Exceptional preservation in a sheltered Pueblo III cliff site at Mesa Verde enables delineation of space units formerly occupied by socio-economic groups. These groups are not characterized by kinship relations but by durable remains of domestic cooperation, such as the juxtaposition of rooms with different functions, building sequences, patterns of movement indicated by doorway locations, and the placement of hearths and other domestic features. Three different groupings are recognized: household units or suites, courtyard units, and complete village-sized communities.

In 1954, 2 years after our expedition to the Galápagos, the group was visited by J. C. Courier and C. Hall of the Walt Disney Galápagos Expedition, which made use of some of the local guides that had served in our expedition and were thus trained in the general search for surface archaeology. In a letter from Mr. Couffer (dated Dec. 18, 1954), he states that their expedition visited a tiny bight behind Cabo Colorado on the coast of Santa Cruz Island. In this bight (which was not visited by our expedition) they found a cleared landing place for small boats, with the lava rocks stacked to form a small sea wall. Ashore, at the bottom of a shallow valley, they found quantities of European artifacts, such as “broken heavy demijohn material, broken glassware, fragments of clay pipes, iron artifacts, European chinaware, and other recent material.”

Perhaps the most neglected aspect of archaeological research in the Arctic has been the within-site dimension of archaeological data. Few archaeologists have “attempted to see their material as remains left by social groups” (Anderson 1968:397) and fewer still have attempted to infer patterns of social organization and the within-site organization of activities. One measure of the degree to which Arctic archaeologists have failed to contribute to contemporary archaeological method and theory is the fact that the 37-page bibliography of Contemporary Archaeology: A Guide to Theory and Contributions recently edited by Mark Leone (1972) contains not one reference to Arctic archaeology. In part, this is because much of the contents of this collection of papers considers data from the southwestern United States and Mesoamerica, but it also demonstrates that Arctic archaeologists have contributed little to discussions of archaeological method and theory.

In a recent chapter on the development of Arctic archaeology (Dekin 1973), I expressed optimism regarding the potential theoretical contributions of archaeology in the Arctic, but this will not occur without a renewed emphasis on precise excavation, analytic sophistication, and a revitalized sense of “problem.”

The Tyara site, KkFb-7 in the National Museum catalogue and site file, faces the north coast of the Ungava mainland and rests on the west shore of Sugluk Island (Fig. 1). That island stands about five hundred yards from the mainland and from Sugluk Inlet, one of the few good harbors on that coast. This handsome little island, about one and one-half miles long and as wide, consists of rounded, rugged, hardrock hills that shelter well-vegetated, generally flat-floored valleys. The valleys often contain marshy patches. The shore, of variable incline, is quite jagged, a result of abrupt rock outcrops projecting seaward from brief stretches of sandy beach. The shore facing the mainland is, therefore, quite convenient for small boat use. Dark grey gneisses seem to predominate, although they are often cut by dykes and veins of lighter material, notably quartz. The dense, green valley and hillside vegetation includes willows, mosses, grasses, lichens, and a pleasant profusion of arctic wild flowers (Polunin 1948, Pt. III). I was told at Sugluk that at the head of the inlet, willows, growing in protected situations, reach the thickness of a man's wrist.

In the Summer of 1949, I was asked to 1 cooperate in securing appropriate samples from important Mexican sites. These, I suggested, should be selected with a view of obtaining new data on three significant problems: early man and associated geologic formations, the Archaic cultures, and the monumental civilizations of Teotihuacan and Monte Alban. This choice was dictated by the prevailing chronologic uncertainties of prehistoric cultures in Mexico and by my previous geologic approaches to time sequences in the Basin of Mexico. Computations from glacial, lake and erosion phenomena had suggested that previous age estimates, notably those presented by Vaillant (1944) and other archaeologists, had been unduly conservative. This was especially evident in the case of the basic pottery levels, known as the early Archaic or early Middle cultures, then assumed to have existed about 2100 to 1600 years ago.

It is the purpose of the present paper to discuss, as briefly as possible, the manner in which major Peruvian cultural periods or epochs have been determined to the present and to suggest certain modifications as the result of recent objective, refuse-heap, stratigraphic studies, particularly those in the Virú Valley of Peru. It must be obvious to all students in the Peruvian field that our present terminology for major cultural epochs in prehistoric Peru is inconsistent and unsatisfactory. That this is due in considerable part to the recent great increases in stratigraphic knowledge makes such a re-evaluation even more necessary. Assuming, with Kroeber, “That the foundations of scientific archaeology in Peru were laid by Max Uhle,” and that, “the only general scheme of interpretation … not founded essentially on Uhle's” is that of Julio Tello, we will, very briefly, discuss these two major theoretical approaches.

Considering the amount of attention that has been given to pastoral nomadism in studies of Asiatic cultures and their histories, one would expect that students of this subject would have reached agreement on the fundamentals. But on the contrary, expert views show a surprising amount of difference on important points. Discussions of pastoral nomadism often fail to coincide as to the nature of pastoral nomadism (i.e., what features are basic and essential), as-to its relationship with other types of culture, and as to its antiquity. These problems are increasingly acute when dealing with the question of whether or not a pastoral nomad culture area exists or has ever existed. Recent considerations of the subject include Bacon (1946, p. 123), Kroeber (1947, pp. 323-4), and Naroll (1950, p. 184). Kroeber raises the question of the validity of pastoral nomadism as a complete culture; Naroll side-steps the problem by referring to a “Steppe Area.”

Acareful review of field notes and collections from Tiahuanaco, Chiripa, and Pariti and comparison with the preliminary reports by Kidder on Pucara and M. Tschopik on the north Titicaca basin suggest a change in the position of Chiripa in the Bolivian sequences previously reported. The evidence for this change is briefly reviewed.

The Chiripa mound has four major levels: (1) top soil, from 0 to .50 meters; (2) post-house level, from .50 to 2.0 meters; (3) house level, from 2.0 to 3.0 meters; (4) pre-house and premound levels, from 3.0 to 5.0 meters. The house and pre-house levels, (3) and (4), contain unmixed Chiripa materials. The post-house levels, (1) and (2), show a continuation of Chiripa materials plus an intrusive Decadent Tiahuanaco, represented by burials, sherds, a semi-subter-ranean temple, and a facing wall.

It is an unfortunate fact that the Near-Middle Eastern area, which has produced its share of the world's more spectacular antiquities, and which has been the focus of archaeological activity for so many years, has supplied but little material for the radiocarbon dating project. The dearth of specimens would seem to be due to two main factors. First, the general lack of attention hitherto given by excavators to non-artifactual materials (i.e., unworked wood, grain, etc.). Second, the understandable reluctance of museum curators to submit actual specimens of artifacts as samples, since they are destroyed in the process.

The Geographical situation and ecological character of the Aleutian Islands are of such nature as to give the archaeological record there special significance with regard to certain problems of Eskimo prehistory. From the point of origin, Unimak Island, the islands extend to the west in a thousand mile long chain which is essentially a broken extension of the Alaska Peninsula. Water gaps are relatively short in the eastern section, although the inter-island passes are often perilous because of currents and tide rips, not to speak of frequent fogs and strong winds. In the west the water gaps tend to become longer, culminating in the 40 miles or more of stormy open water involved in the passage from the Rat Islands to the Near Islands. Between the westernmost of the Aleutians, Attu Island, and the Russian Commander Islands is a still more formidable gap of about 250 statute miles, and 138 statute miles intervene between the Commander Islands and the coast of Kamchatka. Since there is no reason to think that these geographical conditions were significantly different in the appreciably recent past, the inference clearly seems to be that the Aleutian Islands were peopled from the Alaska Peninsula by competent boatmen.

Turkey bones occurred in some archaeological sites of Wetherill Mesa in such quantity and form as to demonstrate the value of this domestic fowl as a major economic factor in the lives of the local inhabitants. Here are ample evidences of the use of turkey bones in the manufacture of tools and jewelry and of the use of turkey meat as food. Actual evidence of cooking was not recognized, but butchering techniques were indicated by cut marks on bones. Some occurrences of groups of disarticulated bones in a normal relationship of articulation may or may not have a ritual meaning. Some information is given that may be helpful in distinguishing bones of the Wild Turkey (Meleagris gallopavo merriami) from bones of the archaeological and modern domestic breeds. Comments are also made on some problems that deal with the turkey as an economic factor in the lives of peoples of other areas in the Southwest.

This study is devoted to, brings new data to bear on, and seeks to contribute to, a solution for the problem of the prehistoric origin or origins of the Dorset culture in the eastern Canadian Arctic. I carried out archaeological field work for the National Museum of Canada, Ottawa, and was concerned primarily with that problem, during the summers of 1957-58-59. The analytic work was largely completed by June 1960. This study draws principally on pertinent data available up to that date, but occasionally incorporated subsequently available evidence. As so often must happen, the task of completing this manuscript, having done the analysis, was often delayed by the more immediate demands of other museum duties. So that the reader may be forewarned, if not forearmed, a history of the work on Dorset culture and the question of its origin follows as an introduction to this study.

When the heavy growth of weeds, trees, and underbrush had been removed (Fig. 3, A) and the site examined preparatory to staking, it was found that either a north-south or an east-west axis would cut the mound at an odd angle, so the 0-00 line was laid down the long axis of the mound and the base line at right angles to it at Stake 0 (Fig. 4). The 0-00 line was 54° 30′ west from magnetic north. An alidade tower was built and permanently centered over a stake 5 feet back from Stake 0 in line with 0-00, and a datum plane established approximately 5 feet above the highest point of the mound. A telescopic alidade and stadia rod were used to determine all elevations, with steel tapes and hardwood rules 6 feet long used for other measurements. A portable photographic tower was also built and used whereever elevation was necessary to secure a complete photographic record. Approximately 250 photographs were taken during the excavation.

Studies of physical remains in aboriginal Peru have lagged behind those concerned with archaeology, and barely enough is known of Peruvian racial history to permit a synthesis at this time. Difficulties are three-fold: first, few physical anthropologists with a proper sense of problem have worked there; second, archaeologically documented skeletal series from Peru are not plentiful; and third, cranial deformation, while culturally of vital interest, tends to mask racial characters. Furthermore, sweeping generalizations from meager evidence by Imbelloni and others have persuaded the uncritical that the racial problems of the aboriginal Peru-Bolivian area have been largely solved. Actually, physical anthropology in Peru as compared to the archaeology is just entering the Uhle stage of rigorous scientific method. Now is the time, therefore, to reappraise our knowledge and to outline future research.

In my view, certain critical features of current population theory in demography, anthropology, and related fields are misleading. These anomalies have been incorporated into population theories, I argue, largely because the researchers in these fields have tended to be too specialized. Demography, a science rooted in occidental economics and sociology, is oriented toward the study of industrializing and industrialized societies, societies which are by no means representative of the entire range of human societies. Anthropologists, although they have dealt with a wider range of human societies, have tended to neglect the potential theoretical contributions of population ecology, the study of the population dynamics of nonhuman animals. The theory of human population dynamics which I offer here was developed with the value of generality and broad scope constantly in mind. The roots of this theory are in General Systems Theory, population ecology, ethnology, demography, and economics. I propose this population theory largely as a means of encouraging, within all of those sciences concerned with population matters, a new round of debate regarding existing population theories.