Evolutionary Insights by Anthropology.net

On a hilltop in southwestern Spain, far from the nearest coast, a strange relic was pulled from the soil in 2018. It wasn’t gold or finely worked flint, but something far rarer: the worn, bio-eroded tooth of a sperm whale. Measuring over 13 centimeters and weighing more than 400 grams, the tooth was unearthed from a conical pit at the sprawling Copper Age megasite of Valencina de la Concepción. It had been buried deliberately, among pottery sherds, grinding stones, and charred animal bones.

The object posed a puzzle. Why was a marine mammal tooth, likely scavenged from a beach, transported dozens of kilometers inland and ceremonially interred in a pit without any human remains? What meaning might it have held for the inhabitants of this ancient proto-urban settlement?

A Copper Age Megasite with Oceanic Ties

Valencina is no ordinary archaeological site. Spanning over 450 hectares near modern-day Seville, it was one of the largest and most complex Copper Age centers in Europe. The community constructed massive ditches, tholos tombs, and thousands of pits over centuries of occupation. Its residents imported ivory, cinnabar, amber, and rock crystal, indicating vast exchange networks.

But the discovery of a sperm whale tooth stands out. Not only is it the first marine mammal remain ever found at Valencina, it is also one of the earliest examples of sperm whale ivory known from European prehistory.

"This tooth likely spent time on the seafloor, where it became home to marine invertebrates before washing ashore," noted the authors of the recent multidisciplinary study.

Microscopic analyses revealed a suite of marine bioerosion traces—borings from sponges, annelid worms, and barnacles—as well as shark bite marks. These clues suggest that the whale died at sea, its carcass sank, and the tooth remained submerged long enough to accrue biological scars. Only later did it resurface, likely after a storm event, and get picked up by humans.

Human Hands and Symbolic Significance

Once collected, the tooth was worked. Researchers identified a series of anthropogenic cut marks, tool incisions, and breakage patterns, indicating an attempt to segment the tooth—possibly to harvest pieces for ornamentation or other symbolic artifacts. Yet no such objects have been recovered from the pit or other parts of the site.

Instead, the tooth was deposited whole, perhaps after a failed attempt to modify it, in a context that suggests a ritual act. The pit in which it was found lacked human remains, but contained carefully selected items: two ceramic sherds with drilled holes, an unusual concentration even at a site famous for pottery. Many of the bones had been burned, and some bore fresh fractures.

"These objects were likely deposited together in a single event, not as waste but as a structured offering," the study concluded.

This interpretation draws from widespread Neolithic and Copper Age practices across Europe, where valuable or symbolically charged items were placed in pits or ditches as non-funerary votive deposits.

The Sea in the Mind of Inland Communities

Valencina's inhabitants were not coastal fishers, but the sea nonetheless appears to have loomed large in their imagination. The sperm whale tooth joins a growing list of marine-derived materials found at the site: scallop shells, sandstone slabs bearing fossil traces, and perhaps most famously, ostrich eggshells and elephant ivory sourced from North Africa.

The sea, then, may have represented more than a distant ecological zone—it was part of a cosmological worldview that linked rare and powerful animals with social identity, status, and ritual performance.

"The deliberate burial of this tooth, an object from the deep sea and possibly from a massive creature never seen alive by the community, suggests it held totemic or ancestral significance," said the team.

A Wider Mediterranean Context

Only one other sperm whale tooth of similar age and context is known in Europe—from the sanctuary of Monte d’Accoddi in Sardinia. Like the Valencina specimen, it was also found in a monumental, non-domestic setting and bore evidence of human modification.

These rare finds hint at a wider Copper Age Mediterranean tradition in which beached whale ivory was transformed into sacred or socially meaningful objects. They also underscore how prehistoric societies along the Iberian Peninsula participated in long-range networks of symbolic and material exchange.

Conclusion

What emerges from this unusual discovery is a complex portrait of human-sea relationships in deep time. Far from being landlocked farmers disconnected from the ocean, the people of Valencina embedded marine objects into their rituals and, by extension, into their cultural memory.

The sperm whale tooth, moved from seafloor to shore, from artifact to offering, stands as a fossilized echo of that entanglement.

Related Research

* Melis, M. G., & Zedda, M. (2021). Sperm whales in the Neolithic Mediterranean: A tooth from the sanctuary of Monte d'Accoddi (Sardinia, Italy). Antiquity, 95. https://doi.org/10.15184/aqy.2021.96

* Schuhmacher, T., Banerjee, A., Dindorf, W., Sastri, C., & Sauvage, T. (2013). The use of sperm whale ivory in Chalcolithic Portugal. Trabajos de Prehistoria, 70, 185–203. https://doi.org/10.3989/tp.2013.12109

* Lefebvre, A., Marín-Arroyo, A. B., & Álvarez-Fernández, E. et al. (2021). Interconnected Magdalenian societies as revealed by the circulation of whale bone artefacts in the Pyreneo-Cantabrian region. Quaternary Science Reviews, 251, 106692. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.quascirev.2020.106692

* García Sanjuán, L., Scarre, C., & Wheatley, D. W. (2017). The mega-site of Valencina de la Concepción (Seville, Spain): debating settlement form, monumentality and aggregation in southern Iberian Copper Age societies. Journal of World Prehistory, 30(3), 239–257. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10963-017-9107-6

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The Invisible Target

In the southern Kalahari, under a blistering sun, a bowhunter edges toward a grazing antelope. He tracks minute depressions in the sand. He reads the animal’s posture. His body stills. His fingers flex around a bowstring, already drawn. He breathes. Then lets go.

To observers, this moment might seem like a feat of athleticism or experience. But behind the scenes—in his brain—a complex network of cognitive machinery has been working overtime. According to new research published by Marlize Lombard in the Journal of Archaeological Method and Theory (2025), this kind of precision hunting may have shaped the evolution of the Homo sapiens brain itself.

“Bowhunting is not just a physical task—it’s a techno-behavioral symphony that requires the mind to orchestrate multiple layers of attention at once,” Lombard writes.

At the center of this orchestration? A curious fold of neural real estate called the precuneus.

Why Bowhunting Matters

Unlike thrusting spears or stone tools, the bow and arrow demands sustained visual focus, split-second timing, social coordination, and the ability to track objects—prey—beyond immediate reach. Lombard identifies bowhunting as a "complex techno-behavior," and argues that this complexity played a pivotal role in shaping the modern human brain.

“The bow is not just a tool; it’s an extension of the self across space. To use it effectively is to imagine a trajectory, calculate velocity, focus attention over distance, and anticipate the prey’s movement,” she explains.

This level of abstraction requires multiple forms of attention: executive control, visuospatial tracking, sustained vigilance, and introspective awareness. Each type taps a different neural circuit. Lombard argues that no single ancestral hominin—Neanderthals included—had this precise cognitive blend.

The Precuneus: Silent Architect of the Modern Mind

The precuneus, nestled in the parietal lobe, is one of the most functionally diverse regions of the brain. In Homo sapiens, it is unusually large compared to Neanderthals and Denisovans. It helps us visualize space, plan tasks, track moving targets, and regulate internal states of focus.

Lombard proposes a feedback loop: as humans developed complex tools and hunting strategies, selective pressures favored individuals with enhanced precuneus function.

“We’re talking about a shift from basic survival to meta-awareness—tracking a herd, coordinating with a hunting partner, focusing across distance, and reflecting on the danger of your own poisoned arrow.”

To test this hypothesis, she analyzed 587 genes with key differences between modern humans and our closest extinct relatives. Of these, 330 showed expression in the precuneus, and 42 had direct associations with attention regulation.

Every one of these 42 genes was involved in sustained attention, with the majority also governing executive function, visuospatial attention, and attention switching. In short: the genetic scaffolding for the kind of attention bowhunting demands.

Fire, Glue, and Poison: The Hidden Work of Hunting

Bowhunting isn't only about the moment of release. It starts days earlier—with toolmaking.

Lombard draws on detailed Kalahari ethnographies to document how hunters carve bows from raisin bush wood, spin sinew into string, and grind animal bones into lethal arrowheads. They harvest tree gum and crush poison grubs, sometimes mixing them with chewed bark to create deadly adhesives.

Each stage demands different cognitive faculties:

“Twisting sinew requires split bimanual coordination. Fire-starting with stick friction demands intense executive attention. Glue-making calls for constant attentional switching between materials and heat levels.”

And then there’s the final act—the stalk. As hunters crawl silently toward a herd, they rely on hand signals, wind direction, prey behavior, and their partner’s position. All while suppressing fear and maintaining laser focus.

“To miss a step is to lose the hunt. Worse, to mishandle poison is to risk death.”

From Bowstrings to Brainwaves

This model has broader implications. Bowhunting, as practiced by early Homo sapiens, may represent a tipping point in cognitive evolution—a moment when behavior shaped neuroanatomy in return. While stone tools could be knapped and used within minutes, arrows and poisons took days to prepare, requiring future planning, memory recall, and collaborative instruction.

“We’re not just seeing skilled hands—we’re seeing minds capable of multi-layered focus, deeply embedded social coordination, and flexible attention networks,” Lombard argues.

Neanderthals, despite sophisticated tool use, left no evidence of systematic bowhunting. That cognitive gap may stem from precuneal differences—differences Lombard ties to specific genes under selection in modern humans.

The Quiet Revolution of Attention

If Lombard is right, the bow isn’t just a symbol of human technological ingenuity—it’s an evolutionary force. It helped sculpt a brain region central to what makes Homo sapiens human: the ability to focus across time, space, and social contexts.

“Evolution didn’t just favor sharper stones. It favored sharper attention.”

Today, the precuneus remains deeply involved in tasks from math to meditation. But its roots, Lombard suggests, may lie in the dust trails of ancient hunters, who aimed not only with their arms—but with minds built for focus.

Further Reading and Related Research

* Bruner, E., & Colom, R. (2022). "The evolution of attention in the human precuneus." Frontiers in Human Neuroscience, 16, 874901. https://doi.org/10.3389/fnhum.2022.874901

* Bradfield, J., Wadley, L., Lombard, M., & Reynard, J. (2020). "Poisoned bone: A possible Middle Stone Age arrowhead from Klasies River." South African Journal of Science, 116(11/12), 1-4. https://doi.org/10.17159/sajs.2020/8282

* Kuhlwilm, M., & Boeckx, C. (2019). "A catalog of single nucleotide changes distinguishing modern humans from archaic hominins." Scientific Reports, 9, 8463. https://doi.org/10.1038/s41598-019-44877-x

* Schlebusch, C. M., et al. (2017). "Southern African ancient genomes estimate modern human divergence to 350,000 to 260,000 years ago." Science, 358(6363), 652–655. https://doi.org/10.1126/science.aao6266

* Daffner, K. R., et al. (2015). "The impact of sustained attention on cognitive performance in aging populations." Neuropsychologia, 71, 84–98. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.neuropsychologia.2015.03.005

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The Wheel Was Not Born in a Day

The wheel looms large in the popular imagination as a spark of genius—perhaps the defining artifact of early human ingenuity. But how, exactly, does such a revolutionary device come into being? A new study, led by aerospace engineers and historians, turns this question into a forensic design problem.

Instead of speculating in broad strokes, researchers Lee Alacoque, Richard Bulliet, and Kai James used computational simulations to reconstruct the physical and mechanical steps that may have led to the earliest wheels. Their findings point not to open plains or chariot warfare, but to the narrow tunnels of Copper Age mines in the Carpathians—where the first wheels may have slowly emerged from centuries of labor and friction.

“The mine environment,” the authors write, “offered the perfect selective pressures to encourage incremental improvements—from rollers, to grooved axles, to full wheelsets.”

From Rollers to Axles: A Sequence of Innovation

Long before wheels, people used simple rollers—cylindrical logs laid under heavy loads. In open fields, this method was clumsy. But in confined mining tunnels, where miners hauled ore in narrow spaces without beasts of burden, rollers offered a promising transport method that could be adapted.

Rather than constantly repositioning spent rollers to the front of a cart, miners may have developed unilateral rolling—a technique in which rollers were embedded into socketed vessels and pulled along with the cart. This allowed transport carts to remain aligned in tight corridors.

Eventually, wear and practical necessity could have prompted changes to the rollers themselves. Friction grooves, possibly accidental at first, began to appear. These grooved rollers evolved, perhaps by design or trial-and-error, into what we would recognize today as axles.

“Each step traded one form of mechanical difficulty for another,” explains the study. “But the progression was always toward better mechanical advantage—less energy input for more movement.”

The Simulated Evolution of the Wheel

To test whether such a transformation could happen through small, cumulative improvements, the research team built a physics-based design algorithm. Starting from a primitive roller, the model sought to optimize structures for both strength and efficiency. With each iteration, the simulated object evolved to better distribute force and reduce friction.

By the end of the process, the algorithm independently produced a fully formed wheel-and-axle—identical in principle to early archaeological finds from the Carpathian region.

“Our findings suggest that the wheel’s design could have emerged gradually, much like biological evolution, through environmental pressure and repeated selection for better performance.”

The Curious Case of the Wheeled Mug

The archaeological link to Carpathian mines isn’t just theoretical. Excavations have uncovered more than 150 miniature clay models of four-wheeled carts, shaped like mugs, dating to around 3600 BCE. These mugs appear to celebrate or commemorate wheeled ore-carrying devices. They feature loop handles, no harness points for animals, and stylized wicker textures that hint at baskets rather than solid carts.

“Why would people drink out of tiny wheeled mugs?” asks Bulliet in a separate analysis. “Because those carts mattered to them—they changed their work, their economy, and their social identity.”

An Invention Born of Constraint

The mine’s unique characteristics—tight, straight tunnels and the absence of animals—played a vital role in shaping the evolution of early carts. These constraints eliminated many design alternatives and focused human creativity on refining what was feasible.

Wheelsets, where the wheels and axle rotate as a single unit, performed poorly in turns. But in the straight passageways of mines, they worked just fine. What was a flaw in the open became an advantage underground.

“By tracing the wheel’s development through mine tunnels,” the study argues, “we see how environmental context can sculpt technological change, not unlike how evolution shapes traits through natural selection.”

The Wheel’s Long Road

This story challenges two common myths: first, that the wheel emerged fully formed from a singular spark of genius; and second, that ancient engineering was driven primarily by conquest and empire. Instead, it suggests a humbler origin—one born of necessity, labor, and quiet experimentation.

It also offers a model for how other technologies might have emerged—not all at once, but through slow, iterative change, in response to immediate and local challenges.

“Much like the wheel’s circular form, its history isn’t linear—it loops through trial, friction, and ingenuity.”

Related Research and Readings

* Bondár, M. (2018). Prehistoric innovations: wheels and wheeled vehicles. Acta Archaeologica Academiae Scientiarum Hungaricae, 69(2), 271–297. https://doi.org/10.1556/072.2018.69.2.3

* Bulliet, R. W. (2016). The Wheel: Inventions and Reinventions. Columbia University Press.

* Osenton, C. J. (2001). Megalithic engineering techniques: experiments using axe-based technology. Antiquity, 75(288), 293–298. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0003598X00060932

* Rao, J. S. (2011). History of Rotating Machinery Dynamics. Springer. PDF

* Anthony, D. W. (2008). The Horse, the Wheel, and Language: How Bronze-Age Riders from the Eurasian Steppes Shaped the Modern World. Princeton University Press.

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Archaeology has always been a discipline of fragments. Potsherds, partial skeletons, stratified soils. But perhaps its most elusive fragments lie in the records themselves—decades, even centuries of illustrations, field notes, and reports scattered across publications and languages. Now, a new AI-assisted tool is poised to reassemble those pieces.

At the heart of this effort is AutArch, an open-source software developed by a team from Johannes Gutenberg University Mainz and several European partners. Their goal: to automate the detection and extraction of meaningful data from archaeological illustrations in legacy publications, particularly those found in PDFs. Published in the Journal of Archaeological Science, the project speaks directly to the rising tension between the explosion of archaeological data and the human capacity to analyze it.

"Our approach allows for fast, accurate, and uniform identification of objects in unsorted documents, enabling the kind of large-scale analysis that archaeology has long needed," the authors write.

The Burden of Legacy Data

Every excavation generates more information than archaeologists can feasibly process. This problem is compounded by decades of published material that is not digitized or standardized. Archaeological illustrations—of graves, ceramic vessels, tools—carry valuable geometric data. But inconsistencies in scale, orientation, and terminology have made comparison across sites difficult.

Manual digitization is time-consuming and prone to error. Without consistent measurement standards, one researcher’s drawing of a burial pit might be incomparable to another's. Enter AutArch, which automates much of this work by using deep learning to recognize and process images across thousands of pages.

What the Software Does

AutArch employs neural networks to locate, classify, and measure features from illustrations: graves, skeletons, north arrows, scales, ceramic profiles, and more. It identifies these features on the page, calculates orientation using arrow markers, extracts outlines, and converts pixel dimensions into real-world measurements.

"The real innovation lies in combining all these elements into a unified, reproducible dataset," says Maxime Brami, who led the project.

Users can correct and validate the software’s automated results through a graphical interface that mimics the feel of vector drawing tools, making it accessible even to those without programming backgrounds.

Testing the Digital Trowel

The team tested AutArch on burial illustrations from third millennium BCE Central Europe—the cultural landscapes of the Corded Ware and Bell Beaker traditions. One long-standing assumption is that these groups differ in burial orientation: East-West for Corded Ware and North-South for Bell Beaker.

AutArch not only confirmed these patterns by analyzing hundreds of graves, but did so with a level of precision that surpasses manual tabulation. It retrieved orientation angles directly from the illustrations, allowing researchers to compare not just broad patterns but regional nuances within the Czech Republic.

Beyond Graves: Testing on Arrowheads

To see if the tool could scale, the researchers also applied AutArch to a large sample of Neolithic and Bronze Age arrowheads. The software extracted outlines from both drawings and photographs, analyzed their geometric variation, and confirmed earlier findings of regional design differences.

This points to AutArch’s potential in typological and morphometric studies across many material classes, from lithics to ceramics to architecture.

Implications for the Future

Perhaps most significantly, AutArch doesn’t just extract data—it opens a door to new ways of seeing.

"With enough data, archaeologists can move from expert-based cultural classifications to statistically meaningful taxonomies rooted in empirical shape variation."

This is not about replacing archaeologists but equipping them with tools that make large-scale synthesis possible. AutArch aims to transform legacy illustrations into searchable, quantifiable resources.

Cautions and Possibilities

AutArch is not a black box. While AI does much of the heavy lifting, manual validation remains essential. Moreover, digitization still depends on the availability of high-quality scans and metadata. Ethical questions also remain about the potential automation of labor-intensive tasks once reserved for students and early-career researchers.

But the payoff is large: archaeological corpora once too vast to process now come within analytical reach.

"The long-term aim is a shared, open-access platform where scholars can contribute annotated materials and cross-validate findings across disciplines."

In that sense, AutArch is not just a tool. It’s an infrastructure for collaborative archaeology in the age of information overload.

Further Reading and Related Research

* Hoggard, C. S., et al. (2022). Legacy illustrations and geometric morphometrics: assessing grave outlines and burial variation. Journal of Archaeological Method and Theory. DOI:10.1007/s10816-022-09552-3

* Matzig, L., et al. (2021). Automating outline extraction in prehistoric lithics using computer vision. PLOS ONE, 16(12), e0260961. https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0260961

* Furholt, M. (2020). Single Grave, Multiple Meanings: Revisiting Corded Ware burial practices in Central Europe. Antiquity, 94(375), 1350–1365. https://doi.org/10.15184/aqy.2020.170

* Riede, F., et al. (2019). Towards a prehistoric taxonomy based on morphometric clustering. Archaeological and Anthropological Sciences, 11, 6035–6050. https://doi.org/10.1007/s12520-019-00905-3

* Tsirintoulaki, E., et al. (2023). Visualizing prehistoric tool traditions: deep learning and shape analysis of backed artifacts. Journal of Archaeological Science, 149, 105720. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jas.2023.105720

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In the humid wetlands of the Lower Yangtze, a quiet transition was underway some 8,000 years ago. Before formal pens, before selective breeding, before the clear skeletal signs of domestication, wild boars were already forging an uneasy alliance with humans. And the clues to this early intimacy are not in bones or buildings, but in the fossilized plaque on ancient pig teeth.

A new study published in Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences examines this evidence with forensic precision. Using microfossil analysis of dental calculus—hardened plaque—from 32 pig specimens, researchers reconstructed diets, habitats, and even hygiene behaviors of pigs from two Neolithic sites: Jingtoushan and Kuahuqiao.

"Living with humans gave them easy access to food, so they no longer needed to maintain their robust physiques," notes Jiajing Wang, anthropologist at Dartmouth. "Over time, their bodies became smaller, and their brains also became smaller by about one-third."

Pig Teeth as Time Capsules

The team's approach sidesteps one of domestication archaeology's major limitations: relying on bone size and shape, which only reflect later stages of the process. The dental calculus offered something more immediate—trapped microscopic remains of what the pigs ate and what they encountered.

Among the finds: rice starch, yams, an unknown tuber, acorns, and wild grasses. But perhaps most telling were the remnants of whipworm eggs (Trichuris), a parasite exclusive to human guts. Their presence in pig mouths strongly suggests the animals were consuming human waste—either intentionally or through contaminated food or water.

"Pigs are known for their habit of eating human waste, so that is additional evidence that these pigs were probably living with humans or having a very close relationship with them," says Wang.

Wild, But Not Quite

Domestication doesn’t always begin in captivity. Many animals take what biologists call the "commensal pathway" into domestication—drawn by food, shelter, or waste, they loiter at the margins of human settlements. Over time, the friendliest or most tolerant individuals survive and reproduce.

The pigs at Jingtoushan and Kuahuqiao seem to embody this pattern. While still genetically wild, their behaviors and diets suggest close interaction with sedentary human groups. Dental measurements from several pigs even resemble those of modern domesticated pigs, hinting that selection pressures had already begun to reshape their bodies.

"What probably came first were behavioral changes, like becoming less aggressive and more tolerant of humans," explains Wang.

A Tale of Two Pathways

The findings support two models of early pig domestication:

* Commensal pathway: pigs were not hunted and captured, but drawn to early farming villages by waste and food scraps.

* Prey pathway: humans may have also deliberately managed wild boar populations, selectively harvesting and gradually domesticating them.

This dual dynamic blurs the line between wild and domestic. Some pigs scavenged. Others may have been penned, even partially fed. This mosaic of behaviors reflects the flexibility of both species.

Waste, Parasitism, and Disease

Beyond domestication, the study points to another consequence of early animal-human intimacy: shared diseases. Whipworm eggs in pig plaque highlight the health risks of cohabitation before sanitation.

"Our study shows that some wild boars took the first step towards domestication by scavenging human waste," says Wang.

This intimate proximity likely seeded early zoonotic exchanges, embedding animal parasites within human communities and vice versa.

Pig Roots in the Rice Fields

Both sites in the study, especially Kuahuqiao, had evidence of early rice agriculture. Stone tools and pottery show active food processing. The pigs' diets mirrored this shift. Their mouths, quite literally, became micro-archives of the Neolithic kitchen.

"We can assume that pigs do not cook food for themselves, so they were probably getting the food from humans either by being fed or scavenging," notes Wang.

The Domestication Threshold

Pig domestication in South China was not a clean break with the wild. It was a process—gradual, messy, and shaped by overlapping relationships. The pigs at these sites existed in a liminal zone: not fully wild, not fully domesticated, but already becoming something new.

Their teeth remind us that domestication wasn't always driven by intent. Sometimes it began in the trash heap, among scraps and feces, as wild animals found their way into human lives, kitchens, and cosmologies.

Related Research

* Frantz, L. A. F., et al. (2019). Ancient pigs reveal a near-complete genomic turnover following their introduction to Europe. PNAS, 116(35), 17231–1738. https://doi.org/10.1073/pnas.1901169116

* Cucchi, T., et al. (2011). Domestication and dispersal of pigs in the Neolithic and Iron Age of East Asia. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 108(1), 317–322. https://doi.org/10.1073/pnas.1008229108

* Larson, G., et al. (2005). Worldwide phylogeography of wild boar reveals multiple centers of pig domestication. Science, 307(5715), 1618–1621. https://doi.org/10.1126/science.1106927

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A Place for the Ancestors

In a clearing not far from the ceremonial heart of Ceibal—one of the oldest known monumental centers in the Maya lowlands—archaeologists have uncovered something unexpected: a cemetery. Not a scattering of isolated burials, but a coherent mortuary landscape that predates the city’s famous pyramids and plazas.

This burial ground, located in a minor ceremonial complex known as the Amoch Group, dates to between 1100 and 800 BCE—well before stone buildings filled the landscape or pottery became ubiquitous in daily life. According to a recent study published in Antiquity, the Amoch cemetery may represent a brief but important chapter in the Preceramic to Preclassic transition, when people began to anchor themselves to land, tradition, and one another in new ways.

“The establishment of the Amoch Cemetery was most likely tied to profound social change, involving decreased mobility, increased reliance on maize, and the development of ceremonial complexes.”

The Bones Between Worlds

Archaeologists working at Ceibal have long grappled with the paradox of an early ceremonial center that lacked clear evidence of permanent domestic settlement. The central E-Group complex—built by 950 BCE—was used for solar observation and ritual gathering, but where the early people of Ceibal lived and how they organized themselves remained murky.

Between 2014 and 2023, researchers excavated 26 burials at the Amoch Group, a modest platform complex about half a kilometer from the site’s main plaza. The interments were layered within a thin band of natural soil just above the bedrock—an archaeological twilight zone too early for fully sedentary life, yet too late to be purely foraging.

“These burials reflect a different mortuary practice, one that seems to emphasize social groups rather than individuals.”

Few grave goods accompanied the dead. Only one burial included durable offerings—spherical stones that may have served as weapons or symbolic markers. Most were laid in extended supine positions, arms folded across pelvises or chests. Some were flexed at the knees. In several cases, later Preclassic construction disturbed or carefully repositioned earlier remains, suggesting that their location held enduring meaning.

Death Without Prestige

What’s most striking about the Amoch cemetery is its egalitarian tone. Individuals of all ages were interred—infants, young adults, and the elderly alike. There is no clear pattern of elite burial, no wealth markers or indicators of political status. In contrast to later Maya practices, where burials under houses signified lineage power and territorial claims, the Amoch dead were laid to rest in a communal space outside domestic architecture.

“It was not reserved for select individuals with special status, or at least any distinctions cannot be detected archaeologically.”

Dental analysis revealed high rates of porotic hyperostosis—likely linked to anemia—and considerable tooth decay, consistent with diets in early agricultural societies. Stable isotope analysis from a handful of burials suggests a moderate maize intake, supplemented by meat and aquatic resources. These people were no longer pure foragers, but neither had they fully adopted the sedentary life of maize farmers.

Cemeteries Before Cities

The presence of a dedicated cemetery from this transitional moment challenges old assumptions. Across the globe, formal burial grounds often emerge alongside sedentism and increasing territoriality. But at Ceibal, the Amoch cemetery may have come first, anchoring ritual and memory in the land before temples rose.

“The decision to build the E Group at this location may have been influenced by its proximity to the cemetery—a culturally meaningful place.”

This raises questions about how early Maya communities used burial to shape identity, space, and belonging. If ancestor veneration was already forming the social glue of emerging communities, it may have laid the ideological groundwork for later forms of kingship, lineage-based rule, and sacred geography.

Pottery and Its Absence

Curiously, no pottery was found with these early burials. This absence raises two possibilities. One is that the cemetery predated ceramic adoption entirely. Another is that pottery had already entered the cultural toolkit, but was not used in mortuary practice—at least not at Amoch. In either case, the simplicity of the graves suggests that ritual and remembrance did not yet rely on durable symbols of wealth or hierarchy.

“The group who used the Amoch Cemetery may not have adopted pottery, even after those closely associated with the E Group began to use ceramics.”

The Quiet Beginnings of Maya Civilization

Ceibal has often served as a case study for how monumentality can precede urbanization. The Amoch cemetery adds another layer: even before temples, people were building social landscapes—through burial, remembrance, and shared space. The persistence of this burial ground, even as construction overtook the site in later centuries, speaks to its significance.

This early cemetery offers a rare window into the messy, overlapping phases of cultural transformation. The dead of Amoch were neither fully mobile nor fully settled. Their lives straddled a threshold. And yet, they were remembered. Their bones, positioned with care, speak to the beginnings of a place that mattered.

Related Research

* Inomata, T., et al. (2015). Development of sedentary communities in the Maya Lowlands: coexisting mobile groups and public ceremonies at Ceibal, Guatemala. PNAS, 112(14), 4268–4273. https://doi.org/10.1073/pnas.1501212112

* Prufer, K. M., et al. (2021). Terminal Pleistocene through middle Holocene occupations in southeastern Mesoamerica: linking ecology and culture in the context of the neotropical foragers and early farmers. Ancient Mesoamerica, 32(3), 439–460. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0956536121000195

* Awe, J., et al. (2021). Lowland Maya genesis: the Late Archaic to late Early Formative transition in the Upper Belize River Valley. Ancient Mesoamerica, 32(3), 519–544. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0956536121000420

* Stemp, W. J., et al. (2021). The Preceramic and early Ceramic periods in Belize and the Central Maya Lowlands. Ancient Mesoamerica, 32(3), 416–438. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0956536121000444

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For decades, the story of Neanderthal migration into Asia has remained patchy—more shadow than shape. Fossil finds in Siberia and genomic data hinted at a major dispersal from Western to Eastern Eurasia sometime between 120,000 and 60,000 years ago. But how Neanderthals got there, what routes they took, and whether their migration was slow or swift have remained open questions.

Now, a study in PLOS One offers a striking hypothesis: Neanderthals may have crossed the 2,000-mile span between the Caucasus Mountains and the Altai region of Siberia in less than two millennia, not through an organized trek, but as an emergent outcome of everyday mobility.

“Neanderthal dispersal into the Altai wasn't the result of deliberate navigation toward a destination,” explained Emily Coco, the study’s lead author. “It was a product of locally informed movements shaped by landscape and climate.”

A Northern Passage through a Patchy Record

The archaeological sites between the western Caucasus and the Altai Mountains are few. Genetic links between Neanderthals in Europe and those excavated in Chagyrskaya Cave suggest at least one major eastward movement. Yet, the archaeological breadcrumbs are too sparse to map out a firm path.

To explore how such a migration might have occurred, Coco and her colleague Radu Iovita turned to agent-based modeling. Instead of assuming that Neanderthals charted optimal or known paths—an unlikely behavior for foragers in unknown terrain—they built a simulation where agents moved across a cost-weighted landscape. This method allowed for random movement choices within the constraints of rivers, mountains, and ice, mirroring how foragers likely navigated in the Pleistocene.

The simulated “agents” were dropped into either the northern or southern Caucasus and allowed to move using what's known as a Lévy walk—favoring short distances with occasional long steps—reflecting the stochastic nature of foraging behavior. If they entered “new territory,” their range expanded, modeling the behavior of early colonizers.

“We wanted to test if a long-distance migration could simply emerge from the ordinary decisions Neanderthals would make based on their local environment,” the authors noted.

River Valleys as Ancient Highways

Out of 110 simulation runs, only three agents reached the Altai Mountains within a range of 500 kilometers. But all three successful migrations took less than 2,000 years—a blink in archaeological time—and followed similar routes.

The common path: a broad northern arc through the Volga and Kama river valleys, across the Urals, and along the Irtysh River into southern Siberia. Rivers—especially those running roughly east-west—functioned as conduits rather than barriers.

“These corridors would have provided reliable water, game, and directionality,” said Iovita. “What we’re seeing is the skeleton of a migration shaped more by rivers than by intentions.”

Interestingly, the agents avoided the southern Caspian corridor, a path previously proposed in earlier models. Transgressions of the Caspian Sea likely rendered that route impassable during glacial periods.

When Climate Opens a Door

The timing of these simulated journeys coincides with two warm periods in the Late Pleistocene: Marine Isotope Stage (MIS) 5e and MIS 3. Both are marked by interglacial climates, retreating ice, and more hospitable steppe landscapes.

The warm stages offered not just habitable conditions, but geographic connectivity. For instance, during MIS 5e, river valleys were likely more stable, glaciers less extensive, and the terrain easier to traverse.

“Dispersal during warm phases aligns with the environmental tolerances of Neanderthals,” the authors explained. “These weren’t polar pioneers—they followed the seasons.”

Echoes of Interbreeding

The implications go beyond movement. The agents' simulated paths intersected with regions inhabited by Denisovans, another archaic human lineage. Genetic data already suggest Neanderthals and Denisovans interbred multiple times, including in the Altai.

The model lends spatial context to that genomic record: these riverine corridors weren’t just routes of travel—they were zones of contact.

Simulations and the Archaeological Horizon

While the model aligns well with the genetic record and a few archaeological finds, its value lies in hypothesis generation, not confirmation. Many of the modeled migration steps occurred in regions still archaeologically invisible—places where perishable campsites would leave scant trace.

But the simulation does more than suggest a route. It reorients how researchers think about mobility in prehistory. Instead of imagining migrations as linear pilgrimages, the model supports a more diffused process—where large movements are the cumulative product of thousands of local decisions.

“It wasn’t a march,” Coco emphasized. “It was a drift—shaped by rivers, slopes, climate, and chance.”

Related Research and Citations

* Skov, L., Peyrégne, S., et al. (2022). Genetic insights into the social organization of Neanderthals. Nature, 610(7932), 519–525. https://doi.org/10.1038/s41586-022-05283-y

* Kolobova, K. A., et al. (2020). Archaeological evidence for two separate dispersals of Neanderthals into southern Siberia. PNAS, 117(6), 2879–2885. https://doi.org/10.1073/pnas.1918047117

* Ghasidian, E., et al. (2023). Modelling Neanderthals’ dispersal routes from Caucasus towards east. PLOS One, 18(2), e0281978. https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0281978

* Slon, V., et al. (2018). The genome of the offspring of a Neanderthal mother and a Denisovan father. Nature, 561(7721), 113–116. https://doi.org/10.1038/s41586-018-0455-x

* Ruan, J., et al. (2023). Climate shifts orchestrated hominin interbreeding events across Eurasia. Science, 381(6658), 699–704. https://doi.org/10.1126/science.add4459

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When the National Institutes of Health launched the All of Us Research Program, the idea was simple: collect DNA and health data from over a million Americans to better understand how genetic variation influences health. But a newly published analysis of over 230,000 of these genomes has laid bare just how much complexity lies behind the terms "race" and "ethnicity"—and how that complexity can shape everything from disease risk to the ethics of medical research.

Drawing from nearly two million common genetic variants across the genome, researchers assembled what may be the most detailed map to date of the ancestry landscape in the United States. What emerged was not a set of neat, color-coded boxes, but a swirling, overlapping patchwork of human variation. For geneticists, this may not be news. For medicine and policy, it's a wake-up call.

"Participants within self-identified race and ethnicity groups exhibit gradients of genetic variation rather than discrete clusters."

That was one of the key findings of Mateus Gouveia and colleagues, who published their results in The American Journal of Human Genetics.

The Limits of Labels

Most biomedical studies in the U.S. still rely on the racial and ethnic categories used by the Census Bureau: Black, White, Asian, Hispanic, and so on. But these social identities, while meaningful, fail to capture the biological histories embedded in our genomes. The All of Us data show that self-identification and genetic ancestry often diverge in important ways. For example, over 90% of participants who declined to self-report a racial category still identified as Hispanic or Latino. Their genomes revealed rich mixtures of African, Native American, and European ancestries, defying neat classification.

"Racial and ethnic categories are poor proxies for genetic ancestry."

The mismatch is not just academic. Genome-wide association studies (GWAS) that try to link genetic variants to disease often adjust for ancestry using race as a stand-in. That shortcut introduces bias. When subcontinental ancestries—like West-Central African versus East African—have different effects on health traits, lumping them into a single "African" category can obscure the biological signal.

Ancestry in the Body

To test the real-world effects of these ancestry distinctions, the team looked at two traits: height and body mass index (BMI). North European ancestry, for example, was strongly associated with taller stature. But within continental Africa, the results were more nuanced. West-Central African ancestry correlated with higher BMI, while East African ancestry correlated with lower BMI—differences that persisted even after adjusting for income, education, ZIP code, and other socio-environmental variables.

"Subcontinental ancestries can have opposite effects on biological traits and diseases."

This pattern appeared repeatedly across the dataset. Native American ancestry was associated with shorter stature and higher BMI, even when individuals self-identified as White or Hispanic. These associations hint at deeper population histories and may reflect ancient adaptations, demographic bottlenecks, or simply the layered complexities of gene-environment interaction.

The Geography of Admixture

The United States, with its history of colonization, slavery, and immigration, contains a striking range of human genetic variation. The All of Us data confirm this. African American participants in South Carolina, for example, showed elevated West African ancestry—reflecting known slave trade patterns and rice plantation histories. In contrast, Hispanic and Latino participants in New York showed higher African ancestry, likely due to Caribbean migration.

Even among White participants, subcontinental ancestries varied regionally. Northern European ancestry dominated the Midwest; Southern European ancestry was more common in the South. In New York and New Jersey, a noticeable slice of Middle Eastern ancestry stood out.

Implications for Medicine and Research

This mosaic of ancestries carries direct implications for medicine. Genetic risk scores for diseases like diabetes or hypertension may work well for Northern Europeans but perform poorly for people with mixed ancestries. Without fine-scale ancestry analysis, precision medicine risks becoming precision medicine for some.

The study also reinforces the value of moving away from monolithic categories. Instead of relying on broad racial labels, researchers are urged to adjust for detailed ancestry proportions—ideally down to the subcontinental level.

"We recommend treating continental ancestry not as a singular entity but as a composite of subcontinental ancestries."

That shift won’t be easy. Race and ethnicity are still used in health policy and public health surveillance. But the All of Us data show that when it comes to genetics, these categories blur more than they clarify.

What Comes Next

The All of Us database is still growing, and future studies will likely explore even finer-scale population structures. Already, researchers are planning admixture mapping studies to trace how specific gene variants inherited from different ancestries influence health. The ultimate goal is not just to improve medical care, but to understand how a nation's tangled genetic history shapes its present.

And that history, as it turns out, is more tangled—and more illuminating—than any census box can contain.

Related Research

* Bryc, K., et al. (2015). "The genetic ancestry of African Americans, Latinos, and European Americans across the United States." Am J Hum Genet, 96(1), 37-53. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.ajhg.2014.11.010

* Tishkoff, S. A., et al. (2009). "The genetic structure and history of Africans and African Americans." Science, 324(5930), 1035-1044. https://doi.org/10.1126/science.1172257

* Lewis, A. C. F., & Green, R. C. (2022). "Precision medicine, but for whom?" Science, 375(6585), 589–591. https://doi.org/10.1126/science.abo0088

* Mathieson, I., et al. (2018). "The genomic history of southeastern Europe." Nature, 555(7695), 197-203. https://doi.org/10.1038/nature25778

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In paleoanthropology, the story is often written in bone. But sometimes, it's the fine details in enamel that rewrite what we think we know. A new study published in the Journal of Human Evolution dives deep—microscopically deep—into pitting enamel hypoplasia (PEH) to explore a peculiar and previously underappreciated dental trait called "uniform, circular, and shallow" (UCS) enamel pitting. Once thought to be confined to Paranthropus robustus, UCS pitting now appears in fossil teeth of other hominin taxa and might challenge assumptions about taxonomy and tooth development.

"The consistent appearance and distribution of UCS pitting across multiple Paranthropus and non-Paranthropus samples suggests a shared developmental origin, possibly genetic in nature," the study authors write.

What Exactly Is UCS Pitting?

Enamel hypoplasia, broadly defined, refers to defects in the enamel layer of teeth that form during childhood development. These defects come in various types: linear bands, irregular patches, plane-form loss, and pitting. UCS pitting, as identified in this study, refers to shallow, circular pits—resembling a pattern of small dimples—that appear on the crown surfaces of teeth, often in a consistent, non-random distribution.

While PEH can result from systemic stress, illness, or nutritional deficiencies during enamel formation, the uniformity of UCS pitting led researchers to suspect a different cause—possibly a hereditary or developmental condition unrelated to short-term physiological stress.

From the Omo Valley to the Caves of South Africa

The study pulls together a large and diverse dataset of postcanine teeth—molars and premolars—from eastern and southern African sites. The eastern sample comes from the Omo Group deposits in Ethiopia, covering roughly 3.4 to 1.1 million years ago and including teeth attributed to Australopithecus, Paranthropus, and early Homo. The southern African sample includes specimens from Drimolen, Swartkrans, and Kromdraai—all associated with Paranthropus robustus.

In total, UCS pitting was documented in:

* 5 of 24 Paranthropus permanent teeth from the Omo sequence

* 5 of 13 permanent teeth attributed to Late Pliocene Australopithecus from Member B (~3 Ma)

* Several teeth from southern African P. robustus samples, consistent with previous findings

"Despite spanning hundreds of thousands of years and multiple taxa, the morphology of UCS pitting remains strikingly similar across sites."

This consistency casts doubt on the idea that the pitting is purely a result of environmental stress. Instead, it hints at a deeper, possibly shared physiological or genetic trait—though the exact etiology remains elusive.

No Clear Links to Tooth Size or Enamel Thickness

One hypothesis tested in the study was whether UCS pitting is associated with megadontia—large teeth and thick enamel, traits common in Paranthropus. However, the data didn’t support this. Neither tooth size nor enamel thickness showed any consistent correlation with the presence of UCS pitting.

"Pit diameters and depths were remarkably consistent across individuals and tooth types, regardless of size or enamel metrics."

The researchers found UCS pitting on teeth with both high and low relative enamel thickness (RET) values, and in teeth of varying size and cusp morphology. This undermines the notion that UCS pitting is simply a byproduct of robust dental architecture.

Evolutionary and Taxonomic Implications

The presence of UCS pitting in both eastern African Paranthropus and Australopithecus specimens—along with a few ambiguous cases possibly linked to early Homo—challenges the assumption that this feature is taxonomically diagnostic for Paranthropus. If anything, it could indicate a broader developmental pattern among certain hominin lineages.

Moreover, the near absence of UCS pitting in Australopithecus africanus, Neanderthals, and modern humans underscores its unusual concentration in select fossil groups. A handful of similar cases have been noted outside Africa (e.g., Xujiayao in China), but these are rare and often tied to individuals with other cranial or dental anomalies.

"The appearance of UCS pitting in Late Pliocene Australopithecus may suggest that this condition either predates the emergence of Paranthropus, or reflects a convergent trait shared by geographically and temporally distinct populations."

A Tiny Window Into a Bigger Evolutionary Picture

Dental defects are often treated as epiphenomena—side notes in larger discussions about diet, health, and taxonomy. But this study shows that enamel can be a surprisingly stable archive, preserving subtle patterns of development and heritability that stretch back millions of years.

By rigorously documenting and defining UCS pitting, this work adds another layer to how paleoanthropologists interpret morphological variation. Whether this dental trait is a relic of deep evolutionary history or a more localized expression of enamel biology, it’s clear that tiny defects can carry big implications.

Related Research

* Towle, I., & Irish, J. D. (2020). "A probable genetic origin for pitting enamel hypoplasia in Paranthropus robustus." Journal of Human Evolution, 146, 102863. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jhevol.2020.102863

* Skinner, M. F., & Newell, E. A. (2003). "Hominid dental development and enamel defects." International Journal of Osteoarchaeology, 13(6), 343-351. https://doi.org/10.1002/oa.700

* Guatelli-Steinberg, D., et al. (2013). "Is pitting enamel hypoplasia an indicator of stress in fossil hominins?" American Journal of Physical Anthropology, 151(2), 277–286. https://doi.org/10.1002/ajpa.22276

* Skinner, M. M., et al. (2020). "Dental development and pathology in Australopithecus africanus from Sterkfontein, South Africa." PLOS ONE, 15(4), e0230991. https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0230991

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In the loamy floodplains of eastern Hungary, archaeologists have been peeling back layers of history at the site of Tiszafüred-Majoroshalom. There, a Bronze Age cemetery reveals not just how people died but how they lived, moved, and fed themselves over generations. A new study published in Scientific Reports leverages isotopic, botanical, and osteological data to reconstruct daily life in the region during a period of seismic cultural change.

Spanning the transition between the Middle and Late Bronze Age—roughly 2000 to 1300 BCE—the research team analyzed human remains from five burial sites in the Tisza River basin, focusing on carbon (C), nitrogen (N), and strontium (Sr) isotopes, along with botanical micro-remains trapped in ancient dental calculus. The result is a textured narrative of how subsistence, mobility, and social structure were transformed around 1500 BCE with the emergence of the so-called Tumulus Culture.

"The change of material culture, settlement patterns, and burial customs coincided with a substantial modification of other fundamental aspects of culture, namely subsistence practices, primary economy, dietary habits, and presumably, cuisine."

From Tells to Tumuli: Abandoning the Fortified Settlements

Bronze Age life in the Carpathian Basin was once organized around tell settlements—fortified, long-term habitation sites perched atop mounds of accumulated occupation debris. These centers reflected not just architectural investment but social hierarchy. Around 1500 BCE, however, these tells were abandoned. In their place emerged more horizontally organized settlements associated with the Tumulus Culture, named for its distinctive burial mounds.

This architectural shift mirrored a broader social reorganization. Evidence suggests that rigid hierarchies and unequal food distribution in Middle Bronze Age communities gave way to a more level playing field during the Late Bronze Age. Protein-rich diets that once signaled elite status became less differentiated across gender and age. Instead, cereal-based diets dominated.

What People Ate, and What That Says About Power

Stable isotope analysis of human bone collagen revealed a significant reduction in nitrogen isotope values (δ15N) in the Late Bronze Age compared to the preceding Middle Bronze Age. This shift implies a decline in animal protein consumption, challenging long-held assumptions about the pastoralist orientation of the Tumulus Culture.

"The wider variability of nitrogen isotope values during the Middle Bronze Age suggests greater food variety and more differentiated access to protein. Middle Bronze Age society was probably more stratified."

Carbon isotope values (δ13C), meanwhile, show a rise consistent with the introduction of C4 plants—specifically, broomcorn millet (Panicum miliaceum). Radiocarbon dating places this dietary pivot between 1540 and 1480 BCE, making it one of the earliest instances of millet agriculture in Europe.

The Millet Revolution

Dental calculus samples from Tiszafüred-Majoroshalom captured this transition at a microscopic level. Starch granules and phytoliths indicated the presence of wheat, barley, and crucially, broomcorn millet. While only two Middle Bronze Age individuals showed signs of millet consumption, nearly all Late Bronze Age individuals who consumed cereals showed evidence of millet.

"The strong investment in broomcorn millet as a key cereal began between 1540 and 1480 BCE, a strategy likely adopted for its high yield, short growing season, and drought resistance."

Mobility Without Mass Migration

Strontium isotope ratios from tooth enamel painted a picture of mostly local origins. The vast majority of individuals were born and raised within 20 kilometers of their burial site. However, a handful of outliers appeared—some from the Upper Tisza basin, others from as far as the Middle Danube or Southern Carpathians. Migration patterns shifted subtly between the two periods: Middle Bronze Age migrants tended to come from the north, while Late Bronze Age newcomers traced westward paths, aligning with the broader expansion of the Tumulus Culture.

"The Tisza basin, despite its geolithological uniformity, exhibits slight but significant isotopic discrepancies that enable the detection of sub-regional mobility."

Reconsidering Social Complexity in Prehistoric Europe

The evidence challenges conventional models that equate social complexity with inequality and mobility with conquest. Rather than abrupt population replacement, the shift toward the Tumulus Culture appears to have involved limited migration, accompanied by internal reorganization of diet, settlement, and status markers.

It is a reminder that cultural change in prehistory was not always dictated by elites, nor necessarily by outsiders. Instead, communities adjusted to environmental and demographic pressures in their own ways—sometimes by adopting new crops, redistributing protein, or even walking away from centuries-old settlements.

As stable isotope science continues to refine its temporal and geographic resolution, the bones of Tiszafüred-Majoroshalom are yielding something rare: a view of transformation that is quiet, granular, and local.

Related Research

* Filipović, D., et al. (2020). "New AMS 14C dates track the arrival and spread of broomcorn millet cultivation and agricultural change in prehistoric Europe." Scientific Reports, 10, 13698. https://doi.org/10.1038/s41598-020-70495-z

* Cavazzuti, C., et al. (2021). "Human mobility in a Bronze Age Vatya ‘urnfield’ and the life history of a high-status woman." PLOS ONE, 16(7), e0254360. https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0254360

* Gamarra, B., et al. (2018). "5000 Years of dietary variations of prehistoric farmers in the Great Hungarian Plain." PLOS ONE, 13(6), e0197214. https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0197214

* Mārcis A. et al. (2022). "Stable carbon and nitrogen isotopes identify nuanced dietary changes from the Bronze and Iron Ages on the Great Hungarian Plain." Scientific Reports, 12, 21138. https://doi.org/10.1038/s41598-022-21138-y

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