experimental archaeology

testing-ancient-paleolithic-migration-with-a-replica-canoe

Testing ancient Paleolithic migration with a replica canoe

(Left) GPS tracking and modeling of ocean currents toward the end of the experimental voyage. (Right) The team on the water around the time of the left image.

(Left) GPS tracking and modeling of ocean currents toward the end of the experimental voyage. (Right) The team on the water around the time of the left image. Credit: Kaifu et al., 2025/CC-By-ND

At the 30-hour mark, the captain ordered the entire crew to rest, letting the dugout drift freely for a while, which fortunately brought them closer to Yonaguni Island. At hour 40, the island’s silhouette was visible, and over the next five hours, the crew was able to navigate the strong tidal flow along the coast until they reached their landing site: Nama Beach. So the experimental voyage was a success, augmented by the numerical simulations to demonstrate that the boat could make similar voyages from different departure points across both modern and late-Pleistocene oceans.

Granted, it was not possible to recreate Paleolithic conditions perfectly on a modern ocean. The crew first spotted the island because of its artificial lights, although by that time, they were on track navigationally. They were also accompanied by escort ships to ensure the crew’s safety, supplying fresh water twice during the voyage. But the escort ships did not aid with navigation or the dugout captain’s decision-making, and the authors believe that any effects were likely minimal. The biggest difference was the paddlers’ basic modern knowledge of local geography, which helped them develop a navigation plan—an unavoidable anachronism, although the crew did not rely on compasses, GPS, or watches during the voyage.

“Scientists try to reconstruct the processes of past human migrations, but it is often difficult to examine how challenging they really were,” said Kaifu. “One important message from the whole project was that our Paleolithic ancestors were real challengers. Like us today, they had to undertake strategic challenges to advance. For example, the ancient Polynesian people had no maps, but they could travel almost the entire Pacific. There are a variety of signs on the ocean to know the right direction, such as visible land masses, heavenly bodies, swells and winds. We learned parts of such techniques ourselves along the way.”

DOI: “Traversing the Kuroshio: Paleolithic migration across one of the world’s strongest ocean currents,” Science Advances, 2025. 10.1126/sciadv.adv5508  (About DOIs).

DOI: “Palaeolithic seafaring in East Asia: an experimental test of the dugout canoe hypothesis,” Science Advances, 2025. 10.1126/sciadv.adv5507  (About DOIs).

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Sailing the fjords like the Vikings yields unexpected insights


“On we sweep with threshing oar”

Greer Jarrett has identified four possible small ports, or “havens,” used by Vikings along the Norwegian coast.

Experimental archaeologist Greer Jarrett of Lund University in Sweden has been sailing in the footsteps of Vikings for the last three years.

If you want to learn more about how and where the Vikings sailed, making the journey through the fjords yourself in replica boats is a practical, hands-on approach to achieving that end. Greer Jarrett, an archaeologist at Lund University in Sweden, has spent the last three years doing just that, sailing more than 5,000 kilometers along known Viking trade routes in open, spare-rigged clinker boats similar to those used by the Vikings.

Not only has Jarrett learned a great deal about the boats themselves, he also identified four possible havens along the Norwegian coast, part of what may have been a decentralized network that played a crucial role in trade and travel during that period. And those ports are located farther out to sea than other major ports and hubs known to date, according to a paper he published in the Journal of Archaeological Method and Theory.

It’s just the latest intriguing discovery enabled by the growing field of experimental archaeology, whereby researchers seek to reverse-engineer all manner of ancient technologies. Experimental archaeologists have, for instance, built their own versions of Early Upper Paleolithic adzes, axes, and chisels. The resulting fractures and wear enabled them to develop new criteria for identifying the likely functions of ancient tools. Others have tried to cook like the Neanderthals, concluding that flint flakes were surprisingly effective for butchering birds, and that roasting the birds damages the bones to such an extent that it’s unlikely they would be preserved in the archaeological record.

Kent State University’s Metin Eren has done practical experiments to study, for instance, the trajectories of atlatls attached to spears tipped with replica Clovis points, and how their performance compares to javelins used by Neanderthals. He even fashioned rudimentary blades out of his own frozen feces to test whether they could cut through pig hide, muscle, and tendon—solely to test a famous anthropological legend about an elderly Inuit man in the 1950s who purportedly did the same to kill and skin a dog, using its rib cage as a makeshift sled to venture off into the Arctic. (It did not work, so myth: busted. But it did snag Eren an Ig Nobel prize.)

Taking a hands-on, experimental archaeological approach to studying the Vikings makes sense in light of the dearth of contemporary written sources. “We have a few things written by outsiders, but there’s very, very few accounts written or delivered by people from Scandinavia during that period,” Jarrett told Ars. “We normally rely on indirect forms of evidence, be that genetics or archaeology or linguistics, which show strong, very frequent connections across maritime areas in the North Atlantic. But because traveling by boat is kind of an archaeologically invisible act, you don’t leave any footprints. So we have very little information about the voyages between these points.”

The sailing voyages made by Greer Jarrett during the research project. The image also shows the four possible Viking harbours identified by Jarrett.

The sailing voyages made by Greer Jarrett during the research project, as well as the four possible Viking harbors he identified. Credit: Greer Jarrett

Garrett and his crew used four or five different replica boats for their test voyages. Most were built by volunteers, enthusiasts, or students Jarrett had met during his considerable time in the field. They then sailed along the west coast of the Scandinavian Peninsula, a core area of Viking seafaring.

“These are reconstructions of traditional Norwegian boats from the 1800s and early 1900s,” said Jarrett. “My idea was, because of this really long-term continuity in traditional boat building practices, especially in Norway, it might be possible to use these later boats which have lots of similarities to try and work out the potentials of where people might have gotten out. It’s the idea of suggesting potentials based on practical experience to try and join those dots between the different evidence we have across the Viking world.”

That decision has led to some criticism from colleagues because of the enormous gap in time, but Jarrett defends his choice. “The Viking Age ends in the 11th century, and we’re talking about boats from 800 years later,” he said. “But the construction techniques and the way they are rigged and their general performance characteristics are similar enough. Because this is a project about voyages and not a project about boat building, it seemed like a defensible analogy.”

Seeking safe harbor

“On the long-range voyages, we worked in watches of four hours on and four hours off, and that is just about long enough to get some sleep on your off watch, but also just about short enough that you don’t get really, really, really cold, which is obviously a risk,” said Jarrett. “It was manageable, but we looked like penguins. I mean, we’re wearing six layers of wool at any time and sleeping all stacked together for warmth. But other times it’s really nice. The spring and the autumn in Scandinavia, there’s much more likelihood of high-pressure cycles, which means that it’s clearer and sunnier than in the summer itself.”

Nonetheless, there were some rough moments, such as when the mast spar holding up the mainsail snapped, forcing the crew to improvise and lash two oars together to hold the sail so they could continue their journey. It took several days to repair the boat so it could sail again. There was no safety boat following along in case the crew got into trouble, and no engine, although they did have a life raft, which the crew has yet to use.

Based on his sailing trials, Jarrett believes that the Vikings had no need for navigational tools like maps, a compass, or a sextant, relying instead on what he calls “mental maps”—or a “maritime cultural mindscape”—based on sailors’ memories and experiences passed down orally through generations. Those maps might also be informed by the myths linked to well-known coastal landmarks, such as skerries, small islets, or reefs.

“People had been moving by boat along the west coast of Scandinavia for a really, really, really long time, probably since the late Neolithic, if not earlier—thousands of years before the Viking age,” said Jarrett. “There are big trading networks in place beforehand, and that is reflected in the names, place names along the west coast. My primary argument is if you spend 3,000 years traveling up and down a coastline in which you can use the coast at all times for navigation, then it’s unnecessary to develop instrumentation.”

“Instruments are used when you are in a place out in the open sea that you don’t know,” Jarrett continued. “We definitely know they didn’t have compasses because those don’t arrive from China until the 1200s. There are these ideas about sunstones and sundials, or little sun compasses, which are entirely possible. But there’s no legitimate proof of either of them archaeologically yet. I may well be proved wrong if we find them at some point, but I don’t think they’re necessary for this at all.”

Based on the sailing trials, archaeological and documentary evidence of Viking Age maritime centers, and digital reconstructions of past sea levels. Jarrett was able develop a useful set of criteria for evaluating potential havens. For instance, the site should be reachable in low visibility, with land or sea marks that sailors could use as bearings; large enough to accommodate multiple vessels of at least the size of a fyring (which can house a crew of four to 10 people); provide good protection from sea swell and storm surges; and have access to fresh water, among other criteria. Four sites scored sufficiently high by those criteria to qualify as possible Viking havens.

The four sites are Smørhamn, located at the confluence of Oldersund and the Frøysjø, where an inn and trading post are known to have existed since at least the late 17th century; the archipelago of Sørøyane between Stad and Ålesund, near where the sea battle of Hjörungavágr was fought circa 986 CE; Bjørnsund, a number of small islands off the southwestern tip of Hustadvika; and the island of Storfosna, which appears on 16th and 17th century charts.

“I’m not saying, ‘This is where they went,'” said Jarrett. “I’m saying that, with these kinds of boats under these conditions, it would be possible to go to these places. And it’s much more difficult—not impossible, but much more difficult—to go to these other places or to sail in these other conditions.”

Pining for the fjords

The next step is for Jarrett and other archaeologists to hunt for evidence in support of his hypothesis. “Most of these sites have never been excavated,” said Jarrett. “There’s been a long assumption that these are landing places with the idea that you are dragging your boat ashore. I’m very opposed to that idea because these are two-and-a-half-ton boats, let alone the cargo. Unless you have a team of oxen and 20 people at your command, there is no way you’re getting them on the beach. I’m very convinced that these places have jetties and mooring posts likely preserved underwater. All of that organic material survives much better underwater than it does on land. So I think that’s very possible.”

They might also find smaller items suggestive of a thriving harbor community. “Whenever you go into land, you’ve got something that’s broken, so you need to do repairs,” said Jarrett. “So things like clink nails or piles of balustones or signs of smithing—the typical kind of things you’d use for repairing your ship, I think are possible to find.” Jarrett’s methodology might also prove useful for studying other seafaring communities. 

The practical experience of sailing the same seas as the Vikings naturally led to some surprising insights. “You are able to ask very different questions the minute you walk away from your desk and get on a boat,” said Jarrett. “I think it’s essential to do that because you think in new ways. In terms of the results themselves, the boats are extremely seaworthy crafts. When you get in them for the first time, you don’t think that, because they’re very, very light. They feel very flimsy, and they’re very low in the water compared to a modern sailing boat. So you feel really in touch with the wave, which is kind of scary. But because they’re so flexible and because of the way they’re rigged, they’re actually really stable, even in big waves.”

“We kept going out thinking, ‘Oh, this is maybe the limit of what this boat can tolerate,’ and then it would be fine, and we’d be, ‘Okay, let’s go a little bit in slightly bigger waves with slightly stronger wind,'” Jarrett continued. “So I think our comfort zones definitely visibly expanded during that period. And I had the chance to work with the same crews over three years. By the end of those three years, we were doing stuff that we would never have been able to do at the beginning.”

Another big difference from modern boats, Jarrett discovered, is that one cannot sail a traditional Viking craft alone. “It has to be a collaborative effort because of how you need a person at the front and the back of the boat basically at all times,” he said. “So developing the crew together and gaining not only skills, but also trust between us meant that we could do things in 2024 that seemed completely insane just a couple of years earlier. I cannot imagine what that is like if you have an entire lifetime of Viking sailors working together for 30 years. It must be an incredible way of creating social bonds.”

DOI: Journal of Archaeological Method and Theory, 2025. 10.1007/s10816-025-09708-6  (About DOIs).

Photo of Jennifer Ouellette

Jennifer is a senior writer at Ars Technica with a particular focus on where science meets culture, covering everything from physics and related interdisciplinary topics to her favorite films and TV series. Jennifer lives in Baltimore with her spouse, physicist Sean M. Carroll, and their two cats, Ariel and Caliban.

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Live demos test effectiveness of Revolutionary War weapons


not just men with muskets

Pitting the Brown Bess against the long rifle, testing the first military submarine, and more.

The colonial victory against the British in the American Revolutionary War was far from a predetermined outcome. In addition to good strategy and the timely appearance of key allies like the French, Continental soldiers relied on several key technological innovations in weaponry. But just how accurate is an 18th-century musket when it comes to hitting a target? Did the rifle really determine the outcome of the war? And just how much damage did cannon inflict? A team of military weapons experts and re-enactors set about testing some of those questions in a new NOVA documentary, Revolutionary War Weapons.

The documentary examines the firing range and accuracy of Brown Bess muskets and long rifles used by both the British and the Continental Army during the Battles of Lexington and Concord; the effectiveness of Native American tomahawks for close combat (no, they were usually not thrown as depicted in so many popular films, but there are modern throwing competitions today); and the effectiveness of cannons against the gabions and other defenses employed to protect the British fortress during the pivotal Siege of Yorktown. There is even a fascinating segment on the first military submarine, dubbed “the Turtle,” created by American inventor David Bushnell.

To capture all the high-speed ballistics action, director Stuart Powell relied upon a range of high-speed cameras called the Phantom Range. “It is like a supercomputer,” Powell told Ars. “It is a camera, but it doesn’t feel like a camera. You need to be really well-coordinated on the day when you’re using it because it bursts for, like, 10 seconds. It doesn’t record constantly because it’s taking so much data. Depending on what the frame rate is, you only get a certain amount of time. So you’re trying to coordinate that with someone trying to fire a 250-year-old piece of technology. If the gun doesn’t go off, if something goes wrong on set, you’ll miss it. Then it takes five minutes to reboot and get ready for the new shot. So a lot of the shoot revolves around the camera; that’s not normally the case.”

Constraints to keep the run time short meant that not every experiment the crew filmed ended up in the final document, according to Powell. For instance, there was one experiment in a hypoxia chamber for the segment on the Turtle, meant to see how long a person could function once the sub had descended, limiting the oxygen supply. “We felt there was slightly too much on the Turtle,” said Powell. “It took up a third of the whole film.” Also cut, for similar reasons, were power demonstrations for the musket, using boards instead of ballistic gel. But these cuts were anomalies in the tightly planned shooting schedule; most of the footage found its way onscreen.

The task of setting up all those field experiments fell to experts like military historian and weapons expert Joel Bohy, who is a frequent appraiser for Antiques Roadshow. We caught up with Bohy to learn more.

Redcoat re-enactors play out the Battle of Lexington. GBH/NOVA

Ars Technica: Obviously you can’t work with the original weapons because they’re priceless. How did you go about making replicas as close as possible to the originals?

Joel Bohy: Prior to our live fire studies, I started to collect the best contemporary reproductions of all of the different arms that were used. Over the years, I’ve had these custom-built, and now I have about 14 of them, so that we can cover pretty much every different type of arm used in the Revolution. I have my pick when we want to go out to the range and shoot at ballistics gelatin. We’ve published some great papers. The latest one was in conjunction with a bullet strike study where we went through and used modern forensic techniques to not only locate where each shooter was, what caliber the gun was, using ballistics rods and lasers, but we also had 18th-century house sections built and shot at the sections to replicate that damage. It was a validation study, and those firearms came in very handy.

Ars Technica: What else can we learn from these kinds of experiments?

Joel Bohy: One of the things that’s great about the archeology end of it is when we’re finding fired ammunition. I mostly volunteer with archaeologists on the Revolutionary War. One of my colleagues has worked on the Little Bighorn battlefield doing firing pin impressions, which leave a fingerprint, so he could track troopers and Native Americans across the battlefields. With [the Revolutionary War], it’s harder to do because we’re using smooth-bore guns that don’t necessarily leave a signature. But what they do leave is a caliber, and they also leave a location. We GIS all this stuff and map it, and it’s told us things about the battles that we never knew before. We just did one last August that hasn’t been released yet that changes where people thought a battle took place.

We like to combine that with our live fire studies. So when we [conduct the latter], we take a shot, then we metal detect each shot, bag it, tag it. We record all the data that we see on our musket balls that we fired so that when we’re on an archeology project, we can correlate that with what we see in the ground. We can see if it hits a tree, if it hits rocks, how close was a soldier when they fired—all based upon the deformation of the musket ball.

Ars Technica: What is the experience of shooting a replica of a musket compared to, say, a modern rifle?

Joel Bohy: It’s a lot different. When you’re firing a modern rifle, you pull the trigger and it’s very quick—a matter of milliseconds and the bullet’s downrange. With the musket, it’s similar, but it’s slower, and you can anticipate the shot. By the time the cock goes down, the flint strikes the hammer, it ignites the powder in the pan, which goes through the vent and sets off the charge—there’s a lot more time involved in that. So you can anticipate and flinch. You may not necessarily get the best shot as you would on a more modern rifle. There’s still a lot of kick, and there’s a lot more smoke because of the black powder that’s being used. With modern smokeless powder, you have very little smoke compared to the muskets.

Ars Technica: It’s often said that throughout the history of warfare, whoever has the superior weapons wins. This series presents a more nuanced picture of how such conflicts play out.

John Hargreaves making David Bushnell’s submarine bomb. GBH/Nova

Joel Bohy: In the Revolutionary War, you have both sides basically using the same type of firearm. Yes, some were using rifles, depending on what region you were from, and units in the British Army used rifles. But for the most part, they’re all using flintlock mechanisms and smoothbore guns. What comes into play in the Revolution is, on the [Continental] side, they don’t have the supply of arms that the British do. There was an embargo in place in 1774 so that no British arms could be shipped into Boston and North America. So you have a lot of innovation with gunsmiths and blacksmiths and clockmakers, who were taking older gun parts, barrels, and locks and building a functional firearm.

You saw a lot of the Americans at the beginning of the war trying to scrape through with these guns made from old parts and cobbled together. They’re functional. We didn’t really have that lock-making and barrel-making industry here. A lot of that stuff we had imported. So even if a gun was being made here, the firing mechanism and the barrels were imported. So we had to come up with another way to do it.

We started to receive a trickle of arms from the French in 1777, and to my mind, that’s what helped change the outcome of the war. Not only did we have French troops arriving, but we also had French cloth, shoes, hats, tin, powder, flints, and a ton of arms being shipped in. The French took all of their old guns from their last model that they had issued to the army, and they basically sold them all to us. So we had this huge influx of French arms that helped resupply us and made the war viable for us.

Close-up of a cannon firing. GBH/NOVA

Ars Technica: There are a lot of popular misconceptions about the history of the American Civil War. What are a couple of things that you wish more Americans understood about that conflict?

Joel Bohy: The onset of the American Revolution, April 1775, when the war began—these weren’t just a bunch of farmers who grabbed their rifle from over the fireplace and went out and beat the British Army. These people had been training and arming themselves for a long time. They had been doing it for generations before in wars with Native forces and the French since the 17th century. So by the time the Revolution broke out, they were as prepared as they could be for it.

“The rifle won the Revolution” is one of the things that I hear. No, it didn’t. Like I said, the French arms coming in helped us win the Revolution. A rifle is a tool, just like a smoothbore musket is. It has its benefits and it has its downfalls. It’s slower to load, you can’t mount a bayonet on it, but it’s more accurate, whereas the musket, you can load and fire faster, and you can mount a bayonet. So the gun that really won the Revolution was the musket, not the rifle.

It’s all well and good to be proud of being an American and our history and everything else, but these people just didn’t jump out of bed and fight. These people were training, they were drilling, they were preparing and arming and supplying not just arms, but food, cloth, tents, things that they would need to continue to have an army once the war broke out. It wasn’t just a big—poof—this happened and we won.

Revolutionary War Weapons is now streaming on YouTube and is also available on PBS.

Photo of Jennifer Ouellette

Jennifer is a senior writer at Ars Technica with a particular focus on where science meets culture, covering everything from physics and related interdisciplinary topics to her favorite films and TV series. Jennifer lives in Baltimore with her spouse, physicist Sean M. Carroll, and their two cats, Ariel and Caliban.

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Ten cool science stories we almost missed


Bronze Age combat, moral philosophy and Reddit’s AITA, Mondrian’s fractal tree, and seven other fascinating papers.

There is rarely time to write about every cool science paper that comes our way; many worthy candidates sadly fall through the cracks over the course of the year. But as 2024 comes to a close, we’ve gathered ten of our favorite such papers at the intersection of science and culture as a special treat, covering a broad range of topics: from reenacting Bronze Age spear combat and applying network theory to the music of Johann Sebastian Bach, to Spider-Man inspired web-slinging tech and a mathematical connection between a turbulent phase transition and your morning cup of coffee. Enjoy!

Reenacting Bronze Age spear combat

Experiment with experienced fighters who spar freely using different styles.

An experiment with experienced fighters who spar freely using different styles. Credit: Valerio Gentile/CC BY

The European Bronze Age saw the rise of institutionalized warfare, evidenced by the many spearheads and similar weaponry archaeologists have unearthed. But how might these artifacts be used in actual combat? Dutch researchers decided to find out by constructing replicas of Bronze Age shields and spears and using them in realistic combat scenarios. They described their findings in an October paper published in the Journal of Archaeological Science.

There have been a couple of prior experimental studies on bronze spears, but per Valerio Gentile (now at the University of Gottingen) and coauthors, practical research to date has been quite narrow in scope, focusing on throwing weapons against static shields. Coauthors C.J. van Dijk of the National Military Museum in the Netherlands and independent researcher O. Ter Mors each had more than a decade of experience teaching traditional martial arts, specializing in medieval polearms and one-handed weapons. So they were ideal candidates for testing the replica spears and shields.

Of course, there is no direct information on prehistoric fighting styles, so van Dijk and Mors relied on basic biomechanics of combat movements with similar weapons detailed in historic manuals. They ran three versions of the experiment: one focused on engagement and controlled collisions, another on delivering wounding body blows, and the third on free sparring. They then studied wear marks left on the spearheads and found they matched the marks found on similar genuine weapons excavated from Bronze Age sites. They also gleaned helpful clues to the skills required to use such weapons.

DOI: Journal of Archaeological Science, 2024. 10.1016/j.jas.2024.106044 (About DOIs).

Physics of Ned Kahn’s kinetic sculptures

Ned Kahn's Shimmer Wall, The Franklin Institute, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

Shimmer Wall, The Franklin Institute, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Credit: Ned Kahn

Environmental artist and sculptor Ned Kahn is famous for his kinematic building facades, inspired by his own background in science. An exterior wall on the Children’s Museum of Pittsburgh, for instance, consists of hundreds of flaps that move in response to wind, creating distinctive visual patterns. Kahn used the same method to create his Shimmer Wall at Philadelphia’s Franklin Institute, as well as several other similar projects.

Physicists at Sorbonne Universite in Paris have studied videos of Kahn’s kinetic facades and conducted experiments to measure the underlying physical mechanisms, outlined in a November paper published in the journal Physical Review Fluids. The authors analyzed 18 YouTube videos taken of six of Kahn’s kinematic facades, working with Kahn and building management to get the dimensions of the moving plates, scaling up from the video footage to get further information on spatial dimensions.

They also conducted their own wind tunnel experiments, using strings of pendulum plates. Their measurements confirmed that the kinetic patterns were propagating waves to create the flickering visual effects. The plates’ movement is driven primarily by their natural resonant frequencies at low speeds, and by pressure fluctuations from the wind at higher speeds.

DOI: Physical Review Fluids, 2024. 10.1103/PhysRevFluids.9.114604 (About DOIs).

How brewing coffee connects to turbulence

Trajectories in time traced out by turbulent puffs as they move along a simulated pipe and in experiments, with blue regions indicate the puff

Trajectories in time traced out by turbulent puffs as they move along a simulated pipe and in experiments, with blue regions indicate puff “traffic jams.” Credit: Grégoire Lemoult et al., 2024

Physicists have been studying turbulence for centuries, particularly the transitional period where flows shift from predictably smooth (laminar flow) to highly turbulent. That transition is marked by localized turbulent patches known as “puffs,” which often form in fluids flowing through a pipe or channel. In an October paper published in the journal Nature Physics, physicists used statistical mechanics to reveal an unexpected connection between the process of brewing coffee and the behavior of those puffs.

Traditional mathematical models of percolation date back to the 1940s. Directed percolation is when the flow occurs in a specific direction, akin to how water moves through freshly ground coffee beans, flowing down in the direction of gravity. There’s a sweet spot for the perfect cuppa, where the rate of flow is sufficiently slow to absorb most of the flavor from the beans, but also fast enough not to back up in the filter. That sweet spot in your coffee brewing process corresponds to the aforementioned laminar-turbulent transition in pipes.

Physicist Nigel Goldenfeld of the University of California, San Diego, and his coauthors used pressure sensors to monitor the formation of puffs in a pipe, focusing on how puff-to-puff interactions influenced each other’s motion. Next, they tried to mathematically model the relevant phase transitions to predict puff behavior. They found that the puffs behave much like cars moving on a freeway during rush hour: they are prone to traffic jams—i.e., when a turbulent patch matches the width of the pipe, causing other puffs to build up behind it—that form and dissipate on their own. And they tend to “melt” at the laminar-turbulent transition point.

DOI: Nature Physics, 2024. 10.1038/s41567-024-02513-0 (About DOIs).

Network theory and Bach’s music

In a network representation of music, notes are represented by nodes, and transition between notes are represented by directed edges connecting the nodes. Credit: S. Kulkarni et al., 2024

When you listen to music, does your ability to remember or anticipate the piece tell you anything about its structure? Physicists at the University of Pennsylvania developed a model based on network theory to do just that, describing their work in a February paper published in the journal Physical Review Research. Johann Sebastian Bach’s works were an ideal choice given the highly mathematical structure, plus the composer was so prolific, across so many very different kinds of musical compositions—preludes, fugues, chorales, toccatas, concertos, suites, and cantatas—as to allow for useful comparisons.

First, the authors built a simple “true” network for each composition, in which individual notes served as “nodes” and the transitions from note to note served as “edges” connecting them. Then they calculated the amount of information in each network. They found it was possible to tell the difference between compositional forms based on their information content (entropy). The more complex toccatas and fugues had the highest entropy, while simpler chorales had the lowest.

Next, the team wanted to quantify how effectively this information was communicated to the listener, a task made more difficult by the innate subjectivity of human perception. They developed a fuzzier “inferred” network model for this purpose, capturing an essential aspect of our perception: we find a balance between accuracy and cost, simplifying some details so as to make it easier for our brains to process incoming information like music.

The results: There were fewer differences between the true and inferred networks for Bach’s compositions than for randomly generated networks, suggesting that clustering and the frequent repetition of transitions (represented by thicker edges) in Bach networks were key to effectively communicating information to the listener. The next step is to build a multi-layered network model that incorporates elements like rhythm, timbre, chords, or counterpoint (a Bach specialty).

DOI: Physical Review Research, 2024. 10.1103/PhysRevResearch.6.013136 (About DOIs).

The philosophy of Reddit’s AITA

Count me among the many people practically addicted to Reddit’s “Am I the Asshole” (AITA) forum. It’s such a fascinating window into the intricacies of how flawed human beings navigate different relationships, whether personal or professional. That’s also what makes it a fantastic source of illustrative common-place dilemmas of moral decision-making for philosophers like Daniel Yudkin of the University of Pennsylvania. Relational context matters, as Yudkin and several co-authors ably demonstrated in a PsyArXiv preprint earlier this year.

For their study, Yudkin et al. compiled a dataset of nearly 370,000 AITA posts, along with over 11 million comments, posted between 2018 and 2021. They used machine learning to analyze the language used to sort all those posts into different categories. They relied on an existing taxonomy identifying six basic areas of moral concern: fairness/proportionality, feelings, harm/offense, honesty, relational obligation, and social norms.

Yudkin et al. identified 29 of the most common dilemmas in the AITA dataset and grouped them according to moral theme. Two of the most common were relational transgression and relational omission (failure to do what was expected), followed by behavioral over-reaction and unintended harm. Cheating and deliberate misrepresentation/dishonesty were the moral dilemmas rated most negatively in the dataset—even more so than intentional harm. Being judgmental was also evaluated very negatively, as it was often perceived as being self-righteous or hypocritical. The least negatively evaluated dilemmas were relational omissions.

As for relational context, cheating and broken promise dilemmas typically involved romantic partners like boyfriends rather than one’s mother, for example, while mother-related dilemmas more frequently fell under relational omission. Essentially, “people tend to disappoint their mothers but be disappointed by their boyfriends,” the authors wrote. Less close relationships, by contrast, tend to be governed by “norms of politeness and procedural fairness.” Hence, Yudkin et al. prefer to think of morality “less as a set of abstract principles and more as a ‘relational toolkit,’ guiding and constraining behavior according to the demands of the social situation.”

DOI: PsyArXiv, 2024. 10.31234/osf.io/5pcew (About DOIs).

Fractal scaling of trees in art

De grijze boom (Gray tree) Piet Mondrian, 1911.

De grijze boom (Gray tree) by Piet Mondrian, 1911. Credit: Public domain

Leonardo da Vinci famously invented a so-called “rule of trees” as a guide to realistically depicting trees in artistic representations according to their geometric proportions. In essence, if you took all the branches of a given tree, folded them up and compressed them into something resembling a trunk, that trunk would have the same thickness from top to bottom. That rule in turn implies a fractal branching pattern, with a scaling exponent of about 2 describing the proportions between the diameters of nearby boughs and the number of boughs with a given diameter.

According to the authors of a preprint posted to the physics arXiv in February, however, recent biological research suggests a higher scaling exponent of 3 known as Murray’s Law, for the rule of trees. Their analysis of 16th century Islamic architecture, Japanese paintings from the Edo period, and 20th century European art showed fractal scaling between 1.5 and 2.5. However, when they analyzed an abstract tree painting by Piet Mondrian, they found it exhibited fractal scaling of 3, before mathematicians had formulated Murray’s Law, even though Mondrian’s tree did not feature explicit branching.

The findings intrigued physicist Richard Taylor of the University of Oregon, whose work over the last 20 years includes analyzing fractal patterns in the paintings of Jackson Pollock. “In particular, I thought the extension to Mondrian’s ‘trees’ was impressive,” he told Ars earlier this year. “I like that it establishes a connection between abstract and representational forms. It makes me wonder what would happen if the same idea were to be applied to Pollock’s poured branchings.”

Taylor himself published a 2022 paper about climate change and how nature’s stress-reducing fractals might disappear in the future. “If we are pessimistic for a moment, and assume that climate change will inevitably impact nature’s fractals, then our only future source of fractal aesthetics will be through art, design and architecture,” he said. “This brings a very practical element to studies like [this].”

DOI: arXiv, 2024. 10.48550/arXiv.2402.13520 (About DOIs).

IDing George Washington’s descendants

Portrait of George Washington

A DNA study identified descendants of George Washington from unmarked remains. Credit: Public domain

DNA profiling is an incredibly useful tool in forensics, but the most common method—short tandem repeat (STR) analysis—typically doesn’t work when remains are especially degraded, especially if said remains have been preserved with embalming methods using formaldehyde. This includes the remains of US service members who died in such past conflicts as World War II, Korea, Vietnam, and the Cold War. That’s why scientists at the Armed Forces Medical Examiner System’s identification lab at the Dover Air Force Base have developed new DNA sequencing technologies.

They used those methods to identify the previously unmarked remains of descendants of George Washington, according to a March paper published in the journal iScience. The team tested three sets of remains and compared the results with those of a known living descendant, using methods for assessing paternal and maternal relationships, as well as a new method for next-generation sequencing data involving some 95,000 single-nucleotide polymorphisms (SNPs) in order to better predict more distant ancestry. The combined data confirmed that the remains belonged to Washington’s descendants and the new method should help do the same for the remains of as-yet-unidentified service members.

In related news, in July, forensic scientists successfully used descendant DNA to identify a victim of the 1921 Tulsa massacre in Oklahoma City, buried in a mass grave containing more than a hundred victims. C.L. Daniel was a World War I veteran, still in his 20s when he was killed. More than 120 such graves have been found since 2020, with DNA collected from around 30 sets of remains, but this is the first time those remains have been directly linked to the massacre. There are at least 17 other victims in the grave where Daniel’s remains were found.

DOI: iScience, 2024. 10.1016/j.isci.2024.109353 (About DOIs).

Spidey-inspired web-slinging tech

stream of liquid silk quickly turns to a strong fiber that sticks to and lifts objects

stream of liquid silk quickly turns to a strong fiber that sticks to and lifts objects. Credit: Marco Lo Presti et al., 2024

Over the years, researchers in Tufts University’s Silklab have come up with all kinds of ingenious bio-inspired uses for the sticky fibers found in silk moth cocoons: adhesive glues, printable sensors, edible coatings, and light-collecting materials for solar cells, to name a few. Their latest innovation is a web-slinging technology inspired by Spider-Man’s ability to shoot webbing from his wrists, described in an October paper published in the journal Advanced Functional Materials.

Coauthor Marco Lo Presti was cleaning glassware with acetone in the lab one day when he noticed something that looked a lot like webbing forming on the bottom of a glass. He realized this could be the key to better replicating spider threads for the purpose of shooting the fibers from a device like Spider-Man—something actual spiders don’t do. (They spin the silk, find a surface, and draw out lines of silk to build webs.)

The team boiled silk moth cocoons in a solution to break them down into proteins called fibroin. The fibroin was then extruded through bore needles into a stream. Spiking the fibroin solution with just the right additives will cause it to solidify into fiber once it comes into contact with air. For the web-slinging technology, they added dopamine to the fibroin solution and then shot it through a needle in which the solution was surrounded by a layer of acetone, which triggered solidification.

The acetone quickly evaporated, leaving just the webbing attached to whatever object it happened it hit. The team tested the resulting fibers and found they could lift a steel bolt, a tube floating on water, a partially buried scalpel and a wooden block—all from as far away as 12 centimeters. Sure, natural spider silk is still about 1000 times stronger than these fibers, but it’s still a significant step forward that paves the way for future novel technological applications.

DOI: Advanced Functional Materials, 2024. 10.1002/adfm.202414219

Solving a mystery of a 12th century supernova

Pa 30 is the supernova remnant of SN 1181.

Pa 30 is the supernova remnant of SN 1181. Credit: unWISE (D. Lang)/CC BY-SA 4.0

In 1181, astronomers in China and Japan recorded the appearance of a “guest star” that shone as bright as Saturn and was visible in the sky for six months. We now know it was a supernova (SN1181), one of only five such known events occurring in our Milky Way. Astronomers got a closer look at the remnant of that supernova and have determined the nature of strange filaments resembling dandelion petals that emanate from a “zombie star” at its center, according to an October paper published in The Astrophysical Journal Letters.

The Chinese and Japanese astronomers only recorded an approximate location for the unusual sighting, and for centuries no one managed to make a confirmed identification of a likely remnant from that supernova. Then, in 2021, astronomers measured the speed of expansion of a nebula known as Pa 30, which enabled them to determine its age: around 1,000 years, roughly coinciding with the recorded appearance of SN1181. PA 30 is an unusual remnant because of its zombie star—most likely itself a remnant of the original white dwarf that produced the supernova.

This latest study relied on data collected by Caltech’s Keck Cosmic Web Imager, a spectrograph at the Keck Observatory in Hawaii. One of the unique features of this instrument is that it can measure the motion of matter in a supernova and use that data to create something akin to a 3D movie of the explosion. The authors were able to create such a 3D map of P 30 and calculated that the zombie star’s filaments have ballistic motion, moving at approximately 1,000 kilometers per second.

Nor has that velocity changed since the explosion, enabling them to date that event almost exactly to 1181. And the findings raised fresh questions—namely, the ejected filament material is asymmetrical—which is unusual for a supernova remnant. The authors suggest that asymmetry may originate with the initial explosion.

There’s also a weird inner gap around the zombie star. Both will be the focus of further research.

DOI: Astrophysical Journal Letters, 2024. 10.3847/2041-8213/ad713b (About DOIs).

Reviving a “lost” 16th century score

manuscript page of Aberdeen Breviary : Volume 1 or 'Pars Hiemalis'

Fragment of music from The Aberdeen Breviary: Volume 1 Credit: National Library of Scotland /CC BY 4.0

Never underestimate the importance of marginalia in old manuscripts. Scholars from the University of Edinburgh and KU Leuven in Belgium can attest to that, having discovered a fragment of “lost” music from 16th-century pre-Reformation Scotland in a collection of worship texts. The team was even able to reconstruct the fragment and record it to get a sense of what music sounded like from that period in northeast Scotland, as detailed in a December paper published in the journal Music and Letters.

King James IV of Scotland commissioned the printing of several copies of The Aberdeen Breviary—a collection of prayers, hymns, readings, and psalms for daily worship—so that his subjects wouldn’t have to import such texts from England or Europe. One 1510 copy, known as the “Glamis copy,” is currently housed in the National Library of Scotland in Edinburgh. It was while examining handwritten annotations in this copy that the authors discovered the musical fragment on a page bound into the book—so it hadn’t been slipped between the pages at a later date.

The team figured out the piece was polyphonic, and then realized it was the tenor part from a harmonization for three or four voices of the hymn “Cultor Dei,” typically sung at night during Lent. (You can listen to a recording of the reconstructed composition here.) The authors also traced some of the history of this copy of The Aberdeen Breviary, including its use at one point by a rural chaplain at Aberdeen Cathedral, before a Scottish Catholic acquired it as a family heirloom.

“Identifying a piece of music is a real ‘Eureka’ moment for musicologists,” said coauthor David Coney of Edinburgh College of Art. “Better still, the fact that our tenor part is a harmony to a well-known melody means we can reconstruct the other missing parts. As a result, from just one line of music scrawled on a blank page, we can hear a hymn that had lain silent for nearly five centuries, a small but precious artifact of Scotland’s musical and religious traditions.”

DOI: Music and Letters, 2024. 10.1093/ml/gcae076 (About DOIs).

Photo of Jennifer Ouellette

Jennifer is a senior reporter at Ars Technica with a particular focus on where science meets culture, covering everything from physics and related interdisciplinary topics to her favorite films and TV series. Jennifer lives in Baltimore with her spouse, physicist Sean M. Carroll, and their two cats, Ariel and Caliban.

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study:-why-aztec-“death-whistles”-sound-like-human-screams

Study: Why Aztec “death whistles” sound like human screams

Aztec death whistles don’t fit into any existing Western classification for wind instruments; they seem to be a unique kind of “air spring” whistle, based on CT scans of some of the artifacts. Sascha Frühholz, a cognitive and affective neuroscientist at the University of Zürich, and several colleagues wanted to learn more about the physical mechanisms behind the whistle’s distinctive sound, as well as how humans perceive said sound—a field known as psychoacoustics. “The whistles have a very unique construction, and we don’t know of any comparable musical instrument from other pre-Columbian cultures or from other historical and contemporary contexts,” said Frühholz.

A symbolic sound?

Human sacrifice with original skull whistle (small red box and enlarged rotated view in lower right) discovered 1987–89 at the Ehecatl-Quetzalcoatl temple in Mexico City, Mexico.

Human sacrifice with original skull whistle (small red box and enlarged rotated view in lower right) discovered 1987–89 at the Ehecatl-Quetzalcoatl temple in Mexico City. Credit: Salvador Guillien Arroyo, Proyecto Tlatelolco

For their acoustic analysis, Frühholz et al. obtained sound recordings from two Aztec skull whistles excavated from Tlatelolco, as well as from three noise whistles (part of Aztec fire snake incense ladles). They took CT scans of whistles in the collection of the Ethnological Museum in Berlin, enabling them to create both 3D digital reconstructions and physical clay replicas. They were also able to acquire three additional artisanal clay whistles for experimental purposes.

Human participants then blew into the replicas with low-, medium-, and high-intensity air pressure, and the ensuing sounds were recorded. Those recordings were compared to existing databases of a broad range of sounds: animals, natural soundscapes, water sounds, urban noise, synthetic sounds (as for computers, pinball machines, printers, etc.), and various ancient instruments, among other samples. Finally, a group of 70 human listeners rated a random selection of sounds from a collection of over 2,500 samples.

The CT scans showed that skull whistles have an internal tube-like air duct with a constricted passage, a counter pressure chamber, a collision chamber, and a bell cavity. The unusual construction suggests that the basic principle at play is the Venturi effect, in which air (or a generic fluid) speeds up as it flows through a constricted passage, thereby reducing the pressure. “At high playing intensities and air speeds, this leads to acoustic distortions and to a rough and piercing sound character that seems uniquely produced by the skull whistles,” the authors wrote.

Study: Why Aztec “death whistles” sound like human screams Read More »