Stanton Et Al 2024

4
People, Pixels, and Points per Square Meter

Using Lidar to Estimate Populations at
Coba, Quintana Roo
Travis W. Stanton, Scott R. Hutson, and Traci Ardren
The application of lidar technology to the archaeology of tropical forest

societies of the Maya lowlands has led to a radical transformation of our
ability to identify and understand Maya settlement (e.g., Canuto et al.
2018; Chase, Chase, and Weishampel 2010; Chase et al. 2014; Garrison,
Houston, and Alcover Firpi 2019; Inomata et al. 2017; Pérez Rivas et al.,
n.d.; Ringle et al. 2021; Rosenswig et al. 2013; Šprajc et al. 2022; Stanton
et al. 2020a). Regardless of variable factors, such as vegetation and cer-
tain kinds of natural topographies, that can hinder the identification of
some features (see Hutson 2015; Magnoni et al. 2016; Prufer, Thompson,
and Kennett 2015), the ability to rapidly obtain fairly high-resolution
topographic relief models of large areas has accelerated advances in our
understanding of the pre-Columbian past. These advances have obvious
implications for understanding demographic patterns throughout the
lowlands, a topic that has been of concerted interest to scholars working
in this region of the world for some time (Culbert and Rice 1990). The
question, for us, is how to responsibly use these data as proxies for popu-
lation estimates. In this chapter, we outline several challenges in using li-
dar data for demographic reconstructions. We then propose a multifactor
analysis whereby different ranges for population estimates can be reached
by combining a series of distinct methods. We apply these methods to
lidar data collected from the site of Coba, Quintana Roo, Mexico. The
narrower range of time for urban settlement at Coba in comparison to
some other sites in our broader lidar dataset (e.g., Yaxuna) mitigates
some of the chronological problems for calculating contemporaneity of
settlement that have plagued demographic reconstructions in the Maya
area, and elsewhere, for decades. We suggest that Coba had a population
between sixty thousand and ninety thousand people at its apex. Its high-
90 Urban Considerations
density urban zone contrasts substantially with the sparsely populated

rural hinterland surrounding it.
THE STUDY AREA AND METHODS

Coba is the largest Classic period city in northern Quintana Roo (fig-
ure 4.1). Known for its expansiveness (around 67–75 km2 by our most
recent calculations; see Folan, Kintz, and Fletcher 1983; and Stanton et al.
2020a), the size of its monumental architecture (e.g., the Nohoch Mul
Group), its causeway system (Benavides Castillo 1976, 1981), and the nu-
merous carved stelae portraying an Early to Late Classic dynasty whose
members employed the kaloomte’ title (Esparza Olguín 2016; Guenter
2014), Coba settlement patterns have been extensively studied (Cortés
de Brasdefer 1984a, 1984b, 1984c; Folan and Stuart 1974, 1977; Folan,
Kintz, and Fletcher 1983; Folan et al. 2009; Gallareta Negrón 1981, 1984;
Garduño Argueta 1979). The extent of previous mapping efforts provides
a rich spatial dataset with which to compare more recently collected lidar
data; over half of what we calculate to be Coba proper is documented in
published maps generated by traditional methods commonly employed
by the field prior to the introduction of GPS units, total station map-
ping, and lidar. In terms of population, Folan, Kintz, and Fletcher (1983)
estimated that between twenty thousand and sixty thousand people, “or
more,” lived at Coba during its height, based on what they call a detailed
sketch map of 21.3 km2 of the site using pedestrian survey. No further
calculations of the population have been attempted since their work.
Lidar mapping was undertaken in 2017, in association with limited
excavations, to investigate long-standing questions of social, political,
and economic integration from the view of households in the northern
Maya lowlands, specifically between the two sites connected by a one-
hundred-kilometer causeway, Coba and Yaxuna (see Loya González
2008; Loya González and Stanton 2013, 2014; Shaw and Johnstone
2006; Suhler, Ardren, and Johnstone 1998). The lidar maps for Coba
were collected in 2017 using the Teledyne Optech Titan MW, which is
a newer generation multispectral, multichannel, and multilook airborne
lidar that operates at three laser wavelengths (1,550 nm, 1,064 nm, and
532 nm; Fernandez-Diaz et al. 2016; see also Stanton et al. 2020a). The
nominal flying height and ground speed were 550 m above ground level
People, Pixels, and Points per Square Meter 91
Figure 4.1 Map of northern Yucatan.
and 70 m/s. The instrument was configured with a scan angle and fre-
quency of ± 27 degrees and 29 Hz and a total laser repetition frequency
of 525 kHz (175 kHz per channel). The combination of the above pa-
rameters yields a planned laser pulse density of 25 pulses/m2 and a swath
width of 560 m; the lidar was flown with a 50 percent overlap between
adjacent swaths. The laser beam footprints of the different channels
range between 16.5 and 55.0 cm in diameter, and the combined unique
surface illumination (not including adjacent footprint overlap) is over
200 percent. More specifically, for this chapter, we worked with 104 km2
of lidar coverage (the lidar mapping in 2017 went beyond Coba), con-
sisting of a block of approximately 11.8 × 8.8 km.
Previously published work with the lidar data focused on calculating
the number, area, and volume of contiguous architectural features across
Coba (and beyond) by drawing polygon shapefiles around visible contig-
uous architectural features (Stanton et al. 2020a). In the current study we
have begun to move beyond these more generalized calculations by dig-
itizing five different kinds of architectural features across the residential
zones of the site: (1) basal platforms, (2) structures on top of basal plat-
forms, (3) foundation braces on top of basal platforms, (4) structures built
directly on the ground surface, and (5) foundation braces built directly on
the ground surface. Hutson and Stanton spent several weeks comparing
their digitizing efforts in an attempt to standardize the analysis, and then

each took half of the site to process. We decided to make a distinction
between foundation-brace buildings (which supported perishable struc-
tures that in many cases could have been residences) and stone structures
because, while the area of such buildings might not have been different,
volume measurements (important for other work we are conducting)
would be weighted much less with perishable construction; structures
have more volume than foundation braces and represent a larger labor
commitment, not that the labor required for perishable construction and
maintenance is inconsequential. Some foundations braces were relatively
easy to distinguish from more solid stone construction, although the use
of fairly low mamposteria walls in some architectural contexts (as opposed
to, for example, some of the boulder foundations commonly recorded at
Coba) made it occasionally difficult to distinguish whether a slight rise at
the base of the wall lines was a short platform (which we would identify
as a structure) or just the “melt” of the mamposteria. In any event, for
this study, our analysis is heavily reliant on area calculations, so the dif-
ference between structures and foundation braces is relatively moot. The
distinction between a structure built on the ground and a basal platform
is clearer: basal platforms are larger, generally over 100 m2. We created
a polygon shapefile for each of the five feature types and digitized the
features in ArcMap, which by nature included a structure count.
We also organized the structures into domestic groups. The most
common group includes basal platforms supporting one or more struc-
tures. Basal platforms with no visible structures on top were considered
residential groups, following the assumption that they supported perish-
able superstructures. Many residential groups at Coba do not have a basal
platform, however. In its absence, isolated foundation braces or clusters
of two or three small (<25 m2) foundation braces were not considered
residential groups because these constructions are insubstantial, and we
were not convinced that they were residential. A large (>25 m2) founda-
tion brace qualified as a residential group as long as it was accompanied
by at least one other foundation brace. Any cluster of four foundation
braces regardless of size qualified as a group. Since structures are more
substantial than foundation braces, an isolated structure could count as a
residential group, assuming it had sufficient surface area. Finally, clusters
of buildings that consisted of both off-mound structures and foundation
braces were normally considered groups. Linear features (e.g., albarrada

walls, which we have also digitized) sometimes helped group architec-
tural clusters by binding architecture together. Yet, in most cases, relying
on linear features was not necessary as architectural groups tended to
have fairly clear spatial clustering.
The distribution of residential groups across the 104 km2 lidar block
exhibits a relatively clear density threshold, but the block does not cap-
ture the entirety of ancient settlement. Additional lidar imagery west-
ward along the causeway from Coba to Yaxuna shows that the site ex-
tends slightly beyond the 104 km2 block, and a small portion of the site
likely lies entirely outside the lidar imagery (Stanton et al. 2020a). Since
the lidar coverage missed a sliver of the site, we must consider our dataset
to be a sample.
Within the 104 km2 lidar block and the one-kilometer-wide tran-
sects to Ixil and Yaxuna, we used the kernel density tool to suggest site
boundaries, using the natural breaks ( Jenks) method for five, six, seven,
and eight density classes. The eight-class solution yielded a break at a
density of 32.3 groups per km2. Given that the average number of struc-
tures per group is about 2.1 (a figure that would be higher if undetected
structures were added), this threshold is very close to the 60 structures
per km2 threshold used in other studies to determine the boundaries
between rural settlement and what should be considered part of a site
(Canuto et al. 2018; Hutson et al. 2008; Rice and Rice 1990; see also
Stanton et al., in press). This threshold also aligns closely with the visibly
intuitive density drop-off. For these two reasons, we used this threshold,
with three exceptions, to guide delineation of the edges of the site (fig-
ure 4.2). These exceptions are located (1) on the east edge, where about
twenty groups fall within about 250 m of the threshold and have mostly
unoccupied space farther to the east; (2) on the southeast edge, where
a 75 ha swath of land with twenty-four groups per km2 (slightly under
the threshold) links the main site to a dense cluster of groups; and (3) on
the south-southwest edge, where thirty-nine groups fall just outside the
twenty-seven groups per km2 threshold.
Using this site boundary, the Coba site covers 75.39 km2. Folan,
Kintz, and Fletcher (1983) estimated that the site covered 63 km2. We
identified 6,193 residential groups within these 75.39 km2, yielding an
average density of 82 residential groups per km2. Beyond the boundary
Figure 4.2 Map of Coba showing area of lidar coverage (black outline),
site limits, causeways, and architectural groups.
and away from the intersite causeways, we located 128 groups in 31 km2,
yielding a density of about 4 groups per km2. Thus, the site boundaries
are relatively stark. The sample of 6,193 groups excludes 29 monumental
buildings or compounds of buildings that do not appear to be residential
but includes 22 monumental groups that appear to contain residences.
We make demographic calculations with and without these 22 monu-
mental groups.
We also went beyond the visualization technique employed in the
original study (which relied on a single hillshade at 50% transparency
overlying digital elevation models in stretched color ramps). To identify
architectural features, we relied mostly on digital elevation models in
stretched color ramps at 70 percent transparency overlying a raster that
represents a composite of hillshades from sixteen different angles, pro-
duced using the Relief Visualization Toolbox (RVT; Kokalj and Somrak
2019). We also used open positive and slope rasters produced using RVT.
Another aspect of our continuing work worth mentioning here, but

not applied in the present study, is that we have been overlaying existing
maps (Folan, Kintz, and Fletcher 1983; Garduño Argueta 1979) on the
lidar imagery to give us a better sense of features we cannot appreciate in
the lidar data. Given the variability in drawing conventions and fit over
the lidar data, some of the maps are being digitized and georeferenced,
while others are being reinterpreted and redrawn over the lidar. Finally,
a program to ground-validate the data (targeting potential archaeolog-
ical features) is under way by teams of mappers using lidar products on
globally positioned tablets. These ground-validated areas represent less
than 1 percent of the total lidar survey around Coba, but they give us a
much better understanding of how certain features are represented in the
surface models, as well as how ground topography and vegetation affect
certain parts of the survey area (see also Cap, Yaeger, and Brown 2018, 46;
Hutson 2015; Hutson et al. 2016; Magnoni et al. 2016; Prufer, Thompson,
and Kennett 2015). Detailed maps of architectural and other features
(small aguadas, metates, etc.) visible on the surface are drawn on printed
images of lidar at 1:40 scale; these are then digitized and georeferenced in
the laboratory. Importantly, we did not use any of the previously mapped
and ground-validated data to digitize the features presented here. In-
stead, we focused on only digitized features we could see in the lidar
imagery to make all the areas in the sample comparable. We did, however,
compare our digitization efforts with previous mapping data to get an
idea of how many features we might be missing in our analyses.
One last point on which to elaborate concerning the archaeology of
Coba is its chronology. The most extensive study of the chronology of
the site comes from Fernando Robles’s (1990) ceramic sequence, which
draws on excavations from the Instituto Nacional de Antropología e His-
toria (INAH) project of the 1970s (Navarrete, Con Uribe, and Martínez
Muriel 1979). Based on 136 stratigraphic test pits of 2 × 2 m, spread
throughout monumental and public spaces of the site; material from
the cleaning and consolidation of monumental architecture to prepare
the site for tourism during the 1974–1976 field seasons; and a series of
test pits from the site of Ixil (16 km SW of Coba), Robles demonstrates
that the overwhelming majority of the excavated materials belongs to
the Palmas complex (41,000 sherds analyzed in total), with a substantial
amount of material continuing to be present during the following Oro
complex. Dated by Robles to 550/600–700/730 CE, the Palmas complex

shows many modal similarities to Varela’s (1998) Middle Classic complex
at Oxkintok as well as the Yulum complex at Yaxuna, the latter currently
dated to 450–700 CE. The Oro complex, dated 700/730–1100/1200 CE
by Robles, is characterized primarily by slate ware ceramics, which would
fall into the 700–850/900 CE range at Yaxuna, suggesting that many of
these materials date to the earlier portion of the chronological range.
While hieroglyphic dates on monuments at Coba span the sixth to eighth
centuries (Esparza Olguín 2016), there are currently no published radio-
metric dates from the site. The Yaxuna sequence has the benefit of 103
AMS dates, spanning contexts from the Middle Preclassic to the Ter-
minal Classic, to help construct the sequence in absolute terms. Given
the earlier start to the Yulum complex, the Palmas complex could have
also started up to a century prior to Robles’s 550 CE beginning date.
Regardless, the data Robles presents for massive construction efforts at
Coba coincide well with known dates on carved monuments and are
suggestive of a period of urbanization that falls roughly in the sixth to
eighth centuries, if not a little earlier or later. Preclassic, Protoclassic, and
Postclassic materials are generally rare in his sample and are found mostly
in the areas around the central lakes.
The Proyecto Sacbe Yaxuna-Coba (PSYC) placed off-mound test pits
around fifty-nine residential groups at Coba during the 2015, 2016, and
2018 field seasons. These excavations were placed in three specific zones of
the site: in Folan and colleagues’ (1983) north mapping transect (Zone 1);
in Garduño Argueta’s (1979) east transect, which leads to the two enclo-
sures excavated by Manzanilla and her team (Zone 2; Manzanilla 1987);
and in a previously unmapped area south of the site center (Zone 3; fig-
ure 4.3). The two groups excavated by Manzanilla were the only two
domestic contexts reported prior to our work. While the specific spatial
locations of the domestic group samples may bias our understanding of
the overall settlement chronology, all the excavations revealed ceramic
evidence of the Palmas complex, with few scattered materials that date
to the Terminal Preclassic (Robles’s Añejo complex) and Late Postclassic
(Robles’s Seco complex). Oro materials may also be present in the form
of slate wares, but as Robles notes, distinguishing Oro from Palmas is
difficult; made even more difficult here given the lack of clear stratigraphy
in most of the off-mound excavations. What we can say is that, as Robles
Figure 4.3 Hillshade image of Coba show-

ing the causeway system and the areas of
ground validation conducted by PSYC. The
ovals show where the project conducted test-
pit excavations in 2015, 2016, and 2018.
(1990) points out, slate wares exist in the Palmas complex, and most of
the slate wares we found would fit into the known range of variability of
Palmas complex materials. Small amounts of slate wares that have Sotuta
attributes (see Smith 1971) were also recovered in some of the test pits,
but not in any numbers that would indicate substantial amounts of peo-
ple using them in the latter part of the Oro complex. Thus, the ceramic
data recovered from the site suggest that Coba experienced an explosion
of monumental construction and population from the sixth through the
eighth centuries CE, congruent with what we know from dates on the
inscribed monuments. The residential groups that were tested have evi-
dence of linear features, such as albarradas, indicating that these features

also date to this period; previous research with similar features at Chun-
chucmil, on the western side of the peninsula, demonstrate that they also
date to this period and fall out of use by the Terminal Classic (Magnoni,
Hutson, and Stanton 2008). While more work on the residential chronol-
ogy of the site clearly needs to be performed, we do feel that compelling
evidence suggests a rather short three-century period of urbanization, and
a great majority of the features visible in the lidar date to this timeframe.
With this context in mind, we now move on to the issues we face in
estimating populations.
C H A L L E N G E S O F E S T I M AT I N G P O P U L AT I O N S I N
T H E N O R T H E R N M AY A L O W L A N D S U S I N G L I D A R
As has been well-discussed by archaeologists for many years (Magnoni
2007), estimating population numbers in the past is not an easy task. Many
assumptions often enter the process for making calculations. Should the
basic unit of calculation be roofed floor area, number of domestic build-
ings, or number of domestic groups? How much domestic floor space or
roofed area translates to what numbers of people? Are domestic buildings
in a site or across a region occupied at the same time? What architec-
tural features might actually have been domestic? The list of questions
continues, but how researchers choose to answer them will influence the
numbers they derive. These issues existed prior to the first applications of
lidar technology in archaeological research (Bewley, Crutchley, and Shell
2005) but have been brought into sharper focus again with the promise
that lidar data have for addressing demographic patterns.
The most apparent issue of concern with the application of lidar data
to demographic models in the Maya area, and rightfully so, is how to
control for chronology. The pace of lidar mapping has far exceeded the
ability of projects to perform ground-validation work, which might give
a sense of the chronology of identifiable features. Lidar data show a pa-
limpsest of natural and cultural features, many of which we have little in-
formation about, especially chronologically sensitive issues, such as when
they were formed or built. As we are all aware, pre-Columbian mounds
may have fairly short occupations, dating to a single ceramic phase, or
they may have tremendous time depth, with surface architecture hiding
millennia of previous occupations. Even when the spatial arrangement of

surface architecture has temporally diagnostic formal characteristics, that
last phase of diagnostic construction may hide earlier settlement. Just as
a diagnostic Late Preclassic triadic acropolis may hide Middle Preclas-
sic construction (think of the buried E Group at San Bartolo [Saturno,
Beltrán, and Rossi 2017]), a diagnostic Late Classic plazuela group may
obscure early domestic architectural forms. Further, the chronological
placement of surface architectural features can be quite indistinct. Some-
times, surface collection programs can help get a better sense of chronol-
ogy, but surface materials do not always accurately reflect subsurface de-
posits, and even when an earlier period of occupation can be gleaned
from these data, it is nearly impossible to calculate the size of subsurface
features. Also challenging is that, in contrast to the clearer survey condi-
tions in places such as western Mesoamerica, where large surface surveys
have been more successfully applied (Blanton 1972; Kowalewski et al.
1989; Sanders, Parsons, and Santley 1979), the tropical forest conditions
of the Maya lowlands impede our ability to identify surface ceramics and
other diagnostic materials. In our opinion, the only way to address the
question of chronology in the Maya lowlands is to perform excavation
(on or off mound), knowing the results will be heavily dependent on
the kind of sampling strategy involved (e.g., Hutson and Dahlin 2008;
Hutson et al. 2009). Yet even when surface collections or excavations are
undertaken, chronological control is still largely limited to large blocks of
time, from over 100 years to 500 years estimated by associated ceramics,
a situation that could easily obfuscate some chronological complexities
regarding contemporaneity. Unfortunately, chronology will likely always
be an issue when estimating populations in the Maya area, and each study
will have to confront it on the basis of the data at hand.
A second challenge is identifying structures in the lidar data as domes-
tic in function. For those of us who have conducted extensive research
in domestic areas in the Maya lowlands, it is quite apparent that even
with high-precision surface maps, until excavation has taken place, it is
hard to be sure which structures in a domestic group were used as living
spaces versus various other functions. Yes, we might have a sense of which
structures are likely to be ancestor shrines, kitchens, storage areas, and
sleeping spaces prior to subsurface investigation, and excavation often
proves these working hypotheses right. But even in clearly identified do-
mestic contexts (by this we mean leaving aside the issue of misidentifying
a group as being domestic at all), excavation data can radically change
ideas about the use of space. So, when we look at lidar data, especially
the vast amounts of data that have yet to be ground-validated, we should
be mindful of the kinds of assumptions we make about which structures
should be counted for population estimates. While monumental temples
can easily be removed from the calculations, given how obviously nondo-
mestic they are, other structures can be rather ambiguous. For example,
some monumental groups with attached range structures at Coba could
have certainly housed people. The palace-looking eastern zone of the
Coba Group is a good case in point (figure 4.4). Were all these structures
residences? Could some of them have been administrative or used for
storage, educational opportunities, or religious activities? This is difficult
to say given the current data.
The Oxkindzonot Group (which we interpret as part of the Coba
urban zone [cf. Thompson, Pollock, and Charlot 1932; Villa Rojas 1934])
Figure 4.4 Open positive/DEM (digital elevation module) image of the

Coba Group overlaid with the Maler-style plan map created through
ground validation. The palace complex is east of the Iglesia, the tallest
temple in the group.
Figure 4.5 Open positive/DEM image of Oxkindzonot overlaid with the

Maler-style plan map, created through ground validation.
along Sacbe 1 to Yaxuna is another case in point (figure 4.5). This group
has long range structures around very large plazas, which could possi-
bly indicate market activities. But again, maybe some people lived there.
Other structures and groups at Coba in some ways look like they might
be domestic, but in other ways seem to leave the door open to interpre-
tations that could view them as specialized activity areas, such as a series
of relatively small and very similar platforms with circular features that
are somewhat reminiscent of the Classic lime kilns reported by Seligson
(2016; Seligson et al. 2017a, 2017b, 2017c) in the Puuc region (figure 4.6).
These examples give us pause and highlight the care we need to take
when labeling a specific structure or entire architectural group “domestic.”
The next issue we see is how to translate the data we have into pop-
ulation numbers. This involves arriving at certain metrics (or at least
ranges), such as number of square meters of floor or roofed space per
Figure 4.6 Image of a small platform with a circular feature (open pos-
itive/DEM). These platforms repeat throughout the site and could have
been areas of lime production.
person, as well as defining the data to be quantified. Number of structures

is one method. In our dataset, we have been challenged by this particular
metric, given the variability in how domestic space is constructed at sites
like Coba (figure 4.7). In some cases, all the structures arranged around a
patio are independent from each other and can count as separate struc-
tures (they do not share elevated space). Other structures are arranged
around an elevated patio. It is common in the northern lowlands to give
this basal platform its own structure number, although for the purpose of
calculating demography, it overlaps with the horizontal space calculated
for superstructures, while almost always including open-air spaces, such
as raised patios. Some basal platforms have clear superstructures: elevated
platforms and some kinds of foundation braces can be seen in the Coba
lidar. Yet, broad platforms often have no visible evidence in the lidar data
of any sort of superstructures. In the Puuc region, Ringle and his col-
leagues (2021) regard such platforms as nondomestic and do not include
them in population estimates. In some cases, where we have performed
Figure 4.7 Four examples of domestic areas at Coba to illustrate the vari-
ability of domestic construction at the site (open positive/DEM). There
is much more variability, but in these images the basal platforms with no
visible superstructures can be appreciated close to those with clear masonry
structures and foundation braces. The bottom right image shows the two
domestic groups excavated by Manzanilla and her colleagues.
ground validation or where previous mapping efforts have documented

these platforms, slightly elevated structures or foundation braces have
been located. Many of these “invisible” features are likely domestic areas,
and others have even been documented away from clear platforms and
patio groups (figure 4.8), suggesting that a significant amount of domes-
tic settlement cannot be identified in the lidar, and that even when we
can identify some settlement, counting structures can be challenging and
dependent on the approach to the data. Further, there are features that
appear to be chich mounds (accumulations of cobbles), which when pres-
ent in large numbers can make identifying living spaces more difficult
(figure 4.9). Many such cobble features are thought to have functions as
diverse tree cultivation or water management. At other sites (Pyburn
Figure 4.8 Comparison of an area of Coba to illustrate the detail missing
in lidar that can be gleaned through ground validation. The top image is
the hillshade/DEM and the bottom image is the hillshade/DEM overlaid
with the Maler-style plan map rendered in the field.
Figure 4.9 Images of two domestic groups at Coba with numerous chich
mounds (hillshade/DEM).
et al. 1998; Ringle and Andrews 1990), burials, caches, and floors have
been reported in such features, indicating that some may be domestic but
perhaps altered by formation processes, whereby the larger stones usually
forming the walls are missing or obscured (Stanton 2000).
One way to address the challenges presented by structures is to or-
ganize architectural features into domestic groups and use “group” as
a quantifiable measure. Groups vary by size, but by assuming a certain
low and high average number of people in groups seen in lidar data, we
can skirt some of the issues discussed above. Defining what constitutes
a group, however, presents other kinds of challenges (see below), but we
believe that using the concept of a group is a viable alternative when ad-
dressing questions of demography. Other ways to quantify data include
calculating the surface area of architecture (Stanton et al. 2020a), reserv-
ing volume calculations as an indicator of wealth. In the next section we
outline the different methods we have used for arriving at demographic
calculations for the Coba data. We believe that presenting a series of
alternatives for making such calculations helps address the challenges
inherent in population estimates and leaves the ultimate decision of what
numbers make the most sense in the hands of the reader.
P O P U L AT I O N E S T I M AT I O N M E T H O D S
A current discussion in ancient Maya demography is whether to assess
population by counting (1) the total number of houses (the “traditional”
method), (2) the total number of residential groups, or (3) the amount
of roofed space (Stanton et al. 2020a). In this chapter, we use all three
methods and then compare the results. The first and third methods both
depend on successfully identifying roofed structures that are likely to
be residences. This can be problematic for two reasons, structure func-
tion and visibility, spurring Chase, Chase, and Chase (chapter 1, this
volume) to suggest avoiding demographic estimates based on structure
counts. Regarding structure function, it has long been known that not all
structures are residences; some may be kitchens, storage structures, sweat
baths, or serve some other function. Yet, it is important not to overstate
this challenge in Yucatan. Ethnographically, sweat baths are nearly absent
in the northern lowlands (Wauchope 1938), just as they are archaeologi-
cally. Kitchens are usually smaller than houses and can be removed from
demographic calculations by size thresholds. Removing small kitchens

might in fact be an overly conservative maneuver, as there is ethnographic
evidence of people sleeping in kitchens (Redfield and Villa Rojas 1934,
90). Kitchens are also often found within larger residential structures
ethnographically and archaeologically (Wauchope 1934, 1938), such that
many households will not have a detached kitchen. Finally, storehouses
are not common in the northern lowlands (Redfield and Villa Rojas
[1934] do not report them for Chan Kom), and in places where they are
found ethnographically, such as the Puuc area, they are sometimes also
sleeping spaces (Smyth 1990, 54). Maize storage facilities are more often
small (successfully accommodated by a size threshold in demographic
calculations) and relatively perishable.
Regarding visibility, most ancient residences are relatively small (less
than 100 m2), and several researchers using lidar in northern Yucatan
have found that smaller structures can be difficult to identify in imagery
generated not just by NCALM’s Optech Gemini (Hutson et al. 2016;
Magnoni et al. 2016), but also by the newer generation and more tech-
nically advanced Teledyne Optech Titan MW (Ringle et al. 2021). In
some locations, the difficulty in identifying small structures is due to
dense vegetation close to the ground, which makes it difficult for algo-
rithms to distinguish ground returns from vegetation returns, resulting in
fuzzy bare-earth digital elevation models. Visibility also poses difficulties
in the sense that many ancient people in the northern lowlands built
residences whose physical footprints simply do not stand out in lidar
imagery regardless of vegetation conditions. Whereas in the southern
lowlands, each residence in a domestic compound is commonly built on
its own stone platform, builders in the northern lowlands often created
a single broad stone platform (what we refer to as basal platforms) to
support several residences, many of which were made almost entirely
of perishable materials. In other words, houses with thatched roofs and
wooden walls anchored in stone sometimes elude detection by both ar-
chaeologists mapping on foot and lidar sensors flying overhead. If the
walls are anchored in foundation braces of several courses of stone, these
foundations are often visible to the naked eye on the ground, but they
can be hard to see in lidar imagery; at Coba the use of large boulders for
wall footings makes some foundation braces more visible than at other
sites. Yet these difficulties with visibility can be and have been overcome
by deriving correction factors from ground truthing. For example, Ringle

and his colleagues (2021) tallied broad platforms (as a proxy for entire
domestic compounds) in their lidar coverage around Yaxhom, Labna, and
Huntichmul but did not attempt to tally structures on top of these plat-
forms. Nevertheless, when estimating populations, their primary method
uses structure counts, interpolating the number of structures from the
results of pedestrian mapping around the site of Muluchtzekel. As long
as we are fully aware of the shortcomings, we believe estimating popula-
tion based on individual residences continues to be a viable method and
should accompany other kinds of estimates when possible.
G R O U N D V E R I F I C AT I O N
A critical step in counting both structures and groups is to get a sense

of the rates of error in using the Coba lidar imagery. Stated differently,
if we know ahead of time that some features will not be visible to us, we
need to know approximately how many features we cannot see. Arriving
at such an error rate and correction factor requires ground verification: a
trial involving the comparison of what we see in the lidar imagery with
what mappers see on the ground. The maps available for this trial include
those by Folan and colleagues (1983) and Garduño Argueta (1979), both
of whom made maps of portions of Coba before lidar, and from the
PSYC, which made maps of portions of Coba after lidar, bringing lidar
imagery into the field with globally positioned tablets to validate the lidar
data. The Garduño Argueta maps align very well with the lidar imagery.
Nevertheless, individual structures are sometimes marked on those maps
in ways that are difficult to interpret, thus precluding a robust comparison
of individual structures proposed on the basis of the lidar imagery and
those mapped by Garduño Argueta’s team on the ground.
The comparison with the PSYC ground maps is more straightforward.
Stanton, Elizabeth Beckner, and Patrick Rohrer did the mapping on the
ground while Hutson created a map using only the lidar imagery, without
seeing the maps from Stanton’s team nor setting foot in those areas. The
trial comparison showed that the lidar imagery works very well for locat-
ing broad platforms. In an area of 0.706 km2, forty-nine of the fifty-one
broad platforms identified on the ground were also visible in the lidar
imagery, a 2 percent miss rate. An additional eight platforms were pro-
posed on the basis of the lidar imagery but were not seen on the ground.
None of these eight are likely to be “false positives” because the subtle
but noticeable rises in elevation seen in the lidar imagery are orderly and
platform-like: they support structure compounds and have straight edges
and relatively sharp corners. Alas, their low elevations would have been
difficult to sense on the ground. There is also a high degree of concor-
dance between the set of platforms visible in lidar and those mapped by
Garduño Argueta. The trial comparison involves Garduño Argueta’s map
sheets N4 to N14, a 0.367 km2 transect that runs north–south along the
west side of Sacbe 3, beginning north of the intersection with Sacbe 1.
Here, forty-two of forty-five platforms mapped by Garduño Argueta
were identified in the lidar imagery.1
Turning to individual structures, the trial with PSYC ground valida-
tion contained two categories of features: structures on top of platforms
(superstructures) and structures built on the natural ground surface. For
superstructures, ninety-six buildings proposed on the basis of lidar were
also found by pedestrian mapping, and forty-one buildings visible to pe-
destrian mappers (and large enough to be residences) were not identified
in the lidar (false negatives). This means that the number of superstruc-
tures visible in lidar imagery should be increased by 42 percent. This is
close to the comparison between lidar and the two house lots excavated
by Manzanilla (1987), where eight of the twelve structures on Manzanil-
la’s maps are visible in lidar. The need to increase the number of struc-
tures identified in lidar imagery is also warranted by the fact that 1,374
groups identified in the lidar imagery contain a basal platform with no
identifiable structures or foundation braces on top of them, implying that
there were houses, perhaps largely perishable, that we cannot see with the
lidar imagery. These 1,374 platforms represent nearly a fourth of the total
number of platforms (5,121) identified in the lidar imagery. Of the fifty-
one platforms mapped as part of the PSYC’s ground-validation efforts,
all but three had structures. Given that nine were false positives (structure
identifications proposed on the basis of lidar imagery but shown not to
exist in the field), the correction factor should be reduced from 42 percent
to 33.3 percent. For structures built on the natural ground surface, seventy
were correctly identified using lidar imagery, thirty were false negatives,
and nine were false positives, meaning that the number of structures
identified in the lidar imagery should be increased by 30 percent. Aver-
aging 33.3 percent and 30 percent gives a correction factor of 31.6 percent,
which we return to in the discussion of invisible structures.
R E S U LT S
P O P U L AT I O N E S T I M AT E S B A S E D
ON STRUCTURE COUNTS
The total number of structures currently digitized in and around Coba

is 16,963. This number does not include structures that are part of mon-
umental architectural groups. Of these 16,963, 643 are beyond the site
boundaries, and an additional 3,246 structures and foundation braces
were found within the site but do not pertain to domestic groups and
were therefore not included in the analysis. The remaining 13,074 struc-
tures are found within 6,193 residential groups. The next step is to con-
vert these 13,074 structures into a population estimate. The papers in
Culbert and Rice (1990) highlight a series of reasonable steps for such a
conversion: (1) correcting for structures that are not residences; (2) cor-
recting for “invisible” structures not detectable by any mapping methods;
(3) correcting for structures that may date to different periods; (4) cor-
recting for structures that pertain to the same period but are not occupied
contemporaneously; and (5) converting a count of residences to a count
of people using family size estimates.
Regarding nonresidential structures, we can remove fifty-two struc-
tures whose squarish shape, high elevation, and position on the east side
of a plaza suggest that they are domestic shrines. Many other structures
in our count are too small to be considered residences. The cutoff size
for residences is difficult to establish. Ashmore (1981, 47; Haviland 1972)
proposed that a residence needed at least 20 m2 of roofed space to ac-
commodate a nuclear family. At Ceibal, Tourtellot (1988, 101–2) used
a minimum size of 23 m2. At Coba, Manzanilla and Barba (1990, 44)
identify houses that have as little as 15 m2. Farther south, in the Río
Bec area in Quintana Roo, most farmhouses excavated by Eaton have
interior dimensions of less than 15 m2, with a median of 13.3 m2 and a
low of 8.8 m2. At Sayil, Tourtellot and coauthors (1990) proposed that a
family of four could live in a single room measuring between 8 m2 and
12 m2. We feel that estimates of 8 m2 or 12 m2 for a nuclear family are too
Table 4.1 Area calculations for Coba structures
Mean Median
Type of structure N area (m2) area (m2)
Foundation brace off platform 2,446 25.73 23.12
Structure on platform 3,267 75.32 54.13
Foundation brace on platform 4,453 27.71 24.15
Structure off platform 2,908 57.81 49.16
small. If we use 13 m2 as the cut off, this would eliminate 635 structures
from the sample, including 383 foundation braces on top of platforms, 10
structures on top of platforms, 234 foundation braces built directly on the
ground, and 8 structures built directly on the ground. The average sizes
of structures are substantially larger than 13 m2, as shown in table 4.1.
Removing the small structures, shrines, and other nonresidential
constructions reduces our structure count from 13,074 to 12,387. This
amounts to a 5.25 percent reduction. Since other archaeologists make
reductions ranging from 32.5 percent (Hutson and Magnoni 2017) to
about 15 percent (Haviland 1965; Tourtellot 1990), we also provide a
population estimate with a 15 percent reduction, equating to 11,113 struc-
tures. This is the low estimate in table 4.2. At the same time, hundreds of
small mounds are part of residential groups but are not included in our
discussion at all. During the ground validation of an area in the southern
part of the site in 2018, we found that some house lots have very low plat-
forms as small as 2 m2, much too small to serve as houses. When these
platforms were visible in the lidar, they looked very similar to some of
the small chich mounds we noticed during ground-validation efforts. We
did not mark these features in our analysis, even though dozens are over
13 m2, but they are worth mentioning because they suggest that the low
estimate might be too low.
Having converted our structures to residences, we now confront the
problem of invisible structures. To begin, we apply the 31.6 percent cor-
rection factor that represents what we probably cannot see with lidar. The
31.6 percent lidar correction would raise the 12,387 structures to 16,301
for the high estimate.
Yet these corrections for visibility are not enough, as buildings made
almost entirely of perishable materials can be impossible to see even by
Table 4.2 Conversion of different methodologies to population for

Late Classic Coba, Mexico
Low High
estimate estimate
Population based on number of structures 57,390 93,023
Addition for monumental structures 575 700
Addition for unmapped 2 km2 1,522 2,468
Addition for structures not in groups 1,977 2,796
Total population with all three additions 61,463 98,986
Population based on roofed area (30 m2 per nuclear family) 90,299 147,446
Addition for monumental structures 6,096 7,425
Total population with both additions 98,869 158,910
Population based on roofed area (10 m2 per person) 54,179 77,699
Addition for monumental structures 3,830 4,679
Total population with both additions 59,493 84,507
Population based on number of groups 41,944 60,672
Addition for monumental structures 575 700
Addition for structures not in groups 1,977 2,796
Total population with all three additions 45,608 65,777
Average of the four estimates 66,358 102,045
trained archaeologists on the ground. Invisible structures also include

buildings (of either perishable or nonperishable materials) that have been
covered by sedimentary processes over the last millennium (an issue more
prevalent in the southern lowlands, where soils and sediments are deeper
than at Coba), erased by recent human activity, or eliminated by some
other process. Correction factors for the northern lowlands, where sedi-
mentation is minimal, tend to be lower than for the southern lowlands.
Whereas Chase (1990), working in the Tayasal-Paxcaman Zone in Pe-
ten, and Webster and Freter (1990), working at Copan, use relatively
high correction factors of 37.4 percent and 38 percent, Tourtellot and co-
authors (1990), working at Sayil, and Ringle and Andrews (1990), work-
ing at Komchen, forgo a correction factor, and Hutson and Magnoni
(2017), working at Chunchucmil, used a correction factor of 5 percent.
For Coba, we use a correction factor of 5 percent for the low estimate
and 10 percent for the high estimate. We justify this 10 percent as part
of the high estimate because there is more modern disturbance at Coba
than at Chunchucmil, Coba’s soils and sediments are somewhat deeper,

and housebuilders in Coba were less likely to construct each residence
on top of its own small platform. A 10 percent increase is standard for
the southern lowlands (Canuto et al. 2018; Culbert et al. 1990). Recall
that 1,374 basal platforms at Coba contain no structures or foundation
braces visible on top. For basal platforms with visible superstructures,
the average number of structures per platform is 2.05, and nearly all
of these structures (99.8%) are larger than 13 m2. Assuming that each
of the 1,374 basal platforms with no visible structures had 2.08 perish-
able superstructures, this adds 2,822 structures for the high estimate.
Yet there is a possible “double dip” here in that our calculations already
have a 31.6 percent correction for structures not visible in the lidar (false
negatives). Thus, for the low estimate, we reduce the 2.05 structures per
platform by 31.6 percent, resulting in an addition of 1,930 structures.
As mentioned earlier, excavations conducted by various projects (e.g.,
Manzanilla 1987; Robles 1990) have determined that Coba reached its
apogee during times when Palmas complex ceramics were in use (550–
700 CE, although we might push the early portion back a bit earlier),
the same general period for which hieroglyphic dates exist (500–800 CE,
late Early Classic and Late Classic). While the combined work at Coba
has not found significant evidence for occupation in other periods, it does
exist (especially around the Coba Group). It is not likely that all resi-
dential settlement in our sample dates to the Classic period (the Palmas
complex specifically). Following Canuto and colleagues (2018), we use a
17 percent reduction for the low estimate and an 8 percent reduction for
the high estimate. Of those residential groups occupied during Palmas
complex times, it is unlikely that all were occupied at the same time
within this period. For contemporaneity of use, we use two corrections,
both proposed by Canuto and colleagues (2018): a 20 percent reduction
for the low estimate and a 13 percent reduction for the high estimate. For
number of people per house, we use two estimates: Haviland’s (1972) fig-
ure of 5 people, based on various sources, and Redfield and Villa Rojas’s
(1934) oft-cited figure of 5.6 people, based on ethnography at Chan Kom.
At the end of these adjustments, we arrive at between about 57,390
and 93,023 people within the 75.39 km2 boundary. This gives us a popula-
tion density of between 761 and 1,234 people per square kilometer. These
population estimates should be increased for three reasons. First, some of
the structures in monumental groups are probably residential. The small-

est monumental groups have as few as three possible residences, while the
Coba Group has the most—twenty-three possible residences. In total,
we counted 169 possible residential structures. Assuming 15 percent are
not residential, assuming no hidden structures, and adjusting for contem-
poraneity, these residential structures add between 575 and 700 people to
the population estimate. Second, the site probably extends for another
2 km2 beyond the lidar coverage in the vicinity of Sacbe 1. Assuming
a population density similar to the site average, these additional 2 km2
would add between 1,522 and 2,468 people. Third, and finally, there are
440 off-mound foundation braces of 25 m2 or larger and 694 off-mound
structures of 25 m2 or larger that are not part of any group. If half of these
buildings (567 of 1,134) are residential, then they add (using the same
correction factors discussed for structures in nonmonumental groups)
between about 2,000 and 2,800 people. These estimates are conservative
given that we completely ignore the possibility that some of the hundreds
of chich piles might be residential. With these three additions, the new
estimated population would be between 61,463 people and 98,986 people,
based on structure counts.
P O P U L AT I O N E S T I M AT E S B A S E D O N R O O F E D A R E A
The second method for calculating population is to use area of roofed

space. An advantage of using roofed space for population estimates is
that many buildings are large and likely held more than one family, but
in the structure count method, each of these large buildings would be
limited to housing a single nuclear family. The total roofed area in our
sample of structures with at least 13 m2 of surface area is 588,193 m2. This
does not include possible residences in monumental groups, which we
address below.
There are several ways to convert roofed area to an estimate of people.
One method is to propose an average space per family and divide the
total roofed area by this average to arrive at an estimate of the number of
families, and then convert to a population estimate using the five correc-
tion factors discussed above. The trick here is settling on the appropriate
amount of roofed space per family. If we use the average structure size
calculated from our Coba dataset (48 m2), then the process is circular and
yields the exact same estimate that we get when using structure counts.
We choose not to use the minimum house size that we have used above
(13 m2) because this is truly meant to be a minimum. We also choose not
to use the 20 m2 standard presented in Ashmore (1981, 47) or the 23 m2
that Tourtellot (1990) uses for Ceibal, as these are also both minimums.
We use 30 m2, dividing 588,153 m2 by 30 m2 to get 19,605 family units.
This has already been reduced 5.25 percent to account for structures too
small to be houses, and for the low estimate, we reduce it another 11 per-
cent to get to the 15 percent reduction for nonresidential space used by
others (Haviland 1965; Tourtellot 1990). We then add 31.6 percent for
lidar visibility problems and the 5 percent low-estimate and 10 percent
high-estimate corrections for invisible structures. Next, we add the roofed
area of the probably perishable structures on top of basal platforms where
no superstructures were visible, using both the low (1,930 structures) and
high (2,822 structures) estimates and the average size of structures found
on top of platforms in nonmonumental contexts (48 m2). The subsequent
reductions for contemporaneity and the multiplication by family size
reveal population estimates of 90,299 and 147,446. These estimates are
higher than what we get from structure counts, and predictably so be-
cause we are essentially saying that any structure 60 m2 or larger counts
double. This enlargement is balanced to some degree by the principle that
structures smaller than 30 m2 do not get a full count of one.
We now adjust these numbers to account for monumental struc-
tures and the idea that Coba extends 2 km2 beyond the lidar block. The
169 possible residences in the monumental groups are large, averaging
291 m2 each. These structures, with the requisite reductions for contem-
poraneity and nonresidential function, would add between 6,096 and
7,425 people. Both of these additions are probably too high. For the
unmapped 2 km2 portion of Coba, we take the range between 90,299
and 147,446 people, convert this to density estimates of 1,237 and 2,020
people per km2 and multiply each by two, which adds between 2,474 and
4,040 people. In sum, adding the corrections for monumental groups
and the 2 km2 unmapped area brings the surface area estimate to be-
tween 98,869 and 158,910 people. We ignore isolated structures that are
not part of groups.
An alternative is to use Narroll’s (1962) simple formula of 10 m2 per
person. Using the reductions and additions already mentioned, this would
yield a population estimate of between 54,179 and 77,699. Including

monumental architecture (and following the same adjustments men-
tioned above) would add between 3,830 and 4,679 people. As in the other
surface area calculation, both of these additions are probably too high.
Accounting for the unmapped 2 km2 would add between 1,484 and 2,129
people. Combining both of these additions with our initial estimate, we
get between 59,493 and 84,507 people.
P O P U L AT I O N E S T I M AT E S B A S E D
ON RESIDENTIAL GROUPS
The final approach to estimating population is by counting groups as op-

posed to individual structures. Ringle and his colleagues (2021, 8) follow
this approach in part because foundation braces “cannot be consistently
distinguished in the imagery.” This procedure is often not fully indepen-
dent of structure counts. For example, in Tourtellot’s (1990, 93) popula-
tion estimates for Ceibal, he began with the datum point of 2.72 struc-
tures per group and then, using 5 people per structure, arrived at a figure
of 13.6 people per group, which was then modified to 11.9 to make sure
that in multigenerational extended families, the offspring of the older
generation are not counted twice. Inomata and colleagues (2017) repeat
the procedure, applying the 11.9 persons per group to Preclassic platforms
that often lack superstructures. Thus, a procedure developed for group-
based population estimates is in fact a structure-based estimate.
Others who create population estimates based on numbers of groups
declare that each group contains a certain number of people, without
reference to individual structures. For example, Ringle and Andrews con-
clude that each broad platform at Preclassic Komchen (1990, 227) housed
ten people, or two families. Chase and colleagues (2011) focus on groups,
locating 4,732 of them in the 177 km2 of Caracol and assuming an equal
number of nonelevated groups that could not be located with lidar (see
the updated chapter on Caracol, chapter 3, this volume). Chase and col-
leagues state that group-based estimates show that the earlier population
estimate of 115,000 is still viable, which means that they presume about
twelve people per group, very similar to group size estimates based on
structure counts at Ceibal.
The procedure for creating a population estimate based on the 6,193

groups at Coba presumes that our group counts using the lidar digital
elevation modules (DEMs) represents a 2 percent underestimate, based
on ground verification. We will use the same chronological correction
factors used above, with 10 people per group for the low estimate and 12
people per group for the high estimate. The low and high estimates are
about 39,540 and 57,194. These estimates need to be increased to account
for the twenty-two monumental groups, the 2 km2 of Coba beyond the
lidar block, and possible residences that are not part of groups. Calculat-
ing population density per km2 and multiplying by 2 would add either
1,113 or 1,610 to the total. For convenience we use the corrections given in
the structure count section for monumental groups and for people living
in structures that are not part of groups. These additions yield estimates
of 45,608 and 65,777.
SUMMARY
Of the four methods for estimating population, the procedures for indi-
vidual structure counts and roofed area using 10 m2 per person produce
similar results: conservative estimates of about 59,000–61,000 and high
estimates of about 85,000–99,000 (rounding to the nearest 1,000). The
roofed area method using 30 m2 per nuclear family produces estimates
that are probably too high: the conservative estimate is about equal to
or above all the higher estimates from the other methods. The number
of groups method yields the lowest estimate, but with a small overlap
between the individual structure count and roofed-area 10 m2 per person
methods. Taken together, these estimates suggest that a range of between
about 60,000 and 90,000 stands as a decent assessment of the population
of Coba during its Late Classic zenith. At present, such a population
makes Coba larger than Tikal and probably second only to Caracol in
size. Yet Coba differs from both Caracol and Tikal in population density.
Its density of approximately 1,000 people per km2 is high compared to
most other Maya cities and adds to the list of centers (Palenque, Copan,
Waka/El Peru, Dzibilchaltun, Chunchucmil, Sayil) that do not follow
the pattern of low-density urbanism (Isendahl and Smith 2013). Yet this
single density estimate conceals a large degree of variability within the
approximately 76 km2 of Coba; some km2 blocks have more than 2,000
people, while others have 300.
Perhaps one of the most notable aspects of our population estimates
for Coba is how extraordinarily high the numbers might be, given we
are relatively certain the site grew to this size almost exclusively in the
Palmas phase (Late Classic). Unlike many other Maya centers, Coba did
not have a large Preclassic occupation; rather, it seems to have drawn an
already urban population from other earlier centers as it rose to prom-
inence around 500 CE. Such rapid growth has other interesting impli-
cations—by analogy to other Mesoamerican centers, it would appear
that administrative support, infrastructure, and especially planning were
robust at Coba in the late Middle Classic, to accommodate such explo-
sive population growth in such a short period. It is likely no coincidence
that such growth coincides with a fully developed artistic agenda of state
rule and royal privilege. It is certainly tempting to see the massive and
rapid population growth of Coba as consistent with suggestions made
by other scholars that the epigraphic and architectural evidence suggest
close ties with cities to the south, perhaps even the arrival of dynastic
members from other Kaanul cities such as Dzibanche and Calakmul.
The strategic importance of a large capital alongside the lakes of north-
ern Quintana Roo, at the close of the sixth century, deserves further
attention. Finally, as with the rapid rise of Coba, its (apparent) rapid
decline also begs explanation. The Late Postclassic evidence from Coba
suggests a small reoccupation with considerable ritual activity, in keeping
with patterns at other northern lowland sites, and thus where did the
nearly 100,000 Classic occupants go when the Palmas phase occupation
ended? We cannot lay the blame on environmental degradation at Coba,
as lake cores and the paleoecological record indicate that the Late Classic
droughts barely affected Coba (Leyden, Brenner, and Dahlin 1998), but
the Yalahau region north of Coba may provide some clues. Research by
Glover (2006; see also Glover and Stanton 2010) indicates substantial
occupations in this area during the Terminal Preclassic and early por-
tion of the Early Classic as well as later in the Late Postclassic. During
the period in which Coba experienced an urban explosion, however, the
Yalahau region suffered a substantial decline. The implication here is
that the urban phenomenon at Coba, much like other urban centers in
the northern lowlands like Chichen Itza (Stanton et al. 2020b), pulled
in populations from the hinterlands, to which people returned after the

decline of the city. Only further research into microscalar chronology,
such as the Late Classic to Terminal Classic period transition, will help
resolve these questions.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
We thank the Consejo de Arqueología of the Instituto Nacional de An-
tropología e Historia for granting the permits to conduct this research;
all data are cultural patrimony of Mexico. This research was generously
supported by the National Science Foundation (#1623603), Fundación
Roberto Hernández, and Selz Foundation. We also appreciate the sup-
port and guidance of María José Con Uribe, José Manuel Ochoa Ro-
dríguez, Manuel Pérez Ruiz, Adriana Velázquez, and Fernando Robles
Castellanos in our efforts to work at Coba. Elizabeth Beckner and Pat-
rick Rohrer performed mapping research in the field that we use in this
study. Finally, we thank the communities of Coba, Nuevo Xcan, San Juan,
and San Pedro for allowing us to conduct research in their ejidos and for
imparting their knowledge of the local landscape.
NOTE
1. One additional platform mapped by Garduño Argueta has been totally
obliterated in the last forty years, while two have been heavily disturbed, mak-
ing them difficult to detect on lidar. Additionally, in eight cases, it is not clear
whether lines on Garduño’s maps represent albarrada walls or platform edges.
In each case, the residential structures mapped by Garduño were visible in the
lidar, so these are considered to be in agreement.
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4

People, Pixels, and Points per Square Meter

Travis W. Stanton, Scott R. Hutson, and Traci Ardren

The application of lidar technology to the archaeology of tropical forest

density urban zone contrasts substantially with the sparsely populated

THE STUDY AREA AND METHODS

Figure 4.1 Map of northern Yucatan.

their digitizing efforts in an attempt to standardize the analysis, and then

braces were normally considered groups. Linear features (e.g., albarrada

Another aspect of our continuing work worth mentioning here, but

complex. Dated by Robles to 550/600–­700/730 CE, the Palmas complex

Figure 4.3 Hillshade image of Coba show-

dence of linear features, such as albarradas, indicating that these features

millennia of previous occupations. Even when the spatial arrangement of

Figure 4.4 Open positive/DEM (digital elevation module) image of the

Figure 4.5 Open positive/DEM image of Oxkindzonot overlaid with the

person, as well as defining the data to be quantified. Number of structures

ground validation or where previous mapping efforts have documented

demographic calculations by size thresholds. Removing small kitchens

by deriving correction factors from ground truthing. For example, Ringle

A critical step in counting both structures and groups is to get a sense

The total number of structures currently digitized in and around Coba

Table 4.1 Area calculations for Coba structures

Table 4.2 Conversion of different methodologies to population for

trained archaeologists on the ground. Invisible structures also include

than at Chunchucmil, Coba’s soils and sediments are somewhat deeper,

the structures in monumental groups are probably residential. The small-

The second method for calculating population is to use area of roofed

yield a population estimate of between 54,179 and 77,699. Including

The final approach to estimating population is by counting groups as op-

The procedure for creating a population estimate based on the 6,193

in populations from the hinterlands, to which people returned after the

Esparza Olguín, Octavio Q. 2016. “Estudio de los monumentos esculpidos de

Guenter, Stanley P. 2014. “The Queen of Cobá: A Reanalysis of the Macanxoc

2 vols. Memoirs 23. Ann Arbor: Museum of Anthropology, University of

of the Maya, edited by T. Garrison, J. B. Glover, and B. Woodfill. Oxford:

Politics: A Reconsideration of the Role of Yaxuná in Regional Maya Politics

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complex. Dated by Robles to 550/600–700/730 CE, the Palmas complex