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Protohistoric Arrow Head Variability in the Greater Southwest Mark Harlan The General Problem Southwestern archaeologists and ethnohistorians have tended to view the period between the terminus of the “great cultures” (Anasazi, Mogollon and Hohokam) and the arrival of the Spanish expeditions in the region as a kind of Dark Age. They take at face value the early explorers’ description of a despoblado, with a narrow band of settlements along the Rio Grande, the islands of Hopi and Zuni and the O’odam groups in Arizona standing in stark contrast to an empty wasteland. Regional archaeology has appeared to confirm the Spaniards’ observations. For three generations of scholarship, archaeologists have focused on major ruins and developed a view of the Southwest based on their rise and fall. While they have recognized lesser manifestations, especially the many limited artifact scatters that often lack diagnostics, they have generally assumed these sites to be Archaic on the basis of one or two diagnostic points or relegated them to an amorphous “unknown lithic scatter” category if no diagnostics are found. The dominant view has been that most or all such locations represent a hunting and gathering lifeway that was superseded by the food-producing, pueblo- and mound-building societies that rose to replace them. To the extent that these artifact scatters clearly appear to postdate the Archaic, they are seen as limited use sites left by logistical expeditions coming out of the agricultural settlements they surrounded. Sites lacking diagnostic points are usually ignored by those not interested in the Archaic. A recent change of views (Seymour 2002, 2004a, 2004b, 2006, 2007, In Press A, In Press B, Harlan and Seymour 2005) clearly demonstrates that the despoblado is a misconception, resulting from the failure of both the Spanish explorers and most archaeologists to perceive the mobile peoples that filled areas empty of settlements. This paper is not the place to address critical questions concerning the ethnic identity of these nomads or the temporal depth of their presence. The purpose here is, rather, to examine the range of variability of one of their key artifact types, arrowheads. Protohistoric arrowheads comprise a distinctive artifact category; one of only a few lithic items providing evidence for a mobile group presence on sites that might otherwise be attributed to Archaic peoples or to hunting parties from prehistoric farming settlements. Despite controversy over whether smaller points are invariably associated with use of the bow and arrow while larger points indicate use of the atlatl and dart (Butler 1975, Mallouf 1987:57, Ahler 1971:107, Flenniken 1989), the general association of points weighing less than 3.5 grams with arrows and longer points with darts is abundantly clear (Justice 2002:15-16), assertions to the contrary (Browne 1938:359; Evans 1957:83) not withstanding. It is also well demonstrated that arrows began to supplant darts or javelins in North America, including the Southwest, by about A.D. 500 but that proliferation of arrowheads in both numbers and variety postdates A.D. 1300 (Justice 2002:44-45; Bamford 1986:42-44). This later period, which may mark the beginnings of the protohistoric, also saw development of distinct regional and sub-regional variability in arrowhead forms. The present study seeks to better understand that variability and suggest approaches to exploiting its distribution. The focus here is on methodology and on a characterization of the variability but the ultimate goal is to achieve an improved picture of the protohistoric groups who occupied the southern Southwest. |
The Bow and Arrow Weapon System Before concentrating on the formal variability of a collection of arrowheads from the southern Southwest, it is useful to remind ourselves that arrowheads were actually a relatively minor part of a complex weapons system and that inferences based on their form are rather like reconstructions of extinct shark species from their teeth alone, without the relative certainty genetic descent provides when dealing with biological species. In both cases, the vagaries of preservation force us to deal with what time has left for us, not with the far more important parts of a complex system that has vanished. Viewed over the long term, the change-over from atlatl and dart to bow and arrow is not just a stylistic shift providing useful temporal information. It marks a set of fundamental improvements in weapons system efficiency (using this term in the sense of Bleed 1986 739-740, but recognizing that the bow and arrow system is both maintainable and reliable; see also Nelson 1991:67). The progression has continued, first with development of the crossbow and then with improvements in the firearms that have gradually replaced all other projectile weapons in both hunting and warfare. At each step, the systems are characterized by smaller projectiles that travel at higher velocities and allow those adept in their use to consistently hit and damage targets at greater distances (Higgins 1978:100; Bergman 1983:239). Whether employed in hunting or in warfare, the advantages of this capability are obvious. A further advantage of this trend in projectile technology may be less readily apparent. At each stage, the learning curve for employment of the technologies has been reduced. We have little historical or ethnographic information on the relative skill sets required for atlatl and dart versus bow and arrow, but anecdotal evidence seems to indicate that the learning curve for the bow is less steep, with a better chance for more people to achieve proficiency. Still, Medieval armies that depended on massed archers had behind them systems of learning that favored life-long devotion to archery practice, a critical element in their success (Pope 1918:103, 122-125; Browne 1940:212). The trend toward a reduced learning curve has extended beyond the use of spears, bows and arrows and into modern times. In contrast to yeomen who spent their lives in archery practice, the musketeers who served in later armies could be recruited and trained on a more or less ad hoc basis (Pope 1918:103; Hackett 1983:25-33). This is not just a function of the inherent inaccuracy of their weapons and employment of mass formations to compensate for it. The riflemen who replaced musketeers in the Nineteenth century got more training in drill formations than in actual use of their weapons and even modern conscript armies have generally found that a couple of weeks spent on the firing range is sufficient for training most recruits, followed up with a day or two of refresher each year. Since the basic requirement for all of these weapons systems is to accurately place a projectile on target at considerable distance, the information from warfare probably extends to hunting, with the caveat that the skill needed to find the game far exceeds the skill needed to hit it. The replacement of personal skill by technological advancement might be referred to as the “kung fu” effect. Training a human being to fight effectively empty-handed or without projectile weapons takes a lifetime of training, with daily attention to the art. Achieving efficiency with a spear, even with the atlatl to assist, also appears to be extremely difficult, on the basis of the one experiment I have found referenced in the literature (Browne 1940:212). However, groups in the Southwest seem to have seen no need for the shorter learning curve and increased range of the bow and arrow until late in the prehistoric sequence. Since the mechanical function of the bow and arrow system seems quite obvious and its use was clearly known by no later than AD 500 (Justice 2002:44), we may infer that increased importance of the bow and arrow technology in the protohistoric period responded to an emerging need. Unfortunately actually elucidating this point would call for a massive distributional study that is beyond the scope of this discussion, perhaps even exceeding the capacity of available datasets. Given the likely importance of the bow and arrow weapons system for mobile groups in the Protohistoric period, it is unfortunate that, in practice, we actually examine its least important component. In order of importance, the system consists of the bow (itself a compound tool composed of stave and string) the arrow shaft (another compound tool consisting of required main shaft, optional fore shaft and optional fletching) and finally a sharp tip, which pre-contact Native Americans could make from stone but also from bone or wood. The tip may also be provided merely by sharpening the fore shaft. It should also be clear from the brief discussion of the kung-fu effect that the archer is actually the most critical component of the system and the archer’s skill can largely compensate for shortcomings in the other system components, making the specific form of any one arrowhead even less critical to system performance. The sharp arrowhead has two basic functions – to assist the projectile in penetrating the target and to cut a large wound that will cause hemorrhage (Browne 1940:209; Flenniken and Wilkie 1989:152; Cheshier and Kelley 2006:353). If the arrow is intended to deliver a dose of poison, penetration alone is sufficient since poison is most often applied to the foreshaft but, for most uses, the design of the arrowhead is a compromise between the depth and the size of the wound it causes, a fundamental distinction that Medieval archers recognized in designating their points as broadheads or bodkins. Broadheads and bodkins share design parameters at the front end and both types of arrowheads start with a sharp point. From there back, design optimization can result in compromises. Penetration is maximized by keeping the surface that the point presents to the target at or near the diameter of the arrow shaft or foreshaft, hence the relatively common practice of simply sharpening the foreshaft, an approach that works well for small game.1 However, for larger game and human beings, the small wounds caused by this type of arrow are not immediately debilitating, although infection may cause death in the long run and a perfectly placed bodkin, like the one said to have felled King Harold at the Battle of Hastings, is something to be feared, even by animals with thick hides and people wearing armor. Broadheads are more effective when penetration is not the sole concern because they are, in essence, knife blades delivered at the end of a wooden shaft and so will cause extensive bleeding. Further sacrificing penetrating power, barbing of the arrowhead will tend to keep it in the wound so that the mechanical effect of a moving arrow shaft can exacerbate the hemorrhage, unless the target becomes immediately still (Browne 1940). A simple triangular point provides some barbing, but such points can be difficult to attach firmly to the shaft. Various types of projections created by side notching or other shaping provide good anchor points for tying the point to the shaft while simultaneously barbing the point. For hunting, a good attachment of the point to the shaft (or at least the fore shaft) is an advantage because movement as the prey runs will enhance hemorrhaging (Flenniken and Wilkie 1989:151). For warfare, it may actually be more advantageous if the point detaches in the wound, leading to a debilitating infection or death. As with many mechanical devices, arrowheads can fulfill their physical function while assuming a range of actual shapes. The basic requirements for penetrating a target or causing a large wound may tightly constrain the front end of the point’s shape, but shaping the haft end is less constrained by physical requirements and more open to personal preference or learning traditions. The analysis discussed here has been designed to consider both physical design constraints and personal or cultural preferences as sources of variability. A brief survey of the literature on projectile point variability indicates that this will constitute something of a departure from past practice. |
Approaches to the Study of Arrowhead Variability A survey of the literature has found that the majority of studies addressing projectile point variability are confined to dart points (Ahler 1971; Bamford 1986; Benfer 1970; Benfer and Benfer 1981; Bettinger 1997; Butler 1975; Curran 1993; Erkins and Bettinger 2001; Fenenga and Wheat 1940; Gunn and Pruitt 1975; Thomas 1981; Towner and Warburton 1990) or confound dart points and arrowheads (Benfer and Benfer 1981; Bleed 1986, 1991; Cheshier and Kelley 2006; Hester 1986; Keeley 1982; Neslon 1991). Fewer studies are exclusively concerned with arrowheads (Barton and Bergman 1982; Bergman 1997; Bergman and Newcomer 1983; Browne 1938; Higgins 1978; Mallouf 1987; Odell and Cowen 1986; Pope 1918, 1923). This is problematic in that the design constraints on dart points and arrowheads differ considerably. At the most fundamental level, dart points appear to function as a generalized element of a multipurpose tool. Use wear studies indicate that the dart and its point were used for butchering game as well as taking it down, combining the design constraints of projectiles and knives (Ahler 1971). Arrowheads are more specialized. Their small size makes them less useful for butchering and the aerodynamic requirements of arrow flight constrain the practical range of shapes and sizes (Higgins 1978.) Interestingly, tools designed to function as single-purpose knives are relatively rare in Archaic assemblages and more common on protohistoric sites (Seymour 2002). The profession’s focus on dart points is readily evident in the production of projectile point typologies. Work in the Great Basin has resulted in elaborate typologies for dart points (Bettinger and Eerkins 1997; Thomas 1981) but only a general recognition that arrowheads from that region seem to form a single unified category (Thomas 1981). Elaborate point typologies have been developed for Texas (Justice 2002) but mainly by amateurs anxious to name their finds and distinguish themselves among their fellow collectors (see, for example, Phelps 1987). The general lack of attention to arrowheads as a separate class is especially evident in the many metrically based studies that have been conducted. A number of researchers have explored the feasibility of using measurements, sometimes combined with attribute observations, as the basis for categorizing projectile points but nearly all of these studies have addressed dart points, not arrowheads (Ahler 1971; Benfer and Benfer 1981; Cheshier and Kelley 2006; Erkins and Bettinger 2001; Gunn 1975; Thomas 1981). The metrics themselves are generally linear measures (less commonly angles) tied to the perceived key landmarks on the points. In almost all cases, those key landmarks are on the hafting end of the point and designed to result in categories that strongly reflect variations in how the points were attached. This approach is arguably appropriate when studying dart points, which tend to be heavily reworked before discard, so that a typology of bases is more useful than one that would require whole points. Further, it seems likely that, as a low velocity weapon, the dart depends mainly on weight for penetration and the impression from examining numerous illustrations is that the distinction between broadheads and bodkins may not apply to darts. An earlier metric study of protohistoric arrowheads I conducted took off directly from the metric approaches developed for studying Great Basin dart points, with decidedly mixed results (Harlan 2002). An indicator of potential difficulties arose when it became apparent that only a subset of the arrowheads in the study population have any of the landmarks that assist measurement of dart points. These problems carried through the multivariate analysis of the metric data and, despite applying a range of techniques, the metrics neither sorted the data into meaningful units nor corresponded to units imposed by assigning the points to traditional types. The present study, another metric analysis using a subset of the same artifacts measured previously, takes a different approach to quantification. |
A Neutral Approach to the Metrics of Size and Shape The underlying theme of the measurement approach used for this study has been to maintain neutrality, not assuming that any single part of an arrowhead is more important than any other when searching for meaningful categories. This rules out the use of landmarks and makes application of linear measures and angles difficult. The solution chosen here has been to divide each point into a series of horizontal and vertical bands, measure the area of the bands, and compare the points on the basis of differences in all of the bands. The specific steps, as summarized in figure 1, are simple: 1) convert a digital image of each point to a matrix of zeros and ones, with the ones corresponding to each pixel of the image occupied by the point and 2) sum up the values across the rows and down the columns of the matrix to provide the individual areas of a set of horizontal and vertical bands. The measures were then normalized to 40 horizontal and 25 vertical units so that points of varying sizes could occupy the same multivariate space.2 Two of the many ways to examine the metrics provided by this technique are size-neutral and size dependent treatments. The data as extracted are size dependent, since the horizontal and vertical pixel counts correspond to areas on the points3. A size neutral representation can be achieved by converting each measurement band to its corresponding percentage of the total area of the point. The size-dependent view is most likely to highlight variation related to the intended physical function of the points, since it captures both the distribution of area over the length of the point and the absolute relationship between the dimensions of the point and the arrow to which it was once attached. The size-independent view is primarily sensitive to shape, closely relating two points with the same outline even though they differ substantially in size. Both examinations of the data are designed to address the same basic questions: 1) Can basic categories be extracted from the underlying variability? 2) Is there correspondence between the variability as measured by this approach and the categories of traditional arrowhead typologies? As discussed below, the size-dependent and size-independent views produce different results when examining underlying categories in the measures themselves but similar views with respect to the correspondence between the categories from traditional typology and the measurement data. |
Results Selection from the larger data set of 1140 arrowheads used in the earlier study cited above, combined with winnowing out problem images, resulted in a dataset of 254 points for use in the present study. As discussed in more detail in the earlier report (Harlan 2002), the points are from private collections made on both sides of the international border in the general vicinity of El Paso by members of the El Paso Archaeological Society. While it would have been preferable to include all of the points from the earlier study, developing and applying a new measurement technique proved time-consuming and a smaller subset was selected. However, blocks of the full data set were taken in without further selection and it is likely that the sample chosen is reasonably representative of the entire group of collections. Even this smaller set of points is too large to approach by inspection, especially given the large number of observations (40 horizontal bands and 25 vertical bands per point), so the analysis is based primarily on multivariate statistical manipulations, with other techniques applied as appropriate. The search for underlying groups in the data relies on Principal Components analysis, followed up by K-Means cluster analysis and the investigation of relationships between the metric data and traditional typology uses Discriminant Analysis4. These are all standard multivariate tools familiar to many archaeologists and described in standard texts (such as Cooley and Lhones 1975 and Harmon 1967). Figure 2 presents the results of Principal Components analysis with a plot of the first two eigenvectors from the size-dependent data on the left and size independent data on the right. A complete lack of pattern is readily apparent in the plot based on the size-dependent data. The plot for the size-independent data has a peculiar form because the correlation matrix derived from the size-independent data is somewhat ill-conditioned, with the first eigenvector accounting for 93.7% of the total variance. Plots of the second and third and third and fourth eigenvectors were examined and showed no improvement in form. This is a problem often encountered with data converted to percentages. The lack of clustering in the Principal Components analysis indicates that underlying variation is the data set as a whole is continuous. It does not, however, indicate that partitions do not exist, just that other methods may be needed to search for them. In line with the discussion of factors influencing variability in the shape and size of arrowheads, two sources seem most appropriate for further discussion here: the possibilities that 1) meaningful partitions may relate to the distinction between broad- heads and bodkins and 2) that coherent groups may be revealed by imposing the classification of traditional typology onto the data. These alternatives are not mutually exclusive and potential interactions will be addressed. |
Keeping in mind that each of the cluster analyses is just a different view of the same underlying data; they do reveal how the shape of the points reflects the functional categories of broadhead and bodkin. The two groups called for in the first analysis are not really strongly differentiated by either size or Length/Width ratio, recalling the thorough mixing seen in the Principal Components analysis. The four group analysis begins to reveal something of the underlying structure of the data. Viewing the four groups as two pairs, we see a marked difference in Length/Width ratio, coupled with an interior division of each pair into larger and smaller points, showing that within the broadhead and bodkin categories points can be either larger or smaller. This pattern carries through to the eight group solution, except for the last pair (combining groups 2 and 6). In this case, the pair consists of large points that are shorter and broader than the rest of the sample. A reasonable interpretation of the results of cluster analysis is that, for Protohistoric arrowheads from the southern Southwest, broadhead and bodkin do not form a dichotomy but rather describe a tendency across a range of possible shapes created as design trade-offs between the need to penetrate the target or create a large wound. We might think of the arrows in these archers’ quivers as analogous to the clubs in a golf bag. As a dichotomy, golf clubs are designed to impart a parabolic trajectory for short shots or a flattened trajectory for long shots (discounting the function of the putter). The well-equipped golfer does not, however, carry two clubs but rather fourteen to sixteen, allowing for fine adjustments to the wide range of situations the game presents. Protohistoric archers may have equipped themselves in a similar fashion, allowing themselves to choose just the right combination of arrowhead, shaft and flethcing to give them a maximum probability of success in an even more complex set of potential situations. This leaves open the question of whether or not groups created by the traditional typologies of arrowheads will also partition the metric data set and how these categories might or might not correspond to the functional distinction of broadhead versus bodkin. Before discussing any correspondence between the clusters derived from K-Means cluster analysis and the groups created by traditional typological approaches, it is necessary to indicate how the typological groups were derived. As a first step in the process, Deni Seymour assigned 202 of the 254 points to protohistoric types as described in sources for the archaeology of the southern Southwest (Seymour 2002:266-273).5 This procedure left 52 points not assigned to types and these were classed into generalized shape categories (Stemmed, Basal-Notched, Side-Notched, Un-Notched and Triangular). Table 2 shows the distribution of typological categories over the four pairs of clusters from K-Means cluster analysis calling for 8 groups. As clearly shown, there is no association. |
Table 3 presents the minimum, maximum and average Length/Width ratios for each of the typological categories. Looked at in terms of the average ratio, the categories are arranged from the one showing the most bodkin-like tendencies (Huachuca) to the category that would appear to be dominated by broadheads (the Un-Notched points). However, a closer look indicates need for caution. First the two categories at the top of the table and the two at the bottom contain few specimens and may reflect nothing more than the effects of small numbers. The range of ratios for most of the other categories overlaps the average minimum and maximum ratios. Looked at this way, one may say, for example, that Toyah points tend to be broadheads but the type extends over a range clearly including bodkins. In another example, the average Length/Width ratio for Harrell points would make them appear to fall in the middle of the spectrum, whereas consideration of their range shows that the type runs the full gamut from broadhead to bodkin. Thus, while tendencies are apparent, it would seem that any of the typological categories may contain either of the functional categories. |
It would seem, then, that function may explain some small part of the differing shapes seen in the typological categories but that much variation remains unaccounted for. To further consider variation within the typological categories as it relates to the metric data, Discriminant Function analysis6 is an appropriate tool, since it takes pre-defined groups as a starting point. Table 4 presents the classification from a Discriminant Analysis of all of the points. The input data is size-dependent. The rows of the table correspond to the assignments made by Seymour and to the residual categories for specimens she did not type. The columns of the table are the classifications made by the analysis. It is important to note that these groupings begin with an assumption that the typologist has made correct category assignments. The types and residual categories identify the central points (centroids - basically group grand means for all variables) in the multivariate space the metrics define. Reassignments occur for any specimens that lie closer to a different group centroid than to their “own” group. As seen in Table 3, the correspondence between the typologist’s assignments and the locations in multivariate space are fairly close, varying from perfect to no worse than 60 percent with an overall success rate of 73 percent. The metrics are measuring at least some of the same vectors of variability that the typologist has employed to classify the points. |
Discriminant Analysis of the size-independent data results in a classification matrix that is similar to the size-dependent matrix with a total correct classification of 76 percent but with some differences in the individual categories; improved classification for seven categories and poorer classification of three; the balance remaining at the same percentage. Viewed in terms of individual specimens, the only outstanding difference is in the Soto points, with slightly fewer of them remaining in their typologically assigned categories and a larger drop in the number of points from other typological categories assigned to Soto. This result is not surprising, given the distinctive shape of Soto points. |
A final pass through Discriminant Analysis has been used to ask whether or not the groups as reclassified might create a multivariate space where the units are more separate from one another and more cohesive within themselves. Table 6, the classification matrix from that analysis, clearly shows that percentage of “correct” classification is greater and the groups have become essentially discrete. |
Coupling the results of Discriminant Analysis based on typological categories with the earlier discussion of functional categories, the bottom line appears to be that the types of the traditional typology are alternative methods of achieving the basic function of the arrowheads. Those familiar with how these types are constructed will recognize that the alternatives relate mainly to how the points were hafted and, to a lesser extent, how they were barbed. With the exception of the stemmed forms, the points which were not assigned to a defined type may either represent less skilled attempts to produce a point of one of the types or they may be more expedient forms. Clearly, then, the typological categories relate to the poorly defined realm of “style” and further discussion should focus there. Protohistoric Arrowhead Style This paper is not the place to enter into the debate over what “style” is, its relationship to typology or how artifacts should be classified, a discussion with considerable breadth of coverage, time depth and staying power (Wissler 1916; Ford and Griffin 1937; Krieger 1944; Ford 1954a, 1954b; Spaulding 1953a, 1953b, 1954, 1960, 1973, 1977; Gifford 1960; Berlin 1968, Binford 1962, 1963, 1989; Abbott, Leonard and Jones 1996; Beck 1998; Bettinger 1996; Braun 1995; Carr and Neitzel 1995; Dunnell 1986, 1995; Read 1989; Sabloff and Smith 1969). However, it is necessary to place the discussion of Protohistoric arrowhead style within the debate and to indicate where the view taken here falls with respect to the many theoretical and methodological alternatives that have been proposed. In general, the thrust of the present discussion falls close to the concepts formulated by Wobst (1977) and Wiesner (1982, 1983, 1985) and rejects the approaches of Sackett (1977, 1985), especially as they guide Jelinek(1976). The discussion here does not adopt Dunnell’s formulations or those who follow him in employing a selectionist theory of cultural variation. The aspect of Sackett’s concept of style most firmly rejected is his assertion that “emblematic” style, the use of artifacts as a ready means of group identification is rare and unimportant. His alternative, a concept he labeled as “isochrestic” style, recognizes that craftsmen take varying approaches to the same physical function but his bottom line explanation is, essentially, that they just tend to do so, in the same way that they have different gestures, eating habits or attitudes toward cross-cousins; and that they do not employ these differences to signal group membership or identity within the group (Sackett 1985:158). Sackett provides no empirical support for his assertions, relying instead on rejections of Wiesner’s findings that are logically inconsistent within themselves or misapplications of the data in her studies. Jelinek (1976:19) accepts Sackett’s concept that function relates to task performance whereas style represents choices among the functional equivalents. Like Sackett, he believes that a given attribute may be either functional or stylistic, depending on the situation in which the analysis is conducted (Jelinek 1976:20). Based on this starting point, his expectation is that functional attributes will exhibit less variability than stylistic attributes. In the case of Protohistoric arrowheads, the data presented above show that the biggest metric variation separates broadheds from bodkins while the variation that appears to be stylistic is more subtle. It would then seem necessary to diverge from Sackett’s formulation and its implications for stone tools as seen by Jelinek to achieve a better understanding of arrowheads. There is simply too much patterning in Protohistoric arrowhead variability beyond that needed for physical function to see it as a residual category devoid of meaning. There are similar problems with Dunnell’s (1978) formulation, both in his own work and as his concepts have been explored by others (Nieman 1990, 1995; Graves and Cachola-Abad 1996; Graves and Ladefoged 1995, 1996; Obrien and Holland 1990). Dunnell too has relegated style to a residual category, defining it as the aspect of artifact variability that is not subject to selective pressure. However, it seems clear that he is really focusing on those aspects of artifact variability where alternatives in form serve the same function and he does not recognize the adaptive significance of the alternatives themselves. Nieman has followed up with a more formal analysis but falls into the same trap, since he attributes stylistic variability to drift (Nieman 1995:8), confounding the diachronic causes of stylistic variation with their potential synchronic significance. In contrast to both Sackett and the selectionists, Wiesner and Wobst provide a workable framework for examining the aspects of arrowhead variability that are not related to their function as broadheads or bodkins. Following their lead, we may look for the aspects of arrowhead variability that were imparted because these craftsmen thought they made the arrowheads “look and feel” the way they should, beyond functional design constraints. Wobst has advanced a set of concepts around the central theme that stylistic variability in artifacts comprises those aspects of variation containing information the makers wished to communicate to themselves and those around them. Wiesner has given us a detailed example of how these concepts map onto variability in San arrowheads, bringing us to the realm of the present study. Both authors will be explored further, rejecting the objections Sackett raised to Wiesner’s work and ignoring the fact that Wobst’s formulation is incompatible with Dunnell’s concept of style and with the way that Jekinek’s has applied Sackett’s definitions to stone tools. Most fundamentally, the discussion here pays no credence to the time-honored assertion that all equations of projectile points with group membership are fundamentally flawed at their base and cannot proceed, recognizing that this view has been widely held and continues as gospel in some archaeological circles. As indicated at the outset, the population of projectile points that provides the data for this study is from amateur collections and their proveniences, although available to some extent, are not considered here. It is clear that these points were made by a range of communities and were likely produced at varying times throughout the Protohistoric period (and perhaps earlier or later). Before returning to that dataset to examine its stylistic aspects, a brief consideration of another amateur collection may provide a useful starting point, since this one is tightly provenienced and attributable to a single event. Robert Mallouf (1987) has studied a large collection of points from a cache found by amateurs in a cairn in northern Mexico. The cairn contained the burial of an adolescent and possibly an adult but Mallouf, who visited the site, was unable to determine exactly what was associated with the points because the amateurs had totally looted the cairn. The points comprise 180 of Perdiz style (there are no Perdiz points in this study because they do not occur in the El Paso area) and a few Toyah, Fresno, Basal-Notched and Side-Notched types (the last two used as formal categories in Mallouf’s study, not as residual categories). Like the Perdiz points, the other types are mainly made on local jasper. Perdiz points appear around AD 1350 and were in use up into historic times, with a hiatus around 1500 (Mallouf 1987:62-63). Mallouf does not believe that the variability seen in the points from the cairn is associated with band or tribal differences (Mallouf 1987:61) but does recognize that Perdiz points are often attributed to the Jumano (Mallouf 1987:0064). He believes that this point style was designed to work with cane foreshafts whereas the other types in the cache would work best with hardwood foreshafts, some of which were recovered from the cairn (Mallouf 1987:61). He links the people who built the cairn to his Cielo Complex (Mallouf 1987:0064-65). The Cielo Complex also is characterized by a range of distinctive tool types that are essentially the same as those that Seymour has associated with the Canutio Complex (Mallouf 1987:65-66; Seymour 2002). Maloof links the Cielo complex to bison hunting, but not to any one ethnic group. If these points had been found in a quiver hanging from the back of a !Kung San hunter, their variability would make perfect sense. Mallouf is of the impression that, as a group, they are exceptionally well made. Thus the person who owned them (perhaps the adult in the cairn) may have been an outstanding flint knapper, as some of the San are exceptionally skilled at cold hammering arrowheads (Wiesner 1983:261). In a San quiver, the distinctive point types would represent items traded from partners in other hunting communities (Wiesner 1983:261). Extending the conformity between Wiesner results and the points from Mallouf’s cairn, we may consider the possibility that the points in the present study were made by flint-knapping fletchers from a range of communities across the southern Southwest. Each artisan would have possessed a distinctive tradition for giving arrows a sharp tip designed for some degree of trade-off between deeply penetrating the target and causing extensive hemorrhage. This view guides the analysis and discussion of relationships between point types. |
Relating Protohistoric Point Types to Their Shape Measurements The discussion of metric shape of the projectile point categories takes the multivariate analysis already discussed as its starting point but returns to simpler statistical representations. Figure 3 is offered as a starting point for the discussion. The two histograms in that figure show the average value for each of the horizontal bands (shown in a bar chart) and vertical bands (shown in a columnar histogram) that were input to all of the size-independent analyses. The long narrow shape of the bodkins (pairs 1 and 2) is readily apparent in the columnar histogram of the vertical band areas, contrasting with the short squat broadheads (pairs 3 and 4). The bar charts of horizontal band areas also generally reflect the two shapes but are complicated by more subtle differences in outline. Pairs 2 and 3 contain points that have more regular outlines whereas pairs 1 and 4 contain points with more complex notching. In examining these and the other histograms discussed below, it is important to remember that each plot represents average values for the horizontal and vertical bands which are themselves areas, not linear measurements. Further, the averages have been taken over a varying number of points as assigned to each group. Overall, the horizontal band charts best track the treatment of hafting elements and other notching whereas the histograms of vertical bands are better indicators of overall shape. |
Returning to the typological groups, figure 4 shows potential relationships among the types and residual categories used in the analysis. The plot uses the first two canonical scores for the reclassified groups from the Discriminant Analysis, eliminating the two Bliss points to decompress the range for the other categories. Proceeding clockwise around the plot, Fresno, Side Notched, Harrell and Washita appear to be isolated from each other and from the other types. Focusing on the center-bottom of the plot, Mesilla, Triangle, Soto, Cameron and Lott appear to form a group while Garza, Animas, Huachuca and Stemmed may be part of the same cluster but are not as closely associated. The Basal Notched and Toyah points seem to be associated as a pair apart from the cluster of categories. |
Figures 5 through 8 present paired sets of bar charts (horizontal bands) and columnar histograms (vertical bands) for each of the categories created by Discriminant Analysis reclassification. An interesting element visible in most of the vertical band histograms is the lack of symmetry, with the columns rising more sharply on the left side of the plot and training off more gradually to the right. This reflects an underlying lack of symmetry in the points, which Mallouf (1987:50-51) also noted for the Perdiz points from his cache. It is possible that the specific pattern seen results from majority right-handed point makers, but this would be a matter for future investigation. Summary metric data for the typological categories not grouped in the plot of canonical scores are presented in figure 5. It is worth noting that two of the four ungrouped typological categories (Fresno and Washita) represent fewer than seven points each while the other two (Harrell and Side Notched) have just over 20, about half the size of the larger categories . All of the groups appear distinctive from one another and from the categories that seem related to one another, especially when comparing the bar charts of horizontal bands. |
Figure 6 presents summary metric data for the cluster of typological categories seen to the right of center in the plot of canonical scores (figure 4). If the Triangle residual category were removed from this group, the similarities in overall outline shown in the columnar histograms of average vertical band areas would be striking. What all of these categories share is a basically triangular outline with no side notching. The bar charts of horizontal band areas show more variation, indicating why the groups remain distinct in the Discriminant Analysis. The difference are in treatment of the point bases, with weak or absent basal notching on the Mesilla and Cameron points and strong basal notching on Soto and Lott, giving these points their characteristic “Eiffel Tower” shape. Lott points tend to be strongly serrated and Soto points do not, pulling these types apart. |
Figure 7 presents summary metric data for the points that are not as distinct as those in figure 5 but which still do not appear to be part of any cluster. Clearly the Stemmed points form the most distinct group shown here. Stemmed points are a fundamentally different approach to hafting that Mallouf (1987:61) has suggested may result from use with a cane foreshaft, while the other hafting methods in the study sample are more appropriate for hardwood foreshafts. The three types are all small categories and small numbers may account for much of their apparent distinctiveness. That noted, and focusing on the bar charts of average horizontal band area, the remaining categories do look generally similar, indicating a common approach to hafting. Each of the categories consists of points that are moderately to strongly basally notched, without side notching. The final figure (8) shows the pairing of Basal Notched and Toyah points. The similarity in the bar charts reflects the fact that Toyah is a basally notched type, but with strong side notching. The irregularities in the histogram for the Basal Notched category reflect the fact that this group is a true residual in comparison to the other points with basal notches. After closely examining and regrouping the metric data in light of traditional typological categories, it is clear that the categories do track metrically defined shapes but that they do so imperfectly. It also seems that some of the groups are more closely related than others, perhaps indicating learning traditions that interacted without complete sharing. It would seem that shared learning relates mainly to alternative hafting methods since the typological categories do not correspond closely to differences in the fundamental function of arrowheads as broadheads or bodkins. Interpreted in light of the discussion of “style” presented above, especially considering Wiesner’s study of arrowhead production among the San, it seems reasonable to assert that the typological categories into which Seymour sorted the points do correspond to differing ways of solving the basic problems of providing arrows with a sharp point and attaching that point to the arrow shaft. Of course, as every typologist knows, the categories are reasonably clear at the center but fuzzy at the edges, whether the boundaries are defined by an expert applying type descriptions or a multivariate analysis seeking communalities. The logical extension of the results is, however, a set of working hypotheses that the point types correspond to discrete interacting communities of people who lived just before and after Spaniards intruded upon their world. This assertion would, of course, create a correspondence between point types and people; a form that many archaeologists have been trained to reject out of hand as mere speculation. There are two reasons for rejecting that rejection. The first is logical. Readers still following the presentation at this point likely have some basic grounding in statistical analysis and so are trained to avoid Type I error, accepting an untrue hypothesis on the basis of associations that are not sufficiently significant. Abhorrence of Type I error is not confined to the world of statistical analysis. Archaeologists are taught never to accept an apparent association, like that between projectile point types and the people who produced the points, unless given an iron-clad argument based on irrefutable evidence that those particular people really did make those specific points, and they are willing to accept a single point found out of place as all the proof needed to reject an association based on otherwise compelling evidence. This approach creates its own set of problems. Avoiding Type I error can doom us to continually committing Type II error, rejecting potentially useful hypotheses on the basis of limited incongruities or unclear patterning, then moving off to other investigations that provide greater certainty but often yield trivial results. The present extended discussion of arrowhead variability examined through neutral approaches to shape and without assumptions about which variability should receive a priori privilege, is sufficient basis to proceed to the next step of considering the possibility that the arrowhead types defined for the Protohistoric, with suitable refinements and no attempt to shoehorn divergent specimens, may provide information on the emergence, distribution and interaction of the human communities whose lives constitute the history of the period. The potential rewards are considerable, since we might then be able to trace the movements of peoples during the critical time period leading up to European contact. Such studies could also help to unravel the identities of some of the “historic” peoples who are mentioned in the sources, but not really documented by them. The present study, based as it is on un-provenienced collections, can take us no further than this modest proposition. |
Back to Function It seems clear that stylistic studies aimed at identifying spheres of common learning are only part of the information inherent in Protohistoric arrowheads. Perhaps the more important inferences are related to design characteristics of the bow and arrow weapons systems and the reasons for its wide-spread adoption after A.D. 1300. Starting where little controversy should exist, it is almost certain the system was adopted for its advantages in two key activities, hunting and warfare. Given that earlier prehistoric peoples also hunted and probably were not fundamentally less prone to armed conflict than people in the Protohistoric, we may wonder why the bow and arrow system assumed greater importance at that time. In the area of hunting, the potentially increased importance of bison has not gone unnoticed by other investigators and seems a reasonable basis for greater use of the bow and arrow. Small game in the size range of squirrels and especially rabbits can be easily taken with snares and throwing sticks. Faunal remains from the Archaic forward attest to success of rabbit hunting without use of the bow and arrow. Deer would be better candidates for bow hunting but, as all deer hunters know, the best bet is a good blind near a watering point or on the edge of meadow with good browse. It is not unreasonable to believe that hunters employing the dart and atlatl successfully hunted deer and other medium-sized, relatively thin-skinned game, again as well attested by faunal remains in the archaeological record. Bison are another matter entirely. First, they are thick-skinned and a spear, even assisted by an atlatl, would be less effective in taking them down, unless employed at close range (Butler 1975:109). More importantly, they are dangerous and engagement from a distance has obvious advantages. The bow and arrow weapons system solves both problems. It offers both higher velocity and grater range, providing the opportunity to inflict a potentially fatal wound on these large animals at distances that do not endanger the hunter. Armed conflict is an even clearer venue for the advantages of the bow and arrow system. As historically documented to heart-wrenching effect, the availability of projectile-launching systems that send out their lethal messengers at higher velocities, to greater ranges and at higher rates of delivery make it exponentially easier to defend fixed positions; say, for example, one’s adobe-walled habitation. On the other side of a violent equation, suppressive fire against those fixed positions calls for attackers with equally effective projectile weapons. When the object of violence was theft rather than conquest, the bow and arrow would have been an effective deterrent. The wickedly serrated points that appear during the Protohistoric, especially those that narrow at the haft, would have been capable of causing discomfort, debilitation and possibly death weeks after the wound was inflicted. This potential may have made communities with a reputation for effective archery less desirable targets. Like investigation of associations between projectile point types and the groups that produced the points, consideration of the changing exigencies that led to greater use of the bow and arrow weapons system has potential to help us understand the key set of changed conditions that followed the fall of the Southwestern great cultures and preceded the arrival of European invaders. Clearly, profound changes occurred. The possibility that the sedentary folks that have always been our focus were not at the center of a changing world is worth considering. |
Recalling that broadheads should generally be short and wide while bodkins should be longer and narrower, to achieve greater penetration, a K-Means cluster analysis was performed using only the maximum horizontal and vertical bands from each point, rather than the full set of band measurements that was input to the Principal Components analysis. Recalling that K-Means clustering starts with a specification of the number of groups to be formed, three separate analyses were run calling for two, four and eight groups, avoiding a pre-conception that only two groups exist (possibly corresponding to categories of broadhead and bodkin). Table 1 summarizes the results of these analyses, comparing average length to width ratios and total size for the grouping derived from each run5. The groups from each run have been sorted on Length/Width ratio in descending order |
NOTES 1 Interestingly, sharpened hardwood shafts were also used by a number of indigenous groups in California for their war arrows. Justice (2002:40) attributes this to a desire to maximize the number of arrows they could afford to shoot at their enemies but it is just as likely that these people designed their weapons to wound deeply but not to kill. 2 In practice, this proved difficult. Problems with varying image quality and had to be overcome and reformatting the data for statistical analysis required a good deal of database manipulation, including writing a fair amount of code. 3 The photos used in this study were taken only as back-ups for the previous metric study and were not standardized in ways that would have been most useful for the present approach. Problems separating the points from the background resulted in discarding some data and it was necessary to adjust for camera height, which varied for groups of photos. 4 Principal Components as used in the archaeological literature actually refers to a variety of matrix reduction techniques, some of which employ various methods for removing the unities from the principal diagonal of the correlation matrix in order to reduce the variance in the eigenvector associated with the first eigenvalue in hopes of making the reduced-space solution easier to interpret. The problem with these approaches is that the reduced-space solution bears no specifiable relationship to the original correlation data. The Principal Components analyses discussed here have been applied to un-rotated correlation matrices with unities on the principal diagonal. This leaves the lion’s share of the variance with the first eigenvector, making groups more difficult to discern, but also preserves the relationship to the underlying data. 5 The measures of length and width and size are derived from the data extracted from the photos in different ways. Length and width were determined from a pixel count of the longest dimension and widest dimension of the point in the photo. Area is a count of the total pixels in the photo occupied by the image of the point. In both cases, the pixel counts have been normed for camera height. 6 An independent source of typological categories avoids the possibility of a single investigator contaminating the results by applying metric criteria that are not appropriate to the typologies. A further advantage is the fact that Seymour is more familiar with the protohistoric point types than I am. 7 In the interest of brevity and in order to focus on results rather than methods, the discussion here omits a good deal of experimentation with the input data, both in terms of cases and variables. It is, however useful to note that the results discussed here employ the full set of horizontal and vertical bands while eliminating a few cases where classification into either a type or a residual category was questionable. As would be expected, using all of the measurement bands results in an over-specified model with the raw classification matrix nearly twice as accurate as the jackknifed classification matrix. The need for over-specification probably has implications for the nature of the process of classification, but these implications have not been explored for the present study. |
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PROTOHISTORIC ARROW HEAD VARIABILITY |
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