The e-mailed invitation from Alan Harn, archaeologist
at the Dickson Mounds Museum, is succinct and inviting: “Temperature
and weather tomorrow look good for a day of bison snooping on the
beach.” No question, this site on the Illinois River south of Peoria
is generating major excitement, and the discoveries being unearthed there
are big news in the scientific community. What isn’t clear to me is
why. What I am about to learn is a fascinating story of ancient bones
complete with plot twists, near-misses, and more than one climax. After four-wheeling over uneven terrain, Harn and I
start the morning with a visual survey of the rubble-strewn beach. We walk
along the shore, heads bent, concentrating on each scrap of debris. I see
nothing of note, but Harn sees plenty. Here are angular-edged stones that
had been split by fire, indicating use in an ancient cooking process.
Another sliver is a waste flake of stone chipped away during the crafting
of a projectile point. And these dark bits? Charred seeds from prehistoric
meals. Harn tells me of other items found on this beach:
musket balls and an American long-rifle trigger guard, most likely from the
18th century. All of these items have been carefully documented and filed
away like chapters in the extensive history of this beach, which begins
with occupation by early Americans before 2000 BC. Fascinating though these finds and their underlying
histories may be, they are not what we are searching for. We hope to find
bones — bison bones. The already discovered skeletal remains of these
creatures are responsible for the excitement surrounding the site. As crazy
as it seems to hope that more bones will present themselves with no effort
on our part, that is exactly what happened to start the furor back in 1995.
Because of a lack of time and funding, archaeologists
rely heavily on the general public and serendipity to assist them in making
discoveries. Harn tells me how Rick Scott, an amateur archaeologist, was
walking this shore one day when he noticed animal bones protruding from the
sediment. Realizing their possible significance, he turned them over to the
Dickson Mounds Museum. The remains of eight bison, two elk, and two deer,
along with prehistoric human artifacts, were subsequently unearthed. Still, I don’t quite get it: Yes, the bones
were old and there were lots of them, but why the unusual amount of
attention? I haven’t heard the whole story yet.
Bison bones are rarely found in Illinois, and this
site was the first in the state to produce the articulated remains of
several animals. Scientific reports have mainly noted bison bones in the
form of tools and ornaments — most likely trade items — and
food remains from later history. In short, all previous finds have pointed
to a brief existence of bison in Illinois beginning in the mid-1500s and
lasting until their extirpation in 1830. At least this had been the
thinking before radiocarbon-dating results for bone samples from this site
returned from the lab. One of the samples yielded a date of about 1515 A.D.
— just as one would expect, because bison were thought to have made
their appearance in Illinois around 1450 A.D. The second sample, however,
offered up a date from the fourth century B.C.! Could this be right? If
these results were valid, bison had been on the Illinois scene 1,700 years
earlier than had been previously thought. Additional samples were sent for confirmation. There
was no mistake: Four of the five sample dates ranged from 265 B.C. to 365
B.C. Also supporting these dates was a geomorphological analysis of the
site suggesting that the shoreline sediment from which some of the bison
remains were eroding had developed about 2,000 years ago, placing them
within the early time frame. This was an exciting story, to be sure, but for the
archaeologists of the Illinois State Museum and its Dickson Mounds Museum
branch, it was just the grab-your-attention first chapter. It was not
enough for them to know that these were bones of an antiquity defying all
previous knowledge of bison in Illinois. How did they come to be here? What
story made the most sense? The bones were studied and scenarios considered.
The researchers could find no evidence of human involvement in the
animals’ demise. “We propose that bison skeletons and skeletal
parts were deposited along the Illinois River shoreline as a result of
accidental deaths in the river, perhaps due to falling through weak
ice,” came the first proposal in a January 2000 report. It was a
valid interpretation. This type of drowning incident had been documented by
early explorers and seemed quite plausible. But still the archaeologists
hoped for more. They hoped that maybe, just maybe, the site still held
evidence that early Indian populations had made use of the bison.
Then came the summer of 2005. It was thought that
remains might still be submerged because the modern river level is known to
be 6 feet higher than it would have been at the time of the bison. After a
spring- and summer-long drought, the archaeologists were presented with
their first extended period of low water levels. But high expectations soon
turned into disappointment when, on the last day of excavation, the
researchers were forced to face the fact that they had found no direct
evidence of man’s interaction with the animals. They returned the
next day to close out the site only to find that the river had dropped
dramatically from the day before. Laid out before them were a rib, a
scapula, a patella, and a vertebra. Further excavation revealed the most
complete bison skeleton found to date. Then, as they were liberating the
bones from their resting place, they found it — a stone spear point
embedded between ribs. Projectile points are distinct in style among
populations and time periods, like the fingerprint of a collective people.
The point the archaeologists had found was of a type used from about the
fourth century B.C. to around the time of Christ — a date compatible
with the four early radiocarbon dates from the site. Later laboratory
examination would reveal “impact cuts” that most likely
resulted from spearing, as well as alterations of the bones that might
prove to be butchering marks. The archaeologists had been hoping to find
refuse pits or cooking facilities that would indicate that bison were
regularly hunted in Illinois before 1500 A.D. They had never expected this.
Bison No. 8 will now forever be known as the first evidence of an
aboriginal bison kill in Illinois. The river has now reclaimed most of the Bison No. 8
site, and three sticks protrude from the water to indicate the excavated
locations of various parts. At the water’s edge, however, an empty
depression from which the skull has been removed is still visible. Harn
picks up a shovel and begins restoring the shoreline to its former state,
as required by a preexcavation agreement. I watch briefly as the outline of
the skull begins to disappear before turning my attention to my own task.
Harn has given me a metal probe to sink into the ground in the hope that I
will strike something hard. Sinking the probe, pulling it back out, and
moving a short distance (“You can be 1 centimeter off and miss
something,” he warned), I was ever hopeful that more bones were just
beneath my feet. When Harn finishes his shoveling, he takes over the
probe and almost immediately hits something. Once again he grabs his shovel
and begins to carefully peel away the layers. As with the previous finds,
he doesn’t have far to go — about 8 inches down. He has
nevertheless reached an undisturbed region, as indicated by areas where
silty dark sediment has replaced decayed tree roots. This means we’ve
gone below any recent alluvium and reached a natural, undisturbed clay
surface. Now at a level close to the solid barrier to our
probe, Harn arms himself with a trowel and cautiously skims closer to the
emerging artifact. It is bone. He hands me a grapefruit knife with which to
flick away the packed mud. We have found more ribs, most likely belonging
to bison No. 8. We work diligently to smooth the sides of the pit and clear
the mud from the ribs without making damaging contact with them. Finally
the ribs are laid out in a presentation worthy of their importance.
“If these bones date similarly, we are the first to lay eyes on them
in 2,300 years,” says Harn. I stop my flicking and sit back on my
heels, contemplating this thought. Suddenly I feel as if I’ve taken
my proper place in the earth’s story — a speck of life, nothing
more than the latest being to spend time on the banks of this river. I
understand now why this place is so important.
An archaeologist’s excavation uncovers more
than artifacts and bones. With the help of science and imagination, these
discoveries turn into moments frozen in time through which archaeologists
may reconstruct stories, build scenarios about relationships between
ancient landscapes and ancient people, and ultimately make better sense of
today through an understanding of yesterday. Once in a while, this frozen
moment changes what we thought we knew. The information being gathered here
is unprecedented in explaining the movement of ancient bison and the
subsistence patterns of ancient peoples in Illinois. “There is always something new to learn,”
Harn tells me, his excitement contagious. And there are so many more
questions to be answered now: Why haven’t bison remains from this
earlier time period been showing up in refuse pits? Had hunting patterns
changed? Was there something special about this particular location that
made the animals more accessible? Was it perhaps a shallow-water crossing,
a point where a hunter could lie in wait? If funding allows, the archaeologists are eager to
expand their search of this site. Perhaps they are just a trowel scoop and
a grapefruit knife flick away from continuing the story.
This article appears in Oct 6-12, 2005.
