Northeast

Journal of Anthropological Archaeology 30 (2011) 385–401

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Measuring Paleoindian range mobility and land-use in the Great Lakes/Northeast Christopher Ellis Department of Anthropology, Social Science Centre, University of Western Ontario, London, Ontario, Canada N6A 5C2

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Article history: Received 9 March 2011 Revision received 12 May 2011 Available online 8 June 2011 Keywords: Paleoindians Northeastern North America Great Lakes Landuse Annual mobility Longterm mobility Toolstones

a b s t r a c t Distance and direction to source data were compiled on the main toolstones employed at 83 Paleoindian sites with concave-based points (ca. 11,000–10,000 B.P.) from across the recently deglaciated Great LakeNortheastern area of North America. These data were used in order to more rigorously evaluate several much debated ideas about annual range mobility scale and land use patterns and how they changed over time as these groups colonized and settled into the area. Movements are significantly biased to north– south axes, strongly suggesting these represent mainly seasonal moves and procurement of toolstones during regular travels rather than by specialized task groups. Means of comparing the scale of range mobility to ethnographic norms are explored and the results clearly show that these groups, especially the earliest occupants, had large annual range mobility scales and distinctive patterns of land use that are rarely seen or approached historically. They had to have been intensively targeting widely spaced but relatively abundant resources on the landscape. The only ethnographic groups who come close to such patterns historically were all caribou hunters, a perspective consistent with the idea these groups regularly exploited that resource. As long suggested, these land use patterns are probably related to the colonization of new lands in which there were little or no existing populations. Ó 2011 Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.

Introduction In this paper, I evaluate certain long-held notions about Great Lakes/Northeastern (hereafter, simply Northeast) Paleoindian toolstone procurement, mobility and land-use patterns, including how these aspects may have changed over time as groups colonized the somewhat recently deglaciated landscape and settled into the area. My primary focus is on annual range mobility (Binford, 1983, p. 38), as opposed to the area a group might exploit over longer periods. The latter has been called territorial mobility or long-term mobility by Kelly (1992, p. 45). I specifically address two major and interrelated issues. First, Paleoindians in general have traditionally been regarded as small groups exploiting large annual ranges (e.g., Goodyear, 1979, 1989; Kelly and Todd, 1988). Some even have suggested they may have been more mobile, or at least unusual in this regard, compared to historically known hunting and gathering groups (Amick, 1996, pp. 419–420; Ellis, 1984, pp. 354–356; Hofman, 1999, pp. 406–407; Shott, 1986, pp. 141–142; Storck and Tomenchuk, 1990, p. 84). In the Northeast this high mobility has been tied into the exploitation of resources such as caribou (e.g., Curran and Grimes, 1989, pp. 59–60; Koldehoff and Loebel, 2009, p. 282; Loebel, 2005, pp. 402–413; Meltzer, 1988, p. 41; Newby et al., 2005, pp. 150–151; Spiess et al., 1998). However, these ideas have not been universally accepted. For example, Bamforth (2009) questions E-mail address: [email protected] 0278-4165/$ - see front matter Ó 2011 Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved. doi:10.1016/j.jaa.2011.05.001

the idea of a high mobility amongst later Post-Clovis assemblages on the High Plains. In the Northeast, Custer and Stewart (1990) argued the ranges exploited are no different in scale than those seen amongst modern eastern sub-arctic hunter–gatherers of the boreal forest zone (see also Speth et al., in press). The specific role and importance of caribou in Paleoindian subsistence in the Northeast has also been questioned as has the viability of specific ethnographic analogs (e.g., Dincauze, 1988; Levine, 1997; Loring, 1997). Second, the normal source of information used to support high Paleoindian annual range mobility is the frequent use of toolstones from locations distant from their point of origin. However, exactly how that material was procured, and how it relates to range mobility, has been much debated. Some have raised the possibility that raw materials were procured outside of normal settlement movements such as by logistical task groups (e.g., Amick, 1997, p. 170; Spiess and Wilson, 1989, pp. 95–96) whereas others provide evidence against that claim (Ellis, 1984, pp. 361–367; Goodyear, 1989, p. 6; Smith, 2010, p. 880). Still others argue that additional factors, such as exchange of raw materials or movements of individuals/families between different local groups, could account for the wide dispersion of raw materials (Bamforth, 2009, p. 152; Custer and Stewart, 1990, p. 318; Deller, 1989; Ellis, 1989, p. 156; Ellis and Deller, 1990, p. 54; Hayden, 1982; Speth et al., in press). Also, even if one agrees that the straight-line distances to source are a product of annual range mobility scale, it is not a straightforward process to translate such distances into measures that easily can be compared with the ethnographic evidence.

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C. Ellis / Journal of Anthropological Archaeology 30 (2011) 385–401

In this paper I use the main well-represented toolstone in an assemblage as an indicator of annual range mobility. I argue this measure, when considered in concert with other data such as direction to source, eliminates or minimizes the effects of factors such as exchange, individual movement and logistical trips on raw material distributions. I then examine the validity of several ways of comparing the archaeological evidence for the annual range mobility scale of these groups to the ethnographic evidence. Based upon these analyses I conclude that: (1) the range mobility of the groups is unusual compared to that in the ethnographic record. They were covering very large straight-line distances during normal residential moves, a pattern that, as argued by Loebel (2005, pp. 400–401) and others, suggests these groups were selectively targeting widely spaced resource locales on the landscape; (2) the only ethnographic groups that come close to having comparable land use patterns to the northeastern Paleoindian groups are ones who were targeting caribou. Such evidence suggests caribou use in comparable manners to the ethnographic cases is a reasonable interpretation; (3) the distance to the stone sources employed declined during the Paleoindian occupation. Such evidence is consistent with the ideas of several regional scholars (e.g., Burke, 2006, p. 84; Ellis and Deller, 1997, p. 12; Tankersley, 1994a, pp. 98–99) that there was a reduction in the annual ranges exploited over time. Some also have argued the greater distances seen in the earlier components are inflated as they are also measuring colonizing movements rather than simply normal annual range mobility (e.g., Dincauze, 1993, p. 55; Tankersley, 1991, p. 297, 1994a). While admitting this idea is difficult to test, there is little direct evidence to support such a view; (4) there is a predominant pattern of north–south movement based on the directions between chert sources and sites. This pattern is usually attributed to seasonal movements of north in the warmer months and south in the winter (e.g., Burke, 2006, p. 82; Curran and Grimes, 1989, p. 60; Gramly, 1988, pp. 267–270; Loebel, 2005, p. 163). The analyses also suggest, however, that there are changes over time from predominantly north–south to less patterned movements as has been argued by investigators such as Simons (1997, p. 117).

The data base Previous investigators working in the area have addressed some of the issues of concern here. However, their focus has been more regional, on just segments of the area, or on the use of only specific toolstones out of the many that were available (e.g., Burke, 2006; Ellis and Deller, 1997; Loebel, 2005). For this paper I have tried to develop a more comprehensive data base that covers as much of the area as possible with as much data as possible. Moreover, I would suggest many of the studies that have been done have been a bit impressionistic and that we need to emphasize ‘‘ritualistic standards’’ in Robert Dunnell’s (1978, p. 193) terms: one needs to use more objective statistical measures to evaluate propositions and employing the largest possible samples. The study region extends from those states bordering the Great Lakes themselves, east to the Atlantic seaboard (Fig. 1). The southern boundary was somewhat arbitrarily set at 40°N latitude. This overall area roughly encompasses the formerly glaciated portion of the region that has been seen as a significant Paleoindian areal/adaptive divide in earlier analyses (e.g., Meltzer, 1984, 1988). Specifically, the northeastern groups were seen as having much larger mobility scales than those to the south. Note that I included in the data base not only site locations that occur within these boundaries but also the rare cases where the site itself may be outside the boundaries but the main stone raw material used came from within the area. Hence, the inhabitants of those particular sites had to be making use of the primary geographic area of concern in this study. Only two sites fit this criterion: the Shoop site in southeastern Pennsylania, where the main raw material was northerly derived Onondaga chert from western New York (Witthoft, 1952), and the Mueller-Keck site in southern Illinois (Koldehoff and Loebel, 2009, pp. 273–274), where the main raw material is Attica chert from central Indiana to the northeast. The data base developed totaled 83 separate sites with concavebased lanceolate points (Table 1; Fig. 1). In a few cases, I actually treated what are considered to be separate sites in the literature as single locations due to their close geographic proximity. By doing so I tried to minimize geographic raw material use biases in the samples, particularly in terms of distance and direction to toolstone source. For example, the Parkhill and Dixon sites, Ontario (Deller and Ellis, 1992b) are on adjacent farms and employ the same stone

Fig. 1. Distribution of Paleoindian sites employed in analyses.

C. Ellis / Journal of Anthropological Archaeology 30 (2011) 385–401

materials. They actually seem to be simply different activity areas within the same site so they were combined as one locality. The overall sample is somewhat biased towards the area in which I have worked, namely Ontario, as I have more detailed direct access to information on those assemblages. It is possible that some sites reported in the non-Ontario, more regional, literature were simply missed but there are many other sites in the region that for various reasons had to be purposefully omitted. I have tried to include only sites where that main raw material identification seems to be well-established by detailed study employing a wide range of petrographic and/or other methods (as in Burke, 2006; Loebel, 2005; Pollock et al., 1999; Storck and von Bitter, 1989; Tankersley and Holland, 1994, etc.). Some sites reported in the literature at the time of the data compilation had to be excluded as the source of raw materials or their exact locations are not known, such as Hidden Creek, Connecticut (Jones, 1997). Additional assemblages were excluded from the data base for other reasons. As will be discussed in detail below, I used only the main raw material source that predominates in an assemblage as a measure of range mobility. If an assemblage did not have one clearly dominant or more common toolstone material, it had to be excluded. An example is the Sheridan Cave site in Ohio (Redmond and Tankersley, 2005). Some sites, such as the Reagen site, Vermont (Robinson, 2009), and the Kilmer site, New York (Tankersley et al., 1995), also had to be excluded as they have multiple Paleoindian components and a wide range of well-represented materials. Therefore, it was not clear what raw material was employed during each period of Paleoindian occupation as raw material use could have varied through time. In essence, one can only include multi-component sites where there is one much dominant toolstone – the included site examples of this nature are almost always ones right beside or very close to the toolstone source itself. Of course, many sites, such as the Eaton Site, New York (Smith et al., 2010), also had substantial evidence of post-Paleoindian occupations so it is not easy to discern the raw material use patterns at those sites during the time of concern here.

Temporal frameworks For some of my analyses, and specifically to more clearly address the potential effects of colonization or ‘‘settling in’’ processes on Paleoindian land use patterns, I subdivide the sample into two temporal groupings. Since diagnostics at some sites indicate they were used in both periods, the number of observations can exceed 83 total sites in certain comparisons. One temporal grouping consists of larger, more parallel-sided, fluted points that have gone under various names in the literature such as Clovis, Gainey, GaineyClovis, Enterline, Vail/Debert, and King’s Road-Whipple (e.g., Amick et al., 1997; Bradley et al., 2008; Brose, 1994, pp. 65–66; Deller and Ellis, 1992a; Loebel, 2005; Stoltman, 1993; Storck, 1988; Witthoft, 1952). For the sake of simplicity I will call all these forms Clovislike. These sites all seem to date to roughly 10,500 B.P. or more 14 C years ago based on the dates from sites such as Debert (MacDonald, 1968), Vail (Gramly, 1982), Sheridan Cave (Redmond and Tankersley, 2005) and Shawnee-Minisink (Gingerich, 2010). I think most would agree assemblages with these points include the earliest evidence of significant human occupation of the area and to be more closely tied into the colonization process (e.g., Bradley et al., 2008; Curran, 1996; Ellis et al., in press; Loebel, 2005; Spiess et al., 1998; Tankersley, 1991, 1994a). All other forms are assumed to represent subsequent occupations. They include what most regard as later fluted point types such as Barnes and Crowfield in the eastern Great Lakes and Michaud-Neponset in New England (e.g., Deller and Ellis, 1988, 1992a; Roosa, 1965; Spiess et al., 1998). They also include some

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clearly related early unfluted forms that go under various terms such as Holcombe points or Holcombe-like points in the central Great Lakes or Nicholas/Cormier points in northern New England. Geochronological and archaeological methods indicate these forms date later in time and direct 14C dates indicate an age of roughly 10,500–10,000 B.P. (Bradley et al., 2008; Ellis et al., in press). Measuring Paleoindian range mobility As noted above, the simple translation of toolstone source use into estimates of range mobility has been a contentious issue. In this paper I focus on whole tool/preform assemblages rather than the fluted points and related artifacts (e.g., preforms and channel flakes) alone that have been used in several earlier studies (e.g., Amick, 1996; Tankersley, 1991, 1994a). I have never been comfortable in using just points/bifaces to evaluate inferences, particularly about mobility patterns, as these items frequently do not seem to mirror the raw material preferences seen in whole assemblages. Paleoindian points are often on more exotic materials than the rest of assemblages (Bamforth, 2002, pp. 62–64, 2007, p. 5; Deller, 1989, p. 218). Even if we focus on whole assemblages, however, there are still several ways one could translate the raw materials used into statements about Paleoindian range size. One can assume, often with justification or using other supplementary data, that almost all the raw materials in an assemblage represent range mobility or more broadly, the areas directly exploited in the longterm by particular groups or territorial mobility (e.g., Amick, 1996, p. 413; Jones et al., 2003, p. 9). However, at face value there are obvious objections that can be raised to simply including the majority of materials as evidence of annual range mobility, particularly rarer materials. First, the raw materials represented at many northeastern sites are from over such a large area that it seems impossible local groups as a whole could have fully exploited such a region over an annual round. This point was well made by Lothrop (1989, p. 119) in his analysis of the Potts site, New York, where he notes that the materials represented at that site come from over an area of 300,000–400,000 km2, an area much beyond the annual areas exploited by ethnographic non-equestrian, terrestrial hunter–gatherers. In Kelly’s (1995, Table 4.1) ethnographic compilation, and excluding one outlying questionable exception,1 the most mobile of those groups cover, often only with great difficulty, areas of under 20,500 km2. Even equestrian hunter–gatherers such as the Crow cover only about 60,000 km2. The most mobile of the non-equestrian groups, the Nunamuit, might on occasion cover a maximum area of about 20,500 km2 (Kelly, 1995, Table 4.1) although Binford (1983, pp. 36, 42) stresses that an annual range mobility under 10,000 km2 (ca. 5000 km2 average) was the norm. In fact, the Nunamuit are a real outlier as no other pedestrian groups reported by Kelly (1995, Table 4.1) or Binford (1990, Table 12) exceeded 6000 km2. However, it is only fair to note that Binford (1983, p. 35; see also Binford, 1991, pp. 28–29) seems to be describing Nunamuit land practices after about 1940 when they resided largely in the Alaskan interior. Nunamuit settlement systems actually changed drastically over time. In earlier time periods prior to 1885, as well as a brief period in the 1930s, they seem to have exploited both interior 1 Kelly (1995, Table 4.1) lists the Baffinland (Baffin Island) Eskimos as the most mobile of non-equestrian hunter-gatherers in terms of km2, reporting an area of 25,000 km2 was covered, citing Hantzsch (1977). I am extremely reluctant to argue this area was covered on a regular basis as the trip made by Hantzsch (1977) was an exploratory one, undertaken with paid Inuit guides, which crossed the whole island. In short, it was not a normal set of settlement moves. In fact, other sources indicate a much smaller area was usually exploited consisting of coastal areas and seasonally, upland interior areas (e.g., Boas, 1974, p. 419). Based on maps of the area I would estimate that the area covered was less than, and probably much less than, half that 25,000 km2 or <12,000 km2.

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Table 1 Sites used in study. Site

State/province

Type

Distance to main source

Direction from site to toolstone source

Reference

Anderson Hawk’s Nest 11LS981/Ambler Mueller-Keck Windy City Fluted point Point Sebago Spiller Farm Hedden Vail Morss Adkins Bull Brook I and II Grogitsky Gainey Leavitt Butler Whipple Israel river sites Davis West Athens Hill Eamon Pond King’s Road Twin Fields Hiscock Arc Potts Lamb Debert Belmont Welling Nobles Pond Paleo Crossing Kolapore Ward Sandy Ridge Halstead Banting Udora Zander Ferguson Culloden Acres Uniondale Murphy Snarey Weed Baker Shawnee-Minisink Shoop Gail Stone Aebischer Cardy Silver Mound Withington Morrow-Hensel 6LF21 Nicholas Janet Cormier Michaud Avon Neponset Barnes Holcombe Corditaipe Devil’s’ Nose Fisher Bear Creek Glass Hussey Gosling Crowfield Bolton Fowler

Illinois Illinois Illinois Illinois Maine Maine Maine Maine Maine Maine Maine Maine Massachusetts Michigan Michigan Michigan Michigan New Hampshire New Hampshire New York New York New York New York New York New York New York New York New York Nova Scotia Nova Scotia Ohio Ohio Ohio Ontario Ontario Ontario Ontario Ontario Ontario Ontario Ontario Ontario Ontario Ontario Ontario Ontario Ontario Pennsylvania Pennsylvania Wisconsin Wisconsin Wisconsin Wisconsin Wisconsin Wisconsin Connecticut Maine Maine Maine Maine Massachusetts Michigan Michigan New York New York Ontario Ontario Ontario Ontario Ontario Ontario Ontario Ontario

Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like and Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like and Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like and Clovis-like and Clovis-like and Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Clovis-like Later styles Later styles Later styles Later styles Later styles Later styles Later styles Later styles Later styles Later styles Later styles Later styles Later styles Later styles Later styles Later styles Later styles Later styles

230 250 350 320 0 0 310 340 340 220 215 220 250 260 380 40 100 490 20 0 0 0 0 5 5 5 35 375 80 80 0 70 600 0 50 185 185 75 100 140 180 180 200 220 260 350 100 0 320 0 340 450 0 170 110 0 70 90 275 235 250 100 170 95 35 25 60 60 75 75 100 100 160

South West North East N/A N/A North North North East East East West South South North North North North N/A N/A N/A N/A N/A South N/A South South West West N/A South South N/A South West West West West South North North North North North North East N/A North N/A South South N/A North East N/A West West North North North East North South South West West South West East East East South

Loebel (2005) Loebel (2005) Loebel (2005), Koldehoff and Loebel (2009) Koldehoff and Loebel (2009) Payne (1987) Payne (1987) Burke (2006), Pollock et al. (1999) Burke (2006), Pollock et al. (1999) Spiess et al. (1998) Burke (2006), Pollock et al. (1999) Burke (2006), Pollock et al. (1999) Spiess et al. (1998) Burke (2006), Robinson et al. (2009, p. 427) Wright (1979) Simons (1997), Simons et al. (1984) Shott (1993) Simons (1997) Burke (2006), Pollock et al. (1999) Boisvert (1999) Ritchie (1969) Funk (1973, 2004) Tankersley (1995) Funk et al. (1969) Eisenberg (1978) Ellis et al. (2003) Tankersley et al. (1997) Lothrop (1989) Gramly (1988) MacDonald (1968) Davis (1991) Prufer and Wright (1970) Seeman (1994) Brose (1994), Tankersley and Holland (1994) Storck (1984) Ellis (2001) Jackson (1998) Jackson (1998) Storck (1979) Storck and Spiess (1994) Stewart (1984) Deller (1988, pp. 132–138) Ellis et al. (1992) Deller (1988, p. 149) Jackson (1996) Wortner and Ellis, 1993 Deller and Ellis (2010) James R. Keron (personal communication) McNett (1985) Witthoft (1952) Loebel (2005) Loebel (2005) Loebel (2005) Carr (2004) Loebel (2005) Loebel (2005) Moeller (1980) Moore (2002) Moore (2002) Burke (2006), Pollock et al. (1999) Spiess et al. (1998) Spiess et al. (1998) Wright and Roosa (1966) Fitting et al. (1966) Funk and Wellman (1984) Tankersley (1994b) Storck (1997) James Wilson (personal communication) Deller and Ellis (1992b) Storck (1979) Dana R. Poulton (personal communication) Deller and Ellis (1984), Deller et al. (2009) Deller and Ellis (1996) Woodley (2004)

later styles

later styles

later styles later styles later styles

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C. Ellis / Journal of Anthropological Archaeology 30 (2011) 385–401 Table 1 (continued) Site

State/province

Type

Parkhill-Dixon McLeod Schoefield Thedford II Alder Creek F. Wight Stott Glen Mullin Caradoc Cliche-Rancourt

Ontario Ontario Ontario Ontario Ontario Ontario Ontario Ontario Ontario Quebec

Later Later Later Later Later Later Later Later Later Later

styles styles styles styles styles styles styles styles styles styles

Distance to main source

Direction from site to toolstone source

Reference

170 170 170 180 180 180 180 180 175 180

North North North North North North North North West East

Deller and Ellis (1992b), Ellis and Deller (2000) Muller (1999) Deller and Ellis (1992b) Deller and Ellis (1992a) Timmins (1994) Deller and Ellis (1992b) Deller and Ellis (1992b) Deller and Ellis (1992b) Deller and Ellis (2001) Burke (2006)

and coastal areas (see Amsden, 1977, pp. 279–319). It may be that the larger 20,500 km2 estimate provided by Kelly (1995, Table 4.1) refers to these earlier land-use patterns. Nonetheless, even that large estimate is nowhere near the 300,000–400,000 km2 areas implied by the Potts toolstone data, indicating that those data are very unlikely to represent annual range mobility scale or even territorial/longterm mobility. Second, if one uses all materials in an assemblage there is a built-in assumption they could not possibly arrive at a specific location by means other than group mobility. One obvious other potential mechanism, although difficult to demonstrate (Meltzer, 1989), is the exchange of raw materials. As noted earlier, the movement of individuals between different local regional groups is another clear mechanism for dispersing smaller amounts of toolstones over larger areas. Given, the very extensive distribution of all materials employed at a site like Potts, it seems likely that many raw materials represented are more a product of exchange and this individual mobility rather than group mobility. Indeed, given the importance of social contacts to survival amongst low density populations, we should expect Paleoindians to have had very widespread interaction networks (e.g., Hayden, 1982; Wilmsen, 1973). With these problems in mind, some investigators have suggested that only the most common material employed in an assemblage should be used as a measure of group range mobility (e.g., Goodyear, 1989, p. 7; Meltzer, 1988, pp. 26–27; Smith, 1990, p. 24), an approach that assumes at least that toolstone had to be directly accessed during annual movements. I stress that this approach is a conservative one that actually minimizes range size estimates as it assumes the site and source are at opposite ends of the total ranges exploited. It also presumes that one could not have a situation where dispersed populations came together from different directions with different raw materials to occupy a specific site or that groups travelled serially from site to site exploiting different sources on the way. The single major material in this Northeast site sample consists of at least 25% of an assemblage and in all but four cases it includes at least 40% of the assemblage with many exceeding 75–80%. If we employ such information then straight-line distance to source distances of 150–380 km or more are commonly reported from sites in the area under consideration here and the average is 156 km (Fig. 2). There is however, another problem in going from these kinds of information to inferences about group mobility. The method assumes Paleoindians did not make logistical trips of any substantial distance to procure raw materials. As noted earlier, some have argued such trips were made and if they were, range mobility estimates would be inflated. I agree with Seeman (1994) that the presence of certain raw material sources may have channeled the movement patterns of groups through specific areas during normal settlement movements. Yet, for two reasons, I do not think logistical mobility has had a major effect on estimates of range mobility.

First, as I asked some years ago (Ellis, 1989, pp. 145–147), if raw materials were logistically procured one wonders why such groups would travel the long distances to the main sources employed at most sites. In many cases other sources of raw materials occur closer to the sites and are represented by only small amounts of materials. For example, outcrops such as Bayport from Michigan to the northwest and Onondaga from areas of Ontario to the southeast are located about 150 km in different directions from several fluted point sites at the southern end of the Lake Huron basin in Ontario such as Parkhill (Ellis and Deller, 2000) and Thedford II (Deller and Ellis, 1992a) and are represented in the collections from those sites. However, Fossil Hill/Collingwood chert, from 175 to 200 km to the northeast was by far the predominant material used. Similarly, why would the inhabitants of a site like Gainey, Michigan make long-distance trips to the Upper Mercer sources in central Ohio 380 km to the south when materials like Ten Mile Creek chert are located much closer (about 130 km)? Ten Mile occurs in smaller amounts in the Gainey assemblage and crops out in a location between Gainey and the Upper Mercer sources (Simons, 1997). Or why would the Shoop site, Pennsylvania, inhabitants use Onondaga chert from 320 km away when there are much closer sources such as Pennsylvania jasper and ‘‘black flint’’ and these materials do occur at that site in only minor amounts (Witthoft, 1952)? Or why would the inhabitants of the Paleo Crossing, Ohio site use mainly Wyandotte chert from almost 600 km away from the south when there are several sources only 165–200 km away in other directions that occur in small amounts in the same assemblage (Tankersley and Holland, 1994)? One might argue, as some have done (e.g., Dincauze, 1993; Witthoft, 1952), that Paleoindians were the first inhabitants of the area and did not know more local stone sources but this reasoning surely cannot apply in cases of later dating sites like Parkhill and Thedford II. Also, the presence of these other materials even in the earlier dating assemblages indicates Paleoindians were aware of them. In addition, like Snow (1980, pp. 129, 147), I am reluctant to assume that we have found so many sites that represent the very first colonists. Given the rarity of Paleoindian sites as commented upon above, locating any such site is literally like finding a needle in a haystack and the chances of finding the very first sites seem astronomical. We certainly have no compelling reason to assume otherwise. Second, one can actually directly test to see if logistical trips played a major role in acquiring the main material used at sites. Previous studies have demonstrated that patterning in directions from sites to sources can help us parse out how raw materials were acquired (e.g., Jones et al., 2003; Tankersley, 1991). If procurement was primarily via task groups (or even via exchange systems) we should expect the direction between the sites and the main employed sources to be more random with no biases or patterning in the direction from site to source. Alternatively, if the sample is biased to certain directions, this outcome would suggest the main

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Fig. 2. Histogram of distance to main toolstone source, total sample.

raw materials were directly procured during normal settlement moves. Moreover, as noted earlier, several investigators have suggested that there is a predominant north–south movement pattern and attribute that patterning to seasonal shifts, notably north in the warmer months and south in the colder months. In order to more rigorously evaluate these suggestions I measured the direction from sites to toolstone sources in this sample on a 360° scale, and grouped any example within 45° either side of true north as ‘‘north,’’ 45° either side of true east as ‘‘east,’’ etc. (Table 1). There are almost twice as many sites in the overall samples where north–south (n = 44, 63.7%), as opposed to east–west (n = 24, 36.2%), movements are suggested. The differences are statistically significant at the .05 level (X2 = 5.232, df = 1, p = .022). An even stronger north–south bias is evident amongst those sites where the main material employed at a site is from 200+ km, a situation in which one might argue any logistical mobility would be more likely to inflate distance to source data. Here 20 of 26 examples, or 76.7% are north or south of a site (X2 = 7.538, df = 1, p = .006). As will be discussed in more detail in a later section, there are also changes in the directional movements over time with north–south movements strongest amongst the earlier dating assemblages that actually had the consistently largest range mobility scales. Nonetheless, these data are consistent with the idea that lithic procurement was carried out during the course of annual movements and that those movements were tied to seasonal changes. As a whole, these kinds of data strongly suggest that if logistical trips to procure raw materials occurred, they most likely took place when groups were closer to the sources selected and must have been over relatively short distances. In turn, it is doubtful that logistical trips to obtain raw materials have greatly inflated distances to source.

Paleoindians and ethnographic range mobility It is not a straightforward process to compare the annual range mobility of Paleoindians to that of ethnographically known groups.

For one thing, data on the areas exploited by groups often is in form of territories or ranges that were used in the long-term rather than at shorter scales such as a single year. In fact, as I will discuss below, annual range mobility and longer term patterns of land usage have been conflated in some archaeological literature. Also, even where annual range mobility is provided in ethnographies it is often presented in measures that differ greatly from the simple, archaeologically available, straight-line distances between a source and a site. For example, Binford (2001, Table 5.01) includes the variable ‘‘dismov’’ in his major compendium of ethnographic data, which is the total annual distance travelled in residential moves and some have found that measure useful in Paleoindian studies (e.g., Amick, 1996). However, as hunter–gatherers rarely move year round in straight-lines it is obviously difficult to compare that information to the ethnographic data. Nonetheless, it is notable that Paleoindian straight-line distances between sites and sources frequently exceed 250 km one way or 500 km round trip (19 of 83 or 22.9% of the site sample; Fig. 2). Of the 258 non-equestrian societies in Binford’s (2001, Table 5.01) sample, only one society, the Nunamuit, travelled over 500 km in residential moves. From this perspective, the Paleoindian distances do seem unusual. A second and more common ethnographic measure of annual mobility is to record range sizes in km2 (e.g., Kelly, 1995, Table 4.1). Again, it is difficult to compare such a measure to straight-line distances to source. Confronted with this problem, archaeologists have generally used three approaches. One is to use actual archaeological data on the distribution of a series of presumably related sites where the same raw materials dominate. For example, Storck and Tomenchuk (1990, p. 84) examined the distribution of reported southern Ontario, Parkhill Phase, Paleoindian sites dominated by Fossil Hill (Collingwood) chert. These sites occur up to ca. 180 km from the outcrops. The data were used to provide estimates of range size on the order of 10,000 km2 for groups in that region. These estimates were seen to exceed the average annual Nunamuit ranges that are about 4000–6000 km2 or less (Binford, 1983, pp. 36–37, 1990, Table 12). As noted earlier, the Nunamuit are the most mobile of reported modern non-equestrian, terrestrial

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groups (Amick, 1996, p. 418; Kelly, 1995, Table 4.1). Distances from the main sources of 320 km or more seen at other sites in other areas could be used to suggest even larger areas could be exploited. Of course, Storck and Tomenchuk (1990, p. 84) were cautious in this range assessment as they explicitly recognized there may be changes in the annual ranges exploited even in the short time. One could not assume all the Parkhill Phase sites were occupied at the same time, a problem I will return to below. In short, these could be gross over-estimates of annual range mobility although they most certainly could be informing us about territories used in the longer term – what have been called ‘‘conveyance zones’’ in the archaeological literature (e.g., Jones et al., 2003; Smith, 2010) and which seem to correlate with Kelly’s (1992, p. 45) long-term or territorial mobility. Indeed, the 10,000 km2 area suggested by Storck and Tomenchuk (1990, p. 84), or even the 20,000 km2 areas suggested for some Great Basin groups (Smith, 2010, p. 878), are well within the longer term and somewhat equivalent lifetime ranges of about 25,000 km2 estimated by Binford (1983, p. 42) for the Nunamuit. A second tack has been to assume Paleoindians exploited ranges of specific shapes. For example, while admitting it was questionable and may over-estimate range size, Shott (1986, p. 141) suggested circular ‘‘territories’’ surrounding the straight-line distance areas. For the earlier Clovis-like ‘‘Gainey’’ sites Shott (1986, Table 7.1) estimated circular ‘‘territory size’’ at over 115,000 km2, which was almost three times the mean of the ethnographic sample of sub-arctic groups he used as a control sample. These differences from the ethnographic data seem quite excessive and especially if we consider that the ethnographic data referenced by Shott (1986) does seem to include some areas used in the longterm and not annual ranges (see below). The main raw materials used at a single Paleoindian site reflect more short-term use patterns such as on an annual basis or an annual range and not necessarily the long-term ranges. So what we may be seeing archaeologically are straight-line distances in the short term that would, if groups shifted over time, actually underestimate Paleoindian annual ranges. Indeed, an estimate of 115,000 km2, if treated as an annual range, is almost twice that of even equestrian hunter– gatherers such as the Crow (Kelly, 1995, Table 4.1). It is also 35 times the annual range averages of the very mobile Nunamuit, and over four times their long-term ‘‘lifetime’’ ranges or territories as estimated by Binford (1983, pp. 36–37, 42). Therefore, I believe assumptions of certain shaped territories are exceedingly problematic. An assumption of circular territories in particular also seems unrealistic given the raw material evidence indicates primarily north to south movements amongst the earliest Paleoindian occupations, a pattern that is more consistent with somewhat elongated range shapes. A third tactic used to measure range mobility is to match the straight-line distances derived from toolstone data to actual maps of modern hunter–gatherer territories. This strategy is exactly the one followed by Custer and Stewart (1990, pp. 310–318). They used map data showing the size of historically known eastern sub-arctic ‘‘band territories’’ amongst boreal forest-dwelling Cree or Innu (Montagnais-Naskapi) groups (Speck, 1931) and argued the straight-line distances covered suggested by raw materials indicated similar mobility to the historically known groups. However, they seem to assume that the locations of stone sources would be at the marginal locations within the mapped territories rather than more centrally located; a procedure that would inflate distance to source estimates. Also, Speck (1931, pp. 582) does not directly mention distances travelled of greater than 100 miles (160 km) even in trips from local hunting territories to trading posts, the only long distance movements in which these groups apparently indulged. In fact, using map data comparable to that used by Custer and Stewart (1990), albeit using data from tundra/tree-line area Dogrib

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and Innu groups rather than the forest-dwelling Innu or Cree, I had reached the opposite conclusion (Ellis, 1984, pp. 352–356). My analysis did not assume sources and sites were both located in the most far apart locations within a territory – I modeled a range of toolstone location possibilities. I concluded that in cases where most stone is from one source over 200–250 km or more away, the mobility scale consistently was at or above the upper range of the ethnographic groups (Ellis, 1984, p. 356). Subsequently, however, I recognized that there was a major potential problem with the reasoning embodied in these attempts to use maps (e.g., Ellis, 2002, pp. 17–18). In particular, as suggested above, groups can shift the areas they use over time. The maps of ranges provided for modern groups often reflect long-term mobility or land use patterns whereas the particular major raw material employed by Paleoindian groups at a site indicates shorter-term, perhaps yearly, movements. In sum, the historic groups may have exploited large ranges in the long-term but they may have only exploited parts of such ranges from year to year: modern band territory maps and even archaeological conveyance zones do not have to equal annual ranges. There is certainly ethnographic evidence of groups shifting regularly to exploit different areas within the overall or long-term ranges provided on ethnographic maps. As such they only exploited small parts on a yearly basis or short term, notably amongst the Nunamuit. As mentioned, Binford (1983, p. 42) notes that over a lifetime a Nunamuit individual/family may exploit 25,000 km2 but in a shorter term, or given year/set of years, only about a fifth of that area would be covered. Binford (1983, pp. 43–45) cautions that the shifting of annual or shorter-term ranges should not be taken as a normative statement applicable to all hunter–gatherers. Nonetheless, he also notes that this shifting at a scale of several years is likely to have been especially common amongst low density populations where such shifts are possible as there is lots of empty space. One thing that stands out about Paleoindian sites and finds is their rarity versus those of later groups (e.g., Ellis et al., 2009, p. 800; Seeman, 1994, pp. 232–233) suggesting there was lots of empty space or few people over a big area. Also, the earliest Paleoindian sites are for the most part ephemeral suggesting short-term use rather than highly repetitive use (Kelly and Todd, 1988). Therefore, I believe that a shifting model of land use in Binford’s (1983) terms is a much more realistic model for Paleoindians. In fact, I think this shifting model is more realistic for the boreal forest groups used by Custer and Stewart (1990). For example, any detailed data I can find on the actual annual areas exploited intensively by eastern boreal forest Cree and Innu groups is under 5000 km2 (e.g., Binford, 1990, Table 12; Kelly, 1995, Table 4.1). These areas are much less than the 22,000– 120,000 km2 (average = 48,000 km2) that Custer and Stewart (1990) obtained measuring the territorial maps from sources such as Speck (1931). Indeed, their estimates exceed, often by several times, the 20,500 km2 upper limit of Nunamuit annual range mobility provided by Kelly (1995, Table 4.1). Of course, ranges of the size argued by Custer and Stewart (1990) are also comparable to or greater than the area exploited by equestrian groups noted earlier, which also makes it very unlikely they were able to intensively exploited these whole areas on an annual basis. Therefore, any attempts to measure distances to source on these maps and then argue for comparable annual range mobility between such groups and Paleoindians is potentially very misleading. Perhaps we can get a better idea of this mobility scale if we examine sources that do provide information on actual annual ranges or single trip distances. Binford (1983, Fig. 2) provides sketch maps of Nunamuit annual ranges along with a scale that, as noted above, seem to reflect 1940s and later land use patterns. I used these maps to calculate the straight-line distance ranges over which we would expect raw materials to occur amongst these very mobile groups

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(Table 2). The range on Table 2 is the distances we would expect based on these maps, with the lower end of the range measured with a stone source in the center of the annual ranges and the upper if the stone source was in the most marginal location in these ranges. Since both extremes seemed unlikely I also included the median distance of the range as a potentially better estimate. Even though the Nunamuit are generally regarded as very mobile, and reiterating that they may have been even more mobile in earlier times, based on these data I conclude that we should expect stone to be from 35 to 135 km from a source with an average median distance of only 84.5 km. These distances are very low if we consider we have many Paleoindian sites twice as far from sources and at Paleo Crossing, Ohio (Brose, 1994; Tankersley and Holland, 1994), 65% of the material came from a source about six times that distance (Fig. 2). Of course, we do not know how typical these reported Nunamuit land use patterns are, not only of hunter–gatherers in general, but even of the Nunamuit. Yet, it is worth reiterating that the Nunamuit annual ranges are the largest recorded ethnographically. Also, and more germane, it is not easy to find direct map or written evidence of groups traveling on any regular basis longer straight-line distances than the upper limit of these estimates or greater than ca. 150 km. Perhaps significantly, the few exceptions are also almost exclusively groups living in tree-line or tundra areas of the north who exploited caribou. One of these exceptions is Labrador Innu groups who, unlike the groups considered by Custer and Stewart (1990), seasonally exploited the unforested barren lands for caribou (see Henriksen, 1973, 1981). In traveling from coastal communities to the interior barren-land areas where the caribou were hunted, trips of 240 km were involved (Henriksen, 1973, p. 19). However, these distances are undoubtedly inflated historically because these groups have become tied to coastal communities for administrative/support purposes and to exploit coastal resources. They actually did not exploit and visit the coast until 1916, remaining in the interior prior to that date – so they probably covered smaller distances prior to European contact and influence. In fact, Loring (1997, p. 208) argues that the Innu actually focussed more on caribou in interior areas in earlier times because European and Inuit presence blocked their access to coastal resources. I also suspect they were only able to begin exploiting this large area in later times because of the relatively recent introduction of the dog sled as a replacement for the hand-towed sled. The dog-sled made it much easier to exploit the barren-lands from the coastal bases (see Henriksen, 1973, pp. 18–25). Other ethnographic groups, notably some Inuit ones, may be more representative of traditional patterns. For instance, the information from sources on Baffin Island Inuit groups in the 1880s suggests use of both coastal/sea-ice areas and also, on occasion (e.g., not every year), interior areas near some large lakes (again for hunting caribou) (Boas, 1974; Stenton, 1989, 1991). Based on modern maps, maximum straight-line distances of about 150–200 km would be expected. Data on the Labrador Inuit from the 1780s, or much prior to massive European intrusions, indicates they made comparable to slightly longer (150–250 km) forays inland from Table 2 Expected distance to toolstone source based on Nunamuit annual ranges.a

a

Nunamuit annual range

Expected distance range (km)

Median range (km)

1 2 3 4 5

97–129 35–135 61–126 61–113 48–93 Median average = 84.6

113 85 94 86 45

Estimated based on map in Binford (1983, Fig. 2).

coastal settings during August to September in order to exploit caribou (Taylor, 1969). They also seem to have made these trips on a more regular basis than the Baffinland groups. However, and unlike the Innu and Baffinland Inuit case, about half the distance of the Labrador Inuit travel to the interior was in watercraft up the major rivers that led directly to the interior areas. In a similar manner, the Nunamuit of the pre-1885 era exploited the interior in fall to spring, where caribou was a major prey, and moved to the coast in summer (Amsden, 1977, pp. 286–287). Based on available maps I estimate a distance of about 250 km or less was covered each way and again, for much of the distance watercraft were used. Finally, and this is the only ethnographic data I can find of straight-line distances beyond about 250 km in a traditional setting, there is evidence for such mobility amongst the Caribou Eater (Ethen-eldèli) Chipewyan from west of Hudson’s Bay (Burch, 1991; Smith, 1981). Based upon available maps and discussions, these groups moved regularly over straight-line distances of 300– 400 km and occasionally even farther, without using watercraft. They shifted over the annual cycle from more southerly locations in the northern boreal forest in winter out onto the northern tundra in the warmer months to hunt caribou. They are clearly regarded by ethnographers, however, as unusual in terms of mobility patterns amongst known hunting and gathering groups. They are said to be the most ‘‘extreme example’’ of following caribou, ‘‘probably in the entire ethnographic record’’ (Burch, 1991, p. 441). To sum up, by any measure I can devise, and despite the fact they are conservative mobility estimates, the regularly reported straight-line distances between Paleoindian sites and stone sources appear to be unusual and consistently at the maximum distance or above what we see ethnographically. These kinds of patterns beg the question of exactly what it is that makes the Paleoindian patterns so distinctive. I consider this question in the following sections.

Temporal trends in range mobility All the evidence indicates that the Paleoindian straight-line distances are unusual and compared to almost all later ethnographic groups, that anything over about 150–200 km is exceptional and suggestive of relatively high annual range mobility. Now note that I am saying here that anything over these straight-line distances is unusual. Yet, I am not necessarily saying they are unusual in terms of annual areas exploited in km2 or annual range mobility as it is often presented in ethnographic accounts. I am very loath to argue that if they travelled large straight-line distances several times that seen historically that they exploited much larger areas. For instance, just because the distances to source often seem to be two to six times that I calculated for the Nunamuit annual ranges, this does not mean Paleoindians exploited annually two or six times the area in km2. If one reads carefully the ethnographies of arctic and sub-arctic groups it is evident one can only cover large areas with great difficulty and often using elaborate transportation aids such as large dog sleds, boats, and even outboard motors (see Burch, 1991, p. 442; Hantzsch, 1977, pp. 25, 28, 30, 33, etc.; Helm, 1972, p. 68; Henriksen, 1973, pp. 18–24; Rogers, 1972, pp. 105– 106; Speck, 1931, p. 590; Taylor, 1969, p. 144). Based on the ethnographic descriptions I would argue that it is extremely difficult to cover and exploit thoroughly even annual areas of 10,000 km2 or more (ca. two times the Nunamuit average of Binford (1983)) as in the estimates of Storck and Tomenchuk (1990) discussed earlier. If so, how do we explain these regular large straight-line distances? One possibility is that these long distances are not just measuring annual ranges or regular patterns of movement but also to some extent, the colonization of new areas. When one breaks

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down the sample of sites by earlier Clovis-like and later styles, the distances from source to site more often exceed 200 km amongst the earlier site sample (Figs. 3 and 4). The earlier sites occur significantly farther from sources than do later ones (average of 167 versus 123 km; Mann–Whitney U-Test, p = .001). This difference occurs despite the fact there are biases towards shorter distances amongst the earliest samples. Notably, the Clovis-like assemblages are much more often associated with lithic source areas or outcrops or essentially, at no distance from the source (see below). Yet, the presence of a real Clovis-like outlier like Paleo Crossing, Ohio at around 600 km (Fig. 3) could also be heavily influencing the result. However, if we exclude Paleo Crossing the difference between the two samples is still significant at the .05 level (average of 159 versus 123 km; Mann–Whitney U-Test, p = .002). The real contrast (Figs. 3 and 4) is that there are few sites at greater than 200 km amongst the later assemblages whereas there are several amongst the earlier assemblages. A comparison of the two samples in terms of the simple number of sites >200 km versus those locations <200 km from a source avoids potential inherent exact distance sample biases and also shows a significant difference (X2 = 10.612, df = 1, p = .000; Fisher’s Exact Test, p = .001). There are many more sites over 200 km early on in the sequence. So it may be that the long distances are unusual because they are a measure of colonizing movements rather than simply normal settlement movements as some have argued (Dincauze, 1993, p. 55). I am not convinced of such arguments for some of the reasons noted earlier: namely, that I think it extremely unlikely we would find sites representing these earliest colonizing movements or at least several of them; Paleo Crossing is so unusual it may actually represent such an event. Moreover, there are also several of the later sites that, although they might not reach the extremes of 300 km or more from stone source, still frequently match or exceed 175–200 km (Fig. 4). As noted, these shorter distances in themselves exceed or approximate the distances we would see ethnographically among very mobile groups such as the Nunamuit. I favor another potential answer. Paleoindians, while traveling long distances, were not thoroughly exploiting a large contiguous

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square area. Some groups, such as the Nunamuit described by Binford (1983), do seem to exploit thoroughly a more compact or more focussed area – or at least they did beginning in the 1940s when they resided largely in the interior. However, it seems possible that one could target only certain restricted locations on the landscape, then travel long distances to target resources in other locations, ignoring or only briefly exploiting much of the area in between. If I am reading their work properly, this strategy of land use is one argued for Paleoindians in the Northeast area and elsewhere, such as the Plains and Great Basin, by investigators such as Loebel (2005, pp. 157–158; Koldehoff and Loebel, 2009, p. 282), Hofman (2003) and Jones et al. (2003). While rare, it is not a totally unheard of strategy ethnographically as it is exactly the one used by the groups who moved long straight-line distances noted earlier. For example, this strategy is employed by the Davis Inlet, Labrador Innu (Henriksen, 1973). Families lived in coastal communities in the warmer months and then moved long distances inland to exploit barren-land caribou during the winter months, without using very much of the intermediate area. Similarly, amongst the Baffinland Inuit, groups resided on the coast or adjacent sea-ice. In the warmer months families or larger groups would sometimes, usually in lean years or to mimimize social tensions/disputes, rapidly make long distance trips to interior areas to hunt caribou (Boas, 1974, p. 419; Stenton, 1989, pp. 114–118, 1991, p. 25). The Labrador Inuit followed a comparable pattern of exploiting caribou in the distant interior in the warmer months albeit apparently on more regular annual basis than the Baffinland Inuit and facilitated, as noted earlier, by an ability to follow rivers using watercraft (Taylor, 1969). The Nunamuit prior to 1885 rapidly moved in the summer from interior areas to the coast, also using watercraft (Amsden, 1977, p. 286). The Caribou-eater (Ethen-eldèli) Chipewyan also ranged out onto the barrens to exploit the caribou herds, traveling rapidly north overland from their cold weather encampments to areas where caribou would be available in the warmer months (Burch, 1991). As a final example, amongst one Dogrib sub-arctic regional band reported by Helm (1972, pp. 67–68), the group exploited cer-

Fig. 3. Histogram of distance to main toolstone source, Clovis-like sites.

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Fig. 4. Histogram of distance to main toolstone source, sites with later point styles.

tain areas within the northern boreal forest but at certain seasons would move rapidly a considerable distance away out onto the barrens to exploit caribou, ignoring much of the area in between. I note that in the case of the Dogrib group the distance covered to exploit caribou was made by task groups of men, essentially via logistical mobility. It was not the movement of families/whole groups or essentially via residential mobility as seen among the Innu, Baffinland Inuit, Labrador Inuit, pre-1885 Nunamuit, or Ethen-eldèli. I think it more reasonable that in the Paleoindian case it was the movement of whole groups and this aspect deserves more discussion. The reason a system of task groups worked amongst the Dogrib was that they had access to waterways for distant travel and were able to use large boats with outboard motors. Once they had taken and processed their quota of caribou they could transport that product back to the rest of the groups a great distance away using those transportation aids. As is the case amongst other groups that use logistical moves to procure resources in quantity (Binford, 1990, p. 138), it is unlikely the Dogrib system would work in the absence of such transportation aids, especially modern ones. In the Paleoindian case, therefore, long distance residential shifts in the manner of the other group discussed above, moving considerable distances as larger groups or families, is a better possibility than logistical trips. Indeed, the Labrador Inuit, for example, apparently transported little of the caribou meat they obtained in the interior back to the coast because it was a ‘‘too bulky and heavy commodity to transport’’ (Taylor, 1969, p. 157) – they seem to have hunted the caribou mainly for meat for immediate consumption as well as to obtain the hides needed for winter clothing. Several investigators have oft-provided a rationale for these long distance forays (see Speth et al., in press, for discussion). Specifically, Paleoindian groups were seen as more easily able to make these trips because there was a relatively empty landscape with few people. Whether one is drawn to them by their productivity or prestige value (Speth et al., in press), one could target the most attractive resource locations, some of which may be a considerable distance away. There is ethnographic evidence that supports the plausibility of this scenario. Henriksen (1973, p. 5) implies such as an explanation for Labrador Innu practices when he notes they

‘‘hunt a vast tract of land with almost no competition from outside groups.’’ In addition, as stressed above, in the Baffinland Inuit case these movements were not on a regular yearly basis but only when shortages of caribou nearer the coasts, or social reasons, forced movement to the interior or to an area in which there was no resident population and more empty space (Stenton, 1989, p. 118, 1991). Finally, Burch (1991, p. 444) suggests that the Ethen-eldèli had ‘‘one of the lowest population densities in the entire ethnographic record.’’ In reviewing the archaeological evidence for the development of the historically known Ethen-eldèli mobility patterns, Friesen (2005, p. 311) attributes these patterns directly to the fact these peoples initially colonized an empty landscape or as he phrases it: ‘‘there was no social barrier to their occupation of any part of the region.’’ As the landscape filled up, or as environments changed, the distances travelled in Paleoindian moves would decline but they could still be substantial and this trend is what we see amongst the Northeast sample of later Paleoindian sites examined here. In addition to a reduction in straight-line distances over time, there are suggestions of other contrasts between the earlier and later sites and specifically differences in how sites cluster by distance over time (Fig. 5). Some of these differences undoubtedly are a product of sampling biases. For example, there are few later dating sites at 101–150 km from the main sources used but several in the 151–200 km range (Fig. 5). The presence of several sites in the latter range may be due to, or emphasized by, the fact my sample includes a large number of sites from southwestern Ontario that I have worked on (e.g., Deller and Ellis, 1992b). Moreover, those sites often were initially identified based on the use of a certain raw material, Fossil Hill (Collingwood) chert, which was not used by later groups in that area. Since sites closer to source cannot be identified by using this raw material, this procedure would underestimate the number of sites nearer chert sources (see also Burke, 2006, p. 85). While some of the patterning in these data may be due to sampling error, or could be a by-product of discovery methods, one pattern seems to be an exception. In particular, there seems to be many more sites with Clovis-like points associated with or close to stone sources or in the 0–50 km range (n = 18) as opposed to

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sites with later point styles (n = 5; see Fig. 5). Investigators such as Anderson (1990, pp. 185–196) have suggested that these lithic source locations played a special role amongst the very earliest occupations. Several of the Clovis-like sites in the sample are right at the sources, or very near, and are very substantial sites such as Welling, Ohio (Prufer and Wright, 1970) and West Athens Hill, New York (Funk, 1973, 2004). They can be considered ‘‘quarry-related base camps’’ in Gardner’s (1977, p. 258) terms. Amongst concave based-styles pre-dating 10,000 B.P. I do not know of any later Paleoindian sites with substantial evidence of Paleoindian occupation sites at outcrops. Other large source-related sites with later styles are still some distance, albeit not necessarily a long distance, from the actual outcrops. A good example is the Fisher site in Ontario (Storck, 1997), which is about 25 km from the nearest known outcrops and has considerable evidence of primary manufacture or block core reduction. Unlike any other distance intervals, the differences between the earlier and later styles in the 0–50 km distance group is significant (X2 = 7.348, df = 1, p = .007). Irrespective of why the earliest groups found these lithic source areas attractive for settlement, the very fact they did intensively inhabit these areas provides even more support for the idea they used these areas for more than simply toolstone procurement. This evidence is consistent with the idea that they did not procure stone raw materials by long distance logistical forays. In turn, it again indicates the longer distances indicated amongst those pioneering groups are more easily seen as a measure of regular range mobility scales despite the long distances involved. Also, the greater association of earlier sites with toolstone sources actually biases the overall sample of earlier sites to shorter average distances to source compared to the later sites.

Temporal trends in direction to toolstone source As noted earlier, for the sample as a whole there are more sites where north–south movements are suggested compared to east– west ones. However, if we break these directions down by Clovis-like and later assemblages (Fig. 6), there seems to be a stronger

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pattern of north–south movements amongst the earlier assemblages. In fact, amongst the Clovis-like assemblages the number of sites where north–south is suggested is significant (X2 = 4.667, df = 1, p = .031) whereas amongst the later styles there is no such bias (X2 = 0.806, df = 1, p = .369). I thought the post-Clovis directional data may have been biased, such as in southern Ontario, by the presence of large Pleistocene Great Lakes that may have forced people to deviate from strict north–south patterns, especially amongst the later sites that are common in that sample. However, even if the Ontario sites are excluded, there is still not a significant north–south pattern amongst the sites with later point styles (X2 = 1.000, df = 1, p = .317). It is plausible that the temporal shift is related to changing environments. In the earlier times in many areas the more northern areas were open, tundra or parkland environments, which differed greatly from the more closed, boreal to northern hardwood forests to the south (Eisenberg, 1978; Ellis et al., in press; Muller 1999; Newby et al., 2005, p. 145; Spiess et al., 1998). These different areas may have supported very different resources. In particular, as several investigators have argued, the more open areas may have supported larger concentrations seasonally of game animals such as caribou (e.g., Curran and Grimes, 1989; Loebel, 2005; Simons, 1997; Spiess et al., 1998). Hence, groups could head north in a certain season, presumably the warm season, to exploit those resources, before heading south in the colder seasons to exploit the resources of the more sheltered and forested south. However, over time this environmental gradient disappeared as the closed forests came to dominate the whole region. The result would be less patterned directional movement across the area. One could perhaps also argue that the more north–south association early on is not just due to seasonal movements but also due to colonization processes. Assuming that people originated from the south to southwest and gradually expanded into the area, one could argue they may have geared up at a particular chert source (recall earlier sites are more strongly associated with toolstone source areas) prior to rapidly moving into new areas. Such gearing-up prior to a colonizing movement is what Dena Dincauze (1993) has suggested although she did not argue for a south to

Fig. 5. Comparative bar graph of distance to main toolstone source grouped by 50 km increments.

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Fig. 6. Direction from site to main toolstone source.

north shift. Some sites she regarded as representing pioneering populations, such as Shoop, Pennsylvania (Witthoft, 1952), emphasized chert sources that were north of the site. Indeed, given the topography of the area it may be too simplistic to assume simply a south to north colonization effort. In any case, to examine this possibility one can break down directional information by the four cardinal directions to look for additional patterns (Fig. 7). Here, for the assemblages as a whole the distribution is significant (X2 = 9.667, df = 3, p = .022). The main contributor to this result is the fact there are many more sites with chert sources to the north overall. However, when broken down by the two time sub-divisions (Table 3), both the earlier Clovis-like (X2 = 5.619, df = 3, p = .132) and later styles (X2 = 5.516, df = 3, p = .138) are not significant at the standard .05 level. Neither is there a significant difference overall in direction between the two groups of assemblages (X2 = 1.664, df = 3, p = .645). The directional data for the assemblages may not be significant always at the .05 level. However, amongst the earlier assemblages direction from a site to a chert source to the north (38.1%), indicating procurement at a northerly located source before moving south, and from a chert source to the south (28.6%), indicating procurement at a source to the south before moving north, are most common (Table 3). In contrast, amongst the later dating assemblages it is notable that northerly located chert sources are the most common by far (41.9%). The least commonly represented is actually chert sources to the south of the site (16.1%; see Table 3). If we ignore the sites with chert sources to the east or west, there is not a significant difference amongst the Clovis-like sample sites as to whether a chert source is north or south of a site (X2 = .571, df = 1, p = .450). There is also not a significant difference amongst the later assemblages (X2 = 3.556, df = 1, p = .059) but a p = .059 suggests there is some structure to these data with more sites to the south of a source (n = 13) rather than to the north (n = 5). So overall, and although this will require testing in the future with an expanded data set, there are suggestions of a shift in movement patterns over time. Earlier on north–south directional movements predominate and stone sources can be either north or south of a site. In later times the north–south pattern is not as marked but where there is a suggestion of north–south movement it is pre-

dominantly from a northerly located stone source to a more southerly located site and not the reverse. Let us assume for the moment that the earliest groups originated to the south. The more common representation of toolstones from the south amongst the earlier assemblages, but certainly not in the later ones, could be suggestive of more colonizing movements amongst the earlier groups. Groups could have geared up to the south with certain toolstones prior to moving into new northern areas. As discussed earlier, it is possible that colonizing movements could also account for the huge straight-line distances seen at some earlier sites – that they could be over longer distances than normal range mobility. One could assume that longer distances may be seen in colonizing movements, and that people entered the area predominantly from the south. If so, one would perhaps expect significantly greater distances to be represented amongst the assemblages where the chert source is to the south. For example, the Paleo Crossing site in northern Ohio has the longest distance to the main toolstone source used of any site examined here (600 km), and in that case a southern stone source, from Indiana, was used. However, amongst the Clovis-like assemblages the differences in distance between sites south of chert sources and sites north of chert sources is not significant (Mann–Whitney U-Test; p = .945) and the average distance is comparable when the chert source is to the south (246 km) versus when the source is to the north (244 km). Since any biases in the sample amongst sites closer to chert sources could greatly influence the results, Mann Whitney U-Tests were also run including only Clovis-like sites found at larger distances over 200 km. Again, the differences are not significant (p = .135) although the distances on average are greater on the sites where the chert is to the south of a site rather than to the north (376 versus 303 km). Although there is variation, the above analyses suggest north– south movement patterns are dominant, especially among the earlier dating assemblages. At a minimum these data suggest seasonal movements north in the warmer months and south in summer. Several researchers have not only suggested that movements were north–south and seasonal, they have also suggested that lithic procurement was carried out in the warmer months. For example, Deller (1979, p. 15) suggested that the use of northerly located chert

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Fig. 7. Direction from site to main toolstone source by four cardinal directions.

Table 3 Direction from site to main toolstone source. Direction

Clovis-like

Later styles

North East South West Total

17 (40.5%) 5 (11.9%) 12 (28.6%) 8 (19.1%) 42

13 (41.9%) 5 (16.1%) 5 (16.1%) 8 (25.8%) 31

through intervening toolstone source areas on the way. In later times, when the more northerly locations were better known and settled on a more regular basis, they could have shifted chert procurement slightly from just before moving north to just after reaching northern locations, a strategy that would cut down on the bulk of material that needed to be carried over some distance.

Conclusions sources at Ontario sites indicated warm weather lithic procurement. Curran and Grimes (1989, p. 62) made similar arguments based on presumed raw material preferences at the Bull Brook site, Massachusetts. Tankersley (1995) actually provided geological data suggesting the Eamon Pond site, located by an Onondaga chert source, was occupied in the warmer months. Some investigators such as Storck (1982, p. 22) imply that snow cover was a major factor affecting the ability to procure raw materials in the winter season. I am not as certain that snow cover is the sole explanation. Based on limited ethnographic information, snow cover may affect access to some sources in areas of particularly extreme conditions but not all sources (see Binford, 1979, p. 260). Nevertheless, as described above, the data provided here show that in many cases chert sources are actually to the south. This result is particularly the case in the earlier time period although even there southern source use is rarer. These data suggest that the ideas about seasonality, or at least the times during movement when chert was procured, are oversimplified but of course do not negate the idea that toolstone procurement was a predominantly warm weather activity. It is plausible, although far from demonstrated, that those instances where the chert source was south of the site represent more colonizing movements or more likely, are simply earlier dating occupations where the groups were not as yet thoroughly familiar with more northerly chert sources. Assuming earlier groups had land use patterns involving long distance trips seasonally between widely distributed resource patches, they could have spent the colder months in the south. Then, as things warmed up in the spring, they could gear up at particular sources before moving north. Alternatively, as Seeman (1994) suggested, the particular route they followed may have been channeled

The analyses reported here have tended to support a number of mainly older, less revisionist propositions and ideas about Paleoindian groups dominant in the literature prior to the 1990s. Northeastern Paleoindians were carrying raw materials in quantity over large straight-line distances, often exceeding 175–200 km or more, distances that are only approximated ethnographically by the annual ranges of some groups who hunted caribou. They may not have always (e.g., every year) acted at these mobility scales; that is, much the same as historically known groups like the Baffinland Inuit, Paleoindians may have only moved such distances in certain years and under certain circumstances. Nonetheless, they were moving at such scales on a regular enough basis to leave the imprint we see in the archaeological record. Compared to the admittedly scanty, and hard to interpret in archaeological terms, ethnographic data, these distances do seem to be unusual. Yet, these straight-line distances may not indicate huge areas were thoroughly exploited on an annual basis by Paleoindians. Even the grossest estimates of actual area exploited in km2 derived from the straight-line data exceed known highly mobile ethnographic annual range examples by large amounts. I believe it physically impossible for them to have thoroughly exploited on the ground areas much larger than the ethnographic groups. However, given evidence that these peoples often were carrying a raw material exceptionally long straight-line distances from one location to another, they must have had a rather different pattern of land use and distance mobility than that seen among most groups historically. I can see no alternative but to reject the ‘‘tyranny of the ethnographic record’’ (Wobst, 1978). Also, in that these movements may have involved considerable distances with-

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out modern transportation aids, they are much more likely to have been residential rather than logistical moves. This pattern is not only something one sees rarely in the ethnographic record. It also often occurs only in unusual situations. Example include the Labrador Innu who have become tied to coastal communities or the Labrador Inuit who could use watercraft to travel significant distances upriver to reach interior caribou hunting areas – the Ethen-eldèli Chipewyan seem to be an exception. In comparable manners Paleoindian groups must have been exploiting widely spaced resource patches. Kelly (1995, pp. 131– 132) has argued that the possibility of obtaining resources with higher return rates, namely large game, favors long distance logistical mobility. A similar logic can be applied to the use of residential mobility to exploit widely spaced resource patches; large game are probably one of the few in the late glacial Northeast to make such exploitation patterns viable. Of the large game animals available, caribou seem the best large game alternative for the Paleoindian groups. This conclusion does not mean that exploiting such wide patches was necessarily the most optimal strategy that was available. As with more recent sub-arctic groups, there was probably a range of viable, not always optimal and perhaps sometimes questionable, options available to make a sustained living (for discussion, see Holly, 2011). The study has also provided much needed support for the previously only impressionistic ideas that: (a) straight-line distances to source declined over time; (b) there is a stronger association of sites with lithic source areas in the earlier assemblages; (c) lithic preferences indicate more north–south movement patterns early on and a breakdown of that pattern in subsequent assemblages; and (d), amongst the assemblages indicating north–south movements there is a more balanced use of sources either north or south of a site in the earlier assemblages whereas in later time periods sources are more often north of a site rather than to the south. The correlation of these trends with the temporal sub-divisions used reinforces the idea that those sub-divisions are monitoring temporal shifts rather than contemporaneous variation. These contrasts clearly represent very different patterns of lithic procurement and/or land use irrespective of how we interpret them in behavioral terms. Also, the strong association in the overall sample, and especially amongst the earliest groups, with north–south movements reinforce the idea that the raw materials employed were obtained during normal seasonal movements rather than by trips by logistically organized task groups. We would not expect task groups to make long-distance trips in predominantly certain directions but to go in whatever direction toolstones are located. The stronger association of actual sites with immediate stone source areas amongst the earliest groups is consistent with that inference – they must have been using source areas for more than simply visits by task groups seeking stone materials. There may always be some doubt as to the causes of these temporal trends. Certain distinct characteristics of the earlier, but not later, assemblages, such as traveling over longer distances or an emphasis on north–south movements, potentially could have several explanations. They could be due to colonizing movements rather than normal patterns of settlement mobility, or to changing environments, or to have been influenced by both such factors. I believe however, that most of these long distance examples are less likely to be due to simple colonization movements. They seem too pervasive and I think it unlikely we would discover so many sites representing the first colonists – Snow’s (1980, pp. 129, 147) comments on this issue are still germane. Whether one agrees with my interpretations of their meaning or not, the long distances that Northeast Paleoindians were moving raw materials in quantity are unusual and understanding this practice deserves our continued attention.

Acknowledgments My research on the Paleoindian occupations of Ontario has been supported by grants from the Ontario Heritage Foundation and the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada (SSHRCC). Although they are not responsible for any flights of fancy, this paper also would not have been possible (and I would not have recognized the significance of some of my own observations!) if not for the assistance of, and interaction with, several individuals, including Dan Amick, D. Brian Deller, Darcy Fallon, Brian Hayden, Jack Hofman, James Keron, Jon Lothrop, Dana Poulton, Mark Seeman, Don Simons, John Speth, Art Spiess, Jim Wilson and Stan Wortner. Comments on an earlier draft of this paper by Geoffrey Smith and Ken Tankersley were greatly appreciated. The initial version of this paper was developed for the 2008 conference on the ‘‘Early Paleoindian Colonization and Settlement of the Midcontinent’’ at the University of Illinois organized by Dan Amick and Thomas Emerson. Financial support to attend the conference was kindly provided by a SSHRCC Internal travel grant from the University of Western Ontario. Finally, I would like to acknowledge the late James G.E. Smith who introduced me to the study of hunter– gatherers (and who I finally got to cite in a paper) and to the late David Damas who fostered that initial interest. References Amick, D., 1996. Regional patterns of Folsom land use in the American Southwest. World Archaeology 27, 411–426. Amick, D., 1997. Raw material variation in Folsom stone tool assemblages and the division of labor in hunter–gatherer societies. In: Amick, D. (Ed.), Folsom Lithic Technology: Explorations in Structure and Variation. International Monographs in Prehistory, Ann Arbor, Michigan, pp. 169–187. Amick, D., Loebel, T., Morrow, J.E., Morrow, T.A., 1997. Hawks nest: A new GaineyClovis site in northeastern Illinois. Current Research in the Pleistocene 14, 4–6. Amsden, C.W., 1977. A Quantitative Analysis of Nunamuit Settlement Dynamics. PhD Dissertation, Department of Anthropology, University of New Mexico, University Microfilms, Ann Arbor, Michigan. Anderson, D.C., 1990. The Paleoindian colonization of eastern North America: a view from the southeastern United States. In: Tankersley, K.B., Isacc, B.L. (Eds.), Early Paleoindian Economies of Eastern North America. Research in Economic Anthropology. JAI Press, Greenwich, Connecticut, pp. 163–216 (Suppl. 5). Bamforth, D.B., 2002. High-Tech foragers? Folsom and later Paleoindian technology on the Great Plains. Journal of World Prehistory 16, 55–98. Bamforth, D.B., 2007. Introduction. In: Bamforth, D.B. (Ed.), The Allen Site: A Paleoindian Camp in Southwestern Nebraska. University of New Mexico Press, Albuquerque, pp. 1–8. Bamforth, D.B., 2009. Projectile points, people, and plains Paleoindian perambulations. Journal of Anthropological Archaeology 28, 142–157. Binford, L.R., 1979. Organization and formation processes: looking at curated technologies. Journal of Anthropological Research 35, 255–273. Binford, L.R., 1983. Long term land use patterns: some implications for archaeology. In: Dunnell, R.C., Grayson, D.K. (Eds.), Lulu Linear Punctated: Essays in Honor of George Irving Quimby, Anthropological Papers. Museum of Anthropology, University of Michigan No. 72, pp. 27–53. Binford, L.R., 1990. Mobility, housing and environment: a comparative study. Journal of Anthropological Research 46, 119–152. Binford, L.R., 1991. When the going gets tough, the tough get going: Nunamiut local groups, camping patterns and economic organizations. In: Gamble, C.S., Boismier, W.A. (Eds.), Ethnoarchaeological Approaches to Mobile Campsites. International Monographs in Prehistory. Ethnoarchaeological Series No. 1, Ann Arbor, Michigan, pp. 25–137. Binford, L.R., 2001. Constructing Frames of Reference. An Analytical Method for Archaeological Theory Building Using Hunter–Gatherer and Environmental Data Sets. University of California Press, Berkeley. Boas, F., 1974. The Central Eskimo (Originally 1888). Coles Publishing Company, Toronto. Boisvert, R., 1999. Paleoindian occupations of the White mountains, New Hampshire. Géographie Physique et Quarternaire 53, 159–174. Bradley, J.W., Spiess, A.E., Boisvert, R.A., Boudreau, J., 2008. What’s the point?: Modal forms and attributes of Paleoindian bifaces in the New EnglandMaritimes region. Archaeology of Eastern North America 36, 119–172. Brose, D.S., 1994. Archaeological investigations at the Paleo Crossing Site, a Paleoindian occupation in Medina county, Ohio. In: Dancey, W.S. (Ed.), The First Discovery of America, Archaeological Evidence of the Early Inhabitants of the Ohio Area. The Ohio Archaeological Council, Columbus, Ohio, pp. 61–76. Burch, E.R., 1991. Herd following reconsidered. Current Anthropology 32, 439–444. Burke, A.L., 2006. Paleoindian ranges in northeastern North America based on lithic material sourcing. In: Bressy, C., Burke, A.L., Chalard, P., Hélène Martin, H. (Eds.),

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