Reading the Bones Read Online Free Page B

wire.
    â€œIt’s nothing too exciting, but we’ll bag these shell fragments as a food sample.” Eddy brought out a clipboard, a paper form, and a plastic Ziploc bag. At the top of the paper were the words “Artifact Record Form.” Below was the word
Site
, and next to it Eddywrote “DhRr 1 — Peggy’s Pond.”
    â€œThese letters are a code that will tell any other scientist exactly which site this sample was taken from.” Eddy winked. “Kind of like when
X
marks the spot on a pirate’s treasure map.”
    â€œBut why did you write Peggy’s Pond?”
    â€œIt’s customary to name a site. Sometimes we name it after the local Native group, or the landowner — or in this case the site discoverer.”
    My cheeks turned warm with colour, then I watched as Eddy wrote: “Shell samples are a possible food source, found in level 1, ten centimetres below datum.” After that she filled the bag.
    â€œSeems kind of gross that broken shell bits could be evidence of what ancient people ate, especially with a dead person in the mix,” I said. “That’s about as appetizing as finding the remains of a dead pet in the garden along with the zucchini and carrots.”
    Eddy chuckled. “I can see what you mean. But all these broken shells are here because the ancient ones heaped up the used clamshells or fish bones when they were finished with them — kind of like an ancient garbage dump, except it was all organic. Archaeologists call this a shell midden. We’re not absolutely certain why, but it’s quite common in this area to find burials in the midden.”
    â€œI bet it has something to do with covering the scent of the body so wild animals don’t go digging it up. Nothing could stink as much as rotting fish guts and stuff, right?”
    â€œThat could be it,” Eddy said, smiling. “All right, now that you’ve seen how we record information andstore it in bags, you can do the next one.”
    She picked up the bucket and returned to the excavation pit. I knelt beside her on the grass, staring at the black midden like a pup ready to pounce on a ball.
    The morning passed quickly, and I lost track of the number of buckets I screened. We didn’t find a single artifact, and all there was to show for our hard work was a neat mound of loose sand, shell, and dirt under the screen.
    â€œMy legs are getting stiff,” Eddy finally said. “How would you like to dig for a while?”
    My heart leaped the way it had when Uncle Stuart said I could back the car down the driveway. Careful not to crush any fragile bones, I stepped inside the small pit. Moving around was a bit like trying to navigate inside a cardboard box.
    â€œRemember,” Eddy warned, “these bones and artifacts have been buried here for thousands of years, so go slowly and be gentle.”
    Okay, now that actually made me nervous.
    I knelt and brushed away a thin layer of dirt dried by the sun. The bones were yellowy-brown, and I could see that some of them were badly cracked and crumbly.
    â€œYou’re doing fine. And remember that an archaeologist needs to be patient.” Eddy bent down and pointed to a spot near the top of the skull. “You see this here? I’m pretty sure it’s some kind of a stone tool. It might even be a woodworking tool.”
    I could almost feel the pulse in my fingertips and had to resist the temptation to rip the stone out. My hand trembled as I scrapped around the artifact, then scooped and dumped the black earth into the bucket.

    â€œAha! You see, you see!” Eddy was crouched over the hole with her nose practically in the dirt. “It is a burin! Good job, Peggy!”
    The object looked like any run-of-the-mill rock to me, except for the fluted edges that came to a point. “What’s it for?” I asked.
    â€œIt’s a tool we think was used for carving or engraving. You know