Selfers were also convenient for early farmers in that they occasionally did become cross-pollinated, thereby generating new varieties among which to select. That occasional cross-pollination occurred not only between individuals of the same species, but also between related species to produce interspecific hybrids. One such hybrid among Fertile Crescent selfers, bread wheat, became the most valuable crop in the modern world.
Of the first eight significant crops to have been domesticated in the Fertile Crescent, all were selfers. Of the three selfer cereals among them—einkorn wheat, emmer wheat, and barley—the wheats offered the additional advantage of a high protein content, 8–14 percent. In contrast, the most important cereal crops of eastern Asia and of the New World—rice and corn, respectively—had a lower protein content that posed significant nutritional problems.
THOSE WERE SOME of the advantages that the Fertile Crescent’s flora afforded the first farmers: it included an unusually high percentage of wild plants suitable for domestication. However, the Mediterranean climate zone of the Fertile Crescent extends westward through much of southern Europe and northwestern Africa. There are also zones of similar Mediterranean climates in four other parts of the world: California, Chile, southwestern Australia, and South Africa (Figure 8.2). Yet those other Mediterranean zones not only failed to rival the Fertile Crescent as early sites of food production; they never gave rise to indigenous agriculture at all. What advantage did that particular Mediterranean zone of western Eurasia enjoy?
It turns out that it, and especially its Fertile Crescent portion, possessed at least five advantages over other Mediterranean zones. First, western Eurasia has by far the world’s largest zone of Mediterranean climate. As a result, it has a high diversity of wild plant and animal species, higher than in the comparatively tiny Mediterranean zones of southwestern Australia and Chile. Second, among Mediterranean zones, western Eurasia’s experiences the greatest climatic variation from season to season and year to year. That variation favored the evolution, among the flora, of an especially high percentage of annual plants. The combination of these two factors—a high diversity of species and a high percentage of annuals—means that western Eurasia’s Mediterranean zone is the one with by far the highest diversity of annuals.
The significance of that botanical wealth for humans is illustrated by the geographer Mark Blumler’s studies of wild grass distributions. Among the world’s thousands of wild grass species, Blumler tabulated the 56 with the largest seeds, the cream of nature’s crop: the grass species with seeds at least 10 times heavier than the median grass species (see Table 8.1). Virtually all of them are native to Mediterranean zones or other seasonally dry environments. Furthermore, they are overwhelmingly concentrated in the Fertile Crescent or other parts of western Eurasia’s Mediterranean zone, which offered a huge selection to incipient farmers: about 32 of the world’s 56 prize wild grasses! Specifically, barley and emmer wheat, the two earliest important crops of the Fertile Crescent, rank respectively 3rd and 13th in seed size among those top 56. In contrast, the Mediterranean zone of Chile offered only two of those species. California and southern Africa just one each, and southwestern Australia none at all. That fact alone goes a long way toward explaining the course of human history.
A third advantage of the Fertile Crescent’s Mediterranean zone is that it provides a wide range of altitudes and topographies within a short distance. Its range of elevations, from the lowest spot on Earth (the Dead Sea) to mountains of 18,000 feet (near Teheran), ensures a corresponding variety of environments, hence a high diversity of the wild plants serving as potential ancestors of crops. Those mountains are in proximity to gentle lowlands with rivers, flood plains, and deserts suitable for irrigation agriculture. In contrast, the Mediterranean zones of southwestern Australia and, to a lesser degree, of South Africa and western Europe offer a narrower range of altitudes, habitats, and topographies.
TABLE 8.1 World Distribution of Large-Seeded Grass Species
Area
Number of Species
West Asia, Europe, North Africa
33
Mediterranean zone
32
England
1
East Asia
6
Sub-Saharan Africa
4
Americas
11
North America
4
Mesoamerica
5
South America
2
Northern Australia
2
Total:
56
Table 12.1 of Mark Blumler’s Ph.D. dissertation, “Seed Weight and Environment in Mediterranean-type Grasslands in California and Israel” (University of California, Berkeley, 1992), listed the world’s 56 heaviest-seeded wild grass species (excluding bamboos) for which data were available. Grain weight in those species ranged from 10 milligrams to over 40 milligrams, about 10 times greater than the median value for all of the world’s grass species. Those 56 species make up less than 1 percent of the world’s grass species. This table shows that these prize grasses are overwhelmingly concentrated in the Mediterranean zone of western Eurasia.
The range of altitudes in the Fertile Crescent meant staggered harvest seasons: plants at higher elevations produced seeds somewhat later than plants at lower elevations. As a result, hunter-gatherers could move up a mountainside harvesting grain seeds as they matured, instead of being overwhelmed by a concentrated harvest season at a single altitude, where all grains matured simultaneously. When cultivation began, it was a simple matter for the first farmers to take the seeds of wild cereals growing on hillsides and dependent on unpredictable rains, and to plant those seeds in the damp valley bottoms, where they would grow reliably and be less dependent on rain.
The Fertile Crescent’s biological diversity over small distances contributed to a fourth advantage—its wealth in ancestors not only of valuable crops but also of domesticated big mammals. As we shall see, there were few or no wild mammal species suitable for domestication in the other Mediterranean zones of California, Chile, southwestern Australia, and South Africa. In contrast, four species of big mammals—the goat, sheep, pig, and cow—were domesticated very early in the Fertile Crescent, possibly earlier than any other animal except the dog anywhere else in the world. Those species remain today four of the world’s five most important domesticated mammals (Chapter 9). But their wild ancestors were commonest in slightly different parts of the Fertile Crescent, with the result that the four species were domesticated in different places: sheep possibly in the central part, goats either in the eastern part at higher elevations (the Zagros Mountains of Iran) or in the southwestern part (the Levant), pigs in the north-central part, and cows in the western part, including Anatolia. Nevertheless, even though the areas of abundance of these four wild progenitors thus differed, all four lived in sufficiently close proximity that they were readily transferred after domestication from one part of the Fertile Crescent to another, and the whole region ended up with all four species.
Agriculture was launched in the Fertile Crescent by the early domestication of eight crops, termed “founder crops” (because they founded agriculture in the region and possibly in the world). Those eight founders were the cereals emmer wheat, einkorn wheat, and barley; the pulses lentil, pea, chickpea, and bitter vetch; and the fiber crop flax. Of these eight, only two, flax and barley, range in the wild at all widely outside the Fertile Crescent and Anatolia. Two of the founders had very small ranges in the wild, chickpea being confined to southeastern Turkey and emmer wheat to the Fertile Crescent itself. Thus, agriculture could arise in the Fertile Crescent from domestication of locally available wild plants, without having to wait for the arrival of crops derived from wild plants domesticated elsewhere. Conversely, two of the eight founder crops could not have been domesticated anywhere in the world except in the Fertile Crescent, since they did not occur wild elsewhere.
Thanks to this availability
of suitable wild mammals and plants, early peoples of the Fertile Crescent could quickly assemble a potent and balanced biological package for intensive food production. That package comprised three cereals, as the main carbohydrate sources; four pulses, with 20–25 percent protein, and four domestic animals, as the main protein sources, supplemented by the generous protein content of wheat; and flax as a source of fiber and oil (termed linseed oil: flax seeds are about 40 percent oil). Eventually, thousands of years after the beginnings of animal domestication and food production, the animals also began to be used for milk, wool, plowing, and transport. Thus, the crops and animals of the Fertile Crescent’s first farmers came to meet humanity’s basic economic needs: carbohydrate, protein, fat, clothing, traction, and transport.
A final advantage of early food production in the Fertile Crescent is that it may have faced less competition from the hunter-gatherer lifestyle than that in some other areas, including the western Mediterranean. Southwest Asia has few large rivers and only a short coastline, providing relatively meager aquatic resources (in the form of river and coastal fish and shellfish). One of the important mammal species hunted for meat, the gazelle, originally lived in huge herds but was overexploited by the growing human population and reduced to low numbers. Thus, the food production package quickly became superior to the hunter-gatherer package. Sedentary villages based on cereals were already in existence before the rise of food production and predisposed those hunter-gatherers to agriculture and herding. In the Fertile Crescent the transition from hunting-gathering to food production took place relatively fast: as late as 9000 B.C. people still had no crops and domestic animals and were entirely dependent on wild foods, but by 6000 B.C. some societies were almost completely dependent on crops and domestic animals.
The situation in Mesoamerica contrasts strongly: that area provided only two domesticable animals (the turkey and the dog), whose meat yield was far lower than that of cows, sheep, goats, and pigs; and corn, Mesoamerica’s staple grain, was, as I’ve already explained, difficult to domesticate and perhaps slow to develop. As a result, domestication may not have begun in Mesoamerica until around 3500 B.C. (the date remains very uncertain); those first developments were undertaken by people who were still nomadic hunter-gatherers; and settled villages did not arise there until around 1500 B.C.
IN ALL THIS discussion of the Fertile Crescent’s advantages for the early rise of food production, we have not had to invoke any supposed advantages of Fertile Crescent peoples themselves. Indeed, I am unaware of anyone’s even seriously suggesting any supposed distinctive biological features of the region’s peoples that might have contributed to the potency of its food production package. Instead, we have seen that the many distinctive features of the Fertile Crescent’s climate, environment, wild plants, and animals together provide a convincing explanation.
Since the food production packages arising indigenously in New Guinea and in the eastern United States were considerably less potent, might the explanation there lie with the peoples of those areas? Before turning to those regions, however, we must consider two related questions arising in regard to any area of the world where food production never developed independently or else resulted in a less potent package. First, do hunter-gatherers and incipient farmers really know well all locally available wild species and their uses, or might they have overlooked potential ancestors of valuable crops? Second, if they do know their local plants and animals, do they exploit that knowledge to domesticate the most useful available species, or do cultural factors keep them from doing so?
As regards the first question, an entire field of science, termed ethnobiology, studies peoples’ knowledge of the wild plants and animals in their environment. Such studies have concentrated especially on the world’s few surviving hunting-gathering peoples, and on farming peoples who still depend heavily on wild foods and natural products. The studies generally show that such peoples are walking encyclopedias of natural history, with individual names (in their local language) for as many as a thousand or more plant and animal species, and with detailed knowledge of those species’ biological characteristics, distribution, and potential uses. As people become increasingly dependent on domesticated plants and animals, this traditional knowledge gradually loses its value and becomes lost, until one arrives at modern supermarket shoppers who could not distinguish a wild grass from a wild pulse.
Here’s a typical example. For the last 33 years, while conducting biological exploration in New Guinea, I have been spending my field time there constantly in the company of New Guineans who still use wild plants and animals extensively. One day, when my companions of the Foré tribe and I were starving in the jungle because another tribe was blocking our return to our supply base, a Foré man returned to camp with a large rucksack full of mushrooms he had found, and started to roast them. Dinner at last! But then I had an unsettling thought: what if the mushrooms were poisonous?
I patiently explained to my Foré companions that I had read about some mushrooms’ being poisonous, that I had heard of even expert American mushroom collectors’ dying because of the difficulty of distinguishing safe from dangerous mushrooms, and that although we were all hungry, it just wasn’t worth the risk. At that point my companions got angry and told me to shut up and listen while they explained some things to me. After I had been quizzing them for years about names of hundreds of trees and birds, how could I insult them by assuming they didn’t have names for different mushrooms? Only Americans could be so stupid as to confuse poisonous mushrooms with safe ones. They went on to lecture me about 29 types of edible mushroom species, each species’ name in the Foré language, and where in the forest one should look for it. This one, the tánti, grew on trees, and it was delicious and perfectly edible.
Whenever I have taken New Guineans with me to other parts of their island, they regularly talk about local plants and animals with other New Guineans whom they meet, and they gather potentially useful plants and bring them back to their home villages to try planting them. My experiences with New Guineans are paralleled by those of ethnobiologists studying traditional peoples elsewhere. However, all such peoples either practice at least some food production or are the partly acculturated last remnants of the world’s former hunter-gatherer societies. Knowledge of wild species was presumably even more detailed before the rise of food production, when everyone on Earth still depended entirely on wild species for food. The first farmers were heirs to that knowledge, accumulated through tens of thousands of years of nature observation by biologically modern humans living in intimate dependence on the natural world. It therefore seems extremely unlikely that wild species of potential value would have escaped the notice of the first farmers.
The other, related question is whether ancient hunter-gatherers and farmers similarly put their ethnobiological knowledge to good use in selecting wild plants to gather and eventually to cultivate. One test comes from an archaeological site at the edge of the Euphrates Valley in Syria, called Tell Abu Hureyra. Between 10,000 and 9000 B.C. the people living there may already have been residing year-round in villages, but they were still hunter-gatherers; crop cultivation began only in the succeeding millennium. The archaeologists Gordon Hillman, Susan Colledge, and David Harris retrieved large quantities of charred plant remains from the site, probably representing discarded garbage of wild plants gathered elsewhere and brought to the site by its residents. The scientists analyzed over 700 samples, each containing an average of over 500 identifiable seeds belonging to over 70 plant species. It turned out that the villagers were collecting a prodigious variety (157 species!) of plants identified by their charred seeds, not to mention other plants that cannot now be identified.
Were those naive villagers collecting every type of seed plant that they found, bringing it home, poisoning themselves on most of the species, and nourishing themselves from only a few species? No, they were not so silly. While 157 species sounds like indiscriminate collecting, many more species growing w
ild in the vicinity were absent from the charred remains. The 157 selected species fall into three categories. Many of them have seeds that are nonpoisonous and immediately edible. Others, such as pulses and members of the mustard family, have toxic seeds, but the toxins are easily removed, leaving the seeds edible. A few seeds belong to species traditionally used as sources of dyes or medicine. The many wild species not represented among the 157 selected are ones that would have been useless or harmful to people, including all of the most toxic weed species in the environment.
Thus, the hunter-gatherers of Tell Abu Hureyra were not wasting time and endangering themselves by collecting wild plants indiscriminately. Instead, they evidently knew the local wild plants as intimately as do modern New Guineans, and they used that knowledge to select and bring home only the most useful available seed plants. But those gathered seeds would have constituted the material for the unconscious first steps of plant domestication.
Guns, Germs, and Steel: The Fates of Human Societies Page 16
