 0.5 1.6 Radius Dist 2 10.5 5 22.2 3 7.1 1 3.1 Ulna Prox 6 31.6 6 26.7 5 11.9 5.5 17.2 MC Prox 10 52.6 16.5 73.3 2 4.8 1 3.1 MC Shaft 6.5 34.2 6.5 28.9 4 9.5 0.5 1.6 Femur Prox 2 10.5 3.5 15.6 10 23.8 2.5 7.8 Femur Shaft 5 26.3 7.5 33.3 4 9.5 1 3.1 Femur Dist 2 10.5 6.5 28.9 2 4.8 1 3.1 Tibia Prox 2 10.5 5.5 24.4 1.5 3.6 1.5 4.7 Tibia Shaft 12.5 65.8 16 71.1 3.5 8.3 2 6.3 Tibia Dist 12.5 65.8 12 53.3 6 14.3 4.5 14.1 Astragalus 11.5 60.5 6.5 28.9 28 66.7 26.5 82.8 Calcaneus 4 22 9.5 42.2 7.5 17.9 4.5 14.1 MT Prox 19 100 17 75.6 3.5 8.3 2.5 7.8 MT Shaft 6 31.6 6.5 28.9 3 7.1 0 0 Atlas 4 21.1 4 17.8 2 4.8 1 3.1 Axis 2 10.5 2 8.9 4 9.5 1 3.1 Cervical 1.2 6.3 0.8 3.6 1.6 3.8 0.8 2.5 Thoracic 0.538 2.8 0.54 2.4 1.23 2.9 0.38 1.2 Lumbar 1.5 7.9 2 8.9 0.83 2 0.5 1.6 Acetabulum 4 21.1 5 22.2 3.5 8.3 3 9.4 MP Dist* 8.5 44.7 11.5 51.1 42 100 32 100 Phal 1 Prox 3.625 19.1 3.75 16.7 6.75 16.1 3 9.4 Phal 1 Dist 5 26.3 6 26.7 8.5 20.2 3.375 10.5 Phal 2 Prox 2.875 15.1 3.25 14.4 7.75 18.5 3.375 10.5 Phal 2 Dist 3.25 17.1 3.625 16.1 7.25 17.3 3.625 11.3 Phal 3 3.875 20.4 4.5 20 8 19 3.25 10.2 *Distal metacarpal and metatarsal MAU estimates combined into a single metapodial element class, to fit UR IIa data to HAYC and MEG data.

262

y = 43.645x ‐ 0.3786 y = ‐0.0461x + 16.4 HAY C HAY C R² = 0.1274 R² = 0.0042 100 100 80 80 60 60 40 %MAU 40 %MAU 20 20 0 0 0 0.2 0.4 0.6 0.8 0 20406080100 Bone Density Food Utility

Figure 9.6 Relationship between skeletal part frequency (%MAU), bone density (Lyman 1994) and food utility (Metcalfe & Jones 1988) for gazelle at HAY C.

y = ‐0.0427x + 13.345 MEG y = 42.767x ‐ 3.0114 MEG R² = 0.1008 R² = 0.0029 100 100 80 80 60 60 40 %MAU

%MAU 40 20 20 0 0 0 0.2 0.4 0.6 0.8 0 20406080100 Bone Density Food Utility

Figure 9.7 Relationship between skeletal part frequency (%MAU), bone density (Lyman 1994) and food utility (Metcalfe & Jones 1988) for gazelle at MEG.

= -0.0642, P = 0.7316 for HAY C, and rs = -0.1271, P = 0.4955 for MEG). The correlations between bone density and bone abundance for these two assemblages are somewhat lower than

those found at UR IIa (rs = 0.4545 P < 0.05 and rs = 0.3715 P < 0.05, for Horizon 1A and 1B, respectively) although higher than at EG I. This could suggest that density-mediated attrition played a greater role on the northern coastal plain than it did at EG I, although not as great as at UR IIa. However, because shaft fragments lacking a nutrient foramen were excluded from the HAY C and MEG element quantification, the smaller bone density:bone abundance relationship could be a result of the exclusion of these higher density items.

263

For NHV, MNE and MAU estimates are not given. However, standardised MNI values are given (Table 9.12) (Bar-Oz 2004: Appendix 15) (although these are lacking corresponding MNI estimates). Also, proportions for shaft portions are not given. To see if this would affect comparisons between assemblages, specifically against the UR IIa assemblages, standardised MNI values were plotted against bone density and food utility values for the gazelle assemblages from UR IIa and from NHV (Figure 9.8). The correlations between %MNI and bone density values for NHV indicate that density-mediated attrition played a significant role in bone survivorship (rs = 0.6947 P < 0.05). Food utility does not appear to have played a significant role on bone survivorship (rs = -0.2502 P = 0.2496). These correlations, however, appear to be somewhat inflated, which can be seen when the %MNI, bone density and food utility plots for UR IIa are considered. Here, the correlations between %MNI and bone density are much higher when shaft portions are excluded. As discussed earlier, %MAU and %MNI for UR IIa are not statistically different. When %MAU values were plotted against bone density for gazelle in Horizon 1A (Chapter 6 Figure 6.1A), only approximately 20% of the bone survivorship (R2 = 0.2065) was correlated to bone density. When shaft portions are removed, this relationship increases to approximately 27% (R2 = 0.2693). Similarly in Horizon 1B (Figure 6.2A), only approximately 14% (R2 = 0.138) of the bone survivorship was correlated to bone density. Without shaft portions, this relationship increases to approximately 26% (R2 = 0.2567). The relationship between bone survivorship and food utility is also inflated, although this relationship is still very small and not significant (Figure 6.1B and Figure 6.2B). This suggests that the role of density mediated destruction in bone assemblages has been overemphasised in analyses where shaft portions (the densest part) have been excluded. This could potentially cause difficulties in interpreting the taphonomic history of an assemblage, especially in relation to the role that humans may have played in bone attrition, as density is often not a preventive factor when bone elements are processed to access within-bone nutrients (i.e. fragmentation for marrow extraction).

264

Table 9.12 MNI and %MNI values for UR IIa (1A and 1B) and NHV (Bar-Oz 2004: Appendix 15; MNI estimates from Appendix 16). UR IIa 1A UR IIa 1B NHV Element MNI %MNI MNI %MNI MNI %MNI Vert. Atlas 4 16.7 4 22.2 * 7.69 Vert. Axis 2 8.3 2 11.1 * 9.62 Vert Cerv 2 8.3 1 5.6 * 5.38 Vert Thor 2 8.3 2 11.1 * 2.81 Vert Lumb 2 8.3 3 16.7 * 11.22 Pelvis 4 16.7 8 44.4 25 8.65 Scap Glenoid 7 29.2 6 33.3 * 8.65 Scap Blade 4 16.7 7 38.9 * 11.54 Hum Prox 1 4.2 3 16.7 7 4.81 Hum Dist 6 25 8 44.4 61 25 Rad Prox 12 50 13 72.2 40 11.54 Rad Dist 4 16.7 5 27.8 41 14.42 Fem Prox 4 16.7 5 27.8 22 15.38 Fem Dist 2 8.3 11 61.1 13 6.73 Tib Prox 3 12.5 7 38.9 * 1.92 Tib Dist 14 58.3 14 77.8 61 29.81 Astragalus 12 50 7 38.9 201 100 Calcaneum 5 16.7 11 61.1 113 32.69 MC Prox 11 45.8 17 94.4 6 9.62 MT Prox 24 100 18 100 28 15.38 P 1 7 29.2 8 44.4 132 41.35 P 2 4 16.7 5 27.8 114 38.94 P 3 5 20.8 6 33.3 82 25 *MNI counts not available for indicated element portions.

265

y = 85.277x ‐ 0.2178 y = ‐0.2272x + 33.38 UR IIa 1A UR IIa 1A R² = 0.2693 R² = 0.0669 100 100 80 80 60 60

%MNI 40

%MNI 40 20 20 0 0 0 0.2 0.4 0.6 0.8 0 20406080100 Bone Density Food Utility

y = 96.816x + 12.255 y = ‐0.0556x + 43.262 UR IIa 1B UR IIa 1B R² = 0.2576 R² = 0.003 100 100 80 80 60 60 %MNI %MNI 40 40 20 20 0 0 0 0.2 0.4 0.6 0.8 0 20406080100 Bone Density Food Utility

y = ‐0.2066x + 26.339 NHV y = 107.33x ‐ 13.15 NHV R² = 0.4826 R² = 0.0626 100 100 80 80 60 60 %MNI %MNI 40 40 20 20 0 0 0 0.2 0.4 0.6 0.8 0 20406080100 Bone Density Food Utility

Figure 9.8 Relationship between A) bone density (Lyman 1994) and standardised MNI (%MNI); and B) between food utility (Metcalfe & Jones 1988) and standardised MNI (%MNI) for gazelle at UR IIa (Horizon 1A and 1B) and NHV.

266

Comparing the coastal Kebaran sites with the Jordan Valley Kebaran sites shows that there was a wide range of variability among assemblages, with a wider range of species exploited along the coast (except for Ohalo II). This is most likely due to differences in local ecology and resource availability, as well as accumulations deposited during shorter periods of time (i.e. a single season) versus more even faunal representation found at Natufian sites, which were occupied for longer periods of time. Of interest, although gazelle is the dominant ungulate species represented in the coastal assemblages, the proportions of this species at HAYC and MEG are much lower than those found along the Jordan Valley, with a much greater emphasis on tortoise than on any other ungulate species. This is especially interesting for MEG, as Stiner (2005) has argued that this site represents a specialised gazelle-hunting camp. Without MNI estimates for the tortoise remains, it is difficult to determine the dietary role that this species played at MEG. Based on the overall small number of gazelle remains found here (n = 453), the description of MEG as a specialised gazelle hunting camp is not certain.

9.3 Species Diversity: Richness, Evenness, and Rank Prey Difference within the Epipalaeolithic

Taxonomy-based diversity studies attempt to look at both species richness (i.e. how many species are actually represented within an assemblage) and species evenness (i.e. proportion of each species represented in an assemblage). Richness can be described as the number of species within a given sample or collection (Neeley & Clark 1993: 226; Magurran 1988). Kaufman (1998: 77) notes that the most straightforward measure of richness is to do a direct count, which does not regard differences in sample size. It is generally assumed (following Bobrowsky & Ball 1989) that the relationship between the number of species S and the sample size N is constant and quantifiable within assemblages. Following Kaufman (1998), Menhinick’s (1964) richness index is used to calculate the species richness for each assemblage. This index minimises the effect of sample size on richness calculations (Kaufman 1998). The equation for this index is;

R = S/√N

Greater values of R indicate increasing richness. Species richness values are calculated for the seven assemblages discussed above (Horizon1A and 1B from UR IIa, OH II, EG I, NHV, HAYC and MEG), as well as four additional Kebaran assemblages from the Azraq region (Kharaneh IV

267

Phases A, B, and C, and Wadi Jilat 6), three Geometric Kebaran assemblages (Kharaneh IV Phase D, Neve-David and Hefzibah), two Early Natufian assemblages (El-Wad Cave and Hayonim Cave), and five Late Natufian assemblages (El-Wad Terrace, Hayonim Cave, Hayonim Terrace, Hilazon Tachtit and Hatoula [data for these sites from Bar-Oz et al. 1999; Bar-Oz 2004; Martin et al. 2010; Munro 2001, 2004, 2009; Rabinovich 1998; Stiner 2005]) (for site locations see Figure 9.5). This is in order to determine the relative richness of the Epipalaeolithic assemblages on a synchronic level (within the Kebaran) and on a diachronic level (within the Epipalaeolithic). Only those species that contributed to diet are included in this analysis, following Edwards (1989), in order to clearly show any changes in dietary breadth throughout the Epipalaeolithic. This includes ungulate species, small mammals, reptiles (tortoises), fish, and birds. Richness values fall between 0 and 1, where higher values indicate greater species diversity. According to the classic interpretation of the Broad Spectrum Revolution model (Flannery 1969), diet breadth should increase between the end of the LGM and the beginnings of agriculture, as a wider array of species were exploited in order to compensate for both increased climatic aridity and increased human population density.

Species evenness refers to the proportional distribution of the species within the sample, and evenness values allow one to determine if species are represented more or less evenly in a sample, or if the sample is dominated by a small number of abundant species (Neeley & Clark 1993: 226). As well, evenness values can highlight differences between assemblages, particularly when specimen distribution is unequal. For instance, one faunal assemblage may be rich in species diversity, but the number of specimens are unequally distributed across the taxa (such that the majority of specimens are associated with one or two taxa), whereas a second faunal assemblage, which has specimens more evenly distributed over a smaller number of taxonomic range (i.e. a low species richness), will have a higher diversity (Edwards 1989: 236). Evenness values are calculated using the Shannon Evenness index. This is a mathematical statement of the evenness of the distribution of observations among a number of categories, in this case the relative evenness (H) of species diversity (Zar 1974: 35-38). The proportion of specimens for each species (i), relative to the total number of specimens for all species (pi) is calculated, and then multiplied by the natural logarithm of this proportion (lnpi). The resulting product is summed across species and multiplied by -1 and divided by the natural logarithm of S species in the sample. The formula for the Shannon evenness/diversity is:

268

H = -∑pilnpi/lnS where S is the total number of species within the sample, and pi is the standardised proportion of the i-th species (Magurran 1988). Shannon Evenness index values fall between 0 and 1. The closer the index value is to 1, the higher the relative evenness. It is argued (Stiner et al. 1999; 2000) that assemblages from the Kebaran will have a lower species diversity (both richness and evenness) than Natufian assemblages, suggesting that broad-spectrum subsistence patterns were not present in the early period.

Table 9.13 summarises the species richness and evenness index values for the 21 Epipalaeolithic sites mentioned (illustrated in Figure 9.9 and Figure 9.10) (see Appendices 34-54 for data and sample size). Within the Kebaran sample, OH II has the highest species richness (0.736), while NHV has the lowest (0.065). The assemblage from Horizon 1A of UR IIa has the second highest species richness (0.369), when compared to the other Kebaran samples. This assemblage is also ‘more rich’ than the assemblage from the Late Natufian site of Hilazon Tachtit (HLZT), which has the highest richness for that period (at 0.329).

Figure 9.10 illustrates the species evenness for the Epipalaeolithic assemblages mentioned above. There appears to be a wider range of evenness values among Kebaran sites than among Late Natufian sites. The assemblages from Kharaneh IV Phase B (KHIVB), UR IIa 1A and 1B have the lowest relative evenness within the Kebaran sample. These values suggest that the majority of specimens are associated with only a limited number of species within each sample. These three assemblages have high relative proportions of gazelle remains over other prey species, and have been argued to be the result of specialised or focused hunting practices (see Chapter 7 and 8; also Martin et al. 2010), so these evenness values are to be expected. EG I and HAY C have the highest evenness values of all samples, indicating a more equal representation of specimens among the identified taxa in these assemblages, and that resources were more equally exploited (relatively speaking). Interestingly, these values are higher than those for the Late Natufian, the highest of which is 0.462 for Hayonim Terrace (HAYT). At OH II, the relative evenness in the assemblage is not very high (0.445) compared to EG I and HAY C, as the majority of identified specimens are distributed between only three taxa: gazelle, carp

269

Table 9.13 Summary of richness and evenness index values for Kebaran, Geometric Kebaran, Early Natufian, and Late Natufian sites. Site Period Evenness Richness Kharaneh IV Phase A Kebaran 0.323061 0.1649 Kharaneh IV Phase B Kebaran 0.117952 0.155595 Kharaneh IV Phase C Kebaran 0.246356 0.236113 Wadi Jilat 6 Kebaran 0.399308 0.17244 Hayonim Cave Keb Kebaran 0.62891 0.28148 Meged Rockshelter Kebaran 0.497977 0.310835 Nahal Hadera V Kebaran 0.406681 0.06513 Ohalo II Kebaran 0.445233 0.73602 Ein Gev I Kebaran 0.67988 0.27631 UR IIa 1A Kebaran 0.174073 0.36977 UR IIa 1B Kebaran 0.156988 0.30161 Kharaneh IV Phase D Geometric Kebaran 0.162909 0.105787 Neve David Geometric Kebaran 0.382369 0.221962 Hefzibah Geometric Kebaran 0.353089 0.105638 El‐Wad Cave Early Natufian 0.619188 0.224509 Hayonim Cave EN Early Natufian 0.59944 0.169721 El‐Wad Terrace Late Natufian 0.36272 0.175262 Hayonim Cave LN Late Natufian 0.454514 0.163678 Hayonim Terrace Late Natufian 0.461862 0.107658 Hilazon Tachtit Late Natufian 0.400627 0.329293 Hatoula Late Natufian 0.421826 0.199192

and tilapia. Despite the large number of bird specimens in this sample, they do not appear to have played as great a role in the diets of the inhabitants as did fish and small ungulates.

The correlation between evenness and richness indices varies by period, although for all but the Late Natufian assemblages, the correlation is positive. For the Kebaran assemblages, there is only a small positive correlation between these two indices, although it is not significant (rs = 0.1416, R2 = 0.020, P = 0.678). For the Geometric Kebaran sample, evenness and richness appears to be more strongly correlated, although again the relationship is not statistically 2 significant (rs = 0.6017, R = 0.3621, P = 0.589). The Early Natufian sample is too small

270

Figure 9.9 Species richness for Kebaran, Geometric Kebaran, Early Natufian and Late Natufian sites (listed in chronological order).

Figure 9.10 Species evenness for Kebaran, Geometric Kebaran, Early Natufian, and Late Natufian sites (listed in chronological order).

271

to run correlation analyses. For the Late Natufian sample, evenness has a negative correlation to 2 richness, although this is not statistically significant (rs = -0.464, R = 0.2153, P = 0.4312). These analyses suggest that how evenly species are represented within an assemblage is not significantly related to the overall species richness of the assemblage.

Taxonomy-based diversity studies can be misleading because they are based on the presumption that hunter-gatherers operate under optimal foraging theory. It is therefore important to determine if there are changes in prey rank throughout the Epipalaeolithic, which can be taken as independent measures of hunting efficiency. Following Munro (2009), three separate prey rank proportions are generated. The data for these proportions can be found in Table 9.14. Taxa have been collapsed into body size groups for both ungulate (small, medium, and large) and birds (medium, large, and huge), following Munro (2009). Small ungulates refer to gazelle and roe deer sized animals (as well as BSGD specimens). In order to match the UR IIa and OH II data to the other assemblages, BSGC and BSGB specimens and taxa are grouped under ‘medium ungulate’, while BSGA specimens and taxa are grouped under ‘large ungulate’. For avian specimens, following Stiner (2005), medium birds are primarily galliformes and podicipediformes, as well as some anserformes and some charadriiformes with body masses approximately 250 g to 630 g. The ‘large’ bird category consists largely of anserformes and charadriiformes with a body mass ranging between approximately 630 g to 2 kg, and the ‘huge’ bird category consists of birds with a body mass of approximately 5 to 8 kg, such as Cygnus sp. In contrast to the indices generated by Munro (2009) for Epipalaeolithic Mediterranean coastal sites, carnivores are excluded from the discussion and only prey animals that likely contributed to the subsistence of the site occupants are included, as it is the issue of dietary breadth that is being considered here. Although certain carnivores may have been hunted in order to procure skins and fur (as well as to remove potential threats), it is unlikely these animals were chosen primarily for their food value. The exception here is for the bird categories, where all bird remains are included. Although it is not as likely that predatory birds had a role in dietary decision making as waterfowl, it is not possible to distinguish which avian specimens were used to create the data sets provide by Stiner (2005) and Munro (2009) for a number of the Natufian sites. Therefore, in order to treat all datasets equally, non-food-related bird remains are included.

272

The first prey-rank proportion compares the relative abundance of small-sized ungulates (largely gazelle, but also including roe deer) to medium and large-sized ungulates (bezoar goat, fallow deer, red deer, pig, aurochs, horse/onager, and hartebeest). This proportion reflects hunting efficiency on a regional scale, as smaller bodied ungulates have smaller home ranges and higher population densities than larger-bodied ungulates (Munro 2009: 5). Figure 9.11 outlines the small ungulate proportions for the 21 Epipalaeolithic sites discussed here (index values are listed

Table 9.14 NISP values for all taxa included in the regional analysis. Data from Bar-Oz et al. 1999; Bar-Oz 2004; Marom 2006; Marom & Bar-Oz 2008; Martin et al. 2010; Munro 2001, 2004, 2009; Rabinovich 1998; Rabinovich & Nadel 2005; Simmons & Nadel 1998; Van Neer et al. 2005; Stiner 2005. URIIa URIIa KHIV KHIV KHIV WJ6 MEG HAYC NHV OHII EGI 1A 1B Code Taxa A (K) B (K) C (K) (K) (K) (K) (K) (K) (K) (K) (K) SU Capreolus capreolus 0 0 0 0 1 16 17 0 22 3 5 SU Gazella gazella 1496 1428 264 1983 453 1039 12528 2059 1296 1130 1459 SU BSGD ungulate 0 0 0 0 427 722 0 4036 2313 540 940 MU Dama mesopotamica 0 0 0 0 58 198 5414 413 515 21 25 MU Cervus elaphus 0 0 0 0 10 72 0 11 149 1 0 MU Capra aegagrus 0 0 0 0 19 36 0 4 237 22 53 MU Sus scrofa 0 0 0 5 7 63 10 19 54 4 5 MU BSGC & BSGB ungulate 0 0 0 0 224 630 0 641 2780 63 67 LU Bos primigenius 7 1 0 7 1 53 43 2 99 0 0 LU Alcephalus busephalus 0 0 0 0 0 0 154 0 0 0 0 LU Equus sp. 193 30 7 172 1 3 100 0 6 0 0 LU BSGA ungulate 0 0 0 0 14 110 0 18 203 1 0 TOTAL UNGULATES 1696 1459 271 2167 1215 2942 18266 7203 7674 1763 2554 SSG Testudo graeca 65 3 1 463 462 453 320 0 171 2 3 FSG Pices sp. 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 4987 0 0 2 FSG Medium Bird 0 0 0 35 62 29 16 252* 10 5 4 FSG Large Bird 1 0 0 0 0 16 0 194* 53 3 1 FSG Huge Bird 2 2 0 2 0 11 0 16* 1 2 5 FSG Indet. Bird 0 0 0 0 35 91 9 0 0 2 4 FSG Lepus capensis 38 23 15 57 25 12 474 77 198 35 12 FSG Hystrix indica 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 TOTAL SMALL GAME 106 28 16 557 584 612 819 5526 433 49 31 Site abbreviations are as follows: KHIV – Kharaneh IV; WJ6 – Wadi Jilat 6; HAYC – Hayonim Cave; NHV – Nahal Hadera V; OHII – Ohalo II; EGI – Ein Gev I; UR IIa – Urkan e-Rub. SU – small ungulate; MU – medium ungulate; LU – large ungulate; SSG – slow small game; FSG – fast small game. *MNE values are used instead of NISP values, as individual specimen counts are unavailable.

273

Table 9.14 continued KHIV D NVD HEF ELWC HAYC ELWT HAYC HAYT HTLA HLZT Code Taxa (GK) (GK) (GK) (EN) (EN) (LN) (LN) (LN) (LN) (LN) SU Capreolus capreolus 0 26 0 2 5 5 1 1 11 0 SU Gazella gazella 6697 1540 6169 654 1496 2095 883 4249 979 644 SU BSGD ungulate 0 0 0 519 1018 0 574 357 1679 375 MU Dama mesopotamica 0 780 1685 124 47 56 30 55 5 2 MU Cervus elaphus 0 8 0 12 23 0 13 9 0 1 MU Capra aegagrus 0 0 0 7 17 0 8 19 1 8 MU Sus scrofa 1 9 11 18 50 10 43 51 11 21 MU BSGC & BSGB ungulate 0 0 0 97 128 0 79 9 47 11 LU Bos primigenius 12 13 212 0 11 6 4 78 3 8 LU Alcephalus busephalus 0 6 7 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 LU Equus sp. 194 0 1 0 0 0 1 0 0 1 LU BSGA ungulate 0 0 0 0 22 0 10 4 6 8 TOTAL UNGULATES 6904 2382 8085 1433 2817 2172 1646 4832 2742 1079 SSG Testudo graeca 105 12 60 247 1777 229 2542 3483 530 1536 FSG Pices sp. 0 0 0 1 23 0 8 10 0 22 FSG Medium Bird 2 0 3 215 2273 42 715 231 8 129 FSG Large Bird 0 0 0 70 215 0 99 7 4 56 FSG Huge Bird 4 0 0 16 30 0 18 0 0 3 FSG Indet. Bird 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 FSG Lepus capensis 220 39 239 536 1559 185 417 630 73 93 FSG Hystrix indica 2 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 TOTAL SMALL GAME 333 52 302 1083 5877 456 3799 4361 615 1839 Site abbreviations are as follows: KHV – Kharaneh IV; NVD – Neve David; HEF – Hefzibah; ELWC – El-Wad Cave; HAYC – Hayonim Cave; ELWT – El-Wad Terrace; HAYT – Hayonim Terrace; HTLA – Hatoula; HLZT – Hilazon Tachtit. SU – small ungulate; MU – medium ungulate; LU – large ungulate; SSG – slow small game; FSG – fast small game.

in Table 9.14). There is a very gradual increase in small ungulate prey, relative to medium and large ungulate prey, throughout the series, which agrees with Munro’s (2009) results, where only the coastal Mediterranean sites were compared. Something that is interesting with the results here is the wide variability within the Kebaran. The Azraq Basin assemblages and the two assemblages from UR IIa are notable for their very high small ungulate index values (88.2%, 97.9%, 97.4%, 91.5%, 94.9% and 94.1% for KHIV A, KHIV B, KHIV C, WJ 6, UR IIa 1A and UR IIa 1B, respectively). These values are all within the range of values found for the Late Natufian (ranging from 88.6% to 97.3%). This suggests that these assemblages represent very efficient hunting strategies of the occupants, where the nearby region was heavily exploited for easier-to-capture ungulate prey (in terms of availability). However, a number of the Kebaran assemblages indicate that small ungulates were not the prey size of highest interest. For

274

Figure 9.11 Proportions of small ungulates to large ungulates in Epipalaeolithic assemblages (listed in chronological order).

instance, at EG I, the small ungulate proportion is 47.3%, while the medium ungulate proportion for the same assemblage is 48.7%. This suggests that, throughout the Kebaran, and to a limited extent the Geometric Kebaran, medium sized ungulates played a larger (or more equal) role in subsistence than is found in the Natufian. This could be partly due to increased hunting efficiency in the Natufian, as argued by Munro (2009), but it could also be due in part to differing residential patterns. A more mobile hunter-gatherer group would naturally move to areas with different resource availability, depending on the season or the selected prey, and as such could incorporate more prey that would be more costly to exploit if hunters were more sedentary, due to the smaller population densities and wider home ranges of larger prey.

275

Table 9.15 Proportions of small ungulates, small game and slow small game. Sm. Sm. Slow sm. Site ungulate1 game2 game3 KHIVA 0.882075 0.0625 0.61321 KHIVB 0.978755 0.01919 0.10714 KHIVC 0.974169 0.059 0.0625 WJ6 0.915089 0.257 0.83124 MEG 0.725103 0.324625 0.791096 HAYC 0.604011 0.1722 0.740196 NHV 0.686795 0.042981 0.39072 OHII 0.846175 0.434127 0 EGI 0.473156 0.053411 0.394919 UR 1A 0.948951 0.027042 0.040816 UR1B 0.941269 0.011992 0.096774 KHIVD 0.970017 0.04823 0.31532 NVD 0.657431 0.021364 0.230769 HEF 0.763018 0.036008 0.198675 ELWC 0.819958 0.430445 0.22807 HAYCEN 0.894214 0.675983 0.302365 ELWT 0.966851 0.173517 0.502193 HAYC LN 0.885784 0.697704 0.669123 HAYT 0.953435 0.474383 0.79869 HLZT 0.944393 0.630226 0.835237 HTLA 0.973377 0.183199 0.861789 1 – Proportions of small ungulates out of ungulate faunal sample. 2 – Proportions of small game out of entire faunal sample. 3 – Proportions of slow small game out of small game faunal sample

The second prey-ranking suggested by Munro (2009) describes proportions of small bodied prey (under 5kg) within each assemblage. Following Munro (2009: 5), the relative abundance of small prey types highlights human hunting efficiency on a local level, as these prey animals tend to have small home ranges, are usually available close to human occupations and have much higher population densities than larger-bodied prey animals. It is argued that, in situations where humans are experiencing dietary stress, hunter-gatherers will increasingly turn to smaller-bodied prey to fill the gap left by larger-bodied prey.

276

Figure 9.12 illustrates the small game prey-ranking proportions for the Epipalaeolithic sites in this discussion. Natufian assemblages appear to more consistently have higher proportions of small game than do Kebaran assemblages (Table 9.15). The ranges in values between these two periods are relatively similar, however (0.422135 and 0.524223 for the Kebaran and Late Natufian assemblages, respectively), which suggests that the degree of variability between assemblages is similar within the two periods. The relatively low small-prey proportion for OH II (43.4%) is somewhat misleading and deflated – only MNE values are given by Simmons and

Figure 9.12 Proportion of small game in the Epipalaeolithic faunal assemblages (listed in chronological order).

Nadel (1998), so the actual number of identified specimens per bird species is probably higher than the reported MNE values. Despite this, there does appear to be a clear trend of an increase in the exploitation of small prey animals over time. This supports arguments for a change in subsistence behaviour towards the end of the Epipalaeolithic; however, the results also show that, during the Kebaran, small prey was exploited extensively at particular sites (i.e. MEG and

277

OH II). It is difficult to say how great a role occupation length plays in the different proportions found in the early and late Epipalaeolithic periods.

The final prey ranking proportion discussed here compares small game that has different escape- strategies (data in Table 9.13, relative proportions in Table 9.15). This proportion looks at differences in abundance between slow small game and fast small game found within each assemblage. Slower game is easier to catch, and presumably would be considered more attractive as a food resource (high rank), while fast small game is harder to catch and requires greater personal effort and potentially technological investment (nets, throwing sticks, weirs, etc.). Within an optimal foraging model, fast small prey would have a relatively low rank and would only be exploited if prey that is easier to capture was unavailable. Figure 9.13 illustrates the proportion of slow small game within the small game sample for the Epipalaeolithic assemblages discussed here.

Figure 9.13 Proportion of slow small game (tortoises) to fast small game (fish, birds, small mammals) in the Epipalaeolithic faunal assemblages (listed in chronological order).

278

As has been noted by Stiner (2001) and Munro (2001, 2009), there is a general trend in the use of small game over time. The data indicate that, over the course of the Epipalaeolithic, there is a gradual increase in the exploitation of slow small game. Slow small game is variably exploited within the Kebaran, with some assemblages having very high proportions (WJ 6, MEG, and HAYC with proportions of 83.1%, 79.1% and 74%, respectively), and others having very low proportions, such as OH II, which has no slow small game in its assemblage. This pattern seems to be directly opposite to what Stiner (2001: 6994) suggests should be present for the end of the Epipalaeolithic. She argues that the variation in small game frequencies (slow versus fast) should balance out over time, with an even dependence on both high- and low-ranked small game, indicating increasing dietary breadth. This appears to be the case for the Kebaran, where sites show a relatively even distribution of high- and low-ranked small game assemblages, while in the Late Natufian, there appears to be a clear preference for high-ranked, slow moving small game. Only one assemblage from this period suggests an even distribution of small game ranks, with a slow game proportion of 50.2% (ELWT).

In terms of prey-rank indicating dietary stress and lowered hunting efficiency, what is important to consider in this final index are the assemblages with low proportions of slow small game. The inverse of these small proportions is that these assemblages have high proportions of low-ranked, hard to catch small prey. Five assemblages within the Kebaran have slow small game proportions below 15% (KHIV B with 10.7%, KHIV C with 6.3%, UR IIa 1A with 4.1%, UR IIa 1B with 9.7%, and OH II 0.0%). The non-gazelle samples for the Azraq sites and for the UR IIa assemblages are very small, which likely explains the low proportions of slow small game. However, the slow small game proportion found for OH II is very interesting. Despite its location on the edge of a lake, where fish and waterfowl were extensively harvested (both considered low-ranked prey in terms of escape strategy and cost of acquisition), yet easier-to- harvest tortoises appear to have been ignored. This does not appear to be a decision based on dietary stress and hunting pressure on slow small game, as studies show that small ungulates, fast small game, and cereal plants were collected here. Either tortoises were unavailable at the site, due to intense hunting pressure in the area during the Upper Palaeolithic, or they were deliberately not exploited in favour of harder-to-capture small game. This suggests that, during the Kebaran, a broader range of resource exploitation strategies were used than are found in the later Epipalaeolithic, and that the trend towards an increased exploitation of small ungulates over

279

medium and large ungulates, a general increase in small game abundance in site assemblages, and an increased exploitation of slow small game over fast small game suggests that dietary breadth diminished over time. This is supported by the taxonomy-based diversity indices, which suggest that species richness was somewhat lower for the Late Natufian than for the Kebaran, and is also supported by the relatively similar mean evenness values for the Kebaran and Late Natufian (0.37058 and 0.42031, respectively).

280

Chapter 10 Conclusion

The primary purpose of this research was the examination of the fauna from Urkan e-Rubb IIa, in order to explore what these data expanded the existing understanding of Kebaran subsistence behaviour. Based on this analysis, the site appears to be a seasonally occupied site, where hunters specialised in gazelle. The majority of data suggest a season of occupation during the springtime, and there is sufficient evidence to suggest a number of occupation events took place over time. The site of Urkan e-Rubb IIa adds greatly to our understanding of Kebaran subsistence behaviour. It is the only site (analysed to date) that is west of the Jordan River and exhibits a prey exploitation strategy that is focused primarily on gazelle.

How does the site of Urkan e-Rubb IIa fit into a discussion of the Broad Spectrum Revolution? On the basis of what species were exploited in the studied assemblages (Table 5.1), it does not appear that these datasets support any contention that a broad spectrum resource exploitation strategy was used by the site inhabitants. The assemblages from Horizon 1A and 1B are clearly dominated by a single ungulate species (gazelle) with low frequencies of other fauna. However, when one considers the species richness (Table 9.13), the faunal assemblages from Urkan e- Rubb IIa have the highest species richness (the number of different species represented in the sample) among Kebaran assemblages sampled, with the exception of Ohalo II. These two assemblages also have higher richness index values than the two Geometric Kebaran samples, the Early Natufian samples, and most of the Late Natufian samples. For this latter period, the assemblage from Hilazon Tachtit has a higher richness value than the assemblage from Urkan e- Rubb IIa Horizon IB, but a lower richness value than Horizon 1A (R = 0.329 for HZLT, compared to R = 0.369 for Horizon 1A and R = 0.302 for Horizon 1B) .

Overall, species richness appears to decrease gradually from Early to Late Epipalaeolithic assemblages (Figure 9.9), with Kebaran assemblages being the most diverse. However, when the Kebaran sample is compared to the Late Natufian sample, despite the high relative richness of Ohalo II, there is no significant difference in mean richness values (t = 1.1945, df = 16, P = 0.24968) between the two periods. Even if the two extreme Kebaran assemblages (Nahal Hadera V with the lowest richness value of R = 0.065 and Ohalo II with the highest richness value of R =

281

0.736) are removed from the sample, there is still no significant difference between sample means when the two periods are compared (t = 1.5497, df = 14, P = 0.14351). This suggests that, during these two periods, a similar number of species were exploited and that both periods had similar dietary breadths.

When evenness index values are considered (the proportional distribution of species within a sample), within the Kebaran sample, the assemblages from Urkan e-Rubb IIa have some of the lowest evenness values (H = 0.164 and H = 0.158, for Horizons 1A and 1B, respectively), indicating that there is a lack of balance in the proportion of species exploited at this site. This is supported by the data in Table 5.1, where gazelle have a much higher representation than any other fauna. Only two other faunal assemblages have a lower evenness index value: Nahal Hadera V (H = 0.058) and Kharaneh IV Phase B (H = 0.118). It has been argued that the latter assemblage is the result of specialised gazelle hunting at an aggregation site (Martin et al. 2010), which would explain why there is a disproportionate representation of one species over any others. It has been suggested here (Chapter 8) that the site of Urkan e-Rubb IIa also represent a specialised base camp where the primary concern was gazelle hunting and processing. Despite the low evenness index values for Nahal Hadera V, it is not suggested here that it represents a specialised gazelle hunting site. The relative proportion of gazelle versus fallow deer is in line with the majority of Epipalaeolithic sites (Table 9.1), and the relatively high richness index value for this assemblage (R = 0.406) suggests that a relatively wide range of animals was exploited at this site.

When the assemblages from Urkan e-Rubb IIa are compared to assemblages from other Epipalaeolithic periods, it is only the Geometric Kebaran assemblage from Kharaneh IV Phase D that has a similarly low evenness index value (H = 0.163). Similar to the earlier Phase B, this assemblage has been attributed to specialised gazelle hunting as an explanation for the low proportional distribution of species. Compared to the assemblages from the Early Natufian and the Late Natufian, there is a great deal of difference between these assemblages and the assemblages from Urkan e-Rubb IIa. The mean evenness index value for the Late Natufian samples is H = 0.435, which is almost 3x higher than the evenness values from Urkan e-Rubb IIa. However, following Henry (1989), it is perhaps not effective to explore the issue of broad spectrum strategies within the earlier Epipalaeolithic (i.e. Kebaran and Geometric Kebaran)

282

using a single site as a case study. Larger occupation sites associated with the Kebaran tend to be lowland winter ‘aggregate’ type sites, similar to Kharaneh IV. While it is possible that some of these sites may be occupied throughout the entire season, it is also likely that sites were occupied for shorter periods of time, depending upon the availability of local resources, and the ability of the group to send out logistically organised parties to collect resources from farther afield. As such, the range of possible species exploited, and the density of discarded material, would vary from site to site, depending upon the differing environmental factors. Within a Natufian context, where sites are occupied for longer periods of time, the range of species found within a faunal assemblage is expected to be more diverse, as the range of available prey animals will change and fluctuate over the course of a year. Comparing dietary breadth between a single season Kebaran site and a multi-seasonal Natufian site immediately gives the impression that it is only in the later Epipalaeolithic that there is compelling evidence for hunting pressure and resource broadening.

There does appear to be a gradual shift towards greater evenness from the Early Epipalaeolithic to the Late Epipalaeolithic (Figure 9.10). Although many of the evenness values for the Kebaran fit within the range found for the Late Natufian (between 0.363 and 0.461, see Table 9.13), with some exceeding this range, such as Hayonim Cave with an evenness value H = 0.629, and Ein Gev I with an evenness value of H = 0.669, there is greater variability within the Kebaran sample. This suggests that during the Kebaran, sites may have had more of a specialised function than did sites during the Late Natufian. Some sites appear to show greater intensity in the exploitation of specific taxa (Urkan e-Rubb IIa and Kharaneh IV), while other sites appear to show a wider use of all available prey types (i.e. those sites with relatively high evenness values such as Hayonim Cave and Ein Gev I mentioned above, as well as Meged Rockshelter with a evenness value of H = 0.497 and Ohalo II with an evenness value of H = 0.433). This more even resource distribution seems to be more of a standard behaviour in the Late Natufian (although values for the Early Natufian are, on average, higher with a mean evenness value of H = 0.527). This might be due to longer site occupations associated with the Natufian period, where sites were frequently occupied for continuous seasons, and were in some cases year-round habitations (Henry 1989). Under this set of circumstances, it is expected that evenness values would be more stable and ‘even’ across assemblages, than during periods where sites are more ephemerally occupied. However, despite the apparent contrast in evenness values for the

283

Kebaran and the Late Natufian, there is no significant difference in sample means between these two periods (t = -1.62, df = 16, P = 0.1456). Therefore, the greater variability seen in the Kebaran sample is possibly due to higher residential mobility.

If taxonomy-based broad spectrum strategies are to be considered and investigated within early Epipalaeolithic assemblages, they should be conducted on a regional scale, and perhaps even on a seasonal scale. There is no evidence to suggest that Kebaran peoples occupied sites on a year- round basis. Even Ohalo II, with the relatively large number of identified hut constructions, is argued to have been occupied largely during the winter months. Within the relatively small area of the Jordan Valley, three Kebaran sites show very different evenness index values (Ohalo II with an index value of H = 0.433, Ein Gev I with an index value of H = 0.669, and Urkan e-Rubb IIa with evenness index values of H = 0.163 and H = 0.158, for Horizons 1A and 1B, respectively). The assemblage from Ohalo II has a somewhat low diversity value, despite the wide range of ungulate, bird and fish species found here, while Ein Gev I has an index value that is more similar to later Natufian faunal assemblages than it does to most Kebaran assemblages. When sites on the coastal plain are included in this comparison, for instance the Kebaran level from Hayonim Cave, Meged Rockshelter and Nahal Hadera V, the case for a more varied (and broad) resource base is strengthened. The two northern sites (Hayonim Cave and Meged Rockshelter) have evenness index values of 0.629 and 0.498, respectively. Further south, the site of Nahal Hadera V has a very low evenness index of 0.058. Additionally, Phase B from Kharaneh IV in the Azraq Basin has an evenness index value of 0.118. Based on these results, it is only these two latter sites, and the two assemblages from Urkan e-Rubb IIa that do not fit within the range of index values found in Natufian assemblages (Early and Late Natufian combined). This is not to say that, during the later Epipalaeolithic the exploitation of small game and birds is not an important adjustment in subsistence strategies, but that the overall breadth is not unique to this period.

Following critiques of taxonomy-based diversity indices to argue for dietary breadth, where the role of small prey is overshadowed by a general dominance of ungulate prey species in faunal assemblages, prey-ranking indices are also considered (data in Table 9.14, with a summary of prey rank index values in Table 9.15). It has been argued (Munro 2009: 5) that increasing hunting efficiency can be recognised in the archaeological record through an increase in the

284 proportion of small ungulates to large ungulates in faunal assemblages over time. Although larger ungulates constitute larger meat packages, these animals tend to have larger home ranges and lower population densities, requiring greater effort on the part of the hunter to acquire regular sources of food. It is therefore more efficient to concentrate on smaller ungulates, which have smaller home ranges and higher population densities.

The overall trend (Figure 9.11) suggests that small ungulate exploitation did not so much increase, but became more standardised from the Early to the Late Epipalaeolithic. What is striking here is the variability seen within the Kebaran. For instance, the faunal assemblages from Urkan e-Rubb have very high proportions of almost 95% for ‘small ungulates’. Similarly, the ‘small ungulate’ proportions at the Azraq Basin sites (Kharaneh IV Phases A-C and Wadi Jilat 6) are also high, with proportions between 88.2% and 97.9%. These high proportions are similar to those found for the Late Natufian assemblages, where the ‘small ungulate’ proportions range between 88.5% and 97.3%. This is particularly important because, in previous studies (Munro 2009), only Mediterranean assemblages were included – all of these plot well below both the Early and Late Natufian assemblages, which would give the impression of a dramatic increase in small ungulate exploitation over time. With the inclusion of the Urkan assemblages, as well as the Azraq Basin assemblages, this trend is less apparent.

In addition to these assemblages where ‘small ungulates’ were the dominant ungulate prey, a number of Kebaran sites demonstrate relatively low ‘small ungulate’ representation; for instance, at Ein Gev I, ‘small ungulates’ represent only 47.3% of the ungulate assemblage, while at Hayonim Cave, the small ungulate representation is 60.4%. These lower proportions suggest, following Munro (2009), that hunters at these sites had a greater focus on ‘medium-sized’ ungulates, which would have required greater cost in time due to the larger home ranges of these animals, than on smaller ungulates. This seems particularly to be the case for Ein Gev I, where ‘medium ungulates’ make up 48.7% of the ungulate assemblages, a proportion fractionally higher than the ‘small ungulate’ assemblage. Due to the variability within these assemblages, it suggests that there was greater site-specific specialisation in the Kebaran than in the Late Natufian. This correlates with the evenness index values calculated for the Kebaran and Late Natufian assemblages, with more overall stability occurring in the later sites and wider variation between sites in the earlier sites. This may be due to a greater overall focus in exploiting smaller

285 meat packages, as argued by Munro (2009), but it may also be due in part to longer site occupation during the Natufian, where refuse generated through carcass processing would have a longer time to accumulate and differences between seasonally available prey selection would equalise (following Henry 1989).

Similarly, there is a clear increase in the exploitation of small prey (under 5 kg) throughout the Epipalaeolithic (Figure 9.12). Following Munro (2009), this index reflects human hunting efficiency, with high proportions of small game indicating high degrees of hunting pressure (see also Stiner 2001; Stiner & Munro 2002; Stiner et al. 1999).

As with the ‘small ungulate’ proportions, there appears to be greater variability within the Kebaran than within the other Epipalaeolithic periods. The majority of sites in the Kebaran, including the two assemblages from Horizon 1 at Urkan e-Rubb and the Azraq Basin sites, have ‘small game’ proportions of less than 10%, and only three sites have small game proportions greater than 20%, two of which (Ohalo II and Wadi Jilat 6) were not a part of Munro’s original study (Meged Rockshelter is the third site). These latter three assemblages are within the range found for the Late Natufian, however, where proportions range between 17.4% and 69.8%. This pattern suggests that there is a higher degree of selection of specific prey during the Kebaran – for instance, Ohalo II has high proportions of bird and fish remains in its faunal assemblages, whereas at Urkan e-Rubb IIa and the Azraq assemblages, there is a significantly lower proportion of this prey type, but very high proportions of small ungulates, despite access to local water resources. Because of this apparent specific prey selection at certain Kebaran sites, hunting pressure does not appear to be the explanation for those assemblages which have high ‘small prey’ proportions.

Interestingly, site location does not appear to affect this specialisation either: Ein Gev I, located on the eastern shore of Lake Kinneret/Sea of Galilee has very low proportions of ‘small game’ (especially waterfowl) and no fish have been identified from this sample. Based on its location, using Ohalo II as an example, it is expected that water-based animals would have a more significant role in the subsistence strategy at this site. Instead, there appears to be a greater focus on medium and small ungulate species.

286

Finally, when slow-small-prey ratios are plotted, there again appears to be a wider range of variability within the Kebaran sample, compared to the other periods. The most dramatic increase in ‘slow small game’ begins during the Geometric Kebaran, which appears to have experienced a higher degree of hunting pressure than did either the Kebaran or the Late Natufian. Instead, towards the end of the Epipalaeolithic, it appears that hunting pressure (evidenced by low slow prey ratios) decreased. Within the Kebaran sample, it is unlikely that hunting pressure is the driving cause of the low proportions of ‘slow prey.’ Of the assemblages with proportions of 10% or less, four are argued to show a focus on gazelle hunting over other available prey (Urkan e-Rubb 1A & 1B, and Kharaneh IV B & C), with the fifth assemblage (Ohalo II) attributed to a focus on fishing/fowling (no tortoises are represented in this sample). Of the other six Kebaran assemblages, only two have ‘slow game’ proportions outside of the range found in the Late Natufian. This suggests that, overall, hunting pressure appears to have been the same during the Late Natufian as it was during the Kebaran.

In terms of increasing dietary stress throughout the Epipalaeolithic, the only index that appears to support this is the ‘small game’ index (Figure 9.12). Here, there does appear to be a clear increase in the exploitation of smaller meat packages versus larger meat packages from the Kebaran to the Late Natufian. However, how significant is the overall increase in small prey use during the Epipalaeolithic? While it appears to be true that later Epipalaeolithic hunters exploited ‘small game’ more than in earlier Epipalaeolithic assemblages, in general, these prey animals played a small role in the subsistence behaviour of Epipalaeolithic hunter-gatherers because of their lower nutritional value. One would need approximately 7-10 hares to equal the same amount of meat on a single gazelle. As summarised in Table 9.13, small game specimen counts are higher than ungulate specimen counts in the Late Natufian, but they do not completely replace these larger prey animals. Small ungulates (and medium ungulates) still play a significant role in dietary choices at this time.

This is evidenced by the high frequencies of small ungulate frequencies found within Natufian contexts (Table 9.1), where the high proportion of gazelles is attributed to intensive exploitation strategies, and young males are favoured over older males and females. There is no evidence of this level of intensification at Urkan; yet gazelle frequencies match or exceed Late Natufian frequencies. The inclusion of this data, as well as the recent Azraq data (Martin et al. 2010),

287 indicates that Kebaran subsistence patterns are more complicated than has been proposed in the past, with variability apparent between geographic regions, as well as between sites within similar regions.

With the exception of the small prey vs. ungulate prey ratios, there is not strong evidence to show increasing resource stress from the early to the late Epipalaeolithic. Instead, the Kebaran is shown to be highly variable in exploitation strategies used, with some sites showing a wide breadth of prey selected, while others showing a focus on a single prey species or class of prey. In the Natufian, these strategies appear to have become more standardised across all sites (with the exception of small game use, which remains highly variable). This may be linked to the more permanent nature of Natufian settlement patterns, and the higher mobility in the Kebaran. A lower degree of residential mobility within the Late Natufian (compared to the Kebaran) would help to create greater consistency among site assemblages, while assemblages formed by more mobile groups would reflect seasonal differences in prey availability and abundance.

Based on this research, there does not appear to be any compelling evidence to suggest that the Broad Spectrum Revolution occurred only towards the end of the Epipalaeolithic. This subsistence model does not, in fact, appear to be revolutionary at all. Instead, from the Middle and Upper Palaeolithic, as argued elsewhere (see Neeley & Clark 1993; Stiner et al. 1999), and continuing into the Epipalaeolithic, subsistence patterns broadened to include a wider range of prey species. Because this study has focused on faunal evidence, the changing significance of plant foods (i.e. wild cereals and nuts) throughout the Epipalaeolithic may suggest a different dietary pattern. However, in terms of the exploitation of prey animals, there is evidence to show that subsistence behaviours were as diverse (if not consistent) in the early Epipalaeolithic as they were in the Late Epipalaeolithic, and that Late Natufian hunter-gatherers were not experiencing significantly higher levels of hunting pressure than were Kebaran hunter-gatherers.

288

References

Abe, Y. with C.W. Marean, P. J. Nilssen, Z. Assefa, and E.C. Stone. 2002. The analysis of cutmarks on archaeofauna: A review and critique of quantitative procedures, and a new image-analysis GIS approach. American Antiquity 67: 643-663.

Alhaique, F. 1997. Do patterns of bone breakage differ between cooked and uncooked bones? An experimental approach. Anthropozoologica 25-26: 49-56.

Ali, R.S. and S.M. MacLaughlin 1991. Sex identification from the articular surface of the adult human ilium. International Journal of Osteoarchaeology 1:57-61.

Alkon, P.U. 1997. Chapter 5.3 Israel. In Wild Sheep and Goats and Their Relatives, edited by D.M. Shackleton, pp. 56-60. IUCN World Conservation Union, Cambridge UK.

Arensburg, B. and O. Bar-Yosef 1973. Human remains from Ein Gev I, Jordan Valley, Israel. Paléorient 1:201-206.

Aurenche, O. with J. Cauvin, M. -C. Cauvin, L. Copeland, F. Hours, and P. Sanlaville 1981. Chronologie et organization de l’éspace dans le Proche Orient de 12,000 à 5,600 avant J.C. In Préhistoire de Levant, edited by J. Cauvin and P. Sanlaville, pp. 571-601. CNRS, Paris.

Baharav, D. 1974. Notes on the population structure and biomass of the Mountain Gazelle, Gazella gazella gazella. Israel Journal of Zoology 23:39-44.

__ 1981. Food habits of the Mountain Gazelle in semi-arid habitats of eastern Lower Galilee, Israel. Journal of Arid Environments 4: 63-69

__ 1983a. Reproductive strategies in female Mountain and Dorcas gazelles (Gazella gazella gazella and Gazella dorcas). Journal of Zoology London 200: 445-453.

__ 1983b. Observation on the ecology of the Mountain Gazelle in the Upper Galilee, Israel. Mammalia 47: 59-69.

Bailey, G.N. and I. Davidson 1983. Site exploitation territories and topography: Two case studies from Palaeolithic Spain. Journal of Archaeological Science 10:87-115. Baird, D., with A. N. Garrard, M. Martin and K. Wright

289

1992. Prehistoric environment and settlement in the Azraq Basin: An interim report on the 1989 excavation season. Levant 24: 1-31.

Bard, E., B. Hamelin, R.G. Fairbanks and A. Zindler 1990. Calibration of the 14C timescale over the past 30,000 years using mass spectrometric U- Th ages from Barbados Corals. Nature 345: 405-410.

Bar-Oz, G. 2004. Epipalaeolithic Subsistence in the Levant: A zooarchaeological perspective. Brill Academic Publishing, Boston.

Bar-Oz, G. and T. Dayan. 2002. “After 20 Years”: A taphonomic re-evaluation of Nahal Hadera V, an Epipalaeolithic site on the Israeli coastal plain. Journal of Archaeological Science 29: 145-156.

__ 2003. Testing the use of multivariate inter-site taphonomic comparisons: The faunal analysis of Hefzibah in its Epipalaeolithic cultural context. Journal of Archaeological Science 30: 885-900.

__ 2005. Zooarchaeological diversity and palaeoecological reconstruction of the Epipalaeolithic faunal sequence in the northern Coastal Plain and the slopes of Mount Carmel, Israel. In Archaeozoology of the Near East VI, edited by H. Buitenhuis, A.M. Choyke, L. Martin, L. Bartosiewicz, and M. Mashkour, pp. 50-60. Groningen Institute for Archaeology, Groningen.

__ 2007. FOCUS: On the use of the petrous bone for estimating cranial abundance in fossil assemblages. Journal of Archaeological Science 34: 1356-1360.

Bar-Oz, G. and N. D. Munro 2007. Gazelle bone marrow yields and Epipalaeolithic carcass exploitation strategies in the southern Levant. Journal of Archaeological Science 34: 946-956.

Bar-Oz, G. with T. Dayan and D. Kaufman. 1999. The Epipalaeolithic faunal sequence in Israel: A view from Neve David. Journal of Archaeological Science 26: 67-82.

Bar-Oz, G. with T. Dayan, D. Kaufman and M. Weinstein-Evron 2004. The Natufian economy at el-Wad Terrace with special reference to gazelle exploitation patters. Journal of Archaeological Science 31:217-231.

Bar-Matthews, M. with A. Ayalon, and A. Kaufman 1997. Late Quaternary Paleoclimate in the Eastern Mediterranean Region from Stable Isotope Analysis of Speleothems at Soreq Cave, Israel. Quaternary Research 47: 155-168.

290

Bar-Matthews, M. with A. Ayalon, M. Gilmour, A. Matthews, and C. J. Hawkesworth 2003. Sea-Land Oxygen Isotopic relationships from Planktonic Foraminifera and Speleothems in the Eastern Mediterranean Region and Their Implication for Paleorainfall During Interglacial Intervals. Geochimica et Comochimica Acta 17: 3181-3199.

Bartov, Y. with M. Stein, Y. Enzel, A. Agnon, and Z. Reches 2002: Lake Levels and Sequence Stratigraphy of Lake Lisan, the Late Pleistocene Precursor of the Dead Sea. Quaternary Research 57: 9-21.

Bartov, Y. with S.L. Goldstein, M. Stein, and Y. Enzel 2003. Catastrophic Arid Episodes in the Eastern Mediterranean Linked with the North Atlantic Heinrich Events. Geology 31; 439-442.

Bartram, L.E. 1993. An ethnoarchaeological analysis of Kua San (Botswana) bone food refuse. Unpublished PhD. Dissertation, Department of Anthropology, University of Wisconsin at Madison.

Baruch, U. 1994. The late Quaternary pollen record of the Near East. In Late Quaternary Chronology and Palaeoclimates of the Eastern Mediterranean, edited by O. Bar-Yosef and R. Kra, pp. 103-119. RADIOCARBON, Tucson Arizona.

Baruch, U. and S. Bottema 1991. Palynological Evidence for Climate Changes in the Levant ca. 17,000-9,000 B.P. In The Natufian Culture in the Levant, edited by O. Bar-Yosef and F.R. Valla, pp. 11-20. International Monographs in Prehistory, Ann Arbor.

Bar-Yosef, Of. 1970. The Epipaleolithic Cultures of Palestine. Unpublished PhD. dissertation, Hebrew University of Jerusalem.

__ 1975. The Epi-Palaeolithic in Palestine and Sinai. In Problems in Prehistory: North East Africa and the Levant, edited by F. Wendorf and A.E. Marks, pp. 363-378. SMU Press, Dallas.

__ 1981a. The “Pre-Pottery Neolithic” period in the Southern Levant. In Préhistoire du Levant, edited by J. Cauvin and P. Sanlaville, pp. 555-569. CNRS, Paris.

__ 1981b. The Epi-palaeolithic complexes in the Southern Levant. In Préhistoire du Levant, edited by J. Cauvin and P. Sanlaville, pp. 389-408. CRNS, Paris.

291

__ 1983. The Natufian in the Southern Levant. In The Hilly Flanks and Beyond, edited by T.C. Young Jr., P.E.I. Smith and P. Mortensen, pp. 11-42. Oriental Institute Studies in Ancient Oriental Civilization 11.

__ 1987a. Direct and indirect evidence of hafting in the Epi-Palaeolithic and Neolithic of the Southern Levant. Le Main et l’outil, manche et emman elements préhistoriques, edited by D. Stordeur, pp. 155-164. Maison de l’Orient, Lyon.

__ 1987b. Late Pleistocene adaptations in the Levant. In The Pleistocene Old World: Regional Perspectives, edited by O. Soffer, pp. 219-236. Plenum Press: New York.

__ 1990. The Late Glacial Maximum in the Mediterranean Levant. In The World at 18,000 BP: Low Altitudes, edited by C. Gamble and O. Soffer, pp. 58-77. Unwin and Hyman, London.

__ 1991. The archaeology of the Natufian layer at Hayonim Cave. In The Natufian Culture in the Levant, edited by O. Bar-Yosef and F.R. Valla, pp. 81-92. International Monographs in Prehistory, Ann Arbor.

Bar-Yosef, O. and A. Belfer-Cohen 1989. The origins of sedentism and farming communities in the Levant. Journal of World Prehistory 3/4: 447-498.

__ 1991. From sedentary hunter-gatherers to territorial farmers in the Levant. In Between Bands and States, edited by S.A. Gregg, pp. 181-202. Center for Archaeological Investigations, Occasional Paper No. 9, Southern Illinois University.

__ 1992. From foraging to farming in the Mediterranean Levant. In Transitions to Agriculture in Prehistory, edited by A.B. Gebauer and T.D. Price, pp. 21-48. Prehistory Press, Madison Wisconsin.

Bar-Yosef, O. and N. Goren 1973. Natufian remains at Hayonim Cave. Paléorient 2: 415-428.

Bar-Yosef, O. and T. Leveson 1974. Ein Gev I. Israel Antiquity Authority

292

Bar-Yosef, O. and R.H. Meadow 1995. The origins of agriculture in the Near East. In Last Hunters – First Farmers, edited by T.D. Price and A.B. Gebauer, pp. 39-94. School of American Research, Santa Fe.

Bar-Yosef, O. and J.L. Philips 1977. Prehistoric investigations in Gebel Maghara, Northern Sinai. Qedem 7. Jerusalem: Monographs of the Institute of Archaeology, Hebrew University.

Bar-Yosef, O. and F. R. Valla 1979. L’evolution du Natufien, Nouvelles suggestions. Paléorient 5: 145-152.

__ 1991. The Natufian Culture – An introduction. In The Natufian Culture in the Levant, edited by O. Bar-Yosef and F.R. Valla, pp. 1-10. International Monographs in Prehistory, Ann Arbor.

Bar-Yosef, O. and J. Vogel 1987. Relative and absolute chronology of the Epi-paleolithic in the Southern Levant. In Chronologies in the Near East, edited by O. Aurenche, J. Evin and F. Hours, pp. 220- 245. BAR International Series 379, Oxford.

Bar-Yosef, O. with P. Goldberg and T. Leveson 1974. Late Quaternary stratigraphy and prehistory in Wadi Fazael, Lower Jordan Valley: A preliminary report. Paléorient 2:415-428.

Bayern, A. von and J. von Bayern 1977. Über Rehe in einen Steirischen Gebirgsrevier. 2nd Edition. BLV. Verglagsgesellschaft, Munich.

Begin, Z.B. 1974. The Geological Map of Israel, 1:50,000, Sheet 9-III.

Begin, Z.B. with A. Ehrlich and Y. Nathan 1974. Lake Lisan, the Pleistocene precursor of the Dead Sea. Geol. Survey Isr. 63:1-28.

Begin, Z.B. with Y. Nathan and A. Ehrlich 1980. Stratigraphy and facies distribution in the Lisan Formation: New evidence from the area south of the Dead Sea, Israel. Isr. J. Earth Sci. 29:182-189.

Begin, Z.B. with W. Broecker, B. Buchbinder, Y. Druckman, A. Kaufman, M. Magaritz, and D. Neev 1985. Dead Sea and Lake Lisan levels in the last 30,000 years: A preliminary report. Isr. Geol. Survey, report GSI/20/85.

293

Behrensmeyer, A.K. 1975. The taphonomy and paleoecology of Plio-Pleistocene vertebrate assemblages east of Lake Rudolf, Kenya. Bulletin of the Museum of Comparative Zoology 146:473-578.

__ 1978. Taphonomic and ecologic information from bone weathering. Paleobiology 4: 150-162.

__ 1982. Time resolution in fluvial vertebrate assemblages. Paleobiology 8: 211-227.

Belfer-Cohen, A. 1988. The Natufian settlement at Hayonim Cave. Unpublished PhD. Dissertation, Hebrew University of Jerusalem.

Belfer-Cohen, A. and O. Bar-Yosef 1981. The Aurignacian at Hayonim Cave. Paléorient 7: 19-42.

Belfer-Cohen, A. and N. Goring-Morris 2003. Why microliths? Microlithization in the Levant. In In Thinking Small: Global Perspectives on Microlithic Technologies, edited by R.G. Elston & S.L. Kuhn, pp. 57-68. Vol. 12. American Anthropological Association, Arlington.

Belitzky, S. 2002. The evolution of environment and relief around the Ohalo II prehistoric site. In Ohalo II: A 23,000-Year-Old Fisher-Hunter-Gatherers’ Camp on the Shore of the Sea of Galilee, edited by D. Nadel, pp. 53-55. Reuben and Edith Hecth Museum, University of Haifa, Israel.

Belitzky, S. and D. Nadel 2002. The Ohalo II prehistoric camp (19.5 Ky): New evidence for environmental and tectonic changes at the Sea of Galilee. Geoarchaeology: An International Journal 17:453-464.

Benjamin, C. 1984. The Stratigraphy of the Sartaba Block. In Sartaba and the Samarian Desert, edited by U. Paz, pg. 8-11. The Society for the Protection of Nature and the Ministry of Education (in Hebrew), Tel Aviv.

Bennet, J.L. 1999. Thermal alteration of buried bone. Journal of Archaeological Science 26: 1-8.

Besancon, J., with L. Copeland and F. Hours 1975-7. Tableaux de Prehistoire Libanaise. Paléorient 3: 5-45.

294

Betts, A.V.B. 1991. The Late Epipalaeolithic in the Black Desert, Central Jordan. In The Natufian Culture in the Levant, edited by O. Bar-Yosef and F.R. Valla, pp.217-234. International Monographs in Prehistory, Ann Arbor.

Binford, L.R. 1968. Post Pleistocene adaptations. In New Perspectives in Archaeology, edited by S.R. Binford and L.R. Binford, pp. 313-41. Aldine, Chicago.

__ 1978. Nunamiut Ethnoarchaeology. Academic Press, New York

__ 1980. Willow smoke and dogs’ tails: Hunter-gatherer settlement systems and archaeological site formation. American Antiquity 45:4-20.

__ 1981. Bones: Ancient Men and Modern Myths. Academic Press, New York.

__ 1984. Faunal Remains from Klasies River Mouth. Academic Press. New York.

Binford, L.R. and J.B. Bertram. 1977. Bone frequencies – and attritional processes. In For Theory Building in Archaeology: Essays on faunal remains, aquatic resources, spatial analysis, and systematic modelling, edited by L.R. Binford, pg. 77-153. New York, Academic Press.

Binford, L.R. and C.K. Ho 1985. Taphonomy at a distance: Zhoukoudian, “The Cave Home of Beijing Man”. Current Anthropology 26:413-439.

Binford, L.R. with M.G.L. Mills and N.M. Stone 1988. Hyena scavenging behaviour and its implications for interpretation of faunal assemblages from FLK 22 (the Zinj Floor) at Olduvai Gorge. Journal of Anthropological Archaeology 7:99-135.

__ 1988. An experiment model of the timing of hominid and carnivore influence on archaeological bone assemblages. Journal of Archaeological Science 15:483-502.

Blumenschine, R.J. 1986. Carcass consumption sequences and the archaeological distinction of scavenging and hunting. Journal of Human Evolution 15:639-659.

295

Blumenschine, R. J. and T.G. Madrigal 1993. Variability in long bone marrow yields of East African ungulates and its zooarchaeological implications. Journal of Archaeological Science 20:555-587.

Blumenschine, R.J. with C.W. Marean and S.D. Capaldo 1996. Blind tests of inter-analyst correspondence and accuracy in the identification of cut marks, percussion marks, carnivore tooth marks on bone surfaces. Journal of Archaeological Science 23:493-507.

Bobrowsky, P.T. and B.F. Ball 1989. The Theory and Mechanics of Ecological Diversity in Archaeology. In Quantifying Diversity in Archaeology, edited by R.D. Leonard and G.T. Jones, pp. 4-12. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge.

Bonnichsen, R. and M. H. Sorg (editors) 1989. Bone Modification. University of Maine, Center for the Study of the First Americans, Orono.

Bouchud, J. 1987 Les mammifères et la petite faune du gisement Natoufien d’Israel. Mémoires et Travaux du Centre de Recherche Français de Jerusalem. Association Paléorient, Paris.

Bottema, S. 1987. Chronology and climatic phases in the Near East from 16,000 to 10,000 BP. In Chronologies in the Near East: Relative Chronologies and Absolute Chronology 16,000- 4,000 B.P., edited by O. Aurenche, J. Evin and F. Hours, pp. 295-310. BAR International Series 379, Oxford.

Bottema, S. and W. van Zeist 1981. Palynological Evidence for the Climatic History of the Near East 50,000-6000 BP. In Prehistoire du Levant, edited by J. Cauvin and P. Sanlaville, pp. 111-132. CNRS, Paris.

Boyd, B. 2006. On ‘sedentism’ in the later Epipalaeolithic (Natufian) Levant. World Archaeology 38: 164-178.

Braidwood, R. 1960. The Agricultural Revolution. Scientific American 203: 130-148.

Brain, C.K. 1981. The Hunters or the Hunted? An Introduction to African Cave Taphonomy. University of Chicago Press, Chicago.

296

Bridault, A., J.-D. Vigne, M.-P. Horard-Herbin, E. Pellé, and M. Mashkour 2000. Wild Boar – age at death estimates: The relevance of new modern data for archaeological skeletal material. 1. Presentation on the corpus, dental and epiphyseal fusion ages. Anthropozoologica 31: 11-18.

Brink, J.W. 1997. Fat content in leg bones of Bison bison, and applications to archaeology. Journal of Archaeological Science 24:259-274.

Brown, L.H., with Emil K. Urban and K. Newman 1982. The Birds of Africa. Volume 1. Academic Press, New York.

Buck, C. with W.G. Cavanagh and C. Litton 1996. Bayesian Approach to Interpreting Archaeological data. Wiley, Chichester.

Buck, C.E., with J.A. Christen and G.N. James 1999. BCAL: An on-line Bayesian radiocarbon calibration tool. Internet Archaeology 7.

Bueller, J. 1993. The methodology to establish the types of microwear on sampled blades from Urkan e- Rub IIa and Netiv Hagdud. Mitekufat Haeven, Journal of the Israel Prehistoric Society 25: 163-188.

Bullock, D. and J. Rackham 1982. Epiphyseal fusion and tooth eruption of feral goats from Moffatdale, Dumfries and Galloway, Scotland. In Ageing and Sexing Animal Bones from Archaeological Sites, edited by B. Wilson, C. Grigson, and S. Payne, pp. 73-80. British Archaeological Reports British Series 109, Oxford.

Bunn, H.T. 1983. Comparative analysis of modern bone assemblages from a San hunter-gatherer camp in the Kalahari desert, Botswana, and from a spotted hyena den near Nairobi, Kenya. In Animals and Archaeology: 1. Hunters and Their Prey, edited by J. Clutton-Brock & C. Grigson, pp. 143-148.BAR International Series, London.

__ 1989. Diagnosing Plio-Pleistocene hominid activity with bone fracture evidence. In Bone Modification, edited by R. Bonnichsen and M. Sorg, pp. 299-315. University of Maine, Center for the Study of the First Americans, Orono.

__ 1993. Bone assemblages at base camps: A further consideration of carcass transport and bone destruction by the Hadza. In From Bones to Behavior: Ethnoarchaeological and Experimental Contributions to the Interpretation of Faunal Remains, edited by J. Hudson, pp. 156-168. Southern Illinois University Press, Carbondale, IL.

297

Bunn, H. T. with L.E. Bartram and E.M. Kroll 1988. Variability in bone assemblage formation from Hadza hunting, scavenging, and carcass processing. Journal of Anthropological Archaeology 7: 412-457.

Buttler, B.H. with E. Tchernov, H. Hietala, and S. Davis 1977. Faunal exploitation during the Late Epipalaeolithic in the Har Harif. In Prehistory and Paleoenvironments in the Central Negev, Israel. Volume II. The Advat/Aqev Area, Part 2, and the Har Harif edited by A.E. Marks, pp. 327-346. Institute for the Study of Earth and Man, Reports of Investigations: 2. SMU Press, Dallas.

Byrd, B.F. 1988. Late Pleistocene settlement diversity in the Azraq Basin. Paléorient 14(2): 257-264.

__ 1989a. The Natufian: Settlement variability and economic adaptations in the Levant at the end of the Pleistocene. Journal of World Prehistory 3(2): 159-197.

__ 1989b. The Natufian Encampment at Beidha: Late Pleistocene Adaption in the Southern Levant. Jutland Archaeological Society Publications 23, Aarhus.

__ 1994a. From early humans to farmers and herders: Recent progress on key transitions in southwest Asia. Journal of Archaeological Research 2:221-253.

__ 1994b. Late Quaternary hunter-gatherer complexes in the Levant between 20,000 and 10,000 BP. In Late Quaternary Chronology and Paleoclimates of the Eastern Mediterranean, edited by O. Bar-Yosef and R. Kra, pp. 205-226. RADIOCARBON, Tucson.

Cain, C.R. 2005. Using burned animal bone to look at Middle Stone Age occupation and behavior. Journal of Archaeological Science 32: 873-884.

Campana, D.V. 1991. Bone implements from Hayonim Cave: Some relevant issues. In The Natufian Culture in the Levant, edited by O. Bar-Yosef and F.R. Valla, pp. 459-466. International Monographs in Prehistory, Ann Arbor.

Campana, D.V. and P.J. Crabtree 1990. Communal hunting in the Natufian of the southern Levant. Journal of Mediterranean Archaeology 3:223-243.

298

Capaldo, S.D. 1990. Differential treatment of the axial and appendicular elements by scavenging carnivores at simulated archaeological sites. In Biennial Meeting of the Society of Africanist Archaeologists, pp. 22-25. University of Florida at Gainesville.

__ 1998a. Simulating the formation of dual-patterned archaeofaunal assemblages with experimental control samples. Journal of Archaeological Science 25: 311-330.

__ 1998b. Methods, marks, and models for inferring hominid and carnivore behaviour. Journal of Human Evolution 35:323-326.

Castel, J-C. 2004. L’influence des canidés sur la formation des ensembles archéologiques: Caractérisation des destructions dues au loup. Revue de Palébiologie, Genève 23: 675-693.

Cauvin, M. –C. 1981. L’Épipaleolithique de Syrie d’apres les premières recherché dans la cuvette d’El Kowm (1978-1979). In Préhistoire de Levant, edited by J. Cauvin and P. Sanlaville, pp. 375- 388. Colloque International du CNRS, Lyon.

Cauvin, M. –C. and E. Coqueniot 1990. L’oasis d’El Kowm et le Kebarien geometrique. In Paleorient, Prehistoire du Levant, pp. 270-281. CNRS Maison de l’Orient, Lyon.

Cauvin, J. with M. –C. Cauvin and D. Stordeur 1979. Recherches préhistoriques a El Kowm (Syrie). Premiere champagne 1978. Cahiers de l’Euphrate 2: 79-117. Editions du CNRS, Paris.

Chapman, D. and N. Chapman 1975. Fallow deer: Their history, distribution and biology. Dalton Press, Lavenham Suffolk.

Charnov, E.L. 1976. Optimal Foraging: The marginal value theorem. Theoretical Population Biology 9: 129- 136.

Chase, P. 2004. Techniques d’extraction de la moelle dans le Moustérien de la Quina (Charente). Bulletin de la Sociéte Préhistorique Française 101: 253-256.

Church, R.R. and R. L. Lyman 2003. Small fragments make small differences in efficiency when rendering grease from fractured artiodactyl bones by boiling. Journal of Archaeological Science 30: 1077- 1084.

299

Close, A.E. 1978. The Identification of style in lithic artefacts. World Archaeology 10: 223-237.

Clutton-Brock, T.H. with F.E. Guinness and S.D. Albon 1982. Red Deer: Behavior and Ecology of Two Sexes. Edinburgh University Press, Edinburgh.

Clutton-Brock, T.H. with D. Green, M. Hiraiwa-Hasegawa and S.D. Albon 1988. Passing the buck: Resource defense, lek breeding and mate choice in fallow deer. Behav. Ecol. Sociobiol. 23: 281-296.

Coinman, N. 1996. Worked bone in the Levantine Upper Palaeolithic: Rare examples from the Wadi Al-Hasa, West Central Jordan. Paléorient 22: 113-121.

Conkey, M.W. 1978. Style and information in cultural evolution: Toward a predictive model for the Palaeolithic. In Social Archaeology: Beyond Subsistence and Dating, edited by C.L. Redman, M.J. Berman, E.V. Curtin and W.T. Longhorne, pp. 61-85. Academic Press, New York.

__ 1980. The identification of prehistoric hunter-gatherer aggregation sites: The case of Altamira. Current Anthropology 21:609-630.

Cope, C. 1991. Gazelle hunting strategies in the southern Levant. In The Natufian Culture in the Levant, edited by O. Bar-Yosef and F. R. Valla, pp. 341-358. International Monographs in Prehistory, Archaeological Series 1, Ann Arbor.

Copeland, L. And F. Hours 1971. A Microlithic flint site in the Wadi Rum, Jordan and a review of the Epipalaeolithic of the Northern Arabia. Seminar for Arabian Studies, pp. 7-23. Cambridge.

Corbet, G.B. 1978. The Mammals of the Palaearctic Region: A Taxonomic Review. British Museum (Natural History), London.

Costamango, S. with I. Théry-Parisot, J.-P. Brugal, and R. Guibert. 2002. Taphonomic consequences of the use of bones as fuel: Experimental data and archaeological applications. In Biosphere to Lithosphere: New studies in vertebrate taphonomy, edited by T. O’Connor, pp. 51-62.

Cowan, C.W. and P.J. Watson 1992. Introduction. In The Origins of Agriculture: An International Perspective, edited by C. W. Cowan and P.J. Watson, pp. 1-6. Smithsonian Institution Press, Washington D.C.

300

Crabtree, P.J., with D. V. Campana, and A. Belfer-Cohen 1991. First results of the excavations at Salibiya I, lower Jordan Valley. In The Natufian Culture in the Levant, edited by O. Bar-Yosef and F.R. Valla, pp. 161-172. International Monographs in Prehistory, Ann Arbor.

D’Eririco, F. 1988. Lecture technologique de l’art mobilier grave: Nouvelles methodes et premiers resultants sur les galets graves de Rochedane. L’Anthropologie 92:101-122.

__ 1989. Palaeolithic lunar calendars: A case of wishful thinking? Current Anthropology 30: 117- 118.

Darmon, F. 1984. Analyses pollinique de deux sites de la basse vallée du Jourdain: Fazael VIII et Salibiya IX. Paléorient 10:106-110.

David, B. 1990. How was this bone burnt? In Problem Solving in Taphonomy, edited by S. Solomon, I. Davidson, and D. Watson, pp. 65-79. Anthropology Museum, University of Queensland, St. Lucia.

Davis, S.J.M. 1972. Faunal remains of Upper Palaeolithic sites at En-Gev. Unpublished M.Sc. thesis. Hebrew University, Jerusalem. __ 1974. Animal remains from the Kebaran site of Ein-Gev I, Jordan Valley, Israel. Paléorient 2: 453-462.

__ 1980. A Note on the dental and skeletal ontogeny of Gazella. Israel Journal of Zoology 29: 129-134.

__ 1982. Climatic change and the advent of domestication of ruminant artiodactyls in the Late Pleistocene-Holocene period in the Israel region. Paléorient 8: 5-16.

__ 1983. The age profile of gazelles predated by ancient man in Israel: Possible evidence for a shift from seasonality to sedentism in the Natufian. Paléorient 9: 55-62.

__ 1985. A preliminary report of the fauna from Hatoula: a Natufian-Khiamian (PPNA) site near Latroun, Israel. In Le site natufien-khiamien de Hatoula, près de Latroun, Israël, edited by M. Lechevallier and A. Ronen, pp. 71-98. Centre de Reserche Français de Jerusalem, Jerusalem.

301

__ 1986. Patterns of biogenic weathering as indicators of paleoclimates in Israel. Proc. Roy. Soc. Edinburgh 89B:243-253.

__ 1987. The Archaeology of Animals. Batsford Books, London.

__ 1991. When and why did prehistoric people domesticate animals? Some evidence from Israel and Cyprus. In The Natufian Culture in the Levant, edited by O. Bar-Yosef and F.R. Valla, pp. 381-390. International Monographs in Prehistory, Archaeological Series 1, Ann Arbor.

__ 2005. Why domesticate food animals? Some zoo-archaeological evidence from the Levant. Journal of Archaeological Science 32:1408-1416.

Davis, S.J.M. and F.R. Valla 1978. Evidence for domestication of the dog 12,000 ago in the Natufian of Israel. Nature 276: 608-610.

Davis, S.J.M., with N. Goring-Morris, and A. Gopher 1981. Sheep bones from the Negev. Paléorient 8: 87-93.

Davis, S.J.M. with R. Rabinovich and N. Goren-Inbar 1988. Quaternary extinctions and population increase in western Asia: The animal remains from Biq’at Quneitra. Paléorient 14: 95-105.

D’Eath, R.B. and S.P. Turner 2009. The natural behaviour of the pig. In The Welfare of Pigs, edited by J.N. Marchant-Forde, pp. 13-45. Springer, The Netherlands.

Dewbury, A.G. and N. Russell 2007. Relative frequency of butchering cutmarks produced by obsidian and flint: An experimental approach. Journal of Archaeological Science 34: 354-357.

Dewar, G., with D. Halkett, T. Hart, J. Orton and J. Sealy 2006. Implications of a mass kill site of sprinkbok (Antidorcas marsupialis) in South Africa: hunting practices, gender relations, and sharing in the Later Stone Age. Journal of Archaeological Science 33: 1266-1275.

Dobney, K. and K. Rielly. 1988. A method for recording archaeological animal bones: The use of diagnostic zones. Circaea 5 (2):79-96.

302

Dolev, A. and A. Perevolotsky (eds.) 2004. The Red Book: Vertebrates in Israel. Israel Nature and Parks Authority and the Society for the Protection of Nature in Israel.

Dunnell, R.D. 1989. Diversity in Archaeology: A Group of Measures in Search of Application? In Quantifying Diversity in Archaeology, edited by R.D. Leonard and G.T. Jones, pp. 142-149. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge.

Ducos, P and L.K. Horwitz 1998. The influence of climate on artiodactyls size during the Late Pleistocene-Early Holocene of the southern Levant. Paléorient 23: 229-247.

Edwards, P.C. 1987. Late Pleistocene Occupation in Wadi al-Hammeh, Jordan Valley. PhD. University of Sydney, Sydney.

__ 1989. Revising the Broad Spectrum Revolution and its role in the origin of Southwest Asian food production. Antiquity 63:225-246.

__ 1990. Kebaran occupation at the Last Glacial Maximum in Wadi al-Hammeh, Jordan Valley. In The World at 18,000 BP: Low Altitudes, edited by C. Gamble and O. Soffer, pp. 97-118. Unwin and Hyman, London.

Egeland, C.P. 2003. Carcass processing intensity and cutmark creation; An experimental approach. Plains Anthropologist 48: 39-51.

Emlen, J.M. 1966. The Role of Time and Energy in Food Preference. American Naturalist 100: 611-617.

Enloe, J.G. with F. David and G. Baryshnikov 2000. Hyenas and Hunters: Zooarchaeological investigations at Prolom II Cave, Crimea. International Journal of Osteology 10: 310-324.

Evenari, M. with L. Shanan and N. Tadmor 1971. The Negev: The Challenge of a Desert. Harvard University Press, Cambridge.

Farrand, W.R. and A. Ronen 1974. Observations on the Kurkar-Hamra succession on the Carmel coastal plain. Tel Aviv 1/2: 45-54.

303

Faith, J.T. and A.D. Gordon 2007. Skeletal element abundances in archaeofaunal assemblages: Economic utility, sample size, and assessment of carcass transport strategies. Journal of Archaeological Science 34: 872-882.

Fellner, R.O. 1995. Cultural Change and the Epipalaeolithic of Palestine. Tempus Reparatum, Oxford.

Flannery, K. 1969. Origins and ecological effects of early domestication in Iran and the Near East. In The Domestication and Exploitation of Plant and Animals, edited by P.J. Ucko and G.W. Dimbleday, pp. 73-100. Aldine, Chicago.

Faure, M. and C. Guerin 1987. Les grandes mammiferes et la fin du pleistocene au moyen-orient commentaries biochronologiques. In Chronologies in the Near East, edited by O. Aurenche, J. Evin and F. Hours, pp. 311-318. BAR International Series 379, Oxford.

Fletcher, T.J. 1974. The timing of reproduction in red deer (Cervus elaphus) in relation to latitude. Journal of Zoology 172: 363-367.

Garrard, A.N. 1980. Man-Animal-Plant relationships during the Upper Pleistocene and Early Holocene of the Levant. Unpublished PhD. dissertation, University of Cambridge.

__ 1982. The Environmental implications of the re-analysis of the large mammal fauna from the Wadi el-Mughara caves, Palestine. In Paleoclimates, Paleoenvironments and Human Communities in the Eastern Mediterranean Region in Later Prehistory, edited by J.L. Bintliff and W. van Zeist, pp. 165-198. British Archaeological Reports (IS) No. 133, Oxford.

__ 1985. Appendix 1. Faunal Remains. In Black Desert Survey, Jordan: Third preliminary report, edited by A. Betts. Levant 17: 39-49.

__ 1991. Natufian settlement in the Azraq Basin, Eastern Jordan. In The Natufian Culture in the Levant, edited by O. Bar-Yosef and F.R. Valla, pp. 235-244. International Monographs in Prehistory, Ann Arbor.

Garrard, A.N. and B.F. Byrd 1992. New dimensions to the Epipalaeolithic of the Wadi El-Jilat in central Jordan. Paléorient 18: 47-62.

304

Garrard, A.N., with D. Baird, and B. F. Byrd 1994a. The Chronological basis and significance of the Late Palaeolithic and Neolithic sequence in the Azraq Basin, Jordan. In Late Quaternary Chronology and Paleoclimates of the Eastern Mediterranean, edited by O. Bar-Yosef and R. Kra, pp. 177-199. RADIOCARBON, Tucson.

Garrard, A.N., B.F. Byrd, and A. Betts 1986. Prehistoric environments and settlement in the Azraq Basin: An interim report on the 1984 excavation season. Levant 18: 1-20.

Garrard, A.N., with D. Baird, S.M. Colledge, L. Martin and K.I. Wright 1994b. Prehistoric environment and settlement in the Azraq Basin: An interim report on the 1987 and 1988 excavation seasons. Levant 26; 73-109.

Garrard, A.N., with A. Betts, B.F. Byrd, and C. Hunt 1987. Prehistoric environment and settlement in the Azraq Basin: An interim report on the 1985 excavation season. Levant 19: 5-25.

Garrard, A.N., with B.F. Byrd, P. Harvey and F. Hivernal 1985. Prehistoric environment and settlement in the Azraq Basin: A report on the 1982 survey season. Levant 17: 1-28.

Garrard, A.N., with S.M. Colledge, C. Hunt and R. Montague 1988. Environment and subsistence during the late Pleistocene and early Holocene in the Azraq Basin. Paléorient 14(2): 40-49.

Garrard, A.N., with A. Betts, B.F. Byrd, S.M. Colledge and C. Hunt 1988. Summary of paleoenvironmental and prehistoric investigations in the Azraq Basin. In The Prehistory of Jordan, edited by A.N. Garrard and H.G. Gebel, pp. 311-337. BAR International Series 396, Oxford.

Garrod, D.A.E. 1958. The Natufian culture: The life and economy of Mesolithic people in the Near East. Proceedings of the British Academy 43: 211-227.

Geist, V. 1998. Deer of the World: Their Evolution, Behaviour, and Ecology. Stackpole Books, Mechanicsburg, PA.

Gifford-Gonzalez, D.P. 1989. Ethnographic analogues for interpreting modified bones: Some cases from East Africa. In Bone Modification, edited by R. Bonnichsen and M.H. Sorg, pp. 179-246. University of Maine, Center for the Study of the First Americans, Orono.

305

Gilchrist, R. and H.C. Mytym 1986. Experimental archaeology and burnt animal bone from archaeological sites. Circaea 4: 29-38.

Godfrey-Smith, D.I, with K.B. Vaughn, A. Gopher and R. Barkai 2003. Direct luminescence chronology of the Epipalaeolithic Kebaran site of Nahal Hadera V, Israel. Geoarchaeology 18: 461-475.

Goldberg, P. 1977. Late Quaternary stratigraphy of Gebel Maghara. In Prehistoric Investigations in Gebel Maghara, Northern Sinai, edited by O. Bar-Yosef and J.L. Phillips, pp. 11-31. Qedem 7. Jerusalem: Monographs of the Institute of Archaeology, Hebrew University.

__ 1981. Late Pleistocene Stratigraphy of Israel: An eclectic view. In Prehistoire du Levant, edited by J. Cauvin and P. Sanlaville, pg. 111-131. Colloques Internationaux du CNRS, Editions du CNRS, Paris.

Goring-Morris, N. 1980. Late Quaternary sites in Wadi Fazael, Lower Jordan Valley. Unpublished M.A. thesis, Hebrew University, Jerusalem.

__ 1985. Terminal Pleistocene Hunter/Gatherers in the Negev and Sinai. Unpublished doctoral thesis, Hebrew University of Jerusalem.

__ 1987. At The Edge: Terminal Pleistocene hunter-gatherers in the Negev and Sinai. BAR International Series 361, Oxford.

__ 1988. Reply to reviews of “At the Edge.” Mitekufat Haeven Journal of the Israel Prehistoric Society 21: 79-86.

__ 1990. Socio-cultural aspects of marine mollusc use in the Terminal Pleistocene of the Negev and Sinai regions of the Southern Levant. In Proceedings of the 1986 Shell Bead Conference. Selected Papers, edited by C. Hayes III, pp. 175-188. Rochester Museum and Science Records 20, New York.

__ 1991. The Harifian of the Southern Levant. In The Natufian Culture in the Levant, edited by O. Bar-Yosef and F.R. Valla, pp. 173-216. International Monographs in Prehistory, Ann Arbor.

306

__ 1998. Complex hunter/gatherers at the end of the Paleolithic (20,000-10,000 BP). In The Archaeology of Society in the Holy Land, edited by T.E. Levy, pp. 141-167. Leicester University Press, London.

Goring-Morris, N. and P. Goldberg 1990. Late Quaternary Dune Incursions in the Southern Levant: Archaeology, Chronology and Palaeoenvironments. Quaternary International 5: 115-137.

Grau, G.A. and F.R. Walther 1976. Mountain Gazelle agonistic behavior. Animal Behaviour 24: 626-636.

Graves, H.B. 1984. Behavior and ecology of wild and feral swine (Sus scrofa). Journal of Animal Science. 58(2): 482-492.

Grayson, D.K. 1984. Quantitative Zooarchaeology. Academic Press, New York.

__ 1989. Bone transport, bone destruction, and reveruse utility curves. Journal of Archaeological Science 16: 643-652.

Grayson, D.K. and F. Delpech 1998. Changing diet breadth in the early Upper Palaeolithic of southwestern France. Journal of Archaeological Science 25: 1119-1129.

Grayson, D.K. with F. Delpech, J.-P. Rigaud and J.F. Simek 2001. Explaining the development of dietary dominance by a single ungulate taxon at Grotte XVI, Dordogne, France. Journal of Archaeological Science 28: 115-125.

Greenfield, H.J. 2006. Sexing fragmentary ungulate acetabulae. In Recent Advances in Ageing and Sexing Animal Bones, edited by D. Ruscillo, pp. 68-86. Proceedings of the 9th Conference of the International Council of Archaeozoology, Durham 2002. Oxbow Books, Oxford.

Grigson, C. 1969. The uses and limitations of differences in absolute size in the distinction between the bones of aurochs (Bos primigenius) and domestic cattle (Bos Taurus). In The Domestication and Exploitation of Plants and Animals, edited by P.J. Ucko and G.W.. Dimbleby, pp. 277-294. Duckworth, London.

Grinnell, G.B. 1972. The Cheyenne, vol. 2. University of Nebraska Press, Lincoln.

307

Groves, C.P. and P. Grubb 1993. The Eurasian suids Sus and Babyrousa. In Pigs, Peccaries, and Hippos, edited by W.L.R. Oliver, pp. 107-111. International Union for Conservation of Nature and Natural Resources, Switzerland.

Haglund, W.D. 1997a. Dogs and coyotes: Postmortem involvement with human remains. In Forensic Taphonomy: The Postmortem Fate of Human Remains, edited by W.D. Haglund and M.H. Sorg, pp. 367-381. CRC Press, New York.

__ 1997b. Rodents and Human Remains. In Forensic Taphonomy: The Postmortem Fate of Human Remains, edited by W.D. Haglund and M.H. Sorg, pp. 405-414. CRC Press, New York.

Harrison, D.L. 1968. The Mammals of Arabia: Carnivora, Hyracoidea, Artiodactyla. Vol. 2. Benn, London.

Harrison, D.L. and P.J.J. Bates 1991. The Mammals of Arabia. Harrison Zoological Museum, Sevenoaks, Kent, England.

Hazan, N. with M. Stein, A. Agnon, S. Marco, D. Nadel, J.F.W. Negendank, M.J. Schwab, and D. Neev 2005. The late Quaternary limnological history of Lake Kinneret (Sea of Galilee), Israel. Quaternary Research 63:60-77.

Hecker, H.M. 1989. Appendix C. Beidha Natufian: Faunal Report. In The Natufian Encampment at Beidha: Late Pleistocene in the Southern Levant. Aarhus, Jutland Archaeology Society Publications 23: 97-101.

Henry, D.O. 1974. The utilization of the microburin technique in the Levant. Paléorient 2: 389-398.

__ 1976. Rosh Zin: A Natufian settlement near Ein Avdat. In Prehistory and Paleoenvironments in the Central Negev, Israel. Volume I, edited by A.E. Marks, pp. 317-347. Institute for the Study of Earth and Man, Reports of Investigations: 2. SMU Press, Dallas. __ 1981. The excavation of Hayonim Terrace: An examination of Terminal Pleistocene climatic and adaptive changes. Journal of Archaeological Science 8:33-58.

__ 1982. The prehistory of Southern Jordan and relationships with the Levant. Journal of Field Archaeology 9: 417-444.

308

__ 1983. Adaptive evolution within the Epipaleolithic of the Near East. In Advances in World Prehistory, Vol. 2, edited by F. Wendorf and A. Close, pp. 99-160. Academic Press, New York.

__ 1985. Preagricultural sedentism: The Natufian example. In Prehistoric Hunter-Gatherers: The Emergence of Cultural Complexity, edited by T.D. Price and J.A. Brown, pp. 365-381. Academic Press, New York.

__ 1987. The Prehistory and Paleoenvironments of Jordan: An Overview. Paléorient 12(2): 5-26.

__ 1988. Review of “At the Edge.” Mitekufat Haeven, Journal of the Israel Prehistoric Society 21: 53-58.

__ 1989. From Foraging to Agriculture. The Levant at the End of the Ice Age. University of Pennsylvania Press, Philadelphia.

__ 1995. Prehistoric Cultural Ecology and Evolution: Insights from Southern Jordan. Plenum Press, New York.

Henry, D.O., with P.F. Turnbull, A. Emery-Barbier and A. Leroi-Gourhan 1985. Archaeological and faunal remains from Natufian and Timnian sites in southern Jordan. Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 257: 45-64.

Herre, W. 1963. The science and history of domestic animals. In Science and Archaeology, edited by D. Brothwell and E.S. Higgs, pp. 235-249. Thames and Hudson, London.

Herrmann, N.P. and J.L. Bennett. 1999. The differentiation of traumatic and heat-related fractures in burned bone. Journal of Forensic Science 44: 461-469.

Hill, A. 1989. Bone modification by modern spotted hyenas. In Bone Modification, edited by R. Bonnichsen and M.H. Sorg, pp. 169-178. University of Maine, Center for the Study of the First Americans, Orono.

Hill, A. and A.K. Behrensmeyer 1985. Natural disarticulation and bison butchery. American Antiquity 50: 141-145.

309

Hillman, G.C. 1989. Plant food economy during the Epipalaeolithic period of Tell Abu Hureyra, Syria: Dietary Diversity, Seasonality and Modes of Exploitation. In Foraging and Farming, edited by D.R. Harris and G.C. Hillman, pp. 240-268. Unwin Hyman, London.

Hillman, G.C. with S. Colledge and D.R. Harris 1989. Plant food economy during the Epi-Palaeolithic period at Tell Abu Hureyra, Syria: Dietary diversity, seasonality, and modes of exploitation. In Foraging and Farming: The Evolution of Plant Exploitation, edited by G.C. Hillman and D.R. Harris, pp. 240-266. Unwin Hyman, London.

Hillman, G.C. with R. Hedges, A. Moore, S. Colledge, and P. Pettitt 2001. New evidence of Late Glacial cereal cultivation at Abu Hureyra on the Euphrates. Holocene 11:383-393

Holand, Ø and H. Staaland. 1992. Nutritional strategies and winter survival of European roe deer in Norway. In The Biology of Deer, edited by R.D. Brown, pp. 423-428. Springer-Verlag, New York.

Horowitz, A. 1976. Late Quaternary Paleoenvironments of prehistoric settlements in the Avdat/Aqev Area. In Prehistory and Paleoenvironments in the Central Negev, Israel. Volume 1, edited by A.E. Marks, pp. 57-68. Institute for the Study of Earth and Man, Reports of Investigations: 2. SMU Press, Dallas.

__ 1978. The Quaternary evolution of the Jordan Valley. In Lake Kinneret, edited by C. Serruya, pp. 80-43. Monografiae Biologicae 30.

__ 1979. The Quaternary of Israel. Academic Press, New York.

__ 1988. The Quaternary Environments and Palaeogeography in Israel. In The Zoogeography of Israel, edited by Y. Yom Tov and E. Tchernov, pp. 35-58. W. Junk, Vordrecht, the Netherlands.

Horowitz, A. and J.R. Gat 1984. Floral and Isotopic indications for Possible Summer Rains in Israel During Wetter Periods. Pollen and Spores 26(1): 61-68.

Horwitz, L.K. 1990. The origin of partially digested bones recovered from archaeological contexts in Israel. Paléorient 16: 97-106.

310

Horwitz, L.K. and G.K. Bar-Gal 2006. The origin and genetic status of insular caprines in the Eastern Mediterranean: A case study of free-ranging goats (Capra aegagrus cretica) on Crete. Human Evolution 21: 123-138.

Horwitz, LK and P. Smith 1988. The effects of striped hyena activity on human remains. Journal of Archaeological Science 15:471-481.

Horwitz, L.K., with C. Cope and E. Tchernov 1990. Sexing the bones of Mountain-Gazelle (Gazella gazella) from prehistoric sites in the Southern Levant. Paléorient 16(2): 1-12.

Hours, F. 1976. L’Epi-Paléolithique au Liban. Résultats acquis en 1975. In second Symposium on Terminology of the Near East, edited by F. Wendorf, pp. 106-130. Congress for Pre-and Proto-Historic Sciences, Nice.

Hovers, E. 1988. Subsistence and Settlement Patterns in the Lower Jordan Valley During the Epi- Palaeolithic and the Neolithic. Unpublished M.A. Thesis, Hebrew University, Jerusalem.

__ 1989. Settlement patterns in the Lower Jordan Valley in the Epi-Palaeolithic and Neolithic times. In People and Culture in Change: The Second Symposium on Upper Palaeolithic, Mesolithic and Neolithic Populations of Europe and the Mediterranean Basin, edited by I. Hershkovitz, pp. 38-51. BAR S508, Oxford.

__ 1990. Art in the Levantine Epi-Palaeolithic: An engraved pebble from a Kebaran site in the Lower Jordan Valley. Current Anthropology 31:317-322.

Hovers, E. and O. Bar-Yosef 1987. A prehistoric survey of Eastern Samaria: Preliminary report. Israel Exploration Journal 37:77-87.

Hovers, E. and O. Marder. 1991. Typo-chronology and absolute dating of the Kebaran complex: Implications from the second season of excavation at Urkan E-Rub IIa. Mitekufat Haeven, Journal of the Israel Prehistoric Society 24:34-58.

Hovers, E., with L.K. Horwitz, D. E. Bar-Yosef, and C. Cope-Miyashiro. 1988. The site of Urkan-E-Rub IIa: A case study of subsistence and mobility patterns in the Kebaran period in the Lower Jordan Valley. Mitekufat Haeven, Journal of the Israel Prehistoric Society 21:20-48.

311

Hudson, J. 1993. The impact of domestic dogs on bone in forager camps: Or, the dog-gone bones. In From Bones to Behavior: Ethnoarchaeological and Experimental Contributions to the Interpretation of Faunal Remains, edited by J. Hudson, pp. 301-323. Southern Illinois University Press, Carbondale, IL.

Husband, T.P. and P.B. Davis 1984. Ecology and behavior of the Cretan Agrimi. Canadian Journal of Zoology 62: 411-420.

Issar, A.S. 2003. Climate Changes During The Holocene and Their Impact on Hydrological Systems. International Hydrology Series. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge.

Janetski, J.C. and A. Baadsgaard 2006. Shifts in Epipalaeolithic faunal exploitation at Wadi Mataha 2, Southern Jordan. In Archaeozoology of the Near East VI, Proceedings of the Sixth International Symposium on the Zooarchaeology of Southwest Asia and Adjacent Areas, edited by H. Buitenhuis, A.M Choyke, L. Bartosiewicz, and M. Maskour, pp. 24-32. ARC Publicaties 123, Groningen, The Netherlands.

Janis, C.M. 2008. An evolutionary history of browsing and grazing ungulates. In The Ecology of Browsing and Grazing, eds. I.J. Gordon and H.H.T. Prins, pp. 21-45. Ecological Studies Vol. 195. Springer,

Jarman, M.R. and P.F. Wilkinson 1972. Criteria of Animal Domestication. In Papers in Economic Prehistory: Studies by Members and Associations of the British Academy Major Research Project in the Early History of Agriculture, edited by E.S. Higgs, pp. 83-96. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge.

Jarman, P.J. 1974. The social organization of antelope in relation to their ecology. Behavior 48: 215-267.

Jenness, D. 1922. The Life of the Copper Eskimo. Report of the Canadian Arctic Expedition 1913-1918, vol. 12.

Johnson, E. 1985. Current developments in bone technology. Advances in Archaeological Method and Theory 8:157-235.

__ 1989. Human modified bones from early southern Plains Sites. In Bone Modification, edited by R. Bonnichsen and M.H. Sorg, pp. 431-471. University of Maine Centre for the Study of the First Americans, Orono.

312

Kaufman, D. 1971. U-series Dating of Dead Sea Basin Carbonates. Geochimica et Cosmochimica Acta 35: 1269-1281.

__ 1983. D101B: A Mushabian Site in the Nahal Zin. In Prehistory and Paleoenvironments in the Central Negev, Israel. Volume III. The Advat/Aqev Area, edited by A.E. Marks, pp. 333- 341. Institute for the Study of Earth and Man, Reports of Investigations: 2. SMU Press, Dallas.

__ 1986. A Reconsideration of Adaptive change in the Levantine Epi-Paleolithic. In The End of the Paleolithic in the Old World, edited by L.G. Straus, pp. 117-128. BAR International Series 284, Oxford.

__ 1998. Measuring Archaeological Diversity: An Application of the Jackknife Technique. American Antiquity 63: 73-85.

Kent, S. 1993. Variability in faunal assemblages: The influence of hunting skill, sharing, dogs, and mode of cooking on faunal remains at a sedentary Kalahari community. Journal of Anthropological Archaeology 12:323-385.

Kerbis-Peterhans, J.C. and L.K. Horwitz 1992. A bone assemblage from a striped hyaena (Hyaena hyaena) den in the Negev Desert, Israel. Israel Journal of Zoology 37:225-245.

Kintigh, K.W. 1989. Sample Size, Significance, and Measures of Diversity. In Quantifying Diversity in Archaeology, edited by R.D. Leonard and G.T. Jones, pp. 25-36. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge.

Kinietz, W.V. 1947. Chippewa Village: The Story of Katikitegon. Cranbrook Institute of Science Bulletin 25.

Kirkbride, D. 1958. A Kebaran rockshelter in Wadi Madamagh near Petra, Jordan. Man 58: 55-58.

Kislev, M.E. 1989. Predomesticated cereals in the Pre-Pottery Neolithic A period. In People and Culture Change, edited by I. Hershkovitz, pp. 147-152. British Archaeological Reports International Series S508, Oxford.

313

Kislev, M.E., with D. Nadel, and I. Carmi 1992. Epipalaeolithic (19,000 BP) cereal and fruit diet at Ohalo II, Sea of Galilee, Israel. Review of Palaeobotany and Palynology 73: 161-166.

__ 2002. Reconstruction of the landscape, human economy, and hut use according to seeds and fruit remains from Ohalo II. In Ohalo II: A 23,000-Year-Old Fisher-Hunter-Gatherers’ Camp on the Shore of the Sea of Galilee, edited by D. Nadel, pp. 21-23. Reuben and Edith Hecth Museum, University of Haifa, Israel.

Klein, R.G. 1989. Why does skeletal part representation differ between smaller and larger bovids at Klasies River Mouth and other archaeological sites? Journal of Archaeological Science 16:363- 381.

__ 1995. Hamar Fauna. In Prehistoric Cultural Ecology and Evolution: Insights from Southern Jordan, edited by D.O. Henry, pp. 405-437. Plenum Press, New York.

Klein, R.G. and K. Cruz-Uribe 1984. The Analysis of Animal Bones from Archaeological Sites. University of Chicago Press, Chicago.

Klippel, W.E. with L.M. Snyder and P.W. Parmalee 1987. Taphonomy and archaeologically recovered mammal bone from southeast Missouri. Journal of Ethnobiology 7:155-169.

Kolodny, Y., with M. Bar-Matthews, A. Ayalon and K.D. McKeegan 2003. A high spatial resolution δ18O profile of a speleothem using an ion-microprobe. Chemical Geology 197:21-28.

Koon, H.E.C. with R.A. Nicholson and M.J. Collins 2003. A practical approach to the identification of low temperature heated bone using TEM. Journal of Archaeological Science 30: 1393-1399.

Krebs, J.R., with D.E. Stephens, and W.F. Southland 1983. Perspectives in Optimal Foraging. In Perspectives in Ornithology: Essays presented for the Centennial of the American Ornithologists Union, edited by A.C. Brush and G.A. Clark Jr., pp. 165-221. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge.

Kurt, F. 1970. Das Rehwild: BLV Jagdbilologie. Bayerischer Landwirschafts Verlag, Munich.

Lam, Y.M. 1992. Variability in the behaviour of spotted hyaenas as taphonomic agents. Journal of Archaeological Science 19:389-406.

314

Lam, Y.M. and O.M. Pearson. 2005. Bone density studies and the interpretation of the faunal record. Evolutionary Anthropology 14: 99-108.

Lam, Y.M., with X. Chen, C.W. Marean and C.J. Frey. 1998. Bone density and long bone representation in archaeological faunas: Comparing results from CT and Photon Densitometry. Journal of Archaeological Science 25: 559-570.

Lam, Y.M., with X. Chen and O.M. Pearson 1999. Intertaxonomic variability in patterns of bone density and the differential representation of Bovid, Cervid, and Equid elements in the archaeological record. American Antiquity 64:343-362.

Lam, Y.M., with O.M. Pearson, C.W. Marean and X. Chen 2003. Bone density studies in zooarchaeology. Journal of Archaeological Science 30: 1701- 1708.

Landmann, G., G.M. Abu Qudaira, K. Shawabkeh, V. Wrede, and S. Kempe 2002. Geochemistry of the Lisan and Damya Formations in Jordan, and Implications for Palaeoclimate. Quaternary International 89: 45-57.

Lee, R.B. 1972. The intensification of social life among the ‘Kung Bushmen’. In Population Growth: Anthropological Implications, edited by B. Spooner, pp. 343-350. MIT Press, Cambridge MA.

__ 1979. The !Kung San: Men, Women, and Work in a Foraging Society. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge.

Leechman, D. 1951. Bone grease. American Antiquity 16: 355-356.

Legge, A.J. 1972. Prehistoric exploitation of the gazelle in Palestine. In Papers in Economic Prehistory, edited by E.S. Higgs, pp. 119-124. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge.

Lewis, R.E., with D.L. Lewis and S.I. Atallah 1967. A review of Lebanese mammals. Lagomorpha and Rodentia. Journal of Zoology, London 153: 45-70.

Liebermann, D.E. 1993a. Mobility and Strain: The Biology of Cemetosis and Its Application to the Evolution of Hunter-Gatherer Seasonal Mobility during the Late Quaternary in the Southern Levant. Unpublished Doctoral Thesis, Harvard University.

315

__ 1993b. The rise and fall of seasonal mobility among hunter-gatherers: The case of the southern Levant. Current Anthropology 34: 599-631.

Lipschitz, N. and Y. Waisel 1977. Appendix: Dendrochronological investigations in Israel: Central Negev-Nahal Zin. In Prehistory and Paleoenvironments in the Central Negev, Israel. Volume II. The Advat/Aqev Area, Part 2, and the Har Harif edited by A.E. Marks, pp. 41-61. Institute for the Study of Earth and Man, Reports of Investigations: 2. SMU Press, Dallas.

Lowie, R.H. 1924. Minor Ceremonies of the Crow Indians. Anthropological Papers of the American Museum of Natural History, vol. 21. New York.

__ 1956. The Crow Indians. Rinehart and Co., New York

Lupo, K.D. 2001. Archaeological skeletal part profiles and differential transport: An ethnoarchaeological example from Hadza bone assemblages. Journal of Anthropological Archaeology 20: 361-378.

Lupo, K.D. and J.F. O’Connell 2002. Cut and tooth mark distributions on large animal bones: Ethnoarchaeological data from the Hadza and their implications for current ideas about early human carnivory. Journal of Archaeological Science 29: 85-109.

Lupo, K.D. and D.N. Schmitt 1997. Experiments in bone boiling: Nutritional returns and archaeological reflections. Anthropozoologica 25-26: 137-144.

Lyman, R.L. 1982. The taphonomy of vertebrate archaeofaunas: bone density and differential survivorship of fossil classes. PhD. Dissertation, University of Washington, Seattle. Ann Arbor: University Microfilms International.

__ 1984. Bone density and differential survivorship of fossil classes. Journal of Anthropological Archaeology 3: 259-299.

__ 1987. Archaeofaunas and butchery studies: A taphonomic perspective. Advances in Archaeological Method and Theory 10:249-337.

__ 1994. Vertebrate Taphonomy. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge.

316

__ 2005. Analyzing cut marks: Lessons from artiodactyls remains in the northwestern United States. Journal of Archaeological Science 32: 1722-1732.

__ 2008. Quantitative Paleozoology. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge.

Lyon, P. 1970. Differential bone destruction: An ethnographic example. American Antiquity 35:213-215.

MacArthur, R.A. and E.R. Pianka 1966. An Optimal Use of a Patchy Environment. The American Naturalist 100: 603-609.

Maguire, J.M., with D. Pemberton and M.H. Collett 1980. The Makapansgat limeworks grey breccias: hominids, hyenas, hystricids or hillwash? Paleontologia Africana 23:75-98.

Magurran, A.E. 1988. Ecological Diversity and Its Measurement. Princeton University Press, Princeton.

Maher, L. 2005. The Epipalaeolithic in Context: Palaeolandscapes and Prehistoric Occupation of Wadi Ziqlâb, Northern Jordan. Unpublished Doctoral Thesis, University of Toronto.

__ 2010. The Late Pleistocene of Arabia in relation to the Levant. In The Evolution of Human Populations in Arabia: Paleoenvironments, Prehistory and Genetics, edited by M.D. Petraglia and J.I. Rose, pp. 187-202. Springer, New York.

Maher, L., with E.B. Banning and M. Chazan 2011. Oasis or Mirage? Assessing the role of abrupt climate change in the prehistory of the southern Levant. Cambridge Archaeological Journal 21: 1-29.

Marean, C.W. 1991. Measuring the post-depositional destruction of bone in archaeological assemblages. Journal of Archaeological Science 18: 677-694.

__ 1995. Of Taphonomy and Zooarchaeology. Evolutionary Anthropology 4: 64-72

__ 1998. A critique of the evidence for scavenging by Neanderthals and early modern humans: New data from Kobeh Cave (Zagros Mountains) and Die Kelders (South Africa Middle Stone Age). Journal of Human Evolution 35: 111-136.

317

Marean, C.W. and Z. Assefa 1999. Zooarchaeological evidence for the faunal exploitation behavior of Neandertals and early modern humans. Evolutionary Anthropology 8:22-37

Marean, C.W. and L. Bertino 1994. Intrasite spatial analysis of bone: Subtracting the effect of secondary carnivore consumers. American Antiquity 59: 748-768.

Marean, C.W. and N. Cleghorn 2004. Distinguishing selective transport on in situ attrition: A critical review of analytical approach. Journal of Taphonomy 2:43-67.

Marean, C.W. and C.J. Frey 1997. Animal bones from caves to cities: Reverse utility curves as methodological artifacts. American Antiquity 62: 698-711.

Marean, C.W. and S.Y. Kim 1998. Mousterian large-mammal remains from Kobeh Cave: Behavioural implications for Neanderthals and Early Modern Humans. Current Anthropology 39 Supplement: S79- S113.

Marean, C.W. and L.M. Spencer 1991. Impact of carnivore ravaging on zooarchaeological measures of element abundance. American Antiquity 56:645-658.

Marean, C.W., with Y. Abe, P.J. Nilssen, and E.C. Stone 2001. Estimating the minimum number of skeletal elements (MNE) in zooarchaeology: A review and a new image-analysis GIS approach. American Antiquity 66: 333-348.

Marean, C.W. with L.M. Spencer and R.J. Blumenschine 1992. Captive hyaena bone choice and destruction, the Schlepp effect and Olduvai archaeo fauna. Journal of Archaeological Science 19:101-121.

Magartiz, M. and G.A. Goodfriend 1987. Movement of the desert boundary in the Levant from the latest Pleistocene to the early Holocene. In Abrupt Climatic Change, edited by W.H. Berger and L.D. Labeyrie, pp. 173-183. Reidel, Dordrecht.

Marks, A.E. 1973. The Harif Point – A new tool type from the Terminal Epi-Palaeolithic of the Central Negev, Israel. Paleorient 1: 99-102.

318

__ 1976. Site D5: A Geometric Kebaran “A” occupation in the Nahal Aqev. In Prehistory and Paleoenvironments in the Central Negev, Israel. Volume I, edited by A.E. Marks, pp. 293-316. Institute for the Study of Earth and Man, Reports of Investigations: 2. SMU Press, Dallas.

__ 1977a. The Epipaleolithic of the Central Negev: Current status. Eretz Israel 13: 216-228.

__ 1977b. Prehistoric settlement patterns in the Avdat/Aqev Area. In Prehistory and Paleoenvironments in the Central Negev, Israel. Volume II. The Advat/Aqev Area, Part 2, and the Har Harif edited by A.E. Marks, pp. 131-158. Institute for the Study of Earth and Man, Reports of Investigations: 2. SMU Press, Dallas.

Marks, A.E. and P.A. Larson Jr. 1977. Test Excavations at the Natufian site of Rosh Horesha. In Prehistory and Paleoenvironments in the Central Negev, Israel. Volume II. The Advat/Aqev Area, Part 2, and the Har Harif, edited by A.E. Marks, pp. 191-232. SMU Press, Dallas.

Marks, A.E. and A.H. Simmons 1977. The Negev Kebaran of the Har Harif. In Prehistory and Paleoenvironments in the Central Negev, Israel. Volume II. The Advat/Aqev Area, Part 2, and the Har Harif , edited by A.E. Marks, pp. 233-270. Institute for the Study of Earth and Man, Reports of Investigations: 2. SMU Press, Dallas.

Marks, E., with H. Crew, R. Ferring, and J.L. Phillips 1972. Prehistoric sites near the Har Harif, Negev. Israel Exploration Journal 22: 73-85.

Marom, N. 2006. A Taphonomic Study of the Faunal Remains from the Kebaran Site of Ein Gev I, Jordan Valley, Israel. Unpublished M.A. Thesis, University of Haifa, Israel.

Marom, N. and G. Bar-Oz 2008. “Measure for measure”: A taphonomic reconsideration of the Kebaran site of Ein Gev I, Israel. Journal of Archaeological Science 35:214-227.

Marshall, L.G. 1989. Bone modification and the “laws of burial.” In Bone Modification, edited by R. Bonnichsen and M.H. Sorg, pp. 7-24. University of Maine Centre for the Study of the First Americans, Orono.

Marshall, F. and T. Pilgrim 1991. Meat versus within-bone nutrients: Another look at the meaning of body part representation in archaeological sites. Journal of Archaeological Science 18:149-163.

319

Martin, L. 2000. Gazelle (Gazelle sp.) behavioural ecology: Predicting animal behaviour for prehistoric environments in south-west Asia. Journal of Zoology (London) 250: 13-30.

Martin, L., with Y. Edwards and A.N. Garrard 2010. Hunting practices at an Eastern Jordan Epipalaeolithic aggregation site: The case of Kharaneh IV. Levant 42: 107-135.

Matschke, G.H. 1964. The influence of oak mast on European wild hog reproduction. Proc. Of the 18th Annual Conference Southeastern Association of Game and Fish Commissions, October 18-21, pp. 35-39. Clearwater, Florida.

Mauget, R. 1981. Behavioural and reproductive strategies in wild forms of Sus scrofa (European wild boar and feral pigs). In The Welfare of Pigs, edited by W. Sybesna, pp. 3-13. Marinus Nijhoff, The Hague.

Mellars, P. 1996. The Neanderthal Legacy. Princeton University Press, Princeton.

Mendelssohn, H. 1974. The development of the populations of gazelles in Israel and their behavioural adaptations. In The Behavior of Ungulates and Its Relationship to Management, edited by V. Geist and F.R. Walther, pp. 722-742. IUCN Publications (New Series, No 24), Morges, Switzerland.

Mendelssohn, H. and Y. Yom-Tov 1999. Fauna Palaestina: Mammalia of Israel. The Israel Academy of Sciences and Humanities, Jerusalem.

Mendelssohn, H., with Y. Yom-Tov and C.P. Groves 1995. ‘Gazella gazella’. Mammalian Species 490: 1-7.

Menhinick, E.F. 1964. A Comparison of Some Species: Individual Diversity Indices Applied to Samples of Field Insects. Ecology 45: 859-861.

Metcalfe, D. and K.T. Jones 1988. A reconsideration of animal body-part utility indices. American Antiquity 53: 486-504.

Meyer, F., with J. Moisan, D. Marcoux and C. Bouchard 1990. Dietary and physical determinants of menarche. Epidemiology 1: 377-381.

320

Miller, N.F. 1992. The origins of plant cultivation in the Near East. In The Origins of Agriculture: An International Perspective, edited by C.W. Cowan and P.J. Watson, pp. 39-58. Smithsonian Institution Press, Washington D.C.

Moore, A.M.T. 1985. The Development of Neolithic societies in the Near East. In Advances in World Archaeology v. 4, edited by F. Wendorf and A.E. Close, pp. 1-69. Academic Press, New York.

Morin, E. 2007. Fat composition and Nunamiut decision-making: A new look at the marrow and bone grease indices. Journal of Archaeological Science 34:69-82.

Morlan, R.E. 1980. Taphonomy and Archaeology in the Upper Pleistocene of the Northern Yukon Territory: A glimpse of the peopling of the New World. National Museum of Man Mercury Series, Ottawa.

__ 1984. Toward the definition of criteria for the recognition of artificial bone alterations. Quaternary Research 22: 160-171.

__ 1994. Bison bone fragmentation and survivorship: A comparative method. Journal of Archaeological Science 21:797-807.

Muheisen, M. 1983. La prehistoire en Jordanie. Recherches sur L’Epipaleolithique. L’example du Gisement de Kharaneh IV. PhD. Dissertation, L’Université de Bordeaux, Bordeaux.

__ 1985. L’Epi-Palaeolithique dans le gisement de Karaneh IV. Paléorient 11: 149-160.

__ 1988a. The Epipalaeolithic phases of Kharaneh IV. In Prehistory of Jordan, edited by A.N. Garrard and H.-G. Gebel, pp. 353-367. BAR International Series 396, Oxford.

__ 1988b. Le gisement de Kharaneh IV, note sommaire sur la phase D. Paléorient 14: 265-269.

321

Mundy, F.C. 1976. The Avdat/Aqev Area: Its habitat and geographic setting. In Prehistory and Paleoenvironments in the Central Negev, Israel. Volume 1, edited by A.E. Marks, pp. 9- 24. Institute for the Study of Earth and Man, Reports of Investigations: 2. SMU Press, Dallas.

Munro, N. 2001. A Prelude to Agriculture: Game Use and Occupation Intensity during the Natufian Period in the Southern Levant. PhD dissertation, Department of Anthropology, University of Arizona, Tucson.

__ 2003. Small game, the Younger Dryas, and the transition to agriculture in the southern Levant. Mitteilungen der Gesellschaft für Urgeschichte 12: 47-71.

__ 2004. Zooarchaeological measures of hunting pressure and occupation intensity in the Natufian: Implications for agricultural origins. Current Anthropology 45:S5-S33.

__ 2009. Integrating inter- & intra-site analyses of Epipalaeolithic faunal assemblages from Israel. Before Farming 2009/1:1-18.

Munro, N.D. and G. Bar-Oz 2004. Debating issues of equifinality in ungulate body part studies. Journal of Taphonomy 2: 1- 13.

__ 2005. Gazelle bone fat processing in the Levantine Epipalaeolithic. Journal of Archaeological Science. 32:223-239.

Munro, N.D., with G. Bar-Oz, and A.J. Stutz 2009. Aging Mountain Gazelle (Gazella gazella): Refining methods of tooth eruption and wear and bone fusion. Journal of Archaeological Science 36: 752-763.

Münzel, S.C. 1988. Quantitative analysis and archaeological site interpretation. Archaeozoologia 2: 93-110.

Nadel, D. 1990. Ohalo II, a preliminary report. Mitekufat Haeven, Journal of the Israel Prehistoric Society 2348-59.

__ 1991. Ohalo II – The third season. Mitekufat Haeven, Journal of the Israel Prehistoric Society 24:158-163.

322

__ 1994. Levantine Upper Palaeolithic-Early Epipalaeolithic burial customs: Ohalo II as a case study. Paléorient 20:113-121.

__ 2002. A camp on the shore of the lake. In Ohalo II: A 23,000-Year-Old Fisher-Hunter- Gatherers’ Camp on the Shore of the Sea of Galilee, edited by D. Nadel, pp. 11-15. Reuben and Edith Hecth Museum, University of Haifa, Israel.

Nadel, D. (ed.) 2002. Ohalo II: A 23,000-Year-Old Fisher-Hunter-Gatherers’ Camp on the Shore of the Sea of Galilee. Reuben and Edith Hecth Museum, University of Haifa, Israel.

Nadel, D. and I. Hershkovitz 1991. New subsistence data and human remains from the earliest Levantine Epipalaeolithic. Current Anthropology 32:631-635.

Nadel, D. and E. Werker 1999. The oldest ever brush hut plant remains from Ohalo II, Jordan Valley, Israel (19,000 BP). Antiquity 73:755-764.

Nadel, D. and Y. Zaidner 2002. Upper Pleistocene and mid-Holocene net sinkers from the Sea of Galilee, Israel. Mitekufat Haeven, Journal of the Israel Prehistoric Society 32: 49-71.

Nadel, D., with I. Carmi and D. Segal 1995. Radiocarbon dating of Ohalo II: Archaeological and methodological implications. Journal of Archaeological Science 22:811-822.

Nadel, D., with E. Weiss and H. Tschauner 2006. Gender specific space division of domestic activities during the Upper Palaeolithic? A brush hut floor as a case study. UISPP Conference, Lisbon.

Nadel, D., with E. Weiss, O. Simchoni, A. Tsatskin, A. Danin and M. Kislev 2004. Stone huts in Israel yields world’s oldest evidence of bedding. PNAS 101:6821-6826.

Nadel, D., with A. Tsatskin, D.E. Bar-Yosef Mayer, M. Belmaker, E. Boaretto, M.E. Kislev, I. Hershkovitz, R. Rabinovich, T. Simmons, U. Weiss, I. Zohar, O. Asfur, G. Emmer, T. Ghraieb, E. Grinberg, H. Halabi, L. Weissbrod, and Y. Zaidner. 2002. The Ohalo II 1999-2000 Seasons of Excavation: A Preliminary Report. Mitekufat Haeven, Journal of the Israel Prehistoric Society 32:17-48.

Neeley, M.P. and G.A. Clark 1993. The human food niche in the Levant over the past 150,000 years. Archaeological Papers of the American Anthropological Association 4(1): 221-240.

323

Neev, D. and K.O. Emery 1967. The Dead Sea. Geological Survey of Israel, Bulletin 41: 1-147.

__ 1995. The Destruction of Sodom, Gomorrah, and Jericho: Geological, Climatological and Archaeological Background. Oxford University Press, Oxford.

Nicholson, R.A. 1992. Bone survival: The effects of sedimentary abrasion and trampling on fresh and cooked bone. International Journal of Osteoarchaeology 2: 79-90.

__ 1993. A morphological investigation of burnt animal bone and an evaluation of its utility in archaeology. Journal of Archaeological Science 20; 411-428.

Nicholson, M.C. and T.P. Husband 1992. Diurnal behavior of the Agrimi, Capra aegagrus. Journal of Mammology 73(1): 135-142.

Noe-Nygaard, N. 1975. Bone injuries caused by human weapons in Mesolithic Denmark. In Archaeozoological Studies, edited by A. Clason, pp. 151-159. American Elsevier Publishing Co. Inc., New York.

Noy, T., with A. Legge and E. S. Higgs 1973. Recent excavations at Nahal Oren. Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society 39:75-99.

O’Connell, J.F., with K. Hawkes, K.D. Lupo, & N.G. Blurton Jones 2002. Male strategies and Plio-Pleistocene archaeology. Journal of Human Evolution 43: 831- 872.

O’Connell, J.F., with K. Hawkes and N. Blurton Jones 1988. Hadza hunting, butchering, and bone transport and their archaeological implications. Journal of Anthropological Research 44: 113-161.

__ 1990. Reanalysis of large mammal body part transport among the Hadza. Journal of Archaeological Science 17: 301-316.

Oliver, J.S. 1993. Carcass processing by the Hazda: Bone breakage from butchery to consumption. In From Bones to Behavior: Ethnoarchaeological and Experimental Contributions to the Interpretations to the Interpretation of Faunal Remains, edited by J. Hudson, pp. 200- 227. Center for Archaeological Investigations, Occasional Paper No. 21. Southern Illinois University.

324

Oliver, W.L.R., with I.L. Brisbin Jr., and S. Takahashi 1993. The Eurasian wild pig (Sus scrofa). In Pigs, Peccaries, and Hippos, edited by W.L.R. Oliver, pp. 112-121. International Union for Conservation of Nature and Natural Resources, Switzerland.

Olzewski, D.I. 1989. Tool Blank Selection, Debitage and Cores from Abu Hureyra 1, Northern Syria. Paléorient 15: 29-37.

__ 1993. Subsistence Ecology in the Mediterranean Forest: Implications for the Origins of Cultivation in the Epipalaeolithic Southern Jordan. American Anthropologist 95(2): 420- 435.

Opler, M.E. 1941. An Apache Life-way. University of Chicago Press, Chicago.

Otárola-Castillo, E. 2010. Differences between NISP and MNE in cutmark analysis of highly fragmented faunal assemblages. Journal of Archaeological Science 37: 1-12.

Outram, A.K. 1998. The Identification and Palaeoeconomic Context of Prehistoric Bone Marrow and Grease Exploitation. PhD. Dissertation, University of Durham.

__ 1999. A comparison of Paleo-Eskimo and Medieval Norse bone fat exploitation in western Greenland. Arctic Anthropology 36: 103-117.

__ 2000. Hunting meat and scavenging marrow? A seasonal explanation for Middle Stone Age subsistence at Klasies River Mouth. In Animal Bones, Human Societies, edited by P. Rowley-Conwy, pp. 20-27. Oxbow Books, Oxford.

__ 2001. A new approach to identifying bone marrow and grease exploitation: why the “intermediate” fragments should not be ignored. Journal of Archaeological Science 28: 401-410.

__ 2002a. Bone fracture and within-bone nutrients: An experimentally based method for investigating levels of marrow extraction. In Consuming Passions and Patterns of Consumption, pp. 51-63. Oxbow Books, Oxford.

325

__ 2003. Comparing levels of subsistence stress amongst Norse settlers in Iceland and Greenland using levels of bone fat exploitation as an indicator. Environmental Archaeology 8:119- 128.

__ 2004. Identifying dietary stress in marginal environments: Bone fats, optimal foraging theory and the seasonal round. In Colonisation, Migration and Marginal Areas: A zooarchaeological approach, edited by M. Mondini, S. Muñoz and S. Wickler, pp. 74-85. Proceedings of the 9th Conference of the International Council of Archaeozoology, Durham, August 2002. Oxbow Books, Oxford.

Outram, A.K. with C.J. Knüsel, S. Knight ad A. F. Harding 2005. Understanding complex fragmented assemblages of human animal remains: A fully integrated approach. Journal of Archaeological Science 32: 1699-1710.

Patou, M. 1985. La fracturation des os longs de grands mammiferes: Elaboration d’un lexique et d’une fiche type. In Outillage Peu Elaboré en Os et en Bois de Cervides, edited by M. Patou, pp. 11-21. Editions du Centre d’Études et de Documentation Archéologiques, Belgium.

Payne, S. and P.J. Munson 1985. Ruby, and how many squirrels? The destruction of bones by dogs. In Palaeobiological Investigations: Research Design, Methods and Data Analysis, edited by N.R.J. Fieller, D.D. Gilbertson and N.G.A. Ralph, pp. 31-40. British Archaeological Reports International Series 266, Oxford.

Paz, U. and Y. Eshbol 1992. Photographic Guide to the Birds of Israel. Keter Publishing House, Jerusalem.

Perrot, J. 1966. Le gisement Natoufien de Mallaha (Eynan), Israel. L’Anthropologie 70: 437-484.

Perry, G. and E.R. Pianka 1997. Animal Foraging: Past, present and future. TREE 12: 360-364.

Pichon, J. 1987. L’avifaune. In Memoires et Travaux du Centre de Recherche de Jerusalem, edited by J. Bouchud, pp. 115-150. Paleorient, Paris.

__ 1991. Les oiseaux en Natoufien, avifauna et sédentarité. In The Natufian Culture in the Levant, edited by O. Bar-Yosef and F.R. Valla, pp. 371-380. International Monographs in Prehistory, Ann Arbor.

326

Pickering, T.P. and C.P. Egeland. 2006. Experimental patterns of hammerstone percussion damage on bones: Implications for inferences of carcass processing by humans. Journal of Archaeological Science 33: 459- 469.

Pickering, T.P., with C.W. Marean and M. Dominquez-Rodrigo. 2003. Importance of limb bone shaft fragments in zooarchaeology: A response to “On in situ attrition and vertebrate body part profiles” (2002), by M.C. Stiner. Journal of Archaeological Science 30: 1469-1482.

Pielou, E.C. 1977. Mathematical Ecology. John Wiley and Sons, New York.

Phillips, J.L. 1973. Two final Paleolithic sites in the Nile Valley and their external connections. Papers of Geological Survey of Egypt 57.

__ 1977. The Harifian. In Prehistoric Investigations in Gebel Maghara, Northern Sinai, edited by O. Bar-Yosef and J.L. Phillips, pp.199-218. Qedem 7. Monographs of the Institute of Archaeology, Hebrew University of Jerusalem.

Phillips, J.L. and E. Mintz 1977. The Mushabian. In Prehistoric Investigations in Gebel Maghara, Northern Sinai, edited by O. Bar-Yosef and J.L. Phillips, pp. 149-183. Qedem 7. Monographs of the Institute of Archaeology, Hebrew University of Jerusalem.

Potts, T.F., with S.M. Colledge, and P.C. Edwards 1985. Preliminary report on a sixth season of excavation by the University of Sydney at Pella in Jordan (1983/4). Annual of the Department of Antiquities of Jordan 29: 181-206.

Prothero, D.R. and R.M. Schoch 2002. Horns, Tusks, and Flippers: The Evolution of Hoofed Animals. John Hopkins University Press, Maryland.

Putnam, R. 1988. The Natural History of Deer. Comstock Publishing Associates, Ithaca NY.

Pyke, G.H., with H.R. Pulliam and E.L. Charnov 1977. Optimal Foraging: A selective review of theory and tests. Quarterly Review of Biology 52: 137-154.

Rabinovich, R. 1998. Patterns of Animal Exploitation and Subsistence in Israel, During the Upper Palaeolithic and Epi-Palaeolithic (40,000-12,500 BP), Based Upon Selected Case Studies. Unpublished PhD. thesis, Hebrew University, Jerusalem.

327

Rabinovich, R. and E. Hovers 2004. Faunal analysis from Amud Cave: Preliminary results and interpretations. International Journal of Osteoarchaeology 14: 287-306.

Rabinovich, R. and D. Nadel 1994/5. Bone tools from Ohalo II: A morphological and functional study. Mitekufat Haeven, Journal of the Israel Prehistoric Society 26:32-63.

__ 2005. Broken mammal bones: Taphonomy and food sharing at the Ohalo II submerged prehistoric camp. In Archaeolozoology of the Near East VI: Proceedings of the sixth international symposium on the archaeozoology of southwestern Asia and adjacent areas, edited by H. Buitenhuis, A.M. Choyke, L. Martin, L. Bartosiewicz and M. Mashkour, pp. 33-49. ARC Publicaties 123, Groningen, The Netherlands.

Reed, C.A. 1963. Osteo-archaeology. In Science in Archaeology, edited by D. Brothwell and E.S. Higgs, pp. 204-216. Basic Books, New York.

__ 1969. The pattern of animal domestication in the prehistoric Near East. In The Domestication and Exploitation of Plants and Animals, edited by P.J. Ucko and G.W. Dimbleby, pp. 361-380. Duckworth, London.

Richardson, P.R.K 1980. Carnivore damage to antelope bones and its archaeological implications. Palaeontologia Africana 23:109-125.

Roberts, S. J. with C. I. Smith, A. Millard, and M.J. Collins 2002. The taphonomy of cooked bone: Characterizing boiling and its physic-chemical effects. Archaeometry 44: 485-494.

Robinson, S.A., with S. Black, B.W. Sellwood, and P.J. Valdes 2006. A review of Palaeoclimates and Palaeoenvironments in the Levant and Eastern Mediterranean from 25,000 to 5000 years BP: Setting the environmental background for the evolution of human civilisation. Quaternary Science Reviews 25: 1517-1541.

Rognon, P. 1987. Relations Entre Phases Climatiques et Chronologies au Moyen Orient de 16.000 a 10.000 BP. In Chronologies in the Near East, edited by O. Aurenche, J. Evin and P. Hours, pp. 189-206. British Archaeological Reports (IS) No. 379, Oxford.

Ronen, A. 1983. Late Quaternary sea levels inferred from coastal stratigraphy and archaeology in Israel. In Quaternary Coastlines and Marine Archaeology, edited by P.M. Masters and N.C. Flemming, pp. 121-134. Academic Press, London.

328

Rubin, S., with Z. Gmal and Z. Gilboa. n.d. Map of the mean annual rainfall in the years 1962-1980. Israel Dept. of Meteorological Survey.

Rust, A. 1950. Die Hohlenfunde Von Jabrud (Syrien). Karl Wachholtz, Neumunster.

Saint-Germain, C. 1997. The production of bone broth: A study of nutritional exploitation. Anthropolozoologica 25-26: 153-156.

Savard, M., with M. Nesbitt, and M.K. Jones 2006. The role of wild grasses in subsistence and sedentism: New evidence from the northern Fertile Crescent. World Archaeology 38:179-196.

Saxon, E.C., with G. Martin and O. Bar-Yosef 1978. Nahal Hadera V: An open-air site on the Israeli coast. Paléorient 4: 253-266.

Schaller, G.B. and A. Laurie 1974. Courtship behaviour of the wild goat. Zeitschrift Säugetierkunde 39: 115-127.

Schoener, T.W. 1986. A Brief History of Optimal Foraging Theory. In Foraging Behavior, edited by A.C. Kamil, J.R. Krebs, and H.R. Pulliam, pp. 5-67. Plenum Press, New York.

Schuldenrein, J. 1983. Late Quaternary Palaeoenvironments and Prehistoric Site Distributions in the Lower Jordan Valley. Unpublished PhD. thesis, University of Chicago.

Schuldenrein, J. and G.A. Clark 2001. Prehistoric landscapes and settlement geography along the Wadi Hasa, West Central Jordan. Part I: Geoarchaeology, human palaeoecology and ethnographic modelling. Environmental Archaeology 6; 23-38.

Schuldenrein, J. and P. Goldberg. 1981. Late Quaternary paleo-environments and prehistoric site distributions in the Lower Jordan Valley: A preliminary report. Paléorient 7:57-71.

Schyle, D. and H.-P. Uerpmann 1988. Palaeolithic sites in the Petra area. In The Prehistory of Jordan, edited by A.N. Garrard and H.-G. Gebel, pp. 39-65. BAR International Series 396 (i), Oxford.

Selvaggio, M.M. 1994. Carnivore tooth marks and stone tool butchery marks on scavenged bones: Archaeological implications. Journal of Human Evolution 27: 215-228.

329

Shennan, S. 1997. Quantifying Archaeology 2nd edition. Edinburgh University Press, Edinburgh.

Shipman, P. 1981. Life History of a Fossil: An introduction to taphonomy and paleoecology. Harvard University Press, Cambridge.

__ 1988. Actualistic studies of animal resources and hominid activities. In Scanning Electron Microscopy in Archaeology, edited by S.L. Olsen, pp. 261-285. BAR International Series 452, Oxford.

Shipman, P. and J. Rose 1988. Early hominid hunting, butchering, and carcass-processing behaviours: Approaches to the fossil record. Journal of Anthropological Archaeology 2:57-98.

Shipman, P., with G. Foster and M. Schoeninger 1984. Burnt bones and teeth: An experimental study of color, morphology, crystal structure and shrinkage. Journal of Archaeological Science 11: 307-325.

Shirihai, H. 1996. The Birds of Israel: A complete Avifauna and Bird Atlas of Israel. Academic Press Limited, London.

Shmida, A. and J.A. Aronson. 1986. Sudanian elements in the flora of Israel. Annals of the Missouri Botanical Gardens 73:1- 28.

Simmons, A. H. 1977. The Geometric Kebaran “A” Camp Site of D101C. In Prehistory and Paleoenvironments in the Central Negev, Israel. Volume II. The Advat/Aqev Area, Part 2, and the Har Harif, edited by A.E. Marks, pp. 119-129. Institute for the Study of Earth and Man, Reports of Investigations: 2. SMU Press, Dallas.

Simmons, T. 2002. The birds from Ohalo II. In Ohalo II: A 23,000-Year-Old Fisher-Hunter-Gatherers’ Camp on the Shore of the Sea of Galilee, edited by D. Nadel, pp. 32-36. Reuben and Edith Hecth Museum, University of Haifa, Israel.

Simmons, T. and D. Nadel 1998. The avifauna of the Early Epipalaeolithic site of Ohalo II (19,400 years BP), Israel: Species diversity, habitat and seasonality. International Journal of Osteoarchaeology 8:79-96.

330

Skinner, A. 1913. Political and Ceremonial Organization of the Plains Ojibwa. Anthropological Papers of the American Museum of Natural History, vol. 11. New York.

Skinner, J.D., with S. Davis and G. Ilani 1980. Bone collecting by striped hyaenas, Hyaena hyaena, in Israel. Palaeontologia Africana 23:99-104.

Smoke, N.D. and P.W. Stahl 2004. Post-burial fragmentation of microvertebrate skeletons. Journal of Archaeological Science 31-1093-1100.

Snyder, L.M. 1988. A controlled feeding study involving gray wolf (Canis lupus) and white-tailed deer (Odocoileus virginianus). Tennessee Anthropological Association Newsletter 13:1-9.

Speth, J.D. 1991. Taphonomy and early hominid behavior: Problems in distinguishing cultural and non- cultural agents. In Human Predators and Prey Mobility, edited by M.C. Stiner, pp. 29- 40. Westview Press, Boulder CO.

__ 2000. Boiling vs. baking and roasting: A taphonomic approach to the recognition of cooking techniques in small mammals. In Animal Bones, Human Societies, edited by P. Rowley- Conwy, pp. 89-105. Oxbow Books, Oxford.

Speth, J.D. and J.M. Clark 2006. Hunting and overhunting in the Levantine Late Middle Palaeolithic. Before Farming 3: 1.

Speth, J.D. and K.A. Spielmann 1983. Energy source, protein metabolism, and hunter-gatherer subsistence strategies. Journal of Anthropological Archaeology 2:1-31.

Stekelis, M. and O. Bar-Yosef 1965. Un habitat du Paléolithique supérieur à Ein Gev (Israël). Note préliminaire. L’Anthropologie 69:176-183.

Stekelis, M., with O. Bar-Yosef and E. Tchernov 1966. A prehistoric site near Ein Gev. Israel Exploration Society 30:5-22. (In Hebrew)

Stein, M. 2001. The Sedimentary and Geochemical Record of Neogene-Quaternary Water Bodies in the Dead Sea Basin: Inferences for the regional paleoclimatic history. Journal of Paleolimnology 26: 271-282.

331

Stephens, D.W. and J.R. Krebs 1986. Foraging Theory. Princeton University Press, Princeton.

Stiner, M.C. 1991. Food procurement and transport by human and non-human predators. Journal of Archaeological Science 18:455-482.

__ 1994. Honour Among Thieves: A zooarchaeological Study of Neandertal Ecology. Princeton University Press, Princeton.

__ 1998. Comment on Marean and Kim. Current Anthropology 39:S98-103.

__ 2001. Thirty years on the broad spectrum revolution and Paleolithic demography. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences 98 (13):6993-6996.

__ 2002. On in situ attrition and vertebrate body part profiles. Journal of Archaeological Science 29:979-991.

__ 2005. The Faunas of Hayonim Cave, Israel: A 200,000-year record of Paleolithic diet, demography, and society. American School of Prehistoric Research Bulletin 48. Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology Harvard University, Cambridge Massachusetts.

Stiner, M.C. and N.D. Munro 2002. Approaches to prehistoric diet breadth, demography, and prey ranking systems in time and space. Journal of Archaeological Method and Theory 9: 181-214.

Stiner, M.C., with N.D. Munro, and T.A. Surovell 2000. The Tortoise and the Hare. Current Anthropology 41(1):39-73.

Stiner, M.C., with S.L. Kuhn, S. Weiner, and O. Bar-Yosef 1995. Differential burning, recrystallization, and fragmentation of archaeological bone. Journal of Archaeological Science 22:223-237.

Stiner, M.C. with N.D. Munro, T.A. Surovell, E. Tchernov and O. Bar-Yosef 1999. Paleolithic population growth pulses evidenced by small animal exploitation. Science 283:190-194.

332

Stiner, M.C., with S.L. Kuhn, T.A. Surovell, P. Goldberg, L. Meignen, S. Weiner, and O. Bar- Yosef. 2001. Bone preservation in Hayonim Cave (Israel): A macroscopic and mineralogical study. Journal of Archaeological Science 28: 643-659.

Stubbe, C. and H. Passarge 1979. Bedeutung von Bastgeweihen fuer die Jagdwirtschaft Sibiriens. Beiträge sur Jagd- und Eildforschung 8: 75-87.

Stutz, A.J., with N.D. Munro and G. Bar-Oz 2009. Increasing the resolution of the Broad Spectrum Revolution in the Southern Levantine Epipalaeolithic (19-12 ka). Journal of Human Evolution 56: 294-306.

Sutcliffe, A.J. 1970. Spotted Hyaena: Crusher, gnawer, digestor and collector of bones. Nature 227:1110-1113.

Tchernov, E. 1976. Some Late Quaternary faunal remains from the Advat/Aqev Area. In, Prehistory and Paleoenvironments in the Central Negev, Israel. Volume I, edited by A.E. Marks, pp. 69- 73. Institute for the Study of Earth and Man, Reports of Investigations: 2. SMU Press, Dallas. __ 1984. Commensal animals and human sedentism in the Middle East. In Animals and Archaeology: Vol. 3, Early Herders and Their Flocks, edited by J. Clutton-Brock and C. Grigson, pp. 91-116. BAR International Series 202, Oxford.

__ 1991. Biological evidence for human sedentism in southwest Asia during the Natufian. In The Natufian Culture in the Levant, edited by O. Bar-Yosef and F.R. Valla, pp. 315-340. International Monographs in Prehistory, Ann Arbor.

__ 1993a. From sedentism to domestication – a preliminary review for the southern Levant. In Skeletons in Her Cupboard, edited by A. Clason, S. Payne and H-P. Uerpmann, pp. 189- 233. Oxbow Monograph 34, Oxford.

__ 1993b. The Effects of Sedentism on the Exploitation of the Environment in the Southern Levant. In Exploitation des animaux sauvages à travers le temps (XIIe rencontres Internationales d’Archéologie et d’Histoire d’Antibes), edited by J. Desse and F. Audoin-Rouzeau, pp. 137-159. ADPCA, Juan-Les-Pins, France.

__ 1994. An Early Neolithic Village in the Jordan Valley, PART II: The Fauna of Netiv Hagdud. American School of Prehistoric Research Bulletin 44. Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethology, Harvard University, Cambridge, MA.

333

Tixier, J. 1974. Poinçon decore de Paléolithique supérier à Ksar Akil (Liban). Paléorient 2:187-93.

Todd, L.C. and D.J. Rapson. 1988. Long bone fragmentation and interpretation of faunal assemblages: Approaches to comparative analysis. Journal of Archaeological Science 15: 307-325.

Tozzi, C. 1970. La Grotta di S. Agostino (Gaeta). Rivista di Scienze Preistoriche 25:3-87.

__ 1974. L’industrie musteriana della Grotta di Gosto sulla Montagna di Cetona (Siene). Rivista di Scienze Preistoriche 29:271-304.

Tsatskin, A. 2002. Geoarchaeology of a prehistoric campsite on the shore of Lake Kinneret. In Ohalo II: A 23,000-Year-Old Fisher-Hunter-Gatherers’ Camp on the Shore of the Sea of Galilee, edited by D. Nadel, pp. 56-59. Reuben and Edith Hecth Museum, University of Haifa, Israel.

Uerpmann, H. –P. 1981. The major faunal areas of the Middle East during the Late Pleistocene and Early Holocene. In Prehistoire du Levant, edited by J. Cauvin and P. Sanlaville, pp. 99-106. Colloques Internationaux du C.N.R.S. No. 598, Lyon.

Vaks, A., with M. Bar-Matthews, A. Ayalon, B. Schilman, M. Gilmour, C.J. Hawkesworth, A. Frumkin, A. Kaufman, and A. Matthews 2003. Paleoclimate Reconstruction Based on the Timing of Speleothem Growth and Oxygen and Carbon Isotope Composition in a Cave Located in the Rain Shadow in Israel. Quaternary Research 59:182-193.

Valla, F.R. 1975. Le Natoufien: Une culture prehistorique en Palestine. Cahiers de la Revue Biblique 15. Gabalda, Paris.

__ 1981. Les establissements Natoufiens dans le nord d’Israel. In Prehistoire du Levant, edited by J. Cauvin and P. Sanlaville, pp. 409-419. CNRS no. 598, Paris.

__ 1984. Les industries de silex de Mallaha (Eynam). Memoires et Travaux du Centre de Recherche Français de Jerusalem 3. L’Association Paléorient, Paris.

334

__ 1987. Chronologie absolue et chronologie relative dans le Natoufien. In Chronologies in the Near East, edited by O. Aurenche, J. Evin, and F. Hours, pp. 267-294. BAR International Series 379. Oxford.

__ 1988a. Aspects du sol de l’abri 131 de Mallaha (Eynan). Paléorient 14(2): 283-296.

__ 1988b. At the Edge – Commentaire. Mitekufat Haeven Journal of the Israel Prehistoric Society 21: 50-53.

__ 1988c. La fin de l’Epipaleolithique au Levant: Les industries a microlithes geometriques. L’Anthropologie 92(3): 901-925.

__ 1991. Les Natoufiens de Mallaha et l’espace. In The Natufian Culture in the Levant, edited by O. Bar-Yosef and F.R. Valla, pp. 111-122. International Monographs in Prehistory, Ann Arbor.

Valla, F.R., with I. Gilead, and O. Bar-Yosef 1979. Prospection prehistorique dans le Neguev Septentrional. Paléorient 5; 221-231.

Valla, F.F. with H. Khalaily, N. Sameulian, R. March, F. Bocqentin, O. Marder, R. Rabinovich, G. Dosseur, L. Dubreuil and A. Belfer-Cohen 2001. Le Natoufien final de Mallaha (Eynan), deuxieme rapport préliminaire: les fouilles de 1998-1999. Mitekufat Haeven, Journal of the Israel Prehistoric Society 31:43-184.

Van Neer, W., with I. Zohar and O. Lernau 2005. The emergence of fishing communities in the Eastern Mediterranean region: A survey of evidence from pre- and protohistoric periods. Paléorient 31:131-157.

Van Zeist, W. and S. Bottema 1982. Vegetational history of the Eastern Mediterranean and the Near East during the last 20,000 years. In Palaeoclimates, Palaeoenvironments and Human Communities in the Eastern Mediterranean Region in Later Prehistory, edited by J.L. Bintliff and W. van Zeist, pp. 231-277. BAR International Series 133, Oxford.

__ 1991. Late Quaternary Vegetation of the Near East. Dr. Ludwig Reichert Verlag, Wiesbaden.

Vaufrey, R. 1951. Étude paleontologique. Mammiferes. In Le Paleolithique et le Mesolithique du Desert de Judée (vol. 1), edited by R. Neuville, pp. 198-233. Mason, Paris.

335

Vehik, S.C. 1977. Bone fragments and bone grease manufacturing: A review of their archaeological use and potential. Plains Anthropologist 22: 169-182.

Villa, P. and E. Mahieu 1991. Breakage patterns of human long bones. Journal of Human Evolution 21: 27-48.

Vogel, J.C. and H.T. Waterbolk 1972. Groningen Radiocarbon Dates X. Radiocarbon 14:6-110.

Von den Driesch, A. 1976. A Guide to a Measurement of Animal Bones from Archaeological Sites. Peabody Museum Bulletins 1, Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology, Cambridge.

Voorhies, M. 1969. Taphonomy and population dynamics of an early Pliocene vertebrate fauna, Knox County, Nebraska. Contrib. Geol. Spec. Paper No. 1.

Walther, F.R., with E.C. Mungall, and G.A. Grau 1983. Gazelles and Their Relatives: A Study in Territorial Behavior. Noyes Publications, Park Ridge, New Jersey.

Weinstein, M. 1979. Palynology. In The Quaternary of Israel, edited by A. Horowitz, pp. 180-256. Academic Press, New York.

Weinstein-Evron, M. 1993. Palaeoecological reconstructions of the Upper Palaeolithic in the Levant. In Actes du XIIe Congres International des Sciences Prehistoriques et Protohistoriques, edited by J. Pavuk, pp. 259-270. Institute Archéologique de l’Académie Slovaque des Sciences, Bratislava.

__ 1998. Early Natufian el-Wad revisited. ERAUL 77, Liege.

Weinstein-Evron, M., with D. Kaufman, N. Bachrach, G. Bar-Oz, D. E. Bar-Yosef Mayer, S. Chaim, D. Druck, I. Groman-Yaroslavski, I. Hershkovitz, N. Liber, D. Rosenberg, A. Tsatskin, and L. Weissbrod 2007. After 70 years: New excavations at the el-Wad Terrace, Mount Carmel, Israel. Mitekufat Haeven Journal of the Israel Prehistoric Society 37: 37-134.

Weiss, E., with M.E. Kislev, O. Simchoni, D. Nadel, and H. Tschauner 2008. Plant-food preparation area on an Upper Palaeolithic brush hut floor at Ohalo II, Israel. Journal of Archaeological Science 35:2400-2414.

Weiss, E., with M.E. Kislev, O. Simchoni, and D. Nadel

336

2004a. Small-grained wild grasses as staple food at the 23000-year-old site of Ohalo II, Israel. Economic Botany 58 (Supplement): S125-S134.

Weiss, E., with W. Wetterstrom, D. Nadel, and O. Bar-Yosef 2004b. The broad spectrum revisited: evidence from plant remains. Proc. Natl. Acad. Sci. 101: 9551-9555

Weltfish, G. 1965. The lost universe: with a closing chapter on 'The universe regained'. Basic Books, New York.

Wilson, G.L. 1924. The horse and the dog in Hidatsa Culture. Anthropological Papers of the American Museum of Natural History, vol. 15. New York.

Wright, K.I. 1991. The origins and development of ground stone assemblages in Late Pleistocene Southwest Asia. Paléorient 17: 19-45.

__ 1994. Ground-stone tools and hunter-gatherer subsistence in Southwest Asia: Implications for the transition to farming. American Antiquity 59:238-263.

Yellen, J.E. 1977. Cultural patterning in faunal remains: Evidence from the Kung! Bushmen. In Experimental Archaeology, edited by D. Ingersoll, J.E. Yellen, and W. MacDonald, pp. 271-331. Columbia University Press, New York.

Yechieli, Y., with M. Magaritz, Y. Levy, U. Weber, U. Kafri, W. Woelfli and G. Bonani 1993. Late Quaternary geological history of the Dead Sea Area, Israel. Quaternary Research 39:59-67.

Yeshurun, R., with G. Bar-Oz and M. Weinstein-Evron. 2007a. Modern hunting behavior in the Early Middle Paleolithic: Faunal remains from Mislya Cave, Mount Carmel, Israel. Journal of Human Evolution 53: 656-677.

Yeshurun, R., with N. Marom and G. Bar-Oz 2007b. Differential fragmentation of different ungulate body-size: A comparison of gazelle and fallow deer bone fragmentation in Levantine prehistoric assemblages. Journal of Taphonomy 5: 137-148.

Yom-Tov, Y. 1967. On the taxonomic status of hares (Genus Lepus) in Israel. Mammalia 31: 246-259.

337

Zaidner, Y. 2005. Double-notched pebbles from Ohalo II: The earliest evidence for the use of net sinkers in the Levant. In Ohalo II: A 23,000-Year-Old Fisher-Hunter-Gatherers’ Camp on the Shore of the Sea of Galilee, edited by D. Nadel, pp. 49-52. Reuben and Edith Hecth Museum, University of Haifa, Israel.

Zar, J.H. 1974. Biostatistical Analysis. Prentice-Hall, New Jersey.

Zeder, M. and B. Hesse 2000. The initial domestication of goats (Capra hircus) in the Zagros Mountains 10,000 years ago. Science 287: 2254-2257.

Zeuner, F.E. 1963. A History of Domesticated Animals. Hutchinson, London.

Zohar, I. 2002. Fish and Fishing at Ohalo II. In Ohalo II: A 23,000-Year-Old Fisher-Hunter-Gatherers’ Camp on the Shore of the Sea of Galilee, edited by D. Nadel, pp. 28-31. Reuben and Edith Hecth Museum, University of Haifa, Israel.

Zohar, I., with T. Dayan, E. Galili and E. Spanier 2001. Fish processing during the Early Holocene: A taphonomic case study from Coastal Israel. Journal of Archaeological Science 28: 1041-1053.

Zohary, M. 1962. Plant Life of Palestine: Israel and Jordan. Ronald Press Co., New York.

__ 1982. Vegetation of Israel and Adjacent Area. Ludwig Reichter Verlag, Weisladen.

338

Appendices

Appendix 1: Body part frequencies of each taxon represented, Area A Horizon 1A. Dama Canis Vulpes Sus Capreolus Cervus meso‐ Gazella Capra Horizon 1A sp. vulpes scrofus capreolus elaphus potamica gazella aegagrus Head Antler/Horn ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 14 ‐ Skull ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 1 34 ‐ Man. Cond + Frag 1 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 2 67 ‐ Teeth ‐ 1 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 31 2 Tooth Frag ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 19 ‐ Body Hyoid ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 1 ‐ Coracoid (Aves) ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Atlas/Axis ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 0/1 7/3 0/1 Cerv Vert ‐ ‐ 1 1 1 ‐ 15 ‐ Thor Vert ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 12 ‐ Lumb Vert ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 11 ‐ Vert frag ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 8 ‐ Sacrum ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 1 ‐ Sternum ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Rib Frag ‐ 2 1 ‐ ‐ ‐ 72 ‐ Carapace/Plastron/Scale ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Forelimb Scapula glenoid fos/sho ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 1 33 ‐ Humerus pro/sha/dist ‐ 2 0/1/0 0/1/0 ‐ ‐ 3/66/15 0/2/1 Rad pro/sha/dist ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 25/26/6 0/0/1 Ulna pro/dis ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 15/2 2/0 Rad/Ulna ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 9 ‐ Metacarp pro/shaf/dist ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 1/0/0 25/28/7 ‐ Carpal ‐ indet ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Carpal ‐ CPR ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 1 9 ‐ Carpal ‐ CPI ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 3 ‐ Carpal ‐ CPU ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 2 4 ‐ Carpal ‐ CPS ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 1 6 ‐ Carpal ‐ CPF ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 5 ‐ Carpal ‐ CPA ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐

339

Appendix 1 (continued) Dama Vulpes Sus Capreolus Cervus meso‐ Gazella Capra Horizon 1A Canid vulpes scrofa capreolus elaphus potamica gazella aegagrus Hindlimb Innominate isch/il/pub ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 13/13/6 1 Femur pro/sha/dist ‐ 1 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 5/25/5 ‐ Tibia pro/shaf/dist ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 9/90/28 0/1/1 Fibula ‐ ‐ 1 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Patella ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 3 ‐ Astragalus ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 2 24 ‐ Calcaneum ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 2 9 ‐ Central & 4th tarsal (TRC) ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 6 ‐ Fused 2nd/3rd tarsal (TRS) ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 4 ‐ lateral malleolus ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 0 ‐ Metatars pro/sha/dist ‐ ‐ ‐ 0/1/0 ‐ ‐ 49/37/15 3/1/0 Tarso‐Metatarsis ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Toes ‐ 1st phal ‐ 2 ‐ ‐ ‐ 1 84 2 2nd phal ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 3 33 4 3rd phal ‐ 1 ‐ ‐ ‐ 1 34 ‐ Sesmoid ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 2 6 ‐ Metapod shaft/dist ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 30/20 ‐ NISP 1 9 4 3 1 21 1130 22 MNI 1 1 2 1 1 1 24 3

340

Appendix 1 (continued)

Lepus Testudo Aves Struthio Alectoris Cygnus Anas Aquila Horizon 1A Rodent capensis graeca spp. camelus chukar sp. sp. sp. Head Antler/Horn ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Skull ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Man. Cond + Frag 2 2 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Teeth 1 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Tooth Frag ‐ 1 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Body Hyoid ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Coracoid (Aves) ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Atlas/Axis ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Cerv Vert ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Thor Vert ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Lumb Vert ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Vert frag ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Sacrum ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Sternum ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 1 1 ‐ Rib Frag ‐ 1 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Carapace/Plastron/Scale/Shell ‐ ‐ 3 ‐ 1 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Forelimb Scapula glenoid fos/sho ‐ 1 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Humerus pro/sha/dist ‐ 2 ‐ 0/1/0 ‐ 2 ‐ ‐ ‐ Rad pro/sha/dist ‐ 1 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Ulna pro/dis ‐ 2 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 2 ‐ Rad/Ulna ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Metacarp pro/shaf/dist ‐ 3 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Carpal ‐ indet ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Carpal ‐ CPR ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Carpal ‐ CPI ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Carpal ‐ CPU ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Carpal ‐ CPS ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Carpal ‐ CPF ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Carpal ‐ CPA ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐

341

Appendix 1 (continued)

Lepus Testudo Aves Struthio Alectoris Cygnus Anas Aquila Horizon 1A Rodent capensis graeca spp. camelus chukar sp. sp. sp. Hindlimb Innominate isch/il/pub ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Femur pro/sha/dist ‐ 2 ‐ 1/0/0 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Tibia pro/shaf/dist ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Fibula ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Patella ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Astragalus ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Calcaneum ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Central & 4th tarsal (TRC) ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Fused 2nd/3rd tarsal (TRS) ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ lateral malleolus ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Metatars pro/sha/dist ‐ 2 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Tarso‐Metatarsis ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 1 Toes 1st phal ‐ 7 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 2nd phal ‐ 2 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 3rd phal ‐ 3 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 2 Sesmoid ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Metapod shaft/condyle ‐ 6 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ NISP 3 35 3 2 1 2 1 3 3 MNI 1 2 1 1 1 2 1 1 1

342

Appendix 2: Body part frequency for each body size category, Area A Horizon 1A. Horizon 1A BSGA BSGB BSGC BSGD BSGE Head Skull ‐1 12 66 1 Man. Cond + Frag ‐‐‐29 ‐ Teeth ‐‐‐‐ ‐ Tooth Frag ‐‐‐44 1 Body Hyoid ‐‐‐‐ ‐ Atlas/Axis ‐‐‐3/0 ‐ Cerv Vert ‐‐3 21 ‐ Thor Vert ‐‐‐9 ‐ Lumb Vert ‐1 3 9 ‐ Vert frag ‐‐‐10 ‐ Sacrum ‐‐‐2 ‐ Sternum ‐‐‐‐ ‐ Rib Frag ‐2 8 168 ‐ Forelimb Scap gl fos/sho ‐‐0/5 21 ‐ Hum pro/sha/dist ‐‐0/6/0 30 ‐ Rad pro/sha/dist ‐‐0/1/0 15 ‐ Ulna pro/dis ‐‐2/1 2 ‐ Rad/Ulna ‐‐‐‐ ‐ MC pro/shaf/dist 1 ‐ 0/1/0 4 1 Carpal ‐ indet ‐‐‐‐ ‐ Carpal ‐ CPR ‐1 ‐‐ ‐ Carpal ‐ CPI ‐‐‐‐ ‐ Carpal ‐ CPU ‐‐‐‐ ‐ Carpal ‐ CPS ‐‐‐2 ‐ Carpal ‐ CPF ‐‐‐‐ ‐ Carpal ‐ CPA ‐‐‐‐ ‐ Hindlimb Innominate isch/il/pub ‐ ‐0/2/0 18 1 Femur pro/sha/dist ‐1 0/3/0 16 2/1/0 Tibia pro/shaf/dist ‐1 0/6/0 26 0/3/0 Fibula ‐‐‐‐ ‐ Patella ‐‐‐‐ ‐ Astragalus ‐‐‐2 1 Calcaneum ‐‐‐3 ‐ Central & 4th tarsal (TRC) ‐‐‐‐ ‐ Fused 2nd/3rd tarsal (TRS) ‐‐‐1 ‐ lateral malleolus ‐‐‐‐ ‐ MT pro/sha/dist ‐‐‐11 ‐ Toes 1st phal ‐1 ‐ 10 1 2nd phal ‐‐1 2 ‐ 3rd phal ‐‐‐‐1 Sesmoid ‐‐1 1 ‐ Metapod shaft/condyle ‐‐‐15 1 NISP 0 8 55 540 14

343

Appendix 3: Body part frequencies for each taxon, Area A Horizon 1B.

Dama Canis Vulpes Sus Capreolus Cervus meso‐ Gazella Capra Horizon 1B sp. vulpes scrofa capreolus elaphus potamica gazella aegagrus Head Antler/Horn ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 32 ‐ Skull ‐ ‐ 1 ‐ ‐ ‐ 58 2 Man. Cond + Frag ‐ ‐ ‐ 1 ‐ 2 78 2 Teeth 1 ‐ 1 ‐ ‐ ‐ 47 3 Tooth Frag ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 26 5 Body Hyoid ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 7 1 Coracoid (Aves) ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Atlas/Axis ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 6/2 0/1 Cerv Vert ‐ 1 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 10 1 Thor Vert ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 12 1 Lumb Vert ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 1 31 1 Vert frag ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 1 ‐ Sacrum ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Sternum ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Rib Frag ‐ ‐ 2 ‐ ‐ ‐ 53 3 Carapace/Plastron/Scale ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Forelimb Scap gl fos/sho ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 1/1 38 3 Hum pro/sha/dist 1 ‐ ‐ 1/0/1 ‐ ‐ 6/97/30 0/2/0 Rad pro/sha/dist ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 28/31/11 ‐ Ulna pro/dis ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 3/0 12/3 ‐ Rad/Ulna ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 8 ‐ MC pro/shaf/dist ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 1/0/0 33/39/11 1/1/0 Carpal ‐ indet ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Carpal ‐ CPR ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 13 ‐ Carpal ‐ CPI ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 1 9 ‐ Carpal ‐ CPU ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 1 7 ‐ Carpal ‐ CPS ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 11 ‐ Carpal ‐ CPF ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 7 ‐ Carpal ‐ CPA ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐

344

Appendix 3 (continued)

Dama Canis Vulpes Sus Capreolus Cervus meso‐ Gazella Capra Horizon 1B sp. vulpes scrofa capreolus elaphus potamica gazella aegagrus Hindlimb Innominate isch/il/pub ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 14/17/9 ‐ Femur pro/sha/dist ‐ ‐ ‐ 0/0/1 ‐ ‐ 8/44/17 0/2/ Tibia pro/shaf/dist ‐ ‐ 0/1/0 ‐ ‐ 1/0/1 21/105/40 1/6/1 Fibula ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Patella ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 8 ‐ Astragalus ‐ ‐ ‐ 1 ‐ ‐ 14 1 Calcaneum ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 1 21 2 Central & 4th tarsal (TRC) ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 17 1 Fused 2nd/3rd tarsal (TRS) ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 7 ‐ lateral malleolus ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 5 ‐ MT pro/sha/dist ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 48/36/18 1/0/0 Toes 1st phal ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 5 98 3 2nd phal ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 5 56 4 3rd phal ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 40 1 Sesmoid ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 1 19 ‐ Metapod shaft/condyle ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 28/12 0/3 NISP 2 1 5 5 0 25 1459 53 MNI 1 1 2 1 0 3 25 3

345

Appendix 3 (continued)

Lepus Testudo Aves Struthio Alectoris Cygnus Anas Aquila Horizon 1B Rodent capensis graeca spp. camelus chukar sp. sp. sp. Fish Head Antler/Horn ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Skull ‐ 2 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Man. Cond + Frag 1 2 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Teeth ‐ 1 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Tooth Frag ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Body Hyoid ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Coracoid (Aves) ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 1 ‐ ‐ Atlas/Axis ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Cerv Vert ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Thor Vert ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Lumb Vert ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Vert frag ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Sacrum ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Sternum ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Rib Frag ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Carapace/Plastron/Scale/Shell ‐ ‐ 3 ‐ 5 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 2 Forelimb Scap gl fos/sho ‐ 1 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Hum pro/sha/dist ‐ 1 ‐ 1/0/0 ‐ 1 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Rad pro/sha/dist ‐ ‐ ‐ 0/1/0 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Ulna pro/dis ‐ 2 ‐ 2 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Rad/Ulna ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ MC pro/shaf/dist ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Carpal ‐ indet ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Carpal ‐ CPR ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Carpal ‐ CPI ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Carpal ‐ CPU ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Carpal ‐ CPS ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Carpal ‐ CPF ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Carpal ‐ CPA ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐

346

Appendix 3 (continued)

Lepus Testudo Aves Struthio Alectoris Cygnus Anas Aquila Horizon 1B Rodent capensis graeca spp. camelus chukar sp. sp. sp. Fish Hindlimb Innominate isch/il/pub ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Femur pro/sha/dist ‐ 2 ‐ ‐ ‐ 2 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Tibia pro/shaf/dist ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Fibula ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Patella ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Astragalus ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Calcaneum ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Central & 4th tarsal (TRC) ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Fused 2nd/3rd tarsal (TRS) ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ lateral malleolus ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ MT pro/sha/dist ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Tarso‐Metatarsis ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Toes 1st phal ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 2nd phal ‐ 1 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 3rd phal ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 1 ‐ Sesmoid ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Metapod shaft/condyle 1 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ NISP 2 12 3 4 5 3 0 1 1 2 MNI 1 2 1 2 1 1 0 1 1 1

347

Appendix 4: Body part frequencies for body size categories, Area A Horizon 1B. Horizon 1B BSGA BSGB BSGC BSGD BSGE Head Skull ‐‐7 134 4 Man. Cond + Frag ‐‐3 33 1 Teeth ‐‐‐3 ‐ Tooth Frag ‐‐1 127 ‐ Body Hyoid ‐‐3 1 ‐ Atlas/Axis ‐‐‐0/1 ‐ Cerv Vert ‐‐4 21 2 Thor Vert ‐‐‐9 ‐ Lumb Vert ‐‐1 31 1 Vert frag ‐‐‐19 3 sacrum ‐‐‐2 ‐ Sternum ‐‐‐‐ ‐ Rib Frag ‐5 13 336 ‐ Forelimb Scap gl fos/sho ‐‐0/2 33 2 Hum pro/sha/dist ‐‐0/4/1 25 1 Rad pro/sha/dist ‐‐0/1/0 8 ‐ Ulna pro/dis ‐‐‐1 1 Rad/Ulna ‐‐‐1 ‐ MC pro/sha/dist ‐‐0/1/0 4 ‐ Carpal ‐ indet ‐‐‐1 ‐ Carpal ‐ CPR ‐‐‐‐ ‐ Carpal ‐ CPI ‐‐‐‐ ‐ Carpal ‐ CPU ‐‐‐‐ ‐ Carpal ‐ CPS ‐‐‐‐ ‐ Carpal ‐ CPF ‐‐‐‐ ‐ Carpal ‐ CPA ‐‐‐‐ ‐ Hindlimb Innominate isch/il/pub ‐‐0/3/0 39 ‐ Femur pro/shaf/dist ‐1 ‐ 12 1 Tibia pro/shaf/dist ‐3 1/5/0 26 1 Fibula ‐‐‐‐1 Patella ‐‐‐‐ ‐ Astragalus ‐‐‐‐ ‐ Calcaneum ‐‐‐5 ‐ Central & 4th tarsal (TRC) ‐ ‐ 1 ‐ ‐ Fused 2nd/3rd tarsal (TRS) ‐‐‐‐ ‐ lateral malleolus ‐‐‐‐ ‐ MT pro/dis/sha ‐‐‐9 ‐ Tarsal ‐ indet ‐‐‐‐2 Toes 1st phal ‐‐3 6 ‐ 2nd phal ‐‐‐7 ‐ 3rd phal ‐‐‐2 ‐ Sesmoid ‐1 2 1 ‐ Metapod shaft/condyle ‐ ‐1 43 2

NISP 0 10 57 940 22

348

Appendix 5: Body part frequencies for identified taxa and body size class, Area B. Gazella Lepus Element gazella Rodent capensis Testudo BSGA BSGB BSGC BSGD BSGE Head Antler/Horn ------Skull ------2 1 Man. Cond + Frag ------2 2 Teeth 1 1 1 ------Tooth Frag - - - - - 1 - 6 - Body Hyoid ------Atlas/Axis - - 0/1 ------Cerv Vert ------Thor Vert ------Lumb Vert ------Vert frag ------1 - Sacrum ------Sternum ------Rib Frag ------1 1 Carapace/Plastron - - - 0/2 - - - - - Forelimb Scap gl fos/sho ------Hum pro/sha/dist 0/1/0 - - - - - 0/1/0 0/2/1 - Rad pro/sha/dist ------Ulna pro/dis ------Rad/Ulna ------MC pro/shaf/dist - - - - - 0/1/0 - - - Carpal - indet ------Carpal - CPR ------Carpal - CPI ------Carpal - CPU ------Carpal - CPS ------Carpal - CPF ------Carpal - CPA ------

349

Appendix 5 (continued)

Gazella Lepus Element gazella Rodent capensis Testudo BSGB BSGC BSGD BSGE Hindlimb Innominate isch/il/pub ------1/0/0 Femur pro/sha/dist 0/1/0 - - - - - 0/1/0 0/1/0 Tibia pro/shaf/dist 0/1/0 - - - - - 1/0/0 0/2/0 Fibula ------Patella ------Astragalus ------Calcaneum ------Central & 4th tarsal (TRC) ------Fused 2nd/3rd tarsal (TRS) ------lateral malleolus ------MT pro/sha/dist - - 1/0/0 - - - - - Tarso-Metatarsis ------Toes 1st phal 2 - 1 - - - - - 2nd phal 1 - 1 - - - 1 - 3rd phal 1 ------Sesmoid ------Metapod prox/shaf/dist 0/0/1 1/0/0 - - - - 0/0/1 - Indet long bone shaft frag ------NISP 9 2 5 2 2 1 19 8 MNI 2 1 1 1 - - - -

350

Appendix 6: Body part frequencies for identified taxa and body size class, Area C and Test Pit. Vulpes Gazella Capra Lepus Element vulpes gazella aegagrus capensis BSGA BSGB BSGC BSGD BSGE Head Antler/Horn - 5 ------Skull - 7 - - - - - 4 - Man. Cond + Frag - 1 - - - - - 2 - Teeth - 9 ------Tooth Frag - 26 - - - 1 - 17 - Body Hyoid ------Atlas/Axis ------Cerv Vert ------Thor Vert ------Lumb Vert ------1 Vert frag 1 1 - - - - - 1 - Sacrum ------Sternum ------1 Rib Frag - 3 - - - - - 2 - Carapace/Plastron ------Forelimb Scap gl fos/sho ------2/0 - Hum pro/sha/dist - 0/1/6 - - - - - 0/0/1 - Rad pro/sha/dist - 1/1/4 ------Ulna pro/dis - 0/1 ------Rad/Ulna - 1 ------MC pro/shaf/dist ------0/1/0 Carpal - indet ------1 Carpal - CPR - 2 1 ------Carpal - CPI ------1 - Carpal - CPU ------1 - Carpal - CPS ------Carpal - CPF - 2 ------Carpal - CPA ------

351

Appendix 6 (continued)

Vulpes Gazella Capra Lepus Element vulpes gazella aegagrus capensis BSGA BSGB BSGC BSGD BSGE Hindlimb Innominate isch/il/pub ‐ 1/0/0 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 1/0/0 ‐ Femur pro/sha/dist ‐ 0/1/0 ‐ 0/0/1 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Tibia pro/shaf/dist ‐ 0/0/1 ‐‐‐‐‐ 0/1/0 ‐ Fibula ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Patella ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Astragalus ‐ 1 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Calcaneum ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Central & 4th tarsal (TRC) ‐ 1 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Fused 2nd/3rd tarsal (TRS) ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ lateral malleolus ‐ 2 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ MT pro/sha/dist ‐ 1/3/0 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 0/2/0 ‐ Toes 1st phal ‐ 2 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 1 1 2nd phal ‐ 5 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 2 ‐ 3rd phal ‐ 2 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Sesmoid ‐ 2 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Metapod prox/shaf/dist ‐ 0/1/2 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 0/0/2 0/1/0 Indet long bone shaft frag ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ NISP 1 96 1 1 0 1 0 40 5 MNI 1 5 1 1 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐

352

Appendix 7: Body part frequencies for identified taxa and body size class, Trench I.

Dama Capreolus meso‐ Gazella Lepus Testudo Element capreolus potamica gazella Rodent capensis graeca BSGA BSGB BSGC BSGD BSGE Head Antler/Horn ‐ ‐ 1 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Skull ‐ ‐ 1 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 1 ‐ 1 ‐ Man. Cond + Frag ‐ 1 1 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 2 ‐ Teeth ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Tooth Frag ‐ ‐ 1 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Body Hyoid ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Atlas/Axis ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Cerv Vert ‐ ‐ 1 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 1 ‐ Thor Vert ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 1 ‐ ‐ ‐ Lumb Vert ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 2 ‐ Vert frag ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Sacrum ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Sternum ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Rib Frag ‐ 1 1 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 1 1 Carapace/Plastron ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 0/2 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Forelimb Scap gl fos/sho ‐ ‐ 1/0 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 0/1 ‐ Hum pro/sha/dist 0/1/0 ‐ 2/4/5 ‐ 1/0/0 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 0/1/0 0/1/0 Rad pro/sha/dist ‐ ‐ 1/0/0 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Ulna pro/dis ‐ ‐ 1/1 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Rad/Ulna ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ MC pro/shaf/dist ‐ ‐ 0/1/1 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 1/0/0 ‐ ‐ ‐ Carpal ‐ indet ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Carpal ‐ CPR ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Carpal ‐ CPI ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Carpal ‐ CPU ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Carpal ‐ CPS ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Carpal ‐ CPF ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Carpal ‐ CPA ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐

353

Appendix 7 (continued)

Dama Capreolus meso‐ Gazella Lepus Testudo Element capreolus potamica gazella Rodent capensis graeca BSGA BSGB BSGC BSGD BSGE Hindlimb Innominate isch/il/pub ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 0/1/1 ‐ Femur pro/sha/dist ‐ ‐ 0/1/0 0/0/1 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Tibia pro/shaf/dist ‐ ‐ 0/6/0 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 0/1/0 ‐ Fibula ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Patella ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Astragalus ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Calcaneum ‐ ‐ 1 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Central & 4th tarsal (TRC) ‐ 1 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Fused 2nd/3rd tarsal (TRS) ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ lateral malleolus ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ MT pro/sha/dist ‐ ‐ 1/1/0 ‐ ‐ ‐ 1/0/0 ‐ ‐ 1/2/0 ‐ Toes 1st phal ‐ ‐ 4 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 2nd phal ‐ 1 1 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 3rd phal ‐ ‐ 1 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Sesmoid ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 1 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Metapod prox/shaf/dist ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 0/2/0 ‐ Indet long bone shaft frag ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ NISP 1 4 39 1 1 2 2 3 0 17 2 MNI 1 1 4 1 1 1 ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐

354

Appendix 8: Body part frequencies for identified taxa and body size class, Trench II.

Capreolus Gazella Element capreolus gazella Rodent BSGD Head Antler/Horn ‐ 2 ‐ ‐ Skull ‐ ‐ ‐ 2 Man. Cond + Frag ‐ ‐ 1 ‐ Teeth ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Tooth Frag ‐ 1 ‐ ‐ Body Hyoid ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Atlas/Axis ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Cerv Vert ‐ 1 ‐ 1 Thor Vert ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Lumb Vert ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Vert frag ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Sacrum ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Sternum ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Rib Frag 1 1 ‐ 1 Forelimb Scapula glenoid fos/sho ‐ ‐ ‐ 0/1 Humerus pro/sha/dist ‐ 0/2/0 ‐ 0/1/0 Rad pro/sha/dist ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Ulna pro/dis ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Rad/Ulna ‐ 1 ‐ ‐ Metacarp pro/shaf/dist ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Carpal ‐ indet ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Carpal ‐ CPR ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Carpal ‐ CPI ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Carpal ‐ CPU ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Carpal ‐ CPS ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Carpal ‐ CPF ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Carpal ‐ CPA ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐

355

Appendix 8 (continued). Capreolus Gazella Element capreolus gazella Rodent BSGD Hindlimb Innominate isch/il/pub ‐ ‐ ‐ 0/1/0 Femur pro/sha/dist ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Tibia pro/shaf/dist ‐ ‐ ‐ 0/2/0 Fibula ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Patella ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Astragalus ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Calcaneum ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Central & 4th tarsal (TRC) ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Fused 2nd/3rd tarsal (TRS) ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ lateral malleolus ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Metatars pro/sha/dist ‐ 0/0/1 ‐ ‐ Toes 1st phal ‐ 3 ‐ ‐ 2nd phal ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ 3rd phal ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Sesmoid ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ Metapod prox/shaf/dist ‐ ‐ ‐ ‐ NISP 1 12 1 9 MNI 1 1 1 ‐

356

Appendix 9: Comprehensive MNE MNI, and MAU whole element estimates for BSGD ungulates Horizon 1A and 1B, based on refitted fragments (following Marean et al. 2001). BSGD 1A BSGD 1B Element MNE MNI %MNI MAU %MAU MNE MNI %MNI MAU %MAU Cranium 3 2 40 1.5 33.3 11 6 100 5.5 100 Mandible 2 1 20 1 22.2 4 2 33.3 2 36.4 Vert. Atlas 2 2 40 2 44.4 0 0 0 0 0 Vert. Axis 0 0 0 0 0 1 1 16.7 1 18.2 Vert Cerv 7 2 40 3.5 77.8 7 2 33.3 3.5 63.6 Vert Thor 4 1 20 0.31 6.9 5 1 16.7 0.38 6.9 Vert Lumb 2 1 20 0.33 7.3 13 3 50 2.17 39.5 Pelvis 8 5 100 4 88.8 8 5 83.3 4 72.7 Scap 5 3 60 2.5 55.5 8 5 83.3 4 72.7 Hum 8 4 80 4 88.8 8 4 66.7 4 72.7 Rad 6 4 80 3 66.7 4 2 33.3 2 36.4 Ulna 2 1 20 1 22.2 1 1 16.7 0.5 9.1 Fem 5 3 60 2.5 55.5 5 3 50 2.5 45.5 Tib 9 5 100 4.5 100 7 4 66.7 3.5 63.6 Astragalus 2 1 20 1 22.2 0 0 0 0 0 Calcaneum 2 1 20 1 22.2 3 2 33.3 1.5 27.3 MC 3 2 40 1.5 33.3 2 1 16.7 1 18.2 MT 5 3 60 2.5 55.5 6 3 50 3 54.5 P 1 6 4 80 3 66.7 0 0 0 0 0 P 2 1 1 20 0.5 11.1 4 2 33.3 2 36.4 P 3 0 0 0 0 0 2 1 16.7 1 18.2

357

Appendix 10: Gazella gazella measurements (mm) from Horizon 1A and 1B.

Distal Humerus. Burned / Chop / Horizon Square Level BT HDH Incomplete 1A I11A 55‐60 23.09 13.06 ‐ 1A G11D 55‐60 23.08 12.42 ‐ 1A H10C 65‐70 22.71 12.88 ‐ 1A I11A 45‐50 ‐ 10.73 B/I 1A I11A 45‐50 ‐ 13.3 I 1A G12B 65‐70 19.59 8.7 I 1B H12B 120‐125 24.55 13.97 ‐ 1B H11D 110‐115 23.44 13.66 B 1B H12D 115‐120 22.41 13.42 ‐ 1B H12D 115‐120 23.27 12.35 ‐ 1B H12B 105‐110 23.75 14.19 ‐ 1B H12C 115‐120 11.37 ‐ I 1B H11A 110‐115 6.19 ‐ I 1B H11C 105‐110 15.8 ‐ I 1B G10C 110‐115 8.51 ‐ I 1B H12D 115‐120 17.94 9.05 B/I 1B H11A 105‐110 14.68 ‐ I 1B H11C 105‐110 10.95 ‐ I 1B H12D 115‐120 8.99 ‐ I 1B G10C 115‐120 18.39 13.85 I 1B H11C 115‐120 18.6 13.26 I

358

Appendix 10: Gazella gazella measurements (mm) from Horizon 1A and 1B (continued). Distal Metacarpus Burned / Chop Horizon Square Level BD MCLC MCWDC MCSC / Incomplete 1A I12C 64‐70 10.98 16.2 10.98 11.19 I 1A I11C 50‐55 20.93 15.15 9.59 11.49 ‐ 1A H13B 65‐70 19.17 15.08 9.36 11.3 ‐ 1A I13B 65‐70 19.74 15.01 8.8 10.97 ‐ 1A I13B 65‐70 9.11 15.51 9.11 10.5 B/I 1A G11B 55‐60 10.97 16.38 10.97 11.41 I 1A G11C 55‐60 4.59 11.94 4.59 11.51 I 1B H12C 120‐125 3.45 9.96 ‐ ‐ C 1B H12D 115‐120 5.86 11.19 ‐ ‐ C 1B H12B 115‐120 15.53 15.1 10.01 11.01 I 1B G10D 105‐110 6.44 13.47 6.44 11.96 I 1B G10D 110‐115 9.26 15.04 9.26 11.4 I 1B H11D 110‐115 19.73 14.5 9.38 10.57 ‐ 1B H12D 115‐120 20.03 15.09 9.66 11.55 ‐ 1B H11C 110‐115 8.47 5.92 ‐ ‐ I 1B G10D 110‐115 21.03 15.25 9.39 11.25 ‐

Distal Radius Burned / Chop / Horizon Square Level BD Incomplete 1A G11A 65‐70 8.95 I 1A G11D 50‐55 13.88 I 1A I11B 60‐65 14.79 I 1A I11C 65‐70 10.19 I 1A I12A 55‐60 6.4 I 1A I12C 64‐70 13.02 I 1B G9D 105‐110 10.85 I 1B H11A 105‐110 18.25 I 1B H11D 115‐120 6.66 I 1B H12A 110‐115 10.98 I 1B H12A 115‐120 9.56 I 1B H12B 115‐120 12.78 I 1B H12B 120‐125 13.53 I 1B H12D 115‐120 12.5 I 1B H12D 120‐125 12.57 I 1B H12D 120‐125 10.83 I 1B H12D 120‐125 4.44 I

359

Appendix 10: Gazella gazella measurements (mm) from Horizon 1A and 1B (continued). Distal Tibia Burned / Chop / Horizon Square Level BD Incomplete 1A G11A 55‐60 12.73 I 1A G11B 60‐65 16.11 I 1A G11B 60‐65 20.29 I 1A G11C 55‐60 12.02 I 1A G11C 60‐65 9.03 I 1A G11D 55‐60 20.76 I 1A G11D 55‐60 12.76 I 1A G11D 55‐60 18.87 I 1A G11D 55‐60 24.18 ‐ 1A G11D 55‐60 24.11 ‐ 1A G11D 55‐60 22.77 ‐ 1A G12D 65‐70 19.32 I 1A H10A 48‐55 5.57 I 1A H13B 60‐65 17.06 I 1A H13B 65‐70 11.29 B/I 1A I11B 60‐65 13.21 I 1A I11C 50‐55 11.59 I 1A I11D 40‐45 14.04 I 1A I11D 50‐55 8.72 ‐ 1A I11D 55‐60 10.5 I 1A I12B 55‐60 16.24 I 1A I12C 60‐65 22.66 ‐ 1A I12C 60‐65 24.42 ‐ 1A I12D 45‐50 12.38 I 1A I13D 60‐65 20.29 B/I

360

Appendix 10: Gazella gazella measurements (mm) from Horizon 1A and 1B (continued). Distal Tibia (continued) Burned / Chop / Horizon Square Level BD Incomplete 1B G11A 116‐120 20.47 I 1B H11A 105‐110 9.97 I 1B H11B 105‐110 14.4 I 1B H11B 105‐110 18.87 B/I 1B H11B 105‐110 11.48 I 1B H11C 110‐115 12.36 I 1B H11C 110‐115 8.62 I 1B H11C 115‐120 1338 I 1B H11D 105‐110 13.22 I 1B H11D 115‐120 24.65 I 1B H11D 115‐120 13.32 B/I 1B H12A 105‐110 6.64 I 1B H12A 105‐110 10.14 I 1B H12A 110‐115 17.06 B/I 1B H12A 110‐115 16.94 I 1B H12A 110‐115 15.76 I 1B H12A 110‐115 9.06 I 1B H12A 115‐120 11.34 I 1B H12B 105‐110 22.74 ‐ 1B H12B 110‐115 20.47 I 1B H12B 115‐120 13.33 I 1B H12B 120‐125 16.48 C 1B H12D 115‐120 19.85 I 1B H12D 115‐120 18.92 B/I 1B H12D 120‐125 7.64 I 1B H12D 120‐125 12.74 I

361

Appendix 10: Gazella gazella measurements (mm) from Horizon 1A and 1B (continued). Distal Metatarsus Burned / Chop Horizon Square Level BD MTLC MTWDC MTSC / Incomplete 1A I12C 64‐70 10.35 16.93 11.15 10.35 I 1A I12C 64‐70 9.86 13.48 7.81 9.86 I 1A I12C 64‐70 10.38 10.35 11.21 10.38 I 1A I12c 64‐70 8.01 14.84 9.76 8.01 I 1A I11C 50‐55 22.27 14.62 11.24 9.41 ‐ 1A I12D 50‐55 22.28 15.88 10.76 10.17 ‐ 1A I13B 65‐70 10.64 10.95 6.02 10.64 I 1A I13B 65‐70 10.12 8.5 5.69 10.12 I 1A I11D 40‐45 9.6 9.92 ‐ 9.6 B/I 1A I13D 60‐65 10.05 15.9 11.03 10.05 I 1A G11D 55‐60 21.29 14.56 10.41 9.59 B 1A I12B 50‐55 20.49 14.82 10.43 9.16 ‐ 1A I12C 64 21.78 15.63 10.74 10.12 ‐ 1A I11D 50‐55 21.67 15.41 10.25 10 ‐ 1A G11C 65‐70 5.66 10.35 8.48 5.66 I 1A G11B 55‐60 11.67 16.64 11.57 11.67 I 1B H12D 115-120 7.78 11.86 ‐ ‐ I 1B H11D 115-120 4.67 10.78 ‐ ‐ C 1B H12C 115‐120 4.12 9.28 ‐ 4.12 I 1B H11D 110-115 9.64 4.84 ‐ ‐ I 1B H12D 115-120 4.67 10.78 ‐ ‐ C 1B H11C 110-115 10.27 11.78 ‐ ‐ I 1B G10D 105‐110 21.5 15.89 11.1 9.83 ‐ 1B H11A 110‐115 6.48 12.45 10.57 6.48 I 1B H11D 115-120 14.76 ‐ ‐ C/I 1B H11A 105‐110 9.76 15.96 10.75 9.76 I 1B H12B 120‐125 19.93 14.18 9.81 8.43 ‐ 1B I11C 120‐125 9.63 14.75 10.92 9.64 I 1B H12C 100‐105 10.89 16.52 11.31 10.89 I 1B H11B 105‐110 10.69 7.47 4.34 10.69 I 1B H11C 105‐110 11.21 14.52 10.71 11.21 I 1B H12D 115‐120 8.65 14.12 9.31 8.65 B/I 1B H12D 120‐125 10.89 15.1 10.93 10.89 I

362

Appendix 11: %MAU, bone density and food utility values, gazelle Horizon 1A. Bone Element %MAU Density FUI Skull 2.6 ‐ 235 Mandible 44.7 0.3 590 Vertebrae Atlas 21.1 0.11 524 Vertebrae Axis 10.5 0.14 524 Vertebrae Cervical 5 0.12 1905 Vertebrae Thoracic 2.8 0.24 2433 Vertebrae Lumb 7.9 0.26 1706 Ilium caudal 15.8 0.47 2531 Ischium 15.8 0.26 2531 Pubis Cranial 18.4 0.45 2531 Scapula GF 28.9 0.25 2295 Scapula Blade 18.4 0.33 2295 Humerus P 5.3 0.13 2295 Humerus S 57.9 0.42 2093 Humerus D 28.9 0.34 1891 Radius P 55.3 0.35 1323 Radius S 42.1 0.52 1181 Radius D 10.5 0.21 1039 Ulna 31.6 0.26 1323 Metacarpus P 52.6 0.4 461 Metacarpus S 34.2 0.67 412.5 Metacarpus D 15.8 0.5 364 Femur P 10.5 0.28 5139 Femur S 26.3 0.36 5139 Femur D 10.5 0.22 5139 Tibia P 10.5 0.16 3225 Tibia S 65.8 0.59 2746 Tibia D 65.8 0.28 2267 Astragalus 60.5 0.6 1424 Calcaneum 21.1 0.43 1424 Metatarsus P 100 0.43 1003 Metatarsus S 31.6 0.68 897.5 Metatarsus D 28.9 0.39 792 Phalanx 1 P 19.1 0.43 443 Phalanx 1 D 26.3 0.55 443 Phalanx 2 P 15.1 0.34 443 Phalanx 2 D 17.1 0.39 443 Phalanx 3 P 19.1 0.3 443

363

Appendix 12: %MAU, bone density and food utility values, BSGD ungulates Horizon 1A. Bone Element %MAU Density FUI Skull 37.5 235 Mandible 25 0.3 590 Vertebrae Atlas 25 0.11 524 Vertebrae Axis 0 0.14 524 Vertebrae Cervical 35 0.12 1905 Vertebrae Thoracic 7.8 0.24 2433 Vertebrae Lumbar 8.3 0.26 1706 Ilium 87.5 0.47 2531 Ischium 50 0.26 2531 Pubis 12.5 0.45 2531 Scapula GF 25 0.25 2295 Scapula Blade 62.5 0.33 2295 Humerus P 12.5 0.13 2295 Humerus S 100 0.42 2093 Humerus D 25 0.34 1891 Radius P 25 0.35 1323 Radius S 62.5 0.52 1181 Radius D 12.5 0.21 1039 Ulna 12.5 0.26 1323 Metacarpus P 12.5 0.4 461 Metacarpus S 37.5 0.67 412.5 Metacarpus D 0 0.5 364 Femur P 12.5 0.28 5139 Femur S 50 0.36 5139 Femur D 12.5 0.22 5139 Tibia P 12.5 0.16 3225 Tibia S 100 0.59 2746 Tibia D 25 0.28 2267 Astragalus 25 0.6 1424 Calcaneum 25 0.43 1424 Metatarsus P 37.5 0.43 1003 Metatarsus S 25 0.68 897.5 Metatarsus D 12.5 0.39 792 Phalanx 1 P 9.4 0.43 443 Phalanx 1 D 9.4 0.55 443 Phalanx 2 P 3.1 0.34 443 Phalanx 2 D 3.1 0.39 443 Phalanx 3 P 0 0.3 443

364

Appendix 13: %MAU, bone density and food utility values, gazelle Horizon 1B. Bone Element %MAU Density FUI Skull 15.6 ‐ 235 Mandible 44.4 0.3 590 Vertebrae Atlas 17.78 0.11 524 Vertebrae Axis 8.89 0.14 524 Vertebrae Cervical 3.55 0.12 1905 Vertebrae Thoracic 2.4 0.24 2433 Vertebrae Lumb 8.89 0.26 1706 Ilium caudal 22.22 0.47 2531 Ischium 17.78 0.26 2531 Pubis Cranial 22.22 0.45 2531 Scapula GF 20 0.25 2295 Scapula Blade 24.44 0.33 2295 Humerus P 11.1 0.13 2295 Humerus S* 100 0.42 2093 Humerus D 33.33 0.34 1891 Radius P 48.89 0.35 1323 Radius S* 37.78 0.52 1181 Radius D 22.22 0.21 1039 Ulna 26.67 0.26 1323 Metacarpus P 73.33 0.4 461 Metacarpus S* 28.89 0.67 412.5 Metacarpus D* 17.8 0.5 364 Femur P 15.56 0.28 5139 Femur S* 33.33 0.36 5139 Femur D 28.89 0.22 5139 Tibia P 24.44 0.16 3225 Tibia S* 71.11 0.59 2746 Tibia D 53.33 0.28 2267 Astragalus 28.89 0.6 1424 Calcaneum 42.22 0.43 1424 Metatarsus P 75.56 0.43 1003 Metatarsus S* 28.89 0.68 897.5 Metatarsus D* 33.33 0.39 792 Phalanx 1 P 16.7 0.43 443 Phalanx 1 D 26.7 0.55 443 Phalanx 2 P 14.4 0.34 443 Phalanx 2 D 16.1 0.39 443 Phalanx 3 P 18.3 0.3 443

365

Appendix 14: %MAU, bone density and food utility values, BSGD ungulates Horizon 1B. Bone Element %MAU Density FUI Skull 100 235 Mandible 36.4 0.3 590 Vertebrae Atlas 0 0.11 524 Vertebrae Axis 18.2 0.14 524 Vertebrae Cervical 25.5 0.12 1905 Vertebrae Thoracic 6.9 0.24 2433 Vertebrae Lumb 54.3 0.26 1706 Ilium 54.5 0.47 2531 Ischium 36.4 0.26 2531 Pubis 54.5 0.45 2531 Scapula GF 27.3 0.25 2295 Scapula Blade 72.7 0.33 2295 Humerus P 36.4 0.13 2295 Humerus S 72.7 0.42 2093 Humerus D 36.4 0.34 1891 Radius P 18.2 0.35 1323 Radius S 36.4 0.52 1181 Radius D 0 0.21 1039 Ulna 0 0.26 1323 Metacarpus P 18.2 0.4 461 Metacarpus S 9.1 0.67 412.5 Metacarpus D 0 0.5 364 Femur P 18.2 0.28 5139 Femur S 36.4 0.36 5139 Femur D 18.2 0.22 5139 Tibia P 0 0.16 3225 Tibia S 63.6 0.59 2746 Tibia D 0 0.28 2267 Astragalus 0 0.6 1424 Calcaneum 0 0.43 1424 Metatarsus P 37.5 0.43 1003 Metatarsus S 36.4 0.68 897.5 Metatarsus D 0 0.39 792 Phalanx 1 P 0 0.43 443 Phalanx 1 D 0 0.55 443 Phalanx 2 P 9.1 0.34 443 Phalanx 2 D 2.3 0.39 443 Phalanx 3 P 4.5 0.3 443

366

Appendix 15: Fragmentation intensity, indeterminate fragments Horizon 1A (n = 11,884).

%NISP 40

0 0‐20 20‐30 30‐40 40‐50 50‐60 60‐70 70‐80 Other Fragment 77 5.3 0.5 0.03 0 0.01 0 Long Bone Fragment 5.4 7.1 3.1 1.1 0.3 0.06 0.07 Size Class (mm)

Long Bone Fragment Other Fragment

367

Appendix 16: Fragmentation intensity, indeterminate fragments Horizon 1B (n = 21,104).

%NISP 40

0 0‐20 20‐30 30‐40 40‐50 50‐60 60‐70 70‐80 Other Fragment 86.6 3.5 0.2 0 0 0 0 Long Bone Fragment 3.3 4 1.6 0.5 0.1 0.05 0 Size Class (mm)

Long Bone Fragment Other Fragment

368

Appendix 17: Abundance (MAU and %MAU) of proximal and distal humerus and tibia element portions for caribou assemblages (data from Binford and Bertram 1977; Binford 1978). Prox Tibia Dist Tibia Prox Hum Dist Hum Assemblage MAU %MAU MAU %MAU MAU %MAU MAU %MAU Destroyed Anaktuvuk fall 1970 3 15 16.5 82.5 0 0 20 100 Anaktuvuk late fall 1970 1 9.1 8 72.7 0 0 11 100 Anaktuvuk winter 1971 0.5 12.5 1 25 0 0 3 75 Anaktuvuk late winter 1971 3.5 10.4 17 50.7 4.5 13.4 28.5 85.1 Anaktuvuk spring 1971 2 9.1 9 40.9 2.5 11.4 17.5 79.5 Anaktuvuk late spring 1971 0.5 1.4 3.5 10.1 2 5.8 17.5 50.7 Navajo winter 4.5 20.9 7.5 34.8 1.5 6.9 7 32.6 Navajo summer 8 44.4 13 72.2 2.5 13.8 18 100 Rulland dogs 0.5 7.7 1 15.4 0 0 1.5 23.1 Kongumuvuk summer 2 40 5 100 0.5 10 4 80 Amalgamation dog yard 1 25 1.5 37 0.5 12.5 2 50 Not Destroyed Fall dispersed kills 13.5 10.8 22 17.6 14.5 11.6 14.5 11.6 Winter dispersed kills 5 20 8.5 34 5.5 22 6.5 26 Spring dispersed kills 1 8.3 1.5 12.5 1 8.3 1 8.3 Summer dispersed kills 3 37.5 3 37.5 0 0 0 0 Anavik Spring 13 24.5 13.5 25.4 15 28.3 16.5 31.1 Anaktiqtauk Spring kill 5 8.6 8.5 14.6 6.5 11.2 8 13.7 Ice cellar processing 22 91.66 12 50 23 95.8 23 95.8 Ice cellar spring cleanout 1 4.7 6 28.6 0 0 0.5 2.4 Ice cellar contents 1971 38 100 38 100 33 86.8 33 86.8 Ice cellar contents 1972 40 100 40 100 27 67.5 27 67.5 Anavik Spring hunting stand 4 66.6 4 66.6 0.5 8.3 0.5 8.3 Anaktiqtauk Hunting stand area A 1.5 33.3 2 44.4 0 0 0 0 Anaktiqtauk hunting stand area B 3 66.6 3.5 77.7 0 0 0 0 Big Surround Kill 0 0 0 0 2 36.6 1.5 27.3 Long Rope Cairn 1.5 3.6 1 2.4 36 87.8 36 87.8 Site 41 cairn 1 20 1 20 4.5 90 4 80 1971 village inventory 61.1 72.2 60.1 71 60.5 71.5 60.5 71.5 Site 17 hunting camp 0.5 6.66 1 13.33 7.5 100 7.5 100 Amalgamation res 0 0 0.5 20 1.5 60 1 40 Akmoglik res 0.5 31.25 0.5 31.25 0.5 31.25 0.5 31.25 Big Happy Hunting stand 1 66.6 1.5 100 1 66.6 0.5 33.3 Little Happy Hunting stand 5.5 78.57 5.5 78.57 0 0 0 0 Rulland fall res 3.5 46.6 3.5 46.6 1.5 20 2 26.6 Kakinya fall res 7 73.68 5 52.63 4 42.1 6 63.16

369

Appendix 18: Ratio of unfused to fused bones for gazelle, fallow deer, bezoar goat, wild pig, cape hare and fox, Areas A, B, C. Area Area A A Area Area 1A 1B B C Age Juv Juv (mo.) 1 UF2 J3 T4 %UF MNI5 UF J T %UF MNI UF T %UF UF T %UF Gazella gazella Radius prox 0 ‐ 7 0 0 25 0 0 1 0 28 3.6 1 0 0 0 0 1 0 Phal. 1 prox 0 ‐ 7 2 1 15 5.4 1 1 2 41 2.4 1 0 0 0 0 6 0 Phal. 2 prox 0 ‐ 7 0 0 33 0 0 0 1 38 0 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 Hum. dist 3 ‐ 7 3 0 37 20 2 4 1 30 6.7 1 0 1 0 0 0 0 Scap. Gl 3 ‐ 7 0 1 24 0 1 0 0 10 0 0 0 1 0 1 3 33.3 Tibia distal 7 ‐ 18 11 0 28 39.3 5 14 0 40 35 6 0 0 0 0 1 0 Femur dist 7 ‐ 18 1 0 5 20 1 4 0 17 17.6 3 0 0 0 0 0 0 Calcan. prox 7 ‐ 18 2 0 6 33.3 1 6 0 12 50 5 0 0 0 0 0 0 Femur prox 7 ‐ 18 2 0 5 40 2 2 0 8 25 2 0 0 0 0 0 0 Metapod. dist 7 ‐ 18 12 1 42 28.6 6 26 4 41 61 5 1 1 100 1 2 50 Hum. prox 7 ‐ 18 0 0 3 0 0 4 0 6 66.7 2 0 0 0 0 0 0 Radius dist 7 ‐ 18 3 1 6 50 3 4 0 11 36.4 2 0 0 0 0 4 0 Tibia prox 7 ‐ 18 0 1 9 0 1 6 0 21 28.6 2 0 0 0 0 0 0 Ulna prox 7 ‐ 18 2 0 15 15.4 1 0 0 12 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 Ulna dist 7 ‐ 18 0 0 1 0 0 1 0 3 33.3 1 0 0 0 0 1 0 Dama mesopotamica Scap. 15‐16 0 0 1 0 0 0 0 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 Phal. 1 prox n.a. 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 4 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 Phal. 2 prox n.a. 0 0 3 0 0 0 0 3 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 Tibia dist 22‐25 0 0 0 0 0 1 0 1 100 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 Calcan. Prox n.a. 0 0 2 0 0 1 0 1 100 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 Ulna prox 33‐39 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 2 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0

370

Appendix 18 (continued) Area Area A A Area Area 1A 1B B C Age Juv Juv (mo.)1 UF1 FU3 T4 % MNI5 UF FU T % MNI UF T %UF UF T %UF Capra aegagrus 12 0 0 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 Hum. dist Scap. GL 12‐13 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 2 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 Phal. 1 prox 35 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 3 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 Phal. 2 prox 35 0 0 3 0 0 0 0 4 25 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 Tibia dist 35 0 0 1 0 0 1 0 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 Calcan. prox 60 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 Metapodia 60 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 3 100 2 0 0 0 0 0 0 dist Radius dist 71 1 0 1 0 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 Ulna prox 72 0 0 2 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 Sus scrofa Fibula 24-30 1 0 4 25 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 Lepus capensis Phalanx 3 n.a. 1 0 32 3.1 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 Vulpes vulpes Cervical vert. n.a. 0 0 3 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 1 Minimum age of element fusion 2 UF = Unfused NISP 3 FU = Fusing NISP 4 T = Total (juvenile + adult) NISP 5 Juv MNI = Minimum Number of Juvenile Individuals, both unfused and fusing. Calculated using the Fragment Overlap Method (Marean et al. 2001). Fusion data for gazelle (Munro et al. 2009); fusion data for fallow deer (Carden & Hayden 2006); fusion data for wild goat (Bullock & Rackham 1982); fusion data for pig (*fibula) (Bridault et al. 2000).

371

Appendix 19: Gazelle cut marks, Horizon 1A.

Percussion marks gazelle Horizon 1A. Element Action NISP Humerus #1985 (l) Marrow Extraction 1 Tibia #1942 (l) Marrow Extraction 4 #3755 (r) #4298 (l) #6293 (r) Metapodial #1982 (l) Marrow Extraction 1 Metacarpal #1909 (r) Marrow Extraction 1

Other cut marks (indeterminate intent) gazelle Horizon 1A. Element Action NISP Rib #1044 Unknown 8 #1629 #1959 (r) #2150 #2430 (l) #2458 (l) #2815 #4417 (r) Pelvis #4428 (r) Chop 1 Humerus #2383 (l) Longitudinal bone split 1 Radius #2828 (r) Longitudinal bone split 1 Metacarpal #6440 (r) Longitudinal bone split 1 Tibia #2384 (l) Longitudinal bone split 2 $4302 (l) Metatarsal #1345 (l) Longitudinal bone split 1

372

Appendix 20: Gazelle cut marks Horizon 1B.

Percussion marks gazelle Horizon 1B. Element Action NISP Cranial ‐ Premaxilla #6074 Nose removal 1 Mandible #4807 (r) Marrow Extraction 1 Humerus #5580 (l) Marrow Extraction 1 #2946 (l) Marrow Extraction 1 #2557 (r) Marrow Extraction 1 Metacarpal #5887 (l) Marrow Extraction 1 Femur #5815 (rj) Marrow Extraction 2 #5514 (r) Marrow Extraction Tibia #5546 (r) Marrow Extraction 1

Other cut marks (indeterminate intent) gazelle Horizon 1B. Element Action NISP Mandible #4912 (r) Chop – premaxilla 2 #2776 (l) Chop Rib #5472 Unknown 3 #5440 (r) Unknown #1731 (r) Unknown Humerus #5394 (l) Longitudinal chop 2 #1240 (r) Longitudinal chop Radius #5668 (r) Longitudinal chop 2 #4778 (R) Longitudinal chop Metacarpal #5987 (r) Longitudinal chop 6 #5398 (lj) Longitudinal chop #4550 (l) Longitudinal chop #4359 (l) Longitudinal chop #1308 (r) Longitudinal chop #1232 (l) Longitudinal chop Femur #5977 (r) Longitudinal chop 1 Tibia #3214 (r) Longitudinal chop 3 #2415 (r) Longitudinal chop #1228 (l) Longitudinal chop

373

Appendix 20 (Continued)

Element Action NISP Metatarsal #6116 (r) Longitudinal chop 9 #5843 (l) Chop #5383 (r) Longitudinal chop #4922 (r) Longitudinal chop #4923 (r) Longitudinal chop #4784 (r) Longitudinal chop #4669 (l) Longitudinal chop #4472 (r) Longitudinal chop #4109 (r) Longitudinal chop 1st phalange #4914 Longitudinal chop 2 #4114 Longitudinal chop 2nd phalange #5670 Longitudinal chop 1

374

Appendix 21: Gazelle cut mark quantification: Comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (cMNEcut), comprehensive minimum number of elements (CMNE), and proportion of comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (%cMNEcut) (following Otárola-Castillo 2010). Horizon Element cMNEcut cMNE %cMNEcut 1A Cranial ‐ zygomatic 1 1 100 Mandible 2 17 11.8 Thor Vert 1 7 14.3 Rib 4 18 22.2 Pelvis 2 8 25 Humerus 3 22 13.6 Radius 4 16 25 Ulna 2 12 16.7 Carpals 2 28 7.1 Metacarpal 4 20 20 Femur 1 10 10 Tibia 4 25 16 Astragalus 1 23 4.3 Tarsals 1 10 10 Metatarsal 3 37 8.1 Metapodial 1 14 7.1 1st Phal 1 40 2.5 2nd Phal 1 26 3.8

1B Cranial ‐ premaxilla 1 8 12.5 Mandible 3 20 15 Atlas 1 4 25 Pelvis 3 12 25 Scapula 2 11 18.2 Humerus 4 45 8.9 Radius 3 22 13.6 Ulna 1 12 8.3 Metacarpal 8 33 24.2 Femur 3 15 20 Tibia 8 32 25 Astragalus 1 13 7.7 Calcaneus 1 19 5.3 Tarsals 2 24 8.3 Metatarsal 11 34 4.2 Metapodial 2 10 20 1st Phal 4 48 8.3 2nd Phal 1 29 3.4

375

Appendix 22 Cut mark diagrams, Gazella gazella Horizon 1A.

Left Adult Femur Left Adult Humerus Left Juvenile Humerus

Right Adult Humerus Left Adult Metacarpal Right Adult Metacarpal

Left Adult Metapodial Left Adult Metatarsal Right Adult Metatarsal

376

Appendix 22 Continued

Left Adult Radius Right Adult Radius Right Adult Ulna

Left Adult Tibia Right Adult Tibia Right Adult Astragalus

Left Adult Innominate Right Adult Innominate Adult 1st Phalanx

377

Appendix 22 Continued

Adult 2nd Phalanx Adult Thoracic Vertebrae

Left Adult Mandible Right Adult Mandible

378

Appendix 23: Cut mark diagrams, Gazella gazella Horizon 1B.

Left Adult Femur Right Adult Femur Right Juvenile Femur

Left Adult Humerus Right Adult Humerus Left Adult Metacarpal

Left Juvenile Metacarpal Right Adult Metacarpal Left and Right Adult Metapodials

379

Appendix 23 (Continued).

Left Adult Metatarsal Right Adult & Juvenile Metatarsal Left Juvenile Radius

Right Adult Radius Left Adult Ulna Left Adult Tibia

Left Juvenile Tibia Right Adult Tibia Right Adult Astragalus

380

Appendix 23 (Continued).

Left Juvenile Astragalus Left Adult Scapula Right Adult Scapula Left Adult Innominate

Right Adult Innominate Left Adult 1st Phalanx Right Adult 1st Phalanx Right Juv 1st Phalanx

381

Appendix 23 (Continued).

Left Adult 2nd Phalanx Adult Atlas Left Adult Mandible

Right Adult Mandible

382

Appendix 24: Capra cut marks.

Other cut marks (indeterminate intent) Capra Horizon 1A. Element Action NISP Metatarsal #3623 (l) Longitudinal Chop 1

Other cut marks (indeterminate intent) Capra Horizon 1B. Element Action NISP Metacarpal #5972 (l) Longitudinal Chop 1 Metapodial #2514 Longitudinal Chop 1

Capra cut mark quantification: Comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (cMNEcut), comprehensive minimum number of elements (CMNE), and proportion of comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (%cMNEcut) (following Otárola-Castillo 2010). Horizon Element cMNEcut cMNE %cMNEcut 1A Humerus 1 2 50 Metatarsal 2 3 66.7 1B Metacarpal 1 1 100 Tibia 1 4 25 Metatarsal 1 1 100 Metapodial 1 2 50

383

Appendix 25: Dama cut marks.

Other cut marks (indeterminate intent) Dama Horizon 1B. Element Action NISP Metacarpal #5902 (l) Longitudinal Chop 1

Dama cut mark quantification: Comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (cMNEcut), comprehensive minimum number of elements (CMNE), and proportion of comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (%cMNEcut) (following Otárola-Castillo 2010). Horizon Element cMNEcut cMNE %cMNEcut 1A Mandible 1 1 100 1st Phal 1 1 100 2nd Phal 1 2 5 1B Scapula 1 1 100 Ulna 2 3 66.7 Metacarpal 1 1 100 2nd Phal 1 5 20

384

Appendix 26: Capreolus cut marks.

Primary butchery Capreolus Horizon 1B. Element Action NISP Dismemberment Mandible #4205 (l) (cut/snap) 1

Capreolus Cut mark quantification: Comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (cMNEcut), comprehensive minimum number of elements (CMNE), and proportion of comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (%cMNEcut). Horizon Element cMNEcut cMNE %cMNEcut 1B Mandible 1 1 100

385

Appendix 27: Sus cut marks.

Primary butchery Sus Horizon 1B. Element Action NISP Rib #1969 (r) Dismemberment 1

Sus Cut mark quantification: Comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (cMNEcut), comprehensive minimum number of elements (CMNE), and proportion of comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (%cMNEcut). Horizon Element cMNEcut cMNE %cMNEcut 1B Rib 1 2 50

386

Appendix 28: Canis cut marks

Primary butchery Canis Horizon 1B. Element Action NISP Humerus #5836 (r) Dismemberment 1

Canis cut mark quantification: Comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (cMNEcut), comprehensive minimum number of elements (CMNE), and proportion of comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (%cMNEcut). Horizon Element cMNEcut cMNE %cMNEcut 1B Humerus 1 1 100

387

Appendix 29: Lepus cut marks.

Primary butchery Lepus Horizon 1A. Element Action NISP Humerus #2125 (r) Dismemberment 1 Metapodial #1017 Skinning 1 1st Phal #1018 Skinning 1

Secondary butchery marks Lepus Horizon 1A. Element Action NISP Ulna #1029 (r) Filleting 1

Primary butchery Lepus Horizon 1B. Element Action NISP Humerus #2505 (r) Dismemberment 1

Lepus cut mark quantification: Comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (cMNEcut), comprehensive minimum number of elements (CMNE), and proportion of comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (%cMNEcut). Horizon Element cMNEcut cMNE %cMNEcut 1A Humerus 1 2 50 Ulna 1 2 50 Metapodial 1 3 33.3 1st Phal 1 7 14.3 1B Humerus 1 1 100

388

Appendix 30: Alectoris cut marks.

Primary butchery Alectoris Horizon 1A. Element Action NISP Humerus #2159 (r) Dismemberment 1

Alectoris cut mark quantification: Comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (cMNEcut), comprehensive minimum number of elements (CMNE), and proportion of comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (%cMNEcut). Horizon Element cMNEcut cMNE %cMNEcut 1A Humerus 1 1 100

389

Appendix 31: BSGB cut marks.

Primary butchery BSGB Horizon 1A. Element Action NISP Tibia #4796 (r) Dismemberment 1

BSGB cut mark quantification: Comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (cMNEcut), comprehensive minimum number of elements (CMNE), and proportion of comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (%cMNEcut). Horizon Element cMNEcut cMNE %cMNEcut 1B Tibia 1 3 33.3

390

Appendix 32: BSGC cut marks.

Primary butchery BSGC Horizon 1A. Element Action NISP Lumb vert #6467 Dismemberment (rib) 1 Rib #1182 (r) Dismemberment 1

Secondary butchery marks BSGC Horizon 1A. Element Action NISP Pelvis #4845 Filleting 1

Other cut marks (indeterminate intent) BSGC Horizon 1A. Element Action NISP Cranial ‐ Zygomatic #1180 Unknown cut 1

Primary butchery BSGC Horizon 1B. Element Action NISP Lumb Vert #4870 Dismemberment (rib) 1

Secondary butchery marks BSGC Horizon 1B. Element Action NISP Tibia #5410 (r) Filleting 1

Percussion marks BSGC Horizon 1B. Element Action NISP Tibia #4688 Marrow Extraction 1

Other cut marks (indeterminate intent) BSGC Horizon 1B. Element Action NISP 1st Phal #1214 Longitudinal Chop 1

391

Appendix 32 continued.

BSGC cut mark quantification: Comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (cMNEcut), comprehensive minimum number of elements (CMNE), and proportion of comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (%cMNEcut). Horizon Element cMNEcut cMNE %cMNEcut 1A Cranial ‐ Zygomatic 1 2 50 Lumb Vert 1 2 50 Rib 1 4 25 Pelvis 1 2 50 1B Lumb Vert 1 1 100 Tibia 1 2 50 1st Phal 1 2 50

392

Appendix 33: BSGD cut marks.

Primary butchery BSGD Horizon 1A. Element Action NISP Mandible #3624 Skinning 1 Humerus #6290 Dismemberment 1 Pelvis ‐ ilium #6193 Dismemberment 1 Metapodial #3929 Skinning 1

Other cut marks (indeterminate intent) BSGD Horizon 1A. Element Action NISP Cranial ‐ Petrosum #1043 Unknown 1 Rib #4444 Unknown 1

Primary butchery BSGD Horizon 1B. Element Action NISP Cranial ‐ Zygo temp. Process #4596 Dismemberment 1 Mandible #4373 Skinning 1 Lumb Vert #4134 Dismemberment (chop) 1 Rib #5736 (r) Dismemberment 3 #3861 (l) Dismemberment #3863 Dismemberment Femur #4864 (r) Dismemberment 1 #4567 (l) Dismemberment 1 Metapodial #4928 Dismemberment 4 #4866 Dismemberment #4378 Dismemberment #2526 Dismemberment

393

Appendix 33 (continued)

Secondary butchery marks BSGD Horizon 1B. Element Action NISP Scapula #4211 Filleting (drying?) 3 #3130 (l) Filleting (drying?) #3106 (r) Filleting (drying?) Tibia #5067 (r) Filleting 3 #4500 (l) Filleting #4568 Filleting

Other cut marks (indeterminate intent) BSGD Horizon 1B. Element Action NISP Rib #5036 (r) Unknown 4 #4217 Unknown #3862 Unknown #2939 Unknown Metapodial #5004 Longitudinal Chop 2 #3300 Longitudinal Chop

BSGD cut mark quantification: Comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (cMNEcut), comprehensive minimum number of elements (CMNE), and proportion of comprehensive minimum number of cut elements (%cMNEcut). Horizon Element cMNEcut cMNE %cMNEcut 1A Cranial ‐ Petrosum 1 3 33.3 Mandible 1 8 12.5 Rib 1 23 4.3 Humerus 1 3 33.3 Pelvis 1 4 25 Metapodial 1 3 33.4 1B Cranial ‐ Zygo temp. Process 1 10 10 Mandible 1 7 14.3 Lumb Vert 1 14 7.1 Scapula 3 8 37.5 Rib 3 37 8.1 Femur 2 2 100 Tibia 2 7 28.6 Metapodial 2 11 18.2

394

Appendix 34: Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations Kharaneh IV Phase A (Kebaran) (Martin et al. 2010).

Species NISP Equus sp. 193 Gazella gazella 1496 ∑pilnpi/lnS Bos primigenius 7 0.323060862 Lepus capensis 38 Testudo graeca 65 R = S/√N Struthio camelus 2 0.1649 Margus merganser 1

TOTAL 1802

395

Appendix 35: Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations Kharaneh IV Phase B (Kebaran) (Martin et al. 2010).

Species NISP Equus sp. 30 Gazella gazella 1428 ∑pilnpi/lnS Bos primigenius 1 0.117951889 Lepus capensis 23 Testudo graeca 3 R = S/√N Struthio camelus 2 0.155595

TOTAL 1487

396

Appendix 36: Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations Kharaneh IV Phase C (Kebaran) (Martin et al. 2010).

Species NISP Equus sp. 7 Gazella gazella 264 ∑pilnpi/lnS Lepus capensis 15 0.246355544 Testudo graeca 1 R = S/√N TOTAL 287 0.236113

397

Appendix 37: Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations Wadi Jilat 6 (Kebaran) (Martin et al. 2010).

Species NISP Equus sp. 172 Sus scrofa 5 Gazella gazella 1983 ∑pilnpi/lnS Bos primigenius 7 0.39930829 Lepus capensis 57 Testudo graeca 463 R = S/√N Struthio camelus 2 0.17244 Alectoris chukar 1 Pterocles/Syrrhaptes sp. 34

TOTAL 2724

398

Appendix 38: Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations Hayonim C (Kebaran) (Stiner 2005).

Species NISP Equus cf. hemionus 3 Dicerorhinus hemitoechus 2 Sus scrofa 63 -∑pilnpi/lnS Capreolus capreolus 16 0.62891021 Cervus elaphus 72 Dama mesopotamica 198 R = S/√N Alcephalus busephalus 154 0.28148 Gazella gazella 1039 Bos primigenius 53 Capra aegagrus 36 Lepus capensis 12 Testudo graeca 453 Struthio 11 fish 32

TOTAL 2144

399

Appendix 39: Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations Meged Rockshelter (Kebaran) (Stiner 2005).

Species NISP Equus cf. hemionus 1 Sus scrofa 7 Capreolus capreolus 1 -∑pilnpi/lnS Cervus elaphus 10 0.497977 Dama mesopotamica 58 Gazella gazella 451 R = S/√N Bos primigenius 1 0.310835 Capra aegagrus 19 Lepus capensis 25 Testudo graeca 462

TOTAL 1035

400

Appendix 40: Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations Nahal Hadera V (Kebaran) (Bar-Oz et al. 1999; Bar-Oz 2004).

Species NISP Equus hydruntinus 100 Sus scrofa 10 -∑pilnpi/lnS Capreolus capreolus 17 0.405939 Dama mesopotamica 5414 Gazella gazella 12528 R = S/√N Bos primigenius 43 0.058182 Lepus capensis 474 Testudo graeca 320

TOTAL 18906

401

Appendix 41: Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations Ohalo II (Kebaran) (Rabinovich & Nadel 2005; Simmons & Nadel 1998; Van Neer et al. 2005). Species N Species N Sus scrofa 19 Podiceps grisegena 29 Cervidae 14 Podiceps cristatus 114 Cervus elaphus 11 Podiceps auritus 1 Dama mesopotamica 413 Podiceps nigricollis 13 Gazella gazella 2059 Plegadis falcinellus 1 Bos primigenius 2 Platalea leuorodia 2 Capra aegagrus 4 Ardeola ralloides 3 Lepus capensis 77 Ardea cinerea 3 Alectoris chukar 7 Ardea purpurea 1 Ammoperdix heyi 2 Egretta garzetta 4 Coturnix coturnix 34 Microcarbo pygmaeus 1 Anser fabalis 19 Phalacrocorax aristotelis 1 Anser anser 16 Otis tarda 1 Anser albifrons 1 Tetrax tetrax 1 Cygnus columbianus Porphyrio porphyrio 1 bewickii 6 Fulica atra 19 Cygnus cygnus 5 Himantopus himantopus 1 Alopochen aegyptiacus 3 Recurvirostra avosetta 1 Tadorna tadorna 4 Vanellus vanellus 1 Anas capensis 1 Numenius phaeopus 1 Anas strepera 1 Numenius arquata 4 Anas penelope 1 Arenaria interpres 1 Anas platyrhynchos 11 Barbus sp. 178 Anas clypeata 3 Barbus canis 35 Anas acuta 4 Barbus longiceps 87 Anas querquedula 11 Capoeta damascina 306 Anas crecca 1 Barbus/Capoeta 1126 Netta rufina 1 Tilapia aurea 2 Aythya fuligula 3 T. zillii 9 Aythya marila 1 Sarotherodon galilaeus 3 Melanitta fusca 1 Tristamella sp. 43 Bucephala clangula 1 Tilapiini 3189 Mergus merganser 1 Mergus serrator 2 TOTAL 7924 Tachybaptus ruficollis 3

-∑pilnpi/lnS R = S/√N 0.432945 0.741433

402

Appendix 42: Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations Ein Gev I (Kebaran) (Marom 2006; Marom & Bar=Oz 2008).

Species NISP Equus hydruntinus 6 Sus scrofa 54 Capreolus capreolus 22 -∑pilnpi/lnS Cervus elaphus 149 0.669516 Dama mesopotamica 515 Gazella gazella 1296 R = S/√N Bos primigenius 99 0.24594 Capra aegagrus 237 Lepus capensis 198 Testudo graeca 171 Alectoris chukar 10 Anser sp. 36 Cygnus sp. 1

TOTAL 2794

403

Appendix 43: Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations UR IIa Horizon 1A (Kebaran).

Species NISP Sus scrofa 4 Capreolus capreolus 3 Cervus elaphus 1 Dama mesopotamica 21 -∑pilnpi/lnS Gazella gazella 1130 0.163788 Capra aegagrus 22 Lepus capensis 35 R = S/√N Testudo graeca 3 0.342717 Struthrio camelus 1 Alectoris chukar 2 Anas sp. 3 Cygnus sp. 1

TOTAL 1226

404

Appendix 44: Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations UR IIa Horizon 1B (Kebaran).

Species NISP Sus scrofa 5 Capreolus capreolus 5 -∑pilnpi/lnS Dama mesopotamica 25 0.158496 Gazella gazella 1459 Capra aegagrus 53 R = S/√N Lepus capensis 12 0.2777 Testudo graeca 2 Struthio camelus 1 Alectoris chukar 2 Anas sp. 3 Fish 2

TOTAL 1573

405

Appendix 45: Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations Kharaneh IV Phase D (Geometric Kebaran) (Martin et al. 2010).

Species NISP Equus sp. 194 Sus scrofa 1 Gazella gazella 6697 ∑pilnpi/lnS Bos primigenius 12 0.162908872 Lepus capensis 220 Hystrix indica 2 R = S/√N Testudo graeca 105 0.105787 Struthio camelus 4 Pterocles/Syrrhaptes sp. 34

TOTAL 7238

406

Appendix 46: Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations Neve David (Geometric Kebaran) (Bar-Oz et al. 1999; Bar-Oz 2004).

Species NISP Sus scrofa 9 Capreolus capreolus 26 Cervus elaphus 8 -∑pilnpi/lnS Dama mesopotamica 780 0.3967738 Alcephalus busephalus 6 Gazella gazella 1540 R= S/√N Bos primigenius 13 0.201825 Lepus capensis 39 Testudo graeca 33 Hystrix indica 11

TOTAL 2455

407

Appendix 47: Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations Hefzibah (Geometric Kebaran) (Bar-Oz & Dayan 2003; Bar-Oz 2004).

Species NISP Equus sp. 1 Sus scrofa 16 Dama mesopotamica 1803 -∑pilnpi/lnS Alcephalus busephalus 7 0.3530893 Gazella gazella 6556 Bos primigenius 263 R= S/√N Lepus capensis 244 0.105638 Testudo graeca 60 Erinaceus europeus 8 Alectoris chukar 3

TOTAL 8961

408

Appendix 48: Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations El-Wad Cave (Early Natufian) (Bar-Oz & Dayan 2003; Bar-Oz 2004).

Species NISP Sus scrofa 18 Cervidae 7 -∑pilnpi/lnS Capreolus capreolus 2 0.6191877 Cervus elaphus 12 Dama mesopotamica 124 R= S/√N Gazella gazella 654 0.224509 Capra aegagrus 7 Lepus capensis 536 Testudo graeca 247

TOTAL 1607

409

Appendix 49: Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations Hayonim Cave (Early Natufian) (Munro 2001, 2004, 2009).

Species NISP Sus scrofa 50 Cervidae 41 Capreolus capreolus 5 Cervus elaphus 23 -∑pilnpi/lnS Dama mesopotamica 47 0.5994403 Gazella gazella 1483 Bos primigenius 11 R= S/√N Capra aegagrus 17 0.169721 Lepus capensis 1559 Testudo graeca 1777 Alectoris chukar 818 Galliformes 9 Waterfowl 27

Total 5867

410

Appendix 50: Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations El-Wad Terrace (Late Natufian) (Bar-Oz 2004).

Species NISP Sus scrofa 10 Capreolus capreolus 5 Dama mesopotamica 56 -∑pilnpi/lnS Gazella gazella 2095 0.3627201 Bos primigenius 6 Lepus capensis 185 R= S/√N Testudo graeca 229 0.175262 Erinaceus europeus 9 Alectoris chukar 42

TOTAL 18906

411

Appendix 51: Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations Hayonim Cave (Late Natufian) (Munro 2001, 2004, 2009).

Species NISP Equus sp. 1 Sus scrofa 1 Cervidae 27 Capreolus capreolus 1 -∑pilnpi/lnS Cervus elaphus 13 0.4545141 Dama mesopotamica 30 Gazella gazella 883 R= S/√N Bos primigenius 4 0.163678 Capra aegagrus 8 Lepus capensis 3512 Testudo graeca 2542 Alectoris chukar 231 Galliformes 9 Waterfowl 12

TOTAL 7316

412

Appendix 52: Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations Hayonim Terrace (Late Natufian) (Munro 2001, 2004, 2009).

Species NISP Sus scrofa 51 Capreolus capreolus 1 Cervus elaphus 9 -∑pilnpi/lnS Dama mesopotamica 55 0.4618618 Gazella gazella 4249 Bos primigenius 78 R= S/√N Capra aegagrus 19 0.107658 Lepus capensis 630 Testudo graeca 3483 Alectoris chukar 53

TOTAL 8628

413

Appendix 53: Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations Hilazon Tachtit (Late Natufian) (Munro 2009).

Species NISP Equus sp. 1 Sus scrofa 12 Cervus elaphus 1 Dama mesopotamica 2 -∑pilnpi/lnS Gazella gazella 362 0.4006271 Bos primigenius 2 Capra aegagrus 7 R= S/√N Lepus capensis 44 0.329293 Testudo graeca 848 Alectoris chukar 41 Galliformes 1 Waterfowl 1

TOTAL 1328

414

Appendix 54: Species representation (NISP), evenness and richness calculations Hatoula (Late Natufian) (Munro 2009).

Species NISP Sus scrofa 11 Capreolus capreolus 11 Dama mesopotamica 5 -∑pilnpi/lnS Gazella gazella 979 0.4218264 Bos primigenius 3 Capra aegagrus 1 R= S/√N Lepus capensis 73 0.199192 Testudo graeca 530

TOTAL 1613