Journal of the North Atlantic M.G. Hrynick and M.W. Betts 2017 Special Volume 10 1 Introduction Anthropologists have increasingly recognized the importance of relational ontologies in the study of hunter-gatherer cosmology. For many huntergatherer groups, relationships between humans and other entities are conceived of as social, and serve to define identities (e.g., Betts et al. 2012, 2015; Descola 2013a, b; Hill 2011, 2013; Ingold 2006; McNiven 2013; Pauketat 2012; Watts 2013; Zedeño 2009). This concept is often called “animism”, one of Descola’s (2013a) four ontologies, or Amerindian perspectivism (Viveiros de Castro 2004), but Hill (2013:120) has recently labeled it simply as relational ontology. In this paper, we consider that the actions to participate in and maintain these relational ontologies are historical practices (sensu Holly 2013, Sassaman and Holly 2011), which are simultaneously reifying and transformative. One valuable result of this perspective is that it situates the quotidian actions of ordinary people as simultaneously routine and agential. Like hunter-gatherer economic practices, households and the dwellings that contain them are bounded referents where we can visualize the daily routines that are the loci of history (see Betts 2009). It is within dwellings that much of the social/ontological lives of hunter-gatherers were enacted—where families and friends socialized and strategized; where stories were told and histories recounted; where religious rituals and rights were observed. In the home, as elsewhere, these practices were entangled in the material aspects of everyday life—the production and use of material culture and the preparation and consumption of food. It is in this intersection of practices that dwellings become essential spaces of inquiry. A relational and historical approach to dwellings provides a means to examine the social and cosmological aspects inherent in their design, construction, and use. The Wabanaki of the Maritime Peninsula (Maine, the Maritime Provinces, and the Gaspé Peninsula) were hunter-gatherers until well after European colonialism. As we discuss below, ethnographic and archaeological evidence indicates that, like other Algonquin groups, Wabanaki cosmology centered on social relationships between people and particular animals who could sometimes share the same perceptions, cognizance, and volition. Hornborg (2008) has termed this non-dichotomous view of human/non-human relationships a “sacred ecology”, a term which refers specifically to the Wabanaki sacred ontology and its relationships to Algonquian cosmology. Ethnographically and archaeologically, practices apparently similar to the ones we describe below exist among other Algonquian hunter-gatherers, suggesting a shared cosmological framework and shared ontological principles (Brightman 1993, Ingraham et al. 2016, Martin 1978, Speck 1935). At present, the geographic extent of these commonalities, especially archaeologically, is not fully defined, and there were clearly local ethnic differences that likely included local relationships to specific animals (Ingraham et al. 2016). Indeed, locally specific variations on this basic framework may have themselves driven ethnic distinctions. One way in which these local variations were expressed was in “animal friendships” in which a hunter or hunting group had an affinity for a particular animal and for hunting that animal successfully (Martin 1978:121−122, Tanner 1979:139); these differences may account for some variability in religious practice within a basic Algonquian cosmology (see Hoffman 1955:489). A Relational Approach to Hunter-Gatherer Architecture and Gendered Use of Space at Port Joli Harbour, Nova Scotia M. Gabriel Hrynick1,* and Matthew W. Betts2 Abstract - Dwellings are unique arenas in which hunter-gatherers meet socially on a daily basis. Increasingly, archaeologists recognize that the relationships between people, entities, places, and objects form the basis of hunter-gatherer ontology. The spatial patterning of dwellings and the activities within them are among the ways that relational ontologies are expressed and maintained. We consider the gendered patterning of Maritime Woodland period architecture and space at Port Joli Harbour as a way in which ancient Wabanaki, and in particular ancestral Mi’kmaq, may have expressed their cosmologies. Consistency and variability in such patterning offers insight into how people maintained a sacred ecology. Dwellings provide scales at which to consider these relationshi ps when tracking the role of history and tradition. North American East Coast Shell Midden Research Journal of the North Atlantic 1Department of Anthropology, University of New Brunswick, Fredericton, 13 MacAulay Lane, Annex C, Fredericton, NB E3B 5A3, Canada. 2Canadian Museum of History, 100, rue Laurier Street, Gatineau, QC K1A 0M8, Canada. *Corresponding author - gabriel.hrynick@unb.ca. 2017 Special Volume 10:1–17 Journal of the North Atlantic M.G. Hrynick and M.W. Betts 2017 Special Volume 10 2 Although ontological relationships were maintained in part through a variety of specific ritual practices and proscriptions, such as hunter–prey rituals, offerings, prohibitions, and cleansing rites, regional ethnographic accounts suggest that among the most ubiquitous ways these relationships were maintained was through daily adherence to a series of gendered rules and proscriptions relating to actions carried out within and around dwellings (e.g., Denys 1908, Hoffman 1955:211, Le Clercq 1910, Speck 1997). On the Maritime Peninsula, these dwelling floors are most visible at shell-bearing sites (Sanger 2010), and represent an important and understudied feature class for understanding the social and spiritual lives of the people who made shell-bearing sites on the Maritime Peninsula. In this paper, we consider the organization of Middle and Late Maritime Woodland period (2400−400 B.P.) architectural forms and domestic space at Port Joli Harbour. We present data that support gendered dwelling-scale negotiations with the broad Wabanaki cosmology outlined earlier. These are evident as (1) the incorporation of ritual architecture into domestic architecture; (2) the repeated placement and orientation of dwellings within sites, sometimes incorporating earlier architectural elements; and (3) identifiable divisions of space within dwellings, sometimes with a physical architectural manifestation. We recognize that considering gender in archaeology may be challenging, but is of tremendous anthropological importance (e.g., Brumfield 2006). Although we have previously considered Wabanaki gendered divisions of space within dwellings based on ethnohistoric analogy (Hrynick et al. 2012), we herein move our discussion of gender to include, in addition to divisions of space and correlated activities, the construction of various structures, and a range of intra-dwelling activities. Our interpretations are informed by historical process (sensu Pauketat 2001), which considers the ethnohistorical record as part of an historical trajectory that includes the Middle and Late Maritime Woodland periods at Port Joli Harbour. In this paradigm, historical accounts are not perceived as records of static and unchanging prehistoric cultures, but rather as part of a long-term and dynamic cultural context that is part of a people’s history (e.g., Betts et al. 2012, Birch and Williamson 2015:5–10, Ingraham et al. 2016, Sassaman and Holly 2011). As such, ethnohistoric and historic accounts, critically considered, may reveal important information to inform the archaeological record (e.g., Betts 2009). We interpret gendered actions within the dwelling as local agential manipulations of Wabanaki cosmology (defined here as a peoples’ conceptualization of their place in the universe and their relationship to its beings, informed by their broader ontology), which served to maintain and modify relationships with the natural world. The archaeology of hunter-gatherer dwellings and domestic space offers avenues for studies of hunter-gatherer historical processes and relational ontologies. Therefore, we argue that consideration of hunter-gatherer cosmologies is critical for understanding domestic architecture and the use of space. Of course, we recognize that other frameworks of analysis and interpretation are useful; here, we consider relational ontology as a novel means to more fully explore the nature of domestic architecture, especially in relation to cosmology. Dwellings and Relational Ontology As discussed by Descola (2013a:123–129), the ways in which ontologies are constructed, lived, and viewed are not universal among hunter-gatherer groups. Nonetheless, as we (Betts et al. 2012) and others (e.g., Descola 2013b; Hill 2011, 2013) have recognized, relational ontology offers a potent analytical framework for situating and analyzing the cosmologies of many hunter-gatherer societies in North and South America. In this paper, we use ethnographic and archaeological evidence to support our assertion that the Wabanaki cosmological system was relational, and as such, it may be possible to identify more narrowly some of the ways, places, and interactions in which Wabanaki relational ontologies were maintained. In many North American Aboriginal ontologies, relationships between people and other entities (e.g., organisms, landscapes, or objects) are mutually defining (Watts 2013). These relationships structure the perspectives from which people viewed their world (Viveiros de Castro 1998). As we discussed above, in many relational ontologies, relationships between animals and humans are viewed as social; animals are perceived as “nonhuman persons” with the same spiritual and volitional capacities as humans. These social relationships must be continually maintained through ritual action (Hill 2013), but humans have agency in how they negotiate them and, in turn, can change how they define and relate to animals and the world (Descola 2013b). Among hunter-gatherers, actions to maintain proper relationships with animals include hunting ritual, cleansing, and other overt ceremonies, but may be most commonly perpetuated within actions of peoples’ daily lives, often manifest as proscriptions on certain actions, or “taboos” (Hill 2011). In many hunter-gatherer societies, violation of such prohibitions could result in unsuccessful hunts, illness, bad weather, or other dangers, due to their deleterious Journal of the North Atlantic M.G. Hrynick and M.W. Betts 2017 Special Volume 10 3 affect on important relationships. These are especially well documented in Amazonia (e.g., Halbmayer 2012), the Arctic (e.g., Boas 1901:120–128, 142; Sabo and Sabo 1985; Willerslev 2007), and the Subarctic (e.g., Scott 1989, Tanner 1979), but also exist among other hunting groups, such as Melanesian hunter–horticulturalists (McNiven 2010). Many prohibitions pertain to gender and interactions between men and women. For instance, for the Rock Cree, Brightman (1993:124–132) outlines gender prohibitions and rules surrounding relationships between men and women. An illustrative example is that the Rock Cree avoid placing fur, meat, or bones on the ground where women might inadvertently step over them, an action which may adversely affect the success of hunters, while other transgressions may cause illness (Brightman 1993:125–126). Similarly, among Baffin Island Inuit, interactions between hunters and menstruating women can result in illnesses and hunting failures (Boas 1901:120, 126–128), and for the Mi’kmaq, maintaining successful hunting relationships with bears requires adherence to gendered taboos around the house when a bear carcass was present, including bringing the bear into the side of the tent, rather than through a door also used by women (Le Clercq 1910:227). Agency, manifest as people’s strategic negotiations of and practices within ontological relationships, is the mechanism by which history is made (Pauketat 2012). Engagements with relational ontologies are precisely the kinds of interactions between people and structure that are historically generative; as Sassaman and Holly (2011:3) suggest, “when the cultural logic for motivating action makes reference to the past, humans actively manipulate the ontological structures that inflect history”. The processes that define cosmologies are themselves historical, and these processes create a long historical trajectory in which elements persist and are agentially modified. In cases of direct cultural descent, the ethnohistoric record can be critically employed not as an unchanged relic of previous times, but as a recent expression of long and dynamic historical processes, contextualized by the past (Betts 2009). Archaeologists can therefore cautiously apply the ethnographic record to the deep past to consider the ways in which people acted to make their histories in context. Among their myriad attributes, dwellings are places where gender and age are reinforced and displayed, often including actions involving specific tasks, materials, objects, and spaces. In many hunter-gatherer societies, the house may feature women’s activities prominently alongside male ones (e.g., Ackerman 1990, Giffen 1930), providing a counterpoint to male-dominated economic activity and tool production (cf. Endicott 1999), and thus offering an opportunity to consider women’s roles explicitly. Ethnographic accounts suggest that among hunter-gatherers these considerations may include architectural principles such as who assembles the dwelling, the presence or absence of sub-features, or symbolic orientations of the doorway and interior spaces (e.g., Dawson 1995, Paulson 1952, Whitelaw 1994:231–232). Dwellings are bounded areas in which people converge to conduct daily activities, often in cosmologically mediated ways. These actions may reflect negotiations that occur in other social contexts, but as these convergences occur, people engage with the myriad functions and social implications of dwellings and domestic space. As well as being social arenas, hunter-gatherer dwellings are technological articulations between people and their environments (Ryan 2012). In this capacity, they have intertwined economic (e.g., Binford 1990, Hayden 1997) and social implications (e.g., LeMoine 2003, Rapoport 1969). Dwellings may also indicate identity or be reminders of socially appropriate action at multiple scales, thus mediating, enacting, or exemplifying social relationships (Blanton 1994). If huntergatherers engage with the environment and animals relationally (e.g., Betts 2009; Betts et al. 2012; Tanner 1979), and they do this through proscriptions on behavior and rituals that often take place in and through dwellings, then the technological, social, and ontological aspects of dwellings are inseparable and can be best understood through a form of relational ecology (Betts et al. 2015). Archaeological patterning associated with built spaces can elucidate both ritual and social practice, but changes in such patterning over time may reveal historical processes related to changing cosmology and/or social roles. Wabanaki Sacred Ecology Many indigenous societies constructed relational ontologies between people, animals, landscapes, objects, and or other entities via a non-dichotomous system that did not exist as distinctly functional or ritual (Descola 2013b). Although relational approaches offer a broadly applicable framework, their use in specific cases requires attention to cultural context. We consider Wabanaki ethnography within the context of a broad Algonquian cosmology, rather than focusing on only the Mi’kmaq record, because of apparent meaningful cosmological similarities among Wabanaki groups and with other Algonquian hunter-gatherers (Hoffman 1955:420–423, Ingraham et al. 2016, Martin 1978, Prins 1996:36–37). Drawing on this broadly held Journal of the North Atlantic M.G. Hrynick and M.W. Betts 2017 Special Volume 10 4 Algonquian hunter-gatherer cosmology further permits us to consider the dynamic interactions of cosmology and daily practices beyond those described in the Mi’kmaq literature. However, throughout, we make reference to Mi’kmaw oral history, and ethnohistoric literature when possible. Despite a colonial context in which Wabanaki beliefs underwent sustained and pervasive European influence, there is a clear persistence in Wabanaki identity and elements of cosmology (see Hornborg 2008, Prins 1996). Hornborg has labeled aspects of Wabanaki, and in particular Mi’kmaw, relational ontology as a “sacred ecology” whereby humans maintained relationships with animals and other natural entities through careful action. Wabanaki sacred ecology is unique, but shares many general concepts and attributes with a broader Algonquian cosmology. Algonquian hunter-gatherers maintained social relationships between people and particular animals (Feit 1973, Tanner 1979), which were considered, essentially, “other-than-human persons” (Hallowell 1960). Also within this system, objects often possessed volition and agency, although this spiritual power was not equally distributed (Hoffman 1955:356–357). In this cosmology, a variety of ritual actions had to be conducted for animals to continue to allow themselves to be taken, prevent bad weather, and prevent illnesses or injury among hunters and their families (Feit 1973, Tanner 1979). These actions permeated domestic life, but also were maintained via more ostensible ritual actions, such as sweat ceremonies (sweats) associated with divination or healing (see Hrynick and Betts 2014). Gender permeated relationships between human and animals, and among individuals as they enacted relational ontologies. This gendering can be seen both in specific ritual activities, such as sweats or menstrual seclusion, and in the gendering of daily activities, such as spatial division, food taboos, or gendered object associations. For instance, men manufactured and used weapons, while women dressed game (e.g., Denys 1908). Tanner (1979) has described this Algonquian cosmology as an inextricable melding of “motivated religious” and “common sense” thought. As Tanner (1979:204) suggests, this relational ontology is a means for Algonquians to engage with the world, and in doing so they may precipitate culture change. Relational ontology and gender in Wabanaki cosmology Ethnohistorical evidence provides information about Wabanaki cosmological beliefs and practices and their gendered associations. Ethnohistoric sources support the presence of a relational ontology perpetuated in terms of human–animal relationships, maintained via adherence to daily norms and prohibitions (Betts et al. 2012:626–627, Hoffman 1955:420–421). Le Clercq (1910:277), Nicolar (2007:152–153), and Rand (1894:70–71) described the belief in human-like social organizations among specific animals. Leland (1884:31) and Hagar (1896) related legends in which animals had human psyches and expressions. Several accounts (Leland 1884:69, Mallery 1890:65) support the presence of “game keepers” or “animal masters” among other Algonquian groups (Martin 1978), but the accounts are less clear about this system for the Wabanaki (Hoffman 1955:423). This relational system also involved the overlapping spheres of gender and animal ritual. Animal ritual included gendered behavior around the dwelling and gendered hunting and animal-disposal rituals, similar to Central Algonquians (Le Clercq 1910:227). Additionally, although there may have occasionally been female religious practitioners such as buion (shamans) or medicine women (Hoffman 1955:475, Mechling 1959:175, Nicolar 2007:156), shamanistic practices such as sweating and divination were mostly performed by men (Denys 1908:416, Lescarbot 1914:184–185, Mechling 1959:172–173, Wallis and Wallis 1955:124). Even though wigwam construction was a female activity (Prins and McBride 2007:35–36), men may have constructed sweathouses (Hoffman 1955:306). Seemingly functional tasks were strictly gendered, with the expectation that maintaining this gender division was important for maintaining a sacred ecology. For example, among Algonquian groups, the breaking of gendered taboos could result in illnesses or failed hunts (Le Clercq 1910:227, Tanner 1979:161–162). Martin (1978:114 footnote) has suggested the symbolism surrounding gendered Algonquian roles involving animals may be understood as a way by which “sexual and social relations within the group are reaffirmed and sustained by the act of ‘bringing home animals’”. The evidence provided above, in addition to our previous review of a general hunter-gatherer world-views, indicates that gendering exists as an organizational principle which was inexorably linked to sacred ecology. It also indicates that gendering was especially prominent in daily domestic activity, many of which took place in and around dwellings. We argue that this gendering of ritual (and the actions that entailed) is visible in the archaeological record at Port Joli Harbour, and changes and continuity in these practices at the dwelling-scale offers insight into gendered negotiations as historical practices. Indeed, notions of dwellings and ritual space as gendered pervade ethnographic accounts. Gender Journal of the North Atlantic M.G. Hrynick and M.W. Betts 2017 Special Volume 10 5 was not the only relational principle of Wabanaki society, and existed in proximity to other important organizational rules, such as those surrounding age or the disposal of animal remains. Our interpretation reflects the strongly gendered nature of architecture and domestic space in the local ethnohistoric record, and the archaeologically visible correlates of those activities. This analysis does not deny or preclude other interpretations; in a sacred ecology constructed of numerous overlapping realms, a variety may be considered. Further, this focus serves the important purpose of including women’s activities and agency within particular cultural phenomenon (Brumfield 2006). Maritime Woodland Period Architecture on the Maritime Peninsula Port Joli Harbour is located on Nova Scotia’s South Shore (Fig. 1), within traditional Mi’kmaw territory in the Wabanaki homeland (Bock 1978). The Wabanaki were different from more southerly Algonquian groups; while horticulture was practiced at European contact among these southerly peoples, the Wabanaki on the Maritime Peninsula remained hunter-gatherers, and their social organization, cosmology, and technology differed from adjacent peoples in some respects (Hoffman 1955). The wigwam and the sweathouse were the major architectural forms employed by the Wabanaki. Historically, Wabanaki wigwams were conical, slightly offset vertically, and covered with birch bark or hides supported by wooden posts, with a smoke hole at the top and a trapezoidal door (e.g., Bock 1978, Le Clercq 1910:100–101, Speck 1997:27–34). They typically housed a nuclear family and sometimes 1 or 2 grandparents or guests (Sanger 1987:115). However, wigwams were comparatively small and highly portable, making them ideal for the high degree of Wabanaki residential mobility (Butler and Hadlock 1957:11). Ethnographically, wigwams were almost exclusively constructed by women (cf. Prins and McBride 2007:35–36). Archaeological studies have indicated continuity in this architectural form throughout the Maritime Woodland period (Sanger 2010). At present, the vast majority of architectural evidence is from the coast, where features are more clearly defined and Figure 1. Map of the Maritime Peninsula (shaded gray) showing the location of Port Joli Harbour on Nova Scotia’s South Shore. Journal of the North Atlantic M.G. Hrynick and M.W. Betts 2017 Special Volume 10 6 excavated 4 using a high-resolution methodology that permits the identification of artifact patterning and the horizontal exposure of living surfaces. We located dwelling features initially by testing the site with a small-bore soil probe to identify highly organic deposits, stratigraphic incongruities, or dense artifact deposits. Subsequently, we explored potential features with 50 cm × 50 cm hand-excavated test pits. Following the identification of a likely dwelling feature, we excavated horizontally by stratigraphic layer to expose entire living features. We maintained cross-shaped baulks across features to permit clear visibility and to document stratigraphic relationships on 2 axes. We screened all excavated deposits through 3-mm mesh and took column samples from the baulks to permit the recovery of micro-fractions to enhance spatial patterning (Hrynick et al. 2012). We have encountered some dwelling features in the course of excavating other features or deposits using transect excavations, and these are represented as partially excavated features. These deposits were also screened through 3-mm mesh, bulk sampled, and fully documented stratigraphically. Previously excavated features For the purposes of this paper, we focus primarily on the 4 features excavated fully in the course of the E’se’get Project. However, J.S. Erskine also excavated features that in general indicate similarity between the Port Joli structure assemblage and features from throughout the Maritime Peninsula (Erskine 1959:347–350, 1962:5). Erskine identified dwelling features based on a confluence of subfeatures in conjunction with “ashy”, artifact-rich soil (Erskine 1986:90). His accounts, based on coarserresolution excavations, do not permit precise interpretations about intra-dwelling spatial organization. However, it is worth noting that he interpreted dwelling features as exhibiting a bilateral division of space in which ceramic artifacts were concentrated on one side of the dwelling and lithic artifacts were concentrated on the other, which he interpreted as a gendered division of domestic space (Erskine 1986:90). This interpretation may have drawn on his knowledge of Historic period accounts from the region, and is in accordance with the gendered division of space reported in the ethnohistoric literature. Although Erskine did not excavate using standard archaeological techniques and his recording of spatial patterning is not quantifiable, his interpretation supports Late Maritime Woodland gendered divisions of domestic space, similar to the kind we identified at AlDf-24 Area C (Hrynick et al. 2012), which we discuss below. identifiable in contrast to surrounding shell-bearing deposits (Sanger 2010). To date, the most apparent intra-regional structural difference among domestic features on the Maritime Peninsula is the presence or absence of a floor paving (Hrynick and Robinson 2012). In areas such as northeast Maine, where beaches tend to be comprised of water-rolled gravel, Maritime Woodland period peoples appear to have lined their dwelling floors with it (Hrynick and Robinson 2012, Sanger 2010). No paving is apparent in areas such as Port Joli Harbour, where the adjacent beaches are comprised of sand (Hrynick et al. 2012). Sweathouses, the other form of architecture that is near ubiquitous in historic period accounts from the region (Denys 1908:416; Dièreville 1933, 175−176; Jesuit Relations and Allied Documents 1611–1616:115−117; Le Clercq 1910:296−297; Lescarbot 1914: 184−185; Speck 1997:48; see Prins and McBride 2007:18), have not been recognized in the archaeological record for the Maritime Peninsula except at Port Joli Harbour (Hrynick and Betts 2014). In historical times, they ranged from minimally modified wigwams with the entrances sealed, to special purpose structures erected over specially constructed stone architecture. According to the ethnographic documents, these structures were used exclusively by men and for a wide variety of purposes including healing, preventative medicine, and hunting ritual, including divination. Architecture at Port Joli Harbour Since 2008, the Canadian Museum of History’s E’se’get Archaeology Project has focused on the relationships among the economic and social systems of the Maritime Woodland Period occupants of Port Joli Harbour and its environs (Betts et al. 2012, Hrynick and Betts 2014, Hrynick et al. 2012, Neil et al. 2014). Its approach has included a focus on Wabanaki history within the realm of regionally defined cosmologies (Hrynick and Betts 2014) and human–animal relationships (Betts et al. 2012). The bulk of this work has been at shell-bearing sites dating from the Middle (2200–1350 B.P.) to Late Maritime Woodland (1350–550 B.P.) periods. The E’se’get Project has prioritized the identification and high-resolution excavation of architectural features (Hrynick et al. 2012). In addition to features identified in the 1950s and 1960s by John S. Erskine (1959, 1962, 1986), an avocational archaeologist, the E’se’get Project has identified 10 architectural features, placing it among the largest architectural datasets for the prehistoric Maritime Peninsula, and the largest Maritime Peninsula dataset outside of the Gulf of Maine. Of these features, we have fully Journal of the North Atlantic M.G. Hrynick and M.W. Betts 2017 Special Volume 10 7 lack of intrusive features into the deposits; in effect, each subsequent occupation was deposited onto the footprint of the other, with no discernable disturbance of the underlying substrate (Hrynick et al. 2012:6, 9–13). Such high artifact counts are necessary for identifying artifact patterning, but are not always available. We interpreted this spatial pattern as indicative of a gendered division of space (Hrynick et al. 2012), consistent with the Historic period accounts from throughout the Wabanaki homeland (e.g., Le Clercq 1910:102; Speck 1997:29). This patterning is also present in accounts of domestic space for other hunter-gatherer Algonquians (Tanner 1979). Following the interpretation of this feature, E’se’get Project excavations of domestic architecture focused on evaluating this continuity in domestic patterning deeper in time. We devoted a subsequent season to Jack’s Brook (AlDf-30), located ~300 m inland to the west of Port Joli Harbour on a small, treeless, knoll within a dense, mixed forest. The knoll is surrounded on the north by a small creek, Jack’s Brook, and on the east, west, and south by a fen, which has been established for at least 3000 years (Neil et al. 2014). The architectural deposits at the site are undisturbed (Hrynick and Betts 2014:97). The site does not conform to regional settlement models for domestic sites in the region, but instead was identified fortuitously in the early 1900s (Raddall n.d.). There were 3 domestic features at the site, each stratigraphically distinct but superimposed on top of one another, with each feature essentially in the same footprint as the one below it (Fig. 2), consistent in many respects with the persistent location of dwelling placement at AlDf-24 Area C. Jack’s Brook (AlDf-30) Feature 1 (Fig. 3) contained a compact black sandy loam with comminuted charcoal. The feature was oval, approximately 3 m × 2.5 m, shallow, and basin-shaped. We attribute its mild depression to clearing and trampling, based on similarity to other hunter-gatherer dwelling floors (Marshall 1996:352) and the absence of archaeological evidence for excavation of the surface, such as a backfill berm (see Hrynick et al. 2012). It is common for Middle Maritime Woodland period dwelling features to be less artifact-dense than Late Maritime Woodland ones (cf. Black 2004); true to form, Feature 1 was less artifact-dense than Feature 4 at AlDf- 24 Area C, with 649 pieces of lithic debitage and 831 ceramic sherds in total, compared to 7413 pieces of debitage and 120 ceramic sherds at AlDf-24 Area C Feature 4. Large rocks and cobbles protruded into Feature 1 from levels that were stratigraphically deeper to form what we interpret as an intentional Features excavated during the E’se’get Project Three of the architectural features identified by the E’se’get Project were partially excavated using a vertically oriented excavation strategy, rather than exposed in full horizontal extent. AlDf-8 produced evidence for a Late Maritime Woodland period dwelling, visible as a lens of dark, highly organic, artifact-rich soil (Betts and Hrynick 2013). At AlDf- 24 Area A, we identified and excavated nearly 50% of a dwelling feature appearing as highly organic, charcoal-rich soil, in contrast to the shell midden that dominated Area A. This feature yielded cordwrapped stick pottery, suggesting a Late Maritime Woodland Period occupation (Petersen and Sanger 1993). In Area C of AlDf-24, we partially excavated a dwelling feature that was directly beneath the fully excavated Later Late Maritime Woodland Period dwelling feature we describe fully below. At AlDf- 31, the margin of a probable architectural feature was identified; the function of this feature is unclear pending further excavation (Betts 2010). Because these features were partially excavated, they offer limited data about the division of domestic space. However, alongside Erskine’s data, they do support overall similarity with dwellings throughout the Maritime Peninsula, emphasizing temporal and spatial continuity for the basic technological form of the conical wigwam across the Maritime Peninsula (Sanger 2010), as well as a tendency to place some dwellings in repeated northward orientation. Four fully excavated features serve to place people and gendered practices within an historical trajectory. All of these features exhibited structural similarity. AlDf-24 Area C Feature 4 is a Later Late Maritime Woodland dwelling feature, with a radiocarbon date on terrestrial mammal bone of 660 ± 40 B.P. (Beta-286106, 1σ cal AD 1270–1400), located to the landward side of a large shell midden and articulated with a smaller “kitchen” midden, or midden adjacent to a dwelling. Hrynick et al. (2012) argued, based on artifact patterning and ethnographic analogy, that the artifact distribution within the feature conforms to a binary division of space in which debitage tends to be concentrated to the northwest of the feature, while scrapers, pottery, and organic tools were primarily on the southeastern half of the dwelling. The robustness of the spatial patterning was enhanced by the artifact richness of the feature, probably attributable in part to numerous re-occupations of the area in which a wigwam was repeatedly placed in almost precisely the same location and with a similar orientation, generating a complex palimpsest. Aside from these re-occupations, the architectural deposits at the site are undisturbed, as evidenced by the stratigraphy and Journal of the North Atlantic M.G. Hrynick and M.W. Betts 2017 Special Volume 10 8 axial feature dividing the floor roughly into western and eastern halves. The feature yielded a radiocarbon date on terrestrial mammal bone of 1380 ± 30 B.P. (Beta-341498, 1σ cal A.D. 607–680). Figure 2. Stratigraphic profile of the Jack’s Brook site (AlDf-30) Area A. This profile shows the relationships between Feature 1, 2, and 3. Figure 3. Planview of Jack’s Brook (AlDf-30) Feature 1 with the axial feature consisting of a row of stones, labeled. Journal of the North Atlantic M.G. Hrynick and M.W. Betts 2017 Special Volume 10 9 concentrations of comminuted charcoal than were present in Feature 1. The change to a darker black soil was evident during excavation and in profile, with the horizontal and stratigraphic margins of the feature clearly visible. In the bottommost levels of the feature, the soil became mottled with orange subsoil and pebbles, emphasizing the trampled nature of the feature. The same large boulders and cobbles intruded into this unit from deeper stratigraphic levels, continuing to, as with Feature 1, physically force a bilateral division of space. In Feature 2, a total of 85 pieces of debitage were recovered from west of the axial feature and 38 pieces from east of the axial feature, a statistically significant pattern (χ² = 17.959, df = 1, P < 0.05). A total of 64 Ceramic sherds were recovered from west of the axial feature and 76 from the east, yielding a statistically insignificant pattern (χ² = 1.029, df = 1, P < 0.05). As with Feature 2, the lithic patterning in the feature does suggest a bilateral division of space, while the presence of the axial feature suggests a further structural division. We interpret this as likely representing a structure spatially divided along gendered lines, especially considering that the incorporation of the axial feature We consider the primary architectural division in this structure to have been the rocks incorporated to divide the structure into 2 halves. A total of 509 pieces of lithic debitage were recovered from east of the axial feature, with only 140 pieces from the west. Ceramic sherds in Feature 1 are also higher by piece count on the east, with 291 pieces on the west and 540 pieces on the east (a situation similar to the ceramic patterning at AlDf-24 Area C Feature 4). Chi square tests show that this patterning is statistically significant (χ² = 291.8, df = 1 for debitage, χ² = 37.3, df = 1 for ceramics; P < 0.05). Furthermore, both scrapers from the dwelling feature were recovered on the western side of the axial feature. Three of the 4 total bifaces from within the feature were recovered from east of the axial feature. The distribution of lithics might appear to suggest a maleoriented occupation on the eastern side of the dwelling, though the ceramic patterning does not support this. Despite this ambiguous patterning, we believe that the bilaterally distributed artifacts and the axial feature also supports a general bilateral division of space, with the most parsimonious division being according to gender, based on the ethnographic record and the strong patterning identified in AlDf-24 Area C. Although this is the most parsimonious explanation for the axial feature, we note that the act of re-incorporating the axial feature further suggests a gendered activity, as the construction of wigwams was women’s work ethnographically. Feature 2 (Fig. 4) at Jack’s Brook (AlDf- 30) was stratigraphically contiguous with and beneath Feature 1, and in a nearly identical orientation. This feature yielded 2 overlapping radiocarbon dates on terrestrial mammal bone, 1410 ± 30 B.P. (Beta -341499, 1σ cal A.D. 591−665) and 1470 ± 40 B.P. (Beta -273516, 1σ cal A.D. 540–650). The feature was characterized by a compact, dark black, sandy loam with higher Figure 4. Planview map of Jack’s Brook (AlDf-30) Feature 2 with the axial feature, consisting of a row of stone, labeled. Journal of the North Atlantic M.G. Hrynick and M.W. Betts 2017 Special Volume 10 10 1σ cal A.D. 660–600). The large central stones in Feature 3 are the same stones that protruded into the 2 domestic features, Feature 1 and Feature 2, above it, the tops of the stones aligning to form an axial feature in the stratigraphically higher structures. While Feature 1 and 2 are consistent with dwelling features from the Maritime Peninsula, Feature 3 is not. It is almost a meter smaller than a typical dwelling feature from the region (Sanger 2010), and the deep bowl shape and the substantial central stone architecture would preclude a domestic occupation. As we have argued elsewhere (Hrynick and Betts 2014), it is consistent with the archaeological signature that might be produced by a sweathouse reported in the ethnographic record in which a small wigwam-like structure was placed over a large central stone (approximately 45 cm × 50 cm), held in place by smaller stones (approximately 20 cm × 20 cm and smaller) (Wallis and Wallis 1955:124). Such structures were made airtight with skins or blankets, and hot stones were brought into the structure where they were used to vaporize plant-based sudorifics and to make the inside of the structure hot (Wallis and Wallis 1955:124; see also Hrynick and Betts 2014). Because stones were brought into the structure, charcoal deposition would have been minimal, consistent with Feature 3. One reason for the unique placement of Feature 3 away from the shore may have been seclusion, emphasizing the ritual distinctiveness of the site when the sweathouse was occupied. Such seclusion may be a characteristic of ritual activity, and may further emphasize the strongly gendered nature of Wabanaki sweathouse rituals (Hrynick and Betts 2014). In contrast to wigwams, which housed both genders and were assembled by women (Prins and McBride 2007:35−36), sweathouses appear to have been used exclusively by men (Denys 1908:416, as likely consciously made by women, who based on ethnographic analogy, probably constructed the dwelling. Feature 3 (Fig. 5) was stratigraphically below Feature 2, essentially forming a footprint for the feature above it. We have presented this feature and our interpretations of it in detail elsewhere (Hrynick and Betts 2014), but review it and our interpretation for its unique placement here, as that may have important implications for expressions of ritual and gender in Port Joli. The feature was basin-shaped, and had been excavated into the subsoil as deeply as 40 cm. The feature was small, approximately 2.5 m × 2 m in area. A stone feature consisting of a central boulder, flanked on all sides by several large stones and cobbles, had been added to the depression, as had a cobble paving partially lining a small pit in the southwest. Northwest of the central stone, a low bench or step was shaped into the subsoil to form the northern margin of the pit feature. The only materials recovered from this feature were 2 pieces of firecracked rock, which refit, and a single piece of wood charcoal, dating to 1420 ± 30 B.P. (Beta-341499, Figure 5. Planview map of Jack’s Brook (AlDf-30) Feature 3. Note that the central stones, the tops of which formed the axial feature in subsequent domestic occupations, form a central stone sweathouse apparatus in Feature 3 (see Hrynick and B etts 2014). Journal of the North Atlantic M.G. Hrynick and M.W. Betts 2017 Special Volume 10 11 Le Clercq 1910:296–297). Cross-culturally, this is common, likely in part due to the frequent association of sweathouse ceremonies and shamanism (MacDonald 1988, Paper 1990). For Algonquian hunter-gatherers, sweathouses featured elements of hunting-ritual, including divination (Speck 1935:99, 221), contextualizing the gendered nature of the practice as an activity closely linked to hunter–prey interactions. In addition to these considerations, the sweathouse was located close to a freshwater source that could provide water for use in sweats or for subsequent submersion (Denys 1908:416, Le Clercq 1910:296–297). Thus, the site was characterized by a mixed forest–fen environment at least from the Middle Maritime Woodland through the present (Neil et al. 2014) and may have provided access to medicinal plants (Hrynick and Betts 2014). Discussion: Gendered Spaces, Sacred Ecology, and Wabanaki History Port Joli architecture suggests a general regional consistency in architectural form, both diachronically at Port Joli and throughout the Maritime Peninsula. Beyond this fundamental technological articulation, one which was ideally suited to huntergatherer mobility and subsistence on the Maritime Peninsula (Butler and Hadlock 1957:11), the Port Joli dataset illuminates chronological changes in patterning which require interpretation. The reincorporation of a male sweathouse into subsequent domestic architecture, which ethnographic analogy suggests was built by women, indicates a variety of changes in the way people, quite literally, constructed their relational ontologies. At Port Joli, tracking these transitions historically emphasizes the role of gender in these relationships. The perspective we outlined earlier is that adherence to ritual actions at the domestic scale are historically situated negotiations with the world, making the household a nexus at which culture changes and is renewed. The dwellings and their configurations, and the actions carried out within them, were negotiations with a cohort of animal-persons that had the agency to directly impact human lives. While we do not deal directly with the perceived agency of animals here, it is assumed, and human negotiations with these animal persons is critical to understanding Wabanaki architecture in Port Joli. Although relational ontologies are expressed at a variety of scales, many of which may be reflected in the organization of the house, daily activities offer regular and repetitive opportunities to negotiate those relationships. These reflections and these manipulations make the dwelling-scale archaeologically valuable, and may highlight the roles of ordinary women and men in maintaining and modifying cosmology. In the above study, we utilize ethnographic and archaeological data to propose that the manipulation of gendered spaces and things may have been a key way in which Port Joli inhabitants expressed a sacred ecology. In Figure 6, we provide a schematic of the interplay of domestic life and cosmology at Port Joli in the reification and modification of broad cosmology locally. Figure 6. Diagram of relationships among architecture, cosmology, and history at Port Joli Harbour. Following Tanner (1979) we suggest that these relationships are negotiated via sacred ecology, driving directed social action. Accordingly, the relationships between what people do is related to cosmology, and both may change or persist through time, dependent upon individual agency. Journal of the North Atlantic M.G. Hrynick and M.W. Betts 2017 Special Volume 10 12 This model may be conceptualized as mediated via Wabanaki sacred ecology. Employing the ethnographic record as part of the dynamic Wabanaki historical trajectory, it is possible to interpret the Middle and Late Maritime Woodland period architectural history of Port Joli Harbour as an historical and gendered process that articulated directly with Wabanaki cosmology. In the present case, this history begins with the construction of the Jack’s Brook (AlDf-30) sweathouse, the oldest known architectural feature from Port Joli Harbour, and coeval with some of the earliest archaeological materials from Port Joli. As we suggested above, the location of Jack’s Brook (AlDf-30), while incongruous with prevailing habitation-site models, makes good sense when considering the need for (1) exclusion and privacy, (2) fresh water, and (3) medicinal plants used in sweat ceremonies. The placement of the sweathouse is part of a social context at Port Joli Harbour, and must be related to adjacent habitation sites. With these considerations in mind, ethnographic accounts offer several compelling explanations for sweathouses in relationship to cosmology. As Hill (2011) has pointed out, directed ritual such as sweats may serve to address spiritual problems that require attention beyond that which is embedded in quotidian action. The sweathouse at Jack’s Brook (AlDf-30) may represent an attempt, especially by men, to maintain human–animal relationships or address particular problems. These actions probably occurred in conjunction with actions to maintain relationships at regular habitations, which were elsewhere on the landscape (potentially at AlDf-24). Later re-occupations of the Jack’s Brook site (AlDf- 30) were characterized by a marked modification to the use and gendering of the site, namely in the transition away from a male-oriented ritual space of the sweathouse to a family-oriented habitation. The placement of this re-occupation was apparently guided by historical and cultural, rather than environmental, factors (Hrynick and Betts 2014), as the overlapping radiocarbon dates and paleoenvironmental reconstruction indicates significant climatic/economic changes were unlikely (Neil et al. 2014). The decision to modify the site’s purpose and to re-incorporate the sweathouse into domestic architecture is a profound modification to how gendered cosmological relationships were conducted at Jack’s Brook (AlDf-30). Most abruptly, there was a dramatic transition away from spaces used and directed exclusively by adult men, to one that included the actions of men, women, and children. If the ethnohistoric record is applicable, this transition was marked by the construction of a dwelling by women for use by their families, in contrast to that of structures constructed by men for their own purposes. Although the stone axial feature incorporated into the later dwellings might have a variety of social meanings, Late Maritime Woodland and Historic Period accounts suggest that, in historical context, this binary division of space likely represents a form of gendered spatial division, and this is at least partially supported by the lithic patterning discussed above. For Algonquian hunter-gatherers generally (e.g., Skinner 1912:245, Tanner 1979) and the Wabanaki specifically (e.g., Denys 1908:408, Le Clercq 1910:102:227, Orchard 1909, Speck 1997:29), gendered spatial divisions appear to have been a strong component of relational practice and to have been microcosms of broader social organization. The strong association between Wabanaki women and the construction and use of dwelling features suggests that women played important roles in the re-incorporation of the axial feature. In addition to a division of space, one ritual explanation of this re-incorporation concept is the “axis mundi”, which Hornborg (2006, 2008) describes in the context of Wabanaki sacred ecology. The Wabanaki, like many Indigenous societies, conceived of the world as comprised of a series of cosmological zones, and moving between them as an opportunity to change perspective. This belief system allowed individuals to temporarily adopt the perspectives of other-than-human persons, gaining insight into critical spiritual, economic, and other relationships between humans and other beings (see Viveiros de Castro 1998). Travel between these worlds was often facilitated by an axis mundi, or “world pillar” (Hornborg 2006:316), a concept common in hunter-gatherer cosmology (e.g., Cummings 2013:81). Hornborg suggests that “for many [I]ndigenous North Americans, this pillar was represented by the doorpost of the wigwam” and that this was true for the Wabanaki, as supported by Rand’s (1894) account of a woman travelling between worlds via a passage beneath her doorpost (Hornborg 2008:30). Speck’s (1935) interpretation of Algonquian divination suggests that shamanism, dreaming, and sweats were employed to interpret the location of game, supporting an interpretation of the sweathouses that includes travelling between worlds to access the perspective of particular animals (Hornborg 2006). If so, the incorporation of a ritual structure/stone alignment used previously in sweats, and extending beneath the surface of the current dwelling, incorporated a powerful axis mundi into the wigwam. Further utilizing that feature to ensure that gendered activities and spaces were Journal of the North Atlantic M.G. Hrynick and M.W. Betts 2017 Special Volume 10 13 a physical reminder of appropriate social action to its inhabitants. This perspective can elucidate the use of architectural elements as mnemonics (e.g., Betts et al. 2012). At Jack’s Brook (AlDf-30), the central stone structure may have been a mnemonic for the division of space and participation in appropriate social relationships, and a tangible reminder of history. Moreover, it may have served as a reminder of the importance of spiritual preparation, especially for men. The overlapping radiocarbon dates from Jack’s Brook (AlDf-30) Features 1, 2, and 3 suggest occupation of all these features in rapid succession, suggesting that the dwellings may have been constructed by people who remembered the use of, or even constructed, the sweathouse. This interpretation supports the notion of a conscious appropriation of the male sweathouse into domestic space, not just inadvertent incorporation of an ancient architectural component without a tangible, ritual link. This history did not end at Jack’s Brook (AlDf- 30). By the Late Maritime Woodland Period, the archaeological record of Port Joli indicates that central stone architecture may no longer have been necessary to enforce a gendered division of domestic space. The occupants of AlDf-24 Area C, Feature 4 appear to have no longer required the physicality of such a mnemonic to maintain a strict gendered division (Hrynick et al. 2012). This form of patterning was repeated into the historic period, as is documented in the ethnohistoric literature (Hrynick et al. 2012). It is possible that this shift was due to an intensification of gendered activity or a reinforcement of metaphorical space, marked by an emphasis on gendered behavior without clear canonical signaling in architectural form. Alternatively, less-durable architectural elements might have been used to physically separate the spaces inside wigwams, though we note that the ethnohistoric record does not mention any such architecture. That historical factors influenced the construction and use of dwelling features at Port Joli is further attested by the clear reuse of specific places for wigwams. Among ethnographically known Algonquians, the placement and orientation of dwellings is environmental and cosmological. Mistassini Cree camps were placed on western shores with doorways facing east of lakes to avoid harsh winds (Rogers 1967:9−11). This arrangement provides the warmest possible camp and best viewscape. However, Mistassini Cree explanations for this placement are linked to Algonquian cosmology with an eastward doorway orientation allowing inhabitants to “avoid the spiritual entity, Ciiwetinsuu, who is associated with the maintained was a powerful means to reinforce the importance of quotidian actions in the maintenance of spiritual relationships. It also might be seen as an appropriation of male spiritual spaces/features by women to be incorporated into their own spaces and that of their families. This interpretation highlights the need to consider relational ontologies in contexts beyond immediate hunter–prey interaction. Whether or not the axial feature indicates gendered divisions of domestic space, it almost certainly suggests some form of domestic architectural ritual activity, and if so, activity initiated by women in their construction of the dwelling, and then maintained by men and women in their use of the dwelling. This interpretation is supported both by Rand’s account and the consensus in ethnohistoric accounts of women’s prominence in the house, and around the construction of dwellings. The ethnographic relationship among architecture, shamanism, and relational perspectives offers one explanation for how domestic and ritual architecture could be linked within Wabanaki cosmology. The excavated nature of the sweathouse and stone alignment, below the domestic dwelling where spiritual travel and transformation were known to occur (Hornborg 2008:30), reinforced its potential as a figurative and literal axis mundi. Used in this way and in this context, the axial feature may be both a conscious memorialization of history and a metaphysical connection to facilitate access to other perspectives within a relational ontology. That the central portion of the sweathouse may have later been incorporated as a gender divider suggests a conscious decision that was both agential and historical in its relationship with cosmology. Minimally, it suggests re-incorporation of male architectural elements into largely female dominated ones. If the axial feature is a gendered division, this represents transition of a male space into a divided male and female space, displaying conscious change within Wabanaki cosmological principles. In this case, the ritually imbued stone alignment of the sweathouse was appropriated and transformed into a potent reminder to the occupants of the gendered actions necessary inside the dwelling. That women probably assembled the structure further highlights their important roles in cosmological activities. If the Middle Maritime Woodland Period divisions of space at Jack’s Brook (AlDf-30) drew on the sweathouse architecture to create gendered spaces, which is the most likely explanation, this may have served as what Blanton (1994) has described as “canonical” signaling, by which architecture serves as an indicator not just of identity to outsiders, but also as Journal of the North Atlantic M.G. Hrynick and M.W. Betts 2017 Special Volume 10 14 shown how seemingly mundane activities, such as the everyday construction, use, and maintenance of dwellings, can expose historical process on a grand scale and its linkages to such critical issues as cosmology and identity. In short, the archaeology of hunter-gatherer domestic architecture may provide insight into the agency of ordinary men and women as they negotiate their cosmologies and identities. At Port Joli, bilateral artifactual spatial patterning in dwellings combined with the presence of unique architectural structures such as sweathouses can be explained as an adherence to gender rules regarding architectural construction and use. We have proposed an ontological context for these rules, providing a potent link between everyday actions within these structures and the maintenance of “sacred ecology”. For the Wabanaki who lived in Port Joli, the construction and use of architecture, from sweathouses to domestic wigwams, participated in a relational ontology focused on maintaining connections with other “animal persons”. These connections were maintained through strict adherence to gendered norms, thus mediating the social lives of those who lived at Port Joli. And yet the archaeology also exposes historical process, as people appropriated and transformed architectural components and spaces to physically and symbolically reinforce the practices necessary to maintain proper relationships. Eventually, these physical mnemonics were abandoned, and the inhabitants appear to have relied on tradition and routine to perpetuate and intensify these gendered practices. Acknowledgments As always, we thank Acadia First Nation for their collaboration, support, and frequent insight. Funding for this research was provided by the Canadian Museum of History and the University of New Brunswick. Other support was provided by the Thomas Raddall Provincial Park, the Harrison Lewis Centre, and the University of Connecticut. Kevin McBride, Brian Robinson, Karen Ryan, Zareen Thomas, and Jesse Webb provided thoughtful comments on various portions of this paper. An early portion of this research was presented at the 2013 Eastern States Archaeological Federation meeting; we are grateful for comments we received there. Two anonymous reviewers and Karine Taché offered further helpful suggestions. Literature Cited Ackerman, L.A. 1990. Gender studies in Yu’pik society. Etudes/Inuit/Studies 14(1):209–221. Betts, M.W. 2009. Chronicling Siglit identities: Economy, practice, and ethnicity in the Western Canadian Arctic. Alaska Journal of Anthropology 7(2):1–28. north and northwest, and is in charge of cold weather, snow, and ‘winter’ animals” (Tanner 1979:103). Relational studies may further help to illuminate the role of men and women in these ritual actions. Sanger (2010:38) has suggested that the doorways of houses at Maine’s Maritime Woodland period sites tend to face away from the beach, typically to the east. He offers both environmental and historical explanations for this phenomenon, which, as among the Cree, need not be mutually exclusive. 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