There's Magic in the air!

When we started out from McGill in the field van last Friday we had no idea what we were in store for that day. We had heard the news that Group A (AKA: Team Danger) had discovered what was most likely a bone belonging to Magic at the bottom of one of their test pits and we were excited to start uncovering it. While we sat in the van and listened to music and played a few friendly games of Werewolves to pass the time we wondered what we might find that day; after our last trip during which we found a grand total of two little vertebrae I'm sure we all would have been happy with anything. We found more than just anything.

When we first arrived we weren't sure what to expect at the location, it had rained the previous night and there were some ominous looking clouds in the distance on our drive over. The ground was wet and muddy but not nearly as bad as our worst fears and the sun even came out and was shining brightly when we first arrived. Better yet, while there were mosquitoes around, their numbers were nowhere near the biblical level that Group A had promised they would be.

We started out by cording off a rectangular area encompassing Group A's test pit that had hit bone and digging out the first layer of the trench with shovels. The ground was extremely muddy and not very far down the pit began to fill with water. Eventually Thomas uncovered something that looked like bone and Colin told us all to switch to using trowels. This is the point where we discovered why field clothes STAY field clothes. We painstakingly scraped away the mud and clay while the pit slowly filled with water (Colin and Elise began to bail out the water constantly at this point). Slowly but surely more and more bone was uncovered. What appeared to be a second piece of bone near the first also appeared. As we slowly dug away the dirt we realized it wasn't a second bone, it was connected to the first. At this point we began to realize how big the find was, we kept uncovering it but there was just more and more bone.

Taking a break we all stood back and looked at the find and tried to figure out just what it was. Joking suggestions ranging from a T-Rex to Bigfoot to a Dragon were made but we all knew that the bone had to belong to an elephant. The question was, which bone was it? "It's a pelvis" was the first suggestion, to which there were murmurs of agreement, until Colin said something which caused everyone's ears to perk up in excitement. "I think it's the skull." From then on we all worked hurriedly, bailing and digging as carefully and quickly as we could. At the end of the day we had uncovered what must be a good portion of the bone but much of it still laid buried. Colin took a picture (which I would post here except I'm having trouble accessing his album) of the bone in the pit and we decided to pack it up and head home. The ominous clouds had returned and the mosquitoes had finally caught our scent and were beginning to swarm. Group B left the site exhausted, muddy, missing about a litre of blood combined and completely satisfied (maybe a little more so after a coffee from the rest stop and a few friendly games of Werewolves during the ride home).

Group A, you have some awesome digging ahead of you!

Here are some pictures of elephant skulls from google image search to help you visualize what you're looking at when you're there (I can guarantee after seeing these photos that it is indeed the skull that we found).


Elephant Skull



























(apparently this guy's name is Tony, I just included it to demonstrate the size that these things can be!)


P.S. Ashley is always the werewolf.

Mosquito galore

The trip started interestingly enough with random talks and comments on pop culture in the van such as Will Smith and his songs and the fact that Sting hates his song ‘We’ll be together’ because it was originally written for a Japanese beer commercial. Because it was group A’s second trip, we confidently assumed it would follow the last experience with a few differences such as digging new test pits. However, upon arriving, we learned what all archaeologists have; to assume that the land would not have changed in 2 weeks is to make an ass out of you. Two weeks, with a few rainy days here and there, was enough time for the road to become spread with grass, the earth to become more swamp like and for the birth of a host of mosquitoes, to whom we were the ideal banquet. I say this because not only were we there for at least three hours, but we all took turns holding the prism for the Total Station which as you all know, means that we cannot move until the Total Station is centered on the prism. But I am getting ahead of myself.

Before leaving McGill, MacLean presented Colin with a map of our site displaying various amounts of methane all over the area. Curiosity got to us and we decided, with Colin’s approval of course, to dig test pits around the upper North-West area (behind a row of trees) because it seemed like a large animal (or so it seemed according to the large amount of methane exposure on the map) was buried there. After digging 6 test pits we unfortunately found nothing though it was well worth the effort seeing as we got to view Colin, in his archaeology outfit, take the machete to the trees that were obtruding the Total Station’s view of the prism. We realised at one point that the trees were just too dense and seeing as we couldn’t chop down trees, we did what any archaeologist do in that situation, we use the GPS.

After that little experiment, which showed us how unpredictable test pits and finding objects can be, Colin decided that it was time we found the limits of Magic’s range and excitedly, we started to dig 4 test pits. One to the right (North) of Magic’s old test pit from 2007, one just to its lower left corner and two to Magic’s left (South). Anna and I worked on the test pit situated on the right which eventually became Trench # 3. About 10 cm deep we found a small tibia and a fibula. Seeing as it was close to the surface, the bones probably do not belong to a set but rather, were deposited there when the earth was turned by the framer’s tractor. Other than that, we were unable to get to the bottom swap layer because of all the huge (and I do mean huge) rocks in our way. Jason’s and MacLean’s test pit as well as Alice’s and Manu’s went much smoother and they both reached the water/swamp level. After a few jokes on the interesting smells coming from them, it was Alison’s pit from which the jack pot was found. They discovered what we think may have been an epiphysis but it was small and fractured so we weren’t sure. They also found a huge bone with the same kind of formations. Next to it sticking out of the side wall in the pit, was a ball-and-socket joint. Jason’s test pit at first revealed nothing but, upon checking the earth dump, they found a couple of bones: two un-fused epiphysis from an animal smaller than that an elephant. Both pits provided us with bones that were smaller than an adult elephant but bigger than any other animal at the park. Could it be Magic wasn’t an adult? Or was another animal placed at this exact spot and got mixed up with Magic’s bones? All this means, is that we need to dig deeper. Overall, we learned how to use the Total Station properly with the prism, that Magic’s bones continue more towards the south, that a mask and water proof gloves might be for the best next time, and that bring a whole bottle of off would be a great idea.

Ps: Group B, remind Colin that you’ll need smaller buckets to be able to get in the pits and bail out swamp water. We improvised and cut a plastic water bottle in half.

A hole lot of NOTHING

Friday, at noon, a small group of students gathered in the Basement of Peterson Hall, ready for an afternoon of driving, traipsing through forests of high grass, and digging through mud, all in pursuit of an elusive goal. We were traveling to Parc Safari, to hack our way through the grass, dig our way through endless mud and clay, all to find the skeletons of dead animals. Each of us likely had our own personal goals in mind, be it emulating Indiana Jones, or just basking in the spirit of scientific discovery, But mine, I knew, was the most noble! I was going to find a LION! (Of course, I have no idea whether a Lion had actually been buried there.)

My contacts from Group A had dropped a few hints as to what we were to expect, and most specifically bragged about the fact that, while we were going to have to use a sketchy Geo Van, they had lucked out and got to drive to the site in a swanky, new, rented minivan. And, so, I was shocked, when we walked out of Peterson hall clutching various necessary implements (Namely, shovels, Boxes, and, most interesting, a machete, clutched possessively by Tom) to find a huge Black SUV, which, while not the most ecological, would not have been out of place in a Spy movie, in the possession of the Omnipresent Government Agency.

Pulling onto Peel, we headed through the traffic of Downtown Montreal, Tom’s Selection of music blasting through the car. The Car ride itself was fairly quiet, going by quickly as we headed to the American border. Colin pulled off the highway at the last exit before the border, through a veritable labyrinth of sketchier and sketchier roads in rural Quebec, before finally parking the car on a dirt (or, rather, MUD) road between a hill covered in vines, and a field densely packed with tall grasses.

After a quick tour of the site (punctuated every so often with such phrases as “That’s the Elephant pit. Don’t fall into it.”) We got to work. Though the terrain of the Graveyard (the tall grasses) made it fairly difficult, we did a field survey, covering the area between the Historical remains of a farmhouse and the Test pits dug last week by group A. Though the Grass was difficult to march through, we called upon our inner fortitude and pushed forwards, avoiding pits. As White and King state, “During field survey there is a constant need for measuring space, especially calculating distance. Much of this is associated with basic logistics like establishing and maintaining transect width (pg 101.)” Unfortunately for Ashley, this resulted in the unfortunate reality that she was forced to hack her way through the Meters tall reeds that were growing on the foundations of the farm house.

During our survey, we found a largish mound, just the west of Magic’s pit, and, Colin, full of the spirit of discovery and joy, decided that we were to dig our test pits on this mound, because he was curious, and “A big mound next to a pit where we know a part of the elephant was found is good!” The test pits we sank were to be a half meter by a meter, and would likely reach the ground water or bedrock. Well, no bedrock was reached, but plenty of other rocks were. At every turn, we were stymied by the multitudes of rocks within out pits (Rocks which Colin had the Gall to call Pebbles.) On that mound, few pits were able to go deeper than half a meter deep before an impassable rock was to be found. The most interesting piece of archeological remains that was found was a length of ubiquitous orange twine, running through two or three test pits.

Colin then concluded that, if there was anything to be found in the mound, we weren’t going to find it without a backhoe, and sent the few of us who had attended the first class off to dig more test pits in other promising locations, and those that hadn’t attended to learn to use the Total Station.

These test pits proved as fruitless as the others, My own, dug between the “Mass grave” and Magic, yielded nothing but a solid layer of Dirt, followed by a thick layer of compacted Sawdust, refuse from the barns the animals stayed in during the winter. Tom, the luckiest of us, found a plastic bag containing two small vertebrae on the surface level of his last test pit.

This really reinforced how much of Archeology is truly dependent on luck. How, even in this site, which, supposedly, is incredibly rich, it is possible for a group of people to fail to find anything, with a number of test pits scattered throughout the area. Who knows, had I sunk a test pit a half meter to the left, perhaps I’d have found my Lion… Or perhaps I’d still have found a whole lot of nothing.

One last note. Word of warning to ya’ll digging next week: Apparently The entire cemetery is a hotbed of Simian herpes. (I exaggerate, but the reason we’re digging at this particular gravesite is that the other one has known Simian burials, which can infect us with some horrific form of herpes… We should be safe at this cemetery, Except that we have NO records of what was buried in what we’re excavating.)

The Pits

As I, giddy with excitement, boarded the Archaeological Minivan of Science, I realized that I had no idea what to expect of actual fieldwork. I had extrapolated fantastic visions of spelunking inside the ribcage of Magic (the flesh-laden elephant corps circa 1980’s), but what was in store was more exciting than my wildest dreams.

We were there to dig pits.

When our car ride of Anth-jokes and squabbling over music concluded we went for a quick tour through the site, where I had my first real experience with an archaeological pit. Pushing through the tall grass, I came about 10 centimeters from stepping in Magic’s excavation pit from last year; now flooded with stagnant dead-elephant water.

Regardless of the humor that stems from a digging up a dead elephant, archaeological pits deserve a second thought. The reason for their existence is to allow archaeologists to catch a glimpse of a different time. Whether it’s a Neanderthal burial, or a field of dead zoo-animals, the basic principal remains the same: Digging up the past also destroys it, so you’d better get as much information out as possible. This thought is perturbing to me, since it’s too easy to imagine myself blowing the most important find of a site.

Fortunately, in reality things are almost never that glum. When we got to dig our test pits (TPs) we were quickly instructed in all of the proper archaeological methods. Recording the local of an artifact when you find it, and not (albeit hard to resist) immediately yanking it out of the ground to clutch feverously, is just one of many methods we learned.

TPs are simple shovel-dug holes in the ground that allow you to see under the soil you’re standing on, yet they are more complicated than something so simple should ever be. White and King (2007:113) say that “[TPs] are small, square to round excavations generally measuring 40 to 50 cm (1.3 to 1.6 ft) across, with maximum depth depending on local geomorphology and the likely depth of cultural deposits”. Getting down to a depth where “cultural deposits” are likely seemed easy, until “local geomorphology” got in the way. It was often in the form of giant rocks that screeched loudly when hit with your shovel, and got stuck in the mud when you tried to remove them. Occasionally “local geomorphology” took the shape of thick roots that crisscrossed your TP, which made digging much more arduous than originally expected. Just being able to dig down a meter can be physically challenging, as it forced some of us to lie down and continue to dig while at 90º. The most challenging problem I encountered was a tightly buried burlap sack I found at about half the desired depth of my TP. This sack, although technically part of the “cultural deposits”, was immovable and ended up completely thwarting the path of my shovel. No matter how hard I tried it was impossible to puncture, or even dig around this frustration.

As I sweated with annoyance at this sack, my brain began to freeze up. How could a “cultural deposit” in my pit be hindering my attempts at finding something important? In a flash, the futility of trying to understand archaeology strictly in terms of “local geomorphology” and “cultural deposits” dawned on me. You can’t just read a book and then traipse onto the field knowing exactly what to do. Archaeology isn’t astrophysics or theoretical mathematics, no; it’s real science. You have to be able to adapt your theories in a pinch, stay scientific in the most difficult situations, and be able to evaluate whether or not to continue to struggle with a burlap sack. I’m glad to have learned this early on so I can later squeeze as much information as possible out of instructional archaeology texts, and use that information as a frame, not as rule.

It’s amazing what you can learn from a pit.

Works Cited:

White, G. and T. King

2007. The Archaeological Survey Manual. Walnut Creek: Left Coast Press.

Can we do better than Google?

If we were to file our Parc Safari data, would it go under "A" for "African Animals?" Or "Animals (African)"? Or maybe "Q" for "Quebec" (subsection "Africa")? Could the excavation of a zebra in Hemmingford, Quebec ever make a lick of sense without extensive context?

In 2004, a group of archaeologists met in a National Science Foundation-funded workshop to develop a concept that seems paradoxically fantastical and obvious: a centralized cyberinfrastructure, a working database of all archaeological data, ever, in the history of the world. Obvious because, as you the reader knows, all the most efficient organizational systems use online technology; fantastical because Keith Kintigh’s 2006 report on the workshop barely scratched the surface of the logistical nightmare that this theoretical database would be.

There’s a misconception among the Indiana Jones-loving masses that archaeology is a finite field, that almost everything to be dug up has been dug up, and that the whole discipline will one day go the way of the CD (that is, obsolescence). An understandable assumption, perhaps, when the only exposure one has had is a dusty black-and-white photo of the pitted, ravaged Valley of the Kings, but a very untrue assumption all the same. After all, as long as the world spins, things will get buried. As long as there is archaeology, there is new data. And as long as there is research, there is a very real need for easy access to old data.

In the information age, it seems easy to say, “well, let’s throw it online!” Surely after the database is designed and the bugs are exorcised, it will be a self-sustaining system, with all new information sliding neatly into its categories like books on a library shelf. And therein lies the first roadblock.

What is unique about archaeology is that data – the hard facts and the numbers – does not lose its importance, no matter how much new data is discovered. You can only excavate a site once (unless something has gone very wrong), and thus whoever got there first will be the effective data master forever. Even after the archaeologist’s death, new archaeologists will be referring back to those numbers and those pictures for as long as there is interest in that civilization. And since archaeology has existed in some form since the European Renaissance, the collective archaeological record is not only vast, but almost entirely in print.

And it is by no means enough to transcribe the data into electronic form. The ideal database is one that facilitates cross-referencing, which leads to the problem of standards. According to J.D. Richards’ From Anarchy to Good Practice, the documentation standards that exist now, adopted by archaeologists under pressure from libraries and museums of the world, are more guideline than law: “Guides to Good Practice, or Best Practice, but not Required Practice”. Without standards, the decisions you make on how narrow your animal categories will be (i.e. ungulates vs. artiodactyla vs. deer) or what side you support in the metric/imperial war will inevitably clash with the decisions of at least one of your colleagues, and researchers tend to panic when faced with a clash.

Richards goes on to question the real need for standards, using an example that very few people couldn't identify with: in the age of Google, we are all too used to the “type-and-hope” method of research; that is, plugging something into a search engine and praying that something at least mildly relevant comes back. And usually, it works. A truly standardized database would likely operate on a “point-and-click” basis, wherein the user would narrow down categories to find what he or she was looking for. Such a system that could comfortably accommodate all the vast and varied data accumulated over decades would have to be detailed to the point of inscrutability. To simplify the system bears the risk of shuffling aside inconvenient data that refuses to fall neatly into a category. The designers of this database would be walking a very, very thin line. The "Metadata" (the details of how a database is arranged) would have to be very controlled to avoid the comedy cliché of the filing system that, in a quest for maximum efficiency, has become too detailed to be at all useable.

During our discussion, the point was made that, once the database is in wide use, it puts pressure on academics to publish quickly. It would be difficult to take one’s sweet time in writing a dissertation when eager colleagues could easily access your data and begin their own inquiries. It also raises new ethical questions concerning the importance of disclosure in a new age of instant data-sharing.

The website “tDAR” (the Digital Archaeological Record) is the first attempt at a realization of the theoretical database. It is quite new and displays this not-exactly-inspiring disclaimer above the search bar:

“As this is a beta release, we will appreciate your tolerance of any problems you encounter and encourage you to send comments, suggestions and bug reports to [address].”

Out of curiosity, this humble blogger entered “tiwanaku” into the search bar, reasoning that surely the name of such an important site would return a wealth of information. I must say, I was mildly shocked when only a single result appeared. Either the young tDAR is not looking to pressure archaeologists into contributing, or there is a resounding lack of interest from the wider community. Either way, at this point, this isn’t the database we’re looking for. (We don’t need to see its identification. We can go about our business. Move along.)

Despite all this, both the NSF-funded forum and Roberts are convinced of the need for a database. To them, the benefits outweigh the risk. As a student of archaeology who is quite often fed up with the existing online resources, I do hope their vision becomes reality sooner rather than later.

Kintigh, Keith. "The Promise and Challenge of Archaeological Data Integration." American Antiquity 71.3 (2006): 567-578. Web. 11/05/10.

Richards, J.D. (2009) From anarchy to good practice: the evolution of standards in archaeological computing. Archeologia e Calcolatori, 20 . pp. 27-35.

The Good, The Bad and The Muddy: Ethics for Archaeologists.

To conclude the educational odyssey that has been this class, we discussed the complex issue of ethics in archaeology. This semester we have learned how to identify, plan, map and execute a successful archaeological excavation, so it seems fitting that our field season comes to close with a discussion about ethics behaviour and professionalism. While ethics are important in any professional discipline, in archaeology ethics are essential because we frequently require access to sensitive cultural material, like human remains, around which issues like ownership and preservation revolve.

Bergman and Doershuk define ethics as “what is good and bad and what compromises moral duty and obligation” (2003, 86). We expanded this definition and decided that for an archaeologist, ethical behaviour is to identify the potential stakeholders involved, their mandates and cooperate with them while still achieving the research goal. We determined that at any one time there are at least three stakeholders involved, the archaeologist, the landowner (whether it be the federal government or a private owner) and the descendent group. In Cultural resource management the client also has a significant stake. As a result, to act ethically one must take into consideration the interests of all the stakeholders involved.

For an archaeologist, the primary objective of an excavation is to obtain as much information about a site as possible, while operating within the law and cooperating with other stakeholder interests. Archaeologists are often ascribed the identity of being “stewards of the archaeological record” (Groarcke and Warrick, 2006, 165) we preserve it, interpret it and can make accessible to the greater public. Does this make our interests more important than those of the other stakeholders? Here in lies the challenge. Whose interests matter more? Does research take precedence over site preservation? Should the wishes of descendent group be more important then those of the landowner? Should all stakeholders be equal? There is no easy answer; yet each excavation team will have to take some form of action.

Ethics are also significant when extracting value from archaeological data. Oral histories from a descent group could contextualize data in way that academic deductions could not. Alternatively, the academic record can identify inaccuracies in the oral history. The oral history of Parc Safari is a good example. Although the site is less than thirty years old, discrepancies have been discovered between the oral history and the material we have excavated. If there is a conflict in interpretation, whose story is chosen as correct?

We also discussed the importance of avoiding biases and considering alternative opinions when interpreting archaeological data. Even within the same stakeholder group differences of opinion can exist. We discussed the divisions between academic and Cultural resource management (CRM) (Bergman and Doershuk 2003,1). CRM archaeological consulting is a relatively new development in the field of archaeology that is concerned with extracting archaeological data as a business. The difference between CRM and academic archaeology is that CRM is conducted to assess cultural remains within sites designated for future development. The result can be a salvage excavation to extract data from a site before potentially damaging construction or development takes place. The data derived from archaeological consulting has, in the past, been deemed as “grey literature”(and has been regarded as less important than the data from academic archaeological research). We discussed the possibility of using grey literature as a source of information for future academic research. Grey literature is a valuable resource, encouraging its use in academia could assist in discouraging the endurance of negative professional stereotypes.

We concluded our discussion by determining that archaeologists of any profession have an obligation to engage neutrally, preferably in the political arena where all stakeholders’ voices can be heard. It is important to remember that the archaeological record is publicly owned; because archaeologists have the privilege of first contact with the archaeological record there is substantial pressure to ensure that our choices and actions comply with the accepted ethical standards of the time. And let’s be honest, complying with ethical standards is a small price to pay for the fun of getting dirty in an excavation pit.

Works Cited:

Bergman, C.A & J.F Doershuk, 2003. Cultural Resource Management and the Business of Archaeology. In Ethical Issues in Archaeology, edited by L.J Zimmerman, K.D Vitelli, and J. Holloway-Zimmer, 85-98. New York: Altamira Press.

Groarke L. and G. Warrick, 2006. Stewardship gone astray? Ethics and the SAA. In The Ethics of Archaeology: philosophical perspectives on the archaeological practice, edited by C. Scarre and G. Scarre, 163-177. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Digitize This!! (oh wait, i already did)

Since our days in the field have unfortunately come to an end, Parc Safari 2010 has begun the process of discussing the possibilities of digital archaeology. As a group, we came to the consensus that in order for digital archives to be legible, standards must be applied to allow for comparability. Furthermore, metadatas must be created to facilitate useful comparisons based on ontologies. Our discussion this week turned to the effect of new technologies on field methods. While these technologies do allow for increased data acquisition, they must be taken up with a grain of salt.

It is fitting that during our discussion of the uses of technology in archaeology we should find ourselves with a perfect example of technology as a hindrance. Corroborating Backhouse’s claim “digital data is almost always useless because it generally has no contextual information with it”, the data points recorded by the total station lost some of their significance due to a misinterpretation of context (Backhouse 2006, 53). In order to understand this example, we need to go back in time to Parc Safari, week 8: after setting up the total station over our datum, a tedious process of leveling then adjusting then leveling again, we realized that our labour had been in vain because the stick on which the total station prism is mounted had been forgotten. Luckily, the total station is a technology designed to be adaptable; instead of using the prism to locate data points, a laser can be aimed directly at points to record their location. Since we had already plotted the location of each corner of PSTR1, we could use one of these corners for a temporary datum. This is where the problem came in: we knew that PSTR1 comprised of points 12,13,14,15 but we had not recorded in our notebooks the location of each of these points. So we made the assumption (which turned out to be incorrect) that the points must have been taken in either a counter-clockwise or clockwise manner, such that the northwest corner of PSTR1 would always be point 14. We then continued to plot all of the points for week 8 from point 14, which was actually the southwest corner of PSTR1. The result when Colin mapped the total station points of PSTR1 was a crooked map. In this way, our data suffered because we failed to record its context.

Total Station at northwest corner of PS2010TR1

Another limitation of digital archaeology is apparent in this example: that of digital maps. As Zubrow points out, the perceived reality of digital maps are often greater than is justified (Zubrow 2006, 22). Since our skewed map of PSTR1 is constructed of data points plotted by a sophisticated technology, somebody not involved in the project may view it as a completely accurate depiction. Unlike hand-drawn maps, which show the hand of the artist who produced them, digital maps have the appearance of being a “disembodied view from nowhere” (Zubrow 2006, 22). In reality, however, (like hand-drawn maps) digital maps “are located in culture, space and time” (Zubrow 2006, 22).

Map of PS2010TR1

Despite these limitations digital maps, and digital archaeology in general, provide useful tools for the archaeologist. As Chris pointed out, a hand-drawn map cannot be published in a paper thus necessitating its conversion to a digitized form. Not only does this conversion take time, it also “removes the data one more step away from the individual who made the observations in the first place. An interpretation on site recorded on paper is reinterpreted in post-excavation, introducing data irrelevance and data inaccuracy” (Backhouse 2006, 53). Furthermore, digitizing these maps allows a degree of play with archaeological data. In Bevan and Conolly’s survey of Kythera, Greece, for example, maps of terrain at multiple scales were layered over one another – a technique only made possible with GIS (2004, 132). By creating a mult-scalar map Bevan and Conolly were able to determine terrain curvature. In other words, which valleys appear as valleys at multiple scales? In a somewhat dated article, Dibble and McPherron seem to prophecy Bevan and Conolly’s approach when they write: “the fact is that we can and will explore more possible relationships when data manipulation is made much easier” (1989, 437). Since the possible questions an archaeologist can ask are increased by digital archaeology, “digital developments create or at least influence the creation of theory” (Zubrow 2006, 11).

The use of technology in archaeology offers more efficient, more sophisticated, and faster methods for use in data acquisition, analysis and archiving. Some of these possibilities have been described here. It is important to remember that without standards for recording such data it can become a drop of water in the ocean that is the archaeological record. It is also significant to acknowledge the effect that these new methodologies can have on archaeological theory.

Works Cited: Backhouse, P. 2006. “Drowning in Data? Digital data in a British contracting unit”. In: Daly, P. and Thomas L. Evans (eds.), Digital Archaeology – Bridging Theory and Method. New York: Routledge, pp. 50-59

Bevan, A. and J. Conolly. 2004. GIS, Archaeological Survey, and Landscape Archaeology on the Island of Kythera, Greece. Journal of Field Archaeology 29, 123-138.

Dibble, H.L. and S.P. McPherron. 1989. On the Computerization of Archaeological Projects. Journal of Field Archaeology 15, 431-440.

Zubrow, E.B.W. 2006. In: Daly, P. and Thomas L. Evans (eds.), Digital Archaeology – Bridging Theory and Method. New York: Routledge, pp. 10-33.