Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica: Subsistence Activities in Ethnoarchaeological Perspective 1789699118, 9781789699111, 9781789699128

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Archaeopress Pre-Columbian Archaeology 15

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica Subsistence Activities in Ethnoarchaeological Perspective Eduardo Williams

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica Subsistence Activities in Ethnoarchaeological Perspective

Eduardo Williams

Archaeopress Pre-Columbian Archaeology 15

Archaeopress Publishing Ltd Summertown Pavilion 18-24 Middle Way Summertown Oxford OX2 7LG www.archaeopress.com

ISBN 978-1-78969-911-1 ISBN 978-1-78969-912-8 (e-Pdf) © Eduardo Williams and Archaeopress 2022

Cover: Top - Ceramic plate by Catherine Bony, Patamban, Michoacán, Mexico. Bottom - Tarascan fishermen at Lake Pátzcuaro, Michoacán, Mexico. Photo by Hugo Brehme, 1923 (courtesy of Teresa Rojas Rabiela).

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright owners. This book is available direct from Archaeopress or from our website www.archaeopress.com

In memory of Jeffrey R. Parsons: scholar, colleague, and friend. There are many traditional activities hovering on the edge of extinction that deserve… recording in Mexico and throughout the world. Few scholars appear to be much interested in studying the material and organizational aspects of these vanishing lifeways, and archaeologists may be virtually alone in making such efforts as do exist. In one sense this… is a plea to others to undertake comparable studies elsewhere while there is still a little time left to do so. Jeffrey R. Parsons (2001:xiv).

Contents Preface������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ iii Acknowledgments������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������ iv Chapter I Introduction�����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������1 The Mesoamerican Aquatic Lifeway������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������1 Ethnoarchaeology�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������3 Ethnohistory����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������5 Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������6 Archaeological Implications�����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������11 Content and Structure of this Book�����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������17 Chapter II The Aquatic Lifeway in Michoacán: Natural Resources and Subsistence Activities�����������������������������������������19 Ethnohistorical Information on Aquatic Subsistence in Michoacán����������������������������������������������������������������������������19 Ethnographic Analysis and Archaeological Interpretation�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������32 The Natural Environment of the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������32 Ethnographic Information on Subsistence Activities in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin���������������������������������������������������37 Fishing������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������37 Hunting����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������41 Manufacture��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������46 Subsistence Activities in Aquatic Contexts: Archaeological Markers��������������������������������������������������������������������������55 Fishing������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������55 Hunting����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������58 Gathering�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������60 Manufacture��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������63 Final remarks�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������69 Chapter III Salt Production in Mesoamerica: Tool Assemblages and Cultural Landscapes ������������������������������������������������70 Nutrition��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������71 Food Preservation�����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������72 Salt Production in Mesoamerica����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������73 Michoacán������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������73 The Lake Cuitzeo Basin��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������73 The Coast of Michoacán and Colima����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������81 The Coast of Guerrero��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������107 The Basin of Mexico�����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������114 Puebla�����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������125 The Salt-Making Tool Assemblage�����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������129 The Salt-Making Landscape����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������139 Final Remarks����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������142 Chapter IV Aquatic Subsistence in Central Mexico�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������143 The Basin of Mexico�����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������143 Natural Resources and pre-Hispanic subsistence strategies���������������������������������������������������������������������������������143 Ethnographic Research������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������154 Pre-Hispanic Aquatic Agriculture in the Basin of Mexico�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������164 The Alto Lerma Basin���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������179 Environment and Natural Resources������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������179 Subsistence Activities��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������186 Fishing����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������186 Hunting��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������190

i

Gathering�����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������194 Manufacture������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������196 Archaeological Markers�����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������198 Final Remarks ���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������199 Chapter V Aquatic Subsistence in the Maya Area�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 203 The Maya Highlands�����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������203 The Maya Lowlands������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������205 Pre-Hispanic Cities and Agriculture in the Maya Area�������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������221 Maya Cities of the Classic Period. ������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������221 Intensive Agriculture among the Ancient Maya�����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������235 Final Remarks����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������243 Chapter VI Discussion and Conclusions������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 245 Challenges for Future Research����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������254 References���������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������� 262

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Preface The term ‘aquatic adaptations’ refers to the subsistence strategies that ancient Mesoamericans implemented to survive and thrive in their environments. In this book, I discuss the natural settings, production sites, techniques, artifacts, cultural landscapes, traditional knowledge and other features linked to human subsistence in aquatic environments. Specifically, the present study is based on analyses of the following activities: fishing, hunting, gathering, and manufacture, including salt-making and intensive agriculture. In addition, I examine the main aspects of my own research on the Mesoamerican aquatic lifeway from a perspective based on ethnoarchaeology and ethnohistory. To borrow a phrase from Jared Diamond (2012:24), this is ‘a small book about a big subject’. The story behind the research that led to my writing this book began in 1996, when I embarked on a long-term study of salt production in aquatic environments in two areas of Michoacán: the Lake Cuitzeo Basin and the lagoons on the coast of Michoacán and Colima. One thing led to another, and after a number of years I shifted my focus from salt-making to the aquatic lifeway in Michoacán, again at Lake Cuitzeo, and later adding the case of Lake Pátzcuaro for comparative purposes. The books La sal de la tierra (Williams 2003, 2015, 2018) and La gente del agua (Williams 2014a, out of print) provide bases for the present volume, as do other books and numerous articles that I have written over the years (see the Bibliography). Below I mention all the people and institutions that have supported my work over the years and ultimately made the present book possible. I also mention the colleagues who helped me by providing information and advice, sharing illustrations, and in many other ways. First and foremost, I would like to thank the salt-makers, fishers, basket-makers and various other artisans who contributed to my research in the field. The library and laboratory research necessary for writing this book and many of the books and articles mentioned above was conducted at Tulane University, first during a sabbatical year (1998-1999) that I spent as a Visiting Scholar at the Middle-American Research Institute. This stay at Tulane was made possible by a grant from Conacyt and a Fulbright Exchange Program Fellowship. The main result of my sabbatical in Tulane was the book La sal de la tierra, which was awarded the Alfonso Caso Prize (by the National Council for Culture and the Arts, and the National Institute of Anthropology and History, in 2005). My time in New Orleans was a memorable experience thanks to the southern hospitality of my friends Dan and Nancy Healan, Ruth and George Bilbe, and others. In 2000, I received financial support from the Universidad de Colima to carry out fieldwork in the salt-making areas of the coast of Michoacán and Colima. This was made possible by the late Dr. Beatriz Braniff, Director of the Center for Anthropological Research of Colima University. In 2003, I conducted fieldwork in the salt-making areas near Araró and Simirao in the Lake Cuitzeo Basin. This was made possible by a grant from the Foundation for the Advancement of Mesoamerican Studies, Inc. (FAMSI). In 2007, I returned to the field, this time to work with the fishers, artisans and other informants in several towns within the Lake Cuitzeo and Pátzcuaro basins. This was possible thanks to the financial support I received from the Center for Research on Ecosystems (UNAM, Morelia campus). Thanks are due to Dr. Patricia Ávila for making the funds available. In 2011, I found myself back in Tulane, where I spent another sabbatical year, this time as a Visiting Scholar in the Department of Anthropology, again supported by Conacyt. Results of this stay at Tulane were the books La gente del agua (Williams 2014a) and Water Folk (Williams 2014b), as well as the article ‘Reconstructing an Ancient Aquatic Lifeway in the Lake Cuitzeo Basin, Michoacán, Mexico’ (Williams 2014c).

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Acknowledgments The following colleagues provided useful comments and advice during the time I spent writing the present book (February-October 2020): Dean Arnold, Edwin Barnhart, Alexandra Biar, Kristi Butterwick, Blas Castellón, Susan T. Evans, Jeff Parsons, Helen Pollard, Heather Richards-Rissetto, Teresa Rojas Rabiela, Alfred Siemens, Yoko Sugiura, David Wright, and Andrea Yankowsky. Last but not least, I thank my colleagues at the Centro de Estudios Arqueológicos, especially Magdalena García Sánchez, Rodrigo Esparza and Blanca Maldonado. Also thanks to my son Teddy, who took most of the photos at lakes Pátzcuaro and Cuitzeo included in Chapter II. He also made adaptations to most of the maps and drawings.

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Chapter I

Introduction As we will see in this book, the term ‘aquatic adaptations’ refers to the subsistence strategies that ancient Mesoamericans implemented to survive in their environments. Here I discuss the natural settings, production sites, techniques, artifacts, cultural landscapes, and other features linked to human subsistence in aquatic environments; in particular, the following activities: fishing, hunting, gathering, and manufacture, including salt-making and intensive agriculture. In these pages I examine the main aspects of research in this field, focused primarily on the Mesoamerican aquatic lifeway, from a study perspective based on ethnoarchaeology and ethnohistory.

The Mesoamerican Aquatic Lifeway Mesoamerica was the only civilization in history that was bereft of any kind of domesticated livestock; despite this condition, however, Mesoamerican foodways were among the most complete in ancient times. Most large, potentially-domesticable animal species in the New World became extinct some 12,000-17,000 years ago, right around the time that humans began to appear on the continent (indeed, it has been suggested that early humans contributed to the extinction of Pleistocene fauna) (Diamond 1999). The domestication of cattle, horses, pigs, sheep, or other animals in the Neolithic (ca. 7000-2000 BC) in the Old World allowed human populations to considerably broaden the range of exploitation of their environment, since the anatomical adaptation of ungulates (primarily ruminants such as cattle, sheep, goats, and camels, among others) to a diet high in cellulose and low in proteins gave humans an indirect way of exploiting cellulose-rich plants, especially grasses and the boughs and leaves of bushes (Harris 1977:220). This complex centered on domesticated animals (that in addition to meat provided hides, wool, milk, and energy for field labors) never emerged in pre-Hispanic Mesoamerica. While this fact certainly had far-reaching implications for technology and culture, its primary impact was on the diet of ancient Mesoamericans. According to Jeffrey Parsons, the lack of domesticated herbivores obliged those peoples to look for alternative foodways. And this meant exploiting non-agricultural resources, such as the aquatic animal and plant species that complemented basic agricultural products thanks to their high protein and nutrient content (Parsons 2010, 2011).

On the topic of human adaptation to the environment, Mark Sutton and E.N. Anderson (2004) hold that ‘beginning some time in the distant past, culture1 began to influence human development, changing the relationship of humans to their environment from one of strict biology to a mixture of biology and culture. Over the millennia, culture has become more complex and influential in human affairs, and the role of biology has diminished’ (p. 85). Although Sutton and Anderson recognize that ‘humans still require a certain level of nutrition, have physical limits to their physiological adaptations, and are still subject to the rules of biological evolution… [today] biology plays only a minor role in human adaptation, and now most of the problems posed by the environment have to be solved through the mechanism of culture’ (p. 85). Sutton and Anderson further state that ‘much of the ecological work relating to humans has centered on diet and subsistence… on human biological ecology. Subsistence is not simply a list of foods but a complex system that includes resources, technology, social and political organization, settlement patterns, and all of the other aspects of making a living. Subsistence is one of the vast complexities of human behavior largely related to culture’ (p. 85).

Parsons (2006) developed an analytical perspective to illustrate the dependence of Mesoamerican peoples on a wide range of natural resources of aquatic origin (apart from agriculture) for their daily sustenance. He holds that non-agricultural resources from many lakes in Mesoamerica, particularly salt and edible insects (and perhaps algae as well), were so energetically- and economically-important as to attract large numbers of people to engage full-time in their extraction, processing, and distribution. Such an attraction would necessarily have been significant in sociopolitical terms. In Parsons’ opinion, the beds and swampy shores of lakes should be considered in much the same way as agricultural land when we attempt to evaluate preHispanic productive potentials and carrying capacities (Parsons 1996:442).

In the following pages I will describe the various strategies that underlaid the distinct cultural adaptations to aquatic environments that existed in ancient Mesoamerica, beginning with the aquatic lifeway. The concept of culture as understood by anthropologists has been difficult to reconcile with an archaeological perspective. In this book, I follow Patty J. Watson’s definition of culture (based on the writings of Robert Redfield), as ‘an organized body of conventional understandings manifest in art and artifacts which, persisting through tradition, characterizes a human group’ (Watson 1995:683).

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Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica Teresa Rojas Rabiela provides another important point of view for this discussion, since she believes that few regions in the Americas had non-agricultural food resources as abundant as those of the Basin of Mexico, where fishing, bird-hunting, salt production, and the capture of turtles, frogs, salamanders, small crustaceans, mollusks, and diverse insects and their larvae, as well as algae and other aquatic plants, all contributed to enriching the diet and subsistence of inhabitants from very early times. Each one of these activities has its own character and history, which can be reconstructed in part thanks to archaeological, historical, and zoological studies. Of course, the knowledge and remembrances of present-day inhabitants are another invaluable source of information on local flora and fauna (Rojas Rabiela 1998; Williams 2014a).

of subsistence, were not greatly-modified by Spanish influence after the Conquest. In fact, most of the techniques, tools, and artifacts survived into the early decades of the 20th century (García Sánchez 2004). On the basis of historical and ethnographic sources, an aquatic lifeway can be characterized by three basic subsistence activities: (a) fishing, including not only fish but also many other edible aquatic species, such as insects; (b) hunting, which includes semi-aquatic species such as birds and reptiles, among others, as well as land animals that dwell in the lakeside area and the nearby forests and hills; and (c) gathering, which involved aquatic species (both edible ones and others used for manufacture, such as reeds) and land species, thus encompassing a broad variety of wild resources (animal, vegetable, and mineral) (García Sánchez 2004). To these three activities we must add the manufacture of all kinds of artifacts and elements that are indispensable for the adaptation and reproduction of human social groups.

These abundant aquatic species represented a great natural wealth that had consequences for the sociopolitical organization of such Mesoamerican states as the Aztecs and Tarascans, who lived in ecological settings characterized by numerous large lakes, rivers, streams, springs, marshes, and other bodies of water.2 Because they had no domesticated cattle, Mesoamericans developed subsistence strategies which produced an aquatic lifeway that was unique in the ancient world (Diamond 1999; Weigand 2000). According to Sugiura et al. (1998), this ‘aquatic mode of subsistence’ may be defined as a system that articulates all activities linked to processes established between human groups and their means of production. Thus, it is a specific response and interrelationship between people and their bio-physical surroundings that develops to ensure their survival and reproduction as a group. The aquatic mode of subsistence is part of a broader system that consists of an ecotonal lakeside zone where two structurally-distinct ecosystems –one aquatic, the other terrestrial– interact to produce an abundance of natural species.

There is a great similarity worldwide in the nature of the tools, implements, and procedures used to obtain and process aquatic resources. In order to carry out these activities, a whole range of artifacts exists for cutting, scraping, perforating, grinding, gouging, boiling, and storing. These implements would have to be manufactured or procured, and then maintained or curated, repaired, and replaced when broken or worn out. Likewise, other artifacts were needed to manufacture or repair such infrastructure elements as fishnets, traps, ropes, baskets, bags, boats, shelters, and vessels (Parsons 2006; Williams 2014a). Because of the dearth of protein derived from domesticated animals, the ancient Mesoamericans had to rely on a wide spectrum of wild foods, including fish, plants, and insects. The amount and variety of wild species was staggering, as we will see later in this book. This allowed the native populations to meet all the requirements for a complete, healthy diet. Mesoamerican peoples also developed complex and sophisticated systems of agriculture based on such major crops as maize, beans, chili peppers, pumpkins, and innumerable highland and tropical grains, fruits, and vegetables that, together with many wild species of flora and fauna, made up one of the most nutritious and complete diets in the world (Weigand 2000).

The exploitation of this lakeside zone did not require complex technology; rather, it was based on the appropriate management of empirical knowledge related to exploitable resources, and on a set of basic tools or artifacts. The inhabitants of lakeside areas were not limited to exploiting the aquatic environment, for they widened their sphere of action to include the surrounding alluvial soils, indispensable for agriculture, and the forests beyond them (Sugiura et al. 1998).

However, as a consequence of the lack of animal protein, the Mesoamerican diet had a salt deficit. Because common salt (sodium chloride) is an essential mineral for human existence, it became a strategic resource, and salt-making techniques were highly-evolved and sophisticated throughout Mesoamerica (Andrews 1983; McKillop 2019; Parsons 2001; Williams 2015). Salt is not preserved in the archaeological record, so we have to look for indirect evidence of salt production, as we will see in Chapter III.

In some areas of Mesoamerica, such as the Basin of Mexico and parts of Michoacán, several elements of indigenous life, particularly those related to the sphere of material culture associated with an aquatic mode According to Chacón et al. (2006:142), Michoacán has one of the greatest concentrations of water sources in Mexico, including 11 natural lakes, 260 reservoirs, 44 rivers, 1,200 springs, 21 underground aquifers, and 6,335 extraction wells and chain-pump wells.

2 

2

Introduction

Another key aspect of the aquatic adaptations in Mesoamerica discussed in this book is intensive agriculture in aquatic environments, like the chinampas of the Basin of Mexico and the raised fields, canals, and terraces of the Maya area and other parts of Mesoamerica.

themselves can only tell us things that, despite their evident significance, cannot respond to the demands of a well-rounded ethnographic description. Therefore, the ethnoarchaeological perspective is indispensable for gaining a dynamic and processual view of the past since it allows us to make observations on current social actions (ethnographic context) and their material consequences (archaeological context).

Ethnoarchaeology For purposes of this study, we use the definition of the term ethnoarchaeology proposed by William Longacre; that is, the study by archaeologists of the variability in material culture and its relationship with behavior and organization among present-day societies, to be used in archaeological interpretation (Longacre 1991). Longacre stresses the condition that such research must be carried out by archaeologists, since most sociocultural anthropologists and ethnographers usually do not record the systematic and quantitative data that is indispensable for archaeological interpretation, nor do they have the archaeologist’s training or sensibility toward variability in material culture (Longacre 1991).

A whole series of questions related to the archaeological record can only be resolved through processual research that goes beyond the archaeological record; for instance, how a context was formed by behavior within a cultural system; how a cultural system produced material (i.e. archaeological) remains; and, finally, the kinds of cultural variables that determine the structure –as opposed to the form and content– of the archaeological record (Schiffer 1995). Ethnographic analogy cannot inform us as to prehistoric behavioral patterns in the absence of some modern counterpart. Since archaeologists’ knowledge of present-day cultural systems is usually incomplete, broadening their ethnographic data base will allow them to formulate alternative models of behavior that would be difficult to conceive simply through logic or intuition (or imagination). Ethnographic models help us suggest hypotheses that can be tested, and are relatively free of ethnocentric bias. Thus, a comparative approach toward ethnoarchaeology should both complement, and go beyond, simple analogy (Gould 1978).

Several general principles, however, must be followed to ensure that the ethnographic analogies developed will be useful in archaeological reasoning; a topic that has been discussed by Nicholas David and Carol Kramer (2001). The subject and source cultures, for example, should be similar regarding variables likely to have affected or influenced the materials, behaviors, states, or processes being compared. If the source culture is the historic descendant of the subject culture, there is a greater intrinsic likelihood that similarities between the two will exist. However, cultural descent itself must be regarded as a problematic concept. The range of potential source models for comparison with the subject data should be expanded to include ethnography, ethnohistory, oral history, and archaeology in order to obtain as representative a range as is practically possible. However, owing to the inevitable elements of inductive reasoning and subjectivity involved in testing, deductive certainty can never be fully achieved (David and Kramer 2001:47-48).

According to Binford (1981), the challenges that archaeologists face consist in relating archaeological remains to our ideas about the past, using the empirical world of archaeological phenomena to generate ideas concerning the past and, simultaneously, applying these empirical experiences to evaluate the ideas that emerge. Archaeological theory deals with the field of past events and conditions, and strives to explain why certain events and systems were generated in antiquity. Its area of interest deals with cultural systems, their variations and the way in which they might have passed from one state (ethnographic or systemic) to another (archaeological). However, it is important to bear in mind that our entire knowledge of the dynamic aspect of the past must be inferred by linking ancient events to current phenomena through anthropological research carried out beyond the strictures of the archaeological record, so as to obtain elements for analysis and comparison primarily through ethnographic analogy. Binford underlines this dynamic relationship between the (ethnographic) present and the (archaeological) past with the following words: ‘The archaeological record is a contemporary phenomenon and observations we make about it are not “historical” statements’ (p. 23). We need sites that preserve for us the things from the past, but we also need theoretical tools to

Archaeological research usually focuses on material culture; that is, the remains of sites and objects from the past (houses and other buildings, activity areas, artifacts, food remains, funerary contexts, and so on) that have survived into the present, though their makers have disappeared, usually without leaving a historical record of their customs, the challenges they faced, or the strategies they devised to resolve them (Williams 2005). However, material culture in archaeological contexts is, by definition, static, and usually lacks the information required for an interpretation from a dynamic perspective, as Lewis Binford (1983) has pointed out. Archaeological facts by 3

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica give meaning to these things when they are found. This requires a kind of research that cannot be conducted with the archaeological record itself. Therefore, if we intend to investigate the relationship between statics and dynamics, ‘we must be able to observe both aspects simultaneously; and the only place we can observe dynamics is in the modern world, in the here and now’ (p. 23).

for archaeological interpretation. This is of the utmost importance, for archaeology is the only social science where one cannot directly observe the object of study; that is, cultural behavior in the distant past. Arriving at a plausible interpretation of the archaeological record requires bearing in mind the various terms found in the archaeological literature, such as ‘bridging arguments’ (Wylie 2002); ‘middlerange theory’ (Binford 1983); ‘mediating theories’ (Bate 1998); and ‘formation theory’ (Shott 1998), for they refer to approaches through which ethnographic fieldwork helps the archaeologist relate a cluster of activities and cultural behaviors (in this case, the aquatic lifeway) with a particular assemblage and other diagnostic features of material culture and cultural landscapes that can aid in the interpretation of the archaeological record through analogy. The critical role of the ethnoarchaeological approach is further underscored by Grahame Clark’s (1939) dictum: ‘Material culture has meaning only in relation to society’.

Binford (1981) was seeking a precise medium for identification, as well as effective instruments for measuring the properties of past cultural systems; in other words, ‘Rosetta stones’ that would make it possible to translate observations of the static context into statements that incorporate dynamics. To achieve this, he proposed pursuing a new paradigm: constructing a ‘middle-range theory’. Middle-range theory is what links an observation to a paradigm, ontology or philosophy. It is a theory of substantive phenomena, of human behavior in its cultural and social context. But it is just one link in a long chain of inferences that run from general theory to observation, and must always be susceptible to verification (Shott 1998).

One final word about the role of ethnoarchaeology as a tool for understanding the human past has to do with the nature of scientific research and the philosophical implications of theory-building in scientific endeavors, including archaeology. Some 50 years ago Imre Lakatos (2016) wrote that ‘science consists of long periods of “normal science”, paradigm-based research, where the task is to force nature to fit the paradigm. When nature refuses to comply, this is not seen as a refutation, but rather as an anomaly. It casts doubt, not on the ruling paradigm, but on the ingenuity of the scientists… It is only in extraordinary periods of “revolutionary science” that… refutations occur’.

For Michael Schiffer (1988), the irreducible core of archaeology is the effort to determine and explain the relationships between human behavior and material culture at every moment and in all places. The principles behind material culture in a dynamic context are known as ‘correlates’ and they are discovered through ethnoarchaeology or comparative ethnography (p. 469). Michael Shott (1998) points out that archaeologists are not concerned with reconstructing the past, since the past no longer exists but, rather, with inferring its nature from the material record they observe in the present. Archaeologists have access to assemblages and contexts that were created by formation processes; therefore, the dominant theory in this realm should be called ‘formation theory’ (pp. 310-311).

Lakatos proposed a middle road between these extremes –‘normal science’ and ‘revolutionary science’– in which ‘the basic unit of appraisal is not the isolated testable theory, but rather the “research program” within which a series of testable theories is generated…A program progresses theoretically if the new theory solves the anomaly faced… by the old and is independently testable, making new predictions’. In Lakatos’ view, ‘a program progresses empirically if at least one of these new predictions is confirmed’. Conversely, ‘a program degenerates if its successive theories are not  theoretically  progressive (because it predicts no novel facts), or not empirically progressive (because novel predictions get refuted)’. Lakatos claimed that the history of science typically consists of  ‘competing  research programs’. The conclusion reached contemplates ‘a scientific revolution [that] occurs when a degenerating program is superseded by a progressive one’. In essence, Lakatos thought that a hypothesis would eventually be substituted by another hypothesis, which would in turn be subject to refutation through ongoing scientific research.

In one attempt to refer to the phenomena of formation and transformations in relation to the presentation of archaeological contexts and materials and the theory of information production in archaeology, Luis Felipe Bate (1998) proposed the term teorías mediadoras, or ‘mediating theories’. These theories pertain to the links between the substantive subject of the research and its manifestation in archaeological data (p. 106). Mediating theories constitute a necessary medium for organizing, and then validating, the procedures through which we infer the history of concrete societies. The facts or empirical data at the archaeologist’s disposal for observation are always contemporaneous to the observer, ‘otherwise it would not be possible to establish a relationship of knowledge’ (pp. 106-107). One goal of the present study of aquatic adaptations in Mesoamerica is to provide ethnographic models 4

Introduction

In the case of archaeology, Bruce Trigger (2006) has stated the following thoughts, echoing in part Lakatos’ ideas: ‘It is a fundamental tenet of science that nothing is significant by itself but only in relation to hypotheses; hence only theories can explain phenomena… Scientists must search for order, most often in the form of systemic properties, that facilitate the construction of explanations’ (p. 27). The goal pursued by many scientists ‘is to discover mechanisms that account for how things work and have come to be as they find them… A scientific viewpoint treats the idea of absolute, unchanging truth as a dangerous and absurd illusion… scientists… acknowledge that they are unable to transcend the limitations of their data and what they are capable of perceiving at any particular point in time’ (p. 27). Therefore, investigators should ‘expect that in due course every scientific theory will be altered and probably become outmoded’ (p. 27).

Both historians and anthropologists have long used oral history to obtain information that is crucial for understanding many aspects of daily life, particularly those which have subsisted over long periods of time (García Sánchez 2005). Ethnohistory is a branch of anthropology that studies non-European cultures (particularly indigenous ones) from any period (especially the pre-Hispanic period and the 16th century) using written sources, though it also permits the use of such auxiliary sources of information as oral tradition, archaeological data, and linguistic evidence, with the aim of presenting a complete history that takes into account the cultural and social systems of the peoples under study (Wright 1994:380). Phil Weigand’s (1994) view of the role of ethnohistory in anthropological research, particularly in Western Mexico, is pertinent to the present study. According to Weigand, the word ‘ethnohistory’ is usually defined in a simple way as the writing of a comprehensive history dealing with an ethnos, such as the Huichol or Purépecha. This history usually strives to include a combination of historical sources, oral histories, historical mythologies, and anthropological data. This history is frequently written from within the ethnic group we are dealing with, from their perspective, or at least including their point of view. One of the main goals of this approach consists in giving a ‘people without history’ (following Eric Wolf 1982) a history that is more in keeping with their own perception of time and reality.

Binford (1983) made another salient point concerning inference in archaeology when he argued that ‘each new study… results in the generation of more facts… but they are all statements about the archaeological record alone. In the absence of robust methods for inference, all that can be accomplished is the gathering of more and more facts, whose significance in terms of past behavior is unknown’ (p. 76). Only on rare occasions have archaeologists established methods for justifying the inferences advanced during their research. One such method would be middle-range research, often based on ethnographic observations. Binford thought that ‘studies of the archaeological record provide the stimulus for research in the modern world which, in turn… can render our archaeological observations into accurate statements about the past’ (p. 76). In conclusion, he wrote that ‘in order to make inferences archaeology needs to develop middle-range theory… divorced from the theories about past behavior which we seek to evaluate. Archaeology, in general, has failed to realize that in order to refute or support theories it requires a strong body of inferential techniques, warranted independently of its theories about past dynamics’ (p. 213).

Using the techniques of ethnology –in the earliest sense of the word– as well as archaeology and history (both documentary and oral), a cultural and social history of an area is defined and outlined for the first time, and later explored in detail. In this way, the approach becomes regional and often acquires a multi-ethnic character by analyzing inter-ethnic and multicultural dynamics through time in the context of extant political and economic structures. Ethnohistorical research requires a multidisciplinary approach in which several disciplines come together to offer a more holistic view of a society, a landscape, or human nature (Weigand 1994).

The present study attempts to generate new data and interpretations through ethnographic analogy and ethnohistorical information, with the ultimate purpose of understanding aquatic adaptations in ancient Mesoamerica.

The indispensable role of ethnohistory in Mesoamerican studies has been further underscored by Kenneth Hirth (2016), who used an ethnohistorical approach to examine the structure of the Aztec economic world based primarily on early colonial written sources. A small amount of archaeological information was also used, but only as supplemental data. Hirth’s goal was to focus on 16th-century sources to construct a plausible model of Aztec economic structure. In essence, he set out to exploit the historic sources ‘with the goal of

Ethnohistory In addition to ethnoarchaeology, ethnohistory offers an important perspective for the present study. Here, ethnohistory is understood to include oral history, since we conducted interviews with many local informants during fieldwork (Williams 2014a, 2014b, 2014c, 2020a). 5

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica developing as complete and comprehensive model of pre-Hispanic economic behavior as realistically as possible… The focus on historic sources has made it possible to produce… an archaeologically informed model of Nahua [i.e. Aztec] economy that can be directly evaluated in future research using the direct historical approach’ (p. xiv).

passage of time. First, during the Paleoindian period (ca. 12000-8000 BC), small bands lived by exploiting the natural wild resources that the landscape offered (see discussion in Williams 2020b: Chapter III). The ecological conditions faced by the early settlers of the New World were starkly different from those of today. Colin Renfrew and Paul Bahn (2000) tell us how during the Pleistocene ‘as world temperatures fell, ice sheets –or glaciers– expanded, mantling large parts of the Earth’s surface and lowering world sea levels’ (p. 125). The end of the Ice Age resulted in widespread extinctions of big-game species in the New World. Renfrew and Bahn tell us that ‘there are two main sides of the big-game extinction debate. One group of scholars… believes that the arrival of people in the New World and Australia, followed by overexploitation of prey, caused the extinctions. New data from Australia have provided some support for this view’ (p. 252). There is, however, another view, in which ‘climatic change is the primary cause… All big-game species weighing over 1000 kg as adults (the mega-herbivores) disappeared from the New World, Europe, and Australia, as did about 75 percent of the herbivore genera weighing 100-1000 kg, but only 41 percent of species weighing 5-100 kg, and under 2 percent of the smaller creatures’ (p. 253).

Another example of ethnohistorical research in Mesoamerica comes from Frances Berdan (2014), who presents a vivid portrait of the landscapes and lifeways that existed before the Spanish Conquest. Berdan holds that thanks to written sources and archaeological fieldwork we know that there were many natural environments in the Aztec realm of central Mexico, including swamps, lakes, forests, and high mountains that ‘provided varied natural resources and offered different potentials for human use. Natural resources were highly localized. The lakes and swampy marshlands yielded abundant plants and animals… including reeds, tuberous plants, algae, insects and insect eggs, frogs, salamanders, turtles, several species of fish and their eggs’ (p. 52). No less important were ‘small crustaceans, and vast numbers of waterfowl and their eggs’ that people used to take from the lakes and marshes (p. 52). If we add to this long list of aquatic resources the numerous farming techniques of the Aztecs, such as agricultural terraces, aqueducts (pp. 78-79) and lakeside planting fields called chinampas (pp. 79-81) – amply described by ethnohistorical sources and studied by archaeology– we will understand the considerable importance of these and other aquatic adaptations for the survival of the Aztecs and most other peoples of the Mesoamerican ecumene, as I explain below.

There is a ‘compromise theory’ which holds that ‘it was in the first place human overexploitation that led to the disappearance of the mega-herbivores, which in turn caused a change in vegetation that led to the extinction of some medium-sized herbivores… It is certain that the removal of mega-herbivores must have radically affected the Pleistocene environment’ (p. 253). The end of the Pleistocene period some 10,000 years ago brought about small changes in climate that triggered ‘changes in local topography and flora and fauna’ (Evans 2004: 71). After the extinction of big game, the subsistence strategies of the groups of hunters and gatherers who lived in Middle America had to change in order to adapt to the new conditions. Hence, new species became the primary targets: ‘Smaller game (deer, rabbits), fruits like cactus prickly-pears, and seeds from grasses and seed pods. Processing these foods required new kinds of tools, and ground stone milling tools were added to the [older] toolkit of flaked and fluted points, knives, and scrapers’ (p. 71).

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica We have seen in previous pages that the activities that allowed the pre-Hispanic people to adapt to the different Mesoamerican environments often took place within an aquatic lifeway that relied on fishing, hunting amphibians, reptiles and other aquatic animals, as well as wild game, gathering plants, insects, and other resources gathered from the countryside, and the manufacture of a vast assemblage of household items and tools. Intensive agriculture in aquatic environments was also extremely important for people’s survival in virtually all areas of the Mesoamerican ecumene, including the ones discussed in this book: Michoacán, the Basin of Mexico, the Alto Lerma River Basin, and the Maya area.

Lewis R. Binford wrote about post-Pleistocene adaptations in his book An Archaeological Perspective (1972). Binford holds that ‘the archaeological remains of the immediately post-Pleistocene period are… characterized over wide areas [of Europe] by the appearance of small, highly specialized flint implements; these occur frequently on later sites in the coastal and riverine regions in the context of the

If we analyze aquatic adaptations and their modifications over a long period of time in Mesoamerica, we see how human ingenuity allowed our ancestors to thrive in distinct ecological settings, and how adaptive strategies became more complex with the 6

Introduction

systematic exploitation of aquatic resources’ (p. 421). Binford goes on to mention several generalizations that are helpful in distinguishing the Paleolithic from the following period (Mesolithic). He describes major changes in numerous aspects of material culture and social organization worldwide: (1) A major shift in the centers of population growth; (2) a fundamental change in the form of stone tools, favoring smaller artifacts; (3) greater geographic variety in cultural remains, suggesting more specific and specialized responses to local environmental conditions; (4) a considerable increase in the exploitation of aquatic resources, such as fish and waterfowl; and (5) the greater abundance of small game in the archaeological record (p. 425).

same token, ‘you can obtain permission to visit your neighbor’s territory when you are the one in need, so the arrangement becomes an exchange based on reciprocity and mutual benefit’ (p. 45).

According to Binford (p. 427), Gordon Childe (1956 [1981]) was the first to provide a set of testable propositions as to the conditions under which foodproduction was achieved, while Robert Braidwood (1967) engaged in seeking the field data to test those propositions. The results of these new perspectives, though focused on the Old World, are also relevant for Mesoamerica and other cultural areas of antiquity, as discussed by Kent Flannery (1986).

Politis wrote that the Nukak form one of ‘several present-day groups in the Lowlands of South America who maintain… a hunter-gatherer way of life; however, this fact need not imply that they do not practice –or have not practiced– some type of small-scale horticulture’ (p. 325). Politis further states that ‘the multiple dimensionality of Nukak territory highlights the practical problems that archaeologists face when reconstructing the territory of past hunter-gatherers. Most approaches to the subject involve an explicit and implicit reductionism: territory is equated with band territory’, and the main way of defining and analyzing the territory ‘is understood to be through the study of the resource structure… knowing how and when resources are available and whether or not bands exploit them allows conjectures to be made about myriad cultural aspects, from mobility to post-marital residence’ (p. 329).

There are few ethnographic studies of contemporary hunters in Mesoamerica, so we do not have much comparative data on which to make analogies that would allow us to understand subsistence activities in the pre-Hispanic past. The ethnographic information collected by Politis (2007) among the Nukak of the Amazon rainforest (south-eastern Colombia), however, has a wealth of detail on which to elaborate an –at least tentative– interpretive model of hunting activities.

Susan Evans (2004) holds that in the Archaic period (ca. 8000-2000 BC) new grinding tools made of polished stone ‘represent a technological revolution for emerging Mesoamerican culture’ (p. 71). This period was characterized by a process of increasing sedentary life and growing sociocultural complexity that elsewhere in the world was known as the Neolithic revolution (Braidwood 1967; Childe 1956; Clark 1977). During the Archaic period in Middle America ‘foragers became increasingly adept at securing food from plants… The Archaic began with a foraged diet that was balanced but would have been exotic to our modern palates (antelope meat, seeds from mesquite pods), and ended with foods familiar to all of us’ (p. 72), like beans, squash, chili peppers, and many others that were cultivated by farmers living in villages.

Polity’s study of the Nukak ‘demonstrates the shortcomings of these assumptions; for the Nukak their territory is much more than resources… From the immediate surroundings of the camp, to distant places occupied by ancestors generations ago but that can be visited by the Nukak at any time, everything is considered to be in some way or other “their territory”’. From this perspective, Politis concludes that ‘the territoriality of the Nukak intersects the economic, the social, and the ideational’ (p. 329).

Before farming became the prevalent way of life, hunting and gathering peoples lived directly off the land, killing game, fishing where possible, and gathering wild foods such as plants and insects. We have no historical or ethnographic accounts of these wandering peoples, so in order to understand their customs and lifeway we have to look for analogical models in the modern world. Jared Diamond (2012) calls hunter-gatherer societies ‘non-exclusive societies’ because ‘recognized borders don’t exist, and land ownership just becomes increasingly vague as one moves increasing distances from one’s core area… neighboring groups receive permission to visit your territory… for… different purposes —especially to obtain food and water at certain seasons or in certain years’ (p. 45). By the

Following a purely Binfordian approach, Politis identified two categories according to the type of displacement hunters had to perform to find prey: ‘logistical mobility’ and ‘daily foraging expeditions’. In the first, there is only limited mobility; for example, most of the members of a band stay in their camp, while a small group –usually made up of adult men– travels considerable distances and establishes camps that are only occupied for a few nights (p. 170). On the other hand, in the daily foraging expeditions, trips are made within the area surrounding the residential camps in order to obtain food, raw materials, and information 7

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica on a wide variety of topics related to the group’s subsistence and social reproduction. These trips can be made by a single person, or by a maximum of eleven hunter-foragers. These foraging expeditions usually do not have a well-defined purpose in advance, for example hunting, collecting honey, fruits, etc., but several options are generally considered, according to the area where the hunters make camp, the season of the year, the type of goods they need at that time, and the social context. Politis tentatively proposes a radius of one kilometer to delimit the immediate area around the residential camp where such foraging expeditions are conducted, usually without any prior planning or organization (p. 174).

taken for food, as were eggs for most and occasionally young… In addition, at least 12 species of marsh/mud flat plants provided food resources… as did 30 lower valley plant species… and 21 from the uplands… thirtyone species is the minimum food count for mammals, along with 14 land birds and… their eggs’ (p. 18). Among the species exploited there were eight insects and four fishes identified with native names. These figures are only for those products linked directly to subsistence, and do not count sources of medicines, manufactures, and other products that were taken from the marsh areas. This marsh habitat was apparently not sufficiently abundant to allow people to ignore plants, mammals and other resources in the nearby valleys and uplands. However, among the unique aspects of the lower Carson ‘were the sheer numbers and variety of waterfowl and water plants, and the proximity… of late-fall ripening seeds… These… extended the normal season for seed harvesting well into December… The opportunity for resource exploitation was certainly there, even if we cannot assess if the full potential of the region was ever realized’ (p. 18).

According to Politis, both types of activity are practically invisible in terms of their material remains, as the only clear archaeological indicators of logistical travel ‘are the small temporary campsites occupied overnight. Almost nothing remains of them except for the campfire and a bit of food scraps. The other activities outside the camp, both daily foraging trips and logistical trips, also result in very little refuse material.’ These elements, when they appear, include ‘darts or fragments of darts in places where the hunts have taken place [and] …occasionally the broken tip of a spear that was damaged …some fallen trees, and very few other things’ (p. 185).

At Stillwater, there were extensive fisheries that stress the importance of fishing. This activity was a year-round pursuit ‘for men … while the women… were gathering summer seeds from temporary camps… or collecting pine nuts… the men continued to go back and forth from their camps to the river to fish’ (p. 18). According to the ethnographic accounts Fowler studied, ‘when people were camped in the Stillwater Range taking pine nuts, the men went back to the marshes periodically for fresh supplies of waterfowl’ (p. 20).

The jungle environment where Politis carried out this research certainly does not facilitate the observation of material remains from hunting and gathering, but the ethnographic data collected are still invaluable for understanding the dynamic and processual aspects of forming a systemic context related to hunting and gathering such biotic products as plants, small reptiles, edible insects, and so on.

In contrast to the above examples, the new agricultural lifeway that developed slowly and appeared in a recognizable form in the late Archaic period in Mesoamerica (ca. 2000 BC) required people to live permanently in a single locality to attend their crops. The first permanent settlements in the archaeological record consisted of small villages with few indications of economic or political stratification, but an incipient reliance on wild plants that eventually would be domesticated.

Further examples of hunter-gatherers and their subsistence patterns come to us from the Great Basin in the western United States. In order to understand the challenges faced by people living in aquatic environments, and to know their ways of coping with their ecological setting –including material culture– we can turn to ethnographic and ethnohistorical data. Catherine Fowler (1980) presents ethnographic data on subsistence and settlement systems pertaining to lakeand marsh-based Northern Paiute groups in the Great Basin (western Nevada), including the Pyramid Lake and Walker River cultures. The ethnographic sources she studied, dating from the late 19th and early 20th centuries, discuss the native lifeway around Carson Lake, Pyramid Lake, and other wetland areas in the Great Basin. Fowler focused her study on the native diet, as reported in her ethnographic accounts. Thanks to this information, we know that ‘on the lower Carson… at least 36 species of waterfowl and wading birds were

Zohapilco is an example of an Archaic-period hamlet, located on the shores of Lake Chalco, in the southern end of the Basin of Mexico. Christine Niederberger (1981) conducted archaeological excavations at Zohapilco, unearthing abundant ancient botanical and zoological remains, as well as evidence of human industries that constitute the first testimony of occupations in the area between the sixth and second millennia BC. Niederberger discusses several hypotheses concerning the processes and conditions under which sedentary 8

Introduction

life was established in this region, while also examining the possibility of a pre-agricultural, sedentary way of life at Zohapilco. In addition, she attempts to define some significant points in the progressive development and change in the relationships between humans and plants in the Basin of Mexico from the sixth millennium onward.

(Querquedula cyanoptera), pied-billed grebes (Podilymbus podiceps), and white grebes (Aechmophorus sp.) (p. 83). Niederberger’s archaeological research allowed her to present a hypothetical reconstruction of the ancient ecology at the Zohapilco site, which revealed that three exploitable biotopes coexisted in the Lake Chalco Basin: (a) the forest environment with its wild fruits and plentiful fauna; (b) the alluvial and riparian zone with fertile soils and high water table that favored the growth of wild grasses and other useful plants; and (c) the aquatic environment, rich in plant and animal resources. These biotic associations are remarkable for both the presence of abundant regular resources and the predictable distribution of periodic resources, especially between the rainy and dry seasons. All these unique characteristics made a sedentary way of life possible well before the development of a truly efficient agriculture (p. 84).

Lake Chalco was a body of water that once covered an area of some 110 km2, but was completely drained at the beginning of the 20th century. The riparian soils in this part of the basin have preserved numerous archaeological testimonies of pre-Hispanic life, and archaeological evidence for occupation during the early Holocene and Formative periods is particularly dense on the fossil lake beaches. The archaeological phase called Playa spans the period from 6000 to 5300 BC, so the Playa phase coincides with an exceptional flourishing of biota in the southern part of the Basin of Mexico with a wide variety of fauna and flora.

Niederberger (1976) conducted an intensive study of all archaeological assemblages derived from her excavations at Zohapilco, noting that ‘the study of the successive lithic industries found in an archaeological context is aimed at showing the relationships between a human group and its ecosystem, and the interactions between the technological achievements and the whole cultural system’ (p. 55). Niederberger’s excavations turned up ‘5,115 lithic artifacts, of which 81% were of flaked stone, 15% of polished stone, and 3% are mixed artifacts (showing both flaked and polished areas)’ (p. 57).

The lake shores were the natural habitat of fish-eating birds, and were densely-covered by many types of plants, including sedges (Cyperaceae), rushes (Juncus), cattails (Typha), and flowering species (Sparganiaceae). Floating or submerged aquatic plants were also part of the local botanical inventory (p. 82). In the lake basin, alluvial soils were rich in humus and characterized by a high water table, so they constituted a favorable environment for wild cereal clusters like amaranths, chenopodiums and the genus Zea. Niederberger mentions ‘the remarkable preservation… of abundant plant remains such as grains of teosinte (a close relative of maize, known as Zea mexicana)’ (p. 82).

After analyzing all the materials found at the site, Niederberger concluded that ‘the cultural assemblage defining the Playa 1 and 2 phases is dated at ca. 55003500 BC. It is characterized by remarkable equilibrium and stability. The site reached its maximum biotic development during this time, and was permanently occupied by communities that exploited the forest and aquatic resources, both perennial and seasonal’ (p. 278). The presence of grinding tools suggests the exploitation of several cereal species that were endemic on riparian and alluvial soils, including the genus Zea. Surprisingly, the existence of an early inter-regional network of contacts is shown by the direct acquisition or exchange of raw materials, such as obsidian.

Mammal remains recovered from the archaeological excavations at Zohapilco include white-tailed deer (Odocoileus virginianus), rabbit (Sylvilagus cunicularius), the genus Canis (dog or coyote), Mexican voles (Microtus mexicanus), small rodents (Heteromyidae), and cotton rats (Sigmodon sp.). Excavators also found numerous bone remains of fish, belonging to three groups (all freshwater): white fish and charales (Chirostoma), yellow fish (Girardinichthys), and cyprinids (minnows or carp). Among reptiles, the typical lake turtle of Chalco (Kinosternon sp.) is well-represented in archaeological contexts, as are over 3,000 small bone remains of the amphibian Ambystoma, called axolotl by the Aztecs, who savored its eel-flavored flesh. Playa sediments also contain numerous remains of indigenous lake birds, like the Mexican duck (Anas diazi), and many migratory bird species that arrive from the north in the winter, including Canada geese (Branta canadensis), numerous species of ducks, like shovelers (Spatula clypeata), redheads (Aythya americana), pintails (Anas acuta), and mallards (Anas platyrhynchos), as well as cinnamon teals

The Zohapilco archaeological phase (at the end of the Archaic period, ca. 2500-2000 BC) pertains to a period characterized by changing socioeconomic structures. There is a marked development of a subsistence economy geared toward the production of agricultural resources, as seen in the increase in the size and quantity of Zea pollen and the standardization of grinding tools. The density of the finds of these tools suggests a certain degree of nucleation in the settlement 9

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica pattern. Finally, evidence for the modeling and firing of pottery suggests that the roots of Formative culture began in the Zohapilco phase, while the following archaeological phase –Ayotla, ca. 1250-1000 BC– reveals a consolidation of a subsistence economy that relied entirely on agriculture, beginning ca. 1360 BC (p. 278).

of these animals inhabit the zone continuously, but their availability and use as food are seasonal. There are four distinct types of turtles in the study area, but the two species preferred by local hunters are locally known as ‘casquito’ (Kinosternon cruentatum) and ‘tortuga de río’ (Chrysemys grayi). During the laying season (March-April) the females of Kinosternon move onto well-drained land, and at this time the residents of La Palma (a village in the study area) burn the nesting sites to uncover the turtles with their eggs. Other turtle species are also hunted seasonally at different times of year.

Another example of cultural development in the Archaic period comes to us from Chantuto, an ancient settlement on the Pacific littoral in the southern state of Chiapas. Barbara Voorhies (1976) conducted archaeological research on a prehistoric society that flourished on the Chiapas coast during the third millennium BC. Her project was conducted from the perspective of prehistoric anthropology, and the main goal was ‘to reconstruct, insofar as possible, the sociocultural system of the prehistoric society’ (p. 1). Voorhies’ fieldwork had five major objectives: (1) to determine the comparability of the aceramic strata at the five sites located in the study area; (2) to ascertain the food preferences of the ancient inhabitants throughout the annual cycle, and whether they had a mixed economy (e.g. foraging and fishing); (3) to reconstruct the demographic structure of the prehistoric Chantuto population; (4) to assess the nature of population mobility in accordance with the exploited resources; and (5) to study the possible relationships between the Chantuto people and other cultures in different habitats; for example, through exchange systems with peoples in the nearby highlands.

Collecting iguanas is also a seasonal activity. The green iguana (Iguana iguana) usually inhabits trees or water where its capture is difficult. Its eggs are highly-valued by humans as food, so this animal is hunted during the laying season (February-May). In summary, the present-day inhabitants of the Chantuto area collect local reptiles more frequently during the months of February through April than at other times of the year. (2) Crustaceans. The seasonal cycles in the life history of shrimp have a profound influence on village life. Periodically, schools of shrimp enter the estuarinelagoon system, and the whole economy of the villagers is closely-tied to this event. This pattern may have its roots in the ancient past. (3) Birds. The avifauna of the study area is incredibly varied and abundant. These birds exhibit many types of seasonal cycles, some of which may be important to humans. Without doubt, the most striking periodic event is the seasonal presence of migratory waterfowl (Anseriformes). These birds can have a great impact on a human population because their seasonal presence can provide a large input of energy. The numbers of migratory waterfowl in the wintering grounds are remarkably large for approximately six months of the year, from September to March.

One particularly important aspect of Voorhies’ work was her study of the present-day environment. The study area is located within the geographical region known as Soconusco (from the Aztec toponym, Xoconochco), a flat, low-lying plain on the Pacific coast (near Chantuto). According to Voorhies, ‘the climax vegetation… is tropical rain forest which gives way to seasonal forests and savannahs toward the coast… Coastal swamps occur along the seaward margin of the Soconusco. These swamps… consist of mangrove vegetation associated with lagoons and tidal channels’ (p. 17). Voorhies focused her archaeological work on five prehistoric shell middens located on a broad strip of mangrove forest that runs parallel to the shoreline.

(4) Fish. Seasonal changes presumably occur within fish populations. Though still little-studied, they apparently involve annual shifts of range within the littoral zone. (5) Clams. In an attempt to understand the ecological and cultural aspects of one of the main sources of food-procuring activities among the Chantuto people, Voorhies conducted an ethnoarchaeological study of a clam-processing industry in Costa Rica that relies on traditional techniques and, therefore, may shed light on ancient clam-gathering and processing activities on the Chiapas littoral (Voorhies and Martínez-Tagüeña 2016).

That mangrove-estuarine community was subject to seasonal periodicities. ‘These cyclic events could have had major effects on the habits of the Chantuto people… There are many kinds of periodicities within the Chantuto ecosystem, but this discussion is restricted to seasonal periodicities that directly affect the food supply or the food-chain pattern and volume of biomass in the zone’ (p. 23). The cyclical patterns of local populations will be discussed by groups in the following paragraphs.

The goal of that research was to use observations of activities carried out by contemporary clam procurers and processors to better comprehend similar practices

(1) Reptiles. Turtles and iguanas are two kinds of reptiles collected for food by current inhabitants. Most 10

Introduction

in the ancient shell-mounds of coastal Chiapas. Voorhies (1976) reports that the cores of these shellmounds consisted overwhelmingly of shells of the marsh clam Polymesoda sp., which were left behind between 7500 and 3500 years ago by the ancient Chantuto people, who were foragers before becoming farmers, as we have seen. According to Voorhies and Martínez-Tagüeña (2016), ‘the discovery of a modern analog to the ancient archaeological sites provides an unparalleled opportunity to test inferences about the past, as well as to investigate aspects of the clam fishery that are not accessible from the archaeological record alone’ (p. 2).

pollen remains, the artifact assemblage reported from the region includes indicators of agriculture, such as the manos (handstones) and metates (querns) found in the Chantuto phase assemblage (p. 97). Most resources were procured from the marine estuary and lagoon systems, with the most important food items being marsh clams, fish and reptiles, while shrimp may also have contributed significantly to the diet. Some animal bones indicate that food was procured from the inland region as well, but did not contribute a large proportion of the diet. In short, the archaeological evidence available for the subsistence pattern of the Chantuto people indicates an unmixed economy based on the procurement of estuarine animal resources, as well as terrestrial plant and animal products that were available through trade networks (p. 98).

Although clam-collecting is a year-round activity, it is scheduled according to the tides, which are controlled by the lunar cycle. Clams are harvested during spring tides in astronomical numbers: approximately 160,000 clams would be collected on a ‘good day’ (p. 7). Cooked clam meat lasts only for one day unless salt is added as a preservative. Only sea salt, obtained by boiling sea water, is used. Nowadays, fishers buy this salt, but they once produced their own. Of course, sun-drying is another way to preserve clam meat (p. 14).

The residence pattern of the Chantuto people consisted of periodic and perhaps seasonal occupations. The huge amount of shell remains in the middens points to a large volume of clam meat that was procured over a long period of time. It is likely that some clam and fish meat was exported to inland communities, perhaps after being dried or preserved with salt.

Marsh clams in Costa Rica are collected throughout the year with a peak during the dry season, while archaeological Polymesoda shells from the Tlacuachero shell-mound in Chiapas (see Figure 222) indicate that they were harvested only during the wet season, not all year-round as had been the case earlier. This finding is consistent with the optimal foraging prediction made by Voorhies and Martínez-Tagüeña (2016:14).

The simplest way to reconstruct the settlement pattern is based on ethnographic analogy. At the time of Voorhies’ fieldwork (early 1970s), the littoral zone supported a population of permanent inhabitants. Most of these people lived in the village of La Palma, but some resided in isolated homesteads. In addition, the number of inhabitants in the zone increased dramatically during the shrimp season when mainland villagers would occupy temporary encampments. In summary, in Voorhies’ reconstruction of the residence pattern of the Chantuto people, some permanent residents lived within the zone, with periodic influxes of mainland dwellers that may have occurred on a seasonal basis.

(6) People. The inhabitants of La Palma exhibit a seasonal periodicity in residence location and patterns of subsistence procurement that is in phase with the presence of young shrimp in the estuary-lagoon system. Voorhies (1976) reports that ‘shrimp are the single most important species of the region for the economy… and their yearly arrival in the inland waters triggers a prompt response by their human predators. At first people shift from fishing to shrimping, and as the shrimp season progresses the animals become larger and bring a higher price in the market. Between March and May many villagers, especially the men, occupy campsites that are close to the shrimp-rich lagoons’ (p. 27).

Archaeological Implications The aquatic lifeway reported by Voorhies from the Chiapas littoral during the Archaic period is reminiscent of transitional processes involving hunter-gathering peoples who eventually turned into sedentary communities with well-developed agriculture. This transition took place in the context of climatic change millennia ago, as explained by Binford (1983) in the following passage: ‘The archaeological record indicates that the widespread shift from hunting and gathering to agricultural strategies is largely a phenomenon of the post-Pleistocene period… the arguments advanced to account for this involve the loss of mobility… as a consequence of demographic packing’ (p. 208). Binford examined how ‘population densities achieved among hunters and gatherers vary in relation to environment

Voorhies concludes her report by stating that the minimal time of occupation for the Chantuto shellmounds was determined on the basis of a series of radiocarbon age determinations pertaining to the late Archaic period, from 3000 to 2000 BC. Ethnographic analogy suggests that a possible mixed economy would have combined the gathering of aquatic resources with the cultivation of food plants. Although we lack plant or 11

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica throughout the world’, finding that the greatest densities occurred ‘in the temperate zone, not in the tropical rainforest or in the desert… Once [people] with this potential existed in the temperate zone there would have been a build-up of population… [sometimes] to the point where density-dependent effects came into operation’ (p. 209).

According to Birdsell, the food resources available to a human group ‘may be the most important single determinant of local group size and composition. Where plant and animal resources are largely raised locally and comprise wide variety of forms, the size of the exploitive [human] groups will be small… [in cases] where food resources are more concentrated, the [diet] becomes more specialized and local group structure frequently changes’ (p. 234), in some cases reaching several hundred persons. When substantial food resources are concentrated either regionally or seasonally, local groups take on a quite different nature, usually increasing in size and the level of sedentism.

It is likely that ‘discernible population growth would occur among hunters and gatherers in certain environments… as the number of persons in the group increased, perhaps there are simply too many mouths to be fed with the available stored fish’ (p. 210). Competition for resources would separate and segment people, and as the region filled up, bands would have little or no option about where to move next. ‘By packing the region with people, mobility is restricted and resource exploitation becomes concentrated. Packing, in fact, thwarts the normal strategy of hunters and gatherers to use mobility as a source of security’ (p. 211). Among the responses to this problem, according to Binford, is a change in the kinds of food resources utilized. The hunter who formerly killed big game and put up the meat for storage now finds he must rely on animals of smaller size like ducks, or fish, or in certain areas even shellfish, as we saw in Chantuto. Eventually, people were drawn away from large animals and towards plants. A distinct set of strategies now comes into play in the following scenario suggested by Binford: (1) there is a switch to alternative animal species, often aquatic ones; (2) human dependence on plants increases; and (3) population continues to grow in an environment that offers no exit options. As a consequence of these ecological and cultural processes, ‘consumer demand increases within a space that is now constrained: some form of intensive production system (i.e. agriculture) now becomes mandatory’ (p. 211). Binford holds that in different regions of the world, including Mesoamerica, North America, and parts of temperate Europe, ‘increased sedentism facilitated by aquatic exploitation seems to have anticipated the adoption of agriculture’ (p. 212).

Based on anthropological, historical, and biological evidence, Robin Dunbar (2010) wrote that ‘most hunter-gatherers live in complex societies that operate at a number of levels. The smallest groupings occur at temporary night camps and have between thirty and fifty individuals’ (p. 25), while the largest group is normally the tribe itself, usually a linguistic group numbering between 500 and 2,500 people. In between these two levels is a third group, the clan, which may usually have a mean size of 153 individuals. This figure is significant because ‘in traditional societies, village sizes seem to approximate this [number], too. Neolithic villages from the Middle East around 600 BC typically seem to have contained 120 to 150 people, judging by the number of dwellings’ (p. 27), and the estimated size of Medieval English villages also seems to have been about 150. These calculations are important when one is considering the levels of demographic density and subsistence requirements (i.e. hunting and gathering versus agriculture) of social groupings. I have already mentioned the Archaic period aquatic adaptations studied by Niederberger (1976, 1981) at the Zohapilco site. Niederberger (2017) discovered ‘for the first time, levels of human occupation of the early postPleistocene epoch… the evidences recovered from the… shores of… Lake Chalco-Xochimilco… seem to indicate the… transition to a farming economy, different from those… of Tehuacán’s [Puebla] semiarid region’ (p. 252), where people relied on a ‘semi-nomadic’ lifeway to adapt to a region with shifting resources in different ecological niches and seasonal variability. In contrast, at Lake Chalco ‘the transition from a gathering economy to a… food-production economy took place in the context of a precocious sedentary way of life, thanks to the permanent existence in the surrounding environment of a wide and diverse range of wild resources’ (p. 252). The inhabitants of this lake area during the Playa phase (ca. 6000-4500 BC) had access to three distinct biotopes: (1) forests that provided numerous mammals and other animals; (2) rich alluvial soils with a high water table where people could experiment with growing wild seeds and other plants; and finally (3) the aquatic environment, where fish, amphibians, reptiles and

Another opinion on the topic under discussion was put forth by Joseph B. Birdsell (1968), who held that Pleistocene populations probably consisted of tribal units distinguished by dialect differences. If there were exceptions, they would probably ‘be based upon some influence which tends to minimize distance as an isolating factor, such as a concentration of food resources. In a statistical sense, the… size of the… tribe in the Pleistocene can be estimated as 500 persons, although the variance will be considerable’ (p. 233). Because human behavior is, at the same time, both adaptive and flexible, the composition of local territorial groups and the details of their relations with neighboring groups can be expected to vary from one region to another. 12

Introduction

water fowl were superabundant. It is important to underscore the fact that most –if not all– of these resources were available year-round.

inhabited by ‘societies based on differential rankings of individuals and whole groups… under political formats of chiefdoms and states, where the few ruled over the many, and extracted goods and services from them’ (p. 99).

In the Zohapilco cultural phase (ca. 2500-2000 BC), we see a tool assemblage characteristic of a new lifeway that was increasingly dependent on cultivation as opposed to hunting and gathering. The artifacts of the Zohapilco phase consisted of small obsidian flaked artifacts (Niederberger 2017: Figure 127a) and grinding tools, such as querns (Figure 127b) and manos or handstones (Figure 127c), which were probably used to process cereals and other edible plants, both wild and domesticated.

Eventually, after many generations of living in settlements in constant expansion, larger villages or towns emerged with a stratified social system and mutually-exclusive, defended territories that arose under a combination of conditions that in Diamond’s (2012) opinion included the following criteria: ‘First, defended territories require a population sufficiently large and dense that some people can be spared to devote time specifically to patrolling boundaries… Second, exclusive territories require a productive, stable, predictable environment within which the territory-owners can… usually [find] most or all of their necessary resources’ (p. 43). In third place on Diamond’s list is the condition that ‘the territory must contain some valuable fixed resources or capital improvements worth defending… such as productive gardens, groves of fruit trees, or fishing weirs or irrigation ditches requiring much effort to build and maintain’ (p. 43). The last point requires that ‘group membership must be rather constant, and neighboring groups must be largely distinct, with little migration between groups’, excluding perhaps ‘movements of unmarried young people (more often women than men) leaving their natal group in order to marry into another group’ (p. 43). Diamond’s ideas are based on fieldwork in New Guinea, but can be of help in understanding similar processes in other parts of the world, including Formative Mesoamerica. Because of their greater number of people and higher level of social complexity, emerging chiefdoms relied on intricate codes of conduct and formalized leadership, as opposed to the egalitarian ethos of most societies of earlier times.

The assemblage described by Niederberger (2017) for the Zohapilco phase is a harbinger of the Formative period in the Basin of Mexico. Niederberger defines the Formative as a time ‘marked by the consolidation of a farming economy and the development of certain… arts like making pots of fired clay’ (p. 257). In Niederberger’s opinion, ‘the Zohapilco cultural phase marks the beginning of this period in the basin…Indeed, one sees a clear acceleration of the development of agriculture… the relationships of dependence over certain plants… reach in this level an irreversible status’ (p. 257). The new domesticates include amaranth (Amaranthus leucocarpus), chili peppers (Capsicum annum), chayote (mirliton, Sechium sp.), pumpkin (Cucurbita sp.), and tomato (Solanum sp.), while maize grains pertaining to this archaeological phase are larger and three times more abundant than in previous phases (p. 257). As for the tool assemblage associated with this cultural phase, Niederberger describes obsidian artifacts she calls ‘microliths’ that are found in greater numbers and, apparently, come from a wider variety of geological sources than during earlier periods. Second, an abundance of grindstones and their standardized forms is characteristic of this phase. The assemblage also includes stone containers of high quality. The skilled workmanship involved in these objects would indicate the existence of a specialized craft (p. 258).

The prime example of a Formative-period complex society in the New World is, without doubt, the Olmec culture of the Gulf of Mexico. According to Evans (2004), this was the first culture in Mesoamerica ‘to establish visually impressive ceremonial centers, which signal to us some important features of complex society… We… recognize in great Olmec (and later) sites a considerable investment of labor and materials, in the service of a great design… Olmec art depicts individuals who would have led the elite, commanding the lives of workers and the crops of farmers’ (p. 100).

The end of the Archaic period did not come abruptly. What we see in the archaeological record is a gradual transition toward a period with much larger population densities, fully-dependent on agriculture, and exhibiting a higher level of social organization. The Formative spans from ca. 2000 BC to AD 300. Evans (2004) tells us that ‘the Formative… witnessed the crystallization of the Mesoamerican culture complex as a set of distinctive traits and behavioral patterns. At the start of the Formative… we find small autonomous agricultural villages… established in certain key regions… around 1500 BC a transformation begins, moving… away from the egalitarian ethic of autonomous tribal villagers’ (p. 99). By the fourth century BC, all of Mesoamerica was

Richard Diehl (2004) addresses the role of the Olmecs in the context of the early Mesoamerican ecumene by stating that ‘pristine civilizations were the earliest civilizations in their respective regions, cultures that developed… without any older models to guide their development’ (p. 12). Here, the author includes the Egyptians of the Nile Valley, the Sumerians of 13

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica Mesopotamia, the Indus civilization in present-day India and Pakistan, the Shang culture in China, the Chavín culture of the Andes, and the Olmecs of Mesoamerica. Diehl states that the Olmecs were the only one of these complex cultures ‘that evolved in a lowland tropical forest environment [and this] makes them an important case study in the evolution of civilization’ (p. 12). The Olmecs are best known among early New World cultures for their artistic achievements, ‘particularly their spectacular large stone monuments and exquisite small objects carved from jadeite and other semi-precious stones… Olmecs were the first Native Americans to erect large architectural complexes, live in nucleated towns and cities, and develop a sophisticated art style executed in stone and other imperishable media’ (p. 12).

of civilization in such areas as art and architecture, thanks to the abundant natural resources in their environment and the people’s ability to exploit a vast array of aquatic landscapes, primarily the rivers and swamps that abound in the lowlands of the Gulf of Mexico. This aquatic orientation was highlighted by Michael Coe, who wrote that Olmec culture depended for its survival on the resources provided by their watery realm. Coe (1981) used the phrase ‘the gift of the river’ to highlight the important role of the Coatzacoalcos River in Veracruz in the rise of Olmec civilization. In Coe’s view, ‘San Lorenzo Olmec civilization, which flourished… from 1200 to 900 BC, was literally “the gift of the river”… In this hot, humid area there is no strongly marked dry season… so agriculture can be carried on throughout the year’ (p. 15). Coe wrote that ‘abundant remains of manos and metates make it certain that the San Lorenzo Olmec were corn farmers, although… they probably planted a good deal of manioc as well as beans, squashes, and a host of other cultigens’ (p. 16). Archaeological and ethnographic studies (e.g. Coe and Diehl 1980) around the great Olmec site of San Lorenzo showed that ‘the Olmec mainly relied for their animal protein on fish, turtles, and dogs… Turtle hunting was and is an important activity, usually pursued while fishing… Thus, the abundant animal protein available to the ancient Olmec was as much a gift of the river as were the prized river levee soils’ (p. 17). Coe (1981) sums up this aspect of the local cultural ecology by saying that ‘the rise of Olmec civilization was probably remarkably similar to that of ancient Egypt’ (p. 19), in that both were heavily dependent on irrigation agriculture and a wide variety of aquatic food resources.

Because Olmec villages and towns were larger and more complex than any settlements in the past, the subsistence strategies had to be more robust and reliable, and offer food security for the population. In discussing Olmec diet and subsistence, Diehl (2004) states that ‘ordinary Olmecs, like many ancient peoples, enjoyed a diet as good and perhaps much better than that of their modern descendants’ (p. 85). Linguistic reconstructions of the ancient Olmec language, called proto-Mixe-Zoquean, have given us ‘a basic vocabulary for the language that contains numerous… food terms. These include maize, cacao, squash, tomato, bean, sweet potato, manioc, cotton, and tropical fruits such as chayote, guava, zapote, and papaya’ (p. 85). Many of these plants were identified among archaeological remains, together with ‘remnants from the harvest of the adjacent swamps and river, including clams, turtles, catfish, gar, snapper, and crocodiles, as well as bones of deer and domestic dog’ (p. 85). All these wild foods and aquatic products helped sustain Olmec populations, but ‘maize was the Olmec staple, the core element of the diet’ according to Diehl (p. 85). The Olmec lived in a remarkable region. Their ‘heartland extended from the Gulf of Mexico to the crests of the sierras (mountains) of Oaxaca and Chiapas, and the Isthmus of Tehuantepec in the south… the environment varies from one part of [the Olmec territory] to another, but the entire region is hot, humid, and blessed with plentiful plant and animal life’ (p. 19). In this natural habitat ‘rivers, streams, and lagoons influence every aspect of life… rivers were… significant sources of fish, turtles, caimans, manatees, mollusks, river shrimp, and other high-quality protein foods… Finally, the region’s most productive farmlands have always been the natural levees that receive fertility-restoring silt after each flood’ (p. 20).

According to Tanya M. Peres (2017), the Olmec heartland in the modern states of Veracruz and Tabasco is dominated by aquatic landscapes. ‘Fishing, travel, transport, and trade via watercraft were essential parts of daily life… archaeofaunal, iconographic, and biological data about human-animal relationships during the Formative period in the Gulf coast lowlands [show that] aquatic environments were reliable sources of physical sustenance for the Olmec… and fresh-water fish, turtles and local and migratory water birds made up the daily diet’ (p. 1). Peres describes a watery world where ‘the marine, estuarine, and fresh-water animal resources… were incorporated into the Olmec and [later] lifeways, belief systems, ideological expressions, and foodways’ (p. 1). Tanya Peres et al. (2010) used paleo-botanical, ethnobotanical and zooarchaeological data from the Olmec site of Tres Zapotes to address the following questions: ‘Did different social status groups eat different foods, and if so, what were they eating?, and Why do these

During the Middle Formative in southern Mesoamerica, the Olmec culture was the most advanced in terms of social complexity (Coe 1981). Apart from a sophisticated agricultural technology, the Olmecs achieved high levels 14

Introduction

differences occur?’ Answering these questions ‘requires a consideration of both temporal and spatial patterns in the faunal and floral data. These data span the Formative period… [in] southern Veracruz (1400 BC-AD 300)’ (p. 281). Peres et al. analyzed the ‘data based on social context, with reference to the following categories: elite domestic and administrative areas… ceremonial and/or mortuary deposits… and non-elite domestic deposits’ (p. 281).

area, like those by Coe and Diehl (1980) conducted among the villagers of Tenochtitlan, Veracruz. Coe and Diehl write that ‘plants and their products are the foundation of economic life in Tenochtitlan’ (p. 69). Although the major emphasis in agriculture is on maize cultivation, secondary and minor crops, as well as the exploitation of wild plants, also contributed numerous foods, medicines, and raw materials. The use of plants for medicines, for example, is well-established: Coe and Diehl report 66 plant species with medicinal properties in the area around Tenochtitlan (1980: Appendix 1).

The study of Olmec foodways conducted by Peres et al. (2013:126) arrived at the following conclusions: (1) Aquatic species became less important in the rural diet as farmers focused more on maize production. In contrast to the rural pattern, people in urban centers, especially the non-elites, ate large quantities of aquatic animals, while two important terrestrial species – deer and domesticated dogs– were probably reserved for the elites and ceremonial purposes. (2) Aquatic animals comprised over 60% of the minimum number of individuals identified at San Lorenzo, while at Tres Zapotes they comprised as much as 62-67%. At other Olmec sites in the same area, aquatic fauna, though less abundant, was far from negligible, reaching between 11 and 20% of the faunal assemblage. Clearly, aquatic species were highly-important, reliable sources of protein for these people. (3) The success of the maizebased agricultural economy on the Gulf Coast during the Formative period relied greatly on additional protein derived from aquatic animals, as well as domestic dogs.

These authors further inform us that ‘secondary crops include beans (Phaseolus vulgaris), which are a very important item in the Tenochtitlan diet’, as are squashes and gourds: ‘At least six varieties of squash (Cucurbita pepo) and three of gourds (Lagenaria siceraria) are cultivated here’, while chayote (Sechium edule) ‘is cooked as a side dish or as a component in a soup’ (pp. 82-83), and ‘local farmers grow two varieties of manioc (Manihot esculenta)… [as well as] four varieties of sweet potatoes (Ipomoea batatas)’. Another important resource is jícama (Pachyrryzos erosus), ‘a leguminous plant cultivated for its edible tubers’. Malanga (Xanthosoma violaceum) ‘a relatively rare crop today, was cultivated more widely in the past’ (p. 84). Chili peppers (Capsicum frutescens) are a minor crop in the area, as are tomatoes (Lycopersicon esculentum) (p. 86). The list includes several species of cultivated trees; seven examples are reported by Coe and Diehl, but there are many more (p. 87).

Peres et al. (2010) discussed the paleoethnobotanical assemblage at Tres Zapotes on the basis of macroremains from flotation samples (p. 284). Maize (Zea mays) and bean (Phaseolus sp.) were both identified at this site, where maize kernels and cupules appear in greater quantities than beans. Fruits from several tree species seem to have contributed to the diet at Tres Zapotes, including sapote (Pouteria sapote), coyol (Acrocomia mexicana), and coyol real (Scheelea liebmanni) (p. 284).

Coe and Diehl mention a ‘tremendous diversity of natural flora in the area… Many wild plant foods are available… at different times of the year. Today these foods are casual supplements which add variety to the diet, but they may have been much more significant in pre-Columbian times, before the introduction of Old World domesticated fruits and other plants’ (p. 91). All this information goes a long way towards strengthening the idea that aquatic adaptations were instrumental in the rise and prosperity of Mesoamerican civilization from its inception until the latest periods. Aquatic adaptations were still important many centuries after the Olmec period in most areas of Mesoamerica. An example of aquatic strategies is described by Niederberger (2017), who wrote that the chinampas of the southern lake area of the Basin of Mexico were part of an intensive horticulture system that was one of the most productive farming techniques in all of the pre-Hispanic New World. This agricultural system had reached its peak by the time of the Spanish invasion (1520), encompassing an area of some 120 km2 that was covered by canals and chinampas or long, narrow cultivation platforms (p. 93).

These authors go on to say that ‘in addition to the fresh edible fruit… the seed from the sapote fruit has a variety of uses, all of which entail grinding into a powder which is then used as an additive for foods, medicines, soaps or cosmetics, or to fix colors on painted gourds’ (p. 285). The coyol palm is widely-used throughout Mexico and Central America, since coyol fruits are ‘high in fat protein and caloric value… [and so] can be used for a variety of purposes, including food, medicine, and wine production’. Meanwhile, coyol real ‘produces fruits that are hard and fibrous, yielding one to three oily seeds… the coyol real is a valuable source of vegetable oil… and its palm fronds can be used for thatching’ (pp. 285-287). Because the archaeological record tells an incomplete story, it is profitable to turn to ethnographic studies about the lifeways of the local population of the Olmec

According to Niederberger, many plants were grown on the chinampas, including herbs called quelites that 15

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica were an indispensable component of the indigenous diet. Among the species of quelites grown here were uitzquílitl (Cirsium mexicanum), xoxocoyolli (Oxalis angustifolia), and uitloquílitl (Bidens pilosa), whose taste resembled basil (p. 97).

According to Niederberger, the chinampero, or chinampa farmer, ‘makes his home for himself and his family amongst the chinampas that belong to him… the cultivation of chinampas has some resemblances with the culture de case, since the chinampas represent a stable possession, and their maintenance requires… skill and… great care. The soil is constantly tended and is fertilized with household refuse’ (p. 99).

Of all the plants cultivated on the chinampas during the pre-Hispanic period, we only know those that were most important for the indigenous farmers in the context of native markets and the tribute economy of the early sixteenth century. One of the most important plants grown in those artificial plots on the lake surface was amaranth, called huautli in Nahuatl (Amaranthus leucocarpus), whose seeds played a fundamental role both as food and as a ritual offering. In some places, such as Mixquic (a town near Lake Chalco in the Basin of Mexico), wide areas of the chinampa fields are still devoted to growing amaranth, which is used to make alegrías, a typical Mexican sweet made of amaranth seeds, honey, and fruit (p. 97).

Thanks to the fact that farmers lived in close proximity to their plots, no time was wasted going from home to work and back. Likewise, ‘the combined advantages of a high-yield farming space and aquatic transportation allowed the farmer up until 1900 to take his produce directly to the consumers and the marketplace’ (p. 100). Chinampa agriculture is discussed at length in Chapter IV. Over the course of millennia, aquatic adaptations – including intensive agriculture based on chinampas, for example– evolved in Mesoamerica and other civilizations of the ancient world. This phenomenon has been explained from several perspectives, as discussed by Bruce Trigger (2003), who claims that ‘many evolutionary theories treat population pressure as the driving force behind more intensive food production and the development of more hierarchical societies, including early civilizations… These theories assume that population pressure characterized all early civilizations and that people submitted to taxation and political authority only if they had nowhere else to go’ (p. 283). This idea is the basis for the so-called ‘Asiatic mode of production’, which was proposed to explain the rise of civilization in key areas of the world such as China, Mesopotamia, and Mesoamerica (Wittfogel 1957).3

Niederberger (2017) studied the early historical sources written by both the indigenous people who lived in this part of Mesoamerica, and the Spanish conquistadors. There, she found information on many of the plants that were grown on the chinampas, including amaranth, maize, tomato, chili peppers, pumpkin, and salvia. But the farmers did not limit themselves to growing food plants on the chinampas, for flowers were also important, as revealed by such place names as Xochimilco, which means ‘place of flowers’ (p. 98). The chinampas produced many different kinds of flowers, both ornamental and medicinal. Niederberger provides the following list (Table 1). Table 1. Flowers grown on the chinampas during the sixteenth century (after Niederberger 2017:99). Nahuatl name

Meaning or English name

Trigger notes that agricultural land was naturally circumscribed in numerous areas of high civilization, including the Valley of Mexico, Peru, Egypt, and Mesopotamia. ‘In highland Mexico and Peru, arable land, located mostly in valleys, was limited, and relocation from one valley to another would have been socially and politically difficult for farmers’ (p. 283).

Scientific name

Cempoalxóchitl

Twenty flowers

Tagetes erecta

Oceloxóchitl

Tiger flower

Tigridia pavonia

Cacaloxóchitl

Crow flower

Plumeria acutifolia

Acoxóchitl

Dahlia

Dahlia coccinea

”

”

Dahlia excelsa

”

”

Dahlia pinnata

Omixóchitl

Agave

Polianthes tuberosa

Another argument for intensification is that as populations increased in density ‘and suitable land The basic ideas behind the Asiatic mode of production have not lacked critics, including Gary Feinman (2006), who pointed out that in the Oaxaca Valley, as in other areas of the Mesoamerican highlands, it is not possible to argue that large-scale irrigation played an important role in the origin and development of the state. In fact, Feinman argued that the most powerful states could have been based on quite simple farming techniques. These ideas have been corroborated in the Andes, both in the Bolivian highlands (Stanish 1994) and on the coast of Peru (Billman 2002). Beyond the New World, Karl Marx considered the island of Bali, Indonesia, as the best example of the Asiatic mode of production. However, it has not been possible to find a direct link between irrigation and social evolution there (Lansing 1987).

3 

16

Introduction

was developed to sustain higher levels of production by means of drainage, terracing, and irrigation, such land became an investment that its owners would not willingly abandon. They would submit to authority and taxation if necessary to retain possession of their farms, and supported rulers who offered their holdings protection against claims’ by others (pp. 283-284).

evaporated the water to obtain small amounts of bitter salt’ (p. 416). Finally, Diamond recounts how ‘with the rise of state governments, salt became widely available and produced on an industrial scale (as it still is today) from salt-water drying pans, salt mines, or surface deposits. To its use as a seasoning was added its use… to preserve food for storage… Salt cod and salt herring became fixtures of the European diet, and salt became the most traded and most taxed commodity in the world’ (p. 417).

For Trigger, the intensification of food production was indeed closely correlated with increasing population density. Therefore, ‘the investment of more labor in agricultural production is indicated archaeologically by hydraulic works, including various forms of irrigation, which were intended to bring more land under cultivation and would have permitted more abundant crops to be grown in most areas than rainfall agriculture alone. Drainage schemes also brought more land under intensive cultivation’ (p. 284). Agricultural terraces could vary ‘from simple works designed to limit soil erosion… to… carefully irrigated and drained artificial fields such as those… of the Andes’ (p. 284).

I have mentioned that in Mesoamerica common salt (sodium chloride) has always been a strategic resource of primary importance. In pre-Hispanic times it was used mainly for human consumption, but after the Spanish conquest it became, as well, an important commodity for silver-processing and cattle-raising. We know that salt from many towns in key areas was paid as tribute in the early Colonial era, and ethnohistorical sources concerning salt production in Mesoamerica have yielded information on the amounts paid by each town in the first half of the sixteenth century. Contemporary salt-producing sites and methods are also of interest to archaeologists, since salt is not preserved in the archaeological record and we need additional information to enhance the ‘archaeological visibility’ of salt-making activities, for example archaeological features and artifacts (e.g. earth mounds, canals, and specialized pottery types) connected to this activity (Williams 2015).

My discussion of aquatic adaptations in Mesoamerica has touched upon many subsistence activities, such as fishing, hunting, gathering and manufacture in aquatic environments, as well as agriculture, but salt production is another important activity in Mesoamerica discussed here in association with aquatic environments: lakes, coastal lagoons, underground brine deposits, and so on. Diamond (2012) has stated that ‘today, salt comes from a salt-shaker on every dining table and ultimately from a supermarket, is cheap, and is available in essentially unlimited qualities. Our bodies’ main problem with salt is to get rid of it, which we do copiously in our urine and in our sweat. The average daily salt consumption around the world is about 9 to 12 grams’ (p. 415).

My research on traditional salt-making (Williams 2003, 2015, 2018), on the aquatic lifeway (2014a),  and on traditional manufactures (2014b, 2014c, 2017) is based on the following assumptions: (1) subsistence activities were essential for the existence and reproduction of societies; (2) each activity has its own set of tools and work spaces; (3) ethnographic analogy can aid in understanding activities in systemic context and, by inference, in archaeological context; (4) ethnoarchaeology and ethnohistory can aid in producing a theory that will help define the ancient tool assemblages and cultural landscapes linked to the aforementioned subsistence activities in ancient times.

According to Diamond, ‘traditionally… salt didn’t come from salt-shakers but had somehow to be extracted from the environment… Our main problem with salt then was to acquire it rather than to get rid of it. That’s because most plants contain very little sodium, yet animals require sodium at high concentrations… As a result, while carnivores readily obtain their needed sodium by eating herbivores’ (p. 415), for herbivores obtaining that sodium was not easy. While human hunter-gatherers who consumed much meat met their daily salt requirements with ease, most farmers had a daily salt intake below three grams. ‘Hence traditional peoples crave salt and go to great lengths to obtain it… New Guinea Eastern Highlanders… whose diet consists up to 90% of low-sodium sweet potatoes’ told Diamond ‘of the efforts to which they used to go to make salt a few decades ago…They gathered leaves of certain plant species, burned them, scraped up the ash, percolated water through it to dissolve the solids, and finally

Content and Structure of this Book This book contains six chapters. Chapter I, the Introduction, sets the stage on which the topics of the remaining chapters play out by explaining how aquatic adaptations in Mesoamerica contributed a remarkable environment where local populations thrived through many centuries. The first topic discussed is the Mesoamerican aquatic lifeway, including the many strategies that were adopted to take full advantage of a bountiful natural landscape. The lens I used to observe this unique universe, or ecumene, is forged 17

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica by ethnoarchaeology and ethnohistory. In addition to fishing, hunting, gathering, and manufacture, many other activities, such as salt-making and aquatic agriculture, are encompassed in the concept of aquatic adaptations in Mesoamerica. The chapter closes with a discussion of the archaeological implications of the ethnographic and ethnohistorical data presented.

settings of salt production in antiquity, since salt itself is not preserved in the archaeological record, and we need secondary information to identify this important component of pre-Hispanic culture and economy. Chapter IV is devoted to a discussion of aquatic subsistence in the Central Mexican Highlands, namely the Basin of Mexico and the Alto Lerma River Basin. This discussion revolves around the natural resources and pre-Hispanic subsistence strategies, as understood through the lens of ethnoarchaeological research and historical sources. An equally important topic of interest involves pre-Hispanic aquatic agriculture in the Basin of Mexico, primarily intensive farming techniques and features such as terraces, canals, raised fields –chinampas– and others.

In Chapter II I deal with the aquatic lifeway in Michoacán, discussing the natural resources and subsistence activities that we find in the 16th-century sources that describe aquatic subsistence in this part of Mesoamerica. This discussion also touches upon theoretical aspects of ethnographic analysis and its role in archaeological interpretation. The natural environment of the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin is described in detail, as a backdrop to the ethnographic information on subsistence activities in this aquatic environment. The discussion is organized around four activities, already mentioned, that still play important roles in local Tarascan culture and economy: fishing, hunting, gathering, and manufacture. The goal is to discover the ‘archaeological markers’; that is, the artifacts, features and landscapes associated with the aquatic lifeway in the present, and through extension, their reconstruction in the archaeological past.

The environment and natural resources of the study area are discussed as a general framework for the ensuing discussion of the aquatic subsistence activities examined in previous chapters. Finally, I discuss the ‘archaeological markers’ or diagnostic elements of material culture linked to the aquatic lifeway. The Maya Area is the focus of discussion in Chapter V which, once again, highlights patterns of subsistence in aquatic environments. The narrative of this chapter takes into account the geographical and ecological differences between the Maya highlands and lowlands, and the ways in which local cultures adapted to these contrasting environments. Select examples of preHispanic cities in the Maya Area are examined in order to understand the link between demographic density and intensive agriculture, following the general Mesoamerican pattern of land reclamation and water management that we saw in the Basin of Mexico and the Tarascan area in previous chapters.

Common salt, or sodium chloride, has been indispensable for humankind from the earliest days of prehistory to the present. In Chapter III I discuss salt production in Mesoamerica, paying special attention to the tool assemblages and cultural landscapes associated with producing this strategic resource. Salt has played an extremely important role in nutrition and food preservation throughout the world, and Mesoamerica is no exception. In this chapter I discuss salt production first in Michoacán (the Lake Cuitzeo Basin and the coast of Michoacán and Colima), later in the coast of Guerrero, and then in the Basin of Mexico and Puebla. The aspects of salt-making that most interest me are the tool assemblages and cultural landscapes in ethnographic and historical perspective. The aim here is to discover, by means of analogy, the material culture and physical

Finally, in Chapter VI I present a summary discussion of the topics explored throughout the book, and the general conclusions of my research in this field. I close the volume with a reflection on the challenges for future ethnoarchaeological research in Mesoamerica and other areas of the world.

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Chapter II

The Aquatic Lifeway in Michoacán: Natural Resources and Subsistence Activities Mexico’s largest physiographic units: (1) the Valleys and Wetlands; (2) the Central Sierra; (3) the Hot Lands; (4) the Southern Sierra Madre; and (5) the Coastal Region. Michoacán is certainly a land of bounty; indeed Luis González (1991) wrote that from the perspective of geography and ecology it can be considered a microcosm that comprises many, if not all, the regions found within Mesoamerica, a veritable ‘sample book’ for the whole of Mexico (González 1991). According to González (1991), traveling across Michoacán is equivalent to making the proverbial tour de monde, since the state has all kinds of topographies: mountains, forests, lakes, valleys and rivers, where one finds ‘all climates, plants and animals’ (p. 15).

Ethnohistorical Information on Aquatic Subsistence in Michoacán In this chapter I discuss the aquatic lifeway in Michoacán, western Mexico, from the Protohistoric period (ca. AD 1450-1530) to the present. The cultural activities linked to subsistence in aquatic environments (fishing, hunting, gathering and manufacture) are seen here through the lens of ethnohistory, based on the major historical sources from the 16th century (and later) that deal with aquatic landscapes and their natural resources in Michoacán and neighboring areas. Equally important is the perspective derived from ethnographic information dealing with subsistence activities in the Pátzcuaro and Cuitzeo basins during recent times (Williams 2009, 2014a, 2014b, 2014c). Finally, the archaeological implications of all this information are discussed through an ethnoarchaeological study of the subsistence strategies and material culture associated with the aquatic lifeway in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin (see discussion in Williams 2020a).

Guevara (1989) identifies four great hydrographic systems in Michoacán that cover, respectively, the northern, central and southern parts of the state, as well as the Pacific coast (Figure 1). Guevara tells us that the Northern System encompasses the Lerma River Basin, which is born in the Estado de México to the east of Michoacán and ends its course in Lake Chapala to the west (Figure 2). The Lake Cuitzeo Basin, which holds the largest lake in Michoacán, is part of this hydrographic system. Lake Chapala, meanwhile, the largest body of water in Mexico, is at the western end of Michoacán. The second hydrographic system discussed by Guevara

Michoacán owes its name to the Aztecs, who denominated the different regions of their ecumene, or ‘known world’, according to each one’s most salient characteristics. The Nahuatl word Michoacán means ‘land of fish’, quite an accurate description of this part of West Mexico, since it was covered by large lakes and countless streams, rivers, springs, marshes and other wetlands. The following section presents a discussion of the natural environments and aquatic resources that were available in Michoacán during the early Colonial period and, by extension, also in the preHispanic period. The natural setting where the Tarascans developed their culture over thousands of years is a remarkable one. According to Fernando Guevara (1989), the landscape in Michoacán is one of the most abrupt in Mexico with high elevations and deep depressions. The reason for this is that Michoacán is at the meeting ground of five of

Figure 1. Many lakes, rivers and wetlands have dominated the landscape of Michoacán for thousands of years, making this one of the most fertile environments in Mesoamerica (adapted from Guevara 1989: Figure on p. 24).

19

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica Other important sources for the present discussion are the Libro de tasaciones de pueblos de Nueva España (González de Cossío 1952) and the compilation of colonial documents published by Paso y Troncoso (1905), entitled Papeles de Nueva España… Suma de visitas de pueblos por orden alfabético. Both books rely on previously unpublished documents housed in Spanish archives to discuss taxation in Michoacán, giving a clear, panoramic view of the strategic resources that were available in each part of the province of Michoacán. According to José Luis de Rojas (1990), the tribute system in New Spain followed closely the customs of the previous indigenous Mesoamerican institutions, though Figure 2. The major internal drainage basins in West Mexico as they existed around AD 1500, the Spanish introduced some indicating important sites for various periods: (1) Capacha; (2) Chupícuaro; (3) El Opeño; (4) changes. From the 1560s on, tribute Ihuatzio; (5) Loma Alta; (6) Loma Santa María; (7) Pátzcuaro; (8) Queréndaro; (9) Teuchitlan/ was restricted to maize and money, Etzatlán; (10) Tinganio; (11) Tres Cerritos; (12) Tzintzuntzan; and, (13) Urichu (base map but decreased because of the high adapted from Tamayo and West 1964: Figure 4). levels of mortality among the native population. Tribute obtained from is the Central System, which includes Lakes Pátzcuaro the pueblos realengos –that is, towns that depended and Zirahuén, both located in one of the highest areas directly on the Spanish Crown– was sent to the Real of the Transversal Volcanic Axis. The last hydrographic Hacienda (Royal Treasury) in Mexico City, whence it region discussed here is the Southern Hydrographic was shipped directly to Spain. At the beginning of System, which includes most of the rivers and streams the Colonial era, tributes were paid in kind, but from of Michoacán. The most important river is the Balsas, the second half of the 16th century, as more currency while the Tepalcatepec River is the largest. The latter circulated in New Spain, the Crown sought to collect river is important for agriculture, as it crosses the tribute from the Indians in the form of money rather fertile Tierra Caliente, or Hot Lands of Michoacán than goods (Paredes 1984). (Guevara 1989). It is not always easy to understand the levels and The main sources of information for our discussion of amounts of taxes paid in Michoacán during prethe natural resources and landscapes of the Tarascan Hispanic times, since we have no codices or other territory in the early decades of the Spanish colonial ancient documents similar to those that exist for period are the Relación de Michoacán (Figure 3), written central Mexico and southern Mesoamerica. The data around 1540 (Alcalá 2008) and the Relaciones geográficas available for the colonial period is fragmentary and de Michoacán, written between ca.1530 and 1580 (Acuña rarely precise, so projecting post-Conquest data to the 1987). In the latter source we find detailed information pre-Hispanic past is not justified without additional about several areas within the Michoacán region, as contextualization. Generally speaking, however, the well as the goods paid as tribute by the towns that had Ordenanzas reales (royal ordinances) (Zorita 1984) allow just been subjected under a new colonial administration us to assume that the amount of taxation in the colonial (Figure 4). The Relaciones geográficas are an invaluable period did not differ greatly from the situation in presource of information, since ‘all the informants, or Hispanic times. An example of this information comes most of them… were old men, of an age around 80 and from Alonso de Zorita (a judge of the Audiencia of Mexico 90 years. Living relics, therefore, of the pre-Hispanic between1556 and1564), who wrote that ‘tribute should world… both actors and witnesses of the drama of the be less than what they paid in their times of infidelity’ Conquest’ (Acuña 1987:333). (Zorita 1984:70).

20

The Aquatic Lifeway in Michoacán: Natural Resources and Subsistence Activities

Figure 3. The Lake Pátzcuaro Basin was a particularly rich ecological setting in Michoacán, where the aquatic lifeway flourished from early times, as seen in the Relación de Michoacán (adapted from Alcalá 2008: Figure 33).

Figure 4. Map of Michoacán showing the main towns during the Protohistoric period (ca. AD 1450-1530) (adapted from Pollard 2011: Figure 1).

21

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica In the early 16th century, broad extensions of West Mexico were under the political aegis of the Tarascan Empire, known as Irechecua Tzintzuntzani, the secondmost powerful polity in Mesoamerica after the Aztec Triple Alliance (Pollard 1993, 2009). In 1522, the king (irecha or cazonci) ruled an area of over 75,000 km2 that encompassed the greater part of the current state of Michoacán and portions of the neighboring states of Jalisco, Guanajuato, Colima and Guerrero (Pollard 1993: Map 12). During the Protohistoric period, the Tarascan state may have been the most strongly-centralized polity in Mesoamerica. In fact, this kingdom offers an example of state formation that shared some characteristics with other ancient complex societies; namely, a high degree of centralization of power and economic activities and rapid expansion. However, its process of state formation cannot be fully understood unless we consider, as well, its historical and ecological contexts (Pollard 1993:181). The core geopolitical area of the Tarascan Empire was in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin, where more than 90 communities had a combined population of between 60,000 and 105,000 inhabitants (Pollard 2003).

The nutritional (and perhaps also ritual) importance of fish for the indigenous populations of the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin since early times has been underscored by recent excavations at Urichu, an archaeological site on the southwestern margins of Lake Pátzcuaro. Explorations of a complex of mounds and plazas there discovered a tomb made of stone alignments under the floor of an elite residential structure. The tomb contained at least ten human interments and 87 funerary objects from the Late Classic and Epiclassic periods (ca. AD 500-900). Among the objects deposited inside were four tripod plates containing fish remains of the species Goodea luitpoldi, locally known by the Tarascan name t’iru (tiro in Spanish), which is part of Lake Pátzcuaro’s indigenous aquatic fauna. This was the first archaeological evidence of the use of tiro in the region, as well as the first record of an offering of fish from ancient times (Guzmán et al., 2001:152-160). Fishing was a strategic resource for the ancient inhabitants of this lake basin. Accordingly, we know that the Tarascan state had a whole administrative apparatus dedicated to the control and regulation of fishing and other productive activities. The Relación de Michoacán tells us that there was an official called varuri, who was in charge of all the men who fished with nets and brought their daily catch to the cazonci (king) and all the other lords, ‘because this is the food of these people… The said varuri still has the custom of collecting fish from the fishermen’ (Alcalá 2008:177), although fish were probably not as plentiful as before the Conquest. Another official, the tarama, was in charge of all the people who fished with fishhooks.

When the first Spaniards arrived at the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin around 1525, they found that fishing was one of the most important activities for the subsistence of all the towns around the lake, as shown by the Relación de Michoacán (Alcalá 2008), which mentions a fisher (gender unspecified) in a canoe with many different kinds of fish: ‘Hacínnaran… and… hurápeti… cuerepun… thirón… charoé… There are so many kinds of fish here, all these I am seeking in this lake. By night I fish with net and by day with hook’ (Alcalá 2008:29).1 The species of fish mentioned by the Tarascan fisher have been described by Guzmán et al., (2001:157) as: hacínnaran (huacumaran in modern Tarascan): Algansea lacustris; hurápeti: Chirostoma estor; cuerepun: C. attenuatum, C. patzcuaro; thirón: Allotoca dugesi, Goodea luitopoldi and Skiffia lermae; charoe (charal): Chirostoma spp.

The information mentioned above is complemented by the Relación geográfica de la ciudad de Pátzcuaro (1581), which mentions the natural resources and landscapes that were available in this basin in the pre-Hispanic period and the first decades of Spanish rule. According to this Relación geográfica, before the Conquest the local people ‘were sustained by maize, pumpkin, beans and chili peppers, deer meat and fish, which are still very abundant’. At a distance of a quarter league (1 league= ca. 4,828 m) north of the city of Pátzcuaro there was ‘a great fresh-water lake where a large amount of white fish is produced, which is very healthy and good… the Indians exploit [the fish] and are sustained by it’ (Acuña 1987:200). This lake was also surrounded by ‘many fertile towns and many orchards, which are barrios [neighborhoods] of this city [of Pátzcuaro]… and in the middle of the lake there are… small islands… and all the inhabitants are fishers’ (Acuña 1987:201).

The Relación de Michoacán also narrates an interesting story in which aquatic fauna is perceived to have magical undertones. In this story, a group of fishers (at least some of them women) ‘after much work looking for fish came upon a large snake and… took it to their home with great happiness. The priests greeted them and said: “Welcome, sisters, have you brought even a small fish?” to which they replied: “Lords, we found nothing, we do not know what this is’”. The priests informed them that “this too is fish, and it is edible. Roast it in the fire to take the skin off and cut it up in pieces and put it in the pot over the fire”. The fishers went home ‘to eat that snake boiled with maize… toward midnight… their feet had turned into a snake’s tail, [and] they began to shed tears’ (Alcalá 2008:26-27).

At the time the Spanish arrived in the Tarascan region, all towns within the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin were under the control of Tzintzuntzan, the capital of the Tarascan Empire (Pollard 2000). These included Tiripetío, which had existed since the late 13th or early 14th century,

All translations by the author; for the original Spanish version see Williams (2014a: Chapter IV).

1 

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The Aquatic Lifeway in Michoacán: Natural Resources and Subsistence Activities

before the founding of the empire. Tiripetío may have been a small chiefdom that had been subjected by Curíngaro, a more prosperous town, until it fell under the aegis of the Tarascans around 1540 (Cerda 2000:11). We read in the Libro de tasaciones de pueblos that in 1551 Tiripetío was part of the encomienda of a certain Juan de Alvarado, who received as tribute four Castile chickens, ten loads of grass, six loads of firewood and two loads of ocote (i.e. resinous wood), as well as ‘three Indians to carry water’. On ‘fish days’, instead of chickens, the town had to pay eighty eggs and 40 ‘good-sized fish’ (González de Cossío 1952:483-486).

and so thick that they may never end… This town has more than eight lakes and the most fertile lands and wooded hills in New Spain’. The trees found in this jurisdiction were great ‘pines and cedars and… oyamel [a conifer, Abies religiosa], the tallest and thickest tree in the whole of the Indies’ (Acuña 1987:354). The Relación also mentions the following useful trees: encinos, robles (Quercus spp.), and madroños (Arbutus bicolor). The Lake Cuitzeo Basin was a key economic area for the Tarascan Empire during the Protohistoric period (Williams 2020b: Chapter VII), because of the existence of several strategic resources that were absent in the Tarascan core area of the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin, such as obsidian, salt and lime, among others. Likewise, there were extensive geological deposits of copper, silver, tin and gold located near Lake Cuitzeo (Williams 2020b: Figure 209). This Basin is in the Lerma River region, which had an abundant natural endowment consisting of forests, rivers, marshes and extensive fertile land (Weigand and Williams 1999).

Another important source for this town is the Relación geográfica de Tiripetío, which states that from its inception it ‘was a subject of the king of Michoacán’. The town ‘paid as tribute turkeys and chickens of the native kind… [also] firewood and the labor of men and women, as well as soldiers for fighting in the wars against the Mexicans [i.e. Aztecs] and Matlatzingos [i.e. Matlazincas]… the firewood was [used] for the fire that was always burning in their altars’ (Acuña 1987:341). The local daily diet consisted of ‘maize bread, tortillas and tamales. The tamales are made of maize dough, mixed with beans and wrapped… in a maize leaf ’ (Acuña 1987:341). Apart from maize, they also ate beans and chili and the meat of deer, turkey, wild chickens, rabbits, quail and ducks. ‘All these things were plentiful. And they ate many kinds of fish, because Lake Pátzcuaro was nearby… they caught great amounts of white fish, and others with beard and one called chegua which is very good and is the most common. There is another small fish like the pejerrey [Odontesthes bonariensis, a species of Neotropical silverside], which they catch in such quantity that it is eaten in all parts of New Spain’ (Acuña 1987:341). There were three rivers near Tiripetío where local people caught a species of shrimp that was also plentiful, according to the Relación geográfica.

In this part of Michoacán during the Protohistoric period (and probably from much earlier), there was an abundant production and exchange of several strategic resources, including the minerals named above and other products, like aquatic flora and fauna, which would become indispensable for the economy of this part of Mesoamerica. The role of the Lake Cuitzeo Basin as a strategic region of the Tarascan Empire can be seen in the Relación de Cuiseo de la laguna (1579). This early colonial document states that the people who lived in the Lake Cuitzeo area ‘were subjects of the king of Tsintsontsa [Tzintzuntzan], capital of the province of Michoacán, to which they gave personal service… and… each Indian gave as tribute one cotton mantle… likewise they gave a gourd of honey from a tree… called acanba [akamba, or maguey, i.e. Agave sp.]… There is in this town of Cuitzeo a lake where all the Indians of this district live’ (Acuña 1987:82). Fish were plentiful in Lake Cuitzeo, as mentioned by the Relación de Cuiseo: ‘This lake has a kind of fish as large as the little finger, called in their tongue charao (charal or charare, Chirostoma sp.), a fish most appreciated by them… they catch great amounts [of fish] and people come from other provinces to exchange it for cotton and cacao, which is a currency they use in this land… they also bring many fruits and take back this fish rather than pesos’ (Acuña 1987:84). This Relación mentions many other fish species from Lake Cuitzeo, such as curengue (curengari), which was native to this lake and ‘as large as a sardine’; possibly the same species that the Tarascans of Lake Pátzcuaro called akúmarha (Algansea Iacustris) (Argueta 2008). The aquatic fauna of Lake Cuitzeo included frogs that, together with numerous fish species, ‘were caught in great quantity and taken to their markets where many people come from other provinces’ (Acuña 1987:86).

In describing the landscape where Tiripetío was located, the Relación geográfica says that the town sat upon a natural elevation or knoll, and that some of the houses were on the plain below, between the knoll and a marsh, which was ‘one of the most fertile [places] found in this land… Three creeks run through it… throughout the year there is no lack of grass [and] thick reeds… many wild ducks, geese and other birds breed in this marsh’ (Acuña 1987:342). Shrimp were found in the creeks mentioned above, as well as a tiny fish called zizito. The knoll where the town was located was somewhat rocky, but they were able to grow maize and chía (Salvia hispanica) ‘like in the most fertile lands of the province’. Beyond the marsh there was a great plain where inhabitants had their farmlands, ‘because they can make many irrigation ditches from the creeks… around this town there are many hills and plains, gullies and streams, [and] so many water springs that they cannot be counted… the wooded hills are so numerous 23

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica Apparently, by the mid-16th century there were few extensive forested areas around Lake Cuitzeo, but we do not know if this was due to deforestation after the Conquest, or was part of a long-term natural process (Butzer and Butzer 1997). In this respect, the Relación cited above states that ‘this district is lacking in woods… there are… small wild trees used for burning. There are no trees for building houses’ (Acuña 1987:86). In contrast, figs were produced in abundance in the Cuitzeo district, tunas or prickly pears also abounded, and ‘in all subjects, save for the head town, there is much maize’ (Acuña 1987:86). Among the bushes and smaller plants mentioned by the Relación de Cuiseo there were many species with medicinal properties, such as ‘an herb they call andumucua [tobacco, Nicotiana sp.] which is much appreciated among these natives… they bring it to their mouths, chewing it like a piece of bread… it gives them so much heat and strength, that although they are working they need little food’ (Acuña 1987:86). This species of tobacco had ‘the property of making one drunk’, and was also ‘good for pain in the loins… and for toothache’ (Acuña 1987:87).

salt (sodium chloride), which is still harvested in the area (Williams 2015, 2018a), together with tequesquite, a salty earth that was used to make soap and is still important as a complement for cattle feed. These resources were noted by the Relación de Cuiseo, where we read that when the lake’s waters receded they left the ground covered with tequesquite. The salty earth in and around the shore supported a diverse vegetable population, including a plant called curiraxacua (Acuña 1987), a halophyte that, thanks to its rich salt content, was especially good for glass making —so much so that glass-makers would come from Mexico City to obtain it (Escobar 1998:169). Another source of information on Lake Cuitzeo in Colonial times is the Descripción… de Cuitzeo de la Laguna (de Voto 1777), which mentions that this lake was so rich in minerals that its only use, aside from saltmaking, was to raise the tiny fish called charare (charal), which was an important element of the diet of the Indians in the surrounding area. The towns of Araró and Zinapécuaro, located at the eastern end of the Lake Cuitzeo Basin, appear in a historical record of taxation in 16th-century New Spain called Libro de las tasaciones de Nueva España. According to this source, both towns had to pay taxes in maize, chili peppers, beans and wheat, as well as gourds, sandals, salt and fish. All these items had to be taken by the Indians themselves to the mines at La Trinidad (Sultepec, Estado de México). They also had to provide their calpixque (i.e. foreman) with ‘two chickens, a dozen quail, two rabbits; on fish days the necessary fish and one dozen eggs and tamales for his servants; grass and firewood, and every fifty days, fifty [wild] cat skins’ (González de Cossío 1952:49).

The Relación de Cuiseo mentions a tree called chupirini (Euphorbia calyculata) that was used to cure inflammation in the groin area, and the juice of the saúco leaf (Sambucus nigra) that was taken as a diuretic and laxative, among other uses. A root called anbanduria was ‘mashed together with tallow and applied to broken legs or arms, and within nine days’ they were whole again (Acuña 1987:88). As for the wild animals that lived in the Lake Cuitzeo Basin, the Relación de Cuiseo mentions several species that were important for the livelihood of people in the region. These animals included both ‘wild chickens’ (i.e. quail) and ‘chickens from Castile’ (i.e. the species brought to New Spain by the Spanish settlers), while on the lake ‘by the month of December there is such an amount of ducks, egrets and alcatraces [aquatic birds belonging to the order of the Suliformes] that they cannot be counted. The natives enter the lake by night in their boats with small fires, to catch [those] birds, which are attracted by the light, and the natives kill them with bow and arrow’ (Acuña 1987:88). So many birds were killed in this manner and ‘so many are brought to the markets that it is a frightful thing’ (Acuña 1987:88). Ducks accounted for the majority of birds hunted, but the Relación de Cuiseo mentions many other species that were brought down by hunters in this basin: quail, crows, thrush, doves and hawks, as well as such mammals as deer and rabbits. Wolves and foxes may have provided pelts (Acuña 1987:88).

Meanwhile, the Suma de visitas states that not far from Zinapécuaro there is a town called Ucareo, which ‘is located on a high flat knoll. This is healthy and temperate land [with] good earth and there is a mine of stone blades’ (i.e. obsidian) (Paso y Troncoso 1905:294). This source gives additional information on Araró, stating that the town had three barrios with 70 houses and a total of 255 persons, not counting children under three years of age. Araró annually paid taxes that included 150 pesos of common gold and 500 fanegas (or hanegas) of maize (1 fanega= ca. 55 liters), plus 30 loads of salt (cargas; 1 carga= ca. 40-50 kg), and 30 cargas of chili peppers. The Suma also mentions irrigated farmland with many blackberry groves and plentiful fish stocks, the aforementioned local salt industry and numerous thermal springs (Paso y Troncoso 1905:32). At a distance of some 7 km north of Lake Cuitzeo is Lake Yuriria. Here, colonial sources described ‘a province that has everything: plains and hills… water sources and a great river, with abundance of fish called bagres [i.e. catfish]… this land is plentiful in maize… a ditch made from said river [irrigates] a plain of five leagues in

Apart from the numerous animal and plant species that were used by the local population of the Lake Cuitzeo Basin, many mineral resources were exploited as well. One of the most important commodities was common 24

The Aquatic Lifeway in Michoacán: Natural Resources and Subsistence Activities

circumference, creating a large lake where the natives kill many fish’ (Acuña 1987:68-71). The Spanish source mentioned above seems to indicate that those fish stocks were managed as a sort of ‘hatchery’ or ‘fish farm’ (granjería). In addition to fish and other aquatic species, the fauna around Lake Yuriria included mountain lions, wolves, coyotes, deer, hares, rabbits and many kinds of birds. The locals used to ‘pay their tribute in money and maize, and trade in the fish [from that] lake and river’ (Acuña 1987:71).

have good fisheries… [and] some small farms… on the islands in this lake’ (Paso y Troncoso 1905:302). The Jacona and Zamora valleys in northwestern Michoacán are among the most fertile agricultural areas in Mexico, due in part to an abundance of water in this area, which in the past was covered by lakes and marshes. Thanks to the location of the pre-Hispanic settlements in relation to the wetlands and the abundant natural resources, survival activities such as fishing and hunting-and-gathering were important means of exploiting the environment. But farming was no less important, as the aquatic environment enabled people to develop intensive agricultural systems. The terraces and bancales (i.e. modifications of hillsides consisting in a combination of ridges and ditches) deserve special mention, such as the ones found on the north slope of the Cerro de Curutarán (the major geological formation in the Jacona Valley), and the possible existence of chinampas (i.e. raised fields built in marshy areas) there (Sánchez 2007). Martín Sánchez (2007) describes a pre-Hispanic terrace system in the Jacona Valley that extended over a surface of some 70 hectares, while the bancales in the same area were also important as part of the farming systems used by the native Tarascans. After more than four centuries of landscape modifications, and despite many changes brought about by political, economic, and social processes, those pre-Hispanic bancales are still visible, indicated by subtle changes in the landscape and the associated archaeological materials on the surface (i.e. stones). A rough estimate of the area covered by these agricultural fields would be around 120 hectares (Sánchez 2007:18).

The Suma de visitas also gives information on a town called Yuririapúndaro on the southern margins of Lake Yuriria. This town, together with four cabeceras (i.e. headtowns) in the region, had to pay tribute in the form of ‘forty Indians in the mines of Taxco’ (Paso y Troncoso 1905:131). These towns had farmlands from which taxes were paid in the following amounts: ‘Five hundred hanegas of maize, and… thirty hanegas of beans, and… of wheat… one hundred hanegas’ (Paso y Troncoso 1905:131). Yuririapúndaro was located ‘on a stony slope near a river and a lake with plenty of fisheries. This is temperate and healthy land, where cotton and all other provisions are found’ (Paso y Troncoso 1905:132). Part of the tributes extracted by the Spanish Crown from this rich region was used to supply food and other necessities to the silver mines in other areas of West Mexico, as stated in the Tasación del Bachiller Juan de Ortega, written in 1528: ‘The lord of Urirapundaro [Yuririapúndaro] says he will deliver for his master 220 loads of fish at the mines… The lord of Cuyzeo [Cuitzeo] will give his master 400 loads of maize and 30 loads of fish and 40 of beans and 40 of chili peppers and four of salt… The lord of Chocándiro… 100 loads of provisions… six loads of chili… six [loads] of salt and two of fish’ (Warren 1989:422-423).

Sánchez (2007:19) tells us that because of ‘the partial inundation of the Zamora Valley during the months of June to September, and the formation of marshlands in the vicinity of Jacona, it is understandable that the earliest inhabitants of the region settled in the areas around the valleys, usually in places higher than 1,600 meters above sea level’. Sánchez (2007) sums up his discussion of pre-Hispanic subsistence around Zamora and Jacona by stating that when the Spaniards first arrived, they found a landscape characterized by extensive wetlands, but that the local environment had been modified and adapted by systematic transformations over many centuries before the Conquest, indeed long before the inception of the Tarascan Empire (early 15th century).

From the Yuriria and Cuitzeo lake basins we now go west to the town of Jacona, where archaeological research has discovered human presence from at least the Formative period (see discussion in Williams 2020b: Chapter IV). Jacona was an important settlement during the first century of Spanish domination, and in 1544 the tribute it paid to the Crown included the obligation to ‘take to the mines… 30 loads of beans and five of chili, fifteen loaves of salt and 25 xiquipilicos [small bags] of pinol… 60 pairs of sandals… 100 jícaras [gourd bowls]… three loads of fish… four chickens every day for the calpixque… 200 tamales… and eggs’ (González de Cossío 1952:213). Jacona was located amid an extensive aquatic landscape; an extremely rich region endowed with many natural resources, as seen in the following extract from the Suma de visitas: ‘Jacona… has six subject headtowns, each one paying [its own] tribute… in total four thousand three hundred and sixty-one tribute payers of all kinds… They have good lands for all sort of provisions, they reach part of a salty lake where they

The historical information summarized above can be used to propose a hypothesis about the lifeways of the first inhabitants of this part of Michoacán, but comparisons with other areas of Mesoamerica offer another fruitful approach to answering the question of how the early michoacanos thrived in the environment just described. The ancient people who lived in the Jacona Valley were able to adapt to their environment and to modify the 25

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica land to produce an agricultural surplus. In addition to farming, an aquatic lifeway based on fishing and hunting-and-gathering was the most efficient system of food production, especially in a cultural setting that lacked cattle. Because of its high productivity, this aquatic lifeway was able to persist in many areas of Mesoamerica –and Michoacán in particular– until the Spanish Conquest (Williams 2014a).

in the 16th century pretty much in the same way as in pre-Hispanic times, according to the Relación de Chilchota: ‘In this town, they grow many fruit trees… also wild grapes… avocados, berries called xenguas in their tongue, and in Mexican [i.e. Nahuatl] called capolíes [shengua or capulín, Prunus capullin], there is also much maguey [Agave sp.] and maize… the hills and mountains are very tall and… there are many deer, tigers [jaguars], and lions [cougars]… and wild chickens’ (Acuña 1987:105).

One of the few remaining areas in Michoacán where Tarascan culture has persisted to this day is La Cañada de los Once Pueblos, a small valley that runs east-to-west on the border of the Meseta Tarasca (Williams 2018b). La Cañada has many water sources and very good soils, which have turned this area into a major agricultural producer, as well as an outstanding setting for human occupation from pre-Hispanic times to the present (Ramírez 1986:53). The administrative center of La Cañada is Chilchota, a town that was already important in colonial times, as stated in the Relaciones geográficas pertaining to this part of Michoacán: ‘The town of Chilchota is located in a valley… with many high hills around it… which attract the clouds and it is always raining [on the hills]. They have many forests of very tall pines… oaks… and madroño [madrone, i.e. Arbutus sp.] and other wild trees’ (Acuña 1987:102). According to the Relación de Chilchota, this town was ‘surrounded by many springs and rivers. A river flows near the houses on the north part [of the town] with beautiful water… the natives benefit from the river… irrigating much land where they obtain much wheat… maize and other seeds and greens… in the [southern] part of… Chilchota there is a source of wonderful water, with good taste and temperate… all day long people are bathing here’ (Acuña 1987:102). This source of water was so plentiful… that a river is formed which can only be crossed by a bridge… this river is joined by another river formed from great water springs in a valley half a league away… there are many water sources. They are so strong and so much water comes out of them… that all can be used for irrigation’ (Acuña 1987:103). The local people of La Cañada caught many different species of fish in this aquatic environment: ‘Mediumsized fish, mojarras [Fam. Gerreidae] and bagres [Fam. Cyprinidae ]… This river… carries much water… in some parts its banks are covered by many woods with very tall trees’ (Acuña 1987:104).

The same Relación quoted above describes that the pre-Hispanic houses in La Cañada consisted of ‘adobe walls with a very beautiful straw roof… they sleep on the floor, on reed mats… they… [eat] tortillas of boiled maize and tamales… and deer meat, snakes, mice, gophers, and worms… they eat worms [i.e. grubs or larvae] which they raise in the honeycombs that are so plentiful in this land… made by bees in the hills’ (Acuña 1987:109). The people of La Cañada included in their diet many items that were often described as ‘vermin’ by the Spanish chroniclers, such as locusts. Many wild animals were eaten, while the only domesticated edible species was the dog. The list of animals that were eaten regularly includes ‘badger, otters like those in the water, and dogs that they… fattened like pigs…’ All these foods were accompanied by drinks of ‘maize and maguey wine’ (Acuña 1987:109). We should also mention the medicinal plants that abounded in the region of La Cañada. People here used to ‘cure themselves with some salutiferous herbs that are in this town [i.e. Chilchota]… there is an herb… that grows in the wettest areas… and… on the river banks… which in the native tongue is called guenberecua [Tarascan uembérikua, or Rhus toxicodendron]… if someone has an ache… he takes this herb, removes the leaves and applies the [substance] oozing from the herb… this way it takes away the pain’ (Acuña 1987:110). Another herb was ‘called tuesten [Tarascan tarepeni, or Oenothera sinuata] which is similar to salvia. If a wound is bloodied or cancerous, they apply the leaves… and it makes it better… it does not ache… Another herb is called yuracsen… [used] to cure old sores’ (Acuña 1987:110). Trees were also exploited for their therapeutic properties, like the one ‘called chupire… meaning “tree of fire” [Tarascan chupireni, or Euphorbia calyculata]… which gives milk… and is a wonderful purgative… and a remedy for all kinds of pustules’ (Acuña 1987:110).

As one drives on the highway that runs along the Cañada, it is still possible to see traces of agricultural terraces on some of the hills. One reads in the Relación de Chilchota that the terraces consisted of ‘stones set by hand, like steps, leaving between each step a space of one vara [ca. 85 cm], where they grow maize… and judging by these constructions in other times there must have been a great number of people here’ (Acuña 1987:104). The natural resources of La Cañada, as well as agriculture and local fauna, were still being exploited

Aquatic birds, both migratory and resident species, were very abundant in this region in the 16th century: ‘In this land there are many ducks, geese, and cranes, from the month of October… until… March… It seems they come and go to and from the north’ (Acuña 1987:111). Also present were various terrestrial bird species like ‘quail… wild chickens and… in the hills… many parrots… green talking birds’ (Acuña 1987:111). 26

The Aquatic Lifeway in Michoacán: Natural Resources and Subsistence Activities

The forests in and around La Cañada have been decimated in recent decades by immoderate logging and clearing for agriculture. In the 16th century, though, wooded areas were plentiful and quite rich in natural resources, as we read in the Relación de Chilchota. The town of Urén is one of the eleven Tarascan towns in La Cañada and a former subject of Chilchota. We learn from this Relación that the people of Urén ‘have many pine and oak woods near their homes… [as well as] a great amount of trees from which indigo is produced, which grow in the hills with no need for planting them’ (Acuña 1987:115).

nearby Lake Zacapu, a lake that is now virtually dried up (Rendón 1947). Deer were sold singly or in small quantities by individuals who were full-time hunters. One of Rendón’s informants in the Sierra region spent the entire day hunting, though he also had maize fields to tend. He used to kill deer that he would sell together with beef from his farm (Rendón 1947). The following insects were eaten in the Meseta and La Cañada: honeycomb worms, jicoteras (larvae of bees that make underground nests and produce a honey that is slightly fortified but quite tasty), tlalpanal (worms from certain plants) and worms from the tejocote (Crataegus mexicana). Their diet also included crustaceans such as chapus, or lake crabs (Rendón 1947).

As for the town of Chilchota, the Suma de visitas states that it had only one barrio with a total of 131 houses and 971 people. They paid tribute to the Spanish Crown, including ‘thirty Indians delivered to the mines on a daily basis, and every twenty days forty Castilian chickens and ten hanegas of maize and six Indian servants. There are in this town irrigated lands, it is set on a plain, has a river and [people] grow berries, wheat and many fruits, it has woods with pines’ (Paso y Troncoso 1905:78).

The wild animals most commonly eaten or used as medicine were the following: huilotas, rabbits, various species of squirrel, deer, gophers, field mice, wild pigs (peccaries), hares, foxes, opossums and skunks (the latter used as medicine to cure skin diseases, blood disorders and pneumonia) (Rendón 1947).

The ethnohistorical information discussed above is complemented by the writings of Silvia Rendón (1947), who conducted ethnographic fieldwork in the Tarascan areas of the Sierra and La Cañada in the winter of 19411942. Her work focused on local culture, especially hunting, fishing and gathering, as well as other survival activities. Rendón stated that ‘usually during a meal, large amounts of wild or semi-wild herbs are consumed, boiled in water with salt, seasoned with lemon juice and mixed with chili peppers’ (Rendón 1947:207). Small black mushroom-shaped roots boiled with honey made from brown sugar called uakares were sold locally, though according to some people the honey is secreted when they are boiled. Because they were gathered from under the earth, they were called roots, ‘but they look more like mushrooms. They are eaten as a candy’ (Rendón 1947:207).

La Cañada is located at the foothills of the Meseta Purépecha, or Meseta Tarasca (Ramírez 1986), one of the four areas of Michoacán where Tarascan culture is still present in force (the other two being the Lake Pátzcuaro and Lake Zacapu Basins). Among the few historical sources for the Meseta Purépecha is the Relación de Tingüindín, which tells of the life and customs in that town in the late 16th century. According to this Relación, ‘the town of Tingüindín sits on flat land surrounded by high hills and mountains, with many pine and oak trees… water currents, flatlands… and much grass and fruits, both wild and from Castile… maize, wheat… and orchards of many other vegetables’ (Acuña 1987:320). This region of Michoacán was under the aegis of the Tarascan Empire. Accordingly, this Relación states that ‘this whole province paid tribute to the king called Catzontzi… gold, silver, and copper, and… stones of great value… they worked… in the fields and… as soldiers for the king in the wars… that were continuously held against the provinces of Mexico’; that is, the Aztec Empire (Acuña 1987:321). The local population relied for their sustenance on ‘maize and deer meat, chickens, wild pigs, grasshoppers, mice, snakes, beans, pumpkin, chili peppers, and many poisonous vermin like snakes that grow on the earth’, while ‘people who fall sick are cured with many different herbs found in this province’ (Acuña 1987:322). The landscape where Tingüindín is located was quite bountiful in the time period under discussion, particularly in terms of aquatic environments and resources: ‘The said town is located at the foot of a high mountain… and out of this mountain… flow three streams as wide as a bull… where much wheat and maize can be irrigated, and

Bitter tunas (i.e. prickly pear) called joconostli were used like greens in churipo (a kind of beef soup) and for certain kinds of hot sauce. Nuríte kamáta ‘is a kind of gruel that is very popular among the Tarascans… they use a wild herb to make it, which is gathered in the hills by some people (especially women) who work gathering medicinal herbs (Rendón 1947:207-208). Squirrels were much appreciated in daily diets in the regions known as the Sierra Tarasca and La Cañada, where they were hunted by men on the outskirts of towns. Those men also hunted deer, wild ducks and other birds. If they had no rifles, they would use traps or snares. Squirrels were caught with nooses hidden in the trees, while doves were caught with traps placed in lakes or gullies. Finally, wild ducks were brought from 27

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica many other vegetables, both native and from Castile’ (Acuña 1987:322). At a distance of two leagues from Tingüindín there was ‘a lake of clear and fresh water, good for drinking, and deep… [this] lake breeds many good white fish, and other kinds of large and small fish… and frogs… There are many wild trees… pines, sabines, oyameles [firs], oaks, ash trees, saúcos [Sambucus sp.]’ (Acuña 1987:322). The resin from pines and other trees was used as medicine, while other resins were used for light, and wood for making boards and beams for building their houses. Fruit trees were plentiful, including avocado ‘and many other fruits for eating… the native grains are beans, chili, chenopods, pumpkins, ayotes [squash, Cucurbita moschata] and many other things… many medicinal herbs’ The Relación de Tingüindín includes a list of medicinal plants, including vellorita (Bellis perennis), used for curing sores, burns and blisters, and to reduce inflammation. Picete or tobacco (Nicotiana sp.) was also used as medicine, thanks to its narcotic, sedative and vomitive properties, among many others. Another plant still used today is epazote or epazotl (Chenopodium ambroisides), an excellent remedy for stomach and intestinal ailments like indigestion, cramps and ulcers. finally, the Relación mentions many other medicinal plants ‘of which they do not know the name’ (Acuña 1987:323). The fauna in the area around Tingüindín was quite rich and varied, including ‘lions [i.e cougars], tigers [i.e. jaguars], wolves, foxes, skunks, hawks of all kinds, doves, turtledoves, quail, crows, auras [i.e. vultures]… eagles… wild partridges, wild chickens… and… many kinds of birds… wild pigs and deer… everything is found in abundance’ (Acuña 1987:326).

tamales and six loads of grass and four of firewood and half an hanega of maize’ (Paso y Troncoso 1905:79). The town of Zacapu was located on a plain… it has some bare, stony and steep hills, and… a large valley… it has a great water source [spring] near the town from which a lake is formed, where there are clams and some fish; the natives live from fields of maize, [and] wheat is grown in the rainy season’ (Paso y Troncoso 1905:79). Paul Friedrich conducted ethnographic fieldwork in the Lake Zacapu Basin around the mid-20th century. His account of the aquatic lifeway in this region is very important because the lake is no longer extant and many of the customs and natural resources he recorded are now lost forever. Friedrich (1970) made a systematic study of subsistence strategies in the area under discussion at a time when many aspects of the aquatic lifeway were still in existence, or were remembered by his informants. Friedrich’s findings can be of assistance in reconstructing the subsistence patterns of ancient times (the following account is based on Friedrich 1970, pp. 10-11 and 15). Lake Zacapu and a nearby water spring called Ojo de agua were surrounded by willow trees and fed by the clear water of several natural springs. Both the economy and the worldview of the local people were defined in part by this peculiar ecological niche, a bountiful natural environment in terms of plant and animal species that were exploited by means of fishing, hunting, gathering and manufacture. There was some sexual division of activities in the exploitation of the local resources; for instance, women and children would dig on the beach with sharpened sticks to collect clams or white roots. In just one hour they could fill a basket with sufficient material to prepare a nutritious soup.

The Suma de visitas says that Tingüindín had one barrio with 180 houses and a total population of 856 people, not counting infants. They paid as tribute ‘eight Indian servants for the mines and they make one sown field of maize… [Tingüindín] is located ‘on a plain near a sierra… it has a good creek; the fruits of Castile grow well’ (Paso y Troncoso 1905:254).

Other forms of wildlife used in the local diet included lizards, turtles, frogs, tadpoles (or salamanders, Ambystoma sp.), snails and shrimp. There were also many edible plants, such as grasses similar to spinach, as well as acorns, mushrooms and wild roots, all of which were gathered in the fields and on hillsides. Many species of cactus provided tender leaves that were eaten with chili sauce, while the sap of the maguey plant was used to make pulque, a highly-nutritious alcoholic beverage.

The Lake Zacapu Basin is located some 110 km to the northeast of Tingüindín. The lake itself was drained in the early 20th century in order to exploit its rich soils for agriculture. Thanks to the Suma de visitas and other early sources, we know that in the past this aquatic environment was a key area for human habitation: ‘Zacapu… has nine barrios and… they pay as tribute in one year 320 pesos… and 1,200 hanegas of maize… 30 hanegas of chili peppers and the same amount of beans… plus 120 items of clothing for Indians, and each year 24 loaves of salt and 36 gourds, and… every 23 days Indian servants and the tamemes [i.e. porters] that were needed’ (Paso y Troncoso 1905:79). The people of Zacapu also paid ‘every day, four Castile chickens, except on fish days, when they give 80 mid-sized fish and a gourd of clams and 30 eggs; and every day 200

Local hunters used rifles to kill deer and keep badgers, foxes and coyotes under control. The local waterfowl were quite important for the domestic economy as well: ducks, divers and many others that lived among the rushes and the extensive areas covered by marshlands and the lake. They were killed with 1.5 m-long wooden sticks, slings and stones, or the fisga, a long reed spear thrown with the help of an atlatl. People of all ages and both sexes caught fish with small nets made of maguey fiber. The larger ‘butterfly net’ (still seen on Lake Pátzcuaro) was used mostly by a single 28

The Aquatic Lifeway in Michoacán: Natural Resources and Subsistence Activities

fisherman in a canoe, while the chinchorro or seine net (40 m long by 1 m high) required the collaborative labor of two or three men.

from Spain grow here… and from the native [trees]… tunas [prickly pears]… and also cotton’ (Acuña 1987:66). The following animals are mentioned by the same Relación: Mountain lions, coyotes, wolves and deer… hares, rabbits in great abundance, wild chickens, quail and Castile chickens’ (Acuña 1987:67).

All adult men were tule weavers, at least on a parttime basis, and some 50 families were engaged in the systematic exploitation of the extensive lake and marsh areas covered by rushes. This plant was used to weave mats of up to 5 sq. m. On average, one person could make between three and five mats in one day. Another kind of water plant exploited was the carrizo reed, which was used to make baskets, including the kinds called chiquihuites and tascales. A few families supported themselves solely by weaving carrizo containers, though most were also small-scale farmers.

Some 58 km east of Irámuco is the town of Santiago Maravatío, which could be the place called Maroatio in the Suma de visitas. Maroatio was located ‘two leagues from some mountain ranges… between the two rivers of San Miguel and Apatzeo… The trees on the Apatzeo River are many sabinos [Mexican cypress, Taxodium sp.], which are used for making boards for building houses, [and] there is an abundance of some wild trees called mesquites, which give fruit in little pods, very good to eat’ (Acuña 1987:57-58).

Another region discussed here is the Bajío and a part of the Lerma River Basin, which pertain to the Northern Hydrographic System. The Relación geográfica de la Provincia de Acámbaro (written ca. 1580) recorded the important economic role of Acámbaro and its subject towns for the Bajío region. This importance was due in part to the area’s richness in aquatic resources. The Relación states that ‘in the tongue of the natives Acámbaro means place of magueys… a tree from which the Indians of New Spain greatly benefit… in some parts, because of two great rivers… there is much humidity… This whole land is quite flat, with many low, fertile plains… there are many groves of spiny trees called mesquites… which give a fruit… that is sustenance for the Indians’ (Acuña 1987:59). This Relación… describes a watery environment with many springs and ‘two very abundant rivers that surround [the area], very rich in fish called bagres [catfish] and… wild seeds with which the natives sustain themselves; therefore it is very rich in resources’ (Acuña 1987:59).

The town of Xiquilpan (modern Jiquilpan, Michoacán) is located to the southeast of Lake Chapala, in a strategic position for exploiting the natural resources of this lake basin, the largest in Middle America. Xiquilpan also enjoyed first-rate alluvial soils for agriculture. According to the Relación de Xiquilpan, ‘this town… is [on] temperate land… [nearby] flows a river, which never runs dry… and at one league… there is a lake… called Chapala, which is 40 leagues around, [and] plenty of fish are killed there, white fish [the famous pescado blanco, Chirostoma sphyraena] and catfish, and a kind of small fish... a great and abundant river flows into this lake’ (Acuña 1987: 409). The same Relación tells us that Xiquilpan ‘is located on flat and level land, with no hills… there are some streams, there is plenty of water for the natives… This is very fertile land with many grasses, maize, chili, beans and other seeds are sown in abundance by the natives. There are wild fruits [such as] guamúchiles [Pithecellobium dulce], avocados [and] guavas… anything grows on this land’ (Acuña 1987: 410). Before the Spanish conquest, the people of Xiquilpan produced ‘maize… chili peppers… and… tortillas, tamales, beans and other wild herbs called Quiletes [quelites, Amaranthus sp. and Chenopodium sp.] and they drank white wine from the maguey [i.e. pulque]… in this town and its subjects there are some maguey groves, on which the natives rely for their farms and their sustenance’ (Acuña 1987: 414).

Acámbaro is quite close to Lake Cuitzeo, one of the major salt-producing areas of Mesoamerica (Williams 2015, 2018a), so it is not surprising that Acámbaro paid part of its tribute in salt, in addition to a whole range of aquatic products, especially fish: ‘Acámbaro… has four subject head towns… they all pay 33 Indian shepherds and 26 Indians for the looms… [and] every 20 days 24 loaves of salt… [Acámbaro] is located near a large river. It is a temperate land with irrigation… they grow cotton, [and] they can reach two rivers and a lake where they get abundant fish and salt… [in the] hills there are forests’ (Paso y Troncoso 1905:32-33).

The Lake Chapala Basin had a very rich natural landscape, which was exploited by many settlements for which we have historical information, such as Chapala, Cuiseo and Poncitlán, among many others. In the case of Chapala, for instance, we learn from the Suma de visitas that this town, together with its dependencies, had ‘825 married people, 393 single people, and 349 young boys’ Chapala was located ‘on the lakeside and has very good and fertile lands in which all wild fruits and seeds are grown, and also wheat and all the fruits from Spain

Another place mentioned by the Relación… de Acámbaro is the town of Irámuco, located on the east side of the Lake Cuitzeo Basin. Near this town ‘there is a lake with some 30 leagues of circumference, which… produces abundant fish for the surrounding towns. Likewise in another subject town called Aguas Calientes [hot waters] there are some springs with very hot water and… a lake… with some fish… all kinds of fruit trees 29

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica [as well as] sweet canes, and they grow much cotton, and have great fisheries in the lake’ (Paso y Troncoso 1905:56-57). As for Cuiseo and Poncitlán, ‘these two towns are close together… they pay tribute jointly every two months: one hundred and five mantles… and one hundred Castile chickens and one nahuatlato [i.e. Nahuatl-speaker] in Guadalajara, and twenty Castile chickens every week, and on fish days forty eggs and fish and fruit… they give one thousand six hundred hanegas of maize… and ten loads of fish every Easter’. Cuiseo and Poncitlán ‘have some irrigated fields and estates [and] great fisheries in the lake and river’ (Paso y Troncoso 1905:94).

following information about the town of Coyuca (Coyuca de Catalán, 258 km southeast of Lake Pátzcuaro): ‘they have to pay every 80 days six loads of clothing… 80 gourds… 20 loads of beans… 15 loads of chili… five loads of salt… one load of fish… two chickens… and a basket of maize’ (González de Cossío 1952:146). According to this source, ‘on the second day of September 1542’ the taxes levied on this town were modified, so ‘the Indians of the town of Coyuca should give the following from now on: 40 Indian servants every day in the mines of Acayo… and every 80 days three loads of clothing… 60 gourds and every 20 days 10 loads of chili… four of salt and one of fish… 20 petates [tule rush mats]… and two chickens every day’ (González de Cossío 1952:146).

The Suma de visitas mentions the following information about the town of Pajacuarán, located in the east side of Lake Chapala: ‘Pajacoran… is a headtown and subject of Jacona; it has a barrio or island in the lake called Carao which has 34 houses and 366 people; this town is settled on an island… it is hot land. They give six… Indian servants and make a sown field of four hanegas of maize’ (Paso y Troncoso 1905:178).

One of the most important tributary communities in the Tierra Caliente was Ajuchitlán. We have the following information about this town (written in 1579): ‘Sustenance today is the same as in antiquity, namely maize, beans, chili, pumpkins and other wild vegetables and fruits and wild meats, the most common is deer… there is fish, which is the usual food… They eat a thousand kinds of vermin, such as locusts, snakes, toads, alligators and other similar things, because everything seems tasty to them’ (Acuña 1987:38). The Relación de Ajuchitlán says that in order to cross the abundant rivers of the region the natives used ‘rafts… made of woven reeds on top of thin poles up to two varas long’ (Acuña 1987:39). This Relación goes on to describe the rich natural resources of this region, consisting of many plant species, such as ‘trees that have small pods… called nacazcolotes [Caesalpinia coriaria] that are good for making black dyes and for tanning skins… There are larger trees called guamóchiles [Pithecellobium dulce], which have a large pod with a fruit inside that the Indians eat… There is lots of brazilwood, and another tree called tapincirán, which is similar to ebony and they make beads, walking sticks and other things with it’ (Acuña 1987:39). Other useful plants listed by the Relación include ‘wild plum trees [Prunus sp.]… red zapote [Pouteria sapota], white zapote [Casimiroa edulis], black zapote [Diospyros digyna], and anona [sugar apple, Annona squamosa], cacao, and pataxte [Theobrama bicolor, a kind of lesser-quality cacao]… the plums are good for eating and for making wine… there are some pineapples… and alcauciles [wild artichoke]’… (Acuña 1987:39; see also García and Linares 2012). The list goes on to mention ‘maize, cotton, chili, beans, sweet potatoes, pumpkins of two or three different kinds, two or three kinds of chian [Salvia hispanica]’. As for medicinal plants, the local flora included a wide variety of species, such as ‘picete [tobacco, Nicotiana sp.], ololiuhqui [morning glory, Rivea corymbosa], [and] pehuame’ (Acuña 1987:40). Pehuame may refer to an herb used in the temazcal, or steam bath. Picete, or tobacco, was used by burning the leaves inside a reed and ‘sucking in the smoke… it is good for treating rheumatism, pustules, headaches and asthma, and if it is taken in excess it makes one drunk’

Some 260 km southeast of Lake Chapala, Uruapan is another town located in a strategic position at the western edge of the Purépecha highlands, just to the east of the Tierra Caliente or hot lands region of Michoacán. Since the colonial period, Uruapan has been an important city economically due to this location. According to the Suma de visitas, Uruapan ‘has two subject headtowns, and… they give every 80 days 90 pesos… and twelve Indian servants… they make a sown field of wheat and one of maize… and they give every year ten hanegas of salt and ten of beans and ten salt loaves; and five months a year they give their calpixque two chickens every day’. The anonymous author of the Suma de visitas mentions Uruapan’s strategic location ‘in a valley that has… many water springs with which they irrigate many lands… they grow trees from Spain and berries... this land is in part hot and in part cold’ (Paso y Troncoso 1905:122). The last region of Michoacán discussed here is the Tierra Caliente, which encompasses the drainage area of the Tepalcatepec River and its environs. The Tierra Caliente was of strategic importance for the Tarascan Empire, which controlled this resource-rich region from around 1450 until the Spanish invasion. The Tarascans extracted tribute from the chiefdoms in this extensive region, thus securing constant provisions of resources both exotic and strategic. This was achieved by means of fortified sites and the colonization of the Balsas River region by Tarascan, Otomí and Matlatzinca groups. This enabled the Tarascans to look after their own interests while also resisting aggressions from the Aztec Empire (Roskamp 2003, 2001). The significant economic role of the Tierra Caliente is underscored in such historical accounts as the Libro de las tasaciones, where we read the 30

The Aquatic Lifeway in Michoacán: Natural Resources and Subsistence Activities

(Acuña 1987:40-41). The native fauna of the Ajuchitlán region was very rich and diverse, including ‘deer, hares, rabbits, wild pigs, badgers, tigers [i.e. jaguars], mountain lions, wolves, adives [Canis sp., probably coyote]… foxes, wild and domestic cocks and chickens, pheasants, doves, turtledoves, quail, cranes, wild and domestic ducks of two or three kinds, thrushes, white and dark storks in large quantity, prey birds, owls… [and] a few crows’ (Acuña 1987:42-43).

de Sirandaro y Guayameo that ‘the lords of Michoacán… used to bring captive people from other provinces, such as Zacatula and Colima, and they settled them in the hot lands’ (Acuña 1987:266). Tribute was also obtained by the Tarascans from the towns in this region: ‘From here they would take… cotton, painted gourds and fruits… in times of their infidelity [i.e. paganism/idolatry] they would come and go to and from Michoacán loaded with [the products] of this land, and said lords had them as slaves’ (Acuña 1987:267). The aquatic environment is a recurrent theme in this Relación: ‘This town benefits from a water stream… which is born in some springs nearby. It has many empty lands and many animals: lions, tigers [jaguars], wolves, [wild] pigs… deer and hares; [there is] abundant hunting of birds in the rivers: ducks, cranes in great amounts, and other kinds of birds’ (Acuña 1987:268).

The town of Ajuchitlán had access to very productive farmland irrigated by many rivers with a natural landscape that included extensive wetlands. The Suma de visitas states the following about Ajuchitlán: ‘They give 40 Indians as tribute in the mines of Taxco, and one thousand fanegas of maize… and 130 fanegas of beans every… year… This town is on the border of the Tarascans. It is a town of rivers: it is near a great river and another river flows nearby, there are good wetlands. Much cotton is grown, and all other provisions; cacao is produced here’ (Paso y Troncoso 1905:34).

The information discussed above covers most regions of the Tarascan Empire, an area that coincides quite closely with the present area of the state of Michoacán. Despite its vast size and diverse geography, the Tarascan state was able to exploit all corners of its empire thanks, largely, to the existence of a broad, complex communication system. Most empires throughout the ancient world relied on efficient communication networks to control their territories and maintain the widespread trade structures that were their lifeline. The Aztecs and Tarascans were no exception to this rule. The road networks of the Tarascan Empire were studied by Gorenstein and Pollard (1991), who carried out a thorough examination ‘of Tarascan routes… with ethnohistorical and archaeological data on roads, paths, and canoe routes, the latter marked by landings… The Relación de Michoacán referred to routes in the Protohistoric period. There was a road around… [Lake Pátzcuaro]… that linked lakeside settlements’ (p. 170). Towns around the lake were also linked by canoe. Indeed, the canoe ‘was a common means of transport, especially to convey information and in warfare’ (p. 170). Gorenstein and Pollard identified several external routes leading to settlements outside the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin. Sections of those roadways were located in fields as ‘cobbled beds about 3 m wide. However, no excavation was done that would have confirmed their Protohistoric date’ (p. 170).

The Relación de Sirandaro y Guayameo reported in 1579 that the towns of Zirándaro and Guayameo, located some 234 km southeast of Pátzcuaro (near the present-day border between the states of Michoacán and Guerrero), also occupied a natural environment with abundant rivers and wetlands: ‘Sirandaro and Guayameo… the headtown is located [on the] banks of a large, deep river… at all times they have to cross it with rafts… this river has large amounts of… catfish, large trout, large shrimp… mojarras [fish of the Gerreidae family] and alligators in great quantity… when these are angered they do much harm to the natives crossing from one bank of the river to the other’ (Acuña 1987:261). According to this Relación, these two towns had farmland in abundance where much cotton was grown, which the locals took to the highlands of Michoacán where ‘a great quantity of Indians come to trade and negotiate the harvest. Likewise they obtain plenty of fish from the rivers… it is their main livelihood, apart from cotton [and] large groves of plum trees of many kinds… which they take to the cold land [i.e. the highlands] to sell, and they make prunes… which last for a whole year, and they make [plum] wine’ (Acuña 1987:264).The Relación quoted above goes on to say that ‘twice a year they harvest maize, beans, chili and pumpkins, everything is bountiful… Because this is hot land, they grow all these seeds on the riverbanks and with the moisture [from the river] everything that they plant is harvested… in these towns and their environs… there are many wild trees… called nacazcolotl [Caesalpina coriaria]… used by tanners to work all kinds of skins’ (Acuña 1987:266).

In the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin, as in other parts of the empire, transport routes were the means by which people and trade commodities moved among settlements. As such, ‘they are indicators of the relationships among settlements, particularly of the relative importance of the roles of settlements in the conveyance of persons, goods, and information’ (p. 176). In the course of their study, Gorenstein and Pollard plotted the land routes to two areas of the Tarascan territory, one to the south, another to the east. The first area is the Balsas Basin where there was a major mining enterprise. The second

Before the Spanish invasion, the area under discussion was part of the Tarascan Empire. We read in the Relación 31

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica area was the eastern frontier, which was marked by fortifications facing, across a no man’s land, a similar group of Aztec fortifications’ (pp. 177-179).

After the broad discussion of historical information concerning the subsistence activities, aquatic resources, landscapes and communication system of Michoacán presented in previous pages, in the next section I focus on the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin, the core area of the Tarascan Empire.

The procedure followed by those authors involved, first, identifying Protohistoric settlements and Protohistoric mining and military enterprises on the basis of ethnohistorical and archaeological data; and, second, locating and determining the attributes of Protohistoric routes identified in the ethnohistorical record. ‘The route attributes are: (1) along rivers; (2) through mountain passes; and (3) along level elevations. Finally, these native attributes were used to predict probable routes connecting already identified Protohistoric settlements and cultural features’ (p. 179).

Ethnographic Interpretation

Analysis

and

Archaeological

In the following pages I discuss the natural environment of the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin and its cultural and historical background, emphasizing the role of aquatic resources in the pre-Hispanic Tarascan economy. After this review I turn attention to the ethnographic information on subsistence activities (fishing, hunting, gathering and manufacture). In the interests of brevity, the information about Lake Cuitzeo will not be discussed in detail, as it is available in several earlier publications (Williams 2009, 2014a, 2014b, 2014c). At the end of this section I present the archaeological implications of the ethnographic and ethnohistorical information discussed.

The great distances between key places placed a major constraint on the formation of efficient economic patterns in the study area. Gorenstein and Pollard discovered that ‘although most basic resources were within two days’ journey of the capital, many resources came from areas that were six days’ journey away… a weakly developed dendritic network suggests a region linked to the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin by administrative ties rather than by market-system ties’ (p. 181). In fact, according to these authors, a well-developed internal market system was never formed in pre-Hispanic times because of the lack of internal connectivity.

The Natural Environment of the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin Lake Pátzcuaro is located in the Neo-Transversal Volcanic Belt, in central Michoacán, at an altitude of 2,043 m above sea level. In this area, five physiographical areas are clearly marked: islands, lake margins, hillsides, intermountain valleys and mountains (Toledo and Argueta 1992:221). This is a closed basin with a surface area of 1,525 km2 where a lake was formed by numerous underground water currents and surface streams. It has an average annual volume of 81 million cubic meters of water (Figure 5) (Maderey and Correa 1974:217), and an extension of approximately 100 km2 (Toledo and Argueta 1992:221). It belongs to an endorheic system in which the water balance is affected by rainfall, evaporation and infiltration from the catchment area (Chacón 1992:41). Underground infiltration has diminished considerably in recent years due to deforestation in the basin and the subsequent erosion of the surrounding soils. Rainfall levels have also decreased in the last decades, possibly related to global warming (Kennedy 2007). This serious problem has been mentioned for Mexico as a whole, not just Michoacán (Davydova Baltiskaya 2012).

Another key finding of Gorenstein and Pollard’s study is that ‘the most active… Tarascan frontier zone was that on the east… Ten settlements with military functions can be identified as marking the limits of the eastern frontier… This Tarascan frontier zone faced a similar Aztec frontier zone of settlements with military functions that were counterparts of the Tarascan settlements to the west’ (p. 181). Though many key products and commodities were transported over the Tarascan road system, ‘the most important cargo carried over these routes was information, and the Tarascan information carriers were members of the… administrative system… Wartime spies were also part of the government bureaucracy’ (p. 183). As stated above, the routes in the intermediate zone were important as information highways, but they were also used in commerce. The frontier settlements ‘transmitted to Tzintzuntzan products that by either type or quantity could not have originated at those settlements… in this way, certain Tarascan frontier settlements served as official ports of trade’ (p. 183). In conclusion, the study of Tarascan routes discussed here revealed the existence of ‘a solar pattern in which the primary organizing functions were administrative as well as economic. That pattern is different from what is known in other parts of Mesoamerica’ (p. 184).

Lake Pátzcuaro is not very deep; in 1941 its depth was 15.24 m in the northern area, but its level has fluctuated considerably in historical times (West 1948:3). In 1992, maximum depths of 8 and 12 m were reported (Toledo and Argueta 1992:221). The Lake Pátzcuaro Basin has a cold-land climate (CBW) with a vegetable cover consisting of oak and other broadleaf trees, such as madroño (Arbutus sp.), jaboncillo (Sapindaceae), among 32

The Aquatic Lifeway in Michoacán: Natural Resources and Subsistence Activities

Figure 5. Map of Lake Pátzcuaro in the 16th century, with modern towns superimposed. The lake surface has diminished considerably in recent decades (base map adapted from Gorenstein and Pollard 1983: Map 2).

others (Toledo and Argueta 1992). According to Toledo and Argueta, indigenous communities there learned how to skillfully utilize the resources found on the land and in aquatic habitats. This is expressed in thirteen agricultural systems, nine types of fishing, eight craft activities, and small-scale cattle-raising, etcetera, as well as in detailed knowledge of species (more than 400 named plants, 140 animals and 53 mushrooms), the kinds of vegetation, and classes of soils (Toledo and Argueta 1992:233-234).

others, which predominate in a three-kilometer radius around the lake (Table 2). Other common plants in the lakeside area are colorín (Erythrina americana), casahuate (Ipomoea murucoides) and white zapote (Casimiroa edulis). On the lake margins there are hydrophilic plants such as willows (Salix bonplandiana), tepozán bushes (Buddelia spp.), and patches of carrizo reeds (Arundo donax). Swampy areas are characterized by tule (cattails) brakes (Cyperus thrysiflorus, Typha latifolia, T. dominguensis), while other aquatic plants include several species of water lily (Nymphaea spp.). Low-lying slopes around the lake may once have been covered by mixed pine-oak forests, but pines disappeared long ago as they were cut down for fuel and timber (West 1948).

According to Toledo et al., (1980), some 250 plant species have been recorded in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin (trees, bushes, herbs and epiphytes), in both the forests and grasslands. They have many uses, including medicinal (99), alimentary (30), household (20), fuel (16), ornamental (12), fodder (9), aromatic (7), house construction (7), resin (6), work tools (4), tanning (4), toys (4), poisons (3), insecticides (2), and magicalreligious (7) (Toledo et al., 1980:32).

Forests in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin consist of several species of oak (Quercus spp.), pine (Pinus spp.), and oyamel (Abies religiosa), with a pronounced presence of herbs and bushes. Agricultural lands are located on the lake’s margins and nearby slopes, and make up roughly 40% of the basin’s landscape. Although the communities in this area are primarily agricultural, household subsistence and reproduction also depend on activities such as plant-gathering, forest exploitation, fishing, hunting, cattle-raising and artisanal production, among

The Lake Pátzcuaro Basin is an area with remarkable ecological diversity, despite its apparent homogeneity. This relatively small space contains a great variety of natural plant communities, complemented by 33

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica Table 2. Natural vegetation of the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin (Alcocer and Bernal-Brooks 2010, Caballero and Mapes 1985, Caballero et al. 1992, Gorenstein and Pollard 1983, Lot and Novelo 1988, Reyes 1992, Suárez 1990). Spanish name is followed by Tarascan name (when known) and scientific name. Land Vegetation

Stevia serrata Stevia serrata, S. viscida Stipa ichu

Trees

Aile or aliso (Alnus oblongifolia, A. jorullensis, A. cardifolia, A. acuminata) Colorín (Erythrina americana) Encino (Quercus rugosa, Q. laurina, Q. obtusata, Q. castanea, Q. crassipes, Q.candicans) Madroño (Arbutus xalapensis) Oyamel (Abies religiosa) Pino (Pinus pseudostrobus, P. teocote, P. lawsoni, P. michoacana, P. leiophylla, P. montezumae) Sauce (Salix bonplandiana)

Mushrooms

Agaricus subrutilescens Aleuria rhenana Armillariella mellea Hongo amarillo, tiripiti terekua (Amanita caesarea) Hongo de paredón (Xerocomus spadiceus) Llanero, tepajkua terekua (Agaricus campestris) Macropodia macropus Melanopus varius Montoncito, parakua (Lyophyllum decastes) Montoncito, paxakua (Armillariella tabescens) Oreja de ratón blanca (Helvella crispa, H. lacunosa) Patarata (Calvatia cyathiformis) Patita de pájaro, terekua (Ramaria flava) Paxina acetabulum Pseudohydnum gelatinosum Pustularia catinus Semitas, semitu (Boletus edulis) Trompa de puerco, kuxtereko (Hypomyces lactiflorum) Viejito, t’ukuru (Ustilago maydis)

Bushes

Acacia pennatula Arcostaphylos spp. Baccharis conferta, B. halimifolia Ceanothus coeruleus Ceanothus coeruleus Cestrum viride Eupatorium mayretianum Montanoa gandiflora Phytolacca icosandra Senecio sinuata, S.salignus Solanum hartwegii Tecoma stans Verbesina greenmani

Aquatic vegetation

Acarpitaracuo grande, camalote, cuchilla (Cyperus semiochraceus) Acuarpitaracua, tripilla, navajilla (Scirpus californicus) Alfilerillo, putzuri (Najas guadalupensis) Bayoneta, patsimu, tule (Scirpus validus, S. americanus) Bejuquillo (Ceratophyllum demersum) Carrizo, patamu (Arundo donax, Cyperus sp.) Chubácuaro, hojilla, platanillo (Sagittaria latifolia) Chumbacuaro, hojilla, ninfa, paskurinda (Nymphaea mexicana) Chuspata o tule común (Thypa latifolia, T. dominguensis) Flor de agua, lagrimilla (Wolffia brasiliensis, W. lingulata) Gusanillo, taquipu (Utricularia gibba, U. vulgaris) Lirio (Eichhornia crassipes) Palmilla (Polypogon monspeliensis) Patantzin (Phragmites australis) Pazote, putzuri kokura (Potamogetom illinoensis) Raicilla, tulillo (Eleocharis montevidensis) T’zpancura, tripa de pollo (Bidens aurea) Triguillo (Echinochloa crusgalli) Tzurumuta, bayoneta (Sagittaria macrophylla)

Matorral (i.e. scrub) and other endemic plants

Acacia pennatula Maguey, akamba (Agave spp.) Euphorbia calyculata Hylocerus undatus Nopalea cochinellifera Nopal (Opuntia robusta, O. megacantha, O. streptacantha, O. hyptiacantha, O. fiscusindia) Sedum oxypetalum, S. bourgaei Senecio praecox Jara (Baccharis conferta)

Herbs

Bidens odorata Bouvardia ternifolia Cirsium pinetorum Cuphea spp. Lopezia racemosa Muhlenbergia macroura Prunus serotina Quelite, xakua (Chenopodium mexicana, Amaranthus hybridus, A. paniculatus, A. retroflexus) Salvia spp.

Other Aquatic Species

Sagittaria graminea, Najas guadalupensis, Ranunculus dichotomus, Utricularia vulgaris, Berula erecta, Sagitaria platyphylla, Lemna giba, Spirodela polyrrhiza, Arenaria bourgaei.

34

The Aquatic Lifeway in Michoacán: Natural Resources and Subsistence Activities

numerous human-induced species. The result is a particularly intricate space where it is difficult to distinguish the original vegetation and the degree of anthropogenic factors in its distribution (Caballero et al., 1992:71).

to shrink until they become valleys. Moreover, because Lake Pátzcuaro is located in a closed basin, rainfall and water evaporation have a great influence on variations in its water level (de Buen 1944:100-111). Compared to Lake Cuitzeo (Williams 2009, 2014c) and other bodies of water in western Mexico, environmental degradation in Lake Pátzcuaro has not been as severe, though local conditions are far from ideal. A recent study found that Lake Pátzcuaro is a mature but shallow lake that is being affected by deforestation and erosion in the surrounding basin. To the widespread and excessive logging seen in the area we must add the factor of the frequent bush fires that represent an additional threat to the basin’s ecology (Bernal Brooks 2008). Ecological degradation in this basin has had a negative impact on the migratory birds that once arrived in huge numbers. Most of the species of aquatic birds that come to the lakes of central Michoacán live and breed in lakes and swamps in the northern United States and Canada, but those areas are decreasing in both number and size. The birds come during winter to spend the coldest part of the year in Mexico. The numbers of such birds coming to Michoacán have decreased in recent years because of the inordinate amounts that are killed by hunters in the United States and the widespread destruction of nesting areas there. We must add to these problems other important factors that are decreasing the flocks of ducks that visit Lake Pátzcuaro. Lake-dwellers explain that these changes are caused by the decrease in the abundance of the aquatic plants on which the birds feed, as well as the silt build-up and gradual desiccation of the lake. The decrease in flocks arriving at the lake has, of course, reduced the importance of bird-hunting, which used to be considerable during the months they spend in the region (Argueta 2008).

From ancient times, the basic activities in this lake were fishing and agriculture but today, because of the lower water level, abundant invasive aquatic vegetation, excessive fishing, and introduction of exotic fish species, some fishers have had to change their activity and now participate in craft production and agriculture, while others have opted to exchange their traditional fishing gear for more modern equipment. As a result, at least five types of net have fallen into disuse. All those nets were equipped with a circular ring and wooden handle adapted for use in shallow waters, and were handled by one or two fishers working from small canoes (Argueta et al., 1986:63). Figure 3 shows an example from the early colonial period. In the 1940s, the inhabitants of towns around Lake Pátzcuaro still lived almost exclusively from fishing. The most abundant species were pescado blanco (white fish), charal, güerepo, acúmara, corunda, tiro, lisa and trucha (trout) (Mendieta 1940). Forty years later, fishing was still a productive activity of enormous importance for the Indigenous communities living on the islands and in lakeside areas, as some 1,500 fishers from 18 communities caught 14 fish species (10 native, four introduced) in the lake, as well as an amphibian (the achoque, Batysiredon dumerilii) and some turtles and frogs (see Table 3). But fishing in Lake Pátzcuaro has been undergoing profound changes because of the introduction of new species that have decreased native fish populations. Traditional fishing, primarily for local consumption in Indian communities, has now lost its equilibrium, while the indigenous fishing techniques that families once operated selectively are being displaced by an indiscriminate commercial fishing industry. In recent years there has been a steep decline in fishing productivity in this lake (Toledo et al., 1980:37), as seen in the graph by Williams (2014a: Figure 5).

During the Protohistoric period (ca. AD 1450-1530), there was a high level of interaction among the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin, the Michoacán Highlands, and other areas (Pollard 2003), because the basin did not possess all the natural resources necessary for subsistence. Pollard (1993:113) wrote that ‘the basin naturally lacks salt, obsidian, chert, and lime, all products used by most households in the Protohistoric period; it also lacked a wide range of goods utilized by the elite… The core of the Tarascan state in 1520 was not a viable economic unit. It existed, even thrived, only by the exchange of goods and services in regional and supraregional patterns’. However, we do not yet fully understand these inter-regional relationships because there has not been sufficient archaeological research in the area focused on this specific issue.

According to pioneer limnologist Fernando de Buen (1944), like lakes Zirahuén and Cuitzeo, Lake Pátzcuaro may also have been formed by successive subdivisions of a fluvial basin, segmented by the interposition of barriers formed by the accumulation of volcanic materials. Along the Lerma River Basin, ancient lakes (probably dating from the Miocene or Pliocene) formed one extensive intercontinental lake, or perhaps several stepped lakes. Because of the continual reduction of volume in the waters of this lake, its level has been falling steadily. If the evolution of these lakes in Michoacán continues along this path they will continue

Another aspect of life in pre-Hispanic times in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin that is not well understood has to do with subsistence strategies, in particular the activities 35

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica Table 3. Main animal species in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin (Alcocer and Bernal-Brooks 2010, Argueta 2008, Rojas 1992, Gorenstein and Pollard 1983). The table shows the Spanish name followed by the Tarascan name (if known), and the scientific name. Pato pinto (tixura), Anas strepera

Fish

Pato colaguja or golondrino (k’urisi kari), Anas acuta tzitzihoa

Pescado blanco (kurucha urápiti), Chirostoma estor Charal blanco (chakuami), Chirostoma grandocule

Pato criollo or chaparro (kurisi urapiti), Anas diazi

Charal prieto (kuerepu turípiti), Chirostoma attenuatum

Pato tepalcate (ichuki), Oxyura jamaicensis

Chegua, Allophorus robustus

Zopilote común (kuritse), Cathartes aura teter

Tiro (thirú sapichu), Allotoca vivipara

Águila ratonera (uakusi), Buteo jamaicensis borealis

Tiro (thirú), Skiffia lermae

Guajolote de monte (kuruka), Maleagris gallopavo

Carpa, Cyprinus carpio**

Polla de agua (kuirísi chorjtsi), Gallinula chloropus

Mojarra Oreochromis aureus**

Tildío, Charadrius vociferous

Pato chalcuán (kuarasi), Anas americana

Charal pinto (kuerepu), Chirostoma patzcuaro Acúmara, Algansea lacustres

Pato pijifi, Dendrocygna bicolor

Choromu, Neophorus diazi

Zopilote (tintiuapu), Coragyps atratus

Tiro (thirú pitsúpiti), Goodea atripinnis

Codorniz coluda (kurhú), Dendrortyx macroura

Lobina negra (trucha), Micropterus salmoides**

Gallareta (kuirísi turhipiti), Fulica americana

Carpa herbívora Ctenopharyngodon idellus**

Gallinita de agua o de ciénega (titituri), Porzana carolina

Other species: Chirostoma humboltianum, Goodea luitpoldii, Allotoca diazi, Oreochromis niloticus

Huilota (thakasku), Leptotila verreauxi

Huilota (jepune), Zenaida macroura

Colibrí (tsintsuni), Amazilia beryline

Amphibians

Mammals

Ajolote (achoque, achoki), Ambystoma dumerilii Salamandra (echeri kurita), Psudorycea belli

Tlacuache (ukúri), Didelphis virginiana californica

Sapo (koki), Scaphiopus hammondi

Musaraña Sorex saussurei

Rana (kuanasi), Rana pipiens

Murciélago (uasisi), Balantiopterix plicata

Armadillo (isingu), Dasypus novemcinctus mexicanus

Reptiles

Liebre torda (auani iondurha), Lepus mexicanus, L. callotis

Tortuga (kutu), Kinosternon hirtipes

Conejo (auani), Sylvilagus cunicularis, S. floridanus

Tortuga negra (ichuparha), Kinosternon leucostomum

Ardilla (kuaraki), Spermophilus variegatus, S. adocetus

Birds

Tuza (kúmu), Pappogeomys gymnurus Ratón (jeiaki), Bayomis taylori

Pelícano (uaruri, chondón), Pelecanus occidentalis

Rata algodonera (jeiaki), Sigmodon fulviventer

Torcomón (kokorojche k’eri), Botaurus lentiginosus

Coyote (jiuatsi, hihuatsi), Canis latrans cagottis

Gallinita (kokorojche sapi), Butorides virescens

Lobo (ungurhuri), Canis lupus baileyi

Garcilla, Ixobrynchus exilis

Zorra gris (kumu jiuatsi), Urocyon cinereoargenteus

Garza real or garza morena (kuarixi), Ardea herodias

Coatimundi or tejón (amatsi), Nasua narica

Garzón blanco (iojcha), Casmerodius albus

Mapache (kurucha tamari), Procyon lotor

Garcita nívea (tirhindu), Egreta thula

Cacomixtle, Bassariscus astutus

Frijolillo or atotola (kuende akuma), Plegadis chihi

Comadreja (apatsi), Mustela frenata

Ganso de frente blanca (ukaku), Anser albifrons

Zorrillo (k’uitsiki urapiti), Conepatus mesoleucus

Pato cabeza roja (kuirisi chorojta), Aythya americana Pato zambullidor (iraki), Podylimbus podiceps

Puma or león (púki), Felis concolor

Pato bola or boludo (irhamikua), Aythya affinis

Lince (misitu papu), Lynx rufus

Margay or tigrillo (uinduri), Felis wiedii

Pato coacoxtle (ionari chontsi), Aythya valisneria

peccary or jabalí (kuchi xánu), Dycotyles tajacu

Pato monja (irimbo), Bucephala albeola

Venado cola blanca (axuni), Dama virginiana, Odocoileus virginianus

Cucharón or cucharillo, Anas clypeata

Cercete de mancha verde (chapata sapi), Anas carolinensis Pato (ilemenda), Anas cyanoptera

Venadito rojo (p’atasi), Mazama americana

Pato de collar (kambrinsi), Anas plathyrinchos

**Species introduced in the 20th century.

Pato (chapata k’eri), Anas discors

36

The Aquatic Lifeway in Michoacán: Natural Resources and Subsistence Activities

60 cm to 1.5 m wide, with mesh openings of 1, 2 or 2.5 cm. These openings allow the fishers to selectively catch fish of different sizes (Rojas 1992:143-144). When using the cherémekua, fishers must select the area of the lake where they want to work, since different lake depths are habitats for different fish species. When fishing for charales, for example, the net must be placed in shallow waters, while the white fish (pescado blanco) inhabits deeper waters. Around the 1950s, the nets for white fish were usually set up at night, those for charal in the morning. The period of the most intense fishing activity was from February to June or July. These gill nets were not used the rest of the year. The work unit for handling the cherémekua consists of a 5-6 m-long canoe, one or two paddles, and a variable number of nets usually manipulated by a single fisher, since this is an individual activity (Rojas 1992:145). In the early 1960s many cherémecuas were used for fishing pescado blanco on the La Pacanda Island of Lake Pátzcuaro. The nets were placed in areas of the lake where experienced fishers knew they would obtain the best results. After a period of eight to ten hours, the nets were lifted out of the water and the catch collected: usually between three and five specimens, but this number could increase depending on the season of the year (Aparicio 1972:120). The cherémekua used by the fishers of La Pacanda came in two sizes: a small one (about one meter tall and 12-18 m long) was used for catching the fish called kerépu near the shore, while a larger one (2-4 m high and up to 200 m long) was used to catch pescado blanco and akúmara in deeper waters (Smith 1965).

Figure 6. Many fishers in Lake Pátzcuaro use a gill net (called cherémekua in Tarascan), like this one from Colonia Revolución, near Erongarícuaro (photo by Teddy Williams, 2009).

and material culture associated with the indigenous aquatic lifeway. This issue has been approached through ethnographic analogy, as discussed in the following sections. Ethnographic Information on Subsistence Activities in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin

In Ichupio, a lakeside community in the northeastern area of the basin, Tarascan fishers used the chinchorro, or seine net, until recent years. The owner of the net, called patrón (i.e. master or boss), had four workers (called peones) under his command, two pulling each side of the net. The catch was usually divided into five unequal parts: one half was for the patrón, the other was shared by the workers. According to informants interviewed by the author in the field (2009), women used to fish alongside the men, but they would not help in pulling the chinchorro with the catch out of the water. In Tareiro, however, all family members can help drag the net out of the water (Figure 7). The following species were caught with the seine net at Lake Pátzcuaro: charal, pescado blanco, akúmara, trucha, chegua, tiro and choromu, as well as frogs, achoques and turtles (Williams 2014a).

In this section I discuss the subsistence activities – fishing, hunting, gathering and manufacture– at Lake Pátzcuaro as these have been elucidated in several ethnographic sources, mainly from the early-to-mid 20th century, plus field observations by the author (see discussion in Williams 2014a:76-176, and 2014b:23-71). Fishing Of all the activities observed by the author in the field, fishing is the most productive and most diverse one in terms of the associated material culture. Several different kinds of fishnet are used in Lake Pátzcuaro, including a gill net called red agallera in Spanish, and cherémekua in Tarascan (Figure 6). This net is used to catch the following fish: tiro, carpa, acúmara (also called sardina), and charal. In order for the fish to get caught in this net, it must be set in a vertical position under the water at all times. Thus, fishers tie small stones to the bottom of the net as weights. These stones are modified by making a groove with a jacksaw to prevent them from slipping and falling off the net. The cherémekua is a fixed net of variable dimensions: 25 to 50 m in length,

The chinchorro at Lake Pátzcuaro is fitted with stone weights so that it sinks to the bottom to catch as many fish as possible. These sinkers are usually stones that have been modified with grooves so they can be tied securely to the net (Figure 8). Some of these stones may 37

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica George Foster (1948) wrote that in the 1940s fishing was a seasonal occupation at Lake Pátzcuaro, taking place primarily during the dry season (November-May). The largest net in use was the chinchorro, 100-150 m long by 8 m wide, with a space of 2 cm between knots in the mesh. According to Aparicio (1972), in the 1960s during the less-productive season each peón would receive three or four kilos of pescado blanco in its juvenile phase (called güerepo) and charal, after a six-hour-long night shift. In the 1980s, there were some 30 or 40 chinchorros in active use in Lake Pátzcuaro (Argueta et al., 1986), and fishing was largely a male occupation, though in some cases this division of labor was not strictly followed. According to Argueta et al., (1986:74), women were responsible for dividing up the catch and commercializing the fish. The first portion went to the owner of the canoe, the second to the owner of the chinchorro, and the remainder was divided equally among the four peones. The chinchorro is still used around Lake Cuitzeo, where in many fishing villages one can see nets hanging to dry under the sun (Figure 9). Another net used by fishers in Lake Cuitzeo is the atarraya, a throw net (Figure 10) that can also be seen around Lake Pátzcuaro (Figure 11).

Figure 7. A fisher and his two daughters drag the chinchorro or seine net out of the water at Tareiro, a Tarascan community on the eastern margin of Lake Pátzcuaro (photo by Teddy Williams, 2009).

Another fishing technique described for Lake Pátzcuaro is the atárakua or fisga (harpoon) (Figure 12), sometimes used in conjunction with the umékata or trap for catching trout. This trap is usually constructed in selected areas of the lake that are not very deep, have aquatic vegetation on the surface, and are sheltered from the wind. The technique consists in cutting the vegetation in an area of one square meter and covering the area with grass or rushes, leaving an open space to see the fish swimming around and then kill them with the harpoon (Argueta et al., 1986).

have as many as 40 years of continuous use. The fishers in some lakeside communities look for suitable rocks around the town and the surrounding area (Williams 2014a).

Figure 8. The chinchorro or seine net used at Lake Pátzcuaro is fitted with stone weights to sink it to the lakebed and catch as many fish as possible (photo by Teddy Williams, 2009).

38

Many traditional fishing techniques have been lost at Lake Pátzcuaro, while a few persist as simple remembrances, such as the red de mariposa, or butterfly net (Figure 13), which was used to catch the fish called tiro or tiru. Tiro has been virtually extinct at Lake Pátzcuaro since the 1940s, so the butterfly net is no longer used. Nowadays, this net is mostly seen on

The Aquatic Lifeway in Michoacán: Natural Resources and Subsistence Activities

Figure 9. The chinchorro is still common around Lake Cuitzeo, where one can see the nets hanging to dry under the sun in many fishing villages (photo by Teddy Williams, 2009).

Figure 10. The throw net or atarraya is still used by some fishers in Lake Cuitzeo (author’s photo, 2008).

39

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica

Figure 12. A fishing technique described for Lake Pátzcuaro is the atárakua or fisga (harpoon), used to catch trucha (trout) and other fish species (after Argueta 2008: Figure 50). Figure 11. Around Lake Pátzcuaro, the atarraya is used to catch many species of fish (photo by Teddy Williams, Jarácuaro, 2009).

Figure 13. Several traditional fishing techniques have been lost at Lake Pátzcuaro, while a few persist as a mere remembrance, such as the red de mariposa or butterfly net seen at Janitzio (photo by Teddy Williams, 2009).

40

The Aquatic Lifeway in Michoacán: Natural Resources and Subsistence Activities

distinctive activity of the Purépecha of [Lake] Pátzcuaro… every year at the end of October the kuirisi atakua or [communal] duck hunt takes place, an ancestral tradition that renews contacts and social relationships between the indigenous communities’.

Figure 14. Among the fishing techniques at Lake Cuitzeo, there is a fishnet called red de aro or ring net. In this photo, the net is being used in conjunction with a fish trap made of carrizo reeds (author’s photo, 1998).

Figure 15. The red de aro has been part of the indigenous assemblage linked to an aquatic lifeway since pre-Hispanic times, with few surviving examples like this modern one from Lake Cuitzeo (author’s photo, 2009).

In Ucazanaztacua, a Tarascan community on the eastern margins of Lake Pátzcuaro, hunters would kill many species of birds, such as gallaretas (coot, Fulica sp.), and ducks locally known as cari, patito pico rojo, chapata and tilano. These migrant birds would arrive at the lake in September. One of my informants (see the list of informants in Williams 2014a: Table 1) in Ucazanaztacua told me that ‘there used to be ducks by the millions’. The same informant recalled how in Jarácuaro, an island on the southwestern side of the lake, the fishers would hunt ducks for food in all seasons of the year, but that ducks ‘no longer come here… they used to come from the first of October, and on October 31 we went to kill birds with reeds [that is, fisgas or harpoons] that we hurled with the tirador or tzipaki [i.e. atlatl]’. The hunters went out in their canoes to look for ducks in the lake and in one trip from eight o’clock in the morning to three in the afternoon might bring back as many as 140 birds. Up until 1960, wild ducks formed part of the diet of the people of Jarácuaro, who would also take them to sell in Pátzcuaro. This is a recollection of events that took place around 1945 or 1950, according to our informants (see Williams 2014a:95-99).

On the last day of October on the aforementioned island of Janitzio, hunters used the tzipaki or atlatl (Figure 16) to bring down ducks that were used as an offering for the deceased during the día de muertos, or Day of the Dead, festivities. The communal duck hunt was called feria, and many people from the lakeside communities took part in this ritual activity. One informant told the author that there were so many ducks that the water of the lake seemed to be boiling. Two or three men would go in each canoe, and bring back between 60 and 70 ducks. ‘But all that is now lost because the boatmen pursued the ducks too hard. As many as 100 or 200 canoes would get together’ for the hunt.

the island of Janitzio, where it is admired by tourists (West 1948:54). Finally, the fishing techniques used at Lake Cuitzeo include a net called red de aro, or ring net (Figures 14 and 15), but it is not as common today as in the past. Hunting At present the role of hunting as a subsistence activity has diminished considerably in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin. Duck hunting, for instance, has disappeared almost completely from many lakeside communities, though a few decades ago it was still a very important activity. According to Toledo et al., (1980:36), ‘although the number of ducks that come to the lake each year has been steadily decreasing, duck hunting is still a

An informant from Arocutín told the author that ‘there used to be many ducks’ of different species, which were 41

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica

Figure 16. The atlatl or spear-thrower is an indigenous weapon used in Mesoamerica since pre-Hispanic times, like this modern example from Lake Pátzcuaro (photo by Teddy Williams, 2009).

was practiced traditionally in two different environments: one terrestrial, around the lake margins and in the surrounding hills; the other aquatic, on the surface of the region’s many lakes and rivers. Toledo et al. (1980) tell us that, although hunting wildlife is practically insignificant at present for local subsistence or the economy of the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin, in the surrounding mountains and lakeside areas hunting rabbits, squirrels and doves is still a frequent activity. However, ‘this is really just a remembrance of the past, rather than a practice with real importance for the economy of Purépecha communities’ (Toledo et al., 1980:36). In pre-Hispanic times, hunting made a significant contribution to Figure 17. Tarascan hunters would go after the abundant waterfowl in Lake Pátzcuaro Tarascan nutrition and economy using the atlatl, called tzipaki in Tarascan (ca. mid-20th century) (photo courtesy of: in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin. Deer, Centro de Cooperación Regional para la Educación de Adultos en América Latina y el rabbits and wild fowl such as quail Caribe, CREFAL, Pátzcuaro, Michoacán). were hunted in the mountains, while killed with shotguns. ‘The ducks would arrive between migrant waterfowl (especially ducks) were hunted on September and October, but they don’t come anymore the lake. Around 1946, Robert West conducted one of the because there’s no lake left’. Before the shrinking of the most important studies of the cultural geography of the lake area and overhunting affected these migrant bird Lake Pátzcuaro Basin and other areas of the Tarascan species, some men specialized in hunting ducks, hunting domain. He (1948) reported that by this period ducks by night under the full moon. They had no other work were the only wild species with any real significance during the duck season. Part of the kill was sold, but in the local economy. Hunting was limited to fishers part was consumed by the hunters and their families and ‘a few ranchers’ (mostly men), who recognized (Williams 2014a). nine varieties of migratory ducks, belonging mainly to the following genera: Nyroca, Mareca and Nettion. The An elderly informant from Santa Fe de la Laguna recalled hunt would begin in late October or early November, how the duck hunt was conducted many decades ago. The as stated above, and last until the ducks left the lake number of canoes that would assemble in the lake could be around the end of March. West (1948) holds that a single as high as 500, from all 27 lakeside communities. The hunters hunter could kill as many as 100 ducks using the patámu surrounded the ducks out on the water and killed them with or fisga (a three-meter-long harpoon made of reed with the fisga and tzipaki (Figure 17). Some of the ducks brought metal prongs) (Figure 18) and titador or tzipaki. Ducks down during the communal hunt, or feria, would end up in were an important food source for lakeside towns (West a dish offered to a dead relative in the graveyard of Santa Fe 1948:51). or some other lakeside town (Williams 2014a). According to Arturo Argueta (2008), wild migratory Not all hunting performed by the Tarascans takes ducks were an important source of protein for the Lake place in the waters of Lake Pátzcuaro, for this activity Pátzcuaro Tarascans until recent decades. Argueta 42

The Aquatic Lifeway in Michoacán: Natural Resources and Subsistence Activities

Figure 18. Ducks were hunted at Lake Pátzcuaro with the patámu or fisga, a harpoon made of carrizo reed with three metal prongs. The fisga was hurled with the atlatl (item from Tareiro, photo by Teddy Williams, 2011).

holds that many people from the islands and the southern margins of the lake eat duck meat regularly during the season. One of the most common dishes is wild duck in mole, while duck innards fried in red chili sauce is regarded as a delicacy. Apart from these species of migrant ducks, there are several resident species, as well as other aquatic birds and quail, which also form part of the local diets, especially in winter (Argueta 2008).

towns in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin, such as Oponguio, Erongarícuaro, and San Andrés. The latter town had abundant huilotas (mourning dove, Zenaida macroura), but they are seen less often in the area today (Williams 2014a). Argueta (2008:130) described the traditional weapons used by Tarascan hunters in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin: (1) The pitakua, a wooden spear or stick about one meter long; (2) the honda, or sling, made of maguey (ixtle) fiber and used to hurl stones; (3) the atlatl, also known as tirador or tzipaki, for hunting aquatic fowl; (4) the patamu or fisga, a harpoon made of reed with three metal prongs; and (5) the bow and arrow. In addition to these weapons, hunters would catch prey like ducks and huilotas with nets made of cotton or ixtle, while pit traps were used to catch small mammals in the hills.

According to George Foster (1948), in the mid-20th century the Tarascans of the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin used various kinds of traps to catch animals in the mountains. On the topic of hunting at Tzintuntzan, one of the most important lakeside towns, he wrote that it was a complement to fishing because most hunting was done by fishers, since this activity was virtually restricted to the aquatic habitat of the lake. Apart from ducks and other waterfowl, both migrant and native, hunters in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin also killed many wild animals, especially in the hills around the lake. In Ihuatzio, for instance, rifles were used to bring down rabbits, squirrels, and tlacuaches (opossums, Didelphis marsupialis). In the words of an informant in Ucazanaztacua, ‘deer were abundant, but their numbers decreased when the road was built’. This informant also recalled that in addition to fishers, there used to be specialized hunters called tiradores, who would bring rabbits, coyotes, squirrels, deer and snakes to the town. Some 75 years ago some of the hunters in the hills around Ucazanaztacua came from Tzintzuntzan with firearms to take rabbits, armadillos, deer, tlacuaches and snakes.

Gathering. Gathering wild plants is still an important subsistence activity in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin, indeed the Tarascans of Lake Pátzcuaro satisfy many requirements of food, health and energy by directly exploiting their natural environment. Among the principle products gathered are flowers, fruits, seeds, leaves, branches of trees or bushes, roots and whole plants. These may serve as food, condiments, fodder,medicines, colorants or aromas, among other uses. Many of these species are seasonal; for instance, some mushrooms are gathered in the rainy season, while fruits like the blackberry are obtained during the dry part of the year. Another important product gathered is the honey of wild bees, a particularly highlyvalued commodity for both daily use and certain feasts (Toledo et al., 1980:39).

Meanwhile, there were many deer in the hills around the town of Arocutín. When locals planted their fields with maize, beans or broad beans, deer would come to feed there and could be killed by the farmers. Similar stories about hunting deer and other wildlife in the hills were told by informants from other Tarascan

According to the study of plant use among the Tarascans of Lake Pátzcuaro conducted by Javier Caballero and Cristina Mapes in the early 1980s, the list of vascular plants includes 224 species (both native and naturalized), of which 60 are gathered frequently and used for food, fuel or medicine. Plant-gathering is 43

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica usually carried out in conjunction with agriculture, so it is mostly men who perform this activity, though women take part as well (Caballero and Mapes 1985). According to these authors (1985), certain wild fruits and roots are eaten in the field as snacks, sweets or to quench people’s thirst. These include the root of the jícama, or Mexican turnip (Phaseolus heterophyllus) and the papa cimarrona, or wild potato (Solanum cardiophylum). Wild edible plants are, in general, a basic complement of the diet, though most daily nutrition comes from agriculture (maize, beans, pumpkin and wheat, among others). Wild mushrooms are an important component of diets, but only during the rainy season. As many as 43 species of edible mushrooms are known in the Lake Pátzcuaro basin, but only ten are gathered regularly (see Table 2).

In the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin and its environs there is an enormous quantity and variety of wild plants that are gathered seasonally, though most food species are available only in the rainy season, between July and September. The Tarascans say that plant foods ‘are so plentiful that many go to waste’ in the wet season. Edible plants are seldom stored, unlike medicinal species which are found year-round and can be dried for later use (Caballero and Mapes 1985). When wild species are combined with domesticated crops like maize, beans, tomato, pumpkin and chili, etcetera, a complete and balanced nutrition is achieved. In fact, it has been said that ‘Purépecha cuisine is wonderfully adapted to the different wild resources available throughout the year’ (Caballero and Mapes 1985:40). The wild plants gathered in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin are not limited to edible species; indeed, from ancient times to the present, one of the most useful plants for the Tarascans is the rush known locally as tule or chuspata (Typha latifolia and T. dominguensis), and tule redondo (Scripus californicus and S. valuis). These rushes (Figure 19) are used to make mats called petates (Figure 20), baskets, fans for the cooking fire (Figure 21), hats, sacks and an almost endless list of products that were indispensable for daily life in virtually the whole of Mexico. These items today are seen as mere ‘handicrafts’ and sometimes have a different role, for example as decoration, but they remain a fundamental part of native culture in the lake area, though their use has diminished over time as they were replaced by metal, plastic and other ‘modern’ materials. The petate is still used in many Indian communities in Michoacán as a bed or floor mat, as well as for packing maize, beans, wheat and other goods for storage.

Among the most important food plants gathered in the study area are wild herbs known as quelites (Chenopodium spp. and Amaranthus spp.). There are nine quelite species, known as xakua in Tarascan. Usually they are cooked with chili and mixed with fish, meat or beans. Many plants provide sweets or condiments, such as the young stalks of Agave inaequidens, which are gathered in January, cooked and eaten as a dessert. The following fruits of arboreal species are frequently gathered by the Tarascans: tejocote (Crataegus pubescens), baya or berry (Morus microphylla), tuna, or prickly pear (Opuntia spp.), capulín (Prunus serotina capulli), talayote (Gonolobus numularis), and zarzamora, or blackberry (Rubus adenotrichus) (Caballero and Mapes 1985).

Figure 19. The rush locally known as tule or chuspata is one of the most useful plants for the Tarascans of Lake Pátzcuaro. Here a tule gatherer is bringing a bundle of green stalks that will be laid on the ground to dry at La Ortiga, near Erongarícuaro (photo by Teddy Williams, 2009).

44

Most of the artisans interviewed by the author in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin were tuleros (i.e. tule workers) and fishers at the same time, using the money obtained from both activities to provide for their families. The women were in charge of selling the tule, though it could also be exchanged for other products, such as salt, soap, chili and tomato, among many others. However, tule is becoming scarce around Lake Pátzcuaro because of environmental degradation and desiccation,

The Aquatic Lifeway in Michoacán: Natural Resources and Subsistence Activities

so the tuleros now have to buy this plant from people who come from Lake Cuitzeo. Aquatic plants such as tule and chuspata are regarded as property of each community, so people from outside had to buy rushes from local owners, for they were not allowed to cut the plants themselves (Williams 2014a). Tule was an important resource for the people of the Lake Cuitzeo Basin as well until recent decades. José Corona Nuñez (1946:43) wrote that in several towns around this lake, mats or petates were used as ‘mattresses’ and to make sacks called sacas (Figure 22) where people stored beans, dry charal fish, chili Figure 20. Tule stalks are used to make mats called petates, as shown by this Tarascan artisan in peppers and other goods. The Ihuatzio (photo by Teddy Williams, 2009). only tools used for harvesting tule plants from the lake are a machete or sickle (Figure 23). Tule harvesting is a male occupation (Figures 24,

Figure 22. In several towns around Lake Cuitzeo tule weavers make sacks called sacas, in which people store beans, dry charal fish, chili peppers and other goods (photo by Teddy Williams, 2009).

Figure 21. Tule rushes are used to make fans for the cooking fire, among an endless list of products that were indispensable for daily life in virtually the whole of Mexico (photo by Teddy Williams, 2011).

45

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica (7-10 cm in diameter, 3-4 cm thick), a wooden mallet (Figure 28) used as a hammer to flatten the interwoven tule fibers, and a steel knife to make an even edge by cutting off the excess tule stalks sticking out from the mat’s woven borders.

Figure 23. The sickle is used for harvesting tule plants from Lake Cuitzeo. Tools like this one have a long tradition of use by the local people (photo by Teddy Williams, 2009).

25) practiced primarily in the rainy season, while the manufacture of objects like petates, sacas, sopladores (fans for the kitchen fire and other uses), can be performed by men or women using little more than a round stone and a steel knife (Figure 26).

But petates are not the only items made with tule or chuspata in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin. In Ihuatzio, for instance, baskets called papeleros (wastepaper baskets) (Figure 29) are made in a domestic workshop visited by the author. Making these baskets involves the following steps: (1) cutting the tule stalks to the desired length with a steel knife; (2) placing the stalks on a cylindrical wooden base (Figure 30); (3) using a steel bucket as a mold to give the papelero its final shape; and, (4) trimming the excess fibers from the basket’s rim with a knife (Figure 31).

As I mentioned earlier, items made of carrizo reeds are as important as those made of tule in the domestic economy of many Tarascan households in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin, although at present few people are dedicated to working carrizo full-time. In one domestic workshop in Ihuatzio, the process of manufacturing a carrizo basket begins with the harvesting of the stalks from the lakeshore (see discussion in Williams 2014a:145-148). Once the carrizo is in the workshop, the artisan peels off the outer skin of the stalk and cuts it lengthwise (Figure 32), then the bottom of the basket is woven on a stone slab supported on a wooden stool (Figures 33- 34), and the sides and handle of the basket are finished. The assemblage used for making baskets includes several cutting implements, such as steel knives and a hacksaw (Figure 35), as well as stones used as ‘hammer’ and ‘anvil’, as discussed below. In many instances, artisans told us that the stones they used once belonged to their fathers or grandfathers, and may have as many as three generations of continuous use. The basket-makers at Lake Cuitzeo use a similar assemblage for working with carrizo fibers (Figure 36).

In addition to tule, the stalks of the carrizo reed (Arundo donax, Cyperus sp.) are an important component of the domestic economy in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin (Williams 2014a) and Lake Cuitzeo (Williams 2009, 2014c). Carrizo is used to make baskets of many sizes and shapes, with diverse functions. This plant was also used as a building material for fences, and even furniture. We know that carrizo was used in pre-Hispanic times, for Pollard (2005) excavated remains of wattle-anddaub house walls in Urichu, pertaining to the Classic period. Until recent decades, many houses around Lakes Cuitzeo and Pátzcuaro were built of wattle-and-daub made of carrizo reeds for the walls, and tule thatching for the roof (Figure 27). Manufacture In this section I discuss several traditional activities related to the manufacture of numerous objects that have long been indispensable for subsistence in the context of the Tarascan aquatic lifeway. We saw in previous sections that weaving tule mats or petates is important for the domestic economy in Tarascan communities, especially in areas like the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin. The production techniques observed during fieldwork are described in Williams (2014a); here I present a summary discussion. After cutting the tule stalks, they are dried under the sun, and later sprinkled with water to allow the plant fibers to recover their original elasticity. Several tools are used for weaving a petate: a hand stone called piedra petatera

One especially important craft in the Pátzcuaro Lake Basin was weaving fishnets, an essential component of the fishers’ trade. In Tzintzuntzan, for example, most fishers used to knit their own nets. Some were particularly skillful and would spend more time than others in this occupation. Until the late 1940s or so, maguey or ixtle fiber was used for making nets, but by 1948 cotton thread had been introduced. In Ichupio, the malacate (spindle whorl) was still in use in the late 1940s for spinning the thread used by net-makers, but it was eventually replaced by the spinning wheel (Foster 1948:107). 46

The Aquatic Lifeway in Michoacán: Natural Resources and Subsistence Activities

Figure 24. Tule harvesting at Lake Cuitzeo takes place primarily in the rainy season, by men who go into the lake in wooden boats (author’s photos, 1998).

47

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica

Figure 25. At certain points around the Lake Cuitzeo margins the tuleros (tule gatherers) have modified the terrain to make it easier to disembark with freshly-cut tule stalks (author’s photo, 1998).

Figure 26. The manufacture of objects made of tule such as petates can be performed with little more than a round flat stone, as shown by this elderly artisan at Lake Cuitzeo (author’s photo, 1998).

48

The Aquatic Lifeway in Michoacán: Natural Resources and Subsistence Activities

Figure 27. Until recent decades, many houses around Lake Cuitzeo had walls made of carrizo reeds, while the roof was covered with tule thatching (photo by Teddy Williams, 2009).

Figure 28. This wooden mallet is used to tighten the woven tule stalks while making a petate (Ihuatzio, photos by Teddy Williams, 2009).

49

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica lake in the 1940s, a few full-time net-makers (rederos) sold nets directly to fishers from nearby towns. The nets were woven with a wooden churukua 20 cm long by 2 cm wide (West 1948:66). The use of maguey fibers for weaving fishnets is likely a custom that goes back to pre-Hispanic times. The production of maguey fibers was very important in this lake basin until the mid-20th century. According to Donald Brand (1951), in Quiroga and surrounding hamlets there were people who occasionally made ropes and bags or sacks with maguey or yucca (Yucca spp.) fiber obtained locally. Another key component of the Mesoamerican aquatic lifeway was the canoe, which was widely used as a means of transportation and for fishing and other subsistence activities. Until the late 1950s or so, canoes in Michoacán were made of hollowed-out tree trunks (pine or pinabete, common fir). There were specialized canoe-makers in the Tarascan Sierra who took advantage of the extensive forests there. The canoes used by the Tarascans in the lake area were of several types: the icharuta (Figure 39) was a small canoe (ca. 2.5-6 m long) used for fishing and hunting, while the tepari (Figure 40) was a larger vessel (ca. 10-12 m long) used to transport people and goods across the lake. The canoe-makers used steel axes to cut down the trees and adzes to hollow out the trunk. The canoes were dragged down from the sierra to the lake by oxen (Foster 1948). In pre-Hispanic times, canoe manufacture involved more strenuous work, because of the lack of metal tools. Likewise, the transportation of the finished canoes would have depended on human porters.

Figure 29. This basket made of tule or chuspata, called papelero (wastepaper basket), was made in a domestic workshop in Ihuatzio (photo by Teddy Williams, 2011).

Each fisher in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin usually knits his own nets (Figure 37) using a special needle called aguja plana or ‘flat needle’ (pikukua or churukua in Tarascan) (Figure 38). In most villages around the lake, fishnets were made by men, women and children, during their free time. On Janitizio and several other islands in the

Figure 30. Making a papelero basket using a wooden base and the petatera stone (Ihuatzio, photo by Teddy Williams, 2009).

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Figure 31. After the papelero is woven, the excess fibers are trimmed from the basket’s rim using a steel knife (Ihuatzio, photo by Teddy Williams, 2009).

The Aquatic Lifeway in Michoacán: Natural Resources and Subsistence Activities

Figure 32. This artisan is trimming the carrizo stalks in preparation for making a basket in a domestic workshop in Ihuatzio (photo by Teddy Williams, 2009).

Figure 33. This stone slab is used on top of a wooden bench to make baskets in a domestic workshop in Ihuatzio (photo by Teddy Williams, 2009).

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Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica

Figure 34. Detail of the stone slab shown in Figure 33 (photo by Teddy Williams, 2009).

Figure 35. The tool assemblage used in basket-making includes several cutting implements, such as metal knives and hacksaws (Ihuatzio, photo by Teddy Williams, 2009).

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The Aquatic Lifeway in Michoacán: Natural Resources and Subsistence Activities

Figure 36. The assemblage linked to basket-making would be relatively easy to identify in the excavation of an ancient household, since the stones and cutting implements (made of obsidian, chert, bone,and other durable materials) would remain for long periods of time in an archaeological context (photo by Teddy Williams, Lake Cuitzeo, 2009).

Figure 37. Each fisher usually weaves his own fishnet in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin, like this one in Urichu (photo by Teddy Williams, 2009).

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Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica

Figure 38. The aguja plana or ‘flat needle’ (pikukua or churukua in Tarascan), is used to weave fishnets around Lake Pátzcuaro (Urichu, photo by Teddy Williams, 2009).

Figure 39. The canoe called icharuta is used by the Tarascans of Lake Pátzcuaro for fishing and hunting (ca. mid-20th century; courtesy of CREFAL, Pátzcuaro, Michoacán).

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The Aquatic Lifeway in Michoacán: Natural Resources and Subsistence Activities

Figure 40. The tepari is a large canoe used to transport people and goods across Lake Pátzcuaro (ca. mid-20th century; courtesy of CREFAL, Pátzcuaro, Michoacán).

Subsistence Activities Archaeological Markers

in

Aquatic

Contexts:

Fishing This is the activity that has left behind the greatest archaeological visibility in the study area, though not all fishing techniques have the same probability of being preserved in the archaeological record. Fish traps made of carrizo, for instance, would probably not be found in an archaeological excavation. The gill net or cherémekua was probably made of ixtle fiber, which would also disappear with the passage of time. But the small stones or other objects, such as worked potsherds used as weights for the gill net, would persist in the archaeological record. Recent archaeological research in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin has discovered modified potsherds round in shape with two notches (Phillips 2002). These artifacts have been identified as fishnet weights. Similar objects have been reported from Lake Texcoco in the Basin of Mexico (Parsons 2006: Figure 7.13). We found numerous artifacts of this kind during surface survey around the towns of Jarácuaro (Figure 41a) and Ucazanaztacua (Figure 41b).

Here, I present a discussion of the archaeological markers; that is, the artifacts and features associated with subsistence activities in ethnographic context and their role in the hypothetical reconstruction of the pre-Hispanic assemblages and cultural landscapes of the ancient Tarascans. This reconstruction is based on the ethnohistorical and ethnographic information discussed above. In the foregoing pages I have discussed numerous diagnostic artifacts and features in systemic or ethnographic context that can aid in interpreting the archaeological record by means of analogy. Ethnographic and ethnohistorical data help us in reconstructing the assemblage of material culture associated with the four main clusters of subsistence activities in this aquatic lifeway: fishing, hunting, gathering and manufacture (Table 4).

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Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica Table 4. Subsistence activities in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin and their archaeological correlates. Activity

Modern artifact or feature

Possible ancient artifact or feature

Archaeological correlates

Fishing

Cherémekua

Gill net

Fishnet weights (worked potsherds or small stones), and bone or shell weaving tools

Chinchorro

Seine net

Fishnet weights (large modified stones), and bone or shell weaving tools

Fish traps

Traps

-

Fisga

Fisga, atlatl

Small obsidian or chert points, shell rings for atlatls

Hunting aquatic Fisga birds

Fisga, atlatl

Small obsidian or chert points, and shell grips for atlatls

Hunting land fauna

Rifle, sling, traps and Bow and arrow, fisga, snares atlatl, sling, traps and snares

Tule and carrizo Machete or sickle gathering

Obsidian blades, serrated chert tools

Small obsidian or chert points, shell grips for atlatl, and small round stones for sling Discarded obsidian blades, chert tools, and probable debitage from tool manufacture and retouching

Manufacture of reed mats (petates)

Piedra petatera, metal Handstones of knife appropriate size and shape

Stones of appropriate size and shape, discarded obsidian and chert tools, and debitage from tool manufacture and retouching

Manufacture of carrizo reed baskets

Stone anvil, hammer stone, metal knife and jacksaw

Discarded hammer and anvil stones, obsidian and chertcutting tools

Ixtle (Agave sp.) fiber spinning

Large spindle whorls Large spindle whorls

Domestic activity areas for working tule, carrizo, etc.

All tools and features for cutting and weaving plant fibers discussed above

Hammer and anvil stones, obsidian and chert-cutting tools

Large spindle whorls

Stone tools (i.e., hammer and anvil), deer antlers, bone Stone tools (eg., and shell tools, obsidian or chert blades, etc., and hammer and anvil), deer antlers, bone and debitage from tool-making or retouching shell tools, and obsidian or chert blades, etc.

Figure 41. These modified potsherds may have been used as fishnet weights in pre-Hispanic times in Ucazanaztacua (a) and Jarácuaro (b), in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin (photos by Teddy Williams, 2011).

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The Aquatic Lifeway in Michoacán: Natural Resources and Subsistence Activities

Figure 42. The fishers at Lake Cuitzeo use fragments of roof tiles made of clay as weights tied to the bottom of the gill net (photo by Teddy Williams, 2011).

Figure 43. The fishers at Lake Pátzcuaro use small stones as weights for the cherémekua or gill net, like these items found at Colonia Revolución, near Erongarícuaro (photo by Teddy Williams, 2011).

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Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica

Figure 44. These small, round clay objects were probably used as fishnet sinkers at Lake Chapala in pre-Hispanic times (adapted from Bond 1971: Figure 24).

The fishers at Lake Cuitzeo currently tie fragments of roof tiles made of clay to the bottom of their gill nets to make them more effective (Figure 42). The shores of some lakeside towns are littered with modified pre-Hispanic potsherds that may well have been used for the same purpose in ancient times (Williams 2014c: Figure 15). Meanwhile, the gill net, or cherémekua, at Lake Pátzcuaro usually has small stones as sinkers (Figure 43).

and he tentatively identified them as anchors used in ancient Maya boats (see discussion in Chapter V). Likewise, large stones that may have functioned as anchors have been reported from Pyramid Lake in west-central Nevada (Figure 47), together with stones that may have been used as fishnet weights (Figure 48) (Tuohy 1990). Hunting

Margaret Bond (1971) excavated several archaeological sites in the Lake Chapala Basin, and reported a tool assemblage which included many artifacts that may have been important in the survival strategies around Lake Chapala, such as fishing. This activity is suggested by small clay objects that may have been used as fishnet sinkers in pre-Hispanic times (Figure 44).

Several weapons used by hunters in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin, such as fisgas and arrows, would be represented in the archaeological record only by their projectile points made of obsidian, chert or similar stones, like those found at Lake Zacapu (Figure 49). As mentioned above, the atlatl or tzipaki was used for hunting ducks and other game at Lake Pátzcuaro until recent decades. Although the atlatl is usually made of wood, and so would not be preserved in the archaeological record,

Because of its size, the chinchorro, or seine net, requires larger and heavier weights than the chemérekua. We saw earlier that fishers in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin tie large rocks to the bottom of their nets, and Pollard (pers. comm.) has found similar stones in her archaeological excavations in this area (Figure 45). Another item associated with fishing activities is the canoe. Few canoes have been preserved from pre-Hispanic times to the present, so we must look for indirect information to identify this aspect of aquatic subsistence, such as the large stones used as anchors in some canoes at Lake Pátzcuaro, which are much larger than the chinchorro stone weights (Figure 46). Similar stones were found by Gordon Willey (1972) at Altar de Sacrificios, Guatemala,

Figure 45. These modified stones were probably used as fishnet sinkers. They were found in an archaeological context at Lake Pátzcuaro (courtesy of Helen Pollard).

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The Aquatic Lifeway in Michoacán: Natural Resources and Subsistence Activities

Figure 46. A large modified rock is used as an anchor for a canoe in Lake Pátzcuaro (Janitzio, photo by Teddy Williams, 2009).

Figure 47. These grooved stones may have functioned as canoe anchors, or as net weights used for fishing in Pyramid Lake, Nevada (adapted from Tuohy 1990: Figure 16).

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Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica

Figure 48. These modified stones may have functioned as net sinkers in prehistory in Pyramid Lake, Nevada (adapted from Tuohy 1990: Figure 19).

in ancient times this instrument had two grips or rings made of shell, which have been found in aquatic environments, such as at Lake Sayula, Jalisco (Blanco 2007) (Figure 50).

of plants that were used for food, medicine, handcrafts, construction, fuel and other purposes. Likewise, the insect species that were gathered at Lake Cuitzeo and other parts of the Tarascan area, such as the Meseta Tarasca and the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin, had a critical role in native diets and economies, but rarely leave any archaeological traces (see discussion in Williams 2014a:106-125). Ethnohistorical and ethnographic information from other areas of Mesoamerica is thus very important in terms of shedding light on gathering activities and their role in the indigenous economy.

Matthew Stirling made important observations on the tzipaki while it was still used by most hunters in Lake Pátzcuaro, in the mid-20th century. He (1960) affirms that the atlatl had been used throughout the New World, and in fact was the major weapon in the aboriginal arsenal, many years before the bow and arrow. According to Stirling, after the Conquest the atlatl was no longer used as a weapon for war, but persisted into the 20th century as a hunting implement among such indigenous groups as the Nahuas of Xochimilco in the Basin of Mexico, and the Tarascans of Lake Pátzcuaro. Stirling also tells us that tzipakis were made by a few specialists on the island of Janitzio, who sold them directly to fishers around Lake Pátzcuaro.

While such lake products as small insects, larvae and worms would not be very appealing to a modern western palate, we know that in ancient times this type of food was consumed with relish in many parts of Mesoamerica. Manuel Orozco y Berra reported in the 19th century that the Indians of the Basin of Mexico used to gather an insect called axayacatl that was used for birdfeed. According to this author, in pre-Hispanic times great quantities of axayacatl were caught in the lakes of that basin. These tiny insects were used to make a paste which was then wrapped in maize leaves and boiled to make a kind of ‘bread’, a dish that was not disagreeable to the Spaniards who sampled it after the Conquest (Orozco y Berra 1978[1880]:265; see also Parsons 2006).

Gathering Although the historical and ethnographic accounts discussed here leave no doubt as to the importance of the gathering of wild resources, there are very few archaeological markers linked to this form of exploiting wild species, such as the enormous amounts 60

The Aquatic Lifeway in Michoacán: Natural Resources and Subsistence Activities

Figure 49. These projectile points from the Lake Zacapu Basin may have been used for hunting in pre-Hispanic times (adapted from Arnauld et al., 1993: Figure 73).

61

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica this insect, either boiled in maize leaves or ground to a paste, was known as puxi and was reputed to be highly nutritious (Orozco y Berra 1978[1880]:265). It is not known whether the early inhabitants of the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin used insects as food, but we do know that several species of aquatic insects, their larvae and mud worms were likely available to them. Several insect species are currently obtained at Lake Cuitzeo (Figure 51), such as the mosco de agua or nizpo (probably Corisella texcocana or Ephydra sp.), which ends up as bird or fish food in many pet shops outside the lake area. Many other insects were used as food in diverse areas of Mesoamerica, apart from those mentioned above. These species included the aquatic fly (amoyotl Figure 50. Atlatl grips made of shell found in the Lake Sayula Basin, Jalisco in Nahuatl), the larvae of the gusano (courtesy of Ericka Blanco). lagunero (lake worm, Nahuatl izcahuitl), the grasshopper, the jumil, the chinche de monte (mountain bug, Nahuatl xotlimilli), and an The pre-Hispanic inhabitants of the Basin of Mexico also enormous variety of locusts, larvae, caterpillars, ants ate axayacatl eggs, known as ahuautli that, according to and wasps, etcetera (Castelló 1987; Rojas Rabiela 1998). Orozco y Berra tasted like caviar. Finally, the larva of

Figure 51. Aquatic insects are still gathered at Lake Cuitzeo, where they are dried under the sun. They are used as food for pet fish or birds outside the basin (courtesy of Guadalupe Palmer).

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Most of the plant species that may have been gathered by the ancient inhabitants of the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin and other aquatic environments are invisible to the archaeologist, for they left no material traces. Therefore, we have to look for secondary information; for instance, the cooking or processing artifacts used in food preparation, such as vessels for boiling, brewing or storing liquids. Recent research by Lieto et al., (2019) based on the chemical study of residues in Tarascan pots suggests that the spouted vessels associated with the Postclassic Tarascan elite may have been used for drinking chocolate. Pollard (2016:164) wrote that ‘one of the most representative expressions of the Late Postclassic ceramic tradition are the spouted… vessels, usually decorated with complex polychrome designs… Based on… chemical studies, spouted vessels had been related to the consumption of a cacao drink by the detection of biomarkers of cacao, theobromine and caffeine, absorbed into the clay walls of the vessels’. Sophie and Michael Coe (1996:46) wrote about fine Maya ceramic vessels with painted decorations and glyphs denoting the word for cacao in ancient Maya (kakaw). This glyph is common in elite Maya cylindrical vases, so Coe and Coe believe they were used for cacao production and consumption among the elite. Laboratory analyses have discovered traces of theobromine and caffeine, the signature markers of cacao. Centuries later, the Aztec pochteca were involved in the cacao trade, and were avid consumers of chocolate (Coe and Coe 1996:74).

tesgüino. The former was made from the sap of Agave sp. (Correa-Ascencio et al., 2014), while the latter was made from processed maize (Novillo and Esparza 2016). Both of these beverages have been found to leave distinctive chemical traces in the pots used to brew or contain them. Finally, the processing of the plants used for food production could be identified in the archaeological record by the grinding tools likely used for maize preparation, such as the metates reported by Linda Manzanilla (2009) from Teotihuacan, on which she found remains of maize phytoliths. Manufacture The people who go out to Lake Pátzcuaro to harvest reeds (carrizo) and rushes (tule) use machetes or sickles (Figure 52) to cut the plants and knives to trim the stalks. Knives, hacksaws, and other cutting tools are all required for the manufacturing process, as discussed earlier. In ancient times, obsidian may have been used for this activity, like the blades, points, scrapers and other tools that Arnauld et al. (1993) found at Lake Zacapu (Figure 53), the stone artifacts reported by Bond from Lake Chapala (Figure 54), or the sawtoothed chert tools from Lake Texcoco reported by Parsons and Morett (2005). The evidence of petate- or mat-weaving would consist of the aforementioned piedras petateras (handstones) and small cutting tools (Figure 55), while carrizo basket-makers had to pound the stalks with hammer and anvil stones to flatten them and make them pliable (Figure 56). Some households have an area set aside for such domestic tasks as

In addition to elite containers for cacao and chocolate, other vessel types could hold clues to the preparation or storage of plant foods, such as the clay pots used for making the Mesoamerican fermented drinks pulque and

Figure 52. At Lake Pátzcuaro, sickles are used to harvest reeds (carrizo) and rushes (tule or chuspata), while knives are used to work these plants in domestic workshops (photo by Teddy Williams, 2009).

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Figure 53. These obsidian blades, points, scrapers and other tools found at Lake Zacapu could have been used for many activities as part of the aquatic lifeway (adapted from Arnauld et al., 1993: Figure 70).

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Figure 54. These stone artifacts from Lake Chapala could have been used for hunting, like the projectile points (a-n), and for harvesting and processing carrizo, tule or other wild plants (o-u) (adapted from Bond 1971: Figure 32).

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Figure 56. The anvil and hammer stones are used by carrizo basketmakers to pound the stalks in order to make them flat and pliable (Ihuatzio, photo by Teddy Williams, 2009). Figure 55. The archaeological evidence of petate (i.e. reed mat) weaving would consist of the piedra petatera or hand stone, as well as small cutting tools, like these examples from Ihuatzio (photo by Teddy Williams, 2009).

(2005) conducted an ethnoarchaeological study of ixtlefiber production in the Valle del Mezquital, Hidalgo, which revealed that the spindle whorls required for this activity are larger than the ones used for finer thread, like cotton. Pollard (2016), meanwhile, found a collection of spindle whorls in her excavations at Urichu (Figure 59) that included a large item that may have been used to spin ixtle thread for making fishnets, ropes, sacks and other coarse-fiber objects associated with fishing and other aquatic activities.

basket-making, like the workshop called trabajadero in the Lake Cuitzeo Basin (Figures 57 and 58). At least in theory, the assemblage linked to basket-making would be relatively easy to identify in the excavation of an ancient household, since the hammer stones, anvils and cutting implements (made of obsidian, chert, bone and other durable materials) would remain for long periods of time in archaeological contexts.

Clearly, this aquatic lifeway was a broad-spectrum strategy in which fishers, hunters, gatherers and artisans –whether specialists or individuals who adopted a ‘multi-crafting’ approach– relied primarily on perishable materials (fishnets, traps, canoes, and so on) that left few traces in the archaeological record. This confronts archaeologists with a problem, which can be solved by means of observations made in the ethnographic or systemic context and the resulting hypotheses regarding ‘traditional’ activities and their material correlates (Binford 1983).

Fishnets, bags and other items made of woven fibers such as cotton and ixtle are rarely preserved in the archaeological record, so archaeologists have to look for secondary information to identify these materials and the associated manufacturing activities. We saw earlier that Lake Pátzcuaro fishers weave their own fishnets using a needle that could remain in the archaeological record if made of durable materials such as bone or shell, like the examples from Lake Cuitzeo discussed by Williams (2014c: Figure 14).

Defining the use given to artifacts found in archaeological contexts is, by definition, challenging. We may assume that the blades, knives, scrapers and other tools excavated in sites in aquatic environments were used for subsistence activities linked to the exploitation of aquatic resources, such as the plants and animals we have discussed in this chapter. Archaeologists, however,

There is another archaeological marker that would suggest the manufacture of fishnets in pre-Hispanic times. According to the ethnographic accounts discussed above, fishnet-making was an important activity in lakeside towns, and ixtle fiber was the preferred material because of its strength and durability. Mary Parsons 66

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Figure 57. Some households have an area set aside for working on such tasks as making baskets, like this workshop called trabajadero near Lake Cuitzeo (authors photo, 1998).

Figure 58. The tools used for making baskets at Lake Cuitzeo are quite simple, consisting of hand-stones, stone anvils and knives (author’s photo, 1998).

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Figure 59. These spindle whorls found at Urichu, in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin, include a large item (upper left) that could have been used for spinning coarse ixtle fibers for making fishnets, ropes, sacks and other items. The smaller items may have been used to spin cotton (courtesy of Helen Pollard).

must test such assumptions, and have a wide range of analytical tools at their disposal to do so. Because baskets, mats and other items made of perishable materials such as reeds and rushes are not preserved in archaeological remains, specialists must rely on secondary information to identify manufacturing activities and their products.

and on a specific work surface, will show a defined wear pattern that can be identified on pre-Hispanic artifacts (Clark 1988:223). This approach allowed Clark (1988: Table 167) to identify possible tools used in ancient times to work wood, shell, fish, bone, skins, vegetables, reeds and deer antler, among many other materials. Because obsidian is a volcanic glass, striation patterns form on it more easily than on other materials, for instance flint or chert (Aoyama 2007). Thanks to this, it has been possible to identify by means of experimentation the wear marks produced by cutting grass, and working wood and bone, among other raw materials (Emery and Aoyama 2007; see also Mansur-Franchomme 1991).

Archaeologists have usually focused their attention on the final products of a craft (i.e. ceramics, lithics, metallurgy, etcetera), rather than on the tools used in production processes, because the former are more visible archaeologically than the latter. This is unfortunate, for functional data should be integrated into a coherent model of tool use that is able to transform empirical data derived from microanalyses of wear patterns into a context of wider anthropological interest, such as craft specialization and the dynamics of craft production (Hirth 2009a). Without these models, functional data say very little about the economic organization of a group (Aldenderfer 1991:205).

Heather McKillop (2019) has conducted a microscopic study of the edges of chert tools excavated from Late Classic (ca. AD 600-900) contexts in the Paynes Creek saltworks of coastal Belize. She found that most of those tools were used to cut fish or meat or work hides, while a few of the stone artifacts studied have edge usewear patterns compatible with woodworking. This kind of analysis could be practiced on lithic materials from lakes Cuitzeo and Pátzcuaro in conjunction with the ethnographic data presented here, and the data derived from the few archaeological excavations carried out around lakes Pátzcuaro (Pollard 2005; Pollard et al., 2001) and Cuitzeo (Hernández 2016; Macías Goytia 1998).

Micro-wear analysis has been performed on cutting tools made primarily of flint and obsidian in many parts of Mesoamerica and beyond (Barton et al., 1998; Shea 2016). The hypothesis behind such use-wear analyses holds that the cutting edge of a tool made of a certain material, when used in a particular direction,

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the 16th century discussed here we can tell that aquatic landscapes retained their importance from ancient times to the early colonial period. In order to understand the subsistence strategies under study, we need to be able to visualize not just the original landscapes, but also the tool assemblages that formed part of the aquatic lifeway in pre-Hispanic times. This can be achieved through the study of ethnohistorical sources and ethnographic analogy, as we have seen in this chapter.

Final remarks The manufacture of handcrafts has long been a topic of primary interest for sociocultural anthropologists and archaeologists, though it is difficult to establish the degree of craft specialization at the settlement or household level at archaeological sites in ancient Mesoamerica (Feinman and Nicholas 2007). The study of manufacturing activities from an ethnoarchaeological perspective can aid us in identifying assemblages and archaeological markers; that is, the material culture and elements, features and locales of production in archaeological contexts. But those production processes and activities can also be discerned through the lens of ethnographic analogy (Williams 2009, 2014a, 2017: Chapter II).

Much remains to be done in this respect, and the time left to do it may be running out. Because of the serious environmental and social problems –deforestation, pollution and extreme poverty, among others– facing people living in aquatic environments in Mexico and other countries, the current generation of scholars (and students) could be the last one that will be able to see and record a traditional way of life that in many cases harks back to the distant past. This work needs to be done, otherwise it would be an irreparable loss for our understanding of the ancient history of lakes, rivers, streams and other wetlands where fishers, hunters, artisans and many other people made their livelihood through countless generations.

During the Protohistoric period there was a dramatic decrease in precipitation in Mesoamerica (Stahle et al., 2011), including Michoacán (O’Hara 1993), a significant change that made aquatic environments all the more critical for subsistence, in terms of both agriculture and the aquatic lifeway. From the descriptions of landscapes and natural resources in aquatic environments during

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Chapter III

Salt Production in Mesoamerica: Tool Assemblages and Cultural Landscapes Common salt, or sodium chloride, has always been a strategic resource of primary importance throughout the world. In pre-Hispanic Mesoamerica, salt was used mainly for human consumption, as the native diet (consisting mainly of plants such as maize, beans, chili peppers, squash and so on) had little chloride or sodium (Williams 2010). Chloride is essential for digestion and respiration, while without sodium our organism would be unable to transport nutrients and oxygen, or transmit nerve impulses. Worldwide, once people began cultivating crops they began looking for salt to add to their diet (Kurlansky 2002). In the pre-industrial world, sodium chloride had several other important uses apart from its role in the diet, particularly as a preservative of animal flesh, as a mordant for fixing textile dyes, as a medium of exchange, and as a principle component in the preparation of soaps and other cleaning agents (Parsons 1994).

The flow of strategic and scarce goods (including salt) from the subject provinces to the imperial capitals in Mesoamerica (such as Tenochtitlan, the Aztec capital) was secured by rulers through a geopolitical strategy that kept conquered communities under the obligation to pay tribute, and maintained the lines of communication with the states’ core areas open at all times. The procurement and distribution of salt and other strategic resources (e.g. obsidian, copper, turquoise, jade, and so on), as well as the military control of source areas, the extraction of tribute, and trade were critical aspects of the economic and social life of most Mesoamerican polities. Imperial expansion towards resource-rich regions is ultimately explained by the desire to obtain precious commodities and vital necessities, among which salt was always of paramount importance (Figure 60).

Figure 60. Map showing particularly important salt-producing sites in Mesoamerica (by Eduardo Williams).

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Salt production and trade played a fundamental role in Mesoamerican economy and culture from the earliest times. Olmec traders actively engaged in salt extraction and trade along the Gulf Coast in the Formative period, and by ca. 1200 BC Olmec merchants from the Gulf of Mexico had penetrated highland and Pacific coastal Guatemala, Oaxaca and central Mexico in their quest for salt and various other strategic resources such as obsidian, jade, serpentine, iron ores, basalt, cacao, marine shells, animal pelts and exotic bird feathers (Diehl 2004). During this period in Oaxaca, salt-making was restricted to villages near saline springs. As early as 1300 BC, some salt-making areas were visited briefly, but no houses were built. In the Middle Formative period (ca. 900-300 BC), producing salt by boiling brackish spring water in ceramic jars was a common activity; indeed, salt-making was probably one of Formative Mesoamerica’s most widespread regional specializations (Flannery and Winter 1976).

brief discussion of several key aspects of this essential mineral based on archaeological, ethnohistorical and ethnographical sources. Nutrition In the modern world, most people satisfy their dietary salt requirement from animal protein, such as cattle, pork and their derivatives, such as milk and fat. As we know, there were no major animal domesticates in Mesoamerica before the arrival of the Spaniards, so the salt needs of the indigenous population had to be met by adding sodium chloride to their food. In the Maya area, for example, dietary salt needs were considerable because the tropical climate and hard work caused abundant salt loss through sweating. People who live in these conditions usually require a minimum 8-10 grams of salt a day (Andrews 1980:57-58).The need for a few grams of salt on a daily basis may not seem like

Saltworks were so important for the survival of peoples in Mesoamerica that wars were fought over their possession and control (Figure 61). The Maya site of Emal, the richest salt deposit in coastal Yucatán, for example, was heavily-fortified to repel enemy incursions (Kepecs 2000). Elsewhere in Mesoamerica, salt was used as a powerful political tool; Muñoz Camargo (1972[1892]) relates how the Aztecs sought to conquer the province of Tlaxcala by siege, depriving the Tlaxcaltecans of many goods, including cotton, gold, silver, green feathers, cacao and salt. This siege lasted for over 70 years, as a result the Tlaxcaltecans supposedly became accustomed to eating without salt. In order to secure many strategic resources such as salt, obsidian, copper, gold and silver that were lacking in the heartland of the Tarascan Empire (Pollard 1993; Williams 2020b: Chapter VII), the Tarascans expanded their domain from their homeland in central Michoacán towards the Lake Cuitzeo Basin in the east, the Sayula Lake in the west (Valdez and Liot 1994), and (probably) as far as the Pacific coast of Michoacán (Williams 2015). Salt had a strategic role in Mesoamerican economy and culture because of its many uses: in nutrition, for food preservation and in the textile industry, to name but a few. What follows is a

Figure 61. Salt production was essential for the survival of Mesoamerican peoples. Many techniques were developed for salt exploitation, as shown in this theoretical reconstruction of a salt-making site on the Yucatán coast (adapted from Andrews 1997: Figure 1).

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Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica a huge problem. However, let’s imagine a city of some 50,000 people in the tropics, most of them farmers or construction workers. It would take at least 400 kg of salt a day, or 146 tons a year, to sustain such a society. But most communities consume more than the minimum, for dietary and other purposes, so when supplies are interrupted consequences can be serious. In this case, salt becomes a key factor of economic life (Andrews 1980:36).

and places as far away as Zacatecas, San Luis Potosí, Toluca and Mexico City (Estadística 1873:33). In colonial times, salt was an important trade commodity in Colima, since it was used as food, as a condiment and for preserving fish (Reyes 2000:175). Although the people of Colima preferred fish from rivers, marine species and those from coastal lagoons were much sought after in Guadalajara, Sayula (Jalisco), and Valladolid (present-day Morelia, Michoacán). This brisk trade in fish relied on salting as a means of preservation (Gómez Azpeitia 2006:221). Salt was used as a preservative in other parts of Mesoamerica as well. According to Andrews (1983), ‘fishing was a major industry of the pre-Hispanic Maya, and coastal dwellers traded fish to neighboring sites in the interior in exchange for agricultural goods. To preserve the fish, they either roasted, sun-dried or salted it… Salting was observed in the sixteenth century on the north coast of Yucatán and on the Pacific coast of Guatemala’ (p. 10). As late as the 20th century, ‘in southwest Guatemala… salted fish was available in highland markets… during Lent. As a preservative, salt may also have been used in the tanning industry’ (p. 10).

Food Preservation Because ancient Mesoamericans lacked modern preservation techniques, salt as a preservative must have been very important for trade in fish and other foodstuffs over long distances, as well as for storing food for long periods of time. We do not know when this practice originated, but its antiquity is well-established in the Old World. In Egypt, for instance, remains of food found in a tomb dated before 2000 BC included salted fish and a wooden container holding table salt (Kurlansky 2002:38). Since Phoenician times (from ca. 1250 BC), the standard practice for preserving fish was to gut them, dry them, and pack them in layers with salt (Kurlansky 2002:131).

Bishop Diego de Landa (1982 [1560]) wrote one of the best-known descriptions of Maya life and customs in the 16th century. He had this to say about the importance of salt and its role in food preservation among the Maya: ‘They make great fisheries from which they eat and sell fish throughout the land. They often salt it and roast it without salt, and they know which one of these processes is suitable for each kind of fish… roasted [fish] keeps for several days, and they take it to sell to twenty and thirty leagues, and for eating they cook it and it is tasty and healthy’ (p. 121). Landa also tells us that ‘they kill some very large fishes which look like mantas and they preserve their pieces in salt’ (p. 121).

Preserving food in salt was thus an important component of the food industry in ancient Mesoamerica. In describing the Aztec marketplace in the capital city of Tenochtitlan, for example, Hernán Cortés says that ‘they sell much fish, fresh and salted, raw and cooked’ (Cortés 1983 [1520]:63). Among the fish products found in those Aztec markets were tamales made of tiny fish called mextlapique or cuitlapetlatl. Those tamales, known as michpiotli or michpiltamalli, were flavored with dry chili, epazote (a slightly-bitter aromatic plant, Chenopodium ambrosioides) and diced nopal (Opuntia sp.). They were wrapped in maize leaves and roasted on comales (ceramic griddles). Fish tamales are still sold in several markets in Mexico City (Castelló 1987:48, 138), and continue to be produced in several towns around Lake Cuitzeo. The fish used to prepare these tamales there is the charal (Chirostoma jordani; C. bartoni) (Williams 2014a: Figures 24-25). The fish are put in a tub with brine before being introduced into a large oven where they are cooked for several hours. Soaking in brine is an important part of the process because the tamales will be taken to far-away places, and no other preservative is used.

Apart from being used in food preparation and preservation, salt was very important to ancient technologies related to the dyeing of textiles (Figure 62). There may have been a direct functional link between salt-makers and cloth-dyers in Mesoamerica, for saline solutions have commonly been used as mordants to fix dyed colors in textiles by traditional cloth-dyers in several parts of the world (Parsons 2001). In fact, salt’s important role in the Mesoamerican economy can be indirectly gauged by the huge amounts of dyed textiles that circulated through commerce and tribute. Among the Aztecs, for example, cotton cloth had many uses, including making clothing for men and women, but it was also used for bedding, bags, awnings, decorative hangings, battle armor, adornments for statues of the gods, and shrouds for the dead. Moreover, cotton textiles served as items of exchange, as well as forms of currency in markets. They could also be exchanged as

In several towns around Lake Cuitzeo, fishermen still trade fish for salt, which is used for salting a species of fish known as carpa before it is roasted in ovens (Williams 2014a). According to a source known as Miscelánea Estadística, in the 19th century fish from nearby Lake Chapala were sun-dried, salted, packed in rolled-up reed mats, and taken to neighboring towns 72

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Figure 62. Ancient Mesoamericans included sodium chloride in their techniques for dyeing textiles, like these rich cloths being offered to a ruler (right) in a Classic-period Maya vase (courtesy of Justin Kerr).

gifts among the nobility, and formed the predominant item of tribute payment at all levels (Smith 1998).

landscapes linked to salt production in these areas of Mesoamerica.

Imperial tribute received by the Aztec state every year included 128,000 mantles or capes, 19,200 garments and 665 warrior uniforms. Most of these items were woven with dyed cotton thread, and the amount of salt used in the dyeing process must have been very high indeed, but to this we must also add the 4000 salt loaves paid to the Aztec Empire by several tributary provinces every year (Smith 1998). One of the most illuminating accounts of the role of salt in the ancient world was penned by Roman philosopher Pliny the Elder (ca. AD 23-79), who wrote the following:

Michoacán The Lake Cuitzeo Basin The Lake Cuitzeo Basin has natural salt deposits and thermal springs with a high mineral content that have been used for salt-making for centuries. This basin was a key economic area in ancient times, thanks to its salt and obsidian deposits, as well as abundant aquatic resources (see discussion in Williams 2020b: Chapter VII). The town of Araró on the eastern margin of Lake Cuitzeo (Figure 63) has been renowned for its high-quality salt since the 16th century. This is a geologically-active basin with many thermal springs whose water has a rich mineral content and is used in the salt-making process, as I have described in previous publications (Williams 1999, 2003, 2010, 2015, 2018a). We know that in the early colonial period salt from Araró was used to pay tribute, and was transported to several areas of Mexico for human consumption or to be used in silver mines (Escobar 1998). In the mid-16th century, there were at least two important salt-producing towns in the Lake Cuitzeo Basin: Araró and Chocándiro. Other towns (e.g. Acámbaro, Zinapécuaro, Huango, Puruándiro) were not so close to the lake, but could easily obtain salt through the subject and tribute-paying communities they had inside the basin (Escobar 1998; see Williams 2015: Table 2).

We may conclude, then, by Hercules! that the higher enjoyments of life could not exist without the use of salt: indeed, so highly necessary is this substance to mankind, that the pleasures of the mind, even, can be expressed by no better term than the word ‘salt,’ such being the name given to all effusions of wit. All the amenities, in fact, of life… can find no word in our language to characterize them better than this… and from it, our word ‘salarium’ is derived. That salt was held in high esteem by the ancients, is evident from… the practice with them to eat salt with their bread. But it is in our sacred rites more particularly, that [salt’s] high importance is to be recognized, no offering ever being made unaccompanied by the salted cake (Pliny 1855: Chapter 45).

The gathering of tequesquite (a salty efflorescence with high soda content) has traditionally taken place in the area under discussion since ancient times, as described by Corona Núñez (1979): ‘Salitre [i.e. saltpeter] and tequesquite are both gathered from the lake margin. To gather tequesquite they clean a piece of beach and sprinkle it with water, later they pick up the crusts of tequesquite’ (p. 43).

Salt Production in Mesoamerica What follows after this short overview of salt’s role in culture and history is a discussion of the traditional salt industries of Michoacán, Colima, Guerrero, the Basin of Mexico and Puebla, a discussion that pays special attention to the artifact assemblages and cultural 73

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Figure 63. Salt sources around Lake Cuitzeo have been exploited for centuries, providing salt for people within the lake basin and beyond (map by Eduardo Williams).

Although the saltworks belonging to the town of Araró have not been exploited in recent years, the nearby town of San Nicolás Simirao has carried on this activity. What follows is a brief description of the salt-producing sites, the production process, and the social organization of work. The final section discusses the possible archaeological implications of these observations. A salt production unit in Simirao is known as a finca (Figure 64), and consists of two or more estiladeras, which are wooden structures used as filters for leaching the salt from the earth. An estiladera is roughly 1.5 m high (Figure 65). Inside there is a layer of earth near the top, then a layer of two kinds of grass (fine and rough), and below a kind of sieve made with small sticks, called a sedazo. The bottom of the estiladera rests atop a thick wooden plank called a queso, placed on a trough-shaped basin made of a hollowed-out log called a banco, into which the brine falls (Figure 66). Terreros are mounds around the estiladera produced by the accumulation of the earth that is discarded after leaching (Figure 67).

Figure 64. Map of a finca showing the major features and work areas: estiladeras, terreros, canals, wells, canoas (wooden and cement), etcetera (by Eduardo Williams, 1998).

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Figure 65. The estiladera is a wooden structure used as a filter to pass spring water and thus leach salt from the soil. The leached soil is thrown to the sides of the estiladera, where it accumulates over time (author’s photo, 1997).

Figure 66. Drawing of an estiladera. The upper part has a series of filtering elements that allow spring water to trickle through the salty earth and fall into the banco (trough) at the bottom (by Eduardo Williams, 1998).

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A finca (Figure 68) usually has several wooden troughs (hollowed-out tree trunks) called canoas (Figure 69), measuring 6-10 m long, where the brine is collected after filtering in the estiladera so it can be evaporated by the sun. Formerly, large tree trunks were brought down from the hills by oxen in order to make the canoas, some of which are 100 years old or more, but those wooden canoas are now being replaced by cement troughs because large trees are rare in the area. In addition to these features, each finca has an area of some 400 m2 where salt-bearing soils are excavated and mixed (Figure 70). There is also a network of canals that bring water from the springs to the fincas (Figure 71). These canals are 50-80 cm deep and several meters long. Various canals have been reinforced with masonry (Figure 72a). In some cases, the water from the springs has “fossilized” the canals on account of its high mineral content, thus producing enduring material evidence of salt production (Figure 72b).

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica

Figure 67. The terrero is a mound of leached soil that remains long after the estiladera has disappeared. It is a primary component of the salt-making landscape (author’s photo, 1997).

Figure 68. The salt-making unit at Simirao, known as a finca, has one or more mounds of leached soil, several wooden troughs called canoas, where the brine is evaporated under the sun, and an extended area where the soil is excavated and processed for leaching (author’s photo, 1996).

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Figure 69. A finca usually has several canoas to evaporate brine under the sun. They are made of hollowed-out tree trunks measuring 6-10 m long. In some cases, a canoa may be up to 150 years old (author’s photo, 1997).

Figure 70. Each finca has an area of some 400 sq. m. where salt-bearing soils are excavated and processed before leaching in the estiladera. Here we see small mounds of lake-bottom soil, called tierra picada, that has been excavated with a hoe (author’s photo, 1997).

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Figure 71. At Simirao there is a network of canals linking nearby springs to the saltworks. A constant flow of mineral-rich water from the thermal springs is essential for salt production (author’s photo, 1997).

The tools employed by salt-makers are relatively simple: shovels and hoes for removing the soil, wheelbarrows for moving soil from one place to another within the finca, and buckets for moving and storing water and brine. The tools used in the past included a sack made of ixtle, called guangoche, used to transport earth, and clay vessels known as chondas for moving and storing water and brine (Figure 73).

content is diminished by leaching, it is taken out of the estiladera and heaped on the terrero, or mound of leached soil. After a while, earth builds up and is carried away by shovel and wheelbarrow to be spread over the ground of the finca and sprinkled with spring water. It is left there for a day or two and then used again once it has been mixed with tierra picada. The latter is extracted with shovels or hoes from the upper layer of soil. One can see several small heaps of tierra picada and large mounds of tierra tirada inside every finca.

The salt-making process in the study area can be divided into four sequential stages: 1) earth is extracted, prepared and mixed; 2) salt is obtained by leaching the earth in the estiladera with water from local springs; 3) the brine is evaporated in the canoas and the crystallized salt is gathered; and 4) the final product is packed and sold.

Because the estiladeras are made of wood, they do not last for long periods of time. Instead, what we would expect to find at a pre-Hispanic saltworks as evidence of the leaching process would be wells used to obtain salt-rich water, canals, and the stone foundations upon which the canoas, estiladeras and other features may have rested (Figure 76). Abandoned terreros (Figure 77), meanwhile, are the most visible indicator of saltmaking operations in the study area, and in many other regions of Mesoamerica (Noguera 1975; Sanders et al. 1979).

There are two types of earth used in the salt-making process: tierra tirada (thrown earth) (Figure 74) and tierra picada (pecked earth) (Figure 75), both of which are found in the fincas. Tierra tirada is recycled from previous salt-making operations. Once the earth’s salt

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Figure 72. Canals are used to bring water from the mineral springs to the fincas. Some canals are reinforced to make them more efficient (a), while others have become ‘fossilized’ by the accumulation of mineral substances in the water (b) (author’s photos, 1997).

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Figure 73. The clay pots used by salt-makers in the Lake Cuitzeo Basin into the mid-20th century were called chondas. Pottery for salt-making is one of the best indicators of the production of sodium chloride from earliest times to the recent past (author’s photo, 1998).

Figure 74. Earth called tierra tirada is used in the leaching process at Simirao. This is leached soil that accumulates in the terrero around the estiladera, and is recycled periodically (author’s photo, 1997).

The tools and features currently used for making salt in the study area are not the same ones used in early colonial times, for they have been modified over time. However, the basic salt-making process is very similar to the one

described in written sources from the 16th century (see Williams 2015: Chapter IV for a discussion of early colonial sources). The work performed in both ancient and modern saltworks includes extracting earth, mixing various kinds 80

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Mexico City highway) has made San Nicolás Simirao more accessible to outside buyers, so nowadays people arrive from Morelia, Guadalajara or as far afield as Veracruz, to buy salt, which is used mainly in cheesemaking. The Coast of Michoacán and Colima In 2000, I conducted ethnoarchaeological fieldwork around the town of La Placita on the coast of Michoacán, one of the few saltworking communities in Mexico that still used traditional (in part, pre-Hispanic) techniques at the time of my visit (see Williams 2002, 2003, 2004, 2010, 2015, 2018a, 2019a, 2019b). Figure 75. Spring water may be poured on the surface of the finca to increase the mineral content of the soil that will become tierra picada (author’s photo, 1997).

The saltworks at La Placita have been abandoned since my fieldwork there. Also included in this study are the nearby saltworks in Salinas del Padre, Michoacán, and El Ciruelo, near Cuyutlán, Colima (Figure 78). The ecological conditions of this area –i.e., the coastal strip that stretches from Cuyutlán (Colima) in the north to Maruata (Michoacán) in the south– are ideal for salt production, as sodium chloride is an abundant ingredient of seawater, and sunlight, an essential requirement for evaporating brine, is constant and intense through almost the entire year, especially during the dry season (October-June) (Figure 79).

Because of the abundance and variety of plant and animal resources in the coastal environment (Novella and Moguel 1998; Novella et al. 2002), this region was extremely attractive for human occupation in preHispanic times. The town of La Placita de Morelos is located on the left bank of the Aquila River (Figure 80) and was an important settlement in that era, as shown by the archaeological survey that José Corona Núñez conducted some 60 years ago. Unfortunately, several modern houses, as well as the local school, have been built on top of pre-Hispanic mounds. Throughout the town’s streets and the surrounding area stone foundations of square structures, that may have been dwellings, consist of simple rock alignments with an orientation different from that of the modern houses. Corona Núñez reported a large mound perhaps 5 m high made of huge boulders that had been heavily looted by the time of his survey, and is now almost completely destroyed. The modern town rests atop an enormous artificial pre-Hispanic platform (Corona Núñez 1960:374-375; Plate 13). Presentday La Placita was first built near the adjoining estuary. The old town consisted of a single street surrounded by cattle ranches, palm tree groves and houses made

Figure 76. Archaeological markers of salt production include the wells used to obtain salt-rich water, canals, and the stone foundations that supported the canoas, estiladeras and other features (author’s photo, 1997).

of earth, adding water, leaching, and evaporating the brine. The commercial aspects of production, in contrast, have changed dramatically in recent decades. The construction of modern roads (especially the Guadalajara-Morelia81

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Figure 77. The mounds of leached soil (terreros) are the most visible features of salt-making landscapes. They may last for thousands of years as evidence of this activity (author’s photo, 1997).

Figure 78. The ecological conditions of the coastal strip that stretches from Cuyutlán (Colima) in the north to Maruata (Michoacán) in the south are ideal for salt production. Salt from the Pacific coast was traded to inland sites and distant areas from ancient times (map by Eduardo Williams).

of wattle and daub with thatched roofs; only a few had tiled roofs. The population was heterogeneous including, in addition to local residents, Indians from other communities and muleteers and merchants from other latitudes (Méndez Acevedo 1999). The population of La Placita would increase considerably during the saltmaking season (from late March or early April to the first

week of June), as many people came from other places to labor in the saltworks, settling in a dispersed pattern around the estuary during the salt-producing period. According to don Francisco Gregorio, one of the older salineros (salt-makers) of La Placita, inhabitants used to live almost exclusively from those saltworks, with very 82

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Figure 79. The coast of Michoacán is one of the most remote areas of the state. This view shows several estuaries where salt may have been produced since ancient times (author’s photo, 2000).

produced, they sustained themselves by exploiting wild resources: hunting deer in the hills, digging for turtle eggs on the beach, and fishing in the estuaries (Figures 81 a, b), where they caught abundant shrimp (chacales), crabs (moyos) and crayfish (jaiba). Many of the plant and animal species exploited for food were seasonal, but others –such as the chacal– were available year-round. In summary, the main subsistence activities were fishing, hunting and gathering, together with some agriculture, and the exchange of a few foodstuffs, such as beans, with other communities. Some 3 km northwest of the La Placita estuary there is another salt-producing estuary, known as Salinas del Padre. Between these two, another one, El Presidio, produced salt until some 60 years ago. Around that time, whole families would come from Maquilí to Salinas del Padre to work the salt; even bringing the schoolteacher to continue their children’s education during the saltmaking season! Everyone would get together to open up the estuary with their shovels, and once it filled with salty water they would close it. As many as 40 families might arrive, bringing their own drinking water because no potable water was available in the area. By the end of the 16th century, many towns along the coast were no longer inhabited because of the dramatic demographic collapse caused mainly by hunger and the epidemics brought on by contact with the Spaniards (Brand 1960). Therefore, many salt-making communities had become extinct not long after the Conquest. The dramatic conditions in the 16th and 17th centuries have been described by Donald Brand, who mentions that, ‘the great epidemic of 1576-78 was followed by the 1588 year of epidemic and famine and

Figure 80. The town of La Placita de Morelos is on the left bank of the Aquila River. The three major estuaries are shown, indicating the abandoned salt-making sites (circles), and the principle archaeological sites in the general area (triangles) (map by Eduardo Williams).

little farming and no cattle-raising, as they obtained everything they needed for subsistence in exchange for salt. During the part of the year when salt was not being 83

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Figure 81 a-b. Because of the abundance and variety of plant and animal resources in the coastal environment, this region was extremely attractive for human occupation from pre-Hispanic times (author’s photos, 2000).

then came more epidemics in 1595-96. The resultant great diminution of Indian population, together with political and economic factors, contributed to the adoption of the policy of many congregations during the period 1592-1605’ (p. 72). According to Brand, 1613 was also known as ‘a year of general hunger and famine’, while ‘in 1643 there was an epidemic that nearly finished off the Indians that had not succumbed to the earlier pestilences. Some estimates ran as high as a mortality of 5/6 of the Indians… the years of 16921696 were years of hunger and famine’ (p. 74).

In the following pages I present a brief description of the salt-making process that I observed in the study area, followed by a discussion of the archaeological implications of these ethnographic observations. The salt-making process at La Placita (no longer extant) traditionally consisted of filtering salty water from the nearby estuary or lagoon through a layer of salty earth locally called salitre, which is obtained from the same estuary and was used to produce salt by leaching in a tapeixtle, a filtering device discussed below (Figure 82). 84

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Once the brine was obtained by leaching the earth, it was poured into solar evaporation pans called eras, where the water disappeared under the hot sun, leaving crystallized salt (Figure 83). Once salt had dried it was packed and taken away to be sold or exchanged for other commodities. The salt-making unit here is called a plan (Figure 84). It covers an extension of 400-600 m2 and consists of a tapeixtle, several eras, and at least one terrero, a mound of leached, discarded earth that can be recycled and used in future salt-making operations. During the time of fieldwork, only four units (planes) were active, but many abandoned ones were visible around the La Placita estuary. They were not worked every year because their owners were absent, or a lack of interest due to the low price of salt. The salt-making season in the coastal area of Michoacán and Colima occupied the driest part of the year (roughly early April to mid-June), because the fresh water that falls during the rainy season drastically reduces the level of salinity in the estuary and the soil around it, while the greater cloud cover reduces the sunlight required to evaporate the brine. Salt-makers carried out other activities when salt-making was not possible, such as fishing, agriculture or wage labor, either within the area or outside it. Many salt-makers migrated every year to larger cities in Mexico, or even to the United States. Recent years have seen a dramatic plunge in the price of salt nationwide, which has forced an increasing

Figure 82. The salt-making process at La Placita consisted of filtering salty water through a layer of salty earth in a tapeixtle to produce brine. It took three men several days to construct a tapeixtle. The drawing shows the different parts of this structure (author’s photo and drawing, 2000).

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Figure 83. Once obtained by leaching the earth, brine was placed in the eras to produce crystallized salt. Reed baskets were used to avoid damaging the era’s lime-plaster coating while pouring the brine (author’s photo, 2000).

Figure 84. The salt-making unit (plan) at La Placita consists of a tapeixtle, several eras, and at least one terrero (author’s drawing, 2000).

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number of salt-makers to abandon the activity. As seen at La Placita in 2000, they could obtain more money from other kinds of work that were also relatively easier to perform.

leaching) and was formed by a ring made with branches and banana tree leaves, known as a ñagual. The filtering device included several layers of grass, small stones and sand. It took three men approximately three days to construct a tapeixtle. The hardest part was placing the beams (made of palm trunks), which were so heavy that as many as five extra men were needed for this step. The tapeixtle had to be repaired periodically; and at least every other year the grass, branches and sand were replaced. It took three men roughly one week to do this, as the wood had to be brought down from the hills.

Traditionally, it was the men who worked in the saltworks because, as they used to say, ‘this kind of labor is too hard’ for women, who came only to collect the salt, receiving part of the production as payment. Most of these women were related to the salineros by blood, marriage, or ritual kinship. Salt-making in La Placita involved leaching the soils from the beach around the estuary. In the dry season, this body of water shrinks to just a small portion of its size, leaving behind a salty crust on the soil, known locally as salitre. This salty earth was leached with salty water from the nearby estuary (Figure 85) to produce a concentrated brine that was later evaporated by the sun to obtain the final product: crystallized salt.

The antiquity of the tapeixtle in Mesoamerica is not known, for we have no archaeological information confirming its use in pre-Hispanic times, and it is not mentioned in 16th-century sources. However, the Relaciones geográficas, which date to that century, do mention salt-making activities involving a kind of filtering or leaching device that may have been similar to the tapeixtle (Acuña 1987).

The leaching process was carried out in the aforementioned tapeixtle. This wooden structure, whose Nahuatl name means ‘bed’, consisted of a flat platform made of branches supported by tree trunks. The upper part of the tapeixtle was called cajete, the bottom part taza, together they were known as a pozo. The cajete was made out of mud (from the soil that was discarded after

Horses were used in La Placita to carry the earth or salitre from the beach to the finca (Figure 86). Salineros would put 70 baskets (chiquihuites) of earth (each one weighing 20 kg) and 40 paradas, or pairs of buckets (i.e. 80 buckets of 18-20 liters each) of salty water from the estuary into the cajete every day. This was enough to fill

Figure 85. In the dry season, the estuary near the La Placita saltworks shrinks to just a small portion of its previous size but its level of salinity increases. Water from the estuary and earth from the surrounding area were used by local salineros to make salt (author’s photo, 2000).

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Figure 86. Horses were used at La Placita to carry the salty earth (salitre) from the beach to the finca (author’s photo, 2000).

up some 15 eras. Once enough water had been poured on top of the salitre inside the cajete, the brine began to trickle down into the taza, where it accumulated for some 4-5 hours (the taza had a capacity of 6,000-8,000 liters). From the taza, the brine was taken in buckets to the eras, which measured on average 6 x 3 m. Each plan had around 18 eras, though not all were used at the same time (Figure 87).

shovel. The taza received the same treatment, renewing the lime coating in order to make it impermeable (Figure 89). To evenly spread the sand mixed with lime on the era, the salineros used a small (about 20 cm long) wooden slat called a paleta (Figure 90). After spreading the sandlime mixture, another wooden tool called a menapil was used to smooth the surface of the era (Figure 91). Finally, the salineros polished the era’s surface with a river cobble (Figure 92). After these operations were completed, the workers carried salty water in buckets from the estuary to the cajete; later, brine was taken from the taza under the tapeixtle to the eras. In the past they used balsas for this, or vessels made of gourds that the salineros themselves planted (Figure 93), but later clay pots came into use. A trade network once existed whereby artisans that made baskets and pots (Figure 94), among other articles, would come to the saltproducing villages and exchange their goods for salt. Ceramic manufacture is a tradition that dates back to ancient times in the study region (Figure 95), though there are few archaeological studies of pre-Hispanic ceramics in this part of Michoacán.

Once an era had been built –or repaired, if it had been used in the previous season– it had to be filled with 20 buckets of brine (one bucket holds 20 liters); subsequently, two or three buckets a day were added to the era, and after five days it was possible to collect the first batch of salt. Thereafter, salt was collected every other day, on average 25-30 kg each time (Figure 88). Each plan, or salt-making unit, produced seven tons of salt on average during the season, if the weather conditions were good. To scrape the crystallized salt from the era, the salineros used part of the pod or husk of the palm tree, known as cayuco, which is soft but firm, so as not to damage the fragile surface. Every year at the beginning of the saltmaking season (around April), the salineros repaired all the eras that had not been in use since the previous year. This task took them three days with the help of an assistant, or mozo. A new coat of lime-sand mixture had to be applied on each era every year, using a wooden

The process of salt production at La Placita can be divided into four phases: (1) salitre was excavated from the soil around the estuary and placed in the tapeixtle; (2) water was taken from the estuary and poured into 88

Salt Production in Mesoamerica: Tool Assemblages and Cultural Landscapes

Figure 87. Once the brine began to congeal in the era, the salinero made a mound of crystallized salt using a cayuco (pod of the palm tree) (author’s photo, 2000).

Figure 88. Salineros’ wives and children used to help by picking the crystallized salt from the eras (author’s photo, 2000).

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Figure 89.The tank (taza) below the tapeixtle received a new coat of lime every year to make it impermeable and prevent brine leaks (author’s photo, 2000).

Figure 90. The salineros used a small wooden slat called a paleta to evenly spread the sand mixed with lime in the era (author’s photo, 2000).

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Figure 91. After spreading the earth-lime mixture, a wooden tool called a menapil was used to smooth the surface of the era (author’s photo, 2000).

Figure 92. The salineros polished the surface of the era with a stone to make its surface more compact, smooth and impermeable (author’s photo, 2000).

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Figure 93. The salineros used balsas (vessels made of gourds) to carry salty water from the estuary to the tapeixtle, and brine from the tapeixtle to the eras (Museo de la Sal, Cuyutlán, Colima. Author’s photo, 2000).

Figure 94. Pots were an indispensable component of the salt-making assemblage. This potter is working in her domestic workshop in Maruata (author’s photo, 2000).

Figure 95. The area around La Placita is rich in archaeological artifacts, like these pre-Hispanic pots and stone tools found by local people (author’s photo, 2000).

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the tapeixtle; (3) leached brine was removed from the taza and transferred to the eras; and, (4) the crystallized salt was gathered from the eras and further dried under the sun. To carry out the leaching process, some 70 chiquihuites or baskets of salitre and 80 buckets of salty water were put into the tapeixtle (this would produce enough brine to fill 15 eras), while the leached brine trickled down into the taza for 4-5 hours.

it with the gata, an instrument that was dragged by a horse to loosen the soil and allow the salineros to easily make small heaps of salitre. This salty earth was carried on horseback from the beach to the tapeixtles, though in olden days the salineros carried the baskets of salitre on their heads. They had to make as many as 70 trips between the estuary and the tapeixtle, a taxing task indeed in the unforgiving heat of the day.

The salitre was excavated from the comederos; that is, the areas of the beach adjoining the estuary that have the highest level of soil salinity. Before extracting the salitre with a shovel, the ground was prepared by raking

The leached soil, meanwhile, was removed from the tapeixtle and heaped on top of the terrero, where it accumulated in large mounds (Figure 96). Eventually, this soil was withdrawn by shovel and spread over the

Figure 96. Leached soil was removed from the tapeixtle and heaped on top of the terrero (a), where it accumulated to form huge mounds (b) (author’s photos, 2000).

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Hispanic materials found at most of these sites attest to their occupation in ancient times); (2) places where salt production was carried out until perhaps 60 years ago, but are now abandoned (at most of these sites pre-Hispanic material is found on the surface); and, (3) sites where salt may have been produced in ancient times, some of which appear to be both habitation and production sites.

The ethnographic and ethnohistorical observations presented above have clear implications for our understanding of the processes linked to pre-Hispanic salt production in the coastal area of Michoacán, for there are many ethnographic parallels between recent and pre-Hispanic salt production. In Table 5 I present a systematic correlation of material remains associated with both pre-Hispanic and modern activities in Simirao (Lake Cuitzeo) and La Placita.

At the end of the 19th century, the year-round population of the salt-making area in coastal Colima was not even 50 people, but from the 16th century on as many as five thousand people would congregate at these sites during the salt-making season. The salineros who came from all across the region were joined by muleteers and merchants, mostly from Michoacán and Nueva Galicia (present-day Jalisco) (Reyes 1995:149). At El Ciruelo, near Cuyutlán, Colima, the author visited one such seasonal settlement. The salineros come every year to live in huts (Figures 98 and 99), but only stay during the salt-making season (February to mid-June). The rest of the year the site is vacant. This temporary settlement has no electricity, running water or other amenities, but boasts a chapel where mass is held on special occasions, such as the day of the Holy Cross (May 3), the Patron Saint of the salineros. The rest of the year they return to their permanent homes, where they work agricultural plots growing maize, sugarcane or other products, or

In ancient times, the coast of Western Mexico was very important as a provider of salt to inland populations. Numerous salt-making sites have been discovered along the coast in Sinaloa, Jalisco, Colima (Weigand and Weigand 1997:5-8) and Nayarit (Mountjoy 2000:102103). From pre-Hispanic times until some 60 years ago, the stretch of the coast of Michoacán and Colima from Cuyutlán in the north to Maruata in the south was a veritable salt emporium, with countless sites, large and small, where salt was produced. Three types of sites were found during the survey of the coast: (1) locales where salt was produced until ca. 2010 (the pre-

Figure 97. The crystallized salt was removed from the era and thrown on the ground to complete the drying process under the sun’s rays (author’s photo, 2000).

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Table 5. Summary of salt-making activities and their archaeological markers in Simirao and La Placita, Michoacán. Activity

Modern tool or feature

Ancient tool or feature

Archaeological markers

Brine leaching

Tapeixtle or estiladera

Pits or devices of undetermined nature

Pits, rock alignments, concentrations of leached earth (mounds, or terreros)

Circulation of salty water inside the saltworks

Canals

Canals

Canals fossilized by the accumulation of mineral-rich sediments

Clay vessels

Potsherds, whole vessels of specific types

Transportation and storage of Buckets salty water and brine Solar evaporation of brine

salt evaporation pans, or eras, and wooden troughs, or canoas

Eras, canoas, large pottery vessels

Stone alignments, flat surfaces covered with lime plaster, large amounts of shallow clay vessels

Lime manufacture (to coat the salt evaporation pans)

Kilns

Kilns

Kilns, concentrations of burned earth with ash and lime

Mixing of earth with lime, coating of evaporation pans

Paleta, menapil

?

?

Polishing the surface of the evaporation pans

Medium-sized pebbles

Medium-sized pebbles

Pebbles, stones, or rocks polished by use (broken or whole items)

Carrying salt and earth inside Reed baskets the saltworks

Reed baskets

?

Moving the salitre from the beach to the tapeixtle or estiladera

Large-sized sacks

Textile bags or sacks

?

Raking the earth surface to excavate and cut the crust of salitre

Gata, wooden rake, shovels

Artifacts such as knives and scrapers made of obsidian or other kinds of stone

Cutting artifacts with use marks (worn surfaces) and mineral incrustations

Transport and storage of crystallized salt

Textile or basketry items (sacks, baskets)

Clay vessels (mass-produced, therefore of low quality)

Potsherds or whole pots of specific, “throw-away” types

Temporary residence near salt-making sites

Huts made with branches, straw, leaves, reeds, etc.

Houses, workshops, storage buildings

Rock foundations, stone alignments, concentrations of domestic refuse (lithics, potsherds, food remains, etc.)

work in towns in the region. According to informants, this same situation was common in Salinas del Padre, where during the salt-making season a temporary settlement was formed with around 40 or 50 small huts made of grass or thatch that were known as parajes.

we found much pre-Hispanic material (mostly pottery and obsidian fragments), which suggests that both saltworks –La Placita and Salinas del Padre– had large, contiguous settlements in ancient times. Of all the archaeological sites we found, the largest is Pueblo Nuevo (see Figure 80), which had at least 40 mounds and many house foundations made of stone, as well as plenty of archaeological material on the surface (pottery, shell, obsidian, bone, etc.). One local inhabitant showed the author several potsherds, stone axes and two copper chisels, all pertaining to the Postclassic period. Pueblo Nuevo is located on the old road to Coalcomán, a strategic location with respect to the saltworking area, and one ideally-situated for controlling the trade routes along which salt was exported to the Sierra de Coalcomán and points beyond.

After talking with informants and checking material evidence on the ground, we identified 16 abandoned salt-producing sites near La Placita, but the total was probably much higher in pre-Hispanic times. Around all the estuaries along this portion of the coast there are many salt-making sites with the remains of eras, tapeixtles and terreros that have been abandoned for the past 70 years or so. Several ancient sites were found in association with the saltworks in the area between Salinas del Padre and Maruata. At Salinas del Padre, in the northwest section of the estuary, we found an extensive archaeological site with mounds and abundant surface material. Also, while simply walking around the streets in La Placita

Because salt is rarely preserved in the archaeological record, unlike other strategic resources that were produced and exchanged among the indigenous peoples 95

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Figure 98. Temporary settlement at El Ciruelo, near Cuyutlán, Colima. Itinerant salineros used to come yearly during the salt-making season, living in huts like these, made of perishable materials (author’s photo, 2000).

Figure 99. These temporary settlements had no electricity, running water or other amenities, so the salineros had to make do with improvised facilities like this stove made of branches and mud (author’s photo, 2000).

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The northwest coast of Michoacán and adjoining areas of coastal Colima must be mentioned since this area produced great amounts of salt. Based on the production figures reported by informants for the pre-1950 period, the coast as a whole must have produced hundreds of tons of salt. However, during the 2000 field season only four salineros were working at La Placita, while the saltworks in nearby Salinas del Padre had already incorporated the modern production techniques seen at Cuyutlán, Colima, which use plastic sheets instead of lime coating for the eras, and gasoline pumps and rubber hoses instead of buckets to move water and brine. The author stated in the original report (Williams 2003) that ‘the techniques, tools and features reported in these pages will probably disappear from La Placita as the old salineros retire or die and all their knowledge and traditions are forgotten’ (Figure 101). Alas, this prediction has been fulfilled: the saltworks studied by the author almost 20 years ago now stand vacant (Figure 102) and the salt-making tools of old (Figure 103) are all but forgotten.

in the coastal area of Michoacán –obsidian, shells, metals, turquoise, and many other items– identifying archaeological sites where salt was produced, stored or traded presents certain difficulties. However, in light of the ethnographic and ethnohistorical information discussed above, we can postulate the existence of several kinds of material evidence that serve as markers of salt production at specific sites. The main indicators of salt production using traditional techniques (some of clear pre-Hispanic origin) in the study area were identified by the author (Figure 100). The diagnostic features and artifacts include mounds of discarded soil, or terreros; solar evaporation pans, or eras; and specialized pottery types associated with salt production sites. What follows is a brief discussion of each one. Terreros: as mentioned above in the description of the Lake Cuitzeo Basin, this term applies to the mounds of leached soil found at many salt-making sites throughout Mesoamerica. Eras: although we have no proof that eras were used to evaporate brine on the coast of Michoacán in preHispanic times, these features were certainly known in Mesoamerica before the arrival of the Spaniards. The Relación Geográfica de Coxcatlan [Puebla, 16th century], for example, shows rectangular elements called pilas de sal (Sisson 1973). According to Sisson (1973:83), archaeological evidence has shown that these pilas are in fact shallow pools or pans used for the solar evaporation of brine, identical to the eras discussed previously. Sisson indicates that these pans were probably coated with lime, much as they are now, so another archaeological feature to look for would be kilns where limestone was prepared (Sisson 1973:91). Pre-Hispanic solar evaporation pans have also been reported for the Maya area, dating from at least the Late Formative period (Andrews 1983:31, 109). Abandoned eras were found at many sites within the study area on the coast of Michoacán. They usually appear as low pans outlined by their rims, though in many cases they have been destroyed, leaving nothing more than small crumbs of hardened, lime-coated earth.

North of the coast of Michoacán discussed above lies the present-day state of Colima. The coast of Colima is one of the most important salt-producing regions in Mesoamerica, with the town of Cuyutlán serving as the epicenter of salt manufacture and trade since the colonial period, though it was likely active from much earlier times (Figure 104). One of the few intensive archaeological surveys in the Laguna de Cuyutlán area was conducted by Phil Weigand in the early 1990s. Weigand studied the coastal area covering some 10 km from Cuyutlán to the northwest, finding that most ancient salt-making sites there were located on the side of the sand bar. Very few shell middens were found on this part of the estuary, in contrast to the inland area, where this type of archaeological site is relatively abundant (Weigand and Weigand 1997:6). There are literally hundreds of small pre-Hispanic sites near the estuary, most of them on the side of the sand bar as well. The predominant features there are small concentrations of potsherds and lithics, distributed along the upper beach of the estuary at a distance of about 100-200 m from each other, in what are now modern banana plantations. Much larger sites were also found, at a separation of 800 or 1000 m. Each of these sites covers an area of roughly one hectare, and they all have small platforms, suggesting the remains of residential areas from the Postclassic period, while saltmaking activities were carried out at the sites near the estuary (Weigand and Weigand 1997:7).

Pottery: pre-Hispanic salt-making techniques, particularly sal cocida (i.e., boiling brine over a fire), required vast amounts of pottery vessels (Williams 2001; Liot 2000). We have not yet been able to identify the pottery used in salt-making on the coast of Michoacán and Colima in pre-Hispanic times, so this task remains for future fieldwork. The tapeixtle method does not require pottery vessels for boiling brine, but only for carrying or storing brine, water, and crystallized salt, which may explain the paucity of this type of pottery in the study area.

Nowadays, salt production in Cuyutlán is based on the solar evaporation technique, carried out in great evaporation pans, or eras, densely-distributed around

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Figure 100. In the abandoned salt-making sites of La Placita one can still see the remains of eras (a), tapeixtles (b), and terreros (c) (photos by Teddy Williams, 2016).

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Figure 101. Most of the old salineros of La Placita have retired and their knowledge and traditions will probably be forgotten, because the younger generation shows no interest in learning the trade (photo by Teddy Williams, 2016).

pits. Instead of the lime coating used in the past, the pans are now covered by huge plastic sheets in the saltworks at Salinas del Padre, near La Placita (Figure 105) and in the ones at Cuyutlán (Figure 106), where rubber hoses are used to take the brine to the eras (Figure 107), and the salt water is extracted using gasolinepowered pumps. Traditional indigenous production seems to have been carried out in a similar way, except that the pans were less regular and water was conveyed by means of canals, wells and shallow ditches. In some cases, the remains of ancient ditches can still be seen, but conclusive identification of ancient solar evaporation pans is problematic (Weigand and Weigand 1997:7-8). Salt was the most important product for the economy of Colima up to at least the second half of the 19th century. Salt-making sites were distributed along the coast, primarily south of Manzanillo Bay, where as many as 1,500

Figure 102. The saltworks studied by the author at La Placita lie abandoned after the demise of the traditional salt industry in the region. Note the remains of a tapeixtle in the foreground, and the eras at the right in the background (photo by Teddy Williams, 2016).

99

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica Figure 103. Illustration of part of the salt-making assemblage formerly used at La Placita and other coastal sites: (a) paleta; (b) menapil; (c) polishing stones; (d) pot; (e) shovel (a, b, c, e: Teddy Williams, La Placita, April 2016; d: Eduardo Williams, Maruata, 2000).

a

d

b

c

e

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Salt Production in Mesoamerica: Tool Assemblages and Cultural Landscapes

Figure 104. The coast of Colima has long been a main salt-producing region in Mesoamerica, with the town of Cuyutlán as the epicenter of salt manufacture and trade since at least the colonial period (ca. 1530-1810). Key: (1) Cualata; (2) Cualatilla; (3) Los Reyes; (4) El Ciruelo; (5) La Isla; (6) Cuyutlán; (7) Palo Verde; (8) Cuyutlancillo; (9) Pascuales; (10) Teapa; (11) Petlazonecatl; (12) Real de San Pantaleón; (13) Tecuanillo; (14) Guazango; (15) Guayabal; (16) La Manzanilla; (17) Lo de Vega; (18) Carrizal; (19) Caimanes; (20) El Padre; (21) Apiza (adapted from Gómez Azpeitia 2006: p. 203).

production areas have been counted, but only those on the southern end of the Laguna de Cuyutlán and neighboring areas have persisted up to our days (Reyes and Leytón 1992:121-122).

season. The same techniques described for colonial Michoacán (Williams 2018a) may have been used during the pre-Hispanic period up to the mid-16th century in Colima as well. The first description of these techniques –which have prevailed with only minor modifications right up to the present– comes from the 18th century. The way to make a pozo or salt-making unit was first to form a basin or tank, place a tapestle (i.e. tapeixtle) on top of it, and then fill the tapestle with salty earth. Salt water was poured on top of the earth to distill it and transform it into brine, which was then transferred into the lime-covered evaporation pans. After a while, the heat of the sun evaporated the brine and the end result was crystallized salt (Figure 108) (Pérez 1777, cited by Reyes and Leytón 1992:138).

The Laguna de Cuyutlán is 35 km long and covers 22% of Colima’s coastline. Fishing along its margins was important throughout this region for centuries, but today is performed only on a very small scale, due mainly to pollution and the sedimentation of the lagoon caused by the clearing of the dense palm groves on adjoining lands. Those palms once produced valuable coconut oil, but now the land is devoted to agricultural pursuits. Towards the end of the 16th century, the economic role of salt production in this region was very important. Indians, Creoles and Spaniards alike paid salt as tribute to the Crown, and the guilds also paid their tithes in salt. The guilds sometimes owned saltworks that had been bequeathed to them in wills. The Indian hospitals1 at Ixtlahuacán, Tecomán and Amoloyan derived a good part of their income from the salt trade (Reyes and Leytón 1992:122, 124).

The pozo is the most important feature used in this salt-making process since all activities are performed in or around it. It consists of the filtering device and the basin where brine is stored.2 Rectangular in form, it features two levels, measuring roughly 5 m wide by 3 m deep. The upper part consists of the cajete (bowl) that sits atop the filtro (filtering device). At the bottom is the taza or basin into which the brine falls, while at the back of the structure is the terrero, or mound of leached earth.

Although the saltworks are near the sea, salt is not taken directly from sea water; rather, it is extracted from the deposits left when the sea retreats from the estuaries and lagoons that are connected to it during the rainy

On one side of the pozo is the tajo (cut), a trench-like perforation excavated in the earth measuring 2 by 3

This term refers to a form of social organization imposed upon indigenous communities by the Spanish colonial authorities. In the context of Michoacán, it is identified with the early work of Bishop Vasco de Quiroga.

2  The word ‘pozo’ (well or pit) refers to the filtering device, the evaporation pans, and the adjoining land from which the salty earth is extracted. In the sense used here ‘pozo’ refers to an entire production unit.

1 

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Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica

Figure 105. The salineros in Salinas del Padre, Michoacán, were already using plastic sheets instead of sand and lime to cover the eras when these photos were taken some 20 years ago (author’s photos, 2000).

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Figure 106. The saltworks at Cuyutlán, Colima, have experienced the same changes in technology as Salinas del Padre, with black plastic sheets covering the eras instead of the sand-lime mixture of old (photo by Evelyn Flores, in Castellón [editor] 2008b: inside front cover).

Figure 107. Rubber hoses and gasoline pumps are used at Cuyutlán to take the brine from the tapeixtle to the eras, in an effort to adapt to new markets and technologies (Cuyutlán; photo by Evelyn Flores, in Castellón [editor] 2008b: p. 7).

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Figure 108. The crystallized salt is raked off the surface of the era to form small mounds after the sun has evaporated most of the brine in Cuyutlán, Colima (photo by Evelyn Flores, in Castellón [editor] 2008b: 138).

m with a depth of no more than 2 m, since in places near the lagoons the water table is near the surface. In front of the taza are the evaporation pans, arranged in a rectangular pattern, each one measuring 5 by 5 m or 7 by 7 m, with a depth of 15 cm. One pozo may have 36 or more eras, depending on the owner’s productive capacity and the quality of the earth around the production unit. The eras are interconnected by small canals and are built at different levels so they can be filled by gravity.

otates or tapioles). On top of these there is a tapeixte made of reeds or otate (Mexican bamboo, Otatea glauca), then a layer of grass (zacate) and finally a layer of cayaco or huesillo (broken husks of the oil coconut) and coal. The bottom level consists of tamped beach-sand. Finally, there is a layer of polvillo or tierra muerta, which is pulverized soil from the area around the comederos (Reyes and Leytón 1992:139).

Near the eras is the asoleadero, where the crystallized salt is heaped up under the sun to extract the remaining humidity. Around the plan or plot are the comederos, the land that contains the salty earth. The comederos measure on average two hectares, but their size varies according to the quality of the soil where the pozo is located. The same pozo can be used for an undetermined number of years, but it must be rebuilt at the beginning of each salt-making season because the rising water of the lagoon during the rains will have covered and partially destroyed it (Reyes and Leytón 1992:138-139).

The salt-making process begins with gathering the salty earth from the comederos, using only soil from the uppermost layer. After this, the earth is heaped up in small piles using a wooden rake, then placed in the cajete and mixed with water from the tajo to commence the gravity-driven filtering process. Brine falls into the taza, where it is stored and later taken to the eras. As the salt crystallizes, it concentrates in one part of the era, then it is collected with a wooden palette and taken to the asoleadero, where it is heaped up in a cone-shaped mound. Today, the salt is carried in wheelbarrows, though formerly baskets made of reeds were used (Reyes and Leytón 1992:140-141).

The filter is the main, and most complex, feature of the pozo, as it consists of several layers of wooden poles some 7 cm in diameter intertwined with reeds (called

The saltworks along the Colima coast were particularly important for the mining industry in New Spain, as they provided the salt that was as crucial as mercury 104

Salt Production in Mesoamerica: Tool Assemblages and Cultural Landscapes

for producing silver in the process called beneficio de patio, which was employed for over three centuries. Cattle-raising also depended on salt production, as did the tanning and dyeing industries, not to mention the salting of meat and fish as a means of conservation. All these economic activities required huge amounts of sodium chloride, in addition to the salt used as a condiment by all people in the area. For all these reasons, salt became the single most important product in Colima, as well as the commodity with the highest demand in New Spain. In the second half of the 16th century, salt became a key element of the economy in Colima and neighboring areas, and remained so until at least the end of the 19th century (Reyes 1995:145-146).

Figure 109. The tapeixtle is one of the most ubiquitous features of traditional salt-making on the Pacific coast of Mesoamerica, like this example from Cuyutlán, Colima (after Reyes 2004: Figure 9).

the most common salt-making technique was based on boiling brine. Basically, when sea water or water from saline wells was not used directly, it was necessary to first obtain water with a high-saline content, commonly known as brine. This could be achieved by several different processes of leaching and cleansing saltbearing soils. After that, the brine would be boiled to produce crystallized salt by evaporation. Both processes, leaching and evaporation, were carried out using clay pots. Although this method was effective, it was not very practical if one wanted to produce great volumes of salt, so as demand increased it became necessary to develop a new technology. Thus it was that in the second half –or perhaps closer to the end– of the 16th century, the tapeixtle made its appearance in Colima (Figures 109 and 110). This innovation made it possible to leach great amounts of earth and obtain copious amounts of high-quality brine, which was no longer boiled but rather evaporated under the intense rays of the sun (Figure 111) (Reyes 1995:152).

Because salt was such a valuable resource it should come as no surprise that there were conflicts for the possession of saltworks throughout the colonial period. One of the earliest accounts of such a conflict comes from Colima, where records show that in 1576 the towns of Petlazoneca and Tecomán fought over some saltworks on the coast. Apparently, this conflict had endured for some time but flared up when some boundary stones disappeared. Those stones had been placed 25 years earlier to demarcate the saltworks that pertained to each community. The Indians of Tecomán said that all the saltworks belonged to them, but a native of Petlazoneca, an Indian (indio natural) named Juan Antonio, claimed that he had inherited one from his father. This dispute between the towns was finally resolved when the colonial authorities returned the disputed saltworks to Juan Antonio. The remaining installations were retained by Tecomán, including ‘all lands and saltworks and saltpeter deposits up to the water of said estuary’ (Barlow 1949:42-46).

This technique is still used today by salt-makers in Colima, Michoacán and Guerrero, but Reyes thought that the tapeixtle is probably not indigenous to this region. While it may have been developed here in colonial times, it is also possible that it was introduced from the Philippines; a possibility supported by the fact that its distribution is limited to the Pacific coast (Reyes 1995:152-153).3

As mentioned previously, by the late 19th century the permanent population of many salt-making sites along the Colima coast did not amount to even 50 people, though since the late 16th century many people had been coming to this area during the salt-harvesting season, swelling the population to as many as 5,000 residents. Added to the salt-makers from all around the province were many muleteers and merchants, mostly from Michoacán and Nueva Galicia (present-day Jalisco), but also from such faraway regions as Mexico City, Querétaro, Guanajuato and Taxco, Guerrero (Reyes 1995:149).

Juan Carlos Reyes (2004) wrote that, in his opinion, there was a correlation between the tapeixtle’s evolution and its distribution along the coast of the Pacific Ocean. According to Reyes, the tapeixtle reached its highest

As far as technology is concerned, the influence of the Colima saltworks extended from southern Sinaloa to northern Oaxaca. As we have seen, in pre-Hispanic times

However, Castellón (2016) presents archaeological data strongly suggesting the existence of a leaching feature similar to the tapeixtle in Puebla before the Spanish conquest. 3 

105

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica Figure 110. The tapeixtle and similar devices are used to leach brine in Cuyutlán and other regions of Mesoamerica, from northwest Mexico to Guatemala (Cuyutlán; after Reyes 2004: Figure 10).

Figure 111. In the Cuyutlán saltworks, the salineros begin at an early age, learning the trade in a household context (photo by Evelyn Flores, in Castellón [editor] 2008a, inside front cover).

Figure 112. Feature for leaching brine called tapextle de cajones from Escuinapa, Sinaloa (after Reyes 2004: Figure 11, photo taken in 2001).

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level of development in Colima, and as one moves south or north from Colima, it appears to become more rudimentary; that is to say, ‘the further it is from Colima, the more it retains the more ancient or primitive features. This fact suggests that the use of the tapextle [sic] started in Colima and from there it dispersed’ to other places (p. 192). Reyes opined that there are other factors that could explain the different levels of development of the tapeixtle, for instance the use given to the salt. The rise in the demand for salt during the colonial period was linked to the silver industry, as mentioned above. Sea salt was regarded as the best, the ‘strongest’ component of the beneficio de patio (p. 193), in which sodium chloride and azogue (mercury) were used in combination to extract the silver from its ore matrix (Bargalló 1969). Cuyutlán was strategically-located in relation to the primary silver-production regions, such as those in Guanajuato, Real del Monte (Hidalgo), San Luis Potosí and Zacatecas; therefore, the saltworks at Cuyutlán attained a privileged position as providers of sodium chloride to the silver mines throughout northwest Mexico (Reyes 2004:193).

taken from a shallow well excavated close to the tapeite and poured over the salty earth. After trickling down through the filter, the water is channeled to a holding tank coated with a mixture of sand and clay (Good 1995: Figures 4 and 5). The concentrated brine that falls into the tank is then moved to the eras, where it evaporates and is transformed into white, granular crystallized salt, called la flor de la sal (Figure 115). The pans are square or rectangular, carefully built with clay and coated with lime (Figure 116a). They are arranged in single or double lines called mecates (Figure 116b). These pans are approximately 15 cm deep, and their size varies from 1.2 to 2.2 m per side. The salt-makers sometimes shaped an independent circular pan called comalli or comal. The salt produced in this feature was destined for ceremonial purposes. Salt-makers fill the tapeite twice a day, after first removing the thick mud of previously leached earth, which is heaped on top of the mounds of discarded soil called muros de tierra (earth walls) that rise on either side of the tapeite to a height of 2 m or more. Salt can be harvested daily (Figure 117) from the smaller pans if the brine is salty enough and the sunlight sufficiently intense through the day. Salt is gathered early in the afternoon using a hoe-like wooden implement and buckets, after which it is placed in a circular storage area where excessive humidity is drained away and the grains of salt are left to dry thoroughly (Figure 118). Each saltworks also has one or two salt mounds of conical shape, called muros de sal (salt walls) (Good 1995:2).

The tapeixtle appears with many incarnations along the entire Pacific coast of Mesoamerica, from Sacapulas, Guatemala (where it is called cajón; see Andrews 1983: Figure 4.11) to Guerrero’s Costa Chica (Quiroz, in Castellón [editor] 2008a:18), and on to Sinaloa (Reyes 2004) (Figure 112). Many names were given to the different varieties of this brine-leaching feature: tapesco, tapanco, tapeite, tapeixtle, tapestle and tapextle. In many cases, the tapeixtle and its variants were used in conjunction with solar evaporation pans, which have been reported from the Yucatán Peninsula in the south (Andrews 1997) to Escuinapa, Sinaloa, in the north (Grave 2019: Figure 1).

Operating these saltworks has been considered a feminine activity in both historic and present times, and each family’s technical knowledge is passed on from women to their daughters or granddaughters (Good 1995:3). Men contribute to the salt-making industry mainly by building the tapeites, evaporation pans and holding tanks, but the routine, daily tasks such as gathering and moving the salty earth, filling up and emptying the tapeites twice a day, pouring the brine into the salt pans, and harvesting the crystallized salt, are usually performed by women and children. The preparation of the tapeite, storage tanks and evaporation tanks requires between 14 and 18 days of labor (Good 1995:3-4).

The Coast of Guerrero There are several salt-making sites on the coast of Guerrero, many of them located in swamps and estuaries in the littoral south of Acapulco. At four of these localities –Tecomate, Los Tamarindos, Chautengo and Pozahualco– saltworks are exploited during the dry season (Figure 113), independently of each other and on a domestic scale or household level of production (Good 1995). At the first three sites named above, salt is made by leaching swamp soils that dry up during the long, hot dry season. Salt-makers here carefully break the thin upper layer of earth and carry the pieces in sacks or buckets to the saltworks, where they put them in a filter called a tapeite (Figure 114) (a variant of the term tapeixtle discussed above). This tapeite is built over a base of wooden planks or carrizo reeds covered by palm fronds or thick grass, with the sides made of adobe to form a rectangular bowl covered by thick sand and a second layer of fine, sieved sand. Salty water is

Successful production in these coastal saltworks depends on the adequate handling of several elements. The knowledge required is obtained and transmitted through collective practice; for instance, selecting the right earth for leaching is crucial in order to produce brine with the appropriate degree of salinity. The tapeite system requires that the individual production units be dispersed in order to obtain adequate supplies of salt within a short distance. Each area can be harvested 107

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica

a

b

c

d

Figure 113. Summary of salt-making activities in the coastal area of Guerrero: (a) brine is taken from the tapeite and poured into the era (top); the eras receive periodic maintenance (bottom); (b) salty water is brought from the estuary to the salt-making site (upper left), then poured into the tapeite, where it is leached into brine (upper right). The brine becomes white salt in the era under the rays of the sun (bottom); (c) salt-making sites are spread over an extended area near the saltwater sources; (d) the eras are raked to collect the salt and, finally, the crystallized salt is gathered from the era (adapted from Quiroz 1995: Figures 1-4).

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Figure 114. Salt-makers on the coast of Guerrero use the tapeite, a feature similar to the tapeixtle discussed above, to leach salty water through mineral-rich soils and turn it into brine (after Reyes 2004: Figure 3).

Figure 115. Once the brine is obtained by leaching salty water in the tapeite, it is taken in buckets and poured into the eras in Pozahualco. The brine will be dried by the sun in the eras and become crystallized salt (photo by Haydée Quiroz, in Castellón [editor] 200b:137).

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Figure 116. The eras are a common feature of the salt-making landscape in the area around Pozahualco and other towns on the Guerrero coast (photo by Haydée Quiroz, in Castellón [editor] 2008a:22).

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water brought directly from the lagoon through canals. Clearing this canal system is a responsibility of the entire community, while the small canals that feed into the main one are cleaned by the proprietors of the nearby saltworks. The number of people involved in salt production in Pozahualco is approximately triple the number working the tapeites, and the saltworks are closer together (Quiroz 1995:194-195).

Figure 117. Harvesting the product of the eras in the Pozahualco saltworks of coastal Guerrero is a daily occupation during the salt-making season (photo by Haydée Quiroz, in Castellón [editor] 2008a:16).

In contrast to the places where the tapeite is used, in the Pozahualco Lagoon water can be taken directly to the solar evaporation pans. Every household has a considerable number of pans (up to 72), and the production units are separated only by narrow paths. Every year, the salt-makers build a system of canals to take water from the lagoon directly to the saltworks. Each family makes its own pans, but the process used here allows them to carry out a more intensive form of production that on occasions entails hiring wage laborers. Since this method does not rely on leaching to obtain the brine, it is also less vulnerable to rain (Good 1995:7).

A considerable part of the salt from the Costa Chica of Guerrero circulates through exchange networks. In some cases this is the main mechanism for commercialization of the salt produced there. Most of the exchange is controlled by women, and an astounding amount and variety of goods are included: maize, beans, fruit, cheese, meat, fish, sugar, baskets, petates, straw hats, pottery, blankets, and wood articles (Good 1995:10; see also Quiroz 1998).

approximately once a month, since the intense sun constantly causes the salt to flare up to the ground surface (Good 1995:5). There are several ecological factors that limit the amount of salt produced, but rainfall patterns are particularly critical. In places where the tapeite system is used together with solar evaporation, production cannot begin until the levels of fresh water in the estuary have diminished, the earth is dry, and the climate is hot with strong solar irradiation. During periods of cloudy skies, solar evaporation takes longer and salt productivity decreases considerably (Good 1995:6).

This area of the coast has an excellent level of preservation of the material features used in salt production, despite the floods that occur in the swamps every year during the rainy season. The storage tanks and fragments of the wooden poles that support the tapeites can still be seen in situ, but the most longlasting remains of the salt-making activities here are the mounds of discarded leached earth, which survive for decades (Good 1995:10).

The Pozahualco Lagoon is larger and shallower than the Tecomate and Chautengo lagoons, and its water has a greater saline concentration, so here it is not necessary to filter the earth, build tapeites, dig pits, or carry the salitre. In this case, the main work that has to be carried out is clearing the main and secondary canals that carry water from the lagoon to the saltworks. In Pozahualco, the salt evaporation pans (called paños) are usually found near the saltworks. The paños have the same general characteristics as the eras, but are rectangular and somewhat smaller. They are filled with

In the area under discussion, salt-making and fishing are the primary economic activities, but there are other occupations as well, such as small-scale trade and wage labor (both within the area and outside it). These may be considered optional, alternative or complementary strategies. During the rainy season, many families are active in fishing and, in some cases, agriculture, while in the dry season part of the population is involved in salt-making, as discussed above (Quiroz 1995:187). 111

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica

Figure 118. In Chautengo (a) and Pozahualco (b) new crystallized salt is passed from the eras to the escurridero, where it will be further dried by the sun before being packed for transport (photos by Haydée Quiroz, in Castellón [editor] 2008a:24, 134).

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households that do not produce salt obtain this product through exchange based on kinship networks that extend out to the local and regional levels. In addition to forming part of the diet, salt has other uses in the area under discussion, for example as a preservative for dehydrated fish and other kinds of meat.

In Guerrero’s Costa Chica, salt is still used as a unit of exchange, as shown by Haydeé Quiroz’s research. This author says that the expression ‘thanks to our saltworks we don’t lack anything’ is a statement of salt production as a way of life, whereby salt becomes a trade good that allows the acquisition of a wide variety of goods, both regional and imported from afar. The list includes fruit drinks, chilate (a typical Central American drink made of chili peppers, roasted maize, cacao, anise, pepper and cinnamon), prepared meals, maize, fruit, clothes, cosmetics, gold jewelry, bicycles, tape recorders, electric fans, and many other products (Quiroz 1998:347). According to Quiroz (2009), salt production on the coast of Guerrero is geared primarily towards satisfying the needs of the salt-producing households, while the

The salt trade can satisfy many needs of the local population. Salt is an important source of cash for satisfying the everyday needs of households, especially during the dry season. It can also help finance exceptional cash requirements, such as constructing a new house, or purchasing some electronic appliance like a television, stereo or even a refrigerator. But salt wealth can go further in its role within the economy,

Table 6. Price structure within the salt-exchange system on the coast of Guerrero in 1989-1991 (Quiroz 2009: Table 1). Amount of salt

Exchange product

Locality

1 load (cost: 5 pesos)

5 watermelons

Chautengo

1 load

3 liters2 of maize

Tecomate

1 load

2 bags of detergent (1 kg each)

Tecomate

1 load

1 medium-sized Nescafé jar and 1 liter of fuel oil

Tecomate

1.5 load

1 liter of beans

Tecomate

3 loads

1 case (?) of cooking oil

Tecomate

1 liter

1 piece of bread

Los Tamarindos

1 load

1 liter of beans

Chautengo

1 liter

3 cooked corncobs

Los Tamarindos

5 liters

1 liter of Costeño chili peppers

Tecomate/Salinas

2 loads

12 liters of maize

Tecomate

1 bucket

1 bucket of mango

Los Tamarindos/ Chautengo; Tecomate/Salinas

1 liter

1 tobacco leaf (cost: 1.50 pesos)

Los Tamarindos

1 liter

Popcorn (amount?)

Los Tamarindos

2 loads

1 load of maize

Chautengo

4 liters

1 notebook

Chautengo

1 liter

4 pencils

Chautengo

2 liters

1 can of tuna or sardines

Chautengo

1 bucket (3 liters)

1 dish with food

Chautengo

5 liters

1 kg of spicy pork meat

Los Tamarindos (1 liter of salt= 3 pesos)

1 liter

1 dish with food

Los Tamarindos

3 liters

1 liter of lard

Los Tamarindos

1 liter

15 mangoes

Chautengo

1 bucket (3 liters)

1 watermelon

Salinas

2 buckets

1 large papaya

Salinas

1 bucket

1 dish with mole

Salinas

1 liter

1 plastic bag with agua fresca (i.e., fruit drink)

Salinas

30 loads

1 ‘Fisher’ tape recorder

Salinas (paid in 2 instalments)

2 liters

1 girl’s panties (underwear)

Los Tamarindos

2 liters

1 boy’s shorts (underwear)

Los Tamarindos

3 liters

1 small t-shirt

Los Tamarindos

2 buckets

1 bucket of lime

Los Tamarindos

1

1  2 

One US dollar was worth ca. 2.94 Mexican pesos at the time. 1 liter= 1 kg.

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Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica as it may be used to finance a wedding, or to cover expenses related to a sickness or accident (p. 6).

The Basin of Mexico In the Basin of Mexico, salt has long been an important element of culture and the economy, a mineral widely consumed throughout history. According to Sanders et al. (1979), archaeological evidence suggests that demand, always widespread and consistent, led to an increase in production during the Late Postclassic (ca. AD 1200-1520), possibly related to the dense populations that lived in the basin but had only a limited supply of animal protein. There are good archaeological markers for identifying salt production sites during this period, so we know that salt manufacture was more intensive on the western margin of Lake Texcoco and on the southern and northern boundaries of the sprawling urban center of Tenochtitlan. Sodium chloride was also extracted, although on a smaller scale, along the other margins of the lake, as well as around Lake Xaltocan. There may have been a natural basis for this distribution of production; for example, variability in the concentrations of salts most suitable for human consumption, though the pressure from the huge urban mass at Tenochtitlan was without doubt an important factor in the intensity of salt manufacture along the urban periphery, as producers sought to achieve the greatest proximity to the largest concentration of consumers (Sanders et al. 1979).

The exchange equivalence of salt in the local economy is based on the cash price of salt at the moment of the transaction, except for certain goods, like fresh mangoes, which have parity in price; that is, one bucket of mangoes equals one bucket of salt. Table 6 shows a summary of the price structure within the saltexchange system on the coast of Guerrero at the time of Quiroz’ research (1989-1991) (p. 9). In several regions on the coast of West Mexico (Colima, Michoacán and Guerrero), muleteers carried salt over vast distances until they were replaced by the railroad some 60 years ago. In Guerrero, for example, as recently as 1939 Nahuas from the Balsas Valley marketed salt from the Costa Chica as itinerant sellers. For generations they combined salt-trading in the dry season with agriculture during the rainy season (JuneOctober). To obtain salt, the Nahuas formed caravans of 20-25 burros or mules driven by 10-12 men. The trek from the Balsas Valley to the coast was about 150 km over mountainous terrain and required several days of travel. Coastal informants spoke of the constant arrival and departure of mule-trains consisting of hundreds of pack animals from different highland towns (Good 1995:8-10).

Around Lakes Texcoco, Xaltocan and Zumpango (Figure 119), there was a strip of salty earth 500-1000 m in width, which was the primary salt-making area in antiquity. In this area there are earthen mounds covered with fragments of an abundant ceramic type called Texcoco Fabric Marked (TFM), a late type related to Aztec salt production (Figure 120). These features provide strong evidence of the intensity and scale of salt manufacture in the pre-Hispanic past (Sanders et al. 1979:85, 292-293).

All the means of transportation available in the colonial period (mule trains, carts, wagons, ships) required many parallel activities or industries to provide the goods and services necessary in each case, such as road maintenance, the construction and administration of inns, supplying forage, manufacturing harnesses and ropes, as well as constructing carts, ferries, boats, and so on (Reyes 1998:150). But one mode of transport that had an exceptional economic and social impact in Colima depended on the work of muleteers. Salt-trading and transportation by mule trains became an activity of great importance in the regional economy, as the supply of many indispensable products depended on the muleteers who arrived at, or departed from, Colima, carrying salt to distribution and consumption centers. Because of their sheer numbers, both muleteers and their animals became the foremost consumers of goods and services, and the principle contributors of alcabalas, or sales taxes (Reyes 1998:151).

The identification of salt-making archaeological sites in the Basin of Mexico depends on several unique, specialized features. Each one of these sites consisted of at least one low mound of varying size but with homogenous earth fill, distributed along the beaches around Lake Texcoco, roughly within the boundaries of a strip of land that is subject to intermittent flooding. Apparently, the process of salt extraction here included leaching sodium chloride from the highly salty soils, and these mounds are the accumulated residues from this process. Only in a few cases were architectonic elements found in association with these sites: for example, house mounds atop larger earth mounds. Another essential characteristic of these sites is that the artifacts found consist almost entirely of TFM pottery. There is good archaeological evidence indicating that this pottery was used in salt production (though Parsons [2001] has suggested other possible uses). Finally, it is significant that most of these sites show no signs of permanent occupation.

A similar situation to the one described for Colima has been reported for the Michoacán coast. During the colonial period and well into the 19th century, muleteers were among the most important pillars of the Michoacán economy, as in many other areas of Mexico. The Michoacán muleteers set out from Zamora, Purépero and Cotija to travel to central and northern Mexico, as well as Jalisco, Guanajuato, Veracruz and Tabasco (Sánchez 1984:41, 47). 114

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absent around Lake Chalco, which is a freshwater lake. More than anything else, this regional distribution indicates the association between TFM pottery and salt-making activities in this area (Parsons 2001:249). TFM pottery has been found in concentrations above 90% on the surface of low, irregularly-shaped mounds, most of which are 10-20 m long by 1-1.5 m wide, though some are as long as 400 m and 2 or 3 m high. In most cases, these mounds are in areas where natural soil salinity is so great that there is almost no vegetation (Parsons 2001:251).

Figure 119. Around Lakes Texcoco, Xaltocan and Zumpango (in the Valley of Mexico) there was a strip of salty earth 500-1000 m in width, which was the primary saltmaking area in antiquity (courtesy of Jeffrey Parsons).

The presence of mounds covered by TFM pottery, together with accounts from the 16th century that describe salt-making activities on the shores of Lake Texcoco, has allowed several archaeologists to link this ceramic type with the production of sodium chloride by the Aztecs. Some authors, notably Thomas Charlton (1969, 1971), have suggested that TFM pottery was used to boil brine over a fire to obtain crystallized salt, but nowadays the prevailing viewpoint is that these vessels were not used for boiling the salt but, rather, to pack salt for distribution throughout the Basin of Mexico and neighboring areas. However, because of the few archaeological excavations carried out to date in what we assume to be saltmaking sites, it has been very difficult to define the real link between TFM pottery and the salt-making industry in the Basin of Mexico (Parsons 2001:251).

Parsons has emphasized the possibility that while TFM pottery may not have been used to boil brine, it could have been involved in other steps of the salt-making process; for instance, the final drying of crystallized salt using a source of low heat, perhaps over, or near, a bonfire. The variations in the shape and volume of this pottery type have led to the hypothesis that some effort was made to produce salt for exchange in loaves of standard shapes and sizes (Parsons 2001:257).

Because TFM pottery is limited to Aztec occupation phases, all the salt-making sites discovered are chronologically late. However, the occasional presence of earlier pottery in these localities suggests that some of them may also have a Teotihuacan (ca. AD 100-500) or Formative-period (ca. 500 BC) component. There are also indications (because of the surface distribution of high concentrations of TFM pottery) that salt manufacture was carried out at other Aztec sites, which have been defined as hamlets and villages (Sanders et al. 1979:57-58).

There have been few archaeological excavations in preHispanic salt-making sites in the Basin of Mexico due, in part, to the destruction of archaeological remains attributed to the constant expansion of Mexico City’s urban sprawl. A second factor has been the lack of interest on the part of most scholars. However, during archaeological salvage work undertaken in 1977 linked to the construction of Mexico City’s mass-transit system, it became possible to study a small portion

Parsons (1994, 1996, 2001, 2019) found that TFM pottery appears in great concentrations around the margins of the Texcoco-Xaltocan-Zumpango Lakes. This pottery type is quite abundant in Late Postclassic sites around the margins of salty Lake Texcoco, but virtually 115

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Figure 120. Texcoco Fabric Marked (TFM) is an abundant ceramic type related to Aztec salt production in the Basin of Mexico: (a) whole vessel (after Parsons 2001: Figure 7.1); (b) potsherds (after Parsons 2001: Plate 7.1).

of the north shore of ancient Lake Texcoco, and the remains of a Late Postclassic salt-making workshop came to light. These excavations unearthed house structures, as well as others with administrative and religious, as well as industrial, functions. In the latter, excavators unearthed tubs, kilns and a storage space, all features associated with salt production (Sánchez Vázquez 1989:81-82). Those tubs were of rectangular shape with a lime coating, and measured 3.5 by 2.5 m and 1.75 by 0.65 m, with a depth of at least 28 cm. Excavations also unearthed traces of three bonfires covered with ash, a possible storage area, and a shallow pit in a 250 m2 area, all associated with TFM pottery in a context which suggests that salt production in this place may have combined solar evaporation with boiling brine over direct fire (Parsons 2001:255; cfr. Sánchez Vázquez 1989:81-82).

to salvage as much information as possible about the sites where salt was produced in ancient times. This kind of research is urgent because of the widespread modification or destruction of cultural landscapes in the region, especially during the last 30 years or so (see discussion in Parsons 2019:298-307). According to Charles Gibson (1964), in the colonial period the salt industry depended on the natural brine produced in the lakes in the north of the Basin of Mexico and at Lake Texcoco, which contained primarily common salt (sodium chloride) and sodium carbonate. Apparently, the Indians did not obtain the salt directly from the lake water but, rather, from the surrounding soils where salts accumulated in higher concentrations than those diluted in the water. Logically, salt-making was carried out mainly in the dry season, when the lake level was low, using a process that involved leaching the earth to extract concentrated salt solutions, followed by artificial evaporation that produced residual salt. Baron Alexander Von Humboldt (1955:135) witnessed salt extraction on the banks of Lake Texcoco in the late colonial period and remarked that technological changes since pre-Hispanic times involved substituting copper vessels for clay basins, and the use of cow dung as fuel. Some random comments about this industry in the 16th century confirm this observation, at least in part, as we find mentions of the use of salt-impregnated earth leached with water and then heated to extract the salt from the soil. As far as we know, modern processes of solar evaporation were not used in the colonial period. The final product was a block made up of different types of dark dry salt, similar in size to a large loaf of bread. These ‘salt loaves’ were traded over a wide area in the 16th century, and in some cases were the source of great fortunes among the indigenous population (Gibson 1964).

The excavations mentioned above provided a unique opportunity to study the archaeological evidence of salt production in an actual Aztec workshop. Apart from chance encounters like this one, however, archaeologists have had few opportunities to investigate this crucial aspect of the pre-Hispanic economy. A recent field project carried out by Diana González (2017) studied salt-making sites in the northern sector of the Basin of Mexico. The main goals of her research were ‘to visit those sites that produced salt during the Late Postclassic (AD 1200-1521) and that managed to survive the passage of time and the area’s urban growth, with the goal of observing their characteristics, behavior [sic], dimensions, settlement patterns, and their links with… larger sites, whether commercial, storage, tributary, etcetera’ (p. 13). The ultimate goals were to verify that salt-making sites still existed in identifiable form, and evaluate their conditions of preservation. The aim of the survey was 116

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Figure 121. Cross-section of a feature called a pila, used in Nexquipayac to leach soil and produce brine (adapted from Parsons 2001: Figure 2.3).

gathered in a clay pot and then placed in a paila or rectangular pan that is transferred to a primitive adobe stove. This is where crystallization takes place; a process that may take from one-to-three hours. The fuel formerly used consisted of maize stalks, grasses, or animal dung, since wood is scarce in the region.

When a finer product is desired, the mass of crystallized salt is washed by sprinkling water on it. The salt-maker (iztatlero) fills his mouth with water and then sprays it on the salt, though others use a water sprinkler called a rociador. A more complicated method consists in retrieving the water before the crystallization process is totally completed, and then drying the solidified

Even the oldest methods of salt production could still be found in some places within the Basin of Mexico in the early 20th century. In the 1940s, Ola Apenes documented salt-making activities in San Cristóbal Nexquipayac, a village of some 900 people on the northwest margins of Lake Texcoco (Apenes 1944). At that time, Nexquipayac was the only remaining community in the Basin of Mexico with a significant interest in salt production (Parsons 1994:259). Salt production at Nexquipayac has always been concentrated in an isolated barrio called Las Salinas, located some 250 m southwest of Nexquipayac’s center (Parsons 2001). The simplest way to exploit the saline substances that lie around Lake Texcoco involves breaking up the crusts that form in puddles during the dry season. This mineral is called tequesquite, and is sold for home use or to be utilized in chemical facilities (Apenes 1944:37). The objective of the most elaborate process witnessed by Apenes involved breaking the tequesquite down into its constituent elements to produce simpler products, mainly white salt for home use, dark salt for meat conservation and, lastly, salitre (saltpeter). Salt-makers in the Basin of Mexico are called iztatleros, a word derived from iztatl, the Nahuatl term for salt. These people have an intimate knowledge of the characteristics of the earth in different areas of the basin, especially in terms of its salt content. According to the desired final product, different kinds of earth are mixed and placed on the ground where the salt-makers then walk barefoot over the mixture. Other kinds of earth are added to the mix because they are assumed to have a cleansing effect on the final product; one of these is called ‘sweet earth’ (necuticapoyatl in Nahuatl). After this, the earth mixture is placed in a cylindrical excavation called a pila, which is situated in such a way that it can be drained through a small pipe that protrudes from the center-bottom part (Figure 121). The pipe’s inner opening is protected by a filter made of ayate (maguey fiber). When fresh water is poured over the earth inside the pila, it dissolves the salts and drips slowly through the pipe. The concentrated solution is

Figure 122. This illustration from the Florentine Codex shows several vendors selling cacao (upper left), salt (upper right), chalk (lower left), and limestone (lower right). All these goods were found in Aztec marketplaces (after Macazaga 2008: Plate 73).

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Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica Hispanic markets (Figure 122), exchange, and tribute systems? (Figure 123), and, finally, how did all these key aspects change over time? (Parsons 1994:261262). Salt manufacture in Nexquipayac consists of six steps: (1) gathering the soils from which salt will be extracted (Figure 124); (2) mixing those soils in the prescribed manner in order to obtain one of four possible products (white salt, black salt, yellow salt or salitre) (Figure 125) and sprinkling the soil with brine (Figure 126); (3) filtering water through the earth to leach the salt and concentrate it in a brine solution (Figure 127); (4) boiling the brine to obtain crystallized salt; (5) drying the crystallized salt; and (6) selling the final product (Parsons 2001:16-17). The production of sodium chloride in Nexquipayac requires three kinds of investment in terms of labor and capital: (a) maintenance of workshops and other production areas (Figure 128); (b) securing access to appropriate lands; and (c) procuring fuel for the boiling operations (Parsons 1994:263). Figure 123. The Codex Mendoza shows the tribute paid to the Aztec Empire by its subjects. The five objects at the lower right represent 2,000 loaves of white salt (after Ross 1984:47).

Parsons (2001) conducted a thorough study of the natural and cultural landscapes associated with salt-making in the area of Nexquipayac known as Las Salinas. He found that ‘the main part of the workshop occupies an area of about 15 x 15 m atop a large mound that has built up to a height of 3-6 m above the surrounding plain over the course of approximately a century of salt-making’ (p. 24) (Figure 129). He tells us that during a period of 25-30 years, ‘the main product of the workshop has been sal blanca [white salt], with approximately 10% of the total output devoted to sal negra [black salt]4… a separate area… was reserved for the production of these materials’ (p. 26) (Figure 130). In one of the workshops he studied, earth from the mound of leached soil was mixed with lakeshore soil to make sal blanca, though the site’s primary function was to provide storage space for a variety of artifacts used by the salt-makers in different activities (Figure 131). According to Parsons, in the 1930s, ‘the lakebed source-area zone was… much wetter than it is at present’ (Figure 132). This may indicate that ‘at least during the rainy season, some crude ditching

salts. Due to the varying degrees of solubility of different kinds of salt at different temperatures, the resulting solutions have distinct compositions that produce different varieties of salt once crystallized. This procedure may be repeated to obtain several kinds of salt, but salitre is always the last one in the sequence (Apenes 1944:35-40). During the archaeological survey that he undertook in the Texcoco region in 1967, Parsons discovered that salt was still being manufactured in Nexquipayac, apparently using techniques identical to the ones reported by Apenes some 30 years earlier. According to Parsons (1994), despite the general knowledge we have accumulated in relation to salt-making activities during the Postclassic period in the Basin of Mexico, there is little specific information regarding this industry, especially for the early phases of the pre-Hispanic era. Indeed, many questions remain unanswered: how was the TFM pottery used?, exactly how was salt made?, was boiling brine or solar evaporation the preferred method?, how much labor and fuel were spent to manufacture it?, what production levels could be achieved with indigenous technology?, was this a part-time or year-round activity?, was it performed by full-time specialists?, how important was salt in pre-

4  During the time of Parsons’ fieldwork at Nexquipayac (late 1980s), two main types of salt were being produced: (1) sal blanca, or white table salt (the most abundant product); (2) sal negra or black salt, used in the preparation of fried pork meat, and (3) sal amarilla or yellow salt, used to cure meat. A fourth product was salitre or saltpeter, which was produced until the 1940s, and was employed in the manufacture of fireworks (Parsons 2001:17).

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Figure 124. Salty earth is brought to the workshop by cart from the lake area near Nexquipayac (courtesy of Jeffrey Parsons).

Figure 125. The earth must be mixed according to the final product desired: white salt, black salt, yellow salt, or salitre, in Nexquipayac (courtesy of Jeffrey Parsons).

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Figure 126. The earth is sprinkled with brine to make it suitable for leaching salt in the pila, at the Nexquipayac saltworks (courtesy of Jeffrey Parsons).

and banking facilitated the soil-collecting process and that the salty earth was collected as mud and placed in a basket for transport to the workshop’ (p. 70). Parsons recorded oral traditions to identify the nature of the activities performed around Cerro Tepetzingo, a small hill near the modern salt-making sites. The interpretation of the local oral history allowed him to identify this hill ‘as the locus for two kinds of nineteenth-century salt-making. First, the ancestors of the modern Las Salinas residents comprised a specialized salt-making community of roughly 100 people until they were forcibly removed a century ago by the local hacienda owner’ (p. 71). After the hacienda owners appropriated the land, this area ‘was the site of large-scale, commercial production, initiated by the hacienda owner after the household producers were removed. Traces of both kinds of nineteenth-century activity are still clearly visible’ (p. 71) (Figure 133).

Figure 127. Filtering water through the earth in the pila to leach salt and concentrate it in a brine solution at the Nexquipayac saltworks (photo by Ola Apenes 1938, courtesy of Jeffrey Parsons).

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Figure 128. This salt-maker uses a large wooden mallet to prepare the pila for leaching in an example of the material culture associated with the maintenance of salt-making sites in Nexquipayac (courtesy of Jeffrey Parsons).

Figure 129. the main part of the workshop at Las Salinas (Nexquipayac) sits atop a large mound of leached earth that has reached a height of 3-6 m above the surrounding plain (courtesy of Jeffrey Parsons).

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Figure 130. Salt-making workshop in Nexquipayac showing two separate boiling huts used, respectively, to produce sal blanca (white salt) and sal negra (black salt) (courtesy of Jeffrey Parsons).

Figure 131. Salt-making workshop in Nexquipayac, showing the tool storage area (foreground) and the mound of leached soil (background) (courtesy of Jeffrey Parsons).

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Figure 132. Collecting lakebed earth was a critical aspect of salt-making in the Nexquipayac area, as seen in this photo from the 1930s (by Ola Apenes, courtesy of Jeffrey Parsons).

Figure 133. The remains of a 19th-century salt workshop near Nexquipayac are visible around the spot where the man is standing (ca. 1988, courtesy of Jeffrey Parsons).

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Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica Sources from the 16th century suggest that there may have been two distinct salt manufacturing processes at Lake Texcoco at the moment of the Spanish conquest: one similar to that seen nowadays in Nexquipayac, involving the leaching of salty soils and boiling of brine, and a simpler one, which consisted in solar evaporation of shallow puddles of salty water.

combined, or specialist salt-makers could have moved seasonally from leaching-and-boiling workshops (in the wet season) to solar evaporation workshops (in the dry season) (Parsons 1994:278). Parsons (1994) suggests that, because of high fuel costs and the need for the knowhow and technical experience that only specialized production could offer, it is highly unlikely that the leaching-boiling method was very popular in the Basin of Mexico before the Middle Postclassic (ca. AD 1150-1350). The incentive for the transformation from a more generalized form of production, such as solar evaporation, to a more specialized one, like leaching-boiling, may have been linked to the combination of two important factors that made it necessary to increase production after AD 1200: first, a considerable and sustained population growth on a regional level; and, second, changes in the political economy that required greater amounts of salted fish, dyed textiles, cleansing agents, and uniformly packed salt, all of which were required to supply the increasingly urbanized communities, as well as for the functioning of the market and tribute systems. Finally, salt production played an important role in defining a more complex sociopolitical hierarchy (Parsons 1994:284).

Salt-making sites in the Basin of Mexico are limited in distribution to the narrow strip of land around lake shores; in fact, this is the only ecological niche where we would expect to find this kind of archaeological site. It is possible that in order to minimize transportation costs, virtually all salt-making workshops were located in the area where the best soils were found, and relocated when a particular source of earth was exhausted (Parsons 1994:275). Sahagún (1938) appears to have ignored the feature used for leaching the earth –the aforementioned pila– in his descriptions of indigenous salt-making techniques in the Basin of Mexico in the 16th century. The omission of such a visible and distinctive feature is enigmatic, and might lead us to think that earth leaching in pre-Hispanic times was conducted through some other means. If pilas did not exist in the pre-Hispanic process, then the workshops (and their archaeological remains) would be very different from modern ones (Parsons 1994:275). Despite this, many pre-Hispanic salt workshops (at least those from the Postclassic period) would probably have had the same functions and basically the same features and artifacts (though made of stone, wood and clay instead of metal, plastic, rubber, and so on) observed in Nexquipayac over the last fifty years; namely, floors for mixing earths, leaching pits, vessels for carrying and storing brine, massive accumulations of leached earth, structures for storing earth and others for boiling water, small vessels for moving water and brine inside the workshop, scrapers for preparing and repairing the interior surface of the pila, tools for excavating the pila pit, and, finally, an area for drying the recently made, humid salt (Parsons 1994:276).

According to Parsons, it is likely that salt has been produced for centuries (perhaps millennia) by means of solar evaporation in the dry season in shallow ponds around the lake margins. Both production methods – boiling brine over fire and solar evaporation– have been used simultaneously in historic times, and both were likely used in pre-Hispanic times as well. However, this idea has one inherent problem: no one has yet described the solar evaporation technique in this area; consequently, we do not have sufficient information about the material manifestations of this method. We do know that this process survived until the 1940s in this region, and that it was clearly less complex than the leaching-boiling method in terms of the procedures and artifacts used, fuel requirements, and the degree of specialized knowledge required (Parsons 1996:446).

In summary, the archaeologist may consider at least two kinds of salt-making localities that are fundamentally distinct: (1) well-defined workshops likely with long-term occupation, operated by full- or part-time specialists who made salt by boiling brine obtained through leaching salty earth; and (2) illdefined workshops, probably quite ephemeral, that may have been worked primarily in the dry season by non-specialist artisans who made their salt by solar evaporation. Of course, it is also possible to imagine several combinations of these two types. For instance, we might expect to find workshops where both the solar evaporation and leaching-boiling methods were

If solar evaporation pans were used in the area under discussion, it is possible that they were coated with lime, like the examples we know from elsewhere in Mesoamerica (Williams 2015). In this regard, it is worth noting that lime works are known to have existed in the Basin of Mexico during the colonial period. Parsons (2008) reports that ‘there is abundant historic and ethnographic documentation about the importance of the Zumpango region… as a source of lime during the colonial and modern periods’ (p. 102). Lime was a strategic resource in Mesoamerica, since it was ‘used for plaster, stucco, and cement, and in cooking… Classic and post-Classic people in the Zumpango region [may 124

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have] specialized in the quarrying, processing, and redistribution of lime and lime products’ (p. 192).

which consists of a geological stratum with an abundant content of salt-rich sediments that were deposited when part of the valley was covered by seawater eons ago (Sisson 1973:81).

Jason de Leon (2009) conducted a study of the household organization of salt production among the Aztecs. He arrived at the conclusion that in the Aztec case salt-making was carried out by households together with other subsistence activities, such as agriculture, hunting and the gathering of aquatic resources. Salt-making took place in the dry season, and the production activities took place outside the saltmakers’ homes. These data, together with the work of Parsons (2001, 2011, 2019) and others (e.g. de Lucia and Overholtzer 2014) have important implications for our understanding of full-time versus part-time activities, as well as for the interpretation of independent activity areas and their relationship with nearby households.

Though documents written in the 16th century leave no doubt that sodium chloride was a strategic trade good, they say very little about the saltworks or methods of salt production. The Relación geográfica de Coxcatlán shows rectangular pilas de sal (salt pans) (Sisson 1973:81), and the archaeological evidence confirms that they were indeed shallow pans used for the solar evaporation of brine (see Byers 1967: Figure 15). The town of Zapotitlán Salinas, as its name implies, was an extremely important source of salt in the colonial period, and still is the center of the most productive saltworks in this valley. In the mid-16th century, this town paid its encomendero5 one load of salt a day (González de Cossío 1952:611-613). Edward Sisson’s 1970 study of the modern traditional salt industry in Zapotitlán and other towns in this region of Puebla, such as Tlapilco, showed that each saltworks was considered the private property of one or more owners. In some cases, the owners themselves performed the salt-making process, though they more frequently employed paid labor. The construction and maintenance of saltworks required substantial capital investment, and the shortage of capital was the main reason why several such operations around Zapotitlán were eventually abandoned (Sisson 1973:85).

Frances Berdan (2014) tells us that salt was transported in specialized containers –the aforementioned fabricmarked pottery– for sale in the Basin of Mexico. Several resources, including salt, were traded in the regional marketplaces thanks to an efficient and widespread distribution system (p. 86). Kenneth Hirth (2016), meanwhile, studied historical sources such as Bernardino de Sahagún’s Florentine Codex, where he found that the salt-sellers in Aztec marketplaces pertained to a class of retail venders who ‘sold nonperishable items that were regularly consumed and in continuous demand by all households… the first of these was the salt dealer… who sold salt which was an important supplement in the prehispanic diet’ (p. 163). Salt was usually sold in Aztec marketplaces ‘in different forms including bars, balls, and individual grains’ (pp. 163-164). Sodium chloride from the Basin of Mexico was not the only salt available in those markets, however: ‘White fine grained salt was sea salt from the coast, probably the northeastern Yucatán peninsula which exported salt all the way to the Basin of Mexico’ (p. 164).

In those saltworks, water was first allowed to collect in deep round pits excavated into the bedrock, but was later removed by men using large metal containers or clay pots. The pits were reached by means of spiral staircases that circled them and reached below the water table (Figure 134). Once the water was taken out of the pits it was held in a storage tank before being carried to the evaporation pans. Canals in Tlapilco conducted water from springs to a storage tank or pond, where some concentration of its salt content was carried out. From there, the liquid was transported to pools called calentadores (heaters), where earth was added to the salty water to make a stronger saline mixture. Once the mud had settled at the bottom of the calentador, the remaining salty water was taken, with care, to a nearby patio called a salinera, where the final evaporation process took place. When salt crystals began to form on the surface of the brine in the salinera, the water was stirred with a stick called an aflojador (loosener), which supposedly facilitated the formation of larger crystals. Salt was scraped from the bottom of the salinera and kept temporarily near the patios. Finally, it was stored in natural caves or cavities in saline mounds (the latter perhaps of pre-Hispanic origin) (Sisson 1973:85-86). In

Puebla During the second half of the 16th century, land, water and salt were, in that order, the most valuable natural resources in the Tehuacán Valley, Puebla (Sisson 1973). Salt was a basic commodity in trade systems that included both raw materials and finished products, and spanned a huge region: from the present-day state of Hidalgo to Guatemala. But the importance of salt was even greater in pre-Hispanic times, as evidenced by the numerous salt-producing sites, like those from the Venta Salada phase (ca. 700-1540). These sites are widely-distributed, suggesting that this was a basic industry during the Postclassic period. The distribution of salt-making sites in the Tehuacán Valley corresponds quite closely to the Tehuacán geological formation,

5  This term applies to a man who, in the colonial administration, had Indian laborers under his charge.

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Figure 134. At the saltworks of Zapotitlán Salinas, in southeastern Puebla, water for making salt by solar evaporation is collected in deep round pits excavated into the bedrock (after Castellón 2008:107).

Zapotitlán, when the brine was ready, handfuls were thrown into the center of the salinera to form a mound of salt that was later removed and stored as a humid mass in a nearby cave.

from the ones used to carry or store fresh water. Nonetheless, some material remains produced by saltmaking activities and the elements that required a high level of capital investment might be recognizable archaeologically. Among these we could mention the remains of pits or wells, canals, storage tanks, solar evaporation pools or pans, and accumulations of mud. In fact, “fossilized” canals have been preserved in association with pre-Hispanic salt-making sites in several places in the Tehuacán Valley (Sisson 1973:87-88).

Although salt could be produced almost continuously throughout the year, there was a strong tendency towards seasonal work, mainly during the dry season. The best time of the year for making salt was at the end of winter and during the spring; that is, before the onset of the summer rains. This particular region produced two kinds of salt: sal de comer (table salt), which was gathered from the center of the salineras, and sal de animales (salt for animals), which was obtained by scraping the bottom of the pond. Since these two different kinds of salt crystallized at different moments, they had distinct proportions or compositions of mineral salts.

The characteristics of archaeological salt-making sites are quite variable, but they can be recognized thanks to the presence of the following: (1) a distinctive ceramic assemblage; (2) peculiarly-shaped earth mounds; and (3) in some cases, the remains of solar evaporation pans. The ceramics involved would include hand-molded solid cylinders and numerous small fragments of the vessels that were used as molds or containers for boiling brine. Some of these vessels are typologically similar to the Texcoco Fabric Marked type from the Basin of Mexico discussed above. Also, some of the earth mounds had pottery tubes or pipes in the center, which are thought to have functioned as parts of filtration systems.

Sisson’s description shows that few specialized tools were used in salt production that might be preserved in the archaeological record. The wooden aflojadores and woven baskets or storage bags could only be preserved in particularly dry caves, while the pots used for brine transportation would not be readily distinguishable 126

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On the basis of geological, ethnohistorical and archaeological data, Sisson (1973) arrived at some general ideas in relation to the elaboration of salt in the Postclassic and colonial periods in the Tehuacán Valley. For example, if salt was extracted primarily from salty earth, then a preliminary stage of preparation was required, since the process would have involved leaching. Because of the enormous volumes of earth that would have had to be leached, this stage would have been performed very close to the source of the earth used; otherwise the process would have been unprofitable. Leaching salt from the earth requires some kind of container, as well as an ample water supply and some means of trapping the water once it passes through the earth. One possible way to filter the water may have consisted in a high platform made of wooden posts with a layer of fibrous material (possibly a petate or reed mat) at the top. A load of earth would be placed on top of the petate for leaching, and the saline solution would be caught below in a pot, a pit, or some other kind of recipient placed on the ground under the platform. Obviously, the by-product of this stage would consist of huge amounts of discarded, leached earth. If water was not available for leaching at the salt production site, it had to be carried to the site and stored there. The archaeological markers of these activities would be pots, canals and water storage tanks.

Humid salt may have been placed inside the mold and sun-dried, but since salt is hygroscopic (i.e., it absorbs humidity from the surrounding air) it would have remained wet and would not have formed a hard, stable ‘loaf ’. But heating the salt over a low fire would dry it completely, producing a solid “loaf ” that was easily stored or transported. The archaeological evidence for this production method would consist of molds and fire stains (Sisson 1973:93). The presence of fabric-marked pottery in parts of Puebla has been interpreted as proof that molds were used to manufacture salt blocks or loaves. This would indicate that salt was being packed in a uniform, easyto-carry form. It could also mean that salt units were created following standardized qualities, volumes and weights in pre-Hispanic times (Castellón 2014:77). During the Postclassic period, there was apparently a great increase in the amount of salt being produced in Tehuacán, and it is very likely that there was another significant expansion around the middle of the 16th century, in response to the demand for sodium chloride for silver-processing (Sisson 1973:94). Among the archaeological features associated with this increase in salt production are three solar evaporation pans excavated at a site called Ciénega Redonda, which are very similar to the pilas shown in the aforementioned Relación geográfica (Sisson 1973).

Two evaporation methods were employed in the Tehuacán Valley before the Conquest: solar evaporation and boiling over fire. The first method only required a waterproof container, like the large, shallow pans that have been preserved in the archaeological record. The pilas shown in the map of the Relación geográfica of 1580 may well have been pans for solar evaporation. Today, such pans are waterproofed by adding a lime coating over a base of small stones. The oven that would have been required to produce the lime might also be preserved in the archaeological record (Sisson 1973:91).

The archaeological survey conducted in the Tehuacán Valley discovered many sites with solar evaporation pans, solid, hand-molded pottery cylinders, and rough clay pots. If pans were being used for evaporation, it is unlikely that the boiling method was being used at the same time, so the question is: what was the function of the clay cylinders? One possibility is that they were used to make salt loaves. According to Sisson, a fire would be lit and small stones added to it. Once the rocks were quite hot, the cylinders would have been placed vertically to support the conical pots holding the wet salt. The pots were broken once they had cooled, and discarded after removing the salt. Another possible use for the pots would be as containers for crystallized salt (Sisson 1973:96-98).

The second method of salt production involved heating the brine over a slow fire. This process was more efficient than the one described above because it did not require a large capital investment to build the solar evaporation pans; all that was needed was a vessel to hold the brine, a bonfire, and some kind of base to support the vessel over the fire. In this case, the archaeological evidence that might persist into posterity would consist of clay vessels, fire stains on the soil, and ash from the fire.

Other salt-making sites reveal large amounts of comal (griddle) fragments, which may have been part of an alternative method for producing crystallized salt by heating and drying wet salt. In fact, the comal would be an ideal artifact for this purpose, perhaps even better than the aforementioned small conical pots. Salt could have been placed on the comales and heated slowly, producing thin lenticular “loaves”. This method may have begun to replace the manufacture of conical “loaves” in pots during the early colonial period in response to the introduction of the Western system of weights and measures (Sisson 1973:102).

Once the salt was ready, whether by means of solar evaporation or boiling over fire, it had to be packed for storage or shipping. During the early colonial period in the area of Zapotitlán Salinas, baskets may have been used to store and transport salt. Another form of packing may have consisted in making “loaves” of humid salt, either by hand-molding or using clay molds. 127

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica There are also many salt deposits around the site of Cuthá, some 4 km from Zapotitlán. In an area between the streams that run towards the Zapotitlán River and the gully excavated by this river, salt is still being made using preHispanic techniques. There, water is extracted by hand from a well and then placed in a small chute-like masonry feature called a cajón, which is located at the entrance to a long canal that runs for 50 or 60 m at a depth of 3 m from the surface before emptying into a complex of evaporation pans (Martínez and Castellón 1995:60-61). In many cases, modern pans have been constructed in the form of terraces in order to be closer to the wells. This is reminiscent of the pre-Hispanic construction method, of which there are many examples at Cuthá. Once the water fills the pans, it is left for a month to six weeks, depending on the weather conditions. When the pan is free of sediments, and salt begins to crystallize on the surface, there are two ways to make the mineral settle more quickly to the bottom of the pan. The first is to throw or sprinkle salty water Figure 135. Salt evaporation pans are distributed on the uneven terrain of the saltworks on the pans by hand; the second is to at Paraje Salinas Apanco, Tlaxcuapan, Puebla (photo by Blas Castellón [2007]; Castellón use one’s bare feet to stir the water. [editor] 2008a:52-53). Once large salt crusts or scales have formed, the pan is scraped to break up the lumps of salt. This process is carried out with a in Puebla, both ancient and modern (Figures 135 and long wooden shovel used to lift the salt, which by now 136). The systematic observation of current techniques is almost completely dehydrated. The small blocks of is an indispensable approach for archaeological salt formed on the pan are broken up and pulverized interpretation of the salt-making industry, in particular by hitting them with a long stick. Once this work is the role of salt pans for solar evaporation and other finished, the salt is put in a basket where it will lose features of the landscape involved in salt production a little more moisture. The first salt formed in the (Figure 137). upper part of the pans is softer and is used for human consumption, while that formed at the bottom is used Castellón (2016) reported on the results of his fieldwork for cattle feed because it is quite bitter due to its high in the salt-producing region of Puebla, where he made sulfate content (Martínez and Castellón 1995:64-65). several important discoveries. First, his excavations turned up a pre-Hispanic tank for holding brine after The use of salt evaporation pans like the ones discussed leaching at Salinas Antiguas, Zapotitlán, Puebla (Figure above is a pre-Hispanic tradition that has persisted up 138). This find allowed him to make a hypothetical to the present. Close to the pans currently used in Cuthá reconstruction of the pre-Hispanic leaching process one sees abundant remains of similar ancient features, using a tapeixtle-like feature (Figure 139). Another as well as mounds of discarded potsherds (up to 3 m in important contribution of Castellón’s investigations height) and alignments of stone slabs that undoubtedly is a theoretical scheme that explains the actual use of were the boundaries of ancient evaporation pans. fiber-marked pottery in the salt-making process. This These mounds consist exclusively of pottery of three involved a hearth with clay cylinders that supported different types, all of them probably associated with the vessels over fire inside a combustion structure that was production and distribution of salt loaves in antiquity used for evaporating brine at Zapotitlán, Puebla (Figure (Martínez and Castellón 1995:64-65, 71).There are many 140) (see Castellón 2014 for a full discussion of fiberother sites with examples of solar evaporation pans marked pottery in Puebla in archaeological context). 128

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Figure 136. Solar evaporation pans and a holding tank for brine (left foreground) at Paraje Salinas San Pedro, Puebla (photo by Blas Castellón [2008] in Castellón [editor] 2008a:3).

box used for measuring salt, called a cuartillo (Figure 141, upper left), and several kinds of baskets made of rushes (Figure 141, upper right) and reeds that are indispensable for operations in the saltworks (Figure 141, bottom). The Salt-Making Tool Assemblage The central theme of this chapter has been the tool assemblages and production sites linked to salt-making in different areas of Mesoamerica. What follows is a discussion of several examples of the tools and features used by salt-makers in Mesoamerica and beyond, as well as their possible interpretation in light of the available archaeological, ethnographic and ethnohistorical information. An archaeological assemblage may be defined as ‘a group of artifacts recurring together at a particular time and place, and representing the sum of human activities’ (Renfrew and Bahn 2000:565). The word ‘artifact’ refers to ‘an object made by [a human]. The line is sometimes hard to draw between a natural object and one used by [humans], but there is no doubt when it can be shown that [humans] shaped it in any way, even if only accidentally in the course of use’ (Bray and Trump 1972: 24). Michael

Figure 137. Drying sal tierna (early salt) at Paraje Salinas Grandes, Zapotitlán Salinas, Puebla (2005) (after Castellón 2008:110).

Archaeological research on salt production cannot rely on ancient material culture alone –i.e. solar pans, potsherds, and so on– since a good part of the tool assemblage used in the saltworks consists of perishable artifacts and materials, such as the following items reported by Castellón (2016) from Puebla: a wooden 129

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Figure 138. Pre-Hispanic tank for holding brine after leaching, excavated by Blas Castellón at Salinas Antiguas, Zapotitlán, Puebla (after Castellón 2016: Figure 11).

Figure 139. Hypothetical reconstruction of the pre-Hispanic leaching process using a tapeixtle-like feature at Zapotitlán, Puebla (after Castellón 2016: Figure 28).

Schiffer (1992), meanwhile, wrote the following about the place of artifacts in archaeological research: ‘Artifacts are all that remains of past human societies… as a result, archaeologists… have developed an extensive array of concepts and principles for handling artifacts’ (p. 1). One of these concepts is the assemblage. The word ‘assemblage’, referring to a group of artifacts, is quite old. John Lubbock, one of the pioneers of British archaeology, first used this term in 1865 to describe animal remains found in stratigraphic cave deposits. Later, Gordon Childe (1956) and others used the same word as a specialized term for the distinctive materials enclosed in a specific layer of the stratigraphic sequence (Joyce and Pollard 2010:294-295).

set of contemporary artifact-types. The important aspects of an artefact assemblage… are that the artefacts may belong to more than one type and that they occur together in definite contemporary association with one another’ (p. 245, italics in the original). However, ‘the occurrence of several artefact-types of uncertain chronology, within the same limited geographical area, does not constitute an assemblage in the sense defined here but rather constitutes an “aggregate” of lesser significance and information value’ (p. 245). Clarke ends his discussion by stating that ‘an archaeological culture is expressed by a set of specific artefact-types and represented by a group of assemblages containing some of those artefact-types’ (p. 246).

A decade after Childe, David Clarke (1968) wrote that ‘most archaeological entities consist of clusters or aggregates of entities of lower taxonomic rank… culture groups are clusters of cultures, cultures are clusters of assemblages, assemblages are clusters of types, types are clusters of traits. To the archeologist the process of grouping objects into “sensible” groups, clusters, or sequences has been a normal activity for decades’ (p. 35). According to Clarke, ‘archaeological usage has established an… assemblage as an associated

Clarke’s ideas would perhaps be regarded today as an example of ‘normative’ archaeology, but in fact they were quite advanced at the time, and his writings were harbingers of the precepts of processual archaeology that would appear later, in the work of Lewis Binford and other archaeologists. Binford (1983) held that if early Paleolithic archaeology could be characterized by its concern with how relics and monuments indicated the relative achievements of mankind the subsequent ‘artifact and assemblage’ period saw increased concern 130

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Figure 140. Hypothetical reconstruction of a pre-Hispanic hearth with clay cylinders and vessels used to evaporate brine at Zapotitlán, Puebla (a); Type-A clay vessel used in the hearths (b); and TextileMarked pot (Type B) used at Zapotitlán (objects not to scale; after Castellón 2016: Figures 17, 18, and 19).

Figure 141. A good part of the salt-making assemblage used at Zapotitlán consists of perishable artifacts and materials, such as the box-like cuartillo or wooden measuring unit (upper left), and baskets made of rushes (upper right) and reeds (bottom) (after Castellón 2016: Figure 45).

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Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica for the classification of artifacts and the description of assemblages, defined as aggregates of associated artifacts thought to be contemporary (p. 84).

actual function of tools and other artifacts. The ‘toolkits’ studied in ethnographic context become part of a heuristic process many archaeologists use to understand the archaeological assemblages –and their functions– by means of analogy.

During the Mousterian period (ca. 160,000-40,000 BC), according to Binford, the ‘use of both space and technology [was] a specific response to unique circumstances’ in terms of ecology and human adaptation (p. 109). In his study of the Mousterian, Binford ‘was envisaging a cultural system in which different activities took place at separate locations. Furthermore, I imagined that the tool technology was flexible enough to cope with situational variations in demand placed upon it, so that if necessary, for example, the same activities could be carried out at several sites with different tools’ (p. 109). Binford concluded that ‘ethnographic accounts of how hunters and gatherers use their landscape suggested that my view was at least plausible’ (p. 109). He conducted ethnoarchaeological research in Alaska, where he ‘attempted to view the dynamics of the settlement pattern throughout the seasonal cycle of movement from an archaeological… perspective’ (p. 110).

What follows, then, is a brief discussion of several tool assemblages drawn from the literature in Mesoamerica and other areas. In most cases they come from archaeological excavations or collections, but a few are from ethnographic or ‘systemic’ contexts. The first example is linked to pre-Hispanic salt production on the Caribbean coast of southeastern Belize. This was an outstanding region thanks to the many saltworks that existed there in ancient times. Saltworks located in the extensive littorals of Mesoamerica were always very important, as they may have contributed salt of superior quality and in greater amounts than that produced inland. On the Atlantic coast, the saltworks in Celestún, Yucatán, for example, were among the most productive in the entire Maya area, though many others produced salt at the local level, for instance, Stingray Lagoon in Belize. Andrews (1983) stated that the principle salt source in Mesoamerica, in both past and present times, has been the coast of Yucatán, where salt is still obtained by solar evaporation of the water from an extensive system of pools. Many saltworks were found in the northern coast of the Yucatán Peninsula, and during historical times, there were small solar saltworks on several islands off the Yucatán coast as well. Archaeological evidence shows that the exploitation of these and other saltworks in Yucatán goes back to the Late Formative period (ca. 300 BC-AD 300) (Andrews 1983).

Binford used the ethnographic data he gathered to produce a model of analogy to interpret the Mousterian assemblages and the sites in France where they had been found. Meanwhile, Francoise Bordes and other ‘normative’ archaeologists were using ideas such as ‘migrations’ of distinct ‘archaeological cultures’ to account for the diversity of the archaeological record at Mousterian sites (Bahn 1996:289). Moving forward in time, we see that according to Anna S. Beck (2018), the components of an assemblage ‘include both tangible and intangible as well as human and nonhuman elements… the assemblage is not reducible to its components, as the interaction and relations between the components are also giving the assemblage some specific properties of its own’ (p. 2). As we know from ethnoarchaeology, ‘an assemblage is never a static phenomenon but in a constant process of being assembled, re-assembled, and de-assembled… As such the perspective from assemblage theory automatically gives a strong focus on the ongoing dynamics creating and recreating the assemblage and therefore also on the inherent temporalities of the assemblage rather than its static being’ (p. 2).

Sodium chloride is unique among the strategic resources studied by archaeologists because salt is usually not preserved in the archaeological record. In the case of the saltworks studied by Heather McKillop (1995, 2002, 2019) on the Caribbean littoral of Belize, the rise of sea levels in recent centuries has obliterated most ancient salt-making sites. At the same time, however, the marine environment preserved part of the material culture associated with salt production, including wooden structures and many artifacts. McKillop analyzed the structures, pottery and other preserved materials in order to evaluate the scale, intensity and organization of the salt industry and the role of this strategic resource in Classic Maya domestic and political economies.

Personally, I have developed a ‘functional’ view of the different assemblages I have come across in ethnoarchaeological fieldwork, since I have been able to observe the potters, fishers, basket-makers, salt-makers and other artisans, in their actual work areas. Obviously, the observations made in a systemic or ethnographic context leave no doubt as to the

The case study discussed here is the Paynes Creek salt production area on the coast of southern Belize. McKillop (2019) evaluates the scale and social organization of production at this location during the Classic period, as well as its impact on regional trade networks, in particular the nearby inland populations.

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Figure 142. Clay item found on the coast of southeastern Belize, identified as a ‘pipe reducer’ used to join two pipes with different size openings. Items like this suggest the existence of a piping system for brine, probably used in conjunction with thick-walled clay vessels (adapted from McKillop 2019: Figure 3.5).

There are some 100 salt-making sites in the Paynes Creek area, and the wooden structures documented in the excavations indicate a high level of production. Indeed, if all the locations were in production at the same time, they would have been able to provide a considerable amount of salt. After the downfall of Maya civilization at the end of the Classic period (ca. AD 900), however, many of the sites that relied on salt from the Paynes Creek area ceased to exist, and the salt industry disappeared.

McKillop (2019) found a clay tube in her excavations in the southern Belizean coast. She identified this unique find (Figure 142) as a ‘pipe reducer’ used to join two pipes with different size openings. Items like this suggest the existence of a piping system for brine, probably used in conjunction with thick-walled clay vessels (McKillop 2019). The salt industry on the coast of Belize was closely-linked to fishing in estuaries and the open sea. The local assemblage includes artifacts identified as fishnet sinkers, such as a stone disc with notches found in the salt-producing area in southeastern coastal Belize (Figure 143).

By documenting the material culture –artifacts and features– preserved underwater, McKillop offers a new perspective on an indispensable component of Maya culture. In McKillop’s book Maya Salt Works, In addition to items directly-linked to salt production salt is revealed as a ‘mover and shaker of ancient and fishing, the local assemblage includes chert objects Maya society’. The social functions of salt were, and identified as cutting and scraping tools probably used still are, multifaceted, wide-ranging and everlasting. for processing salted fish (McKillop 2019; McKillop According to McKillop, ‘as a basic biological necessity, and Aoyama 2018) (Figure 144). One of the most as a flavor enhancer, as a food preservative, and as a salient characteristics of McKillop’s (2002, 2019) work currency equivalent, salt… was a common commodity in Belize is the fact that salt water has contributed in the ancient Maya economy’ (p. 179). Although we to the preservation of many perishable features and tend to think that white table salt is the most desirable outcome of the salt-making process, McKillop argues that in the case under study ‘salt workers adjusted the length and intensity of boiling, the soil or sediment selected for enriching the brine… and whether fresh water or sea water was filtered through the soil in the enrichment process’ (p. 191) in order to alter the chemical composition of the salt. This may seem surprising, but it makes sense if salt was not being produced for household consumption but, rather, for making salt loaves used as exchange units, and for salting fish as part of a well-developed Figure 143. This stone disc with notches may have been used as a fishnet sinker fishing industry that functioned within a (front and back views). It was found in the salt-producing area in southeastern widespread, complex trade structure. coastal Belize (adapted from McKillop 2019: Figure 6.6). 133

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Figure 145. Preserved wooden instrument (possible gouge handle, several views) found underwater in southeastern Belize. It may have been linked to salt production or fish-processing, the main economic activities in this area (adapted from McKillop 2019: Figure 6.11).

Figure 144. Chert cutting and scraping tools used for activities linked to the preparation of salted fish in coastal Belize (adapted from McKillop 2019: Figure 6.7).

artifacts at the ancient salt-making sites, most of which have been submerged by rising sea levels. Such is the case of many preserved wooden instruments, including a possible gouge handle (Figure 145) that may have been linked to salt production or fishprocessing, the main economic activities in the area.

Figure 146. Hypothetical reconstruction of pots with clay supports, which were held over fire to evaporate brine in coastal Belize (adapted from McKillop 2002: Figure 3.1).

Based on her excavations of the salt producing sites in Belize, McKillop (2002) made a hypothetical reconstruction of the techniques used for boiling brine to produce crystallized salt, which relied on pots with clay supports that were held over fire in order to evaporate the brine (Figures 146 and 147).

assemblage revealed at least one salt-boiling pit furnace that may have involved several pottery vessels used to boil brine. The data for analogy used here are not limited to Mesoamerica, for Andrea Yankowski (2019) made a study of salt-making and pottery production in Alburquerque, Bohol, central Philippines. Following an ethnoarchaeological approach, Yankowski examines these two contemporary craft activities, highlighting their interdependence for the manufacture and trade of salt. The pots in question (Figure 148) function as containers for boiling brine in stoves, as well as standard units of measurement for trade, something we see in Mesoamerica and many other areas of the

In another part of Belize, Satoru Murata (2011) studied salt-making and pottery production in a non-residential setting at Wits Cah Ak’al, a Classic period (ca. AD 250900) site located in a mangrove landscape some 12 miles west of Belize City. Excavations of a briquetage6 Coarse pottery used to make evaporation vessels and supporting pillars for extracting salt from brine or seawater over fire.

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saltworks, and a type of shallow vessel called ‘salt trays’ used for the solar evaporation of brine (Figure 149). As we have seen in the foregoing sections of this chapter, many of the tools and artifacts that comprise the modern salt-making assemblage consist of perishable materials, such as baskets and wooden structures. In fact, reed baskets are among the most indispensable and ubiquitous items that one sees in saltworks, yet they are seldom preserved in the archaeological record (Figure 150). The same is true for the sacks made of ixtle fiber (Agave sp.), called guangoche, which go back to pre-Hispanic times in Michoacán. The guangoche can be used for gathering and storing soil for making salt, as well as the crystallized salt itself (Figure 151). Because under normal circumstances baskets are not preserved in the archaeological record, one of the few ways that the archaeologist can approach this component of the assemblage is by looking for the types of tools that could be linked to basket-making, such as deer antler and bone tools (Figure 152). As for maguey fiber production, ethnoarchaeological work by Mary Parsons (mentioned in Chapter II) has identified the spindle whorls employed in spinning the fibers used to make sacks, cordage and countless other items (Figure 153). In addition to textiles such as agave fiber, the assemblage used by salt-makers throughout Mesoamerica relied on baskets, mats, and many other items made of rushes and reeds, including improvised ‘brooms’ for sweeping the eras, which are little more than bundles of twigs (Figure 154).

Figure 147. Vessel support with intact base (see previous figure) from Stingray Lagoon, Belize (adapted from McKillop 2002: Figure 3.15).

world, including the island of Fiji (Melanesia, South Pacific Ocean). In Fiji, clay pots were used in the process of salt elaboration, though the technology employed there relied on solar evaporation rather than boiling brine in ovens (Burley et al. 2011), as occurred in the Philippines. The assemblage here consists of decorated jars, probably used for water (or brine) transport in the

Since the aforementioned organic materials do not preserve well in the archaeological record, ethnographic research can be used to understand their role within a particular culture. Ramon Silvestre (1994) conducted an ethnoarchaeological study of basketry in the Pasil River Valley in the province of Kalinga, Philippines. Silvestre states that ‘baskets… are containers that play an important role in the transport, storage, and processing of food. Moreover, like pots, baskets can possess a great deal of stylistic variability, and may perform social and ideological functions’ (p. 199). Silvestre reported several uses given to different types of baskets and other woven implements by the Kalinga ethnic group: (1) food preparation; (2) rice-processing (including Figure 148. Pottery vessels used in the salt-making process by boiling brine in stoves, as well as for winnowing); (3) building salt transportation (Albuquerque, Bohol, Philippines; courtesy of Andrea Yankowski). house walls and roofs; (4) 135

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Figure 149. Clay pots used for salt production in Fiji (Melanesia, South Pacific Ocean). Top: two decorated jars, probably used for water (or brine) transportation in the saltworks. Bottom: ‘salt tray’ used for solar evaporation of brine (adapted from Burley et al. 2011: Figure 3).

Figure 150. Reed baskets are among the most indispensable artifacts in the salt-making assemblage, yet they are rarely preserved in the archaeological record (La Placita, Michoacán coast. Author’s photos, 2000).

Figure 151. Sacks made of ixtle fiber (Agave sp.), called guangoche, go back to pre-Hispanic times in Michoacán. In this example, a guangoche is being used to gather soil for salt-making (Simirao, Lake Cuitzeo Basin, Michoacán. Author’s photo, 1998).

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Figure 153. Ethnoarchaeological research in the Valle del Mezquital (Hidalgo, north-central Mexico) has helped identify the spindle whorls used for spinning ixtle thread into coarse cloth. They are larger and heavier than the ones used for spinning cotton (courtesy of Jeffrey Parsons).

Figure 152. Archaeological research at the lakeside site of Terremote Tlaltenco in the Basin of Mexico has helped identify the tool assemblage linked to basket-making, consisting of deer antler and bone tools (after Serra 1988: Figure 31).

Figure 154. The broom used for sweeping the era is little more than a bundle of twigs, yet it is an important component of the assemblage used in the saltworks on the coast of Michoacán (author’s photo, 2000).

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Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica Table 7. Some plant species used in Mesoamerica for making baskets and other artifacts (Vela 2020:13-21). Common name

Scientific name

Use

Carrizo

Chusquea galeottiana

Baskets, traps, walls, furniture

Carricillo

Phragmites australis

Baskets, traps, walls, furniture

Tule

Cyperus articulatus

Mats (petates), baskets

Tule

Scirpus americanus, Thypa dominguensis Mats (petates), baskets

Chuspata

Thypa latifolia

Hats, mats (petates), baskets, fans, fodder, ornamental, edible

Piñanona

Montsera deliciosa

Baskets, edible, medicinal, ornamental

Maguey (lechuguilla) Agave lechuguilla

Ropes, house roofs, bridles, nets, soap, detergent

Caña brava

Bambusa aculeata, Guadua aculeata

Baskets, traps, corrals, ladders, furniture, bridges, walls

Bambú

Rhipidocladum recemiflorum

Earrings, curtains, chairs, baskets, flowerpots, fences, stakes, trays, ornamental

Sotol

Dasylirion cedrosanum

Baskets, alcoholic beverage, fodder, fences, sugar

storage; (5) making fish traps; and (6) drying meat, coffee beans and vegetables (pp. 202-204).

things. We do not recognize that they are not inert. And we forget they have temporalities different from ours, until those temporalities intrude in on us, causing us to take action’ (p. 6). Hodder then poses the rhetorical question, ‘What is a thing?’, and goes on to answer it as follows: ‘a thing is an entity that has presence… it has a configuration that endures, however briefly… We are more likely to use the word object for things that are relatively stable in form… The term “object”… connotes an… approach in which material matter is analyzed, codified and caught in disciplinary discourse’ (pp. 7-8).

In Mesoamerica, archaeological examples of basketry are few and far between, though there are many examples in the ethnographic and ethnohistorical literature (Williams 2014a). This information has been used to compile lists of the plants used for weaving many kinds of baskets and countless other items throughout Mesoamerica (ropes, chests, boxes, furniture, reed mats, etcetera) (e.g. Vela 2020). Table 7 presents a summary of plant species used in Mesoamerica for making baskets and other artifacts that formed part of the salt-making assemblage (and sometimes had other uses as well).

The plot thickens once we factor humans into the equation. In Hodder’s view, ‘humans would never have evolved without things… the human dependence on things leads to an entanglement between humans and things that has implications for the ways in which we have evolved and for the ways in which we live in societies today’ (p. 10). Hodder further argues that ‘humans and human social life depend on things… as technologies… as tools to feed us, to keep us warm, to forge social relations in exchange, to worship… as humans we have evolved with certain physical and cognitive capacities because of our dependence on things’ (p. 16). Going one step further in his discussion of this entanglement between humans and things, Hodder says that ‘things depend on other things’ (p. 40), and elaborates on this idea thus: ‘We are used to discussions of how humans depend on other humans, but we are perhaps less used to thinking about thing-thing dependence. We need to understand how things depend on each other before we can explore how they depend on us… things are connected to and flow into other things, always transforming and being transformed’ (p. 41). The foregoing statement leads to the conclusion that ‘in our everyday dealing with the world there is a web of functional relationships in which things are encountered in their interdependent functions and in terms of their relevance to what we are doing’ (p. 41). These arguments lead Hodder to the following conclusion:

In discussing the assemblage as an archaeological concept, Hamilakis and Jones (2017) mention that this term ‘is common to a number of academic disciplines, most notably archaeology and art, but also geology and paleontology’ (p. 77). They also point out that ‘its omnipresent use in archaeology seems to have taken on two distinct but related meanings: the aggregation of objects made of the same material (i.e. an assemblage of pottery or lithics) or held together by shared typological or stylistic similarities’ (p. 77). According to Hamilakis and Jones (2017), ‘just as objects can be broken between people to establish a material relationship, so objects can be accumulated, or assembled, and these relations will be expressed anew’ (p. 81). The relationship between objects and people, be it merely ‘everyday things’ or archaeological artifacts, has also been approached by Ian Hodder (2012). In his discussion of the relationships between humans and things, Hodder stated that ‘objects and materials can endure over time spans considerably greater than individual human experience… we depend on an apparent durability of things… and yet at other scales things are always changing and moving’ (p. 5). In Hodder’s opinion, ‘it is because we take things for granted, often not focusing on them, that we fail to… see that things are connected to and dependent on other 138

Salt Production in Mesoamerica: Tool Assemblages and Cultural Landscapes

Even the earliest cultural acts, such as the making of fire… involved an assemblage of objects from fire-making tools, to the pit in which the fire was made, to the wood used for fuel, and thus the containers or tools used to cut or collect wood, and so on. It involved social units that participated in receiving warmth, protection and cooked food from the fire. The energy from the fire coalesced humans around things in the projects of keeping warm, gaining energy, getting light, cooking food, forming social alliances and so on. Keeping the fire going must itself have involved duties and obligations (p. 44).

and 1970s the concept of cultural heritage focused ‘on great monuments and archaeological locations, famous architectural ensembles, or historic sites with connections to the rich and famous’ (p. 1). But a new approach emerged in the 1990s with the idea that ‘the landscape itself… is the greatest historical record we possess’ and this record includes ‘places or landscapes reflecting everyday ways of life, the way people create places, and the sequence or rhythm of life over time… They tell the story of people, events and places through time, offering a sense of continuity, a sense of the stream of time. They also offer a cultural context setting for cultural heritage’ (p. 11).

In the same vein as making a fire and keeping it alive, making, maintaining, and using an era at La Placita, or a canoa at Simirao (or any other salt-making site), involved a whole range of artifacts, actions and social relationships that are materialized in the tool assemblage.

Karl W. Butzer (1982) offered another approach to cultural landscapes by following the perspective of ‘archaeology as human ecology’. According to Butzer, ‘the impacts of… human activities are concentrated in and around living areas, but these represent only a small part of a region. By focusing on sites, many archaeologists fail to appreciate the more diffuse but equally real impacts of people on the landscape at large’ (p. 123). The changes inflicted on the landscape by prehistoric foragers may have been subtle, but early on ‘the use of fire to facilitate hunting, local disturbance of vegetation, inadvertent dispersal of economic plants, and faunal changes as a result of selective hunting practices’ left a lasting mark on the landscape. In later periods, farmers and herders had ‘significant and even dramatic influences on the environment’ (p. 123). Complex societies as a rule have a huge impact on their landscapes, and this includes many industries, including salt production.

We have to bear in mind that the core components of an archaeological assemblage are the artifact together with the patterned relationships with artifacts, always mediated by human culture and agency. Tim Ingold (2013) wrote that ‘there seem to be two sides to materiality. On one side is the raw physicality of the world’s “material character”; on the other side is the socially and historically situated agency of human beings who, in appropriating this physicality for their purposes… project upon it both design and meaning in the conversion of naturally given raw materials into the finished form of artefacts’ (p. 27). Addressing a culture-nature dichotomy in the intrinsic essence of artifacts, Ingold argues that ‘culture furnishes the forms, nature the materials; in the superimposition of the one upon the other human beings create the artefacts with which, to an ever increasing extent, they surround themselves’ (p. 38). But going beyond the single artifact, an assemblage is defined by its overall function. We have seen in the previous chapter how the aquatic lifeway is characterized by an assemblage geared towards the exploitation of lake and marsh environments by targeting several clusters of resources (and activities): fishing, hunting, gathering and manufacture. In this chapter I have added salt-making to the spectrum of subsistence activities, artifacts and assemblages, in the context of aquatic adaptations in Mesoamerica and other areas. In the next section I will address a phenomenon of much larger scale, the cultural landscape linked to salt production.

Salt is one of those things we usually take for granted. Yet sodium chloride has shaped the history of the world from the earliest times to the present (see discussion in Williams 2015: Chapter I). The same attitude applies to the landscapes and the material culture associated with salt production. Many objects involved in this activity in the past, as well as in the present, are ignored or regarded as irrelevant, while the physical spaces where sodium chloride is produced are not regarded as worthy of study or protection, as archaeological sites or other culturally-significant spaces would be. In many cases, urban sprawl and major infrastructure works, such as highway construction, dams, etcetera, are destroying an irreplaceable cultural heritage right under our noses. The best example of this situation comes from Parsons’ study of cultural landscapes in the Basin of Mexico (2019), and of the ways in which they were exploited in order to produce salt, going back to the ancient past (2001). Most, if not all, of these landscapes have been altered beyond recognition, if not destroyed. This problem is compounded by the fact that landscapes are in constant evolution. In this regard, LaMotta and Schiffer (1999) tell us that ‘the life history of a structure does not end with its abandonment; many processes of

The Salt-Making Landscape The term ‘salt-making landscape’ is an adaptation of the cultural landscape concept discussed throughout this book. Ken Taylor (2011) tells us that during the 1960s 139

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica accretion and depletion can alter house [or workshop] assemblages in the post-abandonment stage. For example, the reuse of a structure, either for habitation or other purposes, may introduce a new set of primary, secondary, and provisional depositional processes, possibly obscuring all traces of earlier occupation’ (p. 24). Archaeologists have the responsibility to study and protect our cultural heritage –in this case salt-making landscapes and assemblages– and explain to the public their importance for society. But in order to protect the cultural heritage, including landscapes, the whole of society has to be engaged.

knowledge of their predecessors through a process that could best be described as one of “guided rediscovery”, rather than receiving it ready-made through some mechanism of replication and transmission’ (p. 110). In order to contextualize the central theme of this discussion, I will refer to several works concerning cultural landscapes (and heritage) written by various authors. Brigitte Boehm (2008), for example, thought that many studies of cultural heritage are lacking a critical review of … the general scientific and ideological assumptions that lead to the creation of... preserves for the safeguarding of organic, mineral [sic] and cultural life, the identification of the actors behind the specific projects and the arguments wielded... for the achievement of the official declarations... Culture takes different forms throughout time and space. This diversity is manifested in the originality and plurality of identities that characterize [the] groups and societies that make up humanity. The source of exchanges, innovation and creativity, cultural diversity is as necessary for humankind, as biological diversity is for living organisms (pp. 39, 42).

In earlier publications (Williams 2013, 2019a, 2019b), I use the words ‘forgotten heritage’ to refer to those elements of material culture that we usually ignore or that are not regarded as indispensable for our daily life in the context of our ‘modern’ urban culture. Likewise, they are not regarded as important from a cultural, artistic or historical perspective. In this regard, Antonieta Jiménez (2008) states that during the 18th, 19th and early 20th centuries, the word ‘heritage’ referred only to ‘isolated artistic objects, or objects that represented certain historical events’, while nowadays the concept of cultural heritage ‘includes a wide range of elements, representing tangible and intangible values in a given territory’ (p. 245).7 The following words by Iain Davidson (2008) serve quite well to understand the concept of forgotten heritage:

Phil Weigand spent most of his professional career studying the cultural landscapes associated with the Teuchitlán tradition of Jalisco. In Weigand’s (2011) view, the cultural landscape is the largest artifact that human beings are able to construct in any region. These constructions are in constant evolution, never static for long periods of time. The cultural studies of architecture, ceramics and lithics without the greater contextualization of the cultural landscape, albeit critical to archaeology, disregard the total surrounding environment in which human beings have created and imprinted their social lives. Without doubt, understanding cultural landscapes is key to comprehending the sociopolitical structures of the past. In fact, the systematic study of cultural landscapes has become critical to our understanding of the past in all regions of the world (Weigand 2011).

The management of cultural heritage focuses mainly on the preservation and conservation of... buildings and elaborate landscapes. In contrast, archaeologists often work with additional materials that were not made with intent, but are rather incidental products of human behavior... objects that were simply abandoned [which represent]... archaeological evidence found on the ground, or in the houses of ordinary people in any locality that comes to mind (p. 317). The aggregate of things, features, landscapes and all other items of material culture that we are calling a ‘forgotten heritage’ is a key theme for ethnoarchaeology. This discipline consists in studying existing cultural and behavioral patterns to provide keys for the interpretation of the archaeological record through ethnographic analogy, thus establishing links between contemporary society and ancient societies. There is also an intangible cultural heritage that includes the knowledge acquired by artisans (potters, salt- and basket-makers, among many others) through practice. This idea is highlighted by Tim Ingold (2013) in his discussion of learning: ‘Making their ways in the company of those more knowledgeable than themselves, and hearing their stories, novices grow into the 7 

Manuel Gándara (2008) has expressed the following ideas about the important role of cultural heritage in our daily lives and worldview: The magnitude of the Mexican archaeological heritage and its diversity are, at the same time, a source of pride and concern. Its wealth becomes a point of weakness, between the difficulty of studying, conserving and properly disseminating [our] heritage... [it is necessary] to change the approach and... recognize that no institution, official or private, no matter how large and powerful, will be able to save our heritage... The change in

This and all other translations from the Spanish are by the author.

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question involves moving from seeing heritage as the sole responsibility of the state, to seeing it as a shared responsibility between the various actors and agents that affect its conservation... the only way to save our cultural heritage, or at least a representative sample of it, is to involve society as a whole (p. 231).

back to pre-Hispanic times, and the techniques have not been greatly modified with the passage of time. Salt here is a resource deeply embedded in the local culture and identity. However, despite the cultural and historical relevance of this commodity, the salt-makers have not achieved the required level of organization to compete with other producers in the open market. The same process we have discussed in other parts of Mexico is seen at Zapotitlán: the salt-making sites are abandoned while traditional production is increasingly marginalized. However, Renard and Thomé (2016) point out that many Zapotitlán salineros are coming back to their old trade, because of a lack of other economic options. The traditional salt industry in this part of Mexico could see a resurgence, thanks to the new efforts and strategies of the local salt-makers.

What Gándara is suggesting here goes beyond the archaeological (pre-Hispanic) record. His ideas are relevant to our current topic because there is a real need to preserve at least some salt-making sites as examples –together with museum exhibitions– of a way of life, a unique cultural landscape and an assemblage that for the most part is being lost in Mesoamerica. Davidson’s point of view (2008) is also worth taking into account. He asks, ‘Why should we deal with cultural heritage?’ and, in response, presents the following reasoning:

I have stated repeatedly that salt is usually not preserved in the archaeological record, unlike other strategic resources that were produced and exchanged among indigenous groups in the past —for example seashells, obsidian, metals, semi-precious stones, among many others. For this reason, identifying the archaeological sites where salt was produced, stored or traded is not always easy. However, in light of the ethnographic information discussed in this chapter, we can postulate the existence of various types of archaeological markers; that is, material evidence indicating the existence of activities related to the salt industry at a specific site (see Table 5).

If we want to protect the values ​​of cultural heritage and present them to the people, the priority is in the stories that we narrate about the past, that is, the stories and their interpretations... our main interest as archaeologists focuses on material things, although for many people, the most important aspect of their cultural heritage consists in the knowledge that accompanies that material culture... knowledge that allows people to survive in their environment, and the stories... related to their lives and tradition. These stories play a very important role in perpetuating oral traditions... Those elements of cultural heritage that cease to have contemporary relevance are soon forgotten or transformed... If we want to preserve cultural heritage and the values that ​​ adhere to it, then we have a duty to demonstrate its relevance to the modern world (pp. 313-314).

The main indicators of salt production using preHispanic techniques in Mesoamerica are the following: mounds of leached earth, called terreros, evaporation pans, or eras, and specialized ceramic types associated with production sites. All the elements of material culture, as well as the activities, beliefs and traditional knowledge found in the areas where salt is produced pertain to a cultural heritage that has been largely neglected or ignored by society at large. A usual pattern in all the cases I know first-hand is that, as the old salt-makers disappear from the scene, the younger generations show no interest in following in their footsteps. This is why archaeologists have to step in and take the initiative to at least record all this ‘forgotten heritage’ for posterity.

In order to achieve the goals stated by Davidson, archaeologists should go beyond demarcating the areas to be preserved in archaeological sites. Preservation efforts should also include ancient or traditional saltworks (such as Castellón’s sites in Puebla discussed earlier), and modern salt-making landscapes (see the cases of Lake Cuitzeo and the Basin of Mexico, presented above). There is a whole array of available tools to approach the public and show them the rich heritage around salt production: films, traveling exhibitions, popular publications, site museums, internet sites, etcetera.

The ethnoarchaeological perspective followed in my research on salt production and exchange has to do with the creation, use and discard of the different elements of material culture related to subsistence activities, including cultural landscapes, tool assemblages and traditional beliefs and knowledge, as well as a whole worldview or cosmovision.

Marie-Christine Renard and Humberto Thomé (2016) have discussed salt production from the perspective of cultural heritage and food identity in Zapotitlán Salinas, the site in Puebla mentioned earlier. Renard and Thomé hold that salt production at Zapotitlán goes

What we are dealing with is a ‘salt-making landscape’. Ursula Ewald (1997) described this kind of cultural landscape in the following terms: 141

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica The saltworks where solar salt is obtained constitute one of the most distinctive features of the cultural landscape. With its wide variety of methods for recovering sodium chloride, Mexico most likely offers the greatest contrasts of salt landscapes in the world today. The ‘salt landscape’ is perhaps the most extraordinary, but also the most unknown, that can be found in Mexico… perhaps some of the older saltworks could be preserved and operated in the form of open-air museums, as extraordinary relics of Mexico’s past economic history... The different types of salt pans pay tribute to the ingenuity and inventiveness of its inhabitants, as well as to the hard work that, over the centuries, has been indispensable to satisfy a basic need for life (pp. 259-260).

that goes hand-in-hand with general knowledge about the ecological environment and that, over time, has shaped a particular cultural landscape. Taylor (2011) has defined cultural landscapes as ‘living landscapes where changes over time result in a montage effect or series of layers through time, each layer able to tell us a human story… landscapes reflect human activity and are imbued with cultural values. They combine elements of space and time… and represent political as well as social and cultural constructs… culture itself is the shaping force’ (p. 3). The natural and cultural landscapes associated with salt production, both ancient and modern, in the Basin of Mexico are an example of a cultural heritage that is under threat. Parsons (2008) bemoans ‘the serious destruction of many archaeological sites, and entire landscapes, during the decades after the original surveys were carried out [in Lake Zumpango]. We might well ask whether it is realistic to think that we will ever be able to address the [research] problems we have defined with the surviving archaeological record in the Valley of Mexico’ (p. 104).

Final Remarks At the center of this narrative are the aquatic adaptations that the ancient Mesoamericans devised in order not just to survive but to thrive in their natural and social landscapes. From the aquatic lifeway discussed in the previous chapter to the salt-making landscapes and assemblages explored in this one, our discussion has taken us to many different places and discovered exceptional cultural adaptations to distinct physical and social environments. One fact that should be taken into account in the study of archaeological salt-making sites is the wide range of artifacts currently used in the manufacture of salt that are made of perishable substances (wood, fibers, basketry, animal skins, etcetera) that would leave few if any archaeological remains. This is why the ethnographic observation of systemic contexts (Schiffer 1988) is essential for achieving an understanding as complete as possible of ancient salt-making activities. Archaeological excavation on its own would never be able to give us a really complete vision of this industry.

Parsons ‘undertook a general reconnaissance throughout most surveyed portions of the Valley of Mexico, including the Zumpango Region, in order to evaluate the general condition of archaeological sites. We found that while there is much really bad news, at the same time there is also a little room for cautious optimism for new archaeological fieldwork in the future’ (p. 104). From Parsons’ perspective, there have been many destructive forces at work over the past three decades in the Basin of Mexico: ‘Urban sprawl… the mechanization of agriculture… the construction of massive terraces using bulldozers, and the reforestation of many of these terraces… large-scale quarrying for sand, gravel, and lime; and… large trash dumps’ (p. 104). Nevertheless, Parsons ends on a positive note: ‘there are still sites and landscapes that remain sufficiently intact to justify new archaeological study’. But time is of the essence, since ‘another decade will probably bring an end to [most] archaeology in the Zumpango Region and throughout the Valley of Mexico’ (p. 104).

Most traditional crafts linked to salt-making, such as pottery production, basket-weaving and lime manufacture, together with such features as muleteers and barter, are all activities that have disappeared almost entirely from the areas discussed in this chapter. The knowledge required to successfully carry out salt-making activities was obtained and transmitted through collective practice; for instance, selecting the right kind of earth for leaching is crucial for producing brine with the appropriate degree of salinity (Good 1995:5). This knowledge is a central component of the cultural heritage in salt-producing communities, one

The study of these and other topics outlined in this chapter should be a priority in order to salvage littleknown aspects of a lifeway –indeed, a forgotten heritage- that is important for the construction of our collective memory.

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Chapter IV

Aquatic Subsistence in Central Mexico In this chapter, I discuss the aquatic adaptations present in the Basin of Mexico and the Upper Lerma River Basin from ancient times to the present. The discussion centers on the following topics: natural resources and subsistence strategies in the pre-Hispanic period; the aquatic lifeway from an ethnoarchaeological perspective; and agriculture in aquatic environments. The Basin of Mexico Natural Resources and pre-Hispanic subsistence strategies The region usually known as the valley of Mexico was, in fact, a closed basin that had several large, shallow lakes and marshes with many different ecological settings (Figure 155a). The Basin of Mexico, located in the Central Plateau of Mexico (Figure 155b) ‘was the political, demographic, and economic core of the Aztec Empire’ (Millhauser 2017:301). The landscape consisted of ‘lakes and marshes [that] shaped settlement patterns, the flow of resources, and the subsistence base… the lakes supported a highly productive agricultural system of canals and raised beds called chinampas, which was integral to the growth and sustenance

Figure 155. The Basin of Mexico (a), showing the lakes, rivers, and major towns (adapted from Nichols and Rodríguez-Alegría 2017: Figure 3). The Basin of Mexico is part of the Trans-Mexican Volcanic Belt (b), a region of lakes, rivers, and volcanoes (adapted from Tamayo and west 1964: Figure 4). Both regions are shown at the time of the Spanish invasion (1519).

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Figure 156. From earliest times, the Basin of Mexico was a privileged area in terms of natural resources. This is a recreation of Lake Chalco in the Archaic period (ca. 7000 BC), showing the major lake and forest resources (after Niederberger 2018, figure on cover).

of Aztec cities and to the maintenance of the region’s political economy’ (p. 301).

depths of up to five meters) (Rojas Rabiela 1998). This system consisted of a combination of five lakes surrounded by marshes, covering a surface of 800-1,000 km2 in all. Lake Texcoco was the largest, as it received waters from the other lakes (p. 16). Three main biotopes have been identified in the Basin of Mexico: (1) the forest area, which provided plant and animal resources; (2) the alluvial zone with fertile soils and a high phreatic level that favored the growth of numerous wild plants; and (3) the aquatic zone, which had a rich variety of flora and fauna. These biotic associations provided resources year-round. Some were permanent but others fluctuated according to the seasons. The combination of different wild resources facilitated a sedentary way of life at Lake Chalco around the fifth millennium BC, before the advent of agriculture (Niederberger 1981), as we saw earlier. The human geography of the Basin of Mexico, like that of other lakes in Mesoamerica, has to do with a territory that has been profoundly modified by human activities, so we must take into account not just the natural ecosystems, but also the environments that have been ‘humanized’; that is to say, built over or manipulated, and which form part of the historical legacy of the region (Niederberger 1987).

In addition to intensive farming systems, this highland lake basin also provided ‘a variety of flora, fauna, and minerals that were crucial sources of food and raw materials… these non-agricultural resources were critical to the growing, and increasingly urban, population of the Postclassic Basin of Mexico’ (p. 301) (Figure 156). The lakes’ many natural resources, including fish, waterfowl, edible insects, numerous wild animals, and plants such as reeds and rushes, as well as the ‘aquatic specialists’ who exploited this rich environment, will be discussed in this section (Figure 157). These people –fishers, hunters, gatherers, etcetera– were called atlaca or ‘the water folk’ by the Aztecs: ‘For these water folk this tolcomoctli [a wild duck] is always a portent. When it sings a great deal, always all night, they know thereby that rains will come, it will rain much, and there will be many fish —all manner of water life…’ (Sahagún 2012b:33). At the time of the Spanish Conquest (ca. 1521), and for several centuries before our era, the margins of the lakes were located at an average height of 2,240 m above sea level, with a depth that fluctuated between one and three meters (though at some points the water reached

From the Formative period to the Spanish conquest, human subsistence in the Basin of Mexico, as in other 144

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Figure 157. Detail of the Santa Cruz Map (Uppsala, Sweden, ca. 1550) showing the eastern part of Lake Texcoco and the adjoining piedmont. The following activities are shown: (1) two men in a canoe with spears, fishing or hunting salamanders; (2) a man fishing with a rod; (3) a man catching waterfowl with large nets suspended on poles; (4) a man walking with a net on his shoulder; (5) a man pushing a net over the water (catching insects?); (6) two men performing a non-specified activity (perhaps building or repairing the reed barrier) (after Parsons and Morett 2005: Figure 2).

areas of Mesoamerica, was based primarily on farming maize (Zea mays), beans (Phaseolus vulgaris), pumpkins (Cucurbita spp.), chili peppers (Capsicum spp.), amaranth (Amaranthus sp.), chía (Salvia sp.), jitomate or tomato (Solanum lycopersicum), maguey (Agave spp.), nopal (Opuntia spp.), several species of the genus Chenopodium, verdolaga or purslane (Portulaca sp.), chayote or prickly pear (Sechium sp.) and avocado (Persea americana), together with a long list of secondary cultigens and many wild species far too numerous to mention here (for a comprehensive list, see Mangelsdorf et al., 1964). The hunting of local fauna seems to have centered on white-tailed deer and rabbits, but many other animals were hunted as were aquatic birds (both resident and migratory species) and a wide variety of rodents and reptiles. The utilization of fauna, especially small species, became more diversified with the passage of time. In addition to wild animals, domesticated species like the turkey and dog were bred for food, but the most important component of the diet was always maize (Santley and Rose 1979:193).

to the first family, four to the second, and three to the third (see Williams 2014a: Table 17). The indigenous classification of fish distinguished different types on the basis of external characteristics and habits, while some were classified into sub-species according to size (though in some cases this appears to be an indication of age rather than distinct biological species). We owe to the Spanish friar Bernardino de Sahagún (ca. 1499-1590) the best description of the aquatic resources at the disposal of the Aztecs. Sahagún arrived in New Spain (Mexico) in 1529, eight years after the fall of Tenochtitlan to the Spanish invaders. Between 1558 and 1565, he wrote the book Historia general de las cosas de Nueva España. The version of this monumental work known as the Florentine Codex, written in Spanish and Nahuatl, appeared in 1577.1 Of the twelve volumes that comprise this opus magnum, two are of particular interest for this book: volume 10, which discusses the Aztec people and culture that Sahagún came to know, and volume 11 (Figure 158), which deals with all the

According to Teresa Rojas Rabiela (1998:28), during the time of Aztec domination, fishing in the Basin of Mexico was practiced primarily on the lakes. The most important species of native fish identified so far belong to families of small fish such as Atherinidae, Cyprinidae, and Goodeiae. Of the ten known species, three belong

1  There are numerous editions of Sahagún’s works on Aztec culture. The versions I consulted in preparing this chapter are: Historia general de las cosas de Nueva España (Sahagún 1938); Florentine Codex, Book 10: The People (Sahagún 2012a); Book 11: Earthly Things (Sahagún 2012b); and, Book 9: The Merchants (Sahagún 2012c). I also had access to the facsimile edition of the Códice florentino published in Mexico in 1979 (Sahagún 1979).

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Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica the large and thick ones… xouili are those brownish bogas2 that breed in the mud and lay many eggs. White fish are delicate and are eaten by the lords. There are some small fish called xalmichin [and] other small fat fish that breed in the mud called cuitlapétlatl, they are medicine for children. There are some tiny fish called michzaquan… they go together boiling [the water]; they fly like arrows from one place to another… there are many more small fish. Barbos [‘bearded’ fish, probably catfish] are called tentzonmichin, they breed in rivers and water springs, they are large and have scales and beards… (Sahagún 1938:192-195).3

Figure 158. Friar Bernardino de Sahagún wrote the Florentine Codex, a full account of Aztec life and culture in the eve of the Spanish Conquest, including descriptions of the fauna of the Basin of Mexico. Sahagún achieved a degree of detail and precision worthy of a true natural history in the modern sense of the term (after Sahagún 1979).

According to Rojas Rabiela (1998), the volume of trade in fish and other aquatic products at the beginning of the colonial period (mid-16th century) was over one million items per year. Rojas Rabiela also mentions that some of the oldest ways of preparing and preserving fish are still used today in the markets of the region. As for the fishing techniques in the Basin of Mexico during the 16th century, this author tells us that the tools most commonly used by the Aztecs were fishnets, though fishhooks, harpoons and traps were also employed. Indigenous fishing methods included catching fish barehanded, or with tools such as the salabre (a net consisting of a long wooden pole with a wooden ring) (Figure 160), fisga (harpoon) (Figure 161), fishing rod, and the atlatl or spearthrower. Nets were made of a loose textile produced from ixtle fiber (Agave sp.) called ayate. These nets were still in use in Lake Texcoco in the 1940s for gathering aquatic insects and larvae (Rojas Rabiela 1998:37-38).

In addition to the fish mentioned above and the birds that will be discussed below, the people of the Basin of Mexico exploited many more animal species, as well as plants from the lakes. Rojas Rabiela (1998) holds that the indigenous inhabitants of the lakeside communities ate virtually all available animal products, including aquatic insects, worms, larvae, jebecillos (tiny eggs), flies (Figure 162), frogs and tadpoles, which for the most

‘earthly things’ (animals, plants, minerals, etcetera) found in the Aztec world (Magaloni 2020:10-11). Sahagún wrote about the properties of the animals, birds, fish, trees, herbs, flowers, metals and stones, among other topics, and included the following discussion of the different kinds of fish (Figure 159): The fish of this land are like the ones from Castile and are called michin… There are some small, wide-bodied fish called topotli, they are brownish, they breed in water springs, they are good to eat and tasty. White fish are called amilotl, especially

2  Small fish (up to 40 cm long) that are abundant in the rivers of Spain; Diccionario RAE, accessed on 20-I-2020. https://dle.rae.es/ 3  All translations from the Spanish are by the author.

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Figure 159. Sahagún discussed the different kinds of fish (numbers 188-194) and other aquatic species, such as mollusks (number 195), shrimp (number 196), and turtles (number 197), that lived in the Basin of Mexico, portrayed in the Florentine Codex (adapted from Macazaga 2008: Figures 85-86).

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Figure 160. Aztec fishing methods included fishnets such as the salabre, an ixtle (Agave sp.) net suspended by a long wooden pole with a wooden ring, as shown in the Florentine Codex (a: after Macazaga 2008: Figure 72.133) and the Codex Mendoza (b: after Ross 1984, p. 84).

Figure 161. The fisga, or three-pronged harpoon, was used in the lakes and marshes of the Basin of Mexico for hunting aquatic birds, as shown in the Florentine Codex (adapted from Macazaga 2008: Figures 86, 87 and 84).

part were not appreciated by the Spanish conquistadors, as they were regarded as the food of the so-called ‘low people’. Other aquatic products, however, were deemed as food for the ‘principle people’; that is, the higher strata of Aztec society. Information on aquatic fauna in the historical sources on the Aztecs abounds because of its economic importance and the curiosity that some products aroused among the Spaniards during the first century of the colonial period, and later among visitors 148

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and naturalists from other areas of Mexico and abroad. This applies especially to the native tadpole or axolotl (see below) and the algae called tecuítlatl (Spirulina sp.). Friar Sahagún (1938) described several aquatic edible ‘little animals’ in the Basin (Figure 163), including a tadpole called atepócatl that ‘breeds in good water, among the reeds and… other aquatic plants; they also breed in the lakes… they are eaten in this land by low people. Frogs are called cuéyatl, some are black, others brown, they are fat and are eaten flayed’ (p. 195). Larger frogs were called tecalatl, and we are told that they ‘lay eggs and the eggs become tadpoles and later frogs. There are some small frogs called acacuéyatl, which means mud frogs, and they breed in the wetlands; even if the water dries up they do not die, they get into the humid earth’ (p. 195). These frogs were regarded as food, as were some ‘little animals from the water called axolotl, which have feet and hands like lizards, and a tail like an eel’s… they are very good to eat, they are food for the lords’. The axolotl (Ambystoma mexicanum) is a salamander known as ajolote in Spanish, which has an excellent reputation as a food source, and even has medicinal properties. Unfortunately, it is rapidly becoming extinct in the wild (Vance 2017).

Figure 162. The indigenous inhabitants of the lakeside communities in the Basin of Mexico ate virtually all available animal products, such as aquatic insects, worms, larvae, jebecillos (tiny eggs), and flies. Algae were also important as food (bottom), as shown in the Florentine Codex (adapted from Macazaga 2008: Figures 220-227).

149

Sahagún (1938) also mentions a shrimp-like crustacean called acocil, which ‘has a head like a lobster’s; they are brown and when cooked become red, like shrimp [and] can be eaten cooked or roasted’ (p. 195). The Aztec menu included aquatic insects, like the aneneztli that, to judge by Sahagún’s description, may have been the larva of a flying insect similar to the axaxayacatl, a black bug that could fly and swim and was similar to the pulgón de Castilla (Castile greenfly). Both the larva and the flying insect were eaten. Small water flies called amóyotl were also caught from the water of the lake, together with many other worms, insects, and an algae called tecuiltlatl, ‘which is light blue in color, and… once it is thick they take it [out of the water] and put it over ash on the ground and they make cakes, which are eaten roasted’ (p. 196). This water plant may be Spirulina geitlerii, a highly-nutritious species. According to Bernard Ortiz de Montellano (1990), tecuiltlatl was ‘collected from salty Lake Texcoco… It was sold in the market and eaten with maize or a sauce made of chili peppers and tomatoes’. Quoting from the Spanish conquistador Bernal Díaz, Ortiz de Montellano tells us that the ‘fishmongers… sold little loaves which they [made] out of a sort of slime which they gathered from the great

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica they bite. Their eggs are white; people eat them in some places, and that is why they are called azcamolli… There are other ants called nequazcatl, meaning “honey ants”; they breed under the earth and have a little blister on the tail full of honey… this honey is very good… like that of the bee’ (p. 212). Some worm species were poisonous, like the coyazoal, which was used as medicine for toothache, while others, like the tlalómitl, were thought to be effective restorers of sexual potency ‘because it is always straight’ (p. 212). Sahagún’s (1938) list of edible or medicinal insects takes up several pages and includes abejones (drones) that ‘dig caves underground where they make honey’, while bees ‘made honeycombs on the trees and filled them with honey’. Locusts and grasshoppers are also mentioned (Figure 164), including a species called acachapolin, an ‘arrow-like locust which they usually eat’ (p. 214). In total, Sahagún mentions five different species of locust, all of them edible. But perhaps the most famous of all insect foods is the maguey worm, called meocuili, which is still regarded as a delicacy in Mexico today (p. 216) (Figure 165). Aquatic birds were the most characteristic and abundant type of fauna in the lakes and marshes of the Basin of Mexico in the 16th century, perhaps even more than fish, according to Rojas Rabiela (1998) (Figure 166). Some bird species were migrants that appeared in the winter, while others were year-round residents. Most migrant bird species that arrive in Mexico during the winter belong to the Anatidae family (ducks, geese and swans), but also present are coots, teals, chichicuilotes (plover), and agachonas (Fam. Thinocoridae), among many others. All were used as food from early times by the people of the basin because they provided a reliable source of protein and animal fats. Great quantities of aquatic birds were hunted in the lakes and marshes of the basin until recent historical times. The aquatic environment where these species lived, like the fishing grounds, was recognized by the colonial government as part of the heritage and jurisdiction of the basin’s indigenous populations (Rojas Rabiela 1998:47-49).

Figure 163. Sahagún described several edible aquatic animals from the Basin of Mexico, such as tadpoles (213), different kinds of frogs (214-217), and a salamander (218) called axolotl (Ambystoma mexicanum), as shown in the Florentine Codex (adapted from Macazaga 2008: Figures 213-218).

lake’ (p. 105). According to Ortiz de Montellano, the abundance of Spirulina in the waters of Lake Texcoco cited by many 16th-century sources ‘is credible since… the potential yield of algae is twice that of any land plant’ (p. 105). Rojas Rabiela (1998) adds the following edible aquatic insects to the list of Aztec foodstuffs provided by Sahagún in previous pages: ‘The atetepitz or lake beetle; the atopinan, similar to marine beetles; the chacallin or marsh lobster; the ahuihuitla, a kind of insect or worm; the cocolin or strong-smelling silt’. We should also mention ‘a species that appeared since the earliest periods until a few years ago in the Xochimilco area: the water turtle, likely a species of the Kinosternon or Pseudemys genus’ (p. 98).

Sahagún’s descriptions of aquatic birds in Book XI of the Florentine Codex include information on the appearance, environment, and behavior of each species, accompanied by illustrations. Sahagún tells us that ‘there is [a] bird called tlauhquechol… which lives on the water, it is like a duck, it has feet like a duck, wide and red, and the beak is also red… like a spatula… There are many kinds of birds in this land, which live on the water and eat fish, aquatic insects and worms, and other vermin’ (p. 163). Another kind of duck was called ‘concanauhtli… [it] breeds in the lakes, making its nest among the reeds, where it lays its eggs, incubates them and the chicks are hatched’ in the nest (p. 164). The list

But not all species exploited in the Basin of Mexico lived in the water. Sahagún (1938) mentions a long list of land insects that were part of the indigenous diet, or that had medicinal properties: ‘There are some ants that breed in cold land, they are small and black, and 150

Aquatic Subsistence in Central Mexico

Figure 164. Locusts and grasshoppers were also part of the Aztec menu, including a species called acachapolin (modern chapulín), an ‘arrow-like locust which they usually eat’. Other insects were eaten as well, as shown in the Florentine Codex (adapted from Macazaga 2008: Figures 324-332).

151

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica of aquatic birds goes on to include a kind of duck called canauhtli, which had ‘a white chest and belly’. Most of the species of aquatic birds mentioned by Sahagún were ‘good to eat [because they] have good meat’ and some also provided ‘white and soft feathers which are used for weaving mantles’ (p. 170). The total list of edible bird species included in Sahagún’s report is quite extensive, containing as many as 42 aquatic species and eight land species (see Williams 2014a: Table 18 for a detailed list). Rojas Rabiela (1998) has said that, just as there were peoples among the Aztecs that specialized in fishing, there were also indigenous communities devoted to hunting or breeding many different kinds of ducks and other birds (turkeys, for instance). Hunting was a very important economic activity until the beginning of the 20th century, according to Rojas Rabiela. In discussing the techniques used for hunting birds in the Basin of Mexico during the 16th century, Rojas Rabiela (1998) mentions that this was a year-round activity, thanks to the existence of resident species that lived in the lakes and marshes throughout the year, complemented by the migrant species that arrived in winter. The hunting methods, apparently all of pre-Hispanic origin, were of at least three kinds: nets supported by posts (Figure 167); harpoons or fisgas hurled with an atlatl or spearthrower; and, slings for throwing stones, though hunters would sometimes catch the birds with their bare hands as well. This final technique may have involved hiding among the reeds of the lake margins, or swimming with their heads concealed under hollow pumpkins. The nets with poles were used at Chimalhuacán, a lakeside community in Lake Texcoco, until the early 20th century (Rojas Rabiela 1998:74) (Figure 168). Hunters may also have used duck decoys in pre-Hispanic times, as was the custom in the 1930s (Figure 169). Father Sahagún did not overlook other important aspects of the natural history of the Basin of Mexico, such as the trees and other plants used by the natives (see Table 8). His (1938) discussions of this topic are, once again, quite exhaustive, as seen in the following examples: ‘There is a tree called tzápotl (modern zapote)

Figure 165. The Aztecs ate worms of many species, some of which had medicinal properties. Other insect species favored by Aztec cooks included various species of ants, like the one depicted here with a maguey plant (Florentine Codex, adapted from Macazaga 2008: Figures 333-337 and 297).

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Figure 166. Aquatic birds were the most widespread and abundant type of fauna in the lakes and marshes of the Basin of Mexico in the 16th century, perhaps even more than fish. Several species are shown in the Florentine Codex (adapted from Macazaga 2008: Figures 81-185).

which is smooth with a green bark… the fruit… is like large apples… quite sweet… There are other zapotes called cochizápotl… that put people to sleep… others… are called atzápotl… [and] tecotzápotl… they are very sweet and good for eating’. Another native tree was the auácatl or avocado, whose fruit was described by Sahagún’s informants as ‘very good to eat and precious’ (p. 224).

Figure 167. Aztec hunters used many hunting methods, including nets supported by posts to catch aquatic birds, as shown in the Florentine Codex (adapted from Macazaga 2008: Figure 187).

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During the final stage of the pre-Hispanic period, known to us thanks to the extant historical sources written in the 16th century, the subsistence activities of fishing, hunting, and gathering were still of great importance because they brought variety and enriched the daily diet, primarily by providing animal protein. In some Indian communities, these activities were undertaken on a full-time basis, while in others they were parttime and served to complement agriculture. Early colonial documents mention native men and women who specialized in certain activities; for instance fishers, hunters, and petateros (petate or reed-mat weavers), among many others. According to Rojas Rabiela (1998:43), it is important to note that the rights to a community’s fishing waters

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica Table 8. Number of plant species exploited in the Basin of Mexico in the 16th century (Sahagún 1938). Type of plant

Figure 168. Hunters caught aquatic birds with nets suspended on wooden poles at Chimalhuacán, a lakeside community in Lake Texcoco, until the early 20th century (photo by Ola Apenes, ca. 1938; after Parsons and Morett 2005: Figure 11).

Number of species

Large trees

8

Medium-sized wild trees

17

Fruit trees

12

Small fruits

16

Tunas (prickly pears)

8

Edible roots

10

Herbs ‘that make people drunk’

11

Other edible herbs and roots

7

Mushrooms

7

Herbs that were cooked before eating

17

Herbs that were eaten raw

35

Medicinal herbs and bushes

89

Other specialists mentioned include butchers, who ‘hunt and breed [animals], and thus sell all sorts of meat… chickens, deer, rabbits and hares, geese, ducks, birds, quail… and the meat of an animal that carries its sons in a pouch [the tlacuache or opossum]’. Meanwhile, the basketsellers traded in chicuites or chiquihuites, a large, semi-conical, sturdy basket made of reeds, among many other products, including small baskets for tortillas like the ones we still see in Mexico today. The petate or reed-mat maker had ‘many rushes or palm leaves from which he makes the petates… In order to make them first Figure 169. Hunters may have used duck decoys in pre-Hispanic times, as was he extends the rushes on a flat surface under the custom in the Basin of Mexico around the 1930s (photo by Ola Apenes, ca. the sun… he chooses the best ones and arranges 1938; after Parsons and Morett 2005: Figure 10). them… the petates he sells are smooth, painted, and others are made of palm leaves… he also sells mats made of thick and long reeds, some of these were well-established from pre-Hispanic times, and [mats] are pretty and of select quality… He also makes that those areas continued to be regarded as communal and sells seats with backs and other square seats’ (pp. property during the colonial period. 68-69). We turn once again to Sahagún’s (1938) writings, This ends my discussion of Aztec natural resources, where we find descriptions of many artisans and other subsistence strategies and material culture as recorded specialists, such as fishers and hunters. These Aztec by Sahagún and other authors during the 16th century workers were consigned to history by Sahagún’s pen in and later. What follows is a discussion of ethnographic passages like this one: fieldwork conducted by Jeffrey Parsons (2006) among Fishers. The fish seller is a fisher… he… uses fishnets the fishers at Lake Texcoco. and fishhooks… during the rainy season he waits Ethnographic Research beside the rivers and catches the fish with less difficulty… [In order] to make a living he usually Jeffrey Parsons conducted ethnographic research in sells shrimps and fish of all kinds, he also sells 1992 on the topics of the procurement and processing aquatic vermin, small as sand, and the tortillas and of aquatic resources at Chimalhuacán, a small village at tamales made with them, [as well as] fish roe and Lake Texcoco that in recent decades has been absorbed boiled aquatic insects, from which they make black by Mexico City’s urban sprawl (Parsons 2006, 2019). and long fritters, and some white worms which are Parson’s study of fishing, hunting and gathering at good for birds (p. 64). 154

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Lake Texcoco focused primarily on the procurement of aquatic insects, which were collected by the fishers from Chimalhuacán together with small fish and mollusks that lived in shallow lakes in the Lake Texcoco basin. His research also analyzed the hunting of aquatic birds, but from an archaeological-ethnographic perspective. All the fishing and hunting activities mentioned above existed on a marginal basis in the Chimalhuacán area when Parsons conducted his study in the early 1990s. In fact, his informants were the last people in the region to follow an aquatic lifeway marked by a clear Mesoamerican heritage (Parsons 1996, 2006, 2010, 2011, 2019; Parsons and Morett 2005).

According to Parson’s informants, up to the 1970s (before the lakes lost most of their water due to desiccation linked to Mexico City’s urban sprawl) three additional insect species were gathered by local fishers. These were called marranito, pulga or michpitl, and requesón or poche. The latter was so abundant that it was used as fertilizer by farmers from the 19th century into the 1940s. These insects were caught with a net (described below), then killed by drowning in square tubs (ca. 2 x 4 m) near the lake edge, and spread on the ground to dry before packing them in sacks that were sent to Mexico City (Figure 170). It is likely that before the 1970s, when the ponds in the lake basin were larger and more permanent, gathering requesón was a yearround activity (Parsons 2006:127).

The main goals of Parson’s research were to (1) describe in detail the ‘last gasps’ [sic] of the aquatic economy in the Basin of Mexico, which was on the brink of extinction at the time of his fieldwork; (2) analyze the ethnographic observations at Chimalhuacán in the broad context of geomorphological, historical, and archaeological data from the Basin of Mexico and other areas; and (3) develop realistic expectations for the recording of material culture and its possibilities (and limitations) to help us understand, through analogy, how pre-Hispanic cultures exploited their aquatic landscapes (Parsons 2006:8).

Parsons’ ethnographic research in the Basin of Mexico paid special attention to material culture in systemic context, and its role in the exploitation of aquatic resources. At the beginning of the 1990s, two kinds of nets were used to gather aquatic fauna. The first one was called the red común (common net) (Figures 171 and 172), and was used in most gathering activities. This funnel-shaped net was made of fine cloth attached to a rectangular wooden frame. The second net was called the red especial (special net) (Figure 173) and

During the course of his fieldwork, Parsons found that fishers at Lake Texcoco gathered five categories of aquatic insect, which they called mosco (Corisella eludis), palomero (Buenoa uhleri), cuatecón (Notonecta unifasciata), tejoncito (Notonecta sp.), and chipirín. Apparently, most of these species were available year-round, though distribution was limited during the dry season (roughly October to June), when many of the ponds in the lake basin dry up. In addition to these insects, a species of mollusk is gathered with a net during the rainy season, but Parsons was not able to identify the species or what it was used for. The latter was sometimes caught separately with the net, but more often was gathered together with insects and fish at sites where all three shared a common habitat. The mosco and cuatecón are regarded as palatable for human consumption, as was another species that was consumed in the past, called requesón (discussed below). However, only a small proportion of these edible insects were eaten by the local people, as most of the catch was sold to wholesale merchants from nearby Mexico City, who would resell the products to pet shops as feed for people’s pet birds. The eggs of the mosco, known as ahuauhtle or ahuauhtli, were regarded as a delicacy and could fetch a high price. A fish species called charalito (Chirostoma spp.) was still being caught in the fishnets in the early 1990s, primarily in the deep waters that remained in the center of the old lake basin. This fish usually measured less than 3 cm in length, and sometimes was caught in the same net as the insects mentioned above.

Figure 170. Fishers in Lake Texcoco usually pack the insects in sacks after drying, to send them to buyers in Mexico City (courtesy of Jeffrey Parsons).

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Figure 171. The red común (common net), was used in most gathering activities, such as fishing and harvesting aquatic insects (courtesy of Jeffrey Parsons).

Figure 172. Drawing of a red común showing its different parts (adapted from Parsons 2006: Figure 5.1).

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would typically last one year before being replaced, but needed frequent repairs. The similarity between the red común and the nets that were used by the Aztecs in the 16th century is remarkable, as mentioned earlier. The amount of insect material that could be obtained in one day varied widely, according to Parsons’ informants at Chimalhuacán, although they could usually fill one large sack (ca. 30-40 kg when wet, or 15-16 kg drained weight). The length of the workday was also variable, typically lasting between five and six hours of labor with the net in the lake, plus one or two hours at home, drying the insects (p. 139). Figure 173. The red especial (special net) was used to fish the small fish called Parsons (2006) wrote that some techniques charalitos (Chirostoma sp.) in the deeper waters of Lake Texcoco used for gathering insects in the late 1930s (courtesy of Jeffrey Parsons). were the same as the ones he observed some 60 years later, while other techniques were quite different in the 1990s. In the 1930s, some fishers worked alone, but others worked in groups of six-to-ten men called cuadrillas. We do not know under what circumstances each type of work, solitary or collective, was preferred. Parsons affirms that in the 1930s nets were much larger than their current size, and that some had two ‘tails’. The usual means of transportation on the lake was the canoe, of which there were two different Figure 174. Nets were used by fishers in several towns around Lake Texcoco into types: (1) the ones called chalupones were the1930s. Here, fishers are catching aquatic insects (photo by Ola Apenes, ca. 1938; large craft used for a variety of activities after Parsons and Morett 2005: Figure 7). in the lake basin and its margins, including catching insects; (2) the chalupas were was used to fish for charalitos in the deeper waters of smaller vessels used exclusively for hunting birds (with Lake Texcoco. Up until the1930s, fishers could be seen the fisga or harpoon) or catching them with nets. Both in several lakeside towns in the Basin of Mexico using types were made of wooden planks carefully joined these nets to catch insects and fish (Parsons 2006:128) with nails by specialized carpenters who lived in the (Figure 174). area (p. 144). According to Parsons, until the late 1960s both kinds of net, common and special, were made with ayate, a cloth made of ixtle (maguey fiber) measuring 1 m2. The fishers would buy this cloth in Mexico City, and then sew ayates using large needles and raw cotton thread. Making a typical net around 2.6 m in length would require seven ayates. Around the early 1960s, when the ponds in the lake basin were still relatively deep, large and permanent, the long tails of the nets were made with a lighter cotton cloth known as manta de cielo that floated on the water surface, where most insects lived. Fishers would walk along the lake bottom dragging the net where the water was knee- or chest-deep (pp. 134-135). The net was usually utilized in water less than around 50 cm deep, but could be used at depths of up to 1.20 m (the level of a fisher’s chest). A net made of maguey fiber

The fisher would take the insects he had caught to his home still alive and wet. They could be eaten right there or within the community, but were always prepared while still alive and fresh. Only small amounts were set aside for this purpose, while the rest were dried and ended up as bird feed. After the insects were killed (by drowning in a bucket of water or a sink), they were laid down on the roof of the house to dry under the sun. On sunny days, two hours of exposure would do the trick, but if it began to rain the day’s catch had to be gathered up and moved inside. Up until the 1970s, when the lake had more water and was more permanent than at present, small temporary huts were built near the water’s edge at a certain distance from town, where fishers could spend the night. Those huts were also used to prepare food and for storage. The 157

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica fishers would stay in the huts for several days while they were working; for instance, catching insects with the net and drying them under the sun. There were dozens of these structures around the ponds, which were occupied on an intermittent basis throughout the year. In this approach, the insects were laid out to dry on the ground around the huts (p. 144). In addition to catching small fish and aquatic insects, gathering insect eggs was also important for the Chimalhuacán fishers. These tiny eggs were obtained in hatcheries made especially for this purpose, though in earlier times they would have been deposited naturally on any available firm surface, including plants and rocks. In the distant past, there were many rushes and reeds around the lake margins, as well as concentrations of aquatic plants that could have functioned as natural breeding places, but there was very little aquatic vegetation (and hardly any rock) in the ponds that remained in the lake basin during Parsons’ fieldwork some 30 years ago. Because of this situation, the fishers he studied had to provide the appropriate surfaces so the insects could lay their eggs and they could reap abundant harvests. These practices may have been performed in ancient times as well, simply to achieve better production conditions and more predictable harvests. Around the mid-19th century, hatcheries were described at Lake Texcoco and its environs (Orozco y Berra 1978), which were virtually identical to the ones observed by Parsons in 1992 (Parsons 2006:151) (Figure 175).

Figure 175. Fishers make ‘hatcheries’ where insects will lay their eggs, by inserting grass bundles (called polotes) into the shallow lake bottom (courtesy of Jeffrey Parsons).

The traditional hatcheries mentioned above consisted of rows of U-shaped grass bundles (Figure 176) called polotes with a tail (cola) that is anchored to the lake bottom (Figure 177) using a wooden stake (ca. 70 cm long with a diameter of 3 cm). When Parsons observed this activity in 1992, one fisher inserted 66 polotes in a straight line, separated by roughly one meter. The end of the line was marked by a short row of four polotes inserted at a right angle from the main line. It took the fisher more or less half an hour to perform this work, and after one week the polotes were checked periodically until there were enough eggs to harvest and set out to dry.

Figure 176. Fishers have to gather grass to make the polotes for insects to lay their eggs (courtesy of Jeffrey Parsons).

The eggs that adhered to each polote were gathered and dried periodically, at intervals of one to four weeks. The egg-laden polotes were pulled out of the water and laid down to dry on the nearest dry surface under the sun’s rays for two or three hours. Once dry, the eggs were shaken off the polotes over a fine cloth, packed and then taken to the fisher’s home where they were stored until needed for home consumption or prepared for sale. It was important to store the eggs in a bag or sack after drying so they would not be affected by wind or rain (Parsons 2006:152).

According to Parsons, fishers recognized three kinds of insects as appropriate for human consumption: mosco, cuatecón, and requesón. The other kinds were regarded as ‘dirty’ because they developed in the mud at the bottom of the lake and so were not considered acceptable for eating (Figure 178). Edible insects were prepared for consumption while they were still alive, as mentioned above, because people thought that once dried they would lose their nutritive value, but they could not be 158

Aquatic Subsistence in Central Mexico which was then mixed with diced condiments such as cilantro (coriander), epazote (wormseed or Mexican tea, Dysphania ambrosioides), chili, and salt, as well as other vegetables. Eggs or pieces of meat could be added if available. This mix was put inside a moist maize leaf and placed on the comal (griddle) over a low fire for half an hour, or it could be put inside a rolled-up tortilla and eaten as a taco. This dish was called tamal de mosco, and was still a common food in the homes of the fishers that Parsons studied in the early 1990s. The small fish –charalitos– that were caught in the net could be cooked in the same way as described above for the insects. A handful of fish would be ground up in the metate while still alive (bones and all) to, once again, form a paste that could be eaten as a tamale or taco. Alternatively, they could be dried under the sun and then stored for up to several months. Either dry or fresh, these tiny fish could be used to prepare a dish called mixmole de charal, which was cooked by boiling them in a pot with potatoes, nopales, chili, onion, cilantro, salt and spices (Parsons 2006). The eggs of aquatic insects (ahuauhtle) were prepared in a similar way by grinding in the metate, mixing with chicken eggs and then frying to produce a dish similar to an omelet that could be eaten in tacos or gorditas (fried maize dough). But ahuauhtle could fetch high prices at market, so they were rarely consumed at the fisher’s home (Parsons 2006).

Figure 177. Inserting polotes near Chimalhuacán in the 1930s (photo by Ola Apenes, after Parsons and Morett 2005: Figure 9).

stored alive for more than one or two days, so they were eaten as soon as possible after harvesting and drying (Figure 179). All three insect species were prepared in basically the same way: the first step was to grind them with the mano and metate (grindstones) to make a paste,

Another activity documented by Parsons at Chimalhuacán was hunting aquatic birds with nets, as mentioned above. Parsons tells us that up until the early 1940s aquatic birds were still plentiful in Lake Texcoco and its environs, but that at the time of his fieldwork (1992) there were few birds in the area, mainly small flocks of chichicuilotes (Charadrius vociferous) and a few migratory ducks. Parsons’ informants told him the names of nine kinds of duck and four types of chichicuilote that were still common in this part of the Basin of Mexico in the first half of the 20th century. Apparently, ducks were more abundant between September and April, and chichicuilotes between August and late October. During the 1930s, there were many aquatic birds around the lake, and they were pursued by local hunters. The chichicuilotes and some larger ducks were trapped with large nets made of maguey fiber Figure 178. Aquatic insects were so abundant in the Basin of Mexico that they sometimes suspended on wooden poles, which appeared as a great mass at the edge of lakes and ponds, where they were easily harvested were set up in nesting and feeding (courtesy of Jeffrey Parsons). 159

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica Table 9. Aquatic birds found at Lake Texcoco around 1990 (Parsons 2006: Table 5.6). Ducks

Chichicuilotes

Garabito

Blanco

Golondrino

Chate

Bocón

Monjita

Sarceta

Cuatecón

Gallinita Chantito Chaparra grande Chaparra chica Perro de agua

The archaeological record in the Basin of Mexico contains material evidence of the procurement and consumption of aquatic Figure 179. Bag full of aquatic insects gathered from the surface of Lake Texcoco. resources which indicates, with no room Such creatures were an important part of Aztec cuisine in ancient times for doubt, that aquatic birds, fish, and (courtesy of Jeffrey Parsons). reeds were important throughout the millennia in this region. Data related to settlement patterns suggest that the central portion areas. The bird-hunters moved around the lake in small of Lake Texcoco was exploited primarily by people boats early in the morning to check their nets. Another who lived in permanent settlements around the lake hunting technique used around that time consisted in margins and made extensive incursions into more using decoys made with reed stalks and stones to look distant lakes and marshes by establishing temporary like ducks. Those decoys would attract birds to make camps where they prepared their food during stays hunting them easier (Parsons 2006). Parsons recorded that lasted several days (Parsons 2006). the local names of the different species of aquatic birds that were abundant at Lake Texcoco in the past (19thIn discussing the exploitation of wetlands in the Basin to-early 20th centuries) (Table 9). of Mexico during the pre-Hispanic period, Parsons (2006) mentions that the archaeological, historical, Parsons’ study of the last remaining fishers of and ethnographic data available for Lake Texcoco point Chimalhuacán is a unique contribution because he to the ‘domestication’ of an aquatic landscape during used ethnohistorical, ethnographic, and archaeological ancient and historical times. Parsons further affirms information from many parts of the world to interpret that scholars should incorporate the aquatic landscape, and understand, by means of analogy, the aquatic together with the agricultural landscape, into their lifeway in the Basin of Mexico. After many years of ideas about pre-Hispanic carrying capacity and the archaeological fieldwork there (Parsons 2019), Parsons demographic potential of the Basin of Mexico and other had gained an intimate knowledge of the area, including parts of the central Mexican highlands. the modern lifeway and general culture. He was one of the very few scholars interested in preserving Parsons argues that his ethnographic fieldwork had for posterity the last remnants of the indigenous several implications for the archaeology of the study subsistence systems (Parsons 2001, 2006, 2010, 2011, area, and for other wetlands in Mesoamerica. He was 2019). What follows is a summary of the conclusions of able to define an assemblage of artifacts –including his (2006) study. pottery, stone, and bone tools–that was directly associated with the production and processing of Traditional societies that live in wetlands throughout resources as part of the aquatic lifeway. Most of the the world share a number of elements and features, pre-Hispanic artifact classes that Parsons found during such as: (a) the natural environment; (b) the his survey of the lakebed (carried out in 2003) also resources exploited in subsistence activities; (c) basic appear in sites at higher elevations throughout the infrastructure tasks; (d) technologies associated with Basin of Mexico, on dry land far-removed from the procuring, processing, and storing aquatic resources; lake margins. An exception to this rule is the sawand (e) regional settlement patterns. Therefore, we can shaped tools (Figure 180) that seem to be limited to expect a certain level of similarity in the remains of the lakebed zone. In their description of those findings, material culture associated with these shared cultural Parsons and Morett (2005) point out that several types features. 160

Aquatic Subsistence in Central Mexico

Morett also found numerous small chert fragments, either near the saw-like tools, or on their own. They interpreted these finds as evidence of tool retouching, which may have taken place during use. They added (2005) that these distinctive serrated chert artifacts are only found in the lakebed area, and have not been reported in any other zone of the Basin of Mexico. The second tool category discussed is made up of obsidian blades (Figure 181), usually green but sometimes also gray in color. These blades were found in 110 localities within the survey area, and may have been used as cutting tools, though their precise function is not yet known. It is interesting to note that the chert tools and obsidian blades were seldom found together in the same locality, and that the artifacts made of green or gray obsidian are likewise rarely found together. Parsons and Morett (2005) hold that these obsidian blades could have been used to process fish or aquatic birds. Most of the gray obsidian tools consisted of scrapers, projectile points (Figure 182) and knives. According to their report (2005), it is almost certain that many of these tools would have been used for different tasks, performed in different places. These distribution patterns suggest that certain specialized tasks were performed in different spots inside the lakebed, perhaps related to procuring and processing different resources, or to different stages in the processing of one or more resource(s).

Figure 180. These saw-shaped chert tools were probably used for processing duck meat in the field at Lake Texcoco. They seem to be limited to the lakebed zone (courtesy of Jeffrey Parsons).

of artifact were particularly abundant in the part of the basin that they studied (the central part of the old lakebed, in front of the town of Texcoco). The first tool type they discuss (2005) includes the aforementioned saw-like chert tools, which were found at some 250 localities. These artifacts were probably inserted into wooden handles, and may have been used to cut tule (rush) or carrizo (reed) stalks. Parsons and

Figure 181. Obsidian blades may have been used as cutting tools by fishers and hunters, but their precise function is not yet known (courtesy of Jeffrey Parsons).

The third artifact category consists of molcajetes (stone or ceramic grater bowls) and comales (pottery griddles), found at some 50 localities, either alone or in small clusters of several items. These artifacts are probably associated with food preparation, like the stone metates and manos found in 14 localities. All these objects suggest the existence of temporary camps, or perhaps some sort of residential area occupied seasonally where fishers and hunters prepared their food during a certain period of time. Finally, the projectile points mentioned above (made of gray or green obsidian or chert) were important finds that appeared in 15 localities. Most of these points are large and have a lobe or stem, suggesting that they may have been used to spear fish or for hunting in the area around the lake basin.

Figure 182. The archaeological survey of the Lake Texcoco region discovered projectile points, likely used for hunting in and around the lake basin (courtesy of Jeffrey Parsons).

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The vast and varied inventory of aquatic products mentioned here

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica

Figure 183. Artifacts found by Parsons during the surface survey and excavation of Lake Texcoco: (a) greenstone anthropomorphic figurine (ca. 8 cm high); (b) greenstone (jadeite) beads (1-2 cm wide) (courtesy of Jeffrey Parsons).

(fish, birds, insects, eggs, plants, etcetera) suggests a privileged setting for human occupation and subsistence in the Basin of Mexico. We know that there were many specialists who exploited the aquatic environment, the men and women who were called ‘the water folk’ by Sahagún’s Aztec informants. The following passage from the Florentine Codex (Sahagún 2012a) illustrates the role of the water folk not just in Aztec subsistence but also in the native cosmovision or worldview:

Figure 184. A dense concentration of surface pottery and other artifacts suggested

[The] Atotolin [pelican] is the ruler, the some sort of intact subsurface remains. This was confirmed by excavation, as seen in the next figure (courtesy of Jeffrey Parsons). leader of all the water birds, the ducks. When the various birds come, this is when it comes; it brings them here… in the month concentration was unique in [Parson’s] lakebed of July… The pelican does not nest anywhere in survey, and highly suggestive of some sort of intact the reeds; it always lives there in the middle of the subsurface remains (Figure 185). We… decided to water, and it is said that it is the heart of the lagoon undertake a thorough excavation, which proved to be because it lives in the middle… And thus is the flesh very worthwhile’ (Parsons 2019:324). Parsons found of the pelican eaten: all the water folk assemble. what appeared to be a ‘shrine... just a few centimeters They eat it only as a choice food: only very little is below the modern lakebed surface’ (p. 332). It may be offered one. For it is verily the heart of the water… that this shrine was used by the ‘water folk’ or other These water folk consider it as their mirror. For there local people, who had reason to thank the gods for such they see what each is to merit in their profession as bounty as they had at their disposal. They would also water folk (pp. 29-30). pray and sacrifice to the gods in order to preserve their wellbeing. The water folk –as well as other members of Aztec society– left many traces of their lifeways apart from The Basin of Mexico was an extremely rich ecological the artifacts mentioned above, a fact underscored by system, as we have seen in these pages. This fact is Parsons and Morett’s (2005) archaeological survey of underscored by Bernard Ortiz de Montellano’s (1990) Lake Texcoco, which discovered many aspects of elite study of Aztec medicine, health and nutrition. On culture, such as figurines and beads made of precious the basis of historical sources from the 16th century, stones (Figure 183). Remains of structures were also Ortiz de Montellano explored the strategies that found (Figure 184), including ‘an unusually dense the Aztecs devised in order to thrive in this peculiar concentration of surface pottery and other artifacts environment. After analyzing the demographic density at Location 210. This large, unusually dense artifact and carrying capacity of the lake basin on the eve of 162

Aquatic Subsistence in Central Mexico

Figure 185. Excavation at the site shown in the previous figure unearthed what appears to be an Aztec-period shrine on the lakebed (courtesy of Jeffrey Parsons).

the Spanish conquest, Ortiz de Montellano concluded that the indigenous population never exceeded the area’s potential for sustaining large numbers of people, which was based on high productivity of resources both cultivated and wild. The Aztec people had access to an outstanding food base, including intensive farming techniques. This allowed them to feed the sprawling urban and rural populations with a well-balanced diet. In this author’s opinion, the Aztec diet was among the best in the ancient world, even superior to that of most modern Mexicans.

The estimates of human carrying capacity in the Basin of Mexico presented by several authors (for example Sanders et al., 1979; Blanton et al., 1981) are not always reliable, because they are based exclusively on agricultural production, primarily maize and other major crops (Ortiz de Montellano 1990), and fail to take into account other sources of food. The fact is that the Aztec diet was greatly enhanced in terms both qualitative and quantitative by many foodstuffs that are rarely included in such hypothetical reconstructions; for instance, the algae mentioned earlier and the large amounts of fish, reptiles, wild animals, and insects4 that constituted an important contribution to the indigenous menu. In addition to the long list of edible plants that were available to the Aztecs, their diet also relied on more than 40 varieties of aquatic birds, among many other species of fauna. It has been said that ‘the Aztecs ate practically every living thing that walked, swam, flew, or crawled, including armadillos, pocket gophers…, weasels…, rattlesnakes, mice, iguanas… as well as domesticated turkeys and dogs. They also ate a large variety of fish, frogs, aquatic salamanders…, fish eggs, corixid water beetles… and their eggs…and dragonfly larvae, all obtained from the lakes in the basin’ (Ortiz de Montellano 1990:115). Nor did land insects escape the Aztec pot, for they would regularly eat several varieties of grasshoppers, ants, and worms

Ortiz de Montellano (1990) holds that from the mid15th century onwards the main emphasis of Aztec agriculture was concentrated on intensive farming systems called chinampas, a series of raised fields that dotted the shallow lakes of the Basin of Mexico (see the following section). These artificial farming areas consisted of long ridges formed of soil from the lakebed held together by wooden posts and tree roots, and separated by canals whose water was used for irrigation (Armillas 1981; Rojas Rabiela 1988, 1993). The chinampas were highly-productive, delivering up to seven harvests per year, and because they were in the middle of the lake they were impervious to drought. In several areas of the Basin of Mexico agriculture was intensified thanks to farming systems that included, in addition to chinampas, large-scale engineering works like irrigation canals, dikes, dams, and systems of platforms. Ortiz de Montellano (1990) estimates that over half of all the farmland in the Aztec domain had some sort of artificial irrigation.

4  Wind and wave action at the lakes often collected masses of aquatic insects near the water’s edge, where they were gathered easily. These insects were so abundant that they were used as crop fertilizer into the late 19th century (Parsons 2019:323).

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Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica variety of foods, which even in small amounts would have remedied all the shortcomings of a corn diet. It is also clear that the Basin of Mexico was not populated near the limit of its carrying capacity and that the Aztecs were neither malnourished nor suffering from protein or vitamin deficiencies… all Aztecs, including commoners, were well fed.

Table 10. Protein content of some Mexican insects (dry) (Ortiz de Montellano (1990: Table 4.5). Species Jumiles (Atizies taxcoensis)

70.3%

Escamoles (Liometopum apiculatum)

66.9%

Ahuauhtle (eggs of Corisella texcocana)

63.8%

White maguey worm (Aegiale hesperiaris)

62.0%

The foregoing discussions might be interpreted as suggesting that aquatic activities like fishing, hunting and gathering provided the only source of sustenance for the ancient Mesoamericans, but it would be wrong to think that aquatic resources and other wild foods provided, on their own, the bulk of nutrition. In most cases, Mesoamerican populations relied on a combination of aquatic wild resource exploitation and large-scale farming. In the next section I discuss some aspects of pre-Hispanic agriculture.

Red maguey worm, or chilocuil (Cossus redtenbachi) 71.0% Chicatana ant (Atta mexicana)

58.3%

Grasshopper (Sphenarium sp., Trimeropis sp.)

30.9%

Axayacatl (insect eggs, Corisella texcocana)

68.7%

(p. 115). The quantities of fauna were truly prodigious, perhaps reaching as many as three million aquatic birds and one million fish per year. Moreover, some of the fish caught in the lakes were extremely nutritious, like the charales, which consist of 61.8% protein and have three times the minimum requirement of niacin (per 100 grams), as well as high amounts of vitamin A (p. 115).

Pre-Hispanic Aquatic Agriculture in the Basin of Mexico

The species consumed varied with periods of the annual cycle (Table 11), so they provided sustenance year-round. Ortiz de Montellano (1990:119) arrived at the following conclusion regarding the pre-Hispanic diet in the Basin of Mexico:

In the previous section of this chapter we saw how Mesoamericans, in particular the dwellers of the Basin of Mexico, focused their subsistence activities on aquatic environments where countless wild species of flora and fauna were available for exploitation. Another strategy used by many pre-Hispanic cultures in the context of the unique environmental and ecological conditions of the Mesoamerican ecumene was aquatic agriculture, in particular the chinampas or raised fields constructed in lakes and marshes. This unique form of agriculture is discussed in the following pages.

The carrying capacity calculations and population estimates… are… simplistic… [when] based on a diet assumed to be all corn, the crop for which data are readily available… The Aztecs actually lived in a resource-rich environment and exploited a superb

Like all states through history, the Aztecs depended on agriculture for their survival. The indispensable role of farming was underscored by Friar Bernardino de Sahagún, whose indigenous informants stated that ‘the good farmer… is active, agile, diligent, industrious:

Insects were a huge source of protein thanks to their high reproduction rate. Some of the insects eaten by the Aztecs are also highly nutritious (Table 10).

Table 11. Insect consumption in the Basin of Mexico during the annual cycle (Ortiz de Montellano 1990:116-117). Species Jumiles (Atizies taxcoensis)

Jan

Feb

Mar

Apr

x

x

x

x

May

Jun

Jul

Escamoles (Liometopum apiculatum)

x

x

Ahuauhtle (insect eggs, Corisella texcocana)

x

x

x

x

White maguey worm (Aegiale hesperiaris)

x

x

x

x

Red maguey worm, or chilocuil (Cossus redtenbachi)

Sep

Oct

Nov

Dec

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

Chicatana ant (Atta mexicana) Grasshopper (Sphenarium sp., Trimeropis sp.) Axayacatl (aquatic insect, Corisella texcocana)

Aug

x

x

x

x

164

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

x

Aquatic Subsistence in Central Mexico

this basin encompasses about 200 square kilometers of flats’ (p. 117). Until around 100 years ago, when the completion of large-scale drainage works caused the desiccation of most of this area, a continuous system of marshes, swamps, and lakes extended over the lands, stretching from the eastern part of the basin to the natural outlet that fed into Lake Texcoco. Garden plots raised above the water have been built on these swamps since pre-Hispanic times. Armillas’ field and ethnohistorical research revealed that ‘the extent of the raised plots in the Xochimilco-Chalco Basin was much greater in the Aztec period than had been recognized… Also, archaeological evidence has been obtained to substantiate the descriptions left by 16th- century witnesses of native land-reclamation methods’ (p. 117).

Figure 186. The Aztec farmer’s tool kit was quite simple, consisting of a digging stick or coa and an ixtle bag (after Florentine Codex; Macazaga 2008: Figure 68.70).

Armillas described the pattern and procedures for the laying of these plots, and the essential elements of the farming system, as outlined in 16th-century documents. Aztec farmers made ‘garden lots carrying, in canoes, sod cut in the mainland, to heap it up in shallow waters, thus forming ridges from 3 to 4 varas wide (ca. 2.503.35 m) and raised half a vara above the water; a farm has many of these ridges, and the farmers circulate in their canoes between them, to tend the crops’ (p. 118) (Figures 188 and 189).

a man careful of things, dedicated…vigilant, penitent, contrite. He goes without sleep, without food; he keeps vigil at night… he is bound to the soil’. The proficient farmer ‘works… the soil, stirs the soil anew, prepares the soil; he weeds, breaks up the clods, hoes, levels the soil, makes furrows… he takes up the stones… he plants, hills, waters, sprinkles; he broadcasts seed’ (Sahagún 2012a:41). The Aztec farmer’s assemblage or tool kit was quite simple, consisting of a digging stick (called coa, a word derived from coatl, or snake) (Figure 186) and an ixtle bag or a basket (called huacal) for carrying the seeds and other necessary things (Figure 187).

Armillas tells us that ‘these plots are… built upon the water by heaping sod from the land and mud from the lagoon, forming very narrow strips… separated by canals… these gardens… even without rainfall… bear vigorous maize sustained by the moisture provided by the lagoon… they set maize seedbeds on the chinampas and they transplant the seedlings’ (p. 119). Seedlings were also germinated on floating foundations or movable nurseries 20 to 30 feet long and as broad as the farmer chose. These strips of land were ‘laid on rush, cattail, and sward; on these they set seedbeds for vegetables which are to be transplanted later’ (p. 119).

We owe to Pedro Armillas (1981) one of the first archaeological field studies of the chinampas of the Basin of Mexico. Armillas described ‘a system of shallow lacustrine basins [on] the floor of the… Valley of Mexico… To the south… extends a subdivision of the valley, the Xochimilco-Chalco Basin. The bottom of

According to Armillas, the general layout of the chinampas was designed to capture moisture (Figure 190). He observed that ‘standing water is essential for the operation of the system. In these artificial islets, the porosity of the soil and the narrowness of the strips allow seepage from the surrounding canals to keep the soil perpetually moist… at root level. Permanent irrigation by seepage permits continuous cultivation on the plots, even through the dry season of the year’ (p. 119). Figure 187. The Codex Mendoza shows two farmers with their digging sticks and baskets in front of an Aztec lord, who is addressing them (after Ross 1984: 114).

165

To keep the plots under continuous cultivation, the ancient chinampa farmers

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica

Figure 188. Cross-section of a chinampa showing the canals and the stratigraphy of the elevated areas, with the cultivated plants on top. These ridges were held together by stakes, while rows of willow trees gave additional support (adapted from Coe 1974: 235).

Figure 189. Aerial view of a chinampa field near Xochimilco, in the southern part of the lake system that existed in the Basin of Mexico (after Mastache et al., 1996: figure on cover).

166

Aquatic Subsistence in Central Mexico

are continually being erased and rewritten’ (p. 121). Armillas discovered that, although lakeside settlements in the Basin of Mexico were numerous and important, ‘it appears that in Aztec times a plurality of chinampa tillers dwelt in the middle of the swamps, rather than on the shore of the mainland… Aside from these island-towns, the watery landscape was dotted with small communities and dispersed farmsteads set on artificial foundations amid the chinampa plots. Nowadays, the sites of ancient islet dwellings Figure 190. Pedro Armillas made a study of the archaeological remnants of pre-Hispanic are marked by low platform chinampas on the surface of the Xochimilco-Chalco lakeside area of the Basin of Mexico mounds’ (p. 124). The mounds (after Armillas 1981: Figure 6). to which Armillas refers are covered by heavy concentrations sustained the fertility of the soil by mucking and by of potsherds, and a scattering of foundation rocks or periodically adding manure. By ‘mucking’ Armillas lumps of burnt adobe that faintly reveal the shape of means ‘scooping from the surrounding canals mud ancient house mounds. rich in organic nutrients and spreading it over the chinampa’, while the manure used in these lakeside In the same general time frame as Armillas was working fields consisted of ‘a compost that included aquatic on the chinampas (1950s), Ángel Palerm published the weeds, and probably, night soil too’. Both mucking and paper, ‘The Agricultural Basis of Urban Civilization in manuring ‘were common practices in Aztec times’ (p. Mesoamerica’ (1955, reprinted in 1981). This paper is 120). ‘concerned with the classification of Mesoamerican agricultural systems… The typology proposed [by The system of chinampa horticulture encompassed Palerm] establishes three fundamental agricultural several activities: plot-building on swamps, permanent systems: slash-and-burn (roza)… fallowing (barbecho)… irrigation, the use of fertilizers produced by the and irrigation’ (p. 101). Palerm considered the chinampas ecosystem, and planting in seedbeds to augment the a specialized form of irrigation. His description of level of production. Mesoamerican farming technology was based on ethnohistorical sources as well as the ethnographic Armillas’ investigation of pre-Columbian agriculture study of the techniques that were still used by some by means of swamp reclamation in the Xochimilconative groups in the mid-20th century. In the typology Chalco Basin was conceived as an integral part of a devised by Palerm, the slash-and-burn system consists more comprehensive research project: the study of of clearing an area of the forest and then setting the how human beings shaped the landscape in the Basin cut vegetation on fire. After the fire is extinguished, of Mexico over the 2000 years preceding the Spanish the soil is seeded with a digging stick and later weeded conquest. Thus, his research was designed within the periodically. One of the drawbacks of this method is that conceptual framework of landscape archaeology. The after a short period of time, the soil is exhausted and basic tenet of this kind of archaeology is that, ‘through yields decrease, so the field has to be abandoned for a the integration of data on the features of land use period of years to allow the soil to regenerate and the that characterized a habitat [shaped by humans]… forest to grow back. A new section is then cut to continue one can perceive the cultural landscape as a reflection the agricultural cycle. This was the system typical of the of the interplay between the environment and the tropical forests of Mesoamerica (p. 102). technology, structure, and values of the society that shaped it… landscape archaeology’s emphasis [is]… on The fallowing system, also called barbecho, begins the study of civilization’s imprint on the countryside’ with the clearing and burning of existing vegetation. (p. 121). Because of constant processes of reshaping, The plot or milpa planted on this field retains its ‘the landscape in areas of old civilizations can be productivity as long as the slash-and-burn plot of pictured as a sort of palimpsest on which the marks maize, or perhaps longer. The important difference, of [human] efforts to change the natural environment according to Palerm, consists in the fact that the fallow 167

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica periods are much shorter in the barbecho system. In many cases, it is enough for the rest period to be equal to the number of years of cultivation. The main reason for the disparity is apparently environmental. The fallowing system is more common in cool and temperate parts of Mexico (p. 102).

Additional important research on chinampa agriculture was conducted in the 1950s by Robert West and Armillas (1993 [1950]), who described the setting for aquatic farming as follows: ‘The islets are usually rectangular, quite long, and surrounded by canals that serve at the same time to maintain moisture – since the water infiltrates the porous soil– to carry water for irrigation, and as means of communication where all transportation takes place in canoes’ (p. 112). According to these authors, ‘chinampa construction requires a distinctive environmental setting: marshes or shallow lakes with fresh water. We may refer to the farming system based on the artificial construction of soil in the conditions mentioned above as marshland farming’ (p. 113).

In discussing the irrigated system of agriculture, Palerm pointed out that irrigation in Mesoamerica was a fundamental factor in the emergence of urban civilizations. Rainfall, or ‘temporal’, agriculture was never extensive in Mesoamerica, for it could not accumulate an adequate and constant surplus of crops to maintain the many urban centers that occupied the land. Likewise, temporal farming also seems incapable of creating the stimulus required for complex urban development. Palerm thought that ‘both requirements (productive capacity and stimulus) appear with an agriculture based on irrigation, which can develop with a rather primitive metallurgy and the absence of plows, the wheel or draft animals’ (p. 103).

The introduction of Old World plant species did not replace the original native crops but, rather, added variety to the range of cultigens raised on the chinampas. During the early 20th century, the use of cow manure became more widespread, though indigenous farmers continued to use local sources of manure such as aquatic plants, and in some cases producers used bat excrement, a custom that may have pre-Hispanic roots.

In describing the ecological situation in the Valley of Mexico, Palerm affirms that ‘despite its alluvial soils, the Valley is not very favorable to agriculture. Its climate has been described as semi-desert… and with frequent frosts which add to the difficulties… The florescence of civilization in this arid valley, covered in part by lakes and swamps, was a genuine product of human effort comparable to that of other ancient civilizations’ (p. 110).

At the time of West and Armillas’ fieldwork, in the 1950s, in addition to the Basin of Mexico chinampas were being cultivated in the Valley of Toluca, around the marshes where the Lerma River is born. West and Armillas hold that ‘the environment in this region is identical to the conditions in the basins of lakes Chalco and Xochimilco around 1900. In the 1940s there were several towns around the Upper Lerma marshlands where Nahuatl was spoken during the 1950s, or until shortly before that time’ (p. 117). Chinampas were constructed In these towns, but they were not abundant and the techniques of the Lerma farmers were much less intensive than those of their counterparts in the Basin of Mexico. Chinampa farming, nevertheless, was spreading along the eastern borders of the marshlands in the 1950s.

This lacustrine system owes its peculiar character to the fact that some of the waters were fresh while others were salty. However, the high salinity was confined to the lowest part of the lake and marsh area, so the less productive section (in terms of agriculture) was limited to the eastern side of Lake Texcoco and those areas it reached in the wet season, usually western Tenochtitlan. Chinampas were among the techniques used to farm the lake area, as discussed above. But the use of chinampas in the fresh section of Lake Texcoco and even the irrigation of the lower reaches were impossible until a system was devised and constructed to contain the spread of salty water. Another challenge for the farmers was the fact that fresh water also had to be kept at a more or less constant level to avoid the drying or flooding of the chinampas, two dangers that had to be considered at all times. Once the salty water was contained within certain limits, the Aztecs could begin the gradual conquest of the eastern section of the lake through draining, rinsing salty soils, irrigating with fresh water (often through aqueducts) and, finally, constructing chinampas. These raised fields were used not only for cultivation, but also as sites for building houses, and as supports for aqueducts and other features (p. 111).

Returning to the Basin of Mexico, West and Armillas tell us that ‘before each new sowing, farmers spread new soil on the surface of the chinampa, which consists of silt from the bottom of the canals surrounding the chinampa. After five or six years, the chinampa would settle on the bottom of the marsh because the base of plant matter had decomposed and formed a porous and permeable base through which moisture would spread readily’ (p. 121). The ridges for the raised fields had to be built in the shape of narrow strips to aid water infiltration, but the length of the ridges had no limitations other than the size of the space available in the lake. The chinampas of the Valley of Mexico were farmed in an extraordinarily intensive way. The planting of 168

Aquatic Subsistence in Central Mexico

seedlings allowed farmers to save space in the chinampa while the seeds were germinating and the plants began to sprout. The chinampa was rarely allowed to rest, and its fertility was maintained through a generous use of manure. This allowed for a continuous cycle of intensive production year-after-year (p. 125). West and Armillas suggested that the high level of productivity of these marshland fields, together with easy transportation by water in the canals, permitted the large population concentrations of the Valley of Mexico reported by Spanish chroniclers in the 16th century. These authors mention hundreds of canoes loaded with maize, beans, pumpkins, chili peppers, alegría, chía, quelites and flowers of many kinds5 grown in the chinampas at Xochimilco. All this abundant produce arrived daily at the marketplaces of the Aztec capital. West and Armillas pointed out that ‘four centuries later, the chinampas still provide Mexico City with most of the vegetables the people consume’ (p. 126), while the plants introduced by the Spanish added variety to the daily fare. In another discussion of pre-Hispanic foodways, John Staller (2010) states that ‘Mesoamerica is most famous for “chinampas”, a form of intensive agriculture that was carried out at a massive scale in and around Lake Texcoco’ (p. 37) (Figure 191). According to Staller, ‘Aztec engineers artificially constructed small rectangularshaped areas of fertile arable land… to grow crops on the shallow lakebeds in the Valley of Mexico… chinampas were used primarily in lakes Xochimilco and Chalco near the natural springs that lined the south shore of those lakes… Chinampa fields were used to cultivate maize, beans, squash, amaranth, tomatoes, chilies and many different kinds of flowers, which were very important during religious festivals and other feasts. The chinampas… around the great city of Tenochtitlan’ may have provided enough food to feed one-half to two-thirds of the populace of the sprawling urban area and surrounding towns and villages.6

Figure 191. Map of the lakes in the Basin of Mexico around 1519, showing the areas of brackish water, fresh water, marshes, and chinampas, as well as the major towns (adapted from Staller 2010: Figure 6).

However, Rojas Rabiela (1993a) holds that the most notable transformation of this region took place in a later period when the local population began constructing chinampas and opening canals for drainage and canoe navigation. Agriculture in those marshland plots likely began very early in the basin, particularly in the communities located along the lake shores. The maximum expansion of the system occurred during the Late Postclassic period (ca. AD 1350-1521). Numerous colonial documents describe the chinampas as ‘handmade’ plots, and as a new ecosystem that was created in the marshes of the basin, which depended on the work of farmers who obtained the fundamental elements for the construction and management of the chinampas from the marshes themselves; namely, aquatic vegetation, mud, and clean water to provide the necessary moisture. Chinampa construction also modified the natural ecosystem (lakes and swamps), producing, as a side effect, some stabilization of the natural basin areas occupied by permanent lakes, while simultaneously reducing the scope of natural fluctuation in the distribution of land and water over the landscape.

Teresa Rojas Rabiela (1993a) conducted an ethnohistorical study of agriculture in pre-Hispanic and colonial Mesoamerica. She considers that the transformation of the marshes in the south of the Basin of Mexico began in early pre-Hispanic times as the native inhabitants learned to select certain plants and animals to use for food and shelter. Irrigation may have begun as early as the Formative period (Nichols 2015), 5  Including the following cultivated flowers: cempoalxóchitl, oceloxóchitl, cacaloxóchitl, and macpalxóchitl (West and Armillas 1993 [1950]:125). 6  According to Smith (1998), the population of Tenochtitlan on the eve of the Spanish conquest was around 200,000 people, living on an island of 13.5 square km. As many as 920,000 may have lived in the entire Basin of Mexico, making this the most densely-occupied region in the New World.

Rojas Rabiela (1993b:207) reports that among the numerous native Mesoamerican plants still produced in 169

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica Table 12. Partial list of plants produced in the Aztec chinampas in the 16th century (Rojas Rabiela 1993b). Local name

English name

Scientific classification

Maíz

Maize

Zea mays

Frijol

Bean

Phaseolus vulgaris

Ejote

Green bean

Phaseolus vulgaris

Alegría, uauhtli

Amaranth

Amaranthus leucocarpus

Chía

?

Salvia hispanica

Quelites

Amaranth

Quenopodium spp., and Amaranthus spp.

Hierbas aromáticas

Aromatic herbs

Several species

Cempasúchil

Mexican marigold or Aztec marigold

Tagetes erecta

Ahuejote (tree planted to support the chinampas)

Willow

Salix bomplandiana

Calabaza

Pumpkin

Cucurbita spp.

Calabacita

Squash, zucchini, courgette

Cucurbita pepo

these raised plots, maize has been the most important one over the centuries (see Table 12), followed by tomato (jitomate), with a production that is totally marketoriented. Green tomate, chili peppers, and pumpkins are also important, and are usually sent to Mexico City. The list of plants grown in the chinampas includes beans, green beans, chía, uauhtli or alegría, chayote, chilacayote, several decorative flowers, aromatic herbs, and quelites (Chenopodium, Amaranthus). Chili peppers, chía or alegría (Salvia hispanica), cempasúchil (the flower for the Day of the Dead) and lettuce (introduced by the Spanish) are also planted on chinampas and have their first growth there before being transplanted to the nearby hills in the rainy season.

it was in the early 20th century. According to Pérez (1998), ‘during the Mexican Revolution (ca. 19101920) crystal-clear water was still abundant in the Xochimilco area, thanks to the many water springs. Fish thrived and the local population had access to this important source of nutrition. In the area of the chinampas fishing was abundant, as well as hunting aquatic species’ (p. 101). Pérez vividly narrates how ‘in the canals around the chinampas one could find black, red and spotted carp, trout, juiles (freshwater fish, similar to catfish), white fish, ajolote (salamander of the Ambystoma species), turtles, acociles (crayfish, Cambarellus montezumae), frogs, etcetera’ (p. 101). This fragment of the oral history in Lake Xochimilco is evocative of the lost world of the chinampa farmers before the radical changes brought about by the accelerated urbanization processes in the Valley of Mexico during the 20th century.

According to Rojas Rabiela (1988), the ancient use of seedlings for sowing is documented in various written and pictographic sources from the 16th century, and this custom seems to have been fairly widespread in intensive moisture- and irrigation-based systems, as well as in the cultivation of certain plants, such as ‘cacao, fruit trees, ornamentals, and tobacco. Some annual plants were transplanted, such as chili, jitomate, tomate, flowers (cempoalxóchitl for example), uauhtli, and corn. The young plants of maguey and henequén (sisal) also were transplanted, as well as sweet potato, the “leaves” of the nopal, the segments of the stem of guacamote or yucca, etcetera’ (p. 82).

The cultural landscape of the Basin of Mexico and other areas of Mesoamerica had many examples of human activity and major modifications to the natural topography. In addition to chinampas, canals, and other hydraulic infrastructure works, ancient Mesoamericans built extended terrace systems in order to bring areas into cultivation that were not previously suitable for agriculture. According to R. A. Donkin (1979), ‘agricultural terracing in the Basin of Mexico and the Teotihuacan Valley is probably as old as… the late Pre-Classic and the Classic periods… In the Texcocan province of Acolhua and around Teotihuacan terracing was accompanied by irrigation. Similarly late dates have been advanced for the terraces of the western Teotlalpan (valley of the Rio Tula) and the… Basin of Toluca’ (p. 17). One of the most impressive pre-Hispanic terrace systems that we know of was documented by Eric Wolf (1959) in the Valley of Tenancingo, central Mexico, which was still in use when last recorded in 1942 (Figure 192).

One of the most important facts that we should take into consideration when analyzing indigenous subsistence practices in the Mesoamerican ecumene is that Mesoamericans adopted an ecosystemic approach to their environment. This can be seen in the way the chinampa farmers interacted with their aquatic habitat. Rojas Rabiela included in her book, La cosecha del agua (1998), a testimony by José Genovevo Pérez, one of the last chinampa farmers who still recalled the lake setting in the Basin of Mexico as 170

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Figure 192. Pre-Hispanic system of agricultural terraces in the Valley of Tenancingo, central Mexico, still in use when this photo was taken in 1942 (after Wolf 1959, p. 75).

Wolf also discussed the chinampas, stating that they were ‘enormously productive, often permitting harvests up to three times a year… For centuries, the chinampa villages on Lake Chalco and Lake Xochimilco supplied the larger centers of the Basin of Mexico with primary foods and vegetable products. Even as late as 1900, the great market of Mexico City was supplied by… canoes which punted up the great Canal de la Viga, today dry and desolate’ (p. 75). This great canal, a prime example of pre-Hispanic and colonial water management infrastructure, was photographed by Ola Apenes in 1948 (Schilling 1993) (Figure 193). Sadly, the Canal de La Viga is no more. It was paved over many years ago and now is a major road in Mexico City.

Wolf affirmed that ‘irrigation certainly existed at the time of the Spanish Conquest. We possess a list of over four hundred communities with irrigation for this period... What is true of the Valley of Mexico holds true for all other regions of Middle America, including the Petén’ (p. 76). Wolf argued that ‘if we assume that the Maya of the Petén possessed only slash-andburn cultivation, how then do we explain the numerous ceremonial centers of the area?’ (p. 77). Wolf then wondered, ‘how did the Figure 193. The Canal de la Viga is a prime example of pre-Hispanic and colonial water Maya… accomplish this feat… for management infrastructure, as seen in this photograph by Ola Apenes in 1948 (after well over eight hundred years?’ Schilling 1993: 104). (p. 78), and offered the following explanation: ‘It is more than likely that the Maya… possessed some system of intensive On the basis of the information available at the time, cultivation… which allowed them to maintain stable including the terraces and other hydraulic works centers of control, while at the same time controlling mentioned above, Wolf (1959) considered that the [the] peasantry. Perhaps it was a system of chinampas, population of Teotihuacan may have consisted of ‘a or a related system, which made use of the many lakes minimum of 50,000 inhabitants, with the possibility that and swamps of the Petén’ (p. 78). it may have been as high as 120,000… we may assume that a city of this size relied on systems of cultivation Writing about Aztec-period Texcoco, Wolf said that [other than] slash-and-burn… Four such systems are ‘king… Netzahualcoyotl had insured [Texcoco’s] known, and all are demonstrably pre-Hispanic’ (p. internal food supply through the construction of a 74). The first system that Wolf mentions is terracing, great system of dams and canals, opening hitherto a cultivation technique that relied on ‘stone retaining marginal lands to cultivation by irrigation… [Aztec] walls to keep hillsides from eroding and preventing the irrigation engineers also built and maintained the great free runoff of rainwater… Another system makes use of dyke across the lagoon of Texcoco’ (p. 132). That dike humid bottom lands… we may assume that this also was not only safeguarded ‘Tenochtitlan against floods and in use from early corn-planting times. A third system is drowning, but secured chinampa agriculture on the today restricted to a small and ever shrinking area in southern margins of the lagoon, barring the entry of the southeastern part of the Valley of Mexico’ (p. 74). 171

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica salt water from the lake into the fresh water of the lagoon’ (p. 132). As discussed above, Armillas (1991) made a thorough study of Mesoamerican agriculture. He explained that ‘the native method [of agriculture] uses the slash-and-burn technique to clear the fields where the plant cover makes this necessary. The periods of cultivation and rest are alternated in a short cycle, in which the rest period is similar to the number of years in which the field can be maintained under intensive cultivation’ (p. 116), A longer rest period was needed to restore the plant nutrients in most soils of the humid tropics, particularly the dense rainforests of Mesoamerica. Therefore, ‘the productive capacity of seasonal agriculture, under the climatic conditions existing in most regions of Mesoamerica, is conditioned by the duration of the winter dry season and the intensity, reliability, and efficiency of the summer rains… In many places the farming season lasts throughout the year, and… irrigation… allows for the continuous farming of a single plot, with two harvests each year’ (p. 117). This type of agriculture was widespread in Mesoamerica, since ‘it was performed wherever the local conditions made it possible’ (p. 120).

Table 13. Population estimate for Late Aztec towns in and around lakes Chalco and Xochimilco (Parsons 1993: Table 3). Population

Number of people who depended on chinampas

Culhuacan

4,000

2,000

Tháhuac

3,000

3,000

Mixquic

2,000

2,000 15,000

Town

Xochimilco

15,000

Xico

2,500

2,500

Chalco

12,500

2,500

Total urban population dependent on chinampas

27,000

Population of smaller communities

5,400

Total population that depended on chinampas

32,400

Some 30 years after Armillas’ fieldwork in the chinampa area of the Basin of Mexico, Jeffrey Parsons (1993), as we have seen, conducted a partial survey of the surface of the lake basin. In discussing the Aztec state’s ability to feed the sprawling population of Tenochtitlan, Parsons wrote that ‘unlike most other urban centers in the Valley of Mexico during the Late Postclassic, Tenochtitlan lacked a significant productive agricultural area Figure 194. The chinampa zone of lakes Chalco and Xochimilco retained some of the in its immediate environs. Therefore, ancient ridges as late as the 1970s, as seen in this sketch map by Jeffrey Parsons because of its great size and its lack of (after Parsons 1993: Figure 22). direct access to subsistence sources, Tenochtitlan’s food supply system must have faced considerable challenges’ (p. 272). It was (3) the produce given by the resident tenant laborers possible to overcome these challenges because of the to the state officials who owned the land’ (p. 273). natural resources available to the population. Parsons Table 13 presents a population estimate for Late Aztec states that ‘there were three sources of food to the towns in and around lakes Chalco and Xochimilco, and Aztec capital: (1) tribute from the provinces of the Aztec an estimate of the number of people who depended Empire; (2) trade within a complex market system; and directly on the chinampas for their sustenance. 172

Aquatic Subsistence in Central Mexico

According to Parsons, ‘assuming Tenochtitlan’s urban population was 150,000 people, the city would have required roughly 30,000 tons of maize a year to satisfy its food needs… Because of the very limited amount of farmland in the city’s vicinity, most of the food for the urban dwellers must have come from outside the city and its environs’ (p. 291). The chinampa zone of ChalcoXochimilco (Figure 194) must have been able to provide the equivalent of 2,535 tons of maize to Tenochtitlan each year (see Parsons 1993: Table 5). Therefore, an additional amount of 27,465 tons was required to fulfill the total needs of the population. This shortfall was compensated by tribute from across the Aztec Empire and by the widespread network of trade routes.

As changes in organization took place, ideology also changed in order to justify and validate the new forms of social and political behavior’ (p. 40). Sanders firmly believed that ‘all cases studied by anthropologists clearly reveal that water is a resource managed through clear-cut social arrangements. The general problem is how to explain variability within the broad classifications of hydraulic agriculture, and at the same time the relationship between this variability and institutional diversity’ (p. 45), consistently defending in his works the relationship between hydraulic agriculture and the rise of complex societies in Mesoamerica (Sanders and Nichols 1988; Sanders and Price 1968). This notion, however, has been called into question by more recent research in Mexico and other parts of the world; studies in the Lake Titicaca (Bolivia) area have produced data that do not support Sanders’ ‘hydraulic hypothesis’, suggesting instead that complex irrigation systems were built and maintained by village-level societies, not urban-dwellers, and that complex polities actually developed before complex agricultural systems (Stanish 1994). Among the Olmecs of the Formative period, for instance, it was excessive humidity, rather than the need for irrigation, that led to complex societies (Carneiro 2011). In the Valley of Oaxaca, meanwhile, states relied on quite basic irrigation techniques (Feinman 2006). A final example comes from the island of Bali in Indonesia, where Karl

William Sanders (1985) was one of the foremost advocates of the idea that complex societies –states in particular– were invariably based on systematic, large-scale, centralized farming regimes. Sanders wrote that ‘archaeological research shows that during the last millennia of cultural evolution, technology became increasingly more efficient in terms of energy input and production. This allowed an ever higher demographic density, as well as a more efficient utilization of natural resources, with increasing size and complexity of societies’ (p. 40). In Sanders’ view, ‘social groups became more focused on political processes and were more differentiated internally, including a greater specialization in economic and social aspects.

Figure 195. The area where a chinampa will be constructed in Lake Xochimilco is chosen in the part of the lake basin with ideal conditions, such as the depth of the water table (courtesy of Teresa Rojas Rabiela).

173

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica Wittfogel (1957), echoing Karl Marx, suggested that it presented an example of the ‘Asiatic mode of production’. Despite decades of research in Bali, scholars have been unable to prove that irrigation there is centrally-organized. In fact, signs indicate that it remains in the hands of local farmers, not the ruling state. Agriculture seems to be managed by a series of ‘water temples’ that function as regulators of the agricultural ecosystem (Lansing 1987:328). Returning to the chinampas of the Basin of Mexico, ethnographic work by Teresa Rojas Rabiela (1993b) has shown that presentday agriculture in this part of Mesoamerica maintains many features that resemble the preHispanic and colonial era farming techniques in the shallow lakes that she and others have studied (e.g. Rojas Rabiela 1993a, 1993b, 2011; Rojas Rabiela and Sanders 1985, etcetera). In an area of Lake Xochimilco known as the San Sebastián marsh, for instance, Rojas Rabiela saw that the sites where chinampas would be constructed are chosen in sectors of the lake basin where certain conditions are ideal, such as the depth of water table among many other geological, edaphological, and biotic features (Figure 195). The first steps in constructing a chinampa involve building up a ridge using marsh soil, then embedding willow stakes around it, and excavating canals (Figure 196). According to Rojas Rabiela, one of the most critical aspects of chinampa construction is laying down the almácigo, or seed bed  made of mud from the lake bottom (Figure 197). This mud is placed on top of the seed bed using an artifact of pre-Hispanic origin, called a zoqimaitl, to scoop and pour the mud over the surface of the chinampa (Figure 198). Chinampas are surrounded by canals, and the platforms where the crops are grown are supported by interwoven stakes, trunks, and willow tree branches (ahuejote) (Figure 199).

Figure 196. The first step in constructing a chinampa involves making a ridge with marsh soil, sticking willow stakes around it, and excavating the canals (courtesy of Teresa Rojas Rabiela).

Figure 197. One of the critical aspects of chinampa construction is laying down the seed bed made of mud scooped up from the lake bottom (courtesy of Teresa Rojas Rabiela).

Figure 198. The mud from the canal bottom is placed on top of the seed bed using an artifact of pre-Hispanic origin to scoop up the mud and then pour it on the surface of the chinampa (courtesy of Teresa Rojas Rabiela).

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Figure 199. The chinampa is surrounded by canals. The platforms where the crops are grown are supported by interwoven stakes, trunks, and tree branches, as seen at the bottom of the photograph (courtesy of Teresa Rojas Rabiela).

on chinampas. Morehart (2016) estimated the system’s total output, revealing ‘a sizeable caloric surplus. This surplus… was produced in conjunction with the developing power of the Xaltocan state, as farmers adapted their strategies to meet multiple institutional requirements, such as tribute, the market, household needs, and ritual events’ (p. 184). This author further holds that ‘Xaltocan’s farming landscape consisted of a system of chinampas in the surrounding lake’, though the lake has been drained ‘and the chinampas are virtually invisible on the surface’ (p. 186). Nevertheless, Morehart mapped the area using aerial photos and satellite imagery, which allowed him to conclude that ‘the chinampa system consisted of a network of fields and canals covering between 1,500 and 2,000 hectares’. According to this study, all of the raised fields were in use at the same time, ‘at least during the height of Xaltocan’s… power’ (p. 186).

Although Lake Xaltocan has been described as a saline body of water, ‘salinity was not an obstacle to agricultural production… the influx of fresh water sources appears to have created an environment… similar to the southern lakes’ (p. 189). Morehart has calculated Figure 200. Farmers make small squares of lake mud (called chapines) where seedlings are an output of 3,000 kg of maize planted. The seedlings are later transplanted from the chinampa to a mainland nursery per hectare per year, or a total (courtesy of Teresa Rojas Rabiela). production of three million kg of Farmers arrange small squares of lake mud (called maize per year in the total area (3000 kg x 1000 ha). chapines) where seedlings – of carnations for instance– In light of this considerable yield, he concludes that are planted (Figure 200). At the appropriate stage of Xaltocan’s chinampa system could have supported an development, the seedlings are transplanted from the average of 15,000 people. With a population of some chinampa to a mainland nursery, where they are cared 5,000, this lakeside community would have required for and eventually harvested. approximately 33% of the total yield, leaving roughly two-thirds (or two million kg) as a surplus (p. 190). In another interesting study, Christopher Morehart (2016) examined the role of agricultural production in In a recent paper, Millhauser and Morehart (2018) argue the political economy of the Aztec town of Xaltocan, that indigenous groups in the Basin of Mexico ‘used a locality surrounded by brackish water from the lake water and land “ecosystemically”, [meaning that] they of the same name, but with a lagoon that was ‘fed exploited a wide variety of resources (plants, animals, by a series of freshwater springs and influx from the minerals) to satisfy the basic necessities of life… This Cuauhtitlan River. Xaltocan existed in a resource-rich pattern… contrasted starkly with European colonists’ area’ (p. 184). Xaltocan achieved its maximum size and emphasis on water control to protect Mexico City, power during the Middle Postclassic period (ca. AD which co-opted systems designed for local needs and 1200-1350). By that time, its people had constructed turned them to the purposes deemed most important an expansive and integrated farming system based by city authorities’ (p. 148). This duality, however, is 175

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica incomplete in light of the deep history of Lake Xaltocan. According to Millhauser and Morehart, ‘the present communities… are the results, in part, of decisions made 600 to 1000 years ago under drastically different ecological and political circumstances [and] the echoes of these decisions reverberate today’ (p. 148).

given individual attention for the most part’ (p. 182). Although this situation ‘is characteristic of planting, tending, and harvesting in terrace systems and temporal plots in alluvial plains, it is especially notable in the techniques developed in chinampa cultivation, where single plants were transplanted following germination’ (p. 182).

Both prior to, and following, the Spanish Conquest, ideas about water in the indigenous worldview ‘were neither static nor homogenous; they represented different cultural ideas, competencies, and political interests. The pre-Hispanic transformations of different parts of Lake Xaltocan into farmlands and zones of salt production attest to these histories. Furthermore, the resources that provided use value (reeds, fish, salt) could vary in their location from one year to the next’ (p. 148), while settlements, canals, and work areas were more fixed. For hundreds of years, ‘Xaltocan was a central place in a kingdom sustained by a hydraulic system that brought fresh water to raised fields, turning wetlands into farmlands. Xaltocan’s farmscape ended for political reasons, not because of a failure to husband natural resources… The efforts to protect Mexico City from flooding helped to sustain the city… at the expense of the people who lived around Xaltocan’ (p. 148).

Returning to Morehart (2017), we find that his discussion of Aztec agricultural strategies states that ‘it is impossible to understand the nature of the Aztec Empire –its development, expansion, and conquest– without considering agriculture. Like most state societies, the demographic and politicaleconomic structure of the Aztec Empire was built on an agricultural base’ (p. 263). The Aztec cultural landscape was the product of ‘a mosaic of agricultural strategies, which had the capacity of supporting thousands of individuals in both rural and urban settings’ (p. 263). Beyond subsistence, agriculture was tied to a multilayered set of political and socioeconomic strategies. ‘Produce was paid as tribute to local lords and imperial officials… Market exchange of agricultural products enabled a complex division of labor… The lives of Aztec farmers also exhibited fine-grained understandings of the cycles that shaped plants, soil, water, and seasons —a body of traditional ecological knowledge that was passed on to subsequent generations’ (p. 263).

Millhauser and Morehart view Lake Xaltocan’s landscape as an anthropogenic palimpsest of social relations. They hold that ‘landscapes are both physical precursors and material consequences of human behavior… and that behavior is inherently political’ (p. 148). Although Xaltocan has persisted as a community, the chinampa system developed by its people fell into disuse over six hundred years ago, and farming never carried the same influence on local conditions after its demise (p. 149).

For Morehart, ‘viewing farming as a strategy helps to convey how agricultural production occurred not simply to meet the demographic needs of households and communities. Instead, these strategies, uniquely adapted to the material constraints of a diverse macroregional landscape, allowed farmers to meet multiple obligations’ (p. 263), including teaching ‘children about the world, and to survive as both biological and social beings’ (p. 264).

Millhauser and Morehart end their discussion by saying that, considering long-term phenomena at a local scale, ‘sustainability is the result of uneven processes and can only be assessed in relative terms’. In the case of Xaltocan, ‘dominant groups defined and shaped the landscape of the northern Basin of Mexico to suit their own needs, and often in ways that reinforced existing social inequalities. But… the water that flowed through the lakes, swamps, and rivers proved remarkably resistant to human efforts to channel and control it’ (p. 149).

The ecological complexity of the Basin of Mexico is based on the existence of four major ecological zones, consisting of: (a) lakes and lagoons of fresh, brackish, and saline water; (b) an area of deep, fertile alluvium; (c) the foothills that characterize the piedmont; and (d) the rugged terrain of the sierra. Aztec farming systems reflect adaptations to these environmental constraints, particularly slope, soil, water, and the specific crops cultivated (p. 265). Morehart holds that ‘Aztec farmers maintained a complex folk classification system of soils and land types of various qualities… They engaged in rain-fed, shifting cultivation; built terrace systems; created canals and channels to drain land along rivers and lakes; and built formal plots elevated above lake levels’ (p. 265). Irrigation systems were combined with terracing or raised fields that allowed previously unusable land to be either cultivated or intensified. Morehart mentions ‘a simple typology to characterize

Further discussion of societal processes and farming strategies in the chinampa area comes from Emily McClung and Diana Martínez (2017), who hold that ‘well-developed social organization, coordination of activities, and intensive labor compensated for the lack of sophisticated agricultural instruments: tools were geared toward individual activities and plants were 176

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the diverse agro-hydraulic systems in the Basin of Mexico. [The] first type consisted of small irrigation systems that originated from permanent springs… at the foot of large mountains. Major canals from the springs were integrated into networks of smaller canals and dams to deliver water to fields, many of which were terraced’ (p. 265). The second type consisted of large-scale irrigation systems that relied on permanent or semi-permanent rivers. These systems ‘often had enormous canals and embankments that diverted water to fields, expanding arable land. Most of these systems were located in the lakeshore plain or alluvial bottomlands of the Basin of Mexico… [The] final agro-hydraulic types were lacustrine-based systems. Chinampa systems are the most well-known example of this strategy’ (p. 265).

Berdan estimated ‘that by 1519 most of the area of the southern lakes and much of the lakeshore area of western Lake Texcoco was converted into chinampas… this was the most intensive agricultural system in the Aztec world’ (p. 80), though there is disagreement on the system’s real level of productivity. According to Berdan, most of the people living in the region around lakes Xochimilco and Chalco were chinampa farmers, and their work provided their own sustenance as well as sufficient surpluses to supply nearby towns, including the Aztec capital. Chinampas produced not only staples such as maize and beans, but other crops as well, like vegetables and flowers, which farmers could exchange in nearby marketplaces to contribute to the daily sustenance of their households. Chinampa plots, as discussed earlier, had a high, sustained productivity that was ‘achieved through multi-cropping, crop rotation, soil replenishment/ replacement, and the use of staggered seedbeds, along with augmentations of water and natural fertilizers from adjacent canals. The southern lakes, especially, were frost free and enjoyed higher precipitation than the northern lakes, and plantings of different crops could be scheduled throughout the year’ (p. 81). Therefore, it comes as no surprise that ‘these areas were responsible for paying the highest levels of staple food tribute to the Aztec Empire. At least three to four and as many as seven different crops a year could be produced under this regime’ (p. 81).

In his discussion of the Aztec economy, Kenneth Hirth (2016) includes the marketplaces, which he sees as ‘a vital part of every large city, providing fresh food and other goods to the urban population. This was especially important for the residents of the Aztec capital… which, because of its location in the center of the lake, lacked agricultural land and relied on the importation of food from chinampa fields in the southern lakes region’ (p. 63). For Hirth, the most productive hydraulic lands In the Basin of Mexico were the chinampa fields located in the ancient lake system. These fields ‘could be farmed continuously by commoner households… and elite estates… Chinampa fields could yield 2-3 harvests each year… and it is this surplus that probably represents the greatest percentage of food staples sold in the market centers throughout the basin. Under this system, commoner households could produce some regular surplus for sale in the marketplace’ (p. 146).

Between May and December 1981, Parsons (2019) returned to the Valley of Mexico, where he undertook ‘a new series of field projects… in order to evaluate some ideas we had developed during the earlier regional surveys’ (e.g. Sanders et al., 1979). Parsons was particularly interested in the development of chinampa agriculture on Lake Chalco-Xochimilco: ‘We had identified scores of archaeological sites on and around the former lakebed… many of these probably had something to do with chinampas’ (p. 262). In his discussion of the cultural landscapes that he encountered during this brief period of fieldwork, Parsons mentions such features as the chinampa zone at Mixquic, on the southern shore of Lake Chalco. Today this area is highly-urbanized, and the aquatic landscape studied by Parsons is, for the most part, no longer extant (Figure 201). Chinampas and canals were found in Atlapulco, where the canals were widely used as a means of canoe transportation for people and goods until the 1930s (Figure 202), but now everything moves by truck over paved roads. As for archaeological examples of chinampas and other major hydraulic works, Parsons and his team found buried ancient chinampas in profile, visible in a large modern drainage ditch. These Aztec-period chinampa fields (located east of Mixquic, Lake Chalco) have been covered by

In another analysis of Aztec farming systems, Frances Berdan (2014) wrote that ‘as the chinampa matured, the farmer sometimes established his house on the raised field, providing him with the convenience of proximity to his work. Although a chinampa served as a farmer’s primary agricultural field, in these cases it could be treated much like a house garden; being adjacent to the house itself, it would have been the recipient of household protection and refuse’ (p. 79), perhaps including human waste. It is possible to suggest that a single nuclear family worked more than one chinampa, since ‘wills from early colonial Culhuacan repeatedly demonstrate this, with plots often appearing in units of seven’ (p. 79). While most chinampas were worked by individual farming households, ‘the degree of state involvement in their construction remains an open question. Certainly, the primary Basin of Mexico citystates were deeply involved in the construction of waterwork infrastructures’ (p. 80).

177

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica Figure 201. Photo of a section of the chinampa zone at Mixquic, on the southern shore of Lake Chalco, taken by Jeffrey Parsons around 1981. Today this area is highly-urbanized, and the aquatic landscape is no longer extant (courtesy of Jeffrey Parsons).

Figure 202. Chinampa canals like this one in Atlapulco were widely used as a means of canoe transportation for people and goods until the 1930s. Today everything moves by truck over paved roads (courtesy of Jeffrey Parsons).

Figure 203. Modern drainage ditch showing buried ancient chinampas in profile. These Aztec-period chinampa fields (located east of Mixquic, Lake Chalco) have been covered by wind-blown sediments over centuries of abandonment (courtesy of Jeffrey Parsons).

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Figure 204. Farmers used boats like this one to carry their produce—in this case flowers—from the chinampas to the lakeshore in Lake Xochimilco (courtesy of Teresa Rojas Rabiela, photo taken in ca. 1977).

wind-blown sediments over centuries of abandonment (Figure 203), so they would have remained hidden from view if not for the modern agricultural ditch.

(Williams 2014a). The Lerma is one of the largest rivers in Mexico, and in pre-Hispanic times much of its course traversed extensive wetlands. The distance from the Basin of Mexico to the Alto Lerma Basin is roughly 60 km, and these two areas share many ecological and cultural features. The following discussion focuses primarily on the natural resources, productive activities, and material culture from an historical, ethnographic, and ethnoarchaeological perspective.

In some areas of Mesoamerica, including the Basin of Mexico, several elements of indigenous life, particularly those related to the sphere of material culture associated with an aquatic lifeway, were not greatly modified by Spanish influence after the Conquest. In fact, most of the techniques, tools, and artifacts survived into the early decades of the 20th century (García Sánchez 2004). The same applies to some farming strategies, which have survived with few modifications until the present (Figure 204). Among these, chinampa agriculture has persisted as an example of human ingenuity and resilience in a sometimes hostile natural environment. Thanks to their highly-sophisticated survival strategies, the ancient inhabitants of the Mesoamerican ecumene managed to thrive and prosper, devising an agro-technological tradition that to this day is worthy of admiration.

Environment and Natural Resources According to Nadine Béligand (2017:33), the Alto Lerma Basin, also known as the Valley of Toluca, forms part of the Central Plateau physiographic region (Figure 205), which is bordered by two mountain chains: the Eastern Sierra Madre and the Western Sierra Madre, as well as a mountain range: the Neovolcanic Axis. The slopes, volcanic ranges, basins and lakes are essential elements of the Central Plateau’s topography (see Figure 155b). While the Basin of Mexico is 2,200 m above sea level, the Toluca Basin is at an elevation of almost 2,600 m —2,570 m, to be precise, according to Arce et al. (2009:25). One essential feature of the Alto Lerma region is that it forms an extensive closed basin 65 km long by 16 km wide, occupied by lakes and lacustrine sediments formed in the Quaternary period (Béligand 2017:35).

The Alto Lerma Basin In this section, I will discuss the recent aquatic adaptations in the Alto Lerma Basin. The goal is to obtain information for a reconstruction of pre-Hispanic subsistence activities by means of ethnographic analogy

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Figure 205. Map showing the lakes and major physiographic features of the Alto Lerma Basin (adapted from Lozano García et al., 2005).

Many of the lake depressions are still visible today, some are 2-3 m deep and surrounded by marsh areas that become flooded during the rainy season. The main lake, called Chicnahuapan, is fed from the east by some 50 springs born at the foot of the volcanic ranges.7

The water currents that constitute the origin of the Lerma River flow from the same area. Together with Lake Chicnahuapan, two other lakes, Lerma and San Bartolomé Tlatelulco, formed a natural lacustrine or marshland area. In the 1950s, major water works were undertaken to provide drinking water to nearby towns, including a great canal that united all the marsh areas of the basin. Before these works, Lake Chicnahuapan was 29 km long and 10 m deep at some places, and

7  According to Sugiura and Nieto (2006), though there is no certainty about the number of springs from which the Lerma River originated, there may have been hundreds, of which fewer than 50 survive today.

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the modern town of San Pedro Tultepec was an island (Béligand 2017:36; Sugiura and Nieto 2006).

chinampa farming in the Alto Lerma region was much less intensive than in the Basin of Mexico, according to West and Armillas (1993 [1950]).

Variations in altitude, climate and soils gave rise to diverse vegetation types in the area under discussion. Above 3,200 m, the dominant form of vegetation is the mountain mesophile forest, while in the colder zones (2,800-3,000 m) the forests consist of pine (Pinus moctezumae), oak (Quercus sp.), alder (Alnus firmifolia), pino amarillo real (Pinus teocote), and encinas chinas (Quercus laurina), as well as ferns (p. 37).

According to Béligand, around the time of the Matlatzinca Kingdom (Late Postclassic, ca. AD 12001521), the resources of the Toluca Valley consisted of maize and agave, while cacao, salt, henequen, maize, and cotton were produced in the areas surrounding the valley. As the region came under the control of the Aztec Empire, communities in the Toluca Valley provided as much as one-quarter of the food, one-fifth of all textiles, and many of the weapons paid as tribute to the Aztec Empire (p. 44).

The Alto Lerma Basin has springs, lakes, marshes, forested mountains and volcanoes. Because of the diverse ecological niches and abundance of natural resources –in particular, aquatic resources– there is a long history of human occupation. Pre-Hispanic material culture in this area shows that the original settlers maintained a close relationship with the aquatic ecosystem, particularly during the Classic (ca. AD 450-650) and Epiclassic (ca. AD 650-900) periods. Such close interaction is suggested by small ‘islets’ that were constructed in the marshland area, but abandoned around the year 900 (Lozano et al., 2009).

The Alto Lerma Basin and the Basin of Mexico share certain environmental features, but they also differ in several distinctive traits. Though close together, the Basin of Mexico has no natural outlet, while the Alto Lerma is transected by the Lerma river, which functions as its outlet. This gives the latter region its general geographic characteristics. In pre-Hispanic times, the Lerma River played an important role as a communication route (either by navigation or using its banks as a setting for footpaths and roads) through which great volumes of products were transported, including agricultural produce and other natural resources (Sugiura et al., 2010), as well as people and information. Because Mesoamericans did not have beasts of burden or wheeled vehicles, they relied on such landscape features as rivers and flat floodplains to travel from one region to another (Favila 2019).

Béligand (2017) states that while we do not have a great deal of information about pre-Hispanic farming practices in the area under discussion, we do know that four farming systems were in place before the Spanish Conquest: (1) temporal or seasonal cultivation of maize, beans and pumpkin on alluvial soils; (2) subsistence crops like watercress, amaranth, chía, tomato, chili, and chayote (mirliton squash); (3) farming terraces for growing maguey and nopal on the plains and also in plots near homes (these became scarce by the 19th century); and (4) vegetables cultivated in chinampas that continued to exist (with modifications) into the 20th century, when the lakes were drained. At present, farmers work fields called coamiles on the lands where the old chinampas once stood.

Generally speaking, shallow lakes, as well as marshlands or swamps, are more fertile and productive areas than deeper bodies of water. The lakes of the Basin of Mexico and the marshlands and lakes of the Alto Lerma present precisely these conditions, so they are zones of extremely high natural productivity with countless numbers and varieties of fish, amphibians, reptiles, birds, and crustaceans, as well as aquatic and land flora. In addition to the local biota, during wintertime migratory waterfowl arrived in the thousands. Because of these characteristics, it can be said that these ecological zones provided a microcosm with a tremendous diversity of interrelated elements (Sugiura et al., 2010). According to Sugiura et al. (2010), from early times humans adapted to this complex marshland ecosystem by adopting an aquatic lifeway, a survival strategy that became a fundamental element in the social, economic, and cultural development of the Alto Lerma region. For thousands of years,the aquatic lifeway has been profoundly intertwined with the life of the people who live in the Toluca Valley, as it became a basic aspect of their existence. This close interrelationship between people and wetland environments can be seen in the early presence of the many indigenous communities that settled the area.

Beatriz Albores (1998) studied the chinampas in the Alto Lerma Basin, coming to the conclusion that, ‘on the basis of oral history and archaeology, the chinampas… are pre-Aztec in origin’ (p. 1). Meanwhile, Magdalena García Sánchez (2008) holds that in the area under discussion, there were ‘farming terraces and… during the latter part of the pre-Hispanic period, agricultural exploitation through a technological introduction that gained land from water: the chinampas’ (p. 69). García Sánchez describes chinampas ‘in the Valley of Toluca in the region of San Mateo Atenco and San Pedro Tultepec… apparently their construction belongs to the mid-20th century’ (p. 114). The chinampas of the Basin of Mexico could offer an ethnographic model for the interpretation of intensive agriculture methods –such as raised fields– in the Alto Lerma marshes (Figure 206) and other parts of Mesoamerica, though 181

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Figure 206. The chinampas in Xochimilco, Basin of Mexico, could serve as ethnographic models for understanding the pre-Hispanic raised fields in the Alto Lerma Basin (photos courtesy of Teresa Rojas Rabiela).

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Undoubtedly, the richness of aquatic resources and the existence of many water springs were among the primary factors that explain the colonization of this area by different groups of people. From earliest times until the almost total desiccation of the Alto Lerma wetlands (completed only a few decades ago), an aquatic lifeway developed with a profound base on the interdependence of people with the lake and marshland environments. This ecological setting played a dominant role in the region’s historical development, primarily among the people who lived within the marshlands. According to Sugiura et al. (2010), over a period of a thousand years the aquatic lifeway gradually consolidated its success in this unique environment. These authors hold that ‘the presence of the three marshes and the Lerma River constituted, without a doubt, the mark of identity of the human history of the Toluca Valley’ (p. 11).

the annual cycle of nature allowed the region’s preHispanic communities to obtain different animal and plant species according to the season. Archaeological studies of carbonized plant remains from the Alto Lerma region have revealed the existence of a considerable variety of cultivated plants, such as maize, amaranth, huatzontli (Chenopodium nuttalliae), nopal, tomato, chili, verdolaga (common purslane), epazote (Dysphania ambrosioides), and maguey, as well as fruits like capulín (Prunus salicifolia), garambullo (Myrtillocactus geometrizans), and tuna or prickly pear (Opuntia sp.). Sugiura and Nieto (2006) argue that dependence on the resources mentioned above has persisted for long periods of time, as can be seen in the wide range of products still found today in regional markets (p. 27). Diana Martínez and Emily McClung (2009) studied the remains of pre-Hispanic edible plants excavated at the lakeside site of Santa Cruz Atizapán. On the basis of botanical studies of the ancient plant material, they made a significant contribution to our understanding of the aquatic lifeway, especially of the diversity of species of flora used by the local population in ancient times. These researchers found that the people obtained a wide range of resources not only from their immediate surroundings, but also from areas farther away, like the alluvial plain and lower piedmont. This may have been achieved thanks to trade networks with other areas (p. 178).

Thanks to limnological studies carried out in this region, we have a general idea about the changes that took place through time. For example, pollen analysis at Lake Chicnahuapan documented changes in vegetation and in the surrounding lakes over the last 2,300 years, including processes of deforestation that took place during the arrival of the first human groups in the area, in the Formative period (ca. 1500 BC). We can also tell that during the Holocene (from ca. 12,000 years ago to the present), Lake Chicnahuapan was shallow but with variable depth. From an archaeological perspective, ‘the Alto Lerma Basin has a long history… of human occupation. During the late Holocene, islands constructed by humans are evidence of the close relationship between the settlers and the lake ecosystem’ (Lozano García et al., 2005:80).

The analysis of archaeo-botanical samples from Santa Cruz Atizapán revealed the existence of 21 families, 32 genera, and six species of plants, which were classified into two groups: ‘Anthropogenic’ (that is, cultivated or associated with farming areas) and ‘environmental’ (wild species from wetland or forest contexts). From the first category we can mention the following plants: maize (Zea mays), amaranth (Amaranthus sp.), chenopods (Chenopodium sp.), tomatillo (Physalis sp.), chía (Salvia sp.), and chili peppers (Capsicum sp.). Tuna seeds were also found, as were some plants that grew naturally beside the cultivated plots, like epazote and jaltomate, among others.

Pre-Hispanic settlements located in the area under discussion relied to a great extent on resources taken from the marshlands and lakes. Sugiura and Nieto (2006), for instance, report a wide variety of snakes, and different kinds of birds such as herons, ducks, chichicuilotes (Wilson’s plover, Charadrius wilsonia), other small birds called candeleros, quail, doves, crows, and turtledoves. Among the fish and other aquatic species, Sugiura and Nieto (2006) mention pescado blanco, frogs, juiles (small fish, Rhamdia sp.), acociles, ajolotes,8 atepocates (tadpoles), and xalmichis (small fish species), among many others. The plants gathered from the lakes and lakeshores included quelite, berro, hoja redonda, cabeza de negro (Annona purpurea), jaltomate (Jaltomata procumbens), lengua de vaca (a medicinal plant, Sansevieria trifasciata), papa de agua (Sagittaria macrophylla or S. latifolia), and quintonil (Amaranthus). These authors further hold (2006) that observation of

As for the ‘environmental’ or wild wetland species in the sample, Martínez and McClung report several examples of flora still consumed in the region, like papa de agua, cabeza de negro (Nymphaea mexicana), and apaclolillo (Sagittaria macrophylla). All these species have been extremely important for human subsistence through time (pp.179-181). Regarding the remains of fauna identified in archaeological excavations, samples include many different species, several of which were mammals: possum (Didelphis virginiana), rabbit (Sylvilagus floridanus, S. cunicularius), hare (Lepus sp.), squirrel (Spermophilus sp.), dog (Canis familiaris), wolf (Canis

The ajolote (Ambystoma sp.), an important species of salamander, is in danger of extinction in the Alto Lerma Basin because of the poor quality of the water in the marshes where the species lives, and the ecological degradation of its habitat (Fernández 2020).

8 

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Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica lupus), coyote (Canis latrans), raccoon (Procyon lotor), collared peccary (Dicotyles tajacu), white-tailed deer (Odocoileus virginianus), and pronghorn (Antilocapra americana) (Valadez and Rodriguez 2009). The excavated fauna also includes evidence of birds, like the piedbilled grebe  (Podylimbus podiceps), American darter or water turkey (Anhinga anhinga), green heron (Butorides virescens), blue heron (Florida caerulea), black-crowned night heron (Nycticorax nycticorax), chalcuan duck (Anas americana), triguero duck (Anas diazi), red-headed duck (Aythya americana), American coot (Fulica americana), and turkey (Meleagris gallopavo) (Valadez and Rodriguez 2009). The following reptiles and amphibians were also found in excavations: mud turtle (Kinosternon hirtipes), green frog (Rana montezumae), and an unspecified frog (Rana sp.) (Valadez and Rodriguez 2009).

of aquatic birds. Deer is the only animal present in the sample that did not live in the marshlands, so they may have been hunted in the forested hills around the lakes. Most households in the region apparently derived their livelihood from the marshes, though some important species came from other ecological niches, like the wolves and deer that lived in the forests, as mentioned above. As for domesticated animals in the Santa Cruz Atizapán sample, the dog and turkey likely represent species that had been domesticated from early times in Mesoamerica. Valadez and Rodriguez (2009) summarized their finds of animal remains from this archaeological site as follows: aquatic species 27%; domesticated fauna 26%; deer 16%. These figures indicate that all three were important for human subsistence, with aquatic species leading the way.

The study of faunal remains found in archaeological contexts allows us to understand how the pre-Hispanic settlers of the archaeological site called Santa Cruz Atizapán utilized the animal resources available. The range of animals that were exploited in antiquity shows that people relied heavily on marsh resources. Of the total number of species identified, 35% were freshwater dwellers or ones that lived in humid environments, indicating a systematic exploitation of aquatic animals and plants. Valadez and Rodriguez (2009) concluded that the marshes were the primary source for medium-sized and small animals, including a considerable number

There is a clear pattern of continuity through time of aquatic subsistence in the marshes and lakes of the Alto Lerma. The town of San Mateo Atenco offers one example of this pattern for we learn that there were ‘many families of fishers and hunters, also of gatherers of aquatic fauna and flora, and these customs were handed down from parents to children. The age at which men started doing these activities was between eight and 14 years… starting “on their own” between 16 and 17 years old’ (Albores 1995:201). Table 14 shows

Table 14. List of species of aquatic fauna utilized in the Alto Lerma Basin, indicating the artifacts or features used to catch them (Albores 1995: Table 3). Common name

Scientific or English name (when known)

Artifact or feature used to catch each species macla (fishnet)

Acocil

Cambarellus montezumae

x

Ahuilote

Chirostoma sp.

x

Ajolote

Ambystoma mexicanum

chinchorro

fisga

fishhook

by hand

x

Almeja

clam

Atepocate

tadpole

x

x

Carpa

Cyprinidae

x

Cucaracha

---

Charal

Chirostoma sp.

x

x

Espejillo

---

x

Habita

---

x

Juil

Fish of the Cyprinidae family

x

Mojarra

Fish of the Gerreidae family

x

Padrecito

---

x

Pícaro

---

Popochas

---

x

Rana

Frog

Salmiche

Chirostoma sp.

x

Támbula

Fish of the Godeidae family

x

Zacamiche

---

x x

x

x

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a list of species of aquatic fauna utilized in the Alto Lerma Basin, and the artifacts or features used to catch them.

point, they wrote: ‘Unfortunately all canoiteros [canoemakers] are dead now. In the mountain area… they used basically four kinds of trees, belonging to the Pinaceae family: white ocote, red ocote, oyamel, and ayacahuite’ (pp. 90-91). Canoes received different names according to their size and shape; the smaller one was some 3.5 m long by 65 cm wide, and was called tiradera, chalupa, or chalquito. Next in size was the chalco mediano, which was as long as the tiradera but somewhat wider. The largest canoe, called trajinera, artesa, or navío, was between 4 and 4.5 m long and 1 m wide (p. 94).

Until the time when the marshlands were desiccated, the cluster of aquatic activities in the Alto Lerma Basin, as stated above, consisted of fishing, hunting, and gathering. The latter included wild flora and fauna, as well as insects. Part of the population was engaged in these activities part-time or full-time; that is, they were ‘professional’ fishers, hunters or gatherers, who sold most of their catch to people in the area. Among these men and women there were full-time specialists, who went into the lake every day. Some would take only one or two species, while others would take different animals and plants. The part-time workers, in contrast, would enter the lake on a seasonal basis. Wild flora and fauna were also exploited for household consumption (Albores 1995: 200).

In the Alto Lerma Basin canoes were of vital importance for the people of the region, just as in the Basin of Mexico. In addition to their role in fishing, hunting, gathering, and other aquatic activities, canoes were used for transportation, because for local people the Lerma River was a means of communication, as were canals, wide ditches, and other bodies of water. Canoes also carried multiple products, such as pulque, firewood from the hills, wooden beams and tejamanil (wooden shingles used in carpentry and construction), as well as cattle and large loads of tule stalks. Canoes circulated along the water courses loaded with an endless array of products throughout the marshland area. A canoe could have a useful life of some 10 years, and at the end could be reused as firewood, a water trough for chickens, or as a large planter.

According to Sugiura et al. (1998), the artifacts usually employed for fishing, hunting, and gathering were canoes, fisgas, nets, traps, and vessels or containers of different kinds. The canoe is one of the objects that persisted from the pre-Hispanic past until a few years ago. During the time Sugiura and her team were in the field, in the 1980s and 1990s, only a few carpenters were still making canoes in the region (Figure 207). At one

Figure 207. Dugout canoes were the main vehicle for working in the lakes and marshes of the Alto Lerma, as well as for transporting goods and people (after Sugiura et al., 1998: Figure 7).

185

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica Turning now to the tools used for fishing, hunting, and gathering aquatic species, we find that they included different types of vessels for transporting and storing marsh products. The materials used for making such containers have changed with the passage of time. Around the 1930s, they included wooden trays called bateas, ayates or cloths made of maguey fiber, chiquihuites or reed (carrizo) baskets, and other, similar items. By the 1950s, however, plastic buckets and bags had taken the place of the more traditional objects like those just mentioned (Sugiura et al., 1998).

lentejilla (an aquatic plant, Lemna sp.) from the surface of the water (Sugiura and Serra 1983).

Nets were the most widely used artifacts for fishing and gathering in the Alto Lerma since before the Spanish Conquest. We know that in pre-Hispanic times this area was characterized by its exploitation of maguey and many products derived from this plant. Thread for making nets was obtained from the maguey, while the handle and ring of the net were made of wood (Sugiura et al., 1998). The first step in making the net handle was choosing the right tree, which had to be cut down and left to dry. Then the bark was removed and the trunk or branch was cut down to size. The ring required a flexible green branch, which was stripped of its leaves and had its ends tied together to form a ring. The remaining part of the net was the actual textile mesh, which was knitted by men in the lakeside towns of the Alto Lerma.

Aquatic resources taken from the marshes, as we have seen, were quite abundant and varied before the area was desiccated some 30 or 40 years ago. Some resources were available year-round, while others were seasonal. Most of the examples of ichthyofauna in the region have virtually disappeared. The list of fish formerly available reported by fishers from the Alto Lerma appears in Table 15.

Subsistence Activities The following discussion focuses on the traditional subsistence activities of fishing, hunting, gathering, and manufacture in the lake and marsh areas of the Alto Lerma Basin. Fishing

Beatriz Albores (1995) conducted ethnographic fieldwork among the fishers of the Alto Lerma, recording many aspects of the aquatic lifeway that are no longer extant. According to Albores, there were two varieties of fishing carried out during the day, one with a group of fishers using the corral, and one with a single fisher in his canoe. The corral was a trap made of aquatic plants with two ‘arms’ that converged on a single point with an exit where the fishnets awaited The size of the net depended on the place where it the fish (Figure 208). This trap had a triangular shape would be used and the kind of resource to be exploited. that funneled the fish towards the nets. The corral was If a net was used daily, it could last up to seven or eight employed primarily to catch pescado negro, and its use months, with some maintenance —such as patchingwas restricted to daylight hours and shallow places with up the knitted mesh, or repairing the handle or ring. no currents, near the lakeshore. The ‘arms’ of the corral Usually, fishers were using one net and knitting another were roughly 12-15 m long, depending on the size of at the same time. Nets were used mostly for fishing, but the school of fish, and around 10 cm in thickness. The were also useful in other activities, such as scooping up ‘arms’ extended from the surface of the water to the Table 15. List of fish species formerly available in the lakes and marshes of the Alto Lerma Basin bottom of the lake, so the (Sugiura et al. 1998:129). fish could not escape. Common name

Scientific name

Carpa espejo*

Carassius spp., Fam. Cyprinidae

Carpa israel* Carpa criolla* Carpa de bigote* Carpa colorada (or mojarra)* Carpa pinta* Juil (xohuillin)

Algansea barbata, Fam. Cyprinidae

Pescado negro, or negrito, prietito, tambulita Lermichthys multiradiatus, Fam. Goodeidae Pescadito blanco, charalito

Chirostoma bartoni, Fam. Atherinidae

Pescado blanco

Chirostoma sp., Fam. Atherinidae

Amilote

?

Salmichi or xalmichi

?

*Species introduced in the late 19th century.

186

When using corrales the fishers would form groups of three to ten men, each one with his own net, his boat (chalupa), the pole for moving around the shallow parts of the lake, and an oar for navigating in deeper waters. At the end of the workday the catch was divided up among all the participants. Each fisher had three or more five-liter cans to collect his portion of the catch.

Aquatic Subsistence in Central Mexico

Figure 208. Some fishing techniques of the Alto Lerma. Top, from left to right: fishing with a macla (net) in shallow water; tule trap and net; on foot with a trap; from a canoe. Middle: two fishers working in tandem. Bottom: The corral or reed trap with four fishers (adapted from Albores 1995: Figure 3).

Some fishers preferred to work alone, entering the lake in their individual canoes and working near the lakeshore, where the water was knee-deep. The fisher would get out of his canoe, holding the fishnet in his hands and pushing it forward, waiting for the fish to fall into the net and then rapidly lifting the net out of the water at the right moment (Albores 1995:224-227).

in order to catch larger fish, such as pescado blanco, juil, amilote, desechón and carpa, as well as ajolote or salamander. This kind of fishing took place in areas of ‘clean water’; that is, places over 2 m deep without vegetation. The medium-sized fishnet, meanwhile, was used in shallower waters, including wide ditches, where large fish and smaller animals were caught, including amilote, acocil, frogs, atepocate, salmichi, and several kinds of black fish. As a general rule, this kind of fishing was performed by men, though some women and children could also participate.

Fishing by night was usually undertaken by two men, each in his own canoe. They would go out into the lake around three in the afternoon, and upon arriving at the fishing spot would have a meal before starting to work around eight o’clock. One of the two fishers would dip his net into the water, holding it still, while the other would drive the fish toward his partner’s net. The two men would head back home around three in the morning, arriving around six o’clock. This technique could be as productive as the corral mentioned above (Albores 1995:227).

(2) Another fishing technique, called vaquero, was practiced primarily in deep waters with a strong current; it was aimed at catching pescado blanco and amilote (Figure 209). The fisher would position himself transversally from the water current, with a pole that had a ‘curtain’ of green tule hanging over one of the ends of the canoe. Holding the oar in one hand, he would move his canoe slowly, turning around so that the tule curtain would move under the water and make noise, which frightened the fish. All the while the fisher held the net under the water, and the startled fish would swim right into it.

Sugiura et al. (1998) observed that ‘the level of knowledge and expertise in fishing varied according to the intensity with which this activity was performed, and its role as part of the economy’ (p. 144). According to Sugiura et al., the most important fishing techniques in the Alto Lerma are as follows:

(3) Pushing the net. This technique was utilized in shallow waters in the marshes, near the shore. The fisher walked while dipping the net all the way to the bottom and pushing it forward. After walking some 15

(1) Fishing with net from the canoe. This technique was carried out with large nets in areas of deep water 187

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica

Figure 209. The vaquero fishing technique was practiced in deep waters with a strong current to catch primarily pescado blanco and amilote (after Sugiura et al., Figure 19).

them would stick the first pole in the lake bottom, unroll the first meters of the net and then pass it to another fisher in his canoe, who would erect the second pole. After this, the second fisher would advance further unrolling the net, waiting for another to come by in his canoe and repeat the same operation. In this fashion, the chinchorro was unrolled and set up in the lake in a short period of time, regardless of its length (Sugiura et al., 1998:145-146, 157, 164).

m he would turn back and walk in the opposite direction, completing three or four circuits like this. Afterwards, he lifted his net out of the water and emptied its contents onto the shore. Later he would pick out the acociles from the rest of the catch. This procedure was repeated until the desired amount of acociles had been caught. (4) Fishing with the fisga. This activity was common in all the lakes of the Alto Lerma. It was performed exclusively by men, and required not only skill but also experience that was gained from childhood.

(6) Fishing with fishhook. Sugiura et al. (1998) wrote that the fishhook ‘was the only artifact whose use was limited to fishing… since others, like the net and the fisga, had several different functions’ (p. 119). According to those authors, fishhooks were used from pre-Hispanic times until the marshlands dried up in recent decades. Although hooks were not as common as nets, they were widely used with acocil or charal as bait. In some cases, fishers would open a hole between 30 cm and 1 m in diameter in the plancha or aquatic plant cover10 and place

(5) Fishing with the chinchorro.9 This technique was also common in the study region for a long period of time, perhaps from the colonial period or even back to the pre-Hispanic era. The chinchorro was used mainly for catching larger fish like carpas, and ajolotes. Setting up the chinchorro required the work of two to eight people depending on the overall length of the net. The number of posts required to hold the net up also varied according to its length. The fishers would carry the rolled-up net in the canoe until they reached the right spot. One of

10  ‘Planchas’ were areas of the marsh with mixed vegetation composed of emergent or floating species with intertwined roots. In some areas, the plant cover was so dense that the roots formed a kind of ‘floor’ or solid surface over the water that could hold the weight of people (Sugiura et al., 1998: 67-68).

‘Chinchorro’ in the Alto Lerma refers to a fixed net supported by wooden posts, unlike the seine net of the same name reported for Lakes Pátzcuaro (see Chapter II) and Cuitzeo (Williams 2014a).

9 

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Figure 210. Fishhooks were used in the Alto Lerma from pre-Hispanic times until the marshlands dried up in recent decades. Fishers used several rods with acocil or charal as bait (after Sugiura et al., 1998: Figure 20).

Figure 211. In the fishing technique called jarabeo, one fisher would startle the fish to push them towards other fishers waiting with their nets (after Sugiura et al., 1998: Figure 22).

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Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica

Figure 212. In the rebotado fishing technique, two men (right) would use a heavy rock pulled by a rope to make fish and other aquatic fauna fall into the waiting fishnet (left) (after Sugiura et al., 1998: Figure 23).

Migratory birds consisted mostly of ducks that arrived from the northern parts of the American continent around early fall, and stayed until February or March (Sugiura et al., 1998). These birds were killed in many different ways, including a fisga with several prongs (Figure 213) used by hunters from canoes or on foot in shallow areas of the marshes (Albores 1995).

thin wooden rods supported by rocks around it with lines and hooks in the water (Figure 210). Multiple rods could be in use at the same time (p. 161). (7) The strategy adopted in the fishing technique called jarabeo called for one fisher to startle the fish, making them swim toward the spot of the lake where other fishers were waiting with their nets (Figure 211). This technique required ‘ingenuity, strength, and cooperation between all the participating fishers’ (p. 164).

The chinchorro net was also used for hunting aquatic birds (Figure 214). This net was 20-50 m long by 1.25 m high, much longer than the fishnet of the same name. Albores (1995) recorded in her fieldwork that hunters would look for a shallow spot in the marsh to set up the chinchorro in an area where the vegetation included plants with the kinds of seed that the birds liked to eat. The net was supported by 1.5 m-long oak poles. Setting up a 40 m-long chinchorro required about 20 poles. The net was installed around six o’clock in the evening, and was left overnight so the birds would be trapped when they arrived looking for food.11 The hunters would arrive around five in the morning the next day to collect the birds and pick up the chinchorro (Albores 1995).

(8) The last fishing technique described was called rebotado, used to catch small fish, acociles and clams (Figure 212). It involved as many as four or five men working in wide ditches or canals. They would drag a heavy rock (ca. 10 kg) tied with a rope under the water, in order to stir up the water and mud from the bottom of the canal, thus making the fish and other animals move toward the waiting net. Hunting Like the Basin of Mexico and other aquatic environments discussed earlier, the hunting of aquatic birds was an important subsistence activity in the Alto Lerma region.

This hunting technique was also used in the Basin of Mexico from pre-Hispanic times until the early 20th century, as discussed in the previous section of this chapter.

11 

190

Aquatic Subsistence in Central Mexico

use for the sling in the towns around the marshes was as a weapon (Albores 1995:97). The sling was of great importance on a regional level; in fact, Albores has said that the ‘three cultural elements: sling, net, [and] petate [reed mat], originally appeared in a non-farming context… the net and the sling are… typical instruments for hunting and fishing… these elements [are] characteristic of the aquatic lifeway’ (p. 97-99).

Figure 213. The fisga consisted of a long wooden shaft with several metal prongs. It was used for hunting birds, frogs, and other animals, as well as fishing (after Sugiura et al., 1998: Figure 9).

In past decades, duck-hunting in the lake region of the Alto Lerma was also an important source of income for lakeside towns, on both the individual and community level. In fact, the town’s taxes were paid with the proceeds from the sales of ducks, a clear indication of the high number of migratory birds that were caught. One of the most widely-used techniques for catching aquatic birds was called amanales. This involved clearing vegetation (tules and other aquatic plants) from sections of the lake in a more-or-less round shape, between 10 and 50 m in diameter. These clear areas served as ‘magnets’ for species like the golondrino duck (Anas acuta), zarceta (Anas sp.), cuacoxtle (canvasback, Aythya valisineria), and other large birds. The clearing was surrounded by reeds and other plants where the hunters would hide and then kill them by day or by night (Sugiura et al., 1998).

In addition to the chinchorro, hunters used a circular net (3-4 m in diameter) for hunting aquatic birds (Figure 215). This net was positioned in places with clear water surrounded by grass, using barley and seeds that the ducks liked as bait. When the birds saw the area of clear water and approached the bait they would become entangled in the net. Birds were also hunted with a stick around one meter long, which was thrown at them when they were on the ground, killing as many as twenty at the same time (Albores 1995).

Yet another hunting technique was called vara y gaza (stick and loop) or simply trampa (trap), though it also had the following Nahuatl names: chinhuastle, chonhuastle, and chinguastle. This trap consisted of a stick and a loop or slipknot at the end of a line tied to one end of the stick. According to Sugiura et al. (1998), hunters had to supply themselves with enough sticks to cover an area with traps, as some 150 sticks were

Ducks were also hunted with slings made of ixtle or woolen yarn. There were two kinds of sling in the Alto Lerma in the 1980s, one called tres hilos (three strings), the other petatillo. The sling was a versatile object, since children would use it in their games, and sometimes were sent to the fields to scare away crows from the crops by throwing rocks with their slings. Another

Figure 214. Hunters in the Alto Lerma relied on large canoes (top row, far left), small canoes (second from left), poles and oars (right), as well as the macla or net (middle row, left), the chinchorro or bird net, and fisgas (middle row) (after Albores 1995: Figure 2).

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Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica

Figure 215. Schematic representation of the assemblage associated with the aquatic lifeway in the Alto Lerma: canoe, pole, oar and harpoon or fisga (top row), as well as several hunting techniques: chinchorro, traps, nets, slings, and shotgun (after Albores 1995: Figure 4).

required to cover an area of 50 m2. Once the sticks had been prepared with their lines and slipknots, they were set up in the evening in an area where the hunters could see the tracks left by the ducks while walking to their nests or feeding areas. The hunter would stick the trap firmly into the bottom of the shallow lake, leaving part of it (about 50 cm) above the water, with the line and the slipknot on the water surface. At night, the ducks would return to the place where they slept, and could be trapped by the head or a leg. In the morning, the hunter would pick up the ducks, dead or alive. As many as 40 ducks could be caught in these traps at one time. Another hunting method was called palo (stick) or garrote (club), and was quite common around the lake and marsh area of the Alto Lerma. The hunters would hit migratory gallaretas (coots) with the stick, taking advantage of the fact that after a month living in the area the gallaretas were so fat that they could not fly, thus becoming easy prey.

Basin and surrounding areas (Table 16). From the moment of the first desiccation projects (ca. 1950s) to the present, however, the number of species hunted for subsistence has decreased, indeed, virtually vanished. The aquatic species pursued by the hunters of the Alto Lerma were not limited to birds, but also included frogs and ajolotes (salamanders) (Table 17). Frogs were hunted by both specialists and non-specialists. The former were people who supported themselves by catching these animals year-round. According to Albores (1995), ‘in 1950… the barrio of Guadalupe still had some 30 or Table 16. Number of bird species that were hunted in the lakes and marshes of the Alto Lerma Basin (grouped by family) (Sugiura et al. 1998: Table 6). Family

According to ethnographic information gathered by Sugiura et al. (1998), only fishers would hunt ducks with fisgas. The coots would usually be killed this way, as could zambullidores (Podiceps sp.) and zarcetas. As we have seen, hunting was an activity that developed to a considerable extent during times of greater abundance in the aquatic landscapes of the Alto Lerma 192

Number of species

Anatidae (ducks, geese, swans)

30

Rallidae (coots, water hen, Wilson’s plover)

3

Ardeiidae (herons)

8

Gruiidae (cranes)

3

Charadridae (plovers, dotterels, and others)

11

Scolopacidae (waders or shorebirds)

3

Podicipediidae (grebes)

1

Pelicanidae (pelicans)

1

Aquatic Subsistence in Central Mexico

Table 17. Aquatic fauna formerly hunted in the Alto Lerma Basin (Sugiura et al. 1998:130). Common name

Scientific name

Rana (frog)

Rana ripens, R. montezumae

Ajolote con orejas (salamander)

Ambystoma tigrinum

Ajolote con aretes (salamander)

Ambystoma tigrinum

Ajolote sordo (salamander)

Ambystoma mexicanum

Acociles (shrimp)

Cambarus mexicanus, C. montezumae

seen in previous sections of this book that the fisga was employed in many aquatic environments throughout Mexico, so it is likely that this weapon formed part of the pre-Hispanic Mesoamerican aquatic assemblage as well (see discussion in Williams 2014a, 2014b, 2014c).

Sugiura et al. (1998) mention another hunting technique called liga, which relied on a wild tuber that grew in the foothills of Padrecitos (dragonfly) Anax sp. nearby mountains. The tuber was scraped to obtain a sticky liquid used to make traps designed to catch small songbirds called chobis. Elaborating this trap required two ingredients: the liga tuber and the grass stalks or sticks on which the sticky liquid would be spread (carrizo reeds could be used as well). The tuber was gathered from the end of June to the end of August and stored underground until the time came to use it. The grass stalks or carrizo reeds had to be long (ca. 80 cm), flexible, and resilient. Both of these plants abounded in the marshes. The number of grass stalks required to set up a bird trap with liga was between 150 and 200. Each hunter would prepare his own liga, skinning the tuber and scraping it to collect the thick, sticky Figure 216. Frogs were hunted with the fisga at night, using an electric light to resinous substance in a vessel. The next startle the prey (after Sugiura et al., 1998: Figure 21). step involved smearing the top of the long grass stalks or carrizo reeds with the liga. This technique was used solely for hunting chobis, 35 men who went into the lake on a daily basis in order but in the past it may have been used to hunt other to hunt frogs. The non-specialist hunters, on the other species (Sugiura et al., 1998:125). hand, performed several activities throughout the year, with frog-catching as a seasonal activity’ (p. 201). As mentioned above, the fisga was another weapon employed in hunting. According to Sugiura et al. (1998), Frogs were a year-round resource, but would appear the fisga is undoubtedly an object of pre-Hispanic in greater numbers during the rainy season, between origin. Its modern version consists of two parts: the June and September, their time of reproduction. They wooden shaft and the needles or prongs, made of metal. were found in virtually all areas of the marshlands, It was used primarily for fishing, but could also be used and were best hunted by night (Figure 216) in shallow to hunt frogs and ducks, or even for gathering aquatic areas along the lakeshore and on the edges of ditches. plants such as papa de agua and cabeza de negro. These Tadpoles (called atepocates) appeared from August to authors recorded how a fisga was manufactured. The October, but salamanders of different species were shaft had to be thin but strong, so it required a certain available throughout the year, all around the lake area. kind of wood, such as oyamel or ocote. The length of the Likewise, the acociles were obtained all year long, and shaft could range from three to over six meters, with a were in fact the most abundant animal resource in the diameter of some 10 cm. Some fishers or hunters would marshlands (Sugiura et al., 1998). go to the forest themselves to look for the right tree, choosing one with a straight trunk that they would cut The ethnoarchaeological research carried out by down and then remove the bark. Finally, they modified Sugiura and her colleagues (1998) paid special one end to attach the prongs. In other cases, the fisga attention to the artifacts used for hunting, such as could be bought in markets or tianguis (informal street the chinhuastle, sling, and palo discussed earlier. To market). Another way to acquire a fisga shaft was these items we should add the fisga that, in addition through street vendors who sold them in the lakeside to its use in hunting frogs and ducks was also utilized towns. for fishing and gathering aquatic resources. We have 193

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica The fisga had one or more prongs between 25 and 35 cm long and 7 mm thick, made of metal (wire, bicycle spokes, mattress springs, or any other scrap metal that could be fashioned into a spike). The number of prongs attached to the shaft varied according to the kind of fish or other prey the man intended to catch, from one prong for frogs and salamanders to seven or even ten for large fish like carpas. Some hunters or fishers would bend the point of the spike to make a harpoon-like barb that allowed them to catch large fish more efficiently (Sugiura et al., 1998).

berro macho (Berula erecta), and berro redondo (Hydrocotyle sp.), also known as mamalocote. The last group of aquatic plants that were eaten or otherwise used in the Alto Lerma region consisted of submerged hydrophytes, like aolote or cola de borrego (Sedum morganianum), a species that is now extinct in the region. The cola de borrego was used to cover fish in the canoe to keep them fresh. Seasonal changes affected many lake and marsh plants. During winter, for instance, from November to February, tule is damaged by frost that stains the stalk and leaves. During this season, people would burn the tule clumps, bringing them several benefits: first, the fire and smoke would startle the ducks that arrived in winter, making it easier to hunt them; second, by burning the old stalks, the new shoots had more space to grow; and third, fire aided the dispersal of soluble nutrients accumulated in the tule clumps, thus increasing the productivity of the marsh area. Tule ancho had one more traditional use: the leaves were employed as temper for pottery, and as medicine for kidney ailments (Sugiura et al., 1998).

Another important hunting tool was the hachón or torch, a lamp that was hung from the canoe or held by hand. This torch made night work easier for hunters, fishers, and gatherers. During fishing activities, the torch was placed on one end of the canoe, while hunters (especially frog hunters) would carry it while walking along the lakeshore, flooded areas, and the borders of the marsh, where frogs used to climb at night for mating. The light of the torch would dazzle the frogs, making it easier to catch them. The hunters would take turns holding the torch during their nocturnal hunting expeditions (Sugiura et al., 1998).

Unlike fishing and hunting activities, gathering was performed by individuals working alone, unless family or friends would convene, in which case each individual kept the materials she or he gathered. It was common for women to participate in gathering activities, sometimes in groups of family members, friends or neighbors, but still each woman retained her own part of the gathered goods.

Gathering Many plant resources were exploited in the past by the people of the marshlands and lakes in the Alto Lerma, including a wide variety of species, which can be divided into two groups: edible plants and those used for weaving (baskets, reed mats, etc.), building (house walls, roofs, among others), as ornamental objects, and for medicinal purposes (Sugiura et al., 1998).

Picking up wild duck eggs was among the many gathering activities documented in the Alto Lerma marshes and lakes, as well as harvesting zacamichi and several aquatic plants, like grass for fodder, and tule. These gathering activities did not require a complex tool assemblage; cutting tule, for instance, required only a sickle or machete (Sugiura et al., 1998). Zacamichi was a species of worm that lived in grasses near the water, while bird eggs (primarily zambullidor, pato real and gallareta) were collected from nests in the tule beds near the lakeshore. Duck eggs were boiled or fried, while the zacamichis were prepared in small cakes that were much appreciated because of their taste, though they could also be roasted on the comal with salt (Viesca et al., 2011).

According to these same authors (1998), aquatic vegetation included several groups (see Table 18), such as emergent plants. These are leafy plants with straight stems that are firmly-rooted in the bottom of the marsh but ‘emerge’ partially from the water surface. Among the edible species in this category is the papa de agua (Sagittaria latifolia), known locally as apacol or apacolli, gallito, the tender root of the tule redondo (Schoenoplectus californicus); zinzácuaro or tender root of tule ancho (Thypa latifolia), jara (Bidens bigelovii), and patoquelite (Rorippa nasturtium-aquaticum). Rushes like tule redondo and tule ancho were eaten on the spot simply by chewing the root or green shoot and spitting out the remains. Both kinds of tule grew near the shoreline and were among the plants destined for manufacturing an endless list of traditional craft products (for a similar example, see the discussion of Lake Pátzcuaro in Chapter II).

During her ethnographic research among the fishers and artisans of the Alto Lerma, Albores (1995) discovered that during the tule harvesting season some tuleros (i.e. tule-workers) would enter the marsh area on their own, usually between five and ten in the morning. They were able to cut one large bundle of tule in about one hour. Tuleros utilized the large canoe or chalupa, the canoita or small canoe, an oar, a garrocha or pole, and a sickle

A second group of aquatic plants were the free-floating hydrophytes, a kind of plant that has no roots in the soil, but floats freely on the water. The most important edible examples are the berro de palmita (Nasturtium sp.), 194

Aquatic Subsistence in Central Mexico

Table 18. Species of aquatic flora gathered in the Alto Lerma Basin, indicating their uses (Albores 1995: Table 4).

Acasuchil Achilillo

x Poligonum acre

x

Aholote Apaclolillo

x Sagitaria macrophyla

x

Apipilote Berro

x Nasturtium officinalae

x

Caña de pollo

x

Cebadilla

x

Cebolla morada Chichamol

x Nympahae elegans

Chivitos Endivia

x x

Cichorum endivia

Jara

Bidens bigelovii

Lentejilla

Lemna minor

Lirio acuático

Nympahae sp.

Mamalacate

Hydrocotyle ranunculoides

Malva

Malva sp.

Mamaxcle

Iresinae calea

x x x x x x x

Navajilla

x

Papa del agua

Sagitaria mexicana

Papalacate

Limnobium stoniferum

x x

Pelillo Romerillo

x Asclepias sp.

Tule ancho

Thypa latifolia

x

Tule bofo

Scirpus americanus

x

Tule esquinado

x

x

x

Tule redondo

x

Verduguillo

x

Yerba apestosa Zacate cortador

Other*

Handicrafts

Ornamental and ritual

Fodder

Building chinampas

Scientific name

Medicinal

Common name

Food

Use

x Cyperus semiochraceus

x

* For instance, in some fishing techniques, or to make adobe bricks.

was dragged home behind the canoe. This task was performed by several tuleros working together during three or four days a week (Albores 1995).

or segadera. Some would go on foot to the lakeshore to obtain tule stalks, carrying back the harvested plants on their own or with the help of a donkey. Tuleros would go into the lake in groups or individually. The groups consisted of five or six people, one of which had a trajinera (large canoe), while the others followed in their small individual canoes. Upon arriving at the cluster of tule plants, each tulero proceeded on his own, cutting down as many brazadas (armfuls, or bundles) of tule stalks as possible. After cutting, bundles of stalks were tied and then all the bundles (called rollos) were gathered in one spot so that the men could return the following day to tie them together in a line that could be up to 20 or 30 bundles long (Figure 217) and

Among the non-edible aquatic products in the lake and marsh area, tule ancho and tule redondo were exploited systematically, and there was a degree of specialization in this task not just among men, but also among whole communities. Other resources, such as césped (an herb or grass-like plant of the Poaceae family) and zacatón (a brush-like plant used to make broomsticks and other items), were exploited to a lesser extent. When someone wanted to enter a tular (tule clump) belonging to another person, not only did they have to ask 195

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica

Figure 217. After cutting down the tule stalks, a long line of tule bundles were pulled to shore by canoe (after Sugiura et al., 1998: Figure 25).

permission, but also pay a fee to the owner, or the local authorities, in order to compensate for the workday or the amount of tule taken. It was also possible to pay rent on a weekly or monthly basis, or for the entire harvest season.

of oyamel wood to make fences or walls for houses. This kind of tule abounded in the marshlands, and was durable, strong, and economical. Tule bofo was used together with wood slats and zacatón to make house roofs, while zacatón was employed in weaving pochones, a kind of cape that fishers used as raincoats, and that could last for several years (Sugiura et al., 1998).

Harvesting tule and the associated activities, whether performed by a group or a single person, were specialized tasks because they required precise knowledge about the characteristics of the plants, the places where they were available, the right time of year to extract them, and the transportation and preparation of the harvested plants. Tuleros would alternate cutting tule with other activities, including agriculture or other tasks in the aquatic environment; hence, it was not unusual for the same person to be a fisher, hunter, and tulero all at the same time, or for a tulero to fish on occasion in the lakes and marshes of the region.

In the past, men, women and children made numerous objects out of tule, mainly petates, the most ubiquitous product manufactured with tule redondo (Figure 218). These reed mats were made using different styles of weaving. They were usually square or rectangular but size varied. The tools used in petate manufacture were a stone called piedra bola or tebola, similar to the one reported for Lakes Pátzcuaro and Cuitzeo in Michoacán (see Chapter II). In the case of the Alto Lerma, this stone (ca. 15 cm long by 10 cm wide and 5 cm thick) was procured from outside the area of marshes and the lake. The base of the stone was flat, and was used to flatten the woven tule stalks. In addition to this stone, tuleros used a cutting tool such as a knife, sickle, or machete. The last item reported by Sugiura et al. (1998) as part of the tulero assemblage is a small drum-like seat made of tule, which was used by men exclusively.

Around the 1940s, tule ancho was sold widely in places like Xochimilco, where it was used to tie the bundles of vegetables and flowers grown in the chinampas. Tule was also taken to other towns in the Valley of Mexico, like Mixquic or Tlahuac. This is no longer the case, however, because tule has become rare and the old tuleros are engaged in other activities (Sugiura et al., 1998).

Weaving a large petate (ca. 2 x 2 m) took some eight hours of almost continuous work. This could be done at any time during the day, sometimes starting as early as three or four in the morning. The tulero’s work area was a flat surface, usually inside the house or another roofed space to avoid wind drafts that could dry up the tule stalks while weaving the mat. Other utilitarian products made of tule included a fan, called aventador

Manufacture Tule redondo, tule bofo and zacatón had many uses, and could be utilized without any previous preparation. Tule redondo was intertwined over a structure made 196

Aquatic Subsistence in Central Mexico

et al., 1998). In addition to the items mentioned above, there were other tule products in the Alto Lerma region that belonged to the Mesoamerican tradition, such as pieces of furniture like the chairs called equipales, a word derived from icpalli in Nahuatl. According to Sugiura et al. (1998), tule ancho was less widely used than tule redondo, but was not ignored. Tule ancho, for instance, was used to make seats similar to the ones illustrated in the Florentine Codex (Figure 219). This codex has many examples of chairs, benches, and stools made of tule, suggesting that these pieces Figure 218. Tule workers would use their hands and feet to weave a petate or reed mat. of furniture were common in Aztec Petates were among the most ubiquitous items in the Mesoamerican household homes. The icpalli, however, was (after Sugiura et al., 1998: Figure 29). reserved for the high-status members of Aztec society, such as lords or rulers. or soplador in Spanish, which was used to stoke the In the Toluca Valley, tule ancho was used to weave chair flames of the kitchen fire. This object consisted of seats because it was soft, easy to handle, long, resistant, two parts: a square and a handle (see Figure 21 for and abundant in the marsh areas. Weaving a chair or an example from Michoacán). The square was woven chair seat was specialized work, performed by people first, measuring some 25 by 20 cm. Weaving a fan was known in the region as silleteros. not as complicated as making a large mat, for obvious reasons. In fact, even young girls could do the work. The price structure of handicrafts has not received As many as one or two dozen fans could be made in much attention from scholars, but in the case of tule one day, depending on the skill of the weaver (Sugiura mats, for instance, Sugiura et al. (1998) tell us that prices fluctuated according to the complexity of the woven patterns, the size of the mat, and the distance travelled by the artisan or merchant who was selling the item. Payment could be made in cash, but exchange was also an option in several areas. In Texcoco, for example, petates were traded for pulque, turkeys, and goats. It is still common for petates and other handicrafts made of tule to be exchanged for such goods as fruit, firewood, soap, sugar, or cinnamon.

Figure 219. The icpalli (a seat made of tule), was reserved for noble people and members of the elite. (after Florentine Codex Sahagún 2012b: Figures 68 and 76).

197

One final item to be discussed here is a wooden object called aguja (needle), which was used to weave fishnets and chinchorros for hunting birds (Figure 220). It is similar to the aguja plana described earlier for the Lake Pátzcuaro region (see Chapter II, Figures 37 and 38). The aguja was used with a wooden spindle and a ceramic whorl. From pre-Hispanic times into the 19th century, fishnets were made with ixtle fiber obtained from the maguey plant, as mentioned in Chapter II for Lake Pátzcuaro.

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica (Correa-Ascencio et al., 2014; see discussion in Chapter II). Another aspect of life in the marshes and lakes of the region was water transport of people and goods, which was especially important for the economy and for social contacts from pre-Hispanic times until the last century. This activity included a whole technological system involved in the manufacture of canoes and numerous other items of material culture, like oars, ropes, and so on (Albores 1995). When speaking about food, Albores states that until the desiccation of the marshes Figure 220. This wooden artifact, called aguja, was used to make fishnets with and lakes, the diet of the local people maguey thread (after Sugiura et al., 1998: Figure 12). was characterized by aquatic products throughout the year, including fish (carpa, juil, pescado blanco, mojarra, charal, ‘salmón’), Archaeological Markers salamander (ajolote), frogs, acocil, and clams, among many other species. Waterfowl were eaten year-round, We saw in Chapter II that ‘archaeological markers’ are with an increase during the fall and winter months those artifacts and features in systemic or ethnographic when many migratory birds arrived from the north of context that help us in the hypothetical reconstruction the American continent, as discussed above. Likewise, of pre-Hispanic assemblages of material culture by the daily menu included many aquatic plants, as we means of analogy (see discussion in Williams 2014a: saw earlier for several aquatic environments. Medicinal Chapter V). In her ethnographic account of material plants were also important, and even marsh mud was culture among the fishers and other specialists in the used for curative purposes; for example, to treat burns. Alto Lerma, Albores (1995) stated that the influence The last item mentioned by Albores is a cape made of of the aquatic environment could be seen in several tule redondo which was used as a raincoat. aspects of daily life in the area. Albores first mentions the houses, pointing out that at the start of the 20th In light of the predominant role of aquatic products in century houses were still constructed with materials the local culture that permeated all aspects of life, one found in the surrounding marshes and lakes. The walls, could expect that a broad archaeological assemblage for example, were made with a grass called shumalillo would account for all activities, primarily fishing, mixed with mud to produce a kind of adobe. Albores hunting, gathering, and manufacture, from prealso mentions small houses made of tule redondo with Hispanic times to the present. In the following pages roofs of tule ancho or palm fronds. I discuss briefly the most relevant features of material culture, including a range of artifacts involved in Regarding house furnishings, Albores mentions petates subsistence in the aquatic landscapes of the Alto Lerma. for sleeping and seating, and others for different tasks, such as husking corn, preparing nixtamal (maize grains Two items that deserve special mention among the mixed with water and lime, used to make dough for archaeological assemblage are clay spheres and fishnet tortillas, tamales, and other foods), and making tortillas. weights (Sugiura and Silis 2009). The former are small Domestic furniture included small seats made of tule clay balls that may have been used as blowgun projectiles redondo. As for maize grinding, we know, of course, that to hunt small animals like birds, though their use may the metate was used for this purpose. Plant processing not have been restricted to killing small animals. In can be verified in archaeological contexts by microthe Maya area, for instance, blowguns were used to wear analysis of the grindstones (Adams 2017), and the hunt larger prey, like deer and felines. In fact, hunting plant species that were processed can be ascertained with blowguns was recorded in many ethnohistorical by analyzing phytoliths or other remains (Manzanilla and ethnographic accounts in Mesoamerica and South 2009; Schriever 2010). In addition, nixtamal preparation America (Ventura 2003). As for pre-Hispanic fishnet required a pottery vessel called nixcomil that could also weights, two types have been identified in the Alto retain chemical traces of maize. Similar trace-analysis Lerma: one is known locally as corazón (heart) because of studies with pots used for pulque elaboration have been its shape, with an overall frequency of 550 items, most conducted successfully elsewhere in Mesoamerica, of them made by working potsherds, including a large combining ethnoarchaeology with chemical studies 198

Aquatic Subsistence in Central Mexico

amount of Thin Orange ware. Other kinds of fishnet weights found in archaeological excavations were manufactured ex profeso for that function in a variety of shapes: pear, spherical, and anthropomorphic, among others. The size of these items ranges from 2.07 to 3.22 cm, and their weight from 2.30 to 24.5 g (Sugiura and Silis 2009).

Today, the Alto Lerma Basin, like the Basin of Mexico and many other aquatic areas of Mesoamerica, has been utterly transformed by capitalist agriculture and the explosive growth of nearby cities and towns, so the aquatic adaptations we have discussed here are but a remembrance of the pre-Hispanic past. But they are also a lesson about an alternative strategy of ecological adaptation, and an extraordinary example of human ingenuity and coexistence with the natural environment.

Years after the ethnographic research by Albores (1995), Sugiura et al. (1998), and García and Aguirre (1994), the ancient site of Santa Cruz Atizapán was excavated by Raúl Valadez and Bernardo Rodríguez (2009). The archaeological markers discovered during their excavations offer a glimpse into the aquatic lifeway and aquatic adaptations of the people who lived in the marshes and lakes of the Alto Lerma in ancient times. Among these items is an awl made out of the metatarsal bone of a wolf (Canis lupus), and a fragment of deer antler (Odocoileus virginianus) modified to be used as a tool, perhaps for making fishnets or similar artifacts. These two animals seem to have been exploited quite extensively at this ancient site, for food (deer), pelts (wolves), and for making artifacts out of their skeletons (Valadez and Rodriguez 2009: Figures 6 and 9b). Deer were the animals most widely exploited for tool-making, but others are also associated with this activity, including the wolf, dog, peccary, and turkey. Although the bone tool industry may have been geared toward local in-site consumption, it is also possible that bone tools were exchanged with other sites inside the region or beyond (Valadez and Rodriguez 2009).

Final Remarks As we have seen throughout this book, ethnographic and ethnohistorical research is important for understanding the techniques currently used in fishing, hunting, gathering, manufacture, and other activities that are indispensable for adapting to an aquatic environment, as well as their possible role in interpreting the archaeological record through ethnographic analogy (Sugiura et al. 1998). Ethnohistorical sources shed light on the natural resources exploited and the amounts that were paid as tribute in the 16th century and, by extension, the late pre-Hispanic period. One of the findings of this research is that households can engage simultaneously in fishing activities, agriculture, and craft production, without being involved in full-time specialization in any one area. According to Hirth (2009b:13), most craft production in ancient Mesoamerica took place in domestic contexts, yet current concepts of full- and part-time specialization do little to further our understanding of the function and structure of domestic craft production of this kind. The ethnoarchaeological study of the subsistence strategies employed by households, and of how craft production is integrated into the domestic economy, allows us to formulate analogies in order to understand the economic activities that took place in pre-Hispanic households.

Numerous obsidian tools were excavated at the Santa Cruz Atizapán site, including prismatic blades, projectile points, awls, perforators, scrapers, knives, and several objects with different shapes classified as ‘eccentrics’ (Kabata 2009: Figure 5). Undoubtedly, all these artifacts were associated with subsistence activities within the aquatic lifeway, like fishing, hunting, gathering, and manufacture.

Ethnoarchaeological studies such as the present one are primarily interested in the analysis of material culture in systemic context; that is, in the elements and features that participate in a behavioral system (Schiffer 1995:26), and in the creation, use, and discarding of the material culture under analysis. The ethnographic and ethnohistorical data discussed herein, together with ethnoarchaeological research conducted in other aquatic environments in Mesoamerica, can be helpful in reconstructing an ancient aquatic lifeway and its cultural adaptations, as we see in this book.

The most significant watershed event in the history of Mesoamerica was, without doubt, the Spanish Conquest in the 16th century. The worldview that the Spanish sought to impose on their recently-conquered dominions in the New World had no place for an aquatic lifeway that was foreign to their experience and held no interest for them. This explains the major transformations to the native landscape brought about by the Spaniards, primarily the desiccation of lakes and marshes. This process was linked to the introduction of cattle and other animals, like sheep and goats, by the new European settlers (Melville 1994), which was nothing less than an ‘ecological imperialism’ that profoundly transformed several regions of the New World into copies of European ecosystems (Alves 1995).

Archaeological sites like fishing camps (located on or near ancient lake shores) would probably contain such artifacts as fishnet sinkers (made of modified stones or potsherds), fishhooks (made of bone, shell, 199

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica or copper), stone projectile points (made of obsidian, chert, or other available stone), and atlatl rings (made of shell). Temporary hunting and fishing camps would likely also consist of shelters (for example, rocks used as foundations for windbreaks, small huts, or other semi-permanent constructions), burnt stones linked to cooking, food remains (bones, shells, etcetera), as well as a few potsherds, among various other items. ‘Offsite’ activities, such as tule-cutting, would probably be characterized by few implements other than obsidian and chert blades, knives, and saw-like cutting tools. Finally, activity areas inside permanent settlements would likely include tools used in basket- and matmaking; for example, cutting tools, bone awls, modified deer antlers, stone scrapers, bone or shell needles, and stone anvils and hammers.

the other to the Indians. The first one is in Spanish, and even if only this version had survived the passage of time, we would have a lasting manuscript of beauty and scientific value with no equal in the history of American culture’ (p. 4). Garibay (1975) thought that ‘the genius of the friar was ahead of his time, as he conducted a direct inquiry into the intricacies of Aztec culture. Sahagún instructed the old Indians he used as informants to dictate and share information, while the young Aztec boys –already exposed to Western culture– recorded the oral information, thus preserving it in their own tongue (i.e. Nahuatl), exactly as they received it from the mouth of the older informants’ (p. 4). Fortunately, as Garibay points out, ‘we have both documents –Spanish and Nahuatl– in the Florentine Codex, as the whole book is presented in two columns: in one Sahagún translated, drew upon, and revised the text. The second column preserves the Nahuatl text pertaining to all the original documents gathered by Sahagún’ (p. 4).

The importance and uniqueness of the Mesoamerican aquatic lifeway has been noted by Parsons (2006) in the following words: ‘The exploitation of a full range of extraordinarily productive aquatic resources… was comprehensive, specialized, and established on the basis of an impressive level of technological expertise and a thorough understanding of the specific qualities of many different plants and animals’ (p. 330). The intense level of aquatic resource utilization in Mesoamerica ‘was unparalleled in complex societies in other parts of the ancient world where aquatic resources, while often important, tended to be much more secondary and supplementary relative to agriculture and pastoralism. Across the lakes and marshlands of highland central Mesoamerica where pre-Hispanic pastoralism did not exist, aquatic resources were primary and complementary’ (p. 331). Parsons also holds that ‘places of productive and predictable fishing, reed collecting, and perhaps algaeand insect collecting were often closely controlled by individuals or by specific local communities. There are good indications that the productive potential of such aquatic territories equaled that of agricultural lands in terms of energy and nutrition’ (p. 331). Parsons ends by stating that ‘aquatic resources were often procured and processed by specialists… who exchanged their aquatic products through markets and other forms of redistribution’ (p. 331).

Luis Nicolau D’Olwer and Howard F. Cline (1973) tell us that ‘Sahagún learned of the greatness, beauty, and splendor of Aztec culture… Sahagún appreciated the value of native culture. He also realized the difficult task ahead of replacing, in the hearts of such people, the gods in whose honor they had erected such impressive buildings’ (p. 186). Sahagún, however, ‘was not satisfied with a superficial evangelizing… He wanted a true conversion. This could be achieved only through the profound understanding of Indian personality, reflected in native traditions and language’ (p. 187). According to D’Olwer and Cline, ‘the activities of Sahagún in New Spain were varied, intense, and fruitful: missionary activity… [and] pedagogic work in the school for sons of Indian nobility at Santa Cruz de Tlatelolco (1536-1540)’ (p. 187). Sahagún was a true ‘master without peer of the Nahuatl language… [He became] submerged in Tlatelolco, where pre-Conquest native environment was better conserved than in… Mexico City. Sahagún became interested in the Indians not only as potential converts but equally as bearers of a high culture and rich historical past. He believed that Mexican antiquities should be preserved in their own language’ (p. 187). Sahagún left us a copious body of work, of which two volumes in particular were indispensable for my discussion of Aztec nature and culture around the topic of that society’s adaptation to its watery environment. These volumes are books 10 and 11 of the Florentine Codex. Book 10 (Sahagún 2012b) deals with the Aztec people, discussing all aspects of their culture, as well as their social and natural environment.

Chapter IV began with a discussion of the natural resources and pre-Hispanic subsistence strategies in the Basin of Mexico, from the earliest times up to the Spanish invasion. We saw in previous pages that the best description of the aquatic resources at the disposal of the Aztecs in the 16th century was written by the Spanish friar Bernardino de Sahagún. Angel María Garibay (1975) made a thorough study of Sahagún’s Florentine Codex in which he concluded that this multivolume work actually contains ‘two parallel works in mutual harmony. One belongs to the Franciscan friar,

The subject of the Aztec aquatic lifeway is thoroughly covered in Book 11 of the Florentine Codex. Here 200

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Sahagún (2012a) recorded, directly from the mouths of his native informants, many different aspects of the natural history of the Basin of Mexico. Book 11 tells ‘of the different animals, the birds, the fishes; and the trees and the herbs…’ Sahagún’s work in this book has been compared to that of Pliny the Elder in his Natural History. He undoubtedly knew Pliny’s book, since it was in the library of the Colegio de Santa Cruz de Tlatelolco, where Sahagún spent part of his life (Garibay 1975:9). But Sahagún’s opus magna is perhaps more closely comparable to the great works of the Renaissance, of which it is a remarkable example. The topics covered in his works are too numerous to mention here, as they range from discussing ‘the four-footed animals’ to different birds including parrots, waterfowl, birds of prey, turkeys, and ‘all the animals which dwell in the water’ (Chapter III). Many kinds of plants are discussed in other chapters, including aquatic species, trees, herbs, and other medicinal plants, etcetera. Insects did not escape the friar’s attention, and they appear with all their different attributes: some poisonous, some edible, others with medicinal properties.

we strongly suspect that… similar large-scale drainage had also transformed much of the swampy eastern shoreland of Lake Texcoco into productive agricultural land’ (p. 98). No less important for our understanding of Aztec subsistence is the work of Sanders (1976), primarily his long-term study of the agricultural history of the Basin of Mexico, following the lead of Armillas, Palerm, Wolf, and others. Sanders (1976:133) refers to chinampas as ‘the most staggering and impressive drainage project’ of all the forms of intensive agriculture known in Mesoamerica. He describes the system of chinampa cultivation as ‘probably the most intensive and productive kind of agriculture practiced in the New World in pre-Hispanic times. The main characteristic of the system… includes the construction of artificial islands within freshwater lakes. These islands are built of alternate layers of mud scooped from the lake bottom and vegetation collected from the surface’ (p. 133). After the island emerges a few inches above the lake surface, huejote trees (a species of willow, Salix bonplandiana) were ‘planted along the edge to retain the soil. The islands are usually in the form of long, narrow rectangles which facilitate bucket irrigation and natural inward seepage of water from the lake. The soil is very rich in organic matter, porous, very dark in color, and land use is extraordinarily intensive; no chinampas are rested for more than three to four months of the year’ (p. 133). All soil preparation was performed using only hand tools. Fertilizers such as fresh mud and floating vegetation were added to the chinampa periodically so farmers could maintain that demanding cycle of continuous cultivation (p. 134).

Last but not least, the men and women who gained their livelihood in the water of the lakes –the atlaca, or ‘water folk’– are portrayed while performing a whole range of activities: fishing, hunting waterfowl with spears and nets, and gathering aquatic plants, insects, insect eggs and algae. One can only marvel at the high quality of the art that illustrates Sahagún’s works, as it presents a vivid and sometimes moving portrayal of everyday Aztec life. We saw in this chapter that the aquatic adaptations included, in addition to the aquatic lifeway, complex systems of food production such as chinampa agriculture in the shallow parts of the lakes and marshes of the Basin of Mexico.

Sanders pointed out that ‘an added advantage of this system is that produce could be loaded from chinampas into canoes and poled directly to the urban markets along the lakeshores or in towns within the lake, such as Aztec Tenochtitlan and colonial Mexico City’ (p. 134). Chinampas were so effective that, according to Sanders, ‘the growth of urban centers in and on the lakes in the Aztec period was, in part, correlated with the evolution of this system of agriculture’ (p. 134).

In his discussion of the settlement patterns and population history of the Basin, Parsons (1993) discusses the city of Tenochtitlan and its neighbor Tlatelolco, which during the Late Horizon (or Late Postclassic, ca. 1325-1521) formed ‘the major population cluster’ in the basin, and were surrounded by a ‘vast complex of smaller towns and villages on the… lakeshore’ (p. 98). According to Parsons, population estimates based on documentary sources ‘suggest a total population in this area of approximately 300,000 people’ (p. 98), an extremely high figure for any population of the preindustrial world. One may wonder how the Aztec state managed to feed its sprawling cities. We find an answer to this question in Parsons’ account of his survey of the lake basin: ‘During the Late Horizon rural occupation expanded at a phenomenal rate… much of the Chalco-Xochimilco lakebed [was] transformed into chinampa plots with sophisticated hydraulic controls…

The Aztecs had many farming systems at their disposal: permanent irrigation on alluvial plains and piedmont, floodwater irrigation, terraces, seasonal cultivation on alluvial plains, and chinampas, among others, but the chinampas were by far the most productive, as their average productivity was more than double that of most other systems (Sanders 1976: Table 9). One would expect that such a productive and ecologicallyfriendly system as chinampa agriculture would survive and even thrive in an era when food production is one of the greatest challenges faced by society. Alas, that 201

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica has not been the case. Although the chinampas are recognized in Mexico as a culturally significant asset, and the part of Lake Xochimilco where they still stand has been declared a UNESCO world heritage center (Peralta 2011), the truth is that the lake itself is vanishing and the water that remains is highly-contaminated. According to Victoria Burnett (2017), in addition to pollution, there is a ‘simmering conflict over nearby wells, which suck water from Xochimilco’s soil and pump it to other parts of Mexico City’. She also mentions ‘a process of

decline, caused by pollution, urban encroachment and subsidence, that residents and experts fear may destroy the canals in a matter of years’. What we have seen in this chapter is a shining example of cultural adaptation to an aquatic environment in which all aspects of life, culture, and cosmovision were intertwined with a watery landscape. One can only stand in awe of this remarkable achievement of one of the major civilizations of the ancient world.

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Chapter V

Aquatic Subsistence in the Maya Area The land where the Maya people lived before the arrival of the Spanish invaders (and continue to live) can be divided, grosso modo, into two geographic settings, the highlands and the lowlands. These regions differ in their geology, the native fauna and flora, and the cultural traits of their inhabitants. The highlands are over 305 m above sea level, and are dominated by a great mountain range consisting of both active and extinct volcanoes, some over 3,960 m high (Coe 1984). There are a few valleys and several lakes, such as Atitlán and Amatitlán. In terms of cultural divisions in pre-Hispanic times, Coe distinguishes three great sub-areas: Southern, Central, and Northern (Figure 221).

few permanent rivers and lakes (Figure 222). In fact, in some areas the scarcity of surface water can be a problem, though fauna is abundant, including species like peccary and deer (Coe 1984). In swampy areas of the lowlands, the ancient Maya created extensive systems of raised agricultural fields similar to the Aztec chinampas. These farming areas were highlyproductive and the artificial aquatic environments created by the farmers had the additional advantage of providing habitats for fish, reptiles, turtles, mollusks, and aquatic birds (Coe 1984).

The northern lowlands stand in stark contrast to the setting described above. The Petén region and the Yucatán Peninsula consist of limestone sediments with

There were many rivers in the highlands of Guatemala that were inhabited by alligators (Cocodrylus astutus), a species highly-prized by the indigenous population, especially newborns, which were eaten with salt (Fuentes y Guzmán 1936, cited by Feldman 1985:38). The techniques recorded for hunting this dangerous reptile include a stick with sharp points on both ends and a groove in the middle. When an alligator approached a dog used as bait, the hunter would throw the stick into its mouth and then pull the gator out of the water to kill it. Another technique consisted of submerging under an alligator and inserting fishhooks into its legs. This allowed men to drag it out onto the shore and kill it. Roasted alligator meat was an important trade good in markets in the Guatemalan foothills, that sometimes reached the highlands. Another common prey was the tapir (Tapirus bairdii), which was caught using a pit trap (Feldman 1985:38).

The Maya Highlands

Figure 221. The land of the Maya can be divided into two geographic settings, the highlands in the south and the lowlands in the center and north. In terms of Maya culture, the territory is divided into Southern, Central, and Northern Areas (adapted from Coe 1984: Figure 32).

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The lakes of the Maya highlands offered a habitat for many species of aquatic birds, which were hunted by the people of the surrounding towns, especially during the season when migratory birds arrived (Feldman 1985:39). Lake Atitlán and several rivers in the region, like the Polochic, Motagua, Michatoya, and others in the Pacific watershed, have their own varieties of fauna, so there is great economic potential. The Michatoya river system drains into Lake Amatitlán, one of the most important lakes in the

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica

Figure 222. Map of the Maya area indicating the major archaeological sites, rivers, and modern political boundaries (adapted from Hammond 1982: Figure 4.6).

region. The shallow lakeshore has extensive areas covered by aquatic plants, where many species of fish are found. This lake also has great numbers of a mollusk known as jute (Pachychilus glaphyrus), which is very popular among local people, and can still be found in the markets of Guatemala City. Several crustaceans are known here, including a large shrimp (Bithynis jamaicensis) and a crab (Potamocarcinus guatemalensis). The shrimp is caught between April and June, while the crab appears between February and April. Fish,

especially cichlids, abound, though they are small in size. Before the 17th century, people from Amatitlán and Petapa developed a brisk trade in aquatic products. In Lake Atitlán there was extensive exploitation of the aforementioned crab, and of a fish called olomina (Poedilia sphenops), going back to the 16th century. Crabs and fish –conserved in brine– were sent to towns in the nearby foothills, where they were exchanged for all sorts of products throughout the year (Feldman 1985:46-47). 204

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People in the towns on the Pacific coast obtained their food from fishing, which in the early 16th century took place primarily in rivers, though swamps and coastal estuaries were also exploited. Fish from the Motagua River were the most widely-sought. At present, the Chorti people from Jocotán still catch catfish, cuyamel (bobo mullet, Joturus pichardi), crabs, eels, hute, tepemechin (mountain mullet, Dajaus monticola), and shrimp.

reeds and laid them out to dry for three or four days, before storing them on top of house roofs until needed. The mat-maker (called banal pop in the local Pokom language) cut each stem lengthwise with a bone knife to produce three strips, which he then placed on a flat stone to pare them down. The same banal pop would make the walls of the temples, woven containers for the feathers used in dances, large petates, and painted mats that were reserved for special occasions. Tuleweaving was always a male activity, and old documents (including dictionaries) show that this craft had greater prestige than others, such as basket-weaving (Feldman 1985:54-56). During the colonial period (ca. 1550-1821), many towns in the Guatemalan highlands specialized in the manufacture of woven objects, including 22 mat-makers, three basket-makers, and 11 producers of maguey fiber (Feldman 1985: Table 11).

In Chicoj Lake, near San Cristobal Verapaz, a small shrimp species called koxm is found in swampy areas. The rivers in this region had catfish, and the manatee inhabited the river’s lower reaches, as well as Lake Izabal. In the ‘hot lands’ within the Polochic River Basin, many kinds of fish, turtles and manatees were still abundant in the 17th century (Feldman 1985:47). During the 16th century, fishing at Lake Amatitlán was a well-established industry; in fact, fishers enjoyed a special status recognized by the colonial authorities, who excused them from having to labor in public works. Around 1640 in Petapa, several members of the indigenous community were given the responsibility of fishing to supply the city. Pokom-speakers preferred fishing with hooks but harpoons were used as well. The city of La Antigua was the center of an extensive fishing industry during the colonial period, as traders imported fish and crustaceans from Lake Amatitlán, as well as eels from the Motagua River (Feldman 1985:49).

Lake Atitlán’s water level has fluctuated considerably in recent centuries. Because of the lake’s rising water level, one of the most important archaeological sites, called Samabaj, is now under some 15 m of water. This site is crucial for understanding the aquatic lifeway in preHispanic times. The mode of production in this settlement and its surrounding area has been characterized as a ‘chiefdom-level aquatic society’ (Benitez 2003). The lakeside aquatic resources were exploited in the context of an economy that relied on fish, crabs, reeds, shells, and related resources. But land was also of paramount importance, ‘since it was used as a means of production to satisfy the needs of society’ (p. 871).

During the dry season (from December to May) the water level is low in the lakes and rivers of the central and eastern parts of Guatemala, so fishers have to use techniques like putting poison in the water, as well as dams and seine nets. During the rainy season, traps and nets are used for fishing. The traps are made with reeds and shaped like baskets. They are light, so they can be easily taken from one river to another. Two types of net are used as well, a small one that is thrown by a single person, and a large one, similar to a chinchorro, that is used in large lakes and rivers. The use of dams for fishing was well-known by Pokom-speakers who lived near Lake Amatitlán, as they would place reeds in streams to reduce the current, allowing them to catch fish by hand (Feldman 1985:48).

The Maya Lowlands There are relatively few examples of the aquatic lifeway in the Maya area outside of the Guatemala highlands. Among the known cases is the ancient site of Laguna de On, located by the partially-salty lake of the same name in the northern Maya lowlands, in what is today eastern Belize. Marilyn Masson’s (1999) archaeological fieldwork at this site suggests that animal resources were used differentially by local people, according to distinct social and functional contexts throughout the site. The remains of larger animals and some minor species were associated with high-status or ceremonial residential contexts and, apparently, were processed for feasts during redistributive activities, or in ceremonial contexts (p. 93).

In the municipality of Rabinal (department of Baja Verapaz, in central-western Guatemala), frogs were hunted at night by torch-light. They were caught on the margins of rivers and put inside bags made of ropes, after their legs were broken to prevent them from escaping.

By comparing the frequencies of animal taxa and the skeletal elements found in distinct contexts, Masson was able to evaluate the role of large animal species and other, smaller, animals as ‘high-status goods’, and determine the extent to which they were reserved for members of the elite and ritual use. The members of the higher social class probably had better nutrition thanks to their access to meat. This idea is supported by ethnohistorical and ethnographic information;

There were many economic activities in the Guatemalan highlands that revolved around textile production, including cotton and maguey fiber. Weaving reed mats –petates, called pop in Maya– was also important, and there were specialists in many towns who cut the 205

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica for example Fray Diego de Landa (1982) mentions in several instances that animals were sacrificed in ritual contexts, and were served in feasts. Likewise, Maya codices, such as the Dresden and Madrid, show this same cultural practice (Masson 1999:94-95).

forest of the Petén, Guatemala (Figures 223a and 223b). A large fresh-water mollusk called Pomacea flagellata was part of the ancient diet at Tikal, as suggested by the widespread distribution of Pomacea shells in archaeological contexts that span the site’s entire occupation sequence of 1,500 years, from the Formative to the Classic periods. Although this mollusk was just a complement to the diet, it may well have been important in times when other resources were scarce (Moholy-Nagy 1978:65).

Two patterns of fauna utilization are described for Laguna de On. First, large animals like tapir, peccary, deer, and crocodile appear to have been preferred for ritual practices, together with birds, iguanas, and agouti (Dasyprocta punctata). Consumption of these animals could have been controlled by the elite, who may have regulated their processing and redistribution. Access to smaller animals (e.g. small mammals, fish, and turtles, among others) seems to have been less closely-controlled, since they were found in comparable amounts in all areas of the archaeological site. Aquatic resources, especially turtles and fish, were more evenly-distributed in all the locations surveyed, so they may have been fundamental components of the local diet. In conclusion, Masson’s study seems to indicate that the manipulation of animal resources likely had an important role in the integration of Maya communities in the Postclassic period. This would have been achieved through ritual feasts that constituted a significant political activity among the Maya and other cultures from the origins of complex societies in Mesoamerica (Masson 1999:106-115).

According to Hattula Moholy-Nagy (1978), there was an association among Pomacea, crocodiles, and turtles that may have constituted a frequent trait. The turtles identified at Tikal belong to the Dermatemys mawii species, which lives in clear-water streams and lakes, while crocodiles

Ritual feasts, banquets and other social gatherings among the Maya were ideal occasions for eating many elaborate dishes and imbibing alcoholic beverages, like balché. Before the introduction of sugar cane in the Maya lowlands this drink was made from fermented honey and the bark of the hach balche tree (Lonchocarpus longistylus). Before the honey-producing European bee (Apis mellifera) was introduced into the New World by the first Spanish settlers, the Maya obtained honey from native stingless bee species (Melipona beecheii and Trigona spp.). Maya hunters who went into the forest and found a beehive pertaining to one of these species would extract the honey, while in Yucatán and the Lacandon region –and likely other areas as well– hollow tree trunks or pear-shaped gourds were used to raise these insects and harvest their honey (Nations 2006:84). Returning to the main subject of this chapter, we see that aquatic food resources were important for the livelihood of the people at Tikal, one of the greatest sites of the Maya Classic period, located in the rain

Figure 223. Aquatic resources were important for the livelihood of the Maya people, as is reflected in the art from Tikal, Guatemala (adapted from Coe 1977: pp. 11, 9).

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Figure 224. Mural painting of a fish at Tulum, Quintana Roo, Mexico (adapted from Lombardo 1987: Figure 239).

Figure 226. Mural painting of a snake with aquatic motifs at Tulum, Quintana Roo, Mexico (adapted from Lombardo 1987: Figure 242).

A traditional viewpoint holds that maize was the sole cornerstone of pre-Hispanic Maya nutrition, but this may not be totally accurate. Frederick Lange (1971) proposed the existence of a symbiotic Yucatec region with a highly-developed exploitation of maritime and terrestrial resources, rather than the dominant role of a single grain; in this case, maize (p. 619). Because the Yucatán Peninsula is composed of limestone deposits with few bodies of water on the surface, opportunities for developing an aquatic lifeway were limited, in comparison to other parts of Mesoamerica. However, we know that many aquatic resources did exist in antiquity. Cenotes or sinkholes, as well as the vast coastal areas, provided a great variety of fish (Figure 224), frogs (Figure 225), and other forms of aquatic life (Figure 226). Several sources from the 16th century, such as the aforementioned Bishop Diego de Landa (1982), describe an abundance of crabs in the coastal lagoons of Yucatán, as well as great concentrations

Figure 225. Mural painting of a frog with greenstone decorations and water motifs at Tulum, Quintana Roo, Mexico (adapted from Lombardo 1987: Figure 301).

may have preferred rivers or lakes. The importance of this complex of species is that all its elements are edible. The large numbers of Pomacea shells found at this Lowland Maya site, as well as their appearance in a single cluster without modifications, suggests that their primary role was as food. Even today the people of Lake Petén like to eat Pomacea, known locally as jute, in a soup. We can assume that the protein obtained by ingesting this mollusk may have been a critical component of the diet, which consisted primarily of plants in pre-Hispanic times (Moholy-Nagy 1978:69-70). 207

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Figure 227. (a) Crocodile with plants sprouting from its body (probably symbols of fertility), sculpted on a stela from the Formative site of Izapa, Chiapas (adapted from Norman 1973: Figure 41); (b) Maya vase with the figure of an anthropomorphic crocodile from the coast of Campeche (after Ruz 1969: Figure 43).

of oysters in the headwaters of the Champotón River. Likewise, Lange (1971) reports that fish were so abundant on the coast that the indigenous people did not have to fish in the lagoons.

crocodile (Crocodylus acutus) lives in south Florida, on the coasts of Mexico and Central America, and in northern South America. Its primary habitats are river mouths and mangrove swamps. The second species, known as Morelet’s crocodile (Crocodylus moreletti), is endemic in the Maya tropical forest and particularly abundant in Tabasco, the southern Yucatán Peninsula, the Lacandon jungle of Chiapas, the Petén, and throughout Belize, primarily in inland aquatic environments such as lakes, swamps, and slow-flowing rivers. This reptile spends most of its life in the water (Nations 2006:74-75).

However, there were some aquatic species (and many others that used to live near water) in the tropical lowland forests of the Maya area (Nations 2006). The tapir, for instance, is the largest land mammal of Central America, with an average weight of 150- 300 kg. Tapirs spend most of their time looking for food in the rainforest, resting at night and part of the day in shallow ponds. The otter (Lutra longicaudis) lives in rivers, streams and lakes, and they are hunted primarily for their pelt (Nations 2006:58.65).

The Maya area also has an abundance of turtle species, most of which have been important for human subsistence since at least the Formative period, as evidenced by turtle shells and bones found in archaeological excavations. According to Nations (2006), turtle bones were the most abundant remains of

There are 23 known species of crocodile (members of the Crocodyliae family) worldwide, two of which live in the Maya rainforest (Figure 227). The American 208

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fauna in the excavations of Tikal’s city center. Likewise, images of turtles appear on Maya codices (Figure 228), while musical instruments such as rattles made of turtle carapaces had an important role in rituals in the Maya lowlands (pp. 76-77). The common snapping turtle (Chelydra serpentina), known locally as tortuga cocodrilo or zambundango, is a native species of the Maya rainforests that can weigh up to 15 kg. It lives in the water, especially oxbow lakes and large rivers. Another species found in this region is the Central American river turtle (Dermatemys mawii), known locally as the hickatee or tortuga Blanca (white turtle). This is a large herbivore aquatic species that seldom roams far from water. It is hunted for its meat throughout the Maya rainforest, and can sometimes be seen for sale in urban markets, despite the fact that it is on the list of endangered species. Another species of turtle is the pond slider (Trachemys scripta), known locally as jicotea, which is hunted with a harpoon or caught with nets. We know this turtle was exploited in pre-Hispanic times because it has been found as an offering in ancient burials. The last turtle to be mentioned here is the Mexican musk

turtle (Staurotypus triporcatus), known locally as guao or tres lomos. This species inhabits large lakes and large, slow-flowing rivers, as well as in flooded grasslands and swampy areas. Like the others mentioned above, this species is also much appreciated as food (p. 78). There are many lakes, streams, and rivers in the Maya rainforest that create a unique habitat for a great number and diversity of freshwater fish. The Usumacinta River is one example, as it has 112 fish species, including 18 of maritime origin and 10 that are endemic to the region. Meanwhile, in the northwestern corner of the Petén some 55 freshwater fish species live in the region’s many lakes, lagoons and rivers. In this same region, Lake Petén Itzá has at least 20 varieties of native fish. Finally, in the Lacandon jungle of Chiapas there are 67 classified fish species (Nations 2006:79). There are fishers in the region under discussion who still use traditional techniques, such as fishhooks. The Lacandon Indians fish with long harpoons made of a bamboo-like plant (Merostrachys sp.), a reed called caña brava (Phragmites comunis) with a point made of guatapil palm (Chamaedorea sp.) that is armed with spikes. This technique was probably used by other indigenous groups in the past, though nowadays the spikes are made with steel taken from bucket handles (p. 80). The Lacandon native American ethnic group offers a good example of modern aquatic adaptations in the Maya area. Although the idea of a direct historical connection between the pre-Hispanic Maya culture and the present-day Lacandon group is a complex issue that has often been romanticized (Palka 2005), the Lacandon can be used as an ethnographic model for archaeological interpretation. Alfred M. Tozzer (1982 [1907]) conducted fieldwork in Yucatán and Chiapas between 1902 and 1905 while affiliated with the Archaeological Institute of America (Boston, MA). He reported that at the time of his visit there were no large settlements anywhere in the Lacandon region. The Lacandon people numbered between 200 and 300, and they were spread over the land in small family groups, each with its own animal totem. There was only one Lacandon family living near the Usumacinta riverbanks, and a single family near the Lacantún River. Tozzer tells us that around the turn of the 20th century, the region was ‘invaded by mahogany loggers, and their canoes [were] constantly passing up and down the rivers. As a result of this intrusion, the Lacandon have moved further inland and have built their houses in the small streams that flow toward the Usumacinta and Lacantún rivers’ (p. 21). There are many relatively large rivers in the territory of the Lacandon, like the Lacantún and the Lacanhá, which join the Chisoy and Salinas to form the mighty

Figure 228. A page from the Codex Peresianus with the representation of a turtle (middle row, center) (adapted from Morley 1956: Figure 29).

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Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica Usumacinta. There are also a considerable number of streams and springs across the region, and four large lakes dot the landscape: Pethá, Anaite, and Lacanhá on the Chiapas side of the border, and Petén on the Guatemala side. Thanks to all the streams, rivers, lakes, and other water sources, there is abundant water with bountiful fishing and many other aquatic resources (p. 33).

in order to plant and harvest a small crop… The cattle barons follow them, [overgrazing] the land, which in a few years more erodes away to bare limestone’ (p. 25). In spite of all these problems, the Lacandon retained part of their original worldview and religion. ‘Periodically… the Lacandones make a new set of incense burners and abandon the old ones at some forest shrine (Figure 229). The incense-burner renewal ceremony is the longest and most complex within the present-day Lacandon religion… The ceremony involves the consumption of large quantities of balché’ (p. 29).

Gertrude Duby and Frans Blom spent many decades working among the Lacandon of the Chiapas forest. Duby and Blom (1969) wrote that the ‘Lacandon Indians live in three groups, scattered over a territory of about 10,000 square miles… The habitat of the Lacandon is the tropical rain forest on the Mexican side of the border between Mexico and Guatemala, in the Usumacinta River drainage. It is rich and fertile, for… the Chiapas forest has many rivers and lakes’ (p. 276). These authors (1969) describe ‘the great Usumacinta River’ as ‘one of the most powerful rivers in all of Central America. A great supply of water, rivers teeming with fish, forests full of game, soil producing abundant crops —this is the country of the vanishing Lacandon Indians’ (p. 276).

Regardless of all the challenges faced by the modern Lacandon, or Hach Winik (i.e. ‘true people’), as they call themselves, their language (Hach t’an), is still viable because the number of speakers has remained constant through the decades, though they number fewer than one thousand, and most are bilingual (LacandonSpanish) (Eroza 2006). What follows is a short discussion of the aquatic lifeway in the Lacandon region (fishing, hunting, gathering, and manufacture), as it existed until the 1960s or so. Tozzer (1982) reported that ‘in the Lacandon region there are abundant rivers and lakes, therefore fishing was abundant as well’ (p. 72). Among the most important species,Tozzer (1982) mentions the following (he does not provide scientific names): ‘saktan or nahwa, also known as ‘Spanish sardine’, sohom, tsaklau, makabil, tsakbil, and tsakal. Turtles and their eggs are also part of the Lacandon diet, and sometimes in a single fishing trip they find as many as 400 or 500 turtle eggs. Snails and fresh-water crabs are also abundant’ (p. 72).

Another account of the Lacandon was penned by Victor Perera and Robert Bruce (1982), who tell us that ‘in the 1970s the total Lacandon population was less than 400’ (p. 14). Culture change among this remote ethnic group was inevitable, since ‘the American missionaries’ efforts to Christianize the Lacandones have been under way for over a quarter of a century’ (p. 17), and ‘thousands upon thousands of agraristas [or] homesteaders… descend upon the Lacandon jungle to practice… slash-and-burn agriculture… each family will clear an area of several thousand square meters…

Tozzer tells us that ‘the Chiapas natives have a primitive way of catching fish’ which consisted of shooting them from a canoe with a wooden pointed arrow ‘in which they are experts’ (p. 72) They also used the fishhook and were adept at making fishnets. Sometimes they used a harpoon around 2.40 m long, with a detachable point for both fishing and hunting turtles. In Tozzer’s time, the Lacandon used the cayuco or dugout canoe (Figure 230), which was made out of a mahogany log (Figure 231). The canoe was up to 9 m long, 90 cm wide, and could carry as many as 15 or 20 people. Abundant game and fish contributed to the Lacandon’s food resources; Duby and Blom (1969) wrote: ‘They are good hunters and fishermen. They use the meat of curassow [a large forest bird, Crax rubra], wild turkey, partridge, monkeys, wild pigs, armadillos, and many other animals’ (281). Some of the fishing techniques formerly used in the Lacandon region and other areas of the Maya rainforest relied on substances extracted from toxic plants, which were used to stun the fish and make it easier to catch

Figure 229. The Lacandon Indians of Chiapas made clay incense burners with figures of their deities, and kept them in their forest shrines (after Tozzer 1982: Figure 26).

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them. The most common substance was taken from a climbing plant called barbasco (Discorea sp.), and the Lacandon formerly used the bark of the mahogany tree (Swietenia macrophylla) or the black poisonwood, also known as chechem or chechen (Metopium brownei), which had the same effect on the fish. The range of fishing techniques was extensive and varied, including fish traps made of wild evergreen vines (Monstera spp.) that were woven into pear-shaped traps up to one meter tall with a trap door that was closed by pulling a liana. Fishers would put maize dough as bait inside the trap, which was placed in shallow water. When the fish swam into the trap attracted by the bait, the fishers would close the door (Nations 2006:80). In addition to fishing, the Lacandon relied on hunting to provide a constant supply of food (Tozzer 1982). The list of wild animals that inhabit the forest is quite extensive. Here I will mention just a few species that are important for the native economy. Tozzer wrote that ‘there are at least two species of deer, Mazama temama and M. pandora, one of peccary (Pecari tajacu), as well as armadillo (Dasypus novemcinctus), and a large list of lesser game animals’ (p. 38). In the Lacandon forest there are several native felines, like the ocelot (Felis pardalis), puma (Felis concolor), and jaguar (Felis onca). In addition to the foregoing, the list of wild mammals in the tropical forest includes several species that were hunted by the Lacandon, like the tapir (Tapirus bairdii), two species of monkey (Ateles spp.) (Figure 232), badger (Taxidea taxus), and agouti (Agouti paca). Finally, crocodiles and turtles abound in the rivers and some lakes, as do snails (e.g. Melanoides tuberculata) —the latter provided nourishment for the Lacandon (p. 38).

Figure 230. The Lacandon used the cayuco or dugout canoe to navigate the rivers and lakes of their territory. It was up to 9 m long, and could carry as many as 15 or 20 people (after Duby and Blom 1969: Figure 2).

As for birds, Tozzer (1982) mentions a number of different species that were of importance to Lacandon diet and culture, like wild turkeys (Meleagris mexicana and Agriocharis ocellata), partridge (Eupsychtortyx nigrogularis), and quail (Dactylortyx thoracicus), among many others. In summary, Tozzer holds that ‘after maize farming, hunting was the most important means of getting food for the Lacandon, who used the bow and arrow to bring down many different quarries, from small birds to mountain lions’ (p. 71). Not all animals were hunted, and some species were important for other reasons, such as magical-religious symbolism in the context of the Maya worldview. This was the case, for example, of bats. According to Ávila

Figure 231. The Lacandon canoe was a hollowed-out mahogany tree trunk. Today, these trees are rare, and canoes are no longer made following traditional techniques (after Duby and Blom 1969: Figure 10).

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Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica mountains, and the northern portion of the Lacandon area). Research conducted in the Palenque National Park (PNP) recorded 52 bat species. This study shows that the diversity of the bat populations in the area around Palenque represents 42% of all Mexican bat fauna, making the PNP and its periphery an important area for the conservation of this mammalian group. Bats were important components of the Mesoamerican worldview since they were associated with the night and caverns. In the case of the pre-Hispanic Maya, many examples illustrate the importance of these flying mammals for religion and art. In many cases, human features were mixed with bat attributes in art, producing a dual entity no doubt endowed with magical powers in the native mind (Figure 233). Figure 232. The Lacandon hunted many wild mammals in the tropical forest, including monkeys like this one that decorates a ceramic vase from El Quiché, Guatemala (Late Classic period) (courtesy of Hasso von Winning).

The Lacandon Indians, like many Mesoamerican ethnic groups, consumed a wide range of species of insects as part of their diet. A recent ethno-entomological study in the Lacandon community of Bethel, in the eastern part of the state of Chiapas (Ramos-Elorduy and Pino 2001), conducted a survey of the forest around the village to produce a collection of all the edible insects. The authors also spoke with local people, asking about the insects they ate and making direct observations of the local diet. When insects were mentioned in the interviews, locals were asked to indicate the spot where the insect had been collected. These researchers also asked about the season of the year when certain insects were available, the method of capture, how they were used, and conservation methods (p. 27).

Ramos-Elorduy and Pino recorded a total of 53 species of edible insects, pertaining to four different biological orders (Table 18). Nine species belong to the order Orthoptera, 18 to Coleoptera, two to Lepidoptera, and 24 to Hymenoptera. The Figure 233. Bats abound in the Lacandon forest and were important components of latter is the most abundantly-represented the Mesoamerican worldview due to their association with the night and caverns. order in the sample. Hymenoptera is In this example (from El Quiché, Guatemala, Late Classic period), human features composed of ants, bees, and wasps. The are mixed with bat attributes (courtesy of Hasso von Winning). wasp family (Vespidae) is represented in the sample by 10 species, bees (Apidae) by nine species, one et al. (2012), the bat fauna of Chiapas is one of the most with a stinger and eight that are stingless. Bumblebees widely-studied in Mexico, and represents about 77% of (Bombus) include two species, and ants (Formicidae) the bat species reported in the country. However, bats three species. Insects are eaten by the Lacandon in have not received much attention from researchers in different stages of development; that is, as nymphs, the Selva Norte region of Chiapas (an area that spans adults, larvae, and pupae. In many cases, the honey part of the plains of the Gulf of Mexico, the Chiapas 212

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Table 18. Taxonomic classification of some insects eaten by the Lacandons of Bethel, Chiapas (Ramos-Elorduy and Pino 2001: Table 1). ORDER ORTHOPTERA

FAMILY Acrididae

GENUS Schistocerca Taeniopoda Sphenarium Melanoplus Romalea Homocoryphus Tettigonidae Stilpnochlora Pyrgocorypha COLEOPTERA Scarabaeidae Xylorictes Melolontha Passalidae Passalus Passalus Passalus Passalus Paxillus Cerambycidae Callipogon Aplagiognathus Aplagiognathus Aplagiognathus Trichoderes Curculionidae Elateridae Chalcolepidius Chalcolepidius Pyrophorus Pyrophorus Tenebrionidae Elodes Zopheridae Zopherus LEPIDOPTERA Noctuidae Ascalapha Latebraria HYMENOPTERA Formicidae Eciton Atta Atta Apidae Bombus Bombus Meliponidae Melipona Melipona Cephalotrigona Trigona Scaptotrigona Plebeia Apis Vespidae Polybia Polybia Mischocytarus Mischocytarus Polistes Parachartegus Brachygastra Brachygastra Apoica Vespula

SPECIES sp. auricornis histrio sumichastri colorata prasinus azteca sp. sp. sp. punctiger interstitialis puntatostriatus sp. leachei barbatum sp. spinosus

COMMON NAME Langosta Grillo negro Chapulín Ununkulub Kawayu Masan Esperanza Chapulín verde, esperanza Kolom Escarabajo Cimolil Cimolil Cimolil Cimolil Koopa Tumba Virgencita Virgencita Virgencita pini Chanulcate laforgei Intekal rugatus Intekal pellucens Intekal mexicanus Intekal sp. Ciscan, apestoso jourdani Guaycan, boludo odorata Tzatzi amphypirioides Cuetla sp. Bahte mexicana Cucu, nucu, cocash cephalotes Cucu, nucu, cocash diligens Inonon, abejón medius Abejón sp. Incab, abeja sin aguijón fasciata Mosca de la virgen zexmemiae Sunul, abeja que no pica fuscipennis Mosca de la virgen, abeja sin aguijón mexicana Atzicab, mosca dulce frontalis Abeja güerita mellifera Aha cab, abeja mielera occidentalis nigratella Sako, avispa, huevo de toro, señorita, panalón parvulina Saka, avispa negra, campanita sp. Avispa güerita, suto basimacula Avispa chiapaneca, kanguto canadensis Sicalalsa, avispa zapatona apicalis Avispa del burro mellifica Moscón de la virgen azteca Ek sp. Panalito squamosa Panal de tierra

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Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica and pollen produced or stored by these insects are also eaten (p. 28). Among the insect species that are usually eaten in this Lacandon community we find chicatana ants (Atta mexicana), cimolil worms, bees, and wasps, while the following genera of bees (Hymenoptera) are raised: Melipona, Trigona, Plebeia, Apis, Polybia, and Mischocyttarus (p. 30).

all probability the ancient Maya also relied on insects as part of their diet, as the Lacandon (and others) do to this day. Indeed, by eating insects and other similar wild species, the Maya people, like other Mesoamericans, had access to a full and balanced nutrition, despite the lack of cattle or other domesticated sources of animal protein in this and other parts of the aboriginal New World (Harris 1998; Parsons 2010, 2011; Weigand 2000; Williams 2014a).

In another region of Chiapas, near the town of Arriaga (around 400 km west of the Lacandon area), some insect species like the ant (Atta mexicana) are exploited commercially, with one single family producing some 39 tons per year. Trade in Atta ants in Arriaga is on the order of 16 tons a year on average. The larvae of the butterfly Latebraria amphypirioides are caught in Frontera, Chiapas (in the south of the state, bordering on Guatemala), with a yield of around 3,000 kg a year (p. 30).

In discussing the native flora of the Lacandon rain forest, Tozzer (1982) stated that if we tried to make a complete reckoning of all the plants in the region that are utilized by the Lacandon and other Maya groups, ‘it would be like making a catalogue of all the trees and plants of the hot lands. Therefore, I will limit myself to those used by the Indians in their daily life’ (p. 35). The Lacandon used virtually every tree, bush and other plants, be it for food, medicine, or in one of their crafts (p. 35). The caoba (mahogany) tree was used for making dug-out canoes, which were made by hollowing out tree trunks with fire and machete. Another useful tree, called tinte (Hoematoxylon campechianum), was used to adorn arrows and as a colorant, while the guayacan tree (Guaicum sanctum) provided wood for making the typical long bows of the Lacandon.

In discussing how edible insects are caught by the Lacandon, Ramos-Elorduy and Pino state that capture is sometimes by hand and sometimes by nets that consist in a modified plastic shopping bag, though yute bags are also used. Once caught, the bugs are taken directly to the comal (griddle), where they are roasted and then eaten. In a few cases, insects are fried and eaten in tacos or mixed with eggs. Sometimes they are added to soup. Other species, like grasshoppers, are eaten or conserved in brine, depending on how abundant they are at a given time. When insects abound, some species are dried under the sun or on the comal and then stored in bags at home. They may be used for household consumption, or for exchange or commercialization on a local or regional level (p. 34).

Tozzer also mentions the ramón, or breadnut (Brosimum alicastrum), which I will discuss later in the context of ancient Maya agriculture. Another plant that was critical for Maya nutrition is the balché tree (Lonchocarpus violaceus), whose bark was used for making a mildlyintoxicating drink that was used in rituals by the Lacandon and other Maya groups (pp. 36-37).

The authors conclude their study by indicating that the level of protein present in the insect species under discussion is quite high, on average higher than beef, which contains between 54 and 57% protein, while others (e.g. Coleoptera) may be lower in protein, but are high in fats and micronutrients (p. 34).

In Chiapas and Yucatán, there are many kinds of palm trees, and their leaves are used for making roofs for houses, among many other applications (Figure 234). The Lacandon region has a wide variety of plants that provide vines with many uses, including house construction. The thatched roofs of houses are tied down with vines, as is the house structure itself. Baskets and other wickerwork are also made with vines.

Elsewhere in the Maya area, Paola Cetina (2015) reports that the Yucatec Maya used to eat wasp larvae (Polybia occidentalis, Brachygustra mellifica), as well as wild bees, ants, and different species of beetles. It would be difficult to ascertain how far back in time these culinary customs go, but the widespread use of insect foods in Mesoamerica that we saw in earlier chapters –among the Tarascans, Aztecs, and the people of the Alto Lerma Basin, among others– shows clearly that Mesoamericans were keen consumers of a plethora of different kinds of insects. In the case of the Aztecs, for instance, I discussed –in Chapter IV– the writings of Friar Bernardino de Sahagún (1938, 2012a, 2012b), who left us a vivid and detailed account of all the different items included in Aztec cuisine, with insects holding a privileged position. Therefore, one could argue that in

The tropical forest provides many fruits, many of which grow wild. In most of the Maya territory we find chicozapote (Sapota achras), mamey (Lucuma mammosa), anona or saramuyo (Anona squamosa), guanábana (Anona muricata), guava (Psidium guajaba), tamarind (Tamarindus indica), avocado (Persea sp.), mango (Mangifera indica), coconut (Cocos nucifera), cocoyol (Acrocomia mexicana), papaya (Papaya carica), cacao (Theobrama sp.), tomato (Solanum lycopersicum), achiote (Bixia orellana), and chayote (Sechium edule) (p. 37). During their fieldwork among the Lacandon, Duby and Blom (1969) made observations about their agricultural practices, which have been greatly modified since they 214

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The Lacandon exercised a considerable ‘skill and patience in making the bow and arrow. The bow… [was] made of guayacán (Guaicum sanctum), a resinous wood which is very strong and flexible… The bowstring [was] made of agave or ixtle fibers’ (p. 286). The men would shape arrow points on a flat stone (sometimes used from pre-Hispanic times) using a deer horn. They used four types of arrows, each for a particular prey, such as fish and small game. The arsenal included a ‘bird bolt’ for capturing birds alive, as it would stun rather than kill them. In discussing houses and other structures, Duby and Blom (1969) tell us that the Lacandon used to live ‘in thatched houses without walls. The roof reaches almost to the ground on three sides and leaves the front open’ (p. 282). The inhabitants would usually ‘sleep in hammocks, and also sit in them during the day… [they also] build palm-thatched houses with walls made of sticks bound together with vines or wound with large bark sheets’ (p. 285). There was no furniture in the Lacandon house ‘except for small low stools and a few cupboards … Food is hung from the roof in baskets or large squash bowls… Near the house there is a small shack for preparing food, with a table for grinding corn. There the Lacandon keep a grinding stone, and very often a small corn mill. They eat their food sitting on the floor’ (p. 285). Other buildings constructed by the people under discussion were ‘tiny thatched huts for dogs… [and] chicken coops made of sticks laid together to form a pyramid. The shack for storing corn is either near the living quarters or in the cornfield’ (p. 285).

Figure 234. Houses in the Lacandon forest have thatched roofs tied down with vines, as is the house structure itself (after Duby and Blom 1969: Figure 6).

wrote their account (in the 1950s). They pointed out that ‘the Lacandon are excellent farmers and have large cornfields, where they also grow beans, squash, and small tomatoes. In additional fields, mostly near the house or in abandoned cornfields, are raised sweet potatoes, macal [Xanthosoma sp.], chili, chayotes, onions, garlic’ (p. 280), also ‘sugarcane, pineapples, watermelons, and some cotton. There are many varieties of fruit trees: papaya, lemon, bananas, and occasionally mango and aguacate; the achiote tree [Bixa orellana] is never missing. Wild fruits are gathered in the forest’ (p. 281).

In Duby and Blom’s opinion, ‘the ceremonial hut is the finest building in the compound. It never has walls, and several stools are its only furniture. Incense burners are kept on a board under the roof; the bowls for the offerings… hang from the roof in nets’ (p. 285). According to Nations (2006), fishing in the Maya rainforest, including the Lacandon area, was based primarily on six species: pescado blanco (Petenia splendida), mojarra (Chichlasoma octofasciatum, C. urophtalmus, and Eugerres mexicanus), macabil (Brycon guatemalensis), robalo blanco (Centropomous undecimalis), pejelagarto or alligator gar (Atractosteus tropicus), and catfish (Silurus sp.). One of the favorite fish in the region is the robalo blanco, which can measure up to 1.5 m long in the ocean, though the ones in the tropical

In discussing the crafts that characterized the Lacandon, Duby and Blom (1969) described how they made their dugout canoes from cedar or mahogany trees that they felled in the forest using an adze, machete, and axe. This task was mostly reserved for men, while women made baskets from vines for storing food and catching small birds and fish (p. 286). 215

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica forest are less than 1 m long. This species is found in the tributaries of the Usumacinta River when the water is clear (in April and May), but return to the Gulf of Mexico during the rest of the year (p. 81). The alligator gar is abundant in the Usumacinta region, and is much appreciated as food by the local people, who catch it by fishhook and fishnet. There are several kinds of catfish, the one most widely sought after being the bobo liso (Ictalurus meridionalis), though two other species are also popular: Ariopsis felis and Cathorops melanolupus. In the neighboring Petén region, meanwhile, the most common catfish species are curruco (Potamarius nelsoni), cabeza de fierro (Cathorops aguadulce), jolote (Ictalurus fircatus), and filin (Rhamdia guatemalensis). Many fishers catch catfish with fishhooks while standing beneath the trees along the larger rivers (p. 82).

Freshwater mollusks made up half of the fauna remains found in the excavations at this site, including the aforementioned jute (Pachychilus glaphyrus and P. indiorum) and Pomacea, as well as river clams (Nephronaias sp.), which may have been an important component of the local diet during the Formative period (Powis et al. 1999:369). Located some 20 km southeast of Cahal Pech, Pacbitun is an archaeological site where great numbers of snail shells and freshwater clam shells were excavated. The corpus consists of 230,000 items, all dating to the Middle Formative period. The local food supply consisted of a combination of land, freshwater and maritime species (Powis et al. 1999:369). As stated above, the geological constitution of the Yucatán Peninsula is primarily limestone; therefore, large, permanent bodies of water are not abundant and there are fewer opportunities for developing an aquatic lifeway than in other regions of Mesoamerica. This situation was compensated by the people who lived in coastal Yucatán who devoted most of their time to marine fishing, for both their own consumption and for trade with inland populations. In the northwestern corner of the peninsula, fishing, salt production, and trade were the main occupations along the coast (Lange 1971:629). Many different species of fish were caught, sea turtles were hunted, and their eggs were collected from the beach. The manatee (Trichechus manatus) and many species of shark were taken as well. According to Christopher Gotz (2008), the pre-Hispanic Maya from the northern lowlands were ‘opportunistic’ hunters who adapted to their environment by following a broad-spectrum pattern of exploitation in coastal sites and a more restricted pattern in inland sites, taking advantage of the relatively few lakes and rivers.

Freshwater mollusks were no less important than fish for the native populations of the Maya tropical rainforest. The aforementioned jute is a 7 cm-long snail that is found in great numbers in the streams of the lowland forests. In Belize, some people think that this animal has medicinal properties, and it is used to treat eye irritations and cataracts. The Lacandon Indians used jute shells to make lime for preparing maize dough. This process, apart from facilitating the separation of the pericarp of the maize seed, has an important role in nutrition since it mitigates the effects of the lack of niacin and increases the amount of lysine in the diet, thus preventing pellagra and malnutrition, particularly among children. It is likely that the ancient Maya also used lime from the shells, in addition to eating the snails. In Guatemala, there is another kind of mollusk that is still used as food, the aforementioned Pomacea flagellata or ‘apple snail’, which inhabits the lakes in the region and can grow up to 9 cm in diameter, with a shape that recalls the escargot de Bourgogne, a French delicacy (p. 83).

Gotz (2012) studied the archaeo-faunal materials from two pre-Hispanic sites –Isla Cerritos and Xcambó– on the northern coast of Yucatán. These sites were permanent settlements whose populations were dedicated to longdistance trade, fishing, and hunting. Gotz described one particularly interesting find: the remains of a tropical species of seal (Monachus tropicalis) that is now extinct. These remains were found mixed with ancient building fill and middens. This is the only known case of seal exploitation in Mesoamerica, and Gotz proposed that seals were part of the food consumed by local elites in this part of the Maya area.

Mollusks were also consumed in other parts of the Maya area. Archaeological excavations at the Cahal Pech site and surrounding area in western Belize discovered one of the greatest assemblages of fauna in the Maya lowlands: 20,000 animal remains representing land, freshwater and domesticated species. The people who lived at Cahal Pech during the Middle Formative period (ca. 900-300 BC) exploited several niches within the region, in addition to having access to species from outside their immediate surroundings; for instance, fish and mollusks from the marine reefs. They also hunted many land species from the general area, like deer, paca (agouti, Dasyprocta sp.), armadillo, rabbit, domestic dog, small rodents, possum, birds, turtles, and iguanas, among others. Fish remains recovered from the archaeological excavations include freshwater species like catfish (Fam. Siluriformes) and many others taken from the sea that may have been procured through trade with the Caribbean coast (ca. 110 km away) (Powis et al. 1999:366-369).

Gotz’s studies of ancient Maya animal exploitation include detailed taxonomical profiles of the fauna excavated at several sites in Yucatán (2012: Table 2). The main species he documented include crustaceans (six species of crab), fish (seven species of sharks and sawfish), rays (three species), and Actinopterygii, or rayfinned fishes (15 species). Reptiles were also present, as Gotz found the remains of crocodile (one species), sea turtles (five species), land or freshwater turtles 216

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(six species), and iguana (one species). With respect to birds, Gotz (2012) reports eight marine species, vultures (one species), turkeys, and similar birds (five species), as well as four species of small birds. His list also includes mammals, such as possum (two species), armadillo (one species), rodents and rabbits (four species), small carnivores (three species), felines (two species), manatees (one species), tapirs (one species), artiodactyl or even-toed ungulates  (four species), and sea mammals (two species).

The people who lived in Ambergris Caye had access to an island environment with many maritime resources, but there is no evidence of agriculture. The diet was probably based on seafood, land animals, and small amounts of maize (perhaps imported from the mainland).1 Parker (2011) found several species of mollusks in this area, as well as marine gastropods that may have been eaten by the local people. These finds indicate the exploitation of shallow waters between the coast and the reefs, as well as the utilization of the reefs and salt-water lagoons. Fragments of deer skeletons (leg bones and antlers) and remains of tapir suggest that the locals were bringing meat into the site, perhaps obtained through trade.

Gotz (2012:432) holds that all the aquatic taxa identified in his excavations represent shallow-water ecosystems, such as sandy bottoms near the littorals, bays and estuaries, or coastal reefs. These were the preferred habitats, and even the sea turtles may have been caught near the coast, when they came to lay their eggs on the shore (between spring and summer).

The people of Ambergris probably depended on trade for meat and land plants. The differential consumption of land herbivores and maize suggests that these trade goods arrived from the mainland through trade. Parker (2011) proposed that access to these items was restricted to high-status individuals, while the lower classes depended solely on the island’s local resources.

On the basis of the evidence mentioned above, we can assume that fishing in those two pre-Hispanic sites was limited to the shallow coastal zone, despite the fact that the navigational skills of the ancient Maya allowed them to go out into the open seas. Both freshwater and land turtles (Fam. Kinosternidae and Emydidae) may have been brought from inland areas, and they contributed to the diet of coastal populations. Furthermore, the remains of turkeys and similar species indicate a close relationship with inland areas, as do the bones of cervids, rodents, rabbits, and felines present at both coastal settlements.

The site of Cuello, in Belize, is located at a distance of some 40 km east of Ambergris Caye. The Cuello site had access to a wide range of animal resources, since the habitats near the site included forests, fields, and secondary growth, as well as pine savannahs, inland water bodies, and the coastal area (35 km from the site). All kinds of animals came from these areas, like white-tailed deer –one of the most important species– as well as peccary (Tayassu tajacu), armadillo (Dasypus novemcinctus), tlacuache or possum (Procyon lotor), rabbit (Sylvilagus floridianus), paca (Dasyprocta punctata), and ocellated turkey (Meleagris ocellata) (Carr and Fradkin 2008). Several birds found in Cuello’s fauna assemblage are associated with an aquatic environment, like the pied-billed grebe (Podilymbus podiceps), which favors freshwater ponds, streams, and coastal lagoons, and the egret (Ardea herodias and Butorides virescens). The presence of the remains of amphibians also points to the exploitation of aquatic environments. These species include the Mexican burrowing toad (Rhinophrynus dorsalis), the marine toad (Bufo marinus), and several species of frog (Rana sp.). These archaeological excavations also turned up turtles, like the mud turtle (Kinosternon spp.), narrow-bridged musk turtle (Claudius angustatus), and Mexican musk turtle (Staurotypus triporcatus) (Carr and Fradkin 2008).

It is likely that the remains of land animals from the woods and milpa fields can be interpreted as trade goods that were received at coastal sites in exchange for marine products like salt, mollusks, and fish. In the case of deer bones, it is interesting to note that around 100 specimens are metapodial or long bones that were modified to produce pointed artifacts that could have been used to make fishnets. Gotz (2012) suggests that these artifacts may have arrived at the coast in finished form, by way of trade, an idea strengthened by the fact that there is evidence of the exportation of fish to inland sites, an activity that is still observed today. In Chapter III, I remarked upon the importance of the salt trade for the economy of the ancient Maya. Williams et al. (2009) studied several archaeological sites in Ambergris Caye, Belize, where they found that salt was a valued trade good, and may also have been used to preserve fish that were sent inland to, for example, sites like Lamanai, where seafood was an important part of the diet. These authors excavated two sites in Ambergris Caye, where they found remains of reef species, as well as offshore and river species, indicating the exploitation of different ecological niches. At nearby inland sites, such as Lamanai, deer were abundant, and they may have been traded with the coast, together with maize.

Fish remains found in Cuello’s excavations include primarily freshwater species found in various environments, from rivers and wetlands to ponds. Less This information was obtained through a study of carbon and nitrogen stable isotopes of bone collagen, and carbon isotopes on apatite, from bone samples of 30 individuals, to determine the diet of the pre-Hispanic population of Ambergris Caye (Parker 2011).

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Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica numerous were sea species, like cichlids (Cichlasoma spp.). Freshwater mollusks are also well-represented at this site, such as the genera Pomacea, Biomphalaria, and Stenophysa. This aquatic fauna suggests that water currents (rivers and streams) were being exploited, though the most important aquatic environments were swamps, ponds, and lakes (Carr and Fradkin 2008).

turtle (Fam. Kinosternidae) which, as its name implies, is found in humid places like marshes, slow streams, and ponds in the forest. The aguadas, or artificial water deposits, at Caracol would be the favored places for these reptiles. Likewise, excavators found the remains of brown and green iguana, which may weigh up to 4 kg and measure 1.8 m long. The inhabitants of Caracol included in their diet birds like the aforementioned ocellated turkey, which may have been hunted using basket or noose traps. Smaller birds like quail, dove, and pigeon also found their way into the cooking pot.

In this area, farming was closely-associated with fishing, hunting, and gathering activities, all of which could be carried out simultaneously. In fact, the people of Cuello may have built fenced-off areas in the wetlands to facilitate gathering species like mollusks and mud turtles, and to preserve a population of animals in a certain area for later use. The large number of mud turtles found at Cuello suggests that there may have been some kind of resource management of this species.

Mammals were not lacking in the menu at Caracol, since many different specimens were found in the excavations, including 12 species and 34 genera, classified by size as ‘very large’ (for instance, the tapir), ‘large’ (deer), and ‘small’ (rodents). Among the species identified there are water opossums (Chironectes minimus) that live in streams and rivers in the forest, jaguars (Panthera onca) that like to live and hunt near water, and tapirs (Tapirus bairdii), the largest mammal in Central America, which can weigh between 150 and 300 kg. Tapirs also prefer to live in a habitat with abundant water. Finally, excavators found remains of animals that do not live in the water, but on the hills around streams, rivers, and ponds within the region under discussion. This last category includes the peccary (Tayassu pecari and T. tajacu), red deer (Mazama americana), and whitetailed deer (Odicoileus virginianus) (Teeter 2001).

In synthesis, the fauna assemblage at Cuello represents the exploitation of wetlands for fishing, hunting, and gathering, together with farming activities in the same general area, in an environment characterized by ecological variability. Carr and Fradkin (2008) reported a considerable amount and variety of animal species. Another archaeological site that has contributed to our understanding of Maya subsistence is Caracol, located on the Vaca Plateau in Belize’s Cayo district, at an elevation of 500 m above sea level in the foothills of the Maya Mountains (Teeter 2001). Caracol was one of the most important regional political centers of the Maya area during the Classic period. It was a city with over 100,000 inhabitants, who needed a complex infrastructure to satisfy their subsistence needs. This is an inland site, so the marine animal remains found there have been interpreted as evidence for trade with the Caribbean coast. There is direct archaeological evidence for the use of fish in the diet of the elite, and there was a shell-working industry that utilized species like the conch (Strombus gigas) to make adornments and other products (Teeter 2001). At least three aquatic resources from the littoral can be identified among the possible goods that were exported from the coast: shrimp, clams, and fish. It is likely that trade between the coast of Belize and inland areas passed through the city of Cerros, which was able to attain regional power in the Late Formative period (ca. 500 BC-AD 100) thanks to its strategic location.

We saw in Chapter III that McKillop (2019) conducted a long-term study of salt-making in coastal Belize. McKillop wrote that ‘salt was in demand at Classic period inland cities where this biological necessity was scarce and where salt preservation of fish and meat would have been necessary’ (p. 56). In her studies of salt production and fishing in pre-Hispanic times in southern Belize, McKillop reports that ‘fish must have been salted to maintain freshness for transport… Trade goods –notably, pottery– at the Paynes Creek Salt Works [in the Toledo District of southern Belize] may indicate the communities to which the salt producers traveled to sell salt, salted fish, and other marine resources at markets’ (pp. 6, 11). Producing large quantities of salted fish was ‘a major activity at the salt works’ on the Belizean coast, where archaeological ‘evidence of fishing includes… notched fishing weights made from sherds in midden deposits at Wild Cane Cay’ (in southern Belize). Analysis of use-wear patterns on chert stone artifacts from this area ‘indicates most of the chert tools were used to cut fish or meat, with some used for scraping hides or scaling fish…The overwhelming use of chert tools was for cutting fish or meat… the fish may have been cleaned and salted at the salt works and then transported whole to inland markets’ (p. 118).

Two species of turtle were identified at Caracol: the Central American river turtle or hickatee (Dermatemys mawii), an aquatic species that prefers clear water. Its meat and eggs formed part of the diet, and its shell could be used as a water trough. The furrowed wood turtle (Rhinoclemmys areolata), which has a more terrestrial orientation, was hunted for its meat during the driest winters (Teeter 2001). Another kind of turtle found among the archaeological remains is the mud

Speaking of coastal Belize, McKillop says that ‘the lagoon system is a nursery for various fish as well as 218

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a home for manatees, sharks, crocodiles, barracudas, bonefish, goliath grouper, and permit. More fish are located in nearby Port Honduras, with abundant fish bones recovered from Classic-period middens at Wild Cane Cay’ (p. 119). According to McKillop, ‘commercial fishing takes an investment of time and expertise as well as good fishing grounds. Punta Ycacos Lagoon [in Toledo, Belize] is one of the best fly-fishing areas in the world, known for permit and bonefish, but there also are goliath groupers, barracudas, manatees, crocodiles, jaguars, peccary, frigate birds, and brown pelicans’ (p. 185). McKillop performed a use-wear analysis on the chert stone tools, learning that most ‘of the tools… were used exclusively for cutting fish or meat’ (p. 185).

Figure 235. The Maya hunted deer with noose traps, like this example from the Codex Tro-Cortesianus (adapted from Morley 1956: Figure 28).

after the city’s nutritional needs had been met were used as trade goods in exchange for salt, sea fish, and other products from the coast. One exceptional finding reported for Mayapán is the breeding of deer (Figure 235) which, according to Masson and Peraza (2008), was an important industry there, one that provided a reliable food source for the residents of the city, as well as meat and bone for trade (Figure 236).

From the coastal lagoons and forests of Belize we move now to the northern Yucatán Peninsula, where the site of Mayapán is located. Mayapán was the political and cultural capital of the Yucatec Maya during the Late Postclassic (ca. AD 1220-1440). Although this site is not near the coast, archaeological studies have shown a strong economic relationship with fishing sites on the northern coast of the peninsula (Masson and Peraza 2008). The production and exchange of goods made from animal species inside and beyond this Maya city were basic components of the economy. The meat and bone resources that were left over

The exploitation of marine resources by the Maya who lived on the extensive coasts of the Yucatán Peninsula

Figure 236. Deer were important for the Maya, since in addition to meat they provided hides as well as bones and antlers for making tools (a: polychrome plate from Jaina, Campeche, courtesy of Hasso von Winning; b: tripod plate from the coast of Campeche, after Ruz 1969: Figure 42).

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Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica was systematic and multifaceted, as seen in shark fishing and manatee hunting. Sharks were among the largest fish species in the area, while the manatee was a marine mammal of great size (averaging 10 ft long and 1200 pounds; Ocean Today 2020). There is ethnohistorical and ethnographic information about shark-fishing, as these creatures were sought not only for their teeth (used in rituals and for manufacturing cutting tools), but also for liver and meat (Borhegyi 1961). In Campeche, for example, during the time of the Spanish conquest (early 16th century), shark meat was a common trade good in the markets of Yucatán, and was consumed by people of all social classes. The liver of some shark species has a large oil content (16% by weight) and outstanding nutritional qualities, thanks to its iodine and fat-soluble vitamins. According to Borhegyi (1961:281), it is likely that consumption of shark meat and oil-rich shark liver in pre-Hispanic times could have aided in preventing certain health problems and protein deficiencies that are known among the present-day Maya population, such as pellagra, rickets, deficient metabolism, and anemia.

Up to this point I have been discussing aquatic species from lake, marsh, river, and sea environments, and their role in the diet of the Maya people. But there is another important aspect of the utilization of species of fauna, both aquatic and terrestrial, in ancient times that I have yet to touch upon for, in many cases, animal products were treated as luxury goods, access to which was restricted by criteria of social rank and authority (Emery 2003). The Petexbatún region (i.e. the Pasión River drainage of central Guatemala), offers one example of this situation. The species of fauna utilized there were varied, including such edible animals as the white-tailed deer, river turtles, dogs, agouti, and peccary, as well as large birds and river fish. Also common were non-edible species, such as marine mollusks whose shells were used as decoration, and large felines that provided pelts, fangs, and claws that were indispensable for the attire that projected the power of the ruling elite. But the dominant species are fresh-water mollusks, used both as food and raw material for making artifacts and tools. The last items mentioned by Emery (2003) are sea conchs and shells that were used for making adornments.

Shark-fishing in the waters off the Yucatán Peninsula was described by Borhegyi (1961:280) as involving two fishers with primitive fishing gear and wooden maces, who were easily able to catch as many as seven sharks, longer than their own canoe, in just a few hours. For Borhegyi, ‘this feat suggests a well-integrated and probably very old shark-fishing tradition’ in this part of the Maya area (p. 280).

Fishing in the Maya area, as in other regions of Mesoamerica, has been identified not just by bones and other anatomical remains, but also by archaeological markers. One example comes from Cerros, Belize, where modified potsherds with notches that could have been used as fishnet sinkers (like the examples from Michoacán discussed in Chapter II), as well as spheres made of pumice stone that may have functioned as floaters for the same fishnets have been found (Freidel 1978:250). Likewise, in Baking Pot, Belize, Aimers et al. (2011) uncovered spheres made of granite, basalt, or limestone with grooves around the circumference. Most are of oblong shape, 5-15 cm in diameter, and weigh 0.5-2.5 kg. These objects were interpreted as fishnet sinkers (Figure 237).Near the Sennis River in the Toledo district of Belize, items similar to the ones mentioned above were found by Jefferson MacKinnon (1996), who excavated a cluster of 59 stones and interpreted them as the remains of an ancient fishnet. These are fine-grained metamorphic rocks with a groove of a type not found in the area, so they may have been transported from stream beds in the foothills of the Maya Mountains, at a distance of at least 20 km (pp. 14-15).

The Caribbean manatee (Trichechus manatus manatus) is a docile animal, a large herbivore also called ‘sea cow’. Capturing one of these animals would have provided a little over 90 kg of lean meat, as well as considerable amounts of fat, apart from the skin and bone that could be used to make many different artifacts.2 Manatee meat could be eaten right after being caught, or it could be preserved by roasting, drying under the sun, or salting (McKillop 1984). According to McKillop, the manatee contributed to the diet of the pre-Hispanic populations of the Maya area and other parts of Central America and the Antilles, primarily in coastal settlements. McKillop (1984) also reports that live manatees were kept in corrals at sea near the shore. This custom, together with meat preservation, increased the amount of meat available and reduced the number of hunting trips. Another advantage of this species was that trade in manatee meat could have encouraged the specialized exploitation of animals for exchange, including other species as well, such as turtles, conch mollusks, lobsters, and fish that were kept alive in corrals, a practice that still exists today in the Belizean cays (pp. 346-347).

The last example of modified rocks used for fishing or navigation comes from Altar de Sacrificios, Guatemala, where Gordon Willey (1972) reports two large rocks with grooves that, in his opinion, may have functioned as canoe anchors or fishnet sinkers (Figure 238). Other objects found by Willey that may have been used for freshwater fishing at Altar de Sacrificios are small fishhooks made of bone.

2  McKillop (1984) found fishnet sinkers and other artifacts made of manatee bone at Moho Kay, Belize.

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Morley in this system, known as milpa3 agriculture, ‘making the cornfield is the most important single activity of Maya men today, as it was in ancient times. Nor, so far as we can now judge, has milpa agriculture changed materially since Classic times, and even before’ (p. 128). This viewpoint was proven erroneous with the passage of time, as we will see in the following pages.

Figure 237. Fishnet sinker made of stone with grooves around the circumference found at Baking Pot, Belize (photo and drawing courtesy of James Aimers).

Morley’s ideas on ancient agriculture had implications for his understanding of ancient Maya urbanism. In discussing the nature of Maya cities and populations, he (1956) wrote the following: ‘There is no evidence thus far that the archaeological sites of the Classic stage are the ruins of cities and towns; there is on the other hand much evidence that they were religious centers to which the Maya resorted only for ceremonies. The Maya seem to have lived in small groups probably only of family size, in thatched houses scattered over the countryside’ (p. 261).

Morley based his ideas on the following assumption: ‘If we accept a figure of 30 persons per square mile as the average carrying capacity over the whole lowland area… we are faced with an amazing Figure 238. Large rocks with grooves that may have functioned as canoe anchors or disparity between this area and… the fishnet sinkers at Altar de Sacrificios, Guatemala (the largest piece is 16 cm high; Valley of Mexico, where population adapted from Willey 1972: Figure 114). density at the time of the Spanish Conquest is… estimated at about 500 per square mile’ Pre-Hispanic Cities and Agriculture in the Maya (p. 263). Area We know now that Morley’s understanding of Maya agriculture and urbanism, though firmly grounded on the archaeological knowledge at the time, would later be proven to be seriously flawed. In order to understand the true nature of Maya urbanism, I will briefly discuss three examples of Maya cities of the Classic period (ca. AD 250-900): Palenque, Chiapas; Copán, Honduras; and Tikal, Guatemala.

After this discussion of natural resources and subsistence activities among the ancient Maya, in the following pages I turn my attention to the subject of pre-Hispanic urbanism and agriculture in the Maya area. Sylvanus Morley, one of the leading Maya archaeologists of his time (1883-1948), wrote over seven decades ago (1946 [1956]) that ‘modern Maya agricultural practices are the same as they were three thousand years ago or more —a simple process of felling the forest, burning the dried trees and bush, planting, and changing the location of the cornfields every few years’ (p. 128). In Morley’s time, most archaeologists thought that ‘the system of agricultural practices in the American wet tropics even today… is the only method available to a primitive people living in a heavily-wooded, rocky, shallow-soiled country like that of the northern Yucatan peninsula, where a plow cannot be used and where draft animals are not obtainable’ (p. 128). According to

Maya Cities of the Classic Period The first example discussed here is Palenque, a sprawling city (Figure 239) located in modern-day Chiapas, southern Mexico, near the Usumacinta River Basin, one of the greatest rivers of Mesoamerica. According to Merle G. Robertson (2001), Palenque is ‘situated on the northwest Maya periphery [and] was occupied from the Early Classic period (ca. AD 200-600), 3 

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Milpa is the name given by Mexican farmers to a crop field today.

Figure 239. Palenque was a sprawling city during the Classic period, located near the Usumacinta River in Chiapas, Mexico (courtesy of Edwin L. Barnhart).

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becoming one of the mayor Maya centers in Late Classic times and continuing as such until its downfall about AD 800’ (p. 572). This world-heritage site ‘sits in the foothills of the Sierra de Palenque, in a lush tropical jungle where annual rainfall is close to 3,000 mm… with close proximity to Tabasco cacao cultivation areas and numerous waterways for travel, Palenque’s location would have been ideal from an economic as well as ecological viewpoint. The city’s layout was dictated by ‘six rivers that run through it… making it literally a “city of rivers”’ (p. 572). Robertson calls the Temple of Inscriptions at Palenque (Figure Figure 240. The Temple of the Inscriptions at Palenque is one of the most impressive monuments left to us by the Maya people of the Classic period (author’s photo, 1978). 240) ‘the most impressive monument dedicated to a single person in all of ancient America’ since the building ‘houses the crypt and sarcophagus of Lord Pacal, Palenque’s most prestigious king, who was born… [in] AD 603, and ruled until his death in AD 683, after a 68-year reign’ (p. 574). Pacal’s famous tomb is reproduced in the Museo Nacional de Antropología in Mexico City (Figure 241). Another outstanding building is the Palace, located in Palenque’s core area (Figure 242). The Palace (Figure 243) ‘is situated on a large elevated platform just southeast of the Temple of the Inscriptions…. This complex structure is ornately decorated… with brightly painted stucco’ (p. 576). The portion of Palenque that is visible to the modern visitor also includes ‘the North Group on the northern boundary of the civic center; the nearby Temple of the Count; Group Four… the Temple of the Jaguar… behind the Temple of the Inscriptions… and numerous smaller groups. Much of the city is still… unexcavated’ (p. 576). Edwin L. Barnhart (2001) carried out an extensive mapping project at Palenque, which was completed in 2000. Barnhart recorded a total of ‘1,481 structures and over 16 linear kilometers of terraces… The over 1,100 newly recorded structures range from small, half-meter tall platforms to the largest structure ever found in Palenque, the Escondido Temple… The zones suspected of being residential are… arranged in a repeated pattern of smaller structures around notably larger compounds’ (p. 1).

Figure 241. The Temple of the Inscriptions is dedicated to Palenque’s Lord Pacal (AD 603- 683), whose tomb is found inside (reproduction in the Museo Nacional de Antropología, Mexico City, author’s photo).

In discussing Palenque’s geographical location, Barnhart holds that the site’s physical setting ‘clearly defines the boundaries of its urban center. The city is located on a roughly 3 x 1 km2 plateau, 100 m above the seasonally inundated plains to the north… the plains below the ruins were swamp-like half the year until the 1960s when modern drainage constructions were installed’ (p. 3).

Barnhart discusses population figures for Classicperiod Palenque, pointing out that ‘population estimates for ancient Maya sites have traditionally been broken up into two parts: core and periphery’ (p. 3). The information presented here should be considered as pertaining to the core area of the urban center 223

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Figure 242. Palenque’s urban core area, showing the main buildings (adapted from Ruz 1973: Figure 4).

of Palenque. Barnhart carried out an archaeological sampling of the plains below Palenque, finding ‘extremely little settlement evidence. Agricultural evidence, however, was abundant… It is not until 10-20 km outside of Palenque that small satellite sites… begin appearing’ (p. 4). Barnhart’s surface survey found that Palenque’s urban core has 673 structures per square kilometer, the second-highest number recorded for a Classic Maya city, after Copán (p. 4). On the basis of survey data and evidence of settlement at Palenque, it is apparent that this site supported ‘no more than 7,500 people at its peak… There is simply a lack of habitable land around Palenque’s center… compared to the number of structures on the plateau, the immediate outlying population appears negligible… [it is] extremely small when compared to other major Classic Maya sites’ (p. 5). However, because of the lack of small mound excavation data at Palenque, all population estimates should be conservative, according to Barnhart.

case of Palenque, ‘agricultural methods are still in need of investigation. The lack of milpa lands within Tikal’s densely-settled immediate periphery baffled investigators until the discovery of raised fields in the bajos… [and] Caracol [Belize] was found to have… hundreds of hillside agricultural terraces throughout its immediate periphery’ (p. 9). In the case of Tikal and Caracol, the huge size of the estimated populations for both cities ‘demanded massive and reliable food sources. At Palenque, while the population estimate is much smaller, the need for subsistence resources was still of first-order importance’ (p. 9). This issue was at least partially resolved with the discovery of ‘probable irrigation canals in the plains directly below the city’s plateau… [as well as] limited areas of agricultural terracing. Some terraces… are wide, gently sloped and do not have structures built upon them’ so they may have been devoted to agriculture (p. 11). Meanwhile, in the land around Palenque’s urban core ‘other areas… were also involved in agricultural activities —perhaps a farmer’s market… or a surplus distribution center’ (p. 12).

Population density figures usually correlate closely with calculations of agricultural productivity. However, in the

Barnhart holds that ‘one of Palenque’s largest settlement obstacles must have been erosion… [with] 224

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city was ‘built on an alluvial terrace of the Copán River, part of the larger Motagua drainage that ultimately discharges into the Gulf of Honduras. Although the river is not navigable, both the main valley and its tributaries provided access to other Maya regions to the west and north, and to the broad valleys of central Honduras to the east’ (p. 169). In the Honduran segment of the valley there are five small areas of alluvial soil, while Copán’s main site (the Main Group) (Figure 244) ‘lies in the largest and most fertile of these zones at an elevation of about 600 meters’ (p. 169). The present population of Copán is concentrated mostly on the valley floor and in the adjacent foothills, like the preHispanic people who lived in the area.

Figure 243. The Palace at Palenque was probably the seat of government of a Classic-period polity that may have ruled part of the Usumacinta River region (author’s photos, 1978).

In discussing the Main Group, Webster mentions that it is ‘a huge concentration of… temples, palaces, ball courts, plazas, tombs, and carved stelae and altars… [this] was the ritual/regal core of the polity, serving as the royal residence and political center of the Copán dynasty for more than four hundred years. Most of what is now visible was built… from about AD 695 to 800’ (p. 169). The architectural style in this part of Copán ‘is quite compact compared to the scattered complexes found at some other main centers, such as Tikal. Today its buildings and plazas cover about 12 hectares, but the site was originally more extensive, probably once covering about 16 hectares’ (p. 169).

nine perennial arroyos and over 50 natural springs, flooding was a constant possibility, especially during the rainy season’ (p. 13). The solution for Palenque seems to have consisted in terracing and the canalization of streams. In fact, there was ‘a vast and complex system of drains, canals, and aqueducts constructed in all parts of the city’, as well as over 16 linear kilometers of residential terraces on the hillsides around the city.

The northern area of Copán holds the Great Plaza, an expansive space defined by large masonry stairways. This plaza was so large that the entire population of the city –some 22,000 people– could have gathered there. To the south of the Great Plaza is the Plaza of the Hieroglyphic Stairway (Figure 245), where one can see ‘more than 2,000 glyphs on the risers of the stairs [that] record the story of the Copán dynasty —the longest-known lowland Maya carved text’ (p. 171).

From Palenque in the Usumacinta River Basin we go to Copán, one of the largest centers of the Maya area during the Classic period, located in the highlands of western Honduras (Webster 2001). Copán ‘was the capital of a polity covering several hundred square kilometers… between AD 400 and 820’. This ancient city ‘is especially notable for its rich, well-preserved corpus of sculpture and inscriptions, which provides detailed insights into ritual and dynastic history’ (p. 169). Webster discussed Copán’s geographical and ecological setting, pointing out that this

In the city’s urban core around the Main Group, there are zones of dense settlement with some 1,035 structures ‘ranging from small single mounds to buildings more than 40 meters in length, [which] have been mapped in an area of about 0.6 hectares. The derived density of 1,449 structures per square kilometer is the heaviest concentration of architecture known at any Classic Maya center’ (p. 172). Copán’s urban core (Figure 246) ‘originally had about 1,300 to 1,827 structures in an area of about one kilometer, and a population estimated in 225

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Figure 244. Copán, Honduras, is one of the most important Maya sites of the Classic period. The Main Group is where the political and religious elite was concentrated (adapted from Webster 2001: Figure on p. 170).

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Figure 245. The Hieroglyphic Stairway, south of Copán’s Great Plaza. Here we see more than 2,000 glyphs sculpted on the risers of the stairs, probably the longest lowland Maya carved text (author’s photo, 1978).

the range of 9,300 to 11,600 during the eighth century’ (p. 173). Webster described the urban core as ‘essentially… a huge residential zone dominated by the households of the Copán elite. Of forty-nine known groups of elite scale and complexity in the valley as a whole, about twenty-eight are concentrated in the urban core within 850 meters of the Main Group’ (p. 173). Webster describes the region where Copán is located, noting that ‘between AD 400 and 800 the Copán River Valley… was the core of a regional Classic Maya polity extending over several hundred square kilometers… Unlike most parts of the Maya Lowlands… the regional environment of Copán is strongly delimited and compartmentalized by natural hydrographic and physiographic features… The core of the polity is a 30-kilometer-long section of the Copán River Valley’ (p. 176), while ‘the valley’s prime agricultural resources are five wide pockets of alluvial soil along the valley floor. These pockets are generally less than one kilometer wide and together have maximally about 2,500 hectares

Figure 246. Copán’s urban area includes several densely-settled zones with 1,035 structures, likely the heaviest concentration of architecture at any Classic Maya center (courtesy of Heather M. Richards-Risetto).

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Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica of alluvium… other small pockets of alluvium are found in tributary valleys or intermontane basins’ (p. 177). One consequence of population growth was the ‘increased cultivation of less fertile and more fragile upland soils after AD 600, resulting in marked erosion of the Copán pocket uplands at least by AD 750-800, when overall population densities exceeded 100 people per square kilometer. By that time, permanent cultivation was present in many parts of the valley, possibly supplemented by localized irrigation’ (p. 178). However, in spite of these high densities and intensive farming practices, ‘there are few signs of terracing, which would have helped to reduce erosion, and no indications of raised fields like those found in Belize’ (p. 178) and other areas of the Maya lowlands. The long history of splendor at Copán is in part explained by the city’s location on major routes of communication ‘between the Motagua Valley and central Honduras… Copán must have been a main intermediary in regional exchange’ in such materials as ‘jade, along with marine shell, stingray spines, and probably a host of other status items’ that were apparently imported to this city, though probably not in large amounts. ‘Pottery from the Figure 247. The Copán Valley has many abundant raw materials, including good-quality volcanic rock used for buildings like the ball-game court (a), and a temple or palace Maya lowlands proper is surprisingly structure with stairways and sculpted jaguars on the façade (b) (author’s photos, 1978). rare at Copán, [while] ceramic imports from central Honduras are more in… eastern Guatemala. And at a distance of 80 km was a abundant’ (p. 179).The most abundant import found source of obsidian… at the outcrop of Ixtepeque’ (p. 37), throughout the Copán region is obsidian, ‘primarily mentioned above. The list of strategic resources within from the Ixtepeque source about 90 kilometers distant the reach of Copán goes on to include a major outcrop in the highlands of western Guatemala’ (p. 179). of granite, which was used ‘to make the grinding stones necessary for processing maize kernels into flour for William Fash (1991) noted the outstanding natural making tortillas and other foods’ (p. 38). Yet another resources available to the people of Copán and its geological feature of importance was ‘a caolin source environs. First on the list are ‘some of the richest soils north of the valley [that] was used for manufacturing in Central America… until about the 8th century AD, and decorating pottery’. Likewise, ‘there were several annual flooding of the valley bottomlands made for the small limestone outcrops from which lime could be renewal of already fertile and mostly well-drained soils’ produced, and… other useful kinds of stones (including (p. 37). In addition to high-quality farmland, ‘another flint for producing chipped stone tools)’ (p. 38). The main environmental advantage which the Copán Valley implication of this information is that Copán’s wealth inhabitants had was access to various abundant raw may have derived in part from trade, both regional and materials’ (p. 37), including good-quality volcanic rock international. In fact, Teotihuacan in far-away central used for buildings (Figure 247) and sculptures (Figure Mexico seems to have been an important trade partner. 248). Another critical resource was jade. In fact, ‘the In all likelihood, there were other trading partners largest known source of jade in Mesoamerica is within within the Mesoamerican ecumene (Sharer 2003). three days’ walk of Copán in the Middle Motagua Valley… 228

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Figure 248. These stelae in Copán’s Main Plaza show the city’s rulers in full regalia, in front of elaborate altars (author’s photos, 1978).

Webster (2001) holds that, although Copán was a lowland Maya polity as far as its culture was concerned, ‘it was situated on an ethnic/linguistic frontier and had exchange relations with both highland Maya and non-Maya societies… Copán appears to have had one great pulse of population growth, reached its maturity… after AD 600, then declined both politically and demographically after 820, partly owing to anthropogenic disruption of its fragile agricultural resources’ (p. 179). Recent research by Bryce Brown (2016) has shed new light on the question of Copán’s downfall around the ninth century AD. Using soil data from the agricultural landscape around the ancient settlements of Rio Amarillo and Piedras Negras, two of Copán’s tributary sites, Brown found no evidence of large-scale soil erosion. Therefore, the downfall of these Maya cities was probably caused by a variety of factors, including wars and political unrest, and not solely by ecological degradation, as had been proposed earlier.

BC, and continued until around AD 900. The peak of site development… occurred between AD 682 and 800’ (p. 748).Thanks to ‘water routes nearby that connected to the Usumacinta in the west and the Río Hondo and Caribbean Sea in the east, the location was ideal for trade control… the site [is] flanked to the east and west by poorly drained wetlands’ (p. 748). There is some uncorroborated evidence that these wetlands were exploited agriculturally by the Maya of Tikal. Although the city’s large population relied primarily on agriculture, there were other important food sources as well. ‘In addition to basic milpa food production and the intensive exploitation of the adjacent swamps, other suggested food sources include root crops, ramón nuts, wild game, salt fish fillets (obtained by trade); the people also grew numerous useful… plants in kitchen gardens’ (p. 748). The uplands at Tikal are well-drained, fertile and suitable for slash-and-burn agriculture, and even the impermeable clay soils of the adjacent wetlands support crops with no need for measures designed to control water.

The last Maya city discussed here is Tikal, a major urban center of the Classic period located in the central Petén rainforest region of Guatemala (Harrison 2001). Tikal has earned the status of ‘regional capital’ because of the great extent of the site and its architectural style, as well as many aspects of the cultural history within the Maya Lowlands. This ancient city ‘was first occupied during the Middle Formative… around 800

The core area of Tikal’s ceremonial center (Figure 249) ‘measures 16 square kilometers, while the extent of known settlement covers an area of 265 square kilometers’ (p. 748) (Figure 250). The present-day site is centered on the Great Plaza (Figure 251), surrounded by major buildings (Figure 252), all connected to each other by sacbes or broad causeways. As for the number of people that may have dwelled in Tikal during the 229

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Figure 249. The core area of Tikal’s ceremonial center covers 16 km2. The ruling elite lived in this part of the city, where most of the buildings and plazas are concentrated (adapted from Harrison 2001, p. 749).

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Figure 250. The extent of known settlement at Tikal covers an area of approximately 265 km2 (detail; adapted from Coe 1977).

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Figure 251. Tikal’s Temple I is also known as ‘Temple of the Great Jaguar’ because of a lintel that represents a king sitting upon a jaguar throne (author’s photo, 1978).

Figure 252. Tikal’s Temple II, overlooking the Great Plaza in front of Temple I (author’s photo, 1978).

Classic period, Harrison states that ‘researchers over the years have estimated Tikal’s population at levels from 10,000 to 100,000 and higher’. The number of inhabitants always seems to be rising, as the estimates ‘are based on increasing understanding of the site —its number of structures, and its potential for economic bases’ (pp. 749-750).

site’. During this period, the present structures of the North Acropolis and most of the temples in front of the Great Terrace were constructed. These buildings served ‘as tombs for the kings of Tikal as well as functioning temples’. Most of the site of Tikal as we see it today ‘was constructed during the Late Classic period (ca. AD 550850)’ (p. 752).

The Maya artistic tradition present at Tikal has attracted much attention from scholars and the general public. Harrison wrote that ‘the major sources of art at Tikal are the carved monuments and lintels. Monuments include stelae and altars… When preserved, the accompanying hieroglyphic texts have been a source for the identification of rulers, their achievements, and their dynastic relationships’ (p. 750) (Figure 253). Because Tikal has been studied for many years, we have a more-or-less clear view of its development and history. In this respect, Harrison holds that ‘by the end of the Formative an architectural style had been achieved, as well as ceremonialism and burial patterns’. During the Early Classic period (ca. AD 250-550), Tikal experienced considerable growth and expansion, as seen in its ‘monumental architecture as well as in residential refuse dumps in outlying parts of the greater

According to Haviland and Moholy-Nagy (1992), there was considerable variation in residential architecture at Tikal, where houses show ‘an unbroken range of variation all the way from simple pole-and-thatch buildings without supporting platforms, through structures of varying complexity, to massive, all masonry range-type structures or “palaces”’. By the same token, ‘associated buildings such as family shrines vary widely in floor area and quality of construction… Though not all palaces built entirely of masonry were houses,… some clearly were… and it is reasonable to assume that those who inhabited such imposing edifices were of considerably higher standing than those who lived in smaller houses built… of perishable materials’ (p. 51). Another characteristic of palace groups is that they ‘have more outbuildings, probably including storehouses, kitchens, and servants’ 232

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whorls or other mundane household belongings’, the tombs of kings usually included ‘large quantities of fine pottery vessels, as well as other items never found in lower-class graves. Some of the vessels appear to have been treasured heirlooms… while others were specially commissioned for the burial’ (p. 53). Other objects likely to be found in elite burials are ‘beads of jade and Spondylus shell, stingray spines, and red pigment dusted or painted over the body as well as associated objects… [as well as] small anthropomorphic stone sculptures, greenstone and shell face masks ’ (p. 53). After around AD 550, other kinds of durable items accompanied the members of the elite on their final journey: ‘Jade mosaic vases, headbands made of… jade flares, bracelets and anklets of jade cylinder beads, bone and… shell objects… sets of bones inscribed with hieroglyphs, and jaguar pelts… chert and obsidian debitage,’ Finally, there are many cases in which human sacrificial victims were placed inside the tomb (pp. 53-54). We have seen in the foregoing pages that Tikal had an outstanding place in Maya culture and history, but it has also played a special role in the history of Mesoamerican archaeology. Jeremy A. Sabloff (1990) wrote about the changing viewpoints regarding Maya subsistence that emerged in the mid-to-late 20th century, in part because of research carried out at Tikal. Sabloff holds that ‘in the 1960s and early 1970s, new field research and analyses were producing results that could no longer be accommodated with the established model of Maya civilization. The traditional wisdom came under concerted attack, and, by the mid-1970s, the old model had been replaced… by a new one’ (p. 68). The downfall of the traditional model of Maya civilization that rested upon the notion of vacant sites with sparse populations supported by swidden agriculture in the lowlands ‘began with the detailed settlement survey carried out by the Tikal Project of the University of Pennsylvania Museum… from 1956 to 1970… The University Museum chose… Tikal… because of its overwhelming size. Tikal was the largest known [Maya] site in the 1950s, in both the size of its individual structures and the number and spread of large buildings’ (p. 75).

Figure 253. Classic-period art at Tikal includes sculptures depicting rulers, like this king seated on a throne with a jaguar as a symbol of power (adapted from Morley 1956: Figure 31).

quarters, as well as private shrines… While separate kitchens, storehouses or shrines may sometimes be found in non-elite settings… servants’ quarters never are’ (p. 51).

According to Sabloff, the mapping and excavation of the ruins outside of the central elite core of Tikal (carried out between 1950 and 1970) were among the field studies that most significantly challenged the older concepts around Maya settlement patterns. This was the first intensive settlement survey of a large Maya urban center. The University of Pennsylvania archaeologists involved in this work made an intensive survey of an area of 16 square kilometers around the core of the site, where they found thousands of mounds of all sizes. In many cases they were the remains of perishable houses (p. 77).

Class differences are also evident in burials at Tikal and other Classic Maya sites. Haviland and Moholy-Nagy hold that ‘in death, as in life, the high and mighty were able to command more space than the [commoners]… Royal tombs were not only expensive to build, but were expensive to stock as well. Unlike lower-class burials, which rarely include more than three pottery vessels… [and] one or two other items such as spindle 233

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica They also uncovered various kinds of domestic debris and evidence of construction, such as walls and floors. These were interpreted as the remnants of houses with one or several rooms, as well as nearby kitchens and other specialized activity areas (p. 78). The structures had originally been made of wood and thatch, so they had disappeared, but the house mounds remained as archaeological evidence of widespread and abundant occupation in pre-Hispanic times.

to fresh water, aguadas provided forest-dwellers with fish, mollusks and many other edible species. For Puleston, the fact that fish and animals like crocodiles and others ‘are thriving in the aguadas indicates how well these man-made reservoirs fit the natural lowland environment. They are an impressive testament to the ability of the ancient Maya to solve vital problems without upsetting the balance of their environment’ (p. 90).

Once the traditional model of Maya settlement was debunked, archaeologists had to address the question of how the dense populations living in Maya cities had been fed in the first place. Once again, fieldwork at Tikal was at the forefront of the archaeological research that would resolve this issue and shape a new understanding of Maya civilization. Dennis E. Puleston was one of the most important investigators in this regard thanks to field research he conducted at Tikal between 1961 and 1972 (Puleston 2015).

In his discussion of pre-Hispanic agriculture at Tikal, Puleston mentions that the ramón tree (Brosimum alicastrum) was ‘one of the most productive trees in the Maya lowlands, since it is widely used for food today and remains a mainstay of most village gardens for its many useful and nutritional qualities’ (p. 97). In addition to this tree, Puleston wrote about many other plants that were cultivated by the Maya, such as ‘various species of squash… tomatoes… chaya (Jathropa aconitifolia) and… chili pepper’ (p. 97) that could all have been cultivated among the ramón and other trees. The ramón was not the only tree cultivated by the Maya in forest gardens; in fact, Puleston wrote that ‘other tree crops include the mamey (Calocarpum mammosum), the avocado, the zapote (Manilkara zapota), the papaya (Carica papaya), [and] at least six species of Annona’ (i.e. soursop or guanábana), among others’ (p. 97). But ramón was the most important tree crop, since it could ‘probably be considered superior to maize in terms of nutritional values… It has several distinct advantages over the bean: more calories, less moisture, and much more vitamin A and ascorbic acid’ (p. 110).

In his writings on the demographic density and number of people who lived at Tikal, Puleston (2015) considered ‘a rough population estimate… of around 80,000 persons for the Early and Late Classic’ (p. 64). In order to feed all these people, ‘the land surrounding the house mounds was used for food production… This is the cultivable land and it is dispersed among the residential structures… This land determined the dispersed settlement pattern and the distances between house-mound groups over centuries’ (p. 72). In Puleston’s opinion, the settlement data compels us to reject the notion of slash-and-burn farming practices. Puleston held that swidden agriculture ‘is not the only way to produce maize and to limit the Maya to one form of production is to attribute to them a lack of ingenuity and capability’ (p. 72). For this reason, he decided to ‘explore other forms of cultivation based on clues left behind in the natural environment… a form of agroforestry in… house gardens that probably also included the production of maize and beans... in the context of intercropping, replenishing of organic matter, and the addition of human waste’ (p. 72).

Ramón cultivation went hand-in-hand with a peculiar system of seed storage studied by Puleston, the chultún (Figure 254). Puleston tells us that ‘throughout the Classic Maya Lowlands we find many curious subterranean chambers called “chultuns” whose function appears to be related to food storage within a tree based food production system. Chultuns were common all across the site of Tikal… they tend to be associated with residential compounds… whatever was stored inside was protected from pests and from the rains’ (p. 113). According to Puleston, ‘the most logical explanation for these… chambers was that they served for food storage… to test their suitability I built an experimental chultun… I started a series of storage experiments by placing maize, beans, squash, root crops, and ramón seeds into the interior chamber for storage’ (pp. 115-116). Puleston discovered that ‘the chultun provided excellent protection for all foods from rodents and most insects, but only the ramón seeds maintained their integrity over the initial

Puleston followed an ecological approach to his studies of the Maya natural environment and the cultural adaptations to the challenges presented by the tropical rainforest. One of the apparently contradictory features of the rainforest was its lack of potable water. Puleston commented the following regarding this situation: ‘For a land that once sustained a thriving culture of tens of thousands of people, the Tikal region is remarkable in that there are no steady natural sources of drinking water, a circumstance resulting from the geology of the region… the ancient Maya source of water for nonpotable use [was] the Tikal Aguada’4 (p. 86). In addition 4 

landscape. Aguadas are clay-lined depressions capable of holding water through the dry season. The Maya regularly dredged and refinished aguadas so that there would be a constant source of fresh water in their cities and towns (Garrison 2020).

The aguada is an example of how the Maya modified the natural

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‘Maya civilization was sustained by extensive slash-and-burn systems of cultivation. This view of Maya subsistence has endured despite the paucity of evidence and has influenced numerous arguments concerning the growth and decline of the lowland Maya Classic civilization’ (Turner 1978:13). The swidden thesis was seriously challenged from the 1960s onwards as numerous scholars (archaeologists, anthropologists, geographers) turned their attention to the critical issue of Maya agriculture in relation to population. Turner (1978) points out that the studies coming out of the field in the late 1960s and early 1970s ‘produced estimates of pre-Hispanic Maya population densities that would strain, if not exceed, the capabilities of any known forms of swidden agriculture. Such results led to a variety of hypotheses for alternative food procurement systems’ (p. 17). In short, Turner believed that ‘the recent… data indicate that the pre-Hispanic Maya were not limited to Figure 254. Throughout the Classic Maya lowlands we find many swidden cultivation as a subsistence base. subterranean chambers called ‘chultuns’ whose function appears to be Rather, agricultural systems in the lowlands related to food storage (adapted from Puleston 1978: Figure 12.5). undoubtedly varied through space and time in association with demographic, environmental and, test period of 11 weeks… 13 months later the ramón possibly, commercial factors’ (p. 19). seeds were still edible… the other foods molded and were attacked by mites’ (p. 116). After completing The book Pre-Hispanic Maya Agriculture, edited by Peter his experiment with ramón storage inside chultuns, D. Harrison and B.L. Turner (1978), marked a paradigm Puleston came to the conclusion that ‘the function of shift in the study of Maya subsistence strategies. After the chultuns was probably for food storage of seeds the publication of this collective volume we see a new such as the ramón and for other low moisture food wave of research that is still going on today. For the products’ (p. 116). These findings contributed to sake of brevity, I will mention just a few of the most changing the prevailing perceptions about the lowland important works that have been published over the last Maya culture. Evidence of large numbers of people at four decades. ancient Maya cities like Tikal refuted the long-held notion that population densities had been limited by Richard R. Wilk (1985) conducted ethnographic the low carrying capacity associated with slash-andresearch exploring patterns of agriculture among burn agriculture. By the same token, excavation and the Kekchi Maya of Southern Belize. By studying the survey undertaken by Puleston and others at Tikal also diversity and transformations of modern traditional helped debunk the myth of the ‘vacant ceremonial agriculture, Wilk attempts to arrive at a general model center’. This was achieved by proving that most of the of productive systems and how they integrate with visible house mounds had been occupied at the same other aspects of society and the natural environment. time, thus indicating a permanent occupation with a Because agricultural systems leave few traces in high population density. the archaeological record, Wilk’s study of a modern agricultural system is important for making inferences After the foregoing discussion of the most salient for archaeological interpretation. aspects of pre-Hispanic Maya urbanism, in the following pages I turn to different kinds of intensive agriculture Peter D. Harrison (1992), meanwhile, speaks of a that have been proposed for the ancient Maya by ‘revolution’ in research on ancient Maya subsistence. In archaeologists, geographers, and other scholars. his view, numerous studies conducted from the 1960s to the 1990s with new field techniques (including aerial Intensive Agriculture among the Ancient Maya photography and remote sensing) showed that the monumental cores of the major Maya sites represented We have already mentioned the ‘swidden thesis’ only a fraction of the total settlement area. These proposed by Morley and other authors (e.g. Coe 1966) discoveries prompted archaeologists to revise their in the first half of the 20th century. This thesis held that 235

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica views about the number of inhabitants in most Maya cities. As the figures increased (for example Tikal’s population estimates went from 10,000 to 100,000), new subsistence strategies were explored, such as raised fields and other forms of intensive agriculture.

of crops and other economically useful plants’ (p. 196). This notion coincides with Elizabeth Graham’s idea of ‘green cities’. In the process of examining the ways in which archaeologists and other scholars define the built environment, Graham (1999) makes a distinction ‘between stone cities and green cities. Stone cities are those in which stone or mud brick or plaster or any building material dominates the landscape creating dense clusters of houses and features in which green space is kept at bay. Green cities, [like] those of the Maya [and] many cities in humid tropical West Africa, have traditionally been seen as farther “down” the evolutionary scale than stone cities’ (p. 191).

Among the new perspectives on Maya subsistence, ‘tree-cropping’ was proposed as a viable adaptation to the tropical forest in the context of the greater demand for food posed by a growing population. According to McKillop (1994), there is a predominance of tree crops among the plant remains excavated in coastal sites of southern Belize. In light of these findings, together with McKillop’s own work on pre-Hispanic exploitation of maritime resources (see the previous section), she proposes tree-cropping as ‘a specialized adaptation well suited to the limited arable land on offshore islands’ (p. 129).

According to Graham, ‘green space is generally excluded from consideration as the object of intensification or development in the process of urbanization… we ought to give green space management deeper thought. In the humid tropics in particular, urban green space may have been subject to the same pressures for developing complexity and intensification as the built or stone environment’ (p. 191). Graham holds that ‘expanses of green in tropical cities ought not to be interpreted as evidence of an underdeveloped built environment, but an indication that more sophisticated approaches are needed to heighten perception and interpretation of an alternative urban pathway. It is also true that the forests around tropical cities may not be the remnants of wild stands, but may themselves be a reflection of ecosystem management’ (p. 191). To sum up, most settlements in the Maya lowlands could be called ‘green cities’ while many highland settlements like Teotihuacan or Monte Albán could be called ‘stone cities’.

On the topic of human-plant relationships, Morehart et al. (2004) hold that the study of plant utilization in the Maya area relied solely on ethnohistorical and ethnographic accounts until some 30 years ago, when paleoethnobotany began to employ actual plant remains. This approach was followed in the Belize River Valley, where ‘archaeological remains have been utilized with other sources of data to elucidate subsistence strategies, to address environmental exploitation, and even to reconstruct ritual practices’ (p. 2). Lisa J. Lucero (2006) discusses a Western bias in the perception that many people have of ancient tropical societies, including the Maya, who are often seen as ‘mysterious’ or ‘marginal’ because ecological conditions in the tropics are not considered capable of sustaining complex civilizations. However, according to Lucero ‘the southern Maya lowlands have a high percentage of mollisols which are considered to be among the most highly productive soils’ (p. 281). On the basis of this information, Lucero concludes that the Maya, like all people in history, adapted their subsistence practices and technologies to satisfy their needs in the context of their environment. Agricultural intensification provided a surplus, and that surplus had to be extracted from producers and fed into the state coffers to expand the political economy. By providing water during the drought season through irrigation, rulers were able to draw farmers into the urban centers —and under the elite’s political control.

Obviously, the need to find space for agriculture in or near the built environment goes hand-in-hand with finding adequate sources of water. According to Lucero et al. (2014), this factor should also be considered when analyzing Maya settlement decisions. These authors hold that everything in Maya society was tied to the wet season/dry season cycle, especially agriculture. This situation meant that the Maya were vulnerable to variations in annual or more long-term weather patterns. To compensate for this condition, they constructed large, complex earthworks that created a cultural landscape (reservoirs, canals, raised fields) to secure a constant supply of water and enhance yearround soil fertility. Forest management was another strategy that enabled the ancient Maya to thrive in their environment. Dussol et al. (2017, 2020) conducted a study at Naachtun (a Classic-period site in northern Guatemala) of two tree species that were used for fuel in ancient times: ramón (Brosimum alicastrum) and chicozapote or sapodilla (Manilkara zapota). Based on analyses of charcoal samples, they came to the conclusion that both species of tree were equally important for the city’s fuel

On the topic of agriculture, land use, and the nature of Maya cities, Chelsea Fisher (2014) has written that ‘many Maya settlements can be considered low-density cities: their residential and institutional components are relatively dispersed across the landscape’ (p. 196). Infield agriculture has often been used to explain this situation. According to this perspective, ‘space within the urban sector was kept open for intensive cultivation 236

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economy until the time of its abandonment. The lesson here is that when it comes to plant use, nutrition is not always the only concern. Equally important was the supply of wood for domestic use.

river floodplains have generally been considered unfit for agriculture since the Spanish Conquest’ (p. 241). Thanks to the work of scholars like Robert C. West and others (beginning in the late 1950s), we know that numerous areas in several regions of South America ‘were once intensively farmed. The pre-Columbian farmers had a specialized system of agriculture that physically reshaped large parts of the South-American continent… the intricate earthworks required for this system in the tropical lowlands of four widely separated regions: eastern Bolivia, western Ecuador, northern Colombia and coastal Surinam’ (Parsons and Denevan 1967:241).

The ancient Maya, like all peoples through history, had to endure from time-to-time seasons of low agricultural productivity that in extreme cases could spell hunger for the population (Dine et al. 2019). This is where ‘famine foods’ come into the equation. Famine foods have been defined as ‘those foods that are available even when more frequently consumed rations cannot be acquired’ (p. 1), but these authors prefer a different definition: ‘Abundant, nutritious options, resistant to common causes of food shortage, but scorned for cultural reasons’ (p. 1).

Meanwhile, back in the Maya area, Don Rice (1978) studied the geology of the lowlands and its implications for subsistence: ‘Like the Yucatán Peninsula, the northern Petén is a continuation of a karst limestone plateau marked by… a scarcity of surface water… The central Petén lakes may be generally described as shallow basins of interior drainage… small streams may discharge into large bodies of water, but there is no surface outflow to the sea’ (p. 36). This geological approach is essential for our understanding of preHispanic agriculture in the Maya lowlands, as the following pages will show.

In the case of the Yucatec Maya community studied here (modern Yaxunah, in eastern Yucatán), the authors assume that recurrent times of hardship led the people to acquire a detailed knowledge of reserve or substitute (i.e. ‘famine’) foods; for instance, wild plants and animals as opposed to cultivated maize. In the final analysis, what is a ‘desirable’ food and what is a food reserved for times of hardship is a cultural decision that should be evaluated in the context of historical processes and changes. In the following pages I discuss the most salient aspects of Harrison and Turner’s Pre-Hispanic Maya Agriculture to underscore the pivotal role that this volume had in the development of new ideas related to this key topic. The book includes a discussion of the so-called ‘milpa myth’ by Norman Hammond (1978), according to which, ‘the use of agricultural methods other than milpa swiddening and arboriculture… was not consciously considered until quite recently. Although the existence of raised-fields complexes in other regions of the preColumbian Americas had been emphasized… they remained unnoticed in the Maya area’ (p. 24) until the work of Siemens and Puleston (1972) in southern Campeche.

Frederick M. Wiseman (1978) adopted an interdisciplinary approach, including ethnographic information, in an attempt to produce a cohesive portrayal of the pre-Hispanic landscape in the central lake region of the Petén. The cultural landscape in this region is the setting for the modern, so-called ‘dooryard’ garden, a small, fenced enclosure near houses. Wiseman saw that the ‘plants raised in the gardens are ornamental flowers, cash and subsistence crops ranging from medicinal herbs, such as epazote… to crops such as chili… semi-arborescent plants (Yucca elephantipes), and fruit and shade trees (Cocos nucifera). Much household activity is carried out in the shade of the dooryard garden, and refuse is often used for mulching and fertilizer’ (pp. 79-81).

Hammond holds that ‘the initial pattern of penetration of the central and southern Maya lowlands seems likely to have been riverine, exploiting the greater variety of resources in, and adjacent to the stream, its banks, and marginal swamps. In this situation the raised-field [ecological] niche in the swamp margins could have been created early in the Formative’ (p. 33).

Fuel procurement is also of interest to archaeologists. According to Wiseman, ‘the modern Maya essentially rely upon hardwoods for fuel; firewood consumption is rapid’. Wiseman recorded ‘a utilization rate of 0.1 cord5 per day… each family uses 10 to 20 cords of firewood per year… this figure implies a considerable selective pressure on dense wood species… nearly 120 trees are required to obtain a cord of firewood’ (p. 81). Since the pre-Hispanic Maya ‘had a population density many times greater than that of their modern descendants, the energy demands upon the tropical forest probably

Before raised fields came to be studied systematically in the Maya area, James Parsons and William Denevan (1967) documented ‘ridged fields’ in South America, where ‘thousands of square miles of tropical lowlands are submerged in shallow floodwaters for weeks or months during the rainy season… Covered either with savannah grasses or with forest, these poorly drained

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1 cord= 128 cubic feet of firewood.

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Figure 255. The ‘artificial rainforest’ is an array of various crops (trees, vines, roots, seeds) combined in a way that preserves the original energy (and nutrient) cycles of the parent forest (adapted from Wiseman 1978: Figure 5.3).

necessitated a well-programmed fuel production and allotment system’ (p. 82).

Other strategies of intensive agriculture outlined by Wiseman are terracing and raised fields. Terraces ‘are good evidence for almost total land use, since all arable lowland would be under cultivation before the expense of terrace construction was undertaken’ (pp. 90-91). As for raised fields, this system (like the chinampas discussed earlier) ‘is best suited to swamps and river floodplains, which constitute approximately 21 percent of the central Petén’. Although ‘there are few data… for either amount of work necessary to construct drained fields systems, or their potential productivity’, the levels of output of highland Mexican chinampas ‘are almost certainly too high to be applicable to a Maya agricultural situation, owing to the sporadic nature of bajo inundation’ (p. 91). However, ‘the presence of raised fields in Belize… Campeche, and… Quintana Roo, provides circumstantial evidence that raised field cultivation may have been utilized in the central lake region of Petén’ (p. 92) and perhaps other parts of the Maya area as well.

The so-called ‘artificial rain forest’ (Figure 255) ‘is an array of tree crops, vine crops, root crops, and… seed crops combined in such a way as to preserve the primeval energy (and nutrient) cycles of the parent forest’ (p. 85). The modern Petén farmer ‘does not clearcut the forest, but spares certain culturally useful species while eliminating those plants not considered valuable’ (p. 85). Table 19 shows the main species present in the artificial rainforest, and the potential productivity of each species. The ramón tree occupies 28% of the surface of the artificial rain forest, the remaining 72% is occupied by the plants listed below (p. 88). Table 19. Main plant species present in the artificial rainforest, and their potential productivity (Wiseman 1978:88). Species

Potential annual productivity (in kg/hectare)

Ramón tree (Brosimum alicastrum)

1,122

Manioc (Manihot esculenta)

1,871

Maize (Zea mais)

1,151

Beans (Phaseolus sp.)

17,289

Sweet potato (Ipomoea batatas)

4,773

Squash (Cucurbita sp.)

5,239

Alfred Siemens (1978) explored the role played by raised fields in pre-Hispanic Maya agriculture. Siemens describes karstic landscapes as ‘generally quite problematic habitats… [in] the Yucatán Peninsula soils are sparse, more so in the northern than in the southern lowlands. In the north, the basal groundwater table… is relatively easily accessible through numerous cenotes. In the south, water is less easily accessible away from 238

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the few permanent surface streams’ (p. 110). This challenging environment was utilized by the Maya, who turned riverbanks and marshes into highlyproductive farmland. We find an example of this in the preHispanic raised fields in the floodplain of the Candelaria and nearby bajos. According to Siemens, ‘the yearly rise and fall of the stream and groundwater nearby had been manageable enough to allow intensive land use and canalization… even under the current hydrological regime… the waterway probably could have been negotiated by a dugout at low water’ (p. 124). Remains of ancient raised fields on the same floodplain were identified and photographed from the air by Siemens (Figures 256 and 257). The fields along the Candelaria River ‘were clearly an impressive food-producing area, with a well-developed waterborne transportation infrastructure, [with] good access to the sea, and… Maya trade routes’ (p. 124).

Figure 256. Raised fields along the Candelaria River, Campeche. The tops of the fields have been colonized by tree growth. Across the river there is a modern settlement; an archaeological site is visible in the background (courtesy of Alfred H. Siemens).

After years of exploration, ‘extensive complexes of raised fields and associated features were… found in the floodplains and nearby bajos of both the Hondo and New rivers [of Belize]… Here was clearly an even more impressive agricultural region’ than the ones documented so far (p. 129). Siemens defined the bajos as ‘the lowest of the lowlands… a source of water and fish, as well as a medium of transportation’ (p. 129).

Figure 257. Traces of ancient raised fields can be seen on the banks of the Candelaria River. These farmlands must have contributed greatly to local subsistence in ancient times (courtesy of Alfred H. Siemens).

Expanding on the subject of intensive food production, B. L. Turner (1978) mentions ‘new evidence indicating that at various times in the past the lowland Maya maintained large, densely settled populations which subsisted by intensely cultivating several diverse physiographic zones’ (p. 163). Turner points out that intensive agriculture was practiced on all kinds of terrain: ‘ridge lands; flank lands; flat lands; terraces; raised fields; bajos; savannas; river valleys; and, mountain pine ridges’ (p. 167). Of special importance were the ‘relic Maya terraces… recorded over an extensive area of southern Campeche and Quintana Roo’ (p. 168).

Although they may appear to be nothing more than uninviting swamps, ‘the bajos of the Petén may have been used for intensive agriculture, especially with raised fields. There is striking evidence for raised fields in several extensively forested bajos to the west and north of Chetumal, Quintana Roo. These bajos look… similar to those of the Petén’ (p. 141). In addition to the farming potential of these depressions on the landscape, they may have been excellent sources of fish and other aquatic species (amphibians, reptiles, birds, etcetera). Siemens holds that ‘fish may have been a considerable resource in the bajos of the Petén’, all the more because ‘the bajos once did hold water more efficiently than they do today’ (p. 142). This is similar to the chinampas of the Basin of Mexico, which were in full production until recent decades (Figure 258).

As for terracing in the central Maya lowlands, Turner held that terraces were ‘probably implemented in an attempt to retain soils on slopes, to expand the land area under cultivation, to manipulate soil-moisture 239

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica

a

b Figure 258. The modern chinampas at Lake Texcoco can be used as models for ethnographic analogy to understand the Maya raised fields, although these farming systems were not exactly the same. The canals were used for transportation (a-b), while the raised fields allowed year-round cultivation (c-d). (Courtesy of Teresa Rojas Rabiela).

240

Aquatic Subsistence in the Maya Area

c

d

Figure 258. The modern chinampas at Lake Texcoco can be used as models for ethnographic analogy to understand the Maya raised fields, although these farming systems were not exactly the same. The canals were used for transportation (a-b), while the raised fields allowed year-round cultivation (c-d). (Courtesy of Teresa Rojas Rabiela).

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Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica conditions, and to create an adequate soil depth for cropping’ (p. 169). The terraces under discussion ‘were undoubtedly constructed in order to facilitate intensive agriculture, probably an annual or nearannual cycle. The time, expense, manpower, and organization necessary to construct and maintain the large-scale terrace systems were too great to have been wasted on a system of cultivation that merely approximated or slightly improved the swidden cycle’ (p. 169). Because ‘seasonal inundation is characteristic of several physiographic zones in the central lowlands, including river valleys and bajos… cultivation necessitates the creation of cropping surfaces above the level of inundation by draining the zone and/or by constructing raised fields. The central lowland Maya used both methods’ (pp. 171-172).

cultivation of terraces was probably more productive than modern maize cultivation’ (p. 232). In the second system, raised fields, the function of these features ‘as planting surfaces… is demonstrated by ethnohistorical accounts and by the identification of… fossil pollen… in canal sediments’ (p. 237). Puleston carried out an experimental reconstruction of a raised field on the Hondo River (bordering presentday Mexico and Belize). This experiment ‘confirmed… the potential of fish protein production in the canals. Cultivation experiments show that squash, beans, tomatoes, and cotton grow well in the fields’ (p. 237). Because water was available through bucket irrigation from the surrounding canals, the risk of drought was eliminated, while the platforms reduced the risk of excessive amounts of water in case of intense rains or flooding.

According to Turner, ‘raised fields provided several functions that allowed the Maya to cultivate inundated terrain. The platform provided suitable soil-moisture conditions and adequate soil depth for cultivation… Furthermore, the concentrations of topsoils and the probable application of muck from the surrounding ditches created a more fertile soil for cultivation’ (p. 173).

The third and final farming system discussed by Puleston is kitchen gardening, with ramón trees as the main crop. The distribution of ‘chambered chultunes… apparently used for ramón-seed storage… seems to offer the best spatial indicator for utilization of ramón trees in Classic times. Subterranean chultunes are found over much of the Maya lowlands’ (p. 239), and are ‘usually associated with residential settlement along the Candelaria in Campeche… and along the Hondo in Belize’, while at Tikal there are ‘approximately 480 chultunes on a total of 18 square km, for an average of 26.7 chultunes per square kilometer’ (p. 241).

I have already mentioned the work carried out by Puleston (2015) at Tikal. Puleston (1978) wrote that ‘one of the ways in which the newly discovered subsistence systems of the Maya differed from swidden agriculture is that… they were production-intensive; that is, yields per unit area were considerably greater over a long period of time’ (p. 225). Puleston identified three intensive systems characterized ‘by (1) terraces; (2) raised fields; and, (3) kitchen-garden tree cropping [that] were similar to one another and differed from swidden agriculture’ (p. 225).

Puleston assumed that the seed of the ramón tree was as important for the pre-Hispanic Maya ‘as maize has been in modern times’. With this thought in mind, he addressed the question of productivity in the following terms: Typically a modern Maya family consumes 2,4003,800 pounds of maize per year… an equivalent year’s supply of ramón can be calculated to be 62.2 bushels. The labor required to obtain one year’s supply of food is minimal [since] tree cropping requires no clearing, hoeing, planting, weeding, or mulching. The seeds of the ramón ripen on the tree and fall to the ground when they are ready to be eaten [and the] average annual production… [is] 2,406.6 pounds per acre, or 2.7 metric tons per hectare (p. 242).

In discussing the first system, Puleston pointed out that ‘terraces… seem to occur at various localities in the Maya lowlands, notably in the Río Bec region [central Yucatán Peninsula] and in western Belize’ (p. 225). In this author’s opinion, ‘terraces in the Maya lowlands were almost certainly used in some form of food production. The possibility that some of them also served a residential function, however… should be examined’ (p. 231). Pollen analysis would probably help to determine ‘at least some of the crops that may have been involved’ in terrace agriculture, but ‘we are probably safe in assuming that maize was a principal crop’ (p. 232).

Puleston obtained an estimate of productivity in 1973 based on ethnographic data. He found that ‘3,000 pounds of seed could be collected over a period of weeks during the fruiting season with a total labor investment of… 225 hours… This works out to 22.5 man-days on the basis of a 10-hour workday… No agricultural system in the world approaches even remotely this astounding

In Puleston’s opinion, because of ‘the greater investment of time and effort necessary for the construction and maintenance of terraces… as compared to milpa fields, we may suspect that yields per unit area over a period of time were proportionally higher… [and] intensive 242

Aquatic Subsistence in the Maya Area

figure’ (p. 242). If this information is correct, then ramón tree farming would be one of the answers to the question of how the ancient Maya were able to feed their large populations.

or compel the animals to stay in [the] vicinity so that [they] might more easily use them?’ (p. 158). There are hints in colonial records that deer may have been at least managed, a practice suggested by Masson and Peraza (2008) for Mayapán. Earlier in this chapter, we saw how these authors suggested that the breeding of deer may have been an important industry at this site, providing a reliable food source, as well as meat and bone for trade with other areas.

David R. Harris (1978) wrote a critique of the prevailing views about pre-Hispanic Maya subsistence in the last quarter of the 20th century, where he affirms that ‘it is often assumed that Maya civilization is an exception to the rule that humid tropical lowlands were inimical to the rise of complex, urban societies. This assumption stems from a European view of world history that looks to the dry lands of Southwest Asia as the cradle of civilization’ (p. 301). This viewpoint ‘also reflects a persistent misconception of tropical lowlands as monotonous, forested environments of low ecological diversity… The claim that the Maya represent the world’s only swidden-based civilization can now be rejected’ (p. 301).

More important than the hypothetical management of deer stocks, however, was the development of ‘intensive ways of producing more staple crops [including] the utilization of fields artificially constructed and maintained’ (Hammond 1982:159). These intensive farming techniques –for instance, terracing hillsides– amounted to creating ‘artificial econiches… where stone walls were built across a sloping hillside or a valley to act as erosion controls and silt traps, collecting a deep soil in the space behind the walls’ (p. 159).

In hindsight, it seems inevitable that the old views about Maya subsistence would be rejected, but it took many years until a new generation of scholars –archaeologists, geographers, anthropologists, and others– would dare to ‘think outside the box’ and offer a novel model based on new archaeological data, as well as ethnography and ethnohistory. The future of Maya research would never look the same.

Hammond recognizes B.L. Turner II as being among the first scholars to demonstrate that ‘terraces occurred over very large areas in the lowlands, on moderate slopes as well as the steep hillsides where they had hitherto been recorded’ (p. 160). After terraces, a second form of artificial ecological niche was documented by ‘raised fields in swampy areas. These are similar in function to the chinampas of the Valley of Mexico… but instead of being built out into open lakes, they are created by draining marshy river margins or basins’ (p. 160). We saw earlier that these raised fields were first identified in the Maya area in the early 1970s by Siemens and Puleston (1972), who used aerial photography to dramatic effect in the Candelaria River Basin of Campeche.

Final Remarks In the book, A History of American Archaeology, Willey and Sabloff (1980) discuss new viewpoints about Maya archaeology that came into being in the 1960s and 1970s, a time of pronounced change in New World archaeology in terms of theories and methods. According to these authors, ‘ancient Maya civilization… has always stood somewhat apart from other Mesoamerican and New World civilizational developments’ (p. 226). The degree to which this separate status was accurate was reevaluated in the 1970s, resulting in several revisions to our thinking about the Maya. Willey and Sabloff mention the following areas where changes took place: (1) populations in lowland areas of the Maya area were seen to be larger and more complex than previously thought; (2) populations were congregated at high densities of urban or near-urban proportions; and (3) Maya farmers were not limited to swidden agriculture, but were able to perform more intensive modes of cultivation.

There was some debate as to the real function of these features; that is, between crop cultivation on raised fields or fish-farming in the canals. In this respect, Hammond wrote that ‘it seems most likely… that a people as ecologically astute as the ancient Maya would have utilized both canals and raised plots: the former for keeping fish (and perhaps turtles) and as access routes by canoe, the latter for growing crops intensively on a year-round schedule’ (p. 161). The crops most likely to have been cultivated here, according to Hammond, were maize, cotton, and cacao (pp. 161-162). The latter, as we know, was used as currency by the ancient Maya: a veritable ‘cash crop’ if ever there was one!

These new perspectives on Maya subsistence are analyzed by Hammond (1982), who wrote that ‘there has been debate as to the precise relationships between the Maya and the animals they hunted. Were they simply stalked in the bush as they are today, were they trapped, or did [people] in some way encourage

In the late 1970s, ‘huge areas of raised fields [were] found in southern Quintana Roo, over most of northern Belize, and in the Petén around Tikal and other sites. The use of Side-Looking Airborne Radar… revealed dense networks of canals linking grids of fields’ (p. 162). Thanks to these discoveries, ‘the entire economic 243

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica landscape of the Maya lowlands now looks completely different from the picture that we had’ (p. 162); that is, before the advent of such revolutionary technology, as aerial infra-red photography and remote-sensing.

perceiving it as an essential process in their own rise to and maintenance of power’ (p. 371). It should come as no surprise that, once the notions about the infrastructure of Maya society –that is to say, the fundamental aspects of their subsistence strategies– changed, so did ideas about the superstructure, or the type of social-political structure we are dealing with. The notion of the Maya as a peaceful people ruled by priests was replaced by the Maya as a war-like state ruled by despots, just as occurred in the rest of the Mesoamerican ecumene (Webster 1977).

Hammond sums up the ground-breaking nature of the new revelations with these words: ‘Raised fields are so widespread in the lowlands that their contribution to the economy was a fundamental one… from at least Late Preclassic times onward their existence and distribution was an important factor in Maya subsistence and settlement patterns’ (p. 163). Once the news about the radically different nature of Maya subsistence strategies began to sink in, it would not be long before the sociological implications of such advanced food-producing technologies began to appear in the archaeological literature. Sanders (1977), for instance, argued that ‘population growth produced a shortage of agricultural land, leading to intra- and intersocietal competition. This, in turn, produced inequities in the control of the most critical commodity in the Maya economy, agricultural land, which in turn led to ranking and ultimately to stratification’ (p. 287). It may also have led to wars among the Maya, who were generally believed to have been a peaceful people (Sabloff 1990). In contrast to this view, Webster (1977) stated that, in the case of the evolution of Maya society, ‘warfare was a conspicuous aspect of political structuring during much of the Late Classic’ (p. 337), and regarded conflict as ‘a crucial process in the development of complex societies, particularly in the emergence of social stratification’ (p. 335). New forms of intensive food production in the Maya area led to population growth and increasing social complexity. Eventually, ‘intensive agriculture contributed to further increases in population density… Intensification… facilitated additional concentrations of wealth and authority, now in the form of taxation or tribute. The rich were getting richer’ (p. 371). As part of this historical process, ‘warfare assumed militaristic proportions and… protected local capital resources… from neighboring political units… The direction of the system was toward well-developed social stratification, and emergent elite groups fostered further militarism,

The underlying question here has to do with the emergence of social inequality, a phenomenon that has long occupied philosophers. Thomas Hobbes (15881679), for instance, believed that ‘human individuals always act out of self-interest to satisfy their appetites and avoid their aversions, and… in order to avoid being thrust back into a state of nature… they should submit their own individual wills to… that of the sovereign in exchange for self-preservation and avoiding death’ (Patterson 2009:88). The emerging archaeological theories of the early 20th century sought to explain the rise of social inequality and the emergence of complex societies (e.g. Childe 1981[1956]). Pre-industrial states were based on systems of social stratification that ensured the production of food by the majority of the people and the accumulation of wealth in the hands of a few members of the elite. We have seen in this chapter how the Maya exploited their environment by developing an aquatic lifeway and intensive agriculture, a process that mirrored the situation in the rest of the Mesoamerican ecumene (see discussion in Williams 2020b: Chapter I). A couple of decades after the publication of Gordon Childe’s Man Makes Himself, a new generation of archaeologists, geographers, and other social scientists, began to explore new perspectives on the ancient Maya, and the result was a picture of a society more in line with the rest of Mesoamerica; that is to say, large and complex settlements that were dependent upon intensive forms of food production.

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Chapter VI

Discussion and Conclusions The main goals of this study are to describe, analyze, and interpret pre-Hispanic aquatic adaptations in Mesoamerica through an ethnographic, ethnohistorical and archaeological perspective. In order to explore the various important aspects of the ancient lifeways and aquatic landscapes of Michoacán, the Basin of Mexico, the Alto Lerma River Basin, the Maya area, and other regions, we have used detailed information related to subsistence activities and material culture in a systemic (i.e. ethnographic) context. This has enabled us to understand by means of analogy pre-Hispanic lifeways in these and other aquatic landscapes in Mesoamerica and beyond.

Diamond points out that ‘much of yesterday’s world is still with us today, even in the most densely populated areas of modern industrial societies. Life in sparsely populated rural areas of the Western world still preserves many aspects of traditional societies’ (p. 461), like the ones I discuss in the present book. It is Diamond’s opinion that ‘traditional peoples have been unconsciously executing thousands of experiments on how to operate a human society. We can’t repeat all those experiments intentionally under controlled conditions in order to see what happens. But we can still learn from what actually did happen’ (p. 461). I have tried to do just that by approaching the world of the past through ethnoarchaeology and ethnohistory. It is for the reader to judge how successful this attempt has been.

Many productive activities have survived through the centuries in different regions of Mesoamerica. Thanks to this process of cultural survival (see García Sánchez 2008), the observation of ethnographic contexts allows us to establish relationships to build a ‘bridging argument’ (Wylie 2002) between past and present in order to interpret the archaeological record. The present study is aimed at broadening our knowledge of the production, exchange and consumption of aquatic resources. In many cases, the techniques and activities analyzed here –some of pre-Hispanic origin– are being abandoned or radically transformed, and may well disappear in the near future, depriving us of a unique source of information for the construction of ethnographic analogies.

The traditional ways of life discussed by Diamond should not be viewed as just a static reminder of an ‘ancient past’. For Michael Schiffer, the irreducible core of archaeology is the effort to determine and explain the relationships between human behavior and material culture at every moment and in all places. The principles behind material culture in a dynamic context are known as ‘correlates’ and are discovered through ethnoarchaeology or comparative ethnography (Schiffer 1988:469). But ethnoarchaeology is not concerned solely with the relationship between activities carried out in the present and their material or archaeological consequences, for it is also interested in recording social change and cultural persistence, which is essential for understanding the cultural, historical and even artistic aspects of ancient life and material culture in many areas of Mesoamerica and beyond.

The quest for ethnographic data to shed light on the past is echoed in the title of Diamond’s 2012 book The World until Yesterday, which is followed by a question in the subtitle: What can we learn from traditional societies? In the conclusions of this book, Diamond repeats the question, What can we learn? The answer he provides is relevant to the present book, and to my work (and that of many other archaeologists) in general. By way of answering this important question, Diamond offers the following thoughts: ‘The world of yesterday shaped our genes, culture, and behavior for most of the history of… Homo sapiens… As deduced from the archaeological record, changes in lifestyle and in technology unfolded extremely slowly until they began to accelerate with the earliest origins of agriculture around 11,000 years ago in the Fertile Crescent’ (p. 461). In the same region (also known as Mesopotamia, in modern Iraq) we find evidence of ‘the oldest state governments… around 5,400 years ago. That means that the ancestors of all of us alive today were still living in yesterday’s world until 11,000 years ago, and that the ancestors of many of us were still doing so much more recently’ (p. 461).

Schiffer (2017) discusses a ‘material-culture turn’ in the social sciences that has emerged in recent years in the following terms: ‘For a growing number of social scientists, the study of material culture has become an important part, if not the core concern, of their research projects. But it wasn’t always so. In contrast to archaeology, other social sciences lack a necessity to engage material culture, and so it has been neglected as a source of data about human behavior’ (p. 206). Instead of focusing on material culture as a source of information, ‘cultural anthropologists, sociologists, cultural geographers, social psychologists, and others have relied mainly on interviews, questionnaires, and highly contrived experiments for learning about people’s behavior, thoughts, and beliefs’ (p. 206). According to Schiffer, the ‘material-culture turn’ in the 245

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica social sciences began in the 1970s, and occurred in part because ‘these traditional data-gathering techniques had reached their limits of usefulness as measures of what people actually do. More importantly, social scientists were becoming familiar with –and applying– archaeological perspectives on human behavior and material culture’ (p. 206).1

rocks and stones. Therefore, ethnographic analogy and ethnohistorical sources are two means by which archaeologists can approach the study of subsistence activities in systemic contexts through their possible archaeological markers. The guiding assumptions behind this study are as follows: (1) subsistence activities were essential for the existence and reproduction of societies, but changed over time; (2) each activity usually had its own set of tools and workspaces; and (3) ethnographic analogy can aid in understanding the tool assemblages and activity areas in archaeological contexts, as well as the cultural landscapes linked to a whole range of subsistence activities in ancient times.

As we have seen in this book, ethnoarchaeology is an integral part of processual archaeology, while ethnographic analogy, used with caution, may be an important aid in shedding light on the pre-Hispanic cultural past. Although at first glance the traditional subsistence activities that have survived down to our days may seem quite different and detached from the situation during pre-Hispanic times, documentary information from the 16th century onwards allows us to understand the degrees of continuity and change over time.

First, the present study has shown that aquatic resources like fish, birds, amphibians, reptiles, and other animals, as well as reeds and many other useful plants, all had strategic importance among the ancient inhabitants of the lake and marsh areas in Mesoamerica, including the Tarascan territory of Michoacán. Indeed, the exploitation of the aquatic landscape was a key factor in the development and expansion of the Tarascan Empire during the Protohistoric period. Accordingly, it is logical to think that there must be a specific tool assemblage associated with this lifeway.

According to Ian Hodder (2006), using ethnographic analogy for archaeological interpretation can be risky if we assume that a society has ‘stopped in time’. The fact that most non-Western societies have been influenced by capitalism can make it difficult to find parallels with a pre-capitalist past; however, there may be similarities between remote and modern societies related to such factors as size, level of complexity, and environment. Hodder also holds that in addition to using specific ethnographic parallels we can employ general anthropological understanding. Though we must adopt a critical stance towards these generalizations and strive to contextualize them in the specific data under analysis, they will always be important for stimulating ideas and thoughts concerning the past, even the most distant periods.

Second, the archaeological implications of this study relate to the identification of material correlates or archaeological markers; that is, diagnostic artifacts and features that can help us interpret the archaeological record through analogy. Among these items we can mention the following: fishnet weights (modified potsherds and stones), needles for making fishnets, fishhooks, traps, stones used in weaving baskets (‘hammer’ and ‘anvil’), and reed mats (petatera stones), and cutting implements, among others.

Through the use of historical and ethnographic sources, the aquatic lifeway can be characterized on the basis of three subsistence activities: fishing, hunting, and gathering, complemented by the manufacture of artifacts and other objects. The guiding question behind the present ethnoarchaeological study is: What are the archaeological markers of the activities linked to the exploitation of an aquatic landscape? A good deal of the material culture inventory currently used in aquatic environments for fishing, hunting, and gathering plants and other wild resources, as well as for making tools and other items, consists of artifacts made of wood, textiles, or fibers, as well as modified

This research adopts an innovative approach to archaeological and ethnohistorical studies in an extensive area of Mesoamerica that encompasses many lake basins. For additional information, the reader can refer to my previous publications (Williams 2014a, 2014b, 2014c, 2020a, 2020b). The main contribution of this study is the recording for posterity of a wide range of activities linked to a traditional aquatic lifeway, including salt production and agriculture, that is rapidly changing (and sometimes disappearing) due to serious problems currently afflicting lake basins in Mexico; namely, desiccation, pollution, deforestation of the surrounding woodlands, overexploitation of fish stocks, as seen in Lake Cuitzeo (Figure 259) and Lake Pátzcuaro, Michoacán (Figure 260), and the high level of emigration from the region in response to the extreme poverty of many of its inhabitants.

1  Schiffer (2017) gives several examples of material-culture researchers with archaeological background. First, Richard R. Wilk is an economic anthropologist interested in household consumption patterns and village economies, whose work is influential across many disciplines. Second, Daniel Miller is a cultural anthropologist who was trained as an archaeologist. He has conducted ethnographic fieldwork across the world examining the use and meaning of objects in many cultures and contexts. Miller is editor of the Journal of Material Culture, an interdisciplinary forum for material-culture research.

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Figure 259. Productivity of aquatic resources at Lake Cuitzeo, Michoacán. Top: amount of species caught between 1992 and 2000 (in tons). Bottom: percentage of species: tilapia, charal, frogs, and aquatic insects (adapted from Sagarpa 2004).

Figure 260. Productivity of aquatic resources at Lake Pátzcuaro, Michoacán. Top: amount of species caught between 1982 and 2000 (in tons). Bottom: percentage of species: white fish, charal, tilapia, chegua, and acúmara (adapted from Sagarpa 2004).

In the remainder of this concluding chapter I will address the main issues discussed in each chapter, presenting additional information and commentary where necessary.

and marshlands, from the perspective of archaeology, ethnography and ethnohistory. I have paid special attention to processes of transformation and continuity through time. I have also attempted to define the archaeological assemblages linked to these kinds of subsistence strategies by means of ethnographic analogy. In order to understand sociocultural adaptation and development in the key areas discussed herein –the Lake Pátzcuaro and Lake Cuitzeo Basins, the Basin of Mexico, the Alto Río Lerma region, and the Maya area– I have analyzed ethnohistorical and ethnographic sources as well as archaeological information, which allowed me to perceive processes of change and continuity over time.

We saw in Chapter II that the aquatic lifeway (fishing, hunting, gathering, and manufacture) has received little attention in archaeological studies of the lake areas of Michoacán, despite the strategic importance of these activities in ancient times. In my fieldwork in the Lake Pátzcuaro and Cuitzeo basins, I recorded several techniques currently used by fishers, such as fishnets, fishhooks, and traps. No less important was the exploitation of animal species through hunting. Moreover, the aquatic plant species utilized included reeds and rushes, which were gathered extensively with numerous other species of flora and fauna, including insects. All these natural resources were of strategic importance for the pre-Hispanic Tarascan economy in the lakes of Michoacán, and many of the subsistence activities discussed still have great significance for local people.

As stated in Chapter II, the economic and political core of the Tarascan state was located in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin, but there were many other aquatic landscapes from which its people obtained their livelihood. Those marshes and lakes were the most abundant producers of foodstuffs. From Lake Zacapu to the region around present-day Zamora and Jacona, there was a direct relationship between lake areas and the primary political and cultural centers in Michoacán (Carrasco 1986).

This book has discussed the most salient aspects of the aquatic lifeway, plus various aquatic adaptations, like salt-making and intensive agriculture in lakes 247

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica Among the goods paid as tribute to the Tarascan ruling elite, aquatic products were of great importance, since they were abundant throughout the territory. According to Gorenstein and Pollard, waterfowl and fish from Lake Pátzcuaro were taken to the royal household by the king’s own hunters and fishers. Those goods may have represented tribute from lakeside settlements, or reflected the elite’s right to a share of the resources from the lake basin (Gorenstein and Pollard 1983). But it was not only the collection of aquatic resources that played a role in the political economy; the expansion of the Tarascan Empire to several areas of Western Mexico was an attempt to guarantee supplies and control the flow of strategic resources of many kinds: salt, obsidian, green stones, seashells, and cacao, among others (Pollard 2003, 1993).2

solar evaporation features –whether lime-coated pools (eras) or hollowed-out tree trunks (canoas)– canals for moving water inside the production sites, and mounds of leached earth, called terreros. With the words ‘forgotten heritage’ I have referred (Williams 2019a) to elements of material culture –such as the ones mentioned above– that we seldom take into account, or that are not essential to carrying out our daily activities in the context of ‘modern’ urban culture. According to Davidson (2008), the concept of cultural heritage usually revolves around the preservation and conservation of historic buildings, monuments, and elaborate landscapes. Archaeologists, on the other hand, often work with fragments of material culture (potsherds, rocks, bones, and so on) that were not designed with any forethought but are rather incidental products of human behavior. These objects were often simply left behind and represent archaeological evidence found on the ground surface, or possessions kept in the houses of common people.

Aquatic adaptations as discussed in this book include salt-making, since in most areas of salt production in Mesoamerica this mineral was extracted directly from aquatic environments, such as lakes and coastal lagoons. In his study of traditional salt-making industries, Parsons (2001) states that there are many traditional activities on the brink of extinction in Mexico and around the world that should be recorded before they disappear, salt-making among them. However, in Parsons’ opinion few researchers seem to be interested in studying the material and organizational aspects of these vanishing ways of life, and archaeologists could be the only scholars able and willing to perform the field studies that could document the traditional cultural activities, tool assemblages, and cultural landscapes for posterity. Parsons urged his peers to undertake studies like his own work among the salt-makers of Nexquipayac, Mexico, pointing out that this should be done ‘while there is still a little time to do so’ (p. xiv) before the last elderly informants disappear from the scene and their traditions and crafts are forgotten.

Apart from the tool assemblage found at salt-making sites, the landscape is also of crucial importance when it comes to understanding the activities that took place there. Weigand (2011) thought that the cultural landscape is the greatest artifact that human beings are capable of building within any region. These constructions are constantly evolving, and never stand still for long. Cultural studies of architecture, ceramics, and lithics without this greater contextualization – though of course basic for archaeology– lack the total environment in which human beings have created and shaped their social lives. Weigand further believed that comprehending cultural landscapes is the key to understanding the sociopolitical structures of the past. Ursula Ewald (1997) was one of the first scholars to write about Mexico’s ‘salt-making landscape’ that, in her view, included the salt flats where solar salt was obtained. These landscapes and sites constituted one of the most distinctive features of the cultural landscape, according to Ewald. She also thought that thanks to the great variety of methods for recovering sodium chloride found in Mexico, this country presented the greatest variety of salt-making landscapes in the world.

The material remains that I documented in the field, in the context of ethnoarchaeological research –which we could expect to find at pre-Hispanic salt-making sites, subject to good conditions of preservation– were subdivided into two groups: tool assemblages and cultural landscapes. In the first group, we find the following items of material culture: pottery vessels; sacks (made of yute, ixtle, or other fibers), baskets (made of woven reeds), shovels, cobblestones (used to polish the surface of the solar evaporation pools), wooden tools like the paleta and menapil (used to spread the limeearth mixture on the solar evaporation pools). As for the cultural landscape associated with salt-making sites, it includes the leaching devices (estiladera or tapeixtle),

The subsistence activities mentioned in Chapter IV were part of the Mesoamerican aquatic lifeway that we have mentioned repeatedly in this book. Across the Central Mexican Plateau, in regions like the Basin of Mexico and the Alto Lerma River area, indigenous societies developed a sophisticated technological system that enabled them to obtain a highly-nutritious diet in the absence of major domesticates like cattle, pigs, and sheep.

The Tarascan core area in the Lake Pátzcuaro Basin lacks natural deposits of obsidian, salt, and lime, all of which were essential resources for the functioning of society, and were high on the list of strategic goods that the state had to procure on a regular basis (Pollard 1993; Williams 2014a).

2 

Diamond (1999) discussed critical aspects of human subsistence in the Old and New Worlds. In his view, 248

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‘for most of the time since the ancestors of modern humans diverged from the ancestors of the living great apes, around 7 million years ago, all humans of Earth fed themselves exclusively by hunting wild animals and gathering wild plants… It was only within the last 11,000 years that some people turned to… food production… domesticating wild animals and plants and using them as food’ (p. 86).

The information provided by Diamond is relevant for Mesoamerican history, since Mesoamerica was the world’s only ancient primary civilization that lacked domestic herbivores like those of the Old World, according to Parsons (2010). We saw earlier that thanks to domestic animals like llamas and alpacas in the Andes and ‘sheep and goats, cattle, camels, horses, yaks, and water buffalo in the Old World, food producers in virtually all regions where Archaic States existed were able to significantly extend their productive landscapes into drier and colder zones and over a full annual cycle’ (p. 109).

Diamond points out that ‘among wild plant and animal species, only a few are edible to humans or worth hunting or gathering… In human societies possessing domestic animals, livestock fed more people in four distinct ways: by furnishing meat, milk, and fertilizer and by pulling plows… domestic animals became the societies’ major source of animal protein’ (p. 88). In addition, ‘some big domestic animals served as sources of milk and of milk products such as butter, cheese, and yoghurt... Those mammals thereby yield several times more calories over their lifetime than if they were just slaughtered and consumed as meat’ (p. 88).

Furthermore, Parsons holds that ‘protein from domesticated animal sources would have been scarce in pre-Hispanic Mesoamerica by comparison to other parts of the ancient urbanized world’ (p. 109). With this fact in mind, Parsons asks the following question: ‘How could ancient Mesoamericans, with their seemingly much more limited capacity to generate and manipulate energy, have attained such a comparably high level of organizational complexity and population density?’ (p. 109).

Large domestic animals interacted with domestic plants to increase crop production in two ways: ‘First, crop yields can be greatly increased by manure applied as fertilizer… Manure has been valuable, too, as a source of fuel for fires in traditional societies’. Second, ‘the largest domestic mammals interacted with domestic plants to increase food production by pulling plows and thereby making it possible for people to till land that had previously been uneconomical for farming’ (p. 88).

Parsons points out that archaeologists and other scholars have ‘emphasized the role of agricultural intensification in sustaining complex pre-Hispanic societies in the Valley of Mexico… the core of Mesoamerica’s largest urbanized polities after ca. 100 BC. These discussions have focused overwhelmingly on seed-based agriculture: maize, amaranth, beans, and squash’ (p. 109). However, an alternative view holds that, in addition to agriculture, ‘because of their lack of domesticated herbivores, we might expect unusually well-developed efforts by ancient Mesoamericans to intensively exploit high-protein, non-agricultural resources that would have truly complemented, not merely supplemented, the basic agricultural staples’ (p. 109). On the basis of this assumption, Parsons (p. 111) presents two interrelated hypotheses:

In discussing the consequences of the sedentary lifestyle usually associated with food production, Diamond states that people who subsist by hunting and gathering ‘move frequently in search of wild foods, but farmers must remain near their fields and orchards. The resulting fixed abode contributes to denser human populations by permitting a shortened birth interval’ (p. 89). It is a well-known fact that nomadic huntergatherers have relatively few children, while ‘sedentary people… can bear and raise as many children as they can feed’ (p. 89).

(1) In the highlands of central Mexico, the development of complex society during the later Formative period… was based upon the combined production of seed crops, maguey/nopal, and aquatic resources in the irrigable river valleys and marshy basins… These complementary resources provided a full range of food, calories, nutrition … fiber, salt, and many other raw materials upon which high population densities and hierarchical organization depended. (2) The expansion of Mesoamerican civilization into the drier highland regions of north-central Mexico depended upon the full integration of seed-based cultivation and specialized maguey production in an environment where both large marshlands and dependable irrigation were lacking.

No less important were ‘the germs that evolved in human societies with domestic animals. Infectious diseases like smallpox, measles, and flu arose as specialized germs of humans, derived by mutations of very similar ancestral germs that had infected animals… The humans who domesticated animals… evolved substantial resistance to the new diseases’ (p. 92). When such partly-immune people came into contact with others who had never been exposed to the germs, ‘epidemics resulted in which up to 99 percent of the previously unexposed population was killed. Germs thus acquired ultimately from domestic animals played decisive roles in the European conquests of Native Americans, Australians, South Africans, and Pacific islanders’ (p. 92).

Finally, Parsons argues that a vast array of aquatic resources were available in the Basin of Mexico in pre249

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica Hispanic times, including the following: ‘Waterfowl, fish, edible insects, a variety of amphibians and reptiles, algae, reeds, and certain other aquatic plants. These products were energetically, nutritionally, and economically so important as to attract large numbers of people engaged full time in their extraction, processing, and distribution’ (p. 121). To sum up Parsons’ ideas on this important subject, he holds that the ‘extensive ponds and marshes across the wide valleys and basins of the Mexican Mesa Central… should be considered in much the same way as agricultural land in terms of their contribution to pre-Hispanic subsistence’ (p. 121).

and in the winter the lakes teemed with thousands of ducks that arrived from northern latitudes. Hunters used the atlatl and traps consisting of nets suspended by wooden poles. Nets were also used for fishing and collecting the abundant aquatic insects. In addition to Sahagun’s illustrations, we have photographs from the mid-to-late 20th century that preserved for posterity the ethnographic information about hunting, fishing, gathering, and other activities. Parsons (2006; see also Parsons and Morett 2005) reproduced many of these photos, plus his own ethnographic accounts and photos recording the people he calls ‘the last pescadores’ (i.e. fishers) of Lake Texcoco, who carried out such activities as gathering insects with nets, making ‘nurseries’ for harvesting insect eggs in the lake, and hunting aquatic birds with nets. Parsons (2019) also carried out an archaeological survey of part of the (dry) lake bottom, discovering many artifacts that could be part of the assemblage associated with the aquatic lifeway, including saw-like tools made of chert, obsidian blades, and projectile points.

Parson’s ideas are complemented by John Staller (2010), who offers the following account of Mesoamerican natural resources: ‘The civilizations, cultures, landscapes, plants, and animals of the New World fascinated as well as troubled European explorers. Since New World societies were not found in the Old or New Testament, many European clerics and biblical scholars searched for explanations for their existence even into the eighteenth century, during the Age of Enlightenment’ (p. 28). The study of historical records from the Colonial period in New Spain is of paramount importance since these sources reveal ‘a great deal about the nature of indigenous economies. These sources provide yet another window into how ancient political economies were organized socially, and how both food crops as well as other subsistence and utilitarian resources were managed, stored, and redistributed by the elite to their subject populations’ (p. 29).

Aquatic adaptations in the Basin of Mexico included intensive agriculture in the shallow freshwater lakes, primarily Lake Xochimilco and Lake Chalco in the southern portion of the basin. We saw in Chapter IV that the chinampas, or raised fields, were in production year-round and filled a very substantial part of the Aztec breadbasket. I presented in Chapter IV a synthesis of archaeological work and ethnohistorical enquiries on the chinampas. Worthy of special mention are the ethnographic studies by Teresa Rojas Rabiela (1988, 1993) and her excellent photographic record of the chinampas that she studied over several years in and around lakes that in many cases are no longer extant.

As we saw earlier, one of the best accounts of preHispanic and early colonial culture in the Basin of Mexico was penned in ca. 1530-1545 by Friar Bernardino de Sahagún, who recorded the aquatic lifeway in the lakes of the Basin of Mexico during the 16th century in his encyclopedic volume, the Florentine Codex (Sahagún 1938, 1979; Dibble and Anderson [editors] 2012; Garibay 1975; Macazaga 2008). Sahagún gathered a group of informants from the Aztec elite of several towns in the basin, who helped him draft his synthesis of daily life and many aspects of the region’s natural history. The text and accompanying illustrations give a vivid portrait of the plants and animals that contributed to the local diet and livelihood. The aquatic species exploited by the Aztec atlaca or ‘water folk’ –the fishers, hunters and other men and women who worked full-time procuring food and other resources in the lakes and marshes– consisted of insects and their eggs, algae, amphibians like frogs and the salamander or axolotl (Ambystema mexicanum), reptiles (snakes, lizards, turtles), and terrestrial insects like grasshoppers, locusts, ants, worms, grubs, and many others. But birds were the most important prey. There were many resident species

The lakes of the Basin of Mexico were ideal for developing a unique system of intensive agriculture, as we saw in Chapter IV. The raised fields known as chinampas were studied by Pedro Armillas (1987) in the early-tomid 20th century. Armillas was a pioneer in landscape archaeology and ethnohistory, which helped him in the reconstruction of the Aztec agrarian landscape; that is, ‘the agrarian base of Aztec might’. Armillas used the term Aztec ‘to refer to the population of the Valley of Mexico during the 14th century through the 15th and into the 16th centuries’ (p. 67). According to Armillas, the agrarian landscape of the Valley of Mexico during Aztec times and before was one made or modeled by human hands over many generations (p. 68). Throughout the Valley of Mexico, Armillas saw that landscapes up to 2,850-3,000 m.a.s.l. had been modified in Aztec times by means of terraces and tecorrales (cultivation terraces to prevent erosion), ‘to enhance 250

Discussion and Conclusions

the effect of rain, slowing the drainage of torrential rains… most of those terraces are cultivated’ (p. 69).

joining it to another river leading to Lake Zumpango (northern Basin of Mexico) in order to increase the water supply to irrigate the fields around Cuauhtitlan. The river’s course was altered by means of a wattleand-daub screen supported by the rows of wooden posts mentioned above. The space behind the screen was filled with earth and rocks, so Armillas concluded that ‘this was a diverter dam that elevated the water level so it would reach the intake canal’ (p. 79).

Other landscape features studied by Armillas included retention walls built crossways from the water currents, like dams. But they were not meant to hold water, ‘rather they let water drain when there is a torrential rain… [which] carries silt that accumulates behind the terrace until it is totally silted-up behind the wall, forming a small flat surface. Later another wall is built, gradually forming a stepped series of terraces, of very small dimensions, but with an extremely rich soil, very fertile and with high humidity’ (p. 70).

Among Armillas’ best-known writings are his studies of the chinampas of the Basin of Mexico (1981, 1987, 1991; West and Armillas 1993 [1950]). Between 1965 and 1970, he conducted fieldwork aimed at identifying the fossil chinampas around lakes Xochimilco and Chalco. At that time, he was interested in the role of aquatic vegetation used as fertilizer in lakeside fields. Armillas (1987) was also interested in aboriginal farming techniques, still extant during his fieldwork (1946-1950) around Mixquic on the south shore of Lake Xochimilco. He was also interested in the tool assemblage used by the Aztecs and their descendants who worked the chinampas, including artifacts like the coa or digging stick and the azoquimaitl, a bag attached to a long pole used to pour semi-liquid mud from the bottom of the canal onto the chinampa surface.

In other areas of the valley, Armillas found thick layers of volcanic ash with terracing, noting that ‘the front of the terrace holds back the earth… with rows of magueys to protect it from erosion… To judge by the archaeological examination of the lower terraces… they go back to Preclassic times… but broadly speaking the system is of Aztec times, because… the only material found to ascertain its age consists of Aztec-period pottery’ (p. 71). Canals and aqueducts were also present in Armillas’ survey area: ‘One aqueduct is 400 m long, another one is 800 m long and it reaches a canal… later it goes on to carry water to irrigate these terraces and others located above… these terraces are irrigated by several canal systems and aqueducts that brought water –and still do– from the springs of the high mountains’ (p. 74).

Armillas also noted that the chinamperos would usually fish in the canals around their plots, using fisgas and fishnets. These ethnographic observations, together with ethnohistorical sources, gave him a unique perspective for interpreting archaeological artifacts and features, as well as the landscape formations he found in the field.

In 1953, the Compañía Mexicana de Aerofoto gave Armillas access to an aerial photographic survey of the Teotihuacan Valley. Armillas held that the modern system of irrigation canals was very similar to the system depicted in the map in the Relación de Teotihuacan of 1580, and hypothesized that modern water consumption per hectare in the area was more-or-less the same as in pre-Hispanic times. This could be seen in the ‘feeder valleys’, the small side valleys where traces of ancient canals might be found. After analyzing the aerial photos, Armillas saw that ‘in fact, one can see the hills and some terraces that could be ancient’ (p. 78). He saw ‘a water current or stream… close to the hill slope… the water flowed there, but there is a deviation. Why was the water course deviated? We found… the current’s central bed, which had silted up. Then we looked for the deviation. In a diagonal across the current there were two parallel rows of post holes’ with a distance of 1 m or 1.2 m between each row (pp.78-79). Armillas found the answer to the question posed above in a post-Conquest document called Anales de Cuauhtitlán (Anales 2019), which relates incidents in the Valley of Mexico around the years 1427 to 1432, including the hydraulic works undertaken by the people of Tultepec with the goal of diverting the course of the Cuauhtitlan River and

After many years of aerial photographic interpretation and ground-checking the information, Armillas became an expert in landscape archaeology, at a time when Mexican archaeology was focused on reconstructing monumental sites, and not interested in his kind of research. For Armillas, the landscape was a palimpsest, a document that had been written on and erased many times over the centuries: ‘In the retrospective study of cultural landscapes, it is important to bear in mind that substantive landscape is always in a state of renewal and erasure’ (p. 85). He also used his experience as a field soldier in the Spanish civil war to understand the lay of the land and the signs of human activity, both recent and ancient. In summary, Armillas identified the remains of many different aquatic adaptations on the landscape, dating from the pre-Hispanic past (from the Formative to the Postclassic) to Colonial times. The modifications to the landscape that remained as physical evidence of farming activities included terraces, canals, ditches, dams, ridges, and chinampas. 251

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica We have seen in this book that the aquatic mode of subsistence that characterized broad extensions of Mesoamerica before the arrival of the Spanish invaders has been explored by several authors, from the 16th century (Sahagún 1938) to the 21st (Parsons 2019). The Basin of Mexico was a privileged region for this research, but by no means the only such area. We saw in Chapter IV that the Alto Lerma Basin contained numerous lakes, streams, marshes, and springs, a watery environment of extreme richness where the Lerma River is born. Among the scholars who have studied the aquatic lifeway in this part of the Mexican Central Plateau we find Yoko Sugiura, Magdalena García and Alberto Aguirre (1994), who were among the pioneers of ethnoarchaeological fieldwork in this region (Sugiura et al. 1998). Beatriz Albores (1995) also studied the aquatic lifeway in the Alto Lerma, defining it as ‘the cluster of economic activities and social aspects whose basis is constituted by the lake’ (p. 417). Albores holds that it was the combination of many economic activities (fishing, hunting, gathering, and manufacture) that ensured the livelihood of all the lakeside communities in the Alto Lerma, as well as the survival and physical reproduction of the people and the social framework through which humans interacted with nature in an organized way ‘in order to realize their collective social representations’. The aquatic lifeway is very ancient and quite conservative in this and other areas of Mesoamerica, as we have seen throughout the present book. Albores (1995) wrote that the main trait of the aquatic lifeway is that it revolves around the community, and its economic unit is the family. Albores saw the aquatic lifeway as ‘characterized by pre-agricultural origins and circumscribed to a precapitalist context’ (p. 417).

aircraft and the taking of three hundred photographs of archaeological sites in two months’ (Daniel 1981:165). Crawford’s ideas and methods were utilized by other scholars elsewhere in the world including, of course, Armillas in his fieldwork in the Basin of Mexico, as well as other scholars in other parts of Mesoamerica. Another pioneer of aerial photography was Charles Lindbergh, who together with his wife Anne flew over the Yucatán Peninsula in 1929 and took the first aerial photos of Maya sites in Yucatán, British Honduras (now Belize), and Guatemala (Cochrane 2016). Siemens (1998) recounts how his own work in the Candelaria River Basin of Campeche, mentioned in Chapter V, was inspired in part by Angel Palerm and Eric Wolf (1957), who believed that the abundance of swamps and lakes in the Maya lowlands suggested the possibility of a system of intensive marshland agriculture similar to the chinampas of the Basin of Mexico. These ideas contrasted sharply with ‘the increasingly uncomfortable basic hypothesis regarding Maya subsistence, that shifting cultivation had been its mainstay. There had to have been something more’ (Siemens 1998:10). Siemens noted how ‘the patterning noted in the wetlands along the Candelaria [River] indicated a system that was indeed chinampa-like but not yet fully chinampas… The raised fields indicated by the patterning in many lowland wetlands are physically a network of canals and intervening planting platforms’ (p. 10), but they were subject to seasonal inundation, unlike the true chinampas of the Aztecs, which were flooded year-round, as we saw in Chapter IV. During a flight over the basin of the Candelaria River in 1968, Siemens discovered ‘straight lines across the floodplain, apparently unrelated to current agriculture or ranching’, and soon after that he saw ‘rectilinear webs’ of canals on the landscape. This prompted him to exclaim that ‘Palerm and Wolf ’s prediction was substantiated’ (p. 10). In the basin of the Candelaria River, air photography allowed Siemens to identify some 76 pre-Hispanic sites, many with large mound groups. These included ‘a much larger group of mounds… those of Itzamkanac, now often referred to as El Tigre’ (p. 12). According to Siemens, ‘these vestiges proved to have typical relationships to topography and hydrology. They were found mostly on the margins of the lowest areas within the floodplain, the lakes or backswamps, the areas subject to inundation… wetland agriculture with canalization and the heaping up of planting platforms… was practiced subject to seasonal flooding’ (p. 14). Siemens was ‘on the lookout… for evidence of hydrological control. There were some indications of control features, such as… dams… but there was little evidence… of the extensive diking… that would have been necessary to maintain constant water levels for full-fledged chinampa agriculture’ (p. 14).

From the Central Plateau of Mexico with its many volcanoes, lakes, marshes and rivers, we moved southeast to the Maya area. In Chapter V, I discussed the aquatic adaptations of the ancient Maya from the earliest times to the eve of the Spanish Conquest. One of the main topics of discussion was pre-Hispanic agriculture in this part of the Mesoamerican ecumene. We saw earlier how Armillas investigated pre-Hispanic agriculture in the Basin of Mexico using novel techniques that had never been employed in Mexico. The techniques he developed, in particular aerial photography, were partially borrowed from British archaeologists like O.G.S. Crawford (1886-1957), who ‘was trained in the Oxford School of Geography and after a brief career in the First World War as a navigator in the Flying Corps… was made the first archaeology officer of the Ordnance Survey’ (Daniel 1981:164). Crawford, with Alexander Keiller, made a lasting contribution to aerial archaeology in Britain with the book Wessex from the Air (1928), ‘a magnificent work based on the hiring of an 252

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Recently, a few scholars have followed the path of Armillas, Siemens, and other pioneers in the study of ancient agriculture in Mesoamerica. A recent contribution is by Thomas Guderjan and Samantha Krause (2011), who hold that ‘the “Old Orthodoxy” prior to the 1970s was that ancient Maya populations were quite low and subsisted exclusively on swidden agricultural methods’ (p. 127). Guderjan and Krause (2011) conducted archaeological research at the headwaters of the Río Hondo, which forms part of the border between Belize and Mexico (see Figure 222 above). They discovered that ‘the Rio Hondo was a major transportation route for goods to and from the Caribbean Sea… investigations at the Maya site of Blue Creek [in northwestern Belize, just south of the Mexican border]… also discovered extensive sets of ditched field complexes’.

to ‘see through’ the dense tropical forest canopy, and so to document major landscape features that had never been detected before.

Guderjan, Krause and their colleagues had ‘largely regarded the ditched fields at Blue Creek and along the base of the Bravo Escarpment… as isolated, disconnected and somewhat unique. However, a… flyover of the river in 2008 yielded photos of what appeared to be previously unrecorded ditched wetlands’. This important discovery led to the realization ‘that the ditched fields of the Río Hondo floodplain were probably not entirely recorded’. Modern clearing activities in the upper Río Hondo ‘were incidentally exposing locations which likely have ancient field systems that would now be more likely visible’ (p. 127).

We saw in earlier chapters that farming terraces were used throughout Mesoamerica, and the Maya area was no exception to this trait. Andrew Wyatt (2008) examined the organization of production on the agricultural terraces at Chan, a Maya archaeological site located in the Belize River Valley. Chan had a history of occupation spanning 2000 years, with its heyday in the Late Classic (ca. AD 600-830). Wyatt’s investigation addressed the issue of the organization and management of production on the farming terraces, and how production was affected by the rise of the nearby polity of Xunantunich.

One of the field complexes surveyed by Beach et al., called Birds of Paradise, turned out to be five times larger than previously thought. The LIDAR survey also revealed an even larger farming complex that had never been reported. These field systems pertain to the Late and Terminal Classic (ca. AD 400-1000), and previous studies had shown that the Maya wetland fields produced such crops as maize, arrowroot (Maranta sp.), squash, avocado, and other fruits. Aquatic fauna were also harvested, making this landscape a truly significant source of food for the ancient communities that lived in this privileged ecosystem.

Wyatt holds that many archaeologists have approached the subject of intensive farming techniques from a ‘top-down’ perspective, emphasizing the role of elites while ignoring the participation of small-scale sites, focusing instead on large urban centers. Wyatt, in contrast, adopted a ‘bottom-up’ approach focusing on famers as social actors and their means of agricultural production. He demonstrates that farmers at Chan were able to develop a complex farming technology without external pressure from the political establishment; that is the ruling elite. According to Wyatt, the terraces at Chan exhibit a complexity of construction and use that reveals a profound knowledge of the landscape on the part of the farmers. Finally, he was able to demonstrate the strategic role of landscape investigation in the hinterlands, rather than the large urban centers. In this way, research will advance our understanding of the relationship between farmers and the political economy of states such as the Classic lowland Maya.

The application of a new remote-sensing tool called airborne LIDAR (light detection and ranging) to the archaeological study of Maya landscapes promises to change our perception of this Mesoamerican civilization. Chase et al. (2011) hold that ‘our current view of pre-Hispanic Maya society has benefitted from new technologies, such as aerial photography and remote sensing. However, these approaches have been curtailed by technical limitations. Archaeological survey has been hampered by karst topography and dense tree canopy’ (p. 61). The recent application of LIDAR by archaeologists ‘to study landscape in the Maya tropical forests has achieved a quantum leap in terms of illuminating the complexity of ancient Maya cities and their surrounding landscapes, including highly-developed pre-Hispanic farming techniques that had remained invisible until recently’ (p. 61). Another example of LIDAR technology applied to aerial prospection is by Beach et al. (2019), who conducted a study of ancient Maya wetland raised field systems in eastern Belize, based primarily on a LIDAR aerial survey of four areas including the Chan Cahal site, near Blue Creek, and the Central Río Bravo floodplain. LIDAR technology enabled those authors

With this example of archaeological research I close the discussion of the main topics covered in the present volume. In the remainder of this chapter I will talk about the challenges we face when studying aquatic adaptations in ancient Mesoamerica. 253

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica it in his landmark study of the spread of diseases and contagion to countless indigenous communities in the Americas. Other authors have approached this same problem from different perspectives, like Don Brothwell (1993), who wrote the following: ‘There is nothing new in the idea that when two populations, separated over a long time period, are brought together, the chances are that one or both will suffer from diseases as a result of contact with the other. Because there is no evolved or recently acquired immunity, the impact of the disease on the population not acquainted with it will be especially strong’ (p. 238).

Challenges for Future Research Many processes of change in the aquatic environments of Michoacán, the Basin of Mexico, the Alto Lerma Basin, the Maya area and beyond, commenced with the Spanish conquest, but were intensified during the 19th and 20th centuries. The situation in the 21st century is far from promising; therefore, one of the main contributions of this study is that it produced a record for posterity of a wide range of activities linked to a traditional lifeway that is rapidly changing on account of the serious problems that afflict virtually all the lake basins of Mesoamerica: namely, water pollution, deforestation, overexploitation of fisheries, urbanization, and widespread emigration due to the extreme poverty of many of the local people.

In terms of New World peoples, Brothwell discussed how the arrival of the first Europeans confronted various human groups who had been ‘not only cut off from Old World diseases for thousands of years, but ones which had probably evolved separately over long periods — adapting to different environmental pressures and challenges. The meeting of these two worlds in 1492 was thus a recipe for epidemiological disaster’ (p. 238).

Numerous traditional activities and manufactures have virtually disappeared from the aquatic environments mentioned in this book, such as maguey-fiber processing and pulque-making in the Lake Cuitzeo Basin, among many other examples that I could mention (see discussion in Williams 2014a). Because of the serious environmental problems affecting these areas, as well as the rapid pace of cultural change, the current generation of scholars may well be the last one that will be able to observe and record a traditional lifeway that is reminiscent of the pre-Hispanic past. This would be an irreparable loss for our understanding of the ancient history of Mexico’s lakes, a watery realm where fishers, hunters, and artisans earned their livelihood on a daily basis over thousands of years.

This meeting of two worlds and the first centuries of a new colonial order in the Americas can be seen as a demographic cataclysm, according to the data presented by Linda Newson (1993): ‘Between 1492 and 1650 the native population of the Americas fell from just over 50 million to just over five million. Nevertheless, not all societies suffered equally… critical factors in explaining the differential decline… appear to have been the size and character of native societies, which influenced the methods used by the Spanish and Portuguese to control and exploit them’ (p. 277). The severity of the demographic collapse was also determined in part by ‘the intensity of European settlement. Indian survival was favoured where native societies were more productive, populous and highly structured, so that they could be controlled and exploited through the encomienda and the systems of forced labour’ (p. 277).

We face many problems when trying to understand the aquatic lifeway and other aspects of aquatic adaptations in Mesoamerica, including intensive traditional agriculture (i.e. chinampas). The most obvious challenge is that the world we are trying to understand no longer exists. After the Spanish Conquest in the 16th century, the new settlers began to manufacture a virtual copy of their original homeland in Europe transplanted to the New World. Among the most fundamental changes are the following: introduction of new species of plants and animals; desiccation of aquatic environments; and pollution and deforestation associated with numerous modern industries, in some instances barely regulated by the authorities. More recent changes have to do with large-scale migration from rural areas to the cities. Many of these problems are exacerbated by global warming, a condition that threatens to destroy large portions of the planet, from the ice caps in the poles to the jungles and forests in virtually all parts of the world (Wilson 1992).

For Elinor Melville (1994), the conquest of Mexico was not just a political, but also a biological process. In her book A Plague of Sheep, Melville talks about the ‘biological conquest’ of the New World, beginning with a question: ‘What happened after the military defeat of the Aztecs, the Incas, and the myriad towns and city states of the New World?’ (p. 1). To answer this question, she explores the many ways in which the Spaniards and all the others who followed them from the Old World extended their control over the countryside of the new territories. She holds that ‘the Europeans’ success can, in great part, be ascribed to the fact that they did not come alone to the New World, but brought with them animals and plants; weeds, seeds, and diseases… The conquistadors… carried with them Old World pathogens. The invaders had brought with them more means than they knew to conquer a continent’ (pp. 1-2). The newly-introduced species did

The first major changes in the Mesoamerican ecumene came about at the end of the 15th century, when the first Europeans arrived in the New World with their ‘guns, germs, and steel’, as Diamond (1999) so aptly put 254

Discussion and Conclusions

not just move into unoccupied ecological niches, but exploded to become huge populations that gradually transformed the biological and social reality of the New World. Melville describes this biological conquest of the continent as a form of ‘ecological imperialism’ that ‘depended to a great degree on the… number and variety of species and the extraordinary facility with which they expanded into and transformed the New World environments’ (pp. 1-2).

Melville discusses several factors that account for the high mortality rate among the indigenous peoples of the New World. First, she calls our attention to the fact that our designation of diseases like measles or influenza as ‘mild childhood infections gives a misleading idea of their virulence. Modern medicine does not cure… measles or influenza; it can keep down [their] normally high mortality rates… only by defending the infected individual against other infections. Where help is not available, the mortality rates are very high’ (p. 4)

Melville focused her study on the Valle del Mezquital, an area lying to the north of the Valley of Mexico in the present-day state of Hidalgo, centered on the Tula River Valley. According to Melville, this area was traditionally regarded as a ‘poor place renowned for its aridity, for the poverty of its indigenous inhabitants, and for exploitation by large landowners; it became the archetype of the barren regions of Mexico’ (p. 17). Melville recounts how ‘in 1900 the floodwaters that had regularly inundated Mexico City were channeled north and fed into the Tula River and its tributaries’. This transformed ‘the barren landscape traditionally associated with the Valle del Mezquital’ (p. 18). Today, the ecological conditions in the valley are ‘far from… being the original indigenous landscape of the region, the… barren landscape is relatively recent; in the last quarter of the sixteenth century it replaced a densely populated and complex agricultural mosaic that was in place when the Spaniards arrived… there is a crucial difference between the water regimes of the modern irrigated landscape’ (p. 19) and the one the Spaniard invaders encountered. Melville’s historical research discovered that ‘sufficient water was generated within the region up to the middle of the sixteenth century to supply extensive systems of irrigation… That is, the barren landscape reflected a process of desertification that occurred after the arrival of the Europeans. The region is not inherently poor, as the extraordinary fertility of the soils clearly demonstrates’ (p. 20).

Second, Melville highlights the important point that ‘the diseases carried to the New World, such as smallpox, measles, influenza, plague, and tuberculosis are characterized by very high mortality rates in the age group 15-40 years’ (p. 5). As it happens, this is the group most involved in productive activities. When disease kills ‘a high percentage of this group… those who might otherwise survive are neglected and die from untreated complications or starvation’ (p. 5). Another point she emphasizes is that ‘the Amerindians were rarely infected by a single disease; it was much more likely that they would be faced with a barrage of new infections’. Finally, we read in Melville’s book that ‘epidemic disease was spread by apparently healthy people, fleeing their villages, only to carry the contagion to new communities’ (p. 5). Diamond (2012) wrote that ‘there are many horror stories of Inuit, Native American, and Aboriginal Australian populations being virtually wiped out by epidemic diseases introduced through European contact’ (p. 296). In discussing ‘ungulate irruptions’, Melville (1994) argues that ‘whenever ungulates… are faced with more food than is needed to replace their numbers in the next generation, an ungulate irruption is the result. The animals react to the excess of food in a manner similar to pathogens encountering virgin soil populations: they increase exponentially until they overshoot the capacity of the plant communities to sustain them’ (p. 6). In time there is a crash in ungulate populations, but later they reach an accommodation with the nowreduced subsistence base at a lower density.

Melville discusses two major concepts that help us understand the unprecedented social and biological processes that played out within the drama of the Spanish conquest of Mexico: ‘virgin soil epidemics’ and ‘ungulate irruptions’. Our author explains that virgin soil epidemics ‘are characterized by an immunologically defenseless host population… extremely rapid spread, and almost universal infection. Old-World pathogens were successful because the New World populations had never been infected by them and had no defenses. They spread with shocking speed, infecting entire communities and resulting in appalling death rates’ (p. 4). The extant historical records for many parts of Mesoamerica show that ‘successive epidemics resulted in a massive demographic collapse: the estimated population decline in Mexico, for example, was 90-95 percent between 1519… and 1620’ (p. 4).

The plant communities that form part of the ecosystem in question ‘follow a reciprocal trajectory… animal and plant communities will oscillate around this level of accommodation… the entire process is extremely rapid, taking between 35 and 40 years’ (p. 7). Melville affirms that plant communities are changed beyond recognition during the course of an ungulate irruption because ‘selective browsing simplifies species diversity and reduces the height and density of the vegetation… A new biological regime develops that is reflected in a radically changed landscape’ (p. 7). The end result of a process of habitat disruption or modification brought about by the introduction of new 255

Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica species can be a dangerously low level of biodiversity. The loss of biodiversity has been explored by Edward O. Wilson (1992) on a worldwide scale. According to Wilson, ‘biodiversity… is defined as the totality of inherited variation in all the organisms of a selected area. The area can be a woodland or a system of forests or a pond or an ocean… researchers study biodiversity at one or the other or all three levels of biological organization: first ecosystems, such as a forest patch or a pond; then… all the species, from microorganisms to trees and megafauna’ (p. ix). The last level of analysis is concerned with ‘the genes that prescribe the traits of the species that make up the ecosystems’ (p. ix).

the New World, but also of climatic warming’ (p. 248). Wilson holds that ‘the overkill theorists have the more convincing argument for what happened in America 10,000 years ago. It seems likely that the Clovis people3 spread through the New World and demolished most of the large mammals during a hunters’ blitzkrieg spanning several centuries’ (p. 249). Wilson offers an additional reason for accepting this hypothesis: ‘When human colonists arrived, not only in America but also in New Zealand, Madagascar, and Australia, and whether climate was changing or not, a large part of the megafauna –large mammals, birds, and reptiles– disappeared soon afterward’ (p. 249).

Most of the biodiversity of the world remains unknown despite more than two centuries of taxonomic work, according to Wilson (p. x). This author holds that ‘to say that the fauna and the flora of the world remain unknown is no exaggeration’ and the problem is compounded by widespread extinctions occurring around the world every day (p. 243). In fact, according to Wilson ‘extinction has been much greater even among larger, more conspicuous organisms than generally recognized. During the past ten years, scientists… have uncovered evidence of massive destruction of Pacific Island land birds by the first human colonists centuries before the coming of Europeans’ (p. 244). This process goes back millennia, from 8,000 years ago up to the recent historical past. Wilson writes that ‘the Polynesians extinguished at least half of the endemic species found upon their arrival’ (p. 245).

Wilson’s narrative mentions ‘the mindless horsemen of the environmental apocalypse’ whom he identifies as ‘overkill, habitat destruction, introduction of animals such as rats and goats, and diseases carried by these exotic animals’. These deleterious agents have been active ‘from prehistory to the present time… and to an accelerating degree during our generation’ (p. 253). Wilson holds that ‘habitat destruction is foremost among the lethal forces, followed by the invasion of exotic animals. Each agent strengthens the others in a tightening net of destruction. In the United States, Canada and Mexico, 1,033 species of fishes are known to have lived entirely in fresh water within recent historical times’ (p. 253). Of these, three percent have become extinct within the past hundred years, and another twenty-six percent are liable to extinction, according to Wilson’s study (1992). The changes that forced these species into decline are detailed in Table 20.

Extinctions also occurred in other parts of the world as human populations spread through continents and islands after leaving Africa and Eurasia. Humans ‘soon disposed of the large, the slow, and the tasty. In North America 12,000 years ago, just before the Paleoindian hunter-gatherers came from Siberia across the Bering Strait, the land teemed with large mammals far more diverse than those in any part of the modern world, including Africa’ (p. 246).

When one defines habitat destruction as both the physical reduction in suitable places to live and the loss of habitats because of chemical pollution, then this is found to be an important factor in over 90% of the cases. Through a combination of all these factors, the rate of extinction has risen steadily during the past five decades.

In parts of North America, ‘the grasslands and copses were an American Serengeti… Some 73 percent of the large mammal genera that lived in the late Pleistocene are extinct. (In South America, the number is 80 percent). A comparable number of genera of the largest birds are also extinct. The collapse of diversity occurred about the same time that the first Paleoindian hunters entered the New World, 12,000 to 11,000 years ago’ (p. 247), as we saw earlier in this book. Mammoths, for example, ‘had flourished for two million years to that time and… within a thousand years all were gone’ (p. 247).

Wilson (1992) explored another agent of deleterious transformations in our global ecosystem: climate change, and global warming in particular. It is a wellknown fact that ‘the parts of the world with the highest year-round temperatures are the equatorial tropics, and the habitats with the greatest combined heat and humidity are the tropical rain forests. Given an equal amount of nutrients, the hottest, most humid places are also the most productive’ in terms of the quantity of plants and animals (p. 200). In another natural setting, low-lying coastal areas around the world,

However, in addition to the Paleoindians one ‘might argue the existence of another culprit. The end of the Pleistocene was a time not only of human invasion of

3 

Clovis is a Paleoindian culture of hunters and gatherers that lived in North America around 11,000 years ago. After this date they abruptly disappear from the archaeological record, coinciding with the massextinction of large animals from the Ice Age (Fagan 1995:85).

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The methodology involved in this study included extracting core samples from those ancient trees and then cross-dating Percentage of Environmental Factor the enclosed tree rings to the exact species affected* calendar year of their formation by means Destruction of physical habitat 73% of dendrochronology. The results of the Displacement by introduced species 68% study are summarized as follows: ‘The new Alteration of habitat by chemical pollutants 38% reconstruction of the drought severity index is Hybridization with other species and subspecies 38% the first exactly dated millennium-long treeOverharvesting 15% ring estimate of past climate yet developed for Mesoamerica’ (p. 2). The reconstruction * These figures add up to more than 100% because many of the fish indicates that ‘the Terminal Classic drought populations are affected by more than one environmental factor. extended into the central Mexican highlands from ca. AD 897 to 922. This apparently was there are large numbers of species living in areas that one of the worst mega-droughts of the past 1200 years’ will be flooded as the sea rises from the melting of (p. 3). The reconstruction presented by Stahle et al. also polar ice. The present crisis of biodiversity is in part describes Late Classic droughts at ca. AD 810-860. the result of human demographic success: ‘Human beings… have become a hundred times more numerous This study arrived at the following conclusions: ‘The than any other land animal of comparable size in the reconstruction of the climatic situation on the basis history of life… Our species appropriates between 20 of tree-ring data confirms the existence of drought and 40 percent of the solar energy captured in organic conditions during the Terminal Classic, and documents material by land plants. There is no way that we can its penetration into the highlands of Central Mexico’ (p. draw upon the resources of the planet to such a degree 3). The cultural implications of such long-term climatic without drastically reducing the state of most other changes are important for reconstructing Mesoamerican species’ (p. 272). culture history. We know that the Toltec state was the dominant state-level polity of central Mexico during One of the collateral conditions brought about by the early Postclassic. Its downfall took place around global warming is a disruption of weather systems, AD 1150, as indicated by archaeological, historical, and which can result in droughts, though droughts are nothing new on our planet, as we know from history, archaeology, and geology going back thousands of years. In Mesoamerica, recent dendrochronology studies (i.e. dating techniques based on tree-ring growth) have revealed patterns of wet and dry seasons marked by extreme droughts during most of the preHispanic sequence. Stahle et al. (2011) have published data based on trees of the species Montezuma bald cypress (Taxodium mucronatum) with an age of around one thousand years. These ancient trees were recently discovered at two locations in north-central Mexico, in the states of Querétaro and San Luis Potosí. On the basis of this discovery, it was possible to develop a chronology going back 1,238 years and so fulfill a long-standing goal of American dendrochronology: ‘To extend the long, exactly dated treering method into Mesoamerica… where it might be used to date archaeological sites and to reconstruct climate history Figure 261. Mesoamerican megadroughts from ca. AD 800 to 2000, based on tree-ring during the rise and fall of pre-Hispanic studies in central-northern Mexico, correlated with major archaeological periods civilizations’ (p. 1) (Figure 261). (after Stahle et al. 2011). Table 20. Environmental factors affecting the decline of freshwater fish species in the United States, Mexico and Canada (Wilson (1992:254).

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Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica chronometric data. This was a period of sustained drought, as reconstructed by treering evidence. This dendrochronological reconstruction ‘is an estimate of the soil moisture balance prior to the canicula (mid-summer drought), and early season drought can negatively impact the germination, maturation, and yield of maize, especially in highland Mesoamerica where freezing weather in autumn can truncate the growing season and reduce yields’ (p. 4). Stahle et al. end their study with the following words: ‘The tree-ring evidence for severe Figure 262. World temperature from 1860 to 2000, showing annual average (blue dots) and sustained drought during the five-year average (red line). The temperature variation is shown on the vertical line at left, major social transitions of the fluctuating from -0.6 to 0.6 degrees Centigrade (adapted from Beltiskaya 2012). Terminal Classic, Postclassic, and early Colonial eras provides… a new environmental framework for the The climatic changes mentioned above are part of a study of Mesoamerican cultural change’ (p. 4). global process that is due to the increase in greenhouse gases (Figure 262). According to Valentina Davydova Droughts have been recurrent worldwide and can be a Beltiskaya (2012), the global climate is increasingly problem at the present time as well. Cook et al. (2016) characterized by the rise in extreme conditions such tell us that ‘recurrent droughts are a normal part of as droughts, floods, severe storms, and waves of heat climate variability in Western North America… [there or cold, among others. Likewise, many countries are is] evidence [that] Western North America experienced experiencing regional processes of tropicalization and megadroughts over the last two millennia’ (p. 1). These desertification, as well as changes in rainfall regimes, events could last multiple decades, ‘and had profound and all these factors directly affect their economies. impacts on the contemporary indigenous societies, vegetation, and landscape. Megadroughts… refer to As a consequence of this phenomenon, summer persistent drought events in the preindustrial period rains could decrease up to 5% in central Mexico. with durations longer than a decade’ (p. 2). The change in the rainfall regime, together with a growing demand for water related to Mexico’s Climate research using a diversity of paleoclimate socioeconomic development, makes it highly likely proxies, including tree rings, lake sediments, and pollen that for the next few decades increases in the degree records, has shown that megadroughts were a relatively of pressure on this resource will be observed. Another common feature of Earth’s climate from the early to important risk is the increase in the number of forest middle Common Era, with documented events in the US fires, as well as vulnerability to drought, with the Southwest, Mexico, and other areas of North America. respective consequences for the economy (Beltiskaya 2012). These phenomena are threatening lake areas These problems can be compounded by current throughout Mexico. agricultural practices, as indicated by the following example. Based on limnological studies conducted at There are many more examples of climate change and Lake Juanacatlán (Jalisco, western Mexico), Metcalfe the ecological consequences for the present world. et al. (2010) documented how ‘manipulation of The effects on Mesoamerican landscapes are quite the hydrological system, particularly for irrigated severe, and will probably remain so for the foreseeable agriculture, is having a massive impact on surface water future. Rauscher et al. (2008), for example, state that systems across Mexico… Human disturbance has long recent global-scale analyses and projections for the been a factor in driving catchment change… but there 21st century indicate a strong, widespread decrease is increasing evidence for recent rapid change even in in precipitation responses over Central America, the lakes thought to be relatively undisturbed’ (p. 1204). Caribbean Sea, and the Gulf of Mexico. Simulations 258

Discussion and Conclusions

predict decreased precipitation in future climate patterns. Rauscher et al. hold that ‘the simulated twenty-first century drying over Central America represents an early onset and intensification of the mid-summer drought (a period of decreased rainfall during July and August)’ (p. 1).

of widespread settlement and agricultural production, including cattle-raising. According to Boehm (2006), before the arrival of the Spaniards in the Lerma River and Lake Chapala regions, there were three indigenous farming systems in this part of west Mexico: chinampas, terraces, and irrigation canals. From the time of their arrival in Mesoamerica, the Europeans were obsessed with eliminating the lakes and marshes so they could take advantage of the rich soils using the plow pulled by animals, which was particularly effective on the soft, flat terrain of these extensive lake basins. However, Boehm holds that the Spaniards and their descendants were not able to get rid of all the standing water until the introduction of the high-powered water pump at the end of the 19th and early 20th centuries. As water began to disappear from the landscape, the chinampas and other indigenous land-reclamation and agricultural practices also went into decline. However, Boehm (2006) saw the introduction of cattle as the main factor for the dramatic change in the ecological conditions of those former lakes and wetlands. Those animals destroyed both the raised fields and the Indians’ crops, while livestock breeders filled water-logged areas with earth so the cattle could move about unimpeded.

Archaeological research in the Maya area has shown that droughts have been prevalent in the past as well as in the present. Lucero and Larmon (2019) point out that in the Terminal Classic period (ca. AD 850-950), climate change set in motion events that ultimately resulted in what has been referred to as the ‘Classic Maya collapse’. According to these authors, ‘the semi-arid environment of central Mexico has provided scholars the means to generate fine-grained rainfall histories through dendrochronology… Most results show strong correlations between periods of noticeably less rainfall or drought with major sociopolitical histories’ (p. 166). One of the most obvious consequences of drought is the reduction in the size of lakes, rivers, and marshes, which can have catastrophic consequences for agriculture and other economic activities that depend on water. But sometimes large-scale desiccation of the landscape is brought about willingly by human activity. Brigitte Boehm (2002) conducted ethnohistorical and ethnographic studies in the Lake Chapala Basin, the largest body of water in Mexico. Boehm tells us that, in the case of Lake Chapala in the 19th century, the eagerness to desiccate lakes and wetlands was only curtailed by a lack of technological know-how and financial backing on the part of regional elites who wanted to eliminate the water from the lake and devote the basin’s land to capitalist agriculture and cattle-raising. In the 20th century a huge dike was constructed across the lake and the resulting dry land was developed for capitalist agriculture.

Boehm’s historical research (2006) discovered that the first successful large-scale desiccation projects were undertaken during the regime of Porfirio Díaz (1877-1911) in two key areas: the Basin of Mexico and the Lake Chapala Basin (p. 205). During the mid- and late-20th centuries, the Basin of Mexico lost most of its lakes, marshes and wetlands, as well as forests, as the urban sprawl of Mexico City expanded to unprecedented proportions. As for Lake Chapala and the Lerma River Basin, Boehm (2006) describes how the cities in the Lerma region demanded increasing supplies of water, as did the region’s major industrial and agribusiness enterprises. This situation deprived traditional farmers of water for irrigation, so after the drought of 1947-1955 alternative water sources had to be implemented, including deep wells powered with electric pumps.

In addition to the concerted efforts to eliminate water from the lake, in the early 21st century the Lake Chapala Basin suffered recurring droughts, and large extensions of the lakebed were turned to farming that, ironically, had to rely on irrigation with water extracted at great expense from deep wells.

The problems outlined here virtually put an end to the bountiful landscapes and resources that had existed in the Lerma River Basin for thousands of years, as described by Williams and Weigand (1999).4 One of the casualties of this ecological transformation was the traditional aquatic lifeway, which today exists as a

Boehm (2006) later expanded her area of interest from Lake Chapala to the entire Lerma River drainage system. She pointed out that the desiccation of wetlands and lakes had profound social and environmental consequences in the Lerma River Basin. This is Mexico’s second-largest river and one of the worst affected in terms of ecological deterioration in the world. When the first Spaniards entered this region, they immediately saw its potential for agriculture and cattle-raising, but they also perceived the abundant lakes and marshes as obstacles to their ultimate goal

All the ecological problems in the Lerma River Basin described here are aggravated by one of the worst levels of pollution in the world. According to one source, ‘farmers, industry and government all use and abuse the once-pristine water resource [and] the result is an ecological disaster’ (Darling 1991).

4 

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Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica mere remembrance in just a few isolated places, as we have seen in this book.

2005). Goldstein (2013) argues that a well-integrated agro-pastoral system existed during the Tiwanaku period, including agrarian communities and major irrigation works, such as canals, in the hinterlands of the Tiwanaku state.

The traditional aquatic lifeway existed in other parts of the world apart from Mesoamerica. In Bolivia’s Lake Titicaca, for instance, fishers, hunters, and artisans had been living off the lake’s resources for thousands of years before the first Europeans arrived in the region. Benjamin Orlove (2002) wrote one of the most complete accounts to date about the cultural adaptations to this aquatic ecosystem. Lake Titicaca lies at a considerable altitude (3,808 m.a.s.l.), occupying a large, flat basin known as the Altiplano, which is divided politically between Peru and Bolivia. People living in the densely-populated portion of the Altiplano closest to the lake are organized into communities of several hundred households each. These people have a great attachment to agriculture, so they produce all the food they need. They earn additional income as wage laborers outside the region, or through small-scale trade, fishing, and handicraft production. Clearly, we can say that they share several characteristics with peasants in other parts of the world (Orlove 2002).

Kolata (1993), meanwhile, holds that during early colonial times the Urus were not engaged exclusively in the extraction of lake products, but frequently worked as laborers in agriculture on the lands of their Aymara neighbors, while also planting their own potato and quinoa fields. After the destruction of the ancient social networks through which terrestrialoriented populations interacted with aquatic ones, the Urus were forced to follow a more generalized way of life. In order to survive, they expanded into other ecological niches and adopted other modes of production. In many respects during the colonial period, these indigenous people were already substantially transformed, following a process that made them look more and more like their Aymara neighbors, in an inexorable movement towards the loss of their Uru ethnic identity (Kolata 1993). Joseph W. Bastien (2012) made an important contribution to the study of the Uru people, presented in his book People of the Water. Bastien (p. 185) writes that there are five groups of people belonging to the Uru ethnic group settled around the Lake Titicaca Basin, the Río Desaguadero, and the salt lakes of Coipasa and Poopó. Most of the Urus who still live on the floating islands of Lake Titicaca continue to fish and hunt ducks, but their culture has changed considerably in recent decades (Figure 263). They speak Aymara and Spanish and attend school on the islands. In recent years, some islanders have moved to Puno (a town 263 km northwest of La Paz, Bolivia), where they have intermarried with Aymaras and adopted Aymara culture.

According to Alan Kolata (1993), before the conquest of the Andes by the Spanish, Lake Titicaca had a large population that made a living from specialized forms of fishing, hunting, and gathering. The ethnic and linguistic group known as the Urus traditionally earned their daily subsistence through intensive exploitation of the aquatic environment. There may well have been several other, similar groups who followed this aquatic way of life from at least the period of hegemony of the Tiwanaku state (ca. AD 5001100). According to La Barre (1941), in the mid-20th century the indigenous Urus formed an unmistakable linguistic enclave amidst huge territories occupied by Quechua- and Aymara-speakers. One important difference between Mesoamerica and the Andean region is that the latter people had access to domesticated animals. In the core area of the Tiwanaku culture, subsistence was based on a triad composed of camelid breeding, exploitation of lake resources and, above all, intensive cultivation of frost-resistant plants in raised fields (Goldstein 2005). Archaeological excavations carried out in highland sites belonging to the Tiwanaku culture have demonstrated the routine, large-scale consumption of domesticated llamas and alpacas, which were also indispensable as beasts of burden and for wool production. Wild resources that were consumed included waterfowl, freshwater fish, and amphibians, while the diet was complemented by the hunting of many wild species: deer, camelids (vicuñas and guanacos), and other small animals, which were hunted using traps, bow and arrow, snoops, slings, and boleadoras (Goldstein

A good example of culture change in this region is narrated by Bastien with the following words: ‘I visited students in one of the floating schools and discovered that their teacher was not Chipayan [i.e. Uru] but Aymara… the students were all dressed in clothes from the United States’. This was a striking contrast to the situation in the 1930s, when ‘these Urus wore little clothing, until missionaries indoctrinated them and provided clothing’ (p. 185). One reason for rapid culture change in the Lake Titicaca Basin is globalization. Bastien holds that ‘Chipayans work together to channel rivers, wash the soil, and build dikes… Every year Chipayans divide the land and the harvest so that each family receives an equal share… However, influenced by liberal reforms… some Chipayans had adopted ideas of private property… globalization and capitalization encouraged these 260

Discussion and Conclusions

day-laborers, while others must travel farther away in search of a better life, leaving barely 800 Urus-Muratos still living around Lake Poopó. Because their culture revolves fundamentally around fishing and other aquatic activities, with no lake to support their livelihood the Urus, who are one of the oldest societies in the Andean area, could vanish for good as an independent ethnic group (p. 1). There is another possible culprit for the Urus’ plight, in addition to global warming. Blair recounts how ‘on a visit to the state-owned Huanuni tin mine, Bolivia’s largest, [I] observed mining waste being Figure 263. Floating island with a house made of reeds on top. This was the typical domestic dumped directly into the Huanuni setting in Lake Titicaca until recent decades (photo by José M. Helfer, courtesy of Jeffrey Parsons). river… a tributary that flows downhill to Lake Poopó’ (p. 1). Blair “reforms” but created problems’, for example in the ends his account by stating that ‘even if the lake does allotment of water for their fields (p. 108). recover, there may be very few people still in the Uru communities to benefit... Some want the cautionary Another serious problem for the Urus is the ecological tale of Lake Poopó to be applied to the larger Lake crisis brought about in recent years by changing Titicaca, itself under threat’ (p. 1). climate patterns (Blair 2018). This phenomenon has impacted Lake Poopó, once Bolivia’s second largest There are many examples of ecological destruction in body of water. The indigenous ethnic group Urusthe Anthropocene, from the Aral Sea—which once was Muratos  had lived off this lake’s abundant fish and the world’s fourth-largest lake but now is completely animal resources since ancient times, as the highdry—(Hoskins 2014), through the disappearing lakes altitude lake was a natural habitat to some 200 species of the Middle East, China, and West Africa (Purvis of birds, mammals, and fish. Lake Poopó had always and Trif 2016), to the recent massive fires in the fluctuated in size, but in recent years droughts Amazon Basin (Watts 2019). But I would like to end became longer. In November 2014, many fish and birds this book on a more optimistic note. History teaches perished suddenly and inexplicably, and by late 2015 us that humankind has faced serious challenges from the lake—which had once covered 2,400 km2—dried prehistory to the present, and yet somehow we have up completely, a catastrophe that some attribute to always managed to survive. History will carry on, global climate change (Blair 2018). and new challenges will no doubt arise in the future. This book has revealed part of the unwritten history The Urus were not natural farmers, so they never that played out in the Mesoamerican past. The main held much land. They had always survived by fishing, lesson that we can take away from this story is that hunting, and trade. Many members of the Uru humankind has persevered no matter what. And one communities around Lake Poopó have been forced can only hope that we will continue to do so in the to migrate to nearby towns, looking for work as foreseeable future.

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