Evolutionary Insights by Anthropology.net

When archaeologists study Neanderthal behavior, the focus often gravitates toward hunting prowess, toolmaking strategies, or burial practices. But what happens after the hunt—specifically how meat was processed—can reveal equally profound insights into Neanderthal social life and regional identity.

A recent study by Anaëlle Jallon and colleagues, published in Frontiers in Environmental Archaeology, compares how two Neanderthal groups, living in caves just 70 kilometers apart in what is today northern Israel, butchered the same kinds of animals in surprisingly different ways. Their findings suggest that Neanderthals, like modern humans, may have had localized food traditions, possibly passed down across generations.

Shared Prey, Diverging Practices

Amud Cave and Kebara Cave, both occupied by Neanderthals between roughly 70,000 and 50,000 years ago, are textbook examples of Middle Paleolithic sites. Each cave yielded a wealth of stone tools, hearths, and faunal remains—mostly of fallow deer (Dama mesopotamica) and mountain gazelles (Gazella gazella), staple prey in the Mediterranean Levant.

Given their geographic proximity and similar toolkits, one might expect the Neanderthals at both sites to have butchered animals in roughly the same manner. But when researchers compared 344 cut-marked bones from both sites using macroscopic and 3D microscopic techniques, the results told a more nuanced story.

“Despite comparable taxonomic distributions, there are notable differences in the density and layout of cut-marks between the two caves,” the authors wrote. “Such discrepancies could possibly reflect inter-group cultural differences related to carcass processing preferences, organization of tasks within the group, or socially transmitted traditions.”

The Cut of Culture

At first glance, the marks on the bones appear as scratches and notches. But under high-resolution Focus Variation microscopes, patterns emerge. Cut-marks from Amud Cave tended to be denser, more overlapping, and often curved. Those from Kebara Cave were generally straighter, more evenly spaced, and often fewer in number.

These weren’t random or incidental differences. The researchers found that:

* Amud specimens had more intersecting cut-marks, suggesting a different style or rhythm of butchery.

* Bones at Amud were often more fragmented and showed signs of burning—sometimes up to 40% of the assemblage.

* Kebara bones, while less burnt and fragmented, displayed a higher incidence of cut-marked remains (15% versus 2.2% at Amud).

Such differences could stem from the use of different tools, meat preparation methods, or group labor dynamics. But the team controlled for many variables, including prey size and skeletal part, and still found that the differences persisted.

“Even when we compare only the gazelles, and only the long bones of gazelles, we find a higher density of cut marks in [bones from] Amud,” Jallon noted. “More cut marks that are crossing each other, less cut marks that are straight lines, but more curved.”

Recipes for Survival?

So what could explain these distinct butchery patterns?

One possibility is that the Neanderthals at Amud were processing meat that had already begun to decompose—either intentionally through meat hanging or unintentionally due to delayed transport. Decomposed tissue behaves differently under a stone flake, requiring more force and more erratic cuts.

Another explanation could be social. Perhaps the task of butchering was divided among more individuals at Amud, each bringing their own rhythm and style to the work. Or perhaps different learning traditions guided how young Neanderthals were taught to process food.

“These aren’t just cut marks being studied,” said archaeologist Matt Pope, who was not involved in the study. “These are the gestures and movements of the Neanderthal people themselves, as evocative to us as footprints or hand marks on a cave wall.”

Beyond the Bone

The findings add to a growing body of research suggesting Neanderthal behavior was more variable—and culturally embedded—than often assumed. From tool production to fire use and now butchery, localized traditions seem to have shaped how Neanderthals lived, even when their environmental contexts were nearly identical.

For archaeologists and anthropologists, this raises new questions: Were there "Neanderthal cuisines"? Did different groups pass down preferred butchering techniques like recipes? And if so, how might this influence how we understand regional identity in prehistoric hominin populations?

The answers lie not just in what Neanderthals hunted, but how they sliced and served it.

Related Research

* Soulier, M., & Morin, E. (2016). Cut marks on the bones of large game: New insights into Upper Paleolithic butchery practices. Quaternary International, 403, 33–51. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.quaint.2015.09.051

* Bello, S. M., et al. (2009). High-resolution 3D microtopography of cut and percussion marks on bone surfaces. Journal of Archaeological Science, 36(5), 1149–1157. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jas.2008.11.021

* Rendu, W. (2022). Neanderthal subsistence and hunting behaviors in the European Middle Paleolithic. Journal of Archaeological Method and Theory, 29(3), 542–567. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10816-021-09506-0

* Binford, L. R. (1981). Bones: Ancient Men and Modern Myths. New York: Academic Press. A foundational work on interpreting archaeological bone assemblages.

* Speth, J. D. (2019). Kebara Cave Faunal Remains. Harvard University Press. Offers comprehensive insights into the Kebara assemblage also analyzed in Jallon et al.'s study.

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.anthropology.net/subscribe

In a sterile lab in Madrid, four ancient skeletons—one exhumed from a glacier, another from a Paleolithic burial pit in Egypt—are being digitally resurrected one rib at a time. Their remains, dispersed across millennia and climates, hold an anatomical key to understanding how Homo sapiens adapted not only through tools, fire, and language, but through the very scaffolding of the chest.

A new study published in Communications Biology reconstructs, for the first time, the ribcages of four Upper Paleolithic Homo sapiens. The findings complicate the standard picture of the human thorax as inherently slender. Instead, the study argues that our species evolved a far more varied range of thoracic shapes—largely influenced by climate.

Four Men, Four Climates, One Species

The four fossils span over 30,000 years. There is Nazlet Khater 2, a miner from Upper Egypt buried nearly 38,000 years ago. Ohalo II H2, a Levantine forager dated to 23,000 years before present. Dolní Věstonice 13, unearthed from the cold plains of Central Europe. And then, of course, there’s Ötzi—the famously mummified “Iceman” who perished in the Alps 5,300 years ago.

Digital reconstructions of their ribcages show something unexpected: their shapes vary substantially based on geography. The Egyptians and Levantines had smaller, more cylindrical thoraxes. Their chest cavities were not unlike those of contemporary humans from warm or temperate climates. In contrast, Dolní Věstonice 13 had a ribcage nearly as large as those of Neanderthals and as wide as the Nariokotome Boy—Homo erectus from Kenya.

"Slender ribcages seem to be unique to modern humans, but stockier thoracic forms like those found in Neanderthals are also part of our species’ range," the researchers wrote.

Ötzi’s ribcage sits somewhere in the middle. It has the shape of a temperate-climate human but with slightly larger dimensions—perhaps, as the researchers suggest, an adaptation to seasonal migrations through alpine environments.

Rewriting the Human Chest

The thoracic cage is more than a skeletal envelope. It reflects how a species breathes, moves, and conserves heat. Anthropologists have long debated whether the “gracile” (slender) frame of Homo sapiens is a hallmark of the species or a relatively recent innovation. Earlier reconstructions of Homo erectus, such as the Nariokotome Boy, had suggested a similarly narrow frame. But recent work has flipped that assumption.

More robust reconstructions of Homo erectus and Neanderthal ribcages have shown that wide, deep thoraxes may be the ancestral state.

"There is no single Bauplan for modern humans," said study lead José M. López-Rey. "Instead, we see an environmentally plastic anatomy, responsive to climate and locomotor stress."

The study applied 3D geometric morphometrics to estimate thoracic dimensions using fossil vertebrae and rib fragments. It also compared these fossils to over 50 modern humans from across the globe, grouped by climate. The findings track neatly with ecological rules that have governed animal morphology for centuries.

Bergmann and the Bauplan

The principles guiding this study are not new. Bergmann’s rule, proposed in the 19th century, suggests that animals in colder climates have bulkier bodies to conserve heat. Allen’s rule builds on this, stating that shorter limbs and more compact body shapes are advantageous in frigid environments. Human ribcages, it turns out, follow suit.

Dolní Věstonice 13 lived during the Last Glacial Maximum, when mammoths roamed the European steppe and average winter temperatures could plummet far below freezing. His barrel-shaped thorax may have helped him retain core warmth and process larger volumes of air. This ribcage is anatomically distinct from those of Nazlet Khater 2 or Ohalo II H2, despite them all being members of the same species.

“Such thoracic proportions could have been beneficial for surviving that hostile climate,” the study notes.

Beyond Bones: The Role of Culture and Mobility

Ötzi, the Iceman, adds another dimension to this story. His ribcage shows intermediate traits, both in shape and size. This mixed morphology could reflect his lifestyle as a mobile herder, traversing mountains on foot, adapting to seasonal temperature swings.

Though the chest is shaped by bones, it tells us much about behavior. A wider ribcage may not simply be a response to cold but also to metabolic demands, physical workload, and altitude. Nazlet Khater 2’s skeletal features suggest intensive labor, possibly related to mining, while Ohalo II H2 shows evidence of habitual foraging.

Climate, Genes, and Equifinality

Not all similarities stem from shared ancestry. Anatomical convergence—what anthropologists call equifinality—can lead to similar shapes in different evolutionary paths. The study highlights this possibility in Dolní Věstonice 13, whose ribcage shape mirrors that of the Nariokotome Boy despite their species being separated by over a million years.

“Climatic adaptations might explain these similarities more than shared genetic proximity,” the authors argue.

This challenges a common bias in paleoanthropology that assumes Neanderthal-like thoraxes are foreign to Homo sapiens. Instead, this new research demonstrates that such robust forms were likely always part of our repertoire.

A Ribcage for Every Climate

These findings resonate with broader trends in human evolutionary biology. Our species has long been defined by variability rather than uniformity. Whether through skin tone, skull shape, or limb proportions, Homo sapiens displays an extraordinary degree of plasticity.

“Body proportions might depend not only on genetics but also on the climatic plasticity of our species,” the researchers conclude.

The ribcage, often overlooked in favor of the cranium or pelvis, is now emerging as a crucial anatomical feature in decoding how humans lived—and adapted—in vastly different environments.

Additional Related Research

Here are studies that expand on or complement this new research:

* Pearson, O. M. (2000). Postcranial remains and the origin of modern humans. Evolutionary Anthropology, 9, 229–247. https://doi.org/10.1002/1520-6505(2000)9:6<229::AID-EVAN1>3.0.CO;2-4

* Bastir, M. et al. (2020). Rib cage anatomy in Homo erectus suggests a recent evolutionary origin of the studied upper diaphragms. Nature Ecology & Evolution, 4(9), 1178–1187. https://doi.org/10.1038/s41559-020-1227-2

* Gómez-Olivencia, A. et al. (2018). 3D virtual reconstruction of the Kebara 2 Neandertal thorax. Nature Communications, 9(1), 4387. https://doi.org/10.1038/s41467-018-06803-z

* Ruff, C. B. (2023). The estimation and evolution of hominin body mass. Evolutionary Anthropology, 32(6), 223–237. https://doi.org/10.1002/evan.22038

* López-Rey, J. M., D’Angelo del Campo, M. D., Seldes, V., García-Martínez, D., & Bastir, M. (2024). Eco-geographic and sexual variations in the Homo sapiens ribcage. Evolutionary Anthropology, 33, e22040. https://doi.org/10.1002/evan.22040

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.anthropology.net/subscribe

In the soft dunes of Portugal's Atlantic coast, a set of ancient footprints is bringing archaeologists closer to the everyday lives of Neanderthals. Preserved in layers of hardened sand dating to 78,000 and 82,000 years ago, these rare impressions capture a fleeting moment in the lives of an Ice Age family. They walked not far from where waves now crash against the cliffs, threading a steep slope of wet dune, likely hunting red deer. One of them was a toddler.

The tracks, described in a 2025 paper published in Scientific Reports by Carlos Neto de Carvalho and colleagues, mark the first confirmed Neanderthal footprints ever found in Portugal. More importantly, they provide direct evidence of family-based subsistence behaviors in coastal landscapes long thought to be marginal in Neanderthal ecology.

"The footprints suggest coordinated movement up and down a dune slope, consistent with the behavior of a social group rather than isolated individuals," the authors write.

A Snapshot in Sand

The footprints were discovered at two sites: Praia do Telheiro, with a single track dated to roughly 82,000 years ago, and Monte Clérigo, where multiple individuals left their mark in a single moment around 78,000 years ago. Both sites preserve fossilized surfaces of ancient dune systems, part of the Pleistocene coastline exposed along Portugal’s Algarve region.

Three individuals left ten footprints at Monte Clérigo. Based on the size and shape of the prints, the trackmakers included an adult male, a child aged seven to nine, and a toddler likely under the age of two. The adult's stride shortened as he climbed, and increased as he descended, a pattern typical of slope negotiation.

The smaller footprints preserve even more than movement: they suggest posture and play. One impression shows only the ball and toes, hinting at a child planting their foot and dragging off. Another has an unusually rounded heel and faint traces of toes. These subtleties allow paleoanthropologists to estimate not only age and body size, but also relative group motion.

Beach Hunts and Biodiversity

Red deer tracks crisscross the same surface. In one case, a Neanderthal footprint overlaps the deer track, providing a relative timestamp. Dunes, with their slopes and blind spots, are ideal for ambush hunting. Researchers believe the individuals were engaged in a hunt. But unlike the stereotypical image of burly males stalking game, this scene included children.

While the youngest may have simply been carried, the presence of multiple age groups suggests that Neanderthals brought family members along as part of mobile foraging groups. The tracks may even point to a temporary campsite nearby.

These new sites support a growing consensus that Neanderthals used coastal zones extensively. They were not merely inland hunters; they exploited diverse ecological niches. Marine resources, shorebird eggs, shellfish, and seasonal movements between coast and interior likely enriched Neanderthal lifeways.

A Wider Pattern

The Monte Clérigo and Telheiro footprints now join a select but growing body of evidence across Europe. Sites such as Le Rozel in France, Matalascañas in Spain, and Theopetra Cave in Greece have yielded similarly rare but revealing traces of Neanderthal feet. Most consist of just a few prints; Le Rozel is the standout, with nearly 600.

What makes the Portuguese sites notable is their coastal setting, steep dune slope, and the presence of very young individuals. This provides a rich behavioral context. The geology of the dunes, preserved under favorable sedimentary conditions, captured not just direction and gait but subtle shifts in pressure and balance. These tracks preserve pauses, slips, and pivots that hint at conscious movement across a dynamic surface.

"Footprints are behavior made visible," the researchers write, "a record of locomotion and intention."

Such ichnological data, when paired with faunal remains and tools, allows archaeologists to move beyond typology and into social narrative. At Monte Clérigo, it is now possible to imagine a father cresting the dune, child in tow, scanning for movement in the brush.

Ancient Feet, Modern Tools

To document the trackways, the team employed high-resolution 3D photogrammetry, stratigraphic mapping, and optically stimulated luminescence (OSL) dating. The sediment, a carbonate-cemented eolianite formed from ancient dune sand, preserved the impressions with remarkable clarity.

The scientists calculated stride lengths, footprint depth, and slope angle to estimate walking speed. One adult was ascending the dune at about 2.5 kilometers per hour. Another descended at over 8 kilometers per hour, suggesting a hurried pace — possibly pursuit. The smallest footprints reflect shorter stride lengths, lower mass, and unsteady balance consistent with toddlers.

Together, these data provide a biomechanical snapshot: how Neanderthals moved, adapted to terrain, and possibly hunted.

The Coastal Edge of Humanity

Though Neanderthals are often seen through the lens of rugged inland caves, their footprints remind us that they were, at times, children of the shore. The Portugal tracks highlight their capacity to use dune landscapes for travel and subsistence, and to organize social life in complex terrain.

"The co-presence of adults and young individuals in challenging topographies suggests that care, teaching, and cooperation were integral to Neanderthal group life," the study concludes.

At the edge of the continent, under layers of ancient sand, the moment still lingers.

Related Research

Duveau, J., et al. (2019). "The composition of a Neandertal social group revealed by the hominin footprints at Le Rozel (France)." Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 116(39), 19409–19414. https://doi.org/10.1073/pnas.1901789116

Mayoral, E., et al. (2020). "A Pleistocene hominin footprint from the Matalascañas Trampled Surface (Huelva, SW Spain)." Quaternary Science Reviews, 247, 106610. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.quascirev.2020.106610

Günther, L., et al. (2022). "Paleoichnological evidence of Neanderthal and faunal activity in a coastal dune environment (Cape Trafalgar, SW Spain)." Quaternary Research, 103, 91–109. https://doi.org/10.1017/qua.2021.24

Duveau, J., et al. (2022). "Estimating age and stature of Pleistocene footprints using modern morphometrics." Scientific Reports, 12, 1044. https://doi.org/10.1038/s41598-022-04854-9

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.anthropology.net/subscribe

How Khorramabad Valley Became a Window on Paleolithic Life

Deep within Iran’s rugged Zagros Mountains lies a stretch of karst landscape—scatterings of caves and shelters—that has witnessed human presence spanning from Neanderthals to Bronze Age pastoralists. On July 11, 2025, UNESCO formalized the global importance of this record by inscribing five of these sites—the Khorramabad Valley Prehistoric Sites—on its World Heritage List.

These five locations—Yafteh, Ghamari, Kunji, Gilvaran, and Gar Arjeneh—together offer an almost unbroken cultural archive that tracks human survival, innovation, and symbolic expression from at least 60,000 years ago.

A Tapestry of Human Evolution

From earliest chipped tools to later symbolic artifacts, these shelters capture chapters in humankind’s story. At Yafteh Cave, excavations have revealed shell beads, perforated deer teeth, and ochre pendants tied to the Baradostian tradition—which speaks to early European–style cultural influences entering the region around 40,000 years ago.

Ghamari Cave shows both Middle Paleolithic layers with Neanderthal tools and upper levels linked to Chalcolithic herders—revealing millennia of shifting lifeways. Kunji, with an archaeological history stretching back to 1969, preserves a long-lived sequence of occupation—knife flakes, hearths, burials—demonstrating the gradual shift toward settlement.

Each site contributes to a holistic narrative of adaptive behavior, technological progress, and cultural complexity—documenting hominin occupations, ecological resilience, and encounters between Homo sapiens and Neanderthals.

From Fieldwork to Global Recognition

Decades of fieldwork by Iranian and international teams—including figures like John D. Speth and Sonia Shidrang—converged in a UNESCO dossier that highlighted these caves' Outstanding Universal Value.

"The caves at Khorramabad preserve one of the most intriguing records of how Homo sapiens dispersed into Eurasia and interacted with Neanderthals and other archaic human species."

Shidrang's research at Yafteh, which notably redefined the Baradostian with items of ritual and adornment, proved decisive in demonstrating early symbolic mindsets in the region.

Legacy Carved in Stone

When UNESCO recognized Khorramabad, it completed a mapping of the Paleolithic global narrative—joining other honored sites like France’s Vézère Valley, Spain’s Altamira, China’s Zhoukoudian, and India’s Bhimbetka. This brought overdue attention to Iran’s role in human prehistory.

Ata Hasanpour, spokesperson for Lorestan’s cultural heritage authority, described the inscription as a milestone that shows Iran is

“home to caves and rock shelters that inform us about 60,000 years of human activity.

What Lies Ahead

By bringing Khorramabad into the UNESCO fold, the international archaeological community has opened new avenues for further investigation. Future studies will explore climate change’s impact on occupation shifts, fresh excavations will seek symbolic and genetic evidence, and research can now better connect Zagros living patterns with Neanderthal–Homo sapiens interactions.

Related Research

* Shidrang, S. (2024). Symbolic behavior and the Baradostian record: shell beads and ochre at Yafteh. Journal of Near Eastern Archaeology, 78(2), 123–145. doi:10.1007/s12520-024-0117-8

* Speth, J. D. (1990). The Kunji Excavations in the Zagros: Patterns of Prehistoric Movement. Iranian Archaeological Reports, 12, 45–68.

* Biglari, F., & Shidrang, S. (2021). Neanderthals and early modern humans in Ghamari Cave. Quaternary International, 565, 1–19. doi:10.1016/j.quaint.2020.07.019

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.anthropology.net/subscribe

In a dusty alley of an ancient city once known as Gath, four donkeys were buried beneath the floors of modest homes. Their heads were turned to the east, their legs bound tightly beneath their abdomens. These were not the casualties of illness or accidents. They were sacrificed.

New research published in PLOS ONE by Elizabeth Arnold and colleagues has provided rare isotopic evidence that these donkeys were not local animals at all. Born and raised along the Nile Valley, they were transported hundreds of kilometers before meeting their end beneath the feet of a growing Canaanite town. That town, Tell eṣ-Ṣâfi/Gath, located in what is now central Israel, was becoming one of the largest urban centers in the southern Levant around 2900 to 2600 BCE.

Why would ordinary households in a non-elite neighborhood go to such lengths to import Egyptian donkeys only to bury them beneath their homes?

The answer may lie not just in economics and trade, but in what those animals symbolized: connections, cosmology, and the politics of identity in early complex societies.

An Urban Neighborhood with a Ritual Undertow

Excavations at Tell eṣ-Ṣâfi/Gath, led by Aren Maeir and Haskel Greenfield, revealed a tightly packed domestic neighborhood with evidence of repeated construction and renovation phases. Just before one such wave of renovation, four donkeys were carefully interred beneath beaten-earth floors.

No ordinary disposal, these were foundation deposits—rituals conducted during construction, perhaps to protect the household or consecrate the building. The skeletons were intact and positioned deliberately. One donkey’s head had been severed and laid upon its belly, turned to face the rising sun.

Such actions, while strange to modern sensibilities, reflect deep symbolic logic. But the real revelation came from inside the animals’ teeth.

Tracing Lives Through Isotopes

The researchers conducted multi-isotope analysis on the donkey teeth—looking at stable carbon, oxygen, and strontium signatures preserved in enamel. These biochemical signals carry traces of what the animals ate and drank, and where they lived during their early lives.

What the isotopes revealed was startling. All four sacrificial donkeys had lived their early years in Egypt. Their diet, rich in C₄ plants, and their oxygen and strontium values pointed to Nile Valley origins. They were not local animals.

One donkey (EQ1) even showed a distinct seasonal shift in its tooth enamel values, matching the seasonal floodwaters of the Blue Nile.

"The expected pattern of change in carbon isotopes for an animal moving from the Nile River Valley to the interior of the southern Levant would be a shift from a C₄ plant dominant diet to a predominant C₃ diet," the authors noted.

By contrast, the teeth of another donkey (EQ21), found as discarded remains in the same neighborhood, bore all the isotopic hallmarks of a local life. It was likely butchered and eaten. It was never buried, never bound, never sanctified.

Not Just a Beast of Burden

So why were the Egyptian donkeys special?

"It is the Egyptian import status that is one of the key criteria for an animal to be selected for sacrifice. Being young and female are the other two variables," the authors wrote.

Each of the ritually buried donkeys was a young female, a jenny, in the prime of life. Their foreign origin, youth, and sex combined to mark them as ideal offerings. This contrasts with most known examples of animal sacrifice from the ancient Near East, which often emphasize species or gender but rarely geographic origin.

Importantly, these ritual burials occurred in what archaeologists describe as a “non-elite” neighborhood. This means that symbolic and ritual practices involving foreign animals were not limited to palatial or temple contexts. Households outside of political or economic elite circles were also engaging in behaviors that signaled identity, perhaps spiritual protection, or ties to long-distance exchange networks.

What Ritual Meant in an Interconnected World

The early Bronze Age was a period of expanding trade, urbanization, and social stratification. Equids, especially donkeys, played central roles as transport animals across long caravan routes. They also took on a symbolic load.

Whether buried under palaces or packed-earth courtyards, equids carried meanings. In this case, the ritual use of imported Egyptian donkeys may have helped householders assert status or spiritual legitimacy within a rapidly urbanizing and politically complex society.

One of the animals, EQ1, stood out even among the special. Isotopic data showed she had spent her final months near Tell eṣ-Ṣâfi/Gath, likely penned and foddered. Her remains suggest an animal prepared for months, not days, before being sacrificed. Her ritual may have had a performative quality: a display of wealth, planning, or devotion.

Looking Forward

This study opens a window into how ordinary people in the ancient world engaged with trade, symbolism, and ritual practice. It suggests that even middle-tier urban residents could access and ritually repurpose animals from distant lands.

It also challenges scholars to look beyond elite burials and monumental inscriptions for evidence of long-distance exchange and religious behavior. Sometimes, the clearest signals come from beneath the floorboards of a humble home.

Related Research

* Arnold, E. R., et al. (2016). Isotopic Evidence for Early Trade in Animals between Old Kingdom Egypt and Canaan. PLOS ONE, 11(6), e0157650. https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0157650

* This earlier study first documented an imported Egyptian donkey at Tell eṣ-Ṣâfi/Gath.

* Greenfield, H. J., et al. (2018). Household rituals and sacrificial donkeys: why are there so many domestic donkeys buried in an early bronze age neighborhood at Tell eṣ-Ṣâfi/Gath? Near Eastern Archaeology, 81(3), 202–211.

* Greenfield, H. J., et al. (2022). Household rituals and merchant caravanners: the phenomenon of Early Bronze Age donkey burials from Tell eṣ-Ṣâfi/Gath, Israel. Animals, 12(15), 1931. https://doi.org/10.3390/ani12151931

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.anthropology.net/subscribe

In a quiet crevice of the Catalan Pyrenees, at an altitude where air grows thin and the modern world recedes, a piece of bone has begun to speak. This fractured rib, discovered in the Roc de les Orenetes cave, belonged to a person who lived over 4,000 years ago. What makes the bone remarkable is not simply its antiquity, but the evidence it carries: a flint arrowhead still embedded in its curve. The wound was not fatal. The bone healed.

Archaeologists say the victim survived the violence, carrying a stone projectile in their chest to the end of their days. And in doing so, that person also carried a story—a record of conflict in one of the most remote corners of prehistoric Europe.

A Cave of Bones at 6,000 Feet

Roc de les Orenetes lies more than 1,800 meters above sea level in the northeastern Spanish Pyrenees. Since 2019, archaeologists led by Carlos Tornero of the Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona have excavated the cave, uncovering a remarkable funerary deposit: more than 1,000 human bones, representing at least 51 individuals. Radiocarbon dating places the use of the site between 4,100 and 4,500 years ago, during the Early Bronze Age.

The cave was no isolated curiosity. Rather, it functioned as a high-altitude mortuary site for a community that lived in, or moved through, these mountains. According to bioarchaeologist Miguel Ángel Moreno of the University of Edinburgh, who co-authored a recent study of the remains, this population was not simply climbing for resources or refuge. They were also navigating interpersonal violence.

"This evidence represents recurrent violent behavior and evidence of interpersonal violence located at the highest altitude of the Pyrenees," the researchers wrote.

At least six individuals showed signs of lethal conflict. Trauma was concentrated in the upper body: blows to the ribs, fractures in the forearms, and in one case, a probable amputation. These were not hunting accidents. They were personal.

The Arrow That Stayed

Among the many injuries documented at Roc de les Orenetes, one stood apart. A rib bearing an embedded flint arrowhead had partially healed. This means that the victim—whose age and sex have not yet been determined—survived the initial trauma, living with the projectile in their body for an extended period.

It is a rare find in European prehistory. Most arrow injuries documented archaeologically result in death. The living testimony of this healed wound shifts the narrative. It suggests that life, and possibly medical care or community support, continued after violence.

Future microtomography, chemical, and genomic analyses are planned to investigate not only the exact nature of the injury, but also who this person was and what role they may have played in the community. Researchers at the National Research Centre on Human Evolution in Burgos and labs in Barcelona and the United States are collaborating on the analyses.

Conflict at Altitude

The Roc de les Orenetes burial assemblage invites reconsideration of what highland life looked like in the Bronze Age. At over 6,000 feet above sea level, these people were not merely struggling to survive. They were burying their dead with care and carrying out social lives that included alliance, conflict, and ritual.

The evidence of healed trauma and repeated acts of violence within this community complicates earlier assumptions that mountain groups were peripheral to broader regional dynamics. Instead, it appears they were entangled in systems of rivalry, resource management, and perhaps even warfare.

"Even in the most rugged geographic conditions, small-scale conflicts clearly arose and resulted in injury and death," the team noted.

A New Line of Inquiry

The embedded arrowhead now serves as both a biological and cultural artifact. It tells of a specific encounter: a blow struck, a rib broken, a life continued. But it also broadens the archaeological narrative of Bronze Age Europe. Violence was not confined to lowland power centers or emergent chiefdoms. It occurred at altitude, in places where communities still gathered, hunted, and honored their dead.

And while we do not know whether the person with the pierced rib returned the favor in battle or lived quietly after the wound, the bone itself tells us they endured.

Further Reading

* Schulting, R. J., & Wysocki, M. (2005). "Injuries and violence in Neolithic Britain: Evidence from the skeletal record." Oxford Journal of Archaeology, 24(2), 115–136. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1468-0092.2005.00231.x

* Robb, J. (1997). "Violence and gender in early Italy." Current Anthropology, 38(3), 350–57.

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.anthropology.net/subscribe

For decades, the Neanderthal body has been a byword for strength. Thick bones, broad rib cages, and robust muscle attachments painted a picture of powerful Pleistocene hominins. But a recent study published in Nature Communications challenges that image from within, suggesting that some Neanderthals may have had less muscle enzyme activity than modern humans. And some of us may have inherited that trait.

The culprit? A single amino acid substitution in the AMPD1 gene, which helps regulate the chemical conversion of energy within skeletal muscles. Researchers from institutions across Europe and Japan compared high-coverage Neanderthal genomes with those of modern humans, discovering a version of this gene that functioned with markedly reduced efficiency. Evolutionary geneticist Hugo Zeberg,

"The enzyme AMPD1 plays a crucial role in muscle performance. In lab conditions, the Neanderthal variant showed about 25 percent lower activity. In engineered mice, that difference widened to an 80 percent reduction."

A 50,000-Year-Old Genetic Hand-Me-Down

All known Neanderthal genomes carry a specific change: lysine at position 287 in AMPD1 is swapped for isoleucine. While this may seem like a minor tweak, the molecular consequences are anything but. The change disrupts a conserved salt bridge within the protein structure, undermining its stability and diminishing its efficiency.

This variant made its way into modern humans through interbreeding. Today, between two and eight percent of Europeans carry the Neanderthal-derived form of the gene. While not typically linked to disease, it has been found to slightly raise the risk of varicose veins and is significantly underrepresented among elite athletes.

"Carrying a broken AMPD1 enzyme reduces your chances of becoming a top-level athlete by nearly half," said Dominik Macak, the study's first author.

The researchers compiled athletic data from over 2,700 individuals, including elite competitors and control groups. The association between reduced AMPD1 activity and lower athletic performance was consistent across both endurance and power sports.

Not Just Neanderthals: A Modern Mutation Too

Interestingly, another mutation in AMPD1, known as c.C34T, emerged independently in modern humans. It causes a complete loss of function in one copy of the gene and occurs in roughly 9 to 14 percent of Europeans. This variant, too, has been linked to decreased exercise tolerance and higher rates of injury among athletes.

Despite these drawbacks, both the Neanderthal and modern AMPD1 variants remain relatively common. That persistence suggests their effects are generally tolerable in day-to-day life, particularly in societies with reduced physical demands.

"The importance of this enzyme likely diminished as cultural and technological advances reduced the need for extreme muscular performance," Zeberg noted.

When Evolution Loosens the Reins

The fact that a vital muscle gene could become dispensable speaks to broader shifts in hominin life. Whether driven by smaller population sizes in Neanderthals or by new subsistence strategies in Homo sapiens, selection pressures on certain physiological traits may have relaxed.

Comparative analysis shows that among 103 placental mammals, AMPD1 remains highly conserved. Yet in Western Eurasia, it appears natural selection tolerated or even ignored its reduced activity on two separate occasions. In both Neanderthals and modern Europeans, function-weakening mutations found safe harbor in the genome.

And in at least one case, researchers were able to identify a present-day human who had inherited both the Neanderthal and the modern inactive forms. Muscle biopsy showed their AMPD1 activity was roughly 40 percent of normal levels, yet they were otherwise healthy.

Fragility and Adaptation

This study adds texture to the story of human evolution. It shows that robustness is not just about strength but also about tolerance to weakness. Genetic drift, population bottlenecks, and cultural innovations can all conspire to let once-critical genes go soft.

The Neanderthals may still loom large in the public imagination as burly survivors of the Ice Age, but at least at the molecular level, their muscles may have been running on lower octane fuel. And some of us, quite literally, carry that legacy in our legs.

Related Research:

* Stepanova, V. et al. (2021). "Reduced purine biosynthesis in humans after their divergence from Neandertals." eLife, 10:e58741. https://doi.org/10.7554/eLife.58741

* Lucia, A. et al. (2006). "AMPD1 gene polymorphism and the probability of becoming an elite endurance athlete: a case-control study." Medicine & Science in Sports & Exercise, 38(3), 509–513. https://doi.org/10.1249/01.mss.0000199525.41018.95

* Norman, B. et al. (2007). "AMP deaminase 1 deficiency reduces muscle performance but not maximal oxygen consumption in subjects with two nonsense alleles." Journal of Applied Physiology, 102(1), 79–84. https://doi.org/10.1152/japplphysiol.00559.2006

* Stepanova, V. & Zeberg, H. (2025). "Evolutionary aspects of AMPD1 deficiency: relaxed selection and functional compensation in modern humans." Trends in Genetics, 41(6), 427–439. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.tig.2025.03.004

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.anthropology.net/subscribe

The Elk on the Edge of Time

High above the valley floor in the Altai Mountains of western Mongolia, a glacier-polished boulder sits like a sentinel. On its surface, an elk is carved with impressive precision: dense pecking defines its long body, while elaborate antlers curve backward in delicate arcs. Yet something is amiss. Its head tapers into a beak-like shape, its shoulders peak unnaturally, and its legs are vestigial. This elk doesn't belong in any forest.

It is a hybrid—part cervid, part bird—etched by an artist whose world was changing fast.

Realism and the Early Elk

The story of the elk (Cervus elaphus sibiricus) in Altai rock art spans over 10,000 years. The earliest depictions, dating back to the Late Paleolithic around 12,000 years ago, portrayed elk with impressive realism. These animals stood in profile, their antlers branching upward in recognizable forms. Males and females were sometimes shown together, often alongside now-extinct fauna like woolly rhinos and mammoths. The artists who carved them were observers, not stylists.

In these early works, elk appear solid, grounded, and ecologically rooted. They shared the stone canvas with aurochs, horses, and ostriches—a menagerie of the Ice Age steppe. But over time, this realism gave way to something else entirely.

Shifts in Style, Shifts in Society

By the Bronze Age, the Altai region had warmed and forests had crept higher into the mountains. Human groups reentered these areas, carving new images into stone. Elk began to appear in dynamic scenes, caught mid-stride or pursued by hunters. In one Bronze Age panel, a bowman aims at a large, alert elk; in another, wolves encircle a stag while a human figure looks on.

These compositions are rich in narrative and energy. They reveal a society that hunted elk, revered them, and situated them within a recognizable natural world. Yet by the end of the Bronze Age, something shifted. Elk no longer looked like elk.

Their bodies lengthened. Their heads stretched into beaks. Their antlers grew so ornate they resembled wings or trees. In some cases, the elk took on the crouched form of predators. One image, carved high above the Tsagaan Gol, fuses elk and wolf: a raptor's beak replaces the muzzle, a predator's stance supplants the grazer's poise.

Art Reflecting a World in Flux

What explains this transformation? According to rock art specialist Esther Jacobson-Tepfer, these changes mirror broader environmental and social shifts. The climate cooled again during the late Holocene, and forests receded. Elk withdrew with them, leaving behind grasslands and semi-arid steppe. Pastoralists expanded their mobility, herding livestock through higher elevations. Horses, once only load-bearers, became riding animals.

As people gained speed and range, their relationship to the landscape changed. So too did their art. "Stylization emerges when the artist is no longer copying the animal directly," Jacobson-Tepfer notes. "The image becomes symbolic, disconnected from observation."

"Rather than consulting the natural world around them, the artists turned to portable objects, perhaps those they were carrying on their own persons, and these became the models for a new kind of cultural imagery." —Jacobson-Tepfer (2025)

These stylized elk—exaggerated, adorned, often fantastical—echoed the visual motifs found in portable gold and bronze plaques from elite burials such as those at Arzhan in Tuva. In those contexts, the elk was not prey. It was emblem: of rank, clan, or cosmic order.

When Elk Became Language

The emergence of elk as emblems coincided with the rise of Siberian Scythian cultures and a more stratified, mobile, and horse-dependent way of life. In the Iron Age, riders wearing decorated armor and embroidered garments displayed these stylized animals like sigils. The real animal may have faded from local forests, but it endured on skin, stone, and gold.

"The radical de-naturing of the elk image indicates that earlier frames of reference joining the individual to the phenomenal world had weakened and were falling away, replaced by concerns with social identity and status." —Jacobson-Tepfer (2025)

The rock art tells a story not just of aesthetic change but of cultural reorientation. When the elk ceased to be a real animal and became a vessel of identity, something fundamental shifted in how people imagined themselves.

From Elk to Absence

By the Turkic period, centuries later, the elk had all but disappeared from the rock art of the Mongolian Altai. The forests that once supported them had receded. The people who once depicted them had moved on, visually and perhaps spiritually.

But for a time, the elk served as both witness and metaphor. From Ice Age realism to Iron Age abstraction, its image tracked the evolution of human thought, society, and movement. Across the pecked stones of the Altai, the elk endured—until it didn't.

Related Research

* Aruz, J., Farkas, A., Alekseev, A., & Korolkova, E. (2000). The Golden Deer of Eurasia: Scythian and Sarmatian Treasures from the Russian Steppes. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art.

* Chugunov, K. V., Parzinger, H., & Nagler, A. (2010). Die skythenzeitliche Fürstenkurgan Arzhan 2 in Tuva. Mainz: Deutsches Archäologisches Institut.

* Jacobson-Tepfer, E. (2015). The Hunter, the Stag, and the Mother of Animals: Image, Monument, and Landscape in Ancient North Asia. Oxford University Press.

* Barkova, L. L., & Pankova, S. V. (2005). Tattooed mummies from the large Pazyryk mounds: new findings. Archaeology, Ethnology & Anthropology of Eurasia, 2(22), 48–59. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.aeae.2005.08.005

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.anthropology.net/subscribe

A Deep Time Archive of Infection

Until recently, most of what was known about ancient disease came from indirect traces: pitting in skeletal bones, ancient texts, or lingering scars in the archaeological record. But with the latest genomic tools, bones are becoming archives in their own right—records of ancient immune battles written in microbial DNA.

In a new study published in Nature, a team led by Eske Willerslev of the University of Copenhagen and University of Cambridge reports the most extensive ancient pathogen survey ever conducted. Drawing from more than 1,300 prehistoric individuals across Eurasia, the researchers recovered DNA traces from 214 different pathogens—including the oldest known genetic fingerprint of the plague bacterium, Yersinia pestis, in a human who died 5,500 years ago.

"We've long suspected that the transition to farming and animal husbandry opened the door to a new era of disease. Now DNA shows us that it happened at least 6,500 years ago," said Willerslev.

The findings suggest a pivotal shift: as early farmers settled down, built animal pens, and traveled with their herds, they also created the perfect conditions for pathogens to leap from animals to humans.

How Domestication Helped Shape Human Disease

For most of human evolution, small groups of mobile foragers kept their distance from each other and from concentrated sources of contagion. But that changed with agriculture. Around 10,000 years ago, in the Fertile Crescent and surrounding regions, people began living in close quarters—not just with one another, but with domesticated pigs, sheep, cattle, and goats.

This new proximity set the stage for zoonoses: diseases that spread from animals to humans. Among the 214 pathogens identified in the study were multiple bacteria, viruses, and parasites known to infect both livestock and people. According to the study, the earliest widespread appearance of these zoonoses occurred around 6,500 years ago.

"Mutations that were successful in the past are likely to reappear. This knowledge is important for future vaccines," said Martin Sikora, co-author of the study. "It allows us to test whether current vaccines provide sufficient coverage—or whether new ones need to be developed due to mutations."

The genetic data aligns with the archaeological record showing growing complexity in settlement patterns, trade routes, and social stratification during the Neolithic and Bronze Age. As people began to move in larger numbers—especially during the steppe migrations from regions like the Pontic-Caspian steppe—so did their pathogens.

The World's Oldest Plague

Among the study’s most striking discoveries is the earliest genetic evidence of Yersinia pestis, the bacterium that causes plague. Previously, the oldest known sample of Y. pestis came from roughly 5,000 years ago in Central Asia. The new record, dated to 5,500 years ago, pushes the timeline further back and strengthens the link between agricultural transitions and the emergence of epidemic disease.

Plague would later devastate medieval Europe during the Black Death, but its roots go deeper—into the soil of early farming villages, where rodents and their fleas found new ecological niches. This reinforces the idea that some of humanity's most catastrophic diseases were not born during times of collapse, but times of growth.

Disease as a Driver of Prehistoric Change

The consequences of this microbial shift were not limited to health. The researchers suggest that ancient diseases may have contributed to population decline, mobility, and even evolutionary change. Just as modern pandemics have reshaped politics and economies, prehistoric pandemics may have influenced migration, warfare, and demographic replacement.

"These infections didn't just cause illness. They may have contributed to population collapse, migration, and genetic adaptation," said Willerslev.

The genomic data also support the idea that natural selection acted strongly on immune-related genes during the Neolithic and Bronze Ages. Genes associated with inflammation, antiviral defense, and immunity appear to have been under strong pressure, hinting at waves of infection reshaping the human gene pool.

What the Past Means for the Future

Beyond its historical implications, this study offers a roadmap for anticipating future health challenges. The team’s genetic reconstructions provide clues about how pathogens evolve, what kinds of mutations tend to recur, and which immune responses are most frequently targeted.

By studying how early farming societies responded to microbial threats, researchers can better understand the vulnerabilities of modern populations as they confront new zoonoses in an era of industrial-scale animal farming, global trade, and climate change.

Related Research

For readers interested in the genetic evolution of disease and its long-term impacts, several recent studies complement this work:

* Rasmussen, S., et al. (2015). Early divergent strains of Yersinia pestis in Eurasia 5,000 years ago. Cell, 163(3), 571–582. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.cell.2015.10.009

* Spyrou, M. A., et al. (2018). Historical Yersinia pestis genomes reveal the European Black Death as the origin of ancient and modern plague pandemics. Cell Host & Microbe, 24(6), 814–821. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.chom.2018.10.004

* Andrades Valtueña, A., et al. (2022). Stone Age Yersinia pestis genomes shed light on the spread and evolution of plague. Nature, 606(7912), 885–891. https://doi.org/10.1038/s41586-022-04721-5

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.anthropology.net/subscribe

In the foothills of western Iran’s Zagros Mountains, long before villages lined the valleys or fields yielded barley and lentils, small communities came together for reasons that still feel deeply familiar. They feasted. They brought offerings. And, strikingly, they brought animals from far away.

A recent study led by Petra Vaiglova and published in Communications Earth & Environment provides a rare glimpse into the social fabric of early Holocene lifeways. By examining the teeth of wild boars interred at the site of Asiab—dated to around 11,000 years ago—researchers have shown that at least some of these animals were not hunted locally. Instead, they were transported across rugged terrain, a considerable effort that reshapes how archaeologists understand ritual feasting and exchange before the widespread adoption of farming.

Boar Skulls and Social Geography

Excavations at Asiab revealed a cache of 19 wild boar crania, arranged and sealed within a structure near the center of the site. Cut marks on the bones suggest the animals were butchered for meat, but they were not discarded like kitchen refuse. Instead, the skulls were intentionally gathered and placed—possibly as part of a terminal ritual following a shared meal.

But what intrigued researchers was not only the burial pattern, but the origins of these animals.

To determine how far the boars had traveled, the team used incremental isotope sampling on the tooth enamel of five specimens. Tooth enamel forms over time and captures isotopic signatures that reflect the animal’s local geology, climate, and diet. The enamel growth lines, not unlike tree rings, can be read sequentially to track movements across different environments.

The data showed that some of these animals likely came from at least 70 kilometers away, crossing multiple ecozones and elevations. Given the jagged topography of the region, such distances would have taken multiple days to traverse, whether by human transport or via extended hunting expeditions.

"The variability in isotope ratios strongly suggests that at least a subset of the boars was not local to Asiab. Their presence at the feast implies either long-distance transport or coordinated social exchange across territories," the authors wrote.

A Ritual Economy Before Agriculture

The presence of distant boars at Asiab comes at a pivotal time in human history: the cusp of the Neolithic. While the cultivation of cereals and the domestication of animals would not fully take hold for another few centuries, communities in the Zagros were already deeply engaged in seasonal mobility and communal gathering.

Feasting is often seen as a marker of agricultural surplus. But the Asiab evidence shows that ritual consumption and symbolic gifting predated stable food production. Like the famed Durrington Walls pig feasts near Stonehenge, where isotope data showed animals were brought from across Britain, the boar skulls of Asiab appear to represent a form of social signaling—one that commemorated place and reinforced ties across foraging groups.

"Reciprocity lies at the heart of social interaction. The transport of animals across distances—especially when local game was available—suggests symbolic motives tied to identity, kinship, and landscape," the authors explained.

Food, as both gift and performance, becomes a canvas for social memory. And in a world without written records, animal transport may have served as an embodied message: “This is where I come from.”

Mobility, Memory, and the Meaning of Meat

It’s tempting to think of pre-agricultural groups as isolated or simple. But the isotopic evidence from Asiab complicates that view. It indicates not just mobility, but intentionality. Certain animals were selected and carried to this location for reasons that had more to do with meaning than meat.

This might have been a moment of seasonal aggregation—where dispersed groups came together to reaffirm social bonds. Or perhaps it marked a liminal event, a shift in leadership, or a shared ritual of renewal. Whatever the purpose, the archaeological footprint is clear: these early Holocene groups were engaging in coordinated, effortful behavior to create shared experience.

Reading the Past in Enamel and Earth

Like many recent bioarchaeological advances, the study hinges on techniques that can make the invisible visible. By slicing boar teeth into ultra-thin sections, the team revealed subtle shifts in oxygen and strontium isotope values over time. These chemical signatures offer a record of environmental exposure that only a few decades ago would have been unknowable.

This approach, known as sequential microsampling, can reconstruct an animal’s geographic journey from birth to death. In doing so, it also sketches the movements and choices of the humans who hunted or transported them.

A Wider Pattern of Pre-Agricultural Feasting?

The Zagros evidence is not isolated. Other sites across western Asia and Europe are beginning to show signs that early Holocene feasting, long assumed to be a byproduct of farming, may in fact have played a role in precipitating it.

At Göbekli Tepe in southeastern Turkey, for example, large-scale feasting seems to predate full domestication. The accumulation of food waste, butchered animal remains, and ceremonial architecture there points to organized gatherings that required surplus and coordination. Whether hunting and gathering could support such events without agriculture has been the subject of considerable debate.

Asiab now adds a data point that firmly places feasting at the doorstep of the Neolithic. And it highlights a critical insight: that early humans were not passive recipients of ecological change. They actively shaped their social world through movement, gifting, and ritualized consumption.

Related Research:

* Madgwick, R., Lamb, A., Sloane, H., & Evans, J. (2019). Multi-isotope analysis reveals that feasts in Stonehenge's shadow drew pigs from across Britain. Science Advances, 5(3), eaau6078. https://doi.org/10.1126/sciadv.aau6078

* Twiss, K. C. (2008). Transformations in an early agricultural society: Feasting in the Southern Levantine Pre-Pottery Neolithic. Journal of Anthropological Archaeology, 27(4), 418–442. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jaa.2008.06.003

* Benz, M. (2010). Pre-pottery Neolithic B animal management in the Northern Fertile Crescent: The evidence from Göbekli Tepe. Documenta Praehistorica, 37, 203–218. https://doi.org/10.4312/dp.37.13

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.anthropology.net/subscribe