Hunters, Fishers and Foragers in Wales: Towards a social narrative of Mesolithic lifeways

THE LIVING AND THE DEAD: RITUAL ASPECTS OF MESOLITHIC LIFE

… skeletal remains offer not only corporal evidence of human existence, but also a biological material that has been crafted and shaped through the cultural experiences of life and death. (Agarwel and Glencross 2011: 1)

… prehistoric communities acted within and made sense of the material and social world through their own set of understandings rich in subjective meaning and symbolism. (Jordan 2003a: 129)

Introduction

As the discussion in previous chapters has highlighted, we clearly need to be aware of the limitations inherent in studying Mesolithic groups in Britain, as a number (probably the majority) of the locations/foci of activity, or sites, in a hunter-fisher-forager landscape will not necessarily have survived into the present, whilst others will be buried beneath later alluvial sequences, or the sea itself, and effectively lost to us. This situation is particularly marked when we consider the nature of the burial evidence, as it would not be inaccurate to say that the burial record for the Mesolithic period in Britain is considerably impoverished when contrasted with the evidence from some parts of the European mainland.

When reflecting on the work of Parker Pearson (1993), it could be suggested that the lack of cemeteries or discrete burials in the Mesolithic record inhibits, to some significant degree, our ability to interpret social organisation and social change during this period, as we cannot see how people articulate their relationships between themselves and the dead, or assess how “powerful” the dead are perceived to be by the living. Indeed, some researchers have suggested that cemeteries “are in fact our most important source of information on the lifeways of prehistoric people” (Jelsma 2000: 1). From an ethnographic perspective Evans-Pritchard (1976: 222) noted that when coping with death, the Zande (or Azande) believed in witchcraft, oracles and magic which link together as procedures and ideologies at death, suggesting that coping with death would also necessitate a series of ritual actions aimed at mediating what is, in fact, a complex situation. Given these observations, the lack of a skeletal inventory for the Mesolithic in Britain is clearly limiting.

However, the recent identification of human remains of earlier Mesolithic age from Greylake in the Somerset Levels, which is dated to ca. 8300 cal BC (Brunning 2013), and located only ca. 15 miles/ca. 24km to the south of Aveline’s Hole, may be extremely important in this context, as combined these two sites make up a significant proportion of Mesolithic burials in Britain, and they also appear to represent two discrete cemetery sites from this period. In contrast to Aveline’s Hole, the remains at Greylake, near Othery were found in 1928 in an open air location; a small island in the floodplain of the Somerset Levels (Brunning and Firth 2012: 19), as opposed to the “usual” cave finds for the Mesolithic period. It is suggested that the open air context of these finds may indicate that this was a small cemetery where at least ca. five individuals were interred. Brunning and Firth (2012: 21) argue that the association of a cemetery, dated to ca. 8500–8300 cal BC, with an earlier Mesolithic flint assemblage, may offer up a unique perspective in highlighting that, where cave sites were not available, the use of open air sites was “the norm”. To some degree the more recent analysis of “Tilbury Man”, Essex (Schulting 2013: 33) also begins to redress the imbalance, as it is suggested that this “deeply stratified” find (ca. 10m below the contemporary ground surface at the time of discovery) represents burial activities in a river valley setting. As such, the nature of this find may also offer some insights into the reasons behind the dearth of Mesolithic burials in Britain. As discussed below the finds from middens may require separate consideration in relation to ritual articulations at this time.

Chantal Conneller has recently listed the British sites containing skeletal remains from the Mesolithic in Britain (2009: 692). This list contained four sites from Somerset (Aveline’s Hole, Badger Hole, Gough’s Cave and Totty Pot), two caves from Devon (Kent’s Cavern and Oreston), Thatcham in Berkshire and Staythorpe in Nottinghamshire. The Welsh sites listed by Conneller include Ogof-yr-Ychen, Daylight Rock and Potter’s Cave on Caldey, Paviland and Worm’s Head, Gower, and Pontnewydd in Clwyd. The Oronsay middens of Cnoc Coig, Caisteal nan Gillean II and Priory midden are also included in this list. With the exception of Aveline’s Hole, which apparently had both articulated and disarticulated material in evidence (of 50–100 individuals according to Conneller 2009; although see discussion below), and the Gough’s Cave individual which was articulated (Fig. 6.1), the total number of individuals indicated by the disarticulated remains from the remaining sites represents only 26 discrete individuals. In addition to these, the fragmentary remains excavated by Schulting et al. (2013) increases this number by two, to 28. This is not a significant figure by any stretch of the imagination.

Recent reconsideration of the radiocarbon evidence for Mesolithic burials in Britain, undertaken by Meiklejohn et al. (2011), has identified six regional groupings of sites with Mesolithic skeletal material, comprising northwest Scotland, the Midlands, the Thames Valley, the Mendips and southwest England, and both south and north Wales. There are 17 sites with directly dated Mesolithic remains in Britain, and whilst a number of these are mentioned above (and in Tables 3.1, 3.2 and 5.2), additional directly dated sites listed by Meiklejohn et al. (2011) include Bower Farm Cave in Staffordshire (one adult individual of Mesolithic date) and Foxhole Cave in Derbyshire where the fragmentary remains of three adult individuals along with an adolescent (aged 11–14) and child (aged 8–11) were recovered. The latter site has two dates that potentially place it at the end of the Mesolithic and into the earliest Neolithic period, although Meiklejohn et al. (2011: 38–9) suggest that an earliest Neolithic age is perhaps more likely for this location.

Fig. 6.1: Reconstruction of the burial of a Mesolithic individual (dated to ca. 8700–7790 cal BC; Oxa-814 and BM-525) at Gough’s Cave (© author).

It is apparent that, when discussing burial activity during the Mesolithic period in Britain, irrespective of the biases that occur due to acidic soils or sea level rise, we should consider the probability that the lack of burials for this period is potentially more of an artefact of our inability to identify those locations in the landscape where Mesolithic people buried their dead than a real lacuna; perhaps the finds from Greylake and Tilbury will reinvigorate our search for these “cemeteries” or burial places. It is also fully acknowledged that, as noted by Conneller (2009: 691), disarticulation and/or the deliberate removal of skeletal elements are both significant biasing factors, and these practices are also, unfortunately, a ubiquitous aspect of Mesolithic burial rituals in Britain.

Ritual landscapes and embedded meaning

In addition to the current lack of skeletal remains, further biases are inherent in our understanding of the Mesolithic period due to the fact that we may never know the specific details of the non-material aspects of past human activity. Whilst burials afford us a glimpse of some of the mortuary rituals that were undertaken they cannot allow us to “see” other ritual elements, that may have included song and dance, prayer or music, or ritual observance of taboos relating to the cadaver etc. (Jelsma 2000: 2). Similarly, we will never know just how important a particular location in the Mesolithic landscape, marked for instance by an unusual rock formation (Bradley 2000: 6), the presence of mythical entities, or embedded memories, actually was to the hunter-fisher-forager groups of the time; simply because we can never know this level of landscape perception and enculturation by Mesolithic people in Britain (even with ethnographic analogies to offer insights into the possible ways that landscapes were perceived in the past).

As in the present day, Mesolithic individuals were treated differently at different times in their life, e.g. at birth or while pregnant, during puberty, marriage and death (Van Gennep 1960; David and Kramer 2001: 280), or at other socially/ritually determined times, and these “transitions”, or rites of passage, may be marked by special ceremonies and/or undertaken in segregated/defined locations in the landscape. Of course, the more visible of these transitions (for archaeologists) is usually the transition from being alive to being dead, but other transitions are equally significant and may be defined by criteria such as gender or age, amongst other factors.

Despite the limitations inherent in trying to make sense of the past lived experience (and we have discussed many limitations in preceding chapters), we can hopefully gain some appreciation of the possibilities and the potential levels of meaning that are imbued in prehistoric social-, task- and land-scapes through a considered approach to the archaeological, ethnographic and anthropological data relating to hunters-fisher-foragers (e.g. Lane 2008: 240–1; Zvelebil 2003; Jordan 2003a; 2003b). To some degree this approach is quite “traditional” in terms of studying the Mesolithic in Britain (and indeed the Mesolithic in general), but contra Cummings (2009: 7–10), the rationale behind the current volume is that it is embedded in the perspective that our studies of the past can only be contextualised by the use of analogy, whether this is “authorised” with ethnography, with the archaeological evidence from Scandinavia, or by comparison with other sites and regions in Europe; as long as we endeavour to exercise a degree of caution in our use of the available evidence.

Whilst many elements of Mesolithic activity are difficult to determine from the archaeological record, we can consider specific aspects from a theoretical perspective, e.g. the nature of boundaries (McCarthy 2008), particularly those between the living and the dead. We can also consider the mediation of the landscape of the living with that of the dead through the placement of burial locations and the associated burial rituals in evidence throughout Europe during the Mesolithic period. Obviously, given the nature of the British evidence outlined above, out of necessity we are forced to consider the “bigger picture” of Europe in order to generate meaningful narratives of the Mesolithic past in relation to aspects of ritual and socially bounded activity. Importantly, some insights into the potential significance of the dead is highlighted by the fact that cemeteries, defined as discrete areas that are set aside purely for burial, are in evidence from the earliest part of the Mesolithic in Britain (i.e. Aveline’s Hole, Burrington Combe, in Somerset: Schulting 2005), and even earlier in the rest of Europe, and that these locations can offer insights into the ritual treatment of the dead, and greater insights into palaeopathology, body processing and differential treatment related to age and gender etc. It is fully acknowledged that ritual and symbolic activity are not necessarily all pervasive (cf. Fahlander 2008), but the diversity that is evident in cultural actions reflects the fact that humans mediate their existence in myriad ways. Consequently, whilst “the dead body has no intentional powers” (ibid.: 30), different individuals and groups may imbue the deceased with varying levels of meaning, threat or power etc.; beyond the simple fact that the individual is dead. Fundamentally, as Fahlander (2008: 31) notes, there is no single approach to these myriad variations in ritual expression, and each study needs to be approached from a context specific perspective.

Whilst the British burial evidence is sparse there are a number of important locations elsewhere in Europe, including Skateholm I and II in southern Sweden, Zvejnieki, Latvia, Olenii Ostrov in Karelia, Vasilyevka I and III, Voloshkoe and Vasilyevka II in the Dnieper Rapids region of Ukraine, amongst others (Alexandersen 1988; Jacobs 1995; Larsson and Zagorska 2006; Telegin and Potekhina 1987) where substantial cemeteries have been studied. In some cases the location of these sites, such as the positioning of Olenii Ostrov on an island, or the location of the Dnieper Rapids cemeteries in places that may have been intended to demarcate ancestral rights of ownership to the rich fish resources at this location, suggest that these sites probably had significance beyond the “simple” functional aspect of burial (Bradley 2000; Lillie 2004).

We should also consider the probability that other landscape features, whilst ephemeral in nature, e.g. paths through the Mesolithic landscape, a sacred rock or a “spiritual” location, could conceivably have been important, or imbued with significance, due to associations with “cult” or ritualised activities. As a consequence, pathways could have been layered with meaning beyond their utilitarian function of getting from A to B (Bradley 2000: 6; Jordan 2003a), and similarly a rock outcrop or “spiritual” place could have been significant despite a total lack of obvious “utilitarian” function. There are even instances in the European Mesolithic where carved anthropomorphic figures suggest that “totem poles” (for want of a better descriptor) may have been used as route way or territorial markers, or alternatively these objects may even represent the ancestors or guardians of special places. The Shigir (or Shigirsky) Idol from the Trans-Urals region near Yekaterinburg (Fig. 6.2), which is dated to 7886–7498 cal BC, i.e. securely within the Early–Middle Mesolithic period, and which has been housed in the Sverdlovsk museum since its discovery in 1890, is an excellent example of such an object. This idol is ca. 5.3m in height when reconstructed, and it was carved from a single plank of larch; this fact alone attests an advanced woodworking capability for Mesolithic hunter-fisher-forager peoples at this early date (see also Conneller et al. 2012: 1009–10).

As noted by Lillie et al. (2005), the anthropomorphic elements that are carved into the Shigirsky idol comprise images of human faces, on both the obverse and reverse surfaces of the plank, with geometric ornament throughout (Fig. 6.2). Only the carved head of the idol has the characteristic oval shape and facial features of human form, with the remaining four representations of faces being formed using raised profiles for the nose and relief for the eyebrows. The idol was associated with over 3000 organic finds, all recovered from a peat bog located to the immediate south of the Severnaya Shuraly River, in central Russia, with the Urals to the west (Lillie et al. 2005). This idol and the associated finds; which include oars, sculptures of birds and snake figurines, wooden skis, arrow heads and fishing hooks, to name a few examples (for similar examples see Fig. 4.2 above), all further attest the potentially rich, and seldom preserved, nature of the organic part of the archaeological record for the Mesolithic period.

Fig. 6.2: The Shigirsky Idol, central Russia (after Lillie et al. 2005).

As this example demonstrates, and as has been mentioned elsewhere in this volume, the scarcity of waterlogged burial environments containing Mesolithic cultural remains in Britain severely limits our understanding of this part of the archaeological record for hunter-fisher-foragers in this period. Recently, the discovery of a carved wooden post dating to 6270 years ago, i.e. the later Mesolithic period, has been announced. This post was found during development for a wind farm at Maerdy, Rhondda Cynon Taf; it was discovered in a waterlogged peat deposit, and measured 1.7m in length. It is suggested that this find may have marked a tribal boundary, hunting ground or sacred site. If proven to be anthropogenically modified this would certainly qualify as an exceptional discovery for Wales, and given the constant reference to the need for targeted research into locations with precisely this sort of potential for the preservation of organic remains, this discovery clearly further reinforces the assertions made throughout the text so far.

Whilst the general lack of waterlogged preservation is limiting in relation to similar objects, the investigation of a total of five pits during the development of a car park at Stonehenge (1966 and 1988 work), and the analysis and dating of charcoal deposits from the pits, has led to the suggestion that posts were erected in four of these pits during the Mesolithic period. The environmental evidence indicated that they were located in an area of open, or recently cleared, pine and hazel woodland that was typical of earlier Holocene (Boreal) environments. Furthermore, it has been suggested that these pine posts were ca. 3m high, and could possibly have been “totem poles” or some other form of symbolic/ceremonial markers (Allen and Gardiner 2002: 143); it is not inconceivable to suggest that they were perhaps similar in “function” to the Shigirsky idol. Recalibration of the radiocarbon determinations presented in Allen and Gardiner (using IntCal09) produces a range of 8800–6650 cal BC (at 2σ) for the erection of these posts (with the majority of the dates calibrating to before 7000 cal BC), i.e. the earlier part of the Mesolithic period.

Intriguingly, Allen and Gardiner (2002) outline a number of locations in southern England, e.g. Strawberry Hill, Thickthorn Down, Boscombe and Hambledon Hill, where similar evidence of Mesolithic activity can be shown to exist, and where Neolithic monuments subsequently become established. Allen and Gardiner (ibid.: 148–9) go so far as to suggest that Mesolithic clearances around such sites may have resulted in long term, or even permanent, impacts on the local vegetation, such that these locations retained a level of difference that marked them out as sites that, in later periods, became imbued with ritual or sacred meaning.

For Wales, the identification and analysis of a series of between five and eight postholes outside the entrance to the Bryn Celli Du passage tomb on Anglesey is of some significance as this research has produced radiocarbon dates from two of the post-holes that indicate that they are Mesolithic in age (Burrow 2010: 255). The samples used to obtain these dates were from pine, pine bark and charcoal, and they calibrate to 5990–5730 cal BC (UB-68322; 6982±48 uncal BP and UB-6823; 6968±47 uncal BP). As noted by Burrow, these dates pre-date the construction of the Neolithic monument by some 3000 years, and they have no parallels in Wales (2010: 255). However, as the above discussion has hopefully shown, there are a number of sites in England that have similar activity, and these are locations where subsequently “permanent” monuments are constructed. The interpretation of the posts that were placed in these holes is fraught with difficulty, but again, as noted above the possibility that they were “totem poles”, or symbolic carvings like the Shigir Idol, cannot be discounted. Similarly, as suggested by Chatterton (2003: 75–6), when using analogies to the evidence from Stellmoor in Germany in order to interpret the material from Star Carr, it is entirely possible that deer skulls were placed on top of stakes driven into the deposits at the edge of the lake at sites like Star Carr. As such, the nature of the totems in use need not simply be carved poles, but they could conceivably relate to rituals and hunting magic. For instance, the Itenm’i of the Kamchatka Peninsula, northeastern Russia, followed each bear kill by venerating the skull, and “venerable wooden figures were placed at important subsistence locales” (Shnirelman 2002: 150). We might even suggest that the posts themselves could have functioned as symbolic trees, and that their placement in cleared habitation areas enabled the continuation of the ritual articulations that would normally be engaged in within the forest setting, thereby linking the wild to the “domesticated” to some degree. Veneration of the spirits of the animals that are processed at the kill- or settlement site may still have been necessary in order to ensure appeasement of the spirits of the forest; thereby guaranteeing continued success in hunting endeavours (see for example the discussion of the Evenki of eastern Eurasia by Anderson (2002); also see Jordan (2003a: 133) for similar observations regarding the Khanty). Beyond the embedded meaning in these features and activities, the fact that certain locations are often the focus of subsequent Neolithic activity suggests that, even if their original significance has been lost over time, these locations may still retain some of the attributes that originally made them important in the Mesolithic period.

Whilst the above examples all offer potential insights into the nature of Mesolithic “mindscapes” (cf. Allen and Gardiner 2002), it is perhaps easier, by contrast to explore the identification of more permanent, socially constructed landscape features, such as settlements, dwelling spaces and cemeteries, in order to offer alternative insights into group identity and memory (Zendeño 2008; Bonsall 2008). As might be anticipated, settlements, dwelling spaces and activity foci may be of particular significance in areas where the burial record is lacking. Consequently, as activity areas/features are often more visible for the Mesolithic in Britain, when compared to burial sites, they may (in future research) allow some assessment of the potential landscape routes that were travelled through and experienced (e.g. when modelled in a GIS package), along with providing insights into the construction and maintenance of social and ritual space.

We might anticipate that the identification of settlements, routeways and “persistent places” in the Mesolithic landscape could eventually lead to the recognition of those areas where burial sites could be “anticipated”. Furthermore, they may also offer inroads into the nature of the socio-political and ritual aspects of daily life in the Mesolithic. In reality, divorcing (dichotomising) social and ritual spaces is not necessarily a realistic way to approach the past as it is evident that ritual and symbolic behaviour was intertwined in everyday activity, to the point where it may well have been engaged with both consciously and subconsciously at a number of levels. This potential is particularly visible at sites such as Skateholm on the southern Swedish (Baltic) coast and Vedbæk on the Danish Øresund coast (Larsson 1988; Albrethsen and Brinch Petersen 1977), where, at both locations, settlement activity occurred alongside burial activity in the day-to-day articulation of socioeconomic and ritual aspects of life for the Mesolithic inhabitants (these are discussed in more detail below). Of course, in this context for Britain we do have some indications of structured/ritualised deposition at sites like Star Carr in England (Pollard 2000), and the Nab Head in Dyfed, southwest Wales (David 1990; 2007; David and Walker 2004) that are not (obviously) linked to any form of burial activity. However, given the extensive evidence at Star Carr for structures such as the substantial “platform” “spanning at least 30m of the lake-edge wetlands” (Conneller et al. 2012: 1012), and the dryland structure identified in 2007 and 2008, it seems unlikely that such communal “monumental-scale” structures (ibid.: 1016), ritualised activity and the sense of place that these features must have imbued, did not result in the construction of a space for the dead, i.e. a cemetery.

Landscapes and landscape perception

Referring back to the work of Davies et al. (2005; discussed in Chapter 2), and considering the nature of the archaeological evidence for humans in the landscape (Chapters 3–5), we can perhaps begin to think about the ways in which Mesolithic people were “static” within, engaged with, and moved through the landscape; with the notion that movement would not necessarily have been random, but prescribed to some degree. Tilley (1994: 202) has suggested that “ancestral connections between living populations and the past were embodied in the ‘Being’ of the landscape and an emotional attachment to place”, with paths being seen as foci for repeated activities linked to a “series of known, named and significant places”. However, it is potentially more difficult to determine whether, as suggested by Davies et al. (2005: 284), the establishment of paths was dictated by a fear of the unknown, of wild animals or spiritual entities, or whether paths simply functioned purely to avoid getting lost (Mears 2010: 29), or to avoid a range of potential hazards (Fig. 6.3). Again the secular and spiritual are not always easily separated.

Pathways may well have allowed for “safe” movement through a landscape that was populated by various spirits (of the forest or coast, or even the ancestors), gods, or other entities, but paths, once established, also functioned as attractors to people in their daily activities, effectively constraining (or channelling) movement and acting as a focal point against the “wilderness” and “unknown” areas in the landscape. Undoubtedly, a number of these considerations could interlink to make a routeway more (or less) permanent in the Mesolithic landscape/mindscape, and the path/routeways would/could link a range of places with a variety of meanings, from the secular to spiritual or social, economic and political (e.g. Cummings 2000: 88).

Tilley (1994: 203) has asserted that Neolithic monuments “‘anchored’ place such that the landscape was understood in relation to the setting of monuments”, as opposed to the scenario during the Mesolithic, wherein place was understood in relation to the landscape. However, this suggestion might overstress the importance of artificial constructions over landscape features, as “permanence” and “place” cannot (surely) have a more fundamental time depth than in the natural setting of a mountain, a rock outcrop or other landscape feature, e.g. the bare porphyritic cliff of Treskavec which sits opposite the Mesolithic site of Lepenski Vir, on the left bank of the Danube. At Lepenski Vir this landscape feature may well have influenced perceptions of “place” and in the case of settlement architecture it also clearly influenced hut design (these were trapezoidal like the cliff face) at this location during both the Mesolithic and Neolithic, albeit in a context where subsistence strategies remain orientated around fishing and hunting across the two periods (Srejović 1972; Borić 2002: 1037).

Fig. 6.3: A pathway to the water’s edge at Lake Svarzenberk in the Czech Republic; the path was established by the author during fieldwork with Marek Zvelebil in 2010. Broken branches and trampled grasses mark a safe path to the water’s edge, avoiding deeper pools in the peaty, terrestrialising lake margin deposits; in this instance the broken branches also avoid an earlier, deep archaeological excavation which is hidden from view by the grasses to the left of the trees on the right side of the picture. This image highlights the ephemeral nature of a pathway that affords safe passage and leads to a freshwater lake margin where a number of resources could be obtained (© author).

Monuments are by definition artificial and constructed, and articulated in the landscape through their positioning in relation to more permanent landscape features (e.g. Tilley 1994). Neolithic monuments only gain “permanence” over time, and through association with place, and to some degree it could even be suggested that chambered tombs are simply substituting for caves in areas where caves are not present? Whilst these structures can obviously become integral landscape features, to suggest that anthropogenic structures have greater resonance in relation to human understanding of landscape than the features of the landscape itself negates the fact that they are additional to, as opposed to replacements of, embedded landscape elements. Whilst there might be some circularity in this argument, this viewpoint perhaps reflects the differences in research perspectives between individuals whose focus is on “farmers” as opposed to those who study hunter-fisher-forager groups, and we could even argue that we might also be seeing elements of the modern urban city-scapes versus rural landscapes dichotomy being applied to the past (i.e. Neolithic = civilised and Mesolithic = wild).

There are of course limitations in our conception of all aspects of Mesolithic (even prehistoric) cosmology and belief systems, let alone something that is as seemingly intangible as paths/routeways through the Mesolithic landscape (Warren 2005: 73). However, as Tilley (1994) has eloquently argued, site location may well have been entwined with both resources and landscape features, with the latter being imbued with symbolic significance through the naming of special places; thereby moving settlement locations beyond purely functional considerations, and by extension, the ways through the landscape may well have been important beyond the simple fact that they facilitated movement. In support of this observation, Cummings (2000: 90) has suggested that people’s choice in relation to settlement was “also heavily influenced by ideology and ritual practice”, and we can envisage a situation wherein certain routes may have had significant ritual/spiritual significance, whilst others were perhaps more “mundane” in their meaning. Again though it is important to realise that seasonal changes would potentially influence an individual’s perception of the routeways that they used, and any path through the landscape could be imbued with meaning due to the “history”, memory or meaning that was related to it (Warren 2005), and equally the meanings would not necessarily be universal, or universally acknowledged.

Whilst any number of the above considerations could overtly influence the establishment and continued use of paths between “sites” (i.e. settlements, activity areas, collecting or hunting grounds, ritual or symbolic locations etc.), new paths could be followed or established purely out of curiosity, because of ease of access, a sense of adventure, or simply while tracking an animal through the forest along an established animal migration/foraging route, or even whilst foraging for gathered resources. In the present, we constantly seek “shortcuts” across areas of designated/structured spaces; humans have a tendency towards taking the most expedient path (in most things), and there is nothing more tempting than a “Keep Off The Grass” sign!

In this context a natural clearing (perhaps created by a wind throw) could become a focus of activity as a result of various aesthetical attributes (i.e. an opening in the forest canopy allowing a light airy space to relax in the warmth of the sun and prepare or repair hunting gear, and have a snack or a chat about the plan for the rest of the day’s hunting and gathering activities) as opposed to more structured/practical considerations. Ultimately this space may gain currency during later hunting and gathering activities, and subsequently become a focal point along a pathway through a wooded area.

By contrast, the deliberate manipulation of embedded cosmological and/or belief systems by an astute individual or group could serve to disrupt the common ideological code of the group, such that the diversion of a path/routeway away from one particularly significant location towards a setting of divergent symbolic meaning or significance, could serve to re-orientate the group consciousness. Referring back to the present, the “short cuts” that people follow away from designated routeways are often imbued with a “rebellious streak” or a reaction against societies rules, in effect, a disruption of the common ideological, socially constrained, code of the group. If pathways are imbued with symbolic power or meaning, a seemingly “rebellious” or “daring” divergence might initially be seen to be of only limited significance, even amusing, but the shift in the balance of power that is potentially put in place by such actions could conceivably lead to a significant reorientation of the “natural” (socially prescribed) order of the group, if left unchecked.

The possibilities are numerous in all respects; paths, clearings, preferred and constructed social spaces/places, symbolic locations etc. are all embedded in Mesolithic land-use, landscapes and mindscapes. The rationale behind their establishment, continued use/maintenance and/or abandonment will be dependent upon perceived value in socioeconomic, political, ritual, symbolic, practical and even aesthetic terms, and/or even by individual choice. These elements will be considered as we move through the evidence for ritual and its role in everyday life during the Mesolithic period in the pages that follow, but we must again return to the situation that persisted across the Mesolithic, wherein sea levels were rising throughout the earlier part of this period, and many earlier sites could potentially have been located in differing environments or settings to those of the later Mesolithic. This is entirely possible as the hinterland between the coast and the inland/upland zone would have been of much greater extent in some regions in earlier periods, and subsistence strategies may have differed in their composition across the earlier to later Mesolithic periods as the environmental zones shifted. In this context, we once more need to recall that numerous earlier Mesolithic sites will now be located below modern sea level. Again, our understanding of earlier Mesolithic lifeways is severely limited due to the lack of contemporary lowland/coastal landscapes and the associated settlement, cemetery, activity and ritual/spiritual contexts that would have characterised these environments around the coasts of Wales. It is even possible that the rhythms of daily life were disrupted by changing sea levels and changes in vegetation, as the discussion in Chapter 4 has suggested, perhaps to the extent that movement through the landscape could have been curtailed by significant periods of both marine and freshwater transgressions.

As noted by Cummings (2000: 91) many sites were clearly located in relation to available resources, e.g. at the coast, whilst also most likely having a range of other “meanings”, but, the specific meaning and the rationale for repeated visits to certain locations is difficult to assess, even with reference to the ethnographic record. These difficulties are clearly compounded by the fact that certain “coastal” locations in the present will potentially have been some distance from the coast in the earlier part of the Mesolithic period, and vistas would have changed as we moved through the Mesolithic, with a “dense” forest canopy influencing landscape perception into the later Mesolithic, especially as the forest canopy expanded to higher altitudes as the climate ameliorated. The meaning imbued in space and place during the Mesolithic will undoubtedly have changed over time, both as landscapes changed, but also as group ideology changed.

The fact is that locations “similar” to those embedded in the Khanty spiritual world (Jordan 2003a; 2003b) would most likely have existed within Mesolithic landscapes in Britain. Whilst in many cases their precise identification may be difficult to determine in the present, the acknowledgment that such special places existed should allow modern researchers the opportunity to recognise the potential for such locations and perhaps even allow us to begin to predict where they would/could have occurred in the past. This is made more viable when the mapping of site locations provides insights into significant and possibly ritually meaningful landscape characteristics; for instance as the colourful rock outcrops of the west Welsh coast at locations such as Cwm Bach, the Nab Head, Porth y Rhaw and Swanlake, (as discussed by Cummings 2000: 92), might imply.

This suggestion has considerable resonance to the situation pertaining at Lepenski Vir in the Danube region, as mentioned above, where Srejović (1972: 33–4) notes that “the spot chosen for building the settlement was clearly the most suitable in the area; on the southern and northern sides it was bordered by low crests of dark red porphyry”, and “above Lepenski Vir itself, sediments formed during the Jurassic and Calcareous period are exposed: grey-green sandstone, reddish limestone and bluish-grey marl” and a little further on “the waters have laid bare Palaeozoic schists, granite, serpentine and gabbro, as well as Permian formations of porphyrite and red sandstone”. Finally, Srejović states that “when the water level is low, the Danube leaves behind on the bank a brilliant polychromatic mosaic of ores and minerals brought down by the swift flowing tributaries from the mountainous hinterland” (ibid.: 34). The descriptions of the landscape setting of one of the most iconic Mesolithic hunter-fisher-forager settlements in Europe has clear resonance to the hypothesised significance of rock outcrops as alluded to by the work of Cummings (2000). These observations may well help to further facilitate a more nuanced approach to landscape setting and settlement context in the British Mesolithic.

Furthermore the use of ethnography, and examples such as Jordan’s insights into the Khanty’s complex landscape interactions in relation to the spirit world (outlined above), allows us the potential to be more “open” to the recognition of locations that could have been sacred in the past, i.e. beyond the sites that we currently recognise through the archaeological record. This example from Jordan’s research touches on only one or two aspects of Khanty ritual life, but in doing so it highlights the myriad possibilities that may be inherent in Mesolithic cosmology and ideological structuring principles. A word of caution is probably warranted at this point (although this has been raised previously); we must always remain mindful of the fact that, when discussing the archaeological use of ethnographic data at the “Man the Hunter” conference in 1968, Lewis Binford emphasised the limitations of both disciplines, and in particular the lack of time depth afforded by ethnography, and also the fact that the use of ethnographic examples by archaeologists to develop explanatory postulates “must be undertaken with caution” (Binford 2009: 268).

Landscapes of the living – landscapes of the dead

It is particularly unfortunate that, at present, we have relatively little evidence for the treatment of the dead in Britain during the Mesolithic, as one other interesting aspect of Jordan’s research is his treatment of Khanty belief systems in relation to the dead. The Khanty believe that in addition to sacred settlements, cemeteries themselves represent settlements of the dead as the souls of the deceased are believed to live on after death (Jordan 2003b: 32; see also Parker Pearson 1993: 204). Interestingly, pathways are important in relation to remembrance feasts that are held at the cemeteries, as after honouring the dead the Khanty symbolically close the path that was used to access the cemetery with felled saplings, in order to ensure that any unsettled souls do not wander into the community of the living at night (Jordan 2003b). As saplings would represent new life and the living world, presumably their placement across the pathway would act as a barrier to the movement of spirits and entities from the land of the dead into the land of the living, thus the liminal zone is symbolically “closed off”.

The above example suggests that during the Mesolithic period it is entirely feasible to suppose that the movement of the living between cemetery areas or primary burial contexts could have incorporated a range of taboos and/or rituals. Similar meaning may have been enacted in relation to the appeasement of the ancestors, with the placement of the dead in cemeteries engendering a sense of belonging, stability and identity for the living (and possibly the dead), whilst also potentially allowing avoidance of conflict between the world of the living and that of the dead.

Ethnography clearly indicates that our perception of Mesolithic human–landscape interactions, especially the ritualised articulations that were most likely enacted during the daily round, needs to be approached from the perspective that, as our own choices in the present have multiple influences, so too did those of people in the Mesolithic. In the present day many “superstitions” have a practical element, e.g. walking under ladders can result in an individual being injured if a workman drops his tin of paint or tools, and as such the idea that it is unlucky to walk under a ladder has an obvious practical connotation; admittedly other superstitions are less easy to resolve but in general it appears that taboos (or superstitions) will often have practical as well as ritual undertones.

We obviously need to acknowledge that the formation of landscape is potentially (or very likely) a complex process, or set of processes, which intertwine with natural and socially structured principles (see for example Zendeño 2008). These processes have a beginning, a history of use, whether as a single event (of varying duration) or as multiple/repeat episodic activity, and an end; the processes are cumulative, varied and often socially mediated. Whilst this may be more tangible in subsequent periods of prehistory, there is little doubt that it applies to the Mesolithic period, as is evident at sites such as Thatcham in Berkshire, Star Carr in Yorkshire and the Nab Head in Pembrokeshire. All we need to do is to identify the factors that would have served to create Mesolithic landscapes and/or mindscapes in the archaeological record of hunter-fisher-foragers (Zvelebil 2003; 2008). Unfortunately, “All we need to do” is an ambitious task, for as noted by Jordan (2003b: 27), there has been relatively little research into the ways in which hunter-fisher-foragers either venerated or transformed their landscape.

Given the inherent difficulties outlined above, it is perhaps prudent for archaeologists who study the Mesolithic to continue to make use of ethnographic analogy when attempting to illustrate the arenas of past ideology, cosmology and symbolic constructs, irrespective of the inherent limitations that exist. This is especially pertinent as Zvelebil (2008: 42) suggests that ideology “must have been fundamental in specifying the nature of social relations … and in encoding subsistence strategies with social meaning”.

In relation to the socially structured aspects of Mesolithic landscape interactions, as early as 1990 Lars Larsson highlighted both the exceptional preservation conditions that occur in southern Scandinavia and the potential that this preservation had in informing our understanding of social practice and landscape interactions in this period (Larsson 1990b). This preservation is particularly important due to the wealth of sites and finds in evidence, and also due to the frequency of lakes in the post-glacial period in Scandinavia, which produced an environment that was particularly attractive to hunter-fisher-foragers. As has been noted above in the discussion of the Volga Basin sites excavated by Mikhail Zhilin, the combination of locations and resources that were attractive for settlement, and the specific environmental context of sites that were located on the margins of infilling lakes, riparian, estuarine or coastal zones, produces a situation wherein preservation of organic remains is particularly rich and where this preservation enhances and compliments the information that is generated from “dryland” locations. Finds of sites in these “watery” or waterlogged contexts are currently lacking for Wales in general, and elsewhere in Britain the general paucity of sites with an organic component clearly highlights a need for targeted and well thought out research agendas.

This is emphasised by the fact that at earlier Mesolithic sites like Ulkestrup and Duvensee 13 in Scandinavia, both located inland from the coast, the enhanced organic preservation afforded by waterlogged burial conditions has produced material culture evidence that includes the wall posts and the bark floors of hut structures, along with preservation of bone, antler and wooden artefacts (Larsson 1990b: 276). The distribution of hearths and clusters of artefacts also provide an indication of the spatial structuring of social (and ritual?) spaces within these dwellings. However, despite this wealth of evidence at inland locations, it is perhaps the later Mesolithic coastal sites that provide the most important insights into the ritual aspects of Mesolithic lifeways in southern Scandinavia (Larsson 2004).

At a number of Scandinavian coastal sites we have evidence for the waste material (middens) that was dumped along the shore, we also have dugout canoes (up to 10m in length) that were grounded on the beach, fish traps that were constructed near settlements, and pits, houses and hearths that are found on the contemporary beach, with graves being located above these (Larsson 1990b: 279–80). At Tågerup the evidence indicates that burials were located close to the dwelling areas and in some cases these were even placed inside the houses (Karsten 2004: 108). Along with the cemeteries (discussed below), Larsson has reported that structures used for ritual purposes, and assemblages of material for “special” activities, are in evidence (1990b: 280; 2000: 91). Since 1975 cemeteries such as Bøgebakken on the eastern coast of Zealand, and the three adjacent cemeteries at Skateholm in southern Scania, have all confirmed the association of cemeteries to settlement sites during the Ertebølle period. In this context cemeteries are defined as discrete areas that are set aside purely for the interment of the dead in defined grave contexts (see Meiklejohn et al. 2009; Meiklejohn and Babb 2009). The evidence indicates that a considerable degree of heterogeneity occurs in relation to burial and the orientation of the dead during the Mesolithic period in Scandinavia, with cremations also occurring at this time.

During this period numerous artefact associations occur in burials throughout Europe, with deer and fish tooth necklaces, bracelets and decorations on clothing and other items, such as amber and shell objects, lithics and other stone and bone objects all attested in the rich artefact inventories that accompanied burials (e.g. Larsson 1990b; 2004; Zagorska and Larsson 1994; Lillie 1998; Midgley 2005). The inclusion of ochre (possibly representative of fire for the afterlife, or rebirth), reinforces the suggestion that hunter-fisher-foragers did not see death as the final stage in an individual’s “existence”. In addition, dog burials have been found with associated grave goods in Scandinavian cemeteries (Larsson 1990b: 284–5), perhaps reflecting the perceived social significance of these animals during the Mesolithic period; this probably relates to the fact that dogs would have acted as guardians of the camp, hunting assistants, companions, and in lean times they would have been an easy to procure food resource (and source for furs and bone for tool production etc.).

At Skateholm the interment of eight dogs (Larsson 2000: 90–2) appears to allow insights into “stratification” in relation to the significance of the animals that were interred, as an individually interred dog at Skateholm II had grave goods that included a red deer antler laid along the spine and three flint blades in the hip region. These artefacts were placed with the same structuring principles as are found in male burials, and a decorated antler hammer was also placed at the chest of the dog; this latter object is unique in terms of grave goods at Skateholm (ibid.: 91). Dogs also had red ochre in their burials in the same way that humans did. The structuring principles in evidence would certainly appear to suggest some form of significance, however, Fahlander (2008) has questioned the suggested meanings, and the observations (by a number of researchers) that dog burials may represent substitutions for human bodies lost at sea, symbolic representations of shape-shifters or shamans, or symbolic watchdogs. Instead, Fahlander has suggested that dogs were potentially simply “dear members of the household” and were buried as low status individuals (2008: 36), although the Stakeholm II example would not appear to represent a low status interment. Whatever the meanings embedded in these burials, it is clear that a substantial investment is made in recognising the loss of these animals.

Of considerable interest in burial ritual during the Mesolithic period is the occurrence of human body parts that appear to have been kept in dwellings following the deliberate dismemberment of the individual, as indicated by the burials at Skateholm (ibid.: 285), and Ageröd I: HC (Larsson et al. 1981). A similar situation occurs in southern Belgium, where Cauwe (2001) has assessed the nature of collective burial in the caves of Grotte Margaux and Abri des Autours in the Meuse Valley. At these sites secondary burial appear to have been practiced, and skeletal elements are missing from the interments. Interestingly, it is suggested that only adult females, ca. ten or 11 individuals, were interred at Grotte Margaux, whilst at the Abri des Autours a single inhumation of a woman and a collective burial of at least five adults (both males and females) and six children (aged between 2 and >15 years) are reported. The suggested removal of body parts and differential treatment of the dead indicates that the funerary rituals that were being employed were both “systematic and complex” (Cauwe 2001: 157).

The structured deposition and removal of skeletal elements occurring in the Mesolithic throughout Europe has resonance with Neolithic activity in both Scandinavia and Britain (Whittle 2009: 91), and may reflect a long tradition of ritual structuring related to the ancestors, that evidently has its origins in the Mesolithic period. The identification of secondary burial and the discrete emplacement of skeletal elements have also been suggested as being a characteristic of British Mesolithic mortuary practices (Conneller 2009: 690). The rationale behind the movement of skeletal elements between primary and secondary sites of interment may relate to factors such as a desire to keep the ancestors included in the daily lives of the inhabitants at a particular site, furthermore, the ancestors may also instil a sense of “place” or “belonging”, and their integration may also have served to prevent the angering of the ancestors. Fahlander (2008: 38) hypothesises that other interpretations can be suggested e.g. “an act of aggression towards the previously dead” or an act intended to ensure that the “dead individual is refused serenity in the afterlife because the grave has been destroyed or the bodily remains have been disturbed”.

This observation resonates with earlier research into the nature and evidence for interpersonal violence in the Dnieper Rapids region of Ukraine (Lillie 2004), where a number of interments in the earlier Mesolithic (or Epipalaeolithic) cemeteries of Voloshkoe and Vasilyevka I and III have evidence for the removal of body parts prior to interment. At Voloshkoe, individual 5 appears to have had his hands cut off prior to interment, whilst individual 16 at this cemetery appeared to be disarticulated, and to have had the right hand and adjoining long bones cut off prior to burial. A third individual (number 15) had the hands and both legs below the knee missing (Lillie 2004: 91, citing Danilenko 1955). Balakin and Nuzhinyi (1995) have suggested that this sort of “ritual” dismemberment may be interpreted as an attempt to inhibit the passage of the deceased into the afterlife, although an obvious additional possibility is that this sort of “aggression” may also serve to prevent the interred individuals from hunting in the afterlife, thereby effectively “killing” them twice.

In Sweden, 87 of the graves dating to the Mesolithic period have been recovered from Skateholm I (65 graves) and II, which are dated to the early part of the Ertebølle culture at ca. 5600–4800 cal BC (Karsten 2004: 130); by contrast only two graves have been securely dated to the earlier Kongemose culture (ibid.: 108). Within these cemeteries both cremation and inhumation burials are in evidence, and there are also the dog burials mentioned above. In some examples there is evidence to suggest that the graves were reopened, after an indeterminate period of time, and that body parts or skeletal elements were being removed, and/or that new bodies were being buried (ibid.: 130; see also Nilsson Stutz 2010: 38 and discussion below). It has been suggested that in order for the graves to have been accessible in this way, some sort of grave marker, made of stone or earth, a wooden platform or even a “totem” pole (see discussions above), may have been used (Karsten 2004), and that these markers were probably used in both the Kongemose (Early Mesolithic) and Ertebølle (later Mesolithic) periods.

Recent studies undertaken by Liv Nilsson Stutz, using the anthropologie “de terrain” approach (Duday 2006) to understand burial context (combining knowledge of decomposition processes with detailed field observations based on physical, anthropological and archaeological knowledge), have significantly enhanced our interpretations of Mesolithic burial practices (e.g. Nilsson 1998; Nilsson Stutz 2003; 2009; 2010), particularly in terms of the ways in which the dead individual can inform us about fundamental cultural and social concerns, the control of which is imposed on the cadaver by the survivors (Nilsson Stutz 2010: 33 and 35). An important set of observations made by Nilsson Stutz are that: “the ritual redefinition of the dead body, which often involves an idea of separation between the physical remains and the spirit, soul, or memory of the dead, allows the mourners to separate from the dead, and at the same time, structure an acceptance of death” (2010: 35); to paraphrase Nilsson Stutz further, the rituals surrounding death and burial are effectively a way for the living to cope with cadavers (2009: 657).

Nilsson Stutz’s research at Skateholm (Southern Sweden), Vedbæk/Bøgebakken (Eastern Denmark) and Zvejnieki (Northern Latvia) has approached the burials from the perspective of the ritualised practices that relate to the treatment of the corpse. In these treatments Nilsson Stutz sees mortuary ritual as a means of “renegotiation” of the corpse through the liminal phase between “being alive” and “being dead” or “the redefinition of the cadaver from abject into an object of death” (2009: 658). In her analysis of the burial practices at Skateholm and Vedbæk/Bøgebakken Nilsson Stutz has noted that individual primary burial, placed on the back and with limbs extended, dominated (although greater variability in positioning occurred at both Skateholm I and II), and burial goods and/or ochre were often included in the grave. In addition to this Nilsson Stutz was also able to establish that, in a couple of instances, the individual was placed on a wooden platform, or wrapped in a softer material (possibly hide or bark) (ibid.: 659; 2003), and that the graves were immediately filled.

The deliberate removal of human skeletal elements at Skateholm is interpreted by Lars Larsson as indicating that the deceased had a symbolic function, even if only in partial form, in the land of the living (Larsson 2000: 87), and Nilsson Stutz (2010: 38) suggests that “perhaps we see a precursor here of the extensive manipulation of human remains that we have come to expect during the practices of periods to follow in the region, including the Neolithic Funnel Beaker culture”. This latter observation links back to earlier discussions about the meaning of the skeletal elements found at midden sites in British contexts, where the inclusion of smaller elements or fragmentary skeletal material may represent a symbolic act of inclusion (of the spirits of the ancestors) in daily life, and wherein the ancestors may also be granting similar rights of access at such locations to those that were conferred at the more permanent cemetery sites. If this is a realistic interpretation of the evidence we can probably extend the data from the British middens to suggest that cemeteries, or formal disposal areas, which may well have been marked in a similar manner to the Scandinavian burials, must have existed in order for Mesolithic people to obtain the skeletal elements of their ancestors for inclusion in these (e.g. midden) contexts.

Further insights into the ritual treatment of the dead and the processing of the body are highlighted by the work of Toussaint (2011) who has analysing the material for the Margaux Cave in Belgium (discussed above). This site has produced the remains of 7–10 adult females, with one skull (CR3) having evidence for cutmarks. These marks were recorded on both zygomatic processes, the frontal squama, along the two coronal sutures and on the left part of the posterior cranium (Toussaint 2011: 100). The cutmarks have been interpreted as representing the removal of the mandible and the scalp as part of the mortuary ritual, i.e. processing of the dead. The patterning of the cutmarks on the cranial vault suggest that the scalp was divided into three segments for removal peri-mortem (occurring at a point after death), whilst the marks on the zygomatic processes and the inferior edge of the mandibular fossa relate to the removal of the mandible (ibid.: 103). Toussant notes that this evidence is unique in a European Mesolithic context, and that the evidence indicates that these activities were related to some form of funerary practice (ibid.: 106).

As the above discussion has suggested, ritual articulations, ritual space and the construction of the landscape can be complex and mediated to a considerable degree by the “social and symbolic dimensions of the material culture and inhabited space”, such that “a complex hierarchical network of sacred sites” may occur in a groups territory (Jordan 2003b: 28). The evidence from Britain will be considered below, and whilst the evidence from Wales forms the backdrop to the discussion, the paucity of skeletal material from Wales necessitates a wider reading of the literature in order to illustrate the potential of human skeletal remains to inform us about Mesolithic lifeways and the treatment of the dead. The wider context is considered out of necessity, for as noted by Conneller (2009: 690), there are only 18 locations in Britain that have produced human remains for the Mesolithic period, and in Wales only Daylight Rock, Potter’s Cave and Ogof-yr-Ychen on Caldey, Paviland (Goat’s Hole) and Worm’s Head, Gower, and Pontnewydd, Clwyd, have produced evidence for human remains of Mesolithic date. In addition to these sites, Foxhole Cave, Paviland, also has material that has been dated to the Mesolithic period (Meiklejohn et al. 2011), whilst Nanna’s Cave and Ogof-yr-Benlog remain to be dated in absolute terms (Schulting and Richards 2000, Schutling 2009) (see Table 5.2).

Life, death and burial

Approaches to burial in the Mesolithic throughout Europe vary considerably, and include both multiple and single inhumations and cremations, burials in caves, rock shelters and open air cemeteries, ossuaries and skull nests, variability in terms of the completeness of the burials, the placement of skeletal elements in middens and on settlement sites, and in addition, variations in the age range of the individuals interred at these sites (Ahlström 2003; Brinch Petersen and Meiklejohn 2003; Larsson et al. 1981; Lillie 1998; 2008; Meiklejohn 2009; Meiklejohn and Babb 2009; Meiklejohn et al. 2009; 2011; Nilsson Stutz 2003; Schulting 2003; Toussaint 2011). It is clear from the literature that varying approaches to, and the manipulation of, human remains is a recurrent aspect of mortuary rituals throughout Mesolithic Europe, and these traditions clearly continue into the subsequent Neolithic period (Whittle 2009).

Unlike the extensive record that exists in parts of Europe, both for Mesolithic cemeteries and individual burials, the examples of “burials” in Britain are rare, fragmentary and difficult to interpret (cf. Conneller 2009). Indeed, Meiklejohn et al. (2009: 646–9) listed only four British sites; Aveline’s Hole, Gough’s (new) Cave and Totty Pot, Somerset and Ogof-yr-Ychen in Wales, out of 118 European burial sites, in their assessment of chronology in Mesolithic burial practices (stray finds were excluded from this study). Further issues exist, as noted by Warren (2007), in that even contexts that were thought to provide relatively secure associations, i.e. the Scottish midden (rubbish tip) sites, are now in need of reconsideration in light of new dating and the lack of other burial locations with which to contextualise the material in the middens. However, as noted by Pollard (2011: 389), there are examples of single bones or groups of bone apparently deliberately placed in Mesolithic midden environments at Ferriter’s Cove, Rockmarshall, and Killuragh Cave in Ireland, that mirror the practices seen in Scotland. As such, there may be some potential for a comparative study of these locations i.e. between the sites in Scotland and Ireland.

In general, with the inclusion of Greylake, we currently have evidence for cave burials, cemeteries, and middens in the British record, along with fragmentary remains, and it can surely only be a matter of time before we locate further burial contexts, including cremations and individual burials, as well as more cemeteries, that are dated to the Mesolithic period, as the Tilbury and Staythorpe examples (discussed above) might suggest.

Whilst we will return to the midden sites at the end of this section it is perhaps more fruitful to first consider the other lines of evidence that we have for burial in British contexts during the Mesolithic. Returning directly to Wales, there is limited evidence for human remains available from the cave sites that we discussed in Chapters 1 and 2. In this context Richards (2000: 75), reporting on the isotope analysis of human remains from Paviland and Foxhole Caves, has shown that the evidence from Foxhole Cave, which is dated to 5730–5560 cal BC, is only represented by a single dated human tooth, which has isotope values that do not indicate any significant contribution of marine protein to the diet (δ¹³C of –20‰ and δ¹⁵N of 11.3‰). This is important as variation in diet suggests (perhaps unsurprisingly given the evidence from elsewhere in Europe) that both inland and coastal locations were exploited during the Mesolithic period in Wales, and as such we should anticipate the potential for the recovery of burials in contexts at inland locations. Some caution is warranted with the results from Foxhole though as Richards (2000) notes that this analysis was undertaken on an adult canine, a tooth that forms during childhood, and as such the evidence for diet could conceivably be a “false” or residual childhood dietary signature as opposed to the actual diet consumed in adulthood.

Irrespective of this observation, the fact that terrestrial as opposed to marine diets are indicated still suggests that there is the potential for residence sites, and associated burial locations, in contexts away from the coast. The problem highlighted by this example is that even where we have “some” (admittedly extremely limited) human skeletal remains to study, the elements available are not always “fit for purpose”, and even where direct dating and stable isotope analysis is undertaken, the degree of completeness and the skeletal element represented, all influence the level of information that can be generated. As noted in Chapter 5, stable isotope analysis of human bone collagen is only significant in relation to the protein component of the diet in the last ca. 10 years of an individual’s life, and it does not indicate the nature of the carbohydrates and lipids that were consumed (Schulting and Richards 2000). So, ultimately, it is apparent that we need to develop a research agenda for Britain that is designed to identify optimum locations for settlement and burial, and perhaps consider the fact that previous excavation strategies have resulted in only the partial analysis of sites such as the Nab Head and Thatcham, and that a number of sites warrant reinvestigation, particularly where such an approach is viable (as is the case at Star Carr).

For Mesolithic Britain in general, Jacobi (1987: 165–6) noted that the only “formal disposal area” for human remains occurs at Aveline’s Hole, Burrington Combe, on the north side of Mendip, where in 1805, nearly 50 “perfectly preserved” skeletons were reported as lying parallel to each other (the site was originally discovered in 1797); this observation has obviously been modified with the recent work at Greylake (discussed above). The dates for the Aveline’s Hole burials match those for “Cheddar Man”, an isolated inhumation of a male in the vestibule of Gough’s Cave (ibid.: 166; Fig. 6.1 above). Recent re-analysis of the surviving human remains from Aveline’s Hole (Schulting and Wysocki 2002; Schulting 2005), has shown that the partial remains of at least 21 individuals survived a bombing raid on Bristol in World War II, making this the only surviving material from this location. The preserved skeletal remains comprise material from adult males and females along with the remains of a number of children and infants. AMS and conventional radiocarbon dating of five individuals from Aveline’s Hole have shown this site to be early Mesolithic in age. The dates cluster around 9000 uncal BP, calibrated to 8460–8140 cal BC, and Schulting (2005: 171) suggests that activity at this site may have been concentrated within a period of only 70–180 years (i.e. 2–3 or up to 7 or 8 generations). Schulting and Wysocki (2002: 258) report that at least 15, and probably 16, adults of both sexes are currently attested, although in the subsequent (2005) paper (p. 192) Schulting adds “or adolescents” after adults, i.e. individuals that are not yet classed as adult in terms of their skeletal development; the estimate is based on proximal left ulnae. The probable number of males and females as calculated by Schulting (ibid.: 196) is five males and six or seven females. In addition, three children aged ca. 2.5–4.5, 3.5–6.5 and 5.7 years respectively, an infant aged 6–18 months and an at or near term (i.e. neonatal or perinatal) infant are represented (ibid.: 193).

Whilst the evidence for pathology on this population is limited, due to the extremely fragmented nature of the remains, Schulting and Wysocki (2002) report the presence of cribra orbitalia, an indicator of iron deficiency anaemia, and a non-specific indicator of disease or nutritional stress (Angel 1966; Mensforth 1991), on two individuals. Cribra orbitalia was originally thought to reflect iron deficiency caused by reduced nutritional status, although Stuart-Macadam (1992) hypothesised that hypoferremia is in fact an adaptation to disease and micro-organism invasion (elevated pathogen load), and that diet plays a relatively minor role in the development of this pathology. Other indicators of stress in this population include the presence of linear enamel hypoplasias, which are developmental defects of the enamel, in evidence on a number of anterior teeth. Hypoplasias are “nonspecific indicators of metabolic and nutritional disruption” that occur during childhood (Goodman et al. 1987: 8), and they are often associated with a wide variety of childhood diseases including, but by no means limited to, hypoparathyroidism, vitamin A and vitamin D deficiency, fever, maternal diabetes, neonatal asphyxia and jaundice, nephrotic syndrome, and gastro-enteritis (Goodman et al. 1984: 259). Hypoplasias are a relatively common dental pathology throughout prehistory and there is a recurring theme suggested, in that the shift from breast feeding to the “adult” diet as the child is weaned is considered to be implicated in hypoplasia development due to the nutrient deficiencies that occur in the new diet. The data from Aveline’s Hole appears to suggest that recurrent stress episodes are occurring at less than a yearly interval between the ages of 3–4 and 6 years (Schulting 2005: 205). The consistent evidence for stressors might relate to weaning, but could also relate to seasonal variability in the availability of resources as the accuracy in relation to timing of the insult is such that the less than yearly interval suggested could possibly be indicating a seasonal disorder (ibid.: 205). As such, despite the inherent problems associated with such a fragmentary assemblage, the information that has been generated does provide some significant insights into earlier Mesolithic populations in Britain. One final point of note in relation to the analysis of the dentitions at Aveline’s Hole relates to the analysis of dental microwear, undertaken by McLaughlin (2005: 218), who suggests that this analysis indicates wear caused by plant phytoliths, and therefore (perhaps unsurprisingly) plant consumption.

In general, palaeopathological evidence for inter-personal violence occurs in the burial record throughout Europe, and there is an increasing corpus of evidence for violent interactions/conflict during the Mesolithic. However, Thorpe (2003: 153) has noted that there is a lack of direct (skeletal) evidence for violence in the archaeological record from the Near East and the Mediterranean, although sample size may be an issue for central and eastern Mediterranean areas. By contrast, despite some 400 burials from the western Mediterranean region, only two secure examples of violence are in evidence (it should be noted that an arrow in the foot at Moita de Sebastião could conceivably be an embarrassing hunting accident! thus leaving only one example?). In the Danube region Thorpe (ibid.: 155) reports that about one third of the burials at the site of Schela Cladovei had either projectile injuries or unhealed cranial trauma, and at Vlasac, injuries from projectile points also occur, but the numbers are in fact quite small in reality as ca. 400 individuals are in evidence, but only eight have injuries from projectiles, and ten have cranial trauma in evidence (Chapman 1999: 105).

Earlier evidence for inter-personal violence, including injuries caused by projectile points (arrowheads) has been recorded from three of the main cemeteries in the Dnieper Rapids region of Ukraine (Konduktorova 1974; Nuzhnyi 1989; 1990; Lillie 2004). The sites of Voloshkoe (19 interments), Vasilyevka III (a minimum of 44 interments as the central part of the cemetery was cut by a later ravine) and Vasilyevka I (26 burials including three double burials and one burial of the lower half of a skeleton), all located on the rapids, have produced 12 individuals with evidence for inter-personal violence. This evidence includes three individuals at Voloshkoe with projectile points embedded in the skeleton (Lillie 2004: 90–1), five at Vasilyevka III with arrowheads (and spearpoints) embedded in the skeleton and one individual with arrowheads in association (ibid.: 92-4). The fact that an arrowhead could produce a fatal injury without actually embedding itself into the skeleton, as suggested by the slotted bone points in association with a female aged 20–25 at Vasilyevka III, should not be overlooked as arrowheads may well be included with the interment (in the soft tissue) and become dislodged during the decomposition of the cadaver, with the result that the arrowhead/projectile point could be misinterpreted as a grave good.

At Vasilyevka I only two individuals have evidence for violence, but in the case of individual 17, an adult male, this evidence comprises four projectile weapon injuries, i.e. this adult male was shot four times by arrows. There can little doubt that this was a deliberate act of violence, as opposed to a hunting accident, but even with this level of insult, we cannot rule out the possibility that such “overkill” is evidence for ritualised killing as opposed to conflict. Of considerable significance in relation to the violence to the person that occurs at these three cemeteries is the fact that many of these individuals were shot using bow and arrows, these cemeteries date to ca. 10,400–9200 cal BC on the basis of the dates from Vasilyevka III, and whilst sex determinations are not available for the burials at Voloshkoe and Vasilyevka I (Dolukhanov reports that Vasilyevka I comprised only mature males (1999: 79–80)), at Vasilyekka III, three of the five individuals with impact damage from arrows are females aged 18–25, and two of these are actually at the lower end of this range at 18–22 years of age at death (Lillie 1998; 2004).

The fact that females are included in violent interactions is perhaps unsurprising given the composition of hunter-fisher-forager groups during the Mesolithic, but at the Dnieper Rapids cemeteries the suggested competition for the rich fish resources at the Rapids is clearly leading to all portions of society being subjected to violent interactions at this early date. This may reflect inter-group competition for access to the resources at this particular location.

Similarly, as noted above, in Scandinavia, Larsson (2000: 86) has discussed the excavations from Skateholm, in Scania, and Bøgebakken in eastern Denmark, suggesting that in part the cemeteries must be considered as territorial markers (as suggested for the Dnieper Rapids cemeteries above), wherein the ancestors facilitated a claim to “ownership” and “rights of access” to the regions resources. Whilst a considerable range of ritual activity is involved in the burials at Skateholm, including patterning in the grave goods and the positioning of the dead, there is also possible evidence for a last meal as indicated by fish bones in the area of the stomach of one individual, and the inclusion of skeletal parts from animals such as marten, red deer and roe deer, perhaps as food for the journey into the afterlife (ibid.: 87). Again, the lack of similar sites in Britain severely limits our attempts at developing nuanced perspectives in relation to social and ritual practice in the Mesolithic period, but we should not ignore the possibility that faunal remains, that are proven to be of Mesolithic date, could well have been food for the dead, and not just rubbish.

Fig. 6.4: Gøngehusvej 7, Vedbæk, burial of 40-year-old female and 3-year-old child. As can be seen from the image, the burial included ochre, and there are two bone pins on the left side of the adult’s chest, resting on the ribs and with the points beneath the distal end of the left humerus (© Lennart Larsen, Nationalmuseet Arbejdsmark, Denmark, used with permission).

At Gøngehusvej 7, Vedbæk, a cemetery was excavated which again included a combination of cremation and inhumation burial. The burials included graves for children with evidence to indicate that they had been interred laid on a wooden “tray” perhaps similar to the interments at Skateholm, as discussed by Nilsson Stutz (2009). In addition, a well preserved inhumation burial of a 40-year-old woman and a 3-year-old child is in evidence (Larsson 2000; Figs 6.4 and 6.5). Red ochre was spread over the woman and child, and they had a number of amulets in association, comprising beads made from the teeth of red and roe deer, wild boar, elk, bear and aurochs. The child had two flint knives in association; one (of light grey flint) can be clearly seen resting in the area of the right hip (Fig. 6.4), whilst a second, black coloured knife is visible near the head (Fig. 6.5).

The female had two bone netting needles placed on her chest, and foot bones from roe deer hooves in association. These are interpreted as coming from an animal skin that had been wrapped around her body for the burial (again highlighting the sort of organic information that is lost in “dryland” contexts when compared to the preservation potential from wet/waterlogged sites). A bone hairpin and a grebe bill were found near her head, and it has consequently been suggested that she may have worn a cap of bird skin, and that the bill is again the only element preserved. As can be seen from Figure 6.5, the wearing of a cap would have served to conceal the cranial trauma that this individual had clearly experienced during her life (Thorpe 2003: 156). This blunt instrument trauma could have resulted from interpersonal violence linked to conflict, but it could equally be the result of inter-personal violence between partners or even siblings.

Fig. 6.5: Gøngehusvej 7, Vedbæk, view of the head of the adult female showing blunt impact injury on the rear of the vault, on the parietal. The bone hairpin is clearly visible to the left of the vault, and red ochre staining occurs at the head of the child as well as the adult (© Lennart Larsen, Nationalmuseet Arbejdsmark, Denmark; used with permission).

In addition to Gøngehusvej 7, Vedbæk, there are a number of other instances of violent interactions recorded throughout Europe, e.g. at Téviec in Brittany, Stellmoor in Germany, Tybrind Vig on Fyn and Møllegabet II on Ærø (Thorpe 2003, and references therein). Of course the scale of the interpersonal violence that is attested by these examples is low when contrasted to sites like Ofnet cave in Bavaria (Frayer 1997), where two pits containing the skulls of thirty-eight individuals have been excavated. The composition of the population at Ofnet is five males, three females and ten unsexed subadults, with the males having 2–7 impact wounds (on average), while females and unsexed individuals generally have fewer injuries (ibid.: 192). The composition of the burials at Ofnet has led to suggestions that a group of “mainly” women (which appears to contradict the sexing information) and children may have been attacked, possibly in an effort to undermine the viability of the community at this location (Thorpe 2003: 157).

There is little doubt that some significant instances of inter-personal violence occurred during the Mesolithic period throughout Europe, and whilst the evidence from the Dnieper Rapids might fit the suggested conflict over access to the rich fish resources available at this location (Lillie 2001; 2004), Dolukhavov (1999) sees these sites as reflecting a “deep ecological and social crisis” during the Mesolithic period. As no major settlements occur in the Pontic steppe during the earlier Mesolithic Dolukhanov suggests that the “impoverished” natural resources (Bison being extinct by the Late Palaeolithic) led to a “growing scarcity of food resources (such that) … the local groups resorted to warfare” (ibid.: 78–9). However, in reality it is probable that in actuality the fact that the resources at the rapids were most likely seasonally rich might indicate that these dietary stressors were not endemic to the Mesolithic per se, but that they were concentrated at certain times of the year, when access to such resources was considered important for the groups exploiting this region. In reality though Lillie (2004, and as discussed above) has noted that the incidence of direct evidence for pathology at Vasilyevka I and Voloshkoe is in fact limited to only a single individual at Vasilyevka I and three at Voloshkoe, and in both cases the injuries are multiple impact damage from arrows, perhaps suggesting ritualised killings as opposed to warfare. Of course, we cannot discount soft tissue injuries, poisoning or other insults that are not visible after skeletonisation. One further point of note, to support the suggestions of seasonal resource fluctuations, is the fact that indicators of nutritional stress in these populations are very low throughout the Epipalaeolithic to Eneolithic periods in Ukraine (Lillie 1998).

These examples highlight yet another significant bias that occurs due to the lack of evidence for formal burial areas in the British Mesolithic record, as we lack an important resource for understanding the social and ritual aspects of burial, and we also do not have direct insights into the health status of Mesolithic individuals, furthermore, there is currently relatively little potential for the identification of inter-personal violence during this period. As such, a number of important insights into Mesolithic lifeways are lost when the burial record is lacking.

Other examples of interpersonal violence that have been identified during the Mesolithic period suggest that a range of causes, such as skirmishes, theft, muggings? wife/husband beating, family feuds etc., can be invoked as causes for the pathologies in evidence (Wilkinson 1997; Walker 1997; Thorpe 2003: 160). The level of violence is generally low, and whilst there are instances where a number of individuals are killed, e.g. at Ofnet in Bavaria, and where “warfare” might be invoked as a cause, in most cases it is possible that causes other than “warfare” can be suggested. This observation is not made with the intention of pacifying the past (cf. Kelley 1996: 17, quoted by Chapman 1999: 102), but more to ensure that the reader does not confuse interpersonal violence as ubiquitously meaning warfare, as the evidence is clearly not robust, or extensive, enough to allow for such an assertion. In addition, it should also be considered probable that the evocative terminology used to imbue significance, i.e. warfare, may not realistically be applicable to the Mesolithic period.

The dead in Wales

There is clearly a considerable degree of variation in the ways that people engaged with the dead, coped with taboos and “placated” the spirit world. Unfortunately, the Welsh burial evidence is limited, to say the least, and as noted by Conneller (2009) and Meiklejohn et al. (2011), the sites that contain human remains in Britain as a whole are dominated by locations that incorporate fragmentary, disarticulated remains in contexts such as caves and middens. Whilst the only sites where articulated inhumations have been recorded to date are Aveline’s Hole (discussed above), Greylake, Gough’s Cave and Tilbury (Schulting 2013), Conneller (2009: 691) does suggest that we should consider the possibility that other locations may originally have contained articulated burials that were disturbed by subsequent taphonomic processes (both natural and anthropogenic in origin); as indicated by the evidence from Scandinavia (e.g. Larsson 2000). Interestingly, as noted above, there is considerable evidence to suggest that inhumation burials may have been only one element of Mesolithic burial practice and ritual activity in Europe. In this respect British researchers have perhaps failed to approach the archaeological record from a balanced perspective, due in no small part to the considerable bias that is introduced by continued research at Star Carr in the Vale of Pickering, Yorkshire, as the focus on a limited number of “key” sites has perhaps diverted attention away from the search for “new” stratified settlements, activity sites, and burial locations.

As outlined in Chapter 5, Schulting and Richards (2000a) have analysed material from Welsh sites such as Nanna’s Cave, Potter’s Cave, Daylight Rock, Ogof-yr-Ychen and Ogofyr-Benlog. Calibrated absolute dates for Potter’s Cave, Daylight Rock and Ogof-yr-Ychen are presented in Table 3.1 (above). On the basis of the admittedly limited dataset for Wales, and England, Conneller (2006: 147) has suggested that there is no evidence for the association of caves with human bone deposits during the 7th, and the first half of the 6th millennium BC, but that this association occurs up to ca. 6000–5700 cal BC (based on the latest date from Ogof-yr-Ychen), and that association with caves recommences at the start of the Neolithic (see also Burrow 2003: 21, citing Chamberlain 1996). The reasons for this hiatus are yet to be established, although Schulting’s (2013) suggestion that riverside contexts may be significant is an important observation in this regard.

The human material that has been studied from the welsh sites is very limited, with eight finds from Nanna’s Cave (comprising a phalanx, two patella’s, a femur and four rib fragments), and six from Potter’s Cave (including a radius, four rib fragments, a metacarpal and an ulna fragment) (ibid.: 60). At Daylight Rock the three samples analysed were all from mandibles, and there is also a vertebra from Ogof-yr-Benlog. The final site studied was Ogof-yr-Ychen where a cranial fragment, two innominates, a mandible and tibia fragment were analysed. Significant issues have been highlighted with these assemblages due to the unstratified nature of many of these sites. As noted by Schulting and Richards (2000: 62), the Caldey Island sites are such that “no associations between the scattered human remains and diagnostic artefacts and/or fauna from the period of interest … can be considered as secure”. At Ogof-yr-Ychen, the human remains appear to have been dropped, or fallen, down the chimney/blowhole (David 1990; Davies 1989), resulting in mixing of the sediments and finds at this location.

At the Worm’s Head, Gower excavations undertaken in 1923–4 produced human bones, which were separated by a sterile stony horizon from the underlying Pleistocene bone layer (Davies 1989: 86). The material recovered included a human scapula, ulna, femur and cranial fragment, and a date of 8210–7610 cal BC has been generated from the analysis of this material. In addition, the remains of one or two individuals from Paviland Cave are placed at 6230–5905 cal BC, i.e. the later Mesolithic, although this latter site lacks associated material culture remains (Lynch et al. 2000: 37).

There are clearly significant problems with our analysis of burial contexts for the Mesolithic period in Britain as a whole, and the data is somewhat limiting. The considered and detailed analyses undertaken by Schutling and co-workers have sought to provide a dated burial inventory, but this has, out of necessity, focussed on individual finds from unstratified contexts, both in the case of Wales, and elsewhere, and it has relied on the re-examination of previously excavated materials such as Aveline’s Hole, Greylake and Tilbury. Further resolution is provided by the material from the Scottish middens, which also offer another depositional context for human skeletal material in Britain, and these sites are discussed below.

Finally, we need to consider the possibility that the deposition of the material at sites like Ogof-yr-Ychen may be incorrectly interpreted, or that it represents just one element of burial ritual in Wales, with the likelihood that caves are seen as “other wordly” locations, possibly where the ancestors and the spirits of the underworld resided. The fragmentary remains that are found at some of these sites are likely to have been secondary deposits, perhaps representing a similar ancestral engagement with place as we see elsewhere in the European record. As such we should seriously consider the possibility that burial sites or cemeteries will have existed elsewhere in the Mesolithic landscape, and that these locations remain to be identified; as alluded to throughout the text so far.

Structured deposition in middens

Returning to Oronsay, the human bone material recovered by Paul Mellars from these late Mesolithic shell middens (dated to 4400–3800 cal BC), and in particular Cnoc Coig (Meiklejohn et al. 2005: 85) resonates with the evidence from Scandinavia and Belgium that was discussed earlier in this chapter. Two types of human bone deposit have been identified at this location, with this material, which occurs in secondary deposits, comprising one group of “loose bone” and one containing material from the hands and feet of Mesolithic individuals. The midden deposits at Cnoc Coig appear to have developed around a hearth and hut like structure in the earlier phases of the sites occupation, when subsistence activities were focussed on the exploitation of marine resources such as limpets, crustaceans, saithe (just one of 12 species of fish identified, although saithe makes up 95% of the total), seals and marine birds, with these activities taking place between September and November (ibid.: 88, Mellars and Wilkinson 1980: 19).

The seasonality data are open to alternative interpretations though as Mellars and Wilkinson (ibid: 34–5) note that growth rates could conceivably be commensurate with all samples from Cnoc Sligeach, Priory Midden and Cnoc Coig, indicating activity spanning the late Autumn to early Winter months, and even spanning up to the earlier Spring months. However, Cnoc Sligeach and three of the four otoliths from Caisteal nan Gillean II would appear to suggest fishing (at least for fish in their second year) during the mid-Summer months (ibid.: 36), although the Caisteal nan Gillean data also indicate a longer duration of fishing activity at this location, including fishing into the colder winter months. This latter site is placed in the later Mesolithic at 4220–4050 cal BC (OxA-8005: 5480±55 uncal BP at 1σ; Meiklejohn et al. 2011: 36).

As noted, the human bone assemblages at Cnoc Coig (with dates spanning the later part of the Mesolithic between 4370–3920 cal BC; ibid.) comprise a combination of loose material, and what are described as discrete clusters, with teeth making up 8% of the total bone assemblage and the bones of the hands and feet representing 61% of the sample, with the remaining material comprising cranial, clavicle, rib, vertebral and innominate fragments (Meiklejohn et al. 2005: 89). These authors identify two groups (2 and 3) with a minimum of three individuals represented in each, and whilst they suggest that the sample as a whole differs from other European examples the loose bone finds are in fact similar to the European data, and especially the Scandinavian material (ibid.: 95). When contrasting the evidence from Cnoc Coig (Groups 2 and 3) with that from the other Oronsay sites of Caisteal nan Gillean (ca. 4200–3970 cal BC) and Priory Midden, Meiklejohn et al. see similarities between all of these sites (2005: 96).

A total of only ca. seven individuals are represented by the dated fragmentary material in the Oronsay middens of Cnoc Coig and Caisteal nan Gillean II, and Milner et al. (2004: 12) have noted that when considered alongside the data from Wales (which consists of perhaps ten individuals), there are in fact only seven individuals dated to the later Mesolithic period (6th–4th millennium cal BC) for Britain as a whole. In addition, the find of a femur from Staythorpe, Nottinghamshire (Meiklejohn et al. 2011: 35) can be added to the list of later Mesolithic material, and these authors have also suggested that the find of a hand phalanx from the Priory Midden, whilst undated, comes from a secure Late Mesolithic context, and as such can be included in the list of human material for this period (ibid.: 37). The specific contexts of the human bone finds, from middens and coastal caves in general, clearly do not represent an unbiased and representative sample for use in the study of Mesolithic groups and their ritual and symbolic activities, as the finds from Greylake (open site) and locations such as Staythorpe and Tilbury which may reflect burial near rivers (see Schulting 2013) indicate.

Meiklejohn et al. (2005: 97) have suggested that whilst a possible explanation for the spatial patterning of groups 2 and 3 at Cnoc Coig may lie in the articulation of a “culturally specific and overt act of placing bone on a site prior to leaving or deserting it”, the latter part of this supposition is perhaps unsustainable on stratigraphic grounds, as this activity relates to the earlier phases of the sites use. However, Meiklejohn et al. note that whilst repeated visits are in evidence, this does not negate the idea that in leaving the site, the placing of the hands and feet of the ancestors marked a symbolic reference to “ownership and belonging” for the people exploiting the resources on Oronsay, despite the fact that the site was being “left” for some indeterminate period of time (ibid.: 103).

As Meiklejohn et al. (2005: 102) see some significance in the association of the human remains in group 2 with those of seal flipper bones, with this being “a structured symbolic act that has no known parallels in Mesolithic Europe”, there is clear evidence for the intermingling of socio-economic and ritual activities at Cnoc Coig, in a way that is reminiscent of the activities alluded to by Zvelebil (2008: 42) in the quote at the start of this chapter, wherein it was proposed that ideology “must have been fundamental in specifying the nature of social relations … and in encoding subsistence strategies with social meaning”. It is precisely these structured articulations of ritual/symbolic activity with socio-cultural activity that reinforce ethnographic evidence for the complex interplay of these variables in the daily lives of hunter-fisher-forager groups (e.g. Jordan 2003a; 2003b).

In north Wales, a recent overview of Prestatyn (Armour-Chelu et al. 2007) has shown that a total of six middens are preserved at this location, four being located at the wetland edge and two within peat (Bell 2007e: 309). The middens of Mesolithic age consist of predominantly mussel shells, with charcoal, lithics and fragments of animal bone. Unfortunately, whilst Prestatyn, Rhyl and Bryn Newydd may all have evidence for middens, and there are possibilities that middens also occur at Daylight Rock, Nanna’s Cave and Freshwater West (ibid.: 309), the evidence from these sites has yet to produce stratified evidence for the incorporation of human skeletal material. However, Bell (ibid.: 311) has suggested that evidence for a ritual component in the structuring of these sites may be forthcoming from the knapping debris, which includes flakes from polished axes. Bell sees the inclusion of these lithics within the midden context as representing a deliberate act of votive deposition.

Ritual deposition and ritual objects

Throughout Europe we have considerable evidence for structured depositions during the Mesolithic period, and as with the removal and secondary interment of human skeletal remains, structured depositions are a Mesolithic phenomenon that continues into the Neolithic period. In discussing the structured deposition of stone and amber beads and the bone harpoon points at Star Carr, Pollard (2000: 126) has noted that “deposition can occasionally operate as a more overtly conscious action; drawing upon the range of meanings embodied in material elements and associated practice”. Pollard also notes that beads have been shown to have associations to burials at Vedbæk in Denmark. The structured deposition of these objects at sites like Star Carr may well link through to funerary contexts. On the basis of this link, Pollard suggests that at The Nab Head site I, the association of a group of beads with an “anthropomorphic” shale “amulet” may have ritual meaning beyond purely functionalist interpretations (2000: 126). Jacobi (1980: 159) has discussed the shale object as possibly representing a Venus figurine or phallus. In addition to the figurine, there is also a flattened ovoid pebble which has an incision just over 7mm long at its base. Jacobi was tempted to interpret this as a simplified representation of a Venus, and Pollard sees the composition of such structured deposits as potentially representing “acts surrounding the creation of social identities, principally as part of rites of passage” (2000: 127).

At the Nab Head, the beads that were recovered have clear evidence for on-site production, but beyond the hypothesised creation of social identities linked to rites of passage, we can also link these finds to more overt expressions of social identity, via body ornamentation. In this context the use of beads for decoration can convey an array of unspoken messages that could be related to age, sex, tribal identity, war or peace status, cosmological beliefs and territoriality, and perhaps an expression of individual and group identity in relation to space and place in the Mesolithic world (Simpson 2003: 47). This observation is of some interest as the deposition of such objects could have considerable resonance in relation to the sense of place and community identity for the occupants of this location (or other sites like Star Carr and Waun Fignen Felin). The beads at the Nab Head were not uniform in shape, and Jacobi (1980: 160) notes that they ranged from circular to oval in outline, through celtiform to triangular or even rectangular. Given Simpson’s (2003) suggestions, it is conceivable that the range of forms of the beads that were produced have a specific range of meanings imbued within their form, and that these meanings were recognisable to individuals within the group, and that they also potentially conveyed meaning to individuals beyond the group.

Additional structuring in the deposition of artefacts at the Nab Head revolves around the three pecked and ground stone axe/adzes, which both Jacobi (1980) and David (2007) report have no known parallels in British prehistoric contexts. As noted in Chapter 3, this deposit may well have considerable significance when considering structured deposition, and the interlinking of the more commonly occurring bevelled pebbles with a “unique” artefact type may well (following Pollard 2000: 126–7) draw upon meanings embodied in these objects that transcend their utilitarian function, and reflect embedded symbolic action and belief that pervaded the routines of daily life. Jacobi (1980) was inclined to suggest that the figurine and the beads at the Nab Head, which in combination might make up a necklace of some 42 in (ca. 107 cm) length, could well have been associated with structured deposition in a burial context, and that the weathering and erosion at this location had obscured their original depositional context. This suggested linking of artefacts types to a structured burial context may well prove informative if we are able to identify actual cemetery sites in Wales, as the hypothesised structured articulations will be testable when we identify Mesolithic burials in Britain in general.

One other notable find in terms of objects with possible ritual significance are the engraved pebbles from Rhuddlan (Berridge 1994: 115–9; Roberts 1994: 119–24). These six objects are decorated with incised lines interpreted as a “tree” motif on SF1 (Small Find 1), SF2 from the Mesolithic hollow has two separate designs which Berridge (ibid.) does not offer an interpretation of, whilst SF3 is decorated with “criss-cross” lines. Both SF4 and 5 have a number of incised lines of no discernible patterning, but SF6 does appear more complex, exhibiting a pattern that on first viewing could be described as not unlike a hut structure (see fig. 11.2, p. 118 in Quinnell and Blockley 1994), although Berridge mentions that Roger Jacobi saw this as a fish trap on the basis of similarities to early post-glacial wheals from sites like Lille Knapstrup and Nidlose in the Holbæk district of Zealand (1994: 126). Roberts’ (1994: 119–24) scanning electron microscope analysis of the engraved lines on SF1 indicates that the decoration was undertaken using chert engraving tools. However, this was the only pebble that this could be determined for as the post-depositional damage to the other pebbles meant that whilst the engraved lines were probably produced using either the unretouched edges of flint or chert bladelets, the precise tool used could not be determined (ibid.: 124). Perhaps most significantly Roberts notes that there are a series of heavily worn engraved lines underlying the more visible motifs, suggesting that the pebbles had more than one phase of decoration and use. This observation would indicate that, whatever the meaning of the designs was, the message that these motifs conveyed was used on more than one occasion. Linear incisions occur on a range of Mesolithic artefact forms throughout Europe, for instance on the bone knives and other implements from Nizhneye Veretye I near Lake Onega (Oshibkina 1990a), the antler tools at Korsør Nor in the Danish Storebælt (Schilling 1997: 96–7), the engraved bone artefacts from Stanovoje 4 in the Upper Volga (Zhilin 2007: 74), antler carvings from Tyrvala in Estonia and Østerbjerg in Denmark (Timofeev 1998), and a decorated elk antler “pointed weapon” from the Maglemose site of Ugerløse in the Åmose of Zealand (Price and Gebauer 2005: 21).

One final point of note relates to the production of the stone tools used in the Mesolithic period. Warren (2006) has discussed the inverted antlers identified by Wymer at Thatcham II (1962; discussed in Chapter 4 above) from the perspective of the hunters’ negotiation of their relationship to the animals that they exploited. In this context the technology that is produced is considered to be “intimately associated with the social reproduction of world views” (Warren 2006: 24). The use of the Thatcham deer antlers and skull cap is seen by Warren as a means to “enchant the technology” through the production of tools in intimate association with the red deer. This “enchantment of technology” is extended by Warren (citing Woodman 1978 and Finlay 2003b) to include caches or hoards of material at a number of sites in Britain and Ireland, where the structuring principles give “form to people’s relationship with stone” (2006: 26). The structured deposits at the Nab Head II include David’s axe number 1 which “was found in contact with, and underlying, two bevelled pebbles” which he suggests indicates contemporaneous use and possible caching of these objects (David 2007: 150). Given the multiple of three in evidence at this location, and Finlay’s (2003b: 91) concept of a “Mesolithic trinity”, the Nab Head clearly links into a wider British and Irish tradition of structured deposition that was part of a wider set of “social strategies and negotiations of the relationships between people” (Warren 2006: 27).

Discussion

This chapter has attempted to develop a considered approach to the potential range of ritual activity that was pertinent to everyday life in the Mesolithic. It commenced with an outline of some of the theoretical aspects of ritual that have not been covered to any significant degree in the volume so far, but which could all be relevant to the Mesolithic period in Wales. It has been argued throughout the text that analogies to modern hunter-fisher-foragers can be used with caution to help us begin to tease out those aspects of Mesolithic life that are all but invisible to us in the present, but which could conceivably have been embedded in the everyday lived experience of human groups in the Mesolithic. Whilst it is important to note that modern forager groups are not going to be identical to, or an absolute example of, Mesolithic populations, as noted by Warren (2005: 71–2) analogy offers us possible options through which we can begin to make sense of the archaeological record of past hunter-fisher-foragers. In the context of material culture, Finlay (2003a: 167) has noted that “recent anthropological studies have demonstrated the potential for … biographical approaches” which acknowledge “the critical role of objects in the creation of personal and social identities”.

The discussion has also outlined the nature of the skeletal inventories for Britain as a whole, and explored some of the ways in which a theoretically informed reading of the Mesolithic could potentially enable us to delve into the past lived experience of hunter-fisher-foragers. Within this theoretical framework we considered the nature of boundaries (cf. McCarthy 2008), pathways and the mediation of possible areas of conflict between the living and the dead. This set the scene for the consideration of cemeteries, burial rituals and the mediation of the landscape of the living with that of the dead through the burial rituals in evidence throughout Europe during the Mesolithic period. This has highlighted the fact that, perhaps, the most significant limitation for Britain as a whole is that we lack the stratified settlement sites and cemeteries that are needed in order to generate meaningful narratives of Mesolithic lifeways. The lack of skeletal inventories from which to evaluate ritual treatment of the dead, gain insights into palaeopathology, body processing and differential treatment related to age and gender, and also the ways in which the living cope with death, is clearly very limiting for our interpretations of the Mesolithic period in Britain.

In addition, we have touched on the fact that inter-personal violence, including that between partners, clearly occurred, and there is little doubt that murders were carried out, but equally that the evidence could indicate ritual killings, or reflect a number of other situations. Whilst it is clear that determining cause of death might possibly be considered as straightforward where an arrow in the back is attested, the sociological context of the killing still remains obscure, and of course accidental death cannot be ruled out. The social context of death in the Mesolithic remains ambiguous, even where we have cemeteries and skeletal remains to study.

Fundamentally, we are effectively ignorant of what people actually did on a day-to-day basis, e.g. how the social, economic, political and ritual activities that were clearly embedded in everyday life were articulated. Following on from the consideration of possible areas of Mesolithic ritual activity the discussion has also considered the nature of paths and boundaries and how pathways could have been layered with meaning beyond the utilitarian function of getting from A to B (Bradley 2000: 6; Jordan 2003a), and also that “totem poles” may have been used as route way or territorial markers during the Mesolithic. Alongside Stonehenge and the Bryn Celli Du passage tomb on Anglesey, the recent discovery at Maerdy, Rhondda Cynon Taf may provide examples of these objects in a British context.

Unfortunately, as this chapter has shown, we do not yet have sufficient evidence for Mesolithic burial in Britain to allow for a nuanced reading of past social and ritual articulations through individual burials, cemeteries and the burial rituals that were enacted, and similarly, many other aspects of ritual and symbolic practice are lacking.

The paucity of burial evidence is an unfortunate situation, as at locations elsewhere in Europe e.g. Olenii Ostrov in Karelia, there is significant structuring in the interments, and Bradley (2000: 35) has suggested that the close proximity of rock carvings to this site, that depict the items that are included in the graves of the people buried at this cemetery, indicates that natural places are important in the minds of people in the past. The embellishment of these natural surfaces could have any number of connotations for the living at Olenii Ostrov, and their association with the dead is evident. The permanence of the memories imbued by such locations would have ensured that the inherent tensions between the living and the dead were constantly articulated and negotiated, or renegotiated. Whilst we lack similar articulations between burial sites and landscape features in Britain, the evidence throughout Europe clearly suggests that these links occurred and that Mesolithic people were conscious of the symbolism that was imbued in the rituals undertaken at certain locations.

During the Mesolithic period the living and the dead “interacted” in ways that are often difficult for us to interpret in the present. Many ritual articulations and symbolic actions would have multiple meanings, and even with ethnographic analogy, we can do little more that acknowledge that these meanings existed, and that everyday life in the Mesolithic was understood through the myriad symbols and rituals that were embedded in it. The limitations of the data, for Britain as a whole, necessitate a “broad brush” approach to the consideration of ritual and symbolism, as has been attempted above. To some degree this has allowed us to consider the wider European context, and in doing so it has highlighted the need for more targeted investigations of the Mesolithic period in Wales, and Britain. We have perhaps been too myopic when studying the Mesolithic period, partly due to the apparent “richness” of what went before and what comes after this period, but also because certain locations have proven too tempting to “risk” ignoring.

Sites like Star Carr and Mount Sandal retain their importance due to their proven potential. However, it is hoped that this chapter, in emphasising the limitations of the archaeological record for Mesolithic burial and ritual, has by extension emphasised the need for a reinvigoration of targeted research agendas that are designed to redress the imbalance between Britain and Europe. Despite the fact that Meiklejohn et al. (2011: 21) discuss 20 sites with evidence for human remains in Britain, which they note is a four-fold increase on the situation reported by Newell et al. in 1979, we still lack sites with primary interments. There may well be many others areas in Europe where a similar lack of data exists, but we now need to put the Mesolithic back on the agenda, especially as many of the “typical” Neolithic traits, such as the removal and secondary deposition of skeletal elements in differing site/landscape settings, are now shown to have occurred in the Mesolithic period. Instead of looking enviously at the Neolithic it is time to recognise that the Mesolithic is not a prelude to the Neolithic, but that the Mesolithic itself is resonant with complex social and ritual articulations that shape and influence what was to follow.