네안데르탈인들이 코끼리를 사냥할 수 있었는가? 증거는 고대 뼈에 있다

A new study found that a pachyderm skeleton, dismissed for decades as unimportant, offers evidence of careful planning, teamwork and a calculated kill.

When a 125,000-year-old elephant skeleton, pierced by a wooden spear, was discovered in an ancient lake bed in Germany in 1948, it was assumed that the Neanderthals who inhabited Europe at that time were not sophisticated enough to hunt such massive megafauna.

Skeptics argued that the spear found with the bones in the Lehringen lake bed had probably been placed there by geological chance rather than human hands. And for the next 78 years, the remains were treated more as a curiosity than a breakthrough.

But a reassessment of the evidence, published last month in the journal Nature, tells a different story: The skeleton bears distinct tool marks, the unmistakable signs of a calculated kill.

The new paper proposes that the original researchers who studied the so-called Lehringen elephant operated on the flawed assumption that any sign of butchery had been erased from the specimen. It was a classic case of scientific oversight, said Ivo Verheijen, a zooarchaeologist at the Lower Saxony State Office for Cultural Heritage in Hanover, Germany, and the lead author of the paper, adding, “Nobody found anything because nobody was truly looking.”

The taking down of a massive, straight-tusked elephant — the largest land mammal of its time — offers proof that Neanderthals were far from simple, opportunistic thugs. The findings show that these early humans used coordinated teamwork to hunt big game 75,000 years before Homo sapiens arrived in Europe.

Thomas Terberger, an archaeologist, also at the Lower Saxony state office, who collaborated on the project, said the evidence highlights a “crucial building block” in understanding Neanderthals. It shows they must have had the careful planning and profound knowledge of a landscape once thought unique to modern humans.

The excavation of the carcass decades ago was a mess from the start, beginning not with scientists but with local miners hacking away at layers of sediment, before a local school-principal-turned-amateur-archaeologist appeared at the chaotic scene.

With bones pocketed by workers and no photographic records, the find was effectively reburied by seven years of bitter litigation over the rights to the relic. Forgotten in cardboard boxes within the attic of a tiny museum in neighboring Verden, the remains — or at least the remains of the remains — sat gathering dust.

The breakthrough finally came last year when Mr. Verheijen took a closer look at the neglected crates. He quickly realized that the elephant showed signs of having been systematically dismantled by the ancient hunters. “Some of the cut marks were unmistakable,” Mr. Verheijen said, expressing disbelief that such obvious proof of a Pleistocene-epoch feast had gone unnoticed.

His investigation indicated that the elephant was a 30-something male, standing perhaps 13 feet tall at the shoulders. This solitary bull, rather than a female in the herd, was probably targeted because it offered a safer, more isolated prey option.

An eight-foot yew spear lodged between the creature’s ribs conjured a scene of high-stakes, close-quarters combat, Mr. Verheijen said. Unlike a light javelin meant for distance, the weapon’s specific balance point implied that it had been designed to be gripped and driven home with immense force.

Dr. Terberger inferred that Neanderthals had not hunted from the safety of the periphery but had instead engaged in a daring confrontation with their colossal quarry. He envisioned a scenario in which trackers pursued the wounded elephant to a lake, where its collapse pinned the spear to the earth. In his retelling, the site then became a bustling meat-processing hub.

Cut marks on the carcass, particularly inside the chest cavity, revealed that Neanderthals had performed deliberate anatomical butchery. The precise, patterned incision marks, which indicate the systematic extraction of internal organs and high-value tissues, are too consistent to be random or natural. These conclusions, which point to a controlled, labor-intensive undertaking, suggest that our closest relatives had strategic foresight and might have lived in larger social groups capable of tackling the biggest game.

Dozens of sharp, flint flakes unearthed at the Lehringen lakeside site, alongside the remnants of butchered bear, beaver and aurochs, point to a sophisticated, collective effort. The hunters harvested an estimated 7,700 pounds of meat, fat and organs, a haul that, once preserved, could feed a small community through an entire season.

Gary Haynes, an emeritus anthropology professor at the University of Nevada, Reno, who was not involved with the research, said he views the findings as a vital reappraisal of a key site. “It provides substantial new knowledge about Neanderthals, a hominin species once thought to be lumbering brutes, living by scavenging large-mammal carcasses,” he said.

The Nature study chimes with new research in eLife and Science that reveals the creative ways early humans endeavored to ensure their survival. Evidence shows that from 1.8 million years ago to 125,000 years ago, hominins strategically exploited elephants, leveraging complex, large-group cooperation for high-calorie diets. In the eLife study, the researchers argue that the Homo erectus butchery at Olduvai Gorge in Tanzania fueled brain development by providing an immense and reliable source of nutrient-dense energy — meat and fat — from megafauna like elephants. The Science paper uses isotopic signatures in the enamel of fossilized molars as a travel diary, revealing that Neanderthals in Germany tracked the long-distance migrations of lone male elephants.

Looking at the sharp, deliberate tool marks, made 125,000 years ago, has allowed researchers to reframe humans’ prehistoric ancestors and deepen the understanding of their lives. Not a bad haul from a single elephant’s bones.