Gabriel Prieto & Daniel H. Sandweiss - Maritime Communities of The Ancient Andes

Maritime Communities of the Ancient Andes
Society and Ecology in Island and Coastal Archaeology
University Press of Florida

Florida A&M University, Tallahassee
Florida Atlantic University, Boca Raton
Florida Gulf Coast University, Ft. Myers
Florida International University, Miami
Florida State University, Tallahassee
New College of Florida, Sarasota
University of Central Florida, Orlando
University of Florida, Gainesville
University of North Florida, Jacksonville
University of South Florida, Tampa
University of West Florida, Pensacola
Maritime
Communities
of the
Ancient Andes
Edited by
Gabriel Prieto
and Daniel H. Sandweiss
Foreword by Victor D. Thompson

Gainesville · Tallahassee · Tampa · Boca Raton
Pensacola · Orlando · Miami · Jacksonville · Ft. Myers · Sarasota
Copyright 2020 by Gabriel Prieto and Daniel H. Sandweiss
All rights reserved
Published in the United States of America
This book may be available in an electronic edition.
25 24 23 22 21 20 6 5 4 3 2 1
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Prieto, Gabriel, editor. | Sandweiss, Daniel H., editor. | Thompson,
Victor D., author of foreword.
Title: Maritime communities of the ancient Andes / edited by Gabriel Prieto
and Daniel H. Sandweiss ; foreword by Victor D. Thompson.
Other titles: Society and ecology in island and coastal archaeology.
Description: Gainesville : University Press of Florida, [2020] | Series:
Society and ecology in island and coastal archaeology | Includes
bibliographical references and index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2019002017 | ISBN 9780813066141 (cloth : alk. paper)
Subjects: LCSH: Underwater archaeology—Andes Region. | Coastal
archaeology—Andes Region.
Classification: LCC CC77.U5 M3672 2019 | DDC 930.1028/04—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019002017
The University Press of Florida is the scholarly publishing agency for the State University System
of Florida, comprising Florida A&M University, Florida Atlantic University, Florida Gulf Coast
University, Florida International University, Florida State University, New College of Florida,
University of Central Florida, University of Florida, University of North Florida, University of
South Florida, and University of West Florida.

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Contents
ist of Figures vii

L
List of Tables xi
Foreword xiii
Acknowledgments xvii
1. Introduction: A Historical Perspective on the Studies of Andean
Maritime Communities 1
Gabriel Prieto and Daniel H. Sandweiss
Part I. Early Maritime Adaptations (13,000 to 5500 BP)

2. Marine Communities in the Atacama Desert: Masters of the
Subtropical Pacific Coast of South America 39
Calogero M. Santoro, Victoria Castro, Chris Carter, and Daniela Valenzuela
3. Economic Organization and Social Dynamics of Middle-Holocene
Hunter-Gatherer-Fisher Communities on the Coast of the Atacama
Desert (Taltal, Northern Chile) 74
Diego Salazar, Carola Flores, César Borie, Laura Olguín, Sandra Rebolledo,
Manuel Escobar, and Ariadna Cifuentes
4. The Use and Construction History of Huaca Prieta, North Coast of
Peru 101
Tom D. Dillehay
Part II. Maritime Communities between 5500 and 2500 BP

5. Changing Complexity in the Norte Chico, 3000–1800 cal BCE 131
Winifred Creamer and Jonathan Haas
6. Maritime Communities and Coastal Andean Urbanization:
Preliminary Insights from Early Horizon Samanco, Nepeña Valley,
North-Central Peru 165
Matthew Helmer
7. The Supply and Consumption of Marine Resources at the Inland
Center of Caylán, Coastal Ancash 188
David Chicoine, Carol Rojas, Víctor Vásquez, and Teresa Rosales
8. The Fisherman’s Garden: Horticultural Practices in a Second
Millennium Maritime Community of the North Coast of Peru 218
Gabriel Prieto
9. The Ethnogenesis of Pescador Identity: The Implications of
Biodistance Analyses of Initial Period (1500–1200 BC) Human
Remains from Gramalote, Peru, for our Understanding of the
Social and Economic Dynamics of Ancient Andean Maritime
Communities 247
Richard C. Sutter and Gabriel Prieto
Part III. Maritime Communities between 2500 and 600 BP
10. Fisherman, Farmer, Rich Man, Poor Man, Weaver, Parcialidad Chief?
Household Archaeology at Cerro la Virgen, a Chimú Town within the
Hinterland of Chan Chan 267
Brian R. Billman, Dana Bardolph, Jean Hudson, and Jesús Briceño Rosario
11. Subsistence Economies in Marginal Areas with Natural Constraints:
Interactions between Social Dynamics, Natural Resource
Management, and Paleoenvironment in the Sechura Desert, Peru 301
Nicolas Goepfert, Philippe Béarez, Aurélien Christol, Patrice Wuscher, and
Belkys Gutiérrez
12. Late Prehistoric Maritime Communities in Coastal Ecuador 318
Karen E. Stothert, Maria Masucci, and Benjamin Carter
Part IV. Maritime Communities between 600 and 300 BP

13. Maritime Adaptations at Cerro Azul, Peru: A Comparison of Late
Intermediate and Twentieth-Century Fishing 351
Joyce Marcus, Kent V. Flannery, Jeffrey Sommer, and Robert G. Reynolds
14. El Contrato del Mar: Maritime Subsistence at Carrizales, Zaña Valley,
Peru 366
Parker VanValkenburgh, Sarah Kennedy, Carol Rojas, and Gabriel Hassler
15. Fish[i]stories: Seafolk of the Northern Peruvian Coast 397
Susan Elizabeth Ramírez
ist of Contributors 425

L
Index 435
Figures
2.1. Coast of northern Chile from Ilo to Los Vilos 40

2.2. Habitat at the exorheic basin of Caleta Vitor Bay 42
2.3. The southern abrupt endorheic coastal section (corresponding to
the Huentelauquén cultural zone), from El Loa Basin to Los Vilos
Bay 43
2.4. Choromytilus chorus circular stem shell fishhook, harpoons and
potera, and vivid depiction of large marine specimens caught from
small watercraft and terrestrial hunting at El Médano, north of
Taltal 49
2.5. Human inhumation at Copaca 58
3.1. The Arid Coast of the Atacama Desert in northern Chile 75
3.2. Archaeological sites close to Morro Colorado 78
3.3. Early Middle Holocene specialized technology for extracting and
processing marine and coastal resources 84
3.4. Late Middle Holocene lithic artifact known as “Taltaloid blades”
which required high labor investment but whose functional utility
remains unclear 91
3.5. Rock art at the El Médano site 92
4.1. Location map of the Huaca Prieta site in the lower Chicama Valley,
Peru 102
4.2. View of the Huaca Prieta mound from the east 103
4.3. Topographic map of the Huaca Prieta and Paredones sites showing
the location of excavation units 105
4.4. Late Preceramic textile from Huaca Prieta dated between 5000 and
4500 BP 109
viii · Figures
4.5. Decorative style on etched gourds from Paredones, radiocarbon

dating between 6000 and 4000 BP 109
4.6. Detailed stratigraphic profile of the south wall of Bird’s HP-3 trench
showing layers, floors, and stone footings 113
4.7. Chamber tomb made of cobblestones and dating to Phase 4 119
4.8. View of Preceramic house mound near wetlands north of Huaca
Prieta 121
4.9. View of the late Preceramic stone architectural structures in the
sunken plaza of the “looter’s hole” 122
5.1. Map of Norte Chico showing Late Archaic sites 132
5.2. Circle of monoliths at the base of the central staircase, Caballete 134
5.3. Excavated permanent structure at Caballete 135
5.4. View of Bandurria showing extensive shell midden 141
5.5. Theissen polygon analysis of Norte Chico mound sites 150
5.6. Schematic of pyramid and circular court indicating different levels of
access 154
6.1. Map of Nepeña Valley, coastal Ancash, Peru 167
6.2. General map of Samanco’s standing architecture, topography, and
features 170
6.3. East Samanco 173
6.4. Central Samanco 175
6.5. Isometric reconstruction of the excavated Compound 3 patio group
at Samanco 175
7.1. Photograph of the urban core of Caylán 189
7.2. Map showing test pits and block excavations of Caylán 193
7.3. Photograph of floor scatter contexts with faunal remains and other
trash from Compound-E (UE6) 194
7.4. Photographs of bone tools 197
7.5. Butchering marks on osteological remains 204
8.1. Map of the Moche Valley 225
8.2. Fishing gear recovered at Gramalote 225
8.3. Present-day marshlands around the Gramalote site 226
8.4. Macrobotanical remains recovered at Gramalote 229
Figures · ix
8.5. Modern fisherman from Huanchaco 234

8.6. Lithic tools (hoes) associated with agricultural activities found at
Gramalote 239
9.1. The 2-dimensional multidimensional scaling solution using the
R-matrix derived biodistances for Gramalote and 18 comparative
prehistoric Andean skeletal samples 257
10.1. Map of the Moche Valley with relevant sites 268
10.2. Plan map of architectural compounds at Cerro la Virgen 269
10.3. Photo of the “island” created by illegal quarrying at Cerro
la Virgen 278
10.4. Photo and profile drawing of XU 18 279
10.5. Box plots of densities and standardized counts of plant remains by
category 284
11.1. Map of the Sechura Desert 302
11.2. Structures composed by beach rocks and posts used as screens 305
11.3. Excavation of the midden 308
11.4. Profiles of pit 1 excavated in the midden 309
11.5. Ceramic artifacts 311
12.1. The Atacames River region 320
12.2. Chanduy Valley, Santa Elena area 324
12.3. Stratigraphic excavations at El Cangrejito site 328
12.4. Spondylus shell fragments found at El Cangrejito site 329
12.5. Large earthen platform at the site of Mar Bravo 334
12.6. Mar Bravo radiocarbon dates 335
13.1. Boats for artisanal fishing 353
13.2. A 130-km stretch of the south-central Peruvian coast 354
14.1. Location of the Zaña Valley and the surveyed areas in this
research 373
14.2. Preceramic Period settlements 375
14.3. Early Intermediate Period settlements 376
14.4. Late Intermediate and Post-Reducción settlements 378
14.5. Surface ceramic density, architecture, and excavations,
Conjunto 123 380
x · Figures
14.6. Orthophoto of base of unit 123-007, assembled from pole aerial

photographs 381
14.7. Comparison of fish consumption between Late Prehispanic and
Colonial sites 385
14.8. Mammal, bird, and reptile presence and absence at Carrizales
site 386
14.9. Prehispanic size frequency of Paralonchorus peruanus during
Prehispanic and Colonial times 388
Tables
3.1. Frequency of minimum number of individuals of fish and mollusk

species during the Early Middle Holocene 80
5.1. Macrobotanical remains from Late Archaic sites 137
5.2. Pollen from cultivated plant species 138
5.3. Coprolite analysis 145
6.1. Principal Samanco structures with size data 169
7.1. Absolute and relative frequencies for the number of identified
specimens of fish remains per context at Caylán 199
specimens of bird remains per context at Caylán 202
specimens of mammal remains per context at Caylán 204
7.4. Anatomical parts of the camelid remains at Caylán 205
specimens of the different vertebrate taxa per context at Caylán 207
8.1. NISP values of macrobotanical remains found at Gramalote 228
8.2. Microbotanical remains found at Gramalote 231
9.1. Information regarding the 19 prehistoric Andean skeletal samples
examined by this study 252
9.2. Mahalanobis d2 values for the 19 prehistoric Andean skeletal samples
examined by this study 254
10.1. Inventory and summary quantification of plants identified at Cerro
la Virgen 281
10.2. Vertebrate taxa identified at Cerro la Virgen 286
10.3. Inventory of invertebrates identified at Cerro la Virgen 289
xii · Tables
12.1. Radiocarbon dates of the Cangrejito sites 327

13.1. Numbers of identified fish bones from two Late Intermediate
middens at Cerro Azul 361
14.1. Calibrated radiocarbon dates from Conjunto 125 382
14.2. Fish species recovered in Conjunto 125 and Carrizales sites 384
15.1. North Coast fisherfolk mentioned in ethnohistoric sources 398
15.2. Fishing populations 405
15.3. Tenure status of lords, lineages, and ethnic groups 410
15.4. Fishermen who traded 411
Foreword
Nowhere in the world are coastal resources so intimately tied to archae-

ological ideas regarding the emergence and functioning of the state and
complex polities than along the Andean coast. And, in fact, recent scholar-
ship shows that the exploitation of marine resources goes far back in time
some thousands of years before the first states would develop in the region.
In this volume, Prieto and Sandweiss bring together an international group
of scholars to discuss the nature of maritime adaptations and its influence
on social, economic, and political histories along the Pacific Coast of South
America. What these researchers collectively demonstrate is that maritime
adaptations permeated the South American coastal landscape and had far-
ranging implications for how individuals constructed their identities, as
well as the development and functioning of large polities. These chapters
will once again bring these issues not only to the forefront of South Ameri-
can archaeology, but also to those who are interested in the role of maritime
resources and how they articulate with trajectories of complex societies.
While early researchers, such as Max Uhle and Junius Bird, recognized
the importance of maritime resources, it was Mike Moseley who in 1975
first formalized their role in his now-famous proposal, the “Maritime
Foundations of Andean Civilization” (MFAC). In one way, shape, or form,
each of the chapters revisits this idea, adding new depth, nuance, and un-
derstanding to the role that coastal areas played in the long-term trajecto-
ries of Andean societies. These narratives are interwoven within some of
the major environmental conditions and processes that take center stage
along the Andean coastline by affecting the availability of resources in the
region. These include the hyperarid coastal deserts that flank the coastline
of South America’s west coast and the Humboldt Current, with its cold-
water upwelling resulting in one of the world’s most productive ecosystems.
Also, of central importance to many of the chapters is the El Niño Southern
Oscillation (ENSO), the periodic, albeit irregular, variation in the warming
xiv · Foreword
of the eastern Pacific Ocean that causes balmy wind and water to increase
the temperature of western Pacific waters, resulting in a disruption in the
kinds of resources and weather conditions experienced along the coast.
Drawing on the history of ideas related to MFAC, the authors in this vol-
ume expand its scope and provide some broader contextualization and new
ideas for the patterns and processes of coastal life along the Andes. Prieto
and Sandweiss set out this agenda nicely in their introduction and a history
of the research in the region. Organized geographically and more or less
chronologically, the chapters that follow walk the reader through some of
the key transitions that coastal communities experienced prior to and after
contact with European groups during the time of Spanish Colonization.
Among the broader themes that are considered by almost every au-
thor in the volume is how maritime resources articulated with population
growth and the Neolithization of coastal societies. The Neolithic, a term
familiar to most European archaeologists, and increasingly used in the
Americas, describes the process by which groups shifted to an economy
that was dominated by domesticated plants and animals. This shift among
groups in areas such as the Near East and over much of Europe is thought
to also be accompanied by the construction of monumental architecture
and shifting identities, as social and economic networks were reframed in
the light of these new landscape features and resources. While such tran-
sitions never come in such neat packets of traits (for example, domestic
plants, monuments, and so forth), the archaeology of the coastal Andes
seems to complicate such ideas that have permeated much of archaeologi-
cal scholarship. In case after case in this volume, we see that the driver of
many of the shifts in cultural traditions, which we associate elsewhere with
a Neolithic economy, instead has its foundation in maritime resources.
Monumentality and the construction of labor-intensive architecture and
the attendant social relationships fostered by such constructions is another
broader theme that the work in this volume sheds additional light on. Ar-
chaeologists now have a better understanding of the emergence of monu-
mental architecture; however, the new research in this volume, especially
at Huaca Prieta, illustrates the early manifestations of such traditions in the
region. It is now clear that the peoples of the Andean coast were among the
first to experiment with monumental constructions in the Americas. This
and other early preceramic sites on the north coast of Peru appear to evi-
dence a level of mound building and social complexity supported mainly
by maritime resources. Regional work in the area suggests too that during
Foreword · xv
the Late Preceramic Period a series of exchange networks emerged, link-

ing both larger and smaller regions in broader interaction spheres, which
presaged the rise of regional polities.
Archaeologists are keenly aware of the complexities of identity forma-
tion and how it is influenced not only by daily practices, but also by the
larger networks and relationships that individuals are engaged in and sub-
sumed by during the course of their lives. Many of the chapters in this
volume deal directly with the idea that life by the sea and dependence on
maritime resources factored heavily in the construction of identity during
both Prehispanic times and Colonial entanglements. Many of the authors
in the volume directly link their discussions of the idea of a “fishing” iden-
tity to the role of these communities in the development and functioning
of larger polities. This is an important perspective as it moves away from
the idea that such communities were on the margins of polities or pawns
of inland settlements, a lesson that can be transplanted in other locations
where coastal settlements are integrated into regional systems that include
inland and maritime groups.
How communities dealt with large-scale climate and environmental
change is perhaps the most pervasive theme considered by the authors of
this volume. While to some extent or another, all of the authors consider
what it means to live in a region dominated by extremes, the latter chapters
deal with some of the specific variations experienced by these groups who
depended upon the waters that were subject to the winds of change. One of
the things that becomes apparent in this research is that we are beginning
to have a clearer conception of how climate shifts, such as how ENSO af-
fected the availability of resources differently in different regions along the
coast. Also clear is that coastal communities had the ability to deal with
these shifts and had a deep awareness of how resources could be affected
by such events. Thus, the picture that rises from these studies is of a resil-
ience to the variations that could crop up in these environments. Such work
adds to a growing body of research around the world that is investigating
similar questions among both past and contemporary coastal and island
populations.
This volume, as a whole, represents a significant addition to the litera-
ture centering on island and coastal archaeology. With chapters by both
renowned and younger scholars, this work goes beyond the question of
social complexity and focuses on the processes and dynamics of economic
interactions among fishing communities for more than 12,000 years. While
xvi · Foreword
in many respects the work done in this region has always had an underlying
maritime focus, research by these scholars brings this research as a col-
lective effort to a broader global audience. In sum, the united strength of
this volume is that it brings all the variation in both time and space of how
Andean communities linked to the sea and its resources, which will be of
value to scholars around the world.
Victor D. Thompson
Series Editor
Acknowledgments
The editors are deeply thankful to all the contributors of this volume.
Thanks to Angiolina Abugattas who has helped us through the editing
process of the texts. Finally, our special thanks to Brian Billman, CEO of
Moche INC, who provided financial support to finish the editing process
of this volume.
1
Introduction
A Historical Perspective on the Studies
of Andean Maritime Communities
Gabriel Prieto and Daniel H. Sandweiss
The present edited volume is the outcome of a symposium held in 2014 in

Austin, Texas, during the 79th Annual Meeting of the Society for Ameri-
can Archaeology. This symposium was organized by Gabriel Prieto, at the
time a graduate student at Yale University, and Daniel H. Sandweiss from
the University of Maine, an archaeologist who studies fishing settlements
along the coast of Peru. Entitled “New Perspectives on the Social Dynamics
and Economic Interactions of Andean Maritime Communities,” the goal of
this symposium was to provide an updated overview of current archaeo-
logical research in coastal sites of western South America from different
regions and periods. Scholars from Chile, Peru, Ecuador, the United States,
and France congregated to discuss various aspects based on their ongoing
research projects. Both early career and senior scholars had the chance to
express their views on how and why the study of maritime adaptations is
so important to understanding the emergence, consolidation, and collapse
of Prehispanic civilizations in this region. The symposium also included
two presentations dealing with the period of contact between locals and
the Spanish conquistadors. Thirteen presentations were read and later dis-
cussed by Sandweiss, who emphasized the importance of how current re-
search done in maritime settlements is using different approaches besides
mere subsistence practices or technological aspects—but also that our ar-
chaeological predecessors carried out important studies that pointed the
way toward current understandings and directions in coastal research. In
some sense, this symposium and volume constitute an update on a 1986
SAA session titled “Maritime Foundations: Preceramic Subsistence and
2 · Gabriel Prieto and Daniel H. Sandweiss
Society on the Andean Coast,” organized by Sandweiss and partially pub-

lished as a thematic section in Andean Past (Sandweiss 1992).
Can we go beyond the classic “primary producers” framework in which
fishermen have been encapsulated and understand their culture and settle-
ments as part of maritime communities embedded in social, economic, and
ideological dynamics? The present volume is an attempt to study Andean
Maritime Communities (AMC) from broader perspectives and build on
earlier attempts (for example, Moseley 1975, 1992; Quilter 1992) to go be-
yond mere subsistence practices or technological aspects related to these
cultures. In this effort, the editors believe that the study of coastal societies
along the entire Pacific coast of South America is critical to understand-
ing these societies as a whole. The South American coastline was one of
the main corridors for human mobility since the late Pleistocene Period
(for example, Dillehay et al. 2008; Dillehay 2017). Therefore, it is not sur-
prising that some of the earliest settlements yet discovered in this region
are located along the shoreline (Sandweiss 2014). Unfortunately, not all of
the early coast is still available for study. Thanks to the pioneering studies
of James B. Richardson III, we can anticipate that several, perhaps many,
early sites along the Andean coast were submerged by postglacial sea level
rise and are no longer accessible to us (Richardson 1981). Richardson also
pointed out that we are most likely to find surviving early maritime sites
where the continental shelf is steepest and narrowest. This strategy led to
the discovery of sites, such as the Ring Site, Quebrada Jaguay, and Que-
brada Tacahuay, that demonstrated a Terminal Pleistocene origin for An-
dean fishing (Sandweiss et al. 1989, 1998; Keefer et al. 1998; Sandweiss 2014).
We do not have enough space here to describe in detail all previous
research done on Andean maritime communities, but it is worth mention-
ing Moseley’s pioneering proposal that the maritime economy was one of
the prime movers for the emergence of Andean civilization (Moseley 1975,
1992; Moseley and Feldman 1988). Moseley was interested not only in sub-
sistence and technology, but also “food, laws, tools, and people” as he titled
Chapter 4 of The Maritime Foundations of Andean Civilization (Moseley
1975). Here, he presaged interest in topics, such as corporate authority, jural
rights, and human ecodynamics (human-environment interaction), that
have come to the fore in more recent years.
In brief review, the archaeological study of Andean Maritime Commu-
nities in the Central Andes can be traced back to the beginning of the twen-
tieth century. The first issue of the journal of the Peruvian National Mu-
seum had an article written by Max Uhle about the prehistoric fishermen
A Historical Perspective on the Studies of Andean Maritime Communities · 3
of the Peruvian central coast (Uhle 1906). Since then, a number of scholars
have devoted significant attention to the importance of the sea in ancient
Prehispanic societies. These studies have focused on marine iconography
and ideology (McClelland 1990; Morgan 1988), watercraft and fishing tech-
nology (Lothrop 1932; Means 1942; Edwards 1965); diet and protein input
provided by marine products (Quilter 1989; Moseley 1975); and climatic
changes that have been affecting fishermen populations since the Pleisto-
cene Epoch (Lanning 1967; Richardson and Sandweiss 2008). More com-
plete overviews of maritime communities have been published in a number
of books and reports as well as specialized papers by Daniel H. Sandweiss
and Joyce Marcus among others (Sandweiss 1992, 1996, 2014; Marcus 1987a,
1987b; Marcus 2008).
Historically, we can establish two main stages for the study of fisheries
on the Andean coast and their importance in the formation of complex so-
cieties in this region. The first stage can be associated with the Virú Valley
Project in northern Peru and its implications for determining the antiquity
of the residents in this part of the Andes. While the problem of fishermen
has been widely discussed in Peruvian archaeology since its origins (Uhle
1906), it was not until the discoveries made by Junius Bird, first in Chile
(Bird 1943) and then at Huaca Prieta (Bird 1948, 1963, Bird et al. 1985),
that the important role these groups played in the prehistoric Andes be-
gan to be understood. Bird’s work suggested that the inhabitants of Huaca
Prieta constituted a society that predated Chavín, which had not yet adop-
ted the use of ceramics but which had developed sophisticated textiles and
an economy based on a mixed diet that emphasized marine products. It is
important, however, not to marginalize the consumption of agricultural
and wild products from the valleys; in fact, the inhabitants of Huaca Prieta
were once proposed as the earliest farmers in the Americas (Bird 1948). The
effect caused by the discoveries at Huaca Prieta motivated other researchers
such as Edward Lanning and Frédéric Engel (for example, 1957) to conduct
extensive archaeological surveys and excavations that subsequently identi-
fied a variety of new early coastal sites associated with hunter-gatherers and
fishermen. One of the most significant was the site of Pampa de Santo Do-
mingo where Engel recorded remains of fishing nets made of sedge fibers
with an approximate age of 8830 BC (uncalibrated dates). The residents of
this site exploited marine resources, which formed the basis of their diet,
but also utilized some plant products such as fruits, capsicums (peppers),
and some tubers (Engel 1976, 1988). In fact, Engel recovered a significant
amount of archaeological data that are not yet well studied. His extensive
research along most of the Peruvian coast needs to be systematized and

reevaluated, and his collections reorganized. He discovered many maritime
sites (for instance, Quebrada Jaguay) and recognized some of the most im-
pressive archaeological contexts related to fishing communities, such as the
massive sites of El Paraíso, Río Seco, and Las Aldas (Engel 1957, 1960, 1970).
Edward Lanning (1967) made one of the earliest theoretical contribu-
tions to explain the mechanisms by which social complexity arose in the
Andes. He postulated that the drying out of areas with fog-based lomas
vegetation produced a change in the subsistence economies of the com-
munities of hunters and gatherers. The limited resources of the desiccated
hills motivated the exploitation of the abundant marine products, which
in turn created the necessary conditions for these groups to develop more
complex forms of social and political organization. By that time, Frédéric
Engel had proposed the timeline of a Preceramic Period without Cotton,
followed by a Preceramic Period with Cotton. The importance of this sepa-
ration was that in the latter period, people developed new technologies,
mainly based on fishing nets made from cotton fibers, which optimized the
extraction yield with less effort (Beresford-Jones et al. 2018). Later, Thomas
Patterson (1971) followed Lanning’s earlier ideas to propose that the shift
from nomadic hunter-gatherers based on lomas exploitation to sedentary
fishermen was caused by an increase in population as a consequence of the
higher nutritional level provided by maritime resources, and subsequently,
these early groups overexploited some of the resources of the terrestrial
habitats like the lomas of Ancón (Patterson 1971: 201). Here, Patterson states
very clearly that this situation might be true only for the Peruvian central
coast and he argued that we might expect to find distinct situations in dif-
ferent regions such as the south and north coasts of Peru.
Michael Moseley built on Lanning’s and Patterson’s work through exca-
vations in Preceramic sites in the Ancón-Chillón region of Peru’s central
coast, resulting in his 1968 dissertation at Harvard. In his 1975 book, based
on the dissertation, Moseley proposed his famous “Maritime Foundations
of Andean Civilization”(or MFAC) hypothesis, which states that marine
products, thanks to their abundance and easy availability, prompted the
emergent forms of social organization and economic basis that began with
Late Preceramic centers such as El Paraíso and Aspero; this subsequently
led to the large Initial Period centers such as La Florida in the Rimac Valley
and then the agricultural states of the Early Intermediate and Late Interme-
diate periods. From Moseley’s perspective, coastal societies emphasized the
production and exploitation of marine resources, rather than agricultural
production that was traditionally associated with the emergence of complex

societies as seen, for instance, in the Middle East (Childe 1925). At the same
time, Moseley acknowledged the role of farming in early maritime lifeways,
although principally as a source of the “industrial” crops: cotton and gourd
used for nets, textiles, floats, and containers. In subsequent iterations of the
maritime hypothesis, Moseley more explicitly recognized the importance
of agriculture as an essential counterpoint to fishing, pointing to the need
for plant-based carbohydrates and other nutrients as well industrial plants
(Moseley and Feldman 1988; Moseley 1992; Sandweiss 2009).
Moseley was innovative in the anthropological sciences by establishing
a new theory that explained the emergence of complex societies based on
the exploitation of marine products, especially the abundant schools of an-
chovies and sardines in the Peruvian sea (Moseley and Feldman 1988). It is
interesting to contextualize what Moseley proposed from two angles: one
theoretical and the other circumstantial.
In 1970 Robert Carneiro published his famous article in Science on “A
Theory of the Origin of the State.” It proposed that the emergence of com-
plex forms of social organization were due to the effect of environmental
circumscription resulting from a lack of farmland. Under this situation,
increasing population exceeded local “carrying capacity” and caused stress
on production in these areas. The pressure on resources and their proper
handling resulted in the emergence of the first complex forms of social or-
ganization (Carneiro 1970: 169). Later, Patterson (1971) was the first to apply
Carneiro’s model for the Central Andean region. Following this perspec-
tive, Moseley (1975: 57) emphasized Patterson’s argument that population
pressure (instead of the climatic causes proposed by Lanning) caused the
depletion of the lomas resources. Loss of lomas in turn forced people to
seek more stable sources of supply, ones which demanded a minimum in-
vestment of time and effort. In his view, the abundance of marine resources
led to the transition from lomas exploitation to an economy based on fish-
ing specialization. Thus, the growing coastal population could find a steady
source of subsistence products. The abundance of resources allowed the
development of the first surplus production and thereby the emergence of
political leaders, the construction of monumental architecture, and so on.
In this process, the pressure on resources was one of the main arguments
of Moseley’s theory, in which the influence of Carneiro and Patterson is
evident.
Moseley developed his idea during the boom of industrial fishing in
Peru. During the decade of the 1960s and 1970s, Peru became one of the
world’s leading producers of fishmeal and fish oil obtained from indiscrim-
inate fishing of anchovies and sardines, two species critical to the mainte-
nance of food chains in this part of the Pacific Ocean. The most intense
fishing was in the area between the valleys of Supe in the south and Virú to
the north. This area was just north of the sites Moseley used in his original
1975 proposal about the process of social complexity, in which the begin-
ning of monumental architecture indicated the emergence of chiefdoms
and pristine states. In subsequent versions (Moseley and Feldman 1988),
he extended the region almost to Virú based on the presence of Late Prece-
ramic monumental sites that far north.
The second step in the research on fisheries in the Prehispanic Andes
can be subdivided into two parallel processes. On the one hand, Maria
Rostworowski used ethnohistoric sources to study the nature of Andean
fishermen (Rostworowski 1975, 1981, 1989). Spanish chronicles from the
Colonial Period and the study of documents (judgments, testaments, idola-
tries processes, and so on) from the archives in Lima, Trujillo, Lambayeque,
and Piura in Peru and from the “Archivo General de Indias” in Seville,
Spain, provided a corpus sufficiently strong to establish some generaliza-
tions about the fishing communities of the Peruvian coast. Rostworowski’s
pioneering work was complemented by two important (but, sadly, unpub-
lished) dissertations, by Patricia Netherly (1977) and Elizabeth Hart (1983).
The data gathered from ethnohistorical sources comprised: (1) the spe-
cialization of fishermen and coastal residents in general, who developed a
system of exchange based on what they produced; (2) patterns of endog-
amy in fishermen populations, (3) religious beliefs associated with the cult
of birds, and (4) technology for the extraction and processing of marine
resources. The concept of specialization among the fishermen is one of the
most significant contributions of Rostworowski in this field. She cited tes-
timony from many fishermen from the sixteenth to eighteenth centuries to
the effect that because they had no land, they were therefore not subject to
a labor tax in farming activities or the annual operations of cleaning irriga-
tion canals. Many of the testimonies offered by Rostworowski emphasize
that coastal inhabitants were dedicated only to fishing and then selling or
exchanging their marine products. Some years later, Susan Ramirez ana-
lyzed documentary sources for the Moche and Chicama valleys and found
direct references to the fishermen who had no land but only had the sea to
supply food, and who owned herds of llamas to transport their products for
exchange with other populations (Ramirez 1995; but see also Ramirez, this
volume; compare VanValkenburgh et al., this volume). As a consequence of
this increase in ethnohistorical studies of Andean fishermen, there was an

interest in testing ethnohistorical models through archaeological research.
Archaeologists used this theoretical framework of economic complemen-
tarity between specialized fishermen and specialized farmers on the An-
dean coast, in contrast to the then-popular verticality model proposed by
John Murra (2002) for the Andean highlands.
In the 1980s, Joyce Marcus conducted excavations at the Late Intermedi-
ate Period (circa AD 1300–1470) and Late Horizon (circa AD 1470–1540)
site of Cerro Azul in the Cañete valley, to test the ethnohistorical theo-
retical framework of specialized fishermen (Marcus 1987a, 1987b). Marcus
concluded that Cerro Azul was the settlement of a small coastal state under
whose aegis an interdependent network of fishing, farming, and craft com-
munities could be administered (Marcus 1987a: 108). She proposed that the
site controlled the exploitation and processing of sun-dried fish, specifically
anchovies and sardines (Marcus 1987b). These small fish have an oily meat
that is appreciated even today in inland valley towns and in highland towns
of the Andes as a supplement to their diet (Majluf et al. 2017). Marcus’ exca-
vations did not find fishhooks, but did find three types (sizes) of fish nets,
which were probably used for the selective capture of fish species such as
anchovies and sardines (Marcus 1987a, 1987b). Finally, Marcus observed
an unexpected situation not seen in the ethnohistorical documentation.
It appears that this specialization was initiated and directed from the top
down, and it seems that Cerro Azul had been selected for the development
of large-scale production of dried fish late in the archaeological sequence
(Marcus 1987b: 400). However, her excavations were concentrated on the
elite compounds, and it is possible that a lower class fishing community is
located in the surrounding areas along the Cañete coast.
To better understand fishing specialization in the Andes, Sandweiss
(1992) directed an archaeological project at the site of Lo Demás in the
neighboring Chincha valley, along the south central coast of Perú, at the
same time as the Cerro Azul project. Lo Demás is a natural and elongated
plateau next to the shoreline, which was identified as a Prehispanic fishing
community. Sandweiss focused his research on testing two models derived
from ethnohistoric sources. Model I is based on the ethnohistorical in-
formation provided by Rostworowski (1970) who found the well-known
“Aviso” document (“Aviso de el modo que havia en el govierno de las indios
en tiempo del inga y como se repartian las tierras y tributos”/“Notice of the
way it was in the government of the Indians in the time of the Inka and
how the lands and tributes were distributed”). This document provided a
detailed description of the area of Chincha and the specialized activities

of its inhabitants. According to the “Aviso,” the Chincha Valley was inhab-
ited by three major groups divided by specialized occupation: the farmers,
the fishermen, and the merchants. Thus, Sandweiss expected under Model
I that a fishing settlement should be geographically discrete and should
contain evidence only for fishing subsistence/practices. Additionally, the
family would have been the basic unit of production. Under Model I, the
fishing families also had their own lords, so the fishing settlement should
include both elite and commoner sectors. Model II is similar to Model I,
but is broadened to include the more extensive ethnohistorical information
from the north coast of Peru (Rostworowski 1989; Hart 1983). The main
difference is that fishing lords had attached specialists (people with a par-
ticular craft or practice who worked directly for the lord) (Sandweiss 1992:
16). Sandweiss concluded that archaeological data from Lo Demás suggest
that ethnohistoric Model II applies to the Chincha fishermen elite groups,
and that Model I applies best to nonelite members of the specialized groups
although they, too, had part- or full-time nonfishing specialists (Sandweiss
1992: 145). However, it is important to mention that Sandweiss proposed,
at least for the Late Horizon, that fishermen were also making their own
tools (needles, nets, reed boats, and so on) and that they were possibly cul-
tivating or encouraging stands of the plant resources needed for these tools
(cotton, gourds, and totora reeds).
Despite the fact that these conclusions are only applicable to the case of
the Late Intermediate Period and Late Horizon—fishing communities of
the south central coast of Peru (specifically Chincha and Cañete valleys),
some scholars generalized and applied these models to other regions of the
Central Andean coast. Use of ethnohistoric data from the north coast (Ros-
tworowski 1970, 1989; Hart 1983) to supplement the Aviso for Chincha pro-
vides some justification for this approach. The generalizations drawn from
one region and from one period in particular (especially the Late Inter-
mediate Period and Late Horizon) have also been overextended to earlier
periods of Peruvian prehistory. Perhaps for this reason, until recently there
was little attention to social dynamics or initiative among earlier Andean
maritime communities. In 1996, Sandweiss made a preliminary attempt to
assess aspects of the Late Horizon specialized model through time using
archaeological data. He wrote (54):
I have focused on the evidence for specialization because of the star-

tling degree to which specialized fishing groups were integrated into
the complex societies of late Prehispanic coastal Peru, but in terms of

the developmental sequence, the identification and role of specializa-
tion is far from resolved. We have only sporadic and inconclusive
evidence concerning mobility, yet this is a key question in assessing
specialization: if the coastal fisher-gatherers were also inland hunter-
gatherers at a different time of year, then they can hardly be called
specialists, even incipient ones. Only when the fisherpeople made a
living from the ocean on a year-round basis can we consider special-
ization to be operative.
The scarce anthropological research done on contemporaneous modern

traditional Andean maritime communities (for example, Hammel and
Haase 1962; Gillin 1947; Sabella 1974; Schaedel 1989) means that scholars
do not have a body of ethnographic data to create theoretical frameworks
to explain kinship and status systems within these groups, their economic
milieu, and their diverse patterns of maritime production and exploitation.
Finally, there has never been a systematic comparison of the AMC with
other similar societies throughout the world.
The chapters here presented demonstrate that the situation in different
time periods, regions, and even spatially close maritime communities was
dynamic and heterogeneous. From the perspective of these chapters, the
study of Andean Maritime Communities is now focused on issues such
as the composition of fishermen’s households and the impact of ideologi-
cal and religious phenomena, or on questions such as their differences
in terms of social complexity, technological achievements, and maritime
production.
The following pages summarize the information presented in each chap-
ter. Because of regional research trajectories and individual preferences,
dating schemes vary from paper to paper. We have tried to define named
periods in terms of approximate calendrical age. The final paragraphs draw
some brief conclusions from the studies included in this volume.
Chapter Summaries
Calogero M. Santoro, Victoria Castro, Chris Carter, and Daniela Valenzu-

ela (Chapter 2) review and analyze maritime-adapted communities on the
southernmost coast of Peru and the north coast of Chile, from Ilo, Peru
(17° S), to Copiapó, Chile (27° S). The entire region is hyperarid, but avail-
ability of water decreases to the south due in part to a latitudinal gradient
in the highland precipitation that feeds the rivers and the groundwater re-
sources that reach the coast. The authors divide their region into two sec-
tions, characterizing the north section (17°–21° S) as the exorheic coast, in
which some rivers reach the shore, and the south section (21°–27° S) as the
arheic coast, which has no rivers descending to the coast. In this chapter,
Santoro and colleagues use sites at Caleta Vitor (9,500 cal BP through the
Inca occupation) to represent the exorheic coast, while sites around Co-
paca Bay represent the arheic coast; for the arheic coast, the chapter mainly
describes the Middle Archaic (7100 to 5200 cal BP) occupation at Copaca,
but uses data from the adjacent Taltal region to the south (see Salazar et al.,
Chapter 3) to suggest earlier adaptations to the region and refers briefly to
later prehistoric occupations.
For both the exorheic and arheic coast, Santoro and colleagues present
archaeological evidence to support their contention that subsistence did
not change much over time—the vast majority of food resources in this sec-
tion of the South American littoral are maritime, and that was the basis for
Caleta Vitor and Copaca. The technological and social systems for extract-
ing marine resources did change through the long occupation of the region.
The authors track the introduction of netting, hooks of different materials,
and harpoons, along with indirect evidence (pelagic fish, rock art) for the
appearance of boats in Copaca by about 4500 cal BP and in Caleta Vitor in
the subsequent Formative Period.
Despite the distance and difficult travel to inland communities, both
sectors have evidence of interaction with nearer inland and more distant
highland communities, beginning in the Archaic Period after 6000 cal BP
and particularly along the arheic coast. The pace of exchange for both sec-
tors picks up in the Formative Period with the appearance of agricultural
produce and domesticated animals on the coast. In the Late Horizon (Inca
period) at Caleta Vitor, maize increases but stable isotopes show that the
diet remained predominantly marine. The abundance of camelid dung
coupled with a paucity of camelid bones suggests that these animals were
used as transport but not as food.
Caleta Vitor is located at the mouth of a canyon, while Copaca is not.
This may explain the greater emphasis on high trophic-level marine food
at the latter site, given that plant foods and other inland resources had to
travel over 100 km by land, although water transport along the coast is also
possible. Despite this isolation, foreign objects appear here by 2000 cal BP
and show an exchange network with inland groups, a development that
happened earlier at Caleta Vitor.
Complex treatment of the dead beginning in the Archaic Period and

the construction of tumuli in the Formative Period offer insight into social
and ideological aspects of the maritime communities of northern Chile. Al-
though for much of prehistory, funerary arrangements in the region do not
suggest large social differences in terms of differential elaboration of tombs
or grave goods, in the latest periods the influx of inland prestige goods was
“creating certain levels of inequalities.” However, Santoro and colleagues
conclude that, even if aggrandizing leaders accumulated goods and power
in their lifetimes, these were not inherited. Rather, right up until European
contact, “coastal people enjoyed a rather egalitarian and independent life.”
In Chapter 3, Diego Salazar, Carola Flores, César Borie, Laura Olguín,
Sandra Rebolledo, Manuel Escobar, and Ariadna Cifuentes summarize
research on Middle Holocene (MH) (~7500 to 4500 cal BP) occupations
of the southern extreme of the Atacama Desert, centered around Taltal
on the north Chilean coast. In this context of limited terrestrial resources,
no permanent streams, and a very rich ocean, marine resources played a
key role. Salazar and colleagues use subsistence practices, technology, and
settlement patterns to gain insight into social organization in their study
area. During the Early Middle Holocene (7500 to 5500 cal BP), they find
a technology specialized in harvesting and processing marine resources, a
dependence on those resources (although some terrestrial foods were also
acquired), and a settlement pattern consisting of semisedentary residential
camps tied to small, scarce springs. These camps varied in size, perhaps
reflecting water availability. Because most people resided at the camps (the
few logistical stations do not indicate residence), Salazar et al. see shar-
ing and cohabiting leading to kinship-based social bonds and group iden-
tity. Some individuals probably had higher status derived from specialized
knowledge, in particular concerning long-distance lithic procurement and
maritime hunting of large fish, but this status was not hereditary. Thus,
Early MH groups were likely egalitarian.
During the Late Middle Holocene around Taltal, subsistence patterns re-
main similar to the Early MH, but the settlement pattern is more complex.
New residential sites appear and there is an abundance of rock shelters and
small, open-air sites. At the residential camps, permanent dwellings appear
in the form of semicircular to circular stone structures with midden and
sometimes burials that suggest links between places and social groups—an
increase in territoriality and social boundary defense mechanisms. Some
of the residential sites have clusters of dwellings that may reflect different
social groups. Settlement-pattern changes collate with an increase in ENSO
frequency that would have increased unpredictability in marine resources

while recharging groundwater (and hence springs) more frequently. A new
artifact form, the “Taltaloid blade,” appears in the Late Middle Holocene in
funerary contexts but rarely in domestic settings; there is no known func-
tion for this form, which may be a marker of increased complexity related
to social identity, in-group differentiation, and long-distance alliances or
affiliations. A complex rock art site inland from the coast, El Médano, may
date to the period and could have been the locus of social aggregation for
special members of the society such as ocean hunters and long-distance
lithic provisioners. After 4500 cal BP, the Middle Holocene social system
ended abruptly.
Tom Dillehay (Chapter 4) summarizes the construction, subsistence,
and social correlates of Huaca Prieta, a mound site in the lower Chicama
Valley on the north coast of Peru, from the earliest evidence of human pres-
ence in the Late Pleistocene (circa 12,500 14C BP/14,600 cal BP) through
abandonment at 3,800 14C BP/4100 cal BP. Throughout the occupation
of Huaca Prieta, inhabitants subsisted on a mix of marine and terrestrial
foods, with the importance of terrestrial foods growing through time as
cultigens were added and increased. The later phases of site occupation in
the Middle Holocene also saw increasingly complex architecture, including
precocious monumentality. However, as Dillehay points out, the nature of
Huaca Prieta, including its forms of monumentality, differ markedly from
other Mid-Holocene sites of the Late Preceramic Period (circa 4500–3600
14C BP/5100–3850 cal BP) such as Caral or the other Norte Chico sites dis-
cussed by Creamer and Haas in Chapter 5.

Huaca Prieta was first excavated by Junius Bird (et al. 1985) in the mid-
1940s. Dillehay directed extensive excavations and multidisciplinary analy-
ses at Huaca Prieta and nearby sites from 2006 to 2013. He details five oc-
cupational phases. During Phase I (12,500–7500 14C BP/14,600–8300 cal
BP), small groups of maritime foragers camped occasionally at the site.
These people also exploited some terrestrial food sources, including wild
game, and (after 10,000 14C BP/11,400 cal BP) cultivated a small number of
plants. During this time, extensive lagoons developed on the inland side
of the site. Phase II (7,500–6,300 14C BP/8300–7200 cal BP) saw the begin-
ning of mound construction, with a 5 × 35 × 45 m structure composed of
multiple layers of deliberately deposited sediment. The diet included more
cultivated plants, and cotton appears during this phase as an “industrial”
crop (Moseley 1975) for nets, bags, and textiles. Human burials also first ap-
pear in this phase but not in burial chambers as seen later. Exotics increase
in frequency. Phase II ends with the shrinking of the lagoons and the start
of sediment buildup in the lower middle valley.
During Phase III at Huaca Prieta (6500–5500 14C BP/7200–6250 cal BP),
ceremonial and burial functions came to the fore, with the first construc-
tion of burial chambers and other stone structures that are conjoined and
appear contemporaneous. In this phase, the mound grows to 12–18 m high
and 80 m long. The economy is still dominated by marine food, but there
is a major increase in cultigens including a greater variety of maize—al-
though maize was not particularly important in the diet. Nonlocal min-
erals become more common during Phase III, and the local settlement
pattern now includes house mounds north of Huaca Prieta. Later in this
phase, there is a shift from smaller, isolated mounds to larger house mound
groups. Dillehay suggests that these isolated mounds may be farmsteads
that would have complemented littoral households. Population in the lower
valley appears to be increasing.
A yellow clay cap separates Phases III and IV (5300–4500 14C BP/6250–
5100 cal BP); the latter phase is characterized by the expansion of ceremo-
nial and funerary functions. A sunken circular court started in Phase III
was completed at this time. The site now has a balanced maritime-terres-
trial economy, with more cultigens and fewer wild foods from the shrink-
ing wetlands. During this phase, raised fields were built over the infilled
lagoon. At 5000 14C BP/5700 cal BP, there is a shift in tomb architecture,
with the majority of stone-lined burial chambers built at this time. Pri-
mary and secondary burials with few offerings continue; Dillehay suggests
that the different funerary contexts indicate social differentiation. During
Phase IV, inhabitants begin covering the site with a hard plaster, probably
to protect it from erosion as the site grew taller and steeper. According to
Dillehay, the increase in construction and other task group activities such
as the plaster cover provide the strongest evidence at Huaca Prieta for the
exercise of ephemeral authority. The final phase at Huaca Prieta is Phase
V (4500–3800 14C BP/5100–4100 cal BP). Activities at the site continue,
mainly on the flat top, but the site was abandoned after 3800 14C BP/4100
cal BP. Settlement pattern data suggest that population peaked in the lower
Chicama valley at 4500–4000 14C BP/5100–4400 cal BP, after which there
was a steady decline along the coast that seems to be related to a greater
reliance on cultigens.
In Chapter 5, Winifred Creamer and Jonathan Haas discuss the Late
Archaic (circa 3420–1830 cal BC/5370–3780 cal BP) in the Norte Chico, a
section of the Peruvian coast and adjacent lower valleys located between
about 100 and 175 km north-northeast of Lima. The Late Archaic was the
first period of widespread monumental centers on the Peruvian coast, fol-
lowing smaller scale, earlier monumental construction such as Dillehay
(Chapter 4) describes for Huaca Prieta. Creamer and Haas note that people
of the Norte Chico were “borrowers not inventors,” but that once monu-
mental architecture arrived in the region, it was adopted vigorously; the
Norte Chico has the greatest concentration of early monumental structures
anywhere on the Andean coast.
Multiple lines of evidence show that domesticated plants provided the
carbohydrates in the Norte Chico diet, while fish and probably mollusks
provided the animal protein. Creamer and Haas detail their evidence for
preceramic maize in this region, where it seems to have been more impor-
tant for the period than elsewhere (see Chapters 4 and 8). They suggest
based on coprolite evidence that fish “provided protein balance and flavor
to the diet, [but] it was not a significant source of calories.” Coastal fishing
centers, which were much fewer in number than inland, agricultural cen-
ters, would have exchanged fish for cotton and other agricultural produce,
as suggested earlier by Moseley (1992), but there is little evidence for long-
distance (out-of-region) exchange.
Creamer and Haas focus on the emergence of ideological and economic
power in the Late Archaic Norte Chico, evidenced principally in the con-
struction and maintenance of an extraordinary number of monumental
centers. They argue that each mound was an independent polity. Differ-
ences in residential structures show at least two social strata. Frequent visits
to, and remodeling of, the centers; consistent form, layout, and spacing of
these sites; and social differentiation seen not only in residential architec-
ture but in the increasing restriction of access as one moved up the mounds
toward inner sancta on the top—all indicate “a broad ideological power
base.” Creamer and Haas do not see evidence of coercive power or military
competition, although they suggest that site spacing and frequent renewal
of mounds indicate competition between the different mound sites for fol-
lowers/labor. In the absence of coercive power, however, they do not char-
acterize Norte Chico social structure as a true state—something that arose
only in the subsequent Initial Period.
Chapter 6 details Matthew Helmer’s work at the Early Horizon, first mil-
lennium BC site of Samanco, very near the shore in the Nepeña Valley on
the north coast of Peru. The site dates to about 450–150 cal BC/2400–2100
cal BP and was first occupied after the abandonment of Initial Period tem-
ple centers in the valley. Unlike large earlier sites, but similar to most of the
coast at this post–Initial Period time, Samanco does not have mounds but
instead consists of what Helmer calls enclosure compounds. These multi-
family compounds were centered around patios, where activities were not
visible from outside. Until the final phase, when the large Plaza Mayor was
built, Samanco had no central place for congregation. Helmer argues that
each compound may have housed a faction, perhaps analogous to the later
“ayllu system of exclusive family groups.” Community nucleation could
have been a response to threats such as warfare; a wall surrounds the site,
and defensive locations and architecture are typical of this time in Nepeña.
Helmer presents evidence for diverse sources of food, both marine and
terrestrial. Fishing and shellfishing were important, as was agriculture, with
maize as the most important crop (like the evidence presented by Creamer
and Haas in Chapter 5 for the earlier Norte Chico settlement system). Some
of the pottery appears to be chicha (fermented maize beer) jars. Among the
fish, sardines were the most abundant, in contrast to earlier, Initial Period
fishing of larger species such as sharks at sites like Pampa Gramalote several
valleys to the north of Nepeña (see Chapter 8 by Prieto). Among the ter-
restrial animals, camelids predominate, and Helmer excavated a corral full
of camelid dung and hair. Along with the presence of juvenile and unusable
parts from camelids, the corral suggests early camelid herding on the coast.
Camelids were probably used for transport but they were certainly also
eaten, as shown by cutmarks.
Samanco may have been part of a larger Nepeña polity centered at Cay-
lán, a very large site 15 km inland (see Chicoine et al, Chapter 7). In any
case, Helmer argues that Samanco was a food production center supplying
inland polities such as Caylán with subsistence goods from the sea and
from fields in the Nepeña delta. Trade was a defining feature of Samanco
identity, but unlike earlier periods, goods were utilitarian and local. Given
that such goods tend to be bulkier and heavier than most high-value exot-
ics, the availability of camelids for transport likely helped make this system
feasible.
David Chicoine, Carol Rojas, Víctor Vásquez, and Teresa Rosales (Chap-
ter 7) review the results of their zooarchaeological research at Caylán, a
large Early Horizon center located 15 km inland on the north side of the
Nepeña Valley on the Peruvian north coast. The site was first occupied
in the Nepeña Phase (800–450 cal BC/2750–2400 cal BP) and reached its
maximum expansion in the Samanco Phase (450–150 cal BC/2400–2100
cal BP). Like the nearby Samanco site discussed by Helmer (Chapter 6),
Caylán has multiple enclosure compounds as well as other architectural
features, and has a dense urban population, many of which were supplied
with plant and animal food by external producers or foragers.
In this chapter, Chicoine and his colleagues view the site through the
lens of shell and vertebrate remains, “to evaluate patterns of the exploi-
tation, supply, consumption, and discard of marine resources.” Shells are
mostly marine, so they had to be brought from the coast 15 km inland to
the site. The most common shell species is a small surf clam, followed by
two intertidal mussels. The surf clam is found in the sandy intertidal zone,
and Chicoine and colleagues suggest that it was provided by littoral gath-
ers from the north side of Nepeña where Samanco is located and where
sandy bottoms are more common. At Huambacho, a contemporary site
on the south side of the valley, rock-dwelling mollusks are most abundant
and may come from collectors on the south shore where rocky habitats are
more common. A variety of other shell species are present at Caylán, some
of which were used to make artifacts or body ornaments.
Vertebrate species include domesticated and wild mammals, fish, and
birds. The remains show a reliance on domesticated mammals, while wild
mammals and birds seem to have been procured more opportunistically.
Fish (mostly marine) rank second to domesticated mammals in abundance,
and among the fish, sardines are most common. Most of the fish could be
harvested near shore with relatively simple technology, although a few spe-
cies suggest ocean-going fishing. Sharks (like those found abundantly at
Initial Period Gramalote to the north, Prieto, Chapter 8) are present but
rare. As at Samanco, camelids at Caylán were important as food and likely
for transport, but, unlike Samanco, Caylán has not yet yielded evidence
for corralling. The relative frequency of mammals, fish, and birds (in that
order) is consistent across different contexts at Caylán, but the size of fish
taxa found at a mound is larger than those found in a compound and in a
public space, pointing to differential access to foodstuffs. By the final pre-
historic periods on the Peruvian coast, differential access to marine foods
(as to other resources) became quite common (for example, Marcus et al.
1999, Chapter 13; Sandweiss 1992).
Throughout the two phases of occupation at Caylán, marine foods ac-
quired through these exchange mechanisms remained important, but
there was an increasing reliance on animal domesticates. Chicoine and
colleagues see little evidence in the zooarchaeological data from Caylán
for top-down control of the subsistence economy. Rather, animal prod-
ucts moved through multiple networks structured by kinship and other
exchange mechanisms that did not require central direction, even though
architectural and artifactual forms and styles suggest a shared identity

across the lower valley.
In Chapter 8, Gabriel Prieto draws lessons about Peruvian maritime ad-
aptations from his work at the early Initial Period site of Pampa Gramalote
(1500–1200 cal BC/3450–1350 cal BP) on the north side of the Moche Valley
in northern Peru. He traces the development of thinking from Junius Bird’s
early fisher-farmers, a view supported by Frédéric Engel and Edward Lan-
ning’s work (1940s to 1960s), through the processual view of Moseley and
many others who saw evidence for specialized fisherfolk in an increasing
asymmetrical relationship with inland farmers, to his own evidence-based
arguments from Gramalote, namely, that in the Initial Period, at least, fish-
ers also cultivated key economic plants in addition to trading with valley
farmers for some products. Prieto notes that ethnohistoric accounts of spe-
cialized fishermen in the Colonial Period and Late Horizon (Inca period)
supported the view of endogamous coastal specialists exchanging products
across occupational lines (see Chapters 14 and 15).
Gramalote is located close to the modern shore, with wetlands be-
tween the site and the beach. Multiple lines of macro- and microbotani-
cal evidence show that wetlands were also present near the site when it
was occupied. Prieto’s ethnographic work confirms that local fishermen
today cultivate totora reeds in sunken gardens in the wetlands and may
also have grown brown cotton near their houses in the recent past. Totora
is a key species for north coast fishermen, as it was and is used to make
reed boats, as well as mats for domestic use and for roofs. Totora, including
mat fragments, was very common at Initial Period Gramalote. Brown cot-
ton is considered to be stronger and better for fishing lines and nets than
white cotton. In the Gramalote samples, fishing gear was made of brown
cotton while textiles where woven from the white variety. Gourds were
another important “industrial” plant (a plant used for manufacture rather
than food) at Gramalote; the area is a major producer of gourds today. Mac-
robotanical remains and pollen, phytoliths, and starch grains are consistent
with local cultivation of totora, cotton, and gourds.
Food plants were also abundant at Gramalote. Peanuts and a variety of
fruits were common and may have been acquired in exchange with valley
farmers or grown locally. Tubers (manioc and sweet potato) are unsurpris-
ingly rare among the macrobotanical remains but were the most commonly
identified plants in residue analysis. These were likely grown inland and ex-
changed. In addition to totora, brown cotton, and gourd, several food crops
may have been grown by the fishing community: squash, beans, chili, and
tomatoes are the most common remains but might have been traded from
elsewhere. Maize is present but rare in both micro- and macroremains. As
Prieto points out, the relative unimportance of maize was also noted by
Dillehay at Huaca Prieta in the adjacent Chicama Valley and seems charac-
teristic of Late Preceramic and Initial Period Moche and Chicama valleys.
The bulk of the protein at Gramalote came from the sea, but plants pro-
vided essential carbohydrates. Prieto differs from earlier analyses in con-
cluding that, like their local descendants today, the site’s inhabitants prac-
ticed both cultivation and fishing. Some foods were exchanged with valley
farmers, but Gramalotans grew the key industrial crops needed to support
their maritime production as well as many of the plants they consumed.
Seasonal availability of resources suggests that this combination was logis-
tically feasible: the high water table needed for sunken field farming occurs
in the winter, while the major marine species found at the site are fished in
the summer. Prieto concludes that the inhabitants of Gramalote practiced
a mixed economy that allowed them to practice symmetrical exchange with
valley farmers.
Richard C. Sutter and Gabriel Prieto (Chapter 9) return to the site of Gra-
malote (Chapter 8) to tackle the difficult challenge of ethnogenesis among
fishing people on the Andean coast. Recognizing that material markers of
ethnicity may be absent, variable, and/or situational, and that individuals
may hold more than one ethnic identity, they approach this problem by
investigating the genetic relationship between fishing and roughly contem-
porary inland communities.
Sutter and Prieto carried out biodistance analyses on 42 Initial Period
individuals from Gramalote using dental traits. They place these individu-
als in evolutionary context and then look at how similar or distinctive they
were compared to 18 other populations from the Peruvian coast from the
same and later periods. Results indicate that Gramalote is most similar to
Early Horizon sites from the Paracas Peninsula, some 700 km south-south-
east along the coast, and to an Early Intermediate Period Moche sample
from a site on the shore of the Jequetepeque Valley, about 100 km to the
north-northwest. The Early Horizon Period dates approximately to the sec-
ond half of the first millennium BC, and the Early Intermediate Period
dates to the first 800 years of the first millennium AD. Gramalote samples
are also similar to other Moche Valley populations, but dissimilar to all pre–
Initial Period samples except the Middle Preceramic Period site of Paloma
(circa 8500–5500 cal BP) located about 550 km to the south-southeast.
Sutter and Prieto don’t argue that there is a direct ancestral relationship
with the more distant sample populations, but rather that both resulted
from a “demographically driven expansion of food producers,” replacing
the descendants of the initial Paleoindian settlers, as Sutter has argued
elsewhere. In terms of more local relations, they conclude that Gramalote
contrasts sharply with preceding maritime populations of the Peruvian
Preceramic Period but “was neither genetically nor culturally isolated,
but instead, clearly engaged in long-standing north coast mate-exchange
networks with agropastoral populations from the adjacent coastal valley.”
What, then, of pescador (fisher) ethnic identity? As Sutter and Prieto ex-
plain, ethnic identity here is not coterminous with genetics but rather a
result of shared economic activities. At Gramalote, this identity was af-
firmed through ritual activities. As documented by Ramírez (Chapter 15)
for the north coast, fishers could become farmers when it was economically
imperative to do so—the relationship was fluid. Fishing identity on the
Peruvian coast, then, was a cultural rather than a biological reality.
In Chapter 10, Brian R. Billman, Dana Bardolph, Jean Hudson, and Jesús
Briceño Rosario discuss their work at the Late Intermediate Period (1000–
1460 cal AD) and Late Horizon (1470–1532 cal AD) site of Cerro la Virgen,
close to Gramalote on the north side of the Moche Valley on the Peruvian
north coast (see Chapters 8 and 9). Originally a large Chimú town located
only 6 km from the Chimú capital of Chan Chan, Cerro la Virgen consisted
of masonry and quincha (wattle and daub) house compounds along a road
connecting Chan Chan to Chicama, the next valley north. Directly associ-
ated with a vast Chimú field system, the site is only a few kilometers from
the shore. Cerro la Virgen appears to have been abandoned immediately
after the Spanish conquest of Peru in 1532 cal AD.
Previous researchers believed Cerro la Virgen to be a state-sponsored
settlement moved to this location to serve Chimú state fields and provi-
sion the capital (Keatinge 1975; Griffis 1971). In this view, the inhabitants
also fished and collected shellfish, although later work indicated that most
meat came from camelids (Pozorski 1979). In their chapter, Billman and
colleagues present evidence from new excavations and analyses to support
an alternative interpretation of the site as self-sufficient. The exception was
water for the fields, which had to be allocated by a central authority given
that the fields near the site were connected to a much larger irrigation
system.
Billman and colleagues review ethnohistoric models for socioeconomic
organization on the north coast of Peru. In the the parcialidad (family
group) model (see also Chapters 14 and 15), parcialidades specialize in a
productive activity: products flow up to the lords as tribute and are re-
distributed throughout the hierarchy. In contrast, in the Inca-based mita
model, communities pay tribute to the lords in labor, presumably receiving
housing, food, and other necessary supplies while performing labor tribute
(as with the Inca). Under the Inca, some communities were forcibly relo-
cated for state purposes. The authors see archaeological evidence from late
Prehispanic sites along the Peruvian coast supporting both models, which
suggests “considerable diversity on household economic strategies” in the
Chimú empire.
Analysis of test pits in two middens produced a wide variety of tools
suggesting that community- or neighborhood-level specialization did not
characterize the site. Plant remains from the midden include a wide variety
of domesticates as well as some wild plants, with corn occupying the top
spot followed by chili pepper. Cultigens, fruits, and wild plant foods were
about equally represented in the sample. Cotton seeds and fibers were com-
mon, and spinning and weaving tools were also found, indicating cotton
production at Cerro la Virgen. The botanical remains make it clear that that
the site had access to abundant irrigation water, which must have come at
the cost of tribute goods or labor.
Among the vertebrate animal remains, fish were by far the most com-
mon. Along with fishing tools, the zooarchaeological analysis shows that
the site included fishing families. The species that predominate in the sam-
ple suggest fishing for local consumption rather than tribute, in contrast
to late period fisheries south of Lima where small schooling fish were the
major target (Marcus et al. 1999, Chapter 13; Sandweiss 1992). Camelids are
present although a minor part of the diet. This contrasts with Shelia Pozor-
ski’s (1979) analysis; one possible explanation suggested for the discrepancy
is that Pozorki’s sample accessed different kinds of households than those
represented in the two middens dug by Billman’s team.
The invertebrate remains are dominated by the small surf clam Donax
obesulus, which is the most common mollusk found in middens of the north
coast dating to the last ~2,000 years. Women and children may have been
involved in collecting shellfish along the shore, as is common worldwide.
Reviewing the totality of available data, Billman and colleagues conclude
that Cerro la Virgen households had privileged access to irrigation water
and that fishing provided the bulk of animal-based food. The role of ca-
melids is unclear. Remains of raw materials, tools, and products of textile
making were very common, but the authors conclude that large-scale craft
production was not practiced. Rather, the households engaged in multiple
economic activities, although how those were divvied up among the house-
holds and community remains an area of speculation.
Nicolas Goepfert, Philippe Béarez, Aurélien Christol, Patrice Wuscher,
and Belkys Gutiérrez report on their work in the Sechura Desert (5° 30' to
6° S latitude), on the far northern coast of Peru, in Chapter 11. Despite the
high degree of aridity in normal years, this desert also has high biodiversity
on- and offshore. The Sechura Desert is particularly sensitive to El Niño
events because it is located at the boundary between the warm-tropical
Panamanian Province and the upwelling-enriched Peru-Chilean Province,
which is dominated by the warm-temperate Peru Current (aka Humboldt)
(for example, Briggs 1974).
Considering these environmental factors, the region is an interesting
laboratory in which to study human adaptation to a constrained, variable,
and extreme environment. Prior to Goepfert and colleagues’ research pro-
gram, the only archaeological research done in the Sechura was that of
Mercedes Cárdenas and her colleagues on sites ranging from the Middle
Preceramic Period to the Late Intermediate Period (Cárdenas et al. 1991,
1993; Milla 1989).
Goepfert and colleagues excavated at Bayovar-01, a site 6 km inland
from the southern shore of the Sechura Desert that dates to the transition
between the Early Intermediate Period and the Middle Horizon (roughly
between 550 and 770 cal AD based on 14C dates from the site). Bayovar-01
consists of two structures made of blocks of local marine sediments; the
structures are separated from each other by 160 m, with a large midden in
between. Rows of posts on the south side of the buildings probably func-
tioned as wind screens. The lack of domestic deposits, their large size, and
the discovery of an offering of shells and a pot all suggest a public function
for the buildings.
Excavations in the midden found abundant faunal remains and char-
coal. Artifacts were scarce but represented both fishing and textile making.
Fuel remains in hearths were mostly wood but included seeds and camelid
feces; hearths were superimposed and grew through time. The presence of
structured hearths shows that the midden was more than a discard pile.
The faunal assemblage is mostly fish (>1M skeletal elements), but includes
turtles, sea lions, birds, lizards, and shells; camelid bone is very rare. The
predominant fish species is a warm-tropical drum today found from Ecua-
dor to the north; its presence suggests either climatic or geographic differ-
ences at the time of occupation. Aside from charcoal, abundant macrobo-
tanical remains include gourd, squash, and corn.
During late–twentieth century El Niño events, a large, ephemeral fresh-

water lake formed in the Sechura Desert from the runoff of El Niño rainfall
from further inland. To understand the presence of warm-tropical species
in the mid-first millennium AD at Bayovar-01, Goepfert and colleagues did
detailed studies of a paleolagoon in front (south) of the site. They suggest
that this lagoon was also an ephemeral formation associated with El Niño,
but saline. Mollusks include warm-tropical species, which may indicate
sufficient local warming to explain the tropical fish species. The lagoon
came close to Bayovar-01; if the site were occupied during El Niño events,
that might explain the presence of a fishing site 6 km from the normal
shoreline as well as the predominance of a warm-tropical fish species in the
midden. The authors suggest that the period of occupation in the mid-first
millennium AD coincided with a time of high-intensity El Niño, and at
least one paleoclimate archive supports this view (Rein et al. 2004). Subse-
quently, the lagoon filled in and the site was abandoned.
Considering all of the available data, Goepfert and colleagues suggest
that Bayovar-01 was a “specialized site for fishing and the preparation of
fish for export to other areas by llama caravans.” Ethnohistoric records for
the Sechura show that inhabitants were known for production of salted
fish. Bayovar-01 may be an earlier example of this regional practice.
In Chapter 12, Karen E. Stothert, Maria Masucci, and Benjamin Carter
review late prehistoric maritime communities of coastal Ecuador and in-
vestigate changes in adaptation at two sites in the Santa Elena area of south-
ern Ecuador: Loma de los Cangrejitos in Chanduy and Mar Bravo in La
Libertad. They also summarize changes over the period for coastal sites
north of Santa Elena.
Prior to 700 cal AD, Guangala sites of the Santa Elena region show an in-
creasing population and important trade of maritime foods from the coast
to inland sites. Fish remains include deepwater species that provide indi-
rect evidence for boats. Maritime travel in this region has been suggested
based on similarities in pottery and metalworking techniques to the north
and south. Marine shell was also traded inland where it not only represents
food but also raw materials used in household level manufacture of beads
for exchange; broken beads and bead-working tools are common but fin-
ished beads are very rare. The most important species for beads at these
inland Guangala sites was the ark shell Anadara.
In Late Guangala (after 650 cal AD) and into the subsequent Manteño-
Guancavilca (M-G) culture after 700 cal AD, changes in the distribution
of the population and the nature of sites in the Santa Elena area suggest
increased emphasis on the ocean, along with other transformations seen at
this time along the Ecuadorian littoral. At Loma de los Cangrejitos, 4 km
from the shore, fish are present, but mammals, especially deer, are more
abundant during the transition from Late Guangala to M-G. Deer may
have been traded down from the inland sites, even as large fish moved away
from the shore. Griddles are common in the midden, indicating a greater
reliance on maize.
At a contemporary shoreline site (3a) near Cangrejitos, fish constituted
almost the entire faunal assemblage, and this site may have provisioned
Cangrejitos with marine foods. Late Guangala sites further inland have less
overall fish but focus on sharks and rays, the biggest and most deepwater
species, while at the nearshore sites 3a and Cangrejitos, smaller fish from
closer to shore dominate the assemblage. Stothert and colleagues suggest
that fishermen targeted the larger species for export. Like the inland sites,
Cangrejitos has evidence for bead working, but using Spondylus. Between
900 and 1100 cal AD, platforms were built at Cangrejitos and shell bead
workshops moved out to homesteads in the lower valley.
Given the indications of ocean-going vessels and the presence of Spon-
dylus workshops in Late Guangala times, Stothert and colleagues argue
against Spondylus trade as the driver of the settlement, subsistence, and or-
ganizational changes that occurred at the start of the M-G period. Changes
in and related to diet may have been important in these transformations,
along with a multitude of other factors that may have included a major
El Niño event at 650 cal AD. The authors propose that Cangrejitos was
founded as populations began moving coastward during Late Guangala
times and became a regional elite center after 900 cal AD. The site lost
prominence after 1200 cal AD.
Located on the coast to the north and east of Chanduy, the site of Mar
Bravo was founded after 1000 cal AD, became a large platform by 1375 cal
AD, and was occupied until 1500 cal AD. Mar Bravo people fished in the
deep sea and estuaries and probably exported fish, salt, and other marine
products. Most of their food came from the sea, with sea catfish as the
most important species. They also had access to some plant foods, probably
through exchange. The site’s fishing specialization gave it entrée into the
regional socioeconomic system.
Noting that Spondylus is more easily acquired and present across a
broader latitudinal range than previously thought, Stothert and colleagues
argue that it was one of many high-status elite goods, not the sole driver of
Andean maritime trade as once thought. They do relate changes in produc-
tion of Spondylus beads in Santa Elena sites to changing patterns of Spondy-
lus consumption in northern Peru during Moche, Sicán, Chimú, and Inca
times (circa 0–1532 cal AD); all were centered south of the natural habitat
of Spondylus, although the Chimú and later the Inca eventually controlled
territory within the Spondylus range. Stothert and colleagues conclude that
late communities of coastal Ecuador were successful, sophisticated exploit-
ers of coastal resources who intensified both marine and terrestrial produc-
tion over time, who lived in well-organized, dense, kin-based settlements,
but whose social and political organization varied across the region; al-
though these people had many shared cultural traits, there is no clear evi-
dence for centralization.
Joyce Marcus, Kent V. Flannery, Jeffrey Sommer, and Robert G. Reynolds
(Chapter 13) discuss Late Intermediate Period (~1000–1400 cal AD) and
twentieth century fishing at Cerro Azul, a large site on the north margin of
the Cañete Valley some 120 km south of Lima, Peru. Marcus’ team began
excavating the site during the large magnitude El Niño event of 1982–1983,
which gave her the opportunity to record fish landings in the modern fish-
ing village as the region recovered from El Niño between February 1984
and July 1986.
The authors delineate three principal fishing environments within the
usual range of artisanal fishermen from Cerro Azul, each with a charac-
teristic suite of exploitable marine species. During the 1982–1983 El Niño,
sea-surface temperature (SST) rose as oxygen increased and the thermo-
cline (the boundary between warm, nutrient-poor surface water and cool,
nutrient-rich deep water) dropped, reducing the phytoplankton at the base
of the marine food chain. Marcus and colleagues describe the responses
of different fish species to these changes: some went deep, and some went
south. With the decline or disappearance of their food, higher level preda-
tors (sea birds and sea mammals) suffered massive mortality. Many typical
Peruvian mollusks were also negatively affected.
Marcus and colleagues make the important point that no disaster is
unmitigated: El Niño is no exception. A number of marine species either
boomed locally or extended their range into Peruvian waters including
the region from Lima south to Cañete. Some of the “exotic” species that
appeared during El Niño were still being caught months after the return
of cool, upwelling water, while normal species were not common until
1985–1986. In the interim, a number of valuable species were abundantly

available.
Using the data from the 1982–1983 El Niño and its faunal aftermath,
Marcus and colleagues turn to the faunal remains recovered from Late In-
termediate Period elite and commoner middens at Cerro Azul to try to
identify El Niño events. In general, the elite midden had larger fish, while
the commoner midden had smaller and less desirable fish. Looking for
traces of El Niño, the authors first note issues of preservation differences
in the fishing technology of ancient and modern Cerro Azul that would
produce some differences in fish assemblages between the first half of the
second millennium AD and the twentieth century. In analyzing the midden
fauna with all of these caveats in mind, Marcus and colleagues do not see
evidence for El Niño, although such events certainly occurred during the
three centuries of occupation at Cerro Azul. Perhaps fish were deposited
differently or elsewhere during the events, or possibly issues of time averag-
ing make events opaque. In any case, the detailed data on artisanal fisheries
and El Niño provide an important baseline for future research.
The final two studies in this book concern the early Colonial Period that
followed the Spanish conquest of the Inca Empire in 1532 cal AD. As Parker
VanValkenburgh, Sarah Kennedy, Carol Rojas Vega, and Gabriel Hassler
point out in Chapter 14, the anthropogenic and biological consequences of
the conquest led to demographic collapse in coastal Peru, particularly on
the north coast. VanValkenburgh and colleagues approach this period and
the attendant transformations through a combination of documentary and
archaeological data, with new attention to “the contingencies of represen-
tations contained in colonial period written sources.” They also point out
that previous attempts to assess ethnohistoric models for late prehistoric
maritime societies were carried out at late prehistoric sites, and until their
study no one had investigated the same issues at Early Colonial Period sites
occupied at the same time as the underlying documents were written. Here,
the authors present their archaeological research on late Prehispanic and
early colonial sites and landscapes in the lower Zaña Valley on the Peruvian
north coast, mainly at the site of Carrizales.
VanValkenburgh and colleagues explain that (like the Moche Valley
people described by Billman et al. in Chapter 10), communities in the Zaña
area were composed of parcialidades, “networks of producers, defined both
by kinship and political obligation, who lived not in single nucleated settle-
ments but in scattered hamlets of different sizes, among which rulership
and tributary extraction were organized according to nested hierarchies.”

Parcialidades were ranked, but fishing parcialidades were not always of low
rank. Repartimientos (a Spanish system for organizing indigenous tribute
labor) were composed of multiple parcialidades, with competition between
leaders of these units sometimes leading to renegotiation of tribute rela-
tions. The authors suggest that similar renegotiations probably occurred
during late Prehispanic times as multiple waves of conquest swept over the
region.
The Spanish conquest followed a similar spatial and institutional pattern
to the Chimú and Inca invasions, but a pattern that was warped by the in-
troduction of Spanish crops, animals, products, and desires, by the growing
demographic catastrophe, and by the resettlement (reducción) policy im-
plemented on the North Coast in the mid-1560s and early 1570s. Chérrepe,
the center of the reducción to which Carrizales apparently belonged, was
one of three reducciones in the lower Zaña and adjacent Chamán valleys.
Although traditionally thought to be the port of Chérrepe on the coast, the
small size of the colonial settlement there leads VanValkenburgh and col-
leagues to argue that Carrizales was actually the original lead town of the
repartimiento.
Survey data from the lower Zaña and Chamán valleys show that the
region was occupied from the Late Preceramic Period throughout the rest
of the Prehispanic sequence. These data do not show a clear demarcation
between coastal and inland sites in the late Prehispanic periods, suggest-
ing to VanValkenburgh and colleagues that fishing and farming people did
not have obvious territorial divisions. In the wake of conquest during the
sixteenth century, however, settlement patterns show a notable decrease in
the number and total area of sites coupled with an increase in the average
size of sites. This pattern most likely resulted from colonial depopulation
combined with the implementation of the reducción policy.
The Carrizal area was occupied from the Formative through the Early
Colonial Periods. Excavations focused on two areas, one dating to Late
Sicán, near the end the Prehispanic sequence (early second millennium cal
AD), and one to the time of the reducciones. The Late Sicán remains show
an emphasis on fishing, although wild and domesticated mammals were
present in small quantities. The colonial sector also has fish remains, but
fewer species with more nearshore specimens; this sector also had more
terrestrial animal remains, including a preference for European domesti-
cates, and more hunting and breeding of birds. Length estimates for fish
suggest greater use of net fishing in the colonial sector. There are also indi-
cators of increased coastal scavenging in the colonial sample.
VanValkenburgh and colleagues interpret the differences in faunal as-
semblages between the Late Sicán and Early Colonial samples as a con-
sequence of colonial tribute demands. Paleobotanical analysis also shows
an increase in cotton and algarrobo seeds, products listed in a 1564 Chér-
repe tribute list. This list was found with a legal claim for unpaid tribute,
indicating that the parcialidades of Chérrepe were having trouble meet-
ing their obligations, probably due in part to the demographic decline. In
addition to settlement pattern evidence for the drop in population in the
Early Colonial Period, VanValkenburgh’s project also found evidence for
lifelong stress and poor health. The authors conclude that the documents
underlying the maritime specialization model were actually the result of
local leaders trying to deal with lost population and productive capacity by
evading the burden of terrestrial tribute.
In Chapter 15, Susan Elizabeth Ramírez focuses attention on the Early
Colonial Period, sixteenth-century documentary record of fisherfolk of
the Peruvian north coast. These documents “identify semiautonomous
lineages of specialized fishing groups with their own language.” Although
these groups were interspersed with other lineages, the records show not
only the fishing people, but even the marine species that they targeted.
The sixteenth century was the time of the economic, political, and de-
mographic disruptions also discussed by VanValkenburgh and colleagues
in Chapter 14. Ramírez begins her discussion of fisherfolk in this period by
summarizing what the documents say about their lifeways. In addition to
marine and some freshwater fishing, they gathered littoral products, made
salt, plaster, lye, and lime, harvested guano, and maintained prehistoric
maritime communication networks. Spaniards with access to native labor
soon began demanding seafood. Maritime-adapted natives also played an
important role in the civil wars shortly after the conquest, providing sup-
plies and transportation.
In the repartimiento of Chérrepe, the second wave of reducciones in 1572
led to the forced abandonment of Ñoquique, a native town with indigenous
ceremonial functions. The Spanish official in charge required the fishermen
of Ñoquique to go to Chérrepe and the farmers to Guadalupe, the other
town in the repartimiento.
Ramírez provides abundant native testimony that fishers did not farm,
or did so only rarely. In support of the contention that fisherfolk were spe-
cialized, she also cites cases of fishermen seeking permission to travel about
to trade fish for agricultural products. Fishing communities were usually
exempt from paying the mita, a rotating labor tax, to Spanish authorities.
In the second part of her chapter, Ramírez details the case of the Chi-
camas, from the eponymous valley just north of the Moche Valley, between
1525 and 1565 cal AD. She traces the complicated history of leadership of
the fishing lineage from Malabrigo, and in particular the story of Guaman
Pinco, a leader who rebelled against the chief lord of the Chicamas and
against the Spaniards. This account highlights the quasi-independence of
fishing groups. Once again, however, there is evidence that specialization
was not rigid or enduring. The document “indicates that in difficult times
(like drought), the Chicama farmers fished to provide food.” The reverse
could also have occurred. In any case, as Ramírez concludes, fisherfolk and
farmers were certainly interdependent.
Ancient Andean Maritime Communities in

the Twenty-First Century
In light of the chapters in this volume, what can we now say about an-
cient Andean maritime communities? Forty years ago, Michael Moseley
(1975) made manifest the crucially important contribution of maritime
subsistence to the development of Andean civilization, building on semi-
nal work by Bird, Engel, Lanning, Patterson, and others, as well as on his
own research on the coast north of Lima. Early agriculture was part of
this hypothesis, and by the time of his retrospective and prospective essay,
Moseley (1992) had explicitly recognized that what made the Andean story
so distinctive was the combination of highly productive fishing and farm-
ing systems in close proximity to each other. This variable but enduring
relationship is the most common uniting theme of this volume, from the
early onset of farming at Huaca Prieta to the complex, interwoven relations
between fishing and farming lineages seen both in the documents and in
the archaeological record of the sixteenth century.
The studies in this volume show a distinct latitudinal gradient. From
the late Prehispanic sites of Ecuador through the Late Preceramic Period
mound sites of the Norte Chico to Late Intermediate Period Cerro Azul,
the northern sites in this volume are located in valleys with significant po-
tential for irrigation agriculture. The one exception is Bayovar-01 in the
Sechura Desert, a special-purpose, specialized fish production site prob-
ably occupied only during large-magnitude El Niño events. In all of the
northern regions covered here, from Cerro Azul to Santa Elena, complex,
hierarchical societies with monumental architecture developed sooner or
later, always with a major maritime contribution to the diet. In contrast,
the Chilean sites from the southern Atacama Desert generally lacked suf-
ficient water resources in the coastal zone to carry out local agriculture
(Caleta Vitor is a small-scale exception). Even there, coastal people man-
aged to acquire agricultural produce from inland farmers in exchange for
marine products. However, coastal Atacamans did not build the large-scale
monumental structures of the north, nor did they develop as marked in-
equalities as in Peru and Ecuador. It would be instructive to look at coastal
populations in the intermediate area along the southern Peruvian coast to
increase our sample of the diverse relations between fishing and farming.
One area of interest is the coastal zone adjacent to productive valleys such
as Ica and the Nasca drainages, where surface water disappears far inland
from the shoreline. For instance, Carmichael et al. (2014) provide evidence
that the Nasca, a complex society of the Early Intermediate Period (100 cal
BC to 600 cal AD/2050–1350 cal BP), made little use of the ocean, although
marine resources were more important in the region both earlier and later
than Nasca. Another example of interwoven fishing and farming comes
from the narrow, poorly watered quebradas between the Osmore (Ilo) and
Tambo rivers on the south coast of Peru. There Zaro (2007) found Late
Intermediate Period coastal communities practicing diverse productive
strategies integrating fishing, farming, and gathering. Even in the nearby
Osmore drainage, he suggests the “specialized” fishing and farming settle-
ments had more fluidly constituted economies and concludes that “orga-
nization of production among, and within, particular communities likely
vacillated between more extreme versions of specialization and more in-
novative techniques to economic sustainability that include, but are not
limited to, more diversified strategies of production” (176).
A surprise in these chapters is the ubiquity of camelids in the coastal
sites, usually as transport but sometimes also as food, from the Sechura
Desert in the north to the Atacama Desert in the south. These animals were
domesticated and most abundant in the Andean highlands, so we tend not
to think of them as playing a major role on the desert coast. Yet without
camelid caravans, at least those sites most distant from agricultural zones
(Bayovar-01 and the Chilean sites) would have found it more difficult to ac-
quire sufficient agricultural produce. Even relatively late sites in rich coastal
valleys, such as Samanco and probably Caylán in the Nepeña Valley, seem
to have relied on animal transport between shore and valley settlements.
Several of the studies touch on coastwise long-distance maritime inter-

action. Most notably Stothert et al. (Chapter 12) recognize that such in-
teraction occurred but argue against specific maritime trading systems as
primary drivers of social change in their region. We can expect much more
on this subject to come out of the 2019 Dumbarton Oaks Pre-Columbian
conference on just this topic.
Climate change is another frequent theme in the chapters, particularly
in the form of El Niño. Several of the studies provide important examples
of resilience in the face of apparently catastrophic events. Two chapters, in
particular, bear witness that ancient Andeans followed Rahm Emanuel’s
dictum, “You never want a serious crisis to go to waste” (Seib 2008). Go-
epfert et al. (Chapter 11) make a good case that Bayovar-01 was designed
specifically to take advantage of lagoonal resources that only existed dur-
ing or in the immediate aftermath of a major El Niño event. Marcus et al.
(Chapter 13) provide extraordinary data from coastal fishermen during and
following the 1982–1983 El Niño that show the replacement species avail-
able during such events. These studies caution against seeing all Niños as
unmitigated disasters; disasters are contingent and contextual.
At about the same time as Moseley formalized the Maritime Founda-
tions of Andean Civilization hypothesis for the Late Preceramic Period,
Maria Rostworowski (1970, 1975 inter alia) used colonial documents to
elaborate the economic specialization model for the late Prehispanic and
early colonial coast of the Central Andes. As noted in Chapters 14 and 15,
many sixteenth century natives on the north coast gave testimony that fish-
ermen did not have agricultural lands nor did they farm. Ramírez (Chapter
15) provides abundant and early testimony by natives that fishing lineages
were specialized (and therefore not subject to the same tribute as farmers).
VanValkenburgh et al (Chapter 14), Prieto (Chapter 8), and Billman et al.
(Chapter 10) offer archaeological evidence for the spatial, functional, and
sociopolitical intermingling of fishers and farmers, while Sutter and Prieto
(Chapter 9) point to genetic admixture between them. VanValkenburgh
and colleagues (Chapter 14) argue that asserting specialized fishing status
was a ploy by parcialidad leaders to evade terrestrial tribute, and Ramírez
cites some testimony suggesting that some fishing groups did or could
plant crops. Prieto (in Chapter 8) contends that fishing communities car-
ried out at least small-scale cultivation with a focus on industrial products
essential to fishing, such as totora reeds and brown cotton, as early as the
Initial Period, as also suggested by Sandweiss (1992: 135, 145). The reality
is difficult to discern at this temporal and cultural remove. The fluidity
of farming-fishing configurations seen in the documentary and some ar-

chaeological analyses suggests that specialization was only one end of a
continuum from exchange-based interaction to full sociopolitical integra-
tion. As we continue studying ancient Andean maritime communities in
the twenty-first century, our challenge is to recognize with greater certainty
the social, political, economic, ideological, and genetic correlates of this
variation in the archaeological and ethnohistoric records. The studies in
this volume help move us in that direction.
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I
Early Maritime Adaptations
(13,000 to 5500 BP)
2
Marine Communities in the Atacama Desert
Masters of the Subtropical Pacific Coast of South America
Calogero M. Santoro, Victoria Castro, Chris Carter,

and Daniela Valenzuela
The people who inhabited the subtropical Pacific coast, along the Atacama
Desert, created complex social systems that integrated the wide and boun-
tiful array of marine resources in a territory marked by the lack of per-
manent freshwater. Was this sufficient to go beyond simple survival and
to maintain innovative social dynamics, economic interactions, and tech-
nological and ideological constructions through time? By looking at the
way of life of two particular cases of prehistoric maritime communities, we
present key social and ecological factors to discuss how these communi-
ties evolved through time along the hyperarid coast of the Atacama Des-
ert. Specifically, we look for signs of political fragmentation expressed by
relative political independence, even during the Inca regime, as a possible
explanatory key social factor. Current archaeological knowledge shows no
evidence of paramount chiefs or prevailing powerful residential centers,
which normally imply costly investment in architecture and sophisticated
lifestyles. Alternatively, we look at whether progressive innovation in spe-
cialized technology to exploit marine resources, the development of exten-
sive networks of exchange and political alliance, and complex ideological
performances, evidenced by ceremonial paraphernalia and funerary ritu-
als, were more important to explain the communities’ social sustainability.
Investment in ideological performance may have helped to reduce factional
competition and scalar social differentiations of aggrandizing elite leaders.
For the purpose of this chapter, we focus on two major well-known geo-
ecological zones that cover ~1,200 km (~745 miles) of littoral, from the Ilo
Bay (~17° S), south of the Osmore Basin in southern Peru, to Copiapó Basin
in northern Chile (~27° S), characterized by the most extreme hyperarid
PA C I F I C O C E A N
Figure 2.1. Coast of northern Chile from Ilo to Los Vilos, the territories of the Chin-
chorro (Ilo to El Loa) and the Huentelauquén (El Loa Los Vilos), and their descen-
dants (map edited by Daniela Valenzuela).
Marine Communities in the Atacama Desert · 41
conditions on the planet, which worsen from north to south (Figure 2.1).
Rainfall over the high western slope of the Andes provides the subterra-
nean and surficial runoff that ends up in the Pacific; drastic reduction of
this rainfall is one of the factors that accounts for the ecological differences
along the coast. The chronic absence of precipitation has molded the lit-
toral environment for millions of years (Alpers and Brimhall 1988; Placzek
et al. 2009) and has influenced the cultural processes that took place in the
two coastal zones described below (Jackson et al. 2011; Llagostera 2005;
Maldonado and Villagrán 2006; Marquet et al. 2012; Núñez 1999; Roth-
hammer 2014).
The northern section, from the Ilo Bay to El Loa Basin (17–21° S, ~500
km, ~310 miles along the coast) is dissected by 11 major quebradas that
drain to the Pacific coast. In the mouths of these quebradas, wetlands are
formed that are partially covered with totora (reed, Scirpus sp.), widely used
in burial bundles and domestic ware, and other plants. These wetlands are
also home to several sea and lacustrine birds and mammals, which served
as an important complement to marine resources (Dillehay and Saavedra
2010; Fariña and Camaño 2012; Standen 2003). These wetland ecosystems
demarcate a “fertile or exorheic coast” (Schiappacasse et a1. 1989). Besides
providing complementary riverine resources to the bountiful marine bio-
mass, each river was a path to access different inland ecosystems (Figure
2.2). Today, the Coastal Cordillera from Arica to Iquique drops abruptly
to the Pacific, leaving no space for the formation of a continental marine
platform between the wetlands. South of Iquique, this mountain range
is separated from the littoral by a continental platform. This discontinu-
ous topography (Saillard et al. 2006) constituted different landscapes for
hunter-gatherers.
Inland, between Camiña and El Loa River, the absence of perennial riv-
ers along the Pacific littoral is due not only to a decrease in the amount
of rainfall along the western Andes, but also to the interruption of that
runoff by a large exorheic basin (Pampa del Tamarugal, ~20–30 km from
the coast). This hyperarid intermediate depression is located between the
Andean foothills and the Cordillera de la Costa. The Cordillera interrupts
groundwater and surface runoff that originates cyclically and seasonally in
the high Andes, water that otherwise would reach the coast (Figure 2.2).
The inland wetland and riparian system of Pampa del Tamarugal today
supports sparse pockets of oases and gallery forests with meager vegetation
and small-size fauna. Raw materials for lithic artifacts were also available
for both coastal and inland populations. Temporary camps, such as those
42 · Calogero M. Santoro, Victoria Castro, Chris Carter, and Daniela Valenzuela
Figure 2.2. Habitat at the exorheic basin of Caleta Vitor Bay, whose wetlands, covered with
totora (reed) and other plants, are home to sea and lacustrine birds and mammals—an
important complement for marine resources. These canyons were natural paths to get ac-
cess to interior enclaves (photo by Calogero M. Santoro).
of Tiliviche and Aragón, were established in inland oases, some 20 to 30 km

from the coast (Núñez 1986; Núñez and Moragas 1977; Núñez and Zlatar
1976; Standen and Núñez 1984).
The southern section, from El Loa Basin to Copiapó Bay (21–27°S, ~658
km, ~409 miles along the coast), has no riparian runoff flowing to the lit-
toral, which is why it is known as “arheic coast” (Schiappacasse et al. 1989).
In contrast, an increase in fog moisture intercepted by the high escarp-
ment of the Cordillera de la Costa (Cereceda et al. 2008; Latorre et al. 2005;
Rundel et al. 1991) generates an independent input of brackish spring wa-
ter along this extreme hyperarid coast. Although these sources support a
reduced plant community consisting mostly of cacti, it seems that there
was enough water for people to select this conspicuous habitat, which in
some locations was geographically circumscribed by a narrow continental
platform (Rivadeneira et al. 2010; Saillard et al. 2006; Santoro et al. 2012)
(Figure 2.3a–b). This condition, however, did not limit or block the social
evolution of maritime communities, even within the arheic coast between
the Loa–Copiapó coastal basins. There, the lack of nearby inland farming
environments was made up for by intense interzonal movements, which
was carried out by highland llama caravans starting circa 4,000 cal BP, and
(a)
(b)
Figure 2.3. (a) The southern abrupt endorheic coastal section (corresponding to the
Huentelauquén cultural zone), from El Loa Basin to Los Vilos Bay; it is characterized
by the absence of runoff merging over the littoral (photo by Fernando Maldonado). (b)
Thus people had access to brackish freshwater connected with coastal fog (camanchaca),
as seen here. The selected habitats were in some cases geographically circumscribed by a
narrow continental platform and the steep slope of the coastal cordillera (photo by Luis
Eduardo Cornejo).
by coastal movement on foot (Pimentel et al. 2011; Pimentel et al. 2010). The
interaction with inland communities was framed by the fact that inland
economies were subject to unpredictable food crises due to droughts; thus,
for the inland farming people, gaining access to the rich and abundant
coastal surplus was imperative. This means that, although marine people
could not practice agriculture, they enjoyed the consumption of food (meat
and crops), raw material (wool, cotton), and exotic goods (pottery, textiles,
metal objects) thanks to the exchange with inland farming and pastoral
societies.
The cultural differences between the exorheic and arheic zones are pre-
sented through two study cases: Caleta Vitor (18°45' S) and Copaca bays
(22°20' S; 70°14' W), from the northern and southern section, respec-
tively. Processes at these sites show important similarities and differences
throughout time. The Caleta Vitor bay, at the mouth of the Chaca valley,
was selected as a recent study example for the exorheic coast. People that
settled there caught fish, collected mollusks, and hunted marine sea birds
and mammals from ca 9500 cal BP until colonial times, under an economic
system that did not change much over time. While a lot of corn and other
cultivated plants were found in the Late (Inka) Horizon (circa cal AD 1400–
1530), stable isotopes show a continued marine diet. Similarly, the presence
of camelid dung (in relatively large amounts) in the Late Intermediate Pe-
riod (cal AD 1000–1400) suggests trade by llama caravan, although llamas
were not a significant part of the diet (absence of camelid bone remains).
Also, the impact of ENSO was not devastating in terms of local subsistence,
as some mussels (chorito mayco, Perumytilus purpuratus) like warmer wa-
ters (El Niño) while the choro zapato (Choromytilus chorus) prefers cold
waters (La Niña). Thus, there was always abundance of one species (Andrus
et al. 2008; Díaz and Ortlieb 1993; Makou et al. 2010), which were part of
the most preferable consumed mollusks.
For the hyperarid arheic coast that extends from the Loa to Copiapó
river, we have selected the case of Copaca, a small bay north of Cobija (Fig-
ure 2.1), where freshwater is provided by a brackish spring that still runs
there. This location was part of a settlement system that extended from the
coastal plain up to the high Andes (~4,000 m), a region strongly influenced
by the constant action of the Pacific anticyclone, which causes a desert cli-
mate characterized by banks of dense camanchaca fog at 300 to 900 masl
that generates lomas vegetation along the littoral. This ecosystem is com-
posed of some shrubs, cacti, and bromeliads (Cereceda et al. 2008; Latorre
et al. 2011; Masuda 1985, Rundel et al. 1991), as well as rodents, guanacos,
foxes, and birds that provided food and raw materials (bones, hides, fur,
feathers). These lomas resources complemented the marine diet of coastal
people (Aldunate et al. 2010; Castro 2014; Castro et al. 2010, 2012; Olguín et
al. 2015; Peña-Villalobos et al. 2013). The bountiful biomass production of
the Pacific coast ecosystem along the arheic littoral supported local popu-
lations, which, besides managing coastal resources, also integrated distant
inland ecosystem to sustain rather stable settlements that lasted for millen-
nia along the coast (Ballester and Crisóstome 2017; Ballester et al. 2018).
Thus, crossing the coastal mountain range, its incised quebradas and the
vast desert behind it (~120–150 km away from the coast) were a common
trend, one that required the allocation of certain items for exchange with
inland communities (Ballester and Gallardo 2011; Núñez 1982; Pfeiffer et al.
2018).
The peopling of this zone has been dated back to circa 12,000 cal BP at
La Chimba archaeological sites, north of Cobija (Llagostera 2005), which
show the settlements of fisher groups who caught different types of small
fish. For the same epoch, people in Los Vilos, south of Copiapó, were also
specialized fishers (Jackson et al. 2011; Jackson et al. 2012), possibly con-
nected with earlier fishermen groups of northern and southern Peru (such
as Huaca Prieta, Quebrada Tacahuay, and Quebrada Jaguay). This initial
occupation continued at different coastal locations throughout the Archaic
Period, supported by effective technologies for fishing and the collection
of intertidal and shallow subtidal shellfish species (up to 6–12 m depth),
obtained by diving and shoreline gathering (Castelleti et al. 2010; Olguín et
al. 2014).
At Copaca, initial stages show that fishing was carried out with circu-
lar and straight stem shell fishhooks, which, in later phases of the Archaic
Period, were replaced by cactus spine fishhooks. Most of the faunal spe-
cies captured during Prehispanic times are still found in these territories,
including small numbers of camelids, pinnipeds (fin-footed mammals), ca-
nines, rodents, and birds. In sum, Prehispanic people at Copaca represent
a mature sociocultural adaptation. As at Caleta Vitor, this southern coastal
section of the Atacama Desert saw some noticeable changes in the amount
and size of the captured fish species through time, meaning that, during the
Middle Archaic, people started to incorporate in their economy the capture
of deep-sea fish, which are described below. One feature that distinguishes
this section from the northern region is the discovery of mining operations
for red iron oxide, as early as circa 10,700 cal BP in San Ramón Ravine (San
Ramón 15), carried out with stone hammers (Salazar et al. 2011; Salazar et
al. 2015). Red pigments were intensively used throughout prehistory for
painting on different media, including rock art, bodies, and the dead.
Later on (5300 to 4000 cal BP), Archaic settlements were better struc-
tured with residential and/or burial stone masonry constructions sealed
with mortar made out of seaweed ash, as seen at Aguada Gualaguala 04,
Cobija, Los Canastos, Punta Guasilla, Caleta Huelén 42, and Taltal. During
this period, people from the Salar de Atacama reached the Pacific coast
more regularly, to carry Oliva peruviana (for decoration and ritual pur-
poses), Pecten purpuratus, and Choromytilus sp. back to their highland
camps (Núñez 1992; Yacobaccio and Núñez 1991).
Social Dynamics and Economic Interaction by Maritime

Communities in the Atacama Desert
When the first human populations arrived in South America, the continent
offered a wide array of environments, some of which were “megapatches”
(large, ecologically more or less homogeneous areas) (Beaton 1991; Kelly
2003) for hunter-gatherers. These megapatches were crucial for people
moving possibly rather rapidly and randomly through unfamiliar territo-
ries that acted like corridors, as suggested for North America (Hamilton
and Buchanan 2007). This is particularly true along the wetlands of the
Pacific, a megapatch that traverses the continent from Alaska through to
the Tierra del Fuego coast, including the Atacama Desert, as part of a likely
migratory route to explore and colonize the continent (Codding and Jones
2013; Dillehay et al. 2008; Erlandson et al. 2011).
The decision to stay in the hyperarid coast of the Atacama Desert seems
to be a consequence of early settlers’ familiarity with these highly predict-
able, abundant, and diverse Pacific coast ecosystems. This means that early
people had access to their bountiful resources, abundant in mammals,
fish, mollusks, algae, and sea birds (Montecino and Lange 2009; Thiel et
al. 2007). The archaeological evidence preserved along the coast of South
America shows very early use of this habitat: Las Vegas in Ecuador (Sto-
thert et al. 2003); Paiján (Chauchat et al. 2004) and Huaca Prieta (Dille-
hay et al. 2012) on the northern coast of Peru; and Quebradas Jaguay and
Tacahuay in southern Peru (deFrance and Umire 2004; Keefer et al. 1998;
Sandweiss et al. 1998).
Marine People of the Ilo–El Loa Basins
From Ilo to El Loa Canyon, an exorheic coastal range of ~500 km (~293

miles) was the setting in which Chinchorro groups developed their long-
term cultural processes, which span from the Early to the Late Archaic
(circa 10,400–4,000 cal BP). As a foundational group, the Chinchorro
spread over the territory from the mouths of the Lluta and Camiña val-
leys, extending north to Ilo and south to El Loa basins, respectively. The
Chinchorro are characterized by a economy specialized in the exploitation
of littoral spots circumscribed at the mouth of the quebradas or at coastal

springs. They created complex funerary procedures in these places that
have been widely described and discussed in the literature (see references
in Arriaza et al. 2008; Marquet et al. 2012).
For the purpose of this volume, we focus on the recent archaeological
evidence uncovered from Caleta Vitor at the mouth of the Chaca Canyon
as representative of the exorheic coast (Figure 2.2). This evidence encom-
passes Early Archaic to colonial times, providing the necessary data to dis-
cuss the questions put forward in this chapter concerning social, techno-
logical, economic, and ideological innovation in this environment.
The Caleta Vitor Archaeological Sites
Evidence from sites at Caleta Vitor establishes occupation from at least

9500 cal BP through the Late Horizon (Roberts et al. 2013; Santoro et al.
2017). Rare colonial finds such as glass beads, a brass thimble, and an AD
1578 Spanish document associated with a mummy bundle (Bird 1943) are
found in sites that otherwise are indistinguishable from late Prehispanic
sites. Rock paintings in shelters next to the sea display mainly geomet-
ric and zoomorphic (camelid and fish) motifs. Excavations in one of these
painting sites showed disturbed Prehispanic, colonial, and recent remains.
The latter were related to the extraction of sea bird guano carried out dur-
ing the nineteenth century (Oyaneder et al. 2014).
The prehistoric evidence at Caleta Vitor was obtained from excavation
of 10 trenches at 7 archaeological sites (CV1 to CV7) whose stratigraphic
remains demonstrate different settlements and use of space through time
(Santoro et al. 2017). Organic material (cane) from the basal layers on one
of these trenches returned the earliest dates for the site (Early Archaic).
This evidence indicates that the earlier settlement extended from the rear
of the beach, flat along the valley floor, and upward across the slope. A later
settlement was concentrated closer to the current intertidal zone and along
the base of the cliffs. This may have been the result of beach formation
processes, as the safer option was to settle away from the water’s edge (to
avoid tsunamis) and away from the base of the cliffs (for fear of rock falls)
(Berenguer 2008).
Cultural variation is evident through this range of materials, and those
living at Caleta Vitor had access to a broad economic base. It appears that
the sea provided the foundation of their economy from the Late Archaic
Period through the Late Horizon. This is borne out by the lack of structural
changes in the economic system that show a shift in the intensity of the use
of certain resources through time, and the introduction of a new techno-
logical tool kit for harvesting fish and shellfish and hunting sea animals.
For example, analysis of fish vertebrae can be used to place fish within a
size group (Colley 1990: 219); results of this analysis indicate that small fish
species were common and caught in relatively large numbers by using nets.
Net remains have not yet been found at Caleta Vitor.
A total of 38,499 fish vertebrae (4.004 kg) were retrieved from excavated
material at Caleta Vitor. Vertebrae were sorted into six size classifications
based on the maximum diameter of the centrum—very small 1–3 mm,
small 4–6 mm, medium 7–9 mm, medium-large 10–12 mm, large 13–16
mm, and very large >16 mm. The mean vertebrae diameter from the total
assemblage is 4.657 mm, and ranges from 3.461 mm (CV1/3–Late Archaic)
to 6.742 mm (CV4/1–Late Horizon). Simply put, this would suggest an in-
crease in average fish size through time, possibly associated with improved
fishing techniques and technology. There is a slight but consistent increase
in diameter through time (Carter 2016). This may be the result of sampling
strategies, but it may also be the result of either improved technology and
strategies or the more efficient use of watercraft, as has been suggested for
the Middle Archaic on the arheic coast (Olguín et al. 2014). The mean ver-
tebrae size is classed as “small” fish, too small to be caught in large numbers
using large shell or cactus spine fishhooks (Figures 2.4a–d). Anglers fishing
from the piers at Arica today commonly catch fish of this size. However,
they do so using relatively small steel hooks (compared to shell hooks).
Very small fish, such as sardines or anchovies, are not target species for
anglers using a baited hook. Small cactus thorn fishhooks were widely used
since the Later Archaic in this zone, linked to an intensification of fish
exploitation (Bird 1943; Llagostera 1979; Rivera 1991). These fishhooks, in
different sizes, were also used in Middle Archaic Chinchorro burials as of-
ferings to women without artificial mummification (Standen 2003), which
may indicate gender labor differentiation.
Strata in the basal units of CV3/1/30–31, dated to the Early Archaic, have
a relatively high number of very small and small vertebrae (VS=58, S=428).
The Middle Archaic (CV1/3/25) shows a high concentration of very small
fish vertebrae (VS=1177 [NISP], S=605), while the numbers of large ver-
tebrae are low and correspond to the remains of only two or three fish.
The Late Archaic (CV2/1/47–58) shows high numbers of small vertebrae
(VS=1148, S=1046). Given the size of the fish represented in this sample,
the use of nets is assumed, particularly with regard to very small species
(a)
(b)
(c) (d)
Figure 2.4. (a) Choro-

(e)
mytilus chorus circular
stem shell fishhook, a
(f) typical artifact along
the coast from Early to
Middle Archaic; (b–c,
e–j) vivid depiction of
large marine speci-
mens caught from
small watercraft and
terrestrial hunting at
El Médano, north of
(g) Taltal; (d) harpoons
and potera (materi-
(h) als curated at Museo
Augusto Capdeville,
Ilustre Municipalidad
de Taltal, with the
exception of the har-
poon, which is curated
at Museo Chileno de
Arte Precolombino;
photo by Fernando
(i) (j) Maldonado).
(sardines and anchovies). Small- to medium-sized fish such as S. deliciosa

(corvinilla or lorna) may have been captured with hook and line on occa-
sion. However, they have a relatively small mouth and are a schooling spe-
cies and, as such, are more likely to have been caught in large numbers using
nets. This assumption is supported by Marcus (1987a), who has reported
that local fishermen, at Cerro Azul (Peru), caught anchovies, sardines, and
lorna using either cast or “curtain” nets (see also Marcus, Chapter 13 in this
volume).
There is a slightly higher percentage of large specimens in trenches from
the Late Horizon (circa cal AD 1,400–1,530) at Caleta Vitor (CV4/1 and
CV6/1–3). This may have been the result of improved technology (for ex-
ample, metal hooks) and/or the use of watercraft, which increased catches
in offshore fishing. The larger mean size from CV7/1 (which dates from the
Late Archaic) is anomalous. However, given the small size of the sample
and the general nature of the material from this trench, the sample may be
representative of a site that was utilized only sporadically.
Yet the mean size of fish vertebrae and abundance of very small and
small fish varies little from the Archaic through to the Late Horizon, and
very small/small fish consistently make up more than 80 percent of the
total (NISP). This suggests that the earliest settlers (circa 9500 cal BP) of
Caleta Vitor were adept fishermen and that this tradition continued into
the Late Horizon. While fishing technology improved the ability to capture
much larger specimens, net fishing for smaller species continued to be a
major contributor to subsistence. This custom of fishing techniques, for
the capture of large numbers of small fish, seems to have been practiced
since the first maritime settlements on the coast of southern Peru, by the
end of the Pleistocene, as discussed for Quebradas Tacahuay and Jaguay
(deFrance and Umire 2004; Lavallée et al. 2011; Sandweiss 2003; Sandweiss
et al. 1998).
These data support the idea that maritime subsistence supported peo-
ple living at Caleta Vitor from the earliest periods. The sea provided the
foundation not only for their survival but also for their resilience to social
changes and environmental fluctuations. This means that despite the fact
that the staple of subsistence for people at Caleta Vitor continued with-
out major variations, since the Formative Period (initiated circa 4000 BP,
Roberts et al. 2013) these people also incorporated into their economy (for
example, domestic and ritual lives) a large number of goods that typically
identify Formative societies (that is, decorated and undecorated pottery,
textiles with natural and dye color, metal, wood, bone prestige objects).
This is particularly interesting at Caleta Vitor, where people had access to
contiguous farming land that provided a range of cultivated and uncul-
tivated plants (seeds, fruit, pods, reeds, stems) that included maize (Zea
mays), cotton (Gossypium barbadense), squash (Cucurbita spp.), schinus
(Schinus molle), capsicum (Capsicum spp.), algorrobo (Prosopis spp.), reed,
and Solanacea.
Marine People of El Loa–Copiapó Region
The territory from El Loa (~300 km south of Caleta Vitor) to Copiapó

encompasses ~658 km (~409 miles) of extreme hyperarid coastline char-
acterized by a chronic lack of freshwater: rainfall decreases in the high An-
des, which affects the riparian and groundwater flows toward the Pacific
(Latorre et al. 2005). Here, foundational social groups known as Huente-
lauquén (coeval with the Chinchorro) created a different and enduring cul-
tural landscape with a social system linked to a different ideological world,
materialized by the use of “cogged stones” and other geometric cut stones,
which have been tentatively interpreted as ritual objects (Llagostera 1979).
Morphologically similar artifacts have been described for Archaic coastal
archaeological sites in southern California, and have been interpreted as
objects utilized in nonutilitarian contexts, idiotechnical artifacts, ritual
paraphernalia, caches of magic-religious objects, or gaming objects (Couch
et al. 2009; Koerper and Manson 1998). The Huentelauquén people did
not practice artificial mummification. In their ideological mortuary world,
however, they customarily altered the corpses by applying a coat of red pig-
ment to the deceased’s skin, which ended up impregnating their bones after
soft tissue decomposition. The whole cultural system of the Huentelauquén
people spread over a territory twice as large as Chinchorro, which may have
been a consequence of multiple factors. In the Loa-Copiapó area people
had to deal with unstable habitats that chronically lacked freshwater, which
may have made them move their camps more frequently along the coast,
including recurrent movement to the interior (Ballester and Crisóstome
2017; Ballester et al. 2018; Jackson et al. 2011; Koerper and Cramer 2011; Lla-
gostera et al. 2000; Núñez and Santoro 2011). Further south, from Copiapó
to Los Vilos (27° 31'–31° 56' S), freshwater was not a limiting factor, thus
people organized their way of life with more dependence on inland food
and other resources. Further north in the Ilo-Loa sector, people at Caleta
Vitor never faced the problem of running out of freshwater; therefore, this
natural condition was not a determining factor for moving along the coast.
The Copaca Case
This report is grounded in the Copaca 1 archaeological site, one of several

locations with long-term stratigraphic prehistoric sequences, which com-
plement this case. Copaca 1 is a shell midden located north of Cobija (22°
20' S; 70° 14' W) that contains a detailed history over the Middle Archaic
Period, which means that people were living there from circa 7100 to 5200
cal BP. Thus, historically, Copaca 1 covers Phases III and IV in the Llagos-
tera sequence (Llagostera 2005) and Phases III and IV in the Salazar et al.
(2015) chronology of Taltal. The occupation at Copaca was preceded by
small groups of people who colonized the coast of Taltal by camping inside
little caves, dated circa 12,000 to 11,500 cal BP. This early phase corresponds
to Periods I and II in Llagostera’s sequence, and archaeological evidence,
consisting of shell middens derived from logistical or working camps, is
still meager. Thus mobility, technological, and subsistence patterns are
assimilated into the Huentelauquén sociocultural complex (Salazar et al.
2015). This maritime tradition was started at Cascabeles cave camps by
hunters who employed harpoons with stemmed projectile points (Castel-
leti 2007). The use of caves for protection is a typical behavior among An-
dean highland hunter-gatherers, who possibly explored the coast, as seems
to be the case for the peopling from Ilo to El Loa (Rothhammer 2014; San-
toro et al. 2012). They also used unifacial and bifacial lithic artifacts made
of siliceous rocks obtained from sources located more than 30 km from
the coast. These inland excursions were facilitated by wetlands available
near the Cordillera de la Costa (Claudio Latorre, personal communication
of unpublished data). Possibly, people established certain circles of mobil-
ity, but no early archaeological evidence has been found in these locations
(Ugalde et al. 2012). Another reason to go inland was to exploit an iron
oxide mine to obtain red pigment utilizing heavy stone hammers, as seen
at San Ramón Prehispanic mine, near Taltal (see Salazar et al., Chapter 3 in
this volume). People exploited the mine from late in the Pleistocene (circa
11,900 cal BP) until late in the Holocene (circa 4100 cal BP). It became
an important factor for coastal societies in subsequent periods (Salazar et
al. 2009; Salazar et al. 2011). Red pigment was used in a Late Pleistocene
open camp in the core of the Atacama Desert, Quebrada Mani, Pampa
del Tamarugal Basin (Latorre et al. 2013), and it was a key element in the
ceremonial paraphernalia of funerary rituals among the Chinchorro and
Huentelauquén people, as corpses were painted or coated with red pigment
(Arriaza et al. 2008; Jackson et al. 2011; Llagostera et al. 2010; Llagostera et
al. 2000; Sepúlveda et al. 2014).
Copaca 1 covers an area of 5,000 m² and is more than 2 m deep, result-
ing from the accumulation of mollusk shells (most of them useless after
extracting the edible parts), along with the remains of other marine and
terrestrial fauna, and all sorts of discarded lithic, bone, and shell instru-
ments for capturing, processing, and consuming food. The site was also
used for a funerary interment arranged with a stone masonry structure.
Archaeological excavations at Copaca 1 covered 14 m2, and, as in Caleta Vi-
tor, since the beginning of the settlement people mastered the capture of a
wide variety of marine resources. Twelve radiocarbon dates place the most
intense occupation of the site between circa 6500 and 5100 cal BP.
Groups of hunters, gatherers, and fishers that established semiperma-
nent, multifunctional open camps for economic and ritual activities settled
on a high marine terrace (22 masl), 100 m from the current littoral. From
the whole range of fish that could be captured, people were very selective
in first capturing jurel, or jack mackerel (Trachurus symmetricus), which is
the most abundant, together with sardines (Sardinops sagax musica). Jurel
migrates seasonally in schools toward the open ocean to reproduce and
toward the coast to feed, especially on sardines, which would explain the
relative abundance of these two species in the shell midden. Sardines may
have also appeared in the shell midden as part of the stomach contents of
larger species such as jurel and bonito.
The seasonality of mackerel in Copaca seems to be reflected in their
contrasting abundance between the layers of the shell midden, and it might
have been caught along the littoral using nets. This species predominates
in other sites of the area during the Middle Archaic (Guasilla site), and
continues to be important in later periods in the Cobija coastal area (Castro
et al. 2012). In sum, jurel was the most important food source of the area
for over 5,000 years. Other littoral species captured at Copaca and other
Archaic sites, such as Mantos de la Luna, included bilagay (Cheilodactus
variegatus), rollizo (Pinguipes chilensis), tomollo (Auqueniochus microcir-
rhis), and pejesapo (Sicyases sanguineus), which were possibly captured by
diving and using fishhooks.
The presence of pelagic fish species, such as swordfish (Xiphias gladius),
marlin (Istiophoridae), bonito (Sarda sp.), and elasmobranches (sharks,

rays), which are today found 2 to 3 km off the littoral, implies that people
needed some sort of watercraft to catch them. The same conclusion is pro-
posed for the shell midden at the Agua Dulce open camp (Taltal), where
people caught swordfish, marlin, and two shark species (Notorynchus ce-
pedianus and Galeorhinus galeus) during the Middle Archaic (Olguín et
al. 2014). Evidence of small vessels has not been found; however, certain
bioanthropological marks have been interpreted as resulting from the use
of oars. We must also consider that pelagic species can come close to the
coast when chasing their prey, while certain elasmobranch species reach
the coast when young. However, the use of watercraft is supported by the
depiction of some sort of vessel in the vivid painted images with pelagic
fish species found at several locations on the coast of Taltal (Figure 2.4i and
2.4j). Archaeological and iconographic evidence suggests that El Médano
rock art style belongs to later Prehispanic phases (Late Formative or Late
Intermediate Periods) (Ballester 2018; Berenguer et al. 2008), although
direct Accelerator Mass Spectrometry (AMS) dates from rock art motifs
yielded a much earlier chronology for this style (circa 8700 cal BP; Castel-
leti et al. 2015).
Gastropods were also intensively consumed, including loco (Concholepas
concholepas) and lapa (Fissurella sp.), which are typical of the rocky littoral
of Cobija and along the coast of northern Chile. It is noticeable that their size
gradually decreased through time, which seems to be the consequence of
several combined factors. Stratigraphically and chronologically, the larger
specimens occurred during the time of increased marine upwelling, which
increases primary bioproduction (Carré et al. 2012; Mohtadi and Hebbeln
2004; Ortlieb et al. 2011). Old local divers have commented that until the
middle of the twentieth century, larger mollusks were frequent near the
intertidal zone. Thus, the decrease in size could be the combination of envi-
ronmental changes and overexploitation of the resources toward later pre-
historic times as human populations increased (Marquet et al. 2012, Rivad-
eneira et al. 2010). Besides locos and lapas, another gastropod intensively
consumed at Copaca was a sea snail (Tegula atra), despite its small size and
rather meager biomass. It is estimated that mollusks, especially locos, were
caught by diving because they migrate toward deeper sections of the littoral
as they become larger (Castelleti 2007). These invertebrates were also used
as raw material in the manufacture of expedient shell artifacts. The use of
Choromytilus chorus shells stands out in the manufacture of fishhooks and
knives. Other shells were used to make necklace beads.
Sea birds, especially Phalacrocoracidae, followed in importance by Pro-

cellaridae and Laridae, were another source of protein, and several skel-
etal parts of these birds show cutmarks resulting from butchering. Coastal
groups of the southern tip of South America used snares and nets to cap-
ture birds (Gusinde 1951). Similar tools have not been identified in Copaca,
which is why it is assumed that the Copaca people employed spears with
stemmed and lanceolate projectile points or slingshots, given the noticeable
presence of pebbles of different sizes.
Toward the later phases of the occupation at Copaca, Delphinidae were
the most important captured taxa among marine mammals (presence
of vertebrae, skull fragments: the occipital and frontal jaws and periodic
bone). This means that primary and secondary bone discard was carried
out in that place, a behavior typical of Archaic semipermanent residential
camps. Other taxa consumed at Copaca were Cetacea and Otaridae. Cam-
elidae played a marginal role as a source of protein. Parts of Delphinidae
were placed with the human interment described below. Some of these spe-
cies seem to have been depicted in rock art as seen in El Médano (Figures
2.4e–h).
Artifacts at Copaca included lithic (siliceous) projectile points, harpoons
(barbs and shafts), fishhook and fishhook weights, poteras (a wooden in-
strument consisting of a long stick and three or four thin and pointed barbs
used to capture octopi), scrapers, planes, flakes, polishers (active or pas-
sive), choppers made of andesite, and knives made of Choromytilus chorus
shells (Figure 2.4).
For the processing of sea and land mammals obtained through hunting,
the Copaca people used sharp-edged lithic instruments, which left a series
of micro traces on the bones when cutting and scraping. These were identi-
fied in 12 morphological types of andesite and siliceous instruments, but
the chopper was the most frequently used instrument for these and other
functions. These activities seem to have been carried out more frequently
in the upper layers of Copaca, when bifaces were incorporated. Andesite
pebbles and (active) polishers (Aschero 1983) were used in abrasive tasks,
such as the preparation of mammal hides destined for the manufacture of
dwellings, clothes, and possibly rafts, especially during the later occupa-
tions that formed the upper layers at Copaca (Castro et al. 2016; García-
Albarido 2014). In lesser amounts, andesite was also used to make fishhook
sinkers/weights. Some of the polishers are impregnated with red pigment.
Given the lack of wood on the arheic coast, people instead used the
long bones of camelids at Copaca, as well as the bones of birds and sea
mammals, mainly otarids. They used circular and straight stem shell fish-
hooks (Figures 2.4a, 2.4d). These are distinctive tools along the coast of
northern Chile and have been used as chronological indicators, to the ex-
tent that circular hooks tend to appear in the earliest times of occupation
at several littoral sites until circa 6100 cal BP. Later on, straight stem fish-
hooks became more common, as did the introduction of hooks made of
cactus spine, and other hunting and fishing elements like lithic-stemmed,
triangular points, bipoints, bone barbs for harpoons (Figure 2.4d), bone
bipoints, shell sinkers for composite fishhooks, and “Taltaloid” points (Bird
1943; Boisset et al. 1969; Castro 2014; Contreras and Núñez 2008; Llagostera
2005). In sum, like other coastal groups along the littoral of northern Chile,
the Copaca people based their subsistence on marine resources, which is
reflected in the wide variety of artifacts linked to extraction, processing,
and consumption of fish, shellfish, birds, and sea mammals.
The permanent consumption of these resources also left traces in the
chemical composition of the bones identified through isotopic analyses,
which show high levels of nitrogen (Andrade et al. 2016; Andrade et al.
2014; Aufderheide et al. 1994; Aufderheide and Santoro 1999; Jackson et al.
2012; Santana-Sagredo et al. 2015; Tieszen and Chapman 1995). The marine
diet is also reflected in the high recurrence of metabolic diseases in all the
members of the community (women, men, and children), caused by the
Diphyllobothrium pacificum parasite and linked to the consumption of raw
fish and sea lion (Reinhard and Urban 2003). This and other parasites (En-
teroblus vernicularis) affected all the Prehispanic populations of the north
coast of Chile over time (Araújo et al. 2011; Araújo de et al. 1985; Arriaza et
al. 2008; Cocilovo et al. 2005; Ferreira et al. 1984; Núñez and Hall 1982).
Osteomyelitis was another disease that afflicted the population of Co-
paca as in other coastal locations (Cocilovo et al. 2005). Exostosis of the
external auditory canal mainly affected male individuals at Copaca, also a
phenomenon found in other coastal populations from exposure to cold air
and water; this may have resulted from diving practices or other activities
(rowing, swimming, underwater fishing, and hunting with harpoons). All
of these tasks are linked to the exploitation of marine resources and were
carried out mainly by men (Bonavia 1988; Jurmain and Kilgore 1995; Ken-
nedy 1986; Molnar 2006; Standen et al. 1985; Standen et al. 1997).
One of the individuals at Copaca shows signs of squatting facets; these
might have been caused by the use of some sort of vessel that required
squatting down to row or by supporting heavy loads with the arms and
back, by long and/or constant marches to carry out gathering tasks, or by

the processing of resources. This individual does not show signs of cavities,
reflecting a diet rich in animal proteins which, together with the presence
of severe flat dental wear, corresponds to the typical diet of coastal hunter-
gatherers (Andrade et al. 2014; Standen and Núñez 1984).
People at Copaca employed tubular beads made of white shells (4–5
mm length, 4–7 mm in diameter) as adornments. They possibly used the
columella of Turritela cingulata, easy to craft and collect along the littoral.
Discoidal beads made of Fissurella cumingi were also used (Castro et al.
2016). This care of the body was also transferred to the treatment of the
dead, which displays innovative practices during the Middle Archaic. One
male individual at Copaca was buried in an underground subcircular stone
structure, over a specially prepared clay floor (Figure 2.5a and 2.5c). This is
significantly different from the treatments observed in other areas of the ar-
heic coast, where burials were sealed with a compact ash layer. This person
was placed in an extended position: legs set apart, left arm bent, and right
arm extended. Cervical vertebrae were disassembled and displaced to in-
troduce three sea urchin shells aligned with the vertebrae (Figure 2.5a and
2.5b). Also, red-painted pebbles were added as an extension of both hands,
and an infant (badly preserved), 3 to 5 years of age, was placed between the
legs, as a secondary burial offering. Since there is no evidence of postdepo-
sitional alterations, it is estimated that these arrangements were part of a
funerary rite that has not been identified at other places along the coast. In
Copaca, this pattern is also repeated in other finds of two secondary disas-
sembled and incomplete people whose inferior limbs were deposited as a
“package” together with their respective skulls; in part, this resembles the
funerary pattern of Zaña, on the north coast of Peru, for the same period
(Rossen and Dillehay 1999; Santoro et al. 2005).
In sum, as in the case of Caleta Vitor, these groups originated socio-
cultural processes that allowed people to cope with ecological instability,
which later in the Archaic made it possible to establish little hamlets with
stone masonry structures along the coast. Moreover, and despite the eco-
logical constraints, during later periods, known as the Formative era, these
groups managed to incorporate into their social system certain features of
the agricultural world through different mechanisms of interaction with
distant inland agropastoral societies.
(a) (b)
(c)
Figure 2.5. (a) Human inhumation at Copaca with intentional interventions, including
the deposition of an infant between his legs (badly preserved), placed over a prepared clay
floor; (b) detail of the neck enlarged with sea urchin shells; (c) inhumation placed inside
a masonry stone structure used also for domestic purposes (photos by Victoria Castro).
Conclusions
The unilinear construction of the cultural history of people along the coast
of the Atacama Desert has portrayed them evolving, like many prehistoric
societies throughout the world, from hunting-gathering social systems to
agropastoral socioeconomic structures. This is because people at Caleta Vi-
tor and Copaca interacted with other communities, evidenced by ceramics,
metal objects, textiles, and other features of foreign origin. Despite the in-
troduction of these elements and features, the coastal subsistence at Caleta
Vitor and Copaca did not change much. However, these peoples modified
and innovated their technological system for extracting marine resources

through time.
Since the Early Archaic (circa 10,400 cal BP), archaeological records
show that people tried to consume the same selection of fish and shellfish.
The relative abundance and size of the selected food items that entered
the everyday menu of these people fluctuated through time. This was pos-
sibly provoked by climatic changes, technological innovation, population
increase, and overexploitation. For instance, netting (assumed due to the
small size of fish) was very important from the Archaic Period through the
Late Horizon at the Caleta Vitor and Copaca coastal zones. This early tech-
nological device was complemented by the introduction of different kinds
of fishhooks made out of shell, stones, bones, and copper.
For hunting, harpoons were incorporated during the Middle Archaic in
the Caleta Vitor zone (circa 6200 cal BP). In the Copaca coastal zone, this
tool kit and watercraft seem to have been incorporated circa 4500 cal BP,
linked to the capture of large pelagic fish species, which are vividly depicted
in later rock art painting. In contrast, in the Vitor zone, both watercraft and
pelagic fish become visible in the archaeological records in later Prehis-
panic phases (since the Formative).
Abundant in large quantities on tidally exposed rocks or sandy beaches
along the coast and not subject to seasonal variations (and when affected
by warm El Niño events, new species show up almost immediately as re-
placements), shellfish were easy to collect with a simple device: a chope—a
tool made out of sea lion ribs for collecting and processing gastropods). In
both regions, shellfish complemented high trophic-level marine resources.
As well, local subsistence and social life required movement to inland en-
claves to obtain raw materials (for example, stones and pigments) and to
create exchange networks with highland sociocultural groups (up to more
than 150 km away) in order to obtain exotic goods, especially in later Pre-
hispanic times (for example, camelid and cotton fibers and manufactures,
farming products). Coastal inland interaction, particularly in the arheic
littoral, started to be developed after around 6000–4000 cal BP (Balles-
ter and Gallardo 2011); in both coastal zones (exorheic and arheic), inland
influence was more evident with the arrival of agricultural products and
domesticated animals (camelids and rodents) during the Formative Period.
At Caleta Vitor during the Late Horizon, there was a visible increase of
corn in the archaeological record, but stable isotopes show a continuing
marine-focused diet. Similarly, although camelid dung is relatively abun-
dant in shell middens, the absence of camelid bones suggests that their
social function was as pack animals in interregional exchange networks.
Camelids, then, were not a significant part of the diet, as has been identi-
fied in the exorheic coast and valleys (Valenzuela et al. 2015). In sum, the
mainstay of the subsistence at Caleta Vitor focused on the sea and never
diminished, and remains of fish, marine mammals, shellfish, and sea birds
are found consistently from the earliest units excavated through the Late
Horizon. Thus, the process of increasing complexity experienced by the
Vitor communities around 4000 to 3500 cal BP, which started during the
early Formative Period, did not qualitatively transform the subsistence of
these societies. The remains of maize are abundant during the later part
of the Late Intermediate Period but are not present in any of the older ar-
chaeological strata at Caleta Vitor. Cotton becomes common after 3500 cal
BP along with camelid dung, but during the late prehistory (after 610 cal
BP) it becomes substantially more abundant.
At Copaca, the importance of high-level trophic marine resources is
more dramatic, as this bay is not ecologically associated with a canyon
mouth as is Vitor. Plant resources and other goods had to be brought from
more than 100 km inland, because it is almost impossible to practice farm-
ing along this sterile coast. Movement in watercraft could be an alternative
explanation for the presence of plants and exotic goods. The cultural con-
tinuity of the social groups that centered their way of life along the arheic
coast, however, was not free from the incorporation of external elements,
although this occurred much later than in Vitor. For instance, externally
produced pottery, metal objects, and textiles were first introduced circa
2000 cal BP (Bland et al. 2017), showing extensive exchange networking
with inland social groups, and from there the possibility of access to tropi-
cal forest items (Pestle et al. 2015).
Ideologically, during the Archaic Period in Caleta Vitor, this social
sphere was materialized in complex treatment of the dead, including some
sort of artificial preservation of babies, children, and adults exposed in col-
lective interment. At Copaca, although less complex procedures were ap-
plied, corpses were treated to transform their natural appearance and were
buried under private individual arrangements (Figure 2.5). During the For-
mative, the typical tumulus landform was introduced through the building
of ceremonial mounds that transformed the landscape. These highly vis-
ible ceremonial constructions, registered in several places along the arheic
coast (Ballester and Clarot 2014; Castro et al. 2012; Moragas 1982), represent
social and ideological conceptions that may have provided certain regional
social bonds. They were also common along the exorheic coast and the as-
sociated valleys, where their distribution formed conglomerate landmarks
that emphasized their monumental significance (Romero et al. 2004). At
Caleta Vitor two big tumuli, located on the border cliff of a marine terrace
over the southern slope of the quebrada (which was more intensively oc-
cupied through time), interrupt the view from the valley toward the sandy
coastal beach, as they rise more than 2 m over the landscape. From the
beach side, these tumuli appear more than 4 m tall, obstructing the view
toward the interior of the quebrada.
Copaca coastal Formative communities needed to interact with farming
groups located in the Loa and the Puna de Atacama basins to the north. Ex-
change networks were also extended to communities located from Copiapó
to Los Vilos toward the south. Since cargo animals, like llamas, could not
be sustained along the sterile coast, people moved out of the coast by walk-
ing to the interior, carrying exchange items (dried fish, shells) in capachos
(backpacks) (Pimentel et al. 2010). People from the interior moved goods
and products down to the coast on llama caravans, which become more
intense in later Prehispanic phases (1,000 cal BP). Possibly, more than one
system was operating independently, considering that crossing the desert
must have been a dangerous enterprise: no water and food were available
for people and animals, and it was not uncommon to perish in this at-
tempt (Pimentel et al. 2011). Interaction between coastal and inland groups,
however, intensified toward the Late Intermediate Period (circa 1200 AD).
Taltal, especially, experienced the introduction of an important number of
exotic goods, such as textiles, pottery, stone beads, wooden carved objects,
camelid fiber, Andean highland bird feathers, and obsidian, which ended
up as burial offerings. The introduction of these exotic goods may be re-
lated to the exploitation of a variety of coastal ores (copper, gold, silver) by
local populations; the products of coastal mining were highly attractive to
inland groups, so they entered long-distance exchange circuits. As coastal
people controlled the mining production, they gained a strong position
regarding the exchange of raw ore or metal objects directly for the inland
prestige goods. Thus, instead of waiting for the highlanders to come down
to the coast, coastal people moved up and also brought back with them low
nutritional value foods as chañar and algarrobo fruit (Ballester and Gal-
lardo 2011).
By the end of the Prehistoric Epoch, the incorporation of these goods
into coastal social reproduction was creating certain levels of inequalities,
as only some individuals were privileged to consume or wear these objects.
Since the Late Intermediate Period (circa AD 1200), people established

more permanent settlements by investing in more stable domestic archi-
tecture, and complex funerary rituals were performed in particular places
in, or next to, domestic areas. All of these social changes, however, did not
trigger processes of social differentiation, and if there were some aggran-
dizing leaders, their power was not transmitted to consanguine individuals
or relatives in new generations. Until the time of contact with the Europe-
ans, coastal people enjoyed a rather egalitarian and independent life.
Acknowledgments
This research was funded by the Chilean National Foundation for Science
and Technology (FONDECYT 1120454 to CMS; FONDECYT 1100951 and
1050991 to VC; FONDECYT 1151046 to CMS, VC, and DV), Universidad
de Tarapacá, and Universidad Alberto Hurtado, and CONICYT PIA pro-
gram project ANILLO SOC1405. We thank the editors and the anonymous
reviewer for their critical and key comments that helped to improve this
chapter.
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3
Economic Organization and Social Dynamics
of Middle-Holocene Hunter-Gatherer-Fisher
Communities on the Coast of the Atacama
Desert (Taltal, Northern Chile)
Diego Salazar, Carola Flores, César Borie, Laura Olguín,

Sandra Rebolledo, Manuel Escobar, and Ariadna Cifuentes
The Arid Coast of the Atacama Desert in northern Chile (Figure 3.1) is one
of the most extreme environments of the Andean area. It is nearly 600 km
in length with a very narrow littoral platform flanked by the Pacific Ocean
and the coastal mountain range (circa 2000 mas1) that drops abruptly into
the Pacific. Despite the high productivity of the Pacific Ocean, the terres-
trial environment is a hyperarid coastal desert with no permanent sources
of freshwater except for small and often salty “springs,” called aguadas.
Archaeological research has shown that this arid coast has been inhab-
ited at least since the Pleistocene-Holocene transition. Five sites in the area
of Taltal (Castelleti 2007; Salazar et al. 2011, 2013a, 2013b, 2015) show oc-
cupations related to the Huentelauquén Cultural Complex (Llagostera et
al. 2000; Sandweiss 2008; Jackson et al. 2011) and have been dated between
10,000 and 12,500 cal BP. After a chronological gap of nearly two millen-
nia for which we have no archaeological evidence, communities of hunter-
gatherer-fishers continually inhabited this area until the late nineteenth
century.
Most researchers studying the long cultural sequence of the Arid Coast
have proposed a conservative way of life and an economy characterized
by a traditional technology well adapted to local ecosystems (Llagostera
1989; Bittmann 1984; Castro et al. 2012). Ethnohistorical models have also
been used to reconstruct settlement systems going back as far as the sixth
Figure 3.1. The Arid Coast of the Atacama Desert in northern Chile (provided by the authors).
76 · Salazar, Flores, Borie, Olguín, Rebolledo, Escobar, and Cifuentes
millenium BC (Ballester and Gallardo 2011). However, it has been shown

that local histories were more complex, including significant technological
transformations (Llagostera 1982) and dramatic changes in settlement pat-
terns (Castelleti 2007; Salazar et al. 2015). Within this cultural sequence,
the Middle Holocene Period (8000–4500 cal BP) shows the prevalence of
a specialized maritime economy, a semisedentary settlement system, and
signs of growing social complexity. In this chapter we focus on this period
and use data on subsistence, technology, and settlement patterns to infer
economic organization and social dynamics within these local hunter-
gatherer-fisher communities.
Natural Environment
Our study area is located around the city of Taltal, in the southernmost part
of the Peruvian-Chilean coastal desert (Figure 3.1). It is characterized by
the complete lack of perennial rivers. The only permanent sources of fresh-
water are small and often salty aguadas near the coast, which are mainly
fed by coastal rains linked to El Niño Southern Oscillation (ENSO) events
(Herrera and Custodio 2014).
Three main ecosystems have been described for the Arid Coast: terres-
trial, coastal, and marine. In the terrestrial ecosystem, persistent coastal
fogs known locally as camanchaca provide enough humidity to sustain rel-
atively diverse vegetation communities of evergreen and annual flora such
as lichens, cacti, and small bushes (for example, Pefaur 1982; Pliscoff and
Luebert 2008). Vertebrate fauna is characterized by terrestrial mammals
like Lama guanicoe, reptiles, and birds (Marquet et al. 1998). On the other
hand, marine and coastal ecosystems in the study area are among the most
productive in the world (Ortlieb et al. 2010) and include diverse species
of seaweed, mollusks, fish, cetaceans, pinnipeds, and sea birds (Thiel et al.
2007; Medina et al. 2007).
Even though present characteristics of terrestrial, coastal, and marine
ecosystems of the study area can be assumed to have been similar dur-
ing the Middle Holocene, past changes in the productivity of these eco-
systems due to environmental variability have to be considered in order
to understand the archaeological record of past human dynamics. Pale-
oceanographic studies from the central and northern coast of Chile present
general scenarios of dry and humid coastal conditions during the Middle
Holocene (Grosjean et al. 2003, 2007; Gayo et al. 2012; Latorre et al. 2002,
2005; Rech et al. 2002) related to sea surface temperature variation (Carré
Middle-Holocene Hunter-Gatherer-Fisher Communities on the Atacama Desert Coast · 77
et al. 2012; Kim et al. 2002) and ENSO events (Carré et al. 2011; De Vries
y Wells 1990; De Vries et al. 1997; Rollins et al. 1986; Sandweiss et al. 1996;
Vargas et al. 2006). These studies show hyperarid conditions during the
first half of the Middle Holocene and an increase in the intensity and fre-
quency of ENSO events around 5800–5000 cal yr BP (Marchant et al. 1999;
Sandweiss et al. 2001; Veit 1996; Andrus et al. 2008; Williams et al. 2008;
Vargas et al. 2006). Present-day conditions were installed at the beginning
of the Late Holocene, even though more humid pulses have been reported
around 2500–2000 cal yr BP (Gayo et al. 2012). The increment in intensity
and frequency of ENSO around 5800–5000 cal yr BP has been proposed
to be responsible for the recharge of the current aguadas in the study area
(Herrera and Custodio 2014), which were circumscribed spatially and the
only source of freshwater.
Early Middle Holocene in Taltal (7500–5500 cal yr BP):

Subsistence, Technology, and Mobility
The cultural history of the Arid Coast of what is today northern Chile be-
gan during the Pleistocene-Holocene transition, some 13,000 years ago
(Llagostera et al. 2000; Sandweiss and Quilter 2008; Jackson et al. 2011). The
Huentelauquén Cultural Complex has been identified in one archaeologi-
cal site in Antofagasta and five in the Taltal area (Llagostera et al. 2000; Cas-
telleti 2007; Salazar et al. 2013b, 2015); four correspond to relatively small
rock shelters located near the coast, while the fifth is an iron oxide mine
located in the San Ramón Ravine, 2 km from today’s shoreline. These were
all task-specific sites and as such do not provide a complete picture of the
subsistence, technology, and settlement system of the Huentelauquén Cul-
tural Complex. However, faunal analyses suggest a diversified subsistence
economy focused on resources from marine, coastal, and terrestrial eco-
systems, albeit predominantly mollusks and fish (Castelleti 2007; Salazar et
al. 2015). Both the rock shelters and the iron oxide mine were abandoned
around 10,000 cal BP and there are no archaeological sites dated for the
following one and a half millennia. Around 8500 cal BP there is evidence
for the first open-air residential site in the study area. The Morro Colorado
site was excavated during the first half of the twentieth century by A. Cap-
deville, M. Uhle, R. Latcham, and J. Bird (Andrade and Salazar 2011). The
first occupation of the site has been recently dated between 8500 and 7500
cal yr BP (Salazar et al. 2015). Archaeological deposits are characterized by
the occurrence of thin charcoal/ash-rich layers (hearths) and small shell
Figure 3.2. Archaeological sites close to Morro Colorado (provided by the authors).
midden accumulations separated by almost sterile layers. Archaeological

material include circular shell fishhooks, shell openers, lithic knives, and
projectile points, while faunal remains shows an emphasis on mollusks and
fish, and to a lesser degree on marine and terrestrial mammals and birds
(Salazar et al. 2015). We interpret the stratigraphic and contextual data of
the Morro Colorado site as indicative of short-term residential occupa-
tions and as part of a settlement system characterized by a high degree
of residential mobility that may have included other sites located further
north or south of the study area.
The stratigraphic sequence of Morro Colorado shows a gradual change
toward a more dense and stable occupation dated to 7469–7595 cal yr BP
(Figure 3.2). This transformation shortly predates the appearance of other
open-air residential sites such as Zapatero, Punta Morada, and Las Con-
chas, all of them dated between 7400 and 5500 cal yr BP (Figure 3.2). This
time frame corresponds to the early phase of the Middle Holocene and is
probably related to sites located further north such as Cobija 13 and Copaca
in the Cobija area (Bittmann 1984; Castro et al. 2012), Punta Guanillos in
the Tocopilla area (Ortlieb et al. 2010), and possibly Abtao 1 in Mejillones
(Boisset et al. 1969). Junius Bird (1943, 1946) used the term “shell fishhook
culture” to refer to the communities during this period spread along the
northern coast of Chile from Arica (18°S) to Taltal (25°S). A later phase
of the Middle Holocene has also been identified around the Taltal area
between 5500 and 4500 cal yr BP (Castelleti 2007, Salazar et al. 2015).
Archaeological sites from the early Middle Holocene (7500–5500 cal yr
BP) show evidence of a clear maritime adaptation. In the first layers of
Morro Colorado (8500–7500 cal yr BP), terrestrial mammals and birds rep-
resent almost 80 percent (number of identified specimens, NISP) of faunal
remains (fish not included) (Salazar et al. 2015). In contrast, during the
early Middle Holocene, around 95 percent of vertebrates (MNI, minimum
number of individuals) correspond to fish. Mollusks, on the other hand,
are the most abundant faunal assemblage, both in terms of NISP and MNI.
These patterns are shared by the three sites where we have made systematic
faunal analysis (Morro Colorado, Agua Dulce, and Zapatero). As shown in
Table 3.1, diverse taxa of fish and mollusks are present at each of these sites
during the Early Middle Holocene. However, local diet was focused on two
key resources: the offshore fish jack mackerel (T. symmetricus) (84 percent,
MNI) and several species of intertidal gastropods such as T. atra, Fissurel-
lidae, and C. concholepas (98 percent, MNI of the mollusk assemblage).
It is important to mention the presence of deepwater fish (3 percent-5
percent, MNI) such as Genypterus sp., and oceanic species (1 percent, MNI)
such as Xiphias gladius and Kajikia audax (Table 3.1). These types of fish
were absent in previous occupations and may be considered as indirect
indicators for the use of watercraft and open sea hunting during the Middle
Holocene (Olguín et al. 2014). Even though MNI are low for these species,
together with marine and terrestrial mammals they provided significant
Table 3.1. Frequency of minimum number of individuals (MNI) of fish and mollusk species
during the Early Middle Holocene (7500–5500 cal yr BP) at Morro Colorado, Agua Dulce,
and Zapatero sites
Morro Agua Total Total %
Species Colorado Dulce Zapatero MNI MNI
Mollusk
Gastropods
Chilean abalone Muricidae Concholepas 101 943 112 1,156 9.69
concholepas
Limpets Fissurellidae Fissurella maxima 114 17 35 166 9.92
Fissurella limbata 69 255 192 516
Fissurella crassa 26 164 106 296
Fissurella costata 33 70 31 134
Fissurella bridgesii 1 7 8
Fissurella 4 4
latimarginata
Fissurella picta 38 38
Fissurella pulchra 2 2
Fissurella spp. 58 65 62 185
Sea snails Trochidae Tegula atra 2,949 2,484 2,466 7,899 68.31
Tegula tridentata 3 17 20
Diloma nigérrima 37 145 182
Prisogaster niger 32 9 41
Acmaeidae Scurria spp. 25 94 98 217 1.82
Sea cradles Chitonidae Acanthopleura 115 136 96 347 6.23
echinata
Enoplochiton niger 22 14 99 135
Chiton granosus 18 34 25 77
Chiton latus 4 12 57 73
Tonicia spp. 12 21 15 48
Chiton spp. 25 21 17 63
Others snails 57 16 16 89 0.74
Subtotal 3,705 4,403 3,588 11,696 98.13
Gastropods
Bivalves
Clams Verenidae Protothaca thaca 20 7 27 0.23
Mesodesma 1 1
donacium
Mussels Mytilidae Choromytilus 9 5 6 20 0.37
chorus
Perumytilus 25 25
purpuratus
Oysters Pectenidae Argopecten 14 1 15 0.12
purpuratus
Subtotal Bivalves 48 26 14 88 0.73
Crustaceans
Crabs Decapodos 6 3 1 10 0.08
Barnacles Balanus psittacus 5 2 2 9 0.12
Balanus laevis 4 1 5
Balanus spp. 1 1
Subtotal 15 7 3 25 0.20
Crustaceans
Echinoderms
Urchins Loxechinusalbus 8 55 46 109 0.91
Subtotal 8 55 46 109 0.91
Echinoderms
Total Mollusk 3,776 4,491 3,651 11,918 100
Fish
Near-shore
Labridae Semicossyphus 8 8 0.85
maculatus
Semicossyphus 5 5 10
darwini
Kiphosidae Graus nigra 1 3 1 5 0.56
Doydixodon 7 7
laevifrons
Haemulidae Isacia conceptionis 4 3 7 0.33
Scorpaenidae Sebastes capensis 5 11 13 29 1.37
Bothidae Paralichthys microps 6 2 8 0.42
Paralichthys 1 1
adspersus
Aplodactylidae Aplodactylus 10 10 0.47
punctatus
Cheilodactylidae Cheilodactylus 2 61 2 65 3.08
variegatus
Labrisomidae Auchenionchusmi- 3 3 0.42
crocirrhis
Auchenionchus 1 2 3
variolosus
Auchenionchus spp. 2 2
Triakidae Mustelus mento 1 1 0.04
Sciaenidae Cilusgilberti 8 5 20 33 1.80
Sciaena deliciosa 4 4
Cheilotrema 1 1
fasciatum
Batrachoididae Aphos porosus 2 2 0.09
(continued)
Table 3.1—Continued

Pinguipedidade Pinguipeschilensis 1 3 2 6 0.28

Eleginopidae Eleginops 1 1 0.04
maclovinus
Gobiesocidae Sicyases sanguineus 1 1 0.04
Centrolophidae Seriolella violácea 1 1 2 0.09
Bovichthydae Bovichthys chilensis 1 1 0.04
Blenniidae Scartichthys viridis 1 1 0.04
Subtotal marine 27 130 54 211 10.00
nearshore
Offshore
Carangidae Trachurus 320 234 1,230 1,784 84.54
symmetricus
Seriola lalandi 3 3 0.14
Ophidioidei Genypterus spp. 3 16 19 0.99
Genypterus chilensis 3 3
Gempylidae Thyrsites atun 14 1 30 45 2.13
Merlucciidae Merluccius gayi 1 1 2 0.09
Scombridae Sarda chilensis 2 16 18 0.85
Clupeidae Ethmidium 2 2 0.09
maculatum
Coryphaenidae Coryphaena 1 1 0.04
hippurus
Lamnidae Lamnidae spp. 3 3 0.14
Subtotal Marine 340 239 1,301 1,880 89.09
offshore
Oceanic
Billfish Xiphiidae Xiphiasgladius 3 3 6 0.28
Istiophoridae Kajikia audax 3 3 0.14
Istiophoridae spp. 2 2 0.09
Shark Triakidae Galeorhinus galeus 4 4 0.18
Hexanchidae Notorynchus 2 2 0.09
cepedianus
Carcharhinidae Carcharhinus spp. 1 1 0.04
Tuna Scombridae Katsuwonnus 1 1 0.04
pelamis
Subtotal Oceanic 1 11 7 19 0.90
Total Fish 368 380 1,362 2,110 100

Compiled by authors.
meat yields and thus must have played an important role in subsistence
practices.
Together with the probable use of watercraft during this period, the early
Middle Holocene is characterized by a specialized technology for extracting
and processing marine and coastal resources (Figure 3.3). The most com-
mon artifacts include circular and J-shape shell fishhooks; diverse types of
fishing weights made from shell (Choromytilus chorus), stone, and bone; a
variety of bone instruments including shell openers, harpoons, composite
fishhooks, harpoon barbs, and drills; and finally an equally diverse lithic in-
dustry including bifacial projectile points, scrapers, awls, knives, choppers,
manos, bifaces, and multifunctional artifacts. Although we do not have di-
rect evidence of fishing nets, we inferred their use during this period based
on the homogeneity of jack mackerel size and this species’ predominance
in the icthyological assemblage (Rebolledo 2014).
All the archaeological sites dated during the early Middle Holocene
(7500–5500 cal yr BP) correspond to deeply stratified, open-air shell mid-
dens, with deposits 1 to 2 m deep and located close to present day shore-
line, 10 to 20 mas1. Evidence for burials or domestic architecture has not
been yet reported for this period. However, our data indicate residential
occupations at these sites. The wide variety of artifacts and the evidence
of complete operational chains for their manufacture indicate that diverse
activities were carried out at these locations. Faunal remains show the ex-
ploitation of all the resources locally available, and stratigraphic deposits
are very complex including numerous and often dense hearths and second-
ary refuse areas. Thus, in relation to previous periods, early Middle Holo-
cene sites suggest lower residential mobility and therefore a semisedentary
settlement system.
No rockshelter occupation has been dated to this period, except for
Alero Miguel (Castelleti 2007). However, recent research shows this rock-
shelter is located no more than 100 m away from an open-air shell midden,
and therefore it is not a separate task-specific location. This pattern is in
marked contrast to what is observed during the Early Holocene and the
Late Middle Holocene, where occupations in rockshelters are common.
In the latter case, there is also evidence of open-air sites characterized by
very discrete occupations with low density and diversity of artifacts and
ecofacts. This type of site has not been reported for the early phase of the
Middle Holocene.
We have systematically surveyed nearly 80 km of coastal platform
around Taltal City and so far we have identified 10 open-air shell midden
Figure 3.3. Early Middle Holocene specialized technology for extracting and processing marine
and coastal resources (provided by the authors).
sites dated to the early Middle Holocene. They all show similar character-
istics, suggesting residential occupations but with some intersite variability
in terms of stratigraphic depth, size, and variety and frequency of artifacts.
The sites of Zapatero, Morro Colorado, Punta Grande, and Las Conchas
are the biggest, while the shell midden sites of Punta Negra 1b, Cachina-
les, Agua Dulce, Morros de Migue, Punta Morada, and Los Bronces-1 are
smaller (Figure 3.2).
Despite the fact that we do not have enough data to explain these dif-
ferences, and various factors of erosion may well be biasing our sample,
these characteristics may be the result of differences in the time spent at
each site and/or in the frequency of residential moves between them (for
example, Chatters 1987; Kelly 1995). Following this idea, Zapatero, Punta
Grande, Las Conchas, and Morro Colorado would have been locations of
longer and/or more regular residential occupations during the early Middle
Holocene, and Agua Dulce, Cachinales, Punta Negra, Morros de Migue,
Punta Morada, and Los Bronces would have been locations of shorter and/
or less visited residential occupations such as those reported by Veth (2005)
for Australian aborigines.
Ethnographic studies in arid environments have shown that water avail-
ability may act as an important criterion for choosing where and when to
move a residential camp (Kelly 1995). Consequently, the spatial distribution
of water springs could be partially responsible for the observed patterns
during the early Middle Holocene, especially given that this was a hyper-
arid period and that water recharge on local aguadas began only around
5500/5000 cal yr BP, corresponding to the local onset of ENSO (Herrera
and Custodio 2014; Vargas et al. 2006). These data suggest that during the
early phase of the Middle Holocene, the absence of ENSO events would
have implied deficient coastal spring recharge and very low water levels.
Consequently, it can be proposed that before 5500/5000 cal yr BP, coastal
springs were fewer and smaller, prompting local populations to stay longer
periods at residential camps near the most reliable water sources.
Water sources were not the only factor influencing hunter-gatherer resi-
dential movements, and social factors must have also been important in
determining these choices. Furthermore, as Ingold (1987) has shown, deci-
sions to move residential camps may be “located” at the level of individuals,
heads of households, or leaders acting on behalf of the whole community.
Therefore, even when settlement patterns are directly related to the spatial
structure of natural resources (for example, Binford 1980), they are also
determined by social organization and political structure. Unfortunately,
available data do not allow adequate inferences regarding the role of so-
ciopolitical organization on the settlement patterns observed for fishing-
hunting-gathering communities during the early Middle Holocene around
Taltal. However, in the following section we propose some insights into
part of the social dynamics behind residential movement and economic
activities.
Social Dynamics during the Early Middle Holocene (7500–

5000 cal yr BP)
Beside the precise choices and decisions involved in residential movements

during the early Middle Holocene, artifact and faunal assemblages sug-
gest the existence of different foraging radii for the acquisition of resources
available in the vicinities of each residential campsite. These foraging move-
ments included mollusk (and probably seaweed) gathering at the coastline,
fish catching near the shore, and fuel and freshwater collection around the
campsite. Hunting of sea birds and marine mammals were probably less
frequent activities. Off-site surveys done around one of the Early Middle
Holocene residential camps (Zapatero) have identified a high frequency of
low-abundance archaeological remains around 1 to 1.5 km north and south
of the site. Even though these dispersions may represent more than one
time period, their presence suggests that during the Early Middle Holocene
many of the daily activities of local communities were located off camp,
but were all temporary and left few remains and no stratified deposits or
features. Therefore, individuals must have returned to the base camps on a
daily basis, where most of the artifact production and processing and the
consumption of subsistence resources took place.
Other activities demanded longer movements from residential camps,
such as hunting of terrestrial mammals (Lama guanicoe) in the coastal
mountain range. However, this did not necessarily require hunters to spend
nights away from base camps. Off-site surveys done on the coastal moun-
tain range near Morro Colorado and Punta Morada (both sites dated to the
Early and Late Middle Holocene) have identified several small areas of scat-
tered lithic debris and artifacts on slopes and hilltops, but all remains are
found at short distances from campsites (2–3 km average) and not further
inland. Even the iron oxide mine of San Ramon 15, located 2 km away from
the nearest Middle Holocene base camp and with at least one radiocarbon
date of 5500 cal BP, shows no evidence of domestic occupation, which im-
plies that miners went back to their residential bases on a daily basis.
The mobility patterns described above indicate that local communities

of the early Middle Holocene coresided almost permanently at the residen-
tial camps. Foraging trips may have required cooperative labor, but it was
at the residential camps where most group members engaged daily in face-
to-face relationships, reproducing the ethos of sharing food, residence,
company, and memories so characteristic of many hunting and gathering
bands (for example, Ingold 1999). The practice of sharing and coinhabiting
the same residential camp would have reproduced social bonds and group
identity between community members, in accordance with social rules and
regulations derived from kinship systems.
Together with activities fostering social aggregation, some practices must
have created differentiation within groups. Sources for siliceous raw mate-
rials are located around 40 to 100 km from the coast, in the hyperarid core
of the Atacama Desert (Núñez 1984; Castelleti 2007; Galarce and Santander
2013), and therefore they had to be accessed through a special-purpose
procurement strategy including anticipatory planning (Gould and Saggers
1985; Duke and Steel 2010). Systematic surveys in the hyperarid core have
identified several superficial sites with flaking cores as well as a few small
structures made of coarse stone that could have operated as logistic sta-
tions. Their size, frequency, and lack of stratigraphic deposit and ecofacts
suggest that only a few individuals used these sites and for very short dura-
tions. Unlike daily foraging activities around the residential camps which
were accessible to all, the small stations associated with lithic procurement
trips show that only a few group members would be involved in this activ-
ity, probably those with knowledge about terrestrial routes, water sources,
and outcrop locations. Casual and/or systematic encounters with individu-
als from highland groups were possible during these trips, increasing the
possibilities for economic exchange and intergroup mating and agreements
that would be managed by a few members within the coastal bands.
Another activity that certainly created differences within Early Middle
Holocene communities was the off-coast expeditions to hunt big oceanic
fish. Complex artifacts (rafts) and specialized knowledge were required
to travel by boat several km into the open sea (Ballester and Gallardo
2011). Although not very abundant, oceanic fish species are represented
throughout the stratigraphy of all Early Middle Holocene archaeological
sites around Taltal (Salazar et al. 2015), and their contribution to the sub-
sistence economy should not be underestimated since the meat yield of one
swordfish or marlin equals that of literally hundreds of jack mackerels. It
is very likely that the product of such expeditions was shared extensively
within the band or was even the support of social aggregation practices be-
yond individual bands (Ballester and Gallardo 2011), as it has been ethno-
graphically reported for many hunter-gatherer groups. Together with the
difficulties and danger inherent to offshore hunting, this activity probably
provided prestige and status to the successful hunters within their bands
(Wiessner 1996).
It is unlikely that prestige and status could be transferred through gener-
ations to create lasting hierarchies within these local bands (i.e., status and
prestige were acquired, not ascribed). At least based on our current data
and variables commonly used for inferring social complexity in hunting-
gathering societies from an archaeological perspective (for example, Kelly
1995; Keen 2006; Sassaman 2004; Arnold 1996; Ames 2014), Early Middle
Holocene communities around Taltal should be considered as egalitarian
groups. Even though residential camps were probably used on a semiper-
manent basis, most likely due to a “tethered nomadism” (Binford 1980;
Kelly 1995) centered on water availability, there is no clear evidence for
social hierarchies, storage of food, population pressure, resource variability,
or territoriality during this period as would be expected for nonegalitarian
hunter-gatherers.
In sum, during the Early Middle Holocene, egalitarian hunter-gatherer-
fisher communities experienced potential social differentiations basically
due to the status accrued to group members in charge of the most im-
portant activities for the social and biological reproduction of the band.
Foraging trips to collect lithic raw materials would have been opportunities
for social cooperation with outside groups, which provided some mem-
bers with information, mating possibilities, and access to exotic goods not
available for the bands that stayed permanently at the coast. The knowl-
edge and skills required for constructing boats and using them in offshore
hunting and collective fishing of jack mackerel provided certain members
with the high prestige derived from hunting skills and generosity in meat
sharing. Therefore, we suggest prestige was not accrued to aggrandizers,
but to specific group members who managed the specialized knowledge for
watercraft building, offshore hunting, and, eventually, lithic raw material
acquisition.
Social Dynamics during the Late Middle Holocene

(5500–4500 cal yr BP)
In terms of subsistence, no changes are observed in the transition from

the early to the later phase of the Middle Holocene. Faunal assemblages
are similar in species abundance and diversity with a predominance of fish
and mollusks. In terms of settlement system, on the other hand, changes
are observed as new residential camps, numerous rockshelters, and small
open-air sites appear during this phase. The rockshelters and small open-
air sites that were dated to this period show repeated short domestic occu-
pations. This indicates a more complex settlement system (Castelleti 2007),
probably with less face-to-face interaction and further differentiation of
experiences and social activities within the band (Andrade et al. 2014). In
most of the residential sites dated within the later Middle Holocene, stone
structures were constructed following a standardized pattern reported re-
gionally from the Loa River to Taltal and even further south (Zlatar 1983,
1987; Núñez et al. 1974; Castelleti 2007, among others). These stone struc-
tures have circular or semicircular shapes, are between 2 to 2.5 m wide,
and were sometimes built around open patios 5 to 10 m in diameter. Stone
structures show evidence of domestic occupations as well as floors made of
seaweed-cemented ash, under which human burials have sometimes been
found. This spatial organization suggests a very significant transforma-
tion toward more durable and permanent dwellings, which could indicate
prolonged stays or anticipated returns to residential camps (for example,
Binford 1990). As some of these domestic structures were also dwellings
for the deceased, significant links between place and social groups can be
expected for this phase. The ubiquity of these features in residential sites
across the area suggests an increasing territoriality between bands (Salazar
et al. 2015; Power 2015).
This increasing territoriality seems to collate (sensu Sandweiss and
Quilter 2012) with an increase in frequency and intensity of ENSO events,
which produced unpredictable changes in oceanographic conditions and
consequences on maritime and coastal ecosystems (Williams et al. 2008).
This oceanographic anomaly also triggered an increase in coastal precipi-
tation and therefore significant recharge of underground waters (Herrera
and Custodio 2014) and possibly the appearance of new aguadas during
this period. Given that dependable water sources were probably the envi-
ronmental factor “tethering” mobility during the earlier phase of the pe-
riod, there may be a relationship between greater availability of water, the
emergence of new residential sites in previously unoccupied locations (for

example, Caleta Bandurrias), and changes in the settlement system. How-
ever, if there were more and presumably larger aguadas during the Late
Middle Holocene and subsistence resources were still highly predictable,
dense, and, above all, spatially homogeneous, increased territoriality does
not seem to have been determined by environmental context.
Territorial strategies observed during the Late Middle Holocene were
probably not aimed to physically defend specific locations but were none-
theless explicit social signals reinforcing group membership and affiliation,
which in turn would have built a “social boundary defense” (Cashdan 1983)
in relation to other hunter-gatherers. During this period there is abundant
evidence of increased interaction and exchange with highland hunter-
gatherers (Zlatar 1983, Núñez et al. 1974), while the use of watercraft could
have extended the settlement system of the coastal bands northward and
southward (Ballester and Gallardo 2011). It is therefore possible that, given
the increased availability of water, at least some of the small open-air sites
and rockshelters during this period were not occupied by local bands but
by nonlocal bands extending their foraging circuits. This is of course dif-
ficult to test archaeologically with current available data, but could explain
the “social boundary defense” mentioned above.
On the other hand, at several local residential sites (for example, Los
Bronces, Morro Colorado, Caleta Bandurrias, Zapatero), habitational space
is divided into at least 3 clusters with around 5 to 10 structures each, located
around an open patio to which all of them had access, but it is separated
from other clusters. Based on ethnographic observation linking spatial ar-
rangement of residential camps with social grouping and kin relations (for
example, Whitelaw 1989, 1991), clustered structures could be indicative of
different social units coinhabiting residential sites. This pattern has not
been observed for earlier periods.
In sum, during the late phase of the Middle Holocene, diverse lines of
evidence indicate that local groups were more internally differentiated in
terms of daily activities and social affiliation. However, the fact that these
diverse social units coinhabited at residential sites, and that they shared
important traits and practices across a wide territory (the arid coast), indi-
cates that in spite of internal separation they also exhibited long-distance
alliances with other coastal and/or inland groups (Ballester and Gallardo
2011), which probably affiliated these communities into higher levels of
group identity or solidarity.
Figure 3.4. Late Middle Holocene lithic

artifact known as “Taltaloid blades,” which
required high labor investment but whose
function remains unclear (provided by the
authors).
Within this context, it is important to mention the appearance during

the Late Middle Holocene of remarkable lithic artifacts known as “Tal-
taloid blades” which required high labor investment but whose function
remains unclear (Figure 3.4). The production of labor-intensive nontech-
nomic artifacts such as the Taltaloid blades has been considered a marker
of increased social complexity among hunter-gatherers (Price 1981). If they
were not functional implements, as has been suggested by their recurrent
appearance at funerary sites and relative absence from domestic middens,
their role may have been to materialize some sort of social identity, which
reproduced differences within the bands (members with and without ac-
cess to these blades) and affiliated these selected members across social
Figure 3.5. Rock art at the El Médano site (provided by the authors).
units (Taltaloid blades have been found at least from the Loa River to Taltal
and even further south during this period).
Although more research is needed to prove this, we believe the complex
rock art displayed at the El Médano site (Berenguer 2009), a few km north
of our study area, could date to this period.1 This is the only place on the
Arid Coast where such an amount of rock art has been recorded, and it is
located in the coastal mountain range a day of travel from the coast through
a very difficult terrain. Interestingly, some of the images depicted most of-
ten at this site are oceanic fish and offshore hunting (Figure 3.5). The site
could be considered a place for social aggregation, but its secluded location
and difficult access suggests it was not meant for everyone, but to a specific
few, most likely those related to the use of watercraft and offshore hunting.
Perhaps these group members had access to the Taltaloid blades as well.
Conclusions
Social organization is not only determined by cultural norms, it is made

meaningful through experience and is reproduced in practices (Pauketat
2001). Economic organization—and especially activities related to subsis-
tence, technology, and mobility—makes up an important part of everyday
experiences in hunting and gathering societies. Therefore, economy is in
itself a set of ubiquitous practices. Through practices such as these, social
organization and cultural worlds are reproduced. Accordingly, economic
behavior does not only tell us about the organization of labor in order to
meet subsistence needs at specific environmental and technological set-
tings (Binford 1980). At the same time, economic organization informs us
of the actual lived experiences of hunter-gatherers, through which cultural

worlds were produced and transformed (that is, Sassaman and Holly 2011).
From this perspective, we have attempted to understand the social dy-
namics of Middle Holocene hunting-gathering-fishing communities of the
Taltal area through the study of changes and continuities in their economic
organization between 7500 and 4500 cal yr BP. We propose that reduced
mobility during the Early Middle Holocene, eventually as a response to
hyperarid conditions, and highly packed residential sites may have fostered
permanent face-to-face relations where hunting-gathering-fishing com-
munities shared experiences, memories, food, and raw materials. Despite
the fact that the ethos of sharing within a highly homogeneous material
life expressed and reproduced an egalitarian social organization, certain
activities such as long-distance lithic provisioning could have seeded a
growing sense of differentiation within these egalitarian and homogeneous
bands. Moreover, the existence of individuals with specialized knowledge
and experiences not available to all, who were capable of providing part of
the community’s daily subsistence base (collective net fishing of Trachurus
symmetricus) as well as high amounts of meat to eventually sustain social
aggregation and interband rituals (the hunting of big oceanic fish), could
have accentuated differentiations within the bands.
These patterns seem to have been intensified during the Late Middle
Holocene. On the one hand, higher degrees of territoriality are suggested
in the archaeological record through the appearance of habitational and fu-
nerary stone structures at residential camps. On the other hand, internally,
these campsites show spatially segregated distributions of clusters of stone
structures and patios. Furthermore, special nontechnomic artifacts appear
around 5500 cal yr BP, marking local differences in funerary contexts be-
tween group members as well as affiliating these members with other social
people at a regional scale. Finally, the appearance of a secluded ritual place
densely marked with rock art suggests that by the Late Middle Holocene
not all group members had equal access to symbolic knowledge. We have
proposed that those group members involved in watercraft and offshore
hunting were the ones involved in these intense intraband differentiations
as well as in regional interband affiliations.
These transformations were combined not only with intensified interac-
tions and exchange networks with highland foragers and probably other
coastal bands, but also with increased territoriality through the appear-
ance of habitational and funerary stone structures at residential camps. The
correlation of these processes needs further research, but indicates that in-
terband relationships and affiliation were not exempt from social conflict,
which may be signaled by increased territoriality and social boundary de-
fense mechanisms.
For reasons yet unknown, this social system abruptly ended by 4500 cal
yr BP. Stone structures where abandoned and semisedentary occupations
were replaced by high residential mobility and probably low demographic
levels (Salazar et al. 2015). However, subsistence and technology did not
suffer significant transformations at this time. Future research is needed to
understand this sudden change in the local social system.
Acknowledgments
This research was funded by Proyecto Fondecyt 1110196. We would like to

thank all members of field and laboratory teams for their contributions
and support, and especially the editors of this volume for their invitation
to publish our chapter here.
Note
1. In a residential site of the Late Middle Holocene, a stone from a structure wall was
found carved with the same style as the El Médano paintings (Contreras, pers. comm.,
2015).
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4
The Use and Construction History
of Huaca Prieta, North Coast of Peru
Tom D. Dillehay
During the Middle Holocene Period, indigenous communities along the

littoral zone of the central Andes intensified maritime-adapted economies,
adopted cultigens from distant regions, and contributed to a florescence of
social complexity, interregional exchange, and cosmologically meaningful
material culture that has long captured the attention of archaeologists. In
coastal Peru, mounds and iconographically distinctive artifact assemblages
are referred to as middle to late Preceramic or Archaic cultures (~7000–
4000 BP). Unfortunately, archaeologists have not extensively researched
the Late Pleistocene to Middle Holocene prehistory of the littoral zone of
the North Coast of Peru. The cursory investigations carried out at sites in-
clude limited testing at a few locations scattered across several valleys (for
example, Pozorski and Pozorski 1977, 1979, 1990; Bonavia 1982). There are
two problems, however, with our current knowledge of these sites. First,
the excavated artifact and ecofact assemblages from them are so small and
spatially confined in comparison to the large size of the sites (~1–2 ha) that
they cannot be taken as representative of a site-wide interpretation. That
is, there are significant sampling biases, with data from limited excavations
providing information on highly specific activity areas only. Second, as a
result, the chronological and noneconomic aspects of these sites are gener-
ally poorly understood, making it difficult to access their wider sociocul-
tural contribution to early Andean prehistory.
One site of special interest on the littoral of the north coast of Peru is
Huaca Prieta in the Chicama Valley (Figures 4.1 and 4.2). The site was ex-
cavated first by Junius Bird of the American Museum of Natural History
in the middle 1940s (Bird and Hyslop 1985). Huaca Prieta is an architec-
tural anomaly in the sense that it dates from the Late Pleistocene to the
Figure 4.1. Location map of the Huaca Prieta site in the lower Chicama Valley, Peru (provided by the
author).
The Use and Construction History of Huaca Prieta, North Coast of Peru · 103
Figure 4.2. View of the Huaca Prieta mound from the east. Scale provided by person
standing on the right slope of the mound (provided by the author).
Middle Holocene period (~12,500–3800 BP), and it has a large and ovoid
earthen mound that conforms to the south end of an ancient terrace rem-
nant overlooking the Pacific Ocean. The site contains some of the earliest
cotton textiles, decorative etched gourds, and other iconic artifacts in the
Americas; exhibits a mixed maritime and terrestrial economy; and has an
unusually dark appearance resulting from excessive burning activities over
several millennia. Perhaps most peculiar about Huaca Prieta is that it was
deliberately sealed or covered over from time to time by a thick, extremely
hard plaster coating made of sand, mud, marine shells, and especially sea
salt (Pino 2017). This coating was seemingly applied to prevent erosion
from wind and water when the mound became higher and steeper. Similar
early sites near the shoreline in other Peruvian coastal valleys also date to
the Middle to Late Holocene period, but they are smaller, do not reveal
the same ovoid form, do not contain the same artifact assemblages and
excessive burned material, and do not have an artificial plaster coating.
This essay presents a synopsis of particular aspects of the archaeological
data, on both the long history of the use and construction of the mound
at Huaca Prieta and on the economy of the site, that were obtained by the
Huaca Prieta Archaeological Project from 2006 to 2013. These data, along
with similar evidence from the nearby site of Paredones, present a new
104 · Tom D. Dillehay
understanding of the Preceramic history of the coastline of the Chicama

Valley.
The Huaca Prieta Project has already presented other synopses of the
history of these two sites. This essay expands on prior publications (Dille-
hay et al. 2012 a and b; Dillehay et al. 2011) and provides background infor-
mation for a much more detailed report published recently (Dillehay 2017).
Not considered in this essay are the results of the interdisciplinary research
our project has carried out in the lower Chicama Valley, especially a wide
variety of paleocological studies.
The Archaeological Background of Huaca Prieta
Bird excavated in and around Huaca Prieta in 1944 and 1945 (Bird 1948;
Bird and Hyslop 1985). He placed a long northeast- to southwest-oriented
trench (HP-3, Unit 3) on the northeast side of the mound facing sugar-
cane fields to the east, and another unit (HP-2) on the northwest side of
the mound facing the ocean to the west (Figure 4.3). He also excavated
smaller units on top of the mound, exposing what he termed late residen-
tial “houses,” and he opened several smaller units and trenches on the later
Cupisnique mound immediately north of Huaca Prieta. The Paredones
mound farther north of Huaca Prieta and numerous Preceramic house
mounds located several hundred meters along the littoral north and south
of Huaca Prieta were not examined by Bird but were studied by our project
(Dillehay et al. 2012a).
Over the years, several archaeologists have addressed the hypothesized
functionality of Huaca Prieta (for example, Bird and Hyslop 1985; Tellen-
bach 1997; compare Rick 1990), all partially correct in their assessment of
how the site was used. Bird thought that Huaca Prieta was an occupational
mound. He was partly correct because the premound and early mound
phases (Phases I–II) are habitational from the Late Pleistocene to the Early
Holocene periods (~12,500–7,500 BP: Dillehay 2012a and b). Since Bird’s
1985 publication, investigators have followed his interpretations and cited
the mound as primarily a residential site accretionally built up over time
by discarded midden debris and by house remains and human burials. The
only major dissent came from Tellenbach who believed that the site was
more ceremonial, not occupational, in nature. However, he did not specify
the nature of the ceremonies and how they might have related to outlying
Preceramic and other settlements, and he had no hard evidence to support
his idea other than the data previously presented by Bird. In his review of
Figure 4.3. Topographic map of the Huaca Prieta and Paredones sites showing the location of
excavation units (provided by the author).
Bird’s 1985 publication, Rick (1990) questioned the function of the houses
identified by Bird, noting they were too small for domestic residency (~1.0–
1.3 m high and 1.3–2.0 m in diameter). We now have evidence to demon-
strate that these structures are chamber tombs, not houses (Dillehay et al.
2012a; Dillehay 2017), and that most of the history of Huaca Prieta is associ-
ated with ceremonies and feasting. Furthermore, Bird, Tellenbach, and the
authors in their initial work at Huaca Prieta were unaware of the deeper,
older, premound habitational levels dating to the Late Pleistocene and Early
Holocene era.
Bird recovered no evidence of the Late Pleistocene and Early Holocene
occupation at Huaca Prieta, probably because he did not excavate deeper
into the buried surface of the Sangamon terrace below the mound. He also
did not excavate the south end of the mound and deeply into the looter or
huaquero hole on the summit of the south side where the early site occu-
pational levels were recorded by our project. Bird radiocarbon-dated the
deeper excavated levels of the west side of the site in his unit HP-2 to ap-
proximately 4500–5000 uncalibrated years ago (Bird and Hyslop 1985: 51–
58). After this date, use of the site continued, with no apparent gaps, until
around 3800 uncalibrated years ago. However, several later Ceramic Period
cultures dating from Cupisnique to Colonial times (~3200–400 years ago)
placed burials in the mound, especially on the summit and on the northeast
side.
The architectural pattern of the lower initial layers of the mound that
emerges is one of a nearly oval-shaped structure made of sediment lay-
ers but also exhibiting stone alignments representing low-walled rooms
or spaces demarcated by unconnected lines of stones (~2–3 m in length).
The architecture in the lower mound levels is vaguely similar to the low-
tiered mound at the Cementerio de Nanchoc site in the middle Zaña Valley
(Dillehay 2011) that dates to about 7500 BP, the same time period as the
lower mound layers of Huaca Prieta. There is evidence in the form of mul-
tiple rock-lined levels to suggest that the lower mound deposits in Huaca
Prieta were perhaps stepped or tiered like the structure at Nanchoc (Dille-
hay 2017). Both mounds also are characterized by individual sediment
layers and by stone-lined markings that appear to define circumscribed
spaces of individual-use episodes. The major difference is that the Huaca
Prieta mound is more horizontally and vertically extended than the Nan-
choc mound, and the latter mound is teardrop-shaped. Since the deeper
levels of Huaca Prieta are buried between 18 and 26 m below the sum-
mit of the mound today, from north to south respectively, our excavations
exposed only a few square meters of the older, deeper mound deposits. It is
thus difficult to estimate whether the early stone alignments in the Huaca
Prieta mound are remnants of modified rooms or other structures. All later
mound levels, as described below, represent the continuous growth of the
Huaca Prieta mound until about 3,800 years ago when it was abandoned.
The stratigraphic and architectural history of Huaca Prieta is character-
ized by thousands of individual horizontally and vertically placed layers,
none of which extend fully across the mound. One of the major features of
the mound dates to the later use phases (~5,000–4,000 years ago). This is a
large ramplike structure added as a northeast access route to the mound’s
summit. This route appears to have been laid out in a zigzag form from the
ground surface to the summit, forming at least four switchbacks to reach
the top of the mound. On the western slope of the mound there appears
to have been no access route, although if it once existed, it may have been
erased by storm surges and wave action. The north side also may have been
an access route, given its gentle slope from ground level to the summit and
the presence of a rough, worn, now-buried U-shaped groove (a pathway?)
along its crest. However, our excavations in this area revealed no formal
zigzag footpath to the top, and its use today as an access route may give the
impression that a similar one existed in the past. As for the south end, this
portion of the mound has been destroyed by the construction of a modern-
day road, and at one time extended approximately 10 to 12 m farther south,
as evidenced by buried mound deposits under and farther south of the dirt
road there. All of these mound areas show continued use of earlier layers
and use surfaces as demonstrated by the accumulation of many prepared
floors and soil layers over prior remains.
In turning briefly to the material content of the Huaca Prieta mound,
one can see it differs from the late Preceramic stone architectural monu-
ments such as El Paraiso, Caral, and others (for example, the Norte Chico
area) that date as early as ~4,500 to 3,500 years ago (Moseley 1975, 1992;
Quilter 1989, 1991; Dillehay et al. 2004; Shady and Leyva 2003; Haas and
Creamer 2004; Fuchs and Briceño 2006). A single-stone impediment wall
measuring ~8 by 10 m and several small, stone agglutinated structures (that
is, chamber tombs) were revealed by Bird’s excavations on the northeast
face of the mound and by our work on the summit. However, in the looter’s
hole and along the side slopes of the mound, the structure is largely com-
posed of a series of vertically and horizontally discontinuous earthen (and
occasionally cobblestone) use surfaces, and prepared floors. The fills there
are more reminiscent of the large earthen ceremonial and refuse mounds
somewhat characteristic of the Hopewell and Mississippian periods in the

Eastern United States (Milner 2004) and earthen mounds in other parts
of the world than the classic Preceramic stone platform and multiroom
monuments of coastal Peru.
Furthermore, the use surfaces and floors at Huaca Prieta are often cov-
ered with reed mats, offerings, and other materials (see Bird and Hyslop
1985). Scattered among the floors and fills are numerous artifacts and trash,
but no domestic hearths, house structures, postholes, storage pits, and other
indicators of occupational activity were excavated by our project. Bird also
never found domestic hearths. However, both Bird’s and our excavations
recovered human burials (at least 55 in total) dispersed throughout the
mound refuse. Some burials were associated with offerings of shell, textiles,
gourds, and stone tools placed on the floor of chamber tombs (~2–3 m in
diameter and ~1.1–1.3 m in height). Other burials were buried in mound
fill and others were only disarticulated skeletal parts discarded on prepared
floors or placed in rock walls, all of which perhaps indicated some degree of
social differentiation. It appears that burials were a major but not dominat-
ing component of the Huaca Prieta mound during its construction-and-use
stages. There also is some evidence for the acquisition of exotic materials
(for example, silex, polished and grooved stone axes made of green rhyolite,
malachite). Numerous cotton nets and textiles and etched gourd fragments
have also been excavated by Bird and by our project (Figures 4.4 and 4.5),
as well as the remains of a large amount and a wide variety of marine spe-
cies and terrestrial animals (for example, camelids, deer, guinea pigs) and
plants, including domesticates (for example, peppers, squash, beans, and
others also found by Bird and our project). Particularly significant is our
recent discovery of raised agricultural fields buried ~1.5–2.0 m below the
present-day ground surface in previous wetlands just east of the site (Dille-
hay et al. 2012a). Subsurface testing and AMS radiocarbon dates of carbon
from the use surfaces of the fields date them to the Preceramic Period.
Described below are the two major excavation units at Huaca Prieta.
These were the primary units that stratigraphically and archaeologically
tied together the two projects, which are separated by more than 65 years,
and, along with our 62 excavation units and trenches, provided data for a
more detailed chronological and functional understanding of the long hu-
man history at Huaca Prieta. The cultural phase chronology of the site is
then presented.
Left: Figure 4.4. Late Prece-
ramic textile from Huaca Prieta
dated between 5000 and 4500 BP
(courtesy of Jeffrey Splitstosser).
Below: Figure 4.5. Decorative

style on etched gourds from
Paredones, radiocarbon dating
between 6000 and 4000 BP (pro-
vided by the author).
Field Observations and Chronologies of Bird’s Major

Excavation Units
Bird’s HP-3 in the main excavation trench of the mound is characterized

by large, thick strata deposited from numerous Preceramic and a few Early
Ceramic period activities. From our cut and profiled sections of the trench,
we observed intact sequences of cultural deposits ~3 to 50 cm in thickness
for a depth of ~18 m (Figure 4.6). These deposits comprise middenlike,
black, fine, and coarse sands and cultural debris overlying reddish-brown
sediments and cobbles; these in turn overlie cultural sediments with ash,
charcoal, thousands of fragments of reed mats and various types of artifacts
laid in microlaminated floors and fills, many truncated by subsequent de-
posits. Radiocarbon measurements from this trench indicate that this con-
text is dated from ~8000 BP in the deeper premound occupational levels to
the overlying mound summit between ~7400 and 4000 BP.
Bird’s HP-2 excavation unit was located on the west side of the mound.
In this unit is an intact sequence of thick and microlaminated, fine, black
sandy cultural deposits containing bone, charcoal, shell, fish and bird re-
mains, ash, various artifacts, and uncarbonized and carbonized wood frag-
ments. As in HP-3, culturally sterile sand and well-sorted small gravel lie
beneath the cultural layers. Radiocarbon measurements from HP-2 suggest
that the cultural layers date from ~5000 to 3800 BP. Given that this side of
the terrace was higher and exposed to the strong southwestern winds and
to elements of the sea, it was not occupied in late premound times as was
the lower eastern side of the terrace near the old lagoon.
As noted above, these two units are specifically mentioned because they
constitute the primary stratigraphic understanding of the architecture and
building phases exposed by Bird. In addition to these main units, we also
excavated a large area on top of the mound (Unit 23), in the looter’s pit on
the south side (Units 15 and 21), in other areas on the north and south sides
of the mound (Units 1–12, 18–25, and so on), and in other opportunistic
places to test questions related to site function, chronology, and stratigra-
phy. We also placed numerous test pits and trenches, some of which were
geological in nature, at various depths in off-mound areas and off-terrace
areas to detect cultural deposits and to date stratigraphic deposits for un-
derstanding the paleoecology of the area. Extensive excavations also were
carried out at the Paredones sites (Units 20, 22, 31, and 32 and several test
pits) located about 500 m north of Huaca Prieta and in Units 13, 16 and 26
and at residential localities on the south side of the Cupisnique mound just
north of Huaca Prieta. The geological teams also excavated numerous core
drills, trenches, and test pits in and around both sites and throughout the
lower Chicama Valley.
We also excavated 1 to 5 m–long trenches in the sugarcane fields east of
the sites where we recovered the occurrence of several 4–5 m wide, below-
ground Preceramic camellones (raised agricultural fields) that radiocarbon-
dated to about 4500 BP. In addition, we excavated several large “dune” struc-
tures in the same area, which turned out to be above-ground raised fields
dated to the Moche and Lambayeque periods (~A.D. 500–1100). Modern
methods of excavation and sample recovery were also applied to these fea-
tures, including the analysis of soils and sediments (geoarchaeology) in
anticipation that these would reflect the cultural and natural environments
in which they were formed, especially in the off-mound areas of the sites
and farther up valley (2–3 km) to the east where we carried out an extensive
geoarchaeological survey. In considering soils and sediments in this way,
they also became a record of past human activity and environmental con-
ditions. Collectively, the stratigraphic profiles and radiocarbon dates from
all excavation units constitute the primary database to reconstruct the site’s
construction cultural phases and histories.
Brief Consideration of Floors, Fills, Use Surfaces, Layers,

and Features
There are two types of floors at Huaca Prieta and Paredones: (1) very hard,
prepared cementlike floors (1–3 cm thick) which had plants and other cul-
tural materials embedded in or on top of them; and (2) soft, penetrable, un-
prepared floors of sand or sediment that seem to have been laid for ephem-
eral or short-term activities. These floors were between 2 and 4 cm thick.
Type 2 floors generally had thin reed mats placed on them. Fills between
floors (30–50 cm thick) are comprised of loosely aggregated sand, rocks,
artifacts, and food remains that tend to be much thicker than the floors.
Use surfaces are relatively flat areas with unprepared surfaces where various
activities, including mound building, stored debris, food preparation, and
other activities took place. These surfaces are usually 2–8 cm thick. Layers
are strata of sediments deliberately placed to achieve vertical accretion in
the mounds. They are not fills between floors nor are they use surfaces; they
usually contain cobbles, sediments, food remains, or off-mound midden
Figure 4.6. Detailed stratigraphic profile of the south wall of Bird’s HP-3 trench showing
layers, floors, and stone footings (provided by the author).
debris. These layers are between 10 cm and 1.5 m thick. Features are buri-
als, ritual offerings (caches of shells, coca leaves or other items), reed mats,
textile bundles, nonhearth burned areas, stains, and piles of rocks or shells.
Phases and Cultural Chronology
Based on radiocarbon dates from Huaca Prieta and Paredones, five chrono-
logical phases have been proposed: one premound phase, which includes
the Late Pleistocene and Early Holocene occupations on the south end
of the terrace, and four mound-building and use phases. This temporal
framework provides a useful way of thinking about the social, demo-
graphic, and economic contexts that led to the long-term construction and
use of Huaca Prieta (and Paredones). In particular, the proposed phase
chronology simply highlights the major shifts in the architecture and mate-
rial culture at Huaca Prieta and corresponding changes in the paleoecol-
ogy, economy, and climate. Underlying the chronology is the assumption
of long-term cultural continuity, punctuated by specific architectural and
material changes. We believe that the locus of culture change was transfor-
mation related to several factors, including major environmental changes,
greater contact and exchange with populations living along the coastline to
the north and south and in the interior of nearby coastal valleys, and the
increased adoption of an agricultural lifestyle.
In total, more than 160 radiocarbon dates were obtained from 60 mound
and off-mound excavations and from various geological cuts and cores (see
Dillehay et al., 2012a). Obviously, not all floor and use episodes recorded
in the mounds were radiocarbon-dated, which would have required many
more chronometric measurements. However, the deeper stratigraphic cuts,
primarily in Units 2 and 15, in Bird’s HP-3 at Huaca Prieta, and in Unit
22 at Paredones, were dated from the top to the bottom. There is general
agreement and stratigraphic alignment between Bird’s 14C dates and his
schematic profile of HP-3 trench and our 14C dates and stratigraphy in this
and other units. This is significant because the dates from the HP-3 trench
represent the single longest dated stratigraphic profile at Huaca Prieta. All
of our radiocarbon dates were taken on single chunks of wood charcoal,
corn, or cotton textiles recovered from features embedded in floors. No
radiocarbon samples were taken from fills and middens, from the wood
of long-living algarrobo trees (Prosopis sp.), or from marine shells. Given
the different organic materials dated by four different laboratories over a
period of six decades (including Bird’s radiocarbon dates by Willard Libby’s
laboratory: see Bird and Hyslop 1985), nearly all dates agree and overlap
chronologically and stratigraphically at the 2-sigma age range. A descrip-
tive chronology of each phase and the major events associated with it are
provided below.
Phase I: Premound Phase: Late Pleistocene to Early

Holocene Period (~12,500–7,500 BP)
At Huaca Prieta, Phase I is dated at least ~12,500 to 7500 BP and is associ-

ated with maritime and terrestrial foragers; later, around 10,000–9,500 BP,
it is associated with incipient gardeners (as evidenced by the presence of
squash, avocado, and chili pepper; Bonavia et al. 2017), who occupied the
east side of the Sangamon terrace near the ancient estuarine lagoon to the
immediate east. This occupation is estimated to have extended intermit-
tently at least 100 m along the crest and lower flank of the southern end of
the terrace. Unfortunately, this lengthy 7,000-year period cannot be broken
down into more specific phases other than the Late Pleistocene and Early
Holocene subphases because the data are too limited and scattered under-
neath the deep mound deposits (18–32 m) or heavily destroyed by extensive
modification of the terrace surface when the adobe bricks were produced
for later mounds just north of Huaca Prieta (Dillehay 2017).
More specifically, the terminal Pleistocene materials are buried in the
upper 25–40 cm surface deposits of the Sangamon terrace upon which the
Huaca Prieta mound sits. Because these deposits are deeply buried under-
neath the mound today, we have not fully studied the spatial extent and
geological setting of this early occupation (Dillehay et al. 2012b). To date,
we have recovered several thin intermittent occupation lenses (1–13 cm
thick) red ochre, burned areas, simple edge-trimmed pebble flakes, several
bone remains of fish and sea lion, and fractured shellfish valves from these
deposits. There are habitational hiatuses between about 11,000 and 8,500
years ago, but they are presently not well understood due to the limited
database.
The earlier occupations on the south end of the terrace show some lithic
technological continuity (primarily unifacial flakes and limaces), but not
necessarily culturally affiliated with early human settlements located else-
where in the lower and middle valley (Chauchat 1992). Most of these outly-
ing settlements are unifacial lithic scatters associated with a variety of site
types from small hunter-gatherer campsites to quarry sites along alluvial
fans and drainages of the Andean foothills to the east. Later, in terminal
Pleistocene and Early Holocene times, there is an increase in settlement

types with the inclusion of large clusters of Paijan sites near springs in the
foothills and the initial exploitation of the sea by Paijan people or exchange
with people living in settings like Huaca Prieta; this was evidenced by the
presence of marine shells and fish bones in the interior sites (Bird and Hys-
lop 1985).
Overall, the picture developed along the coastline and in the adjacent
wetlands for the Early Holocene Period (12,500–8000 BP) is one of small-
scale, self-sufficient early settlements. There appears little in the way of
social integration perhaps beyond everyday site-to-site interaction and ex-
change. By the Early Holocene, population density in the lower Chicama
Valley was probably low; people were living on or around the Sangamon
terrace and the outlying wetlands. People continued to aggregate at Huaca
Prieta during the Early to Middle Holocene transition (10,000–7500 BP).
Collectively, these data suggest a lower valley trend toward aggregation at
some important places along the coastline and in the interior alluvial fans
or quebradas.
During this early premound period, people at Huaca Prieta focused pri-
marily on the sea but also cultivated a few plants at the interface between
the Late Pleistocene and the Early Holocene (Dillehay et al. 2012a). Faunal
materials from early components throughout the buried surface of the ter-
race indicate a wide variety of shellfish and other marine products, fish, sea
lions, and water fowl, with deer and other mammals making up a smaller
component of the animal diet (Dillehay 2017). The Early Holocene pattern
is likely an intensification of the earlier diversified subsistence regime of the
Late Pleistocene, which was also focused on foraging, fishing, hunting, and
collecting. Of particular interest during the Early Holocene is the presence
of avocado (Persea sp.), squash (Curcurbita moschata), and gourd (Lage-
naria sp.) remains. The end of this period 7500–7000 BP (Goodbred et al.
2017) is environmentally marked by the development of extensive lagoons
behind the Sangamon terrace and the shoreline.
Phase II: Initial Mound Construction, 7500–6300 BP
The previously defined activities and material culture of the Late Pleisto-
cene and Early Holocene generally hold up through the middle phase of the
early Middle Holocene period. The material assemblage includes several
new additions or elaborations on previous elements. For instance, gourd
becomes more abundant after 7500 BP, although earlier fragments have
been identified at Huaca Prieta (Dillehay 2017), and shell as a raw material
for tools was used as early as 9,000 years ago. Other major markers for the
early period include green cobblestones painted with red circles.
Phase II represents the first mound construction stage. (As a cautionary
note, it is possible that the earliest mound levels dated between 7946 and
7840 BP, as suggested by an AMS date in stratum 54 of Bird’s HP-3 trench
(Dillehay et al. 2012a). Based on our excavations, the mound during this
phase measured ~5 m high, 35 m wide, and 45 m long and consisted of
several intermittent stone and soil layers (see Figure 4.6). The earliest lay-
ers were placed on the southeast flank and crest of the Sangamon terrace
near the shoreline of the old lagoon just east of the terrace. From there, the
mound gradually spread to the north and south along the south edge of the
Sangamon terrace, with later construction layers eventually reaching to the
far western edge of the terrace near Bird’s HP-2 excavation. Excavations
also probed the southwestern edge of the terrace but due to heavy land
modification, in both the past and present, extensive portions of this area
are disturbed. The use of the terrace space along the lower eastern flank and
the crest of the terrace eventually became more restricted by the increas-
ingly steeper sloping sides of the mound. No stone room foundations were
recovered for this phase, although a few postholes and cane poles were
recovered, suggesting the construction of perishable structures. A few rock
linings possibly demarcating separate spaces also were documented.
The mound-building phase, beginning with Phase II, did not develop
from gradual accumulation of occupation midden but from deliberate
and gradual sediment mounding over a period of ~3,500 years. The begin-
ning points of the individual building stages are represented in the form of
“haystacking” strata, whereby a basal ring or layer of shingled cobblestone
berms are laid out and angled to define the outer limits of the structure
and to provide an architectural footing for the space inside to be infilled by
floors and floor fills (Dillehay et al. 2012a). This technique begins in early
Phase II.
In addition to the presence of more cultivated plants during this phase,
subsistence included wild plants gathered from the nearby wetlands (most
notably typha and Scirpus sp.) and other edible leafy plants. Other culti-
vated, economic plants included cotton, avocado, chili pepper, beans, pea-
nut, pacae, and popcorn maize, among others. Alhough not a subsistence
plant, cotton was probably cultivated as early as 7000–6500 BP for use in a
variety of technological (that is, fish nets, storage bags) and ceremonial and
burial contexts (offerings, burial shrouds). Wild and cultivated plants were
probably grown in the wet fields to the east where the shallow lagoon once
existed and later on the raised agricultural platforms. In other words, early
food production may have been in the form of an outfield/infield system
where crops were grown in the low, wet fields away from the terrace settle-
ments (outfield) and in smaller garden plots kept closer to domestic locales
on the terrace (infield). The latter is suggested by the presence of buried
furrows along the terrace just east and north of Paredones.
In late Phase II, exotic or extralocal materials occasionally were encoun-
tered. That is, Huaca Prieta shows an increase in materials or finished ob-
jects that likely originated outside of the region (for example, malachite
and various cultigens). Human burials appear for the first time during this
phase. They were not placed in chamber tombs as seen in later phases but
were flexed and located in shallow, nondescript graves. Disarticulated hu-
man remains also were found scattered among midden layers.
The end of this phase coincides roughly with the lagoon just east of the
Sangamon terrace beginning to shrink around 6500 BP and the gradual
buildup of sediments in the floodplain of the middle lower valley. It is also
during this period, around 6500 BP, that the Paredones area was occupied,
as evidenced by the presence of hearths, food debris, and lithic tools.
Phase III: Shift to Ceremonial and Mortuary Practices,

6500–5500 BP
During this phase, the focus of mound construction shifted more to the
crest and the western edge of the terrace. Phase III dates between ~6500
and 5308 BP and is characterized by the addition of more artificial lay-
ers, several small stone-faced, terraced burial chambers (Figure 4.7), and
other miscellaneous rooms placed along the eastern and western slopes of
the mound. At the end of this phase were the lower floors of the circular
sunken pit on the south side, and the lower part of a stone retention wall on
the northeast side of the mound (see Bird and Hyslop 1985: fig. 42). These
structural features are spatially and architecturally conjoined, suggesting
roughly simultaneous construction and use across a large portion of the
upper surface of the mound at this time. These features also began to give
the mound a stepped, platform-like form that resulted from the chamber
tombs having been built on narrow terraces along the eastern and western
edges of the mound. During this phase, the mound expanded to ~12 to
18 m in height in some places and ~80 in length. The economy was still
Figure 4.7. Chamber tomb made of cobblestones and dating to Phase 4. The tomb was
roofed but empty of a human burial (provided by the author).
dominated by marine resources, although there is a significant increase in

the number of cultigens, including more varieties of maize around 6500 BP.
Lithic, wood, and shell tool manufacturing seems to follow the earlier
pattern of a few formal unifacial tools; however, there are instances of basalt
blades, incised gourds, and shell and bone adornments by Phase III. Other
elements of lithic assemblages include ground stone tools, axes and adzes,
discoidals, net sinkers, and grinding stones. Exotic material in contexts in-
cludes a variety of minerals and ores. Perhaps one of the more informative
examples is a piece of malachite, probably derived from the nearby high-
lands. Cinnabar and hematite also were found in several contexts of this pe-
riod, but they do not become more widely spread until Phases III–V. Other
nonlocal minerals found in mound contexts include indigo, hematite, and
fired clay.
Phase III subsistence patterns also are an elaboration of earlier patterns;
however, some differences do appear. The plant lists from the two sites,
especially Huaca Prieta, do not show any substantive changes in terms of
the kinds of plants utilized. As Bird revealed, the Huaca Prieta people relied
on a diverse set of wild and cultivated plants by 5000 BP. Traditional mod-
els of the rise of a Preceramic lifeway suggest that the intensification of
maize cultivation was a causal factor in early social complexity and perhaps
population increases, but this seems not to be the case at Huaca Prieta. Our
research indicates that the importance given the value of maize in the diet
may be overemphasized (Grobman et al. 2012); the first variety was pop-
corn rather than meal corn. At other Preceramic sites where maize pollen
has been found, it is not known whether the first use of corn was popcorn
or meal corn because the evidence is derived from phytoliths, starch grains,
and/or pollen and not macroremains.
North of Huaca Prieta along the littoral zone extending to the modern-
day town of Malabrigo, several small, dispersed Preceramic house mounds
(8–12 m in diameter and 0.5–1.0 m high, Figure 4.8) appear in the early part
of this phase around 6400 BP. The latter part of this phase also experienced
a shift from smaller isolated households to a landscape dominated by larger
house mound groups (Dillehay 2017). Most of these clusters were located
near the mouths of the fingerlike wetlands extending from east to west
and draining to the sea. Off-mound domestic occupation at Huaca Prieta
continued during Phase III, in the drier locales at the edge of the west-
ern terrace (Units 13, 16, 26), just south of the Cupisnique mound and out
into the floodplain to the east. A few domestic settlements occupy the high
ground along the edge of the ancient river meander (Goodbred et al. 2017).
It also is at this time that the mound began to take its final elongated ovoid
shape and extended to the full length seen today (138 m). Early in this pe-
riod, the population probably increased markedly throughout the terrace
and the littoral zone, as suggested by the greater number of “dark midden”
mounded areas associated with huaquero holes in sites extending from the
coastline near Malabrigo to the north down to the mouth of the Chicama
River. Other small household mounds are present along the low terraces of
wetlands located 1–2 km inland from the sea. The presence of crop remains,
marine shells, and fish bones in the middens of small households located
in the interior near wetlands suggests the probability of small farmsteads,
perhaps complementing the littoral households. Surface evidence from dis-
turbed huaquero holes in these sites suggests that both marine foods and
cultigens are important dietary items.
The incipient domestic nucleation seen at Huaca Prieta and along the
littoral appears to be a region-wide occurrence around 6500–6000 BP (La-
vallée 2000; Sandweiss 2014), as suggested by the appearance of other im-
portant Preceramic sites in the Jequetepeque (Dillehay 2011), Moche, and
Figure 4.8. View of Preceramic house mound near wetlands north of Huaca Prieta (pro-
vided by the author).
in the Norte Chico area (Feldman 1980; Haas and Creamer 2004). Huaca
Prieta stands out relative to other populated places because it appears to
be a major littoral locale experiencing these shifts. The regional settlement
pattern seems to shift from a relatively dispersed pattern of households to
one with more concentrated household sites interspersed among smaller
littoral communities and dispersed farmsteads in and around estuarine
wetlands. The maritime and inland (possible farmsteads) household pat-
tern thus represents a change from earlier ways where people tended to live
in linear household clusters near the beach and the deltas of the wetlands.
By the end of this period, the more extensive wetlands along the coast had
shrunk or infilled (Goodbred et al. 2017). Around 6,500 years ago, the lower
mound levels of Paredones appeared. This site shifted from a campsite ex-
ploiting the sea and the wetlands to a food preparation locality as seen by
the sudden absence of domestic debris and the presence of prepared use
surfaces that were intentionally built up vertically over time.
Phase IV: Expansion of Ceremonial and Mortuary Services,

5300–4500 BP
Phases III and IV are separated by a ~30 cm thick yellowish clay cap placed
over most of the mound. Phase IV is associated with the completion of the
Figure 4.9. View of the Late Preceramic stone architectural structures in the sunken plaza
of the “looter’s hole” on the south side of the Huaca Prieta mound (provided by the au-
thor).
sunken circular plaza with stepped levels and rooms made of cobblestones
(Figure 4.9), large chunks of polychrites, whalebones, a vertical extension
of the retention wall, and the first layers of a large ramplike extension built
on the northeast side of the mound. The ramplike addition is ~40 m long
and ~35 m wide and characterized by a series of thick cobblestone layers
and intervening floors built over the lower retention wall and the lower
portion of the mound. The mound during this phase was roughly the size
it is today, although a few new layers were added in the following Phase V.
In Phase IV, the economy was balanced between maritime and terrestrial
resources, with more emphasis on cultigens and much less on wild plant
and animal species from the shrinking wetlands.
During this phase, the mound also spread over a more extended area
of old and new ground to increase in height to approximately 30 m. Fur-
ther additions during this phase were the first layers of a ramp built on the
northeast side, the upper portion of the retention wall behind the ramp,
and the stepped structures in the sunken plaza (Figure 4.9). The ramp ad-
dition is ~40 m long and ~35 m wide and characterized by a series of thick
cobblestone berm layers and by intervening floors built over and sealing
the retention wall and the first construction phases of the mound. Later, the
foundations of the ramp rested directly upon the eastern edge of mound
layers built during Phase III.
Sometime around 5000 cal BP during Phase IV, there is a shift in the
tomb architecture of Huaca Prieta. More stone-lined burial chambers ap-
pear in this phase. The burial chambers demonstrate a greater diversity
than in earlier times with more oval, squarish structures appearing on the
summit of the mound (see Bird and Hyslop 1985: 47). Although the ear-
lier mortuary patterns of primary and secondary burials with few offerings
(Spondylus sp. appears in one tomb at the end of this period) and with-
out architecture continued to be used, the chamber tombs reflect a slightly
greater degree of social differentiation, at least with regard to mortuary
practices at the site.
At this time, the site also begins to be covered in a laterally extensive,
thick, and hardened plaster to protect it from erosion. The addition of this
construction technique probably signals a concern with erosion and decay
of the increasingly wider, higher, and steeper mound. If there ever was a
time when there was a development of task groups organized by an ephem-
eral authority, it likely would have been during this time span to construct
the retention wall, the ramp to the east, and additions to the sunken cir-
cular courtyard on the south side, and to place the thick plaster over the
mound. Although these features seem out of place in regard to the archi-
tecture seen at other huacas of the late Preceramic Period, which represent
stepped platform mounds made of stone, they worked at Huaca Prieta,
which adds to its enigmatic nature. Near the end of this phase, around 4500
BP, narrow raised agricultural fields were built in the infilled areas of the
old lagoon. Once the lagoon began to dry, the area would have provided
rich organic soil for growing crops.
Phase V: Refinement and Abandoment, 4500–3800 BP
During this phase, the steep sloping flanks of the mound on both the east
and west sides were used less; most activity was now limited to the flat
crest of the structure. Phase V dates between ~4500 and 3800 BP. During
the early part of this phase, more cobblestone burial chambers were built
along the upper rim of the sunken pit and on the top of the mound. More
layers were also added to the ramp, which eventually covered and sealed
the earlier retention wall. By ~4000 to 3800 BP, the Preceramic period use
of the site terminated. Later ceramic cultures dated from the Cupisnique to
Colonial periods interred their dead on the top of the mound.
Based on settlement pattern data, we estimate that Preceramic popu-

lation figures peaked in the lower valley near 4500–4000 BP. Afterward
there was a steady decline along the coast with people moving up valley
or farther north toward Malabrigo, although a few fishing communities
of aggregated households continued to exist. After 3500 BP, Initial Period
ceramic materials were replaced in the archaeological record, supplanted
by materials related to the Gallinazo and Salinar traditions dated between
2,400 and 1,600 years ago.
These demographic changes appear to relate primarily to greater reli-
ance on food crops, to more agricultural fields placed in the infilled wet-
land adjacent to the mound where the lower valley floodplain had now
developed, and to the invention (or adoption) of irrigation systems in the
lower and middle valley. We believe this represents a fundamental break
with the previous ways of doing things, where older lifestyles were sup-
planted with a new order headed by a greater representation of regional
cultures, as suggested by the presence of the Initial Period Guañape and
Cupisnique materials. Although linked to several major social develop-
ments, environmental stresses (El Niño events, marine transgression and
regression) probably also placed causative influence on the increasingly
diverse and growing population of the study area throughout this period.
In sum, Phases II to V are characterized by a series of mound-building
episodes defined by thousands of thin horizontally discontinuous floors,
often covered with reed mats, thick fill sequences, ritual offerings, small
retention walls, and rooms. After each episode in Phases IV and V, large
portions of the mound were capped by a hard artificial plaster layer com-
posed of saltwater, sediment, ash, crushed shells, and other organic debris,
which prevented site erosion. Scattered among the floors and rooms are
artifacts, burned areas, articulated and disarticulated human remains, and
ritual offerings. No hearths, postholes, storage pits, food containers, and
other indicators of domestic occupation were recovered at Huaca Prieta
after ~6800 BP. Our team recovered several low-ceiling rooms dated to
Phases III–V, which were burial chambers as evidenced by the presence
of human skeletons on the floors of several of them. The sunken plaza of
Phase III is defined by a series of stone-faced, stepped platforms and rooms
constructed across a deep, roughly circular, concave pit measuring ~25 m
in diameter. By 3800 BP, both sites were abandoned, although Huaca Prieta
was continually used as a burial area for the later ceramic cultures until
Colonial times. The abandonment of these sites coincides with the wider
development of the lower floodplain for agricultural production, although

sea resources were continually exploited as well.
Epilogue
Temporally and archaeologically excavated contexts and AMS radiocarbon

dates present a long history of the Huaca Prieta site. We have proposed
a five-phase model for the construction of the Huaca Prieta mound. We
found evidence that the mound overlies an earlier Late Pleistocene and
Early Holocene occupation and that the subsequent mound construction
proceeded in stages that were multilevel, initially spanning the entire south
end of the terrace and covering much of the eastern end of the terrace. Prior
to the Early Holocene Period, the site appears to have been a small inter-
mittently occupied campsite of marine foragers on the Sangamon terrace.
During the seventh millennium BP, Huaca Prieta rapidly and dramatically
changed from a habitation site to a ceremonial and feasting locale, a shift
likely related to the appearance of several household sites located along the
littoral to the north and south of the mound. During this period, minor
architectural elements were incorporated into the structure, seemingly de-
marcating small, spatially confined ritual spaces defined by low stone walls
and stone-lined areas. There also is evidence of intermittent occupation of
the south end of the terrace during the Early Holocene period, a lifeway
similar to the earlier one but with slightly different plant and animal species
and with a different frequency of their exploitation.
During Phase II, the site expanded to the north and west, and vertically
grew more than 10 m. The southern and eastern portions of the mound
rose first, probably because they are on the lower side of the mound and
protected from winds off the ocean. These areas also are in close proximity
to the resource-rich lagoon immediately to the east. Mound construction
appears to have commenced in this area by at least 7500 BP. The initial 4
meters of the mound were constructed slowly and associated with a series
of residential occupations by maritime and wetland foragers, according to
the numerous burned places, lithics, waste, and food remains placed along-
side the southeast corner of the mound near the shoreline of the old lagoon
and present-day cane field. Construction of Huaca Prieta (and Paredones)
then proceeded in a series of roughly equivalent phases for the next 2,000
years. Huaca Prieta expanded in size from roughly scattered habitational
units to a low, elongated oval mound that reached farther to the north.
During Phases III to V, the site expanded even more, including formal
chamber tombs and room structures indicative of mortuary function. The
social and economic implications of the outlying domestic sites remain
unclear at this time. These sites were probably linked to ceremonies at the
mound. After the abandonment of the mound, the Cupisnique structure to
the north grew and human burials were continually placed in the summit
of Huaca Prieta. A few additional layers were placed on the ramp side of
the mound during the Cupisnique period.
This model may be considered a brief synthetic view of mound con-
struction at Huaca Prieta whereby a prochronic history ultimately created
its final form. In this view, the history of the mound is the cumulative prac-
tices of multiple peoples over a long period of time; thus, the regular prac-
tices and interactions of people created the mound in a continuous series
of intermittently, if not yearly, specialized construction events. In this way,
the construction of Huaca Prieta proceeded incrementally, and was no dif-
ferent from the construction of other mounds in the Preceramic Period
of the Central Andes. However, mound building was at a slow temporal
and spatial scale at Huaca Prieta. Consequently, the mound was built as an
ongoing long-term intercommunity project. It would not have required a
large population density and a centralized authority. Huaca Prieta eventu-
ally served an iconographic function, and the ritual process behind mound
building there probably served to create a new regional social institution.
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Bird, J. B., and J. Hyslop
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II
Maritime Communities between
5500 and 2500 BP
5
Changing Complexity in the Norte Chico,
3000–1800 cal BCE
Winifred Creamer and Jonathan Haas
Monumental construction flourished in the Norte Chico region of Peru

starting around 3000 cal BC based on cultivation inland, fishing on the
coast, and active regional exchange of plant and marine products. The
monuments and associated buildings and activities reflected the emer-
gence of two interconnected bases of power: economic and ideological.
Economic power grew from irrigation-based agriculture and provided a
means for Norte Chico leaders to gain the compliance of their population.
This economic base was supported and reinforced by a standardized reli-
gious ceremonial context focused on large- and small-scale public architec-
ture. The positive and negative incentives of access to (or denial of) irriga-
tion water and agricultural products proved an effective way to recruit and
direct a significant labor force. Rather than serving to self-aggrandize or
glorify individual rulers, however, labor was focused almost exclusively on
the construction of large-scale ceremonial architecture. Physical coercive
power manifested in some kind of military was absent. The full state triad
of economic, ideological, and physical power did not emerge until the sub-
sequent Initial Period. In a fairly short period of time between about 3100
and 2900 cal BC, at the beginning of the Late Archaic Period, the Andean
region first witnessed a qualitative evolutionary change that resulted in a
significant increase in the complexity of the cultural system.
Communities were larger, there were more parts to the overall cultural
system, and there were significantly more roles being played by interacting
human agents. In contrast to the preceding Middle Archaic (and to the rest
of the Andean region), the Norte Chico region specifically witnessed the
appearance of large communities with permanent architecture (Figure 5.1),
differentiation between maritime-oriented coastal sites of fishermen and
132 · Winifred Creamer and Jonathan Haas
Figure 5.1. Map of Norte Chico showing Late Archaic sites (provided by the authors).
inland agricultural sites of cultivators, emergence of locally (as opposed

to regionally) centralized decision making, new kinds of relationships be-
tween respondent populations and power holding elites (Haas et al. 2005),
and distinct differences in status and rank (Shady and Leyva 2003).
Mound construction begins earlier in northern Peru than in the Norte
Chico. Dillehay has identified corporate construction at both Nanchoc
(Dillehay et al. 1989) and at Huaca Prieta (Dillehay et al. 2012). At Los
Morteros, architecture may also be earlier than in the Norte Chico region
(Mauricio Llonto 2015). The transformation of the Norte Chico cultural
system at the turn of the third millennium BC differs from the other regions
Changing Complexity in the Norte Chico, 3000–1800 cal BCE · 133
in the rapid proliferation of sites and structures once monumental works

were introduced. Anthropologically, this is interesting for the relatively
rapid introduction and spread of monumental architecture in the region
and the subsequent durability of that complex for more than a millennium
(Haas and Creamer 2006, Moseley 2001). Below, we review the develop-
ment of monumental architecture, irrigation agriculture including notable
amounts of maize, and the contribution of fishing to the local diet through
exchange. The monuments and associated buildings, cultivation, and trade
reflect the emergence of two interconnected bases of power: economic and
ideological. The intense focus on construction of large-scale structures re-
lated to ritual activities at several scales has been suggested as an indicator
of peer polities across the region (Creamer et al. 2014), but does not appear
to have resulted in competition and conflict that might have resulted in
centralized coercive power, such as a military force (Carneiro 1970; Haas
1982). We suggest that despite developing complexity in the economic and
ideological spheres, true state society was not in place until a system of
coercive power, enforced by a military group, is found during the Initial
Period (1800–1000 cal BC), for example, in the Casma Valley.
Presence of Large-Scale Architecture
Mound sites of the Late Archaic are not the first occupation of the Norte
Chico, but they are the first large-scale constructions in the region (Kosok
1965; Perales 2006, 2007). Thus far, the adjacent Rio Seco/Chancay Valley
to the south (Wendt 1964) and the Huarmey Valley to the north have far
fewer, if any, sites with the features characteristic of the Late Archaic (Bo-
navia 1982). At the same time, years of research in the Casma Valley, north
of Huarmey, reveal nothing comparable during the Late Archaic (Pozorski
and Pozorski 1990), despite recent finds of circular courts dating to the
middle fourth millennium BC (Fuchs et al. 2008). What distinguishes the
phenomenon of mound and sunken court centers in the Norte Chico is the
limited region in which this rapid and large-scale construction occurred,
its early date, and the density of sites, especially considering the massive
size of the works erected. Enormous labor investment is visible in each con-
struction and in the near-constant remodeling that is visible in the gigantic
looters’ pits that have been dug into some of these sites.
The sites identified that fit these parameters display Late Archaic char-
acteristics in different combinations. Although there is some geographic
evidence that some smaller sites may have budded off from larger sites
Figure 5.2. Circle of monoliths at the base of the central staircase, Caballete (provided by
the authors).
(Rutherford 2008), there is no evidence that any sites were governed by or

subservient to any other sites. For present purposes, each individual site is
considered an independent polity. A polity in the Norte Chico during the
Late Archaic consisted of a central place distinguished by the construc-
tion of one or more large, step-sided mounds built with shicra, stone-filled
bags, and one or more circular courts, along with placement of huancas,
or monoliths. Late Archaic polities in the Norte Chico were centered on
sites having a single mound and circular court, or as many as six mounds
and three circular courts arranged in a U shape. Occasionally, a circular
court is found in an isolated location associated with only a small ancillary
structure. Fifteen monoliths form a circle around a court area at Caballete
(Figure 5.2), while individual monoliths placed at the top of a mound or
by the steps into a circular court are a more common configuration. There
is variability in the range of elements included in each center and in their
arrangement on the landscape, although there is a defining set of features,
all built on a monumental scale.
Around this center, residential areas can be identified. Some of these
include stone structures with carefully prepared floors (Figure 5.3), while
other residential areas consist of temporary structures built of cane and wo-
ven mats, with floors of tamped earth or clay. Together, the range of struc-
tures present and the range of materials incorporated into each of them
suggest the mobilization of labor to construct monumental works—a sys-
tem divided socially into two or more strata—and the production of goods
sufficient to support not only a resident population, but also a temporary
or periodic population of individuals involved in construction of public
works.
Construction of the monumental structures was a multistage process,
with numerous episodes of building and remodeling and tremendous in-
Figure 5.3. Excavated permanent structure at Caballete (provided by the authors).
vestment of labor in architecture. A similar labor investment is not seen in

other areas such as craft specialization and mass production of resources.
In other ancient civilizations, these developments appear to parallel monu-
mental construction, such as the fourth millennium BC mass production
of food bowls in Mesopotamia (Goulder 2010).
Cultivation
Establishing a Late Archaic (3000–1800 BC) date for large sites with monu-
mental architecture situated inland in the coastal valleys of the Norte Chico
was the first step toward demonstrating the importance of agriculture. The
growth of inland sites and dependence on irrigation-based agriculture have
since been shown to be characteristic of the earliest Norte Chico polities
(Haas et al. 2004, 2013; Shady et al. 2001). The inland location of the large
majority of Late Archaic sites in the Norte Chico, coupled with the xeric
conditions and close juxtaposition of the sites to simple irrigation systems,
indicates that these were indeed farming communities practicing irriga-
tion-based agriculture.
The presence of a large number of inland sites constitutes indirect evi-
dence of an agriculturally based economy and diet, but more direct ev-
idence can be found in the botanical remains from excavated sites. The
floral community on the coast of Peru is not immediately conducive to the

development of domesticated plants. Plant diversity is relatively low, and
in the absence of systems of irrigation there is little naturally arable land
available for experimentation with domestication. Generally speaking, the
coastal area was a consumer of domesticated crops rather than a developer
of such crops (see Pearsall 1992; Piperno and Pearsall 1998). Evidence of do-
mesticated plants in the archaeological record can be found in macroscopic
remains recovered from bulk screening in the field, pollen, phytoliths, and
microscopic remains from flotation, fine screening, or lab analysis of soil
samples. For the same reasons the dry desert coast is not conducive to the
process of plant domestication, it also provides excellent preservation of
plants in the archaeological record.
Macrobotanical remains have been recorded for sites up and down the
coast of Peru: Aspero (Feldman 1980), Caral (Shady 1999, 2006a and b),
and other sites (Zechenter 1988) in the Supe Valley; El Paraiso in the Chil-
lon Valley (Quilter et al. 1991: 251); Huaca Prieta in the Chicama Valley
(Bird and Hyslop 1985; Grobman et al. 2012). At sites in the Pativilca and
Fortaleza valleys, the Proyecto Arqueológico Norte Chico (PANC) exam-
ined 1,200 samples of botanical remains from 10 different sites. The samples
come from deposits with radiocarbon dates between 3240 and 1830 cal BC.
Deposits with outlier dates, those prior to 3240 cal BC and after 1820 cal
BC, were excluded from the present discussion. These samples included
remains directly recovered from 6 mm mesh screens in the field, as well
as flotation and fine-screen samples recovered from 1, 2, and 4 mm mesh
screens in the laboratory (Table 5.1). The assemblage of cultivated plants
recorded by PANC overlaps closely with the total assemblage found at the
other Late Archaic sites on the Peruvian coast. Collectively the macroscopic
remains point to a stable and widely distributed suite of fruits, vegetables,
seeds, roots, and tubers in the diet of the Late Archaic occupants of the
coastal region.
Complementing the macroscopic remains, 126 pollen samples in radio-
carbon-dated Late Archaic contexts were analyzed from sites in the Pativ-
ilca and Fortaleza valleys by PANC (Haas et al. 2013) (Table 5.2) The pollen
analyses parallel the macroscopic remains with minor variations. The pol-
len records show that Schinus molle (molle, pink peppercorn), Cyclanthera
pedata (caigua, a squash relatively common in Peru today), and Physalis
spp. (aguaymanto, ground cherry) grew in the area.
What stands out in the PANC pollen record, however, is the dominant
presence of maize (Zea mays), found in 48 percent of all pollen samples and
Table 5.1. Macrobotanical remains from Late Archaic sites

Huaca Norte
Scientific Name Common Name Aspero Caral El Paraiso Prieta Chico
Zea maize Maize X X X X X
Capsicum sp. Chili X X X X X
Lagenaria siceraria Bottle gourd X X X X X
Canna edulis Achira X X X X

Phaseolus lunatus Lima bean X X X X
Pouteria lucuma Lucuma X X X X
Psidium guajava Guava X X X X
Phaseolus vulgaris Common bean X X X

Inga feuillei Pacae X X X
Bunchosia armeniaca Ciruelo de fraile X X X
Canavalia sp. Jack beans X X
Ipomoea batatas Sweet potato X X
Persea americana Avocado X X
Pachyrhizus tuberosus Jicama X X
Cucurbita maxima Squash X X
Cucurbita moschata Squash X X
Solanum spp. Potato? Tomato? X X
Annona cherimola Chirimoya X
Arachis hypogaea Peanut X
Cucurbita ficifolia Squash X
Typha spp. Cattail X
the second-most-common species of plant represented in terms of pollen

count. From the perspective of the origins of complex society on the coast
of Peru, the role of maize in the diet of the people of the Late Archaic is a
critical element. These data are of particular interest given several decades
of debate over the importance and even the presence of maize in the Andes
prior to 1800 BC (Bird 1990; Blake 2006; Bonavia and Grobman 1989, 2000;
Burger and van der Merwe 1990; Grobman et al. 2012; Pearsall 2002; Shady
2006b; Staller 2003; Staller and Thompson 2002).
The PANC data suggest maize was a regular part of the diet at Late Ar-
chaic sites (Haas et al. 2013). Examining pollen samples, stone tool residues,
and coprolites, analysts found that maize was the primary starch in the
diet, and that it was widely grown, processed, and eaten. The presence of
Table 5.2. Pollen from cultivated plant species
CAB HCG CB1 POR PYS SHA UP
Pollen Samples Total # of Total # of Total # of Total # of Total # of Total # of Total # of
samples samples samples samples samples samples samples
126 85 33 1 3 2 1 1
# pollen # pollen # pollen # pollen # pollen # pollen # pollen Total Pollen

Genus Species Common Name grains grains grains grains grains grains grains Grains
Typha spp. Cattail 1076 72 21 262 25 30 107 1,593
Zea mays Maize 1297 88 1 1 26 0 12 1425
Solanum/ Tomato 167 61 0 1 0 0 1 232
Lycopersicon
Schinus molle Pink peppercorn 146 72 1 0 1 1 1 222
Pouteria lucuma Lucuma 156 41 0 0 0 0 0 197
Psidium guajava Guava 144 4 0 2 35 0 1 186
Cucurbita sp. Squash 85 67 1 0 0 0 1 154
Bunchosia armeniaca Ciruela del fraile 0 147 0 0 0 0 0 147
Lagenaria siceraria Bottle gourd 50 41 2 1 0 0 0 96
Ipomoea batatas Sweet potato 59 6 2 2 0 0 0 69
Capsicum Chili 31 16 3 9 0 0 0 59
Physalis spp. Groundcherry 8 42 0 0 0 0 0 50
Inga spp. Pacae 32 11 1 0 2 0 0 46
Pachyrhizus tuberosus Jicama 36 0 0 0 0 0 0 36
Squash 15 7 1 2 1 0 0 26
Annona spp. Chirimoya 4 2 0 0 1 0 0 7
Cyclanthera pedata Caigua 6 0 0 0 0 0 0 6
Phaseolus Bean 4 1 0 0 0 0 0 5
Arachis hypogaea Peanut 0 1 0 0 0 0 0 1
CAB Caballete.
CB1 Cerro Blanco 1.
HCG Huaricanga.
POR Porvenir.
PYS Punta y Suela.
SHA Shaura.
UP Upaca.
maize pollen in almost half of the samples analyzed demonstrates that it

was widely grown in the area immediately around the sites. Maize pollen is
among the largest and heaviest of all wind-borne pollen types (Raynor et
al. 1972). The distribution of maize pollen drops off sharply the further you
move away from the plant. The frequency of maize pollen at a distance of
500 m from the plant is 0.05 percent of the frequency of pollen at a distance
of one m from the plant (Emberlin 1999; Hodgson 1949; Jones and Newell
1948; McCartney 1994). These data indicate that the presence of maize pol-
len in samples taken from rooms and trash deposits is a strong indicator of
the nearby presence of maize plants themselves.
Stone tools were analyzed for starch grains. A sample of 30 stone tools
from two different excavation units at the site of Caballete, including scrap-
ing, cutting, and grinding tools, were analyzed for residues. Maize starch
grains were by far the most common botanical residue found on a variety
of stone tools. The analysis revealed that maize starch grains were present
on 18 (60 percent) of the tools. Six of the samples (20 percent) had starch
grains from sweet potato (Ipomoea batatas) and 4 (13 percent) from beans
(Phaseolus sp.). Jicama (Pachyrhizus sp.) phytoliths were found on one cut-
ting tool (Haas et al. 2013).
The role of these plants in the local diet comes from coprolites. Sixty-two
coprolites were recovered from secure Late Archaic excavation at Caballete
and Huaricanga and subsequently analyzed (Haas et al. 2013). The bulk
of the diet as revealed by coprolites was composed of domesticated plant
foods. The dominant source of starch came from maize (Table 5.3). Forty-
three (69 percent) coprolites from all species (a mix of human, dog, cervids,
fox, unidentified carnivores, and unidentified wild omnivores) contained
maize starch grains, including 23 human coprolites (68 percent) and 12 of
16 domesticated dog coprolites (75 percent). Other starches included sweet
potato (Ipomoea batatas), beans (Phaseolus sp.), potato (Solanum sp.),
mashua (Tropaeolum tuberosum), or oca (Oxalis tuberosa), yuca (Mani-
hot esculenta), and arracacha (Arakaki xanthorrhiza). Plant phytoliths in
the coprolites came from beans (Phaseolus vulgaris), chirimoya (Annona
cherimola), squash (Cucurbita sp.), and maize (Zea mays). Pollen in copro-
lites came from maize (Zea mays), squash (Cucurbita sp.), beans (Phaseolus
sp.), pacae (Inga feuilleei), chili (Capsicum sp.), and maca (Lepidium sp.).
Macroscopic remains from coprolites reveal a different aspect of the diet.
By far the dominant plant represented in the macro remains was guava
(Psidium guajava) and pacae (Inga feuilleei), a local fruit. Twenty of the hu-
man coprolites and 8 dog coprolites include guava seeds (Psidium guajava),
indicating this was a source of sugars in the diet. Other seeds included
maize, unidentified grasses, squash (Cucurbita sp.), and chili peppers (Cap-
sicum sp.). From these data we see there was a varied diet of cultivated
plants among the people of the Norte Chico.1
Fishing
There are three coastal sites in the Norte Chico region that fit the mari-
time model of a strong focus on fishing: Aspero (Feldman 1980), located
at the mouth of the Supe Valley; Bandurria (Chu 2008; Fung 1988, 2004),
on the southern edge of the Huaura Valley; and Bermejo (Silva 1978), on
the northern edge of the Fortaleza Valley.2 A comprehensive survey of the
Pativilca Valley did not reveal a Late Archaic site anywhere along the coast-
line. Bandurria and Bermejo are not strategically located to take advantage
of the delta resources of river mouths, but they are clearly oriented toward
the exploitation of marine resources. This is attested to not only by loca-
tion but by the presence of thick deposits of mollusks and fish remains at
all three sites (Figure 5.4). Although these sites appear to have been sources
of marine resources, the mechanism by which fish and shellfish arrived at
inland sites remains unclear.
Figure 5.4. View of Bandurria showing extensive shell midden (map data: Google,
DigitalGlobe).
Analysis of coprolites confirmed what has been noted by other scholars

working in this early time period: anchovies (Engraulis ringens) were the
primary source of animal protein (Feldman 1980; Moseley 1975; Shady and
Leyva 2003). Bones of these small fish were found in 39 of the coprolites
(63 percent—26 human and 13 dog), with an average of 20 anchovy bones
in each of the 39. In a detailed analysis of fish remains from Caral, Béarez
and Miranda (2003) found that in a large sample, there was on average 1
individual anchovy for every 48 bones counted. Thus, in the Norte Chico
samples, for the coprolites that included anchovies, there was on average
less than half a single individual fish represented. Although such a small
amount would provide protein balance and flavor to the diet, it was not a
significant source of calories.
Collectively, the coprolites provide evidence of a varied and balanced diet
with fish, primarily anchovies, providing protein (Feldman 1980; Moseley
1992); maize and root crops providing the starches and carbohydrates; and
fruit, primarily guava, providing the sugars. (Although mollusks are not
visible in the coprolites, shells from a wide variety of species are commonly
found in refuse deposits. However, their frequency is relatively low and
they would have provided an alternative source of protein to the diet rather
than a major source of calories [Creamer et al. 2011; see also Quilter et al.
1991: 279].)
Emergence of Economic Power
Roscoe has noted that culture and society are emergent properties of hu-
man interaction (1993: 116). The mounds of the Norte Chico region may be
an example of the emergence of complexity from interactions that gradu-
ally increase in variety and frequency over time (Creamer and Haas 2009),
shifting from what can be characterized as self-interested to collective ac-
tion (Carballo et al. 2012). Archaeological evidence suggests this shift was
initiated by economic interaction between residents of coast and inland
sites. Middens that include fish and shellfish at sites well away from the
coast confirm that marine foods arrived at inland sites and suggest the fun-
damental importance of exchange (Creamer et al. 2011). We suggest that
agricultural products were produced in greater abundance inland than on
the coast as a result of the water management, particularly canal irriga-
tion, that was used on land adjacent to the rivers. Canals that appear to
be ancient are still in use today, and techniques to direct the flow of water
among canals using a small number of rocks or mud embankments are still
used in the region (Haas and Creamer 2006). The coordination of effort
needed to construct canals and to apportion the water carried in canals
provided a basis for collective action and for the coercion of cultivators in
the construction and maintenance of canals. The absence of depictions of
individuals and the relatively slow development of craft products that could
have been used as sumptuary goods suggest collective or corporate leader-
ship (Blanton et al. 1996).
Coastal sites had direct access to fish and shellfish, and consumed pro-
portionally more of these items than did their inland neighbors (Coutts et
al. 2011). The need for cotton string for fishing nets, gourd vessels, maize,
and other agricultural products may have spurred a certain level of ex-
change, as site autonomy in food production would diminish time available
for harvesting marine products. The details of how these goods circulated
remain to be identified and require sourcing techniques that are still being
developed (compare Benson et al. 2008; Cordell et al. 2001).
Exchange of marine resources for agricultural products in the Norte
Chico is suggested by a study of least-cost pathways from the inland site of
Huaricanga in the Fortaleza Valley to the coast (Carlson and Craig 2005).
The analysis was expected to show that the most efficient route of travel
followed the course of the river to the coast. The steep hills that border
each coastal valley were seen as barriers to travel, as initially suggested by
Carneiro (1970). Carlson and Craig’s analysis revealed that it would be most
efficient for travelers on foot to cut across the hills on a route roughly due
west to reach the ocean at approximately the site of Bermejo, a sprawling
shell midden utilized during the Late Archaic and Initial Periods (2005).
This locality was the source of substantial marine resources, and could have
conducted exchange with inland sites such as Huaricanga and its neigh-
bors. Exchange could have taken place anywhere, but the remains of tem-
porary post and brush encampments at Huaricanga and Caballete suggest
that at least some exchange took place at those inland sites. Some camp-
sites held the remains of fishing gear, including bobbins, spools of string,
and stone wrapped with string, a possible net weight. Exchange outcomes
would include efficiency—obtaining cotton string and gourds, obtaining
fish for farming groups—and diversifying the diet. Exchange also provides
a context for less visible but equally important interactions of ritual, social-
izing, gift giving, mating, information exchange, and other activities that
may accompany the physical remains of exchange.
Exchange may also be motivated by the fact that, once harvested, fish,
shellfish, and plant food in particular cannot be preserved indefinitely and
need to be preserved, eaten, exchanged, or discarded within a relatively

short time. There is archaeological evidence of other products more dif-
ficult to detect but known from Late Archaic sites. These include medicinal
plants (Table 5.3), Spondylus shell beads (Chu 2008; Creamer et al. 2007,
2013), wood tools (Creamer et al. 2007, 2013), musical instruments (Shady
2004), clay figurines (Feldman 1980; Shady 2004), and textiles (Creamer et
al. 2007, 2013), which are likely to have been part of exchange. Societies that
practice barter often exchange services as well, such as healing, midwifery,
dance or ritual expertise, and other skills that leave little trace archaeologi-
cally (compare Ford 1972). Surplus may also be generated based on differ-
ing abilities. The farmer with the best land or the easiest access to water
might have larger crop yields than neighbors and thus more surplus, either
to exchange for other products or to exchange for labor. Similarly, fisher-
men with greater skill or superior watercraft, or craftspeople with both skill
and access to distinctive materials, had the potential to exchange goods for
other products, or to gain the labor of others. In every case, individuals
with bargaining and negotiating skills would gain further advantage over
those they dealt with. Tiny advantages gained repeatedly generate inequal-
ity between individuals living in the same community or among communi-
ties, without any necessary evidence of intentionality.
In the Norte Chico, such economic gains appear to have been employed
to support individuals involved in the numerous, and possibly construc-
tion, projects at several sites. Temporary campsites are present at the large
sites (Haas and Creamer 2012), marine and agricultural food remains are
present at all large sites no matter how far they are from the coast, and we
have not found any stockpiling of wealth goods that would present an al-
ternative to exchanging surplus food for labor. Renfrew (1986: figs. 1.1, 1.2)
suggests that polities regularly spaced on the landscape are an indicator of
competition (see also Hodder and Orton 1976: 46–55). Thiessen polygon
analysis by Rutherford (2008) shows that the spacing of Late Archaic sites
in the Norte Chico is relatively even (Figure 5.5). Although this analysis
may not provide a true gauge of control, it shows a spatial relationship
consistent with Renfrew’s (1986) competitive model. The presence of both
site hierarchy and regular spacing of sites with monumental architecture
(Creamer et al. 2014; Rutherford 2008) suggests there was competition
among the large sites and that exchange was among the factors involved
in the development of the overall system. While initially the application
of surplus goods to direct the labor of others may have been an individ-
ual action, the planning and consistency of mound and sunken court site
Table 5.3. Coprolite analysis
Sweet
Site Lab 3 Type Starch Grains Potato Fish bone Provenience Macro Remains
CAB CVR034 Human ZM, ST AN Op V Unit 1 Charcoal, plant fiber
CAB CVR035 Human ZM, OVC AN Op V Unit 1 Charcoal, plant fiber
CAB M10 Human ZM, ME, IN UN Op V Unit 3 Land snails, seed endosperms
HCG CVR006 Human ZM, IN AN Op VII Unit 8 Physalis sp. Poaceae, Psidium guajava
CAB CVR057 Human ZM, ST IB AN Op VII Unit 1 Psidium guajava, Curcubita sp.
CAB CVR036 Human ZM, PV IB AN Op V Unit 1 Psidium guajava, Curcubita sp.
CAB CVR056 Human ZM IB AN Op VII Unit 3, Quads C6,
D6, Level 2, Floor 3
CAB CVR049 Human ZM IB AN Op IX Unit 2, Quad E4, F.
5 offering
CAB M23 Human ZM UN Op II Quad B Plant fiber, seed ectoderms
CAB CVR027 Human ZM Op V Unit 1, Level 3A,
Quad B
CAB CVR030 Human ZM AN Op V Unit 1 Charcoal, bivalve shell frag.
CAB CVR039 Human ZM AN Op V Unit 11 Psidium guajava
CAB CVR041 Human ZM AN Op V Unit 4 Plant fiber, seed ectoderms
CAB CVR043 Human ZM AN Op V Unit 11 Psidium guajava, plant fiber, leaves
CAB CVR044 Human ZM AN Op V Unit 11 Plant fiber
(continued)
Sweet
CAB M5 Human ZM Op V Unit 1 Plant fiber, insect exuvia
CAB M24 Human ZM Op VI Quad 1 Fruit ectoderm, root fragments
CAB CVR052 Human ZM Op IX Unit 4 Poaceae sp., plant fiber
CAB CVR046 Human ZM Op X Quads E2, E3,
Level 3
HCG CVR001 Human ZM AN Op VI Unit 12 Solanaceae, Zea mays, cf. Chusquea sp.,
Passifloraceae, Psidium guajava
HCG CVR007 Human ZM AN Op VII Unit 8 Capsicum sp. Cucurbita sp. Fabaceae, cf.
Manihot sp., Panicum sp. Physalis sp.,
Psidium guajava, Zea mays
HCG CVR009 Human ZM AN Op VII Unit 1 Cucurbita sp., Fabaceae, Nonocotiledonea,

Panicum cf. replans, Psidium guajava
HCG CVR017 Human ZM AN Op VII Unit 1 Panicum sp., Psidium guajava, Zea mays
HCG CVR008 Human TT AN Op VII Unit 8 Asteraceae, Delonix regia, Fabaceae,

Pachyrhizus sp., Poceae, Psidium guajava
CAB CVR024 Human OVE AN Op V Unit 1 Charcoal

CAB CVR025 Human none AN Op V Unit 1 Charcoal, Psidium guajava, Curcubita sp.
CAB CVR026 Human None AN Op V Unit 1 Charcoal, Psidium guajava, Asteraceae,

Capsicum sp. Monocotiledonea, Panicum
sp. Physalis sp., Zea mays
HCG CVR010 Human None AN Op VII Unit 8 Astragalus cf. drummondii, Cucurbita sp.
HCG CVR011 Human None AN Op VII Unit 8 Monocotiledonea, Psidium guajava, Zea
mays
CAB M21 Human AR, SO IB UN Op II Quad A Psidium guajava

CAB CVR037 Human IB AN Op V Unit 5 Charcoal, Psidium, guajava, shell
fragments
CAB CVR038 Human IB AN Op VI Unit 9 Psidium guajava

CAB CVR055 Human IB AN Op VII Unit 3 Curcubita sp., plant fiber
CAB CVR050 Human IB AN Op IX Unit 4 Cucurbita sp.
CAB CVR045 Fox ZM, PV Op V Unit 6, F. 39 con-
struction fill
CAB CVR062 Fox ZM IB Op VII Unit 1, Quads
A7-A10, B7-B10, Layer
3b, Floor
CAB CVR061 Fox ZM Op VII Unit 3, Quads D6-
D8, Layer 2c
CAB CVR053 Fox ZM Op IX Unit 4 Quads C3,
C4, F.9
CAB CVR060 Fox IB Op VII Unit 1 Plant fiber, charcoal
CAB CVR028 Dog ZM, ST AN Op VI Unit 9 Psidium guajava
HCG CVR014 Dog ZM, PV AN Op VII Unit 1 Psidium guajava
(continued)
Sweet
CAB CVR058 Dog ZM IB AN Op VII Unit 1, Quads

A6, A7, B6, B7, Layer 3a,
Floor
CAB CVR048 Dog ZM IB Op IX Unit 1, Quads B5,
C5 Level 2
HCG CVR019 Dog ZM IB AN Op I Trench 1 Physalis sp. Psidium guajava, Lepidium
sp., Pachyrhizus/Lepidum
HCG CVR002 Dog ZM IB AN Op VI Unit 6 Psidium guajava, Pteridofita
CAB CVR040 Dog ZM AN Op V Unit 14, Quad M25,
F. 121 fill of stone duct
HCG CVR018 Dog ZM AN Op 1 Trench 1 Asteraceae
HCG CVR004 Dog ZM AN Op VI Unit 12
HCG CVR012 Dog ZM AN Op VII Unit 8 Asteraceae, Liliaceae, Passifloracea,
Psidium guajava
HCG CVR020 Dog ZM AN Op VII Unit 8 Pachyrhizus sp., Physalis sp. Poaceae,
Psidium guajava
HCG CVR021 Dog ZM AN Op VII Unit 8 Bromeliaceae/Cyperacea, Psidium guajava
HCG CVR015 Dog PV AN Op VII Unit 8 Psidium guajava, Zea mays

HCG CVR013 Dog none AN OP VII Unit 1 Psidium guajava
HCG CVR016 Dog none AN Op VII Unit 8 cf. Cannaceae/Maranthacea, Cucurbita sp.
CAB CVR059 Dog IB AN OP VII Unit 1 Plant fiber
CAB CVR029 Possible ZM Op V Unit 1 Panicum sp.
cervid
CAB M4 Possible ZM Op V Unit 1 Insect exuvia
carnivore
CAB M8 Carnivore none Op V Unit 1 Psidium guajava
CAB CVR064 Rodent IB Op XII Unit 1 Panicum sp.
HCG CVR003 Wild ZM Op VI Unit 14 Poaceae
Omnivore
AN Anchovy.
AR Arracacha.
CAB Caballete.
HCG Huaricanga.
IB Ipomoea batatas.
IN Inga feuillei.
ME Manihot esculenta.
OVC Ovoid with central hila.
PV Phaseolus vulgaris.
SO Solanum spp.
ST Solanum tuberosum.
TT Trapaeolum tuberosum.
UN Unidentified.
ZM Zea mays.
Figure 5.5. Theissen polygon analysis of Norte Chico mound sites (provided by the authors).
elements suggest collective action developed over time, perhaps as the scale
of construction increased.
Labor invested in mound construction was a likely key to the concen-
tration of economic power. Begun as localities for exchange and group
activities, perhaps expanding to accommodate ancillary activities of food
preparation, feasting, ritual performance, and short-term residential areas,
mound construction appears to have drawn people from the coast to inland
localities. Mound construction began in several places at about the same
time, and appears to have been a competitive exercise between site polities
(Creamer et al 2014). This construction, visible in profiles through looted
sections, often shows a constant series of alterations to mound surfaces.
Although the net result was to make each mound iteration larger, the pro-
cess could well have been designed to draw participants back to improve
or care for the setting where both ritual and secular interactions took place.
The relatively small area of permanent residences at each site was probably
home to those who managed the irrigation system, dictating the frequency
of ritual events and coordinating the labor or other contribution expected
from participants. Competition between centers might well have acceler-
ated the pace of construction.
During this time, there is limited evidence of surplus converted to craft
production and specialization. Individual objects have been recovered,
such as clay figurines (Creamer et al. 2013; Feldman 1980; Shady and Leyva
2003; Willey and Corbett 1954). Shell beads, objects made of animal bone
(Shady and Leyva 2003), and textile fragments have also been identified.
Production of these items appears to be at the household scale, as workshop
areas for these items have not been identified despite a number of recent
investigations (Chu 2008; Creamer et al. 2007, 2013; Piscitelli 2014; Shady
and Leyva 2003; Vega-Centeno 2007, 2010). Workshop areas for weaving
cane bags, mats, and rope are the only specialized work areas yet identified
(Creamer et al. 2007, 2013). Stone carving produced masonry blocks and
roughly shaped monoliths with none of the elaboration found at later sites
such as Cerro Sechin, Caballo Muerto, or Chavin. There is no evidence yet
for the use of domestic ceramic vessels, loom weaving, or painted imagery.
Evidence for long-distance exchange is extremely limited for this region
and probably took place through indirect or “down-the-line” exchanges
(Renfrew 1975). Chu reports obsidian from Bandurria (2008) and small
beads of Spondylus shell have been recovered from midden deposits (Chu
2008; Creamer et al. 2007, 2013; Shady and Leyva 2003). Both the quantity
and size of these objects are very small. It is only the distinct color and lay-
ers in the shell that identify Spondylus, a species that originates in tropical
Pacific waters generally north of 4° S latitude, approximately the modern
border of Peru and Ecuador.
Warfare and Raiding: Physical Coercive Power
The wielding of power through physical control or aggression is not ap-

parent in the Norte Chico during the Late Archaic. The primary source of
physical power in early complex societies is derived from a military force
in societies engaged in war with external enemies. Yet in the Norte Chico,
there are no physical indications of warfare of any kind or at any level dur-
ing the Late Archaic Period. Furthermore, the available evidence in terms
of site location and settlement pattern is inconsistent with a pattern of con-
flict (Carneiro 1970; Haas and Creamer 1993; Keeley 1996). Sites are con-
sistently located on flat terraces immediate adjacent to the river bottoms
and often surrounded by hills. While the hills themselves might provide a
small measure of defense, there are no defensive structures on the hills, and
approaching enemies would have had open access to the undefended sites
below. The sites are also not placed strategically to defend (individually or
collectively) the access routes into any of the valleys. While excavations
at these sites are extremely limited, there are to date none of the signs of
burning or physical violence that might be expected to occur in a warfare
or raiding situation. The nondefensive settlement pattern, coupled with the
absence of any positive evidence for warfare, precludes any inference at
this time of a military force anywhere in the Norte Chico region in the Late
Archaic. Neither is there evidence for any kind of standing police/enforcer
class that could have provided power holders with some kind of physical
power base. The absence of archaeological indications of a police force is
not surprising, however, given that such a force would have negligible ar-
chaeological manifestations in the material record of any prehistoric soci-
ety. Altogether, given the current state of archaeological research, there is
no immediate evidence for a prominent physical power base in the Norte
Chico. It is perhaps significant to note, however, that the first signs of war-
fare in the Andean region occur outside the Norte Chico in other sites on
the coast during the Late Archaic. Warfare is inferred on the basis of the
presence of walls and slingstones at the Ostra site (Topic 1989), and signs
of violence have been found at Asia with headless bodies, bodiless heads,
and one skull with the face removed (Engel 1963). This is not to say that
violent death did not occur. Shady reports what appear to be human sacri-
fice victims at Caral in dedicatory caches (Shady and Leyva 2003). Human
remains recovered from the sunken court at Bandurria (Coutts et al. 2011)
may be late enough to represent the arrival of systematic warfare at the tail
end of the Late Archaic period (compare Roscoe 2008).
Emergence of Ideological Power
In contrast to the lack of solid evidence of a physical or military power

base, there is ample evidence of a broad ideological power base among the
people living in the Norte Chico region. As mentioned, there is evidence
that people visited the monumental centers on a temporary basis and that
people from the coast were among those who contributed labor to con-
struction and maintenance of the monuments. In addition to economic
motivation for participation, Sandweiss (1996) suggests that during the
Middle Archaic period the coastal population was still being pushed inland
by rising sea levels that had started at the end of the Pleistocene (compare
Binford 1968). Pressure on the availability of land along the coast may have
made visits inland desirable for ritual activity, exchange, and as a way for
coastal residents to consider relocation options (Roscoe 1993). The mere
gathering of people does not indicate shared ideology, but their actions,
once they gathered, demonstrate common beliefs.
The consistent form of monumental structures, their layout, and the
spacing of such sites across the region reveal common norms for the dis-
play of power. A number of sites have now been examined, in the Supe
(Chu 2008; Shady 2006), Pativilca, and Fortaleza valleys (Creamer et al
2007, 2013; Piscitelli 2014; Vega-Centeno 2007, 2010), and indicate that the
mounds and courts follow general patterns of composition and layout. All
of the monumental sites in the region have at least one platform mound,
and most have between two and five mounds. These mounds range from
10,000 to 200,000 cu m; most are under 100,000 cu m. The circular courts
range from 22 to 45 m in diameter. Most of these are “sunken” in the sense
that they are excavated from 1 to 3 m below the original ground surface.
The layout of sites with more than a single mound tends to be a large “U”
encompassing a broad open area. This pattern is repeated at sites across the
region in a regular pattern (Rutherford 2008). Both the platform mounds
and the circular courts appear to be part of a Norte Chico tradition that
serves as a foundation for subsequent mound and court traditions extend-
ing forward for millennia in the Andes (Moseley 2001) (Figure 5.6).
Figure 5.6. Schematic of pyramid and circular court indicating different levels of access
(provided by the authors).
Social differentiation also implies ideological power, and such a pattern

can be reconstructed from excavations at Caral (Shady and Leyva 2003)
and Bandurria (Chu 2008), as well as from mapping (Vega-Centeno et al.
1998; Williams 1985) and test excavations (Creamer et al. 2007, 2011) in the
region. Mound features correspond to the system described by Pozorski
for Caballo Muerto (1982). He described an open performance/viewing
space at the lowest level—the sunken circular court—that was visible to
all with unrestricted access. A staircase rose up the pyramid to an atrium
that provided a space for ritual involving a smaller number of participants,
presumably of higher status. From the atrium, sets of stairs led off to several
small enclosed rooms at the top of the structure that accommodated an
even smaller number of individuals, presumably the ruling elite. That the
upper rooms were spaces for elite activities is shown by finds of distinctive
artifacts such as clay figurines, musical instruments, and whale vertebrae
seats (Feldman 1980; Shady 2006a). The growth in size and complexity of
pyramids paralleled development of status differences in society, mediated
and reinforced through architecture and artifacts. This pattern of open pre-
sentation of some ritual activities, followed by restricted access to others, is
another manifestation of an ideological base of power.
The competition among large sites for participants that is suggested by
site spacing could suggest that the Norte Chico polities reached a point
where they tried to extend their bases of power outside the immediate area.
Within the region, competition for participants was limited by total popu-
lation (Roscoe 1993). The distance between sites was such that households
probably could choose between two or more centers to participate in ritual
and exchange without great differences in transportation costs. Mound
centers may have competed through the timing of events, the range of ac-
tivities offered, facilities for obtaining food and water during visits, and the
perceived stature of individual leaders.
Expanding influence beyond the borders of the Norte Chico region and
its broad coastal plain, which merges at the mouths of the rivers, may have
been a goal of local leaders toward the latter half of the Late Archaic. How-
ever, it would have faced structural barriers to expansion because of the
time and distance required for them to participate in group events (Roscoe
1993). North of the Fortaleza Valley is a stretch of coastline without wa-
ter until the Huarmey River. Although travel from the site of Bermejo to
Huaricanga in the Fortaleza Valley may have taken place, localities further
north along the coast were at least a two-day walk from any monumental
center in the Fortaleza Valley. Similarly, to the south of the Huaura Valley
is another Rio Seco, where the same barriers to participation in activities at
Bandurria or Caral would have existed. Lacking evidence of physical coer-
cion, ideological coercion does not seem to have been effective at overcom-
ing distance. One mound center was established in Rio Seco (Wendt 1964),
but others are not known until the Initial Period when coercive power in
the form of large-scale warfare and militarism developed in the Casma Val-
ley and elsewhere.
Conclusions
The people of the Norte Chico were borrowers rather than inventors of
the material culture and practices of daily life that they employed. The ir-
rigation technology needed to bring dry-valley lands into cultivation had
already developed elsewhere (Dillehay et al. 2005) before being put to use
in the Norte Chico. Likewise an array of edible plants was brought under
human control in other parts of the Andean region before being brought
together in this small cluster of coastal valleys (Dillehay et al. 2007; Pearsall
1992; Piperno 2011).
In contrast, a new kind of social organization was independently devel-
oped in the Norte Chico in the Late Archaic. Coordination and control of
water management—and therefore production of cotton, maize, and other

plant resources—ultimately appears to have provided an inland power-
holding elite with the critical edge in the means for exercising power over
respondent populations. The economic power exerted by control over cru-
cial products such as cotton or fish, and desirable products such as maize,
was reinforced by a ritual that involved participation in periodic labor con-
tributions, but also feasting and socializing, as indicated by the numerous
temporary campsites and widespread shallow midden deposits. Competi-
tion would have been a key variable in this system, as sites were comprised
of the same architectural elements, and individuals would therefore choose
whether and where to participate based upon perceived benefits, both eco-
nomic and ideological. Large centers proliferated between 2400 and 2200
cal. BC, possibly due to the absence of not only a physical coercive power
that might have tried to control people’s choice of exchange or ritual loca-
tion, but also of the strength of ideological coercive power that might have
attempted to draw people to centers based on their perception of duty, re-
ward, and other intangibles.
There are three large Late Archaic coastal communities recorded in the
Norte Chico region to date: Aspero, Bermejo, and Bandurria. No doubt
they competed with inland sites in the interregional network of interaction,
competition, exchange, and ritual, but there were at least 10 inland sites for
each coastal site. Complementing the apparent disparity between the mari-
time sites providing fish resources and the inland sites providing cotton
and comestibles is the issue of the other maritime sites up and down the Pe-
ruvian coast. If we look at sites such as Huaca Prieta in the Chicama Valley,
or Ancón on the central coast, we see that they have cotton for nets, as well
as domesticated beans, tubers, and other plant foods. Some inland centers
have been identified in valleys both to the north and south (Benfer 2012;
Engel 1963; Quilter 1985, 1991; Patterson 1973), but not in similar density to
the Norte Chico. It is possible that early inland sites have been covered by
subsequent structures, but very little evidence of these earlier occupations
has yet emerged. Thus it is possible that the web of coast-inland relation-
ships that developed in the Norte Chico extended beyond the borders of
the region and stimulated similar relationships where they did not already
exist, or spurred expansion of smaller systems. This could occur through
indirect involvement via down-the-line exchange, or the occasional long-
distance traveler, since there is no evidence of conquest or political rela-
tionships beyond the region. A widespread Late Preceramic interaction
sphere fits Willey’s (1948) scheme of Andean horizons. Is it possible that
a Preceramic horizon, not stylistic but political/ideological and economic,

linked together the entire coast and preceded the Initial Period when dis-
tinctive regional polities such as Casma became dominant?
Acknowledgments
The comments of Matt Piscitelli, Gabriel Prieto, and Dan Sandweiss helped
us improve the text. We appreciate support from the National Geographic
Society, the National Science Foundation (Grants OISE-0701243, BCS-
0542160, BCS-0542088, BCS-0211014, and BCS-0211020), Northern Illinois
University (NIU), the NIU Center for Latino and Latin American Studies,
The Field Museum, and many friends of the Proyecto Arqueológico Norte
Chico.
Notes
1. In the Norte Chico and at El Paraiso, Solanum is only identified to the genus level. This
genus includes both the potato (Solanum tuberosum) and tomato (Solanum lycopersicum).
2. Silva reports Initial Period dates from the extensive shell mound at Bermejo. Reex-
amination of the site surface in 2006 revealed exposed deposits lacking ceramics, as well as
a large complex of platform mounds and sunken circular courts not previously recorded.
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6
Maritime Communities and
Coastal Andean Urbanization
Preliminary Insights from Early Horizon Samanco,
Nepeña Valley, North-Central Peru
Matthew Helmer
The coastal Andes saw the development of a series of civilizations, or com-

plex societies, spanning back more than four millennia. Despite harsh des-
ert conditions, these societies flourished thanks to a rich sea biomass and
one of the most diverse arrays of cultigens known to the ancient world. Ar-
chaeologists studying the emergence of complex societies have traditionally
overlooked maritime adaptations in favor of agrarian modes of subsistence.
In the central Andes, the agriculture-centric situation was challenged some
40 years ago (Moseley 1975). Since then scholars have debated the rela-
tive importance of maritime economies in the rise of social complexity in
coastal Peru (for example, Feldman 1983; Quilter 1992; Raymond 1981; Wil-
son 1981). Studies of maritime adaptations have emphasized the emergence
of early monumental architecture during the Late Preceramic. Meanwhile,
less is known about succeeding maritime groups, especially those who de-
veloped during the Early Horizon. In this chapter, I address the character of
Early Horizon coastal society through recent fieldwork at the settlement of
Samanco in the Nepeña River Valley of coastal Ancash, north-central Peru.
The Early Horizon is a time period generally ascribed to the Chavín re-
ligious phenomenon which swept across modern-day Peru as the first pan-
regional Andean ideology (Tello 1943, 1960). Recent research at Chavín has
resulted in considerable debate over the time period and nature of Chavín
influence, centered at the religious temple Chavín de Huántar (Burger
1992, 2008; Burger and Matos Mendieta 2002; Conklin and Quilter 2008;
Kembel 2001; Rick 2014; Rick et al. 2010). The strikingly different layout of
166 · Matthew Helmer
stone enclosure sites throughout the north and north-central coast, such
as Samanco, suggest disconnection with Chavín and previous Cupisnique-
related coastal temples (Chicoine 2006). Rather than focusing on the fre-
quently discussed religious aspects of Early Horizon societies, I turn here
to less-researched Early Horizon daily life.
In my earlier research, I have directed, alongside Jeisen Navarro-Vega, a
project at a large archaeological complex known as Samanco on the coast
of the Nepeña River Valley in north-central Peru. Results of two field sea-
sons indicate an expansive, probably urban site, dedicated to daily activities
as opposed to Chavín-like religious events. Samanco appears tied to a lo-
cal tradition of densely packed enclosure compounds interacting with one
another throughout the Nepeña Valley and possibly between neighboring
valley oases. Samanco likely controlled and exploited most of Nepeña’s rich
marine and delta resources for sustaining large residential populations.
These goods were also exported, probably via camelid caravans, to inland
sites where animal protein was scarcer. I present evidence for Samanco’s
proto-urban nature of life and contrast this with earlier temples dedicated
to religious pilgrimage. It would appear that new forms of leadership de-
veloped in association with multifamily compounds as opposed to religious
canonists. Maritime industry appears to have played a key factor in the
urbanization of Nepeña, a situation likely mirrored throughout the coastal
Early Horizon enclosure tradition.
Research Background
Samanco’s maritime environment played a crucial role in shaping the in-

dustrial nature of the site. The modern town of Samanco is an artisan fish-
ing town which is one of the wealthiest communities of Nepeña, despite its
small size. The modern town of Chimbote, located some 20 km north of Sa-
manco, is the largest seafood producer of the Peruvian coast. Here, fishing
provides an economic backbone for a population of over a quarter million
people. As stated earlier, the extent to which marine-centric diets contrib-
uted to Andean social complexity has been intensely debated. I argue that
the rich sea biomass obviously created an exceptional scenario to Andean
sociopolitical development that cannot be ignored, just as the role of agri-
culture and animal husbandry cannot be ignored in creating an abundant
foodscape for ancient Andeans to exploit. Analyses of the relative impor-
tance of marine resources to Early Horizon societies such as Samanco have
not been as discussed. Some 2,000 years after the first appearance of large
Maritime Communities & Urbanization: Early Horizon Samanco, Nepeña Valley, Peru · 167
Figure 6.1. Map of Nepeña Valley, coastal Ancash, Peru (credit: David Chicoine).
monuments and evidence of early social complexity, Samanco continued

to rely on rich marine resources as well as more intensive agriculture and
even sophisticated animal husbandry. I provide preliminary evidence for
the complementary nature of each food production realm from Samanco
excavation.
Nepeña is a relatively small river valley located between the much larger
Santa and Casma valleys to the north and south. Despite its small size,
Nepeña was host to numerous important sites (Figure 6.1). To date, over
300 sites have been recorded in a roughly 300 sq km area between the Pa-
cific Ocean and the base of the steep Cordillera Negra slopes where Nepeña
divides into different montane tributaries (Daggett 1984; Proulx 1968, 1973,
1985). Nepeña is well known for its iconic Formative temples, including
early sites like Cerro Blanco and Punkuri and its Moche temple, Pañamarca.
Samanco was occupied between these two periods during the lesser known
Salinar phenomenon (Ikehara and Chicoine 2011; Larco-Hoyle 1944).
Recent work at Nepeña’s Formative temples, Cerro Blanco and Huaca
Partida, indicates an abandonment phase between 800 and 500 BCE
(Shibata 2010, 2011). This corresponds with the florescence of sites with
radically different layouts and functions, including Samanco. Nepeña’s
early temples emphasized large platform mounds fronted by smaller lat-
eral mounds resembling a U-shape. These temples were decorated with rich
polychrome murals of fanged supernaturals tied to Chavín and Cupisnique
styles (Tello 1943; Tello et al. 2006; Shibata 2010, 2011). At these temples,
there is no evidence for permanent housing structures or intense occu-
pation, rather a superposition of temple buildings clean of refuse. There
is evidence for episodic feasts and public ceremonies at Nepeña’s temples
(Ikehara and Shibata 2008).
During the abandonment phase of these temples (Shibata’s Nepeña
Phase), sites like Samanco were being built to radically different standards.
These sites put less emphasis on monumental construction and instead
built expansive stone and mortar multiroom enclosures around central
patios or plazas. A diagnostic feature of the rooms is interior colonnades
reminiscent of Cupisnique, usually finely plastered with white paint. Struc-
tures are organized in what I refer to as distinct enclosure compounds. I
believe these enclosure compounds foreshadow and influence the eventual
development of later sprawling urban centers like Chan Chan, the capital of
the Chimú Empire. In fact, they bear such uncanny resemblance that Early
Horizon enclosure compounds have often been mistaken for later period
sites (Daggett 1984; Proulx 1973; Warner 2010). Similar sites have been doc-
umented in the valleys of the surrounding area, including the Casma (Col-
lier 1960; Ghezzi 2000, 2006; Pozorski and Pozorski 1987), Santa (Wilson
1988), Virú (Collier 1955; Strong and Evans 1952; Willey 1953), and Moche
(Billman 1996; Brennan 1978, 1980, 1982). Recently, most research on Early
Horizon coastal enclosure compounds has taken place in Nepeña.
Richard Daggett (1984, 1987, 1999) was the first to ascribe Nepeña’s enclo-
sure compound sites to the Early Horizon. David Chicoine was the first to
systematically investigate them, with projects at archaeological complexes
Huambacho and Caylán which frame the Samanco research. Huambacho
is dominated by two large plazas surrounded by multiroom enclosures,
and is interpreted as an elite residential center utilized for administration
and public events (Chicoine 2006, 2011). Chicoine and Rojas (2012) also re-
corded significant marine aspects at Huambacho, namely shellfish. Caylán
is much bigger and spans over 50 ha into a dozen compounds further sur-
rounded by low-status perishable dwellings (Chicoine and Ikehara 2008).
Each of Caylán’s compounds has a plaza nucleus exclusively accessed by
zigzagging corridors. The site shows evidence of central planning through
several crosscutting avenues dictating access throughout the various com-

pounds. Dense domestic refuse suggests a large, permanent population.
The site has been interpreted as the center of a polity-like network, includ-
ing Samanco. Despite Caylán’s location 15 km from the coast, nearly 250 kg
of shell refuse has been recovered in addition to thousands of fish bones
found through coprolites and soil sampling (Chicoine and Rojas 2013). This
immediately hinted at the importance of seafood to Caylán’s large populace
and outlined the need to better understand the relationship of the sea to
Nepeña’s Early Horizon proto-urban polity network.
The Samanco Archaeological Project
Samanco is the second-largest Early Horizon enclosure site in Nepeña and

is located closest to the coast, just 2 km from the rich Samanco Bay. To-
day the area is one of Peru’s few surviving artisan fishing towns with a
few thousand residents. The Samanco archaeological complex spans 36 ha,
with a 20 ha dense architectural core (Figure 6.2). The site is located on the
northern Nepeña margin between marshes and hillside slopes overlooking
the Pacific Ocean. Six distinct compound sectors are interpreted, which are
separated by terraces, high walls, or topography (Table 6.1). Compounds
are composed of mostly agglutinated stone and mortar interspersed with
cane and mud brick architecture.
Fieldwork spanned 16 weeks over two years and totaled approximately
400 sq m of excavation. In 2012, we systematically mapped all standing
architecture and surrounding topography. Our excavations sampled each
Table 6.1. Principal Samanco structures with size data

Structure Location Area Visible Rooms Patio Groups
Compound 1 East Samanco 21,000 sq m 30+ 10
Compound 2 East Samanco 3,000 sq m 15+ 4
Plaza Mayor East Samanco 1,600 sq m 2 N/A
Compound 3 Central Samanco 35,000 sq m 30+ 12
Corral Central Samanco 1,500 sq m 10 N/A
Compound 4 Central Samanco 3,250 sq m 10+ N/A
Compound 5 West Samanco 7,500 sq m 30+ N/A
Compound 6 West Samanco 6,750 sq m 30+ 8
Compiled by author.
N/A Not available.
Figure 6.2.
General map of
Samanco’s stand-
ing architecture,
topography, and
features (credit:
Matthew Helmer
and Jeisen Na-
varro).
of the six compound sectors to investigate contemporaneity and basic com-

parative analysis with a minimal 2 × 2 m test pit, and area excavation in the
site’s monumental plaza (Plaza Mayor). Detailed information on the 2012
field season can be found elsewhere (Helmer and Chicoine 2015). The 2013
field season focused on systematically excavating two of the six compound
sectors (Compounds 2 and 3) with over 100 sq m of excavations in each.
Excavation results indicate multiple Early Horizon renovations of all com-
pound sectors associated with dense materials, suggesting a long, perma-
nent occupation contingent with urbanization.
Spatial Layout
Samanco’s enclosure compounds are quadrilateral, multiroom structures

agglutinated around a series of patios (Table 6.1). Eastern Samanco pertains
to Compounds 1 and 2, which are surrounded by marshlands, hillsides,
and a large defensive wall. Primary features in this area include a large ter-
raced platform separating the compounds by 25 m of altitude, with a 100
m causeway leading to the summit. Samanco’s largest monumental feature,
the Plaza Mayor, is located on top of the summit, connected to Compound
2. The Plaza Mayor is organized as a sort of amphitheater measuring 53 ×
50 m, with encircling platform benches lining two open spaces. We found
four phases of renovations leading up to the Plaza Mayor, which was built
on top of previous colonnaded patios extending down over 3 m.
Central Samanco is separated from East Samanco by an area of about
100 m that is void of dense architecture, and it is the largest area of the
site. Central Samanco comprises the massive Compound 3 in addition to
a monumental camelid corral, and is mostly located on the upper terraces
of Samanco, with terraced, stone-lined gardens lining the southern extent
near to the marshlands.
Western Samanco pertains to the remainder of Samanco lining the west-
ern hillsides. Compounds 4 and 5 are poorly preserved, but appear to be
closely related, except that Compound 4 is built primarily of mud brick and
cane rather than stone and mortar. Compound 6, located on the far west-
ern site extent, is much better preserved and nearly identical to the other
compound sectors from east and central Samanco. To the north of Com-
pounds 5 and 6, a 5.5 ha refuse dump lies between compound structures
and the hillsides laden with middens extending over 1.5 m deep. South of
Compound 6, remnants of a defensive wall are visible, which may have
extended nearly a kilometer toward other preserved wall portions around

Compound 1.
Excavations
Excavations were conducted in natural layers, and all materials were col-
lected through 3 mm mesh screens, with certain features fine-screened
through soil sampling. Test pits from each sector focused on diachronic
data through vertical excavation down to sterile subsoil. Excavations inside
the Plaza Mayor and Compounds 2 and 3 focused on horizontal units to
expose large areas of architecture and activity areas with sections taken
down to sterile. Samanco’s stratigraphy generally comprises a surface layer
of windblown sand mixed with wall collapse above an abandonment-level
floor. Below abandonment floors, dense layers of secondary refuse are lo-
cated between variable sequences of previous floors and leveled architec-
ture. In many cases, internal layouts are kept in place by reuse of walls, in-
cluding reshaping columns into new walls and sealing previous entrances.
In general, a minimum two-phase sequence of Early Horizon occupation
was documented throughout Samanco’s six sectors: An early phase com-
posed of colonnaded architecture which was later leveled and raised, with
blocked entrances, raised walls, and pole and thatch architecture. Here, I
focus on excavations from interior sections of Compounds 2 and 3.
Compound 2
Investigations into Compound 2 began with an 11 × 3 m trench (UE-1)

placed on the northwest perimeter wall of the Plaza Mayor (Figure 6.3).
The Plaza Mayor was built during the last phase of occupation, on top of
earlier colonnaded patios and associated rooms. In total, five phases of ren-
ovations were documented over 3 m deep leading up to the Plaza Mayor,
one of the deepest occupations on-site. Inside the plaza, dense camelid
dung and hundreds of corn cobs and kernels (Zea mays) provide hints into
how the plaza was used. Throughout the plaza construction fill, numerous
ceramic panpipe fragments, decorated textiles, bottle fragments, and large
fragments of tinaja beer fermentation jars further suggest public use. Near
to the sterile layer beneath the plaza, a child burial was located, a possible
dedicatory offering associated with 10 large (Argopecten sp.) shells. The pat-
tern of burials in construction-fill renovations would permeate throughout
Compounds 2 and 3.
Figure 6.3. East Samanco; excavated areas are shaded (credit: Matthew Helmer).
Behind the Plaza Mayor, we excavated over 100 sq m (UE-7) around a

300 sq m patio and surrounding rooms associated with the northeast patio
groups of Compound 2 (Figure 6.3). Here, we discovered convincing evi-
dence of intense domestic use of the enclosure compounds. The patio was
accessed via long zigzagging corridors leading to 1 m wide entrances. To the
south, the patio terraces down into a larger, more open patio space. To the
east, trash refuse was dumped into a ravine directly outside the compound.
A low platform extends across the western end of the patio where we un-
covered evidence of a kitchen area. In total, five stone-lined hearths were
found in this area, some of which were packed with as much as half a meter
of charcoal, totaling 5 kg of carbon debris. Food features surrounded the
hearths, including butchered animal bones, shell deposits, scattered plant
refuse, and fish bones. Most of the ceramics in this area were domestic
neckless jars showing evidence of cooking residue. Scattered camelid dung
atop the patio floor indicates their continued presence in daily as well as
public activities.
Two small ramps provided access from the kitchen platform down to
the patio, which was cleaner of refuse. During the final phase of patio use,
one of these access ramps was sealed and two burials were placed on either
side of the entrance, an elderly woman and a child. Other offering-type
features in the fill included a gourd filled with potato leaves (Solanacium tu-
berosum), and a small juvenile dog (Canis familiaris) burial. In total, three
renovation phases were documented in the patio with successive colon-
naded patios built on top of one another. Just like the Plaza Mayor, dur-
ing the final phase of patio use, columns were leveled. In this case, wood
and thatch architecture were used in place of columns associated with the
kitchen.
Compound 3
In the center of Samanco (Figure 6.4), the uppermost patio groups (Figure
6.5) of Compound 3’s 8,000 sq m nucleus structure were excavated (UE-2,
UE-3). Compound 3’s nucleus consists of patio groups gradually terrac-
ing up 25 m. It is lined on either side by steep, 5 m drainages making the
area one of the most exclusive on-site. Patterns were remarkably similar to
Compound 2, with smaller food preparation/dormitory areas lining a me-
dium-sized patio leading down to a larger, more ornate patio space. In one
3 × 3 m back room, a possible dormitory area was located with semicircular
cane pole remnants built atop leveled columns. Inside this small space we
found food features including a concentration of 40 gastropod shells (Thais
chocolata) next to a butchered pelican wing (Pelecanus thagus), numerous
plants, and ashy concentrations. In the fill beneath this room we located a
burial of a young male who showed signs of perimortem and postmortem
trauma. To the north of the smaller room is a slightly larger colonnaded
back room where we uncovered more hearth features and massive shell
deposits. Here we also located a wooden paddle possibly used in ceramic
production. In two other back rooms, we located burials of two infants, an
adult male, and a subadult in the construction fill of the final renovation.
In the open patio area, floors were cleaner of refuse, with similar dense
construction-fill patterns. On the floor in the open patio, we found rem-
nants of a fine red Patazca-style bottle and a complete sardine (Sardinops
sajax) skeleton. This suggests a consumption/serving context for open
patio areas, probably produced and supplied in back rooms. Throughout
Left: Figure 6.4.
Central Samanco;
excavated areas are
shaded (credit: Mat-
thew Helmer).
Below: Figure 6.5.

Isometric recon-
struction of the
excavated Com-
pound 3 patio group
at Samanco (credit:
Matthew Helmer).
Compound 3 we found a two-phase renovation sequence: a primary phase

utilizing finely plastered, white-painted columns, followed by a second
phase where the columns were leveled and raised, creating modified spaces
using pole and thatch architecture. This renovation phase may have oc-
curred at the same time as Compound 2 renovations as they show identical
patterns, and may highlight central planning.
On the western edge of Compound 3, we located and excavated a monu-
mental corral measuring 1,500 sq m. The corral has 10 large symmetri-
cal rooms with remnants of wooden gates. It was constructed with large
boulders analogous to the Plaza Mayor, with high walls. The northwestern
corner of the corral was excavated between a central open room and back
room (UE-4). Beneath wall collapse, we located a layer of caked camelid
dung and hair totaling 22 kg, interspersed with Early Horizon ceramics,
shells, and botanics, including large amounts of maize and beans (Phaseo-
lus sp.). The structure is interpreted as a corral primarily used to house
camelids. Based on the quantity and depth of the deposits, it is likely that
large numbers of camelids were corralled for long periods of time. The cor-
ral appears to have been built during a single phase of construction in an
area already utilized for pastoral activities.
South of Compound 3, convincing evidence exists for on-site cultiva-
tion. Here, we located possible stone-lined terrace gardens that extend be-
neath Compound 3 and down toward the western hillsides of Compound
6. In one test excavation from the terraced garden area, hundreds of stalk
and shuck maize fragments and over 30 roots were found cut and lev-
eled, interspersed with camelid dung packed with maize refuse. Data from
the stone-lined terraced gardens emphasize the need to consider all food
realms associated with Early Horizon maritime diets.
Finally, fascinating site reuse was documented in the area around Com-
pound 3. In the open Early Horizon midden that lines the northern hill-
sides outside of Samanco’s architectural core, our team documented an elite
Chimú-Inka burial (UE-5). The burial consisted of a subterranean multi-
chamber adobe structure over 4 m beneath a destroyed adobe platform.
Space does not permit a detailed presentation of the tomb discovery, but it
should be mentioned that the site enjoyed dynamic reuse long after aban-
donment. While there is no evidence for subsequent Gallinazo-Moche oc-
cupation, Samanco’s patios and open areas were used as Middle Horizon
cemeteries for Casma culture commoners. Later, the Chimú-Inka tomb
discovery suggests a shift toward elite cemetery use in certain areas. There
is no evidence for any post–Early Horizon habitation. Rather, preliminary
evidence would suggest an intriguing form of ancestor veneration associ-

ated with site ruins.
Summary and Material Remains
To sum up the excavations, our data indicate a complex, multicomponent

site centered mainly on domestic life. With regard to materials, over 25,000
ceramic sherds have been recovered that date to the Early Horizon. The
most common vessel is the neckless jar, comprising nearly 70 percent of
the entire rim assemblage. Decorated ceramics accounted for less than 1
percent of the total ceramic assemblage, further emphasizing the utilitar-
ian nature of the site. The most common decorated styles include geomet-
ric White-on-Red designs, Stamped Circle and Dot designs, and Textile
Impressed designs. Most decorations occur in distinct incised zones. The
most common fine vessels at Samanco are decorated stirrup spout bottles
and carinated bowls.
No ceramics displaying fanged designs were recovered, reinforcing dis-
connection with earlier Andean ideologies. Rather, the vast majority of
materials show both local production and consumption. Tinaja jars with
flaring rims are distinctive to Samanco’s occupation phase (Shibata 2011:
fig. 14) and appear for the first time in the region. Thirty tinaja rims were
recovered from our excavations. These were likely used for maize fermenta-
tion and underscore the importance of maize production on-site. Another
key diagnostic to the Early Horizon seen at Samanco is ceramic panpipes
(Proulx 1985: 205). We recovered over a thousand fragments comprising
over 500 individual tubes. These are made with a dark red polished slip.
Food remains were the most frequent artifact recovered in our excava-
tions. The most common of these is shell remains, which survive well in
the archaeological record. In total, we recovered 467 k of complete shells
accounting for over 100,000 MNI. Mollusks were mainly harvested from
rocky and sandy outcrops surrounding Samanco Bay. Combined, Semimy-
tilus algosus and Perumytilus purpuratus rock-dwelling mollusks account
for almost 80 percent of the total shell assemblage. More meaty varieties
included sand-dwelling clams (Mesodesma donacium, MNI 2,647) and
gastropods (Thais chocolata, MNI 623). Samanco’s populace also had the
technology to dive for sublittoral dwelling mollusks like large scallops (Ar-
gopecten sp.) with 212 MNI identified. Colorful Argopecten scallops were
also shaped into body adornments. Ornamental shellfish include mainly
small gastropods (Prunum curtum) worked into beads, perhaps due to
their resemblance to the symbolically important pututo conch (Strombus

galeatus). Finally, Mesodesma clams were sometimes found painted with
red cinnabar, possibly associated with maritime ritual activity documented
both in Nepeña (Chicoine and Rojas 2012, 2013) and elsewhere (Prieto
2013). Interestingly, shellfish may have contributed more to Early Horizon
coastal urban diets than later Moche groups, evidenced by a comparatively
low shellfish prevalence at their capital, Huacas de Moche (Rosello et al.
2001).
Analysis of fish remains is still ongoing, but thousands of fish bones were
recovered. The most common fish at Samanco were sardines (Sardinops sa-
jax), backbones of the ancient Andean fish diet. Most of the fish recovered
are nearshore species, which appear to be pragmatically rather than selec-
tively harvested, represented by the large array of approximately 30 species
identified. The predominance of sardines over anchoveta (Engraulis rin-
gens) may suggest shifting climatic conditions and high frequency ENSO
during the Early Horizon, as Sandweiss et al. (2004) have demonstrated
through ratios of anchovetas to sardines in Inka and modern historical
cases. Mass harvesting of smaller fish such as sardines contrasts with earlier
fishing villages such as Pampa Gramalote (Prieto 2013: 95), which relied
more heavily on the exploitation of larger species such as shark (Carcharhi-
nus sp.). Such differences may lend further weight to mass fish production
for trade at Samanco, rather than selective local consumption, although
further analysis is needed.
High densities of island-dwelling bird remains were recovered and likely
played a significant part in the ancient Samanqueño diet. These include
pelicans (Pelecanus thagus), penguins (Spheniscus humboldti), petrels (Pele-
canoides garnotii), cormorants (Phalacrocrorax bougainvillii, Phalacrocro-
rax olivaceous), and seagulls (Larus pipixcan, Larus belcheri), among others.
Samanqueños also exploited surrounding marshlands where continental
birds such as doves (Columbina cruziana) were hunted and trapped.
Other animals recovered at Samanco include sea lions, guinea pigs, ca-
nines, deer, and camelids. The high density of canine remains recovered
(369 NISP [number of identified specimens], 45 MNI) indicates these
animals may have provided more of a meat diet to ancient Andeans than
what is traditionally emphasized. They probably were also important to
social and ritual life evidenced by the dog burial in Compound 2. Along the
same lines, the importance of camelids (92 NISP, 40 MNI) cannot be un-
derstated. Camelid bones recovered include juvenile remains and inedible
animal portions, which detract from the idea that these animals only came
down temporarily from the mountains. Combined with the evidence from
the corral, it is clear that herding developed early in coastal Andean prehis-
tory. Many of the camelid remains show cutmarks indicating their use as a
food source. I would argue that camelids played a large role in transporting
goods to and from Samanco. The high density of large animal domesticates
may have alleviated the need to hunt game animals, reflected in the dearth
of sea lions (7 NISP, 6 MNI) and deer (3 NISP, 2 MNI) remains.
With regard to plant remains, 56 plant species have been identified. The
majority of remains pertain to corn (Zea mays), sweet potato (Ipomoea
batatas), beans (Phaseolus sp.), cotton (Gossypium barbadense), gourds
(Lagenaria siceraria), squashes (Cucurbita sp.), and chili peppers (Capsi-
cum sp.). Maize dominates the assemblage with nearly a third of the total
36,000 NISP. Corn’s florescence during the Early Horizon has been argued
to have changed the entire social landscape through its use as a fermented
beverage (Chicoine 2011; Pozorski and Pozorski 1987). It probably replaced
manioc as the central crop in the area, based on data from nearby Casma
(Pozorski and Pozorski 1987). Preliminary analysis has revealed at least
eight different varieties of maize. We hope to eventually be able to piece
together a chronology of types, as larger varieties seem to appear in later
sequences. Thousands of bean and sweet potato elements recovered also
indicate their importance to Samanco’s subsistence. A massive deposit of
mixed corn, beans, and sweet potatoes located in the Compound 2 fill be-
neath the kitchen contained bushels of bean stalks and branches with hun-
dreds of pods left on the branch. It would appear that they were harvested
very nearby and brought to the compound for processing, much like the
evidence mentioned earlier for corn cultivation. Gourds make up a sizable
percentage of our plant assemblage. These were commonly used as serving
vessels probably for drink, and as fishing floats. Two of the burials were
placed with gourds possibly containing liquids. One of our most richly
decorated artifacts is a pyro-engraved gourd with interlocking images of a
serpent.
The last bit of material remains I would like to discuss is evidence for
weaving. Twenty-two spindle whorls were recovered in addition to wooden
spinning rods and hundreds of textile fragments. The spindle whorls were
recovered from across Samanco, indicating widespread weaving rather than
specialized workshops. Some of the spindle whorls were richly decorated,
underscoring the importance of weaving to the community. Geometric de-
signs were made in zoned incisions, some of which showed residue from a
red substance, probably cinnabar. The density of cotton on-site (2,191 NISP)
further suggests local textile production. Samanco’s textiles are beige with
diverse weave patterns. Decorated textiles are indigo blue or vermilion red,
and decorations are usually in geometric zones similar to ceramic designs.
Other decorations were created through embroidery or alternate weave
patterning. Most of the decorated textiles recovered came from the Plaza
Mayor fill, perhaps indicating finer textile production and usage closer to
public or ornate spaces.
Discussion
I would like to conclude by outlining some preliminary ideas on con-

textualizing the rich domestic data recovered from Samanco in terms of
daily practice. In some of my previous work, I focused on performance
and public life at one of neighboring Caylán’s monumental plazas inside
an enclosure compound. While I found significant data on extraordinary
public events (Helmer and Chicoine 2013; Helmer et al. 2012), much of the
materials recovered suggested plaza use in daily life as well. I began to think
about the lines drawn in terms of what constitutes performance, given the
similarity of plazas to the residential patios found at Samanco, Caylán, and
other Early Horizon enclosure compounds. In certain cases like these, per-
formance was probably important in daily life as well as in ceremonies and
special events. Others, like Hodder (2002), have emphasized analyses of
daily performance as central to archaeology. In this case, I would define
performance as culturally influenced tasks, behaviors, interactions, and ex-
periences specific to particular communities. I hypothesize that structured
daily encounters in Samanco’s exclusive residential compounds aided in
urban transformations and maintenance seen during the Early Horizon
during the decline of Chavín and earlier religious political organizations.
The nexus of life at Samanco was the large, probably multifamily com-
pounds sprawled across the site. These were walled spaces where people
slept, ate, worked, and hosted public or semipublic events. Everything
nucleated around central patios that operated as the center of daily activi-
ties. Most of these patios are well over 100 sq m and could have housed
large portions of the community. Yet, they were likely invisible outside of
the compound and restricted by long, zigzagging corridors, creating an
aura of exclusivity. I would tentatively put the population of Samanco at
2,000–5,000. A sizable population probably created factions divided into
the various compounds, who lived together, yet maintained communal ex-
clusivity in their daily lives. The ayllu system of exclusive family groups
documented from Inka times may be broadly analogous to these early

communities (See also Burger and Salazar-Burger 1991: 291). The rigid pat-
tern in which compounds are constructed probably disciplined and struc-
tured daily interactions at Samanco to specific cultural expectations. The
way these compounds interacted on a daily basis was probably the key to
Samanco’s success and long-term occupation over hundreds of years.
Unlike later period coastal groups where status was much more pro-
nounced, there is not currently evidence for craft specialization or work-
shops. It would appear that inhabitants throughout Samanco engaged in
similar activities geared toward subsistence and trade. This included daily
trips to the sea and down to the marshlands for fishing, hunting, and culti-
vation. Camelids were likely present in most of these activities as beasts of
burden. Materials were harvested and brought back to the compound for
processing, likely involving a huge amount of labor, which thus created a
place where most social interaction took place. Activities included weav-
ing, meat butchering and curing, ceramic production, beer fermentation,
tool manufacture, and likely myriad other activities. In the modern town of
Samanco, for instance, maintenance of fishing nets and tools is done out-
side in groups of families and is the main time for socializing outside of the
house. The importance of the house to Samanco’s prehistoric population
is reflected in their practice of burying individuals underneath domestic
structures. Here, their memory could be maintained on a regular basis.
In terms of ceremony and public events, these may have become more
localized within each compound, rather than previous groups who congre-
gated at ritual monuments without resident populations. With the excep-
tion of the Plaza Mayor, which was constructed at the end of Samanco’s
Early Horizon occupation, there is no central congregation space on-site.
Rather, the patios probably functioned as diverse centers for communal
interaction. The fragmented social landscape may have served as a pre-
cursor to individual elites vying for power, influencing the later develop-
ment of marked group hierarchies with Moche and Chimú. Reasons for
community nucleation may have involved warfare, competition, and social
conflict. Large defensive walls line the entirety of Samanco, and the site is
hidden within valley margin hillsides. This pattern exists throughout Early
Horizon Nepeña, with many fortified villages located in the upper margins
of the valley (see Daggett 1987; Ikehara 2010). Samanco’s various coresident
groups probably came together in a collective effort to control Nepeña’s
rich bay and delta area.
Because of Samanco’s privileged location on Samanco Bay, its communal
identity likely revolved around trade. During earlier periods, trade seems
to have revolved around the exchange of exotic goods associated with re-
ligious networks (Burger 1992; Burger and Matos Mendieta 2002). In con-
trast, most of Samanco’s goods are utilitarian and locally produced. The site
is the closest to the coast for the time period, and many lines of evidence
from excavations suggest trade as a daily practice for Samanco’s populace.
The density of food remains and evidence for primary production suggest
a surplus on-site. In contrast, large inland sites show a pattern based more
on consumption. For instance, at neighboring Caylán, 220 kg of shellfish
remains have been recovered in addition to thousands of fish bones, despite
the site’s location some 15 km inland. Additionally, the site does not show
any evidence of the primary crop production seen at Samanco. Therefore,
one of our preliminary hypotheses is that Samanco functioned as a food
production center supplying large inland peer polities, namely, Caylán,
with subsistence goods. Further evidence for a trade focus at Samanco
comes from the discovery of the camelid corral. During later time periods,
camelid caravans formed the backbone of long-distance trade sustaining
the vast empires of the Andes (for example, Pozorski 1979; Shimada and
Shimada 1985; Thornton et al. 2011; Wheeler et al. 1994; Wing and Wheeler
1988). The Samanco case may provide one of the earliest examples of ca-
melid caravans supplying small networks with supplies, and small-scale
caravans have recently been suggested for the immediately succeeding
Gallinazo (Szpak et al. 2014). Coastal resources from Samanco probably
provided a backbone for the urban transformations seen in Early Horizon
Nepeña and elsewhere.
Conclusion
To conclude, our research at Samanco is providing a number of new av-

enues for understanding complex societies and daily life. Research at Sa-
manco highlights lesser known aspects of Andean prehistory. This includes
an investigation into first millennium BC maritime societies that developed
after the oft-debated earlier coastal groups. There is a continued centrality
of the sea to sociopolitical development during urbanization. The research
also sheds light on coastal events during the decline of Chavín-related re-
ligious centers, events associated with the lesser known Salinar phenom-
enon. What we see is a shift toward tight-knit subsistence-based networks
living in decentralized coresident enclosures who relied on trade to sustain
large residential populations. Further work is needed to better understand
trade relationships between Samanco and other peer centers, such as the
hypothesized polity capital of Caylán. Ultimately, I argue that early urban
Nepeña society centered on daily practices in enclosure compounds, which
foreshadow the long history of urban civilizations on the Andean coast.
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7
The Supply and Consumption of Marine
Resources at the Inland Center of Caylán,
Coastal Ancash
David Chicoine, Carol Rojas, Víctor Vásquez,

and Teresa Rosales
Since Moseley (1975) published The Maritime Foundations of Andean Civi-

lization, marine resources and their exploitation have been a dynamic and
debated topic in the archaeological study of social complexity. In the cen-
tral Andes, research questions have often revolved around whether the rich
east Pacific Ocean could support permanent settlements and dense human
demographics (Benfer 1990; Haas and Creamer 2006; Moseley 1975; Pozor-
ski and Pozorski 1987; Quilter 1991; Raymond 1981; Sandweiss et al. 1989;
Wilson 1981). In contrast, little effort has been concentrated on the use of
marine taxa and their social and economic meanings.
This chapter examines the consumption and discard of animal resources
at the inland urban settlement of Caylán during the first millennium BC.
Mapping, survey, and excavation data indicate that Caylán (~800–200 BC),
located 15 km inland from the Nepeña Valley littoral, was a dense human
settlement with a diverse resident population (Chicoine and Ikehara 2010,
2014) (Figure 7.1). Preliminary analyses of faunal and botanical remains
point toward the dual emphasis on terrestrial and marine resources, in-
cluding plant and animal domesticates, as well as a vast array of wild prod-
ucts. Here, we use shell and vertebrate remains collected during the 2009
and 2010 excavations at Caylán to evaluate patterns of exploitation, supply,
consumption, and discard of marine resources. We explore coast-inland
interactions from the standpoint of urban settlements traditionally asso-
ciated with intensive agrarian economies. We are particularly interested
Figure 7.1. Photograph of the urban core of Caylán (view from the adjacent Cerro Caylán to the west) (provided by the authors).
190 · David Chicoine, Carol Rojas, Víctor Vásquez, and Teresa Rosales
in understanding mechanisms of economic interdependence beyond the

traditional dichotomy between “terrestrial” and “maritime” patterns of
adaptations.
Excavations at the Early Horizon settlement of Caylán have yielded fau-
nal remains, including 220 kg of marine shells and 10 kg of animal bones.
We present taxonomic and quantitative analyses with the objective of de-
termining the biotopes under exploitation, defining exchange networks,
and exploring the potential social and economic meanings associated with
the different animal taxa. At the site level, shell remains indicate a focus on
a few select bivalve species, close ties between inland and coastal popula-
tions, and a dynamic shell industry materialized in fishing implements and
body adornments (see Chicoine and Rojas 2013). As for vertebrate remains,
preliminary results of the osteological analyses indicate a strong reliance on
mammal domesticates and marine fish. Fish were mostly collected from
nearshore biotopes, most likely with limited fishing and seafaring technol-
ogy. The low diversity of the fish assemblage—in particular the predomi-
nance of sardines—suggests that seafood was supplied by specialized mari-
time communities who selectively fished and/or filtered the fish products
shipped inland.
Wild birds, meanwhile, occupied a secondary role. The on-site presence
of trade goods and butchering marks suggest that Caylán residents relied
on camelids for transportation, meat, and possibly fibers. Osteological re-
mains also inform on the use of dogs, guinea pigs, and other small animals
as food sources. At a broader level, zooarchaeological analyses bring in-
sights into the dynamic human-animal relationships in the context of a
nucleated urban community and their impact on the socioeconomic trans-
formation of coastal economies at a time of increasing political complexity
(deFrance 2009; Gumerman 1997).
Background: Coastal Nepeña and Early Horizon

Communities
Nepeña is a small coastal drainage located in the modern Department of

Ancash, some 400 km north of Lima. The lower section of the valley is
particularly attractive for marine exploitation. Resources are clustered in
distinct places including, proceeding from the coast to the sea: coastal la-
goons, the rocky littoral, the sandy littoral, the rocky shore sublittoral and
the open-beach sublittoral (Moseley 1975: 13–14). The littoral zones are well
suited for net fishing, clam and mussel gathering, and mammal and bird
Marine Resources at the Inland Center of Caylán, Coastal Ancash · 191
hunting, whereas the sublittoral zones, less accessible, can only be fished
using either handlines or watercraft.
A large bay, the Bahía de Samanco, protects and encloses the shorelines
and renders the water unusually slow moving. The western cliffs of the pen-
insula are very rugged and steep, but the narrow strip of land that separates
the Bahía de Samanco from the Bahía de Chimbote to the north, as well
as the eastern edge of the peninsula, are well-suited for line fishing, water
diving, and gathering. A similar area is located to the south, in the Bahía de
Tortugas. The Nepeña coastline (9°S) and its oceanic conditions are typical
of the Peruvian coast (5°S–40°S) where the cold waters of the Humboldt
Current provide abundant marine resources.
Based on settlement pattern evidence, the coastal portion of the Nepeña
Valley witnessed intense cultural innovations and deep socioeconomic
transformations between 800 and 450 BC. Stratigraphic excavations by Shi-
bata (2011) at the site of Cerro Blanco suggest the following three phases: (1)
Cerro Blanco (1100–800 BC), (2) Nepeña (800–450 BC), and (3) Samanco
(450–150 BC). The end of the Nepeña Phase in particular seems to have
marked profound socioeconomic transformations, including the disrup-
tion of interregional elite networks; the increased importance of camelids,
guinea pigs, and maize; as well as major population resettlements on the
valley margins. By 450 BC, monumental constructions were interrupted
at the ceremonial centers of Cerro Blanco and Huaca Partida as popula-
tions appear merged at the urban settlements of Caylán, Huambacho, and
Samanco.
Based on its size, density, and complexity, Caylán is currently interpreted
as the primary hub of a multitiered polity centered in the lower Nepeña
Valley with possible satellite communities at Huambacho, Samanco, Sute
Bajo, and potentially Cerro Blanco (Chicoine and Ikehara 2010, 2014;
Helmer 2015; Helmer et al. 2018). The Early Horizon occupation at Caylán,
while beginning in the Nepeña Phase perhaps as early as 800 BC, reached
its largest extent during the following Samanco Phase. Current radiocar-
bon measurements suggest that the settlement was abandoned by the turn
of the Common Era. The Caylán research brings further insights into the
changing role of human-animal interactions in Early Horizon coastal An-
cash, including the increasing importance of camelids as pack animals and
food sources, as well as the continuous reliance on maritime ecosystems as
major food sources.
Previous analyses of shell remains from the Early Horizon site of Huamba-
cho suggest an emphasis on rocky cliffs and other littoral environments
(Chicoine and Rojas 2012). Yet, the virtual absence of fishing implements
and other tools linked to the primary exploitation of marine resources ar-
gues for exchange with fishing communities established directly along the
littoral. Zooarchaeological evidence from Caylán reinforces the consuming
role of inland communities in patterns of marine exploitation during the
Early Horizon.
Excavations at Caylán and Zooarchaeological Study
Caylán (PV31–30), named after a lagoon directly to the east of the ancient
settlement, is a large archaeological complex located in a sandy pampa en-
closed within rocky hills three hours’ walk from the Pacific coast (Kosok
1965; Proulx 1968). Farm- and marshlands are accessible directly to the
east, while the mountainous desert extends to the north and west until the
Lacramarca drainage some 20 km north. The hills support lomas, limited
but significant ecosystems feeding off coastal fogs where xerophytic plants
grow and some animals live, mainly deer, reptiles, foxes, birds, and land-
snails. The Nepeña River can be reached by foot within an hour or so (~3
km). Both the riversides and Caylán Lagoon provide access to key plant
and faunal resources including various types of reeds and sedges, as well as
waterfowls, amphibians, and small freshwater fish.
In 2009, Chicoine and Ikehara (2010) undertook the first systematic
mapping and scientific excavations at Caylán. The first phase of the proj-
ect, carried out over 16 weeks in 2009 and 2010, allowed the sampling of
564 sq m for more than 800 cu m through test pits and block excavations
(Figure 7.2). The site is remarkable for the density and complexity of its
urban nucleus. Hundreds of stone structures are organized into rectang-
ular walled enclosures articulated through a network of streets, corridors,
and baffled entryways. Results of the vertical and horizontal excavations
indicate that most of the stone constructions were built during the Early
Horizon (Chicoine and Ikehara 2014).
Early Horizon deposits are rich, and local conditions are conducive to
excellent preservation. Excavations sampled different types of primary and
secondary discard contexts including floor scatters, open-air middens, and
construction fills. A total of 220 kg of shell remains, 15 kg of plants, 10 kg
of animal bones, and more than 45,000 pottery fragments were recovered.
Results of the malacological analyses have been presented elsewhere (Chi-
coine and Rojas 2013). In this chapter, we supplement the shell data with
the zooarchaeological analysis of the macrofaunal vertebrate remains.
Figure 7.2. Map of Caylán showing test pits and block excavations (provided by the authors).
Figure 7.3. Photograph of floor scatter contexts with faunal remains and other trash from
Compound-E (UE6) (photo by David Chicoine).
A total of 6 excavation areas (UE1–6) and 16 test units (HP1–16) were

excavated, along with the clearing of a looter’s pit (PH1). Overall, the exca-
vated contexts and associated structures and materials allow for a prelimi-
nary consideration of: (1) a monumental platform complex (Main Mound
[UE1, 4]), (2) a semipublic space (Plaza-A [UE2, 5]), (3) a multifunctional
residence (Compound-E [UE6]) (Figure 7.3), and (4) several other discard
areas located throughout the site and sampled through UE3, the test pits,
and PH1. All excavated materials were screened using a 3 mm mesh (⅛ in).
Recovery efforts targeted 100 percent of the screened remains, which were
then bagged, tagged, preliminarily air-brushed, cleaned, and catalogued in
the project’s field house in Nepeña. It is important to note that screening
methods are likely contributing to the underrepresentation of small verte-
brate fauna, in particular small fish, while overrepresenting larger verte-
brates. As for shells, clams and other thick-shelled mollusks (for example,
Donax spp.) are likely overrepresented in comparison to thin-shelled mus-
sels (for example, Semimytilus algosus).
Shell Remains
More than 220 kg of shells were recovered, mostly marine shells. Methods
have been presented in detail elsewhere, but suffice it to mention that for
the quantification procedures, minimum number of individuals (MNI) val-
ues were favored over weight and number of identified specimens (NISP)
(Grayson 1978: 53) (see Chicoine and Rojas 2013: 346, table 1). The Cay-
lán mollusk assemblage is represented by a total of 42 species belonging
to 18 families. Gastropoda dominate in terms of species diversity with 36
taxa, in contrast to 11 Pelecypoda. Meanwhile, three species of Polyplacoph-
ora are present. Although taxonomically diverse, MNI values are largely
dominated by bivalves (n=94,901, 91.72 percent), while chitons (n=5,066,
4.90 percent) and gastropods (n=3,492, 3.38 percent) are more marginal.
Meanwhile, the phylum Arthropoda is represented by three families (that is,
Cirripeda, Echinoidea, and Crustacea) and four species including Balanus
sp. (barnacles), Tetrapygus niger (black sea urchins), Platyxanthus orbig-
nyi (purple crabs), and Xanthidae sp. In comparison to the mollusks, MNI
values for arthropod specimens are rare (MNI=314). Xanthidae dominates
(n=223, 71.02 percent), followed by barnacles (n=71, 22.61 percent), black
sea urchins (n=16, 5.10 percent), and crabs (n=4, 1.27 percent). Overall, with
more than 40 species of mollusk and 4 species of arthropods, the Caylán
assemblage can be described as taxonomically rich. Yet, the overwhelming
predominance of bivalves point toward little diversity, an observation con-
firmed by the overrepresentation of three species of bivalves.
The mollusk assemblage is largely dominated by the small intertidal
clam Donax spp. (n=63,731, 61.59 percent), followed by two species of small
rock-perching mussels, Perumytilus purpuratus (n=17,813, 17.21 percent),
and Semimytilus algosus (n=11,898, 11.50 percent). With the exception of
chitons (n=5,050, 4.88 percent), Mesodesma donacium (n=1,378, 1.33 per-
cent), and Tegula atra (1,327, 1.28 percent), all other MNI values for mol-
lusk taxa fall under 1 percent. Some of these include rock-perching limpets
(Fissurella sp., MNI=436, 0.42 percent), and several species of gastropods
including Prisogaster niger and Thais sp. (MNI=458, 0.44 percent), as well
as Prunum curtum (MNI=26, 0.03 percent). Coastal folks also exploited, to
a lesser extent, muddy biotopes, as exemplified by the presence of the razor
clam Tagelus dombeii (MNI=16, 0.02 percent) and Trachycardium procerum
(MNI=16, 0.02 percent). Signs of sublittoral shell fishing are rare and evi-
denced by the scallop shell Argopecten sp. (MNI=22, 0.02 percent) and the
large mussel Aulacomya ater (MNI=5, 0.01 percent).
The high MNI values for the three dominating bivalve species are partic-
ularly significant in terms of subsistence economy, considering that many
of the more marginal shell taxa display evidence of cultural modification
associated with the production of artifacts. We evaluate evidence linked to
the extraction and preparation of mollusks, the distribution of molluscan
taxa with respect to the different contexts, and the transformation of shell
materials into artifacts.
Summary
Considering that the geography of coastal Ancash changed little over the
past 3,000 years (Sandweiss et al. 2009: 1363), seafood found at Caylán was
likely collected from the Bahía de Samanco. Collectors focused on near-
shore and intertidal areas, favoring sandy beaches along with rocky cliffs to
a lesser extent. Supralittoral areas were less intensively relied upon, suggest-
ing that the use of boats and diving techniques was not systematic.
Nearshore and intertidal settings are readily available along the coast of
the Bahía de Samanco and can be exploited with minimal technology, on
foot, using simple fine-meshed nets, sand rakes, digging sticks, and bas-
kets. For harvesting sandy substrates, collectors typically enter water that
is knee– or waist-deep, and sweep the sea floor with their bare hands, or by
using rakes complemented with small mesh nets, washing away the sand
and trapping mollusks, arthropods, and other small remains (Gillin 1945:
30). This technique is rather indiscriminate since the harvesters have little
visual contact with the substrate, especially in coastal Peru where waters
are often turbid. This could account for the inadvertent collecting of spe-
cies with little economic value including some of the smaller gastropods.
Roselló and colleagues (2001: 77) point out that the use of such a technique
to collect small intertidal clams in sandy-beach environments can be par-
ticularly productive as “fishermen can collect up to 30 kg [of live clams
with shells] in 3 h of work at places such as Huanchaco. The equipment in-
cludes various types of rakes such as the caván from Huanchaco and Huaca
Prieta. Rock mussels and snails require more specialized instruments but it
is normally the dangerous biotopes they inhabit that restrict their present
day cropping to specialized gatherers” (see also Sandweiss 1979 for similar
observations). Indeed, the Donax clams are easily collected as they inhabit
active surf zones frequently washed out by waves (see Carson 1955: 137;
compare Pozorski 1976: 74).
Vertebrate Remains
Vertebrate remains were transferred to the Centro de Investigaciones Arque-

obiológicas y Paleoecológicas Andinas (Arqueobios) where they were classi-
fied, identified, measured, and quantified. Osteoarchaeological analyses fo-
cused on unworked bone remains and are believed to represent patterns of
subsistence, in particular the acquisition, processing, and discard of meat.
Worked bones were found in several contexts at Caylán, but not included
in the current analysis (Figure 7.4).
Taxonomic identifications were carried out using Arqueobios reference
collections and published literature for comparisons (Allen and Robert-
son 1994; Altamirano 1983; Barreda 1978; Chirichigno 1974; Emmons 1990;
Falabella et al. 1995; Gilbert et al. 1981; Kasper 1980; Kent 1982; Koepcke
1970; Lawlor 1979; Olsen 1968; Vegas 1987; Yee 1987). Considering the pre-
liminary nature of the vertebrate sample, numbers of identified specimens
(NISP) were preferred over weight and minimal number of individuals
(MNI) for time efficiency. NISP values were calculated based on the num-
ber of anatomical parts specific to each species analyzed. Values were then
tallied for each identifiable taxon. Meanwhile, taphonomic observations
emphasized cut, breakage, and other marks indicating butchering and
other processing practices.
Taxonomic analyses allowed the identification of 3,289 NISP, and indi-
cate that the dwellers of the Early Horizon settlement interacted with, used,
ate, and processed a vast array of wild and domesticated terrestrial, marine,
Figure 7.4. Photographs of bone tools, including (a–c) awls; (d, g) spatulas; (e) a fish scale
peeler; and (f) a body adornment (photo by David Chicoine).
riverine, and lacustrine vertebrates including amphibians, reptiles, fish,

birds, and mammals. Mammals (NISP=1,661, 50.50 percent) account for
about half of the NISP values, followed by fish (NISP=1,218, 37.03 percent)
and birds (NISP=308, 9.36 percent). Amphibians (NISP=73, 2.22 percent)
and reptiles (NISP=29, 0.88 percent) are marginal. Overall, with 36 and 20
species, respectively, fish and bird taxa display more richness than mam-
mals (n=8) and amphibians (n=1). The only amphibian identified is the
toad (Bufo sp.). Soil sample analyses are currently under way and have re-
vealed the presence of insects, but entomological data are too preliminary
at this point to evaluate the potential significance of terrestrial arthropods
in human activities.
Fish
Fish are the richest category of vertebrates and comprise mostly saltwater
species. In our Nepeña (9°S) assemblage, most marine fish are typical of
the Peru-Chilean marine faunal province (5°S–40°S), although two spe-
cies (Larimus sp., Pareques sp.) are also common in the warmer Panama-
nian marine faunal province (5°S–5°N). Marine fish can potentially travel
through and inhabit diverse oceanic biotopes including deeper offshore
waters, as well as shallower nearshore coastlines (Table 7.1). Based on docu-
mented fishing techniques for the Early Horizon, typical location of fish
habitats (mostly demersal and benthonic), and oceanic substrates (mostly
sandy), most fish could have been caught in the shallow waters (mostly up
to 40 m) of the the Bahía de Samanco shore using a combination of small
boats, fishing lines, weights, floaters, hooks, and nets. Some of the school-
ing fish, in particular sardines (Sardinops sagax sagax), jack mackerels (Tra-
churus symmetricus murphyi), menhadens (Ethmidium maculatum), and
bonitos (Sarda chiliensis chiliensis), would have been difficult to capture
without embarkations and special nets. This suggests multiple fishing strat-
egies, both from the sandy beaches around the Bahía de Samanco and off
boats farther away in the ocean.
Overall, the fish assemblage is rich, but relatively less diverse, with
the five most common taxa accounting for more than 60 percent of the
fish remains. More than 30 percent of the fish remains belong to sardines
(Sardinops sagax sagax) (NISP=378, 31.03 percent of total fish), followed
by drums and croakers of different sizes (Sciaena sp.) (NISP=119, 9.77 per-
cent). Considering the size of the screen mesh used (3 mm), sardines are
likely underrepresented. Found in lesser quantities are sea bass (Paralabrax
Table 7.1. Absolute and relative frequencies for the number of identified specimens (NISP) of fish remains per context at Caylán
Main Mound Plaza-A Compound-E Others
(UE1, 4) (UE2, 5) (UE6) (UE3, HPs) TOTAL
Fish taxa NISP % NISP % NISP % NISP % NISP % Deptha Substrateb Habitatc Captured
Sardinops sagax 50 17.9 92 39.5 137 41.4 99 31.6 378 31.03 A/B P BO
Sciaena sp. 5 1.8 16 6.9 21 6.3 15 4.8 119 9.77 A/B S D SH
Anisotremus scapularis 57 20.4 9 3.9 24 7.3 13 4.2 103 8.46 B R D/P SH
Cynoscion sp. 37 13.3 10 4.3 16 4.8 34 10.9 97 7.96 A S D SH
Larimus sp. 8 2.9 6 2.6 43 13.0 12 3.8 69 5.67
Paralabrax sp. 17 6.1 14 6.0 5 1.5 8 2.6 44 3.61 B R/S D BO
Engraulis ringens 32 13.7 32 2.63
Micropogonias altipinnis 16 5.7 1 0.4 7 2.1 7 2.2 31 2.55 A/B S D SH
Mugil cephalus 5 1.8 4 1.2 18 5.8 27 2.22 A R/S D/P SH
Stellifer minor 18 6.5 6 2.6 2 0.6 26 2.13 A/B S D SH
Pareques sp. 23 7.3 23 1.89
Trachurus symmetricus 3 1.1 13 5.6 6 1.9 22 1.81 A P BO
Sarda chiliensis 2 0.7 1 0.4 1 0.3 16 5.1 20 1.64 A P BO
Myliobatis sp. 6 2.2 7 3.0 2 0.6 3 1.0 18 1.48 S B SH
Paralonchurus peruanus 3 1.1 1 0.4 6 1.8 4 1.3 14 1.15 A/B S D SH
Rhinobatos planiceps 1 0.4 10 3.2 11 0.90 A/B S B SH
Galeichthys peruvianus 6 1.8 4 1.3 10 0.82 A S B SH
Scomber sp. 4 1.4 4 1.2 1 0.3 9 0.74 A P BO
Sphyrna sp. 2 0.7 2 0.9 1 0.3 1 0.3 6 0.49 S B SH
(continued)
Fish taxa NISP % NISP % NISP % NISP % NISP % Deptha Substrateb Habitatc Captured
Paralonchurus sp. 2 0.7 1 0.4 1 0.3 1 0.3 5 0.41 A/B S D SH
Ethmidium maculatum 2 0.9 1 0.3 3 0.25 BO
Carcharhinus sp. 1 0.3 2 0.6 3 0.25 S
Labrisomus philippii 3 1.0 3 0.25 A R B SH
Trachinotus sp. 3 1.1 3 0.25
Mustelus sp. 1 0.4 1 0.3 2 0.16 B R/S B SH
Calamus sp. 1 0.4 1 0.3 2 0.16
Caulolatilus sp. 2 0.6 2 0.16
Merluccius gayi 2 0.7 2 0.16 B/C R/S D BO
Rajidae 1 0.3 1 0.08 S B SH
Muraenidae 1 0.3 1 0.08
Menticirrhus sp. 1 0.4 1 0.08 A/B R/S D SH
Serranidae 1 0.4 1 0.08 R/S D BO
Acanthistius sp. 1 0.4 1 0.08
Unknown fish 37 13.3 16 6.9 50 15.1 26 8.3 129 10.59
TOTAL 279 100 233 100 331 100 313 100 1218 100
a Depth: A, 0–2 m; B, 2–40 m; C, 40–200 m.
b Substrate: L, lomas (“fog vegetation zone”); M, mangroves; R, rocky; S, sandy.
c Habitat: B, benthonic; D, demersal; P, pelagic.
d Capture: SH, shore; BO, boat.
sp.) (NISP=44, 3.61 percent), anchovies (Engraulis ringens) (NISP=32, 2.63),

giltheads (Micropogonias altipinnis), mullets (Mugil cephalus) (NISP=27,
2.22 percent), stardrums (Stellifer minor) (NISP=26, 2.13 percent), high-
hats (Pareques sp.) (NISP=23, 1.89 percent), jack mackerels (Trachurus
symmetricus murphyi) (NISP=22, 1.81 percent), bonitos (Sarda chiliensis
chiliensis) (NISP=20, 1.64 percent), manta rays (Myliobatis sp.) (NISP=18,
1.48 percent), and banded croakers (Paralonchurus peruanus) (NISP=14,
1.15 percent). Finally, numerous fish taxa are found in less than 1 percent
of the fish remains, including several species of teleost and cartilaginous
fish. The latter are rare in the Early Horizon contexts sampled so far at
Caylán (NISP=42, 3.45 percent). They include smooth-hound sharks (Mus-
telus sp.), hammerhead sharks (Sphyrna sp.), requiem sharks (Carcharhinus
sp.), and manta rays (Myliobatis sp.). Rays and sharks are cartilaginous and
might not preserve as well as teleost, or bony fish.
Birds
Birds display a less rich but more diverse assemblage, especially consid-
ering edible taxa. Of the total of 20 identified avian taxa, the eared dove
(Zenaida asiatica) (NISP=74, 28.14 percent of total bird remains) is by far
the most common and ubiquitous bird at Caylán (Table 7.2). More remains
of the Columbidae family were encountered (NISP=10). Today, these birds
dwell in bushes, trees, and fields in the vicinity of Caylán. In the Early Hori-
zon, wild birds could have been hunted with a variety of projectile weapons
including slings, spears, and nets. Columbidae are followed by cormorants
(Phalacrocorax bougainvillii) (NISP=27, 10.27 percent), and seagulls (Larus
sp.) (NISP=26, 9.89 percent). Also present less frequently are wild ducks
(Anas sp.) (NISP=12, 4.56 percent), meadowlarks (Sturnella sp.) (NISP=11,
4.18 percent), and black vultures (Coragyps atratus) (NISP=11, 4.18 per-
cent). The remains of vultures are restricted to UE6 in a single context
within Compound-E. They are unlikely to have played a major role in local
subsistence. A similar observation can be made about the remains of owls
(Stigidae, compare Asio sp.) and swallows (Hirundo sp.). Other marginal
species—which could nevertheless have played an economic role in Early
Horizon Nepeña—include the marshland egrets (Egretta sp.) (NISP=1, 0.38
percent), swamp chickens (Gallinula chloropus) (NISP=1, 0.38 percent),
and shearwaters (Puffinus sp.) (NISP=2, 0.76 percent).
Finally, a proximal section of a condor ulna (Vultur gryphus) was re-
covered from the Main Mound construction fill during UE4. It displays
Table 7.2. Absolute and relative frequencies for the number of identified specimens (NISP)
of bird remains per context at Caylán
Avian taxaa NISP % NISP % NISP % NISP % NISP % Habitatb
Zenaida asiatica 12 19.4 35 42.7 14 21.2 13 24.5 74 28.14 W
Phalacrocorax 8 12.9 5 6.1 1 1.5 13 24.5 27 10.27 L
bougainvillii
Larus sp. 15 24.2 1 1.2 9 13.6 1 1.9 26 9.89 L
Anas sp. 1 1.6 11 13.4 12 4.56 M
Sturnella sp. 8 12.9 2 3.0 1 1.9 11 4.18 L
Coragyps atratus 11 16.7 11 4.18 M/W
Zenaidura sp. 1 1.2 2 3.0 2 3.8 5 1.90 W
Columbina sp. 1 1.6 4 4.9 5 1.90 M/W
Laridae 2 3.2 2 2.4 4 1.52 M/W
Puffinus sp. 2 3.8 2 0.76 L
Charadridae 2 2.4 2 0.76
Diomedea sp. 1 1.2 1 0.38 M/W
Scolopacidae 1 1.6 1 0.38
Egretta sp. 1 1.6 1 0.38 L/M
Gallinula 1 1.5 1 0.38 L/M
chloropus
Strigidae 1 1.9 1 0.38 W
cf Asio sp.
Vultur gryphus 1 1.6 1 0.38
Bartramia sp. 1 1.2 1 0.38 M/W
Icteridae 1 1.2 1 0.38 M/W
Unknown bird 12 19.4 18 22.0 26 39.4 20 37.7 76 28.90
TOTAL 62 100 82 100 66 100 53 100 263 100
a Hirundo sp. not included.
b Habitat: L, littoral; M, marshy; W, woodland.
cutmarks suggesting the production of musical instruments. In the An-

des, wing bones of large birds are particularly prized in the manufacture of
flutes (Shady et al. 2003). Overall, the taxonomic analysis of bird remains
indicates the exploitation of the lagoon and marshlands adjacent to the
urban settlement of Caylán. Meanwhile, marine taxa appear limited to cor-
morants and seagulls.
The Caylán zooarchaeological sample is still limited and more research

is needed, but the absence of penguin remains could be significant. Peru-
vian penguins (Spheniscus humboldti) typically nest on rocky shores and is-
lands, zones readily accessible along the coast of Ancash. Other absent bird
taxa at Caylán include the Muscovy duck (Cairina moschata), pelican (Pele-
canus sp.), booby (Sula sp.), and heron (Casmerodius albus). More excava-
tions and zooarchaeological research at Caylán and elsewhere in Nepeña
are needed before solid inferences be made on the presence or absence of
these bird taxa from Early Horizon contexts.
In sum, bird resources at Caylán appear less systematic and more oppor-
tunistic compared to fish and mammalian taxa. Bird domesticates have so
far to be documented, and most of the wild taxa are rather small. Hunting
was clearly a significant option to acquire meat, but the relative small size
and low demographic densities of birds do not lend weight to the theory
that these animal resources are sustainable for a dense urban population.
Indeed, it appears unlikely that local populations of small wild birds (that is,
doves) were large enough to constitute a regular and predictable source of
animal protein for Caylán urbanites. At the same time, a sustained hunting
pressure on wild bird populations might have led to the extinction of such
species. Current data does not support such a scenario, as wild bird taxa
appear continuous throughout the occupational sequence at Caylán. In any
case, it appears that Caylán residents consumed marine fish and shellfish
(see Chicoine and Rojas 2013), as well as mammals, more systematically.
Mammals
At Caylán, camelids were sources of meat and bones, probably served as

pack animals, and may also have provided fibers. Camelids dominate the
osteological assemblage: 437 NISP for 37.41 percent of all mammalian re-
mains (Table 7.3). They are followed by dogs (Canis familiaris) (NISP=263,
22.52 percent), guinea pigs (Cavia porcellus) (NISP=235, 20.12 percent),
mountain viscachas (Lagidium peruanum) (NISP=20, 1.71 percent), sea li-
ons (Otaria sp.) (NISP=15, 1.28 percent), felines (Felis sp.) (NISP=6, 0.51
percent), and white-tail deer (Odocoileus virginianus) (NISP=4, 0.34 per-
cent). Llamas, dogs, guinea pigs, and mountain viscachas are ubiquitous
throughout the excavation units, while the distribution of felines, sea lions,
and deer appears more limited. It is unlikely that the Caylán felines were
consumed as foods. In contrast, llama and dog remains display traces of
butchering and burning (Figure 7.5).
Table 7.3. Absolute and relative frequencies for the number of identified specimens (NISP) of
mammal remains per context at Caylán
Mammalian taxaa NISP % NISP % NISP % NISP % NISP %
Lama sp.b 165 45.6 72 32.0 151 38.9 49 26.5 437 37.41
Canis familiarisb 46 12.7 46 20.4 144 37.1 27 14.6 263 22.52
Cavia porcellusb 73 20.2 63 28.0 42 10.8 57 30.8 235 20.12
Lagidium peruanum 10 2.8 6 2.7 3 0.8 1 0.5 20 1.71
Otaria sp. 1 0.3 7 1.8 7 3.8 15 1.28
Felis sp. 4 1.1 2 0.5 6 0.51
Odocoileus 1 0.4 3 1.6 4 0.34
virginianus
Unknown mammal 63 17.4 37 16.4 39 10.1 41 22.2 188 16.10
TOTAL 362 100 225 100 388 100 185 100 1168 100
a Muridae not included.
b Domesticates.
Figure 7.5. Butchering marks on osteological remains, including (a) right dog humerus
(caudal view, cut marks on epicondylar crest); (b) right condor ulna (proximal, transversal
section on foramen pneumatic); (c) left albatross humerus (distal, section on diaphysis);
(d) right camelid calcaneus (lateral view, cuts on posterior side of the body of the bone, on
top of the sustentaculum); and (e) camelid ribs (top: parallel cut marks on interior of rib,
middle/bottom: oblique cut marks on exterior body of ribs) (photo by David Chicoine).
Table 7.4. Anatomical parts of the camelid remains at Caylán

Main Mound Plaza-A Compound-E
Anatomical part (llama) N % N % N %
Cranium 12 14.8 3 6.1 10 13.7
Thorax 36 44.4 24 49.0 25 34.2
Anterior limbs 11 13.6 8 16.3 22 30.1
Posterior limbs 13 16.0 8 16.3 9 12.3
Feet 9 11.1 6 12.2 7 9.6
Total 81 100 49 100 73 100
For the llamas, the distributional analysis of anatomical parts across the
three main contexts of area excavations—Mound-A, Plaza-A, and Com-
pound-E—indicates consistency (Table 7.4). Throughout the excavation
contexts, sections of thorax dominate the llama remains, ranging from 34.2
percent of the total llama remains at Compound-E to 49 percent at Plaza-
A. Anterior and posterior limbs follow in importance. Meanwhile, remains
of crania and feet appear relatively on par with those of limbs, depend-
ing on the context. Out of the 203 bones recovered at Mound-A, Plaza-A,
and Compound-E, cutmarks are present on 23 bones (11.33 percent), while
19 (9.36 percent) are burnt. The majority of the cutmarks were observed
on ribs (NISP=14, 60.87 percent of total cutmarks), suggesting the body
parts were especially prized. Based on the shape and size of the grooves,
the butchering was likely performed with sharp stone and/or metal instru-
ments. The cutmarks at the joints suggest disarticulation rather than skin-
ning motions. Ribs show two distinct steps in the butchering process. First,
slicing motions are visible near the proximal ends of the ribs indicating the
intention to separate them from the thoracic spinal cord. Second, heavier
hacking motions are registered in the mesial sections of the ribs indicating
a desire to divide the rib cages in half or in more pieces.
Overall, anatomical observations do not lend weight to the acquisition
of camelid meat through traded packages consistent with the chark’i effect
(Miller and Burger 1995). Rather, the predominance of thoraxes, combined
with the representation of most anatomical parts, suggests that llamas were
butchered locally. The predominance of rib cages with cutmarks—espe-
cially at Mound-A and Plaza-A, two contexts likely involved in feasting
events—suggests the roasting of llama chops, perhaps as a delicacy.
It is still preliminary to draw conclusions about local herding prac-
tices. At Caylán, for instance, corrals, dung, or other indications of in situ
husbandry have yet to be detected. It is, however, significant that recent

fieldwork at Samanco allowed the discovery of a series of rectangular
rooms with large amounts of compacted camelid dung (Helmer 2015; this
volume). With a surface area of more than 800 sq m, the structure could
have easily housed up to 100 llamas. More research is needed on the Sa-
manco assemblage, but it appears possible that llama caravans were travel-
ing to the coastal center to move marine resources (see Szpak et al. 2016).
Dog remains are surprisingly abundant and ubiquitous at Caylán. All
excavation units have yielded dog remains, several of them showing cut-
marks, in particular on limb bones. Cutmarks on limbs indicate that dog
meat was consumed. It is significant that Shibata (2013) reports on the high
frequency of dog bones in the feasting refuse at Cerro Blanco. While Shi-
bata suggests that dog meat might have been related to feasting activities
and the food for high-status guests and visitors, the ubiquity of dog remains
at Caylán suggests a more widespread consumption, perhaps beyond elite
and feasting contexts. Preliminary data on dog morphometry and age sug-
gests a high range of variability inconsistent with standardized forms of
consumption. Rather, Caylán dogs might have been consumed opportunis-
tically. In north coastal Peru, the consumption of dog meat has been docu-
mented at several sites in the Jequetepeque Valley (Cutright 2009; Swenson
2004: 174), in a long tradition that appears to have lasted until Chimú times
in the late fifteenth century AD.
Guinea pigs are also well represented at Caylán. The animals were likely
consumed and perhaps used in ritual divination and other special activi-
ties (Sandweiss and Wing 1997). More information is needed on specific
butchering patterns. Finally, deer, sea lion, and mountain vizcachas are rep-
resented in lesser frequencies. Deer were likely hunted from the lomas and
adjacent forested areas. However, their limited occurrence indicates the
wild game was likely of minor importance in the overall diet, in contrast to
domesticated camelids, dogs, and guinea pigs.
Summary
Taxonomic analyses of vertebrate remains reinforce results from the anal-

ysis of shell remains and indicate that Early Horizon populations in the
lower Nepeña Valley exploited different littoral resources, including sandy
beaches and deeper shorelines (see Chicoine and Rojas 2013: 346, Table
1). Vertebrates also came from freshwater lagoons, marshlands, lomas, and
woodlands. The relative importance of each of these in local subsistence
Table 7.5. Absolute and relative frequencies for the number of identified speci-
mens (NISP) of the different vertebrate taxa per context at Caylán
Main Mound Plaza-A Compound-E
Vertebrate Categorya NISP % NISP % NISP %
Fish 279 39.69 233 43.15 331 42.17
Birds 62 8.82 82 15.19 66 8.41
Mammals 362 51 225 41.67 388 49.43
Total 703 100 540 100 785 100
Excavation volume 369 212 164
Density per cu m 1.91 2.55 4.79
a Amphibians, reptiles, and Muridae not included.
and meat input is still unclear, but in light of the richness, diversity, and
ubiquity of fish remains, it appears the sea provided the most systematic
source of wild animal protein. Most fish remains pertain to small to me-
dium-size fish such as sardines, drums, croakers, and sea bass likely caught
both from boats and from the Samanco shorelines. Sardines account for
more than 30 percent of NISP values, yet they are likely to be underrep-
resented. This could suggest a specialized form of fishery to supply inland
settlements and/or selective fishing strategies. Urban dwellers might have
received small fish, perhaps even preprocessed (for example, dried) (see
Marcus et al. 1999).
Sea birds and mammals are also present, albeit less frequently. Com-
bined with the high frequency (MNI=103,473) and ubiquity of marine
shells, mostly small intertidal clams (Donax spp.) (MNI=63,732, 61.59 per-
cent of total shell remains), marine resources appear to have occupied a
central place in Early Horizon coastal economies. In contrast, wild spe-
cies of birds and mammals, mostly hunted in the marshlands, lomas, and
woodlands adjacent to Caylán and beyond, occupied a more limited place,
perhaps due to the more sporadic and/or opportunistic nature of their
exploitation. Deer remains, for instance, are scarce and point toward low
cervid demographics in the lower Nepeña during the Early Horizon, their
inaccessibility to urban dwellers, and/or a preference for meat cuts from
mammal domesticates.
The high richness and diversity, yet low frequency, of bird remains sug-
gest an opportunistic exploitation of waterfowls and other small birds liv-
ing around Caylán, perhaps by a limited number of hunters. It is unclear
at this point whether these small birds were particularly prized. In con-
trast, the high frequency and low richness of domesticated mammals point
toward a more systematic and intense exploitation. Animal domesticates
were critical to Caylán dwellers, especially camelids. Although it is unclear
whether these were consistently raised and maintained within the urban
settlement, anatomical and taphonomic data indicate that llamas were
butchered locally.
Discussion
Zooarchaeological analyses of the Caylán assemblages bring preliminary

insights into inland patterns of consumption and the supply of marine re-
sources to groups traditionally seen as mainly involved in agrarian subsis-
tence strategies. At some point during the Nepeña Phase (800–450 BC),
populations merged to the northern margin of the lower valley, some three
hours’ walk from the Pacific littoral. It is unclear where these people came
from, but it is significant that the late Initial Period ceremonial construc-
tions at Cerro Blanco and Huaca Partida, located one to two hours’ walk
east of Caylán, respectively, were abandoned at the end of the Nepeña
Phase. The following Samanco Phase (450–150 BC) saw the peak of Caylán
as an incipient urban center with clear defensive, civic, religious, and resi-
dential functions. Based on current radiocarbon measurements (Chicoine
and Ikehara 2014), this important center was abandoned by the end of the
first century BC.
During its occupation, Caylán stood out as the largest population center
in Nepeña. It is hypothesized that several thousand people lived in some
form of urban lifeways, potentially detached from primary subsistence
activities, including farming, raising animal domesticates, hunting, and
fishing. From that standpoint, zooarchaeological studies have the poten-
tial to bring significant information to further develop this hypothesis and
inform on the consuming habits of Caylán dwellers. More specifically, ba-
sic assumptions about zooarchaeology and the development of complex
societies include (1) the increasing importance of networks of subsistence
interdependence between specialized communities, potentially under the
influence or control of some form of organized or centralized leadership
(for example, Pozorski and Pozorski 1979); and (2) the materialization of
increasingly salient social distances as viewed through differential access to
prestige goods, including animal products.
The marine shell evidence indicates that the collectors who supplied the
urban dwellers at Caylán exploited nearshore areas, focusing on both small
clam beds and rocky cliffs for small mussels and chitons. Although other
species were discarded at the site, their exploitation was likely opportunis-
tic. For instance, many of the smaller gastropods could have been gathered
inadvertently during the collection of economically significant species. At
the same time, some rarer taxa, including Prunum curtum, Fissurella crassa,
Olivella columellaris, Argopecten sp., and Spondylus, were used in the man-
ufacture of shell artifacts (see Chicoine and Rojas 2013: 354: fig. 9).
A comparison of the Caylán results with data from neighboring sites
provides insights into the diversity of maritime strategies and shellfish ex-
ploitation along the coast of Peru. In Nepeña, research at Huambacho, a
secondary satellite of Caylán, allowed the recovery and analysis of 11,274
MNI pertaining to 53 molluscan taxa (Chicoine and Rojas 2012). As for
Caylán, the triad of Donax spp., Perumytilus purpuratus, and Semimytilus
algosus largely dominate the sample with 80 percent of the total MNI. Yet, at
Huambacho it is significant to note that Semimytilus algosus is the most fre-
quent followed by Perumytilus purpuratus, while Donax spp. represents less
than 15 percent of the assemblage. The Huambacho data suggest a stronger
emphasis on rocky settings. Geographically, such biotopes are more abun-
dant in the southern portion of the Nepeña shoreline in the vicinity of Los
Chimús. Meanwhile, sandy strips are mostly found in the northern portion
of the littoral, in the area of Samanco. Combined, the Huambacho and Cay-
lán evidence suggests that both communities obtained seafood supplies by
independent collectors located in the southern and northern portion of the
Nepeña shoreline, respectively. The shell data thus suggest that maritime
resources, at least mollusks, were not part of a centralized system of re-
distribution, but rather composed of several entangled exchange networks
that linked specific communities and perhaps kin groups. Here, the main
defining variables for the access and consumption of seafood appear to
have been geographical proximity and availability.
At Caylán, and throughout coastal Ancash, current evidence from Early
Horizon contexts indicates a focus on a few mollusk species from specific
nearshore biotopes. Harvesters relied on simple technologies to exploit in-
tertidal zones including steep rocky cliffs and low-gradient sandy beaches.
Geographical proximity to each setting appears to account for the relative
importance of corresponding molluscan taxa in archaeological deposits.
Mollusks were mostly consumed in stews and soups, likely mixed with
cereals and legumes, and little evidence exists for marked differences in
access to certain, more highly valued seafood. Yet deposits sampled from
the monumental core at Caylán display more taxonomic diversity linked to
the use of shells in the production of body adornments and other artifacts.
Paleoethnobotanic analyses are ongoing, but preliminary results indicate
that Early Horizon inland populations relied on the dual exploitation of sea
resources and production of domesticated plant crops via irrigation farm-
ing, as well as smaller scale gardening (Chicoine et al. 2016). Whereas the
cultivation of maize and other crops was intimately linked to the extension
of irrigation networks which have the potential to be under the supervision
of a coordinated authority, the management and access to animal prod-
ucts provide a contrasting view. Mollusk resources, and most likely other
marine products, traveled in multiple independent exchange networks be-
tween coastal and inland communities. For example, Caylán consumers
were supplied by fisherfolk exploiting the sandy beaches around the area
of Samanco in the northern portion of the coast. The Huambacho sample
contrasts by being dominated by rock-perching mussels likely collected
from the southern portion of the valley, around the area of Los Chimús.
Overall, with the possible exception of camelid domesticates, Early Hori-
zon exploitation and flow of animal resources in the lower Nepeña Valley
do not conform to a pattern of strong, centralized political economy. More
information is needed on the preservation, storage, and redistribution of
animal products, but current evidence renders the scenario of a centralized
tribute or redistributive system unlikely. Rather, we hypothesize that urban,
rural, and coastal subsistence economies were enmeshed in complex and
heterogeneous arrangements structured by kinship, ritual calendars, debt
obligations, patron-role feasting, and other noncentralized forms of eco-
nomic exchange.
The social composition of the Caylán population can be assessed from
the perspective of access to meat and other animal products. The compari-
son of the osteological assemblages from three different contexts (that is,
monumental [Main Mound], semi-public/ceremonial [Plaza-A], residen-
tial [Compound-E]) offers insights into the intrasite distribution of animal
taxa at Caylán (Table 7.5). In all contexts, the respective relative importance
of mammals, fish, and birds is consistent. The relative frequency of mam-
mals is 41.67 percent at Plaza-A, 49.43 percent at Compound-E, and 51
percent at the Main Mound. Fish remains represent 39.69 percent at the
Main Mound, 42.17 percent at Compound-E, and 43.15 percent at Plaza-
A. Birds are limited to NISP ratios of 8.41 percent (Compound-E), 8.82
percent (Main Mound), and 15.19 percent (Compound-E). Preliminary dis-

tributional analyses indicate a consistent pattern in which animal resources
discarded at the three main excavation contexts are dominated by mam-
mals, followed by fish and birds. Mammal and fish differ little in terms of
NISP ratios. At the same time, the distribution of fish taxa based on their
size suggests potential differential access between the sectors at Caylán. In-
deed, while sardines are the dominant taxon at Plaza-A and Compound-E,
Peruvian grunts (Anisotremus scapularis) dominate the assemblage at the
Main Mound. At maturity, the latter average 40 cm in length, roughly twice
the size of sardines. Other medium-sized fish, including Cynoscion sp., are
also more common at Mound-A. More information is needed on the in-
trasite distribution of fish by size, but the preliminary results hint toward
a privileged access to larger fish by the users of the monumental structure.
In any case, large fish are rare throughout the Caylán assemblage.
Conclusions
In this chapter, we have presented and discussed macrofaunal remains

from the Early Horizon urban center of Caylán, Nepeña Valley (Ancash),
Peru. The recovery of shell and verterbrate remains allowed for taxonomic
observations. Insights into human-animal interactions at Caylán are par-
ticularly important to shed light on the process of urbanization that oc-
curred in coastal Ancash during the first millennium BC. Research indi-
cates the emergence of a dense urban agglomeration where most dwellers
could have been detached from primary subsistence activities and supplied
by neighboring farmers, hunters, herders, and fishers. Such socioeconomic
transformations had a profound effect on animal exploitation.
Results indicate that the Caylán deposits contain a rich assemblage dom-
inated by marine mollusks, fish, and birds, as well as domesticated mam-
mals. The high frequency of camelids, dogs, and guinea pigs indicates the
importance of animal domesticates in economic practices. Although it is
still unclear whether large-scale herding facilities were present at Caylán,
llamas clearly occupied a privileged place within Early Horizon diets and
socioeconomics. Based on their ubiquity and frequency, dogs and guinea
pigs were other significant mammals butchered on-site. Marine fish and
shellfish represented another viable, predictable, and heavily exploited
source of animal protein. Taxonomic data argue for the exploitation of
the waters around the Bahía de Samanco. The relative low diversity and
apparent select nature of fish remains at Caylán argues the existence of
specialized fishers who worked from the nearshore littoral, possibly with
small boats. In contrast, birds were preyed upon opportunistically in and
around the Caylán Lagoon, marshlands, and woodlands.
The Caylán data indicate a trend of increased reliance on animal do-
mesticates, mostly camelids, dogs, and guinea pigs. In Nepeña, the use of
domesticated animals appears to have begun during the transition from the
Cerro Blanco to Nepeña Phase around 800 BC. The practice later gained
momentum when people settled into more urban lifeways. The sea con-
tinued to provide rich, diverse, and heavy supplies of animal products, in-
cluding fish and shellfish, but llamas probably represented one of the most
valued animal resources for transportation, meat, bones, and hair.
Comparisons of zooarchaeological assemblages from neighboring Early
Horizon sites in the lower Nepeña Valley suggest the existence of interde-
pendent communities during the Samanco Phase. Strong similarities—in
architectural styles, building materials, spatial layouts, and overall material
culture—point toward shared cultural identities including cosmology and
ritual life (see Chicoine 2006; Chicoine and Ikehara 2014; Helmer 2015;
Helmer et al. 2018). From that standpoint, it is difficult at this point to en-
vision distinct ethnic groups involved in different and exclusive economic
activities. Rather, it appears that inland and coastal communities were en-
meshed in a web of interrelated political economic activities. At Caylán, ur-
ban dwellers were supplied through indirect systems of resource manage-
ment and distribution that likely depended on kinship, urban-rural-coastal
ties, and other channels that operated independently from more formal
political enterprises (for example, territorial defense, armed conflicts, and
diplomacy).
In sum, little evidence exists at the moment to lend weight to heavy
top-down control of the subsistence economy from Caylán, the largest set-
tlement and hypothesized primary center of the integrated lower Nepeña
system. Rather, animal products appear to have been channeled through a
multitude of networks. The attraction of Caylán might have resided in its
demographic density as well as its concentration of ritual spaces for com-
munal feasts and other public gatherings. This scenario somewhat con-
trasts with what scholars typically envision for complex agrarian societies.
More data are needed on the cultivation practices and the management
of surplus crops, but the Caylán animal research calls for a reassessment
of hegemonic economic models in the context of incipient urbanism, and
a reconsideration of the complexity and heterogeneity of human-animal
interactions in the development of Andean civilizations.
Acknowledgments
Many thanks to Gabriel Prieto and Daniel Sandweiss for the kind invita-
tion to contribute to the volume. Fieldwork at Caylán was sponsored by
Louisiana State University’s Office of Research and Economic Develop-
ment, and the Department of Geography and Anthropology. Laboratory
analyses were funded by a grant from the Louisiana Board of Regents (con-
tract number LEQSF [2011–2014]-RD-A-05). Thanks to the Ministerio de
Cultura del Perú for considering favorably and supervising the field proj-
ect (excavation permits 804/INC-050609, 1230/INC-280510), as well as to
Hugo Ikehara who codirected the excavations. Vásquez and Rosales carried
out the taxonomic analyses of the vertebrate remains, Rojas analyzed the
shell remains, and Chicoine drafted the text, figures, and tables.
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8
The Fisherman’s Garden
Horticultural Practices in a Second Millennium Maritime Community
of the North Coast of Peru
Gabriel Prieto
This chapter is a response to the view of Prehispanic fishing settlements as

exclusively specialized in maritime tasks. For this purpose, I will use as a
case study the site of Gramalote, an early Initial Period (1500–1200 cal. BC)
maritime community of Northern Peru.
The idea of fisher-farmers is not new in Andean archaeology. Junius Bird
(1948 a and b) argued that the people of the Late Preceramic fishing settle-
ment of Huaca Prieta cultivated a variety of plants in the nearby marsh-
lands. Bird inferred this conclusion based on the abundant macrobotanical
remains found in the rich deposits of this site. While living with his family
for 10 months next to Huaca Prieta, Bird observed that the local fishermen
and their relatives cultivated the wetlands in the vicinity to grow a num-
ber of species including gourds, chili peppers, maize, beans, and tomatoes.
Hence, a combination of personal experience, ethnography, and more im-
portant archaeological data were present in Bird’s mind to propose the idea
of fisher-farmers, arguing that “on the basis of field observations, it appears
that the huge midden deposits of this early time, . . . mark a cultural period
in which the local economy was based in part on a simple agriculture, in
part on fishing” (Bird 1948a: 180). This statement was a prescient vision of
the economy during the middle stages of coastal prehistory. The archaeo-
logical evidence from Huaca Prieta that supports Bird’s observations was
the discovery in the same context of fishing implements and seafood along
with digging sticks and cultivated plants such as cotton, gourds, squash,
chili peppers, beans, a root of the Canna genus, and a variety of sedges that
were presumably eaten (1948a: 180; Bird 1948b: 302). Detailed analysis of
Horticulture in a Second Millennium Maritime Community of Peru’s North Coast · 219
the macrobotanical remains of Huaca Prieta by Margaret Towle led her to

conclude that a simple type of agriculture was practiced including cucur-
bits, gourds, and lima beans (Towle 1961: 105).
Similarly, during his excavations in the Late Preceramic site of Asia–
Unit I in the Omas Valley, south-central coast of Peru, Engel proposed
that the inhabitants of this site based their daily subsistence in a mixed
economy that comprised an effective exploitation of the marine resources
and small-scale agriculture in the surrounding marshlands (Engel 1963: 6).
Later on, Edward Lanning interpreted the presence of cucurbits and other
food plants in the deposits of fishing settlements along the coast between
the Rímac and the Chillón rivers in the central coast of Peru as ineludible
evidence of early groups of people combining both activities for their daily
maintenance. Lanning called these groups “fishermen and squash farmers,”
who “began as both fishermen and farmers, then gradually gave up their
farming and adopted a diet almost exclusively of sea food” (Lanning 1967:
53). In Lanning’s view, the latter was the result of a coastal desiccation that
produced changes in the way of life of the early fisher-farmers of the central
coast of Peru. He goes further and suggests that, among the “fishermen
and squash farmers we find seeds of the littoral gathering and agriculture
that were soon to characterize life in ancient Peru” (1967: 56). Unfortu-
nately, none of these early projects were capable of demonstrating with
more convincing evidence the possibility of fishing settlements engaged in
cultivation practices. For example, they never distinguished or discussed
the presence/absence of nonedible parts of food plants as strong evidence
to contest the idea that those plants were cultivated in the surroundings of
the sites. On the other hand, at the time, pollen analyses were scarce if not
absent in the field and the identification of phytoliths and starch grains was
far from being applied to archaeology.
Soon after Lanning’s claims, Andeanists abandoned the idea of early
fishermen subsisting by a mixed economy of fishing and low-scale farming
to favor more systemic and economy-driven models of food specializa-
tion. The emergence of ecological functionalism in archaeological studies
was applied in other regions of the world to explain the origins of food-
producing economies. Processual archaeology saw as a key factor that one
of the causes of cultural change includes changing subsistence patterns.
The famous formula “culture = environment x technology” suggested that
reconstructing the technology and environment of a prehistoric culture
should make it possible to infer the key features of the rest of the culture
(Trigger 2007: 391).
220 · Gabriel Prieto
But prior to the emergence of Processualism, the influence of Julian

Steward’s ecological approach that viewed archaeological settlement pat-
terns as evidence of relations between human groups and the natural en-
vironment had a great impact on Gordon Willey’s later work on the Viru
Valley (Willey 1953) as well as on most of Andeanists archaeologists of that
period. As a consequence there was a preestablished condition to work
under the ecology-driven theories to explain cultural change in Peruvian
early societies.
Lanning had many followers, among whom was Michael Moseley who
also believed that “a hunting and gathering way of life was replaced by
fishing and littoral collecting which in turn was displaced by irrigation ag-
riculture” (Moseley 1975: 19). In this book, Moseley proposed the Maritime
Foundations of Andean Civilization (MFAC), setting a landmark for the
way in which some scholars working with Late Preceramic and Initial Pe-
riod cultures of the Peruvian coast would conceive Andean fishing settle-
ments for the next 30 years (Pozorski and Pozorski 1979; Feldman 1980;
Haas et al. 2004; Haas and Creamer 2006; Shady 2003, 2006, 2009). But at
the same time there were strong critics to Moseley’s MFAC (Osborn 1977;
Wilson 1981, Raymond 1981). In any case, it is undeniable that at least the
Late Preceramic and Initial Period sites of the Peruvian central and north
coast valleys relied on a mixed economy based on agricultural products
and marine resources, in which the latter played a prominent role in pro-
viding animal protein to the diet (Quilter and Stocker 1983; Quilter 1991;
Dillehay 2011, Dillehay et al. 2017).
Moseley’s view is also a neoevolutionary perspective in which maritime
resources played a major role in creating the “foundations” for a later au-
thoritarian agricultural model; this was effected through rulers from in-
land valley ceremonial centers controlling a sophisticated network of irri-
gation canals (Moseley 1975). In Moseley’s perspective, maritime resources
were the crucial factor that prompted an agricultural stage in which state-
hood was created. He immediately identified an asymmetric relationship
in which fishing settlements were constantly providing marine resources
(which supplied most of the population’s proteins) and, in return, were ob-
taining both cotton for their fishing nets and lines, and the carbohydrates
from food plants that were missing from their maritime diet. As a result,
the idea of fishermen sowing seeds in a field is a possibility that has been
theoretically and methodologically neglected over the years, mainly due
to two factors: the theoretical framework described before and the over-
whelming reliance on sixteenth- to eighteenth-century Colonial accounts
that referred to fishermen as not doing anything else but working on ma-
rine tasks, and not having access to lands (but see Ramírez and VanValken-
burgh, this volume).
Between the 1970s and the 1980s, Maria Rostworowski published im-
portant papers related to the linguistic, social, economic, and political
organization of the coastal fishermen under the Spanish rule. In these
contributions Rostworowski “delineates” the most salient characteristics
of a Prehispanic fishing community: (1) fishermen were full-time special-
ists; (2) the community salted and/or dried marine products for their own
consumption and for later trade with other inland valley communities; (3)
fishermen did not possess agricultural fields and did not invest time on ag-
ricultural activities; (4) fishermen were prohibited from exercising another
subsistence activity beyond the ones related to the ocean; (5) strong en-
dogamy relationships prevailed in the fishing community; and (6) fishing
communities had their own lingua franca (Rabinowitz 1983; Rostworowski
1975: 319; Rostworowski 1981: 89–90; Rostworowski 2004: 343). In a similar
way, Susan Ramírez, based on Spanish accounts of the sixteenth century,
presented the case of the political situation of the Chicama Valley on the
north coast of Peru during the last days of the Inca Empire and the first
years of the Spanish invasion. As part of these episodes, the Spanish ac-
counts referred to fishermen leaders who did not possess agricultural land
but had control over fisherfolks, the sea resources, and herds of camelids
(Ramírez 1995: 270; Ramírez this volume).
This ethnohistoric model has been evaluated based on excavations car-
ried out in Late Intermediate Period–Late Horizon sites, concluding that
the situation witnessed by the Spanish was very different from that in Pre-
hispanic times (Marcus 1987: 394; see VanValkenburgh in this volume).
Similarly, although there was a high degree of specialization among fisher-
men during these late periods of the Prehispanic sequence, the socioeco-
nomic situation of fishing settlements was much more dynamic and flexible
than the model stated on the written accounts from the sixteenth century.
In a pioneering study, Daniel Sandweiss tested two models derived
from the ethnohistoric sources. “Model I” suggests that fishing settlements
should be geographically discrete and should contain evidence only for
fishing subsistence practices. Additionally, the fisherman family has to be
the basic unit of production. Under “Model I,” the families also had their
own lords, so the fishing settlement should include both elite and com-
moner sectors. Under “Model II,” the main difference is that fishing lords
had attached specialists for their service (Sandweiss 1992: 16). Sandweiss
concluded that data from Lo Demás suggest that ethnohistoric Model II

applies to the Chincha fishermen elite groups and that Model I applies best
to nonelite members of the specialized groups. Interestingly, it seems that
the local lords controlled the production of gourd artifacts and cotton, due
to the presence of unprocessed cotton fiber and gourd seeds and cut rinds
suggesting that cultivation of these plants may have occurred in the vicinity
of Lo Demás (Sandweiss 1992: 145; Sandweiss 1996: 43; Sandweiss, personal
communication, March 2015). On the other hand, recent studies on hu-
man populations of the Gramalote site is challenging the idea of a close
endogamy among fishing settlements in the north coast of Peru, at least
during the Initial Period (see Sutter and Prieto in this volume).
In sum, Late Preceramic and Initial Period maritime settlements are be-
lieved to have been narrowly focused on the exploitation of the sea, while
later fishing settlements had a more flexible variation of subsistence ac-
tivities. Interestingly, in both cases they were politically and economically
controlled by larger and more sophisticated political entities who were not
fishermen. While there is no doubt of the political control over the most re-
cent Prehispanic settlements, the situation seems to have been quite differ-
ent in fishing settlements during the second millennium BC (Prieto 2015).
Food Producers and the Complementary Model for early

Andean Societies
For Moseley, the foundations of coastal civilization developed out of a mar-

itime economy (Moseley 1975: 4). In his seminal book the breakdown came
during the “ceramic stage” (Initial Period) where he saw a marked increase
in the reliance on plant foods. Local fruits and peanuts became a more
frequent part of the diet, as did large tubers. Previous experience of coastal
societies cultivating “industrial” crops such as gourds and cotton consti-
tuted the first and earliest evidence of intensive agriculture for this author
(Moseley 1975: 36). During this stage, a new and heavy utilization of arable
lands occurred in the Chillón Valley, on the central coast of Peru. Littoral
settlements were abandoned, as was the monumental site of El Paraiso, and
people took up inland residence to engage in farming as a consequence
of canal irrigation and the opening of desert land to cultivation (Mose-
ley 1975: 48). The segregation into different kinds of producers motivated
two groups as part of a “complementary model”: coastal fishing and inland
farming (Moseley 1975: 50). This model was not exclusively developed by
Moseley, however. In 1971, Thomas Patterson proposed that “the economy

of each community consisted of several different kinds of food-producing
activities that were carried out in different parts of its territory: fishing and
shell collecting along the coast . . . and irrigation agriculture with emphasis
on particular food crops in the middle parts of the river valleys. . . . a food
exchange system that made marine protein foods available to the inland
population and plant foods available to the inhabitants of the coastal fish-
ing villages” (Patterson 1971: 319). Indeed, more recently, Moseley has reaf-
firmed his position, arguing that “the positioning of canals draws farmers
inland. Agriculturalists tend to reside at valleys mouths and along the des-
ert littoral. This results in “a T-shaped maritime-oasis settlement pattern
with littoral communities strung along the coast and agrarian ones along
the perpendicular river courses” (Moseley 1999: 172–173).
Early Holocene Period societies along the modern coasts of Chile and
Peru were involved in specialized maritime activities (Lavallée and Julien
2012; Sandweiss 1996, 2008, 2009; Sandweiss et al. 1989, 1998; deFrance
2005), as well as in gardening and small-scale agricultural practices (Dille-
hay et al. 2012). More recently, and referring to early Holocene human ad-
aptations on the north coast of Peru, Tom Dillehay argued that the central
Andes is one of the few areas in the world where the coalescence of mari-
time and inland foraging economies set in motion long-term biological
and cultural processes that fostered social complexity and food production
(Dillehay 2011: 6; Dillehay et al. 2017).
Based on a model that prefers an “asymmetric complementary system”
with the support of ethnohistoric accounts, which sees maritime commu-
nities as specialized in sea activities and also as closed endogamy groups,
it has been taken as an axiom in the archaeology of the Late Preceramic
and Initial periods of the Andean region that fishing communities did not
perform other kinds of subsistence activities besides fishing and gathering
shellfish. This view is based on Lanning, Moseley, and Patterson’s work in
the 1960s on the Chillón-Ancón sites, plus the utilization of the same theo-
retical framework for the Norte Chico and the north coast of Peru.
In the following pages, I will present data from the Gramalote site that
are consistent with the idea that at least this early maritime community
was engaged in small-scale farming activities that provided carbohydrate
products for their daily diet as well as a source for industrial plants that
were used for their maritime economic activities.
The Gramalote Site
Gramalote is located on the coastline of the northern end of the Moche

Valley, 2 km south of the traditional fishing village of Huanchaco. The site
lies on top of a 13 m high marine terrace overlooking the beach (Figure 8.1).
The site of Gramalote is strategically located in an area where the inhabit-
ants had access to both sandy and rocky beaches. The heavy reliance on
a marine economy is confirmed by thousands of fish, marine mammals,
seabirds, and shellfish remains recovered, along with fishhooks, stone sink-
ers, and cotton fishnets. The presence of at least one miniature model of
a reed boat suggests that this device was already in use at Gramalote for
offshore fishing expeditions (Figure 8.2a). The site was organized into two
sectors during its height: a domestic sector in which the houses surrounded
a large open space or plaza, and a ceremonial sector located on the north-
east end of the site where a large rectangular building for ritual purposes
was erected (Prieto 2018 a and b). The inhabitants were also engaged in the
production of red paint that was based primarily on hematite and obtained
from a nearby local source; a smaller quantity was from cinnabar, which
was brought in from distant regions. The red pigment was used for ritual
ceremonies, body paint, and decoration for textiles and personal ornaments
(Prieto et al. 2016). In addition, there is evidence that Gramalote’s inhabit-
ants produced ceramic beads, and that they carved shells and seabird and
marine mammal bones into utilitarian and decorative objects. There are
three occupational phases supported by 10 radiocarbon dates taken from
secure contexts that are well correlated with the stratigraphic sequence of
the site; these dates range between 1500 and 1200 cal. BC (3450–3150 cal
BP).
The area between the site and the shoreline shows ample evidence that
extensive marshlands grew there in the past. This is confirmed by the pres-
ent-day salad grass or “Gramalote” (Distichlis spicata). This salt grass is
a biological indicator of a high water-table level in the area (Maldonado
1943). Indeed, natural springs and marshlands are still preserved 1.2 km
south of the archaeological site. In this environment, a number of reeds
(Scirpus californicus) and plants such as achira (Canna edulis) grow natu-
rally (Figure 8.3a, 8.3b, and 8.2c). Immediately south of these areas, there
is an extended marshland along the beach that has not been affected by the
urban growth of the modern city of Trujillo. In that area, the marine ter-
race is further toward the east, providing a wider area for marshlands and
natural springs which have been probably used since the Late Preceramic
Figure 8.1. Map of the Moche Valley, North Coast of Peru, with the location of the Gramalote
site (provided by the author).
Figure 8.2. Fishing gear recovered at Gramalote: (A) miniature of a reed boat, (B) fishhook
made of a sea lion fang, (C) stone net sinker, and (D) a bone net gauge (provided by the
author).
Figure 8.3. Present-day marshlands around the Gramalote site: (A) concentrations of reeds; (B) a large area with salty grass; (C) achira plants;
and (D) sunken gardens with totora reeds grown by fishermen living in the vicinity (provided by the author).
period. In fact, Padre Aban, one of the few Late Preceramic sites known in
the Moche Valley is located in that area (Pozorski 1976). The approximated
calculated area of wetlands located around Gramalote is 153 ha (Figure
8.3d).
On top of the marine terrace located 1 to 2 km southeast of Gramalote,
scattered stands of mesquite trees (Prosopis pallida) and other local fruit
trees and shrubs can be found. It has been suggested that this vegetation
is the result of the extensive Chimú irrigation technology during the Late
Intermediate Period (900–1470 AD) in that area (Moseley and Deeds 1982),
but it is also quite possible that these small stands of trees and shrubs grew
naturally in this area well before the Chimú—the trees are mainly located
in lower areas or natural depressions that have access to the high water
table.
Plant Procurement, Processing, and Consumption

at Gramalote
The heavy reliance on marine proteins in the Gramalote diet was com-
pensated by a consistent number of food plants, which included cucurbits,
beans, tubers and roots, fruits, and, in very low quantity, cereals such as
maize. This result is supported by 49 microbotanical samples taken from
soil, fragments of ceramic vessels, and lithic artifacts in which pollen, phy-
toliths, and starch grain remains were identified (Huaman 2012; Villanueva
2014). In addition, during the excavations at this site, a total number of
27,486 macrobotanical remains were recovered. From this sample, 18,382
were identified only to class and family levels, corresponding to wood frag-
ments, stems, peduncles, leaves, and carbonized remains (Ubillus 2014).
This large sample demands a more sophisticated analysis for species iden-
tification since its presence confirms that Gramalote inhabitants had plenty
of access to the nonedible parts of plants. Interestingly, 49 percent of these
remains are not burnt, suggesting that more than half of these plants were
not used as fuel. Therefore, the abundance of these types of macrobotanical
remains suggests that plants for food, fuel, medicine, craft, and so on were
easily obtained by the people of this ancient maritime community.
Remarkably, 9,104 macrobotanical remains were fully identified. These
diagnostic remains were mainly seeds, pods, flowers, stems, a few leaves,
fibers, floral axes, and epicarps. Tillandsia sp., a wild bromeliad, is the most
abundant plant and it was mainly used as fuel (Ubillus 2014). This plant
grows naturally on the slopes of the areas locally known as lomas, or fog
Table 8.1. NISP values of macrobotanical remains found at Gramalote
Primary source of food NISP
Phaseolus vulgaris Common beans 37
Cucurbita maxima Squash 25
Cucurbita maschata Loche squash 12
Phaseolus lunatus Lima beans 10
Zea mays Maize 7
Capsicum sp. Chili peppers 4
Lycopersicon sp. Tomato 2
Ipomoea batatas Sweet potato 1
Pachyrhizus ahipa Ajipa 1
Pouteria lucuma Lucuma 368
Persea americana Avocado 306
Arachis hypogaea Peanut 263
Bunchosia armeniaca Peanut butter fruit 242
Inga Feuillei Pacae 229
Psidium guajava Guayaba 3
Chondracanthus chamissoi Seaweed 332
Industrial Plants
Tillandsia sp Bromeliad 3,959
Lagenaria siceraria Gourd 2,354
Gynerium sagittatum Cane 345
Gossypium barbadense Cotton 303
Phragmites australis Cane 59
Furcraea sp. Cabuya 9
Schoenoplectus sp. Reed 101
Scirpus californicus Reed 71
Typha sp. Reed 42
Bixa orellana Achiote 2
Acacia macracantha Huarango 1
Distichlis spicata Salt grass 6
Possible Plants for Medicinal Use
n/i Cactus 5
Equisetum sp. Horse tail 3
Espostoa melanostele Cactus 1
Melocactus peruvianus Cactus 1
TOTAL 9,104
Compiled by author.
n/i Not identified.
NISP Number of identified specimens.
vegetation hills. Besides bromeliads, 16 species have been identified as a

main source of food, 12 for industrial purposes, and 4 possibly for medici-
nal practices, making a total of 32 identified plant species (Ubillus 2014;
Paredes 2018) (Table 8.1). The number of macrobotanical remains in this
sample (expressed in NISP) must be interpreted with caution, since con-
sumption and preservation issues would affect the relative abundance or
scarcity in the collection. A good case is when the remains of seed fruits,
tubers, and cucurbits are compared by their NISP numbers to determine
their importance in the Gramalote diet. Table 8.1 shows that fruits such as
lucuma (Pouteria lucuma); the peanut butter fruit, locally known as cansab-
oca (Bunchosia armeniaca); the ice-cream bean or pacae (Inga feuillei); the
avocado (Persea americana); and the legume peanuts (Arachis hypogaea)
are the most important food plants (based on macrobotanical remains)
due to their abundance in the archaeological record at Gramalote (Fig-
ure 8.4a, 8.4b, 8.4c, and 8.4d). The seeds of these fruits and the shells of
the peanuts (which are the most common remains of these species in the
archaeological deposits) are very strong and large, surviving better when
they are discarded after consumption. On the other hand, there is a poor
Figure 8.4. Macrobotanical remains recovered at Gramalote: (A) avocado seeds; (B)
cansaboca fruit seeds; (C) leaves of pacae trees; and (D) peduncles of a variety of squash
and gourds (provided by the author).
representation of beans (Phaseolus vulgaris; Phaseolus lunatus) and squash

(Cucurbita sp.) and almost no macrobotanical remains of sweet potatoes
(Ipomoea batatas), chili peppers (Capsicum sp.), or wild tomatoes (Lycoper-
sicum sp.). No macrobotanical remains of manioc (Manihot esculenta) were
recovered. However, when residue analysis was done on soil as well as ce-
ramic and lithic artifacts, manioc and sweet potatoes are the most frequent
(see Table 8.2). Beans are usually fully consumed and only occasionally are
the pods thrown away. Bean pods can be fuel since they are easily inflam-
mable, and they could have disappeared in the hearths of domestic units.
Similarly, manioc is fully consumed.
Gramalote shows an interesting pattern regarding the processing and
consumption of manioc. During Phases 1 and 2, manioc starch grains are
mainly present in large, elongated stone pestles, while only a few ceramic
fragments show the presence of these grains. It is possible that the maniocs
were directly broiled on the circular stone grills found in all the domestic
units of Gramalote, then smashed with the pestles, and finally consumed
with seafood. For Phase 3 there is a higher representation of manioc starch
grains in the ceramic fragments, suggesting that during the last occupation,
the inhabitants of Gramalote boiled this species in ceramic containers for
later consumption.
These examples make it clear that one must be careful when interpreting
botanical remains in residential settlements. The Gramalote case suggests
that a combination of macro- and microbotanical remains analyses are re-
quired to have a more accurate interpretation of the accessibility, process-
ing, and consumption of plants (Piperno and Pearsall 1993). The combina-
tion of these analyses led me to conclude that the Gramalote inhabitants
relied on cucurbits, beans, sweet potatoes, and manioc as their primary
source for carbohydrates. Wild tomatoes and chili peppers could have been
used as food condiments as traditional communities do today in the Moche
Valley. Maize was found in very low quantities. Only five macrobotanical
remains were recovered, and the identification of pollen, phytoliths, and
starch grains suggests that maize was present but not a major staple food
in this site. In a recent paper, Grobman reported 22 macrobotanical re-
mains of maize associated with the ceramic stage (4000–3000 cal. BP) of
the Huaca Prieta and Paredones site, located 29 km north of Gramalote
(Grobman et al. 2011: 1755–1756). These authors emphasize that maize only
appears intermittently through time and space at Huaca Prieta and Pare-
dones, suggesting that this crop was not a staple food in these sites when
compared with other plant and animal sources of food (2011: 1755–1756).
Table 8.2. Microbotanical remains found at Gramalote
Macrobotanical
Pollen Phytolith Starch grain remains
Food plants
Cucurbitaceae/ Cucurbita sp. yes yes yes
Capsicum sp. yes yes yes
Ipomoeba batatas yes yes
Manihot esculenta yes no
Solanum tuberosum yes yes no
Lycopersicum sp. yes yes
Phaseolus sp. yes yes yes
Zea mays yes yes yes yes
Cannaceae / Canna edulis? yes no
Persea americana yes yes
Inga feuillei yes yes
Pouteria lucuma yes yes
Trees
Acacia macracantha yes yes
Alnus sp. yes no
Podocarpaceae yes no
Prosopis pallida yes yes
Sambucus sp. yes no
Schinus molle yes no
Ulmaceae yes no
Shrubs
Ambrosia sp. yes no
Gossypium sp. yes yes
Capparis sp. yes no
Malvaceae no
Trixis sp. yes no
Mutisia sp. yes no
Ulmaceae yes no
Herbs
Chenopodium/ Amaranthus sp. yes no
Erodium sp. yes no
Physalis sp. yes no
Phyla yes no
Polygalaceae yes no
Taraxacum sp. yes no
Tillandsia sp. yes yes yes
Urocarpidium sp. yes no
(continued)
Macrobotanical
Pollen Phytolith Starch grain remains
Vicia yes no
Mimosoideae yes no
Euphorbiaceae yes no
Subfamily Festucoideae yes no
Sedges
Cyperaceae yes yes yes
Subfamily Bambusoideae yes no
Grasses
Subfamily Chlorideae yes no
Subfamily Pooideae yes no
Subfamily Panicoideae yes yes
Cactaceae
Haageocereus? yes yes
Compiled by author.
Therefore, the scarce maize remains at Gramalote and its counterpart from
Huaca Prieta–Paredores confirms that at least during the early Initial Pe-
riod (1600–1100 cal. BC/3550–2050 cal. BP), maize was not a staple food in
the fishing settlements of the Moche and Chicama valleys of the Peruvian
north coast (see also Burger and Van Der Merwe 1990).
The massive presence of not only fruit remains, such as lucuma, pacae,
avocado, and cansaboca, but also peanut remains suggests that these plants
were regularly available to the Gramalote community. They could have
been obtained directly from scattered dry-forest concentrations of trees
growing a few miles away from Gramalote, as suggested by the presence of
their pollen (mainly lucuma, pacae, and avocado) in soil and artifacts sam-
ples found in the site (Table 8.2). On the other hand, peanuts grow inland
in the valley, as do the other fruit species mentioned here. It is possible that
peanuts and certainly the fruit species were obtained through exchange
with contemporary inland valley communities. Although it has been sug-
gested that fruit trees were cultivated since the Late Preceramic Period and
during the Initial Period (Towle 1961; Moseley 1975; Shady 2003), no hard
data yet support this statement. The abundance of lucuma, avocado, and
pacae fruits opens the possibility that inland valley communities may have
grown these tree species. A chronological study of the seed sizes over time
is needed to confirm or reject this hypothesis. Alternatively, it is plausible
that the trees could have grown naturally in the valley and in the desertic
margins where the water table allowed them to develop. Among the tradi-
tional farming communities in the Moche Valley, fruit trees grow naturally
around the farmers’ houses, the margins of the agricultural lots, or along
the hydraulic canals or rivers. But since the deliberate planting of fruit trees
in the previous cases is still arboriculture, the idea of cultivating these spe-
cies is a strong possibility. Therefore, it is very possible that fruits during
the Initial Period were an easily accessible resource to all the inhabitants of
the littoral and valley. This situation could explain the massive presence of
fruits at sites like Gramalote. Obviously, as happens today, fruits from the
inland valley are more desirable because they have a better flavor and size
when compared with those growing in the lower sections of the valleys.
Similarly, products such as sweet potatoes and manioc were definitely
cultivated in the inland valley where the soil conditions were suitable for
those species. Therefore, their presence at Gramalote should be interpreted
as part of an active exchange system with inland-valley contemporary com-
munities, but not as part of an asymmetric economic relationship as was
proposed elsewhere (Pozorski and Pozorski 1979). Beans, squash, and chili
peppers are also grown in the inland valley and may be evidence of interac-
tion with inland communities, but as I will demonstrate, it is very possible
that these species were also cultivated in the surroundings of the Gramalote
site.
Evidence of Cultivation on Wetlands around

the Gramalote Site
Numerous ethnographic accounts in the Moche Valley referred to tradi-

tional fishermen cultivating small gardens next to their houses where they
grew primarily squash, beans, chili peppers, tomatoes, and even maize (Be-
gler 1970; Sabogal 1975; Soldi 1982). Today, one can verify that a few families
of the town of Huanchaquito where the Gramalote site is located are still
cultivating squash, chili peppers, and other species in wetlands next to their
houses. In addition, one should consider the fact that today traditional fish-
ermen of Huanchaco and Huanchaquito dig large rectangular sunken gar-
dens to cultivate totora reed (Scirpus californicus) for the materials neces-
sary to make both their reed boats (critical for their fishing activities) and
their mats for housing and resting purposes. Indeed, at the nearby Late In-
termediate/Late Horizon/Early Colonial Period site of La Joyada, north of
Huanchaco, archaeologists found evidence of fishermen cultivating reeds
Figure 8.5. Modern fisherman from Huanchaco cleaning and shoveling the edges of his
sunken totora-reed garden (provided by the author).
in sunken gardens (Kautz and Keatinge 1977: 88). This is not restricted to
the north coast. At the Late Horizon fishing settlement of Lo Demás in the
Chincha valley (south coast of Peru), evidence of sedge cultivation was
found in the commoners’ sector of the site (Sandweiss 1992).
Modern fishermen of the Moche Valley do cultivate totora reed, since
the sedge demands a 12-month growing period to reach the desired height,
thickness, and consistency. During this period, the totora reed requires
constant care, which includes clearing the sunken garden from intrusive
herbs and other species of reeds that could diminish its size and thickness,
building appropriate windbreakers to avoid the fog that burns the reeds,
and other tasks (Figure 8.5). All these activities are done in order to get
good yields of the totora reeds at harvest (Villalobos 1999).
But did the Gramalote fishermen grow reeds, cucurbits, and other food
plants in the surrounding wetlands during the second millennium BC?
Between the 1960s and the 1980s, there was an active debate about the
importance of cultivating large portions of wetlands along the Peruvian
coast (Parsons 1968; Rowe 1969; Moseley 1969; Parsons and Psuty 1975).
Although the conclusions reached at that time favored the idea that only
after the Early Intermediate Period was the cultivation of these extensive
areas economically significant for coastal societies, it does not exclude the
possibility that wetland cultivation was important to satisfy local-domestic
demands in small-scale fishing settlements. It is worth considering that a

geological process of progradation, which refers to the growth of a river
delta farther out into the sea over time, may have resulted in the old wet-
lands (in this case, Late Preceramic and Initial period) filling in and new
ones forming closer to the shore; this would have erased valuable evidence
from early farming activity in the wetlands during these periods. In the
future, a systematic program of coring could help to identify not only these
processes, but perhaps also evidence of farming activities in these areas
(Daniel Sandweiss, personal communication, March 2015). Indeed, recent
excavations carried out by Tom Dillehay in the wetlands located around
Huaca Prieta corroborated what Junius Bird proposed in the 1940s—that
Late Preceramic and Initial period fishermen of this site had indeed culti-
vated the surrounding wetlands (Dillehay et al. 2012; Dillehay et al. 2017).
The wetlands located around Gramalote have not yet been tested with
archaeological excavations, but a consistent set of 49 samples taken from
Gramalote at different occupational levels corresponding to soil samples,
as well as ceramic fragments and lithic artifacts, yielded an interesting di-
versity of starch grains, pollen, and phytoliths of plant species that could
have been grown naturally or that may have been cultivated in the sur-
roundings (Table 8.1). The presence of pollen suggests that the source of
the plant was in the surroundings, although the pollen of some species can
be transported several kilometers by the wind, by animals, or by people
bringing back plant parts that have the pollen. The presence of phytoliths
suggests that different parts of the plant are present in the site, such as
stems, leaves, fruit skin, and so on (Piperno and Pearsall 1993). I mention
this because a traditional model of specialized fishermen would imply that
what are mainly present in fishing settlements are the usable parts of plants,
rather than the whole plant. This is also a practical matter. If a fisherman
and his family had to walk several kilometers to contact the communities
that produced food plants, it would make sense for them to bring back the
least weight possible, which would imply carrying only the fruits, grains, or
legumes to avoid extra weight, especially if animal transport were lacking,
as was the case for fishing communities during the Initial Period.
The highest concentration of pollen and phytoliths remains found at
Gramalote indicates a great diversity of grasses and herbs growing in
the surroundings of the site as well as numerous sedges, confirming that
the ecological conditions during the second millennium BC were simi-
lar to those observed today. This is supported by the presence of multiple
aquatic diatoms from continental waters, which corroborates the presence
of freshwater sources in the surroundings of the site. But there is also an

interesting number of field invaders (herbs, grasses), which means that
when an area was cleared of its natural vegetation, it was covered by inva-
sive, noneconomic plant species. Today, when fishermen clear the surface
of wetlands covered by salt grass (Distichlis spicata) to dig their sunken
gardens, these areas are soon covered by different herbs (Villalobos 1999).
The discovery of the pollen of different field invader herbs in the Grama-
lote samples—such as Erodium sp., Physalis sp., Phyla sp., Polygalaceae sp.,
Urocarpidium sp., Mimosoideae, Euphorbiaceae, and a species of grass like
a member of the subfamily Panicoideae—strongly suggests the argument
that very close to the site, the inhabitants practiced small-scale agriculture
based on wetlands systems. Specifically, the inhabitants of this settlement
could have first cleared areas for cultivation and then grown different spe-
cies such as reeds, cucurbits, beans, and perhaps chili peppers. This is sup-
ported by the presence of cucurbit, bean, and chili pepper pollen in the
samples recovered at Gramalote.
Possibly, after the small gardens were harvested, these areas were left be-
hind and the invader herbs could have covered these spaces. Reports from
the Moche Valley indicate that during the Austral winter season (roughly,
April–September) the water table level along the coastline of the Moche
Valley is higher, suggesting that if any gardening activity occurred it should
have been during this season (ONERN 1973). Interestingly, winter is the
same season in which modern fishermen grow their reeds because during
the summer season they spend most of the time fishing offshore, while
their relatives are gathering shellfish and other products along the shoreline
and the adult women of the community are trading the marine products
around the valley. Gardening during the Austral winter season fits well with
an emerging food-production calendar for the Initial Period since most of
the efforts of the Gramalote inhabitants were concentrated on fishing large
fish species and marine mammals that approach the coastline during the
Austral summer (October–March). Possibly, during the summer season
the gardens were left behind and could have been covered by the abun-
dant invader herbs, present in large quantities in the archaeological record
today.
But food plants were not the only crops cultivated by the Gramalote
fishermen. The abundant presence of gourd shell fragments, seeds, and pe-
duncles contrast with the absence of gourd plant pollen or phytoliths in
the sample, although the pollen could be mixed with the cucurbit pollen
which is widely present in the site. In any case, today Huanchaquito is one
of the most important producers of gourds on the north coast of Peru. The
cultivation and later trade of gourds is perhaps part of a long-term tradition
that was reported at Inca coastal sites of the south-central coast of Peru like
Lo Demás in the Chincha Valley (Sandweiss 1992: 144). The modern gourd
growers argue that the soil of the surrounding marshlands in Huancha-
quito is perfect for gourd plants, which grow with the humidity produced
by the high water-table level. Since gourds were used by Gramalote fisher-
men as net floats, liquid containers, and serving wares, their cultivation
must have been a critical activity in the site’s economy. Elsewhere, I have
argued that the inhabitants of one of the houses excavated at Gramalote
could have been cultivating and processing this plant due to the abundance
of gourd remains on the house’s patio (Prieto 2014, 2015). Gourd remains
are not only present in the daily life of the Gramalote community, but are
also among the few elements included as part of funerary contexts, indicat-
ing the importance of this plant in the ideology of this site.
A large number of brown cotton fibers (usually shorter than the white
cotton fibers), as well as cotton leaves and stems, were found (Gossypium
sp.). The results of the pollen found in the Gramalote sample suggest that
cotton shrubs grew in the vicinity of Gramalote. Cotton pollen does not
move very far from the plant itself due to its weight (Oosterhuis and Jern-
stedt 1999). Its presence in the soil of the site plus the discovery of cotton
leaves, stems, and the abundance of the brown fiber are strong evidence
to suggest that at least this brown species was locally obtained. Recent bo-
tanical surveys confirmed the presence of local varieties of brown cotton
growing today along the arid coastline of the north coast of Peru (Fernan-
dez et al. 2003). In 1974 William Conklin noticed while studying the tex-
tile collection from the Gramalote site that almost all the fishing lines and
fishnets were made using a brown cotton fiber (Conklin 1974). My analysis
of the fishing implements recovered during the field seasons of 2010, 2011,
and 2014 corroborates Conklin’s conclusions about the uses of the brown
cotton fiber for fishing gear. The explanation is that the brown cotton is
thicker and therefore more resistant to the saltwater of the ocean. Indeed,
local fishermen showed me a wild cotton shrub that is still growing in the
vicinity of the Gramalote site. I was told that, in the past, local families
had a brown cotton shrub close to their houses so that they could use the
fiber for different types of cordages and fishing lines. It is not unreasonable
to think that, during the Gramalote times, inhabitants had brown cotton
shrubs in the vicinity to satisfy their demands, primarily to manufacture
their fishing devices. On the other hand, it is remarkable that most of the
woven and twined fabrics recovered at Gramalote were made using white
cotton, indicating that the brown cotton fiber could have been exclusively
used for fishing devices.
Although it is difficult to demonstrate archaeologically that totora reed
was cultivated instead of simply being collected in marshlands, it is possible
that during the early Initial Period, the necessity of making reed mats or to-
tora reed boats demanded the cultivation of this species. Today, wild totora
reed reaches a maximum of 2 m high (Roman 1967). On the other hand,
cultivated totora grows from 3.5 to 4 m high, at least 1.5 m longer than in its
wild state (Villalobos 1999). The difference in the size could be the result of
a genetic modification or simply the better conditions in which totora reeds
grow in sunken gardens. This is an open question for the future, and more
detailed analysis should be carried out at least with the Gramalote sample
to learn more about the totora cultivation in the past. Traditional fishermen
said that totora stems must be at least 3 m high in order to make a reed boat.
Totora reed was also important for matting. One household at Gramalote
seems to have been engaged in weaving baskets and mats out of totora
reeds (Prieto 2015). The excavation of the houses in the domestic sector of
the site produced a number of fragments of reed mats that could have been
used for resting and other domestic activities (Prieto 2018a). It is likely that
the roofs of the Gramalote houses were of totora reed mats. Thereby, totora
reed was a critical source for the local economy and it is quite possible that
annual cultivation of this species was required to guarantee its constant
provision for the inhabitants of the site. The frequency of reed fragments in
the archaeological deposits and the high presence of pollen and phytoliths
indicate that this plant was heavily used in Gramalote. Indeed, I suggest
that, without cultivating this species, it would not have been possible to
have met the demand of the inhabitants of this settlement.
The gardens were plowed, sowed, and harvested using a very simple
technology. For food plants such as cucurbits (including gourds), beans,
and chili peppers, it was important to find areas in the marshlands where
the water table level was far enough below the surface to allow the seeds or
plants to develop. For industrial plants, specifically the totora reed, it was
necessary to find areas where the water table was high. Therefore, a sense
of management and spatial distribution of the cultivated plants should have
played a critical role for a successful harvest. The presence of simple tools in
the archaeological deposits, such as digging sticks and stone hoes, suggests
that the Gramalote inhabitants used these kinds of tools for their gardening
activities (Figure 8.6).
Figure 8.6. Lithic tools (hoes) associated with agricultural activities found at Gramalote
(provided by the author).
Discussion
The evidence presented here suggests that plant cultivation in wetlands

was a critical activity for the Gramalote maritime community. Perhaps the
most important cultigen was the totora reed since it was use for manufac-
turing reed boats for offshore fishing activities as well as for housing and
for making baskets and mats. In addition, the Gramalote fishermen culti-
vated beans, squash, and chili peppers for local consumption in the vicin-
ity of their settlement. These species complemented a diet rich in marine
proteins, which was also supplemented by traded inland-valley products
such as manioc, sweet potatoes, avocados, peanuts, and different fruits.
This model counters the perspective that all Late Preceramic and Initial
Period Prehispanic fishermen were full-time specialists devoted uniquely
to maritime activities and not cultivating the land. The model becomes a
strong possibility when suitable conditions, like the presence of wetlands/
marshlands in the past, can be demonstrated archaeologically.
Although maritime activities were a primary source for subsistence
and identity among the Gramalote fishermen, wetland agriculture seems
to have been a critical part of their daily activities at least on the north
coast of Peru during the early Initial Period and perhaps during the Late
Preceramic Period (3,500–1,200/800 cal. BC [5450–3150/2750 cal BP]).

This long period of small-scale agriculture was not transformed into a sys-
tematic activity that produced surplus managed by emergent leaders. On
the contrary, it was a domestic activity designed to fill subsistence necessi-
ties according to the fishermen’s own needs. Indeed, it seems that for early
north coast fishermen groups, offshore fishing activities could not have
been performed without a well-planned cultivation of totora reed, since
this plant was critical for the manufacture of boats. In addition, the pro-
cessing of a brown cotton species that was grown close to the shoreline was
crucial for the manufacture of fishnets and fishing lines. This statement
suggests alternative models to the idea that early fishermen depended on
cotton growers in the middle valleys in the performance of their maritime
subsistence activities. The presence of cotton leaves, stems, and even seeds
at Gramalote corroborate this idea. Indeed, if cotton was a valued com-
modity or a strategic resource to control coastal populations, why are there
many cotton seeds in places like Gramalote? One would expect a higher
control over cotton seeds by inland authorities, especially if cotton grows
better in sandy acid soils like the ones present along the coastline in north-
ern Peru (ONERN 1973).
Fishing among early Initial Period fishermen relied on the local cultiva-
tion of certain plants to guarantee its success. The Gramalote evidence in-
dicates that fishermen were able to cultivate and manage gourd, reeds, and
even a more resistant species of cotton by themselves, rather than depend
on inland chiefs to obtain these plants for the success of their maritime en-
terprises. In terms of subsistence, the carbohydrate input in the diet could
have been filled with squash, beans, and chili peppers locally grown and
perhaps by collecting fruits from tree relicts located in the surrounding
of the site. Since other food plants like manioc, sweet potatoes, fruits, and
peanuts seems to be important in the Gramalote diet, their presence could
be the result of a trading network established between fishing and farming
communities, instead of an asymmetric relationship of farmers controlling
the means of production (that is, cotton) and the carbohydrate input into
the fishermen’s diet. Therefore, the fishermen’s garden became a critical
resource for the maintenance and continuity of their maritime economic
activities. As I was told once by an elder from Huanchaco: “A fisherman
could be tending his nets in the ocean during the morning and taking care
of his sunken gardens in the afternoon; one activity could not be accom-
plished if the other is abandoned.”
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9
The Ethnogenesis of Pescador Identity
The Implications of Biodistance Analyses of Initial Period
(1500–1200 BC) Human Remains from Gramalote, Peru,
for our Understanding of the Social and Economic Dynamics
of Ancient Andean Maritime Communities
Richard C. Sutter and Gabriel Prieto
It is clear that boundaries persist despite a flow of personnel across them.

In other words, categorical ethnic distinctions do not depend on an ab-
sence of mobility, contact, and information, but do entail social processes
of exclusion and incorporation whereby discrete categories are maintained
despite changing participation and membership in the course of individual
life histories. Secondly, one finds that stable, persisting, and often vitally
important social relations are maintained across such boundaries, and are
frequently based precisely on the dichotomized ethnic statuses. That is,
ethnic distinctions do not depend on an absence of social interaction and
acceptance, but are, quite to the contrary, often the very foundations on
which embracing social systems are built (Barth 1969: 9–10). Ethnogensis
is the process by which ethnic groups are formed and continuously change
(Roosens 1989). While nearly all scholars agree that ethnic identity often
involves assigning importance to perceived affinities among individuals as
well as some sense of differences among groups (Barth 1969; Bentley 1987;
Drummond 1980; Southall 1976; Yinger 1994), ethnicity remains a difficult
concept to define and is influenced by a multitude of factors (Barth 1969;
Carr and Neitzel 1995; Yinger 1994). Further, defining and identifying eth-
nic groups presents unique challenges for those trying to apply the concept
to the archaeological record (Aldenderfer and Stanish 1993; Bawden 1993;
Bermann 1994; Stovel 2013). Although ethnically based group affinities and
differences are often expressed culturally through both material objects and
248 · Richard C. Sutter and Gabriel Prieto
shared, group-specific behavior (Bentley 1987; Bourdieu 1977), there is no

a priori reason to assume that any given culturally based behavior (that is,
artifact manufacture and use, archaeological features, cranial deformation,
and so on) will be an indicator of group affiliation (Sutter 2005). This is
because group formation and affiliation have been shown to often be situ-
ational (Geary 1983). Indeed, there may be different social contexts that
evoke different group affiliations (Bentley 1987; Cohen 1981) and instances
when individuals will hold multiple ethnic identities that are not necessar-
ily mutually exclusive (Keyes 1976).
The importance and distinctiveness of Peruvian fisherfolk, or pesca-
dores, and their complementary role in coastal valley economies feature
prominently in a number of early ethnohistoric accounts, and archaeologi-
cal evidence indicates that large permanent fishing communities existed
for centuries before. What is unclear is the degree to which, if any, these
communities remained genetically distinct from other contemporaneous
inland communities.
In her seminal work, Rostworowski (1976, 1977, 1981) contends that
coastal polities and communities developed from independent pescador
coastal traditions with considerable time depth. These coastal populations
relied heavily upon marine resources as a source of food and trade, and
were characterized by their own languages and belief systems, and—ac-
cording to Rostworowski—pertained to politically autonomous, indig-
enously evolved, coastal señoríos (local kingdoms) that traded extensively
in dried fish, Spondylus shells, guano, and other marine resources with their
adjacent agropastoral coastal valley neighbors. This view evokes a fairly es-
sentialist perspective on pescadores and pescador ethnic identity.
In contrast, Ramírez’s (1995) work, while largely supporting much of
Rostworowski’s assertions regarding the economic importance and persis-
tence of pescador traditions on the north coast of Peru, provides a more
subtle understanding of the fluidity of pescador and agricultor identities
during the early Colonial Period by documenting how such identities
were not neat dichotomies. Rather, individuals often supplemented their
subsistence by participating in differing economic activities, and would
sometimes shift their economic focus during times of environmental dis-
turbance.
Here we report preliminary biodistance analyses for 42 individuals from
the north coast, early Initial Period (1500–1200 BC) fishing community
of Gramalote of the Moche Valley (see Prieto, this volume) by first plac-
ing them into a broader evolutionary context, and then discussing their
Biodistance Analyses of Initial Period Human Remains from Gramalote, Peru · 249
relative similarity or distinctiveness from other roughly contemporaneous

and subsequent populations from the region. In doing so, we hope to also
shed light on the emergence of pescador ethnic identity. We begin by briefly
describing previous research on the population dynamics for the central
Andes and the archaeological background for Gramalote.
Prehistoric Population Dynamics of the Andes
The late Christy Turner’s (1983, 1985, 1990) research on nonmetric tooth
and cusp trait variation provided some of the first systematic models for
the peopling of the Americas. He based his tripartite model, or three-wave
model, for the peopling of the Americas on his identification of two broad
suites of tooth-trait complexes that he referred to as Sundadonty—which
he suggested was more ancient—and Sinodonty. In brief, the Sundadont
tooth-trait complex is typified by lower frequencies of genetically influ-
enced tooth cusp and root traits and tends to characterize South East Asian
and Pacific Island peoples. Sinodont populations, on the other hand, are
typified by higher frequencies of complex cusps and roots. According to
Turner’s seminal work, all Northeast Asian and Native American popu-
lations—including South Americans—are characterized by Sinodonty.
As important as his research was, he lumped all South Americans of all
regions and time periods into a single sample, thereby glossing over any
subtleties in tooth-trait variation and prehistoric population dynamics for
the continent. Further, most dental anthropologists—including one of the
authors of this chapter—have questioned Turner’s typological Sundadonty/
Sinodonty dichotomy and instead use the terms to describe polar extremes
along what represents a range of tooth-trait variation.
As part of a broader research program on the prehistoric peopling of the
Andes and South America, Sutter has previously reported (Sutter 2009b)
on tooth-trait variation for more than 3,500 prehistoric Andeans repre-
senting 52 well-provenienced samples. Counter to Turner’s assertion that
South America and the Andes were peopled by a single sinodont migratory
wave, Sutter has documented that a geotemporal variation existed that sug-
gests Andean Paleoindians and their Preceramic descendants were largely
replaced by a demographically driven wave of gene flow associated with
the expansion of food-producing populations who interbred with neigh-
boring foragers. This demographically driven wave began earliest in the
northern Andes and proceeded south toward the Southern Cone where
its impact was dramatically reduced due to a smaller population size and
density—relative to the Central Andes—and the reduced agricultural pro-

ductivity in the Atacama Desert region.
In a pending manuscript, Sutter (in press) reports on the comparison of
his biodistance results to hypothetical genetic models for the peopling of
the Andes that include a single migratory wave, the complete replacement
of Paleoindian and Preceramic populations by food producers, and the
more subtle demic expansion model. When expected geographic variation
is removed, both the complete replacement and demic expansion models
are highly correlated with the biodistance results. However, further test-
ing that removes the impact of each competing model indicates that the
demic expansion model significantly outperforms the complete replace-
ment model.
Given the tooth-trait variation and biodistance results for prehistoric
Andeans, one of us hypothesized (Sutter 2009a, in press) that the timing of
this demic expansion corresponds with the shift to food production in the
northern Andes that began some time during the Late Preceramic and then
subsequently expanded southward. Accordingly, Initial Period and Early
Horizon populations of the central Andes would already be characterized
by relatively higher frequencies of Sinodont tooth traits. However, until
now, what has been lacking are well-provenienced skeletal populations
from the Initial Period. The 42 individuals excavated by Gabriel Prieto at
the Initial Period site Gramalote, therefore, provide a unique opportunity
to further examine both the timing of the demographically driven expan-
sion of food producers and their relative similarity or distinctiveness from
other roughly contemporaneous and subsequent populations from the
region. Further, by examining Gramalote’s relations to the region’s subse-
quent populations, we might also shed light on the nature of the origins of
pescador identity.
The Gramalote Site
As described elsewhere in this volume (see Prieto in this volume), the site
of Gramalote was an Initial Period fishing community located in the Moche
Valley, near the modern city of Trujillo and 2 km south of the fishing village
of Huanchaco (Prieto 2018a and b). The site is located along a plateau that
runs parallel to the coast, 13 m above sea level and 250 m from the shore-
line covering approximately 3.5 ha and was strategically located nearby to
both marine and other important resources (Prieto 2018a). Faunal remains
clearly indicate that marine resources were both consumed and processed
at Gramalote, with an abundance of clams, mussels, sharks, stingrays, sea

mammals, and sea birds having been consumed and processed at the site
(Prieto 2015). However, agricultural products were also recovered from
the site, clearly indicating that inhabitants of Gramalote engaged in com-
plementary exchange relations with inland agriculturalists. As described
elsewhere, both the grave offerings and ritual caches of marine animals
at Gramalote speak to the emergence of maritime rituals and ceremonial
traditions that may represent the long-enduring antecedents of subsequent
north coast pescador ceremonial traditions (Prieto 2018b). Over the course
of two field seasons, a total of 42 individuals were excavated from domestic
and ceremonial structures. The examination of the genetically influenced
tooth cusp and root traits of those individuals represents the basis of this
chapter.
Materials and Methods
Data for 31 nonmetric tooth traits were recorded for the human remains
from Gramalote using standardized casts and descriptions (Turner et
al. 1991), and were then used to derive estimates of genetic distance and
variation among a select number of skeletal samples from the region. In
addition to the skeletal remains from Gramalote, dental trait data for 18
samples were selected based either upon their temporal relevance or their
geographic proximity (Table 9.1). Detailed discussions of sample composi-
tion can be found in previous publications (Sutter 2009 a and b; Sutter and
Cortez 2005).
In order to make dental trait scores reported here comparable to those
reported in other studies, teeth were scored according to the “individual
count” method described by Turner and Scott (1977); in cases where an in-
dividual exhibited asymmetry in the expression of a given trait the greatest
level of expression is used. Prior to conducting biodistance analyses, traits
with fewer than 10 observations per skeletal sample were eliminated. This
resulted in the retention of 16 tooth cusp and root traits. Additionally, those
individuals who were missing observations for more than 25 percent of the
remaining traits were eliminated from analyses.
This study estimates levels of genetic diversity (FST) (Relethford 1996,
2003; Relethford and Blangero 1990; Relethford et al. 1997; Williams-
Blangero 1989 a and b; Williams-Blangero and Blangero 1989) and genetic
distances between the samples being studied using the R- (relational) ma-
trix method (Relethford 2003; Relethford and Blangero 1990; Relethford
Table 9.1. Information regarding the 19 prehistoric Andean skeletal samples ex-
amined by this study
Sample
Skeletal Sample/Location Affiliation Size Time Period
1) Paleoindian Throughout Andes 34 Pre-8000 BC
Jequetepeque Valley
2) Pacatnamú Moche III–IV 31 AD 300–500
Chicama Valley
3) Huaca Prieta Cotton Preceramic 40 3100–1800 BC
Moche Valley
4) Gramalote Initial Period 52 1550–1250 BC
5) Cerro Oreja Salinar (Sal) 65 ~300–200 BC
6) Cerro Oreja Early Gallinazo (G1) 128 ~200–100 BC
7) Cerro Oreja Middle Gallinazo (G2) 93 ~100 BC–AD 1
8) Cerro Oreja Late Gallinazo (G3) 76 AD 1–200
9) Huaca de la Luna Moche IV–Urban Sector 37 AD 300–600
(US)
10) Huaca de la Luna Moche III–IV–Platforms 63 AD 200–600
11) Huaca de la Luna Moche IV–Plaza 3A 42 AD 600–650
Tablachanca Valley
12) La Galgada Cotton Preceramic 28 2850–1950 BC
Central Peruvian Coast
13) Rio Seco Late Preceramic 28 1900–1733 BC
14) Paloma Middle Preceramic 92 5700–2800 BC
15) Chilca I Late Preceramic 23 1800–1733 BC
16) Asia Late Preceramic 31 3000–1262 BC
Paracas Penninsula
17) Paracas I Early Horizon–Paracas 46 ~400–200 BC
18) Cabezas Largas Early Horizon–Paracas 50 ~400–200 BC
19) Faldas Early Horizon–Paracas 31 ~400–200 BC
et al. 1997) using a code written by Lyle Konigsberg for the open-source
statistical program R. The R-matrix provides an estimate of sample vari-
ability and the degree of similarity to other samples being compared. The
R-matrix analysis provides phenetic distances (the Mahalanobis distance),
which reveal the patterns of genetic relatedness primarily due to gene flow
and ancestral-descent relationships among the samples, as well as estimates
of the effects of genetic drift and gene flow, or FST. Theoretically, those
populations that frequently shared mates will be characterized by smaller
distances between them than those populations that rarely shared mates,
while populations that frequently shared mates should have small FST val-
ues (populations exhibiting no differences between them will have an FST =
0), and comparisons between those that rarely shared mates will have large
FST values. The Mahalanobis generalized distance (d2) for binary epigenetic
traits (Konigsberg 1990) is calculated as a biodistance measure between two
skeletal samples, which represents the minimum genetic distance between
two groups being compared (Williams-Blangero 1989b). For this chapter,
we subject the resulting biodistance matrix to multidimensional scaling
(MDS) analysis using 2 dimensions for the purposes of interpretability
(Kruskal and Wish 1984).
Results of Biodistance Analyses
For the purposes of biodistance comparisons, trait reduction or winnow-

ing was first necessary because some of the comparative samples exhibited
excessive missing values. This resulted in the retention of only nine tooth
cusp and root traits. However, examination of the full battery of traits pres-
ent for the Gramalote skeletal sample (not presented here for the sake of
brevity) indicates relatively intermediate to high frequencies of shoveling,
double shoveling, and other traits that represent increased molar cusp and
root size, number, and complexity.
R-matrix Results
The FST for the 19 prehistoric skeletal samples is 0.019 (se = 0.006), and
differs significantly from 0.0 (p < 0.05). These levels of genetic variabil-
ity are similar to values reported for other prehistoric skeletal populations
(see Nystrom 2006; Stojanowski 2005) and indicate that there was rela-
tively little genetic isolation among any of the subset of samples used in this
more limited comparison. The biodistances resulting from the R-matrix
analysis are presented in Tables 9.2a and 9.2b. If the relationships between
Gramalote and the other regionally and temporally relevant samples are
examined, it is apparent that the Gramalote sample is most similar (values
<2.0) to the Early Horizon Paracas I and Cabezas Largas samples from the
Paracas Peninsula as well as the nearby Moche III–IV period Pacatnamú
sample from the nearby Jequetepeque Valley. Likewise, Gramalote is, phe-
netically, relatively similar to other Moche Valley samples. Interestingly,
with the exception of the central coastal Middle Preceramic Period sample
from La Paloma, the Gramalote sample is least similar to the samples that
Table 9.2a. Mahalanobis’ d2 values for the 19 prehistoric Andean skeletal samples examined by this study
Site Paleo Pacatnamu Huaca Prieta Gramalote Co Oreja-Sal Co Oreja-G1 Co Oreja-G2 Co Oreja-G3 HL-US
Paleoindian 0.00 5.56 7.25 5.36 6.17 8.01 6.40 9.49 9.47
Pacatnamu 5.56 0.00 2.16 1.81 2.35 1.65 1.49 1.57 1.29
Huaca Prieta 7.25 2.16 0.00 5.29 5.49 4.74 4.96 4.69 3.62
Gramalote 5.36 1.81 5.29 0.00 2.82 3.70 2.50 3.39 2.88
Co Oreja-Sal 6.17 2.35 5.49 2.82 0.00 1.70 0.98 1.88 2.02
Co Oreja-G1 8.01 1.65 4.74 3.70 1.70 0.00 1.82 1.29 1.36
Co Oreja-G2 6.40 1.49 4.96 2.50 0.98 1.82 0.00 0.64 1.33
Co Oreja-G3 9.49 1.57 4.69 3.39 1.88 1.29 0.64 0.00 0.58
HL-US 9.47 1.29 3.62 2.88 2.02 1.36 1.33 0.58 0.00
HL-Platforms 6.14 3.46 2.75 3.02 4.83 5.73 4.54 5.52 3.78
HL-Plaza 3A 7.32 2.64 3.36 4.19 3.62 3.50 3.91 4.65 3.49
La Galgada 6.28 5.09 5.75 6.27 4.25 5.19 5.65 7.46 5.78
Rio Seco 1.81 2.68 2.33 3.84 3.83 4.39 3.91 5.27 4.65
Paloma 5.42 2.00 2.48 2.22 4.10 4.80 4.45 4.82 3.06
Chilca I 5.10 5.67 4.27 5.27 7.63 7.61 9.47 10.73 8.36
Asia 2.37 2.85 2.95 4.33 4.63 4.25 3.94 5.43 5.48
Paracas 6.79 1.74 3.36 1.62 5.28 3.79 4.20 3.72 2.94
Cab Largas 3.85 1.95 2.77 1.91 2.98 4.22 2.92 4.08 2.67
Faldas 6.05 1.63 3.04 3.22 4.29 3.97 1.89 2.32 2.21
Huaca de la Luna–Urban Sector.
Table 9.2b. Mahalanobis’ d2 values for the 19 prehistoric Andean skeletal samples examined by this study (continued from Table 9.2a)
HL- HL-
Site Platforms Plaza 3A La Galgada Rio Seco Paloma Chilca I Asia Paracas Cab Largas Faldas
Paleoindian 6.14 7.32 6.28 1.81 5.42 5.10 2.37 6.79 3.85 6.05
Pacatnamu 3.46 2.64 5.09 2.68 2.00 5.67 2.85 1.74 1.95 1.63
Huaca Prieta 2.75 3.36 5.75 2.33 2.48 4.27 2.95 3.36 2.77 3.04
Gramalote 3.02 4.19 6.27 3.84 2.22 5.27 4.33 1.62 1.91 3.22
Co Oreja-Sal 4.83 3.62 4.25 3.83 4.10 7.63 4.63 5.28 2.98 4.29
Co Oreja-G1 5.73 3.50 5.19 4.39 4.80 7.61 4.25 3.79 4.22 3.97
Co Oreja-G2 4.54 3.91 5.65 3.91 4.45 9.47 3.94 4.20 2.92 1.89
Co Oreja-G3 5.52 4.65 7.46 5.27 4.82 10.73 5.43 3.72 4.08 2.32
HL-US 3.78 3.49 5.78 4.65 3.06 8.36 5.48 2.94 2.67 2.21
HL-Platforms 0.00 3.07 3.88 2.43 2.30 3.12 3.05 3.55 1.15 2.93
HL-Plaza 3A 3.07 0.00 1.18 4.01 4.79 4.68 3.46 4.44 2.46 3.40
La Galgada 3.88 1.18 0.00 4.09 6.12 4.63 4.15 7.63 3.00 5.65
Rio Seco 2.43 4.01 4.09 0.00 2.33 2.91 0.91 3.56 1.44 2.95
Paloma 2.30 4.79 6.12 2.33 0.00 3.35 4.56 2.17 1.15 3.73
Chilca I 3.12 4.68 4.63 2.91 3.35 0.00 3.74 4.92 3.51 8.03
Asia 3.05 3.46 4.15 0.91 4.56 3.74 0.00 4.18 2.86 2.95
Paracas 3.55 4.44 7.63 3.56 2.17 4.92 4.18 0.00 2.41 2.60
Cabezas Largas 1.15 2.46 3.00 1.44 1.15 3.51 2.86 2.41 0.00 1.85
Faldas 2.93 3.40 5.65 2.95 3.73 8.03 2.95 2.60 1.85 0.00
HL Huaca de la Luna.
either slightly predate or overlap in time (that is, Asia, Chilca I, La Galgada,
Rio Seco, and Huaca Prieta).
As one of us has previously reported (Sutter 2009a, in press), these sam-
ples likely represent more direct descendants of the Paleoindians, whereas
the Early Horizon samples from Paracas and Early Intermediate Period
samples from the Moche and Jequetepeque valleys exhibit significantly
more influence from the demographically driven population expansion of
food producers. Importantly, the phenetic similarities between the Grama-
lote and Paracas Peninsula samples are likely not due to a direct ancestral-
descent relationship. Rather, a more likely interpretation is that by the Early
Horizon the populations of the Paracas Peninsula had received similar lev-
els of gene flow due to the demographically driven expansion of food pro-
ducers, as did north-coast populations by the Initial Period. On the other
hand, an ancestral-descent relationship is likely to have existed between
north-coast Initial Period populations and subsequent Early Horizon (Sa-
linar) and Early Intermediate Period (Gallinazo and Moche) descendants.
Multidimensional Scaling of Biodistances
The graphical representation of the resulting biodistances (Tables 9.2a and

9.2b) produced using Multidimensional Scaling procedures captured more
than 99 percent of the total variation, and the final stress of the solutions
was low (Figure 9.1). Inspection of the results reveals the same geotem-
poral trends reported elsewhere (Sutter 2009b) and accurately reflect the
trends that are apparent from inspection of Tables 9.2a and 9.2b: the Initial
Period Gramalote sample clearly is placed with other samples that are as-
sociated with demic expansion of food-producing populations and sup-
ports the assertion that the impact of the expansion most likely occurred
earlier in the northern Andes, and proceeded south at some time prior to
the Initial Period. As one of us had previously hypothesized (Sutter 2009b),
the Initial Period populations of the central Andes would already be char-
acterized by relatively higher frequencies of more complex tooth cusp and
root traits (that is, sinodonty). More specifically, these results indicate that
the Moche Valley coastal population represented by the Gramalote sample
was neither genetically nor culturally isolated, but instead, clearly engaged
in long-standing north coast mate-exchange networks with agropastoral
populations from the adjacent coastal valley.
Figure 9.1. The 2-dimensional multidimensional scaling solution using the R-matrix de-
rived biodistances (d 2) for Gramalote and 18 comparative prehistoric Andean skeletal
samples. The Paleoindians and Preceramic Period sample representing their descendants
are delineated on the right-hand side of the solution, while Gramalote and other samples
represent food-producing populations of the north and south coast of Peru (provided by
the authors).
Discussion and Conclusions
The biodistance results of this study indicate that many of the central-An-
dean coastal populations did not remain genetically isolated during the
demic expansion of food-producing populations. If that were the case,
then we would expect that skeletal samples from maritime Initial Period
and Early Horizon samples would exhibit low levels of genetic variability
and would have remained genetically isolated from (that is, more similar
to the Paleoindians and other Preceramic samples) other subsequent and
coastal valley agropastoral samples. Instead, it seems that later central-An-
dean maritime populations, such as those represented by Gramalote and
the Early Horizon samples from the Paracas Peninsula, differed dramati-
cally from earlier Preceramic maritime populations from the same region.
Importantly, the genetic impacts of the demographically driven changes
associated with the higher fertility of neighboring agricultural populations

would have been largely imperceptible to the coastal populations. Through
their participation in both resource and mate exchange, the genetic com-
position of coastal peoples would have gradually changed in the same di-
rection as their inland agropastoral exchange partners. As Barth (1969: 20)
informs us that, “If . . . two populations are ecologically interdependent, as
two ethnic groups in a symbiotic relationship, this means that any varia-
tion in the size of one must have important effects on the other.” However,
despite the impact of the demic expansion, the pescadores represented by
the Gramalote skeletal sample speak to the fact that—despite biological
similarities and genetic influences from inland food producers—identities
(such as pescador) are forged by the economic activities one engages in.
Given the relative lack of genetic isolation and the strong phenetic simi-
larities between the Initial Period Gramalote sample and their later agro-
pastoral neighbors, what, then, can be said of both the emergence and long-
standing persistence of pescador ethnic identity and their long-standing
maritime traditions, given their shared genetic ancestry with agricultores?
Social identities, such as pescador ethnicity, are social constructs that are
often based upon economic specialization or habitus—in other words, one
is what one does. Ethnicity is a kind of group identity based upon cultural
competency—that is, being able to partake and perform as a member of
a social group. Intermarriages between pescadores and agricultores would
have strengthened ties between fishing and agricultural communities,
yet—despite having shared kin with inland agriculturalists—inhabitants of
communities like Gramalote overtly affirmed their identities as pescadores
through their economic and ritual activities (Prieto 2018b).
The ethnographic record on ethnic identity is replete with examples of
individuals whose identity is defined by what they do and—almost as im-
portant and germane to the point that we wish to make here—one’s identity
is often shed or changed depending on what they are doing for a living
(Barth 1969; Eller 1999; Goyvaerts 2000; Haaland 1969: 71; Hodder 1979).
Indeed, Ramírez’s (1995) seminal work on pescadores and agricultores based
upon sixteenth-century historic accounts from the region lends yet another
line of support to this assertion. Pescadores could become agricultores by
engaging in farming activities, while agricultores could and sometimes did
become pescadores during times of drought or when demographic pres-
sures necessitated that individuals supplement their subsistence through
complementary economic activities (Ramírez 1995: 352–253, 257, 259; see
also Ramírez in this volume).
In the case of pescadores and pescador ethnic identity, pescador was not
necessarily always something based in actual (although, perhaps, mythic
or reconstructed) ancestry. Rather, pescador identity was perpetuated and
maintained by those who self-identified—by birth or by marriage—as pes-
cadores and who successfully performed and partook in the symbolic and
ritual activities associated with pescador identity.
Pescador identity was not diminished through intermarriage and ex-
change with their agricultor exchange partners: rather, it was—in large
part—dependent and reinforced based upon it (Ramírez 1995: 353). The
biodistance results presented by this study indicate that, rather than having
essentialist roots, in this case pescador identity was partaken in and actively
embraced by members of the maritime community at Gramalote through
their cultural competency—not because of endogamy, or genetic isolation
and continuity with their preceding maritime ancestors. Mate exchange
and intermarriage almost certainly went along with resource exchange be-
tween pescadores and agricultores. This is not mutually exclusive regarding
Rostworowski’s assertion that pescador identity and economic and ritual
traditions had considerable time depth. However, these are cultural—not
biological—phenomena with considerable time depth. Simply put, it seems
that the fluidity of pescador membership documented by Ramírez has con-
siderable time depth. Both the biological and archaeological record from
Gramalote supports the ethnohistoric documents that speak to this ex-
change of economic and mate-exchange relations.
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III
Maritime Communities
between 2500 and 600 BP
10
Fisherman, Farmer, Rich Man, Poor Man,
Weaver, Parcialidad Chief?
Household Archaeology at Cerro la Virgen, a Chimú Town
within the Hinterland of Chan Chan
Brian R. Billman, Dana Bardolph, Jean Hudson,

and Jesús Briceño Rosario
For several centuries, the Chimú town of Cerro la Virgen lay in the rural
sustaining area of Chan Chan (Figure 10.1), the capital of the Chimú Em-
pire (AD 1000–1460) on the north coast of Peru (Campana 2006; Keatinge
and Day 1973; Moseley and Day 1982; Moore and Mackey 2008; Ravines
1980). Cerro la Virgen has long been viewed as a community whose pri-
mary purpose was the provisioning of Chan Chan, an urban center with
a population of 20,000 to 50,000 people (Topic and Moseley 1985), and
the political economy of the empire (Keatinge 1974, 1975). The settlement
covers 14 ha and originally consisted of hundreds of large masonry-and-
quincha household compounds clustered along the Great Northern Road,
which connected Chan Chan to the Chicama Valley (Figure 10.2).
In the latter part of the Late Intermediate Period (LIP, AD 1000–1470) and
Late Horizon (LH, AD 1470–1532), Cerro la Virgen was probably the third-
largest settlement in the Moche Valley and the only significant settlement
on the three-pampa area (Pampas Esperanza, Milagro, and Huanchaco).
The site lies just 6 km from the urban core of Chan Chan at the terminus
of a vast complex of relic fields that covered much of the three pampas.
These fields were reclaimed during the peak of Chimú power (Moseley and
Deeds 1982; T. Pozorski 1987). They were watered by the Vinchansao Canal,
a massive labor project possibly completed in the AD 1200s, which origi-
nated 30 km inland in the foothills of the Andes (Moseley and Deeds 1982;
Ortloff et al. 1983; T. Pozorski 1987). Cerro la Virgen also lies a short 3 km
Figure 10.1. Map of the Moche Valley with relevant sites (provided by the authors).
Figure 10.2. Plan map of architectural compounds at Cerro la Virgen (provided by the authors).
270 · Brian R. Billman, Dana Bardolph, Jean Hudson, and Jesús Briceño Rosario
walk from Huanchaco Bay, one of the main sources of nearshore marine
resources for valley residents from at least 1500 BC through the Colonial
era (Briceño and Billman 2008; S. Pozorski 1976, 1979, 1982; Prieto 2014,
and this volume).
The strategic location of Cerro la Virgen and the timing of its occupation
raise several intriguing questions about the role that site residents played
in the political economy of the Chimú Empire. Was the site a forced la-
bor colony of farmers, tasked with provisioning royal households and their
attached craft specialists at Chan Chan, as suggested by Keatinge (1975)?
Were the site occupants craft specialists, spinning and weaving for the
Chimú Empire (S. Pozorski 1982)? Or might they have been a parcialidad
of fishing families, as ethnohistoric models suggest (Cock 1986; Netherly
1977, 1984, 1990; Ramírez 1996)? Here we critically examine the role that
households at Cerro la Virgen played in the provisioning of Chan Chan
through the analysis of emergency household midden excavations at the
site (the excavations at Cerro la Virgen were an “emergency” response to
the destruction of the site due to illegal quarry operations). We present new
data from these excavations in order to revisit older models about the site’s
occupation.
Results indicate a long period of continuous occupation of the site from
the Middle Chimú Phase through the “Inca” Period (late LIP and LH, re-
spectively). It was probably abandoned before the founding of Trujillo in
1535; no colonial artifacts or Old World domesticates have been found at
the site.1 We argue that the households studied were not made up of special-
ists, but rather reflected a mixed economic strategy that combined fishing,
farming, and crafting. These households were largely self-sufficient, except
for one key resource: water for their fields. The fields used by the residents
were likely dependent on the Vinchansao Canal. Previous analysis of the
water demands of irrigation in the valley indicates that farming on the
three-pampa area could not have been sustained without the allocation of
water by a central authority (Billman 2002). Consequently, although the
households at Cerro la Virgen were self-sufficient in most respects, they
were dependent on a higher politically authority for their most basic need:
water.
History of Previous Investigations
In 1969, Richard Keatinge and Shelia Pozorski (then Griffis) conducted

mapping and household and midden excavations at Cerro la Virgen, in
Household Archaeology at Cerro la Virgen, a Chimú Town within Chan Chan · 271
order to understand the roles that the site played in the provisioning of
Chan Chan (Griffis 1971; Keatinge 1975). They concluded that the site was
a state-sponsored settlement; in their view, the community was forcibly
relocated to Cerro la Virgen in order to farm adjacent Chimú state fields.
They proposed that surplus from agricultural fields was shipped by llama to
Chan Chan in order to provision royal households and their attached craft
specialists. Community members also fished and collected shellfish for
their own use. Based on the results of her analysis of midden excavations,
Pozorski concluded that most of the meat consumed at Chan Chan was
from camelids, rather than fish and shellfish. Parting ways from Keatinge,
she argued that the main activity of the site was the production of cotton
and textiles for Chan Chan (Griffis 1971; S. Pozorski 1976, 1979, 1982).
Keatinge and Pozorski present compelling arguments in support of their
interpretation of the function of Cerro la Virgen that have been widely ac-
cepted by regional scholars (for example, Moore and Mackey 2008). Until
our emergency excavations, no other investigations had been conducted at
the site and their interpretations have remained unquestioned. Although
their research methods were laudable, as is often the case with pioneering
efforts, the passage of time has revealed limitations. Not all the excavations
were screened, and the midden excavation was screened through ¼-inch
mesh. Further, Shelia Pozorski used a unique method of analysis of food
remains that estimated the volume of dietary reconstruction, rendering
comparative use of her data problematic.
In order to reexamine their conclusions, we employed ⅛-inch screening
in combination with systematic collection of samples for fine dry-sieving
from all proveniences excavated. We used quantitative measures consistent
with current standards, including NISP, MNI, bone weight, ubiquity, and
density (Hastorf and Popper 1988; Lyman 1994; Reitz and Shackley 2012;
Reitz and Wing 2008; VanDerwarker and Peres 2010). With the passage of
more than 40 years and the development of new field and analytical tech-
niques, the time has come to revisit Keatinge and Pozorski’s interpretations
and to explore alternative explanations.
Ethnohistoric and Archaeological Models

of Coastal Households
Ethnohistoric documents provide excellent sources for understand-

ing Chimú and “Inca” communities on the north coast of Peru. Many of
these sources indicate that a network of patron-client relationships existed
between leaders and commoners during the reign of the Chimú Empire
(Cock 1986; Netherly 1977, 1984, 1990; Ramírez 1996: 42–97; Rostworowski
1975, 1977). Known as señores, curacas, caciques, or principales in ethnohis-
toric documents, these leaders were arrayed in a political hierarchy ranging
from local lords to kings. Each curaca controlled a group of families (or
parcialidad) and specific resources (agricultural land and water, raw mate-
rial sources, or fisheries). In exchange for protection and access to those
resources, parcialidad households provided annual tribute payments in the
form of goods and labor to a lord.
A key component of the parcialidad model is occupational specializa-
tion. Each parcialidad focused on a particular productive activity, such
as farming, fishing, or crafting. Lords redistributed goods paid as tribute
up and down the hierarchy of parcialidades (Netherly 1977, 1984, 1990;
Ramírez 1996). In this way, crafters and fishing households were provi-
sioned with agricultural produce and farmers, with craft goods and fish.
Following a parcialidad model, the households at Cerro la Virgen might
have been organized into one or more parcialidades that owed annual trib-
ute to a lord. Further, each household would have specialized in fishing,
crafting, or farming.
A confounding factor that makes the archaeological identification of
parcialidades difficult is ethnohistoric evidence that parcialidad members
might not always have lived together in compact, localized communities
(Ramírez 1990, 1996). Court documents from the early Colonial Period
provide an example of a lord who claimed authority over a parcialidad
whose households were scattered across communities, in several different
resource zones from the coast to the sierra. Ramírez proposes that this pat-
tern of parcialidad dispersal existed on the north coast in the Chimú and
“Inca” periods (Ramírez 1996; see also Netherly 1977, 1984, 1990). How-
ever, this dispersal of parcialidad members across several settlements may
have developed in the Colonial Period as a result of mass migration, demo-
graphic collapse, and the fragmentation of traditional authority. That said,
migration and conquest were also a part of the prehistoric world before the
Spanish arrival. If this pattern of parcialidad dispersal existed prior to the
Spanish occupation, it may have begun many generations before Spanish
arrival during the “Inca” conquest, or even earlier during the reorganiza-
tion of the north coast by Chimú lords between AD 1200 and 1460.
In contrast to the parcialidad model, Moseley and colleagues proposed
that Chimú communities paid their tribute in labor, rather than in goods
(Hastings and Moseley 1975; Moseley 1975; Moseley and Day 1982). They
apply what is essentially an “Inca” model of mita taxation to the Chimú

Empire, that is, a form of corvée labor tax in which each family sent one
member to work in state fields for several months each year. Parcialidades
are not mentioned in their reconstructions of Chimú taxation. A system
of Chimú corvée labor tax is supported by their analysis of large tracts of
relic fields on Pampa Mocan and Quebrada del Oso in the Chicama Val-
ley and on the three-pampa area in the Moche Valley. Absent from these
fields were contemporary habitation sites, with the exception of Cerro la
Virgen. Rather, state facilities such as compounds with audiencias were
present (audiencias were U-shaped chambers used for Chimú bureaucratic
functions) (Keatinge 1974, 1975). Further, relic fields were not divided into
small individual plots but consisted of rows of continuous serpentine fields,
similar to industrial monoculture (Kus 1973; Risco 2013). These fields have
been interpreted as state fields, tilled by laborers paying mita (corvée) labor
taxes (Day 1982; Keatinge 1974; Keatinge and Conrad 1983; Keatinge and
Day 1973; Moseley and Day 1982).
Following this “Inca” mita model, Keatinge proposed that families were
forcibly moved to Cerro la Virgen in order to work the state fields on the
three pampas. The “Inca” forcibly resettled dissent groups far from their
homelands in colonies known as mitimae settlements. Although Keatinge
does not use the term mitimae, he appears to have had a similar idea in
mind. In Keatinge’s view, the households at Cerro la Virgen worked state
fields on the three-pampa area; produce went directly into royal storerooms
at Chan Chan to support Chimú royalty, both living and dead, their retain-
ers, and attached specialists.
Testing these models of Chimú community and household organization,
be it parcialidad or mita, requires rigorous definition of the material cor-
relates of household specialization. Significant strides have been made in
this area on the coast of Peru (for a review of literature see Sandweiss 1996).
For example, Sandweiss compared commoner and elite fishing households
at the “Inca” site of Lo Demás in the Chincha Valley. He found archaeo-
logical evidence of occupational specialization and status differentiation
analogous to ethnohistoric records of hierarchy and household special-
ization on the south coast (Sandweiss 1992). Joyce Marcus tested models
of fishing specialization derived from ethnohistoric and historic sources
by analyzing faunal remains, artifact assemblages, and specialized struc-
tures, such as sand-filled rooms for storing dried anchovies and sardines,
at Cerro Azul in the Cañete Valley during the LIP (Marcus 1987; Marcus et
al. 1999). Her analysis indicated that a paramount elite household received
large quantities of fish as tribute from local fishing households. This tribute
was stored in large sand-filled rooms within the paramount lord’s domestic
compound.
George Gumerman found evidence of three types of specialized house-
holds at Pacatnamu in the Jequetepeque Valley during the Chimú era:
fisher, farmer, and noble households (Gumerman 1991; 2002). In contrast,
Jerry Moore did not find evidence of household specialization in the bar-
rios at Manchan, the southern provincial capital of the Chimú Empire
(Mackey 1987; Moore 1981, 1985); rather, households were largely self-suf-
ficient. In contrast, the nearby site of Quebrada Santa Cristina appears to
have been a Chimú special-labor camp, established to construct ridge fields
in the Casma Valley in the wake of an extreme El Niño event (Moore 1991).
In sum, archaeological evidence indicates that there was considerable di-
versity in household economic strategies pursued throughout the Chimú
Empire.
The aforementioned studies reveal important correlates of specialized
farming, fishing, and crafting households. In the case of fully specialized
fishing households, we would expect to find evidence of the full array of
fishing tools, such as net fragments of various mesh size, net weights, cot-
ton cordage, net gauges, gourds, and copper fishhooks. Evidence of farming
tools and craft materials would be lacking. If fishing were oriented toward
surplus production, then associated features (for example, drying racks,
salting features, and sand-filled rooms or pits for desiccating small fish)
should be present in or near household structures. Likewise, fish assem-
blages should be dominated by taxa that are well suited to feeding large
populations or that lend themselves to preservation and transport.
Full-time crafting households should contain abundant evidence of
crafting tools, raw materials, and crafting by-products. Weaving would be
indicated by raw cotton, materials for dyes, spindle whorls, and loom pieces
such as flattened batons of bone or wood. Absent would be evidence of
farming tools and fishing gear. Dietary remains would be dominated by
storable staples, such as beans and corn kernels, received in trade or from
state storerooms. Further, invasive weeds, which were inadvertently carried
to the fields by farmers and thrived there, would be absent, as specialized
crafting and fishing families would not have worked fields. These invasive
species ride on clothing and camelid fur from field to home, and some-
times they are gathered to supplement domesticated foods (for example,
see Cowan and Watson 1992; Gumerman 1991, 2002; Moore 1991).
In contrast, specialized farming households that produced surplus food-

stuffs for other specialists and received craft goods and fish in exchange via
the state system should be characterized by abundant evidence of the pro-
cessing of domesticated plants and the presence of fresh fruits and weedy
field species, along with agricultural tools and storage pits or storerooms.
Evidence of fishing tools and craft materials would be lacking. Instead,
stone or metal hoe tips, digging sticks, digging stick weights, and clod
breakers would be common, as would by-products from the processing of
plants, such as pods and husks. Invasive weeds found in fields also would
be common.
Cerro la Virgen Midden Samples
In the 1980s, Cerro la Virgen was designated a zona intangible by the In-
stituto Nacional de Cultura (INC), now Ministerio de Cultura, in order
to protect the site. The boundaries of the site were mapped, marked by
concrete cairns, and recorded on the Registro Publico. The site was largely
undamaged until illegal gravel quarrying began in 2006. Multiple interven-
tions by the INC and MOCHE, Inc., have slowed the pace of destructive
quarrying; however, despite their best efforts, 1 ha, or 7 percent, of the site
has been destroyed by quarrying. We report here on the emergency excava-
tion of two middens in danger of collapsing into the open-pit quarry, which
is 10 to 20 m deep. Quarrying subsequently destroyed what remained of
one of these middens.
The ongoing destruction of Cerro la Virgen is particularly lamentable be-
cause hyperarid conditions have resulted in remarkable preservation. Even
by the high standards of coastal Peru, the cultural deposits are remarkably
well preserved. Remains recovered from the two middens included desic-
cated plants (gourd fragments, leaves, seeds, husks, spines, cotton bolls, raw
cotton, cane, and twigs), textiles, fishnets, fishing line, reed mats, basket
fragments, rope, wood tools, pelts, fur, human hair, feathers, fish bones and
scales, otoliths, insects, human and nonhuman coprolites (camelids, dogs,
and guinea pigs) and copper tools, ornaments, and smithing slag.
Furthermore, stratigraphic layers remain remarkably well defined.
Quarrying exposed a 150 m long profile of the site, with continuous cultural
deposits exposed along the top of the massive quarry cut. The result is an
extraordinarily detailed profile of cultural activity, albeit accessible only by
10 to 20 m scaffolding. The site apparently never experienced perturbation
by rodents, burrowing insects, or destructive geologic processes. The pre-

historic human residents of the site likewise did little damage to the stratig-
raphy, evidently content to allow domestic refuse to accumulate across the
site as well as in mounds. Quincha structures with masonry foundations
were rebuilt many times, resulting in layers of superimposed floors, rubble,
and trash. On the coast of Peru, infestation by termites and dry rot typi-
cally force the abandonment of quincha structures in fewer than 15 years
(Moore 1985; Moore and Gasco 1990). The result is stratigraphy of stunning
detail and clarity, filled with daunting quantities and varieties of desiccated
organic remains and artifacts, as well as hearths, storage pits, superimposed
floors, walls, and domestic middens.
Description of Excavations
Most of Cerro la Virgen is covered by agglutinated compounds (see Figure

10.2), defined by low masonry walls that originally formed the foundations
for quincha walls. Alleyways and subtle breaks in architecture may indi-
cate neighborhoods within the site. On the edges of compound clusters
and at the end of alleys are low mounds formed from the accumulation of
household refuse. Emergency excavations directed by Billman and Briceño
focused on two midden mounds on the edge of the quarry pit (Figure 10.3),
located 60 m apart on the north and south ends of a cluster of domestic
compounds. This compound cluster originally may have formed a discrete
neighborhood within the community; thus, our excavations likely sampled
domestic trash from opposite ends of the same neighborhood. Shelia Po-
zorski’s midden cut lies on the edge of a different neighborhood, approxi-
mately 110 m southeast of our excavations (Griffis 1971).
In order to sample the endangered middens, a one 1 by 2 m unit was
placed on each midden (henceforth referred to as XU 17 and 18). Excava-
tions were conducted by cultural levels and all material was passed through
⅛-inch screens. The volume of excavated material from each level was mea-
sured by counting 10 L buckets. All screen residuals were collected and
sorted with the goal of 100 percent recovery of cultural material greater
than ⅛ inch in size. Because of the extraordinary density and diversity of
organic material, each hour of excavation required as much as four hours
of sorting. Five-liter samples also were collected from each level and from
features, such as pits, floor, and hearths, for finer dry-sieving, which will be
processed in future analyses.
The quarry cut at XU 17 revealed approximately 2 m of cultural deposits,

consisting of more than 20 layers of dark trash. No features or structures
were observed in the cut, indicating that the area was used only for trash
disposal. Due to time constraints, we did not reach the bottom of the mid-
den in XU 17, but the quarry profile suggests we came within 20–30 cm of
sterile deposits. We excavated 880 L of cultural deposits in XU 17.
The XU 18 midden originally consisted of a low mound, approximately
1.5 m in height and perhaps 5 m in diameter. Quarrying between 2006 and
2009 destroyed approximately 80 percent of this midden. In 2013, further
quarry activity created an “island” measuring 7 by 14 m and towering two
to three stories above the floor of the quarry pit; the remnant midden was
situated on the edge of this island (see Figure 10.3). No masonry founda-
tions were visible on the surface of the island; however, the presence of nu-
merous floors and walls in the profile indicated that domestic compounds
had once covered the area during the early occupation of the site (Figure
10.4). Later in the occupation, the area was converted to a trash dump for
a cluster of compounds located a few meters to the south. We excavated
1,011.5 L of cultural deposits but were unable to reach the base of the cul-
tural deposit due to time constraints. In 2014 quarrying destroyed the en-
tire island.
Summary of the Analysis of Artifacts and Ecofacts
Our analysis focused on materials recovered from ⅛-inch screening. We

recognize that some plant taxa with small seeds and faunal remains (for
example, fish vertebrae) smaller than ⅛ inch were likely overlooked in this
analysis. Because of the excellent preservation and abundance of organic
remains recovered from screen mesh, however, we are confident that the
taxa discussed here comprise a substantial portion of the resources used by
the site’s inhabitants. Bulk 5 L soil samples will be analyzed at a later date.
Plant, fish, and invertebrate remains were identified to the lowest possible
taxonomic level using local comparative collections, a vertebrate photo ar-
chive assembled by Hudson, the USDA pictorial website (U.S. Department
of Agriculture 2013), and standard reference manuals (for example, Aguilar
et al. 2013; Altamirano 1983; Cannon 1987; Coan and Valentich-Scott 2012;
Cooper and Schiller 1975; Martin and Barkley 1961; Olsen 1964, 1968, 1972;
Pacheco Torres et al. 1986; Wheeler and Jones 1989).1
Figure 10.3. (a) Photo of the “island” created by illegal quarrying at Cerro la Virgen; and (b) the
location of the XU18 midden (provided by the authors).
Figure 10.4. Photo and profile drawing of XU18 (individual stratigraphic levels indicated
in profile drawing) (provided by the authors).
The Artifact Assemblage
After organic material, the most abundant and ubiquitous cultural remains
were ceramic sherds and pieces of textile, which were found in every level
excavated. Preliminary sherd analysis indicates the presence of a full range
of domestic vessel types as well as ceramic spindle whorls. Cooking ollas,
serving bowls, long-necked jars of various sizes for liquid storage (possibly
chicha), and large water jugs were represented in the assemblage. Textiles
consisted of undecorated cloth, string, yarn, fishing line, and nets. Small
numbers of wood and metal artifacts, along with stone beads, were found
during our investigations and those conducted by Keatinge and Pozorski
(Griffis 1971, Keatinge 1974, S. Pozorski 1976, 1982). The only wood artifacts
found in the two units were carved corks; however, near XU 17, at the base
of the quarry cut in redeposited midden, a figurine and loom pieces were
found. Metal artifacts recovered from the site included net weights, net
spacers, beads, other ornaments, spindle whorls, pins, needles, fishhooks,
small pieces of sheet metal, and small amounts of slag (Johnson et al. 2016).
Most of the metal tools were associated with textile production and fishing.
The metal artifacts recovered are copper or arsenical copper with small
amounts of impurities, such as iron and lead (Johnson et al. 2016). Small
amounts of smithing slag were recovered from the midden assemblages,
possibly indicating household-level production and repair of metal arti-
facts similar to those documented at Manchan (Johnson et al. 2016; Moore
1981, 1985). Lithic artifacts were rare, consisting of split cobbles and large
utilized flakes made from cobbles from the bed of the adjacent Rio Seco.
Hammerstones and grinding stones also are present in the midden samples.
The assemblage of artifacts is indicative of daily domestic activities as well
as fishing, farming, and crafting. This clustering of diverse occupational
tools and debris in middens argues against occupational specialization at
the level of community or neighborhood.
Botanical Remains
The extraordinarily well-preserved plant remains from Cerro la Virgen

provide important information about cultivation, arboriculture, and wild
plant collection strategies. Bardolph examined botanical remains from XU
18 to assess the relative importance of different plant resources at the site
using ubiquity, density, and standardized counts (Table 10.1). These mea-
sures reduce biases due to differential preservation and sampling (Godwin
Table 10.1a. Inventory and summary quantification of plants identified at Cerro la Virgen
(XU 18)
Spanish
Common Name Common Name Scientific Name Count
Maize
Maize kernel Maíz Zea mays 1,086
Maize cob/cob frags 106
Maize (summed) 1,192
Other Cultigens
Bottle gourd Mate Lagenaria siceraria 12
Canavalia bean Pallar de gentiles Canavalia sp. 2
Chili pepper Ají Capsicum sp. 481
Coca Erythroxylum novogranatense 18
var. truxillense
Common Bean Frijól Phaseolus vulgaris 13
Cotton (seeds) Algodón Gossypium barbadense 43
Lima bean Frijól pallar Phaseolus lunatus 1
Peanut (legume) Maní Arachis hypogaea 9
Peanut (shell) 2
Squash Zapallo Cucurbita moschata 36
Tepary bean Phaseolus acutifolius 4
Fruits
Andean raspberry Mora Rubus glaucus 20
Avocado Palta Persea americana 15
Caigua Cyclanthera pedata 5
Cansaboca Bunchosia armeniaca 9
Lúcuma Pouteria lucuma 106
Pacae Guaba Inga feuillei 10
Soursop Guanabana Annona muricata 292
Walnut Nogál Juglands neotropica 8
Wild Resources
Cheno/Am Chenopodium/Amaranthus sp. 2
Fabaceae Family Fabaceae 2
Grass Gramalote Panicum sp. 8
Mesquite Espino Acacia macracantha 1162
Saltbush Atriplex sp.
Solanaceae Family Solanaceae 12
Unidentified seed/seed fragments 117
Samples analyzed (n) 14

Total soil volume excavated (1) 1,011.5
Total plant weight (g) 1,355.0
Total wood/cane/achupalla 750.0
weight (g)
XU 18 Unit excavated at Cerro la Virgen. (continued)
Table 10.1b. Plant ubiquity, density measures, and standardized counts (top 8
taxa) (continued from Table 10.1a)
Taxonomy Category Ubiquity Density Std. Count
Soursop/Guanabana Fruit 100.0 0.3 0.5
Mesquite/Espino Wild resource 100.0 1.1 1.9
Saltbush Wild resource 90.9 0.2 0.3
Maize/Maíz Cultigen 90.9 1.3 0.8
Lúcuma Fruit 81.8 0.1 0.2
Chili pepper/Ají Cultigen 72.7 0.5 0.6
Cotton/Algodón Cultigen 72.7 0.05 0.1
Walnut/Nogál Fruit 63.6 0.01 0.02
1956; Hubbard 1975, 1976, 1980; Scarry 1986; Willcox 1974). Of a total plant
weight of 1355 g, 750 g are represented by wood, caña brava (Gynerium
sagittatum), or achupalla (Tillandsia purpurea), a rootless, epiphytic plant
native to the desert region (Table 10.1). Wood charcoal and achupalla are
excellent fuel sources, and cane likely served a variety of construction pur-
poses.2 A total of 24 other taxonomic categories were identified, including
maize (Zea mays), other cultigens, wild and domesticated tree fruits, and
other wild resources (see Table 10.1).
Maize has the highest density of all taxa of plants recovered and is also
highly ubiquitous (it was present in 90 percent of the 14 levels analyzed).
Maize also has the highest standardized count of all cultigens. Both cobs
and kernels were recovered, indicating that families were processing maize
at the site rather than receiving shelled maize. Chili pepper, or ají (Capsi-
cum sp.), is the second densest taxon at the site, a pattern mirrored in the
standardized counts. Other cultigens recovered include various beans, pea-
nuts (Arachis hypogaea), gourds (Lagenaria siceraria), squash (Cucurbita
moschata), and small amounts of coca (Erythroxylum novogranatense var.
truxillense) (see Table 10.1). Cotton seeds have a relatively high ubiquity
value (found in 73 percent of the levels analyzed), but low density and low
standardized counts compared to other taxa. However, the high ubiquity
of cotton seeds as well as raw cotton fibers indicates that the site residents
engaged in cotton production. Indeed, all stages of cotton production are
present at Cerro la Virgen; spindle whorls (ceramic, metal, and wooden)
and metal needles, along with wooden loom pieces and textile fragments
were recovered from the midden deposits. Cotton bolls, leaves, and stems
were recovered, in addition to seeds.
The Cerro la Virgen assemblage provides a unique opportunity to ex-

amine the contribution of various fruits to the diet. Fruits rarely preserve
in carbonized assemblages but are well represented among the desiccated
macrobotanical remains from Cerro la Virgen (see Table 10.1). The most
abundant tree fruits were guanabana (Annona muricata), lúcuma (Pouteria
lucuma), and pacae (Inga feuillei). Shelia Pozorski (1976) noted the high
frequency of guanabana at Cerro la Virgen as well as in the artisan sector
(SIAR) of Chan Chan (S. Pozorski 1976, 1980, 1982). This fruit appears to
have been an important resource during Chimú times, as evidenced by its
ubiquity in other Chimú assemblages (Bonavia et al. 2004; Cutright 2015;
Gumerman 1991; Moore 1981; Prieto 2011; S. Pozorski 1980; S. Pozorski and
T. Pozorski 1997). Valued for its sweet white pulp, guanabana has been con-
sidered a “dessert fruit” (T. Pozorski and S. Pozorski 1997: 236). In addition
to fruit consumption, lúcuma and pacae hardwoods were likely used to
manufacture wooden domestic tools (Moutarde 2008: 303).
Mesquite, or algarrobo (Prosopsis pallida) dominates the wild resources
recovered, although these trees may have been semidomesticated. Mes-
quite trees grow quickly and are long-lived; their hard woods are a source
of long-burning firewood and charcoal. The beanlike fruit can be used for
camelid fodder, ground into flour, or used to make chicha. Several other
wild plants were identified in the assemblage as well; some of these species
may have had economic uses (for example, matting/thatching or as cam-
elid fodder), whereas others likely were unintentionally transported to the
site on the clothing of family members and fur of camelids returning from
agricultural fields.
In sum, the botanical evidence indicates that the site residents practiced
broad-based strategies of field cultivation, arboriculture, and wild plant
collection. The proximity to irrigation canals and fields suggests the im-
portance of farming, and the variety of cultigens further supports this in-
ference. A focus on farming, particularly for tribute or labor-based models,
tends to obscure the importance of other forms of plant husbandry that
exist alongside field agriculture, including small-scale gardening and tree
orchard management. Indeed, tropical systems of gardening and arboricul-
ture often surpass field cultivation in terms of time and labor investments
(Dunning and Beach 2000; Peters 2000).
Shelia Pozorski (Griffis 1971: 62) argued that fruits were secondary in
importance at Cerro la Virgen because they would have been “accessory
foods,” that is, condiments rather than basic staples. Wild species were third
in importance to cultigens and fruits, as they would have been incidentally
Figure 10.5. Box plots of densities and standardized counts of plant remains by category
gathered and used sparingly. However, a comparison of density measures

and standardized counts via box plots (Figure 10.5) suggests that the site
residents were not in fact relying on cultigens more than fruits, or even wild
resources. Indeed, there are no significant differences between the three
categories of plant foods as represented at Cerro la Virgen (the relative
importance of wild resources is likely inflated due to the abundance of

mesquite recovered). Thus, there is ample evidence of the practice of both
agriculture and arboriculture at Cerro la Virgen. A lack of rainfall on the
arid coastal plain would have made an elaborate irrigation system essential.
Fruit trees, in addition to field crops, require large amounts of water
year round. The water table is too deep on the pampa to sustain mature
trees, even after extreme El Niño events (see discussion below). If the site
residents were managing stands of fruit trees in addition to farming maize
fields, then they must have had access to an abundant amount of water.
Fruit trees were likely grown with sustained year-round irrigation, either
in orchards or along canals (or both). This inference raises some intriguing
possibilities. The intensive use of water from irrigation canals at Cerro la
Virgen means that other communities in the Moche Valley would have had
reduced access to water. Households at Cerro la Virgen appear to have been
relatively autonomous in many ways, with broad-based strategies of field
cultivation, arboriculture, and wild plant collection; however, they were
dependent on a higher authority for water regulation.
Fruits from upper portions of the valley may have been exchanged for
agricultural products produced by the site residents. However, the totality
of the botanical evidence from the site indicates the creation of an anthro-
pogenic landscape of orchards, cultivated and fallow fields, and mesquite
groves sustained throughout the multigeneration occupation of the site.
Such a landscape could have been created and sustained only by regular
application of irrigation water.
Vertebrate Faunal Remains
The examination of zooarchaeological remains from Cerro la Virgen fo-

cuses on differences in the animal classes exploited. Hudson analyzed ver-
tebrate remains from XU 17 and XU 18. One of the most striking patterns
in both middens is the dominance of fish among the vertebrate remains,
both across the samples and throughout the site’s occupation (Table 10.2).
Fish account for over 90 percent of the bone NISP in every level where
the bone count was greater than one. This pattern is equally true of both
excavation units, suggesting great consistency over time and among/be-
tween the households represented. As noted earlier, the two units lie in
middens at either end of a discrete cluster of household compounds that
may have formed a neighborhood at the site. The abundance of fish bone,
in combination with the presence of artifacts associated with fishing, such
Table 10.2. Vertebrate taxa identified at Cerro la Virgen

Fish
Cilus gilbert
Cynoscion analis
Galeichthys peruavianus
Merluccius gayi
Paralonchurus peruanus
Sardinops sagax
Sciaena deliciosa
Stellifer minor
Trachurus murphyi
Subclass Elasmobranchii
Mammals
Lama glama
Lontra feline
Otaria flavescens
Sigmodon sp.
Birds
Pelecanus thagus
Phalacrocorax sp.
Reptiles
Suborder Lacertilia
Suborder Serpentes
as net fragments and copper hooks, argues for the presence of active fishing
families within this neighborhood at Cerro la Virgen.
Among the fish taxa represented, drums and croakers (family Sciaeni-
dae) and sea catfish (family Ariidae) were the most common (Table 10.2).
These taxa can be caught in nearshore habitats and are common in the
catches of modern artisanal fishers in nearby Huanchaco, where they are
caught with nets both directly from shore and from nearshore locations
using reed boats, or caballitos. Drums and croakers can be taken with
hook and line as well as nets. Observation and interviews with modern
Huanchaco fishing families indicate that Sciaenidae, such as lorna (Sciaena
deliciosa), are good for family meals, while sea catfish or bagre (Galeichthys
peruvianus) are valued as bait fish for crab traps (Hudson 2011).
Other fish identified but relatively rare at Cerro la Virgen include
sharks, rays, and other elasmobranchs (subclass Elasmobranchii) and off-
shore schooling fish, such as sardines (Sardinops sagax), jurel (Trachurus
murphyi), and merluza (Merluccius gayi). Offshore schooling fish are ideal
for surplus production for trade or tribute because large numbers can be
caught in a single fishing event using nets, and, in the case of the smaller-
bodied sardines, are suitable for mass drying and transport. Given the prox-
imity of Chan Chan, low quantities of such ideal surplus fish in these two
middens is potentially informative about social relationships within and
between Chimú communities. Although there is evidence of their capture,
it was not on the scale needed if the goal was to provision Chan Chan. Over
90 percent of the fish remains identified to taxonomic family (NISP=120)
at Cerro la Virgen represent nearshore habitats. This pattern is the opposite
of data reported by Sandweiss (1992: 111) for the Inka site of Lo Demás,
where fishing for surplus for tribute and trade resulted in almost 90 percent
pelagic fish by NISP. The Lo Demás sample was dominated by small school-
ing fish (sardines and anchovies) even though screen recovery was ¼ inch.
Although the Cerro la Virgen sample (recovered with ⅛-inch mesh) has a
quantitative advantage for the recovery of such small-boned fish, these fish
are relatively unimportant. In sum, the bulk of the fish remains recovered
from domestic middens at Cerro la Virgen seem better suited to feeding lo-
cal families. In addition, if schooling fish were being caught and processed
for Chan Chan, then we might expect to find special purpose processing
facilities, such as fish-processing work areas, drying racks, or sand-filled
rooms for drying; to date, these have not been identified at Cerro la Virgen.
Camelids, likely llama (Lama glama), appear to be of secondary impor-
tance in terms of contribution to diet. Although the overall importance of
large mammals appears very minor by NISP (representing 1 percent or less
of the total bone in each unit), NISP does not capture the relative dietary
contributions of large animals to the degree that bone weight does. Bone
weight is a better proxy for relative dietary importance, as the weight of an
animal’s bones scales to the mass of the body it supports (Prange et al. 1979;
Reitz et al. 1987). Fish remains were more important than those of large
mammals, even when diet is a proxy for bone weight.
The middens do show some variation in camelid use. In XU 17, large
mammals contribute only 8 percent of all bone weight, and the identified
elements represented include low-utility body parts: a cranial fragment,
tooth fragments, and a metapodial fragment. In contrast, in XU 18, large
mammals contribute 34 percent of all bone weight and the elements repre-
sented include high-utility body parts such as vertebrae and ribs as well as
low-utility elements such as teeth and ambiguous elements like limb shaft
fragments. Although the total number of camelid bones is quite small, this
pattern hints at differences in household access to camelid meat, a question

to pursue with a larger sample of households.
Sheila Pozorski suggested a different pattern of emphasis, in which do-
mesticated llamas provided the bulk of animal protein in the diet (Griffis
1971; S. Pozorski 1976, 1979). Given the coarser mesh, ¼ inch, recovery tech-
niques in practice at that time, screen size alone may account for the appar-
ent lack of importance of fish in Pozorski’s sample. Alternatively, the unique
quantification technique she used may explain the lack of comparability. A
third alternative is that Pozorski’s sample may represent households that
had better access to or preference for camelids (the midden area that Po-
zorski sampled appears to be part of a different neighborhood, located over
100 m to the south of our excavations). One surprising result is the absence
of guinea pig vertebrate remains (genus Cavia) in our two units. However,
guinea pig fur was recovered from the middens, and guinea pig bone was
reported by Pozorski in her midden excavation (Griffis 1971; S. Pozorski
1976, 1979). Comparison between our samples and Pozorski’s highlights the
need for more interneighborhood as well as interhousehold research.
Invertebrate Remains
Bardolph analyzed invertebrate remains from units XU 17 and XU 18.

The invertebrate data indicate that collection of shellfish at nearby sandy
beaches was a regular activity of household members at Cerro la Virgen.
Marine shellfish were both ubiquitous and abundant; shell was found in ev-
ery level excavated, and densities were quite high. The samples yielded a to-
tal weight of 13.90 kg, of which 12.64 kg (90 percent of the assemblage) are
represented by the small beach clam, Donax obselulus (Table 10.3). Donax
clams contribute significantly more to the Cerro la Virgen invertebrate as-
semblage than any other resource. Principally found in shallow marine and
brackish areas, these clams would have been easily harvested and served as
an important food source. Site residents could have easily collected them
from the shoreline of nearby sandy beaches, and steamed or boiled them
in pots for soups or stews. The assemblage also is characterized by a rela-
tively high density of tegula (Tegula atra) and green mussels (Semimytilus
algosus), along with a variety of other shellfish, small crabs, and barnacles
(see Table 10.3).
Shellfish and other invertebrate collection constituted an important eco-
nomic activity at Cerro la Virgen. Some household members, likely women
(see Prieto 2009), may have participated in shellfish collection along the
Table 10.3. Inventory of invertebrates identified at Cerro la Virgen

Scientific Name Common Name Weight (g) Density (g/L)
Turitella cingulata Sea Snail 0.6 0.001
Olivella sp. Olive shell 13.4 0.013
Polinices uber — 11.8 0.02
Fissurella peruviana Keyhole Limpet 2.4 0.02
Anomura Crab 33 0.025
Scutalus proteus Land snail 27.6 0.027
Septifer sp. Platform mussel 2.5 0.029
Nassarius wilsoni Dog whelk 38.2 0.029
Stramonita haemastoma Dog winkle 27.3 0.032
Balanus sp. Barnacle 36.7 0.037
Xanthochorus buxea — 67.2 0.051
Stramonita delessertiana — 74.2 0.066
Sabellarididae Kiso/“Piedra pomez” 83.5 0.103
Prisogaster niger Turban snail 159.7 0.141
Semimytilus algosus Mussel 221.3 0.218
Tegula atra Tegula 306.4 0.234
Donax obesulus Donax clam 12643.6 12.451
Unidentified 155.0
— Common name unknown.
beach at low tide. Collecting could have fit easily into family subsistence ac-
tivities during low periods in labor demand, and when household members
such as the elderly and children were not engaged in primary productive
activities—a pattern widely documented ethnographically throughout the
world (for example, Meehan 1982).
Discussion
What economic strategies did the Cerro la Virgen residents pursue? What
role did they play in the regional economy and especially the political
economy of the Chimú Empire? While much work remains to be done at
the site, the household compounds and midden deposits excavated to date
indicate a consistent pattern of household economy. Given the number of
households that once lived at the site and the long occupation, we can-
not exclude the possibly that some households pursued different strategies.
However, among those households investigated, we can draw several con-
clusions, which can be the basis for further investigations.
Several lines of evidence clearly demonstrate that households at the site

included farmers who tilled the fields near the town. The ubiquity, abun-
dance, and diversity of cultigens demonstrate that domesticated plants
were the primary source of calories for household members. Residents had
access to both storable staples such as maize, ají, and beans, and a wide va-
riety of fresh fruits. Further, all parts of the corn plant were present in trash
deposits, including kernels, cobs, husks, and stalks. Likewise cotton bolls
and seeds were common. These lines of evidence suggest that families were
processing plants at the household level, rather than receiving processed,
dry foodstuffs from curacas or through trade. Agricultural tools recovered,
including wooden digging sticks and stone weights and clod breakers, sup-
port this assumption as well. Finally, the ubiquity of field invaders, includ-
ing grasses and other invasive weeds, indicates that families were working
fields and intentionally or unintentionally bringing weedy species back to
their homes.
The abundance and ubiquity of fruits and mesquite indicate that farm-
ers had sustained access to irrigation water from the Vinchansao Canal
throughout the long occupation of Cerro la Virgen. The result was the cre-
ation of an anthropogenic landscape of cultivated fields, orchards, mesquite
groves, and fallow pastures. Neither mesquite nor fruit trees can grow on
the three-pampa area without irrigation water because of the low water
table and hyperarid conditions. Bringing fruit trees to maturation requires
at least several years of regular, year-round watering, and, once mature,
trees must be watered several times a year. Unlike other areas in the Moche
Valley and adjacent valleys, the water table is extremely deep on the pam-
pas, ranging from 100 m to several hundred meters (even after heavy El
Niño rains), and the roots of mesquite and fruit trees are not sufficiently
deep to tap groundwater. No mesquite trees are found outside of irrigated
fields anywhere on the pampa today; neither are there any on Google im-
agery or historic aerial photos dating back to 1942. In addition, due to the
topographic setting of the pampas, rainfall is absent except during strong
El Niño events. In the middle Moche Valley and elsewhere, mesquite groves
are sustained by several centimeters of annual rainfall as well as a high wa-
ter table.
Fishing was an important part of the household economy of site resi-
dents. In contrast to Shelia Pozorski’s earlier interpretations, fish, rather
than llama, likely supplied the bulk of the protein consumed by at least
some families at the site. Fish bones and fishing gear are abundant. Fishing
activities do not appear to have been focused on schooling fish that would
have been suitable for supplying the urban population at Chan Chan.
Rather, the common targets were nearshore fish such as drums, grunts,
croakers, and sea catfish. This pattern is consistent with a degree of house-
hold-level autonomy in faunal procurement.
The role of camelids remains an important question. Camelid bones are
present at the site consistently but in small numbers. This pattern suggests
that camelid meat was a regular but minor part of the diet. Both high and
low food utility elements are present at the site, suggesting access to whole
carcasses. The ubiquity and occasional high density of camelid dung at the
site supports the presence of living animals. The activities of modern small-
hold farmers in the middle Moche Valley provide some insights into the
possible role of llamas at Cerro la Virgen. Burros and mules are now an
essential part of farming small plots; daily rental rates for a burro, used
for transport and for manure, are actually higher than the daily rate for
unskilled farm laborers. Llamas may have held similar roles as beasts of
burden for farmers at Cerro la Virgen (see Prieto 2009: 288–289). Llamas
could have grazed in fallow fields and seasonally on the slopes of Cerro
Campana, which has large areas of lomas. Although healthy llamas may
have been too valuable to eat, old or infirm animals could have been culled
for meat. Consequently, we suspect that small numbers of llamas were
raised by households at Cerro la Virgen for use in farming.
One of the striking features of Cerro la Virgen is the quantity of textiles.
Nearly every provenience excavated contained textiles, netting, yarn, or
string, and hundreds of pieces of cotton cloth hang from the profile of the
quarry cut. Decorated textiles are rare in the Cerro la Virgen assemblage;
nearly all recovered textiles were plain white or brown cloth. Our limited
excavations, as well as those of Pozorski and Keatinge, provide abundant
evidence of textile production at the site. All stages of textile production
are represented in the assemblages. Cotton bolls, seeds, raw cotton, yarn,
and finished textiles are common in our excavations. Additionally, we re-
covered many spindle whorls, needles, and one set of loom pieces. Clearly,
households at Cerro la Virgen wove textiles; whether they produced a sur-
plus is unclear.
Site residents do not appear to have participated in large-scale craft pro-
duction. To date, no evidence of ceramic production, such as wasters, tools,
molds, or kilns, has been found at the site. However, as only a small portion
of the site has been investigated, we cannot definitively state that pottery
was not produced there. A working hypothesis based on limited evidence
is that households received pottery through trade or by redistribution by
curacas. Remarkably, no evidence of Chimú ceramic production has been

found to date anywhere in the Moche Valley. In contrast to pottery, metal
workshops have been found at Chan Chan (Topic 1977, 1982). John Topic
proposes that there were neighborhoods of metal smiths at Chan Chan
that produced goods for the royalty and nobility. At Cerro la Virgen, we
recovered a small amount of smithing slag, indicating that perhaps some
households were producing small quantities of metal tools. Whether or not
they also received additional tools or metal from Chan Chan is unclear.
In sum, evidence indicates that the households investigated to date
pursued a mixed strategy of farming, fishing, weaving, and perhaps lim-
ited herding. Rather than specialists, these households were largely self-
sufficient with regard to food production. One likely scenario is that some
household members focused on farming while other members fished near
the shore in Huanchaco Bay. Household members also ginned cotton,
spun yarn, and wove plain textiles for clothing and fishing gear. Under-
employed members of the household, such as children and elderly people,
may have tended the household’s few llamas and collected shellfish. The
practical efforts of foodways may have been collaborative among extended
families, with division of labor by age and sex, as is common today among
Huanchaco fishing families (Hudson 2011). Based on our surface mapping
and Keatinge’s household excavations (Keatinge 1974), household com-
pounds were relatively large at Cerro la Virgen, which is consistent with
occupations by large extended families whose members pursue diverse
tasks.
Although largely self-sufficient, the households at Cerro la Virgen likely
depended on a higher authority for access to water. Our analysis indicates
that they received a steady supply of water from the Vinchansao Canal.
Construction of the Vinchansao Canal was beyond the labor of the house-
holds in the community, and central regulation was required to make sure
that their fields received water (Billman 2002; Moseley and Deeds 1982; T.
Pozorski 1987). Furthermore, the founding of Cerro la Virgen on the blank
slate of the pampa, probably as a part of a massive regional reclamation
project, suggests that households were moved to the site for the specific
purpose of working agricultural fields. The leaders of the Chimú Empire
would not have provided irrigation water (and land on the pampas) with-
out receiving tribute payments in return. Households may have paid “rent”
for the usufruct rights to fields and water. These tribute payments were
likely in the form of either labor or a percentage of the harvest. Textiles may
have formed part of payments as well.
The location of Cerro la Virgen adjacent to new farmland created by a

large state-sponsored reclamation project, and the necessity of its reliance
on state-managed irrigation, demonstrate the power of the Chimú state.
However, the mix of fishing, farming, and crafting tools and debris at the
household and neighborhood level demonstrates a simultaneous degree
of relative autonomy and self-reliance in many aspects of daily life. Water
linked these rural households to the state but daily life does not appear to
have been micromanaged. There is a lack of evidence for forced labor, for
occupational specialization, and for surplus production. While fields and
water rights likely pertained to reciprocal agreements between lords and
their subjects, the variety of economic resources at the site suggests less
centralized political involvement in the community than has previously
been interpreted by other researchers. Future research may clarify the na-
ture of this dynamic.
We offer these interpretations with one significant caveat. Our work, and
the work of Keatinge and Pozorski, was limited in area extent and distribu-
tion. Collectively, these projects have exposed only small windows in large
neighborhoods. At this point, our knowledge of variation within and be-
tween neighborhoods is limited. Although architectural survey and map-
ping to date have not identified distinctly elite or specialist households in
Cerro la Virgen, without more extensive excavations we cannot eliminate
the possibility that they exist.
Conclusion
Because of its extraordinary preservation, extent, and location, Cerro la

Virgen presents us with a rare opportunity to study regional political dy-
namics through the media of foodways and household archaeology. Cerro
la Virgen provides us with a ground-up view of the wider social history of
the Moche Valley during the apex of the power of Chimú and “Inca” Em-
pires. Keatinge and Pozorski deserve credit for introducing and develop-
ing the bottom-up approach to prehistoric societies on the coast of Peru.
As Keatinge noted many years ago, we cannot understand the rise of the
Chimú without understanding the farmers, fisher folk, and crafters in the
hinterland of Chan Chan (Keatinge 1975: 215). In addition to the site’s value
for understanding the regional political economy of the Chimú Empire,
the shell and fish remains of Cerro la Virgen also constitute a paleoclimatic
record of extraordinary potential. The trash middens at the site encompass
the onset of the Little Ice Age, circa AD 1200 to 1530. Cerro la Virgen also
has considerable value as a heritage site for Huanchaco and could be de-
veloped as an archaeological park for tourists and locals. Unfortunately, all
of these resources are threatened with destruction by quarrying for gravel,
which is Peru’s cheapest and most abundant building material.
Acknowledgments
Many thanks to Gabriel Prieto and Daniel Sandweiss for their invitation to
participate in this volume. We acknowledge MOCHE, Inc., and the Insti-
tuto para la Conservación de Patrimonio Construido (ICPAC) for funding
and support of this research, as well as the Ministerio de Cultura de Perú
for their efforts to stop the destruction at Cerro la Virgen. We appreciate the
hard work of the participants, in the field and lab, of both the UNC–Cha-
pel Hill MOCHE field school and the University of Wisconsin–Milwaukee
study-abroad program. Many thanks to Jennifer Ringberg and Jeffrey Frost
for their aid in supervising student excavations, and to Patrick Mullins for
comments on earlier drafts of this manuscript. We also acknowledge the
staff members at the Instituto del Mar del Perú (IMARPE) Laboratorio
Costero in Huanchaco, Peru, for aid in the identification of invertebrate
remains, and to Colin Thomas for lending his expertise in the identification
of metal artifacts. In addition, we thank the reviewers for their excellent
comments on the chapter.
Notes
1. Artifact data as well as methods of analysis are presented in detail in a forthcoming

site report.
2. Wood, cane, and achupalla were weighed but not counted, and no further identifica-
tion of wood was made.
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11
Subsistence Economies in Marginal Areas
with Natural Constraints
Interactions between Social Dynamics, Natural Resource
Management, and Paleoenvironment in the Sechura Desert, Peru
Nicolas Goepfert, Philippe Béarez, Aurélien Christol,

Patrice Wuscher, and Belkys Gutiérrez
The study of subsistence economies is fundamental to understanding social

dynamics and economic interactions between Prehispanic complex societ-
ies, particularly the maritime communities. In some cases, it also helps to
understand how man has adapted to constrained environments and how
the landscape changes could affect them. In margin areas with high natu-
ral constraints of the Pacific coast (aridity), access to natural resources re-
quired a special adaptation and the need to develop original subsistence
strategies. Our research will deal with the “anthropization” of the Peruvian
desertic coast, the understanding of resource management, and the human
adaptation to an environment considered constraining, not to say hostile.
The Sechura Desert, located between 5.30° and 6°S and 81°-79,50°W in
the far north of Peru, is one of the largest deserts of South America, with an
area of around 20,000 sq km (Figure 11.1). It presents a composite geomor-
phology with the highest ergs in Peru; a sandy surface with scattered dry
forest vegetation (pampas) on plateaus and Pleistocene marine terraces;
large closed (endoreic) or semiclosed coastal and inland depressions filled
on the subsurface with salt, gypsum, and sand accumulations; and the Pa-
laeozoic Illescas Massif (335 m). Rainfall is irregular and almost absent,
with some drizzle over the hills during summer (June to October), which
allows the presence of few permanent springs. The average temperature is
32–35 °C during the dry season (December to May). The characteristics of
Figure 11.1. Map of the Sechura Desert with its principal geomorphological components
and the location of Bayovar-01 site.
Subsistence Economies in Areas with Natural Constraints: Sechura Desert, Peru · 303
the Sechura Desert underline its isolation and explain the high biodiversity
of its continental and marine environments.
This coastal desert could be affected by the high temporal variability of
the El Niño phenomenon, which periodically strikes the Peruvian coast,
especially at this latitude (6° S). The area is particularly interesting because
it is located at the transition between warm- and cold-water marine cur-
rents—the first comes from the Equatorial zone, and the second is the most
northern expression of the Peruvian Upwelling of the Humboldt Current
System. It is therefore a strategic region in which to observe and recon-
struct environmental and landscape changes because of their high sensitiv-
ity to El Niño events whose periodic occurrences disturb the arid processes
(dune construction, aeolian erosion, hydric stress of the vegetation, and so
on) and modify the hydrography and hydrology of this arid area (fluvial
erosion and sedimentation; recharge of groundwater; positive hydrological
budgets for vegetation, formation of lakes and lagoons, and so on).
However, the mechanisms of the human adaptation in this area remain
unknown. What were the forms of natural resource exploitation by people?
What was their diet? In sum, how has man adapted to this coastal environ-
ment with such specific environmental conditions? The populations of the
Sechura Desert used mostly marine resources, but did other animal species
occupy a special place in their daily diet?
At the interface between environments and societies, the aim of this
research is to define the spatiotemporal relationships between human ac-
tivities and environmental changes over the last two millennia, and to re-
construct the climatic evolution that may explain the variability, in time
and space, of human settlements and resources. For all these reasons, our
methodological approach is multidisciplinary to take into account all the
different sorts of our proxies, multiscalar, spatialized, and diachronic, to
place a single site’s excavations in its palaeogeographical setting and as it
relates to other regional sites presenting different chronologies.
Archaeological Background
Since Moseley’s book, The Maritime Foundations of Andean Civilization

(Moseley 1975), Peruvian archaeology offered a large space for the study of
Prehispanic maritime communities of coastal Peru (Bird et al. 1985; Chau-
chat et al. 2006; Lavallée and Julien 2012; Richardson 1983; Sandweiss 1992,
among others). However, the Sechura Desert and the region of the Illes-
cas Massif are poorly known from the archaeological point of view. Only
304 · N. Goepfert, P. Béarez, A. Christol, P. Wuscher, and B. Gutiérrez
Mercedes Cárdenas’s team led excavations in several sites and tells us about
the human occupation of this area (Cárdenas et al. 1991, 1993; Milla 1989).
These works led to the discovery of several settlements (midden, conchales,
domestic, funerary, and ceremonial), whose dates ranged from the Pre-
ceramic to Late Horizon, resulting in a first chronology of this northern
region of Peru.
According to these studies and the available dating measurements, the
Preceramic occupation is concentrated in the Nunura Bay and the quebra-
das of Avic and Chorillos (Figure 11.1); from the Early Intermediate Period,
an occupation at the south of the massif appears, closer to the coast, espe-
cially the sites located in the Reventazón area. This development will con-
tinue in the Middle Horizon and Late Intermediate Period. However, the
Early Intermediate Period occupation is poorly understood, and no survey
or excavation was carried out before our fieldwork (Goepfert et al. 2014).
In this chapter, we present the preliminary results of this research draw-
ing on archaeological excavations of a small site of fishermen dating from
this period. These data allow us to study the impact of landscape modifi-
cations on the territorial organization of marine communities occupying
margin areas and strongly dependent on the natural environment.
Excavations and Preliminary Results
Between Cardenas’ team survey in the 1980s and our excavations in 2012
and 2013, no scientific work has been led in the area. The site of Bayovar-01
was discovered in 2005 during a survey (Patiño 2006). It was immediately
of great interest because of the enormous quantities of fish remains, par-
ticularly otoliths, present on the surface. Located 6 km from the shore on
a Pleistocene marine terrace at 9–18 m above sea level (Figure 11.1), it was
dated from the transition between the Early Intermediate Period (200 BC–
AD 600) and the Middle Horizon (AD 600–1000). The site is separated
from the ocean by a very flat sandy area, lower than sea level in some parts.
Other surveys were made, but it is the only archaeological site that presents
these geographical characteristics.
The Bayovar-01 site spreads over 3 ha. It consists of two structures that
are distant from each other by 160 m, and a large midden is situated be-
tween them. The extensive excavations of several areas have allowed us to
characterize and date the occupation of the site.
The Structures
The two structures are formed by several rows of marine formation blocks
(Figure 11.2), locally called conchuelas, as reported by Huertas (1999: 49).
This material was utilized until recently to construct such buildings as a
sulfur factory (dated from 1902) located 10 km from the settlement, and
the Colan Church. The blocks could be encountered throughout the area
on the marine terraces or tablazo. Each structure shows two parallel rows
Figure 11.2. Structures composed by beach

rocks (conchuelas) and posts used as screens:
(a) Structure 2 with the access corridor; (b)
detail of a trunk that has a sinuous shape (prob-
ably Prosopis pallida) (provided by the authors).
of blocks oriented east-west. The excavations allowed us to discern the plan

of the structures and show that there are not two parallel rows but several
small cells arranged side by side. The blocks were used to build and delimit
these spaces. They were buried in the sand, only the upper part visible,
and can be up to 1.4 m high and 1 m wide. Although marine terraces are
relatively near the site, the size of large blocks also implies a significant
work that does not correspond to temporary structures used occasionally.
Before starting the excavations, we identified a possible access to the north
that opens not on the center of the structure, but on a small space between
the different cells.
In Structure 2, south of these rows of blocks, more than 180 post bases
were registered (Figure 11.2). Some posts, which collapsed after the site was
abandoned, measured up to 4 m in length. A special process of preserva-
tion (the vegetal structure disappeared but posts were not carbonized) did
not allow the taxonomic determination of the wood. However the sinuous
shape of some trunks (Figure 11.2b) is similar to the shape of the American
carob or algarrobo (Prosopis pallida), which is still present in the area, along
with sapote (Capparis angulata), acacia (Acacia macracantha), and vichayo
(Capparis ovalifolia). In the two structures, posts are localized south of the
blocks and were probably used as windscreens for the wind coming from
the Pacific Ocean that blows south to north. Despite the presence of some
posts between the alignments, their rarity makes it impossible to indicate
the presence of some kind of roof. The interval between the posts was ir-
regular, as was their arrangement or diameter. The screens formed by these
posts should also include branches that reinforced protection against the
wind. Near these blocks, a whale’s vertebra and rib were literally driven
into the sand. The reason for these deposits is unknown but these elements
could perhaps be used to support perishable materials.
The extensive excavation of these structures and several pits revealed
ceramics sherds, some faunal remains, few artifacts, such as spindle whorls,
but no hearths or evidence of domestic occupation. However, special finds
were found such as a deposit of 12 cockle valves (Trachycardium procerum),
and a ceramic vessel deposited upside down (on its neck and not its base),
which probably represents an offering made at the time of the abandon-
ment of the area or site (Goepfert et al. 2014: fig. 3). The position and or-
ganization of the blocks, the presence of screens, and the existence of an
access corridor to a central space suggest that these structures were more
likely some kinds of small public places than domestic structures. These
could be located in the neighborhood of the site, closer to the massif of Il-
lescas, but the location of the habitation site remains unknown.
The Midden
The objective of the excavation of the midden was to provide data on the
utilization of natural resources in this desert environment. This zone ex-
tends over 4,000 sq m, and we did an extensive excavation of a 50 sq m
area where we uncovered very large burnt zones, nearly 50 cm thick, with
thousands of faunal remains intermixed with a very large amount of char-
coal. As for the structure, we found few artifacts in the midden: some cop-
per fishhooks, spindle whorls, textile fragments, and ceramics sherds. We
registered three types of hearths: (1) small hearths with large fragments
of charcoal; (2) large hearths (up to 10 sq m and more) with only ashes
still visible; and (3) large hearths (up to 10 sq m and more) with a level of
charcoal up to 12 cm. No stones or marine blocks delimited their edge; the
hearths are directly dug in the sand, the combustion material deposited at
the bottom. It was mainly wood, but also seeds and, surprisingly for the
desert area, camelid feces.
The superposition of hearths indicates that these work areas were reused
(Goepfert et al. 2014: fig. 4). The form of the hearths also evolved: the older
examples had a circular shape and measured approximately 3 cu m (Figure
11.3), while the later hearths represented larger combustion areas (more
than 10 m2). There is a superimposition of three levels: the first two have
not always been clearly defined because of the difficulty in distinguishing
hearths one from the other; the third corresponds to the oldest utilization
of the midden. In this latter level, we registered circular hearths, rubefi-
cated soils, and several “pits” containing only fish remains (Figure 11.3). In
the eastern part of the excavation, gray spots could be linked to postholes.
The high frequency of hearths is a remarkable fact indicating that this sec-
tor had a more complex function, combining a midden and a resource
preparation area.
The excavation of pits has shown that these circular hearths could reach
up to 40–50 cm deep and had been dug directly in the ground (Figure
11.4a). The first was a thick layer of 20 cm of bone remains (mainly fish)
mixed and superimposed with a layer of ash. Other profiles are more com-
plex and have several layers: along with the ashes and bone remains de-
scribed above was a layer of burnt soils with an orange-gray color (Figure
Figure 11.3. Excavation of the midden, which presents hearths (larger and circular), ru-
beficated soils, and pits containing fish remains (provided by the authors).
11.4b). In one of the pits, a whale’s caudal vertebra was deposited at the
bottom. This type of hearth is common and has been found since the Pre-
ceramic, like the site at Los Gavilanes in the valley of Huarmey (Bonavia
1982). In Bayovar-01 hearths, the bone remains found were not necessarily
carbonized, as we observed different stages of burning. At this stage, we
cannot certify that the function of these hearths was for cooking, smoking,
or waste incineration.
Zooarchaeology Studies
The zooarchaeological study is under way, but the faunal assemblage is con-
stituted by an overwhelming amount of fish remains, and, in much smaller
proportions, turtles (Chelonia mydas), birds (Sula sp. and Pelacanus sp.),
sea lions, lizards, and shells. During the survey, we observed the very high
densities of fish bones and otoliths on the surface, particularly of a Sciaeni-
dae (Micropogonias altipinnis). The midden excavation has uncovered more
than 35,000 otoliths and many more bones (more than 1 million remains).
Among the species, we note the abundance of Micropogonias altipinnis,
Albula sp., and Mugil cephalus, and, in smaller proportions, Gerreidae and
Menticirrhus sp., among others.
The presence of Micropogonias altipinnis and Albula sp., which today
inhabit only the warm and mixohaline waters of the Panamic Province,
Figure 11.4. Profiles of pit 1 excavated in the midden: (a) detail of a circular hearth profile;
(b) layer superposition of a circular hearth (provided by the authors).
south to Ecuador, raises many paleoenvironmental questions. Their typi-

cal biotope is very different compared to the one that exists around the
site today. Their abundance in the site could indicate different climatic and
environmental conditions, such as warmer waters, higher sea levels, or the
presence of a lagoon or embayment.
We did not find any complete artifact but numerous fragments of bird
bones, decorated or not, that likely correspond to the preforms of the arti-
facts. Most of them were proximal and distal extremities of pelican humeri,
which bore several cutmarks.
Many plant remains were also registered, including the charcoal result-
ing from the combustion. Other macroremains, burned or not, were also
found in large quantities, such as gourds (Lagenaria sp.), squash (Cucurbita
sp.), and corn (Zea mays). Again, taxonomic determinations and archaeo-
botanical study of the remains are still under way. This significant amount
of faunal and botanical remains will help us understand better the subsis-
tence strategies in a desertic environment.
Chronology
The ceramic sequence for the region of Piura was defined by Lanning in
1963. As mentioned before, a single complete vessel was discovered in a
structure of Bayovar-01. Its shape does not match any known ceramic ty-
pology of this region (Figure 11.5e). The sherds registered during the exca-
vation of the structure and the midden are characteristic of the Early Inter-
mediate Period. In particular, we identified several fragments that present a
painted decoration made of circles and lines using a technique called negro
fugitivo or “fugitive black paint” (Figure 11.5d). This technique of decora-
tion is used by the Mochicas until Moche III. Other fragments showed a
modeled incised application (Figure 11.5c), typical of the Gallinazo style in
the northern coast. According to Lanning’s nomenclature, these ceramic
sherds correspond to the Sechura B style (Lanning 1963). Other elements
discovered, such as an anthropomorphic application in the shape of a head,
do not bring more information about a stylistic attribution. According to
Lanning’s ceramic sequence, his Early Intermediate Period corresponds to
the Salinar and Gallinazo in the Moche Valley.
Six radiocarbon dates (ULB 23689, 23690, 23691, 23693, 23694, and
23695), obtained from five charcoal samples coming from hearths and one
piece of wood from a post base, show that the site was occupied between
AD 572 and 760 (1σ), or AD 547 and 766 (2σ). The results show a good
homogeneity and high precision, even at two sigmas.
From a general point of view, one can note that the occupation of the
site was brief, nearly 200 years, something that we suspected after looking
at the interrupted dense stratigraphy (constant deposits up to 50 cm). The
dates also confirm that the structures were used at the same time as the
large midden.
These results allow us to compare relative and absolute dates and discuss
the relevance of the ceramic sequence. They also show that these people
lived at the transition between Early Intermediate Period (200 BC–AD
Figure 11.5. Ceramic artifacts: (a) fragment of a decorated face-neck jar; (b) spindle whorl;
(c) decorated fragment with incised applying strip; (d) fragment decorated with negro fu-
gitivo or “fugitive black paint”; and (e) complete pot with beveled neck and lip (provided
by the authors).
600) and Middle Horizon (AD 600–1000), and not at the beginning of
Early Intermediate Period as one could assume if considering Lanning’s
sequence as unique proxy. It must be said that his sequence was made on
surface survey sherds and not from archaeological context with a strati-
graphic control as we have in our excavation.
This gap is very interesting and may show that the ceramic tradition of
the Early Intermediate Period extended later in this region, which is located
on the margin of the Mochica territory. People who occupied the site are
contemporary with the late Mochicas while preserving a ceramic charac-
teristic of the beginning of the Early Intermediate Period. In view of these
results, it seems necessary to revisit all the chronology of the sites of this
region.
Paleoenvironment
The study of morphosedimentary evidence allows us to highlight how the

flooding of the coastal sandy plain by fluvial and/or marine inputs would
have allowed the development of a large palaeolagoon, as we can see today
during a high-intensity El Niño. This paleolagoon, which corresponds to-
day to the Las Salinas Lake (Figure 11.1), occupies all the coastal depressions
and also some of the hinterland, extending for several hundred square ki-
lometers. As an analogy with the present situation, these inputs can be ex-
plained with: (1) high water supplies from the basin and from its highest
parts (Western Cordillera) related to higher pluviometry, and/or (2) spe-
cific and local hydromorphological dynamics with, for example, marine
water intrusion; or all are presumably related to the intensity of the ENSO
(El Niño Southern Oscillation) phenomenon. Our objective, in the future,
is to try to understand the modalities of the lagoon flooding and determine
its hydroclimatic functioning (role of the main shore bar, role of the ma-
rine water, and so on), which is not necessarily exactly the same at present.
Today, during a high-intensity El Niño event, this lagoon has water com-
ing from the north and northeast, apparently without any marine flooding
from breaches of the emerged part of the main shore sandbar. The amount
of water available is then sufficient to form a temporary lagoon. This type
of dynamic is confirmed by satellite photos from the El Niño events of
1982–1983 and 1997–1998. The current functioning partly explains the wa-
ter flooding the lagoon, but, in our archaeological case, does not explain
the entrance of marine fish, which prefer warm waters.
It is in this context that a paleoenvironmental component was defined in

our project. Surveys were carried out and pits created in various places of
the sandy plains. The facies of the pits show the full potential of the region
regarding coastal dynamics, environmental change, and landscape recon-
struction in association with Prehispanic human occupation. The study of
shells from these surveys is under way but indicates the frequent presence
of marine taxa and/or lagoon and mangrove species such as: Tagelus dom-
beii, Trachycardium procerum, Ilochione subrugosa, Cerithium sternusmus-
carum, Cryptomya californica, among others.
Their presence could be considered a good bioindicator of environ-
mental changes. At the least, we can say that they are linked to an aquatic
environment of warmer waters, probably as a result of El Niño. Dating
has begun and should soon provide a better chronological timing of the
floodings.
The occupation of the site, dated to AD 547–766 (2σ), would be con-
temporary with high-intensity El Niño events, whose impacts can also be
felt further south on such Mochicas sites as Sipán, Huaca de la Luna, or El
Brujo. During dry periods, the site is separated from the ocean by more
than 6 km as the crow flies. These ENSO events have enabled the perennial
flooding of the sandy plain and therefore the entry of marine fishes coming
from warmer waters. In this part of the Sechura Desert, we are faced with a
significant ancient landscape change which had implications in the human
occupation of the area and the function of the site.
Discussion
Fishermen who occupied this site benefited from favorable environmental

conditions for settlement along the lagoon or the shore, and even more
favorable conditions for fishing. The flooding explains the presence of spe-
cies normally living in shallow sandy bottoms. This fact raises the question
of the type of activities that were carried out on the site. First conceived
as a habitat settlement, the excavation of the structures showed no traces
of domestic occupation. Structures formed by the marine terrace blocks
(conchuelas) could not accommodate a large population, only a small
group. However, these constructions indicate the mobilization of labor,
not monumental but very significant for this kind of site. It also demon-
strates a sustainable and nontemporary location, which is confirmed by the
dates that testify to the occupancy of 200 years, “brief ” but continuous. The
occupation of Bayovar-01 was limited in time, and was an epiphenomenon

probably related to the flooding of the lagoon.
The same conclusion applies to the midden. If someone juxtaposes the
size of the midden, the very high frequency of ichthyological remains com-
pared to the rest of the faunal spectrum, and the presence of large hearths
(some of them were larger than 10 sq m), they realize that this sector prob-
ably had a more complex function than a midden. The amount of fish re-
mains found is so overwhelming that it is difficult to imagine a simple do-
mestic midden where these species were consumed and thrown.
The black color of charcoal, seeds, and burnt camelid feces indicates that
they have not been subject to prolonged combustion and high tempera-
tures; otherwise, they would be gray-white. Can we conclude that these
hearths have been used for the preparation of fishes? Were they cooked?
Consumed locally? Or were they dried or smoked for export? The results
of zooarchaeological studies will help us to determine that.
More than a domestic occupation site, we argue that Bayovar-01 would
have been a specialized site for fishing and the preparation of fish for export
to other areas by llama caravans. The presence of charred camelid feces in
the hearths (called taquia in the Andes), is another important clue. In con-
trast, we only found fewer than 10 bone remains for this taxa. The presence
of these animals, probably not bred in the area, can only be explained by the
arrival of caravans at the settlement. Camelids are the only known beasts
of burden in the Andes, and the importance of llama caravans has been
repeatedly noted (Browman 1974; Flores Ochoa et al. 1994; Lecoq 1987).
The location of the site near the Illescas Massif is also due to easy access to
freshwater. Puquios (springs) of freshwater were identified and they pro-
vided access to drinking water for humans and animals.
This possible specialization would be unprecedented for the region and
the period, and would perhaps indicate an organization at a regional level.
These kinds of sites are more frequent in later periods, for instance, for
Chincha fishermen on the Peruvian south coast (Sandweiss 1992). Accord-
ing to later texts compiled by Maria Rostworowski (2005: 128–129) and
Lorenzo Huertas (1999: 35), people of the Sechura region were known for
fishing and salting fish. With Bayovar-01, we have perhaps an older ex-
ample of such specialization. Another element is the existence of salt de-
posits, which are still used. They are located in the Salina Grande, a large
depression located 17 m below the sea level, 12 km from the site. Salt is very
important in food preservation, thus, the proximity of the site salt deposits
makes the links between these activity centers probable.
At Bayovar-01, the large majority of the recovered fauna is formed by

fish remains. At other sites, such as those located at the mouth of the Avic
quebrada for example, they are virtually absent (at least in surface and in
Cardenas’ team excavation pits) compared to shells and marine mammals.
This situation contrasts with that of Bayovar-01 where the faunal spectrum
is reversed. Perhaps Avic sites were also specialized sites; however, without
extensive excavations, it is difficult to confirm.
For the moment, it is just a hypothesis based on our observations, but it
will be interesting to study again the material excavated in Avic sites, which
have already been described in the two monographs published by Cárde-
nas et al. (1991, 1993), and compare it with our data. Accordingly, we think
that this settlement integrates a network of interactions among sites of the
region allowing the circulation of products with other ecological regions.
The presence of llama caravans, suggested by the thousands of feces found
at Bayovar-01, could be the dynamic agent of this gyratory system of trade
on a regional scale.
Conclusion
Fishermen of Sechura took advantage of specific environmental conditions

from the presence of a lagoon, perhaps caused by ENSO-like conditions, to
exploit natural resources, particularly a nonlocal fauna. Bayovar-01 might
be a specialized site, the first described for the Andean area at this period.
However, these beneficial conditions came to an end, and the filling of the
lagoon appears to have also impacted the populations. The other sites of
the region located in Reventazon, Avic, or Nunura continued to be occu-
pied until the Late Intermediate Period, while Bayovar-01 occupation was
limited to 200 years at the end of the Early Intermediate Period and the
beginning of the Middle Horizon. Were these environmental conditions
exceptional enough to explain a perennial but brief occupation? Were they
so different from those that followed that no subsequent occupation was
observed on the site? Did the modalities of the filling of the lagoon make a
new occupation impossible?
These questions may find an answer in the coming years with further
research in this area. The Sechura Desert appears as a strategic area for
understanding human adaptations to the desert and for studying the re-
sponses that Prehispanic societies brought to environmental and climate
stress during the last two millennia.
Acknowledgments
This article presents the preliminary results of the Programme Archéologique

Désert de Sechura, funded by the French Ministry of Foreign Affairs, with
additional contributions from the University of Paris 1 Panthéon-Sorbonne
(Paleosech Grant); the Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres (Car-
oll Prize); the Labex Dynamite from HeSam University; and the CNRS.
The fieldwork would not have been possible without the support of the
Peruvian Ministry of Culture, the French Embassy in Peru, and the French
Institute of Andean Studies (IFEA). We thank Valentin Mogollon for his
preliminary analysis of shell samples. We also thank Dr. José Vega and the
Vale-Miky Mayo Company for giving us the free access to the Bayovar-01
site. In addition, we thank Dr. Alejandro Fernández for the preliminary
study of “wood samples.” Finally, we thank all the archaeologists, students,
and staff who worked in the excavation, and especially Carlos Gutiérrez
Vereau for his assistance during fieldwork and survey.
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12
Late Prehistoric Maritime Communities
in Coastal Ecuador
Karen E. Stothert, Maria Masucci,

and Benjamin Carter
For at least 13,000 years, maritime adaptations have characterized the lit-
toral of the territory now called Ecuador. This discussion will focus on one
period of adaptive change between 700 and 1500 CE. Previous to this pe-
riod, communities were arrayed in villages and hamlets in an extensive
pattern that provided people with access to both alluvial farmlands and
coastal resources. Regional groups along the coast have been defined by
their ceramics (Early Atacames, Jama-Coaque, Bahía, Guangala, Jambelí,
and Tejar-Daule). In contrast, between 700 and 1100 CE there is strong
evidence of nucleation of population, the intensification of marine fishing
and craft production, and the development of greater sociocultural com-
plexity throughout the Ecuadorian littoral. By 1500 CE, ethnohistorically
documented communities known as Paches or Manteños (Manabí), Guan-
cavilcas (Santa Elena), and Punáes (Puná Island) shared ceramics of the
Manteño-Guancavilca (M-G) archaeological culture (Stothert 2013: 72–74).
These three groups likely had different identities, but they were all closely
related to each other and to the neighboring Tumbesinos of Tumbes, Peru.
We describe evidence of these adaptive changes in the Santa Elena area at
two Guancavilca localities—Loma de los Cangrejitos/Chanduy and Mar
Bravo/La Libertad—and revisit issues concerning maritime interaction in
late prehistory along the ancient coast. Evidence outside the Santa Elena
area is summarized below as context for our discussion of the southern
littoral.
Late Prehistoric Maritime Communities in Coastal Ecuador · 319
Change along the Coastal Plain
Between 700 and 1526 CE, there were changes in human occupation near
the mouth of the Atacames River (Figure 12.1). In Early Atacames (700–
1100 CE), communities were dedicated to extensive subsistence agriculture
and hunting in the forest. Post-1100 CE, the Late Atacames people relocated
to semiurban littoral sites concentrated along the coast with a large popu-
lation concentrated at the Atacames site and a new organization of space,
including tolas (platform mounds; Guinea 1984). A new diet focused on
maize is indicated by the decrease in the use of ceramic graters (for manioc)
and the shift to maize-grinding equipment. Shell beads were manufactured
in domestic contexts, and copper alloy metal was worked into artifacts,
although smelting is not known from the site. Guinea (1998) suggests a
connection between the people of Atacames and the metal workers of the
Sicán state (a likely source of ore). The Late Atacames pattern of specializa-
tion may be linked to maritime commerce (Alcina Franch et al. 1987).
The first Spanish observers described Atacames as a town of 1,000 houses
with great stores of food including fish and corn (Guinea 1984). A large
number of “warriors” wearing gold jewelry came out in boats to welcome
the first Spanish ship, suggesting an aboriginal interest in interaction and
gift exchange. This pattern was repeated in towns like Jama and Coaque, big
settlements near the sea with ample provisions and elite goods, including
emeralds, gold, and textiles.
At Japotó/Charapotó/San Jacinto (Bouchard 2010), people called Paches,
using Early M-G pottery, built a series of tolas near the sea at the mouth of
a great river. They lived on the tolas, manufactured shell beads in domestic
contexts, consumed fish, and had access to inland agricultural land. One
tola was constructed for the burial of a large, red-painted, adobe ceremonial
structure dated to 1100 CE (Guinea 2010). Later in the M-G Period, Japotó
was no longer occupied as population increased along the Portoviejo River
and people built the ritual center of Jaboncillo on nearby mountain slopes.
Population was concentrated along the Bay of Manta and especially at the
town of Jocay or Cancebí where Jijón y Caamaño observed the ruins of
hundreds of stone foundations (1952). Spanish accounts indicate that the
people of Manta/Jocay venerated a legendary emerald, La Umiña, for its
healing powers.
Recently Marcos has described the Señorío of Cancebí and the “complex
Umiña system” based on an archaeological pattern involving Coaque, Jocay,
and Jipijapa (Figure 12.1): this sociopolitical group (a “state in gestation”)
Figure 12.1. The Atacames River region (provided by the authors).
may have been involved in moving emeralds from Colombia and Spondy-
lus shell (thorny oyster) to Manabí and then to Chincha in Peru (Marcos
(2013: 220, 270). Emeralds and Spondylus are goods touted as the basis of
the economy of this M-G system and thought to have helped elites main-
tain social hierarchy and participate in a robust exchange system that in-
cluded the Inca state (Marcos and Hidrovo 2010: 256). This hypothesis is
supported by one historic document described by Rostworowski (1970: 9,
citing “folleto 271”): it was reported that 6,000 “merchants” (mercaderes)
voyaged from Chincha to Cuzco, through all of Callao, and “to the north
as far as Quito and Puerto Viejo, bringing back chaquira [fine beads] made
of gold and emeralds for the curacas of Ica.” This source does not mention
Spondylus shell, but we do know that gold beads were made on Puná Is-
land and that emeralds are known from Manabí. Below we will discuss the
idea that emeralds and Spondylus shell were commodities that motored the
activities of M-G mariners who dominated exchange along the entire Pa-
cific coast (Marcos 1986, 1995; Marcos and Hidrovo 2010: 257–258; Norton
1986).
Archaeological evidence confirms that the communities of the Paches,
Guancavilcas, and Punáes were arranged into somewhat fluid units, variable
through time and across space. Marcos points out that señoríos had variable
numbers of constituent cacicazgos (Marcos and Hidrovo 2010: 225), and he
emphasizes that the M-G peoples were not politically centralized, although
they were somewhat hierarchical and unified by shared religious beliefs
and practices. European observers in Manabí described temples, religious
activities, and sacrifices. While the art and architecture of the ritual site of
Jaboncillo, Hojas, and other hilltop sites in Manabí represent the maximum
expression of the beliefs of the Paches (Saville 1910; McEwan 1992, 2003),
in the south the Guancavilcas and Punáes constructed hilltop ritual places
like Cerro de las Negras where there is evidence of maize ceremonialism
and ancestor worship (Alvarez and Garcia 1995; Stothert and Cruz Cevallos
2004).
By the end of the aboriginal period, caciques functioned as heads of
communities consisting of integrated groups of extended families with
the names of chiefly families persisting into the Colonial Period (Regalado
2016). Three señoríos (Jocay, Picoazá, and Salangome) have been defined
for Manabí (McEwan 2003: fig. 2.6; McEwan and Delgado 2008: 510–518,
fig. 26.4; Silva 1984). Salangome may have been located at the semiur-
ban site of Agua Blanca. This settlement on the Buenavista River was the
home of farmers in the Guangala Period, but the later M-G settlement was
322 · Karen E. Stothert, Maria Masucci, and Benjamin Carter
characterized by hundreds of buildings outlined with stone walls and rows

of M-G style “stone seats” (McEwan 2003). Interestingly, the well-watered
agricultural hinterlands of southern Manabí (including the Ayampe and
Blanco drainages) were densely settled by farmers in Guangala times, and
that pattern continued in the M-G Period but with an increase of popula-
tion in the littoral, particularly at Machalilla (Graber 2010: 614–619; Martín
2009, 2010). M-G sites located along the littoral of Manabí (Los Frailes,
Machalilla, López Viejo, Río Chico, and Salango) indicate substantial set-
tlement by Paches engaged in fishing and perhaps maritime trade, the latter
inferred from the Spanish accounts of the famous balsa raft captured off
Punta Galera in 1526 (Oviedo y Valdez 1945; Sámano-Xérez 1967).
The Early Manteño site of Los Frailes was characterized by the produc-
tion of a wide range of shell artifacts made from two species of mother-of-
pearl, while Spondylus was not important (Mester 1985, 1990). Much later,
in the M-G site of López Viejo, there is evidence for the production of
shell ornaments, principally mother-of-pearl, but including two species of
Spondylus, Olivella, and Oliva (Currie 1995: 522). Currie also inferred that
decorated textiles and copper artifacts were produced in large rectangu-
lar spaces, apparent elite residences, outlined by stone walls (Currie 1995).
While Currie has recognized “a relatively high diversity of craft produc-
tion,” she does not see the kind specialization known in northern Peru
(1995: 521).
It has been suggested that Spondylus shells were processed intensively at
Salango in late M-G times (Allan and Allan 1989; Norton et al. 1983) and
at the nearby site of Río Chico (Martínez et al. 2007) where battered white
shell debris provides evidence that the colored raw material was exported.
There is no evidence of the manufacture of shell artifacts at these sites.
Further south, the upper Valdivia Valley was densely populated in the
Guangala Period, but the people left that area in Late Guangala times
(Schwarz 1987) and only small, temporary M-G sites have been found in
the Valdivia Valley. In contrast, large M-G settlements are known along
the littoral (Olón, Manglaralto, and La Libertad) and in the lower valley
of the well-watered Colonche Valley (not yet thoroughly surveyed). The
systematic archaeological study of Puná Island began only recently, so we
still rely on Pizzaro’s description of the powerful and wealthy cacique of the
Punáes whose town was characterized by gardens and artisans (including
women) working in residential contexts, slaves, and a port full of fishermen
and large balsa rafts that transported people and warriors across the Gulf to
Tumbes and beyond. The bellicose Punáes successfully frustrated both the
Incas and Spaniards.
In summary, between 700 and 1100 CE, the relationship between com-
munities and natural surroundings changed. In Manabí, even as nucleation
at the coast increased—for example, at the site of Machalilla, which grew
to be its region’s densest community (Martín 2009, 2010)—the populations
of the hinterlands continued to be large (Graber 2010). In the Santa Elena
region people exited the hinterlands for nucleated littoral settlements. This
change may be due to mega-ENSO events or environmental degradation
caused by human beings, or alternatively increased maize production may
have facilitated the movement of part of the labor force to coastal centers.
Families may have sought better material, social, and spiritual conditions,
and charismatic leaders could have drawn people into novel relationships
in the lower valleys. The intensification of fishing and the distribution of
surplus maize would have increased the carrying capacity in the region.
The adoption of M-G–style pottery in this period by people who for-
merly had distinct ceramic identities (Bahía, Guangala, and Jambelí), im-
plies a new kind of ritual commensality (Stothert 2006). This mechanism
of integration has elements that are both egalitarian and potentially hierar-
chical. These sociocultural changes are not easily attributed to conquest or
to the migration of peoples as the regions still maintained unique versions
of a M-G culture. Instead, they can be seen as the result of the rise of local
elites who became responsible for the spiritual and material transformation
and reorganization of the regional populations. By this time, complex poli-
ties (kingdoms) had developed in neighboring Peru, and regional elites in
Ecuador could have benefited by mounting expeditions to distant ports to
trade.
If elite management facilitated the intensification of the production of
both maize and fish after 1100 CE, change would have entailed the pro-
motion of new technologies in agriculture, fishing, and food preparation,
as well as in the storage and transportation of food and other goods. The
concentration of the labor pool near the coast may have improved both
productivity and the efficient distribution of food. Probably the heads of
important families were responsible for feeding their people, supplying
their spiritual needs, and managing the economy. Evidence of this transi-
tion in the Santa Elena area can be seen in the Chanduy Valley in El Azúcar
and along the Zapotal River (Figure 12.2).
Figure 12.2. Chanduy Valley, Santa Elena area (provided by the authors).
Evidence from the Chanduy Valley
Sites in the Chanduy Valley spanning Guangala through Early M-G pro-
vide evidence for understanding the nature and posible causes of the adap-
tive changes for the Santa Elena area (Figure 12.2). Guangala communities
prior to 700 CE in the El Azúcar Valley, about 25 km upriver from the sea,
relied on the movement of marine resources up coastal valleys (Figure 12.2)
(Masucci 1992; Reitz and Masucci 2004). The Guangala population in the
valley grew to be significantly greater than during earlier times: this is at-
tributed to the new adaptive strategies, which included use of water catch-
ment basins (Masucci 1992: 295–296, 408–410).
Deep midden deposits in two El Azúcar Guangala sites, Sites 30 and 47
(Figure 12.2), yielded remains from the Early to Middle Guangala periods
(circa 360 BCE–650 CE; Masucci 1992). The total vertebrate faunal sample
from these sites was 27,371 specimens. During the Early Guangala, marine
fish represented 65 percent of individuals and 85 percent of the biomass,
while in the Middle Guangala those numbers dropped to 46 percent and
62 percent; by Late Middle Guangala times, marine fish were 39 percent of
individuals and 26 percent of the biomass, and the consumption of deer
increased significantly, representing 5.6 percent of individuals and 73.4

percent of biomass. Analysis of the skeletal elements present also show that
the most common elements are the less economic portions of the animals.
Deer meat may have been exchanged outside the valley (Reitz and Masucci
2004: 95).
As marine resources constituted such a large quantity of the animal re-
mains at El Azúcar, it is probable that their procurement was regular, re-
flecting a mutualistic strategy involving the exchange of resources among
coastal plain settlements (Reitz and Masucci 2004: 7). In this model both
inland farmers and littoral fisherfolk successfully occupied their respective
zones because of the exchange of resources. The fish identified at El Azúcar
were often deep-sea species, particularly sharks and rays, making it likely
that they were not procured directly by farmers. Similar conclusions were
reached from Early Guangala evidence recovered at Las Balsas, a site lo-
cated 40 km inland in the Colonche Valley where marine sharks, rays, and
bony fishes comprised over 91 percent of the vertebrate specimens (Stothert
et al. 1998).
Shellfish also reached the El Azúcar sites: a total of 28,892 invertebrate
specimens with an estimated MNI of 22,181 were recovered, and at Site 47
there were remains of intensive marine shell working. Small white beads in
all stages of manufacture were present, including raw and cut shell, blanks,
in-process beads, and broken beads and lithic drills and debris. Finished
beads were rare (Masucci 1995). These objects constitute evidence of non-
specialized, household-level production. The work focused on making
small white beads by reducing the inner white portion of several marine
shells: Spondylus sp., Chama frondosa and, most commonly, Anadara tu-
berculosa (Masucci 1995; Reitz and Masucci 2004). Complete white beads
made from Anadara tuberculosa were indistinguishable from beads made
from Spondylus sp. Possibly the El Azúcar Guangala producers were pass-
ing off Anadara beads for the more valuable shell, Spondylus. Every settle-
ment in El Azúcar, regardless of size, presented evidence of shell working
but without complete beads. These items would have provided Guangala
farmers a product to exchange for obsidian blades, copper artifacts, pumice
for making fancy pottery, or other exotic commodities that originated in
the highlands of Ecuador but are found at the El Azúcar sites.
Although there is no direct evidence of Guangala seagoing vessels, the
quantities of deep-sea fish, particularly sharks, indicate the existence of
seacraft capable of deep-sea fishing. It is hard not to see the possibility
of Guangala maritime travel, but there is no direct evidence of routes,
although contacts based on ceramic similarities and transfer of metal tech-

nology have been proposed (Paulsen 1974; Hosler 1994; Ledergerber 1980).
There is no evidence of permanent occupation in the valley after the
Middle Guangala florescence, circa 650 CE. There are, however, hilltop sites
with minimal domestic trash and oval features formed by stones placed
upright in the ground as bases possibly for storage structures (silos) hold-
ing large jars (Marcos 1995: 145–147, 2013; Masucci 1992). These features
increase in size and frequency in the M-G Period.
Several possible explanations for changes in Late Guangala in the Santa
Elena area have been offered, including models of climate change and de-
population (Paulsen 1970), but our settlement survey demonstrates instead
a shift of population and likely reorganization of the economic system, an
increased orientation toward the sea, and transformations in all aspects of
life similar to those occurring in littoral regions to the north in Manabí.
To investigate the Late Guangala adaptive changes, we began research in
1998 at Loma de los Cangrejitos, a site complex located near the Chanduy
estuary fewer than 4 km from the modern coast (Figure 12.2) (Masucci
2000). Cangrejitos is known for its elite burials and five ceremonial plat-
forms (Marcos 1981, 2013; Zevallos 1995). Evidence from middens underly-
ing the platforms date the first settlement to the end of the Guangala Period
and the construction of the platforms to post-900–1000 CE (Table 12.1).
This corresponds to early assessments by Marcos of the first phase of buri-
als in the Cangrejitos cemetery circa 900–1150 CE (Marcos 1981). There-
fore, Cangrejitos was first occupied post-700 CE for 200 to 300 years, after
which the site was transformed physically by the construction of earthen
platforms (Figure 12.3).
The midden context below platform 4f (MV-C2-4f; Figure 12.3) provided
evidence of Late Guangala to Early M-G subsistence—for comparison with
the earlier Guangala occupation at El Azúcar. A 6 × 1 m trench through
the midden yielded a faunal sample, with 35,970 specimens representing
2,234 individuals and 7,970 g of biomass. At the level of specimens and in-
dividuals, the sample is dominated by bony fishes, but in terms of MNI and
biomass, mammals, especially white-tailed deer (Odocoileus virginianus),
dominate the assemblage. Mammals represent 18 percent of specimens, 14
percent of individuals, and 43 percent of biomass (Sánchez 2001).
When heavy rains exposed a 3 m deep midden at the Port of Chanduy
(Figure 12.2), we opened a 1 × 1 m salvage unit (Site MV-C2-3a; Figure 12.2)
where we recovered a large, well-preserved sample of bone and shell but a
low frequency of domestic ceramics and lithics. The excavation exposed a
Table 12.1. Radiocarbon dates of the Cangrejito sites

Corrected Corrected, Material/
Provenience Calibrated Uncalibrated Method Laboratory
Cangrejitos 645–895 CE 1280 ± 70 BP Charred Beta-124411
MV-C2-4f 95% confidence material,
B6-6 conventional
MV-C2-4f 724–984 CE 1165 ± 45 Charred mate- AA-31706
B1-7 95% confidence BP rial, AMS
MV-C2-4f 960–1065 CE and 1020 ± 50 BP Charred Beta-124408
B1-7 1075–1155 CE material,
95% confidence conventional
MV-C2-4f 790–1010 CE 1130 ± 50 BP Charred Beta-124409

B1-13 95% confidence material,
conventional
MV-C2-4f 779–1016 CE 1130 ± 45 Charred mate- AA-31707
B1-16 95% confidence BP rial, AMS
MV-C2-4f 680–1000 CE 1190 ± 70 BP Charred Beta-124410
B1-18 95% confidence material,
conventional
Port Chanduy 1278–1401 CE 657 ± 43 Charred mate- AA-31704
MV-C2-3a 95% confidence B.P. rial, AMS
A7-7
MV-C2-3a 1040–1310 CE and 790 ± 80 BP Charred Beta-124405

A7-13 1355–1385 CE material,
95% confidence conventional
MV-C2-3a 1035–1270 CE 870 ± 50 BP Charred Beta-124406
A7-15 95% confidence material,
conventional
MV-C2-3a 888–1159 CE 1035 ± 65 Charred mate- AA-31705
A7-22 95% confidence B.P. rial, AMS
palimpsest of hearths and postmolds, and produced an impressive 31,243

faunal specimens, 1,461 individuals, and 2,561 g of biomass. Bony fish rep-
resented 90 percent of the specimens, 97 percent of the individuals, and 80
percent of the biomass, with sea catfish being the dominant taxon. Based
on these data we identified the site as a fish-processing station. Radiocar-
bon dates from charcoal indicate that the deposit accumulated from Late
Guangala to Guancavilca times (circa 888–1400 CE), suggesting that this
location provided marine resources to Cangrejitos (Table 12.1).
Figure 12.3. Stratigraphic excavations at El Cangrejito site (provided by the authors).
If we compare the sample from Site 3a to what we have from Cangrejitos,

there are clear differences. The midden below platform 4f was characterized
by a greater variety of species; mammals had a greater role but bony fish are
predominant with cartilaginous species consumed less often. In contrast,
3a is dominated by bony fish (97 percent of individuals and 80 percent of
the biomass), while mammals are insignificant (Sánchez 2001: 4). When the
El Azúcar Guangala deposits are compared to Cangrejitos and Chanduy,
we see that marine vertebrates contributed 65 percent of the individuals
in the entire collection and 83 percent of the biomass, with cartilaginous
fish alone contributing 57 percent of the biomass. By contrast, both 4f and
3a demonstrate a higher percentage of marine fauna than El Azúcar, not
surprising because Cangrejitos and Chanduy are both nearshore sites, but
it is harder to explain why there are significantly more Chondreichthyes
(sharks and rays) at El Azúcar than at 4f or 3a. Why were the largest ma-
rine species (sharks and rays) that feed at the highest trophic level and live
in deep waters found at the sites farthest from the sea at El Azúcar, while
the onshore and nearshore assemblages are dominated by smaller, bony
fish? Chondreichthyes appear to have been targeted for export in Guangala

times while the M-G fishermen of Chanduy targeted bony fishes, particu-
larly sea catfish.
Evidence of shell working was also distinct between Cangrejitos and
Chanduy Site 3a. Worked shell, in-process beads, chert drills, and debris
from drill production were present in all midden contexts below the Can-
grejitos platforms. The frequency in the 4f midden was similar to that of
the Early Guangala shell-working context at El Azúcar where 88 percent of
specimens were from species utilized for shell working, and the emphasis
was on the production of small 1–2 mm diameter beads. There were signifi-
cant differences, however, in that in El Azúcar the dominant species being
worked was Anadara sp. (tuberculosa and grandis), while these are absent
at Cangrejitos where Spondylus dominates. The valves of Spondylus were
rare at El Azúcar, while spent heavily cut valves are common throughout
all middens at Cangrejitos (Figure 12.4).
Shell working is insignificant at Chanduy Site 3a. Just a single 10 cm level
of preplatform midden at Cangrejitos had far more worked Spondylus and
spent valves than the entire approximately 3m of deposit (1 × 1m excava-
tion) at Chanduy 3a.
Figure 12.4. Spondylus shell fragments found at El Cangrejito site (provided by the au-
thors).
In summary, the settlement dynamics and subsistence, particularly in

terms of the use of marine resources, spanning the Guangala to M-G peri-
ods in the Chanduy Valley are as follows: first, El Azúcar sites, located 25
km from the sea, were domestic farmsteads occupied in Early and Middle
Guangala times; a domestic midden spanning Late Guangala–Early M-G
was found underlying artificial platforms at Cangrejitos located just 4 km
from the modern seashore; and a midden at Chanduy, located on the mod-
ern beach, spans Late Guangala through Middle M-G and is a specialized
fishing station. It is notable that there is a significant increase in deer (73.4
percent of biomass) in the Late Middle Guangala layers of midden at El
Azúcar (dating to circa 450–650 CE); similarly in the earliest levels at Can-
grejitos, which date to post-650 CE, there is a strong deer component (18.8
percent of biomass)—even with a strong marine orientation. The increased
emphasis on deer in the later occupation at El Azúcar could be due to ex-
panded maize farming that attracted more animals to fields (Reitz and Ma-
succi 2004). A similar explanation would fit the evidence from Cangrejitos:
we imagine deer moving down valley to the later site. There is evidence
from the nearby Chanduy Hills, and all over the region, of farming storage
stations just like those found in El Azúcar and in surveys further up river
which date to Late Guangala through M-G times.
Late Guangala people abandoned El Azúcar village: some may have
continued farming while living in dispersed homesteads, but many people
were drawn to sites like Cangrejitos, nearer the sea. They began to obtain
and copy small quantities of rare burnished blackware jars associated with
M-G elites, which make up <1 percent of 24,000 sherds in the early midden:
petrographic and elemental analysis indicates both trade and copying were
taking place (Masucci 2014). The domestic ceramics that dominate in the
Cangrejitos preplatform middens echo patterns and designs of the Guan-
gala style, but the proliferation of sherds from large griddles (comales) in-
dicates consumption of corn tortillas, perhaps due to the increased maize
agriculture. The substantial presence of deer remains in the final levels at
the El Azúcar and Cangrejitos preplatform middens supports the idea of
expanded maize fields.
Around 900–1100 CE, the midden at 4f was leveled, and sterile mixes of
colored clay and sand were alternated to form an approximately 3 m high
platform which included a clay brick wall (Figure 12.5). At least five other
areas had platform constructions, and the faces of the hill were altered
creating a stepped appearance. Each of the platforms at Cangrejitos had a
distinct structure suggesting different functions and/or building episodes.
All the platform surfaces were characterized by sherds of “Manteño Or-

dinario” (utilitarian ware), a diagnostic ceramic type ubiquitous in M-G
sites throughout the coast but entirely absent in preplatform contexts (Es-
trada 1957). The pattern of colored soils used in platform construction, the
presence of “Manteño Ordinario” pottery, and the increased occurrence of
black burnished M-G elite ware are features typical in M-G centers of the
north.
While debris from shell working, particulary of Spondylus, is dense in
the middens below the platforms at Cangrejitos, it is not associated with the
platform surfaces. It is, however, present at the small mound sites that dot
the surrounding littoral plain where Manteño Ordinario sherds and small
quantities of M-G blackware are found.
In summary, Loma de los Cangrejitos was a littoral hamlet circa 700
CE: it may have been occupied first by people from El Azúcar who left the
inland areas and concentrated along the coast after 650 CE. The new Late
Guangala to Early M-G inhabitants of Cangrejitos engaged in intensive
shell working within domestic contexts, had diets based on marine and
terrestrial fauna, produced new ceramic forms for preparing corn tortillas,
and had a few M-G blackware elite vessels like their northern neighbors.
By 1100 CE, Cangrejitos had been transformed into a regional center with
earthen platforms, areas for public rituals and elite burials, terracing, and
typical M-G ceramics. Shell workshops and possible textile production
had moved to small homesteads spread across the lower valley. A nearby
fish-processing station at Chanduy spans the time of the Cangrejitos oc-
cupation: it supplied the sea catfish frequently consumed at Cangrejitos.
Marine resources were a key element in sustaining the wider M-G commu-
nity in the Chanduy Valley, as was the case for the inland Guangala people
of El Azúcar—although the focus of the exploitation of marine fauna had
changed.
Long-distance exchange for exotics, shell working for export, and the
utilization of seagoing crafts are patterns present in both Guangala and
M-G times in the Chanduy Valley. Therefore, we propose that the Spon-
dylus trade was not responsible for the transformation of the way of life
in the Chanduy Valley, although the interaction between the people of the
littoral of Ecuador and their northern and southern neighbors could have
been a factor in the developments at Cangrejitos. While the combination
of site specialization and regional integration (indicated by the use of M-G
ceramics up and down the littoral) was successful, it is not clear why people
were willing to move and to adopt new lifeways. Dietary reorientation and
changes in behavior around food are interesting dimensions in this readap-

tation. The Late Guangala and Early M-G ceramic assemblages at Cangre-
jitos not only represent poorly finished vessels—they were also dominated
by flat, heavily burned plates, or comales. While Late Middle Guangala
communities at El Azúcar had shifted to venison and shellfish broths made
with mangrove species, the Late Guangala–Early M-G villagers at Can-
grejitos became heavily focused on venison, catfish, and tortillas. Serious
underlying social, economic, technological, and ideological factors must
have motivated the change.
We propose that the initial occupation of Cangrejitos was part of the re-
structuring of Late Guangala settlement in the Chanduy Valley. Some part
of the population moved to coastal villages but some people continued to
farm inland, concentrating their produce in special storage structures. The
first inhabitants of Cangrejitos were involved in intensive Spondylus shell
working although within domestic contexts. With the construction of the
platforms at Cangrejitos, a regional hierarchy and a degree of economic
specialization were established. The platform center was surrounded by
small, regularly spaced house mounds where residents worked shell, pro-
duced textiles, and had access to small amounts of metal and fine pottery,
the contemporaneous fishing village at Chanduy, and hilltop agricultural
storage and ritual sites. Cangrejitos might be understood as a community
center constructed as part of the rise of an elite or managerial group and
the establishment of a social hierarchy manifested in the changes in the
physical landscape and clustering of small, domestic units. The Cangrejitos
settlement was prominent for a while, but lost cachet circa 1200 CE, about
the time Mar Bravo began to grow as a specialized fishing site. Cangrejitos
continued as a burial place and sacred space attested to by smashed and
burned platform plates.
We lack the precise chronology necessary to understand the develop-
ment of the culture of the Paches, Guancavilcas, and their relatives and to
describe their relationships with other Andean peoples, but we have propo-
sitions to be tested. We want to know if more productive varieties of corn
and/or new technologies of water management were introduced around
650 CE, a change that might help explain socioeconomic change in our
area. Stone canals and terraces for irrigation and intensive agriculture are
documented to the north and proposed for the Santa Elena area, but the
physical evidence is less clear in the south. The intensification of farming
and fishing could have created conditions for the expansion of domestic
crafting, the export of shell materials, the growth of leadership, and/or
inequality. It is plain that changes after the Middle Guangala florescence

resulted in a “devolution” of Guangala pottery and the use of new markers
of identity. People apparently set about to innovate a different way of life,
initially revealed by a small quantity of fine M-G blackwares—local cop-
ies of elite and ritual wares developed by their neighbors. Alternatively,
the Middle Guangala florescence led to an overreach of the capacity of the
region and the reorganization, and the reorientation and concomittent
changes in settlement, economy, and symbols are evidence of recovery af-
ter a regional collapse. Finally, the Late Guangala changes (circa 600–800
CE) are coincident with a documented major ENSO event around 650 CE;
the relationship of these two events must also be considered, as well as the
cultural changes taking place to the south in Peru.
Mar Bravo (Site M3-A5-362)
The settlement of the Colonchillo region (modern La Libertad) mirrors

that observed in the Chanduy Valley. An extensive Guangala occupation
faced the Bay of Santa Elena, while along a 15 km stretch of the Río Tambo
there were numerous Early and Middle Guangala hamlets overlooking al-
luvial bottomland (Figure 12.1). While Libertad continued to be occupied
through the later phases of the Guangala Period, there were very few Late
Guangala sites in the Tambo River región; yet one settlement appeared near
the modern fishing port of Anconcito, evidence that people were drawn to
marine resources. In the Early M-G Period several middens, characterized
by fragments of large storage jars, accumulated at the confluence of the
Tambo and Grande rivers (Site 337). This may have been a bulking place for
agricultural produce as the new socioeconomic system emerged.
The Guancavilca midden began to accumulate on the low dune of Mar
Bravo (MB) only after 1000 CE (Figure 12.6), and the site grew into a large
earthen platform (tola) by 1375 CE as people systematically excavated and
redeposited rubbish to create terraces; they lived there until around 1500.
The final platform mound covered more than 42,500 sq m (4.25 ha, Figure
12.5). This habitation area suggests continuous population growth, a phe-
nomenon noted in littoral contexts along the entire Ecuadorian coast. The
site shows robust layers of fish scales and bones, marine shells, ash, and
charcoal; floors constructed from clay; post holes and fragments of wattle
and daub; ovens fashioned from large ceramic vessels (ollas); clay-lined
storage pits; secondary burials in ollas; faunal and floral remains; and diag-
nostic M-G artifacts (Stothert 2010).
Figure 12.5. Large earthen platform at the site of Mar Bravo (provided by the authors).
The people of Mar Bravo were socially, politically, and economically re-
lated to the Guancavilcas that lived along the Bay of Santa Elena (for exam-
ple, Bushnell 1951; Fuentes et al. 1996). Population growth in Colonchillo
probably resulted in the occupation of MB, a phenomenon emblematic of
the development of a M-G sociopolitical and economic organization and a
novel settlement system. Just as we noted for the Chanduy Valley, adaptive
changes may have been driven by demographic increase, environmental
degradation, or by opportunistic elites who strove to increase productivity
and achieve their family goals—possibly in emulation of their neighbors in
Manabí or Peru.
The MB pottery assemblage also contained fragments of cookware in-
cluding griddles indicative of maize tortillas, typical M-G domestic pottery,
and fine blackware jars, bowls, and pedestal plates bearing M-G iconogra-
phy. The ubiquity of the iconography on fine serving ware suggests a com-
mon spirituality and communal eating and drinking—integrative practices
that defined relationships of reciprocity and possibly created hierarchy lo-
cally (Stothert 2006).
Figure 12.6. Mar Bravo radiocarbon dates (provided by the authors).
The MB settlement was founded along a stretch of wild sea where nei-
ther bathing nor boating is possible today. The Guancavilca fishermen lived
sandwiched between the beach and adjacent wetlands. While specialized
in deep-sea and estuarine fishing, the people of MB may have prepared
fish for export, along with sea vegetables, salt, and craft items. The com-
munity may have served the interests of Colonchillo by exploiting marine,
estuarine, and terrestrial resources (salt) and by creating a small port on the
Gulf of Guayaquil—just 4 km south of the center at Libertad. Transporting
goods from the gulf across the narrow peninsula to La Libertad could have
been more efficient than circumnavigating Cape Santa Elena. We suggest
that the fishermen of MB maintained contact with other fishing communi-
ties around the gulf while functioning as sentinels that monitored maritime
traffic while fishing.
Vertebrate faunal remains indicate that the people consumed very little
deer meat, and abundant fish remains indicate the exploitation of marine
and estuarine resources. Bony fish provided the greater part of the biomass
at MB, the dominant type being marine catfish (Ariidae family) which can
be caught with nets in estuaries, mangroves, and nearshore waters (Sánchez
2002: 17–20). Cartilagenous fish (sharks and rays) are rare (Stothert et al.
1998) as they are at Cangrejitos and Chanduy. Ecuador’s aboriginal people
enjoyed a great diversity of marine fish throughout history, but the greatest
degree of specialization is seen in the M-G fish assemblages of Mar Bravo
where certain species were targeted skillfully (Sánchez 2002; 2010).
The residents of MB probably received maize in exchange for fish, shell-
fish, sea vegetables, salt, and perhaps beads or processed shell. An analysis
of macrobotanical remains permitted the identification of two species of
domesticated bean, as well as avocado, maize, and tree gourd (Veintimilla
2002). Maize kernels may have arrived in sacks to be converted into torti-
llas and beer at MB. At the end of the aboriginal period, griddles for mak-
ing tortillas and stone-grinding equipment are prominent in the archaeo-
logical record along the entire coast, and early Spanish observers noted that
aboriginal people ate raw fish and corn tortillas.
An extensive yellow clay floor once capped the highest portion of the
mound in Sector C. This may have marked the residence of a head family,
or a patio for community rituals where leaders served chicha and food to
fishermen and artisans in return for their labor. Community rituals and
funerary activities involved inserting offerings and human remains below
yellow floors. The platforms constructed by M-G people vary through time
and space and may correlate with sociopolitical and economic complexity
and the maintenance of hierarchy.
While Mar Bravo is not an obvious “high status” site, it was the result
of long-term efforts to build a platform and create storage facilities and
tombs. The MB community had an economic specialization that permitted
its people to participate in the wider M-G socioeconomic system. While
all M-G settlements had similar pottery and shared an array of elite goods,
there is a clear difference between the sites of the south such as our Santa
Elena area and those of Central Manabí characterized by rectangular build-
ings outlined by stones, stone sculptures, U-shaped stone seats, stone-lined
wells, cisterns and tombs, and flights of stone terraces and stairways (Es-
trada 1957; Lunniss 2001; Saville 1910).
In summary, the MB site, capped with yellow clay, may have been im-
pressive when viewed from the gulf. The residents worked as fishermen
and perhaps as boatmen, and they collected shellfish and manufactured a
variety of artifacts for consumption, possibly for trade. Serving food and
drink in the M-G style was important to them; the site stood as a funerary
monument as well. They may have represented an important segment of
the greater community of Colonchillo. There are no obvious elites at the
site, but people used the entire range of ceramic pottery according to M-G
social etiquette (Stothert 2006). This is evidence of community civility and
suggestive of structured patterns of reciprocity.
The Thorny Issue of Spondylus
We have documented two phases of adaptive change in the Santa Elena

area; one from 700–1100 CE and a second after 1100 CE. Other regions
of the coast also demonstrate similar contemporaneous changes: the first
associated with participation in increased Spondylus trade and shell orna-
ment manufacture, and the second with the rise of a maritime trading so-
ciety often referred to as the “Señorío de Salangome.” Marine shell working
for export and use of Spondylus and long-distance trade and sea travel were
not new developments in the Santa Elena area, but the level of craft produc-
tion and trade may have increased. The period also provides the clearest
evidence of elites, elite compounds, structures and burials, and community
ritual practices in the southern area. But are these causes or effects?
It has been argued that the desire for Spondylus drove maritime trade
along the Pacific coast and that the acquisition and exchange of the shell
is responsible for the development of social hierarchy among the M-G
peoples in Ecuador, but this argument is weakening (for example, Martín
2010). It was once thought that the Spondylus shell was mullu, and therefore
hotly pursued by Andean elites, but now mullu is understood as a broad
category of ritually potent materials including precious stones, mother-of
pearl, metal, and so forth (Blower 2000; Carter 2008, 2011). We now know
that the natural distribution of Spondylus princeps and Spondylus calcifer
extends from Baja California to Cabo Blanco in Peru, and includes areas
around Tumbes. Furthermore, the valued shell is not as difficult to harvest
as once thought: S. princeps may be available at a depth of only 3 m (and
deeper), and S. calcifer has been noted in intertidal zones (Carter 2008,
2011; Skoglund and Mulliner 1996). Although Spondylus was traded widely
from the Pacific to the Amazon as early as the Andean Late Preceramic
Period, there is inadequate archaeological evidence to support the idea that
it was a primary catalyst of sociopolitical change. Spondylus surely was but
one of many important elite trade goods: the group includes metal artifacts,
semiprecious stones, refulgent shells, drugs, and finely crafted textiles and
ceramics.
Although shell beads were a part of the Ecuadorian material repertoire
since Valdivia times, the production of fine beads clearly surged during
the Guangala Period, contemporary with the apogee of Spondylus bead
use by Moche elites. In the Chanduy Valley, preprocessed marine shells
were transported 25 km up valley to Guangala sites at El Azúcar where
fine beads were manufactured. Perhaps beads were being manufactured in
every hamlet in coastal Ecuador, later bulked by caciques, and exported to
Peru. This is suggestive of the theory that, in neighboring Peru, the early
phases of Moche culture were marked by a terrestrial orientation; however,
McClelland argues that a “maritime shift” occurred during Moche IV and
V as marine resources became more important and large tule boats carry-
ing multiple individuals and cargo appeared as a “new concept in Moche
art” (McClelland 1990: 75–76). This may be taken as evidence that elites
were more concerned with the “sea as a highway for transporting people
and goods” (1990: 77). The development of a maritime economy has been
attributed to environmental causes and the collapse of agricultural pro-
duction in coastal Peru, and McClelland suggests that the distinctive Late
Moche culture was the basis for Chimú culture (1990: 75). Guangala and
M-G peoples may have been participants in this broader pattern of change
that was driven by elites who saw opportunities to mobilize labor and ex-
pand their participation in exchange.
In the period between Moche and Chimú, large quantities of fine shell
beads (chaquira) were consumed by the powerful Sicán state, at which time
the Late Guangala–Early M-G production of fine Spondylus beads was sig-
nificant across the entire Cangrejitos site. While beads were made using the
same technique as at El Azúcar, 68 percent of beads from Cangrejitos were
produced from the colored rims of Spondylus (or Chama) shells (that is,
390 beads out of 571), and these beads tended to be of the finer variety (be-
tween 2 and 7 mm in diameter). The production was more focused upon
Spondylus shell beads, however, than in Guangala times, and the remains of
crafting were distributed across the site, suggesting that beads continued to
be crafted near the sea in households otherwise focused upon subsistence
tasks (Carter 2008). It is significant that the densest remains of shell bead
production and shell working at Cangrejitos are found in the middens be-
low and hence before the construction of the platforms that transformed
the site into a ritual center. This shell working would then date to circa
750–900 CE, the period between Moche and Chimú. Shell-bead work-
ing continued at small household sites surrounding the platform center of
Cangrejitos post-900–1100 CE which dates the platform construction. Our
assessment of this dispersed production would be similar to that of Mar-
tín for the contemporaneous site of Machalilla in southern Manabí (2010).
There is no indication these were specialized workshops under control of a
Cangrejitos elite, but instead they took place as one of a set of craft activi-
ties that supplemented and formed part of the regional subsistence strategy.
However, as suggested above, the elites of Cangrejitos could have benefited
greatly from the use of these products in trading forays to foreign ports.
Shell bead production was vastly different at Mar Bravo during the Late
M-G Period. Indeed, there appears to be relatively limited evidence for
production, and most of the beads at the site are irregular and made expe-
diently from beach-worn shell (conchilla). Of the 2,084 beads studied, only
57 (2.7 percent) were made from the colored rims of Spondylus. By this
time the people of MB were not concerned with fancy bead production, al-
though very fine roseate Spondylus beads (heirlooms) appear in some areas
of the site where graves have been disturbed. Many excavated units contain
fragments of a thick white shell (intentionally hammered), but only a few
segments of the rims of Spondylus calcifer (abundant in Santa Elena Bay)
have been recovered, evidence of the export of colored shell (Figure 12.5).
Readjustments in shell bead production in Ecuador reflect contempo-
rary transformations in the political economies of northern Peru (Carter
2010; Noriega 2007): by the Chimú Period, there was a transition from
the production of tiny, cylindrical or discoid chaquira to a more expedi-
ent technology focused upon large, irregular beads made from beach shell
(conchilla), but whole Spondylus valves remained valuable as trade goods.
Shell beads were no longer exported, but some M-G communities appar-
ently exported raw materials to Peru’s north coast where craft production
was under the control of Chimú lords (Topic 1995) and where shells em-
bellished the wooden objects produced for kings. A shell bead workshop
has been identified in a Chimú structure in Tucumé (Heyerdahl et al. 1995:
145–147, fig. 118; Pillsbury 1996).
The Chimú and Inca may have obtained thorny oyster valves from Ata-
cames, Salango, and other ports along the coast of Ecuador. A large number
of Spondylus cores found at Salango (Site 140; Allan and Allan 1989) and, at
Río Chico (Martínez et al. 2007), were missing their colored rims; Spondy-
lus artifacts are not abundant in the sites of Paches and Guancavilcas. The
apparent lack of artifacts and the missing colored rims suggests a pattern of
export, an idea supported by the cargo of the balsa raft described by Oviedo
y Valdez (1945) and Sámano-Xérez (1967). Regrettably, we do not know
what the navigators from Salango were doing with the thorny oysters and
other elite goods found on their captured raft. This said, it is also impor-
tant to realize that the only impressive and credible Spondylus workshops
were found in Tumbes in northern Peru (Hocquenghem 1995). Tumbes is
a better candidate for a “port of trade” than La Plata Island, but until more
is known about Tumbesinos in late prehistory and about workshops in the
north of Peru, the trading system involving Ecuador cannot be imagined
adequately.
Complexity, Hierarchy, and Long-Distance Trade
Both ethnohistoric and archaeological evidence show that maritime com-

munities figured prominently in the sociocultural systems that emerged
around 1000 CE. We have described two settlements that inform our un-
derstanding of this late prehistoric period in the Santa Elena area. We have
shown that the use of Spondylus in its raw and processed forms evolved
through time in response to political changes in northern Peru and the
Ecuadorian highlands, but there is inadequate evidence to support the
idea that the thorny oyster drove the development of stratified society or
mercantile capitalism in coastal Ecuador. We have traced aspects of the
social and economic reorganization in the Santa Elena region related to
the more intense exploitation of marine fish and maize. Intensified fishing
and maize cultivation became the twin pillars of a subsistence economy
capable of supporting larger populations. In addition, elite behavior may
account for the expansion of long-distance exchange relationships, but the
elite wealth that accumulated did not lead to the emergence of a state in
Ecuador, although it does imply a more integrated and complex leadership/
management structure. European conquest instantly destroyed the indige-
nous population and economic system, but surviving aboriginal fishermen
and navigators developed new roles in the Colonial world (León Borja de
Szasdi 1964).
While we can say that the late prehistoric peoples of the coastal plain of
Ecuador were economically successful, possessed sophisticated technical
abilities for adapting to the coastal environments, and lived in well orga-
nized and populace towns along the littoral, it seems likely that the socio-
political features of the regional polities varied across space and through
time. It is significant, however, that M-G elite pottery and iconography is
distributed from Manabí to La Puná, but the evidence for centralization of

power is unclear.
In the Santa Elena area, the Guancavilcas lived in independent ethnic
units: the “Ancient or Grand Indigenous communities” of southwest Ecua-
dor in historic times may be descended from regional chiefdoms of Chan-
duyes, Chongones, Colonches, and Punáes (Alvarez 1991, 1999: 217–228).
By contrast, the very productive Paches in Manabí are thought to have an
“elaborately structured social hierarchy and regional political integration”
(McEwan and Delgado 2008: 519, fig. 26.6). The aboriginal Paches, Guan-
cavilcas, Punáes, and Tumbesinos were dedicated to community religious
rituals performed in temples: they performed sacrifices and other activi-
ties concerned with cosmic relationships, water, fertility, health, ances-
tors, funerary rituals, as well as rituals involving food, drink, and activities
that included divination, clairvoyance, and drug-induced trances (Guinea
2004; Marcos 2013; Stothert 2006; Stothert and Cruz 2001). Religious ritu-
als probably unified and motivated segments of communities that gathered
around the elites.
Based on her analysis of the iconography of the ceramic sculptures from
Manabí that portray seated male figures, Guinea argues that there were
“shamanic chiefs,” leaders of various lineages who acted as intermediaries
between their people and the female divine depicted on the stone sculp-
tures of Cerro Jaboncillo (Guinea 2004). She suggests that these priests
constructed their authority by voyaging to the Kingdom of Chimor. This
interpretation is based on Helms’ model (1988: 69): in brief, in order to
develop authority at home, the priest/leaders sought esoteric knowledge,
spiritual authority, and exotic symbols by traveling abroad (Guinea 2004:
40–44). Guinea suggests that “emergent M-G commerce” (2004: 9) was
linked to the development of M-G ideology and ritual practice (2004: 42–
43). Aspiring elites in the communities of Santa Elena may have adopted
aspects of emerging M-G religious practice.
We suspect that the coastal societies of late prehistoric Ecuador, with
their robust fishing and farming capabilities, were able to feed their popu-
lation locally. They strived to be richly interconnected with other groups,
just as in earlier Guangala times, inserting themselves into the changing
demand for marine shells (small beads produced at El Azúcar and Cangre-
jitos, mother-of-pearl plaques produced at Los Frailes, or Spondylus lips
excised at Salango and Río Chico). As a strategy for participation in long-
distance exchange networks, this meant also that elites could obtain pow-
erful and symbol-laden objects and materials. The nature of the economic
structure through which these goods flowed likely changed from Guangala
to M-G with increased social complexity, but we see it always as a tool or
strategy rather than the driving force of change.
We understand these regional chiefdoms were segmentary: kin groups
in Manabí built large rectangular buildings and developed patterns of
cooperation, reciprocity, and exchange, which were managed by family
heads who wielded religious and economic power and who provided pan-
regional articulation. In the Santa Elena region, people constructed plat-
form mounds and hilltop ritual centers. Families invested their labor in the
production of plant food, marine protein, and crafted items sufficient for
their needs and for acquiring exotics like metal and obsidian (Stothert 2013:
82). The elites of some communities were capable of underwriting balsa raft
expeditions to distant trading partners: the voyage of the vessel intercepted
in 1526 is evidence of their efforts. It is curious that the earliest Colonial
archives did not report much indigenous shipping along the Andean coast.
Does a single raft a trading empire make?
The use of Spondylus in its raw and processed forms changed through
time, but we do not believe that the exchange of shells resulted in the de-
velopment of a stratified society and of mercantile capitalism in coastal
Ecuador, although this has been a long-standing model for the late prehis-
tory of the coast (Marcos 2013: 220, 227). M-G archaeology has not ad-
vanced to the point where we can discuss craft workshops or centralized
storage facilities, and very few elite tombs or caches have been reported.
In Ecuador, the myth of an M-G “League of Merchants” is colorful but
unnecessary, because the northern Andean cultural systems constructed
social relationships in a different way and tolerated only a limited amount
of centralization and hierarchy. Because we cannot distinguish reciprocity
and gifting from taxation and tribute, the organization of late prehistoric
communities is not clear. Only further research that tests various models
will clarify the nature of the economy, and long-distance trade, at the end
of the prehistoric period.
Maritime communities functioned centrally in the sociocultural systems
that emerged around 1000 CE. The intensification of fishing, combined with
greater use of maize (and the deer attracted to the corn fields), contrib-
uted to the development of a subsistence base capable of supporting larger
populations. Technological change in farming, fishing, and navigation, as
well as regional economic integration, were fostered by visionary leaders
who crafted new behaviors that suggest to us more social complexity and
hierarchy. While the caciques of ancient Ecuador appeared richly adorned

and they controlled labor and goods, they did not demonstrate their power
like the Chimú kings (Pillsbury 1996; Topic 1995).
In sum, the late aboriginal communities had appropriate technologies
and an effective social organization that allowed them to deal with popula-
tion growth and environmental stresses by intensifying both the exploita-
tion of the fabulously rich marine environment and the production and
processing of maize. People lived in kin-based societies and shared cultural
features, such as the use of standard sets of vessels for serving food and
drink, activities that integrated communities.
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IV
Maritime Communities
between 600 and 300 BP
13
Maritime Adaptations at Cerro Azul, Peru
A Comparison of Late Intermediate and Twentieth-Century Fishing
Joyce Marcus, Kent V. Flannery, Jeffrey Sommer,

and Robert G. Reynolds
The bad news, as every Andean archaeologist knows, is that the Pacific
coast of Peru is one of the world’s most extreme deserts. The good news is
that the waters offshore comprise one of the world’s great fisheries. Both
features are the result of the Humboldt Current, an upwelling of cold water
from the ocean depths. Pulling organic nutrients up from the ocean floor,
this upwelling supports extraordinary amounts of the plankton on which
small fish live and multiply. On the other hand, the cold water guarantees
that sea winds blowing over the Peruvian coast carry little water vapor. The
Humboldt Current is, of course, part of a much larger system in which “the
atmosphere and the ocean together act like a global heat engine” (Con-
lan and Service 2000: 2). Our planet’s west-to-east rotation creates trade
winds that harvest water vapor, carrying it away from the Peruvian coast
and pushing it westward to Indonesia.
Like all natural systems, however, this alliance of atmosphere and sea
undergoes periodic oscillations. Sir Gilbert Walker was the first to notice a
seesaw relationship between atmospheric pressure in the eastern South Pa-
cific and the Indian Ocean; he named this the Southern Oscillation (Walker
1924). Forty years later, Jacob Bjerknes (1969) discovered a link between
Walker’s Southern Oscillation and the periodic warming of the eastern Pa-
cific known to the Peruvians as El Niño. During El Niño years, weakening
trade winds “release waves of warm water that move west to east across the
Pacific Ocean, pushing the thermocline deeper in the eastern Pacific and
suppressing the upwelling of cold water from the deep ocean” (Conlan and
Service 2000: 5). Because the causal links between these two phenomena
352 · Joyce Marcus, Kent V. Flannery, Jeffrey Sommer, and Robert G. Reynolds
have now been established, today’s researchers refer to such cyclic change
as the El Niño–Southern Oscillation (ENSO).
El Niño years have been recorded ever since the Spanish colonized Peru
(Glynn 1988: fig. 2; Quinn et al. 1987). We know, for example, that there
have been more than 20 such oscillations since 1900 (Glynn 1988; Parsons
1970; Quinn et al. 1987). Because ENSO both suppresses the nutrient up-
welling of the Humboldt Current and causes locally devastating rains, it
is regarded by most Peruvian communities as an unmitigated disaster. As
a result of many careful studies of the 1982–1983 ENSO, however, we now
know this view to be an oversimplification. As is the case with so many
environmental oscillations, the very conditions that depress the numbers of
certain species promote an increase in others (Arntz 1986). The 1982–1983
ENSO may have devastated anchovies and sardines, but it also produced
record numbers of tuna and bonitos. On Peru’s coastal desert, the ENSO
rains, considered destructive by many, proved beneficial to a whole series
of plants that have adapted to the long dormancy between El Niño years
(Weisburd 1984).
The 1982–1983 ENSO was not only one of the two strongest of the twen-
tieth century but also the first to be thoroughly studied (the 1997–1998
event was of similar or greater magnitude and also extensively studied). It
took place just as a University of Michigan archaeological project, led by
the senior author of this chapter, began excavating at Cerro Azul on the
south-central Peruvian coast (Marcus 1987, 2008). Not only was Marcus
able to recover tens of thousands of fish bones from Peru’s Late Intermedi-
ate Period (AD 1000–1400), she was also able to record all fish brought to
the Capitanía del Puerto during the climatic rebound from El Niño. These
data can now be analyzed in the light of one of the most thoroughly studied
ENSO events in history.
In the 1980s, there were at least four kinds of fishing at Cerro Azul. Some
individual fishermen went daily to their favorite ledges on the sea cliffs,
where they fished with the atarraya, or cast net (Marcus 1987: fig. 7). Oth-
ers waded into Cerro Azul Bay in twos or threes, fishing with the red de
cortina, or curtain net (Marcus 1987: 21). Catches made by such methods
were not recorded by the Capitanía.
In addition, Cerro Azul at that time had several dozen small boats pow-
ered by oars or outboard motors (Figure 13.1). These boats typically went
out to sea in the evening, fished all night, and returned the next day. This
small-scale activity was referred to as artisanal fishing, and from 1984 on,
each boat’s catch was recorded in a log book kept by the Capitanía.
Maritime Adaptations at Cerro Azul, Peru · 353
Figure 13.1. Boats for artisanal fishing on the beach at Cerro Azul, 1983 (provided by the
authors).
Finally, one could see larger vessels in the distance, including both trawl-
ers and refrigerator ships. These deepwater vessels haul in demersal fish
such as the Pacific hake, Merluccius gayi, which is virtually out of reach for
artisanal fishermen. Such large commercial vessels do not dock at Cerro
Azul, however, and we have no records of their catches.
The Fishing Environments
Figure 13.2 covers a 130-km stretch of the south-central Peruvian coast,

from Cerro Blanco in the north to Tambo de Mora in the south. All the
localities shown are within a two-day round trip for the artisanal fishermen
of Cerro Azul. So long as there are schools of fish within 10 km of Cerro
Azul, most fishermen do not stray far. There are times, however, when con-
ditions force them to travel to Playa de Asia, Jaway, or beyond.
At least three distinct fishing environments can be found along this
stretch of coast, and the range of species caught by artisanal fisher-
men reflects this. Both Playa de Asia and Playa de Sarapampa have long
stretches of sandy beach. At times this playa environmental zone swarms
with mole crabs (Emerita analoga), burrowing “ghost shrimp” (Callia-
nassa islagrande), coquina clams (Donax obesulus [=peruvianus]), machas
Figure 13.2. A 130-km stretch of the south-central Peruvian coast, showing many of the land-
marks recognized by artisanal fishermen (provided by the authors).
(Mesodesma donacium), and keyhole limpets (Fissurella spp.). Left-eye

flounders (Paralichthys adspersus) lie in wait on the sandy ocean bottom,
while eagle rays (Myliobatis sp.) search for currents rising from the siphons
of submerged mollusks. Once they detect these currents, they scour away
the sand with powerful strokes of their mantles and consume the exposed
prey. For its part, the much-prized corvina (Cilus gilberti) thrives on mole
crabs and ghost shrimp.
Fishermen returning from Playa de Asia list tollos or smoothhound
sharks (Mustelus spp.), eagle rays, flounders, guitarfish (Rhinobatos plani-
ceps), pejegallo (Callorhinchus callorynchus), bonitos (Sarda sarda), and
Pacific jack mackerels (Trachurus symmetricus) as their most frequent
catches. This present-day list can be compared to the fish remains from the
late Preceramic site at Playa de Asia (Engel 1963), which was occupied in
the second millennium BC. Those remains included sharks, eagle rays, and
guitarfish, as well as the two large sciaenids, corvina and róbalo (Sciaena
starksi).
Fishermen returning from Isla Corriente, on the other hand, come back
with a different set of species. They report catching the chita or grunt (An-
isotremus scapularis), the pintadilla (Cheilodactylus variegatus), the caballa
(Scomber japonicus), and a whole series of sciaenids including mismis
(Menticirrhus ophicephalus), ayanque (Cynoscion analis), and mojarilla
(Stellifer minor). This cluster of species reflects the rocky cliffs of the island,
a fishing environment known as peña. The fish of the peña zone are at-
tracted to the thousands of mollusks attached to the rocky cliffs.
The third environmental zone of this region is cobble beach, known to
the fishermen as costa. The fish of this zone depend on the abundant crusta-
ceans and polychaete worms that live below the cobbles. Many of these fish
are sciaenids like the róbalo, lorna (Sciaena deliciosa), and mismis, which
coexist but avoid direct competition by taking prey of different sizes.
All three environmental zones occur near Cerro Azul. Sea cliffs such as
El Fraile, La Centinela, and El Faro provide peña habitats, while Playa La
Costa is a cobble beach. For its part, the bay between Los Reyes and the
port of Cerro Azul is playa. One should bear in mind, however, that neither
playa, peña, nor costa can be considered a separate ecosystem, since both
sandy beaches and cobble beaches are the breakdown products of the rocky
coast (Sumich 1976: 102).
While the sea cliffs have well-developed food chains of grazing fish,
the very waves that erode them prevent the accumulation of detritus. The
latter accumulates on beaches and mud flats, where a separate food chain
of detritus eaters develops. In addition, both cobble and sandy beaches
have their own dynamic relationship, replacing one another as currents
and conditions change. When Marcus arrived at Cerro Azul in 1980, many
oceanfront property owners were complaining that their sandy beach was
turning into a cobble beach. The 1982–1983 El Niño hastened this transi-
tion, and by 1985 many formerly sandy areas were covered with cobbles.
The 1982–1983 ENSO

The 1982–1983 El Niño–Southern Oscillation has been described as “the
greatest ocean-atmosphere disturbance ever recorded” (Simon 1983), al-
though it was subsequently rivaled by the 1997–1998 event. It lasted from
April 1982 to September 1983, 50 percent longer than the average ENSO
(Glynn 1988: 313), and caused $13 billion in economic damage worldwide
(Conlan and Service 2000). Some $650 million of this damage took place
in Ecuador and northern Peru, where up to 100 inches of rain fell in a six-
month period; for its part, the coast of Chile received a third more rain than
in average years (Caviedes 1984).
In Peru, where commercial overexploitation of anchovies and sardines
was already a problem, the results were dramatic. By December 1982, cold-
water phytoplankton was restricted to a few patches of coast, one of which
was the stretch from Callao to Cerro Azul (Caviedes 1984: 274). By Febru-
ary 1983, the temperature of the ocean at Cerro Azul was 6 or 7° Celsius
above its “normal year” mean of 20° (Valdivia and Arntz 1985). Phytoplank-
ton reached its lowest density in May 1983, as warm water overrode the cool
upwelling and the oxygen content of the ocean increased (Simon 1983).
Each fish species reacted to ENSO conditions in its own way. The Pe-
ruvian anchoveta (Engraulis ringens) dove to depths of 100–150 m, where
the water was cooler. Other species, such as the sardine (Sardinops sagax),
swam southward rapidly until they reached the cooler waters off Chile.
The jurel or Pacific jack mackerel (Trachurus murphyi), which typically eats
anchovetas, sardines, and squid, followed its prey south to Ilo (Caviedes
1984). Ceviche de pejerrey was taken off many menus as silversides (Odon-
testhes regia) disappeared from Peru’s central coast.
The decline of these fish caused problems for their predators. Cormo-
rants (Phalacrocorax spp.) and pelicans (Pelecanus occidentalis) decreased
in numbers, owing to the shortage of anchovetas; boobies (Sula spp.) at-
tempted to make up the shortfall by living on sardines and cabinza (Isacia
conceptionis). The decline in Pacific sea birds was severe, although different
authors give different figures. Caviedes (1984) estimates their decline from
4.7 million to 2.2 million, while Glynn (1988) sees them declining from 6
million to 0.33 million.
The decline in certain fish species also affected sea lions (Otaria byronia)
and fur seals (Arctocephalus australis). Their response to the impoverished
food supply was for hungry adults to abandon their pups to starvation, or
to follow the sardines and mackerels south. Dwindling supplies of plankton
also reduced the populations of chitons, limpets, sea urchins, and mussels
such as Aulacomya and Semimytilus (Glynn 1988).
For other marine species, however, the 1982–1983 ENSO provided a
selective advantage. For example, five species of tropical swimming crabs
expanded their ranges south from Ecuador, while the mole crab expanded
its range to the north (Glynn 1988). And while 12 fish species declined, an-
other 19 both increased in number and expanded their geographic ranges
(Weisburd 1984). The dorado, or dolphinfish (Coryphaena hippurus), and
the barrilete, or skipjack (Katsuwonus pelamis), expanded from tropical Ec-
uador to temperate Peru. Tuna, marlins, swordfish, and bonitos, normally
caught 50 km offshore, were carried to the coast by El Niño currents. In
response to increased dissolved oxygen near the ocean floor, the Peruvian
scallop (Argopecten purpuratus) did exceptionally well (Wolff 1985), and
the total catch of shrimp (Xiphopenaeus spp.) off the coast of Peru was eight
times greater in 1983 than in 1982 (Weisburd 1984).
One of the local environments that grew richer during the 1982–1983
El Niño was the Bay of Ancón. Tarazona et al. (1988) measured the small
animal life on the 34 m deep bottom of this bay from September 1981 to
September 1984. This deep-water zone is normally hypoxic, meaning that it
has an oxygen saturation of less than 8.5 percent. Under ENSO conditions,
however, the oxygen saturation rose to 11 percent in 1982 and >20 percent in
1983–1984 (Tarazona et al. 1988: 186). The small mollusk species on the floor
of Ancón Bay increased from 0 to 5; small crustacean species rose from 0
to 10; and the species of polychaete worms increased from 4 to 29. Many of
the new species rode into Ancón on “tropical and subtropical water masses
intruding from the north” (Tarazona et al 1988: 189). The result was a much
greater food supply for any fish relying on benthic invertebrates.
Rebounding from ENSO
By July 7, 1983, cooler water had begun returning to the Peruvian coast
(Simon 1983). It would, however, be at least three more months before any
change was noticeable at Cerro Azul, and some sensitive species of fish
would not return for years.
On February 29, 1984, the Capitanía of the Port of Cerro Azul began
keeping a daily log in which each artisanal fishing boat’s catches were re-
corded. Marcus was allowed to copy these logs until the end of her archaeo-
logical project on July 27, 1986, a total of more than 6,000 entries. These
records show that the effects of the recent El Niño were still being felt in
1984, and that conditions did not become fully normal until late 1985.
Three warm-water fish, the pámpano (Trachinotus paitensis), the pez
dama, or whale shark (Rhincodon typus), and the dorado, or dolphinfish,
could still be caught off Cerro Azul as late as March of 1984. Fishermen also
reported catching dozens of warm-water shrimp as late as May of that year.
Many of the species normally present at Cerro Azul, on the other hand, did
not return in force until 1985. The first sardines and róbalo showed up in
the log in February of that year. One of the last species to return to Cerro
Azul was the pejerrey or silversides, many of which were believed to have
migrated to Chile; by February of 1986, these small fish were being caught
by the dozens.
During the long recovery period of 1984–1986, there were a number of
resilient species on which the Cerro Azul fishermen could rely. Included
among them were two sciaenids, lorna (Sciaena deliciosa) and mismis
(Menticirrhus ophicephalus). Between the 13th and 25th of July, 1984, a huge
school of lorna lingered off Cerro Azul; some boats reported catches of 50
to 140 dozen. The lorna returned in force from the 3rd to the 8th of January,
1985; from February 27 to March 4, 1985; and for more than three months
between June 6 and September 19 of 1985.
For their part, mismis schooled off Cerro Azul from December 30, 1984,
until January 3, 1985, and individual boats hauled in dozens. They returned
again from the 19th to the 23rd of January of that year. Often, both lorna
and mismis schools appeared offshore; these two sciaenids differ not only
in length but in the size of their mouths, which presumably allows them to
avoid competition.
Sharks and rays, too, had their seasons of abundance. Caviedes (1984)
reports that the smoothound shark or tollo (Mustelus spp.), normally a
cool-water shark, temporarily disappears during ENSO events. However,
tollo seem to have been abundant at Cerro Azul during November of 1985,
and they were taken in numbers along with eagle rays (Myliobatis spp.).
Late Intermediate Fishing at Cerro Azul
Two decades ago, Moore (1991) argued that faunal remains from Late Inter-
mediate archaeological sites could be used to document ENSO events. His
data set consisted of marine mussels recovered from two fourteenth-cen-
tury sites in the Casma Valley: Manchán and Quebrada Sta. Cristina. Spe-
cies such as Aulacomya ater, Semimytilus algosus, Choromytilus chorus, and
Semimytilus purpuratus were abundant at Manchán but absent at nearby
Sta. Cristina. Since the 1982–1983 El Niño had decimated these mussels,
Moore suggested that Quebrada Sta. Cristina may have been occupied dur-
ing an El Niño year or shortly afterward.
Sandweiss et al. (2004) later used the archaeological remains of ancho-
vetas and sardines to document a shift from cooler to warmer conditions at
the Late Horizon site of Lo Demás in the Chincha Valley (AD 1480–1540).
They suggest that a dramatic increase in sardines at the site reflects an in-
crease in ENSO frequency after AD 1500.
Following the lead of Moore and Sandweiss et al., we will now try to use
fish collections from Cerro Azul to see whether we can detect a Late Inter-
mediate ENSO event. Specifically, we will compare the fish from middens
at Cerro Azul with the fish caught by artisanal fishermen at Cerro Azul
during the rebound from the 1982–1983 El Niño. To be sure, it would be
wonderful if our records went back to 1981 and bracketed the El Niño event,
but logs were not yet being kept by the Capitanía at that time. One should
also bear in mind that the 1984–1986 records do not represent an unbiased
sample of fish species at Cerro Azul. Artisanal fishermen were competing
with commercial trawlers in the 1980s, and made deliberate choices about
favored fishing localities and desirable species.
One of the questions we hope to address is whether or not a given ar-
chaeological midden accumulated during a “normal” year or an El Niño
year. Fish remains from a normal year should include anchovetas, sardines,
silversides, lorna, mismis, tollo, eagle ray, and a whole range of cool-wa-
ter species. Remains from an El Niño episode could feature dorado, pez
dama, pámpano, and perhaps even tuna, marlin, skipjack, and swordfish,
while being deficient in silversides, anchovetas, sardines, and Pacific jack
mackerel.
In 1984 Marcus (1987, 2008) excavated two Late Intermediate residential
compounds at Cerro Azul. Structure D was a 1,640 sq m residential com-
pound with living quarters for a noble family, open courtyards for craft
activities, a large kitchen/brewery, and rooms for the storage of dried fish.
A radiocarbon date from one of the hearths in the brewery (Beta-10915)

suggests that it was in use at AD 1330; the calibrated two-sigma range is
AD 1284–1410 (Marcus 2008: 183). Structure 9 was a 290 sq m compound
devoted largely to dried fish storage, but also housing a commoner-class
overseer. Both compounds had been swept before they were abandoned,
with the sweepings piled up in the form of middens. We presume that both
buildings were abandoned when Cerro Azul was conquered by the “Inca,”
an event that took place in AD 1470 (Rostworowski 1978–1980). Two ra-
diocarbon dates from the Structure D midden (Marcus 2008: 105) had cali-
brated two-sigma ranges of AD 1405–1644 and AD 1453–1645. One radio-
carbon date from the Structure 9 midden (Marcus 2008: 249) was AD 1470
uncalibrated; its calibrated two-sigma range was AD 1305–1623.
The two middens produced a total of 17,241 fish bones, most of which
could be identified to species by Sommer (see Marcus et al. 1999: table 1).
Included were: Pacific sardines (Sardinops sagax); another Clupeid, pos-
sibly Brevoortia sp.; Engraulids (mainly the anchoveta Engraulis ringens,
although occasional specimens of Anchoa nasus cannot be ruled out); sea
catfish (Galeichthys peruvianus); mullets (mainly Mugil cephalus, although
related species cannot be ruled out); Peruvian rock bass (Paralabrax hume-
ralis); Pacific jack mackerel (Trachurus symmetricus); grunts (mainly An-
isotremus scapularis, although related species cannot be ruled out); drums
or croakers of all sizes, including mismis (Menticirrhus ophicephalus), coco
(Paralonchurus peruanus), ayanque (Cynoscion analis), burro (Sciaena fas-
ciata), lorna (Sciaena deliciosa), corvina (Cilus gilberti), róbalo (Sciaena
starksi), and mojarrilla (Stellifer minor); pintadilla (Cheilodactylus varie-
gatus); scaleless blennies (Scartichthys gigas); scaled blennies (Labrisomus
philippii); Pacific bonitos (Sarda sarda); the pejesapo, or clingfish (Sicyases
sanguineus); and left-eye flounders (mainly Paralichthys adspersus).
Having the fish from these two middens allows us to compare the diet
of the elite compound with that of the commoner-class compound (Table
13.1). In both middens, the lorna was the most common member of the
drum family; this is no surprise, since the lorna is one of the most com-
mon fish caught at Cerro Azul today, and was present in the Capitanía’s
log books for the entire period of Marcus’ study. In Feature 6 (the midden
associated with the elite compound), however, large drums such as corvina
and róbalo were roughly twice as common as they were in the commoner
compound. These are considered prestigious fish even today, often going
directly from the docks of Cerro Azul to the restaurants of Lima.
Table 13.1. Numbers of identified fish bones from two Late Intermediate middens
at Cerro Azul
NISP Percentage of NISP
Species SDF6 S9F20 SDF6 S9F20
cf. Brevoortia maculatum 4 0 0.03% 0.00%
Sardinops sagax 8,013 983 59.83% 25.55%
Engraulidae 2,857 2,260 21.33% 58.73%
Galeichthys peruvianus 0 113 0.00% 2.94%
Mugil sp. 7 0 0.05% 0.00%
Paralabrax humeralis 3 0 0.02% 0.00%
Trachurus symmetricus 13 0 0.10% 0.00%
cf. Anisotremus scapularis 261 46 1.95% 1.20%
Menticirrhus ophicephalus 57 11 0.43% 0.29%
Paralonchorus peruanus 2 4 0.01% 0.10%
Cynoscion analis 6 2 0.04% 0.05%
Sciaena fasciata 2 0 0.01% 0.00%
Sciaena deliciosa 1,007 119 7.52% 3.09%
Cilus gilberti 23 3 0.17% 0.08%
Sciaena starksi 1 0 0.01% 0.00%
Stellifer minor 16 32 0.12% 0.83%
Small-medium Sciaenidae 150 95 1.12% 2.47%
Medium-large Sciaenidae 244 0 1.82% 0.00%
Cheilodactylus variegatus 30 0 0.22% 0.00%
Scartichthys gigas 431 129 3.22% 3.35%
Labrisomus philippii 84 12 0.63% 0.31%
Sarda sarda 88 26 0.66% 0.68%
Sicyases sanguineus 25 5 0.19% 0.13%
cf. Paralichthys adspersus 69 8 0.52% 0.21%
Totals 13,393 3,848 100.00% 100.00%
Note: NISP = number of identified specimens; SDF6 = Structure D, Feature 6; S9F20 = Struc-
ture 9, Feature 20.
In contrast, Feature 20 (the midden associated with the commoner-class

compound) had higher percentages of less prestigious small drums such
as mismis and mojarrilla. Feature 20 also produced all 113 fragments of the
sea catfish Galeichthys peruvianus. This low-prestige fish was apparently
unattractive to the elite of Structure D (Marcus et al. 1999), and even in
the 1980s catfish were not considered important enough to record at the
Capitanía.
Of considerable interest are differences in the proportions of sardines

and anchovetas. These different proportions cannot reflect climatic change,
since both the ceramic assemblages and the radiocarbon dates show the
two middens to be contemporaneous (see above). The Feature 6 fish re-
mains were 59.83 percent sardines and only 21.33 percent anchovies; the
Feature 20 remains were 58.73 percent anchovies and only 25.55 percent
sardines. Assuming that the elite had their choice of these small fish, it
looks as if they preferred sardines.
Do Features 6 and 20 Reflect “Normal” or ENSO Conditions?

We can next consider whether the two middens at Cerro Azul reflect cool-
water (normal) fishing or warm-water (ENSO) fishing. Let us begin, how-
ever, with several reasons why Late Intermediate fish harvests—whatever
the ocean temperature—might be expected to differ from today’s. For one
thing, in the period from AD 1300 to 1470, Peru had no commercial trawl-
ers reducing its population of sardines and anchovies. Second, we know
from the variety of cast nets preserved at ancient Cerro Azul (Marcus 1987:
fig. 44) that many species were being taken by Late Intermediate fishermen
perched on sea cliff ledges, rather than in boats; this ought to increase the
numbers of grunts and clingfish. Third, the abundance of curtain nets in
the Late Intermediate refuse (Marcus 1987) suggests that species such as
flounder and catfish were being taken by fishermen wading in the shallow
waters of the bay. Fourth, the watercraft used by Late Intermediate fisher-
men would have been the simple reed boats known as caballitos de totora,
whose capacity for taking sharks and other large fish was modest when
compared to today’s boats. These factors alone are enough to account for
many of the differences in species percentages between ancient and mod-
ern collections.
A fifth reason has to do with the differential archaeological preservation
of certain species. Cartilaginous fish such as sharks, rays, and pejegallo will
always be underrepresented in archaeological collections because of their
lack of ossified bones. Older sharks and rays do suffer ossification of their
vertebral centra—and we occasionally found such centra at Cerro Azul—
but younger individuals leave little trace. Significantly, we recovered no
shark teeth at Cerro Azul.
There are even a few species of bony fish that present preservation prob-
lems. Silversides, for example, have bones so tiny and fragile that even
sweeping a floor with a broom can destroy them. We experimented with
recently caught, cooked, and dissected silversides in 1986, and even when
we used fine carburetor-mesh screens, it proved difficult to recover identifi-

able bones. We did recover some remains of silversides at Cerro Azul, but
none were found in Features 6 and 20. Their absence from those middens
may simply reflect vigorous sweeping rather than ENSO conditions.
Bearing in mind these caveats, we see little evidence for the effects of
ENSO years in the Late Intermediate middens from Cerro Azul. Ancho-
vetas, sardines, lorna, and mismis are all well represented, and there are
no traces of dorado, pez dama, pámpano, tuna, marlin, skipjack, or sword-
fish. Bonitos are present, but constitute less than 1 percent of the identified
specimens; and the Capitanía’s log of artisanal fishing suggests that bonitos
were periodically available even during cool-water years. There must cer-
tainly have been ENSO events during the long Late Intermediate Period
(Moore 1991), but apparently not during the accumulation of the Feature 6
and Feature 20 middens at Cerro Azul.
ENSO and Global Warming
Unfortunately, our data do not resolve two interesting additional questions.

First, how often did ENSO conditions occur during the Late Intermedi-
ate Period? Second, is the frequency of ENSO years increasing with global
warming? It stands to reason that the well-documented warming of the
world’s oceans might increase the frequency of El Niño conditions; this, in
turn, could strongly affect an industry already threatened by commercial
overfishing.
As earlier work by Moore (1991) and Sandweiss et al. (2004) has shown,
the archaeological middens of the Peruvian coast can contribute data
helpful to answering both questions. We hope that this fact will give our
archaeological colleagues even greater incentive to study the residues of
prehistoric fishing. Given the world’s growing evidence for climate change,
more is now at stake than the simple satisfaction of our intellectual curios-
ity about the past.
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14
El Contrato del Mar
Maritime Subsistence at Carrizales, Zaña Valley, Peru
Parker VanValkenburgh, Sarah Kennedy, Carol Rojas,

and Gabriel Hassler
Few indigenous communities in western South America experienced more

dramatic social transformations in the wake of the Spanish invasions than
those of coastal Peru. Due to the effects of military combat, the Spanish
exploitation of native labor, and the spread of Old World infectious dis-
eases, coastal Peruvian indigenous populations suffered a veritable demo-
graphic collapse between the early 1500s and 1650 CE. No subregion ap-
pears to have felt the demographic effects of conquest more acutely than
the north coast, whose mild climate harbored disease vectors, and where
the establishment of new urban centers and commercial outposts brought
native peoples frequently into contact with Old World pathogens. Accord-
ing to census estimates, population loss in some north coast communities
reached 90 percent, and the region as a whole lost an average of 71 percent
of its indigenous population by the mid-seventeenth century (Cook 1981:
118; Ramírez-Horton 1978).
Colonial demographic change on the north coast was closely interre-
lated with other transformations in the region’s social and natural land-
scapes. Disease transmission accelerated in the late 1560s, as native peoples
were resettled into planned towns called reducciones (Ramírez-Horton
1978; Ramírez 1996). As indigenous numbers declined, the growth of ex-
port-oriented haciendas demanded an expanding pool of exploitable labor,
and so the viceroyalty imported thousands of enslaved people of African
descent to the region (Aguirre 2005; Bowser 1974; O’Toole 2012). The intro-
duction of new crops led to shifts in planting patterns and water usage, such
that the total cultivated areas within river valleys declined (Willey 1953: 27).
At the same time, the introduction of new species of livestock transformed
El Contrato del Mar: Maritime Subsistence at Carrizales, Zaña Valley, Peru · 367
the balance between pasture and farmlands and established new roles for
maritime protein sources (fresh and dried fish and mollusks) in regional
economies.
It is this tumultuous and tragic period in the history of the Peruvian
coast that produced the written sources that ethnohistorians have used to
develop models of maritime community organization in the pre-Hispanic
Andes. Following established practice in Andean studies, archaeologists
and ethnohistorians have employed these records—fragmentary represen-
tations contained in legal and administrative documents, as well as chron-
icles written by Colonial travelers and historians (for example, Cieza de
León 1986; De Lizárraga 1908)—to piece together synchronic descriptions
of sociopolitical organization and cultural life among Colonial period mar-
itime communities. In turn, we have used them to make sense of patterns
in pre-Hispanic archaeological materials, attempting to make whole what
has been lost to the ravages of time. Yet in the process, we have perhaps
paid too little attention to the contingencies of representations contained
in written sources from the Colonial period.
This is not to say, however, that archaeologists have read ethnohistoric
sources uncritically. As several authors in this volume note, there has been
considerable scholarly disagreement about the applicability of one ethno-
historic model (Rostworowski’s theory of maritime economic specializa-
tion) to the pre-Hispanic past (see also Cock 1986; Rostworowski 1970,
1977; Prieto 2011; Sandweiss 1992). Yet while Rostworowski’s model has
been previously examined in light of its applicability to pre-Hispanic mari-
time lifeways (for example, Marcus et al. 1999; Sandweiss 1992), it has yet
to be scrutinized through archaeological research on sites occupied during
the Early Colonial Period, at the same moments when the documentary
records were actually produced.1
By enabling archaeologists and ethnohistorians to better understand
the social conditions and performative contexts in which Colonial docu-
mentary sources were produced, archaeological research on the sixteenth
through early seventeenth century maritime sites can help to generate, not
just new data to describe how coastal indigenous communities responded
to the challenges of Spanish invasion, but also more nuanced understand-
ing of economic and political life among Andean pre-Hispanic maritime
communities. As historical archaeologists working in other regions of the
globe have long argued, archaeological sites, documentary records, and oral
histories are archives that inscribe and animate the past in quite distinct
ways (Leone 1984; Leone et al. 1987; McGuire 1992; Preucel 2008; Preucel
368 · Parker VanValkenburgh, Sarah Kennedy, Carol Rojas, and Gabriel Hassler
and Bauer 2001). It would therefore be wrong-headed to treat archaeologi-

cal research on historic period sites as a means of “testing” models of socio-
political organization gleaned from Colonial documents. Yet it can allow us
to both contextualize the enunciations of written sources and to recognize
the various “silences” they contain (Trouillot 1995).
In the chapter, we argue: (1) that Early Colonial maritime lifeways at
Carrizales were highly dynamic, responding to both political and demo-
graphic change; and (2) that the economic specialization of late pre-His-
panic maritime communities can be understood, at least in some cases,
as the product of indigenous elites’ self-interested representations of their
lifeways and tributary histories to Colonial administrators—a form of what
Gayatri Spivak (in Danius and Jonsson 1993) calls “strategic essentialism.”
Food remains from Carrizales show that this community of fisherfolk was
hardly one of hapless specialists. Rather, as they experienced population
loss due to both Colonial violence and the spread of European diseases—
and to the labor stress posed by tributary requirements—native households
pursued a variety of new economic strategies. At the same time, native
coastal elites pursued new avenues of engagement and self-representation
with viceregal and ecclesiastical institutions in order to secure their relative
economic and political advantages vis-à-vis tributary
Prehispanic Sociopolitical Organization, Reducción,

and Encomienda in the Lower Zaña Valley
Situated near the mouth of the seasonal Río Carrizal in Peru’s Zaña Valley,
the site of Carrizales is located within the Lambayeque region—an area of
five interconnected river valleys in the Peruvian department of the same
name, which may have contained over 30 percent of all the irrigated land
on the Peruvian coast in antiquity (Kosok 1965: 115). Within this region,
ethnohistorical scholarship has suggested that late pre-Hispanic commu-
nities were organized into parcialidades—networks of producers, defined
both by kinship and political obligation, who lived not in single nucleated
settlements but in scattered hamlets of different sizes, among which rul-
ership and tributary extraction were organized according to nested hier-
archies (Netherly 1993; Ramírez-Horton 1981). These networks included
lineages with different economic emphases—groups that self-identified
themselves as fishermen and agriculturalists—and at least in some cases
as craft specialists (Ramírez-Horton 1981; Ramírez 2007). Settlement
patterns within each regional system varied, but archaeological surveys
of lower valley regions suggest that, outside of major urban centers, late
pre-Hispanic (that is, twelfth–early sixteenth century) settlement patterns
were disperse, with hamlets peppered among agricultural fields (Hayashida
2006; Tschauner 2001; VanValkenburgh 2012). Similarly, the only detailed
pre-reducción record of settlement in the region, Sebastián de La Gama’s
visita of the repartimiento of Jayanca (1975[1540]), records 162 small settle-
ments within a two-league radius of the cacique’s village.2
The relative ranking of parcialidades with different economic empha-
ses appears to have varied across valleys. While lords of indios pescadores
(fishermen) were subordinate to agriculturalists in some regional hierar-
chies, they were not categorically lower ranked (Netherly 1977; Noack 2007;
Ramírez 1996). For example, according to the 1572 census of the repar-
timiento of Chérrepe (Ramírez-Horton 1978), which we argue included the
resident of Carrizales, the group’s cacique lived in a large coastal settlement
and was head of a parcialidad dominated by fishermen. Six other parciali-
dades paid tribute to him, and their members, who included both agricul-
turalists and fishermen, lived in at least three settlements—Chérrepe’s own
village, an isolated site named Ñoquique, and a small settlement alongside
the Convent of Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe, in what is now the lower
Chamán Valley (Ramírez-Horton 1978).
Competition between principales recorded in sixteenth-century sources
suggests that the kinds of tributary relationships that defined the repar-
timiento of Chérrepe were not fixed, but reassembled under changing po-
litical circumstances. During the social upheavals of the sixteenth century,
for example, some coastal principales attempted to assert their autonomy
from their ostensible overlords. One leader, a man named Joan Poemape
who was the principal of Pacasmayo, demanded independence from the
cacique of Jequetepeque in 1568, claiming that “he had never until then rec-
ognized, nor would he recognize any superior.” Instead, the parcialidades
of Pacasmayo “had always governed themselves, and if anyone had obeyed
another it was those [Indians] of Xequetepeque [who followed] those of Pa-
casmayo” (ADL Cor 280/3583: 1r–1v, my translations; see also Noack 2004,
2007). While each of the major political expansions that affected the north
coast between the thirteenth through sixteenth centuries—Chimú, “Inca,”
Spanish—possessed its own dynamics, it is likely that expansions of pre-
Hispanic empires into valleys such as Jequetepeque, Zaña, and Chamán
allowed for similar negotiations, and that relationships of political domina-
tion and subordination (if not parcialidades themselves) were continually
reshaped.
The Spanish colonization of the north coast followed the contours of

previous indigenous institutions and infrastructure, following roads built
and maintained during pre-Hispanic times and establishing settlements
atop earlier sites. Tribute, formerly rendered unto “Inca” and Chimú over-
lords, was redirected to Spanish encomenderos, who were granted rights to
the labor soon after the foundation of the City of Trujillo, in 1534. As Eur-
asian domesticates were introduced into local foodways and production
regimes, encomenderos demanded new products from their charges. Ac-
cording to records compiled by Ramírez (1996: 96–98, 105–106), the com-
munity of Chérrepe’s tributary obligations varied between a maximum of
4,700 pesos and a minimum 1,300 pesos per year between 1548 and 1569,
peaking in the wake of Viceroy La Gasca’s assessments in 1549 and falling
due to reassessments in the wake of demographic decline, internal migra-
tion, and community fragmentation over the next two decades. The most
complete list of items in Chérrepe’s tribute list (dating to 1564) includes 13
different forms of tribute, including 36 fanegadas of wheat (equivalent to
4,680 pounds of flour), 900 pieces of finished cloth, two cotton beds, 1,000
birds, eggs, fish, salt, pigs, algarrobo (mesquite) wood, 15 indios de mita
(native laborers) and 14 shepherds per year (AGI Patronato 97A R.4 15–17v;
Ramírez 1996: 106).
In addition to changes in tributary regimes, Spanish Colonial interven-
tions also led to transformations in settlement patterns within the north
coast region. The early spread of Old World diseases, which were already
wreaking havoc among Native Andean populations before Pizarro’s ships
arrived in Tumbes, likely contributed to settlement nucleation in the middle
decades of the sixteenth century (Cook 1981: 61–62; Newson 1995: 145–146).
The Jayanca visita of 1540, for example, makes reference to numerous aban-
doned hamlets, whose last surviving residents would have fled to nearby
villages. Other transformations in settlement can be attributed to overt
Spanish efforts to reshape north coast landscapes and built environments.
In 1563, the viceregal government erected the villa of Zaña on the site of
an “Inca” tambo, seeking to foster the growth of middling agriculturalists
to counterbalance the power of the encomenderos. The villa’s documents
of foundation suggest that indigenous populations were resettled in the
margins of the villa at the time of its founding in order to provide labor for
agricultural ventures (Angulo 1920).
More dramatic changes in settlement patterns—particularly, among the
poorer agricultural lands near the ocean—were introduced through the
reducción process. Historians have suggested that the resettlement process

in the north coast region was carried in two waves—the first, in 1566–1567,
led by the oidor Gregorio Gonzalez de Cuenca during the course of a visita
of the region; the second in 1572, as part of the Toledan reducción general,
under the direction of visitador Juan de Hoçes (Noack 1996; Ramírez-Hor-
ton 1978; Ramírez 1996; Rostworowski 1975). Subsequent archaeological
research has not identified distinct material signatures for each these two
initiatives (VanValkenburgh 2012), and the scope and scale of Cuenca’s in-
terventions in local settlement patterns is unclear. However, both move-
ments had similar goals, influenced by decades of Colonial discourse con-
cerning the ordering of native populations and settlements (Matienzo 1967;
Mumford 2012).
These shared aspirations are most clearly articulated in documentary
sources associated with Toledo’s project, the reducción general. Legislated
through a series of decrees between 1569 and 1575, the Toledan reducción
initiative sought to move the entirety of Peru’s indigenous populations into
new settlements, each of which would be laid out along a gridded plan of
streets and centered on a plaza, a church, and a series of civic institutions,
including a jail and an inn (Toledo 1986). Extended indigenous households
would be broken up into nuclear families and placed in separate houses
with a single door leading onto the street, to facilitate their surveillance.
Within each house, separate bedrooms would be erected for parents, and
male and female children to promote sexual modesty. Acting in concert,
these spatial strategies would instill their indigenous subjects with what
the Spanish called policía (urban politeness and discipline), which would
facilitate their Christian conversion and catechism, as well as their integra-
tion into the Colonial economy (Cummins 2002; Lechner 1989).
As recent scholarship has shown, the Toledan project provoked a wide
variety of responses among the up to two million people who were its tar-
gets, and it articulated in distinct ways with regionally specific political
and economic processes (Mumford 2012; Saito 2012; VanValkenburgh 2012;
Wernke 2013; Zuolaga Rada 2013). In much of the southern highlands, re-
settlement appears to have been tightly bound up with the expansion of To-
ledo’s mita labor draft, where it sought to produce docile subjects for work
in the mines at Potosí and Huancavelica. In the valleys of the north coast,
with its high potential for export-oriented agropastoralism, reducción
provided a context for co-opting indigenous labor power and freeing up
productive land for Spanish exploitation (Ramírez-Horton 1978; Ramírez
1996). Ironically, resettlement also sought to stem the tide of indigenous

depopulation, which some Spaniards saw as a result of the poor (moral and
physical) order of native peoples.
In the lower Zaña and Chamán valleys, reducción seems to have concen-
trated on nucleating populations within three major sociopolitical units—
Zaña itself, headed by the cacique of the same name; Mocupe, reporting to
a principal subservient to the cacique of Zaña; and Chérrepe, centered on
the eponymous maritime settlement and led by the cacique Pedro Chér-
repe in 1572. The mechanics of resettlement are obscured by the successive
activities of the Cuenca and Toledo visitas and other sources of settlement
change, such as the destabilizing effects of the El Niño rains of 1578 (Huer-
tas Vallejos 1987), but a general outline of population movements can be
sketched.
Sources suggest that Toledo’s initiatives led subjects of the cacique of
Zaña to be resettled around the recently founded villa, as well as in a new
reducción named Leviche, or Liviche, located across the Zaña river in an
area now known as La Otra Banda (Angulo 1920; AGI 461 1578v). The latter
was founded by 1568, during the time of the Cuenca visita. Further down
valley, a settlement named Mocupe was established in the late sixteenth
century on the northern slopes of Cerro Purulén, drawing in residents
from the parcialidad of the same name. It is unclear whether this settle-
ment was founded during the Cuenca or Toledo visitas, or at a later date.
In the littoral zone, between the Chamán and Zaña valleys, the residents
of Ñoquique appear to have been resettled to the head town of Chérrepe
(Ramírez-Horton 1978). Previously, the site of the Colonial port of Chér-
repe, located at the Caleta (cove) of the same name, had been identified as
the head town of the cacique of Chérrepe listed in the 1572 visita (Susan
Ramírez, personal communication 2008). However, the small footprint of
the Colonial settlement found there (3.5 ha)—as compared to the 10 ha
average for north coast reducciones—makes this unlikely. We suggest that
Carrizales, located some 6 km to the north of the Caleta, was the initial set-
tlement of the reducción of Chérrepe, and that its residents may have been
moved to the inland site of Chérrepe Viejo near the turn of the sixteenth
century (Kennedy and VanValkenburgh 2016). We discuss this chronologi-
cal sequence below.
Figure 14.1. Location of the Zaña Valley and the surveyed areas in this research (provided by the
authors).
Regional Settlement Patterns
Regional settlement patterns in the lower Zaña and Chamán valleys offer
further evidence of late pre-Hispanic sociopolitical organization and its
transformation over the course of Spanish colonization. Our research in
the region began with a pedestrian survey of the lower Zaña Valley, which
covered 90.27 sq km, including a swath of land along 10 km of coastline
(Figure 14.1). Survey transect resolution varied between 10 and 100 m,
based on ground cover, and led to the recording of 305 individual conjun-
tos of archaeological material—areas with surface ceramic densities above
one sherd per sq m, at least one other type of artifact on the surface, and/or
diagnostic architectural features. The survey area was explicitly designed to
sample areas associated with the 1572 visita of Chérrepe (Ramírez-Horton
1978) and a series of Colonial sites discovered during regional archaeologi-
cal reconnaissance.
The data collected demonstrate continuous (but not superimposed)
maritime occupation of the lower Zaña Valley from Preceramic through
late pre-Hispanic times. Sea-level rise in the Early Holocene may have
obscured the earliest coastal settlements, and maritime sites that we have
provisionally dated to the late Preceramic Period require confirmation
through excavation (Figure 14.2). Later coastal settlements cluster near
sources of freshwater, within 2 km of the mouths of the Zaña River and the
seasonal Río Carrizales (Figures 14.2 and 14.3). Whereas occupations near
the mouth of the Zaña River are present from Preceramic times, the earliest
settlements surrounding the mouth of the Río Carrizales date to the Early
Intermediate Period, perhaps reflecting the greater availability of water in
that portion of the valley following the construction of the left-bank canal
systems in Early Moche times. On the whole, maritime sites in the valleys
are more numerous during the Early Intermediate Period, but we take their
relative obscurity in earlier times (including the Late Initial Period and
Early Horizon) to be due at least in part to the absence of monumental
maritime sites in the valley and geomorphological change along the shore-
line, particularly the formation of sand dunes.
In accordance with sixteenth century descriptions of the native occu-
pation of the region before reducción, Late Intermediate Period and Late
Horizon settlements in the valley appear dispersed. Sites themselves are
relatively small—a median size around 1 ha in the lowest reaches of the
valley—away from the primary administrative center of Cerro Corbacho
Figure 14.2. Preceramic Period settlements (provided by the authors).
Figure 14.3. Early Intermediate Period settlements (provided by the authors).
(Figure 14.4). Within the floodplain and along its margins, sites align with
canal systems, which were expanded beyond their Early Intermediate
Period boundaries on both banks of the valley during Middle and Late
Sicán/Lambayeque times (circa 950 to 1330 CE). Continuities in domestic
ceramic assemblages between Middle Sicán and Inka times make smaller
sites with limited numbers of fineware on their surfaces difficult to date
to precise subperiods, but the disperse pattern of agricultural settlement
continues. New sites appear along the valley’s left-bank canal systems, and
new administrative centers are erected atop or nearby previous outposts.
Within the settlement data, there do not appear to be significant lines
of cleavage between littoral and inland settlements in late pre-Hispanic
times—that is, “empty spaces” between settlement clusters that scholars
working in other regions have interpreted as indices of territorial bound-
aries (Sanders et al. 1979; Tschauner 2001: 297–305; Willey 1953: 375–388).
This pattern suggests that sociopolitical and ethnic distinctions between
fishing and agricultural populations, however defined, were not articulated
through marked territorial divisions—a pattern that accords with Ramírez’s
(1985) description of authority among Early Colonial cacicazgos as being
based on dense networks of obligation rather than physical boundaries.2
The survey data also indicate that, during the course of the sixteenth
century, settlement patterns in the lower Zaña and Chamán valleys un-
derwent drastic transformation. While identifying mid-sixteenth century
occupations is challenging due to the continuity of domestic assemblages
between late pre-Hispanic and Early Colonial times, the construction of
reducciones, hacienda infrastructure, and the villa of Zaña makes late six-
teenth century patterns more salient. Here, the data demonstrate both a
drastic decrease in the total area and number of sites occupied within the
valley and a marked increase in median settlement size. When we add a
50 percent random sample of generic late-period sites to the Chimú-Inka
settlement sample and compare it to the Early Colonial Period sample, the
decrease in total site area is 83 percent (315.74 ha vs. 53.51 ha), and it is 91.4
percent in site numbers (Figure 14.4). Within the same time frame, median
settlement size increases from 1.1 ha to just over 6 ha. We argue that, while
the decrease in settled area reflects population loss, the increase in site size
reflects settlement nucleation due to reducción, and the relative similarity
of size among reducciones (8.95 ha, 10.14 ha, and 18 ha) indexes the admin-
istration’s attempts to resettle indigenous populations into sites of similar
dimensions (Matienzo 1967; Toledo 1986).
Figure 14.4. Late
Intermediate and
Post-Reducción
settlements
(provided by the
authors).
Site-Level Investigations: Carrizales
Following a regional survey, we selected one settlement for further exca-

vation—Carrizales, an archaeological landscape covering nearly 1 sq km
alongside the Pacific Ocean, at the mouth of the seasonal Río Carrizal.
Within this landscape, the survey recorded a series of domestic sites and
cemeteries dating from Formative through Early Colonial times (Figure
14.5). With its continuous history of occupation and horizontal stratigra-
phy, Carrizales presents the archaeologist with a unique opportunity to ex-
amine long-term transformations in maritime domestic life.
In 2012, we initiated horizontal excavations at two locales within the
Carrizales landscape—Conjunto 123, a reducción whose remains indicate
that it was abandoned before the end of the sixteenth century; and Con-
junto 125, an adjacent late pre-Hispanic domestic site. Pedestrian and geo-
physical survey at Conjunto 123 identified several features characteristic of
reducción planning—the remains of a humble chapel, a central area of low
magnetic activity and surface ceramic density (likely a plaza), and series
of rectilinear house foundations indexed by linear patterns of differential
moisture on the ground surface (VanValkenburgh et al. 2015). Test excava-
tions confirmed that the site’s remains date exclusively to the late sixteenth
century and that linear features visible on the surface correspond to shal-
low trenches dug at the base of quincha (wattle and daub) walls.
Nearby, survey Conjuntos 125, a concentration of Late Sicán Period
ceramic materials, is located atop an elevated terrace 700 m to the west
of Conjunto 123. Excavations in these two locales were designed to pro-
vide a pre-reducción point of comparison for contextualizing the organi-
zation of domestic space and the character of foodways at Carrizales. In
2012 and 2014, the Proyecto Arqueológico Zaña Colonial PAZC opened up
eight excavation units in Conjunto 123—three in middens (Units 123-002,
123-006, and 123-009), three in the church precinct (123-001, 123-003, and
123-011), and two broad horizontal excavations of houses (123-005 and 123-
007) (Figure 14.6). At Conjunto 125, excavations focused on a single, 350
sq m excavation trench in an area that includes both domestic structures
and middens. Finally, we conducted one test excavation in a shell midden
adjacent to the primary domestic area of Conjunto 125 (Unit 131-001). The
results of further excavations and analysis conducted in the 2015 and 2016
field seasons are beyond the scope of this essay and are discussed in Van-
Valkenburgh (2017) and Kennedy et al. (2019).
Figure 14.5. Surface ceramic density, architecture, and excavations, Conjunto 123 (provided by
the authors).
Figure 14.6. Orthophoto of base of unit 123-007, assembled from pole aerial photographs
In both of these sets of excavations, sampling strategies were designed to

recover substantial amounts of faunal and botanical material. Due to their
relatively shallow stratigraphy (30–150 cm below surface), the complexity
of overlapping domestic features, and our desire to record spatial differ-
entiation in household activities, we employed a single-context recording
system, sampling deposits, levels, cuts, and structures with a high degree
of spatial precision (Harris 1979). During excavation, team members field-
screened all excavated soils and sediments using 1⁄16-inch sieves and col-
lected 5 L bulk samples from all nonsuperficial contexts. During the 2014
field season, we increased bulk sample size to 20 L for zooarchaeologically
Table 14.1. Calibrated radiocarbon dates from Conjunto 125
Uncalibrated Age Calibrated Age Calendar Dates

Sample ID Locus Material with 1-σ range with 2-σ range with 2-σ range
PAZC123-32-1 123-0032 Maiz 830 ± 30 BP 790–690 BP 1160–1260 CE
PAZC125-32-2 123-0032 Algarrobo 800 ± 30 BP 760–680 BP 1190–1270 CE
PAZC125-59-l 123-0059 Maize 760 ± 30 BP 730–670 BP 1220–1280 CE
PAZC125-59-2 123-0059 Algarrobo 850 ± 30 BP 800–690 BP 1160–1260 CE
Compiled by the authors.
rich contexts, in order to maximize our recovery of material for zooar-

chaeological analysis. We processed each bulk sample in the field lab using
4.0 mm, 2.0 mm, 1.0 mm, and 0.5 mm sieves. Select samples exported to
the United States for botanical analysis were further processed using bucket
flotation (0.50 mm mesh) and resifted through standard USDA geological
sieves.
At Conjunto 123, horizontal excavations in the town sector revealed
what we term “architecture in negative”—a series of superimposed quin-
cha foundation trenches, which correspond to at least two separate build-
ing episodes; pits dug to accommodate storage vessels, of varying depths;
and three large pit hearths within one structure. By comparison to the ad-
jacent Late Sicán occupation at Conjunto 125, refuse deposits are much
more disperse at Carrizales—more than two dozen individual concentra-
tions of charcoal and food trash were scattered in the margins of domestic
structures.
Excavations at Conjunto 125 revealed a similar series of architectural
features, which correspond to at least two separate building episodes. Two
hearths and a series of storage pits outline the remains of agglutinated
household structures, with entrances in their northeast sectors and thick
beams reinforcing their southern walls against offshore winds. Accumula-
tions of trash, where visible on the surface, are concentrated in a large,
dense area to the north of the exposed housing structures. Four radiocar-
bon dates (Beta 366921 to 366924) obtained from maize kernels and wood
charcoal from the site date to between 1160 and 1280 Cal AD, including 2 σ
error ranges, place the occupation squarely in Late Sicán times (Table 14.1).
Zooarchaeological Analysis at Carrizales
Following excavation, materials analysis has concentrated on the study of

zooarchaeological and paleobotanical remains. Analysis of vertebrate spec-
imens, carried out by Sarah Kennedy, has recorded taxa, skeletal elements,
portions, side, degree of fusion, and taphonomic markers and calculated
MNI, NISP, weight, and age profiles. Paleoethnobotanical analysis, carried
out by Gabriel Hassler, has examined samples in a dissecting microscope
with 6.7–40x magnification and identified them according to taxa. Due to
relatively small sample sizes and the goals of this article (to present ma-
jor contrasts between late pre-Hispanic and Early Colonial foodways), our
analysis concentrates on inter- rather than intrasite comparisons.
Cross-site comparisons of vertebrate remains demonstrate different
trajectories for marine and terrestrial fauna. At Conjunto 125, the sample
of vertebrate remains we have studied reflects a domestic economy based
largely on marine fishing, supplemented with a small number of wild and
domestic mammals. Based on excavations in 2012 and 2014, faunal analysis
identified 19 species of fishes, rays, and sharks at Conjunto 125, including
several varieties of drums and croakers, mackerel, anchovies, sardines, sea
catfish, eagle rays, hound shark, blue shark, needle fish, and weakfish, with
a total MNI of 214 (Table 14.2). In comparison, the Colonial sample from
Conjunto 123 only included 10 species of fish, sharks, and rays, including
8 also found in the pre-Hispanic assemblage. To date, slight differences in
the distribution of marine habitats are also discernable. Among the Early
Colonial remains, there are fewer far-shore, oceanic pelagic, and sandy bot-
tom species than in the Late Sicán sample and a substantial increase in
fish from the neritic pelagic zone (Figure 14.7). Overall, the analysis also
demonstrates a drop in the presence of bony and cartilaginous fish species
(from 19 to 10) and diversity (from Shannon-Wiener index [H’] values of
2.037 to 1.877, and Inverse Simpson’s index [1/D] values of 2.478 to 2.628)
at Conjunto 123, as compared to Conjunto 125. We interpret these results as
evidence for increased emphasis on nearshore fishing during the Colonial
Period at Carrizales.
In addition, the Colonial population of Conjunto 123 seems to have con-
sumed a wider range of terrestrial animals than the Late Sicán residents of
Conjunto 125 (Figure 14.8). The sample at Conjunto 125 includes a small
percentage of Andean domesticates, such as camelids and guinea pigs, as
well as fox, rodent, snake/lizard, and bird remains—specifically, shearwa-
ter, cormorant, dove, and booby. In contrast, the sample from Conjunto 123
Table 14.2. Fish species recovered in Conjunto 125 and Carrizales sites
Conunto
Species Name Common Name 125 Carrizales Habitat
Trachurus Jack mackerel X Neritic (shallow, between low tide and
murphyi continental shelf) Pelagic Zone
Scomber Pacific chub X Neritic (shallow, between low tide and

japonicus mackerel continental shelf) Pelagic Zone
peruanus
Cynoscion analis Peruvian X Sandy bottoms along the coast
weakfish
Sarda chilensis Pacific bonito X Neritic (shallow, between low tide and
continental shelf) Pelagic Zone
Sciaena deliciosa Lorna drum X Sandy bottoms, near rocky coastal

areas
Stellifer minor Minor star drum X Sandy bottoms along the coast
Prionace glauca Blue shark X Oceanic Pelagic Zone
Paralonchurus Peruvian banded X X Sandy bottoms along the coast

peruanus croaker
Cilus gilberti Corvina drum X X Sandy bottoms, near rocky coastal

areas
Engraulidae Anchovy X X Neritic (shallow, between low tide and
continental shelf) Pelagic Zone
Clupeidae, Sardine, herring X X Neritic (shallow, between low tide and

Sardinops sagax continental shelf) Pelagic Zone
Galeichthys Sea catfish X X Sandy bottom areas, coastal muddy

peruvianus areas
Carcharhinus sp. Shark, generaI X X Oceanic Pelagic Zone
Myliobatidae Eagle ray X X Coastal benthopelagic zone (near the

bottom, just above the sea floor, in
areas close to the coast)
Mugil cephalus Mullet X Coastal benthopelagic zone (near the
bottom, just above the sea floor, in
areas close to the coast)
Compiled by the authors.
Figure 14.7. Comparison of fish consumption between Late Prehispanic and Colonial sites
contains very few remains of Andean domestic animals (MNI=2; NISP=5),

but a large variety of Eurasian domesticates—chicken, duck, goose, pig,
sheep/goat, cattle, and horse. Bird bones also appear in much greater vol-
ume at Carrizales, represented by both wild (pelican, cormorant, booby,
penguin, ibis, and dove) and domestic species (chicken, duck, goose).
These results suggest a greater emphasis on bird hunting during Colonial
times (an activity that was likely carried out with rocks and slings), as well
as increased emphasis on bird husbandry.
Figure 14.8.
Mammal, bird,
and reptile
presence and
absence at
Carrizales site
(provided by the
authors).
The presence of small amounts (MNI=3; NISP=36) of marine mammal

remains (sea lion/seal, whale) in the Colonial sample suggests shoreline
scavenging during Colonial times. Indeed, historical records refer to whale
scavenging among north coast communities in Colonial times, which tar-
geted carcasses rich in oil and blubber (Flores Galindo 1981: 159–165; San-
tillán et al. 2004). Such activities would have supplemented fishing, shell-
fish collecting, and terrestrial food production without requiring detailed
knowledge of new technologies.
Overall, terrestrial species presence (26 vs. 13) and diversity (Shannon-
Wiener index [H’] values of 2.929 vs. 2.386; Inverse Simpson’s index [1/D]
values of 8.148 and 7.219) is higher in the Colonial sample, suggesting a
wider range of terrestrial subsistence activities among the population of
Carrizales and a remarkable openness to introduced animal species. Nota-
bly, many of the introduced domesticates are relatively small bodied, des-
ert-adapted animals that would have been much less costly to raise in the
arid Andean coastal region than domesticates first developed in the wetter
Andean highlands (deFrance 2003)—a factor that may have made them
attractive substitutes for earlier livestock.
Calculation of total lengths of fish specimens, based on the analysis of
otoliths (Sagittae)3 recovered from Conjuntos 125 and 123, helps to outline
the nature of fishing practices during Late Sicán times. At Conjunto 125,
total lengths calculated from the otoliths of 119 Peruvian banded croakers
(Paralonchurus peruanus) possess a mean of 375.7 mm, with a minimum of
103 .36mm and a maximum of 525.29 mm. The size frequency for Conjunto
125’s total length estimates is represented in Figure 14.9. Here, the wide
range of total lengths suggests that the population is the product of net
fishing, which led fishermen to collect schools of fish of distinct ages (Bé-
arez 2000). The bimodal distribution of total lengths may point to seasonal
exploitation of the Peruvian banded croaker, and/or differences in net sizes
and capture methods.3
In comparison, the sample from Conjunto 123—consisting of only five
Paralonchurus peruanus otoliths—has a mean calculated total length of
407.82 mm, with minimal and maximal lengths of 242.3 mm and 456.41
mm. None of the estimated lengths of Paralonchurus peruanus from Con-
junto 123 fits into the first mode of distribution in the Conjunto 125 sample,
suggesting that Colonial fishermen may have pursued distinct fishing strat-
egies. Still, the Conjunto 123 otolith sample is exceedingly small, and a t-
test of the two samples shows that the difference between their mean total
lengths is not statistically significant (t=0.5). Further samples are needed.
Figure 14.9. Prehispanic size frequency of Paralonchorus peruanus during Prehispanic and
Colonial times (provided by the authors).
Discussion and Conclusion
Together, food remains from Conjunto 123 demonstrate several marked

differences in comparison to those from Conjunto 125, which we interpret
as reflections of behavioral responses to the pressures of Spanish tribu-
tary requirements, resettlement, and demographic decline. In comparison
to Conjunto 125, remains from Conjunto 123 manifest a drop in marine
species diversity, and changes in habitat distribution suggest that Colonial
populations may have been spending greater time scavenging the shoreline
for marine mammals and less time fishing in deep waters—results previ-
ously discussed in Kennedy and VanValkenburgh (2016).
In contrast, the increased diversity and density of terrestrial mam-
mal, bird, and botanical remains at Conjunto 123 outline greater labor
investment in productive activities that would have generated the wide va-
riety of tribute demanded by the encomendero of Chérrepe. The presence of
pigs, caprids, and a greater volume and variety of bird remains in the sam-
ple, as well as greater numbers of cotton and algarrobo seeds (all specifically
listed in the 1564 Chérrepe tribute list), may index the increased extraction
of these resources in order to meet tributary requirements. Cutmarks on
caprid and pig bones recovered at Carrizales show that these products were
also consumed at the site, but the complete absence of wheat suggests that
not all products demanded for tribute were part of indigenous foodways.
Wheat may also simply have been produced by a distinct residential unit
within the repartimiento of Chérrepe—or demographic change between
1564 and 1572 may have made it untenable for the indigenous people of
Chérrepe to produce wheat, which did not appear in any of the bulk sam-
ples analyzed by Hassler. Indeed, the mere existence of our copy of their
1564 tributary list is a product of the fact that the Cherrepanos were strug-
gling to render the tribute to which their encomendero, Francisco Perez
de Lezcano, claimed he was entitled. It survives as a transcription of the
original, folded into a legal claim by Lezcano’s widow to tribute she claimed
he was still owed.
This demographic decline is found in other lines of evidence. As we
outline above, the settlement survey indicates an 83 percent decline in site
area within the valley between the Late Intermediate Period and the late
sixteenth century—a trend complemented by Colonial census data, which
suggest that population loss in the repartimiento of Chérrepe reached 90
percent by the mid seventeenth century (Ramírez-Horton 1978). More-
over, analysis of human remains recovered from the chapel at Carrizales
(MNI=42) suggests that the local population suffered a great deal of nu-
tritional and labor stress. In his examination of the collection, Dr. Haagen
Klaus recovered numerous signs of poor health: teeth with high rates of
linear enamel hypoplasias (evidence of acute childhood stress); long bones
with severe porotic hyperostosis (evidence of chronic childhood anemia);
periostisis in tibiae (suggesting adult infections); and degenerative joint
disease (indicating a very active and demanding lifestyle for at least some
individuals among the population) (Klaus 2010, personal communication).
We interpret shifts in economic emphases at Carrizales as vital re-
sponses to the challenges posed to native lifeways by demographic decline,
resettlement, and increasing tributary requirements. As populations were
decimated by introduced diseases and hammered with tributary require-
ments that they were continually unable to meet, the residents of Carrizales
adjusted their economic activities to put food on the table in time-saving

ways. Seen in this light, the legal testaments on which Rostworowski’s
maritime specialization model rest served a similar function. They are not
neutral transcripts of economic life, but interested statements by leaders
who were struggling to insulate their communities from a tidal onslaught
of death and destruction, while also seeking to secure their own rights to
social privileges. By claiming that they were exclusively fishermen, coastal
elites sought to reduce the burden of producing a wide variety of terrestrial
products for tribute, while also asserting their independence from inland
caciques and securing their rule over coastal parcialidades. Examinations
of social and economic dynamics in late pre-Hispanic and Early Colonial
maritime communities should therefore be cautious in the application of
the maritime specialization model and seek to understand diversity in
coastal lifeways as products of political strategy and tactics.
Acknowledgments
We would like to thank Gabriel Prieto and Daniel Sandweiss for the in-
vitation to contribute to this volume, as well as the following individuals
and institutions: the National Endowment for the Humanities for a Col-
laborative Research Grant (Grant RZ-51748-14); the National Geographic
Foundation for a Committee for Research and Exploration grant (Grant
9334-13); the Wenner Gren Foundation for a post-PhD Research Grant;
Natalia Guzmán (Ministerio de Cultura, Lima); Arturo Rivera (PUCP);
Dr. Philippe Béarez (MNHN); Dr. Susan deFrance (University of Florida);
Dr. David Steadman (University of Florida); Dr. Victor Pacheco; Dr. Ro-
dolfo Salas-Gismondi; Letty Salinas and Ali Altamirano (Museo de Histo-
ria Natural, Lima); Dr. Alfredo Altamirano Enciso (Universidad Nacional
Mayor de San Marcos/ Universidad Nacional Federico Villarreal); Miguel
Romero (IMARPE); Dr. Ruth Shady and Luis Miranda (Proyecto Arque-
ológico Caral); Isabel Salvatierra; Carlos Osores; Karen Durand; Miguel
Ccoa; Noah Corcoran-Tad; and the many student volunteers who assisted
in data collection and analysis.
Notes
1. Here, we use the term “Early Colonial” to refer to a roughly bounded historical pe-
riod, dating from the first years after the Spanish invasion of Peru, in 1532 CE, through the
first decades of the seventeenth century.
2. Unfortunately, no similar record exists for littoral settlements, but the greater vari-
ability of freshwater sources and maritime resources along the coast (as compared to the
relative continuity of agricultural fields and canals in valley-bottom areas) likely led to
greater nucleation in littoral zones.
3. We estimated the total length (TL) of fish specimens listed here using measure-
ments collected by Dr. Philippe Béarez from eight Paralonchurus peruanus comparative
specimens from northern Peru, ranging from 321 mm to 510 mm (P. Béareaz, personal
communication). We used these measurements to determine constants for the allometric
equation y = a*x^b, representing the relationship between otolith length and total body
length in fish (Le Cren 1951; Reitz and Cordier 1983). Here, the y-intercept (a) is a constant
and the proportional change in length is indicated by the slope (b) of the line (Reitz et al.
1987). The dependent variable (y) represents the total length (mm), and the independent
variable (x) represents the lengths of the otoliths (mm) from our archaeological sample.
Paralonchurus peruanus otolith lengths from both Conjunto 125 and Carrizales were then
entered into the equation to estimate total lengths for the assemblage.
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15
Fish[i]stories
Seafolk of the Northern Peruvian Coast
Susan Elizabeth Ramírez
Chroniclers mention fisherfolk as ubiquitous along the Pacific shore of

the Andes in the sixteenth century (for example, Cieza 1984: 207; Pizarro
1571/1978: 245, 247 [on the fishermen of Ylo], 244 [on the fishermen of
Pachacamac]; Lizárraga 1916 [1546–1615]: 64–65). Yet few historians have
made their study top priority. María Rostworowski is one exception, with
pioneering general studies of coastal fishing populations and how they ex-
ploited available resources and specific pieces, which in 1976, for example,
outlines the sociopolitical organization of the lineage of Changuco (Rost-
worowski 1975, 1976a, 1976b, 1977, 1981). Otherwise, the presence of fisher-
folk, while noted in passing, elicits little focus on the details of their activi-
ties, technology, or sociopolitical organization.
Yet on the north coast alone, ethnic manuscript sources identify semi-
autonomous lineages of specialized fisherfolk with their own language (the
pescadora) that lived as part of the chieftainships of Callanca, Collique,
Chimú, Chicama, Jayanca, Jequetepeque, Lachira [or La Chira], Moche,
Saña, Sinto, Tumbes, and Viru (Rabinowitz 1979, 1980; Mogrovejo 1920
[1593]: 238–239, 242–243). Table 15.1 summarizes these references, pro-
viding the names of lineages of fisherfolk, the chieftainship (curacazgo) to
which they were affiliated, and the date of the earliest written source. This
information must be considered cautiously, because the writers of these
documents used various terms inconsistently. Lachira, Sicán, Puemape,
and Pucalá were lords in the sixteenth century whose names identified the
lineage over which they ruled. After 1582, the lord named Pucalá and his
people left this name as the sobriquet of a Colonial-era hacienda (Cock
1985:, 152 [for 1582]). The individual known as Enequesiquil assumed
the name or title of Minimisal when he became lord of the population of
Table 15.1. North Coast fisherfolk mentioned in ethnohistoric sources
Lineage Chieftainship Date Fish Species Sources
Colán Lachira (?)a 1622 Houndfish (tollo, mus- Rostworowski 1982:
telus dorsalis, mustelus 526–527, 529–530, 534.
moculatus), weakfish
(cachema), others
Ҫacon, Changuco 1535 Fish Rostworowski 1976:

Xacon 100–103, 140.
Cao Chicama 1549 Fresh and salted fish Rostworowski 1983–
1984: 89; Rabinowitz
1979: 19.
Chuspo Collique 1566 AGI/J458, 1922v.
1586 ART/HO, 5-XI-1586;
Mata 1587, 2v.
Chérrepe Pacasmayo or 1572 Ramirez 1978; Rabi-
Saña nowitz 1979: 12; 1980
87; Burga, 1976, 51–52.
1715 Rostworowski 1977:
223.
Chichi Guaman 1550 Rostworowski 1976:
121–147.
Cuchimic Tucume n.d. Rabinowitz 1980: 87.
Éten Collique 1566 AGI/J458, 1928; J461,
1462–62v.
c. 1591 ASFL/Reg. 9, No. 2, Ms.
8, 1591.
1651 AFA/L. 1, c. 10.
Ferreñafe Túcume 1560 AGI/AL 133.
1666 AFA/L. 1, c. 20,
11-I-1667.
Gua[z]ñape 1567 Crab ART/CoCrimina-
and Chao les,1. 237, exp. 2177,
30-I-1567.
Huanchaco Chimub n.d. ART/CoO,1. 167, exp.
309, 24 cited by Hart
1983: 270, 277.
1555–60 Lizárraga 1558?/1916:
67.
1566 AGI/J458, 1850.
Huanchaco, 18th Hart 1983: 270; Lecu-
Guañape, century anda, 1793/1861, v. 2,
Malabrigo 116.
Lambayeque Sinto 1566–73 AGI/J457,716; J458,
1898v-99, 1931; J461,
1091v, 1460–60v, 1529.
1614–15 Vásquez de Espinosa:
1948 (1698/1969) 276.
Lloc (San Jequetepeque n.d. Burga 1976: 51–52, 63;
Pedro de) Rabinowitz 1979: 32.
Mansiche 1815 ART/I,AG, 21-III-1815.

Minimisal Jayanca c.1532–41 AGI/J418, 1573, 233v.
1540 Da Gama 1540/1974:
217.
1566 AGI/J458, 2248v; Hart
1983:, 223.
Mocupe Saña 1576 ART/CoR, 30-VI-1576.
Monsefú Collique 1815 Smelt ART/I,AG, 21-III-1815
Mórrope Jayanca 1535 Farroñan et. al. 1970:
14–15.
Moche n.d. Grey mullet (lisa) ART/CoO,1. 167, exp.
309, 24 cited by Hart
1983, 270, 277; Rost-
worowski 1981: 24.
Mochumíd Túcume 1541 ART/CoO, 13-VII-
1570, 96v-99; Farroñan
et. al 1970: 14–15.
1563–64 AGI/J418, 1573, 306v,
330, 370.
1566 AGI/J458, 1898v-99;
2007.
1574 Sardines (Sardinops ART/CoR, 30-VI-1576;
sagax) Ramirez, 1998, espe-
cially Table 9.2, 225–26.
1654–1765 ACMS/1654–1765, 8.
Pácora Jayanca 1541 AGI/J418, 1573, 233v,

334v; ACMS/1654–
1765; Netherly, 1975, 8.
Paita and 1600–1607 Shellfish, houndfish Glave 1993.
Colán (tollo)
(continued)

Paita and Lachira (?)a 1734 Salted houndfish Rostworowski 1977:
Colán (tollo), weakfish 223–24; 1982: 512–13.
1786 Whalec Flores Galindo 1981:

159–65; Santillán et. al
2004.
Puemape Jequetepeque 1566 AGI/J461, 1213.
1565 ART/Mata, 1565.
Reque Collique 1549 Fresh and salted fish Rostworowski 1983–
1984: 90–91.
1563 ART/Paz, 1576; Angulo
1920: 285; Araujo 1957:
13.
Saña 1572 AGI/J460, 335–35v;
J457, 872.
Sechura/ Lachira (?)a AGI/AL 441, 1717 cited
Colán by Rostworowski 1981:
16.
Sinto 1566 AGI/J457, 828–28v;
J458, 1457v-58, 1934v,
2025v; J461, 1528v.
Túcume 1566 AGI/J458, 1934–35,
2007.
Túmbeze c.1530–32 Calancha 1638/1974–
1981, I, chap. 16: 239.
1546 Oysters, shrimp Glave 1991: 504.
1547 Zalones, bonitos Glave 1991: 504.
(sarda chiliensis
lineolata), houndfish
(tollo), small fish (pes-
cado menudo)
a Piura.Other ethnic groups according to Ramírez 1981: table I, 286–287.
b Or Moche.
c The southern right whale is a slow-moving baleen whale found between the southern hemi-
sphere and Antarctica. They are large and rich in oil and blubber, and skim along the surface
of the water, hunting nutrient-rich foods, such as krill and plankton.
d “Indios balseros y pescadores” (Glave 1991: 503).
e The original name was “xlla[c]cae pna” (Carrera 1980: 68; Zevallos Quiñones 1944: 33).
Fish[i]stories: Seafolk of the Northern Peruvian Coast · 401
fishermen of the larger ethnic group of Jayanca.1 Between 1539 and 1573,
at least three individuals did the same, each becoming Minimisal in turn
when he assumed the position (Ramírez 2008). Later, scholars who referred
to the early reports tended to overlook people, lineage, and, specifically, the
fact that many lived scattered and interspersed among people of other lin-
eages; instead, they identified fisherfolk and general populations simply by
the geographical area of their residence or the town or river valley in which
they were concentrated (Mujica Barreda 1976: 119). Accordingly, observers
lumped the subjects of Minimisal in with the population of Jayanca on the
north coast. Yet the table confirms the omnipresence of these specialists
and indicates the types of fish or sea mammals that they are known to have
sought.
This paper summarizes the available references to fisherfolk in the
Colonial era found in the archives of Madrid, Seville, Lima, Trujillo, and
Lambayeque. It focuses primarily on the sixteenth century, years in which
coastal inhabitants suffered devastating losses to exotic, unknown diseases;
confronted the arrival of foreign invaders who did not speak any of the
Andean languages; witnessed the breakup of ethnic groups and the assign-
ment of different segments to new masters with needs that were very differ-
ent from those associated with the past order; resisted pressures to change
gods and disavow ancestor worship; heard about and saw new cultural
forms—including new definitions of morality, and right and wrong; built
newly mandated homes and settlements sometimes far from their previ-
ous homesteads; and protested the loss of geographical mobility so crucial
to the exploitation of the multiple available resources necessary for basic
subsistence. The analysis of such data shows that fisherfolk formed an inte-
gral and important segment of the populations of all the major curacazgos
(chieftainships) on the north coast, interacting actively with their farming
neighbors.
The chapter is divided into two parts. The first summarizes what written
sources indicate about such populations. The second puts this information
into a wider sociopolitical context by analyzing the fisherfolk of Chicama
and their leadership from circa 1525 to 1565.
The Lifeways of Coastal Fisherfolk
Lineages of fisherfolk lived scattered over the landscape of the north coast
(Mujica Barrera 1976: 119). A shared language, a reverence for the sea as a
provider of fish and whales, and endogamous marriage patterns reinforced
402 · Susan Elizabeth Ramírez
an identity as a people with specialized skills that complemented lineage

ties (Rabinowitz 1980, 5 [citing Calancha 1638: 553]: 49, 94, 100–101). The
majority of fisherfolk that observers mentioned and recorded in the early
historical record lived along the ocean shore, but various statements in-
dicate that others fished inland in rivers (for example, de Saña [Archivo
General de Indias/J461: 1145]), irrigation canals (Archivo Castillo Muro
Sime/1654–1765: 8; Rostworowski 1981: 26), lakes (Herrera Calderon 1986:
11; Rostworowski 1975: 318; 1978 223; 1981 26–27, 81), and lagoons (Ros-
tworowski 1978: 212, 214; 1981: 17, 22, 24). Their technology consisted of
balsa rafts, reed boats, nets, baskets, and lines (Hart 1983: 270; Cock 1985;
Rostworowski 1981: 28–29). In addition, they claimed customary rights
(AGI/J461, 1009; 1528v-29; Rostworowski 1975: 313, 319) to certain waters
and their beaches2 (AGI/J457: 1240; J458 2025v; AL28: 1574 9 : 1574 9), in
or from which they caught sardines (sardinops sagax), smelt (pejerreyes),
houndfish (tollos), and weakfish (cachemas); they also collected shellfish
and crabs, and scavenged the beaches for whale3 (Flores Galindo 1981: 160–
162; Rostworowski 1978: 211; Glave 1993). But, the activities of the fisherfolk
did not end there. They also gathered seaweed and mollusks (Netherly 1977:
243; Hart 1983: 271; Rostworowski 1978: 227); made salt4 by evaporation
(Flores Galindo 1981: 162; Glave 1991: 504); and manufactured plaster (yeso)
and lye (legia) (ACMS/1654–1765: 35). Occasionally, they burned shells for
lime (Netherly 1977: 243). Some gathered guano on the island of Guañape
off the coast of Viru (Rabinowitz 1980: 67). The fishermen and raft navi-
gators also had established long-lasting maritime communication to the
north that continued into the Colonial era (Glave 1991: 503; Lenz-Volland
and Volland 1992: 98 [citing Gutierrez de Santa Clara 1963]).
These activities complemented fishing, which was not carried out year-
round. The fisherfolk of Éten indicated that they embarked only three
months of the year because the waves that broke before their settlements
were too rough (brava) during the remainder of the year (ANCR/1739). A
petition was written in 1566 to present to the Audiencia judge and inspector
Dr. Cuenca for Alonso Guaman, the son of Don Felipe, lord of the people
of Guanchaco, representing them and the other Chimú people who were
under the protection of and served Don Diego de Mora, the encomendero
(Spaniard entrusted with the protection and religious instruction of the
natives in return for labor and tribute). The petition declared that when the
sea was rough and high (“braba y alta”), the fisherfolk would not embark,
despite being obliged to bring their catch to Trujillo. Because the Spanish
authorities of Trujillo had not taken seasonality into consideration, his fa-
ther, Don Felipe, had been imprisoned. Colonial officials resolved the com-
plaint, declaring that the natives could substitute salted fish for fresh when
the ocean was up. Indeed, an ordinance issued by Cuenca recognized that
fisherfolk should only venture into the sea when it was calm (mansa) (AGI/
J461, 1262v). In addition, archaeologist Gary Urton determined that the rise
of the Pleiades marked the beginning of a good fishing season on the north
coast (1982); while native chronicler Felipe Guaman Poma de Ayala wrote
that January was a month for marine fishing (Guaman Poma de Ayala c.
1980 [1615]: 1131 [1141]; ANP/DI,1. 39, c. 820, 1737, 5–5v; AGI/J458, 1850–51).
Colonial authorities quickly realized that fishermen near Spanish settle-
ments could provide marine resources for their own tables. They mobi-
lized coastal fisherfolk to supply these for the city of Trujillo as early as
1548 (AGI/J404, 580 for 1560; J461, 1262v; Cieza, I 1984: 207); the villa
(small Spanish town) of Saña from its founding in 1563; and, after 1720,
the Pueblo de Lambayeque (Vásquez de Espinoza 1948 [1628]: 276; Ros-
tworowski 1983–1984). Records of Licenciado Pedro de La Gasca’s 1549
visita (inspection or review) show that the fisherfolk of Chicama (a valley
6 leagues (leguas)5 from the city of Trujillo) (Rostworowski 1983–1984: 88)
were obliged to deliver fresh fish to the city each Friday and “fish days”
(penitential days of abstinence from consuming meat for Catholics—every
Friday and Ash Wednesday) (Rostworowski 1983–1984: 89). Likewise, the
natives of coastal Saña (23 leagues from Trujillo) transported three arrel-
des of fresh fish (4 lb each, or 12 lb) to Trujillo each Friday and “fish days,”
and produced a like quantity, which they left in situ (“en sus tierras,” in
their lands) (Rostworowski 1983–1984: 90–91). Furthermore, their annual
tribute included 60 arrobas of salted fish (25 lb each, or 11.5 kg, for a total
of 1,500 pounds)—28 were carried to Trujillo, and, of these, 10 were to be
delivered during Lent (Quaresma) and the rest (32 arrobas) were produced
and handed over on site in the valley of Saña (Rostworowski 1983–1984: 91).
Besides providing food, the seafolk had strategic importance. They
helped mobilize and supply the Spanish in the civil wars of the 1540s and
served as messengers, lookouts, and guards (Rabinowitz 1980: 98). So nec-
essary was their help in this regard that hegemony over them became a
priority (Glave 1991: 502–503). The encomendero of Tumbes, Bartolomé
de Villalobos, and, ultimately, Gonzalo Pizarro’s revolt against the crown
depended to a considerable degree on the transport skills and aid of these
populations. For that reason Villalobos confronted Diego Vázquez to
defend his dominion over some of the Tumbes natives who lived on the
island of Puná (Glave 1991: 503–504).
The size of the population responsible for this aid varied. José Durand
published a report that includes a reference to a fleet of 15,000 fishing bal-
sas (wooden rafts or reed boats) that daily entered the sea near Trujillo in
1708 (Durand 1708/1978–1980 220, 222). Each of these probably carried
two men, one of whom paddled (BP/Ms. 1960, nos. 7–8, 20-IX-1544).6 But
this number seems exaggerated. Contemporary observers provide more
realistic figures, cited in Table 15.2. Independently generated data for six
ethnic groups, starting in 1532, show that fishermen usually numbered in
the hundreds or less, with the exception of Saña and Chicama at the time of
the Spanish invasion.7 Even then, the probable number never nears 15,000,
making Durand’s figure exceptionally high and improbable.
The colonial establishment initiated a reorganization of this native pop-
ulation to facilitate their control and indoctrination. Dr. Cuenca mandated
a formal reducción or concentration policy in the mid-1560s, which in no
small way also hastened the transition in the use of the lord’s given name
or title to the lineage as a whole. After the reducción initiative fixed native
populations in place and Colonial policy restricted travel, the name or title
of the group became a geographical designation. Subsequently, Viceroy
Francisco de Toledo enlarged the scope of the reducción policy, extending
it to the entire viceroyalty.8 Reducción entailed moving the widely scattered
population (pueblo) into towns (pueblos). Theoretically, an official laid out
a new town on a grid around a central plaza with perpendicularly intersect-
ing streets. These formed urban blocks for homesteading. Toledo defined
the ideal new native town as one with a population of 400 tribute payers
and their families. That number, he reasoned, seemed sufficient to sup-
port a priest. The viceroy further required the natives to build a church on
one side of the plaza, making the reducción synonymous with a doctrina
(Catholic parish). Spanish officials punished natives who were reluctant to
move by burning their homes.
Authorities justified the reducciones by reasoning that a concentrated
native population became easier for a priest to catechize and easier for the
encomendero, his agent, or (later) the corregidor (Colonial administrator)
to collect tribute goods and organize labor services. Access to fertile native
land became another consideration of Spanish officials in, for example, the
Lambayeque region. Toledo’s representative, Juan de Hoçes, planned new
native towns close to the seashore to free the more productive soil further
inland for Spanish agriculture and cattle raising (Ramírez 1978). Thus, the
Table 15.2. Fishing populations

Ethnic Group Population Date Source(s)
Chicama 1,000 <1532 ART/CoO,1. 148, exp. 46,
13-VII-1565, 28v.
mas de mil indios “en tiempos ART/CoO,1. 148, exp. 46,
pasados” 13-VII-1565, 28v.
“Many indios” 1532 ART/CoO,1. 148, exp. 46,
13-VII-1565, 24.
200 Circa 1535 ART/CoO,1. 148, exp. 46,
13-VII-1565, 20v.
40 indios casados biejos 1565 ART/CoO,1. 148, exp. 46,
y mozos con sus mugeres 13-VII-1565, 21v.
y hijos
“30 indios casados con 1565 ART/CoO,1. 148, exp. 46,
sus mugeres y hijos” 13-VII-1565, 22v, 29.
10 indios y 3 principales 1565 ART/CoO,1. 148, exp. 46,
y 1 [de estos] que se fue a 13-VII-1565, 29v-30.
Pacasmayo
hasta 20 indios y dos 1565 ART/CoO,1. 148, exp. 46,
principales y 1 que huyo 13-VII-1565, 23v, 30v.
a Pacasmayo
Chiclayo 300 indios n.d. AGI/J457, 1009.
Changuco 800 indios 1535 AGI/J398; Rostworowski
1976: 109
Saña la mayoria de 3000 indios Circa 1532 ART/CoR, 30-VI-1576.
la mayoria de 400 indios 1568 ART/CoR, 30-VI-1576.
Túcume/ Jayanca 100 indios 1541 ART/CoO, 13-VII-1570,
96v-99.
As named in the sources.
n.d. No date.
native farming population was relegated to locations with the highest wa-
ter table, at the end of the irrigation ditches, in zones with the densest and
most prolonged cloud cover in winter. For native farmers, these relocations
meant that they became the last to receive irrigation water, which in times
of scarcity often led them to experience droughtlike conditions and lose
their crops. The moisture from the high water table and dense fogs brought
fungi, plant diseases, and insect pests associated with high humidity. Fi-
nally, this new placement meant that they relinquished land with abundant
sunshine that could yield three harvests per year for land with dense cloud
cover in the southern hemisphere winter that might only yield one or two.
Many lineages fought such removal. Prior to their relocation, the fishing
and farming population under a lord named Chérrepe challenged the re-
ducción policy in the courts. In 1572, the pre-Toledan reducción population
under Chérrepe’s direction lived in three settlements: Chérrepe, Nuestra
Señora de Guadalupe, and Ñoquique. These villages probably were the re-
sult of Dr. Cuenca’s reducción efforts five or six years earlier. The population
of Chérrepe, on the coast, centered on the residence of the cacique (chief)
or curaca principal (paramount lord). All who lived there were fishermen.
Farmers lived around the Augustinian monastery of Nuestra Señora de
Guadalupe. Informants stated that 35 to 45 farmers and fishermen lived
in Ñoquique. After marshaling resources and traveling to Lima, Chér-
repe’s representatives and agents presented petitions to the viceroy and the
Real Audiencia judges, appealing their case. They argued that if they were
forced to move inland, they would sicken and die. Their pleas succeeded in
sparing the main ceremonial center. However, Viceroy Toledo’s ordinances
explicitly provided that the reducciones should remove the native popula-
tion from religious sites where they continued to hold ceremonies with the
accompanying dancing and consumption of large quantities of maize beer
(chicha). Inspector Juan de Hoçes reported on such activities at the site of
Ñoquique. The natives succeeded in saving Chérrepe and Guadalupe, but
Ñoquique was abandoned. Hoçes rationalized his decision by saying that
the town was not healthy and was too isolated to receive regular visits from
a priest, allowing the natives to regularly and with impunity continue to
practice their pagan rites. He gave the residents 12 days to move: the farm-
ers to Guadalupe and the fishermen to Chérrepe (Ramírez 1978). By 1593,
the date of Archbishop Toribio Alfonso de Mogrovejo’s visit to the north,
the town of Chérrepe was two leagues removed from the port of the same
name (Mogrovejo 1920 [1593]: 239).
Colonial policy provided that concentrated populations should give up
their scattered fields close to their traditional homesteads in exchange for
lands near their new towns. This brings up the issue of whether or not
the fishermen also farmed. Here, some sources (summarized in Table 15.3)
seem contradictory. A few petitions written by multilingual, Spanish, or
Hispanized scribes during Dr. Cuenca’s inspection visit in 1566–67 mention
that fisherfolk of Éten and Mocchumí (also Mochumí, Muchumí), for ex-
ample, had some lands. A chorus of informants testified that the lineages of
Lambayeque, Chérrepe, Ferreñafe, Paita and Colán, Minimisal (of Jayanca),
and Guaman Pinco and his ancestors did not (Netherly 1977: 57).9,10 In
answer to Spanish queries about the lands of Guaman Pinco in 1565, Don
Gonçalo Ynosupo, principal of the Yalpa and subject to Don Francisco
Nuxa, said that “[e]l d[ic]ho guaman pinco por ser como hera pescador no
tenya ny tiene tierras nyngunas” [“the said Guaman pinco because he was
a fisherman has nor has he ever had any lands”] (ART/ CoO,1. 148, exp. 46,
13-VII-1565, 22). Alonso Sichay, a noble subject to Don Francisco, cacique
of the Licapa, swore that “el d[ic]ho guaman pinco como hera pescador y
de las [sic] mar no tenya ny tiene tierras en este valle de chicama ny licapa”
[“the said guaman pinco because he was a fisherman and of the sea has
never had lands in this Valley of Chicama nor [in the valley of] Licapa”]
(ART/ CoO,1. 148, exp. 46, 13-VII-1565, 23). Don Juan Cachaynamo, son of
Don Gonçalo caçique, principal of the parcialidad of Yalpa, and subject to
Don Francisco Nuxa, testified that “el d[ic]ho guaman pinco no tenia tier-
ras por q[ue] hera pescador” [“the said guaman pinco had no lands because
he was a fisherman”] (ART/ CoO,1. 148, exp. 46, 13-VII-1565, 23v). Don
Gonçalo Simanchunbi, a native lord of the Chicama, subject to Don Juan,
his cacique, likewise confirmed that “este t[estig]o no sabe las tierra[s] que
tenyan el d[ic]ho guaman pinco ny los d[ich]os myncho namo ny pinchan”
[“this witness does not know of lands that the said guaman pinco had nor
those of myncho namo nor pinchan”](ART/ CoO,1. 148, exp. 46, 13-VII-
1565, 24v). Don Diego Guachat, a native lord of the Chicamas, subject to
Don Juan, his cacique: “fue preg[unta]do que tierras tuvieron los d[ic]hos
myncho namo y guaman pinco y sus antecesores y donde son dixo q[ue]
este t[estig]o no les conosçio tierras nyngunas por que como heran pesca-
dores sienpre estaban en la mar” [“was asked what lands the said myncho
namo and guaman pinco and their antecedents had and where they were
located he said that this witness never knew of any lands because as they
were fishermen they were always at sea”] (ART/ CoO,1. 148, exp. 46, 13-
VII-1565, 25v-26). Alonos Suy Suy, an old yndio lord of the parcialidad
of Caop [Cao?], subject to Don Juan, cacique de Chicama, told authori-
ties that “el d[ic]ho guaman pinco no tenya tierras en el valle por que hera
pescador y estaba en la mar en Malabrigo” [“the said guaman pinco did
not have lands in the valley because he was a fisherman and he was at sea
in Malabrigo”](ART/ CoO,1. 148, exp. 46, 13-VII-1565, 26v). Hernando yf
sa canamo, a lesser lord (yndio prinçipalejo mandon), born and raised in
Malabrigo, stated that “sienpre desde q[ue] se sabe acordar este t[estig]
o fue suxeto a guaman pinco y a myncho namo su hermano . . . [y] no
sabe de sus tierras” [“this witness has always known as far back as he can
remember the he was a subject of Guaman pinco and myncho namo his
brother . . . [and] he does not know of their lands”](ART/ CoO,1. 148, exp.
46, 13-VII-1565, 29).
Other references, specifically to Pichan, one of Guaman Pinco’s anteced-
ents, told much the same story. Don Francisco Nuxa, cacique of the Licapa,
asked, “que tierras tenia el dicho Pichan” [“what lands the said Pichan pos-
sessed”] stated that “no sabe q[ue] tenga ningunas ny lo a oydo decir” [“he
did not know that he had any [lands] nor has he heard it said that he did”]
(ART/ CoO,1. 148, exp. 46, 13-VII-1565, 27). Alonso Sicha, principal of the
Licapa, responding to a similar question, testifed that “no sabe donde tenga
su casa y tierras el d[ic]ho pichan sino es las salinas y la mar” [“he does
not know where he has his house and lands the said pichan if not in the
salt pans and the sea”](ART/ CoO,1. 148, exp. 46, 13-VII-1565, 27v). Don
Juo[n] Caychanamo, another principal of the Licapa and son of the said
Don Gonzalo, lord of the Licapa, answered that “no a oydo decir de sus
tierras ni las sabe” [“he has not heard of his lands nor does he know them”]
(ART/ CoO,1. 148, exp. 46, 13-VII-1565, 28).11 Chonlo o namo, a lesser lord
(mandonsillo) of Malabrigo, stated that “no conosçio a pichan ny sabe su
tierra ny casa” [“he did not know pichan nor does he know of his land nor
his house”] (ART/ CoO,1. 148, exp. 46, 13-VII-1565, 30).
Many of these same individuals also declared that the Inca and Sun had
no lands. Don Gonzalo Yno supo, principal of the Yalpa, “le fue preg[unta]
do que diga e declare que tierra estaban [sic] en este valle dedicadas p[ar]
a el ynga y el sol y donde están y dixo q[ue] no lo sabe por q[ue]1 bibe a la
mar y no sabe donde tenga su tier[r]as” [“was asked to tell and declare what
lands in this valley were dedicated to the inca and the sun and where they
were and he said that he did not know because he lived at sea and he did not
know where he might have had land”] (ART/ CoO,1. 148, exp. 46, 13-VII-
1565, 28). Likewise, Don Francisco Nuxa; Don Alonso, his principal; Don
Juon Chacay namo; Don Goncalo Siman chumby; Alonso su chin amo, and
Don Diego Sean caynamo were each asked separately by the translators and
under oath that they state and declare: “donde están las tierras de ynga y
sol y en q[ue] parte y cada bno dellos por si y a parte dixo que no saban ny
lo an entendido” [“where are the lands of the inca and the sun and in what
location and each of them as a group and individually said that they did not
know nor had they known”] (ART/ CoO,1. 148, exp. 46, 13-VII-1565, 28v).
Cay ñu ñamo, an old prençipal, stated also, that “no sabe de pichan por
q[ue] no fue en su tiempo ny sabe donde están sus tierras ny casas ny las
del d[ic]ho guaman pinco por q[ue] hera mochacho y no lo supo y estuvo
muncho t[ien]po huydo y fue le preg[unta]do donde son en este valle las
tierras del ynga y del sol dixo q[ue]no lo sabe ny lo a entendido sobre lo
qual le fueron ff[ech]as otras preguntas al caso pertenecientes y dixo q[ue]
no sabe nada” (“he did not know of pichan because he was not of his time
nor does he know where his lands were nor his houses nor those of the said
guaman pinco because he was a boy and he did not know and he was gone
for a long time and he was asked where in this valley were the lands of the
inca and the sun and he said he did not know nor had he known about
which he was asked other questions about the case and he said that he knew
nothing”](ART/ CoO,1. 148, exp. 46, 13-VII-1565, 30v).
The cacique principal of the Licapa, Don Francisco Nuxa, resolved the
contradictions when he explained that Guaman Pinco, lord of the fishermen
of Malabrigo, did not have agricultural lands, but should he want to plant,
his subjects would just move onto them and use them: “No tenya tierras
nyngunas mas de que como hera baliente senbraba con sus yndios en este
valle y Licapa y donde queria” [“he had no lands at all except because he
was valiant he planted with his Indians in this valley and that of Licapa and
wherever he chose”](ART/ CoO,1. 148, exp. 46, 13-VII-1565, 20v). Likewise,
in a 1566 petition presented to Dr. Cuenca by fishermen who were subject
to the lord baptized Don Diego [Mochumí?], they claimed that they did
not know how to plant. Their lord was trying to force them to work a field.
Dr. Cuenca intervened and exempted them so that they could fish (AGI/
J458, 1898v-99; Rostworowski 1977: 170, 172). Such statements suggest an
ongoing transition in cultures. Nuxa’s testimony reminds investigators that
their own cultural system sometimes makes them seek evidence that is not
appropriate in the subject cultures that they study.
Also supporting the conclusion that they did not traditionally claim ag-
ricultural lands are the many petitions from lords and individual common-
ers identified as fishermen asking for permission to travel from one hamlet
and homestead to another to exchange their fish for agricultural products,
such as wool, cotton, corn, and beans, and beads (AGI/J458, 1924–25; J461,
1458v, 1464v; Rabinowitz 1980, 4) (see Table 15.4). Dr. Cuenca had come
north to enact several royal edicts, one of which prohibited such movement
after the discovery of a planned and impending native uprising in the high-
lands called the Taqui Onqoy (Millones 1964; Stern 1982). The need to trade
their marine harvests for agricultural goods has suggested that merchants
existed on the coast. But a close examination of ethnic documents yields
an instructive case of a man who identified himself as a “fisherman” in a
1566 petition asking Dr. Cuenca to grant him permission to move about
Table 15.3. Tenure status of lords, lineages, and ethnic groups

Ethnic
Lord Lineage Group Date Source(s)
Lords Claiming Not to Have Lands
D. Pedro Corina[n] Lambayeque Sinto 1566 AGI/J458, 1898, 1924–25;
J461, 1091v, 1464v-66.
D. Diego Mocchumí AGI/J461, 1469.
Chérrepe Pacasmayo 1566 Rostworowski 1977:
223–224; 1975: 318; AGI/
J458, 1924v.
Ferreñafe Túcume/ Rostworowski 1977:
Jayanca 223–224; 1975: 318; AGI/
J458, 1924v.
Paita, Colán Rostworowski 1977:
223–224; 1975: 318; AGI/
J458, 1924v.
Éten Collique 1591 ASFL/Reg. 9, No. 2, Ms.
8, 1591.
Mocchumí Túcume/ 1566 AGI/J461, 1440v.
Jayanca
Guaman Pinco and/or Chicama circa ART/CoO,1. 148, exp.
Pichan 1535 46, 13-VII-1565, 22–24v,
26–26v; Ramirez 1995:
262.
Lords Claiming Some Lands
D. Alonso Éten Éten Collique 1566 AGI/J458, 1928; J461,
1462–62v.
D. Diego Mochumy Mucchumi Túcume 1566 AGI/J461, 1517v-18v.
the countryside exchanging his catch for agricultural products. In grant-

ing him permission, however, Dr. Cuenca called him a “merchant,” rais-
ing cautionary flags in the use of this evidence without consideration of
context and voice. I believe that fishermen occasionally engaged in barter
for subsistence needs with no conceptualization of exchange for profit and
accumulation in the Western sense, making “merchant,” with its modern
connotations, a misleading label.
Fishermen were included as part of the general populace when, after
the civil wars that ended in 1549, the Spanish government formalized the
exactions of labor and tribute. Tribute lists made it theoretically impossible
for the encomendero to continue to demand whatever he needed in what-
ever quantities he desired (Ramírez 1996: chap. 4). The fishing population
Table 15.4. Fishermen who traded

Ethnic
Individual(s) Lineage Group Date Source(s)
Moche ART/C0,1. 167, exp. 309,
24 cited by Hart 1983:
277.
D. Diego Uxo (or Ujo) Chuspo Collique 1566 AGI/J458, 1871, 1922v;
J461, 1458v.
Atnoc, Fercheltan 1566 AGI/J458, 1924v; J461,
1460.
D. Alonso Eten Collique 1566 AGI/J457, 840; J458,
1928; J461, 1462–62v.
Pedro Cuy 1566 AGI/J457, 843v.
infielesa pescadores 1566 AGI/J461, 1460.
Juan Puemape Jequetepeque Pacasmayo 1566 AGI/J458, 1213.
D. Pedro Corina[n]b Lambayeque Sinto 1566 AGI/J461, 1091v,
1464v-66.
D. Diego Mocchumi Mochumí Túcume/ 1566 AGI/J458, 1898–99,
Jayanca 1936v; J461, 1469, 1517v.
aA term the Spanish used to designate nonbelievers, “pagans,” and those not yet converted to
Catholicism.
b In answer to his petition to be allowed to travel, Dr. Cuenca’s permission identified him as a
merchant in 1566. AGI/J458, 1931; J461, 1464v-66; Ramírez 1997: especially 734–735.
around Trujillo provided urban residents with fish, but was theoretically
not subject to the mita, a system of forced, rotating labor, where 1⁄7 of the
native males worked two months at a time for the Spanish. The crown justi-
fied the requirement by commanding that employers pay natives serving
the mita (mitayos) wages so that they could meet their tribute obligations.
But over the course of centuries, such exemptions were unevenly enforced.
Thus in 1566, lords of fisherfolk, such as Don Pedro Corina[n], had to pe-
tition Dr. Cuenca to be exempted from serving the mita (AGI/J457, 716;
J461, 1091v), even though lords were generally recognized to be exempt
from such service and other personal service. Later, in 1651, an edict from
the Marques de Mancera (in office from December 18, 1639, to September
20, 1648) that exempted fishermen from the mita was successfully enforced
and applied to the fishing folk of Éten and Reque (AFA/1. 1, c. 10). Yet the
fishermen of Mochumí provided one mitayo to herd animals on the haci-
enda of Santa Maria of Sárrapo in 1682 (AFA/1. 1, c. 19, 133).
The Case of the Chicamas
Complementary to this composite picture of fisherfolk are the activities

of the Chicamas from circa 1525 to 1565, revealed in a unique manuscript
housed in the Archivo Regional de La Libertad. This early document (used
as evidence above) includes data that provide an intimate look at how fish-
erfolk interacted with other peoples—especially farmers—of their ethnic
group and the sociopolitical organization of a curacazgo in general. In this
especially rich document, the sociopolitical relations of the Chicama fish-
ermen under several lords are detailed. It begins as an inquiry by the cor-
regidor of Trujillo Diego de Porras about the use of land. Would-be Span-
ish settlers had requested land grants (mercedes) and he, to comply with
royal mandates, set out to determine which nearby fields had been tilled
for the Inca and the Sun, the focus of the primary state cult. Only these,
according to royal decrees, could be granted to Spanish immigrants with-
out negative consequences for the native population. Another motivation
for the inquiry was the search for an ideal location at which the corregidor
could found another small European town (villa). Witnesses, therefore, re-
sponded with information on the use of lands and irrigation water. They
continuously mentioned a noble named Guaman Pinco. He became the
subject of more interrogation. It is from the replies to questions on land use
and Guaman Pinco that the story of the Spanish arrival on the north coast
and the relations between native fishermen and farmers unfolds.
Native witnesses, some of whom were eyewitnesses to the Spanish ar-
rival, outlined the biography of Guaman Pinco, the leader of the fishermen
of Malabrigo (a Spanish denomination and toponym) in the 1530s. The
Chicama and Licapa informants told his story in dynastic terms, situat-
ing him in the socioeconomic and political context of ethnic society. Gua-
man Pinco was the fifth remembered leader of the fishermen after Pichan
(who ruled in the time of Guayna Capac), Chancachinamo, Lillonamo, and
Mynchaonamo who died in 1533 or 1534. Pichan, according to Alonso Pi-
chay, a native lord of the encomienda de Licapa and subject of the cacique,
Don Francisco, was “bn caçique gran de malabrigo y de la mar y de las sali-
nas y q[ue] hera caçique por sí” [“he was a great lord of Malabrigo and the
sea and the salt flats and that he was an independent lord”] (ART/ CoO,1.
148, exp. 46, 13-VII-1565, f. 22v). Don Diego Guachat, a noble of Chicama,
added that Pichan “hera caçique de quyen ellos [the lords] suçedian” [“he
was a lord that they followed”] (ART/ CoO,1. 148, exp. 46, 13-VII-1565, f.
25). Pichan “hera caçiq[ue] de la mar de donde de sendian todos” [“he was
a lord of the sea from whom all descended”] (ART/ CoO,1. 148, exp. 46, 13-
VII-1565, f. 25). He served the lord of the Licapas and ultimately the cacique
principal of all the Chicama peoples. In 1565, he had married the aunt of
the then-cacique of the Licapas, Don Francisco Nuxa. Chancacinamo, the
second, died soon after assuming control. Lillonamo’s term was short also,
because he was executed by his own people for unspecified reasons. Myn-
chonamo followed him as “caçiq[ue] y señor de malabrigo y de la costa de
munchos yndios” [“lord and leader of Malabrigo and the coast of many
Indians”](ART/ CoO,1. 148, exp. 46, 13-VII-1565, f. 24).
For unstated reasons, perhaps having to do with the decentralization of
the empire during the war between Huascar and Atahualpa, Mynchonamo
refused to accept the dominance of the curaca principal of the Chicamas,
Chayguaca, and later, even the Spanish. Chayguaca labeled him a rebel
and complained to Francisco Pizarro who was passing nearby. Pizarro sent
[Miguel de ?] Estete to capture Mynchonamo and he was later executed by
burning.
After the death of Mynchonamo, his brother Guaman Pinco took charge
of up to 200 fishermen of Malabrigo and, like his brother, refused to serve
other native lords (ART/ CoO,1. 148, exp. 46, 13-VII-1565, f. 20v). He trav-
eled throughout the zone, fighting, killing, and doing much damage. Other
lords came to fear him and eventually they began to serve him—perhaps
believing that he had won their ancestors’ favor and that they had chosen
him as leader (Ramírez 2005, esp. chaps. 2 and 4). But, Guaman Pinco
went too far when he killed Chayguaca and two Spaniards (ART/ CoO,1.
148, exp. 46, 13-VII-1565, 21v) and took Chayguaca’s women (ART/ CoO,1.
148, exp. 46, 13-VII-1565, 24v).12 Then, the Spanish joined the Chicamas in
their vengeful hunt of Guaman Pinco. When these forces arrived in Ma-
labrigo, Guaman Pinco fled to the mountains. In Malabrigo, the Spanish
punished the remaining population by killing some fishermen, enslaving
others, burning their houses, looting Guaman Pinco’s compound (hato)13
and taking all his possessions, specifically mentioning his textiles, his silver,
and his people—“sus yndios y yndias y mochachos” [“his male and female
Indians and children”] (ART/ CoO,1. 148, exp. 46, 13-VII-1565, 21–21v, 22v,
24v, 29v). After the Spanish left, Guaman Pinco returned. Subsequently, the
lord of the Licapas (Don Gonçalo Ynosupo) invited him to feast in Yalpa.
As tradition dictated, the good host Ynosupo offered Guaman Pinco and
his party beaker after beaker full of the mildly intoxicating chicha. Once
Ynosupo got Guaman Pinco drunk, he massacred him and his attendants.
In 1565, some decades after the death of Guaman Pinco, the fishermen of
Malabrigo and their families served minor lords and again recognized the
hegemony of the great lords, including Don Francisco Nuxa. But, signifi-
cantly, the memory of the valiant Guaman Pinco and his fight for indepen-
dence lingered.
This summary of the story of Guaman Pinco reveals important details
about the socioeconomic and political organization of this chieftainship.
The testimony, often through interpreters, outlines the hierarchy of lords—
from curaca or cacique principal (chief or paramount lord) to principal
(noble), mandón (administrator), and mandoncillo (little administrator,
overseer, or captain). While the structure of authority of the curacazgo ap-
pears fixed and stable, other contemporary documents provide the names
of another three dozen or so lords of the Chicamas not mentioned in the
Guaman Pinco document, suggesting that the hierarchy was much more
complex than portrayed here. The Spanish recategorized and simplified the
titles of these individuals to fit the curaca-principal-mandón-mandoncillo
rankings in auxiliary manuscripts, and, in the process, probably lost im-
portant qualifying information on native conceptions of power and right.
Despite the fact that the Spanish divided the peoples of Chicama into two
parcialidades (segments, moieties), the followers of the cacique principal
remembered that they had once functioned as one unit. The cacique prin-
cipal ruled his own parcialidad and that of the Licapas through a subordi-
nate. This second-in-command (segunda persona), in turn, governed his
lineage and that of the fishermen of Malabrigo through Pichan and his
successors.
Marriage, kinship, service, and gifts reinforced this hierarchy of authori-
ties. As mentioned above, Pichan married the aunt of the lord of the Lica-
pas, Don Francisco Nuxa. Women of the various lineages had also become
wives of the Inca, binding the Chicamas to the peoples of the wider empire.
Other lords were related. For example, Guaman Pinco was the brother of
Mynchonamo. Don Gonçalo Siman Chumbi was the brother of the cacique
principal of the Chicamas, Don Juan de Mora. The brothers Don Pedro and
Gaspar Mache served the cacique principal, who had married their sister.
Finally, Don Juan Chachaynamo was the son of a principal of the parciali-
dad of Yalpa. Gifts and service obligations cemented these family ties.
Refusal to obey a superior destabilized society. A lord who refused to
serve was labeled valiente (valiant, brave) and a rebel. Chayguaca con-
demned Mynchonamo and Gaman Pinco’s attempts at an independent
existence; but bravery and victories eventually commanded the respect of
peers, associates, and their followers, to the point that they began to follow
and serve them and bring them camarico and chicha.14 This clearly shows
that a lord’s competence, courage, daring, and victories reinforced the belief
that he was favored by the gods, attracting additional supporters whose
numbers raised his status and authority.
Further complicating the picture of ethnic rulers is the fact that power
relations were dynamic. One individual held sequential positions and filled
multiple roles simultaneously. For example, records from Dr. Cuenca’s vis-
ita confirm that Don Pedro Mache served as lieutenant (segunda persona)
of the cacique principal (AGI/J458, 1831–31v) and simultaneously as the
cacique principal of his own parcialidad. Don Francisco Nuxa ruled as the
cacique principal of both the Licapas and the Paijans (AGI/J458, 1423). This
phenomenon continued into the seventeenth century, when Don Diego
Moche served as the cacique principal of the pueblo of Santiago [de Cao?]
and segunda persona of the Chicamas under Don Pedro de Mora (ART/
CoP,1. 281, exp. 3721, 20-×-1615, 7–9; Netherly, 1974, 3).
There is no direct evidence in the manuscript record that the lords of
the Licapas or the Chicamas had influence in the selection of the lords of
the fishermen of the sea. Each lord, at the various levels of the hierarchy,
seems to have been chosen by a committee of his closest advisers, thought
of as equals, as a manuscript about Reque from 1595 suggests (published by
Rostworowski in 1961). If an ethnic lord did not live up to the expectations
of “good government,” if he did not respect his superiors and the principles
of reciprocity and redistribution, if he appeared to have lost the mandate
and favor of the ancestors and his legitimacy in the eyes of his followers,
they rose up and assassinated him as they had done on several documented
occasions (for example, Reque on or before 1595). (Rostworowski 1961: 45;
Ramírez 2005:148)
The testimonies about Guaman Pinco also suggest that succession was
not necessarily from father to son as it was in Europe. Guaman Pinco fol-
lowed his brother. This phenomenon was also observed in the sixteenth
century among the Reques, Sechuras, and Cajamarcas (Rostworowski 1961:
26, 44–45, 59–61; Remy Simatovic 1986; Diez Hurtado 1988: 27).
Another aspect of the power relations of fishermen and other lords is
the fact that some lords were described, as were Pichan, Mynchonamo, and
Guaman Pinco, as mostly independent [“cacique de por si”] in the quotid-
ian affairs of their lineages. The manuscript suggests that native society
at the level of the curacazgo and principalazgo consisted of a congeries of
extended families that routinely operated at least semiautonomously. Don
Diego Guachat, principal of the Chicamas, established the reputation of
fisherfolk as independent when he stated: “estos caçiq[ue]s de la mar que

a d[ic]ho sienpre fueron bellacos y abcaes q[ue] abn q[ue]heran sujetos
al caçicado de chicama que hera el S[eñ]or de todo ello nunca le serbian
bien y sienpre heran valientes y mataban yndios. . . .” [“These lords of the
sea that he mentioned always were bellicose and rebels that even though
they were subjects of the great lord of Chicama who was lord of all never
served him well and they were always valient and killed Indians”] (ART/
CoO,1. 148, exp. 46, 13-VII-1565, f. 25). Such indications meant that associa-
tion and hegemony remained flexible and were not as rigid as commonly
imagined. Cacicazgos were not static institutions, but shifted as allegiances
and loyalties were negotiated and changed. Power was not permanent but
always shifting, and contingent on a multitude of factors. In sum, the pre-
reducción organization and structure of these population units were dy-
namic and fluid. Distances alone dictated the degree of self-determination
of lords and commoners alike (Ramírez 1995: 256). The distance between
the tambo (inn) of Chicama, where the cacique principal lived, and the
coast where the fishermen of Malabrigo resided measured some 8 leagues
(Feyjoo 1763: I, 100). Another explanation for the quasi-independence and
rebelliousness of the fishermen may have been the fact that they did not
depend on the curaca for irrigation water, as farmers did, thus giving them
more leeway in their decisions, operations, actions, and reactions.
Despite the fact that the manuscript refers to a time after the defeat and
breakup of the Chimú state, the fishermen, for the most part, continued
under the control of the farmers. This illuminates another aspect of the
relationship between farmers and fishermen, supporting a hypothesis pre-
sented by Ángel Américo Herrera Calderon (1986), that in Prehispanic
times, groups of fisherfolk were subordinate to farmers in two areas of the
north coast. One area in the south included the valleys of Trujillo (spe-
cifically Chao, Viru, Moche, and Chicama) and one in the north, in Lam-
bayeque (including the valleys of Jequetepeque, Saña, Chancay, La Leche,
and Motupe). The two “estados larvorios” [larvae states] of fishermen in-
cluded: (1) the people from the village of Santa Rosa (near Lambayeque)
to just south of Casma, and (2) from approximately the village of San José
(near Lambayeque), to almost the mouth of the La Chira River. He con-
cluded that: “Los agricultores llegan a controlar a los pescadores y, enton-
ces, se forman dos grandes estados que estarían en pugna. Al final van a
ser los sureños los que van a controlar y conformar el gran Chimu” [“The
farmers eventually controlled the Fishermen and, then, they formed two
great states that competed. Finally, the southerners will control and become
the great Chimú (empire)]” (1986 11). Rostworowski extends and general-
izes, writing that in the sixteenth century before the Toledan reducciones,
the fishermen came to depend on the farmers in each curacazgo (1981: 34).
In normal and stable times, the fishermen and farmers were comple-
mentary, as the information on exchange and swapping suggests. In this
case, too, the fishermen, under Guaman Pinco and his successors’ direc-
tion, served the cacique principal of the Chicamas with whom they “tra-
taban y resgataban” [“interacted and exchanged”] (ART/ CoO,1. 148, exp.
46, 13-VII-1565, f. 29v). One witness specified that “con el pescado res ga-
taban comyda” [“they exchanged their fish for foodstuffs”] (ART/ CoO,1.
148, exp. 46, 13-VII-1565, f. 26). These exchanges among the Moche, Col-
liques, Pacasmayos, Sintos, and Jayancas made fishermen and farmers in-
terdependent. Such barter made no mention of money or a standard and
recognized medium of exchange. A petition written some months later and
presented to Dr. Cuenca for Cupurr, a “mercader y rrescatador” [“merchant
and exchanger”] born into the lineage of Sinto, complained that members
of other lineages took his fish without paying for them, perhaps because
they were not accustomed to doing so (AGI/J461, 1457v-58). The reference
to payment cannot be taken literally. Another 1567 petition, presented to
Dr. Cuenca by a scribe writing for Don Diego Moc[c]humí, asks Cuenca to
establish an exchange rate between fish and corn: how many fish are they
to give for what measure of corn (AGI/J461, 1517v). Such sixteenth-century
exchanges between fisherfolk and farmers were still reported between the
fishermen of Malabrigo and “los paises interiores [“the interior countries
(ethnic groups)] in the eighteenth century (Lecuanda 1793/1861: II, 116. For
the sixteenth century, see Cieza 1962: chap. 58: 180, for Tumbes fisherfolk).
There is also evidence that such relationships and the specialization they
imply were not as stable and permanent as might be supposed. The manu-
script indicates that, in difficult times (like drought), the Chicama farmers
fished to provide food for their families. Likewise, had Pichan or Guaman
Pinco desired, they could have tasked their followers to plant. As Table 15.3
above indicates, Don Diego Mocchumí tried to force his fishing subjects to
plant, but they resisted, going so far as to present a petition to Dr. Cuenca
who supported their request not to be forced to plant so that they could
fish.
Negotiated Service
In sum, fisherfolk proved an important component of the population of

coastal curacazgos, so important that they were often the subject of hege-
monic disputes and able to negotiate rights of their own existence. Their
skills at providing protein and other products, communicating, and trans-
porting people and supplies gave them an independence not shared to the
same extent by their farming neighbors. However, exchanges made farmers
and fisherfolk interdependent. This 1565 inquiry that provides glimpses of
the state of affairs within one ethnicity in the 1530s further indicates that
the hierarchy of rank and power remained subject to changes and stresses.
The paramount lord had to treat nobles with respect, lest they challenge
him and attract followers that might in time reconfigure intraethnic re-
lations, or, worse, ignite a consensus after which he would be executed.
Jurisdictions and hegemony remained fluid until the Colonial policy of the
reducciones fixed the native population in place, and written population
and tribute rolls gave the benefit of the doubt in succession cases to the
sons of the incumbent.
Notes
1. The name was sounded out and spelled differently by different scribes and notaries.
The most common spelling is used here.
2. Dr. Gregorio Gonzalez de Cuenca, a Supreme court judge (oidor of the Real Audi-
encia) and inspector on the north coast in 1566–1567, tried to change these rights (AGI/
J458, 2025v).
3. On August 13, 2013, La Republica newspaper in Lima reported that a hump-backed
whale was stranded between Bocapan and Los Pinos beaches near Tumbes. Fishermen
informed observers that in these months such whales swim north to reproduce. “Ballena
jorobada vara en playa tumbesina de Zorritos” (La Republica [Lima], August 12, 2013). The
chronicler Augustin de Zarate also notes the great number of whales in northern waters
(Zarate 1555/1995, 12; Lenz-Volland and Volland, 1992, p. 98).
4. The women salted fish (Ravines 1978: 60 citing Gutierrez de Santa Clara 1905: III,
530–531).
5. A legua castellana was originally the distance a man walked in one hour. In the six-
teenth century, it was fixed at 20,000 feet, or between 5,572 and 5,914 m.
6. Assuming that they corresponded to the small craft (balsas) described for Maranga
(a port near Lima) in 1540.
7. Small reed boats, called balsas or totoritos [and caballitos] del mar, are still manufac-
tured and employed to fish off the beaches of Trujillo.
8. Colonial travel restrictions were not consistently enforced. One eighteenth-century
source describing Chérrepe mentions that natives were continually traveling, only residing
in one place as long as they got some advantage there (ANP/DI,1. 39, c. 820, 1737, 10v).
9. I use his name to represent his lineage, because the sources only give the Spanish
name of the place that he lived: Malabrigo.
10. See also Rostworowski 1975: 317–318; and Rabinowitz 1980: 4.
11. This distinction makes it important to use another word or phrase other than “mer-
chant,” which suggests a profit motive, for the group. The use of “swapper(s)” might be
the remedy, keeping in mind that such activity seems to have been less than a full-time
occupation.
12. One witness testified that a black was also killed with Chayguaca (ART/ CoO,1. 148,
exp. 46, 13-VII-1565, 24v).
13. The definition of hato can be: (1) a fold, a place chosen by shepherds to eat and
sleep near their flocks; (2) a company of men; a crowd, multitude or meeting of suspicious
people; (3) an assemblage or compound. Given the context and the Spanish interpreter
of a native voice, the closest meaning is the third. http://www.spanishdict.com/translate/
hato (accessed July 23, 2013)
14. Offerings that natives made to their priests and, later, to the Spanish; gifts akin to
tribute. http://spanish_english.enacademic.com/101872/camarico (accessed July 23, 2013).
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Contributors
Dana Bardolph is an anthropological archaeologist currently at Cornell Institute

for Archaeology and Material Studies, where she is the Hirsch Postdoctoral Asso-
ciate. Her research interests include political ecology, culture contact, foodways,
and identity studies, which she approaches through the lens of paleoethnobot-
any. Dr. Bardolph got her PhD from the University of California–Santa Barbara
(UCSB) in 2017.
Philippe Béarez is senior researcher for the National Science Research Council
(CNRS) in France. Mr. Béarez is specialized in ichthyology and ichthyoarchae-
ology and has published articles and books on three main subjects: taxonomy
and biogeography of tropical Indo-Pacific fishes, fish osteology, and Prehispanic
coastal environments and fishing strategies. He works mainly in South America:
Ecuador, Peru, and Chile.
Brian R. Billman is associate professor at the University of North Carolina at Cha-

pel Hill. His research interests include the prehistory of Andean South America,
evolution of complex political organizations (chiefdoms, states, and empires),
causes and consequences of warfare, origins of social stratification, cultural
ecology, settlement pattern analysis, and the prehistory of southwestern North
America.
César Borie is an archaeologist from the Universidad de Chile and PhD candidate
in anthropology at the Universidad de Tarapacá. Since 2005 he has engaged in re-
search projects conducted in coastal and inland archaeological sites of northern
Chile, focusing on mobility through desert environments, resource catchment,
and GIS analysis.
Jesús Briceño Rosario is director of the archaeology section of the Ministerio de

Cultura in Trujillo, Peru. Mr. Briceño obtained his degree at Berlin University,
Germany, and has had several articles published on the Lithic Period of Northern
Peru.
426 · Contributors
Benjamin Carter is assistant professor of anthropology at Muhlenberg College,

Allentown, PA. Dr. Carter’s work in South America focuses on the production,
exchange, and consumption of shell artifacts, especially beads, made from the
ritually, politically, and socially significant marine bivalve, Spondylus. He earned
his doctorate in anthropology from Washington University in St. Louis, MO, in
2008.
Chris Carter is an archaeologist in the School of Archaeology and Anthropology

at the Australian National University (ANU), Canberra, Australia. Mr. Carter
holds his degrees from ANU, and his research primarily relates to the long-term
human occupation of prehistoric societies along the coast of northern Chile, with
a particular focus on the development of their economies.
Victoria Castro is professor in the Departamento de Antropología, Universidad

Alberto Hurtado, Santiago, Chile. She holds degrees from the Universidad de
Chile and has trained several generations of archaeologists and cultural anthro-
pologists. For more than 40 years she has initiated and developed research initia-
tives, including topics in the fields of archaeology, anthropology, ethnology, ecol-
ogy, and ethnoarchaeology. She has contributed to numerous multidisciplinary
projects, including with national and international botanists, ecologists, marine
biologists, and linguists.
David Chicoine is associate professor in the Department of Geography and An-

thropology at Louisiana State University, Baton Rouge. Dr. Chicoine is an anthro-
pological archaeologist who studies the complex societies that developed in the
ancient Andean region of South America. He holds a PhD in world art studies
and museology from the University of East Anglia, UK, and his research has fo-
cused on the design and use of architectural spaces, modes of social interactions,
foodways, funerary practices, visual arts, religious symbolism, and marine ex-
ploitation. Most recently, Dr. Chicoine has been conducting fieldwork in Nepeña,
an important valley of the Department of Ancash on the north-central coast of
Peru. His main publications have appeared in Latin American Antiquity, the Jour-
nal of Field Archaeology, the Journal of Island and Coastal Archaeology, Andean
Past, Ñawpa Pacha: Journal of Andean Archaeology, and Antiquity.
Aurélien Christol is a geomorphologist at LabEx Dynamyte-Hesam Université,

Paris, France. He specializes in palaeogeography and has developed his research
in Eastern Turkey (the Lake Van Basin) and, since 2012, in the north coast of
Peru, particularly in the Sechura desert with a geoarchaeological approach. Mr.
Christol is also assistant teacher at Jean Moulin Lyon 3 University.
Contributors · 427
Ariadna Cifuentes is an archaeologist from the Universidad de Chile, Santiago.

She is interested in the prehistory of northern Chile, and in particular in the
organization of ancient mining and metallurgical systems.
Winifred Creamer is Distinguished Research Professor in the Anthropology De-

partment, Northern Illinois University, DeKalb. Her work seeks to understand
early manifestations of political organization such as monument construction,
alliance building, and warfare. In addition, she has examined the immediate pre-
European period in places dramatically affected by the subsequent arrival of Eu-
ropean explorers and colonists. Professor Creamer has held Fulbright fellowships
to Honduras (1985–1986) and Peru (2007) and has directed field research in the
American Southwest and in Central and South America. Her publications on
ancient Peru include two monographs in Fieldiana: Anthropology and articles in
Science, Nature, and Current Anthropology.
Tom D. Dillehay is the Rebecca Webb Wilson University Distinguished Professor

of Anthropology, Religion, and Culture, and professor of anthropology and Latin
American studies in the Department of Anthropology at Vanderbilt University,
Nashville, TN; Professor Extraordinaire and Honorary Doctorate at the Univer-
sidad Austral de Chile; internal professor in the Programa de Estudios Andinos
in the Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú, Lima; and adjunct faculty at the
Universidad Católica de Temuco, Chile. Dr. Dillehay has carried out numerous
archaeological and anthropological projects in Peru, Chile, Argentina, and other
South American countries and in the United States. His main interests are migra-
tion, the long-term transformative processes leading to political and economic
change, and the interdisciplinary and historical methodologies designed to study
those processes. Dr. Dillehay has published 19 books and more than 200 refereed
journal articles and books. He currently directs several interdisciplinary projects
focused on long-term human and environmental interaction on the north coast
of Peru and on the political and cultural identity of the Mapuche people in Chile.
Dr. Dillehay has received numerous international and national awards for his
research, books, and teaching, and is a member of the American Academy of
Arts and Sciences.
Manuel Escobar is a social anthropologist and master in Latin American studies

from the Universidad de Chile. He is currently a PhD candidate in the Doctorado
de Ciencias Sociales at the Universidad de Chile. Since 2005 Mr. Escobar has
conducted research in the anthropological history of the coastal Atacama Desert
and its population.
Kent V. Flannery, a zooarchaeologist at the University of Michigan, worked

on projects led by Robert Braidwood (Iran), Frank Hole (Iran), Michael Coe
428 · Contributors
(Guatemala), Richard MacNeish (Mexico and Peru), and Joyce Marcus (Peru).
From 1966 to 1980 he directed the University of Michigan “Prehistory and Hu-
man Ecology of the Valley of Oaxaca, Mexico.” This project (codirected by Joyce
Marcus from 1973 onward) investigated the origins of agriculture at Guilá Na-
quitz Cave and Cueva Blanca, and the origins of village life and social inequality
at San José Mogote, Huitzo, and Abasolo in Oaxaca, Mexico.
Carola Flores is an archaeologist from the Universidad de Chile and holds a PhD
in archaeology from the University of California–Santa Barbara. She specialized
in the study of shellfish assemblage composition and isotopic analyses on marine
shells from archaeological sites to reconstruct past ecological and oceanographic
conditions at small, spatial scales and their influence on subsistence and other
social dynamics of hunter, gatherer, and fisher groups that inhabited the coasts
of California and Chile during prehistoric times.
Nicolas Goepfert is a researcher for the National Science Research Council

(CNRS) in the Archaeology of Americas lab (UMR 8096), France. Mr. Goepfert
specializes in Andean archaeology and zooarchaeology and has published ar-
ticles on Mochica funerary practices and camelid herding in Prehispanic times.
He currently leads the Sechura Desert Archeological Project.
Belkys Gutiérrez has been codirector of the Sechura Desert Archaeological Proj-
ect since 2012. An archaeologist at the Universidad Nacional de Trujillo, she spe-
cializes in Andean archaeology, particularly on Mochica culture. Ms. Gutiérrez
has published several articles on the Uhle Platform located in the Huacas de
Moche site, north coast of Peru.
Jonathan Haas is MacArthur Curator of the Americas Emeritus, Field Museum,

Chicago. Between 2000 and 2009 he directed the Proyecto Arqueológico Norte
Chico, investigating the development of monumental construction and increas-
ing social complexity during the third millennium BC.
Gabriel Hassler obtained his B.A. in anthropology and biology summa cum laude
from Washington University in St. Louis in 2014.
Matthew Helmer is a research social scientist in the U.S. Forest Service. He was
previously Director of the Proyecto de Investigación Arqueológica Samanco
(PIASAM), Ancash, Peru. The project is dedicated to the documentation of the
occupational history of Samanco, a proposed early urban seaside town dating to
the first millennium BCE in the Nepeña Valley, coastal Peru. Dr. Helmer obtained
his PhD at the University of East Anglia, Norwich, UK, in 2015. His research
Contributors · 429
interests include maritime complex societies, urbanization, performance, and

daily practice. Dr. Helmer has worked in Peru for over five years, and has other
field experience in southern Belize and the southeastern United States.
Jean Hudson has been professor at the University of Wisconsin–Milwaukee since

1999, having received her PhD from the University of California–Santa Barbara
in 1990. Her postdoctoral year was as Visiting Scholar with the Center for Ar-
chaeological Investigations at the University of Illinois–Carbondale, resulting in
publication of the edited volume From Bones to Behavior in 1993. Dr. Hudson
returned to California where she was director of the Zooarchaeology Laboratory
at UCLA’s Institute of Archaeology and served as Visiting Professor in UCLA’s
Department of Anthropology. Her research in Peru is zooarchaeological and
ethnoarchaeological and is focused on the ecological and social dynamics of hu-
man adaptations. Dr. Hudson’s zooarchaeological work covers prehistoric fish-
ing communities in the south (Kilometer 4 and Villa del Mar) and the north
(Gramalote and Cerro La Virgen). Her ethnoarchaeological work is with modern
caballito fishermen and their families.
Sarah Kennedy is a PhD student at the University of Pittsburgh, PA, who ob-
tained her M.A. degree in anthropology at the University of Florida in 2014.
Ms. Kennedy is an archaeologist whose research focuses on marginalized labor,
power dynamics, social identity, and foodways practices in Colonial Peru. Her
dissertation research explores the social dynamics of seventeenth-century silver
refining mills in Peru’s Lake Titicaca Basin, using a combination of spatial, faunal,
botanical, and soil chemistry analyses to examine daily household practices. Ms.
Kennedy has previously instructed students in zooarchaeological analysis and
has taught introductory courses in archaeology and cultural anthropology, as
well as upper-division courses such as human diversity and the origin of cities.
Joyce Marcus is the Robert L. Carneiro Distinguished University Professor of

Social Evolution, and Curator of Latin American Archaeology at the University
of Michigan–Ann Arbor. She is not only an expert on Mesoamerican archaeology
but has also worked and published in the Andean region. Professor Marcus’s pub-
lications include: Excavations at Cerro Azul, Peru: The Architecture and Pottery;
The Archaeological Evidence for Social Evolution (Annual Review of Anthropol-
ogy); The Ancient City (coeditor, Jeremy A. Sabloff); and Monte Albán (El Cole-
gio de México), among other important contributions to archaeological science.
Maria Masucci is professor of anthropology at Drew University, Madison, NJ.

Dr. Masucci received her doctorate from Southern Methodist University, Uni-
versity Park, TX, in 1992, specializing in New World archaeology, followed by
430 · Contributors
postdoctoral training in the application of geological and materials science tech-

niques to the study of ancient ceramics at the Center for Materials Research in
Archaeology and Ethnology at MIT. Dr. Masucci’s research focus is on ancient
land use and subsistence adaptations in the coastal lowlands of Ecuador, which
encompasses her current work on ancient ceramic technology, craft production,
and the interplay of culture, technology, and sociopolitical complexity. She also
participates in research on the first ceramics of the Early Neolithic of Portugal.
Laura Olguín is an archaeologist from the Universidad de Chile and PhD candi-
date in anthropology at the Universidad de Tarapacá. She specializes in zooar-
chaeological analysis, especially malacological and ictiological remains from the
Atacama Desert coast.
Gabriel Prieto is professor of archaeology in the Department of Anthropology,

University of Florida. Since 2016 Professor Prieto has been the director of the
Huanchaco Archaeological Program, which is focused on the study of the social
dynamics and economic interactions of Prehispanic ancient fishermen. He has
published several articles, including the 2018 articles: The Social Dynamics and
Economic Interactions of the Households at Gramalote, A Small-Scale Residen-
tial Settlement during the Second Millennium BC on the North Coast of Peru in
Latin American Antiquity, and The Temple of the Fishermen: Early Ceremonial
Architecture at Gramalote, a Residential Settlement of the Second Millennium
B.C., North Coast of Peru in the Journal of Field Archaeology.
Susan Elizabeth Ramírez holds the Neville G. Penrose Chair in History and Latin
American Studies at Texas Christian University in Fort Worth. She is the author
of several books, including Provincial Patriarchs: Land Tenure and the Economics
of Power in Colonial Peru; The World Upside Down: Cross-Cultural Contact and
Conflict in Sixteenth Century Peru; and To Feed and Be Fed: The Cosmological
Bases of Authority and Identity in the Andes. Professor Ramírez continues her re-
search today on native cultures in the contact era and the impact of the Bourbon
Reforms on the indigenous peoples of Peru.
Sandra Rebolledo is an archaeologist from the Universidad de Chile specialized

in ichthyological analysis of the Atacama Desert coast.
Robert G. Reynolds is professor of computer science in the College of Engineer-

ing at Wayne State University, Detroit, MI. He is also Visiting Associate Research
Scientist at the University of Michigan in the Museum of Anthropological Ar-
chaeology and a member of the Complex Systems Group there. Professor Reyn-
olds is interested in artificial intelligence with a specialization in the area of social
Contributors · 431
intelligence. He has developed a model for a computational intelligence based

upon principles of cultural evolution and cultural algorithms. Professor Reynolds
is particularly interested in adding intelligence into games and virtual worlds.
Carol Rojas works for the Ministerio de Cultura in Lima, Peru. She obtained her
B.A. in archaeology from the Universidad Nacional de Trujillo, Peru, in 2003
and her licenciatura from the same university in 2005. She was Codirector of
the Proyecto Arqueológico Zaña Colonial from 2008 to 2010 and has conducted
extensive research on both Moche archaeology and archaeomalocology on Peru’s
north coast.
Teresa Rosales is professor at the National University of Trujillo, and Codirector

of the ARQUEOBIOS Laboratory. Professor Rosales is a PhD candidate at the
Universidad Autónoma de Madrid where she studies zooarchaeology and faunal
remains from ancient Peru. She has over two decades of experience in coastal
Peru and has participated in dozens of projects and publications.
Diego Salazar is an archaeologist and associate professor in the Departamento de

Antropología of the Universidad de Chile. He specializes in the prehistory of the
Atacama Desert, particularly in the reconstruction of ancient economic systems
and their integration into larger social, political, and ecological contexts. Since
2008 he has conducted two successive interdisciplinary projects (Fondecyt) on
the prehistory of maritime communities in Taltal.
Daniel Sandweiss is professor of anthropology and climate studies at the Univer-

sity of Maine–Orono. He is a coeditor of Climate Change and Cultural Dynamics:
A Global Perspective on Holocene Transitions (with D. G. Anderson and K. A.
Maasch) and El Niño, Catastrophism, and Culture Change in Ancient America
(with J. Quilter), and he is founding editor of Andean Past.
Calogero M. Santoro, of the Instituto de Alta Investigación, Departamento de

Antropología Universidad de Tarapacá, Chile, holds advanced degrees from
American universities (Pittsburgh and Cornell) and the Universidad del Norte
in Chile; he completed postdoctoral studies in the United States, Australia, and
France. For more than 30 years, Dr. Santoro has conducted broad-based inter-
disciplinary research on South American archaeology, covering topics such as
the long-term cultural process of adaptation and environmental changes, so-
cial complexity among maritime societies, rock art, and Andean macroregional
interaction.
Jeffrey D. Sommer is curator of archaeology at the Castle Museum of Saginaw

County History, Historical Society of Saginaw County, Michigan, with interests
432 · Contributors
in zooarchaeology and the archaeology of the Great Lakes Region of North

America.
Karen E. Stothert (PhD 1974, Yale University) is currently a faculty research asso-
ciate at the University of Texas at San Antonio and an investigator for the Museo
Antropológico y de Arte Contemporáneo in Guayaquil, Ecuador. Dr. Stothert is
an Andeanist specialized in the archaeology and ethnography of the southwest
coast of Ecuador and has more than 70 publications authored and coauthored in
English and Spanish. Her research has focused on the early marine and terrestrial
adaptation, including early farming, of the Late Pleistocene/Early Holocene Las
Vegas culture (seven major publications); and recently on maritime fishing and
navigation in the Guangala and Manteño-Guancavilca periods, from 200 BC to
AD 1500 (five published, plus two in preparation). Dr. Stothert is working with a
large body of evidence from a Guancavilca village specialized in fishing (the Mar
Bravo site). She has taught at the university level for more than 20 years.
Richard C. Sutter is professor and chair at the Department of Anthropology, In-

diana University–Purdue University Fort Wayne. Dr. Sutter’s research interests
include the peopling of the New World, South American archaeology, mortuary
analysis, prehistoric ethnicity, bioarchaeological theory and methods, and hu-
man behavioral ecology. He has published on numerous topics: the origins of the
Moche human sacrificial victims from Huaca de la Luna; the origins and ultimate
fate of the Chinchorros of northern Chile; ethnohistoric models of prehistoric
culture change among pre-Columbian coastal Andeans of northern Chile and
southern Peru; the prehistoric peopling of South America; ethnogenesis among
Late Intermediate Period inhabitants of the Azapa Valley, Chile; social and di-
etary implications of dental disease among the prehistoric inhabitants of Chiri-
baya Alta, Peru; ethnogenesis of the Tumilaca of Peru; and the social and dietary
implications of dental disease among nineteenth-century poorhouse inmates.
Professor Sutter has conducted his research at numerous research institutions
and museums in the United States and South America.
Daniela Valenzuela is professor at the Departamento de Antropología, Universi-

dad de Chile, Santiago, Chile. She holds degrees from Chilean universities (Uni-
versidad de Chile, Universidad de Tarapacá, and Universidad Católica del Norte)
and completed academic visits in the United States and Australia, all of which
have been instrumental in the development of a new line of research on rock art
covering topics on style, chronology, dating, and the social context and function
of art.
Parker VanValkenburgh is assistant professor of anthropology at Brown Univer-

sity, Providence, RI. He is an archaeologist whose research focuses on landscapes,
Contributors · 433
politics, and environmental change in the Early Modern world. Dr. VanValken-
burgh received his PhD in 2012 from Harvard University and is currently direc-
tor of the Paisajes Arqueológicos de Chachapoyas (PACha) project. The proj-
ect is an investigation of long-term, human-environment interaction in Peru’s
Chachapoyas region, grounded in the analysis of archaeological survey, archival
research, remotely sensed datasets, and work with contemporary communities in
the provinces of Luya, Chachapoyas, and Bongará, Amazonas (Peru).
Víctor Vasquez is director of the ARQUEOBIOS Laboratory in Trujillo (Peru).

He is a PhD candidate at the Universidad Autónoma de Madrid where he studies
zooarchaeology specializing in faunal remains from ancient Peru. Mr. Vásquez
has over two decades of experience in coastal Peru and has participated in dozens
of projects and publications.
Patrice Wuscher is an engineer at the Pôle d’Archéologie Interdépartemental

Rhénan, and associated with the UMR 8591 Laboratoire de Géographie Phy-
sique in Meudon, Paris. Mr. Wuscher is specialized in geomorphology and soil
micromorphology.
Index
Page numbers in italics refer to figures and Arica (Chile), 41, 48, 79
tables. Aspero, 4, 136–137, 141, 156
Atacama Desert, 11, 29, 39, 45, 52, 58, 61, 74, 75,
Achupalla, 281, 282, 294 87, 250
Agricultor, 248, 258, 259, 416 “Aviso” document, 7–8
Agricultores. See Agricultor Avocado, 115–117, 137, 228, 229, 232, 239, 281,
Agriculture: in Chincha Valley, 8; as counter- 336
point to fishing, 5, 7; Department of, 277; Ayanque. See Croaker
field, 283; at Gramalote, 17–18; intensive, 222, Ayllu, 15, 180
332; irrigation, 131, 223; in Nepeña, 15; in
Norte Chico, 135–141; origins of, 428; simple, Balsa raft, 322, 340, 342, 402, 404, 418
218–219–220; small-scale, 236, 240; Spanish, Bardolph, Dana, 280, 288. See also Billman,
404; subsistence, 319; technologies in, 323; Brian
wetland, 239. See also Maritime Foundations Bayovar-01, 21–22, 28–30, 302, 304, 308, 310,
of Andean Civilization hypothesis 314, 315; camelid remains at, 21, 307, 314;
Aji. See Chili pepper gourds at, 21, 310; squash at, 21, 310. See also
Algarrobo, 27, 61, 114, 306, 370, 382, 389 Camelids: caravans; Textile-making tools
AMC. See Andean Maritime Communities Beads, 409; ceramic, 224; glass, 47; gold, 321;
Anadara (shell), 22, 325, 329 shell, 54, 57, 144, 151, 177; shell bead manu-
Ancestor, 177, 259, 341, 407, 413, 415; worship, facture in Santa Elena, 22, 23, 24, 319, 325,
321, 401 329, 336, 338, 339, 341; stone, 61, 280
Anchovies/anchovetas (Engraulis ringens), 6, Beans, 17, 108, 117, 139, 140, 156, 176, 179, 218,
7, 48, 50, 142, 149, 178, 201, 273, 287, 352, 227, 230, 233, 236, 238, 239, 240, 274, 281,
356, 359–360, 362–363, 383–384; dried, 273; 282, 290, 336, 409; common, 137, 228, 281;
ENSO may have devastated, 352; fisheries ice-cream, 229; jack, 137; lima, 137, 219, 228,
boom and, 6; MFAC and, 5; overexploitation 281; pods, 230; tepary, 281
of, 356 Béarez, Philippe, 142, 391. See also Goepfert,
Ancón-Chillón region, 4 Nicolas
Andean Maritime Communities (AMC), 1, Bermejo, 141, 143, 145, 156, 157
28–31; history of research on, 2–3, 8–9 Billman, Brian, xvii, 30, 267, 276; summary of
Arboriculture, 233, 280, 283, 285 chapter coauthored with Dana Bardolph,
Archaic Period, 45, 59–60, 101; in Chile, 10–11, Jean Hudson, and Jesús Briceño Rosario,
49, 50, 57, 59–60. See also Early Archaic; 19–21
Middle Archaic; Late Archaic Biodistance analysis: at Gramalote, 18, 248–253,
Arheic coast (Chile), 10, 42, 44, 48, 55, 59–60; 256–257, 259
hyperarid, 44 Bird, Junius, xiii, 3, 12, 17, 28, 77, 79, 218, 235;
436 · Index
Huaca Prieta and, 3, 12, 101, 104–105, 107, 110, Casma Valley, 133, 155, 157, 167, 168, 179, 274,
112, 114, 117, 119–120 359
Boats (watercraft), 3, 8, 17, 22, 48, 49, 50, 54, 59, Castro, Victoria. See Santoro, Calogero M.
60, 79, 83, 87–88, 90, 92, 93, 144, 191, 196, 198, Caylán, 15–17, 168–169, 180, 182–183, 188, 189,
207, 212, 224, 225, 233, 238–240, 286, 319, 190–192, 193, 195–197, 201–212; camelids
338, 353, 358, 362, 402, 404; appearance in at, 16, 190–191, 203, 204, 205–206, 208,
Chile, 10; for offshore fishing, 239; powered 210–212. See also Early Horizon
by oars or outboard motors, 352 Cerro Azul, 7, 24–25, 28–29, 50, 273, 352,
Bonito, 53, 54, 198, 201, 352, 355, 357, 360, 363, 353, 355, 356, 358–360, 363; anchovies and
384, 400 sardines at, 273; middens at, 362. See also
Booby, 203, 356, 383, 385 Late Intermediate Period
Borie, César. See Salazar, Diego Cerro Blanco: hill north of Cerro Azul
Briceño Rosario, Jesús, 276. See also Billman, (south-central coast of Peru), 353; Phase in
Brian Nepeña, 191, 212; site in Nepeña, 167, 191,
Burials. See Funerary practices 206, 208
Cerro la Virgen, 19–21, 267, 269, 270–273,
Caballa, 355 275–278, 280, 282, 284, 286–293; camelids
Caballete, 134, 135, 140, 143 at, 19–20; fishing at, 20; households at, 270,
Caballitos de totora, 286, 362, 418 272; irrigation canals at, 285; macrobotani-
Cabinza, 356 cal remains from, 283; maize at, 20; plant
Cacique, 272, 321, 322, 338, 343, 369, 372, 390, remains from, 280; zooarchaeological
406–409, 412–417 remains from, 285. See also Cotton; Irriga-
Caleta Vitor, 10, 29, 42, 44–45, 47–51, 53, 57–61 tion; Late Intermediate Period; Textile-
Camanchaca (coastal fog), 43, 44, 76 making tools
Camelids (llamas, alpacas, wild ancestors), 10, Chaca Valley/Canyon, 44, 47
19–21, 44–45, 55, 59–61, 86, 108, 171–173, 176, Chamán Valley, 26, 369, 370, 372, 374, 377
178–179, 181, 190, 203, 204, 205–206, 208, Chan Chan, 19, 168, 267, 271, 283, 287, 292;
210–212, 221, 271, 274–275, 283, 287, 288, 291, craft specialists at, 270; hinterland of, 293;
307, 314, 383; caravans, 42, 166, 182, 314; on storerooms at, 273; urban population at, 291
Chilean coast, 10; for exchange and food, Chavín culture/religious phenomenon, 3,
15–16, 29, 191; in rock art, 47; role of, 219. See 165–166, 168, 180, 182
also Bayovar-01; Caylán; Cerro la Virgen; Chavín de Huántar, 165
Samanco Chérrepe, 26–27, 369, 370, 372, 374, 389, 406,
Camellones (raised fields), 111 419; port of, 372; visita de, 374
Camiña (Chile), 41, 46 Chicamas (group), 28, 397, 401, 404, 407,
Cañete Valley, 8, 273. See also Cerro Azul; 412–417
Marcus, Joyce Chicama Valley, 6, 12, 13, 18, 19, 101, 102, 104,
Capsicum spp. (chili, hot pepper), 3, 51, 140, 111, 116, 120, 136, 156, 221, 232, 267, 273,
179, 230 403, 407
Caral, 12, 107, 136, 142, 153–155 Chicha (corn beer), 15, 280, 283, 336, 406, 413,
Cárdenas, Mercedes, 21, 304, 315 415; at Samanco, 15
Carmichael, Patrick, 29 Chicoine, David, 168, 192; summary of chapter
Carneiro, Robert, 143; Circumscription Theory coauthored with Carol Rojas, Víctor
and Peru, 5 Vásquez, and Teresa Rosales, 15–17
Carrizales, 25–27, 368, 369, 372, 374, 379, 382, Chili pepper, 115, 117, 141, 179, 218, 228, 230,
383, 385, 386, 389, 391; population of, 387 233, 236, 238, 239, 240, 282
Carter, Benjamin. See Stothert, Karen E. Chimú (culture and empire), 19, 20, 24, 26,
Carter, Chris. See Santoro, Calogero M. 168, 176, 181, 206, 209, 227, 338–339, 343,
Casma culture, 176 369, 370, 377, 397, 402, 416–417; at Cerro la
Index · 437
Virgen, 19–20, 267, 271, 272–274, 283, 287, Cupisnique, 106, 123–124, 126, 166, 168; mound
289, 292–293; economy of the, 270 at Huaca Prieta, 104, 111, 120
Chincha Valley, 7–8, 222, 234, 237, 273, 314, 321, Curaca, 272, 290, 292, 321, 406, 413, 414, 416
359. See also Lo Demás; Sandweiss, Daniel H. Curacazgo, 397, 401, 412, 414, 415, 417, 418
Chinchorro, 40, 46–47, 48, 51, 53
Chita. See Grunt Demographic collapse, 25–27, 272, 366, 370,
Choromytilus chorus (purple mussel), 44, 46, 388
49, 54, 55, 83, 359 Differential access to food: at Caylán, 16,
Christol, Aurélien. See Goepfert, Nicolas 210–211; at Cerro Azul, 25, 360–362
Cifuentes, Ariadna. See Salazar, Diego Dillehay, Tom, 14, 18, 132, 223, 235; chapter
Cinnabar, 119, 178, 179, 224 summary, 12–13
Clam, 16, 20, 80, 177, 178, 190, 194–196, 207, 209, Donax obesulus (surf clam), 20, 194–196, 207,
251, 288, 289, 353 209, 288, 353
Climatic change, 3, 30, 59, 178, 303, 352, 362; as Dove, 178, 201, 203, 356, 383, 385
driver of social change, 4, 5 Drum, 21, 198, 207, 286, 291, 360, 361, 383, 384.
Coca, 114, 281, 282 See also Croaker
Coco. See Croaker Dumbarton Oaks Pre-Columbian Symposium,
Colonial Period, 6, 17, 25–28, 233, 248, 272, 321, 30
367, 377, 383. See also Early Colonial Period
Conquest, Spanish, 19, 25–27, 323, 340, 366 Early Archaic: in Chile, 47–48, 49, 59
Copaca Bay sites, 10, 44–45, 52–62, 79 Early Colonial Period, 25, 30, 233, 248, 272; at
Copiapó, 9, 39, 42, 44, 45, 51 Carrizal, 26–27, 367–368, 377, 379, 383, 390
Cordillera de la Costa (northern Chile), 41, Early Holocene. See under Holocene
42, 52 Early Horizon, 18, 250, 253, 256, 257, 374; at
Cormorant, 178, 201, 202, 356, 383, 385 Caylán, 190–192, 197, 198, 201, 203, 206, 207,
Corn, 20–21, 44, 59, 114, 274, 270, 290, 310, 319, 209–212; at Samanco, 14–15, 165–166, 168,
331, 332, 336, 342, 409, 417; consumption of, 169, 171, 172, 176–182
330. See also Maize Early Intermediate Period, 4, 18, 21, 29, 234,
Corral (for camelids). See Samanco: corral at 256, 304, 310, 312, 315, 374, 376, 377; ceramic
Corvina, 355, 360, 384 tradition of, 312
Cotton (Gossypium barbadense): 4, 5, 8, 12, Economic complementarity between fishers
14, 27, 43, 51, 60, 117, 156, 179, 218, 222, 228, and farmers, 7
282, 409; beds, 370; bolls, 275, 282, 290, 291; Egalitarian hunter-fisher-gatherers: in northern
brown, 17, 30, 237, 240; cloth, 291; fibers, Chile, 11, 62, 88, 93
4, 59, 222, 237, 238, 282; fishing gear, 274; El Loa. See Loa
ginned, 292; leaves and stems, 237, 240; nets, El Médano (rock art site in Chile), 12, 49, 54,
156, 220, 224; pollen, 237; Preceramic Period 55, 92, 94
with, 4, 252; Preceramic Period without, 4; El Niño/Southern Oscillation (ENSO), xiii–xiv,
production of, 20, 156, 271, 282; raw, 274, 21–22, 23, 28, 30, 76–77, 85, 89, 124, 178, 274,
275, 291; seeds, 20, 240, 281, 282, 389; shrubs, 285, 290, 303, 312, 313, 315, 323, 333, 351–352,
237; strings, 143; textiles, 103, 114; white, 17, 356–359, 362, 363, 372; effect on fishery at
237, 238 Cerro Azul, 24–25, 356–359; resource distri-
Crabs, 81, 195, 286, 288, 289, 353, 355, 357, 398, bution and, xv, 11–12, 22, 23, 30, 44, 59, 313
402 El Paraiso, 4, 107, 136, 157, 222
Craft specialist, 270, 271, 368 Emmanuel, Rahm, 30
Creamer, Winifred, 12–15; summary of chapter Enclosure compounds, 166, 168, 182–183; at
with Jonathan Haas, 13–14 Caylán, 15–16, 180, 192; at Samanco, 15, 166,
Croaker, 198, 201, 207, 286, 291, 355, 358, 359, 169, 171, 173
360, 361, 363, 383, 384, 387 Encomendero, 370, 389, 402, 403, 404, 410
438 · Index
Encomienda, 368, 412 313, 314, 318, 322, 323, 325, 330, 332, 333, 335,
Engel, Frédéric, 3–4, 17, 28, 219; Preceramic 340, 341, 342, 352, 359, 362, 363, 377, 383,
Period with/without Cotton, 4 387, 388; ethnohistorical study of, 6, 25–28,
ENSO. See El Niño/Southern Oscillation 397, 402–406, 410–411, 417; fishing com-
Escobar, Manuel. See Salazar, Diego munities, 4, 6, 7–8, 335; modern, 5–6, 24–25;
Ethnogenesis, 18–19, 247ff Pleistocene origins, 2, 116; reinterpretation of
Exchange, xv, 6, 10, 14, 16, 19, 22, 23, 29, 31, 39, fishing specialization in Zaña, 27; specializa-
43, 45, 59–60, 61, 87, 90, 93–94, 101, 114, 116, tion and, 5–9, 23, 27–28, 221, 314, 322. See
131, 133, 142, 143–144, 151–152, 153, 155, 156, also Cerro la Virgen, fishing at
223, 272, 275, 285, 319, 406, 409, 410, 417, Fishing gear including nets, 3, 4, 5, 7, 8, 12, 17,
418; at Caylán, 190, 192, 209, 210; of fish in 20, 25, 27, 48, 50, 53, 55, 56, 83, 108, 117, 143,
Zaña, 28; at Gramalote, 17–18, 232, 233, 251, 156, 179, 181, 190, 192, 196, 198, 201, 220, 224,
256; long-distance maritime, 30, 331 (see also 225, 237, 240, 274, 275, 280, 286–287, 290,
Stothert, Karen E.); in Nepeña, 15, 16–17; 292, 336, 362, 402. See also Fishhooks
Pescador identity and, 258–259; of salted Fishing identity, xv, 18–19, 248
fish at Bayovar-01, 22; at Samanco, 182; in Fissurella spp. See Lapa
Santa Elena, 22, 321, 325, 336–338, 340–342; Flannery, Kent V. See Marcus, Joyce
of Spondylus, 23–24, 321, 337, 342. See also Flores, Carola. See Salazar, Diego
Camelids: caravans; Camelids: for exchange Flounder, 355, 360, 362
and food; Trade Formative Period: in Chile, 10–11, 50, 54, 57,
Exorheic coast (Chile), 10, 41, 42, 44, 46–47, 59–61; in Nepeña, 167; in Zaña, 26, 379
59, 60, 61 Fruit, 3, 17, 20, 51, 61, 136, 140, 142, 146, 222, 227,
229, 232, 233, 235, 239, 240, 275, 281, 282,
Farming, 18, 28, 51, 208, 222, 233, 235, 258, 270, 283, 284, 285, 290
272, 274, 275, 280, 283, 285, 291, 330, 332, Funerary practices (burials): at Gramalote, 237;
341, 405, 418; fishing and, 5, 6, 7, 26, 28, 29, at Huaca Prieta, 12–13, 104, 106, 108, 117, 118,
31, 42–43, 59, 61, 93, 131–132, 135, 143, 219, 119, 123, 124, 126; in northern Chile, 11–12, 39,
223, 233, 240, 258, 274, 292–293, 325, 342, 41, 45, 47, 48, 53, 57, 61, 62, 83, 89, 91, 93; at
401, 406, 418; at Gramalote, 18, 222, 223, 233, Samanco, 172, 174, 176, 178, 179; in Sechura
235, 240; low/small-scale, 219, 223; mixed Desert, 304; in southern Ecuador, 319, 326,
economy, 270, 292, 293; network between 331–333, 336–337, 341
fishing, 240, 342. See also Agriculture Fur seals, 357, 387
Fishermen, 2–4, 6–9, 17, 23, 27–28, 45, 50, 53,
74, 76, 88, 144, 210–212, 218–222, 233–237, Gallinazo ceramics/culture, 124, 176, 182, 256,
239, 240, 248, 304, 313–315, 322, 329, 335, 310
336, 340, 352, 355, 358; artisanal, 24–25, 30, Geoarchaeology, 111
169, 196, 286, 352–353, 354, 355, 358, 359, Goepfert, Nicolas, 30; summary of chapter
362–363, 369, 387, 390, 397, 401–404, 406, coauthored with Philippe Béarez, Auré-
407, 409–417; fishing group language, 27, lien Christol, Patrice Wuscher, and Belkys
368; traditional, 238. See also Farming: fish- Gutiérrez, 21–22
ing and; Farming: mixed economy; Fishing: Gourds (Lagenaria siceraria), 5, 8, 17, 21, 274,
fishing communities; Fishing identity 310, 336; at Cerro la Virgen, 274, 275, 282; at
Fishhooks, 7, 10, 45, 48, 49, 50, 53, 54–56, 59, Gramalote, 218, 219, 222, 229, 236, 237, 238,
78, 83, 198, 224, 225, 274, 280, 286, 307 240; at Huaca Prieta, 103, 108, 109, 116, 119; in
Fishing: archaeological study of, 2–8, 14–31, 45, Norte Chico, 143; at Samanco, 174, 179. See
48, 50, 56, 86, 88, 93, 116, 124, 131, 133, 141, also Bayovar-01: gourds at
144, 166, 169, 178, 181, 190, 191–192, 195, 198, Gramalote, 15–19, 178, 218–240, 225, 247–259;
207, 208, 218–224, 232–240, 248–250, 270, brown cotton for nets at, 17; cotton at, 240;
272–275, 280, 285, 286, 287, 290, 292, 293, domestic units of, 230; farming by fishermen
Index · 439
at, 17; gourds at, 17, 237; household at, 238; Huanchaco, 196, 224, 233, 234, 240, 250, 267,
human remains from, 251, 253; maize at, 18, 270, 286, 292, 294, 398
232; sharks at, 15, 16, 251. See also Agricul- Huanchaquito, 233, 236, 237
ture; Exchange; Seasonal complementarity Huaquero (looter): hole dug by, 106, 120
of resources Huaricanga, 140, 143, 155
Grunt, 211, 291, 355, 360, 362 Hudson, Jean, 277, 285. See also Billman, Brian
Guaman Pinco, 28, 407–409, 412–415, 417 Huentelauquén (people, cultural complex), 40,
Guaman Poma de Ayala, Felipe, 403 43, 51–53, 74, 77
Guanaco, 44 Humboldt Current (= Peru Current), xiii–xiv,
Guañape: culture, 124; island, 402 21, 191, 303, 351, 352
Guangala culture, 22–23, 321–333, 338,
341–342 Ibis, 385
Guano, 27, 47, 248, 402 Ica Valley, 29, 321
Guinea pig, 108, 178, 190, 191, 203, 206, 211, 212, Ilo, 9, 29, 39, 40, 41, 46, 51, 52, 356. See also
275, 288, 383 Osmore Valley
Guitarfish, 355 Inca (culture and empire), 7, 10, 17, 20, 24–26,
Gutierrez, Belkys. See Goepfert, Nicolas 39, 44, 178, 181, 221, 237, 270, 271, 272, 273,
287, 293, 321, 323, 339, 360, 369, 370, 377,
Haas, Jonathan, 12–15. See also Creamer, 408, 409, 412, 414
Winifred Industrial crops, 5, 12, 17, 18, 30, 222, 223, 229,
Hacienda, 366, 377, 397, 411 238. See also Cotton; Gourds
Harpoons, 10, 49, 52, 55, 56, 59, 83 Initial Period, 4, 14–15, 30, 124, 131, 133, 155, 157,
Hart, Elizabeth, 6 208, 220, 222, 233, 235, 239, 250, 256, 257,
Hassler, Gabriel, 383, 389. See also VanValken- 374; at Gramalote, 16–17, 18, 218, 222, 232,
burgh, Parker 236, 238, 240, 248, 250, 256, 258
Helmer, Matthew: chapter summary, 14–15 Interzonal movement: in northern Chile, 42–43
Hematite, 119, 224 Iquique (Chile), 41
Holocene: Irrigation, 19, 20, 28, 124, 131, 133, 135–136, 151,
—Early, 223, 374; at Huaca Prieta, 104, 106, 114, 210, 220, 222, 223, 227, 332, 402, 405, 412,
115–116, 125 416; at Cerro la Virgen, 19, 270, 283, 285, 290,
—Middle: at Huaca Prieta, 12, 101, 103, 116; in 292, 293
Sechura Desert, 21; at Taltal, 11–12, 52, 76,
77, 79, 83–91, 84, 91, 93, 94 Jack mackerel, 53, 79, 83, 87, 88, 198, 201, 355,
—Late: at Huaca Prieta, 103; at Taltal, 77 356, 359, 360, 383, 384
Hooks. See Fishhooks Jayanca, 369, 370, 397, 399, 401, 405, 407, 410,
Household, 9, 13, 20, 21, 22, 85, 120, 121, 124, 411
125, 151, 155, 238, 267, 270–276, 280, 285, Jequetepeque Valley, 18, 120, 206, 253, 256, 274,
288–293, 325, 338, 339, 368, 371, 381, 382 369, 397, 416
Huaca Partida (Nepeña), 167, 191, 208 Jurel. See Jack mackerel
Huaca Prieta, 3, 12–13, 28, 45, 46, 101–126,
102, 103, 105, 113, 119, 122, 132, 136, 156, 196, Kennedy, Sarah, 383. See also VanValkenburgh,
218, 219, 230, 232, 235, 256; maize at, 13, 18, Parker
117, 119, 120; monumental architecture at,
xiv, 12–13, 14; Phase I at, 12–13; Phase II at, La Florida, 4
12–13; Phase III at, 13; Phase IV at, 13; Phase Lambayeque: culture, 111, 377; pueblo, 403; Val-
V at, 13. See also Bird, Junius; Funerary ley, 6, 368, 401, 404, 416
practices; Gourds; Holocene; Late Pleisto- Lanning, Edward, 3–5, 28, 219, 220, 223, 310,
cene; Late Preceramic Period 312; theory for rise of coastal Peruvian com-
Huambacho, 16, 168, 191, 209, 210 plex societies, 4, 220
440 · Index
Lapa (Fissurella spp., keyhole limpet), 54, 57, Manioc (Manihot esculenta), 179, 319; at Grama-
79, 195, 209, 355 lote, 17, 230, 233, 239, 240
Late Archaic: in Chile, 46–48, 50, 60; at Huaca Manteño-Guancavilca culture, 22–23, 318, 432
Prieta, 101; in Norte Chico, Peru, 13–14, Mar Bravo, 22, 318, 332, 334, 336, 339
131, 132, 133–137, 140–141, 143–144, 152–153, Marcus, Joyce, 30, 273, 352, 356, 358; Cerro
155–156 Azul and, 7; summary of chapter coauthored
Late Holocene. See under Holocene with Kent V. Flannery, Jeffrey Sommer, and
Late Horizon, 8, 17, 221, 233, 234, 359, 374; at Robert G. Reynolds, 24–25
Cerro Azul, 7; at Cerro la Virgen, 19, 267; in Marine mammals, 55, 60, 86, 224, 236, 315, 387,
northern Chile, 10, 44, 47, 48, 50, 59–60 388
Late Intermediate Period, 4, 8, 21, 29, 221, 227, Maritime, 29, 121, 141, 190, 240, 257, 335, 367,
267; at Caleta Vitor, 44, 60; at Carrizales, 374, 429; activities, 223, 239; adaptations, 1,
374, 378, 389; at Cerro Azul, 7, 24–25, 28, 17, 79, 165, 318, 351; commerce/trade, 24, 30,
352, 359–362, 363; at Cerro la Virgen, 19, 267, 319, 322, 337; communication networks, 27,
270; at Copaco, 54, 61–62; at El Médano, 54; 402; community, 1–3, 8, 9, 11, 22, 28, 31, 39,
at Gramalote, 227, 233; in Sechura Desert, 42, 46, 190, 218, 223, 227, 239, 247, 259, 301,
21, 304, 315 303, 318, 340, 342, 367, 368, 390; diet, 176,
Late Pleistocene, 2, 3, 50, 153, 301, 304; at Huaca 220; economy, 2, 13, 76, 101, 103, 165, 222, 223,
Prieta, 12, 101, 104, 106, 114–116, 125; in north- 240, 338, 367; ecosystem/environment, 89,
ern Chile, 52, 74, 77 166, 191; food, 22; foragers, 12, 115, 125; hunt-
Late Preceramic Period, 4, 12, 18, 26, 28, 30, ing, 11; industry, 166; interaction, 30, 318; life-
165, 219, 220, 222, 223, 224, 227, 232, 235, ways, 367, 368, 379; oasis, 223; populations,
239–240, 250, 337, 355, 374; exchange and, 18, 257; production, 9, 18; resources, 4, 122,
xv, 14; at Huaca Prieta, 12, 101, 107, 122, 123, 209, 220, 367, 391; ritual activity, 178, 251;
218; in Norte Chico, 28, 156 settlements/sites, 1, 2, 4, 50, 131, 156, 222, 367,
Late Sicán: at Carrizal, 26–27, 377, 379, 382, 372, 374; societies, 25, 182; specialization, 27,
383, 387 367, 390; strategies, 209; subsistence, 28, 50,
Llamas. See Camelids 240, 366; tradition, 52, 258; travel, 22, 325
Loa (River and Basin), 40, 41–44, 43, 46–47, Maritime Foundations of Andean Civilization
51–52, 61, 89, 92 hypothesis, xiii–xiv, 2, 4–6, 220, 303; agricul-
Loco (Concholepas concholepas), 54, 79 ture and, 5, 28
Lo Demás, 7–8, 222, 234, 237, 273, 287, 359 Masucci, Maria. See Stothert, Karen E.
Loma de los Cangrejitos, 22–23, 318, 326–332, Médano. See El Médano
336, 338–339 Mesodesma donacium (wedge clam), 177, 178,
Lomas plant community: effect of loss on social 195, 355
complexity, 4, 5 MFAC. See Maritime Foundations of Andean
Lorna. See Drum Civilization hypothesis
Los Vilos, 40, 43, 45, 51, 61 MH (Middle Holocene). See under Holocene
Middle Archaic: in Chile, 10–11, 45, 48, 49,
Mackerel. See Jack mackerel 52–54, 57; at Huaca Prieta, 101
Maize (corn, Zea mays), 172, 179, 218, 227, 230, Middle Holocene. See under Holocene
232, 233, 282, 285, 290, 319, 321, 323, 330, Middle Preceramic Period, 253; in Sechura
334, 336, 340, 342, 343, 382, 402; in Chile, 10; Desert, 21
in Santa Elena, 23. See also Cerro la Virgen; Mismis. See Croaker
Gramalote; Huaca Prieta; Norte Chico; Mita, 19, 28, 273, 370, 371, 411
Samanco Moche culture, 18, 24, 111, 176, 178, 181, 253, 256,
Malabrigo, 28, 407, 408, 409, 412, 413, 414, 416, 310, 338–339, 374
417 Moche Valley, 6, 17–18, 19, 28, 224, 227, 230,
Index · 441
233, 234, 236, 248, 250, 253, 256, 267, 273, Parcialidad, 19–20, 30, 270, 272, 273, 368, 369,
285, 290–293 372, 390, 407, 414, 415; in Zaña, 25–26. See
Mocupe, 372, 399 also Repartimiento
Mojarrilla. See Croaker Paredones: etched gourds from, 109; mound at
Mole crabs, 353, 355 Huaca Prieta, 103–104, 105, 110–111, 114, 121,
Monumentality/monumental architecture, xiv, 125, 230
29. See also El Paraiso; Huaca Prieta; Norte Patterson, Thomas, 28; rise of complexity in
Chico Peru, 4, 5
Morro Colorado, 77, 78, 79, 85–86, 90 Pejerrey. See Silverside
Mortuary practices. See Funerary practices Pelican, 174, 178, 203, 309, 356, 385
Moseley, Michael, 17, 28, 220, 222, 223, 272, 303; Penguin, 178, 203, 385
MFAC, xiii, 2, 4–6, 30 Performance, 39, 151, 154, 180
Mullu, 337 Peru Current. See Humboldt Current
Murra, John, 7 Pescador, 19, 247, 248, 249–251, 258, 259, 369,
Musical instruments, 144, 154, 202. See also 400, 407, 411, 416
Panpipes Pescadores. See Pescador
Mussel, 16, 44, 80, 190, 194–196, 209, 210, 251, Pintadilla, 355, 360
288, 289, 357, 359 Population pressure, 5, 88
Preceramic Period, 1, 14, 19, 157, 249–250, 257,
Nanchoc, 106, 132 304, 374, 375; at Huaca Prieta, 104, 108, 110,
Nasca society, 29 111, 120, 121, 124, 126, 232, 240, 253, 257, 337,
Nasca Valley, 29 374, 375. See also Late Preceramic Period;
Neolithic, xiv Middle Preceramic Period; Preceramic
Neolithization, xiv Period with Cotton
Nepeña Phase, 191, 208, 212; at Caylán, 15 Preceramic Period with Cotton, 4
Nepeña Valley. See Caylán; Samanco Prieto, Gabriel, 1, 30, 157, 213, 248, 250, 294,
Net gauge, 225, 274 390; chapter summary, 17–18. See also Sutter,
Netherly, Patricia, 6 Richard C.
Nets, 220, 224, 237, 240, 280, 286, 287, 336, 362, Principales (as chief), 272, 369, 372, 405, 406,
402. See also Fishing gear including nets 407, 408, 409, 413–417
Ñoquique, 27, 369, 372, 406 Pututo (shell trumpet), 178
Norte Chico, 12, 13–14, 15, 28, 107, 121, 131–137,
141–144, 151–157, 223; maize at, 14; monu- Quebrada Jaguay, 2, 4, 45, 46, 50
mental architecture at, 14. See also Late Quebrada Tacahuay, 2, 45, 48, 50
Archaic, Late Preceramic Period Quincha (wattle and daub), 19, 267, 276, 379,
Nunura, 304, 315 382
Olguín, Laura. See Salazar, Diego Ramirez, Susan, 30, 272, 370, 377; chapter sum-
Osmore Valley (=Ilo), 29 mary, 27–28; ethnohistory of fishermen, 6,
19, 221, 248, 258, 259
Paiján culture, 46, 116 Rays, 23, 54, 201, 251, 286, 325, 328, 336, 355,
Paleobotanical, 27, 382 358, 362, 383
Paloma, 18 Rebolledo, Sandra. See Salazar, Diego
Pampa del Tamarugal, 41, 53 Reducción (resettlement policy), 26, 27, 366,
Pampa de Santo Domingo, 3 368, 369, 371, 372, 374, 377, 378, 379, 404,
Pañamarca (Moche temple), 167 406, 416, 417, 418
Panpipes, 172, 177. See also Musical instruments Repartimiento, 26, 27, 369, 389; in Zaña, 26, 27
Paracas Peninsula, 18, 253, 256, 257 Reynolds, Robert G. See Marcus, Joyce
442 · Index
Richardson, James B., III: sea level rise and Sechura Desert, 21, 22, 28, 29, 301, 302, 303, 313,
site distribution, 2 314, 315
Rimac Valley, 4, 219 Señorío, 248, 319, 321, 337
Ring Site, 2 Sharks, 15, 325, 336, 383; at Caylán, 16, 201; at
Río Seco: north of Chancay Valley, 4, 133, 155, Cerro Azul, 355, 358, 362; at Cerro la Virgen,
256; near Moche Valley, 280 286; in Guangala sites, 23, 325, 328; in
Róbalo, 355, 358, 360 northern Chile, 54; at Samanco, 178. See also
Rojas, Carol, 213. See also Chicoine, David; Gramalote
VanValkenburgh, Parker Shell, 16, 21, 22, 45, 48, 53, 56, 57, 59, 60, 61,
Rosales, Teresa, 213. See also Chicoine, David 83, 103, 110, 114, 116, 117, 120, 141, 142, 143,
Rostworowski, Maria, 30, 248, 321, 390, 397; 147, 152, 168, 169, 172, 174, 176–178, 182, 188,
ethnohistory of Andean fishermen, 6, 7–8 190–192, 194, 195, 196, 203, 206, 207, 209–212,
224, 236, 288, 293, 308, 316, 325, 326, 399;
Salazar, Diego, 11, 52; summary of chapter co- adornments, 119; artifacts, 54, 55, 209, 224,
authored with Carola Flores, César Borie, 322, 332, 333, 337, 339; beads, 23, 144, 151,
Laura Olguín, Sandra Rebolledo, Manuel 319, 336, 338, 339, 341; burned for lime, 402;
Escobar, and Ariadna Cifuentes, 11–12 carved/worked, 325, 329, 331, 332, 336, 337,
Salinar culture, 124, 167, 182, 310 338; crushed/fractured, 115, 124, 145; debris,
Salt, 23, 27, 103, 301, 314, 335, 336, 370, 402, 331, 322; deposits, 173, 174; exchange of, 336,
408, 412 337, 342; the export of, 332; fishing, 195, 209,
Samanco, 14–16, 29, 165–183, 191, 196, 198, 206, 223, 271, 292, 336, 387, 402; midden, 52, 54,
207, 209, 210, 211, 212; camelids at, 15; cor- 60, 77–78, 83, 85, 141, 143, 157, 379; offerings,
ral at, 15, 171, 176, 179, 182; maize at, 14. See 108, 114; openers, 78, 83; ornament, 322, 337;
also Samanco Phase piles of, 114; sinkers, 56; tool, 119; workshop,
Samanco Phase: at Caylán, 15, 208. See also 331, 339
Early Horizon Shell fishhook, 45, 48, 49, 56, 78, 79, 83; culture,
Sandweiss, Daniel H., 1–3, 8, 30, 153, 157, 174, 79
178, 190, 198, 207, 211, 213, 221–222, 294, Shellfishing, 15, 19, 20
363, 390; Lo Demás and, 7–8, 222, 273, Shrimp, 353, 355, 357, 358, 400
287, 359 Sicán culture, 24, 319, 338, 377. See also Late
Santa Elena area (Ecuador), 22–24, 29, 318, Sicán
323, 324, 326, 332, 333, 334, 335, 336, 337, Silverside, 356, 358, 359, 362, 363
340, 341, 342 Social dynamics, 1, 8, 39, 46, 74, 76, 86, 89, 93,
Santoro, Calogero M., 9; summary of chapter 301
coauthored with Victoria Castro, Chris Social status, 9, 247, 273, 415; at Caylán, 181,
Carter, and Daniela Valenzuela, 9–11 206; in Norte Chico, 14, 132, 154; at Samanco,
Sardines (Sardinops sagax), 5–7, 15, 16, 48, 50, 168; in southern Ecuador, 24, 336; at Taltal,
53, 174, 178, 190, 198, 207, 211, 273, 286, 287, 11, 88
352, 356–360, 362, 363, 383, 402; fisheries Sommer, Jeffrey, 360. See also Marcus, Joyce
boom and, 6; MFAC and, 5 Spanish conquest. See Conquest, Spanish
Scallop, 177, 195, 357 Specialization, economic, 29, 30–31, 135, 151,
Sea catfish, 23, 286, 291, 327, 329, 331, 360, 361, 258, 273, 274, 417; absence at Cerro la Vir-
383, 384 gen, 20, 280, 293; absence at Samanco, 181; in
Seacraft, 325 southern Ecuador, 322, 331, 332, 336; in Zaña
Sea lion, 21, 56, 59, 115, 116, 178, 179, 203, 206, Valley, 368, 390. See also Fishing: specializa-
225, 308, 357, 387 tion and
Seasonal complementarity of resources: at Spondylus (shell), 23–24, 123, 124, 151–152, 209,
Gramalote, 18 248, 321, 322, 325, 329, 331, 332, 337–342. See
Sechura B style, 310 also Exchange: of Spondylus
Index · 443
Squash (Cucurbita spp.), 17, 21, 51, 108, 115, 116, Tumuli: in Chile, 11, 60–61
136, 140, 141, 179, 218, 219, 229, 230, 233, 239, Tuna, 82, 352, 357, 359, 363
240, 282, 310. See also Bayovar-01
Stable isotope analysis: on human bone, 10, Upwelling, 21, 24, 54, 303, 351, 352, 356
44, 59
Stothert, Karen E., 12, 30; summary of chapter Valenzuela, Daniela, 9. See also Santoro, Calo-
coauthored with Maria Masucci and Benja- gero M.
min Carter, 22–24 VanValkenburgh, Parker, 6, 30, 366, 388;
Suco. See Croaker summary of chapter coauthored with Sarah
Supe Valley, 6, 136, 141, 153 Kennedy, Carol Rojas, and Gabriel Hassler,
Sutter, Richard C., 18, 30, 249, 250; summary 25–27
of chapter coauthored with Gabriel Prieto, Vásquez, Víctor, 15, 213. See also Chicoine,
18–19 David
Sweet potato (Ipomoea batatas), 17, 140, 179, Verticality model, 7
230, 233, 239, 240; at Gramalote, 17 Vilos. See Los Vilos
Vinchansao, 267, 270, 290, 292
Taltal, 10, 11–12, 45, 52, 54, 61, 74, 76, 77, 79, 83, Virú Valley, 6, 168, 220. See also Virú Valley
86–89, 92, 93. See also Social status Project
Taltaloid blade, 12, 91, 92 Virú Valley Project, 3
Taltaloid point, 56 Visita, 369–372, 374, 403, 415
Tambo (Inca way station), 370, 416
Tambo de Mora, 353 Warfare: in Nepeña, 15, 181; in Norte Chico, 152,
Tambo River (Ecuador), 333 153, 155, 181
Tambo Valley (Peru), 29 Watercraft. See Boats
Textile-making tools: at Bayover-01, 21; at Cerro Weakfish, 383, 384, 398, 400, 402
la Virgen, 20, 280, 282, 291 Wetlands, 13, 17; cultivation on, 233, 239; at
Tollo, 355, 358, 359, 398, 399, 400, 402 Gramalote, 227; at Huaca Prieta, 108, 116,
Totora reeds, 8, 17, 30, 41, 226, 233, 234, 238, 117, 120–122, 121, 125, 218, 233–236, 239; in
239, 240; cultivation of, 233, 234 northern Chile, 41, 42, 46, 52; in southern
Trade, 15, 18, 22–24, 28, 44, 133, 178, 181–183, Ecuador, 335; species in, 233; surface of, 236
190, 205, 221, 237, 239, 248, 274, 287, 290, Whale, 387, 400, 401, 402, 418; bones, 122, 306,
291, 315, 322, 323, 330, 331, 337–339, 342, 351, 308; scavenging, 387; shark, 358; vertebrae
409; long distance, 337, 342; port of, 340. seats, 154
See also Camelids: caravans; Camelids: for Wuscher, Patrick, 21. See also Goepfert, Nicolas
exchange and food; Exchange
Tribute, 7, 20, 26, 27, 30, 210, 272, 274, 283, 287, Zaña Valley, 25–27, 106, 366, 368–370, 372, 373,
292, 342, 369, 370, 389, 390, 402–404, 410, 374, 377, 379
411, 418 Zaro, Gregory, 29
Trujillo, 6, 224, 250, 270, 370, 401–404, 411, Zooarchaeology, 15, 16, 20, 190, 192, 203, 208,
412, 416 212, 285, 308, 314, 381, 382, 383
Tumbes, 318, 323, 337, 340, 370, 397, 403, 404,
417, 418
Society and Ecology in Island and Coastal Archaeology
Edited by Victor D. Thompson
The settlement and occupation of islands, coastlines, and archipelagoes can be traced
deep into the human past. From the voyaging and seafaring peoples of the Oceania
to the Mesolithic fisher-hunter-gatherers of coastal Ireland, to coastal salt produc-
tion among Maya traders, the range of variation found in these societies over time
is boundless. Yet, they share a commonality that links them all together—their de-
pendence upon seas, coasts, and estuaries for life and prosperity. Thus, in all these
cultures there is a fundamental link between society and the ecology of islands coasts.
Books in this series explore the nature of humanity’s relationship to these environ-
ments from a global perspective. Topics in this series would range from edited vol-
umes to single case studies covering the archaeology of initial migrations, seafaring,
insularity, trade, societal complexity and collapse, early village life, aquaculture, and
historical ecology, among others along islands and coasts.
The Powhatan Landscape: An Archaeological History of the Algonquian Chesapeake,

by Martin D. Gallivan (2016; first paperback edition, 2018)
An Archaeology of Abundance: Reevaluating the Marginality of California’s Islands,
edited by Kristina M. Gill, Mikael Fauvelle, and Jon M. Erlandson (2019)
Maritime Communities of the Ancient Andes, edited by Gabriel Prieto and Daniel H.
Sandweiss (2020)

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Maritime Communities of the Ancient Andes

Society and Ecology in Island and Coastal Archaeology

University Press of Florida

Foreword by Victor D. Thompson

University Press of Florida

This book may be available in an electronic edition.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

University Press of Florida

ist of Figures vii

Part I. Early Maritime Adaptations (13,000 to 5500 BP)

Part II. Maritime Communities between 5500 and 2500 BP

Part IV. Maritime Communities between 600 and 300 BP

ist of Contributors 425

2.1. Coast of northern Chile from Ilo to Los Vilos 40

4.5. Decorative style on etched gourds from Paredones, radiocarbon

8.5. Modern fisherman from Huanchaco 234

14.6. Orthophoto of base of unit 123-007, assembled from pole aerial

3.1. Frequency of minimum number of individuals of fish and mollusk

12.1. Radiocarbon dates of the Cangrejito sites 327

Nowhere in the world are coastal resources so intimately tied to archae-

the Late Preceramic Period a series of exchange networks emerged, link-

Gabriel Prieto and Daniel H. Sandweiss

The present edited volume is the outcome of a symposium held in 2014 in

Society on the Andean Coast,” organized by Sandweiss and partially pub-

research along most of the Peruvian coast needs to be systematized and

production that was traditionally associated with the emergence of complex

this increase in ethnohistorical studies of Andean fishermen, there was an

detailed description of the area of Chincha and the specialized activities

I have focused on the evidence for specialization because of the star-

the complex societies of late Prehispanic coastal Peru, but in terms of

The scarce anthropological research done on contemporaneous modern

Calogero M. Santoro, Victoria Castro, Chris Carter, and Daniela Valenzu-

Complex treatment of the dead beginning in the Archaic Period and

frequency that would have increased unpredictability in marine resources

cussed by Creamer and Haas in Chapter 5.

architectural and artifactual forms and styles suggest a shared identity

During late–twentieth century El Niño events, a large, ephemeral fresh-

1985–1986. In the interim, a number of valuable species were abundantly

and tributary extraction were organized according to nested hierarchies.”

Ancient Andean Maritime Communities in

Several of the studies touch on coastwise long-distance maritime inter-

of farming-fishing configurations seen in the documentary and some ar-

Beresford-Jones, David, Alexander Pullen, George Chauca, Lauren Cadwallader, Maria

Calogero M. Santoro, Victoria Castro, Chris Carter,

of Tiliviche and Aragón, were established in inland oases, some 20 to 30 km

Social Dynamics and Economic Interaction by Maritime

Marine People of the Ilo–El Loa Basins

From Ilo to El Loa Canyon, an exorheic coastal range of ~500 km (~293

of littoral spots circumscribed at the mouth of the quebradas or at coastal

The Caleta Vitor Archaeological Sites

Evidence from sites at Caleta Vitor establishes occupation from at least

Figure 2.4. (a) Choro-

(sardines and anchovies). Small- to medium-sized fish such as S. deliciosa

Marine People of El Loa–Copiapó Region

The territory from El Loa (~300 km south of Caleta Vitor) to Copiapó

The Copaca Case

This report is grounded in the Copaca 1 archaeological site, one of several

marlin (Istiophoridae), bonito (Sarda sp.), and elasmobranches (sharks,

Sea birds, especially Phalacrocoracidae, followed in importance by Pro-

back, by long and/or constant marches to carry out gathering tasks, or by

and innovated their technological system for extracting marine resources

Since the Late Intermediate Period (circa AD 1200), people established

Aldunate, Carlos, Victoria Castro, and Varinia Varela