Upper Paleolithic raw material economies at Üçağızlı cave, Turkey

Journal of Anthropological Archaeology 23 (2004) 431–448 www.elsevier.com/locate/jaa

Upper Paleolithic raw material economies ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave, Turkey at U Steven L. Kuhn* Department of Anthropology, Bldg. 30, University of Arizona, Tucson, AZ 85721-0030, USA Received 15 September 2004

Abstract ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave This paper addresses variation in lithic raw material economy within the early Upper Paleolithic at U (south-central Turkey). The stratigraphic sequence documents some 12,000 years of the early Upper Paleolithic, entailing changes in lithic technology, raw material exploitation, and game use. Although the same lithic raw materials were exploited throughout the sequence to make quite similar ranges of products, there are marked changes in the ways raw materials from different source areas were treated, including patterns of transport and raw material consumption. The concept of technological provisioning is used to understand changing strategies for procuring and managing supplies of flint from different source locations. Shifts in raw material economy are argued to represent responses to changes in residential mobility and the scale/duration of occupations at the cave itself: data on cultural features and foraging strategies provide independent evidence for these shifts in land use. Results have implications for more nuanced approaches to investigating of lithic raw material economies and the significance of ‘‘raw material transfers.’’ Ó 2004 Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved. Keywords: Lithic raw material economy; Upper Paleolithic; Turkey; Technological provisioning; Mobility

The study of lithic raw material economies has assumed an increasingly prominent role in lithic studies and research on prehistoric hunter-gatherers. Evidence for the procurement, transport, and management of chipped stone raw materials has served as the basis for inferences about mobility (Ambrose and Lorenz, 1990; Amick, 1996; Blades, 1999; Fe´blot-Augustins, 1993; Thacker, 1996), territoriality (Delage, 2001; Demars, 1998; Hovers, 1990; Wengler, 1990), exchange (Bourque, 1994; Hughes, 1994; Meltzer, 1989), colonization patterns (Rockman, 2003; Tankersley, 1994), cognitive capacities (Boesch and Boesch, 1984; Roebroeks et al.,

*

Fax: +1 520 621 2088. E-mail address: [email protected] (S.L. Kuhn).

1988; Stiles, 1998; Wynn and McGrew, 1989), as well as social and reproductive networks (Fe´blot-Augustins, 1993, p. 251; MacDonald, 1999) among prehistoric foragers and human ancestors alike. Although there is broad agreement about the importance of knowing where raw materials came from and how far they were moved before becoming part of the archaeological record, there is little consensus on the significance of so-called ‘‘transfer distances.’’ Many archaeologists use the distance from find spot to source as a proxy for raw material cost. Transfer distance is treated as proportional to the time and energy that people were willing to or constrained to expend in getting access to a particular type of stone. However, the distances stone was moved in the past have no intrinsic meaning. Such facts are simply one frame of reference against which

0278-4165/$ - see front matter Ó 2004 Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved. doi:10.1016/j.jaa.2004.09.001

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we can recognize and attempt to understand variation in human behavior. Artifacts can be transferred from source to site in many different ways, and the relationship between distance and cost varies according to how the transfer took place. More than just where things came from, we want to know how members of particular communities, populations, or species managed to get lithic raw materials from source to places where tools were made and used, given the particular constraints they experienced. The strategies people used to keep themselves supplied with stone were influenced by a wide range of factors, from territoriality and social networks to practical limits on travel and time allocation. Analytically, the relationships between material transfer distances and characteristics of artifact life histories (or chaıˆnes ope´ratoires) are of special interest, as they can inform us about the stages of transformation and use that artifacts underwent during the journey from source to point of discard. This paper presents a case study in changing raw material economy among prehistoric foragers using a single location. The Upper Paleolithic sequence at ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave, Turkey, documents shifts in lithic technolU ogy, raw material exploitation, and foraging occurring over a period of more than 12,000 years. The same lithic raw materials—possibly the very same outcrops—were exploited throughout the sequence, and these flints were used to make quite similar kinds of artifact. At the same time, changes in how various raw materials were treated provide evidence of shifts in strategies for procuring and managing supplies of flint from different source locations. The concept of technological provisioning serves as a useful framework for evaluating strategies of raw material use, which are argued to have been responses to changes in the ways the cave itself was used. The lithic evidence suggests that there was continuity in provisioning strategies for much of the sequence, but that major changes occurred in the most recent Upper Paleolithic layers. Evidence from cultural features and the zooarchaeological record suggests that the shift in provisioning strategies coincided with increasing intensity and duration of occupations at the site.

Technological provisioning, mobility, and site use The term provisioning, often invoked in studies of lithic raw material economies, has more than one meaning. Among Continental European researchers it often refers to systems for the acquisition of raw materials suitable for making tools (e.g., Demars, 1982; Geneste, 1988a,b; Perle`s, 1990; Trassierra et al., 2002; Turq, 1996). Such studies focus primarily on locations where materials were obtained and inferred patterns of transport from quarries to archaeological sites: common products are ‘‘star diagrams’’ linking point sources with

a site at the center. A somewhat different set of concepts (and methods) is embodied in the notion of provisioning strategies (Kuhn, 1992, 1995, 2002). Provisioning strategies are idealized systems for making finished tools and/ or necessary raw materials available when and where they are needed. The concept of provisioning strategies encompasses a variety of different pathways by which artifacts may find their way from quarry to archaeological deposit. These are strategies only in the abstract sense, repeated patterns of behavior that limit and direct the flow of artifacts and raw materials through a technological system, and it is not assumed that they existed as conscious goals in the minds of ancient people. Three alternative strategies have been identified for making artifacts or artifact-making potential when and where needed. Since technological activities are inevitably associated with specific locations, one option is to stockpile tools and/or raw materials at places on the landscape where activities are likely to take place. Many, if not most activities involving stone tools take place at residential sites, but manufacture or tool use may also occur at other kinds of locations, such as specialized resource procurement or processing sites. As artifacts must be used by people, a second potential strategy entails keeping individuals supplied with the artifacts and raw materials they are likely to use. These first two strategies involve a measure of planning, and as such, they represent two alternative forms of ‘‘curation behavior.’’ Provisioning of individuals fits most closely with common understanding of the term (Binford, 1979; Shott, 1997), but both entail supplying individuals or places according to anticipated needs. A third provisioning ‘‘strategy’’ actually involves little or no planning. This is termed provisioning activities, producing artifacts on an ad hoc basis as needs for them arise. The three provisioning strategies operate under different sets of constraints, and are expected to result in contrasting artifact life histories, that is generalized trajectories of raw material procurement, tool manufacture, maintenance and discard. In provisioning individuals, who are by definition mobile, transport cost is an important constraint. Strategies of provisioning individuals should be based on maximizing potential utility of artifacts relative to weight. Just how this is best accomplished remains a topic of some disagreement (Goodyear, 1989; Kuhn, 1994; Morrow, 1995; Nelson, 1991; Roth and Dibble, 1998; Shott, 1986), but it is generally agreed that those individuals will most often provision themselves with finished tools rather than raw materials. In order to extend their utility and minimize the amount that must be carried, artifacts used to provision individuals should often be resharpened and reshaped as their edges wear out. In some cases, significant effort may be devoted to obtaining raw materials or achieving artifact forms (e.g., bifaces or Levallois

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flakes) that maximize utility per unit weight (Goodyear, 1989; Kelly, 1988; Kuhn, 1994). Provisioning places requires carrying artifacts or raw materials from the point of procurement to the specific place(s) being provisioned. Substantial quantities of goods can be amassed in permanently occupied or frequently visited locations and used as needed, and it is expected that places will more often be provisioned with raw material in various states of manufacture, from unworked raw materials to blanks and finished tools. Amassing a ready supply of stone in places where it will be used also relaxes need to squeeze the last bit of use out of every artifact. Provisioning of places therefore should be marked by less investment in artifact manufacture and less extensive reduction and reworking of tools than the strategy of provisioning individuals. The provisioning of activities as needs present themselves is subject to a somewhat different set of limitations and advantages. With any sort of planned strategy there is always the chance of over-anticipating needs, collecting, manufacturing and carrying artifacts that are never actually used (Surovell, 2003), so making artifacts only when there are immediate needs for them eliminates risks of overproduction. Because making tools in reaction to an immediate need places the toolmaker under more severe time constraints, we expected provisioning of activities to involve minimal investment in manufacture and to focus on locally plentiful materials. Reliance on ad hoc manufacture also places people at the mercy of the geological environment. Where raw materials are not ubiquitous ad hoc provisioning of activities is risky or potentially costly, as there is a strong possibility of being left without the artifacts needed to carry out a task effectively. Ad hoc production is reliable only where raw materials are known to be available close to where tools are used. Alternatively, it is a low-cost option for someone prepared to do without tools at all. No human group is expected to rely exclusively on a single mode of technological provisioning, and no two groups are expected to show exactly the same mix of strategies. We can also expect individuals within groups to have adopted different mixes of strategies, although much less attention has been paid to intra-group variation to date. The relative importance of each strategy depends on the interaction of several variables, including the distribution and qualities of raw materials, residential mobility, labor scheduling, and the nature of the activities conducted. Raw material distributions form an essentially passive backdrop, a fixed set of constraints that can be reconstructed to a large degree based on modern geology. The human variables are more interesting from an anthropological perspective. Patterns of labor allocation and the characteristics of individual activities favor different strategies for maintaining a supply of usable artifacts. Artifacts used in tasks conducted frequently and at unpredictable times

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and places must be available at all times, and should often form parts of toolkits carried by individuals. In contrast, the requirements of activities associated with specific times and locations, such as the processing of seasonally or spatially restricted resources, can effectively be serviced with tools that have been provisioned to that place. Tasks such as hunting large game are characterized by high levels of ‘‘time stress’’—narrow windows of opportunity—(Torrence, 1983, 1989), and must be carried out with pre-made artifacts provisioned to individuals or places. Tools for tasks with less severe logistical constraints can be supplied in a variety of ways; if suitable material is found nearby, artifacts may even be produced on the spot. For example, among early Paleoindian groups, successful hunting of large game depended on spears with stone points that were transported and maintained over long periods, probably as part of individualsÕ personal gear. If suitable raw materials were present, the more relaxed job of butchering could be carried out using quickly produced and quickly discarded tools made from local stones (e.g., Frison and Stanford, 1982). Mobility and land use can have pronounced influence on the viability of different strategies provisioning tools and raw materials. The relationship between mobility and technological provisioning is approached in terms of an informal sort of optimality model, identifying strategies or strategic mixes that should be most advantageous under different conditions. Residential mobility directly influences the predictability of the locations where activities will be conducted, and hence the utility of alternative provisioning strategies. The more sedentary a group is, the more predictable are the loci of activities, and the greater are potential advantages of provisioning places. The inverse relationship between levels of investment and maintenance of stone tools and degrees of sedentism in the Americas (Parry and Kelly, 1987) is a general expression of this tendency. Where the frequency of residential mobility is very high and occupational events very short, it is much more practical to provision individuals. At the same time variability is expected within any group. The duration and predictability of residential locations and levels of individual mobility vary over the course of a year and across the territory of all but the most sedentary peoples. Consequently, strategies for managing supplies of tools and raw material may be more dependent on local factors such as the nature of a particular occupation than on broader strategies of moving around the landscape. Both general levels of residential mobility and the duration of occupations should also affect how distance to source relates to the actual cost of artifacts and raw materials, and how both variables correlate with artifact life histories. In the case of extremely brief occupations people may have to rely entirely on transported toolkits, but as the length of a residential stay lengthens it be-

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comes more practical to provision the residential site itself with chippable stone. All other things being equal, we can expect foraging catchments—and by extension, the catchment area for provisioning a place with stone—to expand as occupations become more prolonged and local resources are used up (Surovell, 2000). Thus, in the case of provisioning places transfer distances for raw materials should reflect duration of occupation to some degree. Moreover, because raw materials are moved more-or-less directly from source to the place of use there should be a direct relationship between transfer distances and raw material cost, and, all other things being equal, we can expect economizing behavior of toolmakers to reflect this. Artifacts used to provision individuals may also be transported long distances as a function of individual mobility. Such artifacts are not carried to locations so much as carried along with people, so the distance to source may say much more about scales of individual mobility than about use of the site itself. Moreover, because the tools are carried along as part of transported toolkits, distance to source and cost are not equivalent. Generally speaking, we might expect artifacts from more distant sources to show greater evidence for reduction and reworking since those artifacts would have been in use for a long time before being deposited in the site. However, in the case of provisioning individuals the relationship between artifact life history and distance to source depends more on the route of movement than actual distance (e.g., Hofman, 1991) and less on the actual cost of procurement.

¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave A case study: U ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı (‘‘three mouths’’) cave is located on the U Mediterranean coast of the Hatay region of southern Turkey, around 15 km south of the mouth of the Asi (Orontes) river, in the extreme northeast corner of the Mediterranean basin (Fig. 1A). The area around ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave is characterized by dramatic relief, and U topography would not have been radically different during the Pleistocene. The coast is very steep in the vicinity of the cave—the sea-floor reaches a depth of 200 m within 5 km of the present-day shoreline—so even during periods of very low sea level associated with Oxygen Isotope stage 3 the site would always have been within a few kilometers of the shore. ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave collapsed at some time in The vault of U the past, resulting in the loss of roughly 3 m of archaeological deposits to erosion. Intact archaeological deposits are preserved in two areas within the site (Fig. 1B). The narrow, tubular chamber at the south end of the site contains at least a meter of heavily cemented Upper Paleolithic sediments: this area was excavated by a previous investigator during the late 1980s (Minzoni-Der-

oche, 1992). A deeper stratigraphic sequence is preserved at the north end of the site along what was formerly the back wall of the cave, and this is where the current project has concentrated its efforts (Kuhn et al., 1999, 2004). Sediments at the extreme north end of our excavation trench reach a depth of more than 4.5 m. Early Upper Paleolithic cultural materials are abundant in the uppermost 3 m or so of the sequence, while artifacts and bone are quite scarce below approximately 350 cm below datum. The lithology of the stratigraphic sequence at ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave (Fig. 2) is fairly homogeneous. The main U geogenic sedimentary component is reddish clay or silty clay, the well-known terra rosa sediment typical of karstic terrain in the Mediterranean basin. Individual layers are differentiated primarily on the basis of the abundance and character of anthropogenic elements such as ash and charcoal, artifacts, and bone, and only secondarily based on subtle variations in the clay matrix. Some layers consist mainly of terra rosa clay with a relatively minor amounts of ash. Other units are marked by a much more evident anthropogenic component, ranging from massive deposits of ash to closely superimposed ash and charcoal lenses. These distinctions certainly reflect a combination of factors. Layers composed mostly of terra rosa with little ash may represent less intensive occupations, but they may also derive from periods when more clay was flowing into the cave from outside. Patterns of human occupation appear to have varied even among the layers with the strongest anthropogenic signals. At the bottom of the sequence, in layers H2-3 and the upper part of layer I, for example, ash, charcoal, artifacts, and bones are concentrated in relatively thin, discrete lenses, separated by bands or stringers of clay. This finely divided structure suggests that human occupation consisted of a series of many relatively brief events. In contrast, layer B1-B4 is dominated by a massive ‘‘dump’’ of ash, lithics, and bone that suggests a much more continuous deposition of anthropogenic sediment and perhaps a more prolonged occupation. This contrast will be important in understanding changing ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave. technological provisioning strategies at U During excavation, many layers were further subdivided into a series of lenses or facies with designations such as B1, B2, or H3, based on variation in the amount, character, and distributions of ash and other material. Because they reflect human actions, these sub-units seldom extended over more than a few square meters: some at least partially overlap in time as well. In the analyses below some of these finer units have been combined into units B1-B4, Fa/Fb, and H2/H3 to provide greater stratigraphic and chronological separation of the analytical units. Results presented also represent a subsample ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı of the total artifact assemblage derived from U cave. The materials discussed below come from a block of 8 m2 units at the north end of the excavation trench.

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¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave. Shaded areas show flint-bearing limestones closest to the site. Geological data Fig. 1. Location (A) and layout (B) of U ¨ lc¸ekli Tu¨rkiye Jeoloji Haritası, Hatay, and Adana quads. Maden Tektik ve Arama Genel Mu¨du¨rlu¨g˘u¨, Ankara, 2002. from 1:500,000 O

These squares, which yielded the majority of archaeological materials from the site, sample all or most of the stratigraphic column, and this horizontally continuous subsample was considered most appropriate for the purposes of examining change over time. In terms of common chronostratigraphic units, the ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave sequence documents a transition between U an Initial Upper Paleolithic (IUP) technological system and the Ahmarian, a more classic early Upper Paleo-

lithic industry. Assemblages from layers B, B1-B4, and C are typically Ahmarian in character, whereas layers F, Fa, Fb/Fc, G, H, H2/H3, and I fall within the Initial Upper Paleolithic (Fig. 2). Due to the small sizes of the assemblages and the atypical nature of many artifacts, the assemblages from C/D, D, and E are somewhat more difficult to characterize, but they are certainly closer to the Ahmarian than to the IUP. The range of ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave is very similar assemblages represented at U

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¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave stratigraphy, showing approximate depth ranges of major chronostratigraphic units. Fig. 2. U

to that found in Ksar ÔAkil shelter, layers XXII-XVI (Azoury, 1986; Ohnuma and Bergman, 1990). A suite ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı indiof AMS radiocarbon determinations from U cates that the entire suite of Upper Paleolithic assemblages spans a period from roughly 41,000 to 28,000 (uncalibrated) radiocarbon years BP. A small Epipaleolithic sample, stratigraphically unconnected with the rest of the sequence, is not discussed here. ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave (layer F The Initial Upper Paleolithic at U and below) is characterized by wide, flat blades and points with broad facetted platforms. Few specimens fit a strict definition for Levallois products but the general configuration of both blanks and cores is highly reminiscent of Levallois method, particularly in layers G through I. Dorsal scar patterns on blanks reflect predominantly unidirectional parallel or convergent orientation of detachments, and most cores have a single striking platform. The large platforms and pronounced bulbs of percussion suggest that hard-hammer percussion was the dominant technique. Endscrapers, especially short, thick specimens with faceted butts, are the most common retouched tool forms. Burins are also moderately abundant (Fig. 3, 11–17). Chanfreins, an artifact type characteristic of the IUP in Lebanon (Azoury, 1986; Ohnuma and Bergman, 1990), are clearly present only in layer I.

The Ahmarian assemblages of layers B, B1-B4, and C at the top of the sequence are characterized by very regular blade blanks produced from bidirectional prismatic cores. The morphologies of both cores and blades suggest that soft hammer or indirect percussion was used at least in the final stages of blank production: platforms on blades are small, sometimes invisible, and often show evidence of extensive preparation by grinding. Elongated simple endscrapers on blades are the most common tool forms in the Ahmarian assemblages. Other relatively common tool forms include retouched and/ or pointed blades (Ksar ÔAkil or el Wad points) (Fig. 3, 1–10). Burins are very rare, as are typical Aurignacian forms such as Dufour bladelets and carenated pieces. These changes in blade production technology are quite significant in terms of Levantine Upper Paleolithic ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave sequence sequences. Overall, however, the U is characterized by a notable degree of continuity. With the sole exception of the earliest layer (I), the majority of tools are made on blade blanks, and although the technological attributes of these blades changed over time their basic sizes remained relatively constant. Retouched tool inventories are also remarkably consistent. Endscrapers are the dominant tool for in every stratum except layer I. Pointed blades increase over time whereas burins become scarcer, but neither artifact class ac-

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¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave: 1–10, Ahmarian (layers B-C); 11–17, Initial Upper Paleolithic (layers F-I). Fig. 3. Artifacts from U

counts for more than 20% of retouched tools in any layer. ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave Conditions of organic preservation at U are very good, and a range of artifacts and materials beyond chipped stone is represented. Simple bone tools, mainly polished points, needles, and rods, are present in small numbers in most levels. Shell ornaments are

abundant throughout the Upper Paleolithic sequence, although the composition and diversity of the ornament assemblages changed over the time (Kuhn et al., 2001). Most layers also yielded rich faunal assemblages. Changes in foraging over the long sequence at ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave are also subtle but significant. Despite the U siteÕs proximity to the sea, medium to large terrestrial

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ungulates were the predominant prey throughout the Upper Paleolithic occupation. This emphasis on large game may be a function of local topography: steepwalled, narrow canyons on either side of the site would have made excellent natural traps for game. The most common prey species varied over time, probably as a response to changing terrestrial environments. In layers I through F, Capra aegagrus, wild goat, was the main large prey animal, followed in abundance by roe deer (Capreolus capreolus): pig (Sus scrofa) and bear (Ursus arctos) are also presenting smaller but still appreciable numbers. In the middle layers (D, E) fallow deer (Dama mesopotamica), roe deer, and red deer (Cervus elaphus) were the most common large prey. In the uppermost layers (B, B1-B4, and C) roe deer is the most common prey item, followed in abundance by fallow deer: larger species such as red deer, Bos primigenius, and Sus are quite rare. The use of resources other than large game show somewhat more striking trends. Below layer D it ap¨ c¸agˇızlı cave seldom pears that the inhabitants of U exploited small game or marine resources, or at least that they did not return these foods to the cave. Layers B and B1-B4 in particular contain substantial quantities of small animal remains. Two varieties of shellfish that inhabit rocky shores (Patella and Monodonta) are especially common, but bones of rabbits, birds, and large fish are also abundant. The emphasis on small game and marine foods reached its peak in the small Epipaleolithic sample. A similar tendency towards increasing diet breadth and intensified focus on small game over the course of the Upper Paleolithic characterizes Upper and Epipaleolithic sequences throughout the Mediterranean basin (Stiner et al., 1999, 2000). We have no direct ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı evidence for the use of non-animal resources at U cave. However, several pitted anvil stones which could have been used to crack open nuts were recovered from layers B, B1-B4, and E. Some kind of technological application for these artifacts cannot be excluded, although bipolar technique, which would also produce pitted anvils, was seldom used.

Lithic raw materials The great majority of artifacts from the Upper Paleo¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave was made of flint and allied lithic layers at U forms of crypto-crystalline silicate rock. The cryptocrystalline silicate materials show considerable variety in color, graininess, and fossil inclusions. We have been able to identify a number of potential primary and secondary sources for several of the most common flint raw materials within a radius of approximately 30 km of the site. ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave are The primary flint sources closest to U associated with Upper Cretaceous limestone bedrock on the high plateau north and east of the site. Surface expo-

sures near the town of Yayladag˘, roughly 15 km straightline distance from the cave, contain spherical and ellipsoid nodules ranging in size up to 40 cm in length. The most common variety of flint is a light gray or brown, semi-translucent material containing numerous small, round white fossils. Textures range from extremely fine to rather coarse grained. Cretaceous flints like those in the Yayladag˘ area are the most common raw materials ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave. No usable flints or cherts in all layers at U have been identified in the somewhat older Cretaceous limestone into which the cave itself is eroded. A second set of bedrock flint sources occurs in younger (Eocene, Oligocene or Miocene) limestones around ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave. Surface expo30 km distance away from U sures near the village of S ß enko¨y yield relatively flat, irregularly shaped nodules of high-quality flint as large as 30 cm. The S ß enko¨y flints vary in color and texture in different exposures, perhaps reflecting different limestone beds: the geological stratigraphy of the area is not well worked out. The most abundant material is very fine grained, opaque, brown to black flint. Although it has better flaking properties than the Cretaceous flints described above, the dark brown S ß enko¨y flint is much ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave. less abundant in the Upper Paleolithic at U Other materials from the S ß enko¨y area, including a mottled brown, semi-translucent variety of flint, are more ¨ c¸agˇızlı cave. common in the assemblages from U Secondary deposits of heavily rolled flint pebbles and cobbles, associated with fossil beaches some distance above the modern shoreline, occur much closer to ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave. We have identified two such deposits U within a few km of the site as well as several others located at slightly greater distances. Most pebbles found on the surface today are less than 10–12 cm in length, smaller than nodules from the primary sources, but archaeological specimens indicate that much larger pebbles could be found in the area during the Pleistocene. The geological sources represented in these secondary deposits are diverse. The characteristic translucent, fossiliferous Cretaceous materials are abundant in these pebble deposits, but other cypto-crystalline silicates, including radiolarites, are also present. Active cobble ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave do not contain silicate beaches around U rocks, but are composed exclusively of limestone and dolomite. Still, we cannot rule out the possibility that deposits containing siliceous materials are located even closer to the site beneath the current level of the sea. Because some materials, including the most common types of Cretaceous flint, occur in both primary and secondary contexts within 20 km of the site, chemical or mineralogical criteria would be of little utility in determining where a given specimen was actually collected. A simpler but nonetheless effective approach to assessing the origins of specific artifacts is based on the nature of cortex preserved on archaeological specimens (see also White, 1995, 1998). Several different types of cortex were

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recorded during data collection. The term ‘‘fresh nodule’’ cortex refers to soft white chalky or opaline rind preserving its original irregular surface. Specimens with ‘‘rolled nodule’’ cortex exhibit soft, white outer layer that has been lightly smoothed or eroded by some mechanical process, presumably water transport. ‘‘Pebble cortex’’ is a distinctively abraded, pitted outer surface showing evidence of extensive water transport and reworking: none of the original chalk or opal cortex is retained. In our experience in the area, pebbles from beach deposits exhibit only pebble cortex, whereas both fresh and rolled nodular cortex can be found only on specimens collected around the primary source areas. Differences in the nature of cortex on artifacts allow us to infer only minimum transport distances. Generally speaking, artifacts with nodular or rolled nodule cortex cannot have been collected closer to the site than the closest primary deposits. Of course, flint-bearing limestone outcrops over a large area and it is possible that some of the specimens with nodular cortex came from greater distances. Likewise, individual specimens with pebble cortex could have been collected within a few km of the cave, though they could also have come from more distant pebble beds. All of the raw materials which we can attribute to a geological source could have been collected within around 30 km from the site. Distances of 20–30 km lie outside the normal expected foraging radius of hunter-gatherers (Kelly, 1995, pp. 136–141; Surovell, 2000), but are still within one to two days travel of the site (given the steep topography). Specimens from more distant locales may well be present but the current state of knowledge about flint sources in Turkey does not permit us to identify them. Given the fact that the most common variety of chipped stone raw material was obtained from both primary secondary sources, we cannot assess the origins of specimens that do not bear cortex. In the analyses below it is assumed that cortexbearing pieces are representative of the larger population of artifacts from the site.

Changing patterns of raw material exploitation The first order of business is to examine where the raw ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave might have been colmaterials found at U

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lected. Table 1 shows the combined frequency of fresh and rolled nodular cortex (i.e., cortex reflecting acquisition at or near primary sources) among different artifact classes in the assemblages from 13 combined stratigraphic units. Only cortex-bearing specimens are included in the calculation as only these specimens can be assigned to a general source area with any degree of reliability. Several general trends are apparent. First, the general frequency of cortex representing primary sources increases over time (Fig. 4), the very small sample from layer D representing an apparent interruption of the trend. However, the assemblages from the two most recent layers, B and B1-B4, contain a good deal more fresh and rolled nodular cortex than any of the others. This increasing use of primary sources is also expressed within the more common raw material class, the Cretaceous flint: in the earlier layers this kind of flint seems to have come mainly from pebble sources, whereas later on the Cretaceous material came mainly from primary deposits. As would be expected, proportions of nodular or rolled nodule cortex, derived from more distant sources, are almost always higher for retouched tools than for flakes, debris, or cores. In all layers, roughly half or more of cortex on retouched tools is of the fresh or rolled nodular varieties. Figures for unretouched flakes, debris, and cores show much wider ranges of variation but, with two exceptions, layers B and B1-B4, the percentages of nodular cortex are always substantially lower than for retouched tools. This observation is consistent with a general tendency observed across Middle and Upper Paleolithic sites for the most distant sources of raw materials in a given site to be represented more often by retouched tools than by debitage (Fe´blotAugustins, 1993; Geneste, 1988a,b), and fits with theoretical expectations about relationships between transport distance and artifact utility. We expect longdistance transport, whether in the context of provisioning places or individuals, to involve artifacts with the highest ratio of utility to mass (Kuhn, 1994; Shott, 1986). Finished tools or prepared blanks contain more potential utility and less waste than do cores or unworked chunks of stone. More formal arguments about tradeoffs between transport and processing decisions have been made for food resources (e.g., Metcalfe and Barlow, 1992; OÕConnell et al., 1988).

Table 1 Frequencies of non-pebble (fresh and rolled nodule) cortex in various artifact and raw material classes

Retouched tools Unretouched >2.5 cm Debris Cores Cretaceous flint only

B

B1-B4

C

C/D

D

E

F

Fa

Fb/Fc

G

H

H2/H3

I

83.6 87.8 91.0 — 91.3

91.7 80.0 90.1 70.0 85.6

76.0 61.4 42.6 — 72.2

(0/11) 51.9 42.6 — (4/8)

— (1/3) 18.7 — —

73.7 47.0 47.7 45.6 57.6

65.2 32.2 38.2 40.7 31.0

62.5 44.2 35.6 — 38.5

48.2 27.6 35.0 — 22.1

45.5 20.2 40.6 9.1 7.9

58.1 29.7 34.4 16.7 12.7

65.3 18.2 43.9 20.0 5.1

60.0 22.3 35.8 10.0 16.7

Only cortical specimens counted.

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When plotted against the assemblage-wide proportion of ‘‘non-pebble cortex,’’ cortex representing nodules collected from near primary sources (Fig. 5), the disparity values suggest that, during layer B and B1-B4 times, ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave made a rather different the occupants of U set of decisions about where to collect raw materials and what to transport to the cave compared with other periods in the caveÕs occupation. Not only did the siteÕs occupants use more material from primary sources at this time, they apparently reduced cobbles of these materials at the cave, leaving behind many reduction byproducts with fresh or rolled nodular cortex and resulting in low disparity values. In the other layers, artifacts bearing cortex from primary (non-pebble) sources are not only scarcer, but they are represented mainly by retouched tools, appearing much less frequently as flakes, cores, and debris, resulting in higher disparity indices. This second pattern indicates much more selective or limited transport of material to the site from the primary deposits. Judging by the cortex frequencies alone, the preponderance of nodules worked in situ in layers C and below came from secondary pebble beds, probably located in close proximity to the site. In these earlier levels, material from more distant sources found its way

Fig. 4. Frequency of cortex representing primary sources (nonpebble), by assemblage.

A more suggestive trend can be observed from the data presented in Table 2, the ‘‘disparity’’ in cortex proportions between retouched tools and unretouched flakes and debris. This disparity figure, modified after the Robinson-Brainerd index of similarity (Robinson, 1951), is calculated summed absolute differences in percentages of the three cortex types (nodular, rolled nodule, and pebble) among two groups of artifacts; retouched tools and unretouched flakes, cores and debris combined. Potential values for the index vary from zero (complete similarity) to 200 (complete dissimilarity). Unlike the overall frequency of nodular cortex, the trend over time in the disparity values is not smooth or monotonic. Instead, the index differentiates the two most recent layers form the rest of the sequence. In assemblages from layers B and B1-B4, the proportions of different cortex types for unretouched and retouched materials are very similar, with disparity values of 25.0 and 17.0, respectively. Values for layers I through C are considerably higher than this for the most part, ranging between 43.2 and 136.9, with no particular directional stratigraphic trend. Only the disparity index for layer G (29.1) approaches that for B and B1-B4.

Fig. 5. Frequency of non-pebble cortex plotted against disparity index.

Table 2 Disparity index comparing proportions of different cortex types among retouched tools and unretouched artifacts (cores, flakes, and debris) Disparity index

B

B1-B4

C

C/D

D

E

F

Fa

Fb/Fc

G

H

H2/H3

I

25.0

17.0

72.8

137.9

50.0

53.1

65.6

73.7

43.2

29.1

60.5

66.2

74.3

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into the site mainly in the form of retouched tools or blanks that were subsequently retouched. Excluding layers B and B1-B4, it even appears that there is a positive association between the disparity index and the amount of non-local cortex in the assemblages, though the correlation value is not statistically significant (r = 0.534, p = 0.091, n = 11). We might expect such a relationship if non-local raw materials were entering the site primarily in the form of finished tools. Fig. 5 also shows that the low index of disparity for layer G means something rather different than the low indices for layers B and B1B4. In the case of layer G, the disparity value is low because rolled and fresh nodular cortex are rare in all artifact classes, just the opposite of in the two most recent levels. Another perspective on the differences in raw mate¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave is provided by Fig. rial economy within U 6, which plots the frequency of non-pebble (i.e., primary) cortex against the proportion of large blanks (>2.5 cm) that were retouched. Retouch frequency is a commonly used, if imperfect, proxy measure for the intensity of raw material exploitation within archaeological assemblages. For any provisioning strategy we might expect raw materials collected from distant sources to be more extensively consumed, whether because of greater cost or as a result of the longer life histories of artifacts transported long distances (e.g., Andrefsky, 1994; Dibble, 1991; Odell, 2000). What Fig. 6 shows is that there is a very clear positive trend in the relationship between frequency of fresh or rolled nodular cortex and retouch frequency among most of

Fig. 6. Frequency of non-pebble cortex plotted against proportion retouched pieces (retouched pieces/(retouched pieces + large blanks)).

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¨ c¸ag˘ızlı assemblages: in general, the more exotic the U stone is represented, the more often blanks were retouched into tools. For layers C through I, this relationship is very strong, with a PearsonsÕs correlation coefficient of 0.814 (p = 0.002, N = 11). Here again, however, the assemblages from layers B and B1-B4 represent conspicuous outliers. Although the cortex data indicate that these assemblages are far and away the most strongly dominated by materials from primary sources, they do not have especially high frequencies of retouched tools. What this suggests is that the cost and/or the life histories of artifacts made on nodular flints in layers B and B1-B4 were rather different from other assemblages. The high frequencies of non-local cortex on unretouched as well as retouched artifacts from these layers reflect something similar. Fig. 7 provides yet another perspective on the economics of raw material use. Here, the Y-axis variable is ratio of blanks (retouched tools and large flakes) per core: the X-axis again is the percentage of non-pebble cortex in each assemblage. The full complement of assemblages appears to form a roughly linear arrangement, although values for B and B1-B4 are conspicuously higher. There is even a weak but statistically significant correlation between the two variables (PearsonÕs r = 0.67, p = 0.022, n = 13). This would not be an unexpected result if cost were proportional to distance to source, as we might expect cores of more costly ‘‘exotic’’ stone to be more extensively exploited. However, the relationship disappears entirely when the assemblages from B and B1-B4 are eliminated (r = 0.048, p = 0.888, n = 11). In this case a relationship appears only by virtue of the contrast between these two

Fig. 7. Frequency of non-pebble cortex plotted against ratio of blanks per core ((tools + large blanks)/cores).

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assemblages and those from the rest of the site. Once again, it seems that flint was being exploited in a rather different way when layers B and B1-B4 were laid down. A somewhat different perspective is provided by the relationship between raw material source exploitation and the treatment of retouched tools. Table 3 shows the mean lengths of endscrapers for the five assemblages that provide statistically reliable samples of complete or nearly complete endscrapers made on blanks with residual cortex. Because the sizes of the raw tool blanks certainly varied, the length of archaeological specimens does not necessarily inform us about the amount of utility lost to resharpening and use. Instead, the length of a discarded endscraper is a rough measure of the amount of residual utility it contains. As such it is more indicative of decisions about when to abandon and/or replace tools than it is of the length of the artifactÕs use life. Several general patterns are apparent from the summary statistics in Table 3. First, there are no consistent intra-assemblage differences between endscrapers made on blanks derived from primary and secondary sources of flint. In other words, regardless of the source of the raw material used, endscrapers within a particular assemblage tended to be reduced to the same average level of residual utility before discard. If blanks obtained from pebbles indeed started out smaller, this had little or no effect on the sizes of discarded pieces. On the other hand, there are pronounced inter-assemblage differences in mean lengths of abandoned endscrapers. Scrapers

Table 3 Mean lengths of endscrapers, by cortex type, for the five largest assemblages Layer

Pebble cortex

Non-pebble cortex

All endscrapers

B Mean SD N

48.8 8.5 10

46.6 9.6 26

48.0 11.2 95

B1-B4 Mean SD N

44.8 11.9 23

46.4 10.7 53

47.7 10.2 250

F Mean SD N

38.9 14.0 6

39.6 6.9 15

38.8 10.4 80

Fb/Fc Mean SD N

35.4 11.5 22

38.9 11.1 16

37.4 11.3 82

H2/H3 Mean SD N

38.2 7.0 19

38.5 9.4 26

37.6 8.6 105

Table 4 ANOVA results, endscraper length by assemblage, for the five largest assemblages ANOVA results

Pebble cortex only

Non-pebble cortex only

All endscrapers

df Multiple r F ratio Prob.

75/4 0.419 3.98 0.006

131/4 0.357 4.78 0.001

607/4 0.434 35.15 <0.001

from the most recent layers (B and B1-B4) are on average 0.6–1.3 cm (roughly 20–30%) longer than those from layers F, Fb/Fc, and H2/H3. An analysis of variance shows that there are significant inter-assemblage differences in scraper size for each raw material category as well as for the entire sample (Table 4). The data in Tables 1 and 3 also suggest that inter-assemblage variation in scraper size is related to general levels of reliance on primary and secondary sources of flint in a somewhat counter-intuitive way. Endscrapers from the layers with the highest proportions of nodular cortex (B and B1-B4) tend to be larger than those from layers with more reliance on local raw secondary raw material pebble flints. This observation is paralleled by an analysis of the sizes of complete tools, which shows there to be a strong positive relationship between the lengths of retouched tools and the amount of fresh and rolled nodular cortex in an assemblage (r = 0.867, p < 0.001, n = 12). The correlation between artifact width and proportion of nodular cortex is not significant (r = 0.308, p = 0.330, n = 12), however, suggesting that the larger tools were not simply made on bigger blanks. (Note that the assemblage from layer D was excluded due to an insufficient sample of unbroken retouched ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave tools.) In sum then, when toolmakers at U relied more on distant primary sources they discarded endscrapers and other tools when they still had some residual utility, whereas when they were making greater use of local pebble flints their discarded artifacts were closer to complete exhaustion. Once again, ‘‘cost’’ (as a function of distance from source) does not seem to have been a primary determinate of decisions about when to discard retouched tools.

¨ c¸ag˘ızlı Discussion: changing provisioning strategies at U cave and beyond The relationships between the origins of lithic raw materials and the intensity of raw material exploitation ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave are complex. The same rock types were at U utilized throughout the entire sequence to make similar kinds of artifacts. Over time we see quantitative shifts in the reliance on primary and secondary deposits of flint. However, the general increase in reliance on more

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distant primary sources does not seem to have occurred in the context of a single basic kind of raw material economy. For most of the Upper Paleolithic sequence, objects made of flint collected at primary sources seem to have entered the cave most often in the form of finished tools and/or large blanks. Judging by the kinds of cortex present, most of the cores, unretouched flakes and debris in these early layers are attributable to pebbles from secondary pebble deposits located much closer to the cave. In contrast, in the two most recent Upper Paleolithic assemblages, from layers B and B1-B4, nodular cortex dominates in all categories, from retouched tools to cores and small debris, indicating that cobbles ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı or partially prepared cores were transported to U cave from the primary sources located 20–30 km inland and then further reduced in the cave. Fig. 6, showing the relationship between retouch frequency and proportion of non-pebble/non-local cortex, is especially significant. We might expect a positive correlation between these variables in the context of any sort of provisioning strategy, but for rather different reasons. If raw materials were transported from distant sources mainly as parts of personal toolkits, most would arrive at a site in the form of well-used retouched pieces. As such artifacts accumulated they would simultaneously raise the proportions of both non-local raw materials and retouched pieces, relative to artifacts produced in situ from local raw materials. If, on the other hand, materials from non-local sources arrived as a result of provisioning places we might anticipate them to be more extensively exploited simply because of their higher cost. The point is that these two pathways should result in different relationships, and different correlations between proportions of non-local stone and retouched pieces. The fact that layers B and B1B4 represent conspicuous outliers to an otherwise strong correlation for the other 11 assemblage suggests ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı that this may be exactly what is going on at U cave. Other factors suggest that the assemblages from layers B and B1-B4 represent a distinct set of economic ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı decisions from the rest of the material from U cave. Within individual layers tools were discarded in similar condition regardless of the material of which they were made. However, greater reliance on potentially more costly inland primary flint deposits is associated with apparently more wasteful treatment of tools, in the sense that discarded specimens tend to be larger where non-local sources were most heavily exploited. On the other hand, cores from the two layers with the highest proportion of raw material from primary sources, B and B1-B4, do seem to have been more extensively exploited than in other assemblages. In other words, it seems that the amount of non-local raw material affected the extent of core reduction and retouch frequencies, but not in the same ways.

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Terms such as local, exotic, or distant are common in the archaeological literature on lithic raw material economies, yet there is little comparability between studies. Researchers working with late Upper Paleolithic populations on the plains of Eastern Europe or with early Paleoindians may consider transfers of large amounts of flint over several hundred km as routine events (e.g., Amick, 1996; Hofman et al., 1991; Tankersley, 1994). In contrast, analysts concerned with the behavior of Plio-Pleistocene hominids (e.g., Stiles, 1998; Toth, 1985) or the technologies of sedentary Neolithic groups may view any material coming from more than a dayÕs walk from its find spot as ‘‘exotic’’ As a matter of practice, the lines between exotic and local are often drawn from observations of the archaeological material itself, and the criteria used to define exotic or local materials depend more on how material was treated than on how far it actually had to be moved. Any raw material that is represented by a full range of products and byproducts seems ‘‘local.’’ Types of stone that occur as a restricted range of products, whether standardized forms (e.g., objects of trade) or as extensively used and reworked tools, appear more unusual, and their sources are treated as exotic or distant (e.g., Blades, 1999, pp. 113–114). From this perspective, the primary sources ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave of flint located some distance inland from U appear to have shifted from being ‘‘exotic’’ (represented by a restricted range of products) through most of the sequence to being more ‘‘local,’’ with a full range of reduction byproducts present, in the most recent layers, B and B1-B4. It would be difficult to explain the observed changes ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave in terms of in raw material economy at U accessibility or distance-to-source as a proxy for the cost of obtaining raw materials. Barring an undocumented tectonic event of truly enormous magnitude, the geographic distances from sources to site probably did not change. Although there could be primary sources of Cretaceous flint even closer to the site under the surface of the sea, there is no reason to think sea levels were lower during the more recent end of the sequence. In fact, the abundance of mollusk remains in the faunal assemblages from layers B and B1-B4 indicates that if anything sea levels were relatively high, and the coastline relatively close, when these deposits were accumulating. Of course, centuries of exploitation might have partially depleted local pebble beds, forcing a greater reliance on more distant sources of flint, but this would not explain the apparently ‘‘wasteful’’ treatment of flints from inland sources in the most recent layers. Concepts of technological provisioning, combined with independent archaeological evidence concerning ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave, are more the character of occupations at U useful for making sense of the changing roles of different raw materials. Several indicators suggest that the nature and duration of occupations changed over time at

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¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave. Where thermal structures are present at U all in the earlier part of the sequence (below layer C) they tend to be small, discrete hearths or thin scatters of ash. This suggests that they formed as result of a series of relatively brief occupational events. Interestingly, the vertebrate faunal assemblages from these layers consist almost entirely of bones from medium to large game animals. From the perspective of general ecological theory, such heavy reliance on high-ranked resources such as medium/large terrestrial herbivores generally implies relatively low consumer demand relative to the sizes of prey populations. Demands on resources can be kept small either by keeping populations small or by limiting time spent in any one foraging area. Holding environment constant, cross cultural studies show that high levels of dependence on hunted game are usually associated with frequent residential mobility (Kelly, 1995, pp. 111– 160). Thus, both patterns of game use and the archaeo¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave logical structures in the earliest layers at U point to relatively frequent residential moves and short episodes of occupation during the earlier part of the sequence. In contrast, layer B1-B4 is characterized by a thick, dense midden-like accumulation of ash, stone, bone, and other materials. This alone points to a more continuous occupation of the site, perhaps by a larger group. No such midden is apparent in layer B, but this could simply be a matter of changing use of space within the cave. The faunal assemblages from both B and B1-B4 also provide evidence for expansion of diet breadth to include significant amounts of shellfish, birds, rabbits, fish, and perhaps even vegetable foods (in the form the pitted anvils). Hints of this dietary expansion are present earlier, in that these foods were occasionally incorporated into the diet in layers C and below, but their roles expanded significantly in B and B1-B4. Holding environment more or less constant, such broadening of the diet is commonly taken to be a response to excessive pressure on high-ranked resources such as hunted game, brought on by larger resident consumer groups and/or a more permanent human presence (Kelly, 1995, pp. 111–160; Kuhn and Stiner, 2001; Stiner et al., 1999, 2000). It is tempting to suggest that the composition of residential groups could also have changed over this span. In the early part of the sequence the cave could well have been used mainly as a specialized hunting camp, occupied by a restricted range of individuals concerned mainly with procuring game. The more prolonged occupation(s) in the most recent layers imply a larger and more diverse group of occupants, some of whom (women and children, for example) may have specialized in collecting shellfish, birds, and other relatively small prey. In light of this evidence for changing nature and duration of occupations, the shifts in raw material econ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave are more comprehensible. For omy at U most of the sequence occupations were short and epi-

sodic, perhaps accompanied by high overall levels residential mobility. Many retouched tools and blanks came to the cave from distant sources as parts of transported toolkits used to provision individuals. Some of these artifacts were subsequently abandoned and replaced on site using local flints. The fact that scrapers tended to be reduced to relatively small size suggests that tool users tried to get the most out of artifacts before abandoning them, a characteristic of mobile toolkits used to provision individuals (Kuhn, 1992, 1994). Early in the sequence Upper Paleolithic tool makers also provisioned the site with raw materials, but, as would be expected for short occupations, they focused on materials found closer to the site, which in this case happened to be beach pebbles. Because the strategies of provisioning places and individuals tended to involve raw materials from different sources their respective products stand out clearly. In layers B and B1-B4 at the top of the sequence there is evidence for more intense, longer occupations, and provisioning the place with raw material became a more viable and important strategy. Along with daily foraging radius, catchments for raw material procurement would have expanded with longer occupations (Kelly, 1995, pp. 135–137). The later Upper Paleolithic foragers were able to provision the cave with large nodules or partially prepared cores of better materials from primary sources two or three dayÕs travel away: this could have occurred as part of long-distance hunting or collecting forays or as specialized trips to collect raw material. The fact that discarded scrapers retained greater residual utility than in the earlier layers suggests that constraints of raw material cost were actually somewhat reduced through amassing raw materials at the residential hub, even when most of the flint came from fairly far away. Individual transported toolkits were undoubtedly still part of the strategic mix, but because even in situ manufacture involved raw materials obtained from primary sources, elements of transported toolkits are largely undistinguishable. ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave, the effects of raw material ‘‘cost,’’ At U as measured by distance to source area, are also expressed differently on cores, blanks, and tools. There seems to be little relationship between the treatment of tools and transfer distances for the raw materials of which they were made. Within levels, endscraper reduction does not vary according to raw material source, and discarded tools are actually larger (less reduced) in those layers characterized by greater reliance use of inland primary flint sources. The frequency of retouched blanks (flakes and blades) shows more of the effects of raw material costs and provisioning strategies. There are no clear patterns in the treatment of cores overall, but the two assemblages with the most ‘‘exotic’’ raw material (B, B1-B4) also have the highest blank/core rations. These differences between artifact classes could be a

S.L. Kuhn / Journal of Anthropological Archaeology 23 (2004) 431–448

function of cores, blanks, and tools entering the site through different pathways, as a result of different mixes of provisioning strategies. For most of the sequence it appears that elements of transported toolkits used to provision individuals would be significant components of the archaeological assemblages. Such transported toolkits are expected to consist mainly of retouched tools and blanks (Kelly and Todd, 1988; Kuhn, 1994; Morrow, 1995). Because transported toolkits are not brought to places but are carried along with mobile individuals, the ‘‘cost’’ of transport is not a direct function of distance to source. At the end of the sequence, in layers B and B1-B4, it seems that the site was heavily provisioned with raw materials from inland sources, relaxing constraints on portability and on getting the maximum use out of every endscraper. In contrast, unretouched flakes and blades could have come to the site through a variety of channels, either as parts of transported toolkits or through on-site production. It is not surprising therefore that the intensity of blank utilization shows a stronger relationship with raw material sources than does the treatment of tools, though again layers B and B1-B4 stand out. These characterizations of occupations and provisioning strategies are highly generalized. Certainly, the lengths of occupations and strategies of technological provisioning varied within the earlier part of the sequence: variation in amounts of ‘‘exotic’’ material and retouched tool frequencies among layers C through I is probably evidence of this. By that same token, they may well be very brief occupational episodes represented in layers B and B1-B4, even if the signal is overwhelmed by the more intense occupation. Likewise, individuals or classes of individual within residential groups may have dealt with lithic raw materials in different ways according to activity regimes, mobility, and time constraints. However, such fine-grained intra-assemblage variability is difficult to sort out given the constraints on this analysis. It is interesting that the major shift in lithic raw mate¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave is independent of the rial economy at U archaeological ‘‘culture’’ represented. The Initial Upper Paleolithic component ends at the boundary between layers F and E. The assemblage from layer C is clearly Ahmarian in character, and the sparse material from C/D, D and E is closer to the Ahmarian than to the IUP. Nonetheless, in terms of treatment of lithic raw materials these assemblages fit much better with the earlier part of the sequence than they do with layers B and B1-B4. On the other hand, changing provisioning strategies may explain a technological anomaly in the ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı sequence. Dorsal scar patterns on flakes and U tools indicate an increasing use of bidirectional/opposed platform cores beginning with layer E, and yet opposed platform cores are common only in layers B and B1-B4 (Kuhn, 2004). This anomaly may reflect changing locus

445

of blade production, and efforts to get the most out of cores of flint from distant sources in the most recent Upper Paleolithic occupations. As Fig. 7 shows, the B and B1-B4 assemblages do have the highest blank/core ratios by far in the entire sequence. ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave is instructive, it Although the case of U presents no hard and fast rules. It is likely that the relationships between raw material transfer distances and the treatment of different classes of artifact will vary in different contexts. The most remote sources of flint that we currently are able to identify are not particularly far ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave (around 30 km) and if more distant from U sources are represented we lack the geological information needed to identify them. Much greater distances of raw material movement have been documented in other Upper Paleolithic sites (Demars, 1998; Dobosi, 1991; Geneste, 1988a,b; Schild, 1987), southern African MSA localities (Ambrose and Lorenz, 1990; McBrearty and Brooks, 2000), and even some Middle Paleolithic cases (see Fe´blot-Augustins, 1993; Roebroeks et al., 1988). Provisioning strategies notwithstanding, there will almost certainly be significant relationships between distance to source and the treatment of even retouched tools in cases where transfer distances were much greater. The results reported in this paper may nonetheless be relevant to studies of earlier time periods. A number of researchers have addressed generic differences between patterns of lithic raw material exploitation in the Middle and Upper Paleolithic of Eurasia as evidence of changes in basic cognitive abilities of hominids, though there is little consensus as to either the empirical facts or their interpretation (e.g., Mellars, 1996; Roebroeks et al., 1988; Soffer, 1989). Because we are presently unable to determine actual distance to source for individual arti¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave it is difficult to compare the results facts at U reported here directly to those of other studies. However, the changes in raw material economy within the ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı do have implicaUpper Paleolithic sequence at U tions for how one might investigate hypothetical contrasts between Middle and Upper Paleolithic. It seems well established now that Eurasian Middle Paleolithic hominids habitually transported artifacts over distances of up 50 km, and occasionally much farther more (Fe´blot-Augustins, 1993; Roebroeks et al., 1988). If there is any qualitative difference between the Middle and Upper Paleolithic, it has to do with what was moved. During the Middle Paleolithic, raw material transfers in excess of 10–20 km almost always involved prepared tools, tool blanks, and sometimes Levallois cores (Fe´blot-Augustins, 1993; Geneste, 1988a,b). Evidence for moving materials in bulk more than a dozen kilometers, while certainly not universal, is more common in Upper Paleolithic contexts (Mellars, 1996, pp. 163–165; Soffer, 1989). What this suggests is that Mousterian hominids regularly engaged in provisioning of individuals (Kuhn,

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1992) but that they less often provisioned sites with highquality materials from more distance sources. Even if this general assessment proves correct, it does not necessarily demonstrate that Middle Paleolithic hominids had fundamentally different behavioral capacities from Upper Paleolithic populations. I am certainly not prepared to argue that the changes in raw material ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave economy within the Upper Paleolithic at U are due to cognitive evolution in the populations that occupied the site (although that is not impossible). Instead, they can be understood as responses to changes in mobility and the nature of the occupation at the site itself. By that same token, one would not want to argue that shrinking catchments of raw material procurement across the Paleoindian to Archaic transition in North America represented a decline in humansÕ abilities of anticipate future needs. Differences in habitual raw material transfers between Mousterian and Upper Paleolithic could reflect shifting patterns of land use resulting from long-term climatic, demographic, and social changes rather than changes in cognitive abilities. Using raw material transfers to help gauge the planning abilities of hominids would require comparing technological responses to similar mobility regimes or the provisioning of similar kinds of occupations. The findings discussed here reinforce the assertion that distance to source is an imperfect, sometimes misleading, measure of raw material cost. As a consequence distance to source is a poor predictor of human behavior, even when people are responding mainly to economic constraints. Artifacts can have widely varying histories, and they can follow many different pathways from quarry to archaeological context. Different measures of cost may be more appropriate for different kinds of artifact life histories. In the case of transported ‘‘personal gear,’’ portability or utility per unit weight may be the most appropriate measure of cost, whereas the cost of material used to provisioned sites is more directly a function of how far it had to be carried. Conversely, however, the existence of unexpected relationships, or the absence of apparent relationships between distance to source and treatment of artifacts (e.g., Close, 1999; Gould and Saggers, 1985) does not necessarily imply that cost is irrelevant. Considering the different pathways along which artifacts and raw materials can move, the different strategies that result in things being transferred from procurement spots to the archaeological sites where they are eventually found, such cases suggest instead that the economics of raw material use are simply more complex, and ultimately more interesting.

Acknowledgments ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı cave are a collaboration beExcavations at U tween the University of Arizona and Ankara University.

The success of the project is attributable in large part to the efforts of Professor Erksin Gu¨lec¸, leader of the Turkish team, as well as her associates and graduate students, including Aysßen Acikol, Ismail Baykara, Dr. Ismail ¨ zer, and Hakan Yilmaz. Dr. Mary Stiner contributed O innumerable insights on the Paleolithic occupations of ¨ c¸ag˘ızlı, as well as the faunal analyses that are briefly U summarized here. My understanding of lithic raw material economies has been very much improved as a result of working with current and former graduate students Jesse Ballenger, Dr. P.J. Brantingham, Kris Kerry, and Dr. Todd Surovell. Kris Kerry also did the artifact illustrations. I am also grateful to two anonymous reviewers for insightful and constructive comments. This research reported in this was supported by the National Science Foundation under Grants SBR-9804722 and BCS0106433.

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