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ANALYZING SOCIAL SPACE: INTERPRETING SPATIAL
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ANALYZING SOCIAL SPACE: INTERPRETING SPATIAL PATTERN ING AT
ARCHAEOLOGICAL SITES USING ETHNOARCHAEOLOGICAL DATA

By

Marjorie A. W. Heyman

A DISSERTATION
Submitted to
Michigan State University
in partial fulfillment of the requirements
for the degree of
DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
Anthropology

2009

ABSTRACT

ANALYZING SOCIAL SPACE: INTERPRETING SPATIAL PATTERNING AT
ARCHAEOLOGICAL SITES USING ETHNOARCHAEOLOGICAL DATA

By
Marjorie A. W. Heyman

The organization of dwellings, public space, and artifact placement reveal spatial
patterns that form as a result of repeated actions and use of space by the members of a
corporate group. The intersection of physical structures with real and imagined
boundaries on the landscape is informed by a group’s cultural and social behaviors,
practices, and interactions.

This research analyzes those factors that can produce some of the spatial patterns
associated with middle-range, low-level food producing groups (also referred to as
horticultural communities), particularly those patterns that signify intra-site
communication flow and maintenance of group continuity. Common social behaviors are
expected among horticultural communities, given that these communities face similar
challenges in growing and storing food, including the preparation of fields for planting;
maintenance and irrigation of fields; harvesting and storage of crops; and food
preparation. Consequently, there should be identifiable spatial patterns for certain
activities that are consistent among most horticultural groups.

A review of the ethnographic data from extant horticultural groups shows that
cross-cultural regularities do exist and can be identified from a community’s use of space.
Analyses of these data show that occupational density influences the social behaviors,
stability, and information exchange employed by horticultural communities. Variation

from this patterning is influenced by kinship and residential layout within the community;

presence of private and communal spaces; ecological context; and degree of residential
sedentism.

Expected archaeological correlates for the identified factors are outlined and
discussed. These predicted correlates are compared to previously published
archaeological data from two prehistoric horticultural communities in the American
Southwest, Shabik’eschee and Wheatley Ridge. This comparison shows that interactions
between different households within this community, presence of communal space or
plazas for larger group integration, and evidence for the relative importance of kinship
and occupational density in decision-making may be inferred from the spatial behaviors

evident at the site level.

To my incredible family — Glenn, Orion, and Shae —
With all my love

iv

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

One of the many lessons I learned from this huge undertaking is the importance of
community — family, friends, and colleagues — in providing the three ‘S’s: support,
stability and sanity (especially my own). This has been a dream of mine for decades, and
I absolutely could not have accomplished this without the generous help and contribution
of many individuals and groups.

First, I want to thank all of my committee members for agreeing to work with me
over these past few years. This was challenging, given my ‘non-traditional’ status and
long-distance living arrangement. In particular, Dr. Alison Rautman has been a
tremendous committee chair — no one could have asked for a better person to serve in the
chair’s official, as well as unofficial capacity as advisor, mentor, sounding board, editor,
colleague, field director, and friend. I came to Michigan State University specifically to
work with Alison after reading several of her research articles, and have continued to be
impressed with the quality, good common sense, and creativity associated with her work
— to say nothing of the quirky humor and energy that is a part of her overall personality.
You have been a great inspiration!

Many thanks are also extended to Dr. William Lovis for providing the Whitelaw
article that acted as the ‘seed’ for this research and his comments on statistics; Dr. John
Speth, for his always ‘right on the money’ questions that really encouraged me to define
my terms and fully think through my conclusions — you definitely made me think outside
the box!; Dr. Robert Hitchcock for his excellent comments on public and private space

(as well as his research articles which prodded me to continue on); Dr. Mindy Morgan for

her often thought-provoking discussions (and questions!) on Western and Plains Indian
groups; and Dr. Alan Arbogast, my outside committee member for an excellent pre-
defense conversation. Thanks are also extended to Dr. Jodie O’Gorman, an early member
of my pre-defense committee, who provided timely and thoughtful comments to an
earlier iteration of the first few chapters of the dissertation.

Thanks are also extended to the friendly and well-informed staff at the Museum
of Indian Arts and Culture/Laboratory of Anthropology in Santa Fe, New Mexico, who
generously provided ready access to site files and data. These site files were critical to the
application portion of my research; without these, I could not have completed my
dissertation. I also want to thank the MSU Graduate School for providing me with a
Doctoral Fellowship to complete the dissertation. It allowed me the freedom to focus on
the writing portion of the dissertation, as well as helped to pay for some expected (as well
as unanticipated) expenses. And much appreciation is extended to Elizabeth Zurmuehlen
of Loyola-Sacred Heart, who patiently worked with me to derive the best-fit regression
equations for population included within the dissertation.

Several other people at MSU helped me to complete this dissertation. First and
foremost is Nancy Smith, who helped me more times than I can remember to meet
deadlines, register for courses, understand requirements, file appropriately completed
paperwork, and just generally provided a good listening ear and exchanged fun teenage
son stories with me. Peggy Medler has also been wonderful in helping make the
department run smoothly for all of the graduate students. To my fellow cohort members
(both ‘born to’ as well as adopted): Maria Raviele, Megan McCullen, Jon Carroll,

Dwayne Quates, Karin Rebnegger, Jubin Cheruvelil, Marieka Brouwer, Lori Schiess,

vi

Marita Eibl, Heidi Connealy, Sonya Johnson, Charlotte Cable and Shawn Philips — thank
you for your expertise, ideas, agreements, critiques, challenges, support, laughter, and
good cheer - you guys are great. I am continually amazed and awed by you all.

To my hockey ‘family’ and wonderful friends — Donna and Howard Beall, Mitch
and Gwyn F erm, Jan and Brad Madison, and Ginny and Tom Sullivan - who listened to
my ideas and general ravings, and encouraged me to continue writing during our long
winter hockey trips to Havre and points beyond — thank you all. And special thanks are
extended to Donna Beall, who listened to my pre-defense presentation in full, offering
excellent suggestions that improved the final content and flow.

And finally, this dissertation would absolutely not have come about if it were not
for the loving support, in every way imaginable, from my fantastic family — my husband,
Glenn and sons, Shae and Orion. They have put up with long absences, distracted replies,
lengthy explanations of my research, and (occasionally) crankiness on my part to get this
done. You three are the love of my life. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for

giving of yourselves to make this dream a reality for me.

vii

TABLE OF CONTENTS

LIST OF TABLES ........................................................................................................ x
LIST OF FIGURES ...................................................................................................... xi
CHAPTER 1
INTRODUCTION ......................................................................................................... 1
CHAPTER 2
MAKING CONNECTION BETWEEN THEORY AND APPROACH ..................... 11
Whitelaw’s Research on Hunter-Gatherers .............................................................. 13
CHAPTER 3
ETHNOGRAPHIC DATA ........................................................................................... 21
General Approach and Data Base ............................................................................ 21
Data Collection ........................................................................................................ 30
CHAPTER 4
ETHNOGRAPHIC ANALYSIS: RESULTS AND DISCUSSION ............................. 4O
Horticultural Communities and Occupational Density Patterns .............................. 41
Correlation between Coded Spatial Variables and Domestic Group Composition .47
1. Domestic Group Composition: Floor Size Area .......................................... 48
2. Domestic Group Composition: Dwelling Arrangement ............................... 49
3. Domestic Group Composition: Dwelling Composition ............................... 55
4. Discussion ..................................................................................................... 57
Ecological Setting and Subsistence-Related Behaviors ........................................... 61
1. Occupational Density and Ecological Context ............................................. 65
2. Dwelling Arrangement and Ecological Setting ............................................ 69
Impact of Residential Sedentism on Spatial Patterning ........................................... 74
1. Residential Sedentism and Occupational Density ........................................ 74
2. Residential Sedentism and Ecological Setting ............................................. 76
3. Degree of Residential Sedentism and Storage .............................................. 79
4. The Role of Mobility in Alleviating Community Stress .............................. 81
Defensive Spatial Patterns ....................................................................................... 82
Group Size and Stability .......................................................................................... 85
Role of Communal Structures .................................................................................. 87
CHAPTER 5
ARCHAEOLOGICAL APPROACHES
TO INTRASITE SPATIAL PATTERNING ................................................................ 93
Occupational Density Calculations .......................................................................... 98
Interpreting Archaeological Correlates: Kinship ................................................... 103
Interpreting Archaeological Correlates: Mobility .................................................. 106

viii

Interpreting Archaeological Correlates: Cooperative Labor .................................. 108

Interpreting Archaeological Correlates: Defensive Measures ............................... 109

Integrative Structures and Archaeological Evidence for Activities ....................... 111

Ethnographic Spatial Patterns and Archaeological Correlates: A Summary ......... 112
CHAPTER 6

APPLICATIONS OF OBSERVATIONS TO SITE DATA ...................................... 116

Shabik’eschee Site ................................................................................................. 118

1. Wills and Windes Interpretation of Shabik’eschee .................................... 119

2. Interpretation of Shabik’eschee Data using

Ethnographically-Derived Correlates ........................................................ 126

Wheatley Ridge Site ............................................................................................... 133

1. Background Information on Wheatley Ridge ............................................. 135

2. Spatial Analysis of Wheatley Ridge Data .................................................. 137

Evaluating Archaeological Evidence of Site Spatial Organization ....................... 142
CHAPTER 7

DISCUSSION ............................................................................................................. 145

Ethnographic Explanations of Horticultural Space Use ........................................ 145

Archaeological Explanation of Space Use among Horticultural Populations ....... 153

Using Spatial Information to Interpret Archaeological Site Data .......................... 158
CHAPTER 8

A SUMMARY ............................................................................................................ 163

Interpreting Spatial Patterns: General Summary ................................................... 164

Interpreting Spatial Patterning: Implications ......................................................... 167

1. Cultural Resource Management and Regional Landscape Planning .......... 167

2. General Anthropological Considerations: ................................................. 168

A. Implications with respect to Community Aggregation ......................... 168

B. Implications with respect to Decision-Making ..................................... 169

C. Implications with respect to Community Dissension and Fission ........ 171

APPENDICES ............................................................................................................ 174

Appendix 1 ............................................................................................................. 175

Appendix 2 ............................................................................................................. 200

Appendix 3 ............................................................................................................. 206

Appendix 4 ............................................................................................................. 210

Appendix 5 ............................................................................................................. 212

BIBLIOGRAPHY ...................................................................................................... 216

ix

Table 1:

Table 2:

Table 3:

Table 4:

Table 5:

Table 6:

Table 7:

Table 8:

Table 9:

Table 10:

Table l 1:

Table 12:

Table 13:

LIST OF TABLES

List of Ethnographic Data Categories .................................................. 25
Regression Analysis Summary between Coded Variables ................... 46

Comparison of Residential Floor Size as a
Function of Dwelling Composition ...................................................... 51

Frequency of Dwelling Arrangement

with respect to Dwelling Composition ................................................. 54
General Description of Climate Zones ................................................. 62
Major Foods for Culture Groups Used in Study .................................. 63

Comparison between Ecological Context and
Residential Sedentism .......................................................................... 77

Comparison between Storage and
Degree of Residential Sedentism .......................................................... 80

Summary of Ethnographic Finding
and Significance ................................................................................... 91

Possible Archaeological Correlates

for Various Ethnographic Conditions ................................................... 94
Pithouse Areas at Shabik’eschee Site ................................................. 12]
Resident Population per Floor Space Area for some

Culture Groups in Arid to Semi-Arid Climates .................................. 128
Pithouses at the Wheatley Ridge Site ................................................. 136

Figure 1:

Figure 2:

Figure 3:

Figure 4:

Figure 5:
Figure 6:
Figure 7:
Figure 8:

Figure 9:

Figure 10:
Figure 11:

Figure 12:

Figure 13:
Figure 14:
Figure 15:

Figure 16:

LIST OF FIGURES

Possible Intra-site Spatial Patterning Associated with

Horticultural Groups ............................................................................. 24
Map Showing Location of Horticultural

Culture Groups Used in Ethnographic Review .................................... 29
Community Population with respect to Community Area ................... 44

Occupational Density Trend for Mixed

Subsistence-Horticultural Groups ........................................................ 45
Floor Area as a Function of Dwelling Composition ............................ 50
Occupational Density with respect to Dwelling Arrangement ............. 53
Occupational Density with respect to Dwelling Composition ............. 56
Settlement Plan of Ramko’kamekra Village ........................................ 60
Occupational Density with respect to Ecological Setting .................... 66
Settlement Plan of Mishongnovi Village ............................................. 72
Occupational Density with respect to Residential Sedentism .............. 75

Occupational Density with respect to the Presence or Absence of

Defensive Structures ............................................................................. 84
Population Trends, Horticulture Groups ............................................ 102
Site Map for Shabik’eschee Village Site, New Mexico ..................... 120
Examples of Pithouses at Shabik’eschee Site .................................... 131
Site Map for Wheatley Ridge, New Mexico ...................................... 134

xi

CHAPTER 1
INTRODUCTION

“To point out that perception of the social world implies an act of construction in
no way entails acceptance of an intellectualist theory of knowledge: the essential
part of the experience of the social world and of the act of construction that it
implies takes place in practice, below the level of explicit representation and
verbal expression. ” Pierre Bourdieu (1985)

A fundamental concern faced by archaeologists is how to interpret the spatial
patterning produced by the physical organization of features, structures, activity areas,
and artifact placement within an archaeological site. Commonly, ethnoarchaeologists use
data regarding the above physical categories to interpret within-site remains. There has
been a tremendous amount of anthropological study on hunter-gatherer groups, including
the relationship between behavior and associated spatial patterns. Actualistic studies,
such as Binford’s (1978) of the Nunamiut, provide middle-range referents from which to
examine the spatial patterning on the ground, and then link back to behaviors in the
group. Whitelaw (1991) has extended this approach by engaging in a comprehensive
analysis of social behaviors and associated spatial patterning of extant hunter-gatherer
groups worldwide. In his study, he used the ethnographic data to identify how spatial
organization is used in the social interactions and social organization. His analysis
focused on assigning meaning to patterns of activity and space use.

There has not been a similar evaluation done for horticultural groups. Therefore,
we cannot necessarily apply what was learned from Whitelaw’s study to horticulturalists

9

unless we can document that spatial patterns for horticultural groups are similar to those

seen for hunter-gatherers, AND that the behaviors which caused those spatial patterns are
the same. This is what this dissertation will do. By comparing the spatial patterns
associated with certain behaviors for horticultural groups, I will be determining if there
are consistent patterns among horticultural groups for certain behaviors; and if patterns
vary, determining what factors are affecting those behaviors, and that in turn modify
spatial patterns. As importantly, I will be determining if the patterns, identified by
Whitelaw for hunter-gatherers, can also be applied to horticultural groups and their
behavior. The first part of this dissertation will address the questions: Under what
conditions are the spatial patterns produced by horticultural groups similar to those
produced by hunter-gatherers? Under what conditions are these different?

Whitelaw found that hunter-gatherer groups have a lower occupational density for
larger population groups and for groups that had a mixed subsistence economy (hunter-
gathering/cash economy). Low population groups (less than 50) had a higher
occupational density. He also identified four factors that caused variation in this pattern:
domestic group composition and role in spatial layout; ecological context; dwelling
arrangement and village layout; and degree of residential sedentism.

In looking at the horticultural group ethnographies, I was also able to identify
spatial patterns based on the social interactions and social organization of the group.
There were both similarities and differences with Whitelaw’s results. Unlike Whitelaw,
the occupational density was higher for larger groups and lower for smaller groups. Like

Whitelaw, I found that domestic group composition (meaning all individuals living

within the same dwelling, and with whom there is some affinal or consanguineal
relationship) affected the overall occupational density of the group; ecological context
had some affect; dwelling arrangement and village layout had less of an effect; and the
degree of residential sedentism appeared to have very little effect on occupational
density. Other factors, such as the need for defense, had a definite effect on the raising
the overall occupational density for a horticultural group. Each of these factors will be
evaluated in greater detail in the coming chapters.

The second part of the dissertation will determine if the produced patterns for
horticultural groups have correlates within the archaeological record. Can I use what I
have leamed from the ethnographic modelto help me interpret what I find in the
archaeological record? By listing out possible archaeological correlates for different
spatial patterns, I can determine if these correlate(s) are unique to certain spatial
behaviors.

Once I have identified those correlates that are the most useful in predicting
spatial behavior, I will be using these findings to help build a model to interpret site data.
To do this, I examine two different sites from New Mexico: Shabik’eschee and Wheatley
Ridge. Shabik’eschee is a well-known, well-described site with significant spatial data,
maps, and artifacts. Because it has data regarding both surface and also subsurface
remains, it is an ideal case for testing the utility of the ethnographically-developed model.
Many excavated sites do not collect and retain the amount of data that are available for

Shabik’eschee. I use my ethnographic results to determine propose what interpretations

can or cannot be made using only the spatial data. I then compare these results with
previous interpretations of the site that include consideration of the excavated data as
well.

I then turn to a less well-known archaeological site, Wheatley Ridge, to show how
this study might be used in a more realistic setting. Wheatley Ridge is more ‘realistic’ in
the sense that the limited amount of available data is more typical for a site, including
surface survey information and a small amount of excavation. This case study
demonstrates that even in situations where there is not much archaeological data, the
ethnographic model can contribute to our knowledge of the site and can help us develop
testable hypotheses regarding the subsurface remains. The ethnographic model thus can
assist archaeologists in interpreting spatial patterning found within sites during surface
survey; in addition, the model helps target future excavation objectives for the site. In this
sense, this study is a model-building project that can be useful in its application to sites
where the database is limited. One goal of this study has been to develop a way in which
archaeologists can increase the utility of surface survey data, and to evaluate how
confident we can be in extending these data to predict subsurface remains. I hope that can
use the results from this research to interpret the spatial organization of archaeological
sites of horticultural societies.

This study was divided into three work phases. First, the present-day ethnographic
record was analyzed to identify cross-cultural regularities associated with the social

interactions among horticultural community members and the factors that produce

variations from these regularities. These results were compared with Whitelaw’s findings
for hunter-gatherer groups to determine if there is any significant differences or
similarities based on subsistence economy. Next, possible archaeological correlates
associated with the spatial patterns were identified and linked to specific cultural
behaviors for horticultural groups. I examine how the expectations from the ethnographic
record translate to on-the-ground correlate predictions, and evaluate other possible
interpretations of observed correlates. Finally, I use these results to interpret spatial
patterns exhibited in the two archaeological sites of Shabik’eschee and Wheatley Ridge.

As explained more fully in Chapter 2, it has been well documented that the spatial
organization of structures on the landscape is both influenced by, as well as reinforces,
the cultural precepts of a group. Spatial patterns are produced by the repeated actions and
use of space by the members of a corporate group (e.g., Clarke, 1977; Kent, 1987; Hillier
and Hanson 1984; Binford 1978, 1980; Bettinger 1991; Kent 1992; Hitchcock 1987;
Kelly 1995; Eder 1984; David 1971). The physical aspect of spatial patterns are
manifested as the size, physical features, location, arrangement and orientation of
residential dwellings and non-residential structures; location and accessibility of storage
facilities; size, location and function of activity areas; and presence or absence of
communal structures and spaces.

Using Whitelaw’s argument that physical distance can affect the degree of social
communication, it follows that the spatial organization of features, buildings and work

areas on the landscape can influence the frequency of contact among group members. For

example, more closely spaced buildings facing toward one another present the
opportunity for easier communication. At the same time, the physical placement of
structures on the landscape is influenced by the cultural beliefs and practices of a group.
Using the above example, closely spaced houses are more likely to host kin-related group
members, rather than unrelated individuals. If residence layout affects and determines
patterns of communication and interaction, then one should be able to relate residential
patterning and space use to social patterns.

Whitelaw demonstrated that this is true — the social organization of hunter-
gatherers could be inferred from the spatial organization of structures and activity areas.
As will be discussed more fully in the next chapter, he identified cross-cultural
regularities in hunter-gatherer spatial organization, as well as several factors that could
cause variation in space use. He did not apply his findings to archaeological cases, but
recognized the utility of his model in interpreting the archaeological remains of hunter-
gatherer sites.

I agree with his premise that intra-group communication directly impacts the
group’s spatial organization. As with hunter-gatherers, horticulturalists often rely on
several individuals to accomplish certain subsistence-related tasks. Additionally, there are
often other subsistence and non-subsistence activities —- such as hunting, fishing,
defensive protection, and trade — which may entail greater group participation. However,
it is not clear that one can necessarily use Whitelaw’s results to interpret the spatial

patterns at horticultural archaeological sites. While there is some overlap in the nature of

these two groups — for example, larger hunter-gatherer groups overlap in population size
with horticultural groups — there are also differences between the two subsistence
economies that may directly impact how group members use space. Therefore, I examine
the spatial patterns associated with middle—range, low-level food producing groups (also
referred to as horticultural communities). Ethnographic data (e.g., Weltfish 1965;
Nimuendajt't 1942) indicate these communities vary in size from less than 20 to greater
than 1000 individuals, but commonly average between 150 — 500 people. They may have
both related families and unrelated individuals within the same dwelling; and are
commonly sedentary for longer periods of time. An empirical review of horticultural
communities also represents an opportunity to investigate the strategies used by these
groups to deal with larger populations and fluctuating food yields, especially regarding
the nature and degree of their responses, when compared with hunter-gatherers.

In particular, I am interested in identifying those patterns that signify intra-site
communication among group members, and the maintenance of group continuity. In this
instance, communication implies that there is some intra-site interaction or physical
contact and exchange of information, goods, or ideas among group members.
‘lnteraction’ encompasses a broad range of activities and actions. Since I am interested in
applying ethnoarchaeological findings to the interpretation of the physical organization at
archaeological sites, I have focused the definition of what constitutes social interaction to
those activities and behaviors that have the potential to leave a physical imprint at a site.

.Chapters 3 and 4 identify the ranges of behaviors that produce certain spatial patterns

within horticultural groups, examine those factors that may effect variation in behavior,
and identifies how these are manifested in spatial patterning and organization.

A broader question is how to interpret the spatial patterning present in the
archaeological record. At any particular site, how might the distribution of material
artifacts and features be interpreted? How can archaeologists make sense of the way in
which people place themselves and their residences in relation to others? In Chapter 5, I
identify possible archaeological correlates for each of the major cross-cultural patterns
identified in Chapter 4. I then examine how excavators at other sites have used spatial
data to infer social behavior and activities. These spatial data include residential
dwellings (size, interior configuration, exterior placement), storage (location and size),
outbuildings (location, function, and size), site size and location with respect to natural
resources and features, and evidence for mobility/length of stay, as well as the absence of
physical items and architecture. By using archaeological data from several different
culture areas, I can better assess how spatial pattern variation is manifested.

I then exemplify the use of the model developed in Chapter 5 by critically
examining some already excavated archaeological sites in the American Southwest to
determine the model’s overall utility for interpreting spatial patterning. This is not a ‘test’
of the model per se, but establishes its utility and usefulness against a known site. As
further explained in Chapter 6, the selection of a site is based on my specific interest in
Southwest pithouse cultures; the availability of scaled maps at a site; and the existence of

well-preserved structural remains. The model is first evaluated using data from the

Shabik’eschee site, a well-documented pithouse site in New Mexico. Roberts excavated
Shabik’eschee Village in 1926-7; other excavators undertook follow-up surveys in the
1970’s and 1983. The site has been the subject of several detailed studies, including a
more recent evaluation by Wills and Windes (1989). Wills and Windes’ interpretation is
based on some of the parameters presented in my ethnoarchaeological model (e.g.,
population size, storage facilities, and residential structure size), which allows me to
compare their results with the model.

I also applied the model to Wheatley Ridge, a relatively obscure pithouse site in
New Mexico. This site represents a more realistic situation that archaeologists might
consider in the course of a regional survey where only limited excavations are possible.
Pithouse structure arrangement, size, and orientation are described in Rowe’s (1947)
master’s thesis, which was focused on establishing whether the site contained more
typical Mogollon or Hohokam architectural features and artifacts. Rowe’s work also
included descriptions of the residential architecture and artifact concentrations, and a
scaled site map. This allowed me to propose a more in-depth interpretation of the site
based on spatial patterning of features, using the developed ethnoarchaeological model.

Chapter 7 explores the general utility of the model in interpreting the spatial
organization of a site. Overall, I found that the model had generally good applicability to
the archaeological cases, although with several important caveats that are discussed more
thoroughly in the chapter, including the challenges associated with estimating population.

In addition, by using the model to interpret general site patterns, a researcher can identify

specific follow-up questions that need to be addressed, and design a more cost-effective
excavation program.

As discussed more fully in chapters 7 and 8, this research shows that there are
similarities as well as differences in spatial organization between hunter-gatherers and
horticulturalists. As an example, dwelling composition and domestic group relationships
are primary factors in structuring the spatial patterns for both hunter-gatherers and
horticulturalists. However, other factors, such as the need for defense, can override this,
and create variability in the produced spatial organization. The overlapping sets of spatial
patterns at an archaeological site must be teased apart to correctly interpret the spatial
organization, and hence social organization, of a site’s residents.

With this introduction as backdrop, I will now summarize some of the theory
associated with spatial patterning, and more fully develop the relationship between social

behavior and spatial organization.

10

CHAPTER 2
MAKING CONNECTION BETWEEN THEORY AND APPROACH

Through its ordering of space the man-made physical world is already
a social behavior. It constitutes (not merely represents) a form of order in
itself: one which is created for social purposes, whether by design or
accumulatively, and through which society is both constrained and
recognizable. ” (Hillier and Hanson 1984)

Researchers in geography and anthropology concur that the spatial organization of
residential dwellings, common areas, and other structural features can be used to interpret
the spatial behaviors and social organization of a community. Hillier and Hanson (1984)
state that spatial patterning is recognizable because society arranges people in space,
usually in relation to one another, and also arranges space by means of buildings, real or
imagined boundaries, and activity zones. Bourdieu (1977) notes that the built form
structures and orders the world, and conveys a meaning that is ‘natural’ to the individual.
Spatial distances become equivalent to social distances. All human actions occur within a
social field, influenced in part by one’s perception and cultural influence. Richardson
(2003) suggests that the physical arrangement of features and space can encourage or
even force engagement and interaction among group members. Vendors in a market may
impose themselves upon potential customers, physically arranging their goods so as to
facilitate face-to-face interaction. Alternatively, an open, circular space may cause people
to cluster together in small groups, actively participating within their group while
outwardly observing others. Low (2000) distinguishes between the social production of
space, meaning the social, economic and ideological reasons for the creation of public
places, and the social construction of space, the cultural imposition of meaning attached

to interactions through shared experiences in public places. The landscape ‘reads as a

11

text’, with the built environment communicating specific meanings to a particular cultural
group, and being reinforced by the group’s actions. Actualistic studies, such as Binford’s
work with the Nunamiut, produced middle range referents in how to interpret patterns of
activities. Whitelaw’s research on the spatial organization of hunter-gatherer sites
extends Binford’s analysis by exploring how space is used and organized, especially with
regard to individual perceptions and decisions. His research is summarized in the
following section, since his findings provide the foundation for my research on the spatial
organization of horticultural groups.

Despite his comprehensive analysis on hunter-gatherer ethnographic data,
Whitelaw’s results have not been widely used by later researchers. The reasons for this
are unclear, but may be due in part to its inclusion in a larger edited volume of
ethnoarchaeological case studies. This volume received mixed reviews in several
journals; as a result, the different chapters may have remained on the periphery of the
professional literature. Additionally, some of Whitelaw’s ideas differ from the generally
accepted ethnoarchaeological models that are based on Binford’s work among the
Nunamiut. While Whitelaw and Binford both recognize the utility of an
ethnoarchaeological model to understand spatial patterning at hunter-gatherer sites,
Binford argues that labor organization is the driving mechanism for producing spatial
patterning at sites (among the Nunamiut), while Whitelaw suggests that kin relationships
are more important in a site’s spatial organization. Binford’s critique of Whitelaw’s
findings previewed, rather than followed, Whitelaw’s paper within the volume, thereby

potentially diminishing its impact on other researchers.

12

Whitelaw’s Research on Hunter-Gatherers

Whitelaw (1991) studied the relationship between spatial organization and social
structure within hunting-gathering communities. He argues that human behavior in space
depends primarily on perception, that is, sensory input and interpretation Culturally
imposed filters and sensory input can affect perception by affecting a person’s sensitivity
or openness to different sensory experiences. Physical distance is one factor that can
regulate sensory input and therefore human interaction. Contact among people can also
be affected by the presence of fixed and semi—fixed features of the built environment,
which serve to partition individuals from others (thereby working in a fashion similar to
distance). The resulting behaviors and repeated actions of group members are affected
by, and can impart a ‘signature’ or spatial patterning to the landscape that is recognizable
and which is related to certain social aspects of the group.

In his study, Whitelaw (1991) compared the spatial patterning associated with
800 communities from 112 hunter-gatherer cultures, and identified cross-cultural
regularities among these groups. His data show that there is a negative correlation
between population and the occupational density (persons/hectare). Lower population
communities (less than 50 people) have campsites or residential structures that are more
closely spaced (high occupational density); while higher population communities live
more distantly from one another, in more widely spaced campsites and structures (low
occupational density). Lower occupational densities are more likely associated with
longer periods of residence.

He also identified four factors that created variation in intrasite space use:

domestic group composition; occupational density with respect to group size;

13

occupational density with respect to ecological context; and the degree of residential
sedentism. Of these factors, the domestic group composition (referred to as ‘kinship’ by
Whitelaw) has the greatest impact on residential layout. Whitelaw suggested that kinship
serves as a basis for the processes associated with socialization. He posited that there is a
major difference in residential layout depending on the level of inter-household
cooperation in subsistence-related behavior. Where there is cooperation, there is likely to
be more closely spaced residences. He concludes that space is used similarly by different
cultures, and increases in the social scale of communication leads to greater organization
in community layout.

Whitelaw’s study on hunter-gatherers establishes a "baseline case study from
which to assess the impact of horticultural subsistence on the spatial organization of a
group. A survey of horticultural groups indicates that Whitelaw’s findings on the spatial
organization of hunter-gatherers may not necessarily apply to horticulturalists. While the
division between food collectors and foragers and horticulturalists remains a ‘fuzzy
transition’ (cf. Smith 2001), the practice of food production imposes additional demands
on the mobility, labor division, and decision-making processes of horticulture-practicing
groups. Furthermore, the shift in economy from foraging/collecting to include
horticulture enhances a group’s ability to procure and store food to offset uncertainty
associated with resource availability, reliability, and predictability. These differences in
the frequency and context for group member interaction can lead to differences in social
behaviors and use of space between horticulturalists and hunter-gatherers.

The term ‘interaction’ has a rather broad meaning, but appears to encompass at

least three different dimensions for horticultural groups:

14

a. labor force size and coordination. Horticultural communities face generally
similar challenges in growing and storing food, including the preparation fields for
planting, maintenance and irrigation of fields; harvesting and storage of crops; and food
preparation. This includes the sharing of labor for agriculture, or for other non-
subsistence purposes such as defense or building construction For example, Flannery
(2002) argues that the appearance of extended family households at some Near East and
Mesoamerican archaeological sites provided access to a larger labor force needed for
agricultural tasks such as land clearing and intensive irrigation.

b. sharing of food, resources, and information. Hegmon’s (1991) modeling of
sharing as a risk reduction strategy among horticultural groups suggests that households
may share a portion of their food with others in times of lower yield to maintain larger
group coherency. While not directly addressed by Hegmon, resource sharing may result
in distinctive spatial patterns, such as extramural storage caches, communal cooking
facilities and mealing bins, and/or cleared spaces for larger group feasting and
interaction. Thus, while kinship plays an important role in land tenure and division of
labor, occasional sharing of food resources with non-household members can also
maintain larger group coherency and modify existing spatial patterning.

c. communication; this may be deliberately shared information or more ‘passive’
transmittal of information through a visible icon or ritual. Agorsah (1988, 1991), in his
study of the Nchumuru village of Wiae, shows that villagers from the same clan live in
houses clustered closer to one another, share similar secrets and recognize a common

kabuno ancestor, as manifested in the clan shrine, located within a central courtyard.

15

The interaction dimensions listed above can be affected by factors that facilitate,
organize or limit the overall spatial organization of the group. I expect that some of these
factors are similar to those identified by Whitelaw for hunter-gatherers. For example,
kinship is a powerful integrative concept for most groups. As a case in point, Mandan
villages, matrilineally-related families and occasional unrelated persons inhabit the same
earthlodge (Meyer 1977; Wood 1985). This facilitates the sharing of food and work-
related chores among earthlodge residents. On the other hand, other factors may be
superimposed on, or modify, this spatial pattern. Mandan villages typically are high in
population, and earthlodges are built extremely close to one another behind palisades and
earthworks. The higher occupational density provides protection against raids. Finally, as
group size increases within horticultural communities, so does the potential for dissension
and disagreement among some group members. While centrally located plazas are used
for village-wide rituals to reinforce the larger group identity and purpose, dissent can still
arise among group members, and disrupt the larger group’s stability.

A fundamental challenge for archaeological research is recognizing spatial
patterning within the static material record, and interpreting the range of possible human
behavior and cultural systems that formed those patterns (e. g. Binford 1980; Whitelaw
1991; Agorsah 1991; Dietler and Herbich 1998). The interrelationships among human
behavior, space use, and spatial patterning have been the focus of considerable study
(e.g., Clarke 1977; Willey 1953; Kent 1987; Binford 1978). Clarke (1977) notes,

“. . .there is archaeological information in the spatial relationships between things as well
as in things in themselves” (p. 5). Organizational behaviors and information flow are

frequently manifested in the spatial patterning of human activities on multiple scales,

l6

including the distribution of features, artifact assemblages, ritual and ornamental artifacts,
and architecture (Clarke 1977; Bettinger 1987; F einman 1994; Panja 2003; Wilkinson
2003). Kent furthers this premise, noting that while the study of space examines the
patterning associated with cultural material, behavior, culture, and its interrelationships, it
does not take a normative view that all humans act/react in identical ways. Therefore,
one must also recognize variability in spatial patterning, and examine under what
conditions this variability occurs to decipher a group’s social organization from its spatial
behavior.

Earlier archaeological studies examined social organization, subsistence, and
political and economic systems on a macro-scale. As represented by Willey’s early
survey on the Viru Valley in Peru and Sanders’ work in Teotihuacan Valley, Mexico,
these projects focused on settlement patterning, and its position on the landscape as a
means of interpreting the regional settlement system. Later research examined spatial
variability within and between sites as an indicator of a group’s social organization and
behaviors (e.g., Wilmsen 1975; Flannery 1972). Site structure models were developed
based on ethnoarchaeological observations (for example, Binford 1978). Activity patterns
associated with discrete behavioral components were identified based on their debris
signatures and feature distribution. Ethnoarchaeological studies such as Binford’s on the
Nunamiut illustrate the potential range of variation in how groups use, manipulate and
organize space, variables affecting that use of space, and the interrelationships between
the use of space and cultural material and culture. These models provided the middle
range research from which to derive expectations regarding the extant archaeological

record.

17

More recent studies have focused on interpreting inter-site interactions and intra-
site organization and variability. The recognition of interaction among and between
communities or households within the archaeological record is interpreted from intra— and
inter-unit spacing, access patterns, and boundary maintenance (e.g., Kooyman 2006),
including settlement patterning, ecological adaptation, and the aggregation and dispersal
of groups — in short, the recognition of spatial patterns associated with a group. For
example, Rautman’s work (1993) suggests that people at pithouse sites exchanged
resources and interacted with other communities to effectively respond to situations of
unpredictable food resources caused by climatic variability. She demonstrated that some
pithouse communities expanded their access to preferred resources by maintaining
relationships with other groups located in predicted alternative resource areas, thereby
reducing the risk of local resource shortfalls. Presumably, this may produce distinctive
spatial patterns, including clustering of dwellings adjacent to traded resources to limit/
control access to resources from others.

Different archaeological investigations have identified intra-site spatial patterns
that are indicative of social behaviors and organizational structure of horticultural
communities. For instance, both real and imagined boundaries are erected within and
between communities to control access to resources and reduce tension (Hegmon 1994;
Adler and Wilshusen 1990). Boundary-making strategies may include ritual to defuse
stress; architectural boundaries to define social obligations; and style differences as
symbols of similarity and difference. Hegmon suggests that these strategies become
more important with increased sedentism and settlement permanence, and with

agricultural intensification and increased food production. Public architecture, such as

18

plazas or mounds, may be used to perform certain rituals that reinforce the social order
within a community. People may be included or excluded from participation;
consequently, architecture serves to delimit groups as well as divisions within a
community. Architecture may also have symbolic meanings that reaffirm a group’s
worldview, as in the case of the Navajo hogans. Finally, as with ritual, architecture has
limited, but very specific meanings (see also Wobst 1977). It may be placed so as to
transmit specific meanings to certain groups of people (e.g., land tenure rights).
Alternatively, public architecture may be used for more than just ritual ceremonies. In
the case of the Pueblos, for example, there is increasing evidence that kivas were not used
solely for ritual use, but that various social groups, including different men’s groups, may
have had access to kivas at different times throughout the year (Ladd 1979; Schlegel
1977)

To summarize, spatial patterning results from the repeated, collective actions or
behavior of a group. Over time, these behaviors modify the existing natural landscape to
facilitate, direct or control the movement of people (e.g., Clarke 1977; Binford 1978;
Kent 1987; Golledge and Stimson 1997; W.A.V. Clark, 1972). These social behaviors are
culturally based, and strongly dependent on the nature and degree of interaction among
different individuals, households, and groups (Wobst 1977). The spatial field between
group members acts to delimit or promote contact; distance can serve as a control on the
senses; and the density of individuals within a proscribed area can encourage or deter the
frequency and nature of interactions (e. g., McDermott and Roth 1978). Furthermore,
social interactions and associated behaviors occur in a spatial context, and “induce a

temporal sequence of directed acts by individuals, groups and institutions in a society”

19

(Golledge and Stimson 1997; 7; italics original). Some differences in the spatial
organization of structures and features associated with hunter-gatherer versus
horticultural communities is expected, as the nature of their intra-group interactions
differ.

The following chapter will discuss the ethnographic database used to discuss the
interaction dimensions and nature of inter-household relationships within horticulture
communities, identify the resulting spatial patterning associated with mixed subsistence-
horticultural groups, and investigate the causes of variation in these interactions that may

occur among different horticulture communities.

20

CHAPTER 3
ETHNOGRAPHIC DATA

“People sharing a cultural tradition may well also share socio-spatial traits... ”
(Fellow 2003)
General Approach and Data Base

This investigation on horticultural groups expands on the spatial patterning
research done by Whitelaw (1991) for hunter-gatherers. As noted in the previous chapter,
Whitelaw (1991) used ethnographic data to identify cross-cultural patterns and factors
causing variation within those patterns for hunter-gatherer groups. Similarly, I would
expect that there are cross-cultural similarities as well as variations among horticultural
groups that can be correlated with relevant social behaviors, and which are manifested in
a site’s spatial patterning. Using the approach followed by Whitelaw (1991), I have
developed a cross-cultural dataset for horticulturalists from published ethnographic
studies (Appendices 1 and 2). From this, I have identified and interpreted relevant spatial
patterns that are correlated with specific social behaviors, and which are used to help
interpret data from archaeological sites (see Chapters 6 and 7).

A fundamental challenge for this research was to identify those categories from
the available ethnographic studies that could be used to interpret social behaviors from
spatial data. In order to do this, I first determined if there were certain behaviors that were
common to most horticultural groups, and then identified the spatial manifestation of
these behaviors. As explained in Chapter 2, a preliminary survey of available
ethnographic studies show that cooperation, sharing, and communication are three vital
interaction dimensions found among most horticultural groups. As examples, labor pools

are necessary to ensure adequate work force when planting crops; sharing produced foods

21

helps to mitigate possible food shortfalls; and conveying necessary information while
engaging in planting and harvesting food are important tasks that must be accomplished.

Next, I had to determine what actions were expressed by these dimensions. By
examining the ethnographic record, I can make the linkage between a particular behavior,
its associated action and how these are expressed spatially. Usually, examples of
‘interaction’ within a particular cultural context are cited to clarify meaning, since
behaviors and associated actions can be readily observed and explained by informants.
For example, Flannery (2002) notes that horticultural communities often rely on
cooperative efforts in such tasks as field clearing, cultivating and harvesting crops, crop
storage, and engaging in associated planting and harvesting rituals. But from an
archaeological perspective, I had to link these behaviors and actions to the specific spatial
patterns expressed on the landscape. How are the concepts of ‘communication’,
‘cooperation’ and ‘sharing’ expressed spatially?

As more fully explored by Whitelaw (1991), physical distance is a critical
measure of the degree of familiarity and contact among inter-group residents.
Cooperation and frequent contact is more likely among group members who are more
closely spaced. Therefore, I focused on assessing how the occupational density (person
per hectare within a group) was affected, as well as on dwelling orientation and
arrangement, house size, residential composition, and presence and location of shared
activity areas. The concept of sharing is spatially expressed by the presence and location
of storage facilities, as well as location of shared activity areas, especially those
pertaining to cooking and food preparation. Furthermore, since the opportunity to engage

in more frequent one-on-one interactions with all members of a larger group can be

22

logistically difficult, there is often the presence of communal structures and common
activity spaces at high-population sites to facilitate larger-group contact. Ultimately, I am
interested in determining the possible archaeological signatures that are produced by
these interactions.

These interaction dimensions are cross-cultural regularities that most horticultural
groups more or less exhibit in their dealings with other group members. I can also
identify the factors that can create variation in intra-group interactional behaviors, and
correlate these with particular spatial patterns (Figure 1). In addition to evaluating
Whitelaw’s four dimensions — kinship roles, occupational density with respect to group
size, occupational density with respect to ecological context -I have also identified other
factors that can modify or impact spatial patterning at a site, such as defensive measures.
Data categories used in the study are listed in Table 1.

Most importantly, if the connection between spatial pattern and behavior and
resulting action are better understood, then I should be able to use these findings to
reason back from the archaeological record to such vague concepts as ‘domestic group
composition’, as well as the social organization and interaction dimensions used by
horticultural groups. Furthermore, I can use the text of the ethnographies to ‘flesh out’ the
correlations established between categorical variables and social behaviors, As such, this
process becomes an important tool for interpreting the social behavior and organization
of groups from archaeological spatial data.

My focus on a mixed horticultural economic strategy is driven, in part, to better
understand the organizational structure and behaviors of groups that obtain at least some

of their subsistence through food production. By examining the social and spatial

23

Figure 1

r14“;.ihhhéhcééinierhdidhfl “ THEN spatialparamagnetic. ’
a_b¢havi0rs/a¢tio_ns. fl __ -. _
. Domestic Group Composition - clustered dwellings for more immediately related .

family members
' - smaller dwelling size for immediate family
. ,. _ . e _ , . e ftlesssegregatedinterior .
. Economy 1' - presence of significant storage
facilities
' processing technology/artifacts
- evidence for longer-term sedentism at site, incl.
.. _. . x V . betterebuilt structures . -- ._
. Occupational density J ' presence of plaza/open space
’ - intrasite dwelling configuration based on
topography or community needs (open, linear,
random, enclosed)
- larger dwelling size for extended family or
unrelated community members
- more segregated interior, with multiple hearths
- location of storage
' site size
. - amount of midden
,, ,, ., ,., ,_ , _jipossibledefgtSive structures. . , _
‘ Ecological Context ; - presence of storage (both communal and family)
7 - type of dwelling constructed (protection against
climate elements)
,_ _ _ - .. ,- ‘_ , ' site location (as. adjacent to water resources)
i Defensive Measures - earthenworks/enclosing high walls
" enclosing ditch
- palisades
f - village site on high ground
- closely clustered dwellings
' - limited ingress/egressto village

Possible Intra-site Spatial Patterning Associated with Horticultural Groups

24

99°SP‘SAPP’NI‘

Table 1
List of Ethnographic Data Categories

Name of group

Location of group

Number of settlements (known/date)

Population per community (specific/average)

Composition of the community

Number of dwellings per village (specific to village/average)

People per dwelling (range/average)

Dwelling composition (e.g., nuclear, extended family, mixed composition)
Size of dwelling (range/average)

. Presence/Absence of internal partitioning

. Presence/Absence of out dwellings (e.g., ramada)

. Site Size (specific/average)

. Dwelling arrangement (e.g., clustered, linear, solitary, community house)
. Defensive position (Yes/No)

. Presence/Absence of Storage

. If present, location of storage (within residence, external to residence, both)
. Degree of mobility (e.g., sedentary, seasonal movement)

. Presence/Absence of plaza/cleared space

. Presence/Absence of communal house (e.g., men’s house)

. Estimate of food production

. Primary produced crops

. Division of labor in economic subsistence

. Kinship system

. Lineality

. Locality

. Subsistence unit (e.g., family, household, village, clan)

25

behaviors of hunter-gatherers, Whitelaw focused on one end member within the food
procurement-food production continuum. His research provides the foundation from
which to explore farther out along the economic subsistence continuum, into the ‘middle
ground’ (sensu Smith 2001) of low-level food production between hunter-gatherer-
forager and agriculturist. Smith proposes using the term ‘low-level producers’ for all
middle ground groups that obtain between 30 — 50% of their caloric intake from
produced, domesticated foods. In recognizing this ‘middle ground’, Smith (2001)
underscores the clinal nature of the transitional boundary that exists between hunter-
gatherers on one end, and agriculturalists on the other. Some hunter-gatherers cultures
will engage in the broadcast of seeds or the intentional clearing of forests to encourage
greater foraging pasture for wild animals. Likewise, some large-scale agriculturalists,
such as the Rhade of Vietnam, will occasionally engage in gathering wild foods to
supplement produced crops (Hickey 1993).

For this research, I focus on middle-range size horticultural communities that
obtain between 20% and 65% of their food from gardening and agricultural activities.
This overlap with the two end points of ‘hunter-gatherers’ and ‘agriculturalists’ provides
enough flexibility so that any group engaged in a transient shift between subsistence
strategies will be included in the study. As with hunter-gatherers, horticulturalists rely on
wild game and plants as a substantial part of their diet (e.g., Weltfish 1965; Schroeder
1979). Consequently, horticultural communities may be either seasonally mobile or
completely sedentary, engage in logistical hunts for large or small game, and make
necessary trips to procure necessary material resources for the manufacture of tools (e.g.,

Kent 1992). Murdock’s Ethnographic Atlas was used to identify middle range, relatively

26

unstratified horticultural culture groups to be included within the sample. Groups who
depended on horticulture for at least 20%, but not more than 65% of their subsistence
were included. Pastoralists were excluded, as were those groups that raise large animals
(such as cattle or goats) for everyday food consumption. Pastoralism is considered a
distinctive subsistence practice from horticultural, in that groups engage in seasonal
migration to different areas to provide water and fodder to animals. For pastoral nomads,
there are no permanent settlements and little to no associated horticulture. For
transhumance pastoralists, there is limited horticulture in summer encampments, but
subsistence is primarily based on animal use and trade. Therefore, the social organization
and behaviors of pastoralists, and resulting spatial patterns are distinctive from those of
horticultural groups. Alternatively, groups that raise chickens and pigs typically do so to
supplement horticultural products, and therefore are included in this study.

Also eliminated were groups that had an average local community population of
greater than 1000 people. Although horticulture can be a semi-intensive form of
agriculture, it is generally limited to vegetable gardens and small fields, with yields
primary consumed by the producing family or community. Irrigation and fertilization are
generally small-scale, not requiring animals or industrial techniques for implementation.
Therefore, those groups that practiced large-scale intensive agriculture and that produced
high yields for commercial markets were excluded from the study. Groups were also
eliminated from the study if there was the presence of strong class stratification,
significant crafi specialization, hereditary or nonhereditary succession through wealth or
appointment from a higher authority, and the use of animals or goods as a measure of

wealth.

27

Using these criteria, 95 horticulturally-based cultural groups were identified for
inclusion in the study. Unfortunately, comprehensive ethnographic data are not readily
accessible for all culture groups, so that full information on only 50 groups and partial
information available on another 31 groups was ultimately available for review. This is a
small number from which to make a statistical assessment. However, many cultural
groups are composed of different horticultural communities. While these communities
may share a common language or together be loosely categorized as a ‘tribe’, they are not
considered as corporate political bodies; instead, each community makes decisions based
on their unique circumstances and situations. Ethnographic studies are available for many
of these horticultural communities. Moreover, there are some communities that contain
sub-groups, which are self-contained social units with their own spatial, political, and
economic integrity separate from the larger community. These are treated as individual
horticultural communities within the ethnographic database. This increases the database
to 122 horticultural communities from which to identify and interpret spatial patterning
consistent with the social organization and behaviors (Appendices 1 and 2; Figure 2).

Implicit within this study are considerations of scale: i.e., ‘household’,
‘community’, ‘settlement/village’, and/or ‘regional’ levels of social relations and their
effects on spatial organization. Clearly, the internal mechanisms promoting social
integration, and the manifestation of these on the landscape, are affected by the size of
the group(s) studied, their inherent internal social organization, and the extent and nature
of external relations (Clarke 1978). For this study, ‘household’ refers to a spatially bound,
often kin-related group that represents an economic unit (e.g., David 1971). ‘Domestic

group’ refers to individuals, usually kin-related, that live within the same residential

28

32.5w— oEQF—Moufim 5 comb 2.59.9 obs—=0 Kai—5:3: .3 .533?— wfikogm ma:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

.8. .8. .8 b .8 .8—

N PEME

29

dwelling. This term incorporates the designations of ‘nuclear family’ (parents plus
offspring), ‘extended family’ (two or more nuclear families), and ‘mixed residential
group’ (two or more unrelated, or distantly related families). ‘Community’ follows the
definition outlined in Kolb and Snead (1997:611) as “a minimal, spatially defined locus
of human activity that incorporates social reproduction, subsistence production, and self-
identification,” but with the caveat that these social, political and economic activities
occur within a limited temporal window (e.g., Hayden, et a1., 1996). Unless otherwise
noted, the term ‘group’ is used interchangeably with ‘community’. The terms ‘settlement’
and ‘village’ are used synonymously to indicate the physical village location in which a
community lives. While many researchers are interested in large scale or regional
interactions among different communities, this study focuses on intra-site spatial
patterning and variability. Scale is therefore limited to the ‘micro-regional’, defined by
Snead (2008) as an area a few kilometers across, and which encompasses the

community’s interactions on the landscape.

Data Collection

Data were collected from a combination of ethnographies, historical
documentation, and site excavation of historic structures. In addition to published
ethnographies, data from the electronic Human Area Resource Files (eHRAF) were also
reviewed. All data were collected as being representative of the ethnographic present:
data on any particular culture group were compiled from sources written during the same
time frame. If data were available over a long time span, then these were treated as

separate categories in the database.

30

Over the past century, group identity and social behaviors have been transformed
due to forced displacement onto reservations, assimilation into European and Euro-
American cultures, imposition of outside religious values and norms, and/or decimation
of population numbers/’extinction’ of the group due to disease, warfare, and changing
economic conditions. For example, the extant U.S. indigenous groups, such as the
Pawnee, Omaha, Wichita, Mandan, Hidatsa, Arikara, Osage, Ioway, Winnebago, and
Ponca, currently live on reservations or are dispersed among multiple cities and towns.
The subsistence economy and residential patterning, as practiced by these groups as late
as the early 20th century, no longer exists. Consequently, ethnohistorical surveys,
coupled with more recent excavations of historically documented villages, were used to
provide adequate cultural and site-specific data, including dwelling size, site size and
configuration, and number of dwellings.

It is not the purpose of this dissertation to track the significant acculturative
changes that have been experienced by horticultural groups. Therefore, some groups were
dropped from the data list (e.g., Amahuaca; post-reservation Native American
communities), if the current settlement pattern reflects the influence of outside agencies
(e.g., settlers, missionaries) in terms of dwelling layout and composition. Alternatively, I
did include the ethnographic data on Southwest groups living in pueblo communities.
These groups continue to live in villages that are similar in layout and design to pre-
contact sites.

Where possible, data were collected on a cultural group living within a specific
geographic area (see Figure 2). Often, more than one ethnographic study was undertaken

on a culture group living within different geographic regions, e.g., the Yanoarno. The

31

majority of these groups have undergone significant acculturation over the past 50 years;
therefore, each cultural group may have more than one data set, recorded with report
dates, that tracks changes in a group’s organizational, economic and material culture over
time.

Table 1 lists the data categories collected for this study. Not all data are available
for each category; this is designated with the notation ‘999’. Comments regarding data ‘
availability and exceptions are reviewed below.

1. Name of group: the currently used designation for a particular culture group. While in
the majority of cases this has remained unchanged over time, there are a few notable
exceptions. For example, the Tohono O’odharn were formerly designated as the Papago;
the Ye’cuana were formerly called the Makiritare.

2. Location of culture group: listed in Appendix 3.

3. Number of settlements: this figure is taken from ethnographic studies, but can vary
depending on the date of fieldwork. For example, Nimuendajt't (1967) noted that there
were 9 Sérente villages in 1930, but reduced this number to 7 upon his return in 1937.
For some of the Upper Xingu culture groups, such as the Mehinacu, Trumai, or Kalapalo,
there is only one village per tribal group (Gregor 1977). In a few instances, residents of a
larger culture group were dispersed across the landscape, so that no actual ‘village’ was
identified. Instead, residential dwellings werevclustered together, with those residents
acting as self-sufficient economic and political units independent from their neighbors.
For instance, the Barama Carib ‘villages’ were composed of consanguineally-related
family members who worked independently to clear land, grow crops, and expand

holdings relative to nearby Carib landholders.

32

4. Population per community: This was frequently reported as an average number of
residents within a community, although some researchers reported changes in population
over the course of several decades. In those cases, the population figure most closely
corresponding to the date of the ethnographic study was used.

5. Composition of the community: this refers to the general kin relationships among the
entire community. While a few smaller groups were comprised of a mixture of
consanguineally and affinally related kin, larger communities were composed of related
and unrelated families. 1 = nuclear family; 2 = extended family (consanguineal and
affinal relations); and 3 = mixed group (both related and unrelated residents).

6. Number of dwellings per settlement: this refers to the number of residential
dwellings at a settlement within a particular time period. In the case of the Plains
cultures, the number of dwellings refers to the summer earth lodges, which are semi-
perrnanent structures, rather than the tipis at the winter camps.

7. People per dwelling: typically given as a range for the residents within a village.
When calculating the square meter of floor space per person, the range was averaged.

8. Dwelling composition: the general relationships among residents of a dwelling are
designated. For this study, ‘domestic group composition’ is a broadly applied term that
refers to general categorical references of ‘nuclear’ family, ‘extended’ family and
‘rnixed’ household (used in the context of this study, household means those living in the
same residential dwelling). The terms ‘nuclear’ and ‘extended’ imply that there is a
consanguineal and/or affinal relationship among household members. In ethnographic
studies, these types of relationships are often identified and discussed within the context

of a group. A ‘mixed’ household may contain both biologically related and unrelated

33

members. 1 = nuclear family; 2 = extended family (consanguineal and affinal relations);
and 3 = mixed group (both related and unrelated residents).
9. Size of dwelling: typically given as a range for the size of residential dwellings and
reported in square meters. When calculating the floor space per community, I followed
Naroll’s method of using the largest residential areal size. In some cases, the
ethnographic data only recorded average residential dwelling size. Dwelling size is not
always reported; therefore, I used photographs (when available) to estimate residential
dwelling size under these circumstances.
It). Presence or absence of internal partitioning: records whether is a physical internal
wall or mat separating rooms within a residential structure. Partial screens are considered
a form of physical partition. 1 = presence of partition, 2 = absence of partition.
11. Presence or absence of out-dwellings: records whether there are structures other
than residential dwellings present at a settlement. These may include ramadas,
menstruation huts, mealing sheds, and other similar structures. Community integrative
facilities, such as council houses, men’s houses, and plazas, are listed under a separate
category.
12. Site Size: given in hectares. The site refers only to the actually residential community
site and does not include gardens or distant fields. This figure was not always reported;
therefore, I used photographs (when available) to estimate site size.

For this study, occupational density, or persons/hectare, represents the density of
people living at a particular site, with site size referring to the actual residential (lived)
space. It gives an indication of the potential for interactions among a community’s

membership (Whitelaw 1991). Lived space includes residential buildings, plazas,

34

communal houses, and specific work areas (e.g., cooking area), but excludes gardens and
fields. There are several reasons for this omission. First, specific garden or field sizes for
households are rarely documented in ethnographic reports. Second, areas set aside for
gardens and fields may change in size from year to year, depending on the size of the
household and productive yield of the field. Third, the garden and field size for different
groups varies greatly based on soil fertility, topographic relief, precipitation amounts, and
encroachment from other parties. Finally, interactions while working in gardens and
fields are usually among a few community members and are likely to be task—related,
rather than being major decisions that will affect the well-being of the larger group.

13. Dwelling arrangement: refers to how residential buildings are spatially arranged on
the landscape. This gives an indirect measure of the potential for interaction among
community members. 1 = longhouse (solitary structure); 2 = clustered residential
dwellings around a central plaza or communally — used clearing or communal structure; 3
= clustered in smaller subgroups, but with no apparent plaza or communally — used
clearing or communal structure; and 4 = dispersed residential structures on the landscape.
For the purposes of this dissertation, ‘clustered’ dwellings refer to those residential .
dwellings that, taken together as a group, are more closely spaced together with less
distance between each adjoining dwelling within the group, when compared to the
distance to other residential dwellings outside of the group.

14. Presence or absence of defensive measures: refers to the presence or absence of
defensive measures, including physical structures such as ditches, palisades, and/or
earthworks, and defensive positioning, such as a hilltop or ridge location for the

community. The location of community on high ground does not necessarily signify its

35

location is for defensive reasons; other information must be present to designate a
community as defensively positioned. 1 = presence of defensive measures, 2 = absence of
defensive measures.

15. Presence or absence of food storage: food storage is an indirect measure of the
residential longevity at a site, and is typically (though not always) found within
horticultural communities. For this study, presence of food storage refers to storage
facilities that will contain harvest surplus. It does not refer to minor food storage facilities
that are used on a daily basis. 1 = presence of storage, 2 = absence of storage. The lack of
storage facilities for this study primarily refers to South American manioc users who
keep the starchy manioc tubers in the ground, and only harvest these on an as-needed
basis.

16. If present, location of storage: refers to the physical location of food storage
facilities. 1 = 85+% of food is stored in an interior cache; 2 = 85+% of food is stored in
an exterior cache; 3 = food storage is distributed between interior and exterior food
storage bins/cists; 4 = no storage; or in situations where manioc is the primary staple,
manioc is left in the ground until ready to harvest.

17. Degree of residential sedentism: this refers to the length of time in which
community residents will remain at a particular location. Horticultural groups, like
hunter-gatherers, will engage in logistical forays to hunt or gather food resources.
However, the number of community residents engaged in these activities, and the length
of stay at a locality, can vary radically among groups. For this study, groups are classified
as follows. Sedentary = 1: remaining at one location for multiple years, with ‘permanent’

residential structures; hunting and collecting expeditions undertaken by small groups, but

36

with the larger residential community remaining behind. Semi-sedentary = 2: remaining
at one location for three to eight years, with fairly well-constructed residential structures;
hunting and collecting expeditions undertaken by small groups from the site, with larger
residential community remaining behind; moves will typically occur to clear new land for
agriculture. Seasonally mobile = 3: moving from one location to another seasonally, but
with a ‘permanent’ summer residence consisting of semi-permanent structures (such as
an earthlodge) and a winter residence consisting of tipis or other temporary residential
structures. Most residents will move to engage in winter and summer hunts, but some
members of the community will remain behind to tend for crops planted in the spring.

18: Presence or absence of a plaza/communally-used cleared space: this denotes the
presence or absence of a communally used plaza or cleared space for secular and/or
sacred functions. These are often used as community integrative spaces. Often, residential
dwellings are found surrounding plazas, although this is not a universal condition. 1 =
presence of plaza/cleared space, 2 = absence of plaza/cleared space.

19: Presence or absence of a communal house: refers to the presence or absence of a
community integrative facility, including a council house, men’s house, kiva, or other
structure used for sacred and/or secular purposes. Human behavior in private spaces, such
as one’s dwelling, may be different than that displayed in public spaces (Goffman 1963).
The approved norms of public behavior may be reinforced by the placement of structures,
icons, and open areas. For instance, the Barafiri Yanoamo will not enter another’s
residence unless specifically invited, but are free to tease, harass, or engage that same
individual within any part of the central shabono, right up to the residence doorway

(Wilbert 1972). Alternatively, members of a Ye’cuana village live in a single communal

37

house where rooms are partitioned between nuclear families, but the group interacts
within the interior, centrally located common space (Frenchione 1990).
Ethnographically, it is important to distinguish among spaces that are identified as public
and private to determine how social interactions may vary within a community. Thus,
data were recorded for each group as to the presence or absence of communal houses,
men’s houses, cleared spaces, plazas, and central ceremonial areas, compared with the
occupational density and composition, size and arrangement of residential dwellings.

1 = presence of communal structure, 2 = absence of communal structure.

20. Estimate of food production: refers to the degree in which a community relies on
horticulture as a food resource. Modeled after Smith’s (2001) designation of low-level
food production. 1 = 20 —- 35%; 2 = 36- 50%; 3 = 51 — 65%. A ‘.5’ designation indicates
that the group is in the high percentage range for that number designation; thus ‘1.5’
means that a group obtains almost 35% of its food resources from horticulture.

21. Primary produced crops: listed as the primary subsistence crop(s) produced by a
group.

22. Division of labor in economic subsistence: refers to the general horticultural tasks
undertaken by females and males. Clr = clearing fields; plt = planting; cult =
weeding/cultivation; harv = harvesting; pro = processing of food product.

23. Kinship system (if reported): as listed in the ethnographic literature, e. g., Omaha,
Crow, etc. This designation is not universally reported.

24. Lineality: 1 = matrilineal; 2 = patrilineal; 3 = ambilineal. These designations are

those most generally reported for a group. However, recent ethnographic research

38

suggests that these designations are not ‘hard and fast’ rules, but instead will vary
depending on an individual’s or family’s situation.
25. Locality: 1 = matrilocal; 2 = patrilocal; 3 = ambilocal/neolocal. These designations
are those most generally reported for a group. However, recent ethnographic research
suggests that these designations are not ‘hard and fast’ residence rules, but instead will
vary depending on an individual’s or family’s situation.
26. Subsistence unit: refers to the unit that behaves as an economic entity, and will
engage in certain group tasks related to food production and sharing.

In the next chapter, I will discuss the significance of correlations among these
data categories, and how these relate to specific interaction dimensions shared by
horticultural communities, and to factors that can cause variation in spatial patterning

among communities.

39

CHAPTER 4
ETHNOGRAPHIC ANALYSIS: RESULTS AND DISCUSSION

“Settlements are spatial and temporal discontinuities in a visible world
that is, in a sense, contingent on an invisible reality. ” (Riviére 1995)

Social space is both a physical and cultural construct, a real as well as imagined
area in which individuals have the potential to interact with any other member of a group.
In horticultural communities, interaction among group members involves residential,
work-related, ceremonial, and ritual activities within the group social space.

In this chapter, I review the ethnographic literature on horticultural groups to
determine how behaviors that exemplify ‘interaction’ are expressed spatially on the
landscape. I follow Whitelaw’s approach for hunter-gatherers and assess the correlation
among the coded variables listed earlier. Horticultural groups, like hunter-gatherer
groups, rely to a certain degree on intra-group communication and cooperation when
engaging in various subsistence activities. All group members ‘interact’ with one another,
in that they have the potential to talk, argue, share, exchange ideas/food/resources, and
engage in individual and community work projects and ritual. Despite differences in
subsistence economy, the basic premise underlying Whitelaw’s study on hunter-gatherer
spatial organization — that perception depends on cultural filters and sensory inputs, and
physical distance is one factor that can regulate sensory input -— should also be true for
horticultural groups. Therefore, I expected that many of Whitelaw’s findings on hunter-

gatherers would hold true for horticultural communities.

40

However, an analysis of the horticultural ethnographic database shows that there
are some significant differences, as well as similarities, with Whitelaw’s findings.
Moreover, there are certain factors that appear to influence the frequency and nature of
contact among group members. Whitelaw identified four such factors for hunter-gatherer
groups: kinship; occupational density with respect to group size; occupational density
with respect to ecological context; and degree of residential sedentism. Below, I examine
the role these same factors have in affecting the interaction dimensions associated with
horticultural groups. I then identify the resulting spatial patterns from the use of social
space, comparing these with the possible intra-site patterns listed in Figure 1. Because I
will use the results from the ethnographic review to identify certain m archaeological
correlates, I am not interested in artifactual data except as a means of corroborating initial

conclusions based on spatial patterning.

Horticultural Communities and Occupational Density Patterns

Fundamentally, the frequency of interaction depends on the number of people
living within the residential space of the community. This measure, termed ‘occupational
density’, is measured as persons per hectare, and can be considered a ‘packing factor’ for
how closely spaced people are within the lived space of a community. It gives a sense of
the relative potential for interaction among community members. This should not be
confused with the clustering of dwellings (discussed in a later section), which refers to

how closely dwellings are spaced relative to other dwellings within a community.

41

Whitelaw’s finding for hunter-gatherers showed a negative correlation between
occupational density (person per hectare) and group size. Communities with more than
50 residents, and which relied on a mixed cash-based and hunting-gathering economy,
typically had lower occupational densities. He suggested that the densest communities
relied on cooperative efforts among all its members while engaged in a hunting-gathering
subsistence economy.

I found an opposite trend for horticultural groups. A plot of horticultural
community population against community site size (in hectares) confirms the premise
that more people take up more space (Figure 3). However, a logarithmic plot of
occupational density with respect to group size shows a positive correlation, in that
people are more closely spaced in larger communities than in smaller communities
(Figure 4).

In my review of the ethnographic literature, there are reasons why group members
initially chose to live more closely spaced to others, especially in larger population
communities. The primary factors that appear to control group size and spacing are (l)
the need for cooperative work efforts to accomplish certain subsistence related tasks; (2)
for defensive reasons and for protection against external raids; and/or (3) environmental
circumscription, e.g., accessibility to arable land or water resources. I suggest that the
closer spacing increases the potential for more frequent contact among horticultural

community members. In any event, this finding is counter to Whitelaw’s conclusion that

42

a greater number of people in larger communities will be less likely to be familiar with
each other, and therefore will tend to be more widely spaced on the landscape.

The plot scatter observed on Figure 3 suggests that there are external factors that
can produce variability in the occupational density manifested within a community.
Whitelaw documented similar data scatter in the occupational density for hunter-
gatherers, and identified the four factors mentioned above that produced this scatter.
Initially, I attempted to establish a correlation between each of these factors and
occupational density for horticultural groups, using the data categories identified in
Chapter 3. As shown below, a regression analysis of these factors showed that domestic
group composition, ecological context, degree of residential sedentism and need for
defensive measures were most significant in affecting occupational density. In fact
kinship relationships and ecological context produce the greatest variation in
occupational density (Table 2).

Regression analysis can be used to determine the strength of correlation between
other variables, as listed in Table 2. These are discussed in the following sections. While
the derived R2 values in Table 2 seem low, it must be remembered that more than one
factor may be influencing occupational density. As Kent (1992) explains, “The reason
[for lower R2 values in human behavior predictive models] is that there is less variation
possible in physical forces than in human behavior, which is known to be variable.” (659)

Considered another way, each horticultural group will modify its own behavior —

43

Figure 3

; Community Population with respect to Community Area

 

 

 

 

 

10000 .5
E
i 1000 g;
j a
j 100 g.
I s

3 10
l ° 5
. 1 5

0.01 0.1 1 10 100 1000

Community Area in Hectares

Community Population with respect to Community Area. Figure 3 illustrates that a
higher community population inhabits a larger community area (in hectares). Line
represents least squares fit for data.

44

 

Figure 4

Occupational Density Trend for Mixed Subsistence-Horticultural

 

 

 

 

 

Groups
1000
1 C)
3
O
i r...
E 8.
2 g '0 .. - .._ L L
3 - . ,
i 9 .
a. 1 I 1 .
l 10 100 1000 10000

Community Population

 

Occupational Density Trend for Mixed Subsistence-Horticultural Groups. Figure 4
represents the occupational density trend for mixed subsistence-horticultural groups. Data
points are based on extant ethnographic groups. Line represents least squares fit for data.
Note that occupational density increases with increasing community population.

45

Table 2

Regression Analysis Summary between Coded Variables

Variables

Occupational Densitj
Dwelling Arrangement
Floor Space

Dwelling Composition
Ecological Context
Mobility

Defensive Measures
Dwelling Composition
Floor Space

Dwelling Arrangement
Ecological Context
Storage Location
Dwelling Arrangement

R2

0.277
0.192
0.187
0.1499
0.003
0.405

0.365
0.252

0.4289
0.223

46

and hence spatial patterning — to meet its needs when facing a unique set of
circumstances. It is the trend that is established, and the comparative differences between
characteristics, that provide the insight into behavioral differences when comparing
cultural groups.

The following sections discuss how occupational density can be affected by each

of Whitelaw’s factors, and also explore if the factors can be identified using spatial

evidence.

Correlation between Coded Spatial Variables and Domestic Group Composition.

Many anthropologists have recognized that socialization processes within smaller-
scale communities is based in part on domestic group composition (e.g., Service 1971).
The domestic group may encompass consanguineal and affinal relationships, but can also
define appropriate interpersonal attitudes and behaviors among group members.
Therefore, it is likely that the general domestic group relationships among group
members can affect the proximity, orientation, and general layout of residential structures
on the landscape.

Whitelaw found that domestic group composition had a very strong effect on
hutlter-gatherer spatial patterning. Residential structures of more closely related kin were
1 Ocated adjacent to one another, while unrelated individuals were located farther away.

Furthermore, the greater organization or patterning in community layout led to an
i “Crease in the social scale of communication; for example, the members of the same San

E111d cluster their houses in an open circular plan, which allows for greater cohesion and

47

cooperation as a unit. He did not investigate if floor size is an indicator of household

composition in hunter-gatherer groups.

Similarly, I am able to document that domestic group composition affects the

spatial patterning within a horticultural community. There are three variables that are

indicators of domestic group composition that can be derived from the ethnographic data:

total floor space used per residential dwelling, dwelling arrangement (longhouse,

clustered around plaza, clustered with no plaza, and dispersed homesteads) as a function

of occupational density, and dwelling composition (nuclear, extended, and mixed

residential group). Dwelling arrangement has the strongest correlation with occupational
densi ty (27.7%), followed by floor space (19.2%) and dwelling composition (18.7%).

However, dwelling composition also shows a correlation with floor space area (36.5%)

and dwelling arrangement (25.2%), suggesting that these three factors are mutually
dependent. As explained below, dwelling composition within a residential structure can

be inferred from floor size data, while the residential makeup within a community can be

interpreted based on occupational density of the site. More closely related kin, or

members of the same clan or moiety, will have structures that are clustered more closely,

01' are located nearer to one another than to community members who are more distantly

r e1ated. This is seen in the dwelling arrangement of residential structures.

1 ‘ Domestic Group Composition: Floor Size Area. General dwelling composition —
nuclear family, extended family, and mixed residential household — is differentiated on
the basis of floor size area. The average residential dwelling floor size is statistically
& i gnificant (based on t-test) among all three categories — 39.9 square meters for nuclear

F
amines, 88.9 square meters for extended families, and 181.9 square meters for mixed

48

families (Figure 5 and Table 3). This is also borne out when comparing average floor
space per person (square meters per person per dwelling). Nuclear family members take
up more space per person on average (6.4 square meters per person) than either extended
(5.5 square meters per person) or mixed residential grouping (5.7 per person) square
meters). Although there is overlap in the range of dwelling size between nuclear family
and extended family dwellings, there is only minor overlap in the dwelling size range
between nuclear families and mixed residential groups. Floor size can be used as an

indicator of dwelling composition when considering archaeological site data, but should

be corroborated with additional spatial evidence.

2. Domestic Group Composition: Dwelling Arrangement. Residential dwelling
arrangement often mirrors intra-community domestic group relationships. Whitelaw
(199 1) found that for hunter-gatherers, the spatial distance between residential structure
entl‘a.nces is the least when the kinship distance — the number of primary relationships
betVVeen pairs of adults — is the least. In other words, closely related kin live closer to one
arlOther than more distantly related kin or unrelated individuals. Whitelaw noted that the
Clvvellings of hunter-gatherers are spaced nearer together when the residents are closely
IGel-netted kin. Furthermore, he noted that open circle pattern or clustered residences
ITelbresent greater social organization, usually at the extended family levels.
Similar patterns are noted for horticultural communities, although not as well

S i milar patterns are noted for horticultural communities, although not as well defined as

49

 

Figure 5

 

Floor Area as a Function of Dwelling Composition

 

350 E
300 ‘
250
200 ~
150 -.
100

1

Us
0
—-o o
“no.

 

 

 

O

Floor Area (square meters)

O
h—d

2 3 4

Dwelling Composition

 

».

F loor Area as a Function of Dwelling Composition. Figure 5 illustrates the relationship
between residential floor size (in square meters) and residential dwelling composition.
Key : l = nuclear family; 2 = extended family; 3 = mixed residential group

50

Table 3
Comparison of Residential Floor Size as a Function of Dwelling Composition

 

 

 

I, Nuclear Family Extended Family Mixed Residential
Composition
Average Residential 39.9 88.9 181.9
Floor Size (sq. m)
Range, Residential 11.2 — 83.2 17.7 — 260.1 55.7 — 304.0
Floor Size (sq. m)

 

 

 

 

 

N =44 cultural groups

51

for hunter-gatherer groups. Figure 6 shows the occupational density with respect to

dwelling spatial arrangement, and Table 4 shows the frequency of a particular dwelling

arrangement with respect to dwelling composition. The clustering of dwellings

containing extended and nuclear families around a central clearing or plaza shows a high

occupational density. Alternatively, dispersed homesteads are almost exclusively
composed of nuclear families rather than extended family households, and have a very
low occupational density. The type of ecological setting may influence where dispersed
homesteads are situated, however (see following section).

One striking aspect of this study was the community-wide conformity of
residential dwelling location and orientation. Residential structures may be organized
around a plaza or square to face one another, or have their doorways opening in a
Cons istent geographical direction. Village houses are often placed to reinforce certain
ideO l ogical aspects regarding the cosmos (e.g., Mehinaku settlement plan have the chiefs
hOLISe adjacent to trails that follow the ‘path of the sun’; Gregor 1977); in many cases, the
phy Sical residential dwelling is considered a microcosm of the larger universe (e. g.,
PaVVnee earthlodges). Therefore, regular or consistent settlement patterning is considered

indicative of shared ideology within a community.

I concur with Whitelaw’s conclusion that the greater organization in community
lay out promotes an increase in the scale of social communication and cooperation.
Often, more closely spaced residences act as an economic tmit. This is borne out from

$3'Carrlples using the ethnographic data. For instance, the Canela, an Eastern Timbira tribe
in Brazil, live in matrilaterally arranged ‘longhouses’ around the circumference of a large

13 laza, facing toward its center. Members of the same longhouse tend to place their fields

52

Figure 6

Occupational Density with respect to Dwelling Arrangement

 

 

 

 

 

2 800
B .
g 600 i
:3 I . I
Q 400
l 8 , 8 l
E 200 i I a ‘
f 8. 0 ‘ 3 3 L I
j 0 1 2 3 4 5
I
Dwelling Arrangement I

 

 

Occupational Density with respect to Dwelling Arrangement. Figure 6 illustrates the
relat ionship between occupational density and residential dwelling arrangement within a
Community. Key: 1 = longhouse; 2 = clustered around a plaza or communal house; 3 =
01118 tered, but lacking a plaza or communal house; 4 = dispersed houses with no apparent
Pattern.

53

Table 4

Frequency of Dwelling Arrangement with respect to Dwelling Composition

 

 

 

 

 

 

Longhouse Clustered, Clustered, Dispersed
with plaza without Residential
or square plaza or Dwellings

square
Nuclear 0 8.5% 3.7% 12.2%
fFamily
/ Extended 7.3% 42.7% 4.9% 4.9%
Family
Mixed 9.8% 3.7% 2.4% 0
Composition
(kin +
unrelated)
LTotal 17.1% 54.9% 11% 17.1%

 

 

 

 

 

N=5 O cultural groups

54

 

next to one another, and together constitute the basic economic unit (Crocker, 1990).
Hidatsa women from the same earthlodge household collectively farmed, and would
assist each other in the harvest and storage of grain crops (Hanson 1983).

As shown in Table 4, the correlations between household composition and
dwelling arrangement are inconclusive for longhouse dwellings, and when dwellings are
not clustered around a central facility. As examples, longhouse compartments of the

Ki wai can contain nuclear families, extended families, and mixed residential groups;
Pawnee earthlodge residential composition can change each year after the summer hunts.
Th us, while the occupational density decreases overall as dwelling arrangement becomes

less pronounced (compare the higher occupational density of longhouses with the lower
occupational density associated with dispersed settlements), one cannot predict dwelling
composition based solely on dwelling arrangement. Therefore, dwelling arrangement as
an indicator of dwelling composition may not be useful when interpreting archaeological

Spatial data.

3- Domestic Group Composition: Dwelling Composition. A plot of occupational

CleIlsity against the dwelling composition (Figure 7) for various horticultural groups
ShOws that the occupational density for nuclear households is less than that for extended
I\"5‘1‘1111y or mixed (kin and non-kin) households. Whitelaw made a similar finding for
l‘lllnter-gatherer communities. For horticultural communities, the mean occupational

tiensity for nuclear households is 82.1 persons per hectare; for extended households is

55

Figure 7

 

 

Occupational Density with respect to Dwelling Composition

800
700 0
600 4-
500 i“
400 4
300 -
200 *-
100 ~—

 

f

persons per hectare
O .0

 

 

>4! -- “0.- 0

-.~00

 

O
N
DJ
A

Dwelling Composition

Occupational Density with respect to Dwelling Composition. Figure 7 illustrates the
relationship between occupational density (persons per hectare) and residential dwelling
composition. Key: 1 = nuclear family; 2 = extended family; 3 = mixed residential group

56

192.6 persons per hectare; and for mixed-resident dwelling is 303.7 persons per hectare.
Interestingly, Flannery (2002) suggests a similar occupational density range for Tell
Hassuna residents in Iraq. By examining changes in architectural form and size over time,
F lannery is able to track the shift from nuclear to extended family households as the
relative importance in agriculture increased. He calculates a village density of >200
persons per hectare for nuclear families, rising to 250 to 400 persons per hectare for
extended families. Therefore, the correlation of occupational density with dwelling
composition as a general indicator of domestic group composition (nuclear versus

extended families) appears to be useful measure to consider archaeologically.

4. Discussion: In the above sections, I have divided ‘domestic group composition’ into
the three general categories of ‘nuclear families’, ‘extended families’, and ‘mixed
residential groups’. Based on the above research, dwelling size can be used to infer
possible general domestic group composition within a dwelling, and occupational density
can be used to infer the possible composition within a community. These spatial patterns
can be used in the interpretation of archaeological data. The proximity and dwelling
arrangement of houses is not as useful for defining kin relationships at archaeological
sites, but at the very least, the concept of co-residency and cooperation are implied
among dwellings that are more closely spaced.

My review of the ethnographic data also shows how ‘kinship’, as inferred from

the domestic group composition, can become a construct, at least for the purposes of

57

deciphering spatial patterning produced by household and intra-community behaviors.
Numerous ethnographic examples support Levi-Strauss’ argument that kinship is not
necessarily a ‘natural’ biological system based on consanguinity, but instead can be a
symbolic representation of relationships that may transcend direct descent or blood ties
(see also Schneider, 1984). As noted above, specific spatial corollaries tied to kinship
relationships are not necessarily visible on the landscape, nor interpretable in the absence
of ethnographic data. Rather, as this results from this research show, it is the close spatial
association of living quarters, shared activities including food acquisition, and ritual and
ceremony that provide insight into the means by which different groups ease soCial
tensions and maintain group coherency. Such systems of exchange are forms of social
communication (see also Wobst 1977), with social actions having spatial corollaries.
While the majority of horticultural households are composed of extended kin
members, 1 suggest that the higher average occupational density for mixed households
over extended families indicates the importance of co-residence as an organizational
principle. For some horticultural groups, the classification of households as containing
‘co-residents’ may be similar to ‘kinship’ with regard to those daily interactions that are
the basis of the community. As an example, the Tukanoan-Bara of Brazil or the Ye’cuana
of Guiana, co-residency is as important as kin relationships in the ordering of the
settlement (Jackson 1983; Riviére 1995). In part, this is from the lack of any social
grouping outside of the settlement. People living within the same settlement tend to be

linked not only by descent, but also by common experiences and shared bonds of

58

friendship and communal life. Similarly, for the Pawnee, the village constituted the one
fixed, stable component of their social and political organization. Lodge units were far
more fluid in composition, as lodge households would disband during the summer and
winter buffalo hunts, and could regroup with different families when people reunited
afterwards. While kin groups were the most fundamental and potent form of relationship
between individuals, these ties were not always rigid, but could dissolve if the
relationships were not acknowledged on various levels.

Archaeologically, then, closely spaced houses may have contained
consanguineally- or affinally-related individuals, or may have contained group members
(co-residents) that recognized a relationship that transcends ‘kinship’ for the survival of
the larger group. Whether considered as kin or co-residents, four fundamental attitudes —
mutuality, reciprocity, group/individual rights and obligations — can be expressed by co-
residency or kinship, and together convey the relationships and responsibilities among
individuals within the larger group social organization, and ease tensions within small-
scale societies.

It is also apparent from my review of the ethnographic data that community
interactions may move beyond consanguineal relationships to reflect society or moiety
structure instead, thereby affecting occupational density. As mentioned previously, the
Canela live in contiguous, matrilaterally-arranged houses situated around a large plaza
(Figure 8). Each contiguous group of dwellings consists of two to five active female kin,

which together constitute a ‘longhouse’. Residence is uxorilocal: a man will marry into

59

Figure 8

 

Settlement Plan of Ramko’kamekra Village. Canella “ring village”. Afier Nimuendajt'r
and Lowie (1937). Scale bar = 20 meters. Arrow points north.

60

other longhouses that lie on the opposite side of the plaza, thereby forming patrilateral
relationships between different longhouses. (Crocker 1990). Moiety divisions and/or clan
groups are also noted for the Bororo (N imuendaju 1946), Quapaw (Young and Hoffman
2001), Ioway (Skinner 1926), various Pueblo groups (e.g., White 1962; Parsons 1928;

Ortiz 1969), Apinaye (N imuendaju 1967), Wanano (Chemela 1993), among others.

Ecological Setting and Subsistence-Related Behaviors
I also investigated whether the ecological setting in which a community lives can affect
its subsistence practices, and consequently impact group social behavior and resulting
space use. Whitelaw (1991) found that the ecological setting of an area could affect
spatial patterning produced by hunter-gatherers, depending on the level of cooperation in
subsistence-related behavior. He posited that where there is cooperation in subsistence-
related practices, there is more likely to be higher occupational densities and more closely
spaced residences. Alternatively, where there is little advantage in collective foraging,
occupational density is lower, with more widely spaced residences. His study results
verified this premise: there are lower occupational densities for desert, subarctic, and
arctic groups, as there are limited food resources and therefore limited opportunities to
cooperatively hunt and forage.

Since climate impacts the types of crops grown (Tables 5 and 6), as well as the
availability of foraged and hunted food, I anticipated that the subsistence-related
behaviors for horticultural groups should also be affected. I consider occupational density

and dwelling arrangement separately.

61

Table 5

General Description of Climate Zones

 

 

 

 

temp range = 20°
C

Ecological Precipitation Temperature Other Comments
Context Raw
Arid Average total ppt. per Average annual Low humidity,
(1) year = 80 mm temp = 23° C. irregular rainfall,
Average annual high percentage of
temp range = 20° sunshine. Water
C resources
intermittent to
scarce.
Semi-Arid Average total ppt per Average annual May include ‘high
(2) year = 200 - 400 mm temp = 6 - 10° C desert’. Winter
per year; variable Average annual snows and summer
temp range = 35° thunderstorms are
C primary form of
precipitation. Frost
limits growing
season.
Island Average total ppt per Average annual Tropical maritime,
(3) year = 2000 — 2400 temp = 20 - 25° C but with lack of
mm Average annual fresh water. Salt

water and prevailing
winds can affect

crop type.

 

Temperate /

Average total ppt. per

Average annual

Seasonal frost and

 

 

 

 

 

 

Plains year = 500- 800 mm temp = 10° C snow expected.
(4) Average annual Elevation may range
temp range = 29° from a few hundred
C feet to over 5000’
above sea level.
Tropical Bi- In tropical bi- Average annual Includes semi-
seasonal seasonal setting, have temp. = 26° C tropical, seasonal
(5); Tropical distinct rainy season Average annual rainforest, and
Rainforest and dry season; temp. range = 15° tropical rainforest
(6) average total ppt. per C biomes
year = 2600 — 2900
mm in TRF
Tropical Moist Distinct dry (My- Average Also called
Deciduous Sept) season and wet temperature range ‘cerrado’; includes
Forest/Savannah season; 800-2000 mm = 20 - 25° C dry and wet
(7) rainfall savannah

 

These data are based on information from the Global Ecological Zones for the Global
Forest Resources. Website: www.fao.org

62

 

Table 6

Major Produced Foods for Culture Groups Used in Study

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Climate Cultural Group Produced Crops
Arid Akimel O’doham Maize
Arid Apache (Western) Maize, Melon
Arid Chemehuevi Maize, gourds, winter wheat
Arid Cocopa Maize, beans, melons
Arid Havasupai Maize
Arid Kumeyaay Maize, mesquite pods
Arid Maricopa Maize, wheat, beans, melon
Arid Mohave Maize, wheat, beans, squash
Arid Quechan Maize, melons, beans, wheat
Arid Tohono O’odham Maize
Arid Yavapai Maize
Semi-Arid Acoma Maize, melons
Semi-Arid Hopi Maize
Semi-Arid Jemez (Rio Grande Maize

pueblos)
Semi-Arid Tepehuan Maize, wheat, beans, squash
Semi- Arid Tewa Maize, beans, melons
Semi-Arid Zuni Maize, wheat
Island Aua Taro, cocoanut
Island Cuna (island) Plantain, fruit crops
Island Manganian Taro, cocoanut, plantain, bananas
Island Tokelau Cocoanut, pandanus fruit
Temperate Plains Arikara Maize, squash, beans
Temperate Plains Hidatsa Maize
Temperate Plains Ioway Maize, beans, pumpkins
Temperate Plains Kansa Maize
Temperate Plains Mandan Maize
Temperate Plains Omaha Maize, beans, squash, melon
Temperate Plains Osage Maize, beans, squash, pumpkins
Temperate Plains Oto Maize, beans, melon, squash,
Temperate Plains Pawnee Maize, beans, squash
Temperate Plains Ponca Maize, beans, squash, pumpkin
Temperate Plains Quapaw Maize, beans, squash
Temperate Plains Wichita Maize, tobacco, melons
Temperate Plains Winnebago Maize, beans, squash
Temperate/Semi-Tropical Baiga Cereal grains, especially maize
Tropical Forest, bi-seasonal Amahuaca Maize, manioc

 

 

Tropical Forest, bi-seasonal

 

Barama Carib

 

Manioc

 

63

 

Table 6 (cont.)

 

 

Trgiical Forest, bi-seasonal Cubeo Manioc
Tromal Forest, bi-seasonal Kiwai Yams, taro, bananas

 

Tropical Forest, bi-seasonal

Maroni Carib

Bitter manioc, sugar cane, fruit trees

 

Tropical Forest, bi-seasonal

Senoi Semai

Cereal crops

 

Trggical Forest, bi-seasonal

Senoi Temiar

Manioc, rice, maize

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tropical Forest, bi-seasonal Tenetehara Manioc, maize, squash, beans
Tropical Forest, bi-seasonal Trio Manioc, sweet potato, yams, maize
Tropical Forest, bi-seasonal Tupinamba Manioc, yams, gourds

Tropical Forest, bi-seasonal Waiwai Manioc, bananas

Tropical Forest, bi-seasonal Yagua Manioc, bananas, sugar cane
Tropical Rainforest Bribri Plantain, cacao

Tropical Rainforest Jivaro Sweet manioc

Tropical Rainforest Nandeva Manioc, maize, sweet potato
Tropical Rainforest Piro Plantain, banana, maguey
Tropical Rainforest Trumai Manioc

Tropical Rainforest Uitote/Witoto Manioc

Trgpical Rainforest Wanano Manioc

Tropical Rainforest Wayapi Manioc, bananas, yams, maize
Tropical Rainforest Ye’cuana Bitter manioc
Tropical/Savannah Apinaye Manioc, maize, sweet potato
Tropical/ Savannah Bororo Maize, manioc, gourds
Tropical/ Savannah Campa Sweet manioc, maize, squash
Tropical/ Savannah Canela Manioc, maize, sweet potato
Tropical/ Savannah CaLamura Manioc

Tropical/Savannah Cayua Manioc, sweet potato, maize
Tropical/Savannah Kalapalo Manioc, piqui
Tropical/Savannah Kre’pu’mkateye Maize, melons
Tropical/Savannah Mehinaku Manioc, sweet potatoes, maize
Trggical/ Savannah Mekranoti Sweet potatoes, manioc, maize
Tropical/ Savannah Mundurucu Manioc, sweet potato

Tropical/ Savannah Nambicuara Bitter manioc, maize
Tropical/Savannah Panare Manioc, maize
Tropical/Savannah Piaroa Manioc, maize, bananas, sweet pot.
Tropical/ Savannah Akwe-Shavante Maize, beans, pumpkins
Tropical/ Savannah Serente Yam, sweet manioc, sweet potato
Tropical/ Savannah Shipibo/Conibo Manioc, plantain, maize
Tropical/ Savannah Tapirape Manioc

Tropical/ Savannah Terena Maize, Sweet and bitter manioc
Tropical/ Savannah Yanoamo Plantain, bananas, yams, manioc

 

64

 

1. Occupational Density and Ecological Setting. If a horticultural community lives in
an ecologically marginal setting (temperature ranges are extreme and/or rainfall ranges
are low or unpredictable), the risk of having a lower overall food production yield is more
likely. This risk could be managed in one of two ways: either fewer people would live
within a set area (lower occupational density); and/or certain agricultural management
practices, such as irrigation, would take place to mitigate climatic uncertainty. In this
latter instance, I would expect that the occupational density should be higher than in
communities that did not adopt more labor-intensive agricultural practices.

A comparison of arid and semi-arid communities show that while the ecological
setting impacts the overall food yield within both general areas, communities respond
spatially in different ways (Figure 9). The data show that there is a low occupational
density (2-14.2 persons per hectare) for groups living in arid settings. Most communities
are composed of dispersed homesteads over a large area, rather than clustered dwellings
in a more ‘typical’ village-type setting. High average annual temperatures and scarce
rainfall negatively affect overall crop yield. Several dispersed homesteads will group
together and supplement produced foods by engaging in hunting game and gathering wild
foods that are available only during very restricted time periods. The Tohono O’odham,
for example, hunted and foraged for foods as well as practiced limited agriculture. A few
homestead groups move together within a circumscribed region to take advantage of
limited water resources, wild foods, and larger game animals (Underhill 1939).

On the other hand, semi-arid groups, such as the Pueblo communities, have
occupational densities ranging between 218 — 393 persons per hectare. Of the Pueblo

groups examined for this research, most engage in agriculture supplemented by limited

65

Figure 9

I Occupational Density with respect to Ecological Setting

 

 

 

 

 

800

. 700 ~~ . I
a 600 ;
i 500 I
400 °

2 300 ' . 3
8. ' I .
200 T’ . . . . I
100 .4: D ‘ 3 | 3

0 . i i 2* fii E I

0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Ecological Setting

Occupational Density with respect to Ecological Setting. Figure 9 illustrates the
relationship between occupational density (persons per hectare) and five major ecological
zones. Key: 1 = arid; 2 = semi-arid; 3 = island; 4 = temperate/plains; 5 = tropical bi-
seasonal (dry and wet); 6 = tropical rain forest; 7 = tropical moist deciduous
forest/savannah mix

66

wage earning. Annual rainfall amounts, while low, are still two to three times that
occurring in arid regions (Table 5). Temperature extremes are not as pronounced, so that
a wider variety of plants and game are available for foraging. These communities practice
dry land farming, and collaboratively construct check dams, reservoirs and terraces as
water and soil control systems to intensify crop production (Hack 1942).

In a sense, an arid climate imposes an ‘ecological circumscription’ on
communities. Water resources are limited both seasonally and geographically;
consequently, there is often limited diversity in the types of available wild and produced
foods. Consequently, the carrying capacity of an area in these climates will be reduced
when compared to more temperate climates or areas with richer soils. Therefore, it is not
surprising that the occupational density numbers should be lower, especially in the
absence of sufficient water or arable land resources. In a similar way, island communities
live in severely circumscribed circumstances. Availability of land, fresh water, and fresh
food are limited. Unlike arid communities, the physical boundaries of an island inhibits
the free movement of groups from one area to another. Consequently, the occupational
density of island horticultural communities on Aua, Mangaia, and Tokelau islands falls
between that of arid and semi-arid communities (72-130 persons per hectare).

It is not surprising that these physical limits pose a unique situation to island
communities and the resulting occupational density. Communities are sedentary; they are
bounded by the natural boundaries of the island and the cultural boundaries of other
groups. Furthermore, typical island produce — fruit orchards, cocoanut palms, and taro —

are planted and tended over many years to decades by members of the same community.

67

These orchards act as a ‘buffer’ between different communities; only those with usufruct
rights can share in the produce from these crops (Buck 1934; Pitt-Rivers 1925).

There is a wider range in occupational density values for groups in temperate
climates, and especially tropical rainforest groups, when compared to arid, semi-arid, and
island settings. I suggest that the variance in occupational values is due to at least two
factors. First, the categories of ‘temperate’ and ‘tropical rainforest’ may be too broadly
defined. Soil variations in these regions can greatly affect overall crop yield, especially
within the rainforest. Second, there may be other factors in these two environmental
settings that have an added impact on occupational density than does ecological context.
For example, the Mandan and Hidatsa populations were drastically reduced because of
small pox infection. As a consequence, different villages merged together so as to
mitigate risk associated with food procurement and external raids. The correlation
between occupational density and temperate and tropical rainforest settings is not as
pronounced.

The occupational density of communities in temperate settings (150 — 420 person
per hectare) brackets the range for groups in semi-arid settings. The ethnographic data
show that horticultural communities in temperate settings usually clustered together near
agriculturally suitable lands. For example, Plains Indian villages were located near
riverbeds, which provided ready access to water and rich bottomland soils for crops
(Weltfish 1965).

The correlations between ecological context and occupational density for
horticultural groups in bi-seasonal, tropical rainforest, and tropical moist deciduous

forests/savannah environments are fair to poor; occupational density values vary greatly,

68

from 52 to 700 people per hectare. For the bi-seasonal and tropical rain forest settings, I
noted that there is a bimodal distribution of occupational density values in Figure 8, with
one tighter cluster averaging 100 persons per hectare (52-150 persons per hectare range),
and a second, looser cluster averaging 364 persons per hectare (200-700 persons per
hectare range).

The occupational density spread is much wider for the savannah culture groups.
After reviewing the ethnographic data for the various culture groups included in these
clusters, I do not believe that the ecological setting is the primary factor affecting the
occupation density for tropical rainforest groups. Despite the relative consistency in
produced crop type (bitter manioc), there is enormous variation in how villages are
arranged on the landscape: communities are found in closed rainforest settings, on open
savanna ranges, and along river tributaries. Communities move every three to eight years
in response to reduced crop yields, although this general pattern can be disrupted by the
death of one or more group members. Hunting and fishing provide the majority of protein
in these communities’ diets, yet the relative status associated with these activities also
varies among groups. Nonetheless, it has been instructive to see which of the tropical
forest communities were included in each of the clusters. It appears that the majority of
groups with higher occupational densities clustered in response to threats and raids from

other communities. This will be discussed in a later section.
2. Dwelling Arrangement and Ecological Setting. I agree with Whitelaw’s premise that

closer proximity among community members can increase the scale of social

communication. Dwelling arrangement, in the context of the ecological setting, can

69

reinforce potential communication and cooperation among residents of neighboring
dwellings. By this I mean that cooperation may be needed for labor-intensive,
subsistence-related tasks, such as clearing or food preparation. In some environments, the
presence of shared hearths, storage facilities, or work areas support an interpretation of
joint community ventures. Food and other resources may then be shared among
participating group members. I am not arguing that more widely dispersed dwellings
have less opportunity for cooperation and communication, but that such an activity will
occur on a more formal and less frequent basis than when houses are more closely
spaced.

For example, the Akimel O’odham (Gila River Pima) of southern Arizona live in
smaller rancherias composed of clusters of 2 to 4 households, rather than in aggregated
villages. These groups will congregate on a periodic basis to participate in the
construction and maintenance of irrigation facilities. Together, smaller rancherias work as
a village unit to clean and maintain irrigation ditches that supply water for crops (Darling,
Ravesloot, and Waters 2004; Winter 1973). Pima elders would meet in the community
council house to schedule collective work parties. There is some cooperation among the
dispersed homesteads in constructing and cleaning irrigation ditches, but this is generally
formally arranged in a village council house. Consequently, produced food is more often
shared among members of a specific homestead, rather than communally among the
larger village. Related nuclear family households may also cluster together as smaller
rancherias or groupings, effectively acting as an extended family work unit to fulfill
certain tasks.

On the other hand, Pueblo groups commonly live in larger plaza-centered

70

communities (Figure 10). This arrangement of domestic structures facing into a shared
public area may encourage both informal exchanges as well as formal, more ritually-
based interactions. In these societies, household composition is typically a nuclear
family; extended family members often live in neighboring houses. As noted earlier,
family groups cooperatively engage in joint labor projects such as constructing irrigation
facilities, including check dams and wells. Food is typically shared among related
households, but sometimes with other families who have experienced crop shortfalls
(Hegmon 1991).

For island ecological settings, the dwelling arrangement is affected more directly
by topography. Households are either loosely grouped around fruit orchards where the
island topography is relatively flat (e.g., Aua Island), or located along the shoreline of the
island when there are inland mountains (e.g., Mangaia). Each community works together
to tend to the fruit tree orchards and cocoanut pahns, although taro fields may be family-
owned (Buck 1934). On the other hand, fishing, the primary protein source for islanders,
is often done individually or as a household, and usually shared with the dwelling
inhabitants, rather than the larger community.

For communities in temperate settings, I suggest that the strong division of labor
impacted not only people’s choices made with regard to earthlodge dwelling composition
but influenced its proximity to neighboring earthlodges. Usually, extended families lived
in the same earthlodge. Typically, the women of an earthlodge undertook the planting,
harvesting, and storage of produced foods, while the men hunted. Women in the same
earthlodge often helped one another in subsistence-related chores, especially during the

harvest and later storage of crops (Weltfish 1965). After planting, the larger community

71

Figure 10

 

Settlement Plan of Mishongnovi Village. The general outline of the Hopi village is
presented, with detail shown for one pueblo roomblock complex. Plazas are apparent
between the various pueblo roomblocks. Scale bar = 20 m. Arrow points north. Adapted
from McIntire (1971).

72

dispersed during the summer and winter hunts, with little effort expended on weeding and
cultivating fields. In this case, therefore, while closer clustering of earthlodges may
increase the likelihood of communication among adjacent earthlodge residents, members
of the same earthlodge are available to assist with many subsistence-related tasks. I
suggest that there

are other factors, such as the need for defense, that influence intra-community dwelling
spacing and orientation within temperate settings.

One factor affecting most tropical rainforest communities is their location
adjacent to cleared swidden fields or along river tributaries. Most residential structures
are single extended-family dwellings (e.g., Bororo), longhouses (e.g., Senoi Temiar), or
clustered dwellings arranged in plaza-centered ‘ring villages’ (e.g., Canela or Yanoamo).
Especially for the ring villages, overall dwelling orientation and location can mirror a
group’s conception of the universe (e.g., Mehinaku; Gregor 1977).

However, ethnographic accounts also provide numerous examples of large-scale
community cooperation for slash and burn cultivation or for other subsistence-related
activities. For example, Murphy (1960) describes the circular settlement organization of
the Mundurucu. Larger extended families live together in houses that are loosely
arranged around a plaza. Extended family members jointly clear fields for planting
manioc. Field preparation involves clearing away brush, cutting down trees, and burning
fallen trees and shrubs, and can take several men up to two weeks depending on the size
of the area cleared.

Food preparation is also frequently performed jointly, especially when the task is

both tedious and time consuming. For instance, Tukanoan-Bara females work together

73

within communal kitchens to prepare manioc for community consumption (Jackson
1983)

Based on the above data, I suggest that the ecological setting does affect the
subsistence-related behavior of some horticultural groups, especially with regard to the
placement of residential dwellings in relation to other community members and to
agricultural fields. While in some cases kinship is the most significant factor affecting
intra-community dwelling arrangement and spacing, it is also true that the level of
cooperation needed for subsistence-related tasks, defense, or for other activities can
impact occupational density and overall residential dwelling configuration. As such,
ecological context is another factor that can indirectly affect the frequency and scale of
communication within a group. These examples show that additional spatial and
artifactual evidence must be evaluated before drawing any final conclusion regarding

space use and orientation of residences.

Impact of Residential Sedentism on Spatial Patterning

1. Residential Sedentism and Occupational Density. Whitelaw (1981) demonstrated
that lower occupational densities are more likely associated with longer periods of
residence for hunter-gatherers. I expected a similar result for horticultural communities.
However, a plot of occupational density with respect to the degree of residential
sedentism for horticultural groups (Figure 11) does not show any correlation, contrary to
what was observed from Whitelaw’s data. Sedentary groups have a slightly lower
average predicted occupational density (162.3 persons per hectare) than those groups

with some degree of mobility. Furthermore, the range of occupational density values for

74

Figure 11

 

Occupational Density with respect to
Residential Sedentism

 

 

 

 

ii 800
E o
| l: 600 ‘1”
I 3 o
a. 400 g
i w : I
I g 200 l
§ 0 I . g
' D.

O
N
La)
.5

Degree of Residential Sedentism

 

Occupational Density with respect to Residential Sedentism. Figure 11 illustrates the
relative lack of correlation between occupational density (persons per hectare) and degree
of residential sedentism. Key: 1 = fully sedentary; only small groups engage in logistical
trips; 2 = moderately sedentary, moving every 3 to 8 years; 3 = seasonally mobile,
returning to the same general area each year.

75

sedentary groups is less than that for groups with some degree of mobility. However, the
significant degree of overlap in the data range among the mobility categories erases its
usefulness as a predictive tool.

Another observation from the ethnographic record is an apparent lack of
correlation between occupational density mobility. Seasonally mobile groups share much
the same characteristics as do groups that move every 3 to 8 years. While the average
occupational density is greater for the most mobile groups, the average predicted
difference is very small (187.5 persons per hectare for seasonally mobile groups as
compared with 174.9 persons per hectare for groups that move every few years).

I suggest there are several reasons for this basic similarity. In many cases,
residential dwellings of seasonally mobile groups are reoccupied rather than rebuilt in a
different location. The structures themselves are thus more substantial, and last for
multiple years. In many of these groups, seasonal movements often involve migration of
nuclear families rather than entire residence households. Different family groups can
decide to reside in different households upon their return, dividing and coalescing in a
variety of ways, which provides a great deal of occupational flexibility and also alleviates

a potential source of conflict with one’s neighbors

2. Residential Sedentism and Ecological Setting. In contrast, I observe a fairly
good correlation between degree of residential sedentism and ecological context, as

shown in Table 7. It is important to recall that sedentism has only a loose connection with

76

Table 7 .
Comparison between Ecological Context and Residential Sedentism

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Completely Move every Move seasonally, return
Sedentary 3-8 years to same location

Arid 12.5%* 0 87.5%

Semi-Arid 100% 0 0

Island 100%* * 0 0

Temperate 0 8.3% 91.7%

Tropical, bi-seasonal 0% 100% 0%

Tropical Rainforest 16.7% 66.7% 16.7%

Tropical/Savannah 4.8%* * * 85.7% 9.5%* * * *

 

N=61 cultural groups

*While today most Western Apache live in sedentary villages, historically, they
were seasonally mobile, traveling in small extended family groups. This cell only refers
to the Akimel O’odham, and not the Western Apache.

MWhile island villages are now completely sedentary, during the late 1800’s,
inhabitants of Aua would abandon villages and flee inland to escape outside raiders.

***The Kalapalo, placed on a reservation, are now completely sedentary;
traditionally, this group engaged in slash and burn agriculture, and would moved every
few years to clear new areas when crop yield declined.

****Historically, the Piaroa engaged in seasonal hunts, but now live in ‘semi-
sedentary’ settlements, moving only to clear additional areas when crop yields decline.

77

farming per se; many horticultural communities rely on hunted game, fish, and foraged
foods in addition produced crops. In some other communities, wage earnings from sale of
surplus grains or part-time work in outside industries provide necessary income to offset
uncertainty associated with crop yields (e.g., Spier 1928;Kloos 1971; Reed 1995)). As
Yellen (1977) has suggested, the seasonal availability, abundance, and distribution of
food resources is thought to condition the mobility strategies employed by various
horticultural groups.

The residential sedentism designation is assigned based on the most frequent
practice; variations in mobility are expected not only among cultural groups but also with
different communities representative of a particular cultural group.

To some degree, I am able to differentiate the degree of residential sedentism
among groups living in different ecological settings. Sedentism is more likely in those
groups where water shortages or topographic circumscription prevents access to available
arable land. For example, many sedentary groups in semi-arid climates live along rivers
or in areas with longer growing seasons and access to irrigation. Alternatively, island
communities and coastal area horticultural groups are prevented from easily moving by
the presence of the ocean.

Horticultural groups that rely on a mixed subsistence base are usually seasonally
mobile. This is especially true for most of the groups located in temperate environments.
For example, the Plains Indians engage in seasonal mobility to hunt or forage, retuning in

the late summer to participate in the harvest and storing of produced grains.

78

Most striking is the high percentage for seasonal and tropical rainforest
communities who show a strong preference for mobility every 3 to 8 years. Meggers
(1971) argues that swidden agriculture on terrafirme soils of the Amazon Basin leads to
the rapid depletion of soil nutrients through leaching and erosion within a few years of
the original slash and burn cultivation (but see counter-argument by Heckenberger,
Petersen and Neves 1999). Ethnographic case studies show that most groups cycle back

to previously occupied locations every 20 years or so.

3. Degree of Residential Sedentism and Storage. Based on the ethnographic database,
the presence or absence, and location of storage facilities is a good indicator of group
mobility when considered in the context of the ecological setting of a group. These data
(Table 8) show that sedentary horticultural communities will usually have storage
facilities located within residential structures. Intramural storage allows dwelling
residents to control access to private food stores and maintain a degree of privacy
regarding the amount of stored food. This is particularly true when dwelling composition
is the nuclear family. In this situation, food is most often shared among family members,
but can be occasionally distributed to the extended family. When dwelling composition
incorporates extended family, the degree of privacy is compromised, as more people
know how much is stored, and there is greater likelihood of a higher number of people
with whom one can interact. In these situations, food may be stored both within the
household, and/or immediately adjacent to the residential dwelling.

It is important to realize that even seasonally mobile groups do not fully abandon

a residential site when engaging in hunting or foraging expeditions. Instead, some

79

Table 8

Comparison between Storage and Degree of Residential Sedentism

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Degree of Interior Storage Exterior Both Little to No
Residential Storage Interior and Storage
Sedentism Exterior
Storage
Fully Sedentary 83.3% 16.7%* 0 0%
Mobile every 3 — 9.7 - 29%** 6.4% 3.2%” 64.5-
8 years 83.9%“
Seasonally 0% 35 — 40%*** 60% '5%***
sedentary

 

N= 60 cultural groups
Percentages are calculated by degree of residential sedentism. Each row adds up to 100%.

* storage immediately adjacent to residential dwelling
MSeveral culture groups used different storage strategies. For example, some culture
groups store ground manioc flour within the interior of the house, but also keep tubers in

the ground until these are ready for use.

***See above. At least one culture group has exterior storage, but also keep tubers in the
ground until these are ready for use.

80

 

members of the community remain at the summer residential site to take care of planted
crops. In these situations, both extramural and interior storage caches are present. The
large, external storage caches are stocked and left by the mobile community members for
later access. These larger cache pits are often dug some distance from the community,
and contain the bulk of the harvested grain. Caches are carefully hidden to prevent theft
by other foraging groups. Smaller caches are also placed in the interior of the lodge for
ready access, especially for those remaining within the village.
For seasonal and tropical rainforest settings, there is an almost universal lack of
significant storage. In part, this is due to the extremely humid climate and presence of
insects and rodents that will infest food that is stored for long periods. As importantly, the
staple manioc can remain in the ground for over a year after it matures. The lack of
storage in tropical settings does not mean that foods are not shared communally, but
instead is a byproduct of the type of food grown and the susceptibility to food loss to

rotting and vermin.

4. The Role of Mobility in Alleviating Community Stress. Where large groups of
people live closely together for extended periods of time, intra-community tension can
rise to the level where the group no longer can adequately function as a community.
Cultural mechanisms for physically or socially separating individuals and groups provide
different ways to reduce this kind of stress.

For example, in large sedentary villages, seasonal migration of smaller
community groups can help to alleviate tension by temporarily removing a portion of the

population. Under some circumstances, smaller groups may decide to leave the larger

81

community and establish residency elsewhere (F owles, 2004), which may alleviate larger
group stress, at least temporarily, by separating different social factions. As noted by
Riviere (1984), “The larger the village, the more frequent the disputes will be and the less
easy to resolve. This is because political relationships are embedded in social
relationships, and the density of the latter will be greater in small villages than in large
ones. Large villages inevitably contain relationships that are intrinsically fragile, and this
structural weakness manifests itself in disputes about a range of problems. . .and ends in
fission” (27, 28).

More importantly, the aspect of ‘sedentism’ and ‘mobility’ are not absolute
conditions associated with horticultural groups. In fact, the degree of mobility may shift
back and forth over time, depending on the regional ecological situation and social
organization of a group. Such waxing and waning may be necessary to incorporate such
groups into more encompassing social systems (Eder 1984). The advent of sedentism
does not mean that mobility declined; rather, it means that the degree and extent of
mobility may have changed. As an example, most of the Yanoamo community remained
at the larger shabono location. However, small hunting parties were frequently absent
from the primary settlement. The freedom to actively move on a regular, short-term basis

was an important facet of the Yanoamo culture.

Defensive Spatial Patterns
Since I wished to better understand the factors controlling intra-site organization
within horticultural communities, I tried to separate out the spatial patterns that can be

attributed to factors affecting interaction dimensions from those that can be attributed to

82

the factors behind community aggregation. Horticultural community aggregation may

occur for reasons including the need for defensive protection; need for large labor pools
to accomplish large scale and time-consuming subsistence-related tasks; to maximize
available arable land for horticulture; and/or to mitigate risk associated with food and
resource shortfalls through communal sharing. Of these reasons, only a group’s need for
defense leaves a distinctive spatial pattern on the landscape.

The regression analysis (Table 2) shows that there is a strong correlation between
high occupational density (manifested as closely spaced communities) and the presence
of defensive structures (Figure 12). While the correlation seems obvious, high
occupational density in and of itself does not necessarily always signify the need for
defense. Other defensive spatial features, such as ditches, earthenworks, or palisades,
should also be present to substantiate this conclusion, as illustrated by several
ethnographic examples.

For instance, more closely spaced communities are found among most of the
Plains Indian groups; e. g., the Mandan and Hidatsa banded together in the early 18005
after smallpox nearly decimated their population (Woods and Irvin 2001). While the
higher occupational density may have been due to other factors, Wood and Irvin argue
that the large palisades and ditches around village earthlodges served as protective
measures against the nomadic Plains groups.

Similarly, some of the Amazonian rainforest horticultural groups also aggregated
for protection. The Jivaro construct large, fortified residential dwellings in defensible
high-ground areas. The spacious interior is used for ceremonies and entertaining guests,

rather than place guests at risk from attack by holding events outdoors (Hamer 1972).

83

Figure 12

 

Occupational Density with respect to Presence or Absence of
Defensive Structures
800
700 0
600 - -
500
400
300 4—
200
100 ~-
0 - l
0 I

 

persons per hectare

 

 

 

N D... 00

Defensive Structures

Occupational Density with respect to the Presence or Absence of Defensive
Structures. Figure 12 illustrates the relationship between occupational density (persons
per hectare) and the presence or absence of defensive structures/measures. Key: 1 =
presence of defensive measures; 2 = absence of defensive measures. Arrows point to two
groups (Yagua and Wayapi) that lack defensive structures, but are threatened by raiding.

84

 

TILC combination of a high occupational density value and evidence for fortifications,
ditches, earthenworks, or other protective features supports the interpretation of
aggregation for defensive reasons.

However, not all communities facing the threat of raiding or warfare respond by
congregating behind defensive walls or structures. In those instances where a community
group relies less heavily on horticulture for its primary subsistence base, its members
may decide to disperse into smaller factions, scatter, and temporarily flee from invaders,
rather than take a defensive stand. This is particularly true for the Yagua (F ej os, 1943)
and the Wayapi (Campbell 1995), who often respond to external raids by escaping into
the surrounding forests (these groups are represented by the two designated data points in
Figure 10).

Additionally, for many dispersed communities in the arid Southwest, defensive
structures are surprisingly lacking. Historically, these communities were often in conflict
with neighboring groups; for example, the Maricopa would temporarily join forces with
the Tohono O’odham to retaliate against other warring Yuman tribes (Spier 1933).
However, these coalitions were brief, and allied cultural groups would disperse once
hostilities had ceased. The lack of adequate water resources for irrigating fields probably

affected the decision to remain together for the long term.

Group Size and Stability

As I have demonstrated in earlier sections, the spatial organization of structures
and features at a site result from the interactions experienced within and by a community.
Certain factors internal to a community, such as general kinship relationships, can affect

the proximity and location of residential dwellings. The orientation and arrangement of

85

he uses may support or discourage communication among community members. Other
external factors, such as the threat of raiding from outside groups, may compel
communities to at least temporarily congregate.

The ethnographic data show that horticultural groups with larger populations also
have greater occupational densities compared to smaller population horticultural groups.
That is, the spatial extend of villages correlates with more domestic structures, and with
higher density of domestic structures within the village. While closer quarters among
residents can raise the likelihood of more frequent communication, this arrangement also
creates a greater potential for more stressful interactions and disagreements among
individuals or smaller subgroups. Consequently, this may cause the community to
become unstable, with dissenting members leaving the larger group. These actions can
place the remaining community members at risk, especially if large group cooperation is
required to accomplish labor-intensive agricultural chores, such as clearing fields for
planting, during the harvest, and when preparing certain produced foods for consumption.

The data show that three factors can impact spatial patterning as it relates to group
stability:

1) the role of kinship and co-residency as a means to organize and facilitate
community interactions, including dwelling arrangement and occupational

density;

2) the role of mobility as a means to alleviate immediate intra-group tension; and

86

3) the role of communal structures, including plazas, council houses, and communal
residences as a venue for shared activities, ceremonies, and ritual.
The roles of kinship and mobility in modifying spatial patterning within
communities have been considered earlier in this chapter. In the following section, I will
discuss the distinctive spatial patterns produced by communal structures, and the possible

role these play in community maintenance.

Role of Communal Structures

Based on the ethnographic literature review, communal space can provide
individuals with an opportunity to interact in both informal and formal settings, whether
through shared work activities, gossip, or formal ritual and ceremonies. Generally
speaking, communal spaces are readily observable as centrally-located physical structures
and shared spaces, such as men’s houses, plazas and dance areas, as well as temporarily-
designated areas for community functions.

Anthropologists and archaeologists have often argued about the underlying purpose
of communal spaces, often attributing to these an integrative function to help maintain
community coherency and identity. For example, Adler (1989) and Adler and Wilhusen
(1990) divide communal structures as either ‘low-level integrative facilities’ or ‘high-
level integrative facilities’; both may be present within a community. As defined by
Adler, a high-level integrative facility is generally used by the entire community for

specific ritual and ceremonial functions only. These high level integrative facilities are

87

Er.

' Ti’.

I10

7‘7

11:

111:

he

8I

more typical in large population communities (300+ individuals), and tend to be large,
between 90 — 250+ m2 (Adler 1989). Adler posits that high-level integrative structure
creates a sacred venue for reaffirming group identity and common purpose, and for
disseminating what Adler terms a ‘liturgical order’ to the entire community.

Alternatively, Adler defines a low-level integrative facility as used for both ritual
an_d secular functions, and/or may only be used by one segment of a community’s
population. While men’s houses and longhouses can act as integrative facilities, these are
considered low-level integrative structures since everyday activities, such as cooking and
sleeping, occur there. Similarly, men’s houses are also classified as low-level structures
as only a limited user-group makes use of the facility.

Using Adler’s definitions, I find that over 90% of the reviewed. ethnographic groups
have low-level integrative facilities, such as a plaza, men’s house, longhouse centers,
and/or council lodge. However, less than 20% contained the more formal, high-level
integrative structures as defined by Adler (1989). Nonetheless, the presence of either type
of facility, whether a plaza or sacred communal structure does not mean that the sole
firnction was to provide a venue for ‘community-building’, nor does it demonstrate that
political or religious egalitarianism was promoted within a group. As demonstrated by
Fowles (2005), the decision to remain together as a community might as easily arise from
the concern that certain types of group knowledge, such as sacred rituals, are typically
held by a very few people, and as such are a precious commodity that cannot not be

replaced should the community dissolve into smaller factions. Remaining together might

88

produce a subtle, but inevitable hierocracy separating the ritual knowledge ‘haves’ from
the ‘have-nots’.

I propose that Adler’s ‘low-Ievel integrative’ facilities play as critical a role in
maintaining overall community stability as do the larger, ‘high-level integrative’
structures. A central plaza or communal structure can be used for more general activities
such as gossip, meal preparation, bartering, or public discussion, as well as ritual, thereby
acting as a venue for group interaction. This is exemplified by the Mehinacu of Brazil,
who use the village and its central plaza as “a theater for the enactment of everyday social
relationships” (Gregor 1977:33). The central plaza is enclosed by houses that are oriented
to symbolize the Mehinacu’s conception of the cosmos. However, the plaza is subdivided
into places where certain formal decisions, as well as informal activities, take place. All
paths lead into and from the plaza. As such, public spaces are venues from which to
monitor the actions of others, and if needed, to sanction individuals for inappropriate
activities. In this sense, the plaza layout dictates how information is transmitted and
received by others (Gregor, 1977). Furthermore, I suggest that some high-level
integrative facilities used for ceremonial functions are temporary buildings or designated
spaces not readily discemable from the spatial evidence. For instance, the Apache
construct temporary structures to cover areas for dancing, and then dismantle these after
the ceremony is concluded. The space is considered sacred, although no permanent

structure exists (Brandt 1996).

89

As Kent (1987) notes, an understanding of how people use and organize space,
variables affecting that use of space, and the interrelationships between the use of space
and cultural material and culture systems are needed to develop theories and predictive
models for the use of space, both in the past as well as present and future. The results of

the ethnographic analysis are summarized in Table 9. Occupational density plays a
significant role in how people behave, including with whom they are likely to interact,
and consequently how intra-community relationships are strengthened or strained. Not
surprisingly, more closely-related community members will live nearer to one another,
and therefore have more frequent and sustained interactions. While other factors can
create closer proximity to one’s neighbors, kinship is significant in affecting interaction
among community members, and can be interpreted based on spatial evidence.

Archaeologically, spatial behaviors are imposed on the landscape, and are ‘read’
from the material remains of structures and activity spaces. Using the size, location, and
positioning of residential dwellings, communal structures, and storage features, in
conjunction with areas used for specific and general activities, gives a snapshot of the
general interactions in space and time for a site. Unfortunately, in the absence of fine-
grained dating and artifact preservation and/or recovery, only the broader perspectives of
a site’s interactions are usually interpretable. With this in mind, the next section will
explore some of the typical archaeological correlates that can be linked to certain spatial

patterns, and their possible spatial context.

90

Table 9

Summary of Ethnographic Findings and Significance

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Condition/ Ethnographic Prediction Possible Significance
Faetor/ Spatial
Expectation Evidence
Large High Closely spaced Greater labor pool for
population occupational residential dwellings subsistence-related tasks;
group density potential for sharing of
produced foods, resources;
greater potential for
tension, stress; protection
against external raids
Small Low Dispersed residential Reliance on nuclear family
population occupational dwellings for labor; limited potential
group density for sharing food, resources
with those outside of
family; greater potential for
groups to accomplish
significant tasks
Kinship: Floor Size Nuclear: 34.9 av. Can differentiate general
dwelling (square meters) Extended: 99.14 av. dwelling composition
composition Mixed: 163.8 av. based on floor size.
Kinship: Dwelling Nuclear: dispersed, Residents in closely
village: spatial arrangement clustered clustered dwellings,
layout Extended: longhouse, longhouses, have greater
clustered w/ plaza potential for increased
Mixed: longhouse, communication, sharing of
clustered resources.
Kinship: Occupational Nuclear: 82.] av. Can discern shift from
village Density Extended: 192.6 av. nuclear to mixed families at
composition (persons per Mixed: 303.7 av. a site by examining
hectare) changes in occupational
density.
Ecological Occupational Arid: 2-14.2 Lower occupational density
Setting Density Semi-arid: 218-393 in some groups indicate
(persons per Island: 72-130 possible limits on arable
hectare) Temperate: 150-420 land, resources; agricultural

 

 

Tropical: 52-700

 

techniques can influence
crop yield, overall
population.

 

91

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Table 9 (cont.)
Ecological Dwelling Arid: small nuclear Increased scale of
Setting Arrangement family clusters communication; increased
Semi-arid: plaza- potential for sharing
centered dwellings resources. Topography can
Island: topography influence location of
influenced dwellings to maximize use
Temperate: larger of potentially arable land,
dwellings; adjacent to water resources.
river bottoms
Tropical: longhouse,
ring-villages
Degree of Occupational Sedentary: 162.3 av. Occupational density poor
Sedentism Density (person Seasonal indicator of degree of
per hectare) sedentism: 187.5 sedentism. Other factors
Multi—year have greater influence on
sedentism: 174.9 spacing of group members.
Degree of Ecological Arid: mainly seasonal Seasonal mobility more
Sedentism Setting Semi-arid: sedentary likely in groups with inc.
Island: sedentary reliance on h/g; sedentary
Temperate: seasonal groups either circumscribed
Tropical: multi-year and/or have mixed
sedentism subsistence economy (incl.
wage em)
Degree of Location of Sedentary: interior Sedentary groups retain
Sedentism Storage Seasonal food for household, minor
sedentism: exterior, extramural stores shared
interior storage with group; seasonal
Multi-year groups have hidden
sedentism: v. limited extramural caches; multi-
storage year sedentism harvest
crops when needed.
Need for Earthworks, Higher occupational Reason for aggregation;
defense ditches, density in groups external raiding threats
palisades, high threatened by external
ground location raidinL
P/ Communal Plazas, Present in almost all Formal decisions, rituals
Structures communal horticultural groups impacting group made in

 

 

houses, council
houses, men’s
houses

 

for informal, formal
use.

 

communal structures;
informal sharing, activities
reinforce ‘good will’
among group members.

 

92

 

CHAPTER 5
ARCHAEOLOGICAL APPROACHES TO INTRASITE SPATIAL PATTERNING

“Archaeologists can rarely avoid generalizing, because so much of

the particular in the past left no material trace or has vanished with time.

Yet to avoid reducing ancient lives to numbing essentials, some

comprehension of context must be achieved. ” (Snead 2008)

The behaviors of horticultural groups within a particular ecological context leave
distinctive spatial patterns that can be used to infer the frequency and nature of
interactions among community members. Based on the ethnographic analysis, I have
listed specific ethnographic conditions and the possible corresponding archaeological
correlates associated with each (Table 10; compare with Table 9). I have also included
the archaeological correlates for possible factors that have driven overall group
aggregation for a community; and correlates for strategies that help to maintain group
coherency and stability.

A suite of archaeological correlates must be used from which to interpret the
general spatial behaviors of a community. With few exceptions, equifinality can become
a problem if the spatial patterns produced by horticultural groups are interpreted out of
context. Instead, multiple factors must be considered together within the context of the
site and its ecological setting when interpreting spatial organization.

For instance, consider a site with high occupational density: as an interpreter, I must
ensure that I differentiate between what high occupational density indicates in terms of
spatial organization, from what may be the impetus driving higher occupational density.
As importantly, spatial proximity, as indicated by higher occupational density numbers,

may affect intra—group tension and conflict. Occupational density is not a static state, but

93

Table 10
Possible Archaeological Correlates for Various Ethnographic Conditions

 

Ethnographic Condition

Possible Archaeological Correlate(s)

 

High occupational density

More closely spaced dwellings per hectare
(3250 person/ha)

 

Low occupational density

Less closely spaced dwelling per hectare (<
250 person/ha)

 

Presence of nuclear families

L

 

Size of dwelling; less closely spaced
dwelling per hectare (<150 person/ha; av.
=81 person/ha)

 

I Presence of extended families

Size of dwelling; more closely spaced
dwelling per hectare (>150 person/ha; av.
=l96 person/ha)

 

Greater degree of residential sedentism

Presence of significant interior storage
compared with exterior storage; size of
midden; location of midden; ecological
context; catchment analysis; artifact (e.g.,
tool workings)

 

Community aggregation: Importance of
cooperative labor

Shared storage; shared food preparation
areas; shared hearths; larger population per
hectare; evidence of supra-household
cooperation (similar dwelling floor plan,
consistent dwelling orientation, communal
area/dwelling)

 

Community aggregation: Importance of
defense

Location on high ground; earthworks;
ditches; palisades; contained storage within
village; presence of cisterns within village

 

Importance of private space as group
strategy

More difficult to discern: presence of
communal house with indications of
restricted access; interior storage rather
than exterior storage; several hearths within
lg. common dwellings; presence of
partitioned walls; presence of smaller field
structures

 

Importance of public reaffinnation as
group strategy

 

 

Presence of plazas, kivas or communal
houses with no or few restrictions for
access; similar configuration/orientation of
dwellings; external storage; shared mealing
bins; shared hearths; common
totems/symbols

 

94

 

varies with changing group membership, shifts in settlement location, leadership, and/or
external pressures on the community.

As noted earlier, high occupational density at a site may indicate that extended
family members comprise the village population. If the floor space of the dwelling is
large (including, but not limited to a longhouse), I can feel more confident in interpreting
an extended family dwelling composition. If these same residential structures are
clustered closely together, and/or around a plaza, I can interpret an extended family
composition for the village as well. The presence of intramural storage features and
shared food preparation areas also supports a large, likely extended family composition
for a residential dwelling. The reasons for the aggregation of the community are still
unknown, but I now have a reasonable interpretation of the residential composition of
households.

With a higher occupational density, there is also increased potential for
communication and interaction among group members, especially those clustered closer
to one another. Different social institutions, such as food and resource sharing and/or
ceremonial and ritual functions can further modify or direct the nature of these
interactions, resulting in a distinctive suite of spatial patterns that is manifested as
identifiable archaeological correlates.

The factor(s) that may cause higher occupational density are varied. This
condition may have been created when smaller groups congregated as protection against
outsider raiders. Alternatively, high occupational density could mean that a large labor
force is needed to accomplish subsistence related tasks, such as extensive clearing or

digging of ditches. High occupational density is also expected when available arable land

95

is limited, so that group members live closer together to maximize the amount of land
that can be cultivated. Each of these possibilities are equally likely interpretations if using
high occupational density as the only spatial criteria. Therefore, other spatial patterns
(Tables 9 and 10) must be used in conjunction with occupational density to preclude the
potential of equifinality in this interpretation.

1 can now begin to examine other spatial features and decide what may have been
contributing factors in the grouping of these houses. My next step is assessing the
dwelling arrangement of houses. In the absence of defensive features, I still may not be
able to assume that the community aggregated for subsistence reasons, although other
factors may help in making that interpretation. I would determine if any relationship
exists between dwelling arrangement and topography; if so, is arable land immediately
adjacent to, or some distance from, a community? If immediately adjacent to a
community, then dwelling arrangement may facilitate the cultivation of arable land.

Determining the degree of residential mobility from archaeological correlates can
also be challenging. As noted in Chapter 4, the presence of storage facilities is due in part
to the ecological setting in which a group is located. In tropical settings, grown food is
not harvested until it is ready to be eaten. Manioc, one of the primary crops grown in
tropical settings, can remain in the ground for up to two years before losing its nutritional
value. Minor internal storage facilities exist, but most food is produced and eaten within a
few days of harvesting. This includes animal and fish products, which are consumed with
one or two days after being acquired. The absence of storage facilities in tropical
ecological settings does not give us any additional information from which to interpret

social organization.

96

However, storage can be an indicator of the degree of sedentism for sedentary or
seasonal mobile groups in temperate, semi-arid and arid climates. Based on the
ethnographic analysis, groups that are sedentary tend to have intramural storage facilities.
This is especially true for households composed of extended families. For nuclear
families living in dispersed settlements, storage may be intramural or immediately
adjacent to the residence. Thus, if we only find intramural storage at a site, it suggests
that a group is sedentary; furthermore, we can infer that there is very limited sharing of
food resources among others outside of the household. I can begin to examine other
factors, such as midden size and building construction quality to verify or amend my
interpretation of sedentism. If extramural storage is uncovered as well as intramural
storage, this may indicate that a community was sedentary, but that food resources were
shared among several households. It may also indicate that some, or all of the households
were at least seasonally mobile. If some households have intramural facilities, and others
do not, but extramural facilities are present in between various households, then the
ethnographic data suggest that those without internal storage probably were mobile to
some degree. For communities in which the majority of residents are seasonally mobile,
extramural facilities often hidden caches located at some distance from the village site.
Internal storage is also available, but hidden storage protects produced food resources
from raiding groups.

In summary, each of these strategies leave spatial patterns that can be used to
infer back to the nature of interactions among community members. I will first review
how occupational density is assessed, and some of the challenges and uncertainties

associated with its calculation, is discussed in detail below. I will then briefly review how

97

'1'] v‘
ELI.
5

0m

archaeologists have used spatial patterns to interpret intra-site data; and finally focus on
which correlates might be most useful for interpreting horticultural community spatial

organization.

Occupational Density Calculations

Estimating occupational density from archaeological data — the number of people
living within a community divided by the residential interaction space in hectares — is not
a straightforward calculation. First, the boundaries of the residential interaction .space of a
community must be determined from archaeological evidence. This is the spatial area in
which community members have an equal opportunity to meet, communicate, and engage
in social and ritual activities with one another on a regular basis. For this research, the
area coincides with the physical village boundaries, but excludes gardens and remote
field structures. However, as most sites are only partially excavated, several other
questions need to be addressed: Are there dispersed homesteads that may be part of a
larger community, but are physically scattered on the landscape? Are there multiple
periods of occupancy manifested at the site, and if so, can the structures associated with
each period be differentiated? Is there any external reason influencing the physical
boundaries of the community, such as defensive structures or physical features? Each of
these factors will affect the final spatial perimeter assigned to a community.

Second, assigning population estimates to a site can be particularly challenging
(e.g., Naroll 1962; LeBlanc 1971; Cook 1972; Ember 1973; Casselberry1974; Schialli

and Stojanowski 2002). As summarized by Zorn (1994), population estimates are either

98

based on natural resource availability or on a floor space coefficient. The natural resource
availability method is based on assessing the carrying capacity of the water, crop yield
and grazing land availability on a per person per day basis. For floor space coefficient
estimates, ethnographic data for extant groups is used to provide floor area used per
capita or average household size per residential dwelling. This may be reasonable if
habitation patterns have not changed over time (e. g., De Roche 1983). However, as
discussed by both Kolb (1985) and Zorn (1994), the formulae derived by various
researchers do not take into account differences in subsistence mode, family type,
residence dwelling type, or defensive pressures. Additionally, both Kolb and Zorn argue
that only the ‘living space’ within a community should be used to assess the overall
population, rather than total living and non-living area (e.g., Naroll 1962). Wall area,
ritual structures, non-living space such as workshops or porches, should be excluded, or
calculated population estimates are likely to be too low, especially for smaller
settlements.

The total roofed living space is taken to represent the lived floor space, with
ethnographic analogs providing information as to typical floor space coefficients for an
area. There are some problems with this assumption, however. Not all dwellings at a site
are contemporaneous structures, or inhabited at the same time. For example, Ferguson

(1996) tracked occupation changes over time of Zuni pueblos, using ethnographic reports
and photographs to infer pueblo population. Roofed rooms were one measure for

determining occupation. Based on these data, Ferguson demonstrated that that despite

99

ongoing room block construction, between 63-78% of rooms were occupied at any one
time.
Many authors acknowledge problems with determining floor area (e.g., Cook
1972; Ember 1973; Casselberry 1974; Schialli and Stojanowski 2002). Remodeling of
dwellings, use of exterior and/or roof space as living area, and reuse of previously
abandoned dwellings may not be recognized, thereby inaccurately lowering overall
population estimates. Inaccuracy may also be introduced by assuming a generic
household size for nuclear or extended families. For example, Cook suggests that average
family ranges between 4 to 6 people with an average of 5. However, Kolb (1985) lists
household size estimates from various studies, and shows that averages may vary
between 3.3 to 5.67 persons per household for a nuclear family, and up to 10 persons per
household for an extended family. Milner (1986), using Cook’s formula, estimates that
single family residences housed 6.1 people per dwelling for American Bottom
Mississippian families in southwestern Illinois. Casselberry (1974) argues that population
estimates are dependent upon dwelling type. He devised a formula that approximates
population for multi-family dwellings, and compared his results against actual population
sizes for several North and South American multifamily dwelling groups.
LeBlanc (1971) argues that using the total roofed space of a dwelling may
unnecessarily include areas that were not used for living space, e.g., animal sheds,
communal buildings/churches, and large storage facilities. Using ethnographic data from

three groups (located in Peru, Iran, and Samoa), LeBlanc estimated population using total

100

roofed area with estimates made using total living space, and compared these results to
actual family size. He suggests that only the ‘living area’ be considered in population
estimates. For archaeologists, total floor space (that can reasonably be considered ‘lived
space’) is available for population estimates.

For this study, I constructed a scatter plot and regression analysis of total living
floor area per horticultural community against total community population (Figure 13). I
excluded several culture groups that have been impacted by severe population reduction
and/or aggregation with other culture groups. For example, the Mehinaku in the 1970s
were at their lowest known population, but still lived in the large residential dwellings
that had originally housed many more individuals. Therefore, I only included floor area
and population data for the 2007 Mehinaku. Similarly, the available data I had on Hidatsa
floor area and population is from Fishhook Village, when this group had joined with the
Mandan after both groups had suffered significant population decimation from smallpox.
I did not include floor area or population figures from these groups from this village.

Once these data were plotted, a best-fit regression line was applied and resulting
regression equation derived: (y = 9.6081x — 458.78). Based on the regression statistics,
the Pearson’s r correlation coefficient is 0.898; therefore 80.6% of the variation in floor
area in a community is explained by the number of people who live within that
community. This equation provides a reasonable estimate for populations that are greater

than 50 people but less than 350- 400 people. For instance, the Bororo at Kejari has a

101

Figure 13

 

Population Trends, Horticulture Groups

 

I 12000
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Population Trends, Horticultural Groups
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Population Trends, Horticulture Groups. Figure 13 illustrates the relationship between

floor space (m3) and the total population per settlement for horticultural groups. Upper
graph is linear scale,-lower graph is logarithmic scale. Based on ethnographic data from
mixed-horticultural groups. Line represents least squares fit for data points. N=52
horticultural groups.

102

total floor space of 725.4 square meters; the regression equation gives a population
estimate of 123, which matches very closely with the actual population of 120. As
another example, one Cocopa village has a total floor space of 334 square meters. Using
the equation, I derive a population of 87, which is fairly close to the actual population of
70. Based on these results, I will use this regression equation to estimate community
population for archaeological sites (Chapter 6).

One cautionary note: for populations that live in large communal dwellings or
longhouses, or for small-population communities consisting of one or two households,
the equation does not yield accurate numbers. Results are either underestimated for very
large populations, or overestimated for small population groups. For communal
dwellings, especially longhouses, residence is comparable to an apartment building: the
structure is divided into numerous compartments, with each compartment holding a
nuclear family (e.g., Kiwai). Space is efficiently used to maximize the number of people
that can live within a particular residence. For low population communities, the choice to
build one or two larger dwellings can skew the total floor area, resulting in an
overestimate of population. More accurate estimates may be obtained using values that

reflect the average floor space per individual for a particular ecological setting or area.

Interpreting Archaeological Correlates: Kinship
Kinship can modify intra-site occupational density. Based on my analysis of

ethnographic data, close spatial association of living quarters, size of dwelling space, and

103

evidence for joint activities including food acquisition and sharing, provide indirect
evidence for identifying broad kinship categories of ‘nuclear family’ and ‘extended
family’. My review of the data shows that nuclear families have smaller houses (less
floor space) on average than extended families. Similar relationships are reported in the
archaeological literature. For example, Faust (2000) compared Israeli Iron Age 11
dwelling size in rural settlements, which typically housed extended families, with
dwellings in urban settlements that typically housed nuclear families. Among other
differences, he found that dwellings in rural areas are almost twice as large as urban
dwellings, averaging 135 m2. F lannery (2002), Roney (1996) and Milner (1986), among
others, also link dwelling size to household composition.

The observation that more people will live in a larger house seems self-evident;
what is less apparent is that individuals within a nuclear family household use more space
than members of an extended family household. As seen from my ethnographic data
analysis, extended family kin have a higher occupational density than nuclear family kin
relations. Furthermore, within a particular village, extended families are more closely
spaced than nuclear families. F lannery (2002) notes that extended family houses are more
densely packed on the landscape when compared to nuclear families. Closer proximity
encourages sharing of information and resources. Membership in a clan, moiety, or other

kin-related group may also influence house placement and spacing.

I was unable to substantiate if residential dwelling size is also linked to residence

patterns. There is not universal agreement among ethnographers, either. Ember’s (1973)

104

cross-cultural comparison of extant groups suggests that matrilocality is indicated when
the living floor area is greater than 550-600 ft2 (51.12-55.77 m2). Alternatively, Allen
and Richardson (1971) point out that actual residence patterns do not always follow
residence rules. Residence pattern variation among extant groups is affected by
economic, geographical, political, and environmental factors; in particular, the economic
base can significantly influence a couple’s choice of residence. Thus, individuals may
choose residential patterns for non-kinship motives. Consequently, the assumed corollary
that kinship descent is indicated by residence patterns merits caution.

A review of the archaeological literature shows similar ambiguity. These
opposing positions are illustrated by two recent studies done by Peregrine (2001) and
Schillaci and Stojanowski (2002) on the presumed residence pattern for Chaco Canyon.
Peregrine used Ember’s 1973 guidelines to conclude that matrilocality was established at
Chaco between AD 900-1100, and argued that the increase in production of turquoise
ornaments was a corporate strategy fostered by the development of matrilocal residence.
Schillaci and Stojanowski countered that while residential living space did increase
during the pithouse to pueblo transition, the architectural data at Chaco did not support
the conclusion that Chaco Canyon was a matrilocal society. In fact, they note that the
living floor space of the rooms averages 41.92 m2, which is consistent with patrilocal

residence.

These studies illustrate that multiple sets of data, including spatial patterns and

arti fact assemblages, are required to infer possible kinship relationships archaeologically.

105

Nonetheless, the close proximity of residential dwellings strongly suggests a corporate
relationship at the very least among the resident members. Additionally, using floor space
densities to determine general kinship groups of ‘nuclear’ and ‘extended’ family for
horticultural groups appears reasonable as a first pass, but should be verified by assessing

other artifact data sets.

Interpreting Archaeological Correlates: Mobility

As concluded in Chapter 4, the degree of residential sedentism cannot be
correlated with occupational density, but is correlated with the presence and location of
storage. Archaeologists have also identified other spatial and artifactual data that are
indicative of relative group mobility and sedentism (e.g., Kelly 1992). Size of midden
deposits, space differentiation of residential and activity use, presence of significant
storage, and site size increase are all indicators of decreased mobility of a group. In
particular, Kelly cautions against assuming sedentism solely by the presence of a house.
As is true for some of the extant horticultural groups included in this study, structures
may be built and temporarily abandoned on a seasonal basis while the group engages in
other activities (e.g., seasonal hunts of the Pawnee).

My review of the ethnographic literature confirms that mobility becomes a
mechanism for maintaining the larger group coherency. Tensions that may arise from
close quarters with others can be temporarily alleviated when a group divides into smaller
units to engage in seasonal hunts or foraging. Longer-term mobility, when the entire

gro up will move every few years to access new land for clearing and farming, allows

106

village members to build dwellings next to neighbors for which there may be no
disagreement.

If the group’s rules of social organization direct the general location of house
construction (and who lives where), there is still some flexibility with whom one has as a
neighbor. Both these types of tension relievers appear to be necessary when a larger labor
pool is required for more intensive, farm-related tasks. If the larger group fissions off into
smaller units, then it could compromise the horticultural success of all involved.

The ethnographic data show that the degree to which a community engages in
temporary or seasonal mobility may be inferred from the presence and location of storage
facilities. Large extramural storage caches indicate seasonal residence at a locality;
similarly, interior storage facilities within a house imply longer-term residence, as stored
food is readily available to its inhabitants. Other researchers have also recognized this
phenomenon (e.g., Wills and Windes 1989).

Kent (1992) developed an ethnoarchaeological model to differentiate between
seasonal and longer-term occupations at five Pueblo 11 Mesa Verde sites. She argues that
an increase in site size, number and size of huts, number of features, and the presence of
formal storage facilities, are more likely for groups that expected to remain for longer
periods at one site. Kent noted that larger-sized sites have significant midden deposits,
formal storage pits, nonlocal ceramic types and nonlocal lithic raw materials, all implying
anticipated long duration of occupation. Smaller-sized sites did not have formal storage
facilities, lacked nonlocal ceramics and exotic lithic raw materials, but had a higher
percentage of tools in flaked lithic assemblages, implying that it had a specific function

as a short-term site.

107

Within the Pueblo 1 period, evidence for sedentary horticultural communities in
the Black Mesa area near Kayenta and the Dolores area near Mesa Verde includes the
presence of private storage space for food that is usually attached to habitation rooms,
favorable location of the settlement adjacent to a wash, the presence of internal and
external hearths (summer and winter use), and the presence of a significant midden
deposit. Hegmon (1994) suggests that residents at both sites faced subsistence risk. The
storage architecture and exchange of ceramics, found at both sites, suggest the
implementation of strategies for reducing subsistence risk at these areas. The presence of

the kiva at Dolores may be indicative of a strategy to reduce increased social stress.

Interpreting Archaeological Correlates: Cooperative Labor

While co-residence in the same dwelling does not necessarily indicate the
existence of a corporate family group, my review of the ethnographic data show that
horticultural households can be composed of at least one nuclear family, with extended
family and mixed family groups common. In rare instances, one household within a
settlement may be composed of two or three unrelated people. Occupational density
figures for mixed group communities are slightly higher than for extended families.
However, residential dwellings of related kin tend to cluster more closely together within
a settlement than to the dwellings of unrelated people. Pasternak, Ember and Ember
(1976) note that there is a strong correlation between the existence of extended family

households and sharing of some activities, but do not consider co-residency cooperation.

108

C01

IO

it

"ill

it

I suggest that it is reasonable to assume that prehistoric communities would
consist of individuals, whether as kin or as co-residents, who pooled their labor resources
to accomplish certain tasks. If this is so, I would expect to see archaeological evidence
that indicates greater supra-household cooperation and organization. From the analysis
results presented in Chapter 4, I argued that closely-spaced residential houses, either
clustered or oriented facing one other, encourages an increased scale of communication
among those dwellings. Residential dwellings that are larger (Scarborough (1989)
concludes that the spatial layout of architectural components of Meyer Pithouse Village
in New Mexico indicate greater community structure and cooperation. This interpretation
is suggested by: (1) the repeated floor plans of four quadrilateral pithouse structures, (2)
consistent intrasite orientation of pithouses, (3) presence of a very large pithouse
separating two halves of the community, and (4) communal activity/use areas based on

artifact density distribution.

Interpreting Archaeological Correlates: Defensive Measures

There is a correlation between higher occupational density and the need for
defensive measures, as illustrated in the previous chapter. The ethnographic data show
that dwellings tend be more closely spaced, and the community can be encircled by
earthenworks, palisades or ditches to deter incoming enemies. Larger food storage

facilities and cisterns are often located within community boundaries.

109

llf‘x

11:1

IO

Archaeological correlates indicating the need for defensive measures are well-
documented in the literature. Around Fort Clark historic site, a Mandan-Arikara
nineteenth century earthlodge village, Wood (1993) observed that the settlement core
area was surrounded by a fortification ditch, and included most of the residential
dwellings and plaza. Large cache pits were located inside the fortified area as well.
However, a few lodges, corrals, gardens and fields lay outside the enclosure. Grygiel and
Bogucki (1997) describe a fortification ditch along the west side of the Early Neolithic
Oslonki site in Poland. The man-made V-shaped ditch connects with two natural features,
a bog system on the south and a lake basin to the north, thereby protecting the settlement
from possible incursions to the west.

Kenzle (1997) examined architectural data from 88 Anasazi pueblo sites in the
Northern San Juan Basin for evidence of defensive positioning. She notes that
fortifications share certain characteristics: these are obstacles, either natural or artificial,
to incoming enemies, and provide cover for the defenders while forcing the enemy to
expose themselves. Kenzle describes walled sites, some with towers, enclosing
settlements; defined pathways within and external to the settlements; and closer spacing
of dwellings. While clearly having a defensive function, Kenzle also suggests that the

Wall can carry social implications such as inclusion or exclusion (social cohesion), desire
f0r social contact, regulate flow of people into an area, provide privacy, or mark out

zones of territorial control.

110

Integrative Structures and Archaeological Evidence for Activities
As noted in Chapter 4, the presence of communal structures and spaces are
present within most horticultural communities. These facilities, including men’s houses
and plazas, are used for both formal ceremonies and informal activities. The
identification of a communal structure or space can be relatively straightforward: a
communal structure is often larger than residential dwellings, while a communal space
may be clear of residential or outbuildings. Typically these features are prominently
located within the community, and may contain artifactual evidence of both mundane and
ritual activities. Private space can be indicated by the presence of partitions between
rooms and/or the presence of smaller houses and internal storage.
Archaeologically, it appears that the development of plazas is an important part of
a larger study of regional population aggregation and the development of early pueblos.
For instance, in the Salinas area of central New Mexico, early pueblos (ca. AD. 1100 —
1400) exhibit a uniform site layout with four roomblocks clustered around a central plaza.
A recent survey of earlierjacal period sites indicates that plazas were used well before
the pueblo period. Ethnographic evidence demonstrates that central plazas structure
social interactions above the household level, and provides shared public space for group
activities and rituals (e.g., Low, 2000).
As population within a community increases, site structure and space use will
alter as a result of more intensive interactions. Crown and Kohler (1990) document this

phenomenon at Pot Creek Pueblo (AD1260-1320). They observed structural changes

111

including construction of planned two-story structures, increased spatial differentiation of
common use/activity areas, limited physical access to communal and plaza areas, and size
increase of residential rooms. The authors suggest that gradual population growth
created the need to begin to differentiate ritual and functional space. The change from
consensual into a nonconsensual hierarchy or sequential hierarchy was accompanied by
other site spatial changes, such as the decrease in outside doorways, construction of

communal rooms, and increased restriction to public sphere areas.

Ethnographic Spatial Patterns and Archaeological Correlates: A Summary
The above paragraphs present examples of how archaeologists have used spatial
data to interpret the social organization of a site. It is equally important to note that other
artifact and feature data provide additional and finer detail on a site. Based on the
ethnographic analysis, a spatial pattern can be produced by different factors;
consequently, more than one interpretation can be made when interpreting the spatial
patterning at a site.
Using the archaeological correlates derived from the ethnographic database,
certain spatial patterns can be used to infer group behavior for horticultural groups:
1) Larger population horticultural groups tend to have higher occupational
densities. A site’s population can be estimated if sufficient data are available on the
n umber of contemporaneously occupied dwellings and floor space at a site. Figure 10

provides a reasonable basis for determining population using the derived regression

112

equation. Site size, in hectares, should include contemporaneously occupied residential
dwellings, communal structures, and appropriate outbuildings. The resulting occupational
density estimate can be used to infer kinship relationships.

2) Kinship relations can be inferred on the basis of occupational density of the
site; overall residential dwelling size; and dwelling spatial arrangement and building
proximity. As indicated from the ethnographic data, the mean occupational density for
nuclear households is 82.1 persons per hectare; for extended households is 192.6 persons
per hectare; and for mixed dwelling is 303.7 persons per hectare. These data, used in
conjunction with overall dwelling size and dwelling spatial arrangement, can be used to
infer kinship relationships. Generally speaking, nuclear families live in smaller dwellings
(range: 1 1.2 — 83.2) when compared to extended families (range: 17.7 — 260.1) or mixed
residential groups (range: 55.7 — 304.0). Typically, tightly clustered residences indicate
closer kinship relationships. Relative dwelling placement around a plaza or communal
house may indicate broader moiety or clan relationships, but in the absence of additional
data, these inferences are tenuous at best. Importantly, those dwellings clustered more
closely together suggest regular and repeated interactions among its residents.

3) Other spatial patterns can support the interpretation of kinship relationships. In

larger-sized dwellings, interior postholes may indicate the presence of internal partitions
subdividing space into smaller rooms. In this case, each compartment may house related
Unclear family groups under the same roof. The presence of separate hearths within the

interior compartments can also support this interpretation, with or without the physical

113

presence of walls. Alternatively, if there is no evidence for internal partitioning, and only
one hearth is found within a larger dwelling, then it is likely that extended family or
mixed residential group lives within the structure, and may engage in communal food
preparation and distribution. Common mealing bins also indicate a predilection toward
communal food sharing.

4) The relative degree of mobility may be more difficult to ascertain, although
Kent’s (1992) criteria for interpreting length of occupation/anticipated mobility should be
used. From the available ethnographic data, the presence and location of larger storage
facilities is a good indicator of length of occupation. Shallower, unlined extramural
storage pits imply a shorter length of occupation, while the presence of both interior and
exterior larger storage pits are typical of seasonally mobile groups in which some
community members remain in one location. Kent argues that more homogeneous artifact
assemblages, fewer artifacts, limited storage areas, limited midden, and absence of
remodeling of structures, and smaller structure size indicate shorter length of occupation.

5) The presence of a cleared communal structure or plaza is anticipated at most
horticultural community sites. Adler’s suggests that high-level integrative structures
should be large (90 — 240 m2) and found at high population (>300) communities. While
this is true for some ethnographic groups, sacred ceremonies and ritual also occur within
smaller structures or areas. Archaeologically, the clustering of dwellings around a cleared
space or architectural feature indicates its possible use as an integrative facility. For

physical buildings, a ritual emphasis rather than secular function may be inferred by the

114

absence of posts for sleeping platforms, presence of ritual artifacts such as foot drums or
certain exotic lithic materials, evidence for larger ceramic vessels and platters for serving
food but the absence of smaller containers, and the presence of architectural features such
as benches. Cleared spaces or plazas may be used for religious functions, but as these are
often kept cleared of debris, it is unlikely whether one can differentiate between its uses
for sacred or secular functions.

The following chapter will explore how effective the use of these archaeological
correlates are for understanding the spatial organization of two different archaeological

sites within the American Southwest.

115

CHAPTER 6
APPLICATION OF OBSERVATIONS TO SITE DATA

[there houses are concerned, economy, wider social interaction and

ritual are not always easily disentangled. ” (Carsten and Hugh-Jones

I 995)

In the previous two chapters, I identified variables that impact the spatial
organization of extant horticultural communities, and then considered the possible
archaeological correlates associated with each of those variables. The next step is to
determine if these correlates are useful in interpreting the spatial organization of
excavated sites. In this chapter, I evaluate the interpretation of the extensively studied
Shabik’eschee site (LA-530) with regard to how excavators have used data to infer
behavior, organization, and activities. In particular, I will review Wills and Windes
(1989) interpretation of demographic estimates, kinship, sedentism, degree of intrasite
cooperation and stability. I assess how well my variables and correlates compare with
these researchers’ conclusions, and discuss the limitations of these spatial correlates when
interpreting intra—site data. As will be shown, there is reasonable agreement between my
results and Wills and Windes’ conclusions for Shabik’eschee.

I then interpret the spatial information from a less well-known site, Wheatley
Ridge (LA-4424). Despite the limited information available on Wheatley Ridge, 1 am
able to draw reasonable inferences regarding the demographic and social organization of
the site using the spatial archaeological correlates derived in Chapter 5. I also assess the
limitations of using these correlates in the interpretation of the site, and suggest follow-up
excavation work that will address specific questions related to the site’s spatial

organization.

116

Shabik’eschee and Wheatley Ridge are two pithouse sites of different ages
located near Chaco Canyon and Reserve New Mexico, respectively. These sites were
chosen as evaluative case studies for several reasons. First, both sites are documented in
the literature, with maps available from which to calculate occupational density, dwelling
size, and spatial arrangement of structures. However, there are significant artifact and
spatial data available for Shabik’eschee, while artifact recovery and preservation for
Wheatley Ridge is quite limited. The case for using Shabik’eschee, then, seems self-
evident: I can readily compare my interpretative results using spatial data with those
conclusions drawn by other researchers using other databases. While not at first apparent,
the reason for using Wheatley Ridge is equally as compelling. There are adequate maps
and site description data available for the site, similar to what would be mapped out
during the initial fieldwork season at a site. By analyzing these data through the lens of
spatial patterning and its correlates, I can make some tentative conclusions regarding the
site, and identify areas for future fieldwork. This approach is useful when excavating a
site; the researcher can draw initial conclusions based on the first season of fieldwork,
and plan out the following field season’s excavation goals to evaluate those conclusions.

Second, the level of structural and artifact preservation for sites in the Southwest
is generally excellent. Dwelling type, configuration, and size can be described and
measured, making for more accurate comparisons with ethnographic data. Any
interpretations relating to dwelling or area function can be checked against preserved
material record. This is not usually the case for sites located in more humid climates,
where material preservation can be spotty.

Finally, there has been extensive research on pithouses in general, including the

117

attendant changes in social, economic and political organization during the ‘pithouse to
pueblo transition’. Within the Southwest, pithouse dwellers practiced horticulture to
supplement foraged foods (e.g., Gilman 1987; Rocek 1995, Stokes and Roth 1999; Diehl
1997). Gilman (1987) argues that the many groups worldwide that used pit structures
were dependent on produced stored food in both winter and summer habitations.
Reliance on storage in cold season pit structures indicates that foods were accumulated in
storage for months when food was not generally available. Therefore, it is reasonable to
expect that if cross-cultural regularities exist for recent horticultural groups, then pithouse
settlements should exhibit spatial organization indicative of mixed horticulture-foraging
subsistence.

Additionally, pithouses were used as residential dwellings at many sites, both
within the Southwest as well as in the Plains and Plateau provinces (e.g., Gilman 1987;
Diehl 1997; Wills and Windes 1989; Carmichael 1990; Weltfish 1965). Differences in
spatial behavior as manifested in the spatial configuration of a pithouse village have been
interpreted as due to changes in social context of residential groups including decision-
making systems (Lightfoot and F einman 1982), social organization structure (Wills
1991), or as mechanisms for social integration (Varien and Lightfoot 1989). Often,
formal and informal integrative structures, including kivas and plazas, are found at
pithouse sites. These parallels with extant horticultural communities further reinforce the

use of pithouse settlements as appropriate archaeological case studies for this research.

Shabik’eschee Site

The Shabik’eschee site is a Basketmaker III-Pueblo I site in the Chaco Canyon

118

area, New Mexico. Roberts (1929) undertook the initial excavations of Shabik’eschee in
1926 and 1927, and uncovered 19 pithouse dwellings, two presumed communal
structures, and 45 storage cists (Figure 14). Later excavations by the National Park
Service in the 19705 identified a minimum of 49 additional structures in the area north of
Roberts’s work. Additional survey work in 1983 was conducted over the entire area,
verified the presence of additional pithouse dwellings (68 confirmed, 77 possible) and
storage bins, and provided approximate size estimates for many of the unexcavated

structures. Pithouse and storage bin size are listed in Table 11.

1. Wills and Windes Interpretation of Shabik’eschee. The following paragraphs
summarize the interpretation of Wills and Windes (1989) on Shabik’eschee. The authors
provide an excellent discussion on Shabik’eschee site, and reinterpret some of Roberts’
original data. Since I am comparing their interpretation with what might be inferred using
the ethnographically-based spatial pattern results, I focus on four major areas: population
estimates; residential dwelling composition; degree of residential sedentism; and the
types of intra-site interaction strategies, including communication, cooperation, and
decision-making, as well as strategies to enhance overall community stability and
coherence. As emphasized in Chapter 4, occupational density is one significant measure
that can be used to assess the potential for community interactions. Since occupational
density is the number of people per hectare, I will first review how Wills and Windes

population figures were derived.

119

Figure 14

O
:' *5)
if" Q <3
0‘.0
o; 9 Q
. ° (59.
233 :0.
. '0 0 . .
. 0 .Q (3

Site Map for Shabik’eschee Village Site, New Mexico. Open circles represent pithouse
structures; filled in circles represent storage bins. Full scale = 10 meters. Arrow points
north. After Roberts (1929).

120

Pithouse Areas at Shabik’eschee Site

1. Roberts’ excavation

Table 11

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pithouse Area (m2) Pithouse Area (m2) Pithouse Comments
Designation + Antechamber less Area Antechamber
A 27.40 20.86 Antechamber;
mano/metate noted
B 25.91 Mealing bin noted
C 5.89 Small comer storage;
mealing bin noted
D 16.17 Evidence of
antechamber, but
destrged; metate found
E 14.31
F 13.49 12.76 Overlain by F -1;
antechamber
F -1 35.14 38.93 Antechamber; metate
noted
G 17.78 12.26
H 10.7
I 6.94 Recessed storage bin
(1.52 m3)
.1 1 0.72 8.68 Antechamber;
mano/metate noted
K 19.36 15.46 Antechamber
L 11.12
M 28.26
N 16.84 Corner storage bin
0 10.52
P 7.78
Q 18.66
X 29.74 Comer storage bin;

 

 

 

mano/metate

 

121

 

Table 11 (cont.)

2. Pithouse verified by 1983 field crew

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pithouse Designation Estimated Area (m2)
Pithouse
l 22
3 7
4 12.16
5 11.9
6 41.25
8 7.07
9 7.07
10 20.68
11 12.56
12 8.04
13 13.02
14 10.8
15 7.07
16 8.55
17 4.15
?-l 28.26
?-2 19.5
?-3 36.0
?-4 11.52
?-5 28.26
?-6 22.30
?-7 14.00
?-8 19.80

 

 

Pithouse Area:

Roberts: average pithouse dwelling area: 17.19 m2
Roberts: average antechamber area: 4.79 m2
Entire Site, average pithouse area: 16.65 m2

Exterior Storage Cists:

Roberts: average volume 1.42 m3 (excludes bench areas)
Max: 3.78 m3
Min: 0.61 m3

Other storage areas“ (estimated, not excavated): 3.5 m2

*does not include all storage areas noted at site, but only those with approximated area
measure.

122

As discussed in Chapter 5, population estimates are based on the in-use floor
space of residential buildings occupied during the same time span. Therefore, one must
first decide on the occupation span of a site. Wills and Windes recognize that the dating
associated with Shabik’eschee is limited. They review existing tree ring dates from
Shabik’eschee, as well as consider ceramic material and suggest that the occupation span
ranged sometime between AD 500-750. Some Basketmaker III construction took place
during the mid-5005, although the lack of chronometric data precludes any firmer
conclusion. Pithouse structure and form is remarkably consistent throughout the site,
suggesting that there were no significant time lapses in between pithouse construction
times. However, there was clearly a minor Pueblo 1 contribution, based on the presence
of limited Pueblo I ceramics on the surface of the site, as well as in three of the pithouses.
Wills and Windes suggest that the site had an occupation span of approximately 100
years, although perhaps not continuously.

Based on the superposition of some structures with others, there is also evidence
for periodic dismantling and rebuilding at the site. Unfortunately, there are no additional
data to help determine the number of pithouses occupied at any one time within the site;
nor is it likely that all pithouses associated with the site have been identified. Therefore,
Wills and Windes make several assumptions regarding the number of dwellings in use at
any one time. They cite Ahlstrom’s findings that pithouses were probably used for no
more than a 15-year period, and estimate a 100-year occupation span for Shabik’eschee.
Population is calculated by first dividing the total number of Basketmaker pithouses (68)

by Roberts’ ratio of 1.6 intact pithouses for every dismantled pithouse (Appendix 4).

123

Based on their estimate of average pithouse floor space, a total village floor space
estimate of 765 m2 is derived. This number is divided by the more general population

estimate of 10 m2 per person as submitted by Naroll and estimate that Shabik’eschee may
have had as many as 76.5 people at any one time.

Wills and Windes also briefly consider the residential dwelling composition at
Shabik’eschee. They acknowledge other researchers’ contention that modal family size
for pithouses average 5 persons, but question whether ethnographic data support this
conclusion. They suggest that smaller numbers of people may have inhabited each
pithouse, and that several clustered pithouses together may have contained a single
nuclear family. Using their demographic estimate of 76.5 people and a nuclear family
size of five (two adults and three non-adults), they propose that 15.3 families occupied
Shabik’eschee site at any one time.

The degree of residential sedentism is also considered by Wills and Windes. They
posit that only some residents remained year-round at the Shabik’eschee site based on
location and size of storage facilities. These ‘resident families lived in those pithouses
that had private, interior-located storage bins. The presence of carbonized corn in at least

one antechamber indicates that these structures served a dual role as entryway and

storage facility for the associated pithouses. Each antechamber has an average of 1.7 m3
of storage volume. This is sufficient area to act as a storage facility for bowls or jars of
shelled corn that would meet a family’s annual calorie needs.

There are also large, extramural storage granaries prevalent throughout the site,
often located adjacent to a cluster of pithouses. Wills and Windes suggest that the

extramural storage is a public facility that is both accessible to, and monitored by,

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adjoining pithouse residents. Dismantling of the sealed storage bins is not easily
disguised, so that residents could not remove group-owned food without their neighbor’s
knowledge. More sedentary Shabik’eschee residents would have no need to monitor
group-owned resources when the site was fully occupied, but could watch over
extramural bins when other group members moved away. Wills and Windes conclude
that the mobile Shabik’eschee families would reassemble at the site periodically as
permitted by the local environmental conditions and food availability.

The question of why some families had larger pithouses with antechamber storage
while others did not is unanswerable with the available data. Wills and Windes speculate
that the presence of private interior storage facilities signals a shift from the communal
sharing patterns associated with hunter-gatherers to more private use practices for
specific households, at least on a seasonal basis.

Wills and Windes argue that group-level decision-making occurred among the
residents of Shabik’eschee. Many residential dwellings are arranged into loose groups
consisting of several pithouses; the structures within each small group are closer to one
another than they are to dwellings in adjacent cluster. The extramural granaries are
scattered among these clusters, with some located closer to one cluster than to others.
From this arrangement, they infer that the residents in those dwellings closest to one
another are related and reached consensus among related households. Additionally, the
presence of a communal house (kiva) at the site may have been used for group
coordination of certain tasks and information transmittal, as well as serving a more sacred
function. Finally, Wills and Windes conclude that the extended occupation by some

families may have conferred usufruct rights to use of the site, but that community for

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membership may have remained fluid, especially since other households appear to leave

extended time periods.

2. Interpretation of Shabik’eschee Data using Ethnographically-Derived Correlates
The conclusions that can drawn using archaeological correlates derived from the
ethnographic data is generally compatible with Wills and Windes (1989) interpretation,
with the exception of the demographic estimates. Since the meaning associated with the
archaeological correlates is often based on the occupational density, I have arrived at a
population range first for the site. Based on the findings from my ethnographic review, I
have revised the upper population range calculated for Shabik’eschee. The ethnographic
data presented earlier shows that floor space requirements vary significantly based on the
predominant subsistence practiced by a community as well as the ecological context.
Therefore, I suggest that it is not appropriate to use Naroll’s constant to arrive at
population figures for horticultural groups, as he derived his constant using input from
groups with widely varying subsistence bases, Instead, I estimate population for
Shaibk’eschee using the regression equation derived in Chapter 5: y = 9.6081x — 458.78,
where x = settlement population and y = floor area in square meters (Figure 13). I also

reviewed Roberts’ pithouse data, and arrive at a slightly lower total floor space of 730.6

m2 for the site (Appendix 4). Using these data gives an upper population figure of 123.8
individuals or 24.8 “families” of five individuals, compared with Wills and Windes high-
end population estimate of 76.5 individuals for the site.

I also arrived at the lower population range estimate for Shabik’eschee, In this

instance, I assumed there were 10.2 houses in use at any one time at Shabik’eschee, using

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the same assumptions for occupational time span and turnover rate for pithouse dwellings

as proposed by Wills and Windes (Appendix 4). Using an average dwelling floor space

for excavated pithouses at Shabik’eschee of 17.19 m2, a total of 175.34 In2 of total floor
space is in use at any one time. Using the above regression equation, this gives a
population figure of approximately 66 people. This figure may be too high; consequently,
1 derived an average floor area factor from for ethnographic data from small, mixed-
subsistence groups such as the Apache, Cocopa, and Havasupai. These data shows that
comparably sized residential dwellings for these extant groups commonly contain
between 4 to 5 people (Table 12). Multiplying an average 4.5 residents per pithouse by
the presumed 10.2 in-use residential dwellings for Shabik’eschee yields an average
population of 46 individuals for the site. The actual population number probably falls
somewhere between the high and low estimates of 123 and 46 individuals.

These population estimates permit an estimate of the occupational density for
Shabik’eschee. Using the 1983 survey map as a general guide to pithouse location and
distribution, the total area for the site is measured as approximately 2.55 ha. However, as
not all pithouse structures were inhabited at the same time, the total area in use is much
smaller. Dividing the total area by 6.7 factor derived earlier gives an in-use area of 0.38
ha. Using the lower population estimate of 46 gives an occupational density of 121.1
person per hectare.

A higher population will obviously live in a larger area. Thus, dividing the total
site area of 2.55 ha by Roberts’ constant of 1.6 gives a total in-use area of 1.59 ha. When

the higher population figure of 123 individuals is used, the occupational density is

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Table 12

Resident Population per Floor Space Area for some Culture Groups in
Arid to Semi-Arid Climates

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Culture Average Floor Average number of Average floor house

Group house area (m2) residents per dwelling area per person (mg)

Akimel 21.6 5-6 2.7
O’odham

Apache 11.2 3 — 4 2.8-3.73

Cocopa 9.3-27.9 3 — 12 233-31
Havasupai 1 8.6 5 3 .72

Tohono 17.7-23 .2 8 2.9-3.54
O’odham .

 

128

 

calculated as 77.4 persons per hectare. These figures bracket values that are compatible
with the average occupational density range for arid to semi-arid climates (Figure 9).
Occupational density can also be used to speculate on residential dwelling

composition. The derived person per hectare estimate is approximately the same as the

calculated average for nuclear families. Average floor size of 17.19 m2 for pithouse
dwellings is also consistent with a ‘nuclear family’ composition of approximately 4 to 5
persons each. If each pithouse contains a ‘nuclear family’ then the clustered dwelling
arrangement of some pithouses may indicate that these residents were extended family
members.

Most Shabik’eschee residents were at least seasonally mobile, with a few families
remaining at the site year-round. As discussed in Chapters 4 and 5, the primary
archaeological correlate that can be used to indicate degree of residential sedentism is the
location and size of storage facilities. A few pithouses have internal storage granaries,
while the majority of storage facilities are extramural cists clustered in groups of two or

more between pithouses (Roberts; Wills and Windes 1989). Storage bins are large,

averaging 1.42 m3 and are lined with stone slabs that inhibit vermin infestation. There is
no evidence that the storage bins were designed as hidden caches, as would be expected if
community members left the area abandoned for longer periods of time. Instead, the
extramural cists are readily visible to any community member. Furthermore, despite the
presence of separate hearths in each dwelling, exterior fire pits are located immediately
adjacent to some of the storage bins. This indicates communal preparation and sharing of
some produced food.

However, six pithouses contained antechambers that may have doubled as both

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entryways and storage facilities. Several other pithouses also contained small comer bins,
and in one case a recessed storage area (Figure 15). Often, manos and metates and/or
mealing areas are located in these dwellings, indicating that food processing occurred
within the pithouse. This suggests that only residents within these pithouses had access to
the intramural stored food resources, while possibly having access to the exterior food
stores as well.

These results present different mobility scenarios for the site. If most extramural
storage bins were filled with shelled corn, then it appears that community members had
the necessary food reserves to remain on the site year-round (see Appendix 5). If most
storage bins were filled with ears of corn, then families would be more mobile, gathering
wild foods and hunting to make up a calorie shortfall. Only those residents living within
pithouses with antechambers might possibly have the necessary food reserves to remain
sedentary. I agree with Wills and Windes suggestion that a few ‘core’ families remained
at Shabik’eschee while others were only short-term residents is likely, although perhaps
not to the degree implied in their discussion. Pithouses are well constructed and usually
covered with plaster. Extramural bins are stone lined for long-term use, rather than left
dirt-faced for temporary storage. It is possible that most mobile families returned from
summer hunt and gathering trips to harvest and store corn, and participated in shorter
logistical forays to gather pinyon nuts or other wild foods from different localities in the
fall. The entire village may have wintered over at the site, with some families temporarily
leaving after planting crops in the spring.

Given the variable climate conditions attendant with this part of the Southwest, the

struggle for food resources can become a time-consuming and stressful activity. The

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Figure 15

 

 

 

1 2.2.11

 

Examples of Pithouses at Shabik’eschee Site. Note antechambers in upper and lower

Pithouse examples, and recessed storage facility in middle pithouse example. Open
cll‘Cles represent posts; filled circles represent sipapu; stippled pattern represents central

firepits. Scale: 1 em = 1 meter.

131

seasonal mobility of some community members provides a ‘safety-valve’ in which
smaller factions can temporarily leave to engage in other food-procuring activities, but
still return to the larger group to share in produced foods, as well as to distribute foraged
food resources.

At least two formal, potentially high-integrative structures (the protokiva and

large kiva) are present at Shabik’eschee. The presence of the large kiva (116.6 m2)
suggests that it is a more formal structure. Stone slabs lined the interior periphery of the
kiva, and were used to form the base and seat of the bench that encircled the kiva wall.
Walls, benches, and the floor were then plastered. Large support posts, approximately 38
cm in diameter, were used to support the roof. A rectangular fire pit was placed near the
center of the structure, with a stone deflector placed approximately 2.7 meters distant
away.

The kiva’s large size and associated features are typical of other kivas found
throughout the Southwest. The kiva was likely used as a socially integrative facility when
the larger Shabik’eschee community periodically reassembled for Shabik’eschee. This
function would be particularly important if the higher population estimate of 123
individuals is accurate. In this scenario, the facility could be used to communicate
information and reduce some of the ambiguity inherent in the decision-making processes
within the larger group.

The similarity in pithouse construction, closer spatial arrangement of residences,
extramural location of storage bins, presence of communal fire pits adjacent to the
storage, and the presence of a large communal structure suggest that the community

behaved as a cooperative economic unit, and lacked a centralized authority structure. The

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architectural features of the pithouses are similar, regardless of dwelling size differences.
The walls of all pithouses are plastered, and often lined with stone slabs. Each pithouse
contains centrally located hearths that may have been used for both heating and cooking.
A small hole, possibly representing a sipapu, is found in almost all structures. Grouped
into smaller clusters, most pithouses have their entryways opening to the south or
southeast. The presence of informal communal spaces, identified as dance plazas by
Roberts (1929:75), provides a setting in which everyday activities and frequent
interactions among community members take place. Finally, the consistent orientation
and placement of dwellings may indicate a shared community identity or set of beliefs.

The above discussion demonstrates that the conclusions generated using the
archaeological correlates generally agree with Wills and Windes (1989) interpretation for
Shabik’eschee site. The most significant differences are the expanded population range
estimated using the ethnographically-derived floor-space regression equation; and the
contention that most pithouses likely contained a ‘nuclear’ family of three to five people,
rather than one or two individuals. The next section will use these archaeological

correlates to interpret spatial data from the less well-studied Wheatley Ridge site.

Wheatley Ridge Site

Wheatley Ridge (LA-4424) is a lesser-known pithouse site approximately four
miles west of Reserve, in Catron County, New Mexico (Figure 16). The site is located on
a low ridge surrounded by small flat area that was probably used for farming. Paul
Nesbitt excavated 9 pithouses in 1938 and 1939 for the Logan Museum at Beloit College,

Wisconsin. Rowe (1947) described the remains of the pithouses using data and collection

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Figure 16

Site Map for Wheatley Ridge, New Mexico. Scale bar = 3 meters. Pithouse designation
(from left to right): pithouse 9; pithouse 8; pithouse 7 (presumed communal structure);
pithouse 4; pithouse 6; pithouse 5; pithouse 3, 3A; pithouse 2; pithouse 1, 1A. Rowe
(1947)

134

material from Nesbitt. Unfortunately, the original field notes are missing, and the
Museum has only the artifacts, original accession catalog entries, and Rowe’s thesis draft.
A copy of Rowe’s finished master thesis with maps was also available at the Laboratory
of Anthropology in Santa Fe. Therefore, much of the following discussion is based on
incomplete data. However, pithouse descriptions and maps are available from which to
assess some aspects of the general spatial organization of its inhabitants using the derived
archaeological correlates. In this sense, Wheatley Ridge is similar to the early excavation
phase of a site in which the features and arrangement of architecture are mapped and
some artifactual data are available for evaluation. Spatial analysis can be used to make an

initial interpretation of the site, thereby informing future excavation goals and objectives.

1. Background Information on Wheatley Ridge. Early dendrochronological dating of
the Wheatley Ridge site assigned late San Francisco and Three Circle phase ages to the
pithouse structures, with the primary construction activity occurring between AD 850-
900. Architectural design for most pithouses is typical of San Francisco phase dwellings
(AD 650-750), although Three Circles ceramics are found near the floors of most
dwellings. Based on dendrochronological dating, artifact assemblages, stratigraphic
sequencing, and pithouse architecture, it appears that there is evidence for three periods
of occupation at the site: Georgetown phase (AD 550 — 650); late San Francisco to Three
Circles phase (AD 650 — 900), and a later Pueblo phase. Table 13 lists relative pithouse

dates and areas. The average size for all pithouses (excluding pithouses 3A and 7) is 20.0

m2, comparable to Shabik’eschee.

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Table 13

Pithouses at the Wheatley Ridge Site

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pithouse Area Age Dates Predominant Comments
Designation (m2) Ceramic Content .
1 16.9 San Francisco- Three Circle R/W, Evidence of plaster on
Three Circles textured plainware floor, walls
1A 25.13 San F rancisco- none Possible antechamber;
Three Circles no plaster or masonry
2 19.55 San F rancisco- Three Circle R/W, Some plaster on west
Three Circles Mogollon Red on wall, floor
Brown, intrusive
sherds
3 22.85 San F rancisco- Alma Plain, Three Plaster on floor, none
Three Circles Circle R/W, on walls
intrusive sherds
3A 9.15 Georgetown Mogollon Red on Plaster on walls; oldest
phase based on Brown, Three pithouse structure at
form and Circles R/W site.
ceramics”
4 20.16 San Francisco- Mogollon Red on No plaster
Three Circles Brown, Ahna
Plain, plainware,
intrusive sherds
5 NIA San Francisco- Three Circles Contemporaneous
Three Circles IUW, Tularosa with house 3
W/R, later B/ W
sherds
6 15.35 San Francisco- Mogollon Red on Minor plaster
Three Circles Brown, Three
Circle R/W,
plainware
8 20.03 San Francisco- Continuous Masonry in patches;
Three Circles sequence of
pottery
8A NIA Later Plainware, later Later occupancy
occupancy B/W sherds, possibly latest Three
based on intrusives Circles Phase. Round
‘ ceramics storage facility
7 104 San Francisco- Three Circle R/W, Ceremonial structure;
Three Circles texture plainware. stone masonry

 

 

 

Intrusive sherds

 

 

* Wooden beam found as debris in the pithouse is dated to AD 800

Average size of pithouses, excluding 3A and 7: 20.0 m2

136

 

Figure 16 shows the location and orientation of the site’s pithouses. All but pithouse 6
opens toward the east. Pithouses are arranged along an east-west trending ridge, with the
slightly older pithouses located in the eastern part of the settlement. Total site size is
estimated as 0.663 hectares. Most pithouses are rectangular, although pithouse 3A is
round. All contain fire pits, and many are plastered on the floor and walls.

Small interior cache pits are located in most of the pithouse dwellings.
Dimensions are not given for these storage pits; therefore no volumes can be estimated.
Rowe may have neglected to obtain these data from the primary excavator. Only pithouse
1A has an antechamber-like structure; the rest have inclined entryways into the pithouse.
There is limited evidence for diversity in artifact assemblages. The presence of manos
and metates, and ceramic vessels indicate that com and other food resources were
processed at the site. In addition to pottery, stone mauls, bone awls, beads, bracelets, and
projectile points are noted. Intrusive sherds are described in the ceramic assemblages
within four pithouses. Finely worked shell beads, bracelets, and pendants crafied are
present in the debris of several pithouses; turquoise and quartz are both shaped into
pendants; and non-local obsidian and felsite projectile points are also present. One human
effigy fragment from Casa Grande was uncovered in pithouse 8. Although the amount
ofexotic material at the site is not abundant, its presence indicates an anticipated longer
residential stay at the site.

Fourteen sub-floor burials were also found, with four of these associated with
specific pithouse dwellings. In addition to the four burials beneath pithouse floors, others

are located in shallow pits beneath the subsoil. Bodies are flexed or semi-flexed. In one

137

location, four of the six burials were oriented with the skull to the east; in three other

burials, materials were buried with the bodies.

2. Spatial Analysis of Wheatley Ridge Data. Population estimates for Wheatley Ridge
are for six pithouses dated during the San Francisco-Three Circles phase occupation
period. Pithouses l and 3 overlie earlier pithouses 1A and 3A. Based on these
relationships and the age dating for the site, 3A is the oldest structure, and is excluded
from population calculations provided below. Pithouse 1A is overlain by pithouse l and
is therefore older than pithouse 1. No ceramics were found in the site. It is also excluded

from population figures. Pithouse 7 is significantly larger than any other contemporary

structures on the site, with a total area of 104 m2. It is not considered a residential
dwelling for purposes of population estimates. All other pithouses are probably part of a
longer occupation period. Total floor area is 114.8 square meters for the 6 pithouses with
documented floor space.

Using the regression equation derived earlier, the higher-end population for
Wheatley Ridge is calculated as 59.7 people or 13 families for the San Francisco phase
group. This figure does not include occupants of pithouses 5 or 8A. A lower-end figure of
27 people (6 families) is estimated assuming that each pithouse contains between 4 — 5
people (using the data presented in Table 12). The site was not completely excavated, so
these figures should be considered a minimum range for the site.

The occupational density for Wheatley Ridge is slightly less than that determined

for Shabik’eschee. Using the above range in population figures, a minimum occupational

138

density of 40.7 - 90 persons/hectare is calculated. As with Shabik’eschee, this is typical
of communities found within arid to semi-arid climates.

Pithouse structure size indicates that nuclear families, rather than an extended
family group, inhabited each pithouse dwellings. The low occupational density for the
site also supports this finding. Unlike Shabik’eschee, there is a general absence of
pithouse clustering which could indicate that houses were occupied by unrelated kin.
However, given the small number of structures, the entire site may be considered a
cluster. This question could be addressed in a second excavation phase; other pithouse
structures from the same occupation period may exist in the area surrounding the ridge
top.

House construction is similar among excavated pithouses. With the exception of
Pithouse 7, all structures are approximately the same size, contain interior fire pits, and
most have partially plastered walls and intramural storage facilities. If each pithouse does
contain a nuclear family, then family members together likely comprise an economic
work unit. What is not known is if there was intra-community sharing of food resources
and communal food preparation based on the available data. Interior storage bin
dimensions were not provided at Wheatley Ridge, nor were there any mention if
extramural storage facilities were present. Additional fieldwork could focus on
identifying and evaluating the presence of extramural storage, exterior-located cooking
hearths, and/or communal mealing bins to better address these questions.

The presence, size, and location of storage facilities are one good indicator of degree of
sedentism at a site. The presence of intramural storage cache within most pithouses

indicates that residents were likely sedentary for at least part of the year. It is unknown if

139

there is a formal midden deposit at the site, although Rowe does comment that debris is
secondarily deposited in some of the older pithouses. The consistent spatial orientation of
dwellings over time suggests some architectural continuity during the occupation of the
site, which indicates longer-term sedentism. With one exception (pithouse 3A), pithouses

are rectangular in shape, and contain adobe-lined fire pits. Except for pithouse 3A,
pithouse area is fairly consistent, averaging 19.99 m2 with a standard deviation of 1.56

m2. Secondary supports and/or wall plaster are used to add strength to the superstructure.
Floors are often adobe covered. These latter two factors especially point to an intention of
building more substantial residential structures rather than temporary dwellings.
Additionally, the interment of multiple bodies at a site is more likely to occur in longer-
residence communities, as its presence establishes an affiliation between the living and
deceased residents.

The consistent orientation of residential pithouses indicates that there may have
been some level of shared ideology. All but one dwelling opening oriented toward the
east. F ollow-up work could determine if the houses were similarly oriented for aesthetic
or comfort reasons instead.

Based on the anecdotal ethnographic evidence, it is suggested that pithouse 7 may
have served as a council house or ceremonial center for Wheatley Ridge inhabitants.
First, the pithouse is centrally located with respect to other residential pithouses,

indicating that it was physically accessible to all Wheatley Ridge inhabitants. It is a large

(~104 m2) structure capable of containing all community members. Rowe describes the
pithouse as partly subterranean, approximately 1.2 — 1.4 meters below the ground surface.

A 9 meter long, 2 meter wide inclined entryway leads into a masonry faced structure. The

140

floor is plastered with adobe, with a large, ringed fireplace located in front of the
entryway. Unlike Pueblo kivas, no interior benches or deflector stone were found, nor
was any sipapu hole noted. Based on this description, I suggest that Pithouse 7 was a
low-level integrative facility in which both secular and ritual activities occurred.

This supposition can be borne out using artifactual data. There was an abundance
of pottery contained in context within the structure, including Three Circles R/W,
textured plainware, and more finely drawn black on white ceramics. While no specific
floral or faunal data are available, the abundance of pottery may indicate that feasting
occurred within the dwelling. Several pieces of jewelry, including incised shell bracelets,
beads, a turquoise pendant and a clear quartz crystal pendant were found in the structure.
Two examples of stone fetishes were also noted. In addition, more commonplace lithic
artifacts, including projectile points and a stone maul, were recovered. The diversity in
the stone artifact assemblage suggests that the pithouse may have been used for both
ritual and everyday functions.

In summary, an initial interpretation of the Wheatley Ridge spatial organization
shows that at least four to eight nuclear families lived at the site at any one time. Each
family may have acted as a separate economic unit, although the community as a whole
may have periodically shared food and other resources. At least some of the community
members were sedentary. There is some indication of a shared ideology, given the
consistency in pithouse orientation and the presence of a larger communal structure. The
lack of apparent defensive structures suggests that the group did not aggregate for
protection. Additional fieldwork could focus on (1) identifying the presence of any

additional pithouses on the ridge; (2) locate, identify, and assess the presence of

141

extramural storage facilities, especially as compared to interior storage; (3) determine if
communal food preparation areas, including external hearths and mealing bins, are
present; (4) locate and evaluate formal midden sites to support interpretation of sedentism
and occupancy; and (5) locate (if any) defensive structures enclosing the pithouse

community.

Evaluating Archaeological Evidence of Site Spatial Organization

Despite the differences in population size, time period and occupation length, the
social behaviors and organization at each site can be surmised from the arrangement of
structures, space, and artifacts. Not surprisingly, the household was the fundamental unit
at both sites in which the daily decisions surrounding the sharing of food resources,
division of labor, and more social family activities were made. Although there were some
differences in the spatial patterning associated with both sites, there were also some
notable similarities. Pithouse dwellings were large enough to a household of 3-5+ people
both at Shabik’eschee and Wheatley Ridge. There was likely some intra-community
communication regarding certain food-production related tasks; spatially, this is
manifested in the regular arrangement of houses throughout both settlements, and the
presence of communal facility. While internal storage was apparently more prevalent at
Wheatley Ridge, some of the pithouses at Shabik’eschee had interior antechambers used
for storage.

In these situations, I would argue that each household made economic decisions
that would benefit the immediate family, but perhaps not necessarily the larger

community. When smaller, independent households make decisions that benefit only that

142

(I)

A?

in

unit, the larger community is at risk for rising tensions and possibly disbandment. This
may be circumvented if a venue is available for engaging households in community-wide
activities and reaffirmation of relatedness, a sense of purpose and belonging. While the
community house at Wheatley Ridge does not seem to be necessary to facilitate
information sharing and decision-making ala Johnson (1982), it is important in promoting
a common goal and identity to settlement inhabitants. Shabik’eschee’s communal
structures and apparent dance plazas could serve a similar purpose.

Differences between the two sites are expected, given the higher population at
Shabik’eschee. More significant sharing of food and material resources among more
community members is expected, and in fact, is indicated from spatial evidence.
Although pithouse size at Shabik’eschee likely housed a ‘family’, the slight clustering of
residential structures into small, slightly separated groups implies that the economic
household was expanded from a single residence to include residents of nearby
dwellings, perhaps extended family members. The incorporation of more household
members into the decision-making unit meant that information, food and material
resources could be shared and exchanged among related household members. However,
the larger community may not have been able to adequately communicate or reach
consensus with all of its members. In this case, the central community house — the kiva —
was necessary to provide the setting for more formal reaffirmation of the community
beliefs, interconnectedness, and identity. The function of a communal house may be
slightly different among communities, but ultimately achieve similar ends.

This does not mean that tension, disagreements, and even dispersal of community

inhabitants did not occur. In the absence of a strong hierarchical superstructure, the

143

hi

all

th'

Fu

pr

[00

flexibility of community members to engage in seasonal, or even longer-term mobility
away from the core settlement site is an effective way for temporarily easing growing
dissension among different households. When done in the context of necessary logistical
gathering or hunting forays, all community members benefit, both directly from the
gathered resources, and indirectly from the temporary separation of offending parties.

While the larger database available at Shabik’eschee allows for a more thorough
interpretation of the spatial behaviors of its inhabitants, reasonable inferences can be
made in cases where there is less information, such as Wheatley Ridge. The forgoing
discussion shows that the spatial organization of a site can be broadly interpreted using
archaeological correlates derived from ethnographic analysis. Questions generated from
the evaluation can be used to plan out excavation goals for subsequent seasons.
Furthermore, it must be stressed that these spatially-based archaeological correlates only
provide an initial perspective on a site. Especially in a multi-phase excavation, being able
to readily identify areas that would benefit from finer-grained analysis proves a useful
tool to the researcher.

I have shown how spatial data can be used to infer the general nature of
interactions among a community’s residents, be these extant groups or at archaeological
sites. There are clearly some limitations to this application, however. In the next chapter,
I will further explore the implications of these results to the broader social aspects of

mixed-horticultural groups.

144

 

01'!

[as

m:

pl;

CHAPTER 7
DISCUSSION

“...the question of influence in the design of the built environment is

part of the larger question of what a place means, and how a place

represents a people, and re-presents a people to themselves ” (Low 2000)

Archaeologists have often used ethnographic data in the interpretation of site
organization. In particular, the hunter-gatherer literature has provided a wealth of
ethnographic research that has been used extensively in the interpretation of small-scale
societies. By systematically reviewing the hunter-gatherer ethnographic literature,
Whitelaw was able to recognize how real behavior is manifested spatially, and in turn
affects spatial organization of sites. In addition, he was also able to identify certain
factors, such as domestic group composition and degree of sedentism, the cause variation
in spatial patterning. This study has expanded on Whitelaw’s research on spatial
patterning produced by hunter-gatherers by undertaking a similar review of the spatial
patterns produced by horticultural groups. A major focus of this study has been to
determine if the spatial patterning identified from ethnographic literature can be used to
make an initial interpretation of an archaeological site; and if so, to use these results to
plan out follow-up evaluative work.

I discuss the similarities and differences between the spatial behaviors of hunter-

gatherers and horticulturalists in the next section.

Ethnographic Explanations of Horticultural Space Use

When I undertook this research, one of my objectives was to determine if

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Whitelaw’s findings on spatial patterning for hunter-gatherers would apply to
horticultural groups. There is some overlap in horticultural/hunting-gathering subsistence
economies, in that horticulturalists may hunt and gather, while hunter—gatherers may
engage in incipient agriculture. Both horticultural and hunter-gatherer societies can have
smaller group sizes; both may engage in seasonal mobility; and both tend toward more
egalitarian decision-making, rather than having a strong hierarchically-oriented
governing body. I suspected that the general nature of interactions among horticultural
groups would be fundamentally the same as those between hunter-gatherers — both
subsistence types require communication and cooperation among members; and
disagreements will inevitably arise between individuals. However, I did not know if the
spatial patterns associated with horticultural interactions would be the same as hunter-
gatherers.

Based on the findings of this study, I have been able to establish the following:

1) Horticultural groups produce spatial patterns that can be linked to general
interaction behaviors of communication, cooperation, and sharing. These patterns
will vary between different culture groups, depending on the social and economic
context of the group.

2) Horticultural groups use space as a means to manipulate social interaction among
group members. Whitelaw made a similar finding for hunter-gatherers. For both
subsistence groups, closer proximity of residential dwellings means an increased
frequency in social communication between adjacent household residents.

3) Several factors cause variation in space use. My findings show that domestic

group composition and ecological context are the most significant variables

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affecting spatial organization in horticultural groups. For example, extended
family members will live closer to related kin and farther from unrelated people.
A relative measure of domestic group composition with respect to the community
is manifested by the physical dwelling arrangement of houses, with clustered or
circular arrangement of houses indicating greater social organization and closer
‘kin’ relationships. This is significant with regard to intra-group interaction. The
domestic group can direct the socialization process within a culture group, in the
sense that individuals learn from those people closest to them.

In addition to these two factors, Whitelaw found that the degree of residential
sedentism also impacted hunter-gatherer spatial organization. I found this factor
had very little impact on the spatial organization of horticultural groups. I suggest
that the requirements associated with monitoring, weeding and irrigating of crops
within a particular ecological setting deter frequent mobility for certain
horticultural communities. Groups that live in temperate climates are seasonally
mobile since cultivation needs do not require full-time crop maintenance. Soil is
fertile, there is ready availability of water, and communities return in time to
harvest cr0ps. Those culture groups that live in settings in which there is a large
investment of field preparation time, and/or plant crops take longer times to
mature, such as fruit trees in island settings or manioc in tropical settings, are
sedentary for at least several years. Finally, those groups that invest time and
energy into planting, weeding and irrigating crops on a regular basis are more
likely to be sedentary, with occasional logistical forays to hunt or forage for wild

foods. This is more typical of groups living in semi-arid climates.

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4) The occupational density trends for horticultural groups and for hunter-gatherer
groups are different. Larger population horticultural communities have a higher
occupational density, while larger population hunter-gatherer communities have a
lower occupational density. This was an unexpected finding; in his study on
hunter-gatherers, Whitelaw had posited that the lower occupational density for
larger hunter-gatherer communities allowed group members to put more space
between those with whom they were less familiar. Instead, there is an increased
frequency for contact with other group members within a large horticultural
community. This finding, then, produces a different question: under what
conditions will the need for closer spacing arise among horticultural community
members?

This finding is significant for its implications regarding interaction dimensions
and horticultural aggregation. Occupational density influences the social behaviors,
stability, and information exchange employed by horticultural communities. If people are
more tightly spaced within a given area, they will have an increased likelihood of
communicating and having contact with others in the community, especially those closest
to them. As I have previously established, most households are composed of related
family members; fiirthermore, residences containing related kin are more likely to cluster

more closely together. In the case of longhouse dwellings, related kin will often live in
adjacent compartments. Such proximity encourages frequent contact; readily available
kin can assist with familial as well as economic activities.

Furthermore, the ethnographic data show that sharing is facilitated when

Q Ommunity members are in closer proximity to one another. I have established that the

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household is usually the fundamental economic unit in horticultural groups. People living
within the same dwelling or longhouse often prepare and share meals since they are
located under one roof. Storage facilities are generally located immediately adjacent to,
or within a residential structure. Access to these facilities is unrestricted. The physical
indicators of sharing, therefore, include the size and location of storage facilities, physical
size of residential dwellings structures, and the physical distance between different
residential dwellings. However, food can be shared with another household if its
members are faced with reduced crop yields (see also Hegmon 1991).

The occupational density trend I have observed for horticultural groups is
significant for its implications regarding aggregation. There are several possible reasons
that horticultural groups may choose to live more closely with others, as outlined in the
ethnographic literature:

1) The need for defensive protection against raiding or external threats is a strong
motivator for larger group aggregation. Based on this study, defensive features,
such as earthenworks, palisades, and defensive walls, are usually present in a
community when defensive measures are required. In the absence of these types
of features, the location of a high occupational density community atop a ridge
does not necessarily mean that it is threatened by outside factions.

2) The need for cooperative work parties to tackle labor-intensive projects is
typically required in horticultural economies. There are numerous examples in the
literature regarding communal work parties, including the Maroni Carib who used
kin groups to clear field and thatch houses, (Kloos 1971); the Baciri, who

organize community members to participate in slash and burn activites (Oberg

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1948); Waiwai families that engage in both production and distribution activities
including cassava bread making, field clearing, and hunting (Siegel 1990); and the
rancherias population of the Gila River Pima, who were collectively responsible

for clearing the irrigation ditches of brush and silt (Winter 1973).

3) The need to maximize available arable land for planting can also be a factor for
group aggregation. Land can become depleted in nutrients with successive
plantings, reducing yields; new fields are gradually located farther fromthe
primary community residence. When the one-way travel time to fields exceeds
two to three hours, a community will ofien move and re—establish itself closer to
the planted fields. By aggregating more closely together, a community can
maximize closer land availability for planting (e.g., Riviere 1995; Russell 1908;
White 1962).

As I have outlined above, each of these factors can create a spatial behavior —
high occupational density — for very different social reasons. With the exception of
defensive requirements motivating group aggregation, these other factors do not leave a
distinctive spatial pattern on the landscape. Therefore, one cannot rely only on spatial
patterns to infer factors driving group aggregation.

This study has also established the importance of communal spaces, such as
council houses, plazas, or men’s houses, for the coordination of activities within

horticultural communities. As I have stated earlier, approximately 80% of horticultural
Communities have some form of shared space that can be either public or private, and
may have both formal and informal integrative functions. The presence of these

Structures clearly signals a venue for some form of communication among community

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members. As I have earlier noted, either sacred and/or informal activities may occur
within these spaces; for many horticultural groups, the communal structure is the
fundamental space for sharing ideas and gossip, preparing communally-shared food,
engaging in ritual or ceremonies, or publicly airing grievances or complaints.

The ubiquitous presence of communal structures, such as plazas, suggests that
these facilities were not necessarily created as a means of controlling and organizing
individuals for defensive purposes (e. g., LeBlanc 1999). This has particularly
implications for Southwestern U.S. archeologists investigating Pueblo III aggregation.
While there is strong evidence that many horticultural groups aggregated for protection
against hostile outsiders, the presence of a plaza cannot be equated with defensive tactics
in the absence of other supporting data. It is as likely that the plaza site plan is useful for
organizing community members to engage in everyday activities, both public and private
(see Rautman 2000).

The concept of ‘public’ and ‘private’ could not be discerned from the spatial
record, except in a very broad sense. Private space can be inferred when large residential
dwellings are partitioned, although the houses of extended kin are often unpartitioned
permitting residents a clear view of the community at large. House walls can be
constructed of grasses, leaves, or other materials that do not inhibit sound transmission,
making it easy to overhear conversations among community members.

For many horticultural groups, the concept of privacy does not necessarily mean

that one is free from the prying eyes of neighbors. Indeed, one might expect that the
higher occupational density for residential structures preclude the opportunities for

i Individual and small group privacy. Yet these same factors play a dual role: not only does

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the ‘apparent’ lack of privacy allow community members the opportunity to ‘know each
other’s business’, but also lets the community as a whole to oversee and, to a degree,
evaluate the actions of its members.

I would argue that the concept of private and public are two endpoints along a
spectrum of possible conditions. Both endpoints are dependent upon the mutual consent
and practice of group members for their meaning. Privacy does not necessarily rely on
absolute seclusion from others, although it can be practiced in that way. Instead, privacy
is a condition in which an individual, or a group of individuals, may engage in certain
activities that can be pointedly ignored, although condoned, by other community
members even in their presence (e.g. Gregor 1977).

From the perspective of this research, the spatial patterning associated with
private and public space is difficult to assess. Yet the functions attendant with each are
important to help either alleviate tension among individuals, find common ground for the
community, or reaffirm corporate identity. Nonetheless, conflicts do arise among
community members and can lead to the disintegration of the larger group. Riviére’s
(1984) observation for the Guianian communities can hold true for other horticultural
groups:

“. . . [T]he larger the village the more frequent the disputes will be and the
less easy to resolve. This is because political relationships are embedded in social
relationships, and the density of the latter will be greater in small villages than in
large ones. Large villages inevitably contain relationships that are intrinsically
fragile, and this structural weakness manifests itself in disputes about a range of
problems. . .and [can] end in fission.” (27-28)

Spatial patterning associated with community disintegration and dispersal was not

eVident from the ethnographic record. In part, this is due to the nature of most of the

etl‘mographic studies: research focused on extant groups in which membership was fluid,

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but the overall community was relatively stable for the time period in which the study

occurred.

Archaeological Explanation of Space Use among Horticultural Populations

The recognition of interaction among and between communities within the
archaeological record is interpreted from intra- and inter-unit spacing, access patterns,
and boundary maintenance, including settlement patterning, ecological adaptation, and
the aggregation and dispersal of groups — in short, the recognition of spatial patterns
associated with a group. This research has demonstrated that, within limits, it is possible
to infer some broader aspects of social behavior based on spatial pattering at
archaeological sites using ethnographically-derived correlates. These correlates can be
used to infer the association between dwelling size and residential composition; dwelling
arrangement and inter-residence relationships; and site configuration (including the
presence or absence of communal structures) and degree of intra-community cooperation.
Other spatial factors, such as the presence and location of storage facilities, provide
indirect evidence for the degree of residential sedentism. In short, spatial patterns as
manifested in the archaeological record provide insight into the nature of social
interactions among community members by building on what is inferred from the
material record.

Identifying archaeological correlates from the ethnographic spatial patterns was

Challenging: correlates must be recognizable at a site, but distinctive enough to be
ascribed to certain spatial patterns (and by extension, to the social behaviors that

produced them). Straightforward interpretations can be made from some obvious

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architectural correlates, such as linking the need for defense with the presence of
palisades or earthenworks. Other correlates must be derived indirectly, which introduces
uncertainty into any interpretation. For example, in my analysis of population ranges for
Shabik’eschee and Wheatley Ridge, it was apparent that the methods used to estimate
occupational density are heavily dependent on calculated population numbers for a
community.

Population estimates are often based on the available floor space divided by some
floor space coefficient (e.g., Naroll 1962; LeBlanc 1971; Cook 1972; Ember 1973;
Casselberry1974; Schialli and Stojanowski 2002). As I have argued earlier, the floor
space coefficient is dependent upon the economic strategy employed by a cultural group.

I derived a regression equation for population estimates using ethnographic data from the

horticultural groups included in this study. If Naroll’s constant of 10 m2 floor space per
person is used instead, population estimates for a site are notably lower and probably
unrealistic for horticultural communities, especially since Naroll incorporated data using
groups employing multiple subsistence economies. As a practical matter, I calculated a
population range from which to determine occupational density for each of the
archaeological cases used in this study.
Many archaeologists determine kin relationships within residential dwellings
based on floor size, number of rooms, number of hearths, and location of storage. For
example, F lannery (2002) uses these measures, as well as occupational density, to
interpret shifts in residential dwelling composition from nuclear to extended families for
houses in the Near East and in Mesoamerica. One interesting point that he makes is how

Storage facility location and access can signal whether food is shared among the larger

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group or only within the family. The privatization of storage — where food is stored
within a private storage rooms in nuclear family dwellings — is interpreted for Prepottery
Neolithic societies. I agree with his spatial criteria for determining dwelling composition,
and find his discussion on the possible implications of storage privatization compelling.
However, I caution on using the presence of private storage as the 59]; indicator of
nuclear family dwelling composition. Although there are culture groups, such as the Hopi
or Tewa, where intramural storage is found in the houses of nuclear families, there are
several culture groups, including the Quechan, in which extended family households have
internal storage e.g., Parsons 1929; Forbes 1965; Bee 1981). Similarly, there are cultural
groups, such as the Pawnee, who have both intramural and extramural storage facilities,
and live in extended family group (Weltfish 1965). Food storage location, whether
privately stored or communally accessible in extramural granaries, is dependent on the
ecological setting of a cultural group, community size, and mobility requirements.
However, based on the ethnographic analysis, it is reasonable to assume that intramural
storage, in the absence of extramural storage, indicates that food was predominately
shared within the household, which would then have also acted as an economic unit.
Sharing would occur only if the residents so choose. By having interior storage, it
affords a sense of privacy to household residents, who may not wish to have their stored
food amount known by other community members.

As I have previously argued, the presence and location of storage is a better
indicator of overall group mobility. Kent (1992) suggests that the presence or absence of
formal storage facilities as one indicator of anticipated mobility; other indicators include

site size, number and size of huts, and number of features present at a site. In her review

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of storage at several Pueblo 11 sites in southwestern Colorado, she notes that formal
storage facilities are often deeper and slab-lined. She argues that this indicates an
additional investment in construction time, which is indicative of the intent to remain
longer at a site. Formal storage facilities do not need to be located within a residential
dwelling, however. I propose that extramural storage, such as used by the Pawnee, can
also be considered formal storage facilities. These are large, bell-shaped, and lined
facilities that have the capacity to contain large volumes of food. While the Pawnee are
seasonally mobile, they return to their fields after summer hunts to harvest and store
foods for later consumption. Therefore, I would add to Kent’s conclusions that formal
extramural storage is indicative of seasonal mobility, with groups returning annually to
the same location. This has broader implications when considering land tenure issues.
The ethnographic record shows that relative mobility can also be verified based
on the construction of household dwellings. Diehl (1997), among others, proposes that
groups that move frequently will tend to construct low cost structures that will be
abandoned before needing maintenance or repair, while groups that remain in one spot
for longer times will have high initial construction costs, but with an eye toward reducing
overall maintenance costs later. In his study on Upper Mogollon pithouses, Diehl argues
that well-constructed residential dwellings (multiple posts, plastered walls, lined
fireplaces) suggest a greater investment of time and energy into constructing a house, and
therefore a long-term use of the dwelling. I suggest that these results are valuable when
examining data in areas where architecture is well preserved, but that other spatial
criteria, including storage facilities and midden size, must be used to interpret relative

mobility in areas where structural preservation is poor (see also Wust and Barreto 1999

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for a discussion on the archaeology of ring villages in South America).

Architectural features, such as plazas or communal houses, are often present in
ethnographic groups, and have a high likelihood of preservation in the archaeological
record. Both sacred and informal activities are often ascribed to these features. On the
basis of spatial information alone, it is difficult to determine which of these functions

occurred within the confines of these features. Adler’s (1989) asserts that large

communal structures (90 m2 + in size) likely had a sacred function, and uses
ethnographic data to support his contention. However, I caution that size alone is not a
good indicator of function. For example, the ring villages of Brazil surround large plazas
that are 100 m or more in diameter (e.g., Crocker 1990).

The ethnographic data show that a wide variety of activities occur in the plaza.
Some involve ritual ceremonies or dances, while other activities are much more informal,
including food preparation, games, or work-related tasks. I suggest that it may be that the
public nature of plazas — in which people and activities are visible and accessible to
everyone — is what differentiates these type of communal features from large, enclosed
structures or courtyards. An enclosed feature is more limited, both in terms of what is
visible to others, and who can be admitted. Possession of sacred knowledge can be
limited to those who are permitted to enter into the structure, rather than shared with an
entire community. Such factionalism could eventually develop into a hierocracy within
the community, between those that know the proper songs, chants, and ceremonies
associated with particular rituals, and those who are mere participants (F owles 2005). In

either case, there are numerous examples documenting the presence communal structures

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and plazas in moderate to large-population sites, or sites that contain unrelated or

distantly related kin as well as extended families.

Using Spatial Information to Interpret Archaeological Site Data

A major focus of this study was to determine if spatial information could be used
to make an initial interpretation of the spatial organization of an archaeological site. In
particular, I was interested in assessing the types of interaction dimensions that might
occur within a group; and from this information, determine what could be inferred
regarding domestic group composition, degree of residential sedentism, and possibly the
reasons for aggregation. From the ethnographic analysis, I was able to identify certain
spatial patterns associated with three general interaction dimensions: communication,
cooperation, and sharing. I identified archaeological correlates corresponding to specific
spatial behaviors, and used these correlates to interpret spatial data on two different
archaeological sites, Shabik’eschee and Wheatley Ridge.

The results of this study have shown the following:

1) Spatial data may be used successfully to make an initial interpretation of a
site. This has been demonstrated comparing the previous interpretations made
on Shabik’eschee with an interpretation of the spatial data base using
ethnographically derived correlates; and then using these archeological
correlates to interpret the spatial data on another case study, Wheatley Ridge.
A more detailed discussion is given in Chapter 6, with a synopsis presented

below.

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2) The spatial organization of a site can be linked with the general interaction
dimensions of communication, cooperation and sharing. First, the
ethnographic data show that more closely spaced residences are likely to have
an increased potential for communicating with one another. Second, there is a
very strong correlation with regard to residence proximity and residence
composition. More closely spaced houses are likely to contain related kin
members. The ethnographic database demonstrates that related kin are more
likely to cooperate with one another in certain tasks, including subsistence
related work as well as in socialization processes. Where there is increased
cooperation, there is the increased likelihood of sharing food and other
resources. Food sharing among community members is indicated by the
location and proximity of food storage facilities.

3) A spatial analysis provides a broad overview of the social organization of a
group and is especially appropriate to use with survey data or during the early
excavation stages at a site. This initial analysis can help identify future
fieldwork objectives by identifying where additional artifact and spatial data
are needed to more fully interpret the social organization of a group.

Since I wanted to determine the utility of the archaeological correlates when
interpreting the spatial organization of a site, I chose a well-documented archaeological
site, Shabik’eschee. There are significant data available on the site, and has been the
subject of several in-depth interpretations over the past few decades (e.g., Wills and
Windes 1989). Using the archaeological correlates listed in Chapter 5, I was able to

produce a general interpretation of Shabik’eschee’s spatial organization, specifically

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addressing population size, residential dwelling composition, community composition,
and relative degree of sedentism. My interpretation was comparable to Wills and Windes
findings for the site.

The most significant difference between my interpretation and previous
interpretations came in assigning population numbers to Shabik’eschee. Wills and
Windes population estimates were slightly lower than those I calculated for
Shabik’eschee. This is largely due to the regression equation used in my calculations. The
equation was derived using only horticultural community data, rather than mixing floor
space per person data from communities that practiced different economic strategies (as
is the case for Naroll’s coefficient). I believe this equation is reasonable to use for
horticultural groups, as a community’s economic strategy should affect the number of
people required to engage in a subsistence activity and who can be sustained by what is
produced.

The significance of extramural and intramural storage with regard to the
interaction dimension of sharing also was raised during my analysis, based on the
ethnographic database. Wills and Windes suggest that households with internal storage
may have been unwilling to share their food stores with others. However, the
ethnographic database has examples showing that when extended families share food
resources, the residential houses are more closely spaced. There are pithouse clustered in
smaller groups, as shown from the spatial distribution (see also Figure 14). This raises the
potential for sharing among nearby dwelling. It does seem likely that the contents of the
externally located food storage bins, located between adjacent dwellings were distributed

among residents of clustered pithouses, but the analysis raises the question of whether the

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contents of the intramural facilities were also shared with related families. Finer dating of
pithouses within the same cluster might resolve questions concerning contemporaneity of
structures and help to address this question.

Based on the success of this comparison with Shabik’eschee, I then interpreted
the much more meager spatial database from Wheatley Ridge. The interpretation that was
derived from this exercise, while limited, presented a broad overview of the social
organization of the site. In addition to interpreting a reasonable population range for the
site, I was also able to infer that dwellings typically housed nuclear families, that while
each household may have acted as an economic unit, the group engaged in at least some
community-wide activities and decisions, and that some of the community members were
likely sedentary. As importantly, I was able to identify areas for follow-up fieldwork to
address specific questions regarding community size, level of cooperation among
community members, and the degree of sedentism and length of residence at the site.
Therefore, using ethnographically-derived archaeological correlates as a first-pass tool to
interpret survey data is reasonable, especially since more refined objectives can be
outlined for future excavation work.

Having said this, I must stress that using spatial patterning as an interpretative tool
is appropriate as a first pass measure. The findings in this study show the potential
application in regional and site-specific planning when undertaking field survey work.
For example, by using spatial patterning to make an initial interpretation regarding the
general social organization of a site, excavators can fine—tune follow-up research design
to address specific questions. In doing so, associated excavation costs can be reduced by

targeting specific areas for in-depth analysis. One important caveat when using

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archaeological correlates as interpretative tools is that multiple lines of evidence — or
correlates in this case —should be used when interpreting a site’s data. It is important that
other artifactual data and spatial evidence be used when making interpretations at a site.
Fundamentally, using spatial patterning to interpret intra-community interactions
is based on a series of successive assumptions and conclusions regarding population size,
dwelling area and household size, kin composition per household, and degree of
interaction among adjacent and more distantly located households. Taken together, these
conclusions provide a foundation on which other inferences regarding community
stability and inter-community relationships can be assessed. Given the success of
applying this analysis on data from two sites, it is possible that a similar approach can be
used to facilitate interpretation in areas where the artifact record is not as well preserved,

such as in more humid or tropical settings.

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CHAPTER 8
A SUMMARY

“1 should have more faith, ” he said; “I ought to know by this time

that when a fact appears to be opposed to a long train of deductions, it

invariably proves to be capable of bearing some other interpretation. ”

(Sherlock Holmes, ‘A Study in Scarlet’)

This research has addressed the question: how may one interpret spatial patterning
at the site level within the archaeological record of mixed subsistence-horticultural
groups? This question concerns some basic issues in anthropological research including
the relationships among demographic, ecological, cultural, and social variables.
Specifically, archaeological issues involve the problem of recognizing spatial patterning
within the static material record, and interpreting the range of possible human behavior
and cultural systems that formed those patterns. In this study I begin the process of
developing a model that links ethnographic observation with expected archaeological
surface remains, focusing primarily on the organization of space within an archaeological
site. I hold some basic economic and political variables constant by considering only
small-scale horticultural societies. This research, then, builds on previous ethnographic
and ethnoarchaeological studies that focus on hunter-gatherer groups.

My primary inspiration came from Whitelaw’s study that demonstrated that space
use among extant hunter-gatherers produces specific spatial patterns that are interpretable
and can be linked to specific social behaviors within a group. Although his focus on the
relative importance of domestic group composition and relationships is not a primary

consideration for my research, his basic approach and findings provided an excellent

baseline from which to begin an assessment of a site’s spatial organization.

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This modeling process is particularly relevant for archaeologists who are faced
with the problem of developing some general guidelines for how to interpret observations
from archaeological survey. This study shows that there are some general interpretations
that we can make in interpreting the nature of social interactions at hunter-gatherer sites,
and also at sites occupied by horticultural groups. The recognition of interaction among
and between communities or households within the archaeological record can be
interpreted from intra- and inter-unit spacing, access patterns, and boundary maintenance,
including settlement patterning, ecological adaptation, and the aggregation and dispersal

of groups —— in short, the recognition of spatial patterns associated with a group.

Interpreting Spatial Patterns: General Summary

One of the most significant findings from the ethnographic data is the positive
relationship between population and occupational density for horticultural communities.
Larger communities will have people living more closely together, thereby encouraging
more frequent contact and interaction among community residents. There are some
factors that can cause variation among groups, however. The domestic group composition
and relationships within a particular community are one of the two major factors that
affect occupational density variation. Such groups may cluster together or place
themselves in specific spatial context with respect to other community members, such as
moiety or clan placement around a ring plaza. These actions create and reinforce a
relationship between domestic group structure and placement, mechanisms and pathways
for larger group information exchange, and the manifestation of larger group ceremonies

and rituals. Archaeologically, this can be manifested by the regular arrangement and

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close spacing of houses within a community. The architectural settings of plazas and
communal houses may be centrally located, thereby mutually reinforcing and
encouraging community interactions, and potentially ameliorating divisive tensions as
well as building a common identity and purpose.

The ecological setting of a community can also impact its occupational density,
although some actions can offset the impact of seasonal or climatic variations. In addition
to relevant climatic data, evidence for agricultural intensification and/or extensification
techniques, and the location and extent of storage facilities can often provide some
indirect evidence as to the impact of climatic on community viability. For example, those
horticultural communities that are located in arid climates are dispersed more widely
across the landscape in the absence of significant irrigation facilities. The ability to
establish irrigation facilities enhances the production capability of an area. Long term
storage of produced foods, in tandem with inter-community food sharing, encourages a
higher occupational density. Archaeologically, this type of variation may present
evidence in the form of irrigation canals, reservoirs or cisterns, in conjunction with the
presence of significant food storage facilities, at a site.

For groups that are located in more temperate climates, the seasonal availability
of produced food and wild plant resources, coupled with large animal hunting,
encourages cyclic mobility among agricultural, foraging and hunting areas. Here, large,
externally located storage facilities often indicate seasonal mobility. However, as many
of these are cached away from camp, it is not likely that these would be uncovered during
a site excavation. Finally, communities located in seasonal and tropical rain forests and

humid savannas rely on swidden agriculture to maintain higher crop production on a

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yearly basis. Depletion of soil nutrients and concomitant reduced crop yields requires
large work parties to clear forested land every two to three years; eventually nearby land
is unable to sustain suitable crop yields, and entire communities will move. Communities
located in year-round high humidity climates are less likely to have significant storage
facilities, but will keep produced foods in—situ until ready to use.

Superimposed on the ecological considerations is that of discerning degree of
residential sedentism. The data do not show that the degree of residential sedentism
affects the occupational density of the group. This is counterintuitive to what is expected:
as noted by Whitelaw for hunter-gatherers, sedentary groups are more likely to have a
lower occupational density than more mobile groups. In part, any differentiation in
occupational density between the long-term sedentism of some horticultural groups such
as the Tewa or Zuni and the shorter-term sedentism of certain South American groups is
masked by the greater effect of climate. As well, the distinction between ‘sedentary’ and
‘semi-sedentary’ may be too narrowly defined to produce a significant difference in
occupational density. What is notable is that the presence/absence and location of storage
correlates fairly well with degree of mobility and with ecological setting. Seasonally
mobile groups are more likely to have both extramural and interior-located storage
caches, while sedentary groups will generally have only interior-located storage facilities.
Communities in more temperate and arid climates are likely to store produced foods for
consumption at a later time. As noted above, this is not the case for tropical horticultural
communities.

The ethnographically-derived archaeological correlates can be used to broadly

interpret surface survey data, and refine future excavation objectives. For this study, I

166

was able to make reasonable interpretations of the social organization of two sites,
Shabik’eschee and Wheatley Ridge, using spatial patterning data. More importantly, and
especially for the Wheatley Ridge site, I proposed follow-up fieldwork to address specific
questions regarding community social size and organization, including the degree of
intra-community cooperation. As discussed next, the relative success of this approach has

significant application potential in cultural resource management.

Interpreting Spatial Patterning: Implications
1. Cultural Resource Management and Regional Landscape Planning

In practice, the way that archaeologists interpret the spatial patterning of cultural
remains on the landscape is crucial to decision-making at a number of different
conceptual scales. Archaeologists studying single sites use information regarding site
layout to guide excavation; in other contexts, regional land managers use information
regarding site layout to assess potential for and possibly the nature of inter-site
interaction.

In particular, the initial interpretation of the spatial organization of a site using
archaeological correlates means an investigator can identify follow-up research questions
and target specific areas for excavation, thereby employing a more cost-effective
excavation plan in subsequent seasons. For CRM companies, surface evaluation of data
can be used to better design the initial Phase II archaeological testing program, as well as
fine-tune follow-up objectives and identify areas if Phase III excavation is required.
Especially in a multi-phase excavation, being able to readily identify areas that would

benefit from finer-grained analysis proves a useful tool to the researcher.

167

2. General Anthropological Considerations

A. Implications with respect to Community Aggregation. In addition to practical
application of the research results, this study also has broader implications with regard to
anthropological theory, especially when considering population aggregation. One of the
most significant findings of this research showed that there is a greater occupational
density observed for larger horticultural communities, meaning that people are more
closely spaced together. As a consequence, face-to-face interactions among community
members are more likely, thereby facilitating information sharing and large group
communication. Higher occupational density for larger population horticultural groups
implies an impetus for this aggregation into larger communities, as well as possible
mechanisms to deal with the tensions that inevitably arise when more people live closer
together. This begs the larger question: what might be the reasons driving higher
occupational density, which results in a larger-group aggregation?

While there may be many reasons for higher occupational density, my review of the
ethnographic literature presents several likely possibilities. A larger population will share
in both productive and distributional labor efforts: clearing fields, planting gardens, food
preparation, and overall sharing of produced food resources, as well as large-scale
projects including residential dwelling and integrative structure construction and
defensive protection. There are multiple examples in ethnographic literature that describe
pooling of labor resources. Another reason is for defensive purposes — there really is

strength in numbers. As noted by Fowles (2004) and Plog and Solometo (1997), group

168

solidarity is strongest when the threat from outside factions is high. While this is not the
only reason driving large community aggregation, it certainly is a compelling motive.

Finally, aside from the economic interdependence, there is also a structural
relationship among many (although not all) horticultural groups. For example, the ring
villages of the Amazon place themselves according to moiety and familial relationships
around a large circle. These relative spatial relationships are maintained even when the
settlement is moved to a new locality. Thus, spatial arrangement is influenced by inherent
organizational structural reasons — including broader kinship effects, such as clan or
lineage connections — as well as by economic reasons.
B. Implications with respect to Decision-Making. The strategies involved for group
decision-making within horticultural communities must also be considered. My review of
the ethnographic data show that the household probably has the greatest role in making
decisions that directly or indirectly impact the welfare of the larger group (for example,
sharing food surplus). As described in this study, households are often clustered around a
public facility, or open, public space. This permits households to engage in both informal
and more formal decision process (the converse is not necessarily true, however; the
dispersed arrangement of houses does not necessarily indicate that households within a
community acted independently or without regard to the needs of the greater
community).

Other ethnographic data support other research that finds communal facilities help
structure social interactions above the household level, providing shared public space for
group activities and rituals, regardless of overall community population. The

development of communal venues within the larger population apparently helps to ensure

169

a more stable transition between smaller logistical camps and larger community
aggregations. Furthermore, increases in the social scale of communication lead to greater
organization or patterning in community layout. The maintaining and strengthening of
social ties to unite the community into a coherent entity may enable the group to make
collective decisions regarding inter-community rituals, relationships, work parties,
resource exchange, and/or migration. Clearly, this cannot be proven by any specific data
set, but only inferred based on ethnographic analog.

Rautman (2000) has indicated the presence of plazas was likely an important
integrative mechanism that facilitated intra-pueblo communication and alleviated scalar
stress attendant with larger populations by providing a built forum for both large and
small group gatherings. The apparent rapid ‘success’ of the pueblo format in the face of
rapid aggregation over a short time period appears to have been facilitated with the use of
shared communal space. The use of a public venue for community gatherings may have
had its precursor in pithouse communities, as indicated by the two site examples of
Shabik’eschee and Wheatley Ridge. Despite differences in population size and a lower
occupational density, both communities contained at least one large structure that could
have contained most of a community’s adult population. It may be that once a population
threshold is met, some form of community structure enables the members of a group to
make collective decisions regarding inter-community relationships, resource exchange,
and/or migration.

If communal structures and space are used as one forum to disseminate
information and to engage in communal activities to ensure group cohesiveness, then it

may be possible to infer the development of a community’s overall political and social

170

structure as well. Changes in population size and built space must impact both the formal
and informal daily interactions between and among different community members.
Increased occupational density may eventually lead to the appearance of hierarchical
infrastructure within a community, and indirectly determine its political as well as social
structure.

C. Implications with respect to Community Dissension and Fission. Larger
population communities are subject to dissension and the potential for fissioning,
regardless of the presence of communal structures or shared spaces. Although domestic
group relationships are clearly significant in maintaining individual household stability,
inter-household relationships among more distantly or unrelated groups within the larger
community could become strained over time. Differences of opinion and competition
between households or individuals can elevate internal divisions within a community.
Temporary dissolution or permanent fissioning of a group may be inevitable if intra-
group disagreements cannot be resolved, despite the presence of these integrative
facilities.

The ethnographic literature provides several examples of communities that are in
the process of fissioning into separate, smaller factions. The Barama Carib provide one
such example, where dissension among three different families has caused each to
separately garden their own plots, with little interaction with their neighbors (Gillin
1936). Goldman (1963) comments that the fissioning of a Cubeo community is often
driven by unresolved quarrels within the community, rather than by economic factors
such as land shortage.

What factors, then, work to hold a community together, if at least temporarily?

171

Kracke (1978) suggests that the structural bonds holding Kagwahiv groups together are
relatively weak, such that strong leadership provides the basis for the formation of
constituent social groups into communities. This premise is more fully explored by

F owles (2004) for Prehispanic Southwestern Pueblo communities. F owles notes that
group rituals and religious ceremonies do not necessarily work to alleviate internal
dissension within a community. Instead, he argues that it is the possession of esoteric
ritual knowledge by an elite few that confers prestige and allows these individuals to
maintain the decision-making rights for the larger group, thereby holding the community
together (see also McGuire and Saitta 1996). As F owles notes, individuals can always
make the choice to leave the larger group, but in doing so, lose access to a valuable, if

intangible, resource —religious knowledge.

In the broadest sense, this research is used to address the question, ‘how do we
interpret the archaeological sites that we find?’ I have argued that spatial patterning
should be produced based on the social behaviors of a particular community. Interactions
between different households within a dwelling, presence of communal space or plazas
for larger group integration, and evidence for the relative importance of domestic group
composition and occupational density in decision-making may be inferred from the
spatial behaviors evident at the site level. The ethnographic data from two economic
systems, hunter-gatherers and horticulturalists, has been evaluated with regard to the
effect of social organization on consequent spatial patterning. However, based on some of
the different findings between Whitelaw’s study and this research, it is proposed that

additional research focusing on other subsistence systems should be undertaken.

172

Economic systems can affect how people behave towards others, and with whom they
interact. This has far reaching consequences in the stability of any community, and
ultimately in the rise of systems and strategies to maintain, or possibly impose, group

coherence and function.

173

APPENDICES

174

Appendix 1
Cultural Data Set

The cultural data below are used in making the interpretations for this
dissertation. Each row lists relevant data categories obtained for each culture group.
Information on the abbreviations and key codes used in the categories is listed in Chapter
3, with explanation. The author and date references used are listed in Appendix 2, with a
full bibliographical notation in the Reference section.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Culture Group Acoma Akimel Amahuaca Western Western
O’odham Apache Apache
# Villages 3 5-8 999 999 999
Pop/Village 879 200 15-20 20 30-200
Village in Acoma General/ 195 Os White Cibecue/
Database: Pueblo/1948 1904 Mtn./19305 19605
Name/Date
Dwelling Info
# Dwell/Vill. 387 </=50 34 houses 6 4-33
rancherias
Per/Dwelling 1.79 meam 4 hshld 5-6 3—4 4 av.
/rancheria
Dwell. Comp. 2 1 1 1 1
Dwell. Size (m2) 27.6 21.6 999 11.2 av. 11.2 av.
mz/Person 6.9 2.7 999 3.2 3.2
Int. Partitioning 1 2 2 2 2
Out Buildings 1 999 1 1
Site Info
Site Size (ha) 999 29.5 E 999 2.9 999
Person/ha (OD) 999 6.7-20.4 999 48-65 999
Defensive Strux 1 2 999 2 2
P/ Storage 1 1 1 1 (minor) 1
Loc. Storage 3 2 (atop hse) 2 2 3
Res. Sedentism 3 1 2 1 (C), 3 (H) 1 (C), 3 (H)
Plaza 1 1 999 1 1
Communal Hse. 1 11 999 2
Subsistence
Estimate Prod. 2+ 2 1.5-2 1.5-2 1.5-2
DOL M/F share = M > F ag. M:c1r;F:p,h M/F share = M/F share =
Kinship Info.

Kinship System 999 Iroquois Dravidian 999 999
Lineality 1 3 2 1 1
Locality 1 2 2 1 1

Economic Unit Nuclear, ext. Nuclear Comm. Family Family

family hshld family hshld (ext. fam.) cluster cluster

 

175

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Culture Grog) Apinaye Arikara Arikara Aua Bakairi
# Villages 4 3(post- 3(post 19 (33) 4+
1803) 1803)
Pop/Village 14-61 450 av. 2250 65 av. 30-150 (85
av.)
Village in General Greenshield Early Tarre, Porrei General
Database: 1800 ’ 8 villages
Name/Date
Dwelling Info
# Dwell/VIII. 2-7 40 150 6-7 3-8
Per/Dwelling 7-10 15-20 15-20 4-8 B 12-20 (trad);
4 av.
$19905)
Dwell. Comp. 2 2 2 2 3
Dwell. Size (m2) 372+ E 17-167 117-263 9.3 av. 51.1 av.
(trad.)
mZ/Person 4.6 8.5 av. 9.5 av. 1.55 2.1 av.
Int. Partitioning 2 3 3 999 3
Out Buildings 2 1 1
Site Info
Site Size (ha) 999 1.65 18 0.5 av. 0.2-0.25
Person/ha (OD) 200 E 272 150-200 E 130 400 E
Defensive Strux 2 1 1 2 2
P/ Storage 2 1 1 1 1
Loc. Storage 4 3 3 2 1
Res. Sedentism 2 3 3 1 2 (H); 1 (C)
Plaza 1 1 l 2 1
Communal 2 1 1 2 1
House
Subsistence
Estimate Prod. 1+ 2 2 2 2+
DOL M/F = ag. F>M ag. F>M ag.; M>F ag., M: hunt, plt,
M: hunt fish; F: sli. harv.; F:plt,
fish, house harv,
process
Kinslm) Info.

Kinship System 999 Crow Crow 999 Iroquois
Lineality l 1 l 3
Locality 1 1 1 3 3

Economic Unit Maternal Extended Extended 999 Nuclear

Family family hshld family family
household household

 

 

 

 

 

 

176

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Culture Group Baiga Baiga Baiga Barama Barama
Carib Carib
# Villages 999 999 999 33 33
Pop/Village 20 E 50 E 130 E 27 5
Village in General General General Sawari Sawari
Database: village: village:
Name/Date Cook hshld Edwin hshld
Dwelling Info
# DwelWill. 5 10 24 5+ 1-2
Per/Dwelling 4-7 4-7 4-7 3-8 3-4
Dwell. Comp. 2 2 2 1 1
Dwell. Size (m2) 18.6 av. 18.6 aV. 18.6 av. 50.2 18.6
mZ/Person 3.4 av. 3.4 av. 3.4 av. 7.7 5.3
Int. Partitioning 2 2 2 2 2
Out Buildings 1 1 1 1 1
Site Info
Site Size (ha) 0.045 E 0.09 E 0.5 E 0.58 0.09
Person/ha (OD) 444 556 260 87 56
Defensive Strux 2 2 2 2 2
P/ Storage 1 1 1 2 2
Loc. Storage 2 2 2 4 4
Res. Sedentism 2 2 2 2 2
Plaza 1 1 1 2 2
Communal 2 2 2 1 1
House
Subsistence
Estimate Prod. 2 2 2 1.5, 2 1.5, 2
DOL M/F=ag; F: M/F=ag; F: =ag; F: M: s/b; M=F M: s/b; M=F
gather; gather; gather; plant; F: plant; F:
M:hunt M:hunt M:hunt harvest harvest
Kinship Info.

Kinship System Iroquois Iroquois Iroquois Iroquois Iroquois
Lineality 2 2 2 3 3
Locality 2 2 2 1 then 3 1 then 3

Economic Unit Ext. family Ext. family Ext. family Extended Extended

household household household family hshld family hshld

 

 

 

 

 

 

177

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Culture Group Barama Bororo Bribri Campa Campa,
Carib River
# Villages 33 3 clusters of At least 4 9 5 (min)
9 villages
Pop/Village 15 55 300 5-35 (12-15 25 E
av.)
Village in Sawari Tadariana General Gran Campa
Database: village: Paj onal area River area
Name/Date Miller hshld
Dwelling Info
# Dwell/Vill. 3 26 l (trad.) 1-5 1-7 (4-5 av.)
Per/Dwelling 5 5.8 300 av. 4-6 4-5
Dwell. Comp. 1 2 3 1 l
Dwell. Size (m2) 29.7 25.5 116 av. 16.3 av. 13.9 av.
mz/Person 5.94 4.4 4.2 3.3 3.1
Int. Partitioning 2 2 3 2 2
Out Buildings 1 2 1 l 1
Site Info
Site Size (ha) 0.31 1.54 999 0.1-0.3 01-03 E
150E
Person/ha (O.D.) 48 97 999 150 150
Defensive Strux 2 2 1 2 2
P/ Storage 2 1 2 2 2
Loc. Storage 4 1, 4 4 4 4
Res. Sedentism 2 2 1 2 2
Plaza 2 1 2 2 2
Communal Hse. 1 1 2 2 2
Subsistence
Estimate Prod. 1.5, 2 1 1.5/2 2 2
DOL M: s/b; M=F M: hunt; F: M:hunt; Mzs/b; WF: 999
plant; F: ag. M/F = ag. plant; F:
harvest harvest
Kinship Info.

Kinship System Iroquois Crow Hawaiian Mod. Iraq 999
Lineality 3 I 1 999 3
Locality 1 then 3 1 1, then 3 1 3

Economic Unit Extended 999 999 Nuclear Nuclear

family hshld family hshld family hshld

 

 

 

 

 

 

178

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Culture Group Canela, Canela, Canela, Camayura Cayua
Ramkokam Ramkokam Apany- (trad)
-ekra -ekra ekra
# Villages 1 1 1 1 999
Pop/Village 298 514 213 110 25-50 E
Village in Ponto Excalvado Proquinhos 19405 Late 18005
Database: (1936) (1970) (1971)
Name/Date
Dwelling Info
# DwelWill. 31 52 31 6 1
Per/Dwelling 12-20 12-20 10 av. 10-16 25-50
Dwell. Comp. 2 2 2 2 2
Dwell. Size (m2) 83.2 11.1-52.0 72.9 130 62.7
mZ/Person 4.9 21.88 7.3 9.3 2.0 E
Int. Partitioning 2 2 2 3 2
Out Buildings 1 l 1 2
Site Info
Site Size (ha) 2.2 2.2 2.2 E 0.785 0.4 E
Person/ha (OD) 135 233 97 140 125 E
Defensive Strux 2 2 2 2 999
P/ Storage 2 2 2 1 1
Loc. Storage 4 4 4 1, 4 1
Res. Sedentism 2 2 2 2 2
Plaza 1 1 1 1 1
Communal Hse 2 2 2 2 2
Subsistence
Estimate Prod. 2.5/3 2.5/3 2 1.5 2
DOL M:hunt, M:hunt, M:hunt, M: hunt, M:5/b; M/F:
clear; F: clear; F: clear; F: fish; M>ag. plant,
plant, cult, plant, cult, plant, cult, than F. cultivate,
harvest harvest harvest harvest =
Kinship Info.

Kinship System Crow Crow ?Crow? Iroquois Hawaiian
Lineality 1 1 1 3 2
Locality 1 1 1 1, then 2 1, then 2

Economic Unit Extended Extended Extended Extended Extended

family hshld family hshld family family hshld family hshld
hshld

 

179

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Culture Group Cayua Cheme- Chiripa Chorti Cocopa
(19405) huevi
# Villages 25-30 B 15-20 E 2 999 17
Pop/Village 60-175 12-20 E 140 7—40 (25 30-100 (65
av.) av.)
Village in Taquapiri General Itanarami General 1933
Database: (19405)
Name/Date
Dwelling Info
# Dwell/VIII. 20-40 3-4 26 1-8 (2-3 av.) 10-12
Per/Dwelling 5—6 av. 4-5 4-5 4-5 3-12 (4-5
av.)
Dwell. Comp. 1 1 1 2 1

Dwell. Size (m2) 30.7 av. 20.9 av. 7.0 av. 20.9 9.3-27.9

mZ/Person 5.45 4.6 21.4 4.6 2.33-3.1

Int. Partitioning 2 2 2 1 999

Out Buildings 1 1 2 1 1
Site Info
Site Size (ha) 0.7 E 0.02 B 01-02 E 03-04 E 5-6.8
Person/ha (O.D.) 150B 675 700 83 16
Defensive Strux 999 2 2 2 2
P/ Storage 1 1 1 1 1
Loc. Storage 3 2 1 1 2
Res. Sedentism 1 3 2 1 3
Plaza 1 2 2 1 2
Communal 2 2 1 999 1
House
Subsistence
Estimate Prod. 2 1.5 1.5/2 2.5 1.5
DOL M: all ag; F: F>M ag; M: M>F ag. M>F ag. M:hunt;
prepare food do irrigation M/F=ag.; F:
gather
Kinship Info.

Kinship System Hawaiian 999 999 Hawaiian Iroquois
Lineality 2 1 or 3 3 3 2
Locality 1, then 2 1 or 3 3 999 1, then 2

Economic Unit Extended Nuclear Nuclear Extended Household

family hshld family hshld family family hshld
hshld

 

 

 

 

 

 

180

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Culture Group Cubeo Cubeo Havasupai Hidatsa Hidatsa
# Villages 1 29 l 3 3
PopNillage 80 50 E 177 500 E 600 E
Village in Tapera General Supai Upper Lower
Database: (1985) (1919) portion, portion,
Name/Date Second Second
Knife River Knife River
Dwelling Info
# DwelWill. 17 1 42 210 210
Per/Dwelling 4-5 50 av. 5 10-14 10-16
Dwell. Comp. 1 2 1 2 2
Dwell. Size (m2) 46.5 383.2 18.6 92.9 116.1
mZ/Person 10.3 7.7 3.72 7.7 7.2
Int. Partitioning l 1 2 3 3
Out Buildings 2 2 1 999 999
Site Info
Site Size (ha) 0.8 0.6 av. 40-80 (60 1.95 2.04
av.)
Person/ha (OD) 100 82 3 256 294
Defensive Strux 2 1 2 l 1
P/ Storage 1 1 1 1 1
Loc. Storage 1, 4 1,4 2 3 3
Res. Sedentism 2 2 3 3 3
Plaza 1 l 1 1 1
Communal 1 l 2 2 2
House
Subsistence A
Estimate Prod. 2 2 2 2 2
DOL M: hunt, M: hunt, M: hunt, M: hunt; F: M: hunt; F:
fish; F>M fish; F >M >ag than F; plant, plant,
ag. ag. F: gather harvest harvest
Kinship Info.

Kinship System Iroquois Iroquois Iroquois Crow Crow
Lineality 1 1 3 1 1
Locality 2, then 1 2, then 1 1, then 2 1 1

Economic Unit Clan Clan Nuclear Extended Extended

family family hshld family hshld
hshld

 

 

 

 

 

 

181

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Culture Group Hopi Hopi Iowa Interior Kagwahiv
Jivaro
# Villages 11 11 3-4 ~73 10 E
PopNillage 188 hshlds 52 hshlds 700 9-46; 15 av. 15
Village in Shongopovi Shipaulovi 1805 General 1968
Database:
Name/Date
Dwelling Info
# DwelWill. 114-120 52 20-50 E 1 3-4
Per/Dwelling 5-7 5 20-30 15-46 4-5
Dwell. Comp. 2 3 3 2 1
Dwell. Size (m2) 70 55 147.7 223 11.1
mZ/Person 14 11 5.9 6.4 2.5
Int. Partitioning 1 1 2 2 2
Out Buildings 1 1 3 1 1
Site Info
Site Size (ha) 1.3 0.94 2.8 E 0.02-0.05 999
Person/ha (O.D.) 388 276 250 429 999
Defensive Strux 2 2 1 1 2
P/ Storage 1 1 1 2 2
Loc. Storage 1 1 3 4 4
Res. Sedentism 1 1 3 2 2
Plaza 1 l 999 2 1
Communal 1 1 1 l 1
House
Subsistence
Estimate Prod. 2.5/3 2.5/3 2 2.5 2
DOL M>F ag. M>F ag. F : >ag. M/F: s/b; F: M: s/b; F:
than M plant, plant, cult.,
harvest harvest
Kinship Info.

Kinship System Crow Crow Omaha Iroquois 999
Lineality l 1 2 3 1
Locality 3 3 1, then 2 l 2

Economic Unit Nuclear, Nuclear, Clan Longhouse Settlement

extended extended
families families

 

 

 

 

 

 

182

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Culture Group Kalapalo Kansa Kansa Kiwai Kraho
# Villages l 3 3 65 E 19
Pop/Village 110 1500 800 50-500; 350 169
av.
Village in 1968 Manhattan Konsee General; Fly Aldeia do
Database: (18005) River River Delta Posto
Name/Date ' (1 8005)
Dwelling Info
# DwelWill. 6 160 20 1-5 20
Per/Dwelling 20-35 (22 12-15 av. 30-40 100-125 av. 8.5
av.)
Dwell. Comp. 2 2 2 3 2
Dwell. Size (m2) 69.7 69.7 139.4 304 60
. m2/Person 3.2 5.2 4 3.04 7.1
Int. Partitioning 2 3 2 999
Out Buildings 2 1 999
Site Info
Site Size (ha) 1.2 E 7 3E 0.32-0.7 E 3.26
Person/ha (O.D.) 92 214 214 700 av. 52
Defensive Strux 2 1 1 1 2
P/ Storage 1 1 1 l 2
Loc. Storage 1 (C) 3 3 1 4
Res. Sedentism 2 (H), 1 (C) 3 3 2 2
Plaza 1 1 1 2 1
Communal l 1 1 1 2
House
Subsistence .
Estimate Prod. 2.5 1.5 1.5 2.5 2
DOL M: s/b, 999 999 F>M ag 999
plant; F:
harvest,
prepare food
Kinship Info.
Kinship System 999 Omaha Omaha Hawaiian x- 999
cousin
Lineality 3 l; 2 l; 2 2 999
Locality 1 1 l 2 999
Economic Unit Extended Extended Extended Longhouse 999
family hshld family hshld family compart-
hshld ment hshld

 

183

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Culture Group Kraho Kre’pu’ Kumeyaay Mandan Mandan
mkateye
# Villages 19 1 85 6-9 6-9
Pop/Village 109 75-100; 80 176 av. 1000 E 700-800
av.
Village in Boa Uniao Gamelleira General Huff Boley
Database: do Rumo
Name/Date
Dwelling Info
# Dwell/Vill. 12 8 20-30 E 103 65-70 E
Per/Dwelling 9 10 av 4-7 6-16; 10 av. 6-16; 10 av.
Dwell. Comp. 2 2 I 2 2
Dwell. Size (m2) 999 58 32.5 av. 106.8 70
mz/Person 999 5.8 4.6 8.8 8.8
Int. Partitioning 999 2 2 3 3
Out Buildings 999 1 1 3 3
Site Info
Site Size (ha) 2.65 0.2 999 3 2.5
Person/ha (O.D.) 41 400 999 333 300
Defensive Strux 2 1 2 l 1
P/ Storage 2 1 1 1 1
Loc. Storage 4 1, 4 2 3 3
Res. Sedentism 2 2 3 4 4
Plaza 1 1 3 1 1
Communal 2 2 1 l 1
House
Subsistence
Estimate Prod. 2 2 1.5 2 2
DOL 999 M: s/b, hunt; M: hunt, = F>M ag.; M: F>M ag.; M:
F: 5/b, cult., ag. with F. hunt hunt
harvest
Kinship Info.

Kinship System 999 Crow? Iroquois Crow Crow
Lineality 999 l 2 1 1
Locality 999 1 2, then 1 1 1

Economic Unit 999 Extended Nuclear Extended Extended

family hshld family family hshld family hshld

 

 

 

 

 

 

184

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Culture Group Mandan Mangaian Maricopa Maricopa Maroni
Carib
# Villages 6-9 3 2 16 6
PopNillage 800-900 E 300-600 314;204 125 av. 33
Village in Mandan General 1933 18005 Christiaan-
Database: Lakes kondre
Name/Date house
cluster
Dwelling Info
# DwelWill. 80 16-28 16 20-30 6
Per/Dwelling 6-16; 10 av. 15-20 B 15-20 E 6-10 E 5-6
Dwell. Comp. 2 2 2 2 1
Dwell. Size (m2) 106.8 27.9 18.6 44.1 32.5
mZ/Person 8.8 1.6 1.24 5.5 6.7
Int. Partitioning 2 2 2 2
Out Buildings 1 1 1 1
Site Info
Site Size (ha) 3 8.3 E 28-30 30-35 0.72
Person/ha (O.D.) 283 72 10 E 4.1 46
Defensive Strux 1 1 2 2 2
P/ Storage 1 999 1 1. 2
Loc. Storage 3 999 2 2 4
Res. Sedentism 4 1 2 3 2
Plaza 1 2 2 2 2
Communal 1 2 1 1 2
House
Subsistence
Estimate Prod. 2 3 1 1 2
DOL F>M ag.; M: F>M ag; M: M=F ag. M>F ag.; M: s/b; F:
hunt fish hunt plant, cult,
harvest
Kinship Info.
Kinship System Crow Hawaiian Iroquois Iroquois Hawa-
Esikmo-Iroq
Lineality 1 3 2 2 3
Locality 1 2 2 2 1
Economic Unit Extended Household Extended Extended Nuclear
family hshld cluster family family hshld family hshld
hshld

 

185

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Culture Group Maroni Maroni Maroni Mehinaku Mehinaku
Carib Carib Carib
# Villages 6 6 6 1 l
PopNillage 66 28 22 77 135
Village in Christiaan— Christiaan- Christiaan- 1972 2007
Database: kondre kondre kondre
Name/Date house house house
cluster cluster cluster
Dwelling Info
# DwelWill. 12 5 4 6 8
Per/Dwelling 5-6 5-6 5-6 10-24 (13 10-24 (19
av.) av.)
Dwell. Comp. 1 l 1 2 2
Dwell. Size (m2) 32.5 32.5 32.5 198 260
mz/Person 6.7 6.7 6.7 13.2 11.73
Int. Partitioning 2 2 2 2 2
Out Buildings 1 1 1 1 1
Site Info
Site Size (ha) 1.8 0.64 0.48 0.97 E 0.8-1.1 E
Person/ha (O.D.) 37 44 46 80 E 123
Defensive Strux 2 2 2 2 2
P/ Storage 2 2 2 1 1
Loc. Storage 4 4 4 1, 4 1, 4
Res. Sedentism 2 2 2 2 2
Plaza 2 2 2 1 1
Communal 2 2 2 1 1
House
Subsistence
Estimate Prod. 2 2 2 2 2
DOL M: s/b; F: M: s/b; F: M: s/b; F: F: ag.; F: ag.;
plant, cult, plant, cult, plant, cult, Mzfish M:fi5
harvest fl harvest harvest
Kinship Info.
Kinship System Hawa- Hawa- Hawa- 999 999
Esilcmo-Iroq Esikmo-Iroq Esilcmo-
Iroq
Lineality 3 3 3 3 3
Locality 1 1 3 3
Economic Unit Nuclear Nuclear Nuclear 999 999
family hshld family hshld family
hshld

 

 

 

 

 

 

186

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Culture Group Mekranoti Mohave Mundu— Nandeva Omaha
curu
# Villages 999 999 21 6-7 10
PopNillage 164 (200) 999 67 55-120 300-500 E
Village in Rio Caitete General Cabrua General General
Database: (1977)
Name/Date
Dwelling Info
# Dwell/Vill. 12 Small 5 8-12 80
settlements
Per/Dwelling 5-23 (12-23 4-10 E 8-26; 17 4-5 10-18
av.) av.

Dwell. Comp. 2 2 2 1 2
Dwell. Size (m2) 41 66 av. 74.3 av. 34.8 av. 120.8
mz/Person 3.3 11.7 E 4.4 3.5 8

Int. Partitioning 2 2 3 1 2
Out Buildings 1 2 1 999 999
Site Info
Site Size (ha) 0.43 999 0.1-0.3 0.5-1.5 E 1-2 B

Person/ha (O.D.) 381 999 335 85 av. 250 E

Defensive Strux 1 999 1 999 3
P/ Storage 2 1 2 999 1

Loc. Storage 4 2 (mainly) 4 999 2
Res. Sedentism 2, 3 (men) 3 2 999 3
Plaza 1 999 l 1 1
Communal 1 999 1 1 999
House
Subsistence
Estimate Prod. 2 2 2.5 1/1.5 1.5/2
DOL F > M ag.; M: hunt; M: hunt; 999 F/M=ag.
M: hunt, 5/b F>M ag. F/M=ag.
Kinship Info.

Kinship System 999 Hawaiian 999 999 Omaha
Lineality 3 2 3 2
Locality 3 1 999 1, then 2

Economic Unit Extended 999 Entire 999 Clan?

family hshld village

 

 

 

 

 

 

187

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Culture Group Osage Oto Panare: Panare: Pawnee
hut communal
# Villages 5 3-7 E 50 50 13
PopNillage 400-1000; 300 av. 58 58 300-1000
800 av.
Village in General General Turiba Turiba General
Database:
Name/Date
Dwelling Info
# DwelWill. 40-100 40-70 12 (8 1 40-200
families)
Per/Dwelling 12 av. 12-15 B 4-5 aV./hut Up to 58 10-18
Dwell. Comp. 2 2 l 3 3
Dwell. Size (m2) 130.2 av. 111.5 29.1 230 116.1
mZ/Person 8.3 7.9 5.8 4.0 7.5
Int. Partitioning 2 2 2 2 3
Out Buildings 1 1 2 2 3
Site Info
Site Size (ha) 999 085-1 E N/A 0.22 4-16 E
Person/ha (O.D.) 999 322 E N/A 272 135
Defensive Strux 3 999 2 2 1
P/ Storage 1 l 2 2 1
Loc. Storage 2 2 4 4 3
Res. Sedentism 3 3 2 2 3
Plaza 1 l 2 2 2
Communal 1 1 1 l 2
House
Subsistence
Estimate Prod. 1.5/2 1.5/2 2 2 2
DOL F>M ag. F>M ag; M: M>F ag. M>F ag. F>>M ag.
hunt, fish
Kinship Info.

Kinship System Omaha Omaha Iroquois Iroquois Crow
Lineality 2 l 3 3 3
Locality 2 1, then 2 1, then 2 1, then 2 1

Economic Unit Extended Extended, Nuclear, Nuclear, ext. Nuclear, est.

family hshld nuclear ext. family family hshld family hshld
family hshld

 

188

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Culture Group Pawnee Pawnee Piaroa Ponca Quapaw
# Villages 13 13 6-7 Itso’de 3-30 3
/territory
PopNillage 799 av. 600 av. 16-50 200 av. 250
Village in Fullerton Kansas General 1 8005 Osoutay
Database: Mon. (1 780)
Name/Date
Dwelling Info
# Dwell/Vill. 200 25 1 20 E 6-10
Per/Dwelling 10-28 10-18 16-50 12-15 av. 24-30 E
Dwell. Comp. 3 3 3 2 3
Dwell. Size (m2) 116.1 116.1 278.7 E 111.5 74.3-92.9
mz/Person 7.5 7.5 7 E 6.6 3.1
Int. Partitioning 3 3 2 2 2
Out Buildings 3 3 1 1 1
Site Info
Site Size (ha) 16 4 03-04 E 0.8 1.2 E

Person/ha (O.D.) 120 150 143 250 208

Defensive Strux 1 1 2 1 1
P/ Storage 1 1 1 1 1

Loc. Storage 3 3 2,4 3 3

Res. Sedentism 3 3 3 (H); 2 3 3

(C)
Plaza 2 2 1 I l
Communal 2 2 1 999 1
House
Subsistence
Estimate Prod. 2 2 2.5 1 2
DOL F>>M ag. F>>M ag. M:5/b; F>>M ag. F>>M ag.
F :plant,
cult.,
harvest
Kinship Info.

Kinship System Crow Crow 999 Omaha Omaha
Lineality 3 3 3 2 2
Locality 1 1 1,2 2, then 1 999

Economic Unit Nuclear, est. Nuclear, est. Village Clan? 999

family hshld family hshld

 

 

 

 

 

 

189

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Culture Group Quechan Semai Senoi Senoi Akwe-
(Yuma) Senoi Temiar Temiar Shavante
# Villages 999 999 999 99 11
PopNillage 50 av. 45-200 20-100 (60 25-50 (30 195
av.) av.)
Village in 19005 General 19505 19805 Sao
Database: Domingos
Name/Date
Dwelling Info
# Dwell/Vill. 6 1-4 1 5+ 13
Per/Dwelling 8-12 45-50 60 av. 4-5 15
Dwell. Comp. 2 2 2 2 2
Dwell. Size (m2) 37.2-41.8 92.9 (LH) 185.7 55.7 46.5
m2/Person 3.9 E 2.05 E 3.1 11.4 3.1
Int. Partitioning 2 1 2 1 2
Out Buildings 1 999 2 2 1
Site Info
Site Size (ha) 0.34 E 999 0.2 0.2 3.2

Person/ha (O.D.) 117-165 999 150 150 61

Defensive Strux 999 2 2 2 2
P/ Storage 1 1 1 1 1

Loc. Storage 2 1 1 1 1
Res. Sedentism 3 1 1 2 3
Plaza 2 999 1 1 1
Communal 2 999 2 2 1
House
Subsistence
Estimate Prod. 1.5 2, 2.5 2, 2.5 2, 2.5 1.5
DOL M=F ag. M: clr, F :plt, M: clr, M: clr, F :plt, M: clr, plt,
cult., harvest F :plt, cult., cult., harvest F: cult.,
harvest harvest
Kinship Info.

Kinship System Iroquois Hawaiian Hawaiian Hawaiian Dakota
Lineality 2 3 3 3 2
Locality 2, then 1 3 3 3 1

Economic Unit Extended Ext. family Ext. family Ext. family Ext. family

family hshld hshld hshld hshld hshld

 

190

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Culture Group Akwe- Akwe— Serente Shipibo/ Siriono
Shavante Shavante Conibo
# Villages 11 11 7-9 999 999
PopNillage 600 279 999 30-50 av. 65-70 av.
Village in Sao Marcos Pimentel 19005 General General
Database: Barbosa
Name/Date
Dwelling Info
# Dwell/V ill. 53 23 8 av. 2-5 av. 1
Per/Dwelling 11 12 4-6 5-12 E 60-80 av.
Dwell. Comp. 2 2 1 2 3
Dwell. Size (m2) 46.5 46.5 999 51.1 185.8
mZ/Person 4.2 3.9 999 5.7 2.7
Int. Partitioning 2 2 999 999 2
Out Buildings 1 1 1 999 2
Site Info
Site Size (ha) 4.8 3.3 0.39-0.45 0.2-0.5 E 0.15 E

Person/ha (O.D.) 125 85 999 100 E 453 E

Defensive Strux 2 2 999 1 2
P/ Storage 1 1 999 2 2

Loc. Storage 1 1 999 4 4
Res. Sedentism 3 3 3 2 3
Plaza 1 1 1 2 2
Communal 1 1 1 (bachelor 2 2
House hse)
Subsistence
Estimate Prod. 1.5 1.5 1.5 1 1.5
DOL M: clr, plt, M: clr, plt, F>M ag. M: s/b; F: M=F ag.
F: cult., F: cult., plt,
harvest harvest cultivate,
harvest
Kinship Info.

Kinship System Dakota Dakota 999 Hawaiian 999
Lineality 2 2 2 1,3 1
Locality 1 1 2 1, then 2 1

Economic Unit Ext. family Ext. family 999 Ext. family Ext. family

hshld. hshld hshld hshld

 

 

 

 

 

 

191

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Culture Group T enetehara Tenetehara Tene- Tepehuan Terena
tehara
# Villages 10 10 10 999 4
Pop/Village 130 85 19 999 750 av.
Village in Camirang Januaria Manuel- General Late 18005
Database: (1 942) (1942) zinho
Name/Date ( 1 942)
Dwelling Info
# Dwell/Vill. 20 12 6 999 30-40
Per/Dwelling 6-8 6-8 6-8 4-5 E 20-30
Dwell. Comp. 2 2 2 1 3

Dwell. Size (m2) 9.3-13.9 9.3-13.9 9.3-13.9 16.7-27.9 105
mZ/Person 1.9 av. 1.9 av. 1.9 av. 4.9 4.2

Int. Partitioning 2 2 2 Upland: l; 1

Canyon: 2
Out Buildings 2 2 2 2 999
Site Info
Site Size (ha) 0.15 E 0.1 E 0.04 E 999 5.1 E

Person/ha (O.D.) 867 850 E 475 999 147

Defensive Strux 2 2 2 2 999
P/ Storage 2 2 2 1 1

Loc. Storage 4 4 4 1 1, 4

Res. Sedentism 2 2 2 1 3

Plaza 1 1 1 2 1
Communal 1 1 1 2 999
House
Subsistence
Estimate Prod. 2.5 2.5 2.5 1.5/2 2
DOL M>F ag. M>F ag. M>F ag. M: clr; F: M: clear; f:
cultivate, plant, cult.,
harvest harvest
Kinship Info.

Kinship System 999 999 999 999 999
Lineality 3 3 3 999 3
Locality 1 1 1 999 1

Economic Unit Ext. family Ext. family Ext. family 999 Extended,

hshld hshld hshld nuclear
family hshld

 

 

 

 

 

 

192

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Culture Group Tewa Tewa Tewa Tewa Tewa
# Villages - - - - -
Pop/Village 102 497 55 354 144

Village in San San Juan Nambé Santa Clara Tesuque
Database: Ildefonso (1926) (1926) (1926) (1926)
Name/Date (1926)
Dwelling Info
# DwelWill. 27 112 17 67 27
Per/Dwelling 4-5 av. 4-5 av. 4-5 av. 4-5 av. 4-5 av.
Dwell. Comp. 1 1 1 1 1
Dwell. Size (m2) 55.7-65 55.7-65 55.7-65 55.7-65 55.7-65
mZ/Person 12.1 12.1 12.1 12.1 12.1
Int. Partitioning 1 1 1 l 1
Out Buildings 1 1 1 1 1
Site Info
Site Size (ha) 0.7 3 0.15 1 0.68
Person/ha (O.D.) 146 165 367 354 218
Defensive Strux 2 2 2 2 2
P/ Storage 1 1 1 1 1
Loc. Storage 1 1 1 l 1
Res. Sedentism 1 1 l l 1
Plaza 1 1 1 1 1
Communal 1 1 1 1 1
House
Subsistence
Estimate Prod. 3 3 3 3 3
DOL M=F ag. M=F ag. M=F ag. M=F ag. M=F ag.
Kinship Info.

Kinship System Tewa Tewa Tewa Tewa Tewa
Lineality 1 l 1 1 1
Locality 1 l 1 1 1

Economic Unit Maternal Maternal Maternal Maternal Maternal

hshld hshld hshld hshld hshld

 

 

 

 

 

 

193

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Culture Group Tewa Tohono Tohono Tokelau Trio
O’odham O’odham
# Villages - 11 11 3 atolls 36E
Pop/Village 225 E 85 E 300 500 27-28 av.
Village in Tewa Suoi Oidak Totowah F ale General
Database: Village
Name/Date
Dwelling Info
# Dwell/Vill. 50-70 E 11 30-40 55 E 999
Per/Dwelling 4-5 av. 5-10; 7-8 av. 5-10; 7-8 14;6;10;7 999
av.
Dwell. Comp. 1 2 2 1 1

Dwell. Size (m2) 55.7-65 17.7 20.9 17.7 av. 34.8

mz/Person 12.1 2.36 2.78 1.91 av. 999

Int. Partitioning 1 2 2 2 2

Out Buildings 1 1 1 1 1
Site Info
Site Size (ha) 1.9 5.7 140 4.5 999
Person/ha (O.D.) 118 15 2 88.8 999
Defensive Strux 2 1 (H), 2 (C) l (H), 2 (C) 2 999
P/ Storage 1 1 1 1 999
Loc. Storage 1 2 2 1 999
Res. Sedentism 1 3 3 1 2
Plaza 1 1 1 1 1
Communal 1 1 1 1 999
House
Subsistence
Estimate Prod. 3 2 2 2 2
DOL M=F ag. M>F ag. M>F ag. M>F ag. Mzs/b; F:
plant, culti.,
harvest,
process
Kinship Info.

Kinship System Tewa Hawaiian Hawaiian Hawaiian Dravidian
Lineality 1 3 3 3 2
Locality 1 2 2 l 1

Economic Unit Maternal Ext. fam. Ext. fam. Nuclear Nuclear

hshld hshld hshld family hshld family
hshld,
village

 

 

 

 

 

 

194

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Culture Group Trumai Tukanoan- Tupi- Waiwai Waiwai
Bara namba
# Villages 1 165 999 1 1
(24=LH)

PopNillage 43 38 (LH) 400-800 41 26
Village in 1938 Pumanaka- General Yakayaka Mawika
Database: buro

Name/Date

Dwelling Info

# Dwell/V111. 4 1 (LH) 4-8 1 1

Per/Dwelling 14;6;13;7 38 70-100 av. 41 26
Dwell. Comp. 2 3 3 2 2

Dwell. Size (m2) 999 179 195-371.6 120.8 120.8

mz/Person 999 4.7 3.3 E 3.17 4.3

Int. Partitioning 2 2 1 2 2

Out Buildings 9 l 999 1 1
Site Info
Site Size (ha) 0.37 0.52 999 0.675 0.45
Person/ha (O.D.) 116 73 999 61 58
Defensive Strux 1 2 1 2 2
P/ Storage 2 2 2 2 2

Loc. Storage 4 l, 4 999 4 4

Res. Sedentism 3 2 2 2 2

Plaza 1 l 1 1 1

Communal 2 2 999 1 1

House
Subsistence
Estimate Prod. 1.5 2 2 2 2
DOL M>F ag. Mzs/b; F>M ag. Mzs/b; F: Mzs/b; F:
F:plant, plant, cult., plant, cult.,
cult., harvest harvest harvest
Kinship Info.

Kinship System Iroquois Dravidian 999 Iroquois Iroquois
Lineality 3 2 2,3 3 3
Locality 2 2 2 1,3 1,3

Economic Unit Nuclear Hshld in 999 Ext. family Ext. family

family hshld LH; nuclear hshld hshld
family hshld
in 5m. hses.

 

 

 

 

 

 

195

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Culture Group Waiyana Wanano Wayapi Wichita Winnebago
# Villages ~41 10 (Brazil) 3+ 999 999
Pop/Village 20-40 30-160 43;70 800 200-1000 E
Village in General Yapima vill. General 18505 General
Database:
Name/Date
Dwelling Info
# DwelWill. 4-6 1 (LH); 3-10 10 av. 42 20-40 av.
residences longhouses
now
Per/Dwelling 4-5 av. 12-15 av. 4-7 8-10 av. 30-40/LH
Dwell. Comp. 1 2 2 2 2

Dwell. Size (m2) 44.1 av. 32.5 av, 9.3-20.9 41.8-65 92.9 av.

mZ/Person 9.8 2.32 3.4 5.3 2.3-3.1

Int. Partitioning 2 1 2 2 2

Out Buildings 1 999 1 1 l
Site Info
Site Size (ha) 0.11 E 999 0.1-0.2 2.5 E 999
Person/ha (O.D.) 273 999 386 320 999
Defensive Strux 2 2 2 I 999
P/ Storage 2 2 2 1 1
Loc. Storage 4 4 4 3 3
Res. Sedentism 2 2 2 3 3
Plaza 1 1 1 1 2
Communal 1 2 2 999 1
House
Subsistence
Estimate Prod. 2 2 2 2.5 1.5/2
DOL M:5/b; M/F: F>>M ag. Mzs/b; F>>M ag. M,F=ag.; F
plant, cult., M/F: plant, slightly >
harvest cult., ag. than M
harvest
Kinship Info.

Kinship System 999 999 Iroquois Hawaiian 999
Lineality 3 2 (sib) 3 1 2
Locality 1 2 1,3 1 1, then 2,3

Economic Unit Nuclear Sib Ext. family Maternal Lodge; clan

family hshld hshld ext. family

 

 

 

 

 

 

196

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Culture Group Yagua Yanomamii Yanomamr'i Yanomamii Yanomamii
# Villages 25-35 44 44 44 44
PopNillage 35 av. (25— 80 av. 84 210 35
50)
Village in General Mayobo J orocoba Niyayoba Bracocawa
Database:
Name/Date
Dwelling Info
# DwelWill. 1 1 1 1 1
Per/Dwelling 35 av. (25- 80 84 210 35
50)
Dwell. Comp. 2 2 2 2 2

Dwell. Size (m2) 160 511 557.4 929 111.5

m2/Person 4.6 6.4 6.6 4.4 3.2

Int. Partitioning 2 2 2 2 2

Out Buildings 1 2 2 2 2
Site Info
Site Size (ha) 0.07-0.1 0.38 E 0.35 E 0.46-0.5 E 0.08 E
Person/ha (O.D.) 350 210 240 420 435
Defensive Strux 2 l l 1 1
P/ Storage 1 2 2 2 2
Loc. Storage 4 4 4 4 4
Res. Sedentism 2 2 2 2 2
Plaza 3 1 1 1 1
Communal 2 2 2 2 2
House
Subsistence
Estimate Prod. 1.5 3 3 3 3
DOL M: clear; F: M: clear, M: clear, M: clear, M: clear,
plant, cult., plt; F:cu1t., plt; F:cu1t., plt; F:cu1t., plt; F:cu1t.,
harvest harvest harvest harvest harvest
Kinship Info.

Kinship System Dravidian 999 999 999 999
Lineality 2 2 2 2 2
Locality 1, then 2 3 3 3 3

Economic Unit Clan Nuclear Nuclear Nuclear Nuclear

fam. hshld fam. hshld fam. hshld fam. hshld

 

197

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Culture Group Yanomamo Yanomamii Ye’cuna Ye’cuna Zia
# Villages 44 44 30 30 1
PopNillage 312 60 60 av. 50 av. 327
Village in Wawanaue Waracoco- Traditional Recent 1957

Database: Yafiba
Name/Date
Dwelling Info
# Dwell/Vill. 1 1 1 3-5 138 rooms
Per/Dwelling 3 12 60 60 18-20 4
Dwell. Comp. 2 2 2 2 1
Dwell. Size (m2) 1300.6 139.4 170 93 55.7-65 E
mz/Person 4.2 2.3 2.8 4.9 15.1
Int. Partitioning 2 2 1 l 1
Out Buildings 2 2 1 1 1
Site Info
Site Size (ha) 1.5 E 0.3 E 0.3 0.35-4 6.6 E

Person/ha (O.D.) 208 200 200 142 E 50

Defensive Strux 1 1 2 2 2
P/ Storage 2 2 2 1 1

Loc. Storage 4 4 4 1, 4 1
Res. Sedentism 2 2 2 2 1
Plaza 1 1 1 l 1
Communal 2 2 1 1 1
House
Subsistence
Estimate Prod. 3 3 2 2 2.5
DOL M: clear, M: clear, M: clr; F: M: clr; F: F,M ag.
plt; F: cult., plt; F:cu1t., plt, cult., plt, cult.,
harvest harvest harvest harvest
Kinship Info.

Kinship System 999 999 Iroquois Iroquois Crow
Lineality 2 2 1 1 1
Locality 3 3 1 1 1

Economic Unit Nuclear Nuclear Ext. family Ext. family Mat. Family

fam. hshld fam. hshld hshld hshld hshld

 

 

 

 

 

 

198

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Culture Group Zuni Zuni Zuni
# Villages 6 (15005) 6 (15005) 6 (15005)
PopNillage 580 473 1493
Village in Pescado Upper Halonazwa
Database: (1885) Nutria (1881)
Name/Date (1 885)
Dwelling Info
# DwelWill. 106 total, 83 74 total; 49 701 rooms E
occupied occupied
Per/Dwelling 5-7 5-8 5-8
Dwell. Comp. 2 2 2

Dwell. Size (m2) 55 mZ/room 55 m2/room 55 mZ/room
mz/Person 1 1 1 1 1 1

Int. Partitioning 1 1 1

Out Buildings 1 1 1
Site Info
Site Size (ha) 2.85 2.05 7.21
Person/ha (O.D.) 203.5 230.7 207.1
Defensive Strux 1 1 1
P/ Storage 1 1 1
Loc. Storage 1 1 1
Res. Sedentism 1 1 l
Plaza 1 1 1
Communal 1 1 1
House
Subsistence
Estimate Prod. 2.5/3 2.5/3 2.5/3
DOL M>Fag. M>Fag. M>Fag.
Kinship Info.

Kinship System Crow Crow Crow
Lineality 1 1 1
Locality 1 1 1

Economic Unit Household Household Household

 

 

 

 

199

 

Appendix 2

List of References Used in Ethnographic Data Compilation

Culture Group

Acoma

Akimel O’odham

Western Apache

Apinaye

Arikara

Aua

Baciri

Baiga

Barama Carib

Bororo

Bribri

Reference

Cameron 1999
White 1973

Castetter and Bell 1942
Ezell 1961

Hrdlicka 1906

Parsons 1928

Russell 1908

Winter 1973

Basso 1970, 1983

Brandt 1996

Goodwin 1942
Greenfield 2002 (eHRAF)
Kaut 1957

Nimuendaju 1967

Parks, 2001
Will 1924

Pitt-Rivers, 1925
Levi-Strauss 1950
Oberg 1948

Picchi 2000 (eHRAF)

Nag 1958
Elwin 1939

Gillin, 1936

Cook 1907

Levi-Strauss 1938 (eHRAF)
Lowie 1946

Stone 1962

200

CamW

Canela

Cayamura

Cayua

Chemehuevi

Chiripa

Chorti

Cocopa

Cubeo
Havasupai

Hidatsa

Hopi

Iowa

Jivaro

Denevan 1971
Weiss 1974
Stewart 1965

Crocker 1990
Nimuendaju 1967

Meggers 1971
Oberg 1953

Hanke 1998 [1956] (eHRAF)
Watson 1952

Kelly 1976
Manners 1974

Métraux 1998 [1948] (eHRAF)
Reed 1995

Wisdom 1940

Gifford 1933
Kelly 1977

Goldman 1963
Spier 1928

Bowers 1965
Hanson 1983
Stewart 2001
Will 1924

Wilson 1934

Cameron 1999

Connelly 1979

Eggan 2000 [1950] (eHRAF)
Kennard 2000 [1979] (eHRAF)
Schlegel 2000 (eHRAF)

Blaine 1979
Skinner I926

Hamer 1972
Métraux 1948
Wilson 1999

201

Kagwahiv

Kalapalo

Kansa

Kiwai

Kraho

Kre’pu’mkateye
Kumeyaay

Mandan

Mangaian

Maricopa
Maroni Carib

Mehinaku

Mekranoti

Mohave

Mundurucu

Kracke 1978
Basso 1973

Bailey and Young 2001
Bushnell 1922
Wedel 1959

Landtman 1927
Riley 1925

Melatti 1978
Wust and Barreto 1999

Nimuendaju 1967
Gifford 1931

La Verendrye 1968
Lowie 1917

Will 1924

Will and Spinden 1906
Woods and Irwin 2001

Buck (Te Rangi Hiroa) 1934
Johnston 1953

Spier 1933
Kloos 1971

Gregor 1977
Gregor 1974

Lowie 1943
Meggers 1971
Werner 1984

Allen 1891
Spier 1936

Burkhalter 2003 (eHRAF)
Murphy 1960
Wilson 1999

202

Nandeva

Omaha

Osage

Oto

Panare

Pawnee

Piaroa

Ponca

Quapaw

Quechan

Semai Senoi
Senoi Temiar
Akwe-Shavante
Serente

Shipibo/Conibo

Métraux 1998 [1948] (eHRAF)

Bushnell 1922
Fletcher and La F lesche 1972
O’Shea and Ludwickson 1992

Bailey 2001
Bushnell 1922

Bushnell 1922
Whitman 1937

Dumont 1976
Riviere 1984

Dorsey 1940

Hyde 1998 [1974] (eHRAF)
Murie 1998 [1914] (eHRAF)
Wedel 1936

Weltfish 1965

Kaplan 1975
Riviére 1984

Brown and Irwin 2001
Bushnell 1922
Howard 1965

Bushnell 1922
Young and Hoffman 2001

Bee 1981
Forbes 1965

Dentan 1968

Jennings 1995
Maybury-Lewis 1967
Nimuendaju 1967 [1942]
Behrens 2002 (eHRAF)
Eakin 2002 [1986] (eHRAF)

Farabee 1922
Karsten 2002 [1955] (eHRAF)

203

Siriono
Tenetehara
Tepehuan
Terena

Tewa

Tohono O’odham

Tokelau

Trio

Trumai

Tukanoan-Bara

Tupinamba

Waiwai

Waiyana
Wanano
Wayapi

Wichita

Winnebago

Holmberg 1950

Wagley and Calvao 1949
Pennington 1969

Oberg 1949

Dozier 1954

Ortiz 1972

Parsons 1929

Castetter and Bell 1942

Joseph, Spicer and Chesky 1949
Underhill 1939

Hoem 2004
Lister 1892

Riviere 1984

Louis 1971
Murphy and Quain 1955

Jackson 1983

Métraux 1998 [1928, 1948] (eHRAF)
Staden 2003 [1928] (eHRAF)

Riviere 1984
Yde 1965

Riviere 1984
Chernela 1993
Campbell 1995
Bushnell 1922
Newcomb 2001
Wedel 1988

Bushnell 1922
Radin 1970

204

 

Yagua F ejos 1943

Yanomamo Smole 1976
Wilbert 1972
Wilson 1999

Ye’cuna Riviere 1984
Wilbert 1972

Zia White 1962

Zuni Ferguson 1996

Kroeber 1917
Parsons 1917
Stevenson 1970

205

Appendix 3

General Location of Cultural Groups Used in Study

Grouped by Continent

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Continent Cultural Group Location
Asia/Pacific Ocean
Aua Island NE of Papau-
New Guinea
Baiga India
Kiwai Papau New Guinea, Fly
River
Mangaia Island, Cook
Archipelago
Semai Semai Malaysia

 

Semai Temiar

Northern Malaysia

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tokelau Atolls, South Pacific
North America
Acoma Western New Mexico
Akmiel O’odham Gila River area,
(Pima) Arizona
Western Apache Arizona, New Mexico
Arikara North Dakota, near
Missouri River
Bribri Talamanca Mountains,
Costa Rica
Chemehuevi Great Basin,
Southeastern
California, US
Chorti Guatemala
Cocopa Southwestern Arizona,
US/Mexico
Havasupai Arizona, US
Hidatsa Plains, North Dakota,
US
Hopi Northeast Arizona, US
Iowa Kansas, Missouri, US
Jemez New Mexico, US
Kansa Kansas River, Kansas

 

206

 

Appendix 3 (cont.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kumeyaay Imperial Valley,
California, US
Mandan Central North Dakota,
US
Maricopa Gila, Salt Rivers,
Arizona, US
Mohave Southeastern California
Omaha Nebraska, US
Osage Western Missouri, US
Oto Iowa/Minnesota, US
Pawnee Nebraska, Kansas, US
Ponca Nebraska, US
Quapaw Mississippi River
Valley, Missouri, US
Tepehuan Chichihuahua, Mexico
Tewa New Mexico, Arizona,
US
Tohono O’odham Southwestern Arizona,
(Papago) US/Mexico
Wichita Texas, Oklahoma, US
Winnebago Wisconsin, US
Yuma Baja California,
Southwestern Arizona,
US
Zia New Mexico
Zuni New Mexico
South America
Apinaye Araguaia &Tocantin5
Rivers, Brazil
Baciri Matto Grosso area,
Brazil
Barama Carib Barama River, NW
(Mam ‘
Bororo Central Mato Grosso,
Brazil
Campa Gran Pajonal, eastern
Peru
Campa, River Campa River, Peru
Canela-Apanykra NE Central Brazil
Canela- NE Central Brazil
Ramkokamekra
Camayura Kuluene River, Brazil

 

207

 

Appendix 3 (cont.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cayua Taquapiri,
Brazil/Paraguay
Chiripa Lowland Paraguay
Cubeo Vaupes River, Brazil
Jivaro Western Cordillera, Del
Cutucu
Kagwahiv Madeira River, Brazil
Kalapalo Central Brazil
Kraho Tocantins state, Brazil
Kre’un’mkateye Brazil
Maroni Carib Maroni River, Surinam
Mehinaku Crisevo River, Brazil
Munducuru Para and Amazonas
States, Brazil
Nandeva Parana State, Brazil
Panare Western Venezuela
Piaroa Orinoco area,
Venezuela
Shavante Southeastern Mato
Grosso, Brazil
Sherente East of Tocantins River
Brazil
Shipibo/Conibo Rio Ucayali, eastern
Peru
Siriono Eastern Bolivia
Tapirape Araguaia River, Brazil
Tenetehara Maranhao State, Brazil
Terena Northern Chaco area,
Brazil
Trio Gtiana, Surinam
Trumai Upper Xingu Basin,
Brazil
Tukanoan-Bara Vaupes River,
Colombia
Tupinamba Maranhao, Brazil
Waiwai Essequibo River,
Guyana
Waiyana Guyana/Brazil
Wanano Mid Vaupes Basin,
Venezuela/Colombio

 

208

 

Appendix 3 (cont.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wayapi n. side, Serra Acarai
Brazil
Yagua Near Iquitos, Peru
Yanoamo Southeastern
Venezuela, north-
central Brazil
Ye’cuana Southern Venezuela
Yupa Serra de Perija,
Venezuela

 

209

 

Appendix 4
Method for Estimating of Population at Shabik’eschee Site

Wills and Windes Method:

Assumptions:
1. 68 dwellings present (this number was subsequently raised based on the 1983
survey map of the area; see below)
2. 1.6 intact dwellings to every dismantled dwelling (“Roberts’ constant”)

3. Average pithouse floor size = 18 m2 (using excavated pithouse sizes with
antechamber floor space included)

4. Naroll’s constant of 10 m2 of floor space per person

68 structures/1.6 Roberts’ constant = 42.5 structures in use at any one time.
42.5 structures * 18 m2 average floor size per dwelling = 765 m2.
765 m2/10 m2 of floor space per person = 76.5 people

Alternative Methods and Data Used to Calculate Population Size:

Method 1: this follows the same method used by Wills and Windes, but with updated
floor space constant and average floor space for the site.

Assumptions:

1. 68 dwellings present (using Wills and Windes dwelling estimate for comparison

purposes)
2. 1.6 intact dwellings to every dismantled dwelling (“Roberts’ constant”)

3. Average pithouse floor size = 17.19 m2 (using excavated pithouse data),
4. Horticulture constant derived from study of 6 m2 of floor space per person

68 structures/1.6 Roberts’ constant = 42.5 structures in use at any one time.
42.5 structures * 17.19 m2 average floor size per dwelling = 730.6 m2.
730.6 m2/6 m2 of floor space per person = 121.8 people

Method 2:
Assumptions:

1. Occupancy = 100 years (after Wills and Windes 1989)
2. Pithouse dwelling longevity: 15 years (after Wills and Windes 1989)
3. 68 dwellings present (using Wills and Windes dwelling estimate for comparison

purposes)
4. Approximate number of residential dwellings at any one time: 10.2

210

Using Figure 11, the population size of a horticultural settlement can be conservatively
estimated as 1 person per 6 m2 of dwelling size.

10.2 dwellings * 17.19 m2 average dwelling size = 175.34 m2 total floor space. Based on

an average floor size requirement of 6 m2 per person, there is a minimum of 29 people at
the site.

Method 3:
Assumptions:
1. Four to five people per dwelling, based on ethnographic data.
10.2 structures * 4 people per dwelling = 40.8 people
10.2 structures * 5 people per dwelling = 45.9 people
10.2 structures * 4.5 people per dwelling = 51 people

In Methods 2 and 3, the number of identified dwellings may be too low. Therefore, these
numbers are considered a lower estimate of Shabik’eschee population.

211

Appendix 5
Estimating Volume of Stored Corn at Shabik’eschee Site, New Mexico

Assumptions:

Average 1.42 m3 per extramural storage bin

1 cubic meter = 28.4 bushels (dry)

Average caloric intake per day, per person = 2400 calories (12,000
calories per day per family of 5)

1 bushel shelled corn ~ 88,480 calories (Lightfoot 1979)

1 car com, 5-1/2 inches in length = 63 calories; 295 cars per bushel

Shelled Corn:

1.42 m3 of storage space, filled with shelled corn, is equivalent to approximately 40.3
bushels of corn. Each storage bin can therefore hold approximately 3,565,000 calories, if
filled to capacity.

If a family of 5 requires 12,000 calories per day, and if 60% of calories are derived from
corn daily, the average calories from corn per year required by a family of five is
2,628,000 calories. Therefore, stored calories per bin exceed the annual calorie
requirement for a family of five.

Corn on Ears:

Using the above assumptions for calories per car of com, the following family size can be
estimated:

1.42 m3 of storage space, filled with ears of corn, is equivalent to approximately 40.3
bushels of corn. Each storage bin can therefore hold approximately 11,889 ears of corn,
or 749,000 calories, if filled to capacity.
If a family of 5 requires 12,000 calories per day, and if 60% of calories are derived from
corn daily, the average calories from corn per year required by a family of five is
2,628,000 calories. Therefore, stored calories per bin provides 28.5% of the annual
calorie requirement for a family of five.
Discussion:

The shortcomings of using a solely spatial approach to data interpretation can be
illustrated with the following example. Within Shabik’eschee, there is spatial evidence

that some residents were mobile, while others probably remained year-round at the site.

However, the degree of mobility, whether longer term (over the course of many months

212

or years) or seasonal cannot be addressed simply by recognizing that extramural storage
facilities are present at the site. Instead, I estimated the amount of shelled corn that could
be contained in each storage bin, and the associated calorie content, to determine if
enough corn could be stored to permit year-round residency.

The above assumptions were used in these calculations, with several notable
caveats. First, the volume of shelled corn that can be contained within the storage cist is
significantly larger than the number of cars that can be stored. Estimating the number of
cars that can be contained within a particular volume is very difficult, as the size of the
ears and number of kernels per car varies with corn variety. Basketmaker corn ears may
have between 12 to 16 rows of kernels and vary between 127 to 164 mm in length (Hurst
and Anderson 1949), based on descriptions from recovered corn bundles in Cottonwood
Cave, western Colorado. No data are available on calorie content of Basketmaker corn
although comparably sized ears of ‘modern’ corn contain approximately 63 calories.
Therefore, calorie estimates are only provided for shelled com. If ears of corn are stored,
then calorie estimates should be substantially less because of the reduced volume of corn
that can be stored.

Second, the number of storage facilities available to the site’s inhabitants during
any time period is unknown. Not all bins were used at the same time within the site, nor
is there any apparent affiliation of bins with specific pithouses. Those dwellings with
antechambers are as likely to have storage bins nearby as pithouses without internal
storage. There are some indications that three or more storage bins could be used by any
one pithouse, based on bin debris accumulation, stratigraphic sequencing, and proximity

to nearby pithouses. Unfortunately, there is a lack of fine-grained dating information

213

available to determine time of usage. Therefore, the amount of corn that can fill one
storage bin is estimated, and compared to a five-person family’s caloric need.

Third, it is assumed that all storage bins are filled to capacity. Wills and Windes
note that Shabik’eschee “had combinations of extensive arable land, large local
watershed, and probably pinyon woodlands”. The nearby availability of nutrient-rich wild
foods and large tracts of land for farming support the possibility that sufficient food
resources could be collected and stored for the Shabik’eschee population. Crop harvest
yields over several years may be necessary to completely fill larger storage bins.
however. As noted by Altschul and Huber (2000), acre yield for corn varies with
precipitation, length of growing season, and soil conditions. In the Lukachukai valley, for
example, each acre yield averages 12 bushels of corn. The amount of field under
cultivation and resulting yield varies annually; in low precipitation or early frost years,
there is often a shortfall of corn needed to fill storage facilities. This may impact the
length of residence for Shabik’eschee community members, causing some to leave the
site temporarily in search of other food resources. It is therefore assumed that site
inhabitants obtain only 60% of their caloric intake from stored corn, and acquired the
remainder through foraging and hunting.

A comparison of the calories available from shelled corn is outlined above.

Approximately 40.3 bushels of shelled corn can be contained in a storage cist with an

average volume of 1.42 m3, assuming that the bin was completely filled. Each cist, if full,
will provide approximately 3,565,000 calories from shelled com. If 60% of each
individual’s calorie intake is derived from corn, then the daily calorie requirement from

corn for a family of five is approximately 7200 calories, or 2,628,000 calories per year.

214

Thus, a filled storage bin provides exceeds the required annual calories from shelled com.
This is not the case if bins were filled with ears of corn, in which inedible comcobs

would reduce the available storage volume.

215

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