hominins

stone-tools-may-hint-at-ancestors-of-homo-floresiensis

Stone tools may hint at ancestors of Homo floresiensis

Some stone tools found near a river on the Indonesian island of Sulawesi suggest that the first hominins had reached the islands by at least 1.04 million years ago. That’s around the same time that the ancestors of the infamously diminutive “Hobbits” may have reached the island of Flores.

Archaeologist Budianto Hakim of Indonesia’s National Research and Innovation Agency and his colleagues were the ones who recently unearthed the tools from a site on Sulawesi. Although a handful of stone flakes from that island don’t tell us who the ancestors of the small species were or how they reached remote islands like Flores and Luzon, the tools are one more piece in the puzzle. And this handful of stone flakes may eventually play a role in helping us understand how other hominin species conquered most of the world long before we came along. 

Crossing the ocean a million years ago

Sometimes the deep past leaves the smallest traces. At the Calio site, a sandstone outcrop in what’s now a cornfield outside the village of Ujung in southern Sulawesi, people left behind just a handful of sharp stone flakes roughly a million years ago. There are seven of them, ranging from 22 to 60 millimeters long, and they’re scratched, worn, and chipped from tumbling around at the bottom of a river. But it’s still clear that they were once shaped by skilled human—or at least human-like—hands that used hard stones as hammers to make sharp-edged chert flakes for cutting and scraping.

The oldest of these tools is likely to be between 1.04 and 1.48 million years old. Hakim and his colleagues dated teeth from a wild pig to around 1.26 million years ago. They were part of a jawbone archaeologists unearthed from a layer just above the oldest flake. Throw in some statistical modeling, and you get the range of likely dates for the stone flake buried in the deepest layer of soil.

Even the younger end of that estimate would make these tools the oldest evidence yet of hominins (of any species) in the islands of Indonesia and the Philippines. This area, sometimes called Wallacea, lies between the continents of Asia and Australia, separated from both by wide channels of deep ocean.

“But the Calio site has yet to yield any hominin fossils,” said Brumm, “so while we now know there were tool-makers on Sulawesi a million years ago, their identity remains a mystery.” But they may be related to the Hobbits, a short-statured group of hominins who lived hundreds of kilometers away on the island of Flores until around 50,000 years ago.

“The discovery of Early Pleistocene artifacts at Calio suggests that Sulawesi was populated by hominins at around the same time as Flores, if not earlier,” wrote Hakim and his colleagues in their recent paper. 

The Flores connection

The islands that now make up Indonesia and the Philippines have been a hominin hotspot for at least a million years. Our species wandered onto the scene sometime between 63,000 and 73,000 years ago, but at least one other hominin species had already been there for at least a million years. We’re just not sure exactly who they were, when they arrived, or how.

“Precisely when hominins first crossed to Sulawesi remains an open question, as does the taxonomic affinity of the colonizing population,” the authors note. 

map of Wallacean islands

This map shows the islands of Wallacea. The large one just east of Java is Sulawesi. Credit: Darren O’Connell

That’s why the handful of stone tools the team recently unearthed at Calio matter: They’re another piece of that puzzle, albeit a small one. Every slightly older date is one step closer to the first hominin tools, bones, or footprints in these islands, and another pin on the map of who was where and when.

And that map is accumulating quite a lot of pins, representing an ever-increasing number of species. Once the first hominins made it across the Makassar Strait, they found themselves in isolated groups on islands cut off from the mainland—and each other—so the hominin family tree started branching very quickly. On at least two islands, Flores and Luzon, those original hominin settlers eventually gave rise to local species, Homo floresiensis and Homo luzonensis. And University of Wollongong paleoanthropologist Richard Roberts, a co-discoverer of Homo floresiensis, thinks there are probably more isolated island hominin species.

In 2019, when Homo luzonensis was first described, Roberts told Ars, “These new fossils, and the assignation of them to a new species (Homo luzonensis), fulfills one of the predictions Mike Morwood and others (myself included) made when we first reported (15 years ago!) the discovery of Homo floresiensis: that other unknown species of hominins would be found in the islands of Southeast Asia.”

Both Homo floresiensis (the original “Hobbits”) and Homo luzonensis were short, clocking in at just over a meter tall. Their bones and teeth are different enough from each other to set them apart as a unique species, but they have enough in common that they probably share a common ancestor—one they don’t share with us. They’re more like our distant cousins, and the islands of Wallacea may have been home to many other such cousins, if Roberts and his colleagues are correct. 

Complicated family history

But who was the common ancestor of all these hominin cousins? That’s where things get complicated (as if they weren’t already). Most paleoanthropologists lean toward Homo erectus, but there’s a chance—along with some tantalizing hints, and no direct evidence—that much more ancient human relatives called Australopithecines may have made the journey a million (or two) years before Homo erectus.

Finger and toe bones from Homo luzonensis are curved, as if they spent as much of their lives climbing trees as walking. That’s more like Australopithecines than any member of our genus Homo. But their teeth are smaller and shaped more like ours. Anthropologists call this mix of features a mosaic, and it can make it tough to figure out how hominin species are related. That’s part of why the question of when the ancestors of the Hobbits arrived on their respective islands is so important.

Illusstrated chart of bones and teeth from three hominins

Compare the teeth and phalanx of Homo luzonensis to those of Homo sapiens (right) and Australopithecus afarensis (left). Credit: Tocheri 2019

We don’t know the answer yet, but we do know that someone was making stone tools on Flores by 1.02 million years ago. Those toolmakers may have been Homo erectus, Australopithecines, or something already recognizable as tiny Homo floresiensis. The Hobbits (or their ancestors) were distinctly “Hobbity” by around 700,000 years ago; fossil teeth and bones from a handful of hominins at a site called Mata Menge make that clear. The Hobbits discovered at Liang Bua Cave on Flores date to somewhere between 50,000 and 100,000 years ago.

Meanwhile, 2,800 kilometers away on the island of Luzon, the oldest stone tools, along with their obvious cut marks left behind on animal bones, date back to 700,000 years ago. That’s as old as the Mata Menge Hobbits on Flores. The oldest Homo luzonensis fossils are between 50,000 and 67,000 years old. It’s entirely possible that older evidence, of the island’s original settlers and of Homo luzonensis, may eventually be found, but until then, we’re left with a lot of blank space and a lot of questions.

And now we know that the oldest traces of hominin presence on Sulawesi is at least 1.04 million years old. But might Sulawesi have its own diminutive hominins?

So are there more Hobbits out there?

“Sulawesi is a wild card—it’s like a mini-continent in itself,” said Brumm. “If hominins were cut off on this huge and ecologically rich island for a million years, would they have undergone the same evolutionary changes as the Flores hobbits? Or would something totally different have happened?”

Reconstruction of Homo floresiensis by Atelier Elisabeth Daynes. Credit: Kinez Riza

A phenomenon called island dwarfism played a role in Homo floresiensis‘ evolution; species that live in relative isolation on small islands tend to evolve into either much larger or much smaller versions of their ancestors (which is why the Hobbits shared their island home with pygmy elephants and giant moas). But how small does an island need to be before island dwarfism kicks in? Sulawesi is about 12 times as large as Flores, for example. So what might the descendants of the Calio toolmakers have looked like by 100,000 years ago?

That’s something that we’ll only know if archaeologists on Sulawesi, like Hakim and his team, find fossil remains of those hominins.

Seafarers or tsunami survivors?

Understanding exactly when hominins first set foot on the island of Sulawesi might eventually help us figure out how they got there. These islands are thousands of kilometers from the Southeast Asian mainland and from each other, so getting there would have meant crossing vast stretches of deep, open ocean.

Archaeologists haven’t found any evidence that anyone who came before our species built boats or rafts, although those watercraft would have been made of materials that tend to decay pretty quickly, so even scraps of ancient wood and rope are extremely rare and lucky finds. But some ancient hominins did have a decent grasp of all the basic skills they’d need for at least a simple raft: woodworking and rope-making. 

Another possibility is that hominins living on the coast of mainland Southeast Asia could have been swept out to sea by a tsunami, and some of them could have been lucky enough to survive the misadventure and wash ashore someplace like Sulawesi, Flores, or Luzon (RIP to any others). But for that scenario to work, enough hominins would have had to reach each island to create a lasting population, and it probably had to happen more than once to end up with hominin groups on at least three distant islands.

Either way, it’s no small feat, even for a Hobbit with small feet.

Nature, 2025 DOI: 10.1038/s41586-025-09348-6 (About DOIs).

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Oldest wooden tools in East Asia may have come from any of three species

That leaves a few possibilities: Denisovans, Homo heidelbergensis (the common ancestor of Neanderthals, Denisovans, and our species), or Homo erectus. All three species could have lived in the area at the time. But nobody at Gantangqing left behind any convenient, readily identifiable bones along with their wooden tools, stone tools, and butchered animal bones (so inconsiderate of them), making it hard to pin down exactly which species these 300,000-year-old hunter-gatherers belonged to.

Homo erectus had been in Asia for more than a million years by the time Gantangqing’s lakeshore was occupied; the oldest Homo erectus fossils in Asia are from Indonesia and date back 1.8 million years. They also stuck around until quite recently. In caves at a site called Zhoukoudian, outside Beijing in eastern China, Homo erectus remains date to sometime between 700,000 and 200,000 years ago (there’s still a lot of debate on exactly how old the site is).

All of that means that Homo erectus’ presence in the region overlaps the age of the wood tools at Gantangqing. And the stone tools found nearby are fairly simple cores and flakes that don’t rule out Homo erectus as their makers. Archaeologists haven’t unearthed evidence of Homo erectus making or using sophisticated wooden tools like this, but for a species that managed to harness fire and cross miles of ocean, it’s not too wild a speculation.

On the other hand, we know that Denisovans were probably in the area, too, or at least not too far away. A recently identified Denisovan skull from Harbin, China, is 146,000 years old but bears a striking resemblance to other hominin skulls from sites all over China, which range from 300,000 to 200,000 years old. And making finely crafted wooden tools fits with everything we know about Denisovan capabilities.

Then there’s Homo heidelbergensis, the direct ancestor of Denisovans. In fact, it’s a little hard to tell where hominins stop being Homo heidelbergensis and start being Denisovans, or even whether the distinction matters. It’s a problem paleoanthropologists refer to as the “muddle in the Middle,” since both species date to the Middle Pleistocene. So if Homo erectus and Denisovans are in the running, so is Homo heidelbergensis, by default.

And unless someone finds a telltale skull nearby or another very similar toolkit at a site with telltale skulls to consult, we may not know for sure.

Science, 2023. DOI: 10.1126/science.adr8540  (About DOIs).

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We’ve had a Denisovan skull since the 1930s—only nobody knew


It’s a Denisovan? Always has been.

After years of mystery, we now know what at least one Denisovan looked like.

A 146,000-year-old skull from Harbin, China, belongs to a Denisovan, according to a recent study of proteins preserved inside the ancient bone. The paleoanthropologists who studied the Harbin skull in 2021 declared it a new (to us) species, Homo longi. But the Harbin skull still contains enough of its original proteins to tell a different story: A few of them matched specific proteins from Denisovan bones and teeth, as encoded in Denisovan DNA.

So Homo longi was a Denisovan all along, and thanks to the remarkably well-preserved skull, we finally know what the enigmatic Denisovans actually looked like.

Two early-human skulls against a black background.

Credit: Ni et al. 2021

The Harbin skull (left) and the Dali skull (right).

Unmasking Dragon Man 

Paleoanthropologist Qiang Ji, of the Chinese Academy of Sciences, and colleagues tried to sequence ancient DNA from several samples of the Harbin skull’s bone and its one remaining tooth, but they had no luck. Proteins tend to be hardier molecules than DNA, though, and in samples from the skull’s temporal bone (the ones on the sides of the head, just behind the cheekbones), the researchers struck pay dirt.

They found fragments of a total of 95 proteins. Four of these had variations that were distinct to the Denisovan lineage, and the Harbin skull matched Denisovans on three of them. That’s enough to confidently say that the Harbin skull had belonged to a Denisovan. So for the past few years, we’ve had images of an almost uncannily well-preserved Denisovan skull—which is a pretty big deal, especially when you consider its complicated history.

While the world is now aware of it, until 2021, only one person had known what the skull looked like since its discovery in the 1930s. It was unearthed in Harbin, in northeast China, during the Japanese occupation of the area. Not wanting it to be seized by the occupying government, the person who found the skull immediately hid it, and he kept it hidden for most of the rest of his life.

He eventually turned it over to scientists in 2018, who published their analysis in 2021. That analysis placed the Harbin skull, along with a number of other fossils from China, in a distinct lineage within our genus, Homo, making them our species’ closest fossil relatives. They called this alleged new species Homo longi, or “Dragon Man.”

The decision to classify Homo longi as a new species was largely due to the skull’s unique combination of features (which we’ll discuss below). But it was a controversial decision, partly because paleoanthropologists don’t entirely agree about whether we should even call Neanderthals a distinct species. If the line between Neanderthals and our species is that blurry, many in the field have questioned whether Homo longi could be considered a distinct species, when it’s even closer to us than the Neanderthals.

Meanwhile, the 2021 paper also left room for debate on whether the skull might actually have belonged to a Denisovan rather than a distinct new species. Its authors acknowledge that one of the fossils they label as Homo longi had already been identified as a Denisovan based on its protein sequences. They also point out that the Harbin skull has rather large molars, which seem to be a common feature in Denisovans.

The paper’s authors argued that their Homo longi should be a separate branch of the hominin lineage, more closely related to us than to Denisovans or Neanderthals. But if the Harbin skull looked so much like Denisovan fossils and so little like fossils from our species, the alleged relationship begins to look pretty dubious. In the end, the 2021 paper’s authors dodged the issue by saying that “new genetic material will test the relationship of these populations to each other and to the Denisovans.”

Which turned out to be exactly what happened.

A ghost lineage comes to life

Denisovans are the ghost in our family tree. For scientists, a “ghost lineage” is one that’s known mostly from genetic evidence, not fossils; like a ghost, it has a presence we can sense but no physical form we can touch. With the extremely well-preserved Harbin skull identified as a Denisovan, though, we’re finally able to look our “ghost” cousins in the face.

Paleogeneticists have recovered Denisovan DNA from tiny fragments of bone and teeth, and even from the soil of a cave floor. Genomics researchers have found segments of Denisovan DNA woven into the genomes of some modern humans, revealing just how close our two species once were. But the handful of Denisovan fossils paleoanthropologists have unearthed are mostly small fragments—a finger bone here, a tooth there, a jawbone someplace else—that don’t reveal much about how Denisovans lived or what they looked like.

We know they existed and that they were something slightly different from Homo sapiens or Neanderthals. We even know when and where they lived and a surprising amount about their genetics, and we have some very strong hints about how they interacted with our species and with Neanderthals. But we didn’t really know what they looked like, and we couldn’t hope to identify their fossils without turning to DNA or protein sequences.

Until now.

Neanderthals and Denisovans probably enjoyed the view from Denisova Cave, too. Credit: loronet / Flickr

The face of a Denisovan

So what did a Denisovan look like? Harbin 1 has a wide, flattish face with small cheekbones, big eye sockets, and a heavy brow. Its upper jaw juts forward just a little, and it had big, robust molars. The cranium itself is longer and less dome-like than ours, but it’s roomy enough for a big brain (about 1,420 millimeters).

Some of those traits, like the large molars and the long, low cranium, resemble those of earlier hominin species such as Homo erectus or Homo heidelbergensis. Others, like a relatively flat face, set beneath the cranium instead of sticking out in front of it, look more like us. (Early hominins, like Australopithecus afarensis, don’t really have foreheads because their skulls are arranged so their brains are right behind their faces instead of partly above them, like ours.)

In other words, Harbin’s features are what paleoanthropologists call a mosaic, with some traits that look like they come from older lineages and some that seem more modern. Mosaics are common in the hominin family tree.

But for all the detail it reveals about the Denisovans, Harbin is still just one skull from one individual. Imagine trying to reconstruct all the diversity of human faces from just one skull. We have to assume that Densiovans—a species that spanned a huge swath of our planet, from Siberia to Taiwan, and a wide range of environments, from high-altitude plateaus in Tibet to subtropical forests—were also a pretty diverse species.

It’s also worth remembering that the Harbin skull is exactly that: a skull. It can’t tell us much about how tall its former user was, how they were built, or how they moved or worked during their life. We can’t even say for sure whether Harbin is osteologically or genetically male or female. In other words, some of the mystery of the Denisovans still endures.

What’s next?

In the 2021 papers, the researchers noted that the Harbin skull also bears a resemblance to a 200,000- to 260,000-year-old skull found in Dali County in northwestern China, a roughly 300,000-year-old skull found in Hualong Cave in eastern China, and a 260,000-year-old skull from Jinniushi (sometimes spelled Jinniushan) Cave in China. And some fossils from Taiwan and northern China have molars that look an awful lot like those in that Tibetan jawbone.

“These hominins potentially also belong to Denisovan populations,” write Ji and colleagues. That means we might already have a better sample of Denisovan diversity than this one skull suggests.

And, like the Harbin skull, the bones and teeth of those other fossils may hold ancient DNA or proteins that could help confirm that intriguing possibility.

Science, 2023 DOI: 10.1126/science.adu9677 (About DOIs).

Photo of Kiona N. Smith

Kiona is a freelance science journalist and resident archaeology nerd at Ars Technica.

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