Projectile points

Finding an Indian arrowhead in this part of Georgia is exciting but not particularly unusual. According to the archeologists, Indians have lived in this part of Georgia for more than 10,000 years and they were making stone implements for essentially all that time. For most of those thousands of years, the stone implements were spear points, axes, scrapers, knives and maybe other things, but not arrowheads. Arrowheads appeared only around 2,000 years ago.

Here is an arrowhead fragment I found around here a couple of years ago along with a complete arrowhead that Leah found when her parents were building their house in the early ‘60’s. I outlined the complete point and laid the fragment in it.

two points compared

It seems clear to me that the fragment is part of a full point that would be very similar to the complete point. I’m going to call the point I found an “arrowhead” because it seems to be the right size and shape, but it might, in fact, be something else. I suspect that an expert would be able to identify the marks that the maker left when the point was chipped from the original source stone. But to me the shape in general is enough to convince me that it really is part of an arrowhead.

Here the fragment is in my hand to give an idea of the size.

point in hand

The fragment appears to be made from chert. One Web site says that brown chert is common in southern Georgia, while gray or black chert is common in northwestern Georgia. The same site says that brown chert turns reddish when heated. The fact that Leah’s arrowhead is black is consistent with where she found it, but what about the reddish color of the fragment I found? Was it obtained in trade with Indians living further south?

I don’t know how many Indians lived around the Rome area through those thousands of years, but if you assume that as few as a couple of people who made or used projectile points lost or broke a couple each year, that would mean there were tens of thousands of projectile points scattered in the area. Maybe not as many arrowheads, but I’m going to make an uneducated guess that Indians might have lost or broken arrowheads at a higher rate than other stone implements. My guess is based on the relatively small size and the fact that arrowheads are shot from bows in ways that might make them hard to find if they missed their target. Even if that assumption is not true, if you assume a couple of lost or broken arrowheads every year from a given small population, there should still be at least a couple of thousand points in the area where that small population lived.

They would have to have been lost mainly in areas where they were made or used, so they are probably concentrated in some areas and scarce in others. The Rome area should be such a point. We know for sure that there was a reasonably large population not far from Rome, up the Etowah River near Cartersville, because they built large earth mounds there somewhere around 1,500 years ago. We also know that Indians caught fish in the rivers around here, because of the fishing weirs that still exist in the Oostanaula and Etowah rivers. It seems reasonable that the two rivers that meet in Rome would have provided a constant, reliable source of water for human and animal needs. Today there is a lot of game around our mountain, deer, squirrel, rabbit and turkey at least. I assume, maybe wrongly, that the same types of animals would have been here for thousands of years. There seems to be good reason for Indians to have uses their stone implements in this area, so, in my view, it’s not surprising that I found a projectile point. And the simple fact is that I did.

That leaves only the question of how I found it.

I was looking down as I walked. The arrowhead was lying on the ground surrounded by pieces of rock about the same size and color. If you had been trying to find a good place to hide an arrowhead in plain sight, it would have been a good choice. But my eye was drawn to it, and when I saw it I knew immediately what it was, despite the fact that it was not even a complete arrowhead.

I know in general how I did it. Humans have a remarkable ability to recognize patterns. The human visual system – the eye and brain – do this job so well that we seem to be forced to find patterns even when there are none. For example, constellations and images of Jesus on a piece of toast. But still, finding it was an amazing feat, even if I do say so myself.

I didn’t have a camera with me when I found the fragment, but I went back some time later and put it down in an area similar to where I found it. After putting it down I’m not sure that I could have found the fragment if I had walked away and come back the next day, even though I knew where I put it.

hidden point Here it is with a cheater arrow.

hidden point pointed out

Here it is with a few rocks chosen from the area in the photograph.

point with rocks

It’s still kind of hard to see it, but you do the same thing pretty much every day. If you have ever become interested in something, say nice, round rocks, or box turtles, you are probably familiar with the way it seems like you start seeing them everywhere. They were always there, but your pattern recognition system has been trained to see them. Unconsciously you have identified some features of the thing you’re interested in, and your visual system automatically, with no conscious effort on your part, uses those features to discriminate between your object of interest, and everything else in the world.

I was not looking for anything in particular, much less arrowheads. And besides, it wasn’t even a whole arrowhead. Leah remains unsure that it is an arrowhead fragment. I understand pattern recognition, but I still don’t know how I recognized it so quickly and easily.

I do know that if you could turn what I did into a computer program, you could probably get a job in the field I used to work in (missile defense).

A few updates

I have mentioned that the longleaf pine I transplanted in the grass-stage was growing into the bottlebrush stage, but that earlier post might have included at least a little wishful thinking at the time. Now, though, it’s pretty clear that it really is moving towards the bottlebrush stage. The clump of needles is pushing upward, slowly but steadily, and the little trunk is finally visible. I had also mentioned that one side of the little tree was showing some dead needles, which I blamed on Zeke using it for a rest stop. I think that’s what caused it, but I think he just hurried along a process that was going to take place sooner or later. The longleaf will shed its needles as it grows upward. There is now a little mat of dead needles beneath the tree, a miniature version of the thick layer typical of longleaf pine stands. This development is very gratifying to me.

Here you can see the lengthening trunk along with the dying needles (Zeke’s work), and the beginning of a mat of dead needles.

new bottle brush

A second development is encouraging in a way, but kind of disappointing as well. I have mentioned how foxes used to visit our driveway to eat food that Leah puts out for the outside cats. The foxes disappeared when some road work was taking place near where I think their den was, and not long after that one was shot by a neighbor who mistook it for a coyote. We didn’t see fox signs for a long time, but in the last couple of months we have been finding what looked like fox poop in the driveway. We were also finding cat food trays licked clean. Then a few nights ago as we returned home we saw a fox run out of the yard. That confirmed our suspicion that at least one fox has returned. It’s not the limping fox; I assume she didn’t make it, but it is almost certainly one of her kits.

I’m glad that at least one fox has survived. On the other hand, I wish it wasn’t eating cat food and pooping in the driveway. But I guess the one comes with the other.

A third recent development involves our thinking about moving. We have reached the conclusion that we need to sell, but we haven’t decided what comes after. I had been talking and doing some minimal research into the northeastern Georgia mountains or some places in the North Carolina mountains. I mentioned our potential plans to a neighbor who happens to be a real estate broker, and he suggested that we look at some property just down the road from us. I tried to walk it a few days ago, looking for a reasonable building site. I found at least one, but it was almost impossible to determine exactly where it was relative to the lot lines. I was using a GPS unit, but for some reason the location uncertainty was too large for it to be much use. But my initial look was encouraging.

This property has some real advantages for us. It would allow us to stay in familiar territory, which is important for Leah if not for me. We could at least start construction before selling our current house, and it would be very convenient to build a house within walking distance of home. We could probably do pretty much all the site preparation, well, septic system, driveway and such, maybe even footing and foundation prior to needing the proceeds from selling our current house. At that point we could probably live in our travel trailer on site long enough to see the new house completed.

I plan to walk the property some more, probably with long string as well as a GPS, to see just what building would involve. If it looks good, we’ll probably make an offer. The biggest problem is that the asking price is far more than we want to spend, given what we intend our move to accomplish. If we can’t reach an agreement, we’ll be back to looking again.

The world in a spider’s abdomen

The dogs and I have seen several interesting things in the road over the last few days. We saw snakes a few days ago, a newt on Sunday and a turtle on Tuesday. But the most interesting thing we saw on Tuesday was a black widow spider.

blackspider

You don’t really need to see the red hourglass to recognize a black widow. If it looks like it’s been spun out of shiny black glass, it’s a good bet it’s a black widow.

This one was in the road, apparently dead. It looks like it’s missing some legs. The red markings are not the well-known hourglass, because that’s on the under side. These red markings are on the upper side.

But here’s the cool thing. I leaned down to take a photo with my phone. It turned out pretty well, I thought. And then I enlarged the image.

worldinspider copy

You can see the reflection of the sky and even me in the abdomen. It’s like a black, spherical mirror. Black widow spiders may be dangerous, but they are beautiful in a sinister sort of way.

You want them to last forever

I love getting a new pair of gloves. They’re so soft and supple. They fit so well. When I slip them on and start working in the yard, there’s just enough leather between my fingertips and the rocks and pieces of wood so that I can feel what I’m doing but nothing gets through. Though you want them to last forever, you know they never will.

They get sweat soaked on the first day, or in summer, in the first hour. The leather turns darker and stretches out a little. After a few days or a week or so, I can begin to feel the rough bark of a pine round a little more through my fingertips. And then eventually I look down and there’s a hole in the finger.

The gloves go through color stages. They get reddish stains from the rocks I handle. Every round of wood has sap on both ends, and the gloves get sap as I handle the wood. Then the dark pine bark dust sticks to the sap and the gloves get darker still.

In the end the gloves are so stiff they look like there’s a hand in them even when they’re on the shelf. I tape up the holes in the fingers, and then I tape up the tape when it wears through. I’ll buy a new pair, but I can’t bring myself to start wearing them, not just yet, not as long as there’s life in the old gloves.

The fingers get tight and stiff from multiple wrappings of tape. It’s hard to handle anything small. There’s sawdust in the fingertips that I can’t get out. I can’t seem to keep my fingers all the way to the tip of the glove fingers.

So I put the old, taped gloves on the shelf and put on the new gloves. And they’re wonderful. I wear them to cut some trees and stack the rounds. I keep the old gloves to use when I’m working in the dirt.

Eventually they get so filthy and worn out that I have to face reality – they’ve lived out their useful life. I hate to throw away anything that’s served so well, but the patches make the goodbye harder still.

gloves

Three generations of gloves. Grandfather and grandmother on the left are ready for retirement. The pair in the middle are still in the prime of their lives, but I’m afraid they may be contaminated by some poison ivy I had to pull. I used plastic to grip the plants, but I have a pathological fear (and hatred) of poison ivy, so I’m afraid these gloves are going into early retirement. The pristine pair on the right got their first use Saturday.

Cinderella Hibiscus*

A few years ago we had a hibiscus plant. Over the years it grew fairly large and Leah finally decided to get rid of it. I said we should just plant it outside and let it fend for itself. They aren’t cold hardy, but I figured if it survived, great, but if it didn’t, we were going to get rid of it anyway. So I planted it close to the west side of the house, and we pretty much forgot about it.

A winter passed, spring came, and what looked like a dead plant started to grow. And grow. Shoots shot. It grew more. Soon the branches were 10 feet long and brushing against the side of the house. I pruned it back, and it remained healthy. We waited for flowers but they never came. And then another winter came and all the leaves fell off.

Another winter passed, and it started growing again. Soon I had to prune more branches. I could have used them for buggy whips. We couldn’t believe how well it was doing. But still no flowers.

Eventually I decided it was too close to the house and I had to move it. By that time it was a major operation. I pruned it back severely, and ended up cutting a lot of roots just to get it out of the ground. I had to use my side-by-side four-wheeler to drag it up close to the road. I prepared a hole, rolled it in, backfilled, watered and, once again, left the hibiscus to fend for itself.

When summer came again, it lived. In fact, it thrived. It turned green and started growing those long branches again. But still no flowers. We couldn’t understand how our hibiscus could survive our far-too-cold winters and grow so well. We just shook our heads and wished it would bloom.

And then one day it turned into a mulberry tree.

It’s fruiting right now, and some of the berries are ripe. The fruit looks like stunted blackberries and, at least to me, has a flavor at least reminiscent of blackberry. Zeke, however, does not like mulberries as much as he likes blackberries.

Here is the original Cinderella hibiscus in its new life as a mulberry.

The Cinderella Hibiscus

The Cinderella Hibiscus

Here you can see some of the fruit.

mulberries on the tree

And one in my hand.

mulberry berry

I find it odd that the mulberry leaf can take different shapes. It was a diagnostic feature for me, at least until I actually saw the fruit. Here is a leaf with no lobes.

leaf1 Here is a leaf with a lobe on one side.

one side lobe leaf Here is a leaf with a lobe on both sides.

two side lobe leaf

This fact is probably not surprising or odd to someone who knows much about plant biology, but that does not include me. If I am allowed to choose the subject of my plant ramblings and am asked no questions, it might appear that I know what I’m talking about, but I don’t really.

 

* The name comes from something that happened back when I was in graduate school and often visited my friend Errol and his family at their home north of Atlanta. One summer we (or they, I don’t remember) sat on their front porch and ate a watermelon. As is the custom, the seeds were spit out into the front yard. After a while, a vine appeared. Then a green melon-shaped fruit appeared and started growing. Of course we thought it had to be a watermelon. But one weekend when I came to visit, the watermelon had turned into a pumpkin. After that, I called it the Cinderella watermelon.