Digging Beneath the Surface

When most people think about the work of archaeologists, they imagine the search for ancient settlements or burial mounds, the discovery of golden Scythian ornaments, Trypillian ceramics, or Sarmatian weapons. Rarely do they consider the study of animal skeletons. Yet, this is precisely the focus of zooarchaeology, a very young but rapidly progressing field of study.

Zooarchaeologists focus on the remains of animals found during excavations. Interestingly, they are not primarily interested in dinosaurs or the search for semi-mythical creatures but rather in species that lived in historical periods and coexisted with humans.

Imagine removing even a single species from the history of our planet, say, the horse, and consider how differently history might have unfolded. In ancient times, the absence of horses would have made interregional contact more difficult and slowed the exchange of information, thereby hindering the development of civilization. If a ruler had left the capital for more than three months, the likelihood of a coup would have been very high. Consequently, states would have been smaller, and small empires tend to be more brutal. Without a mobile army to suppress rebellions at the borders, rulers would resort to terror to ensure that uprisings did not occur again soon. These are just a few examples. It is nearly impossible to imagine life in a world without horses.

This is exactly the type of complex question that zooarchaeology addresses. This field of study explores how the animal world and humanity have coexisted and influenced each other over millennia.

The first professionals in this field explored animals in agriculture, examining which species humans domesticated in different eras. Today, zooarchaeology also helps to study the impact of humans on ecosystems, the connection between animals and climate, and, most importantly, what we can do to protect the environment from irreversible changes.

Humans have always been clever and resourceful predators, inevitably impacting their environment. Homo erectus and the earliest representatives of Homo sapiens were on par with other predators: even if they harmed the environment, it was no more than, say, a tiger. Much also depended on the conditions in which they had to survive. The more favorable the environment, the more impact the predator could have. Imagine a cat landing on an island and encountering weaker competitors and easy prey — the local fauna would not fare well. Ancient humans were often like such cats, frequently dominating certain areas.

However, what began to happen from the late Paleolithic period is of particular interest to zooarchaeologists. It was then that humans began using more sophisticated weapons, mastered the most effective hunting methods, and started to change the landscapes of entire continents.

It is important to note that many people still hold the stereotype of the bon sauvage or noble savage: the belief that ancient people lived in harmony and unity with nature. This view is often expressed about Australian Aborigines or indigenous peoples of the Americas. Unfortunately, I must disappoint you. Firstly, they were not as wild and primitive as often portrayed: Australians mastered seafaring even earlier than Europeans and were generally intelligent and inventive. Secondly, due to this inventiveness, they significantly (and sometimes drastically) altered the ecosystems in which they lived. Australian Aborigines had no competitors in their area in terms of intellect and hunting skills, leading them to exterminate many animals. One of their hunting methods was to set vegetation on fire. Have you guessed why the contemporary Australian bush — the shrubby environment of the continent — is so prone to fires? About 60,000 years ago, the ancestors of Australian Aborigines practiced widespread burning of local forests. This shaped ecosystems that adapted to such fires.

The same occurred in North America: the Clovis culture, during its 300-year existence 12,000 years ago, completely destroyed many species, fundamentally altering human history. However, it is not fair to blame ancient peoples for being insufficiently environmentally aware. Such a stage in human development was predictable and inevitable. Remember, humans are skillful predators, and for a predator, dominating competitors and taking everything from the environment is natural.

However, there is a unique trait that sets us apart from other hunters. Unlike, say, a lion, humans are capable of reflecting on their actions and questioning whether they are doing the right thing. Imagine if, at some point, lions had eaten all humans and wiped our population off the planet. It’s unlikely they would lament, “What a pity, humans were so nice!” In contrast, humans, especially modern ones, have come to understand that despite their negative impact on the environment, they need to reduce this impact and protect vulnerable species.

This is where zooarchaeology comes into play with its studies of the past of these species. First and foremost, it helps determine how populations of various animals fluctuated, where they were widespread, and how humanity influenced all of this. For example, right now, with Dr. Oleksandr Kovalchuk and Tyt Volynskyi, we are researching the fauna of modern Ukraine — the species that our ancestors hunted the most. This is part of the project “Valuable Animal Species of Ukraine’s Fauna According to Archaeological Materials: Taxonomic Composition, Population Dynamics, and Spatial Distribution.” Of course, the phrase “valuable species” in the title is somewhat outdated and underscores a consumerist attitude towards nature. However, it is appropriate when talking about the past. After all, for ancient people, a bison, for example, was more valuable and necessary for survival than a water vole. Valuable species had a hard time because humans often reduced or even wiped out their populations.

Research shows that the most valuable species for people in the lands of Ukraine were hoofed animals and predators, diurnal and nocturnal birds, and sturgeon fish. Specifically, until the Bronze Age, there was active hunting of the eagle owl in Ukraine, which most likely had significant ritual importance. During the Iron Age, they had an easier time, but diurnal predators, especially eagles, buzzards, and kites, began to be persecuted. During the times of Kyivan Rus, there was a lot of hunting for the Eurasian goshawk. Also, the white-tailed eagle was always considered particularly valuable for some reason, yet it managed to adapt and remained quite numerous until the 20th century when these birds began to be systematically hunted in Soviet times.

Observing an ecosystem without comparing it to the past does not provide us with enough information about its normal state. For example, there is currently a debate about the great cormorant — a bird that lives in colonies and settles near the sea and also along the Dnipro and Buh rivers, consuming quite a lot of fish. Fishermen working on these rivers are very unhappy about this and insist that cormorants should be culled. Their argument is that the mere presence of this bird on the rivers is an anomaly; they claim that the birds have moved far from the sea due to man-made reservoirs. However, zooarchaeologists know that the great cormorant has always moved up the Dnipro and Buh during warming periods, even when there were no reservoirs. Therefore, this is not an anomaly that should be eradicated and forgotten but a reality of the local environment, no matter how unprofitable and unpleasant it may be for some.

There are also contrasting stories where we perceive certain species as native, although they do not belong to our ecosystem at all. For instance, the pheasant may seem quite “ours” to many. There is a belief that the ancestors of pheasants lived on Ukrainian territory 2.5 million years ago, and therefore this species is native to our fauna and should be protected. However, after collecting research materials, I realized that the pheasant is a species introduced by humans, probably in the 18th century. Its homeland is the Caucasus, but it could have been brought to Ukraine as semi-domesticated birds from the Mediterranean or Central Europe. Although there is data suggesting that pheasants were found in antiquity, among these remains, one bone does not lend itself to analysis, one turned out to be a duck bone, another a falcon bone, and yet another belonged to a small chicken. Thus, all those identified as “pheasants” were various other birds. If so, it turns out that the pheasant is just as non-native to our territory as, for example, the chestnut. One way or another, they displace “our” (scientifically, autochthonous) species. Therefore, before worrying about preserving pheasant populations, it is worth investigating the degree of their impact on the ecosystem.

There are species that have relatively recently arrived in our territories and pose a threat to local wildlife. We call them invasive species. Some of these species enter new environments on their own, while others are introduced by humans, often due to gross negligence. For instance, jellyfish appeared in the Dnipro likely because aquarium enthusiasts released them into the river. Some insects or snails travel long distances with grain, reproduce in new areas, and then can harm crops. The rose-ringed parakeet is also gradually spreading — this clever and strong bird competes successfully with many other species. Interestingly, it provides an example of the delayed effect of introduced species: nowadays, this parrot seems quite common in the Mediterranean region, but its presence in Chernivtsi raises concerns. In fact, the rose-ringed parakeet is not native to Europe at all — it was brought from India by the troops of Alexander the Great 2,300 years ago. Currently, we do not know what to do with such species — we are merely studying and determining which animals are “ours” and truly need protection and which are alien to the ecosystem.

So, what can science do to preserve “our” species?

First, it can help restore their populations. By studying remains, we know where these species lived and whether their distribution was natural. If, for instance, we want to restore the saiga or the steppe eagle, archaeological finds will tell us where they used to live and where they should be reintroduced. It is also important to know the natural population size, as not all species need to be numerous — some are rare by nature, such as the demoiselle crane. Although it is listed in the Red Data Book, its finds have always been few, especially compared to a similar species, the common crane.

Second, we can predict certain changes in populations to find ways to protect them. Here, for example, we can combine climatology with zooarchaeology. Climatology studies climate as a system that includes plants and animals, and changes in this system involve not only temperature fluctuations but also the appearance or disappearance of species. For example, the great bustard is listed in the Red Data Book of Ukraine — its numbers are relatively high during cold periods and decrease during warm periods. However, as the planet becomes increasingly hot, this temperature change adds extra pressure on the population of these birds. Therefore, we should be more attentive to the great bustard — it is not adapted to new, hotter climate conditions.

I hope that now when you hear the word “archaeology,” you will associate it a bit more with animals and their conservation. Studying the past of animals and understanding humanity’s role in the extinction of some species can be the first step toward restoring vulnerable populations. And zooarchaeologists are taking these steps, paving the way for animal protectors.