Once I'm awake at 3 or 4 o'clock in the morning it's difficult for me to get back to sleep. So you can thank one of my kids for this blog post: an unwelcome early morning wake-up provided me an opportunity to start doing some homework on the Kensington Rune Stone (KRS).  We'll be discussing the history of analysis and interpretation of the stone in my Forbidden Archaeology class this fall during a unit on claims for pre-Colmbian transoceanic contact. If you've been following along at home, you know that Scott Wolter, a prominent advocate of the KRS, has agreed to participate in my class. I'd like to get him here to interact with my students in person, so I've started raising some travel funds: click here to contribute if you'd like to help make this happen.

Debate about the authenticity and potential implications of the KRS has gone on semi-continuously since the stone was first reported in 1898 (you can read reviews of the history of the debate here and here, among other places). As I'm in the habit of using my blog to help me organize my research, I'll probably write posts as I work my way through the debate.

This morning I read through the 1910 article by  Hjalmar Rued Holand in The Journal of American History (Volume 4, pp. 165-184, available here). The first thing that struck me was the title:

How could the KRS be an authentic European artifact and a "native" document? The last time I checked, the term "native" referred to a geographical association by birth (a person born in a place is "native" to that place). The immediate implication of Holand's word choice, I think, is that he thinks the KRS somehow legitimizes the idea that people of Norse descent are "native" to the area by virtue of a fourteenth century Norse expedition that he believes carved the stone and left it in Minnesota. It's possible I missed some nuance, as I read the paper quickly. 

The second thing that struck me is the similarity between the debates that were taking place in the first decade of the twentieth century and the debates that are still taking place today.  Then, as now, arguments about the stone's authenticity revolved around three main bullet points:
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• Improbability: how could a Norse party have journeyed that far into the interior of North America and left only a stone?

• Runological correctness: are the runes and language on the stone "correct" for the mid-fourteenth century, or are they the work of a modern hoaxer?

• Material characteristics: are the features on the modified and unmodified surfaces of the stone consistent with creation of the inscription during the fourteenth century?

Holand considers each of these in varying amounts of detail, concluding without reservation that the stone is authentic. The arguments about the runes and the geology are strikingly similar to recent treatments. Here is what he says about the geology (p. 179): 

As Scott Wolter has demonstrated, consideration of the runes and geology of the stone still provide grounds for discussion. Given the length of the debate about these aspects of the stone, however, I think it's reasonable to wonder if analysis of the intrinsic qualities of this single artifact will ever resolve to everyone's satisfaction the question of whether the KRS is a hoax or an authentic artifact related to a fourteenth century European expedition into the interior of North America.

As an archaeologist, the "improbability" question is of greater interest to me than questions of runes or geology. Human behavior leaves material traces. If the KRS was produced by a fourteenth century European expedition (Holand goes so far as to specify who he thinks led the expedition), I would expect that there would be some tangible traces of that expedition in addition to a carved stone (remains of campsites? European goods incorporated into Native American economies?). Those traces are not likely to be easy to find, however: we can anticipate that the residues left by a small, rapidly moving expedition would be very difficult to locate.  For the sake of comparison, consider the archaeology of early Spanish attempts to explore and colonize the Southeast. Hernando De Soto journeyed through the southeast in the mid-1500's with a small medieval army of about 600 people along with wagons, pigs, and horses.  De Soto's group (much larger, I think, than the party that most people envision would have been associated with a proposed Norse exploration of the American interior) left a very faint archaeological signature. The location of the short-lived coastal colony of San Miguel de Gualdape, occupied by 500 people for a few months in 1526-1527, has yet to be identified. The Mississippian village of Cofitachequi, visited by the De Soto expedition in 1540 and the Juan Pardo expedition in the 1560's, has yet to be identified based on positive material evidence (although it almost has to be the Mulberry site). The location of Fort San Juan, the first interior Spanish settlement in the interior of North America, was only recently confirmed to be at the Berry site in North Carolina.

While the traces left by Spanish expeditions are light, they aren't invisible. Is it possible that definitive evidence of a Norse expedition into the interior (other than the KRS) would be so light as to fly under the radar despite a century of scrutiny? It's a fair question.

I admit that my first reaction as I start to learn more about the KRS is a bit of disappointment: has the debate over this artifact really remained so static over the last 100 years? I hope not. I also find myself asking what else there is to go on at this point. Despite what the popular media tell us, archaeology is not primarily a game of singular "discoveries" like the KRS. It's about patterns, multiple lines of evidence, and putting in the hard work to understand how the past human behaviors we want to understand relate to the material traces we can observe and study. If the KRS is genuine, it's hinting at a pretty interesting story. But it won't be the only piece of evidence that can tell the story. With the main points of argument about the KRS apparently still unresolved after 100 years, I'd spend some effort pursuing other avenues if I was looking for positive evidence of Norse expedition into the interior in 1362.

I think Holand's use of "native" hints at the context of his advocacy of the KRS. That doesn't, in and of itself, mean he's wrong about the stone, however. His paper mentions several things I plan to look into further. And so it begins.

I set up a Go Fund Me campaign to raise money to fund Scott Wolter's travel to Columbia to participate in my Forbidden Archaeology class this fall. To recap, Wolter agreed to participate in my class in response to an open invitation I posted as I began constructing and organizing the course last year. While we've still got some details to work out, it looks to me like it will cost about $1000 to fly him down here and put him in a hotel for a few nights. I'm hoping he can do two class periods and have time to do some other things as well.

Forbidden Archaeology (ANT 291) will be organized around the premise that credible ideas about the human past can withstand scrutiny and challenges, while incorrect ideas can be shown to be incorrect. My goal is to give the students the confidence, tools, and information they need to critically evaluate ideas about the past. 

As Wolter has written, the Kensington Rune Stone is either a hoax or it's not -- can new interpretations of the stone be falsified? Let's find out!

I think that bringing Wolter to Columbia will greatly enhance the experience for all involved, facilitating a much broader range of interactions with my students than would be possible via remote participation (i.e., though something like Skype).  

​If you want to help make this happen, please consider contributing to the Scott Wolter Travel Fund.

I've written about Betty before: once here and once here. I was never in love with Betty, and tried to sell her a couple of times. The sales never worked out, and I ended up giving her to Alec Lindsay and Kate Teeter, family friends who live in Marquette, Michigan. Alec came down with a trailer and carted Betty all the way to the Upper Peninsula, where (as far as I know) she lives to this day.

​At this point I had decided to build a creature of some kind, but I wasn't sure what. I knew this was going to be the torso and that I wanted some moving parts. In this photo, I was trying to figure out how to add another bicycle sprocket assembly (purple) from one of my daughter's old bicycles. I have welded on part of a hand truck (green) that also contributed parts to Eileen (May 2011).

​We got 208 pounds of hand-picked scrap for 60 bucks. I found four brake rotors to use as bases for the feet. The curving black parts are table legs that I used for the neck. Some of these parts went into both the body and base of the dragonfly. I also got some exhaust headers and some other things that will become part of something someday (June 2011).

This photo shows the feet and legs roughed in and some pieces in place for the neck (June 2011). The lower segments of all four limbs are pieces of MacPherson struts that I got from the scrap pile that accumulates every day behind the Midas shop. The lower segments bolt onto the upper segments: my thought was that it might be difficult to move this thing if I made the feet very heavy. Unlike during construction of the dragonfly and Eileen, I knew enough to: (1) not cut coil springs without compressing them; (2) drill a hole to drain the fluid before welding to prevent (3) explosive plumes of burning liquid from spraying on me.

​Front feet, legs, and shoulders in progress (June 2011). The right foot is tilted up using an old axe head that I've been hauling around for years. I've also incorporated a piece of suspension removed during a repair to my old car.

Betty had to move out of the garage to make room for (of all things) a car during the winter (October 2011). I had originally planned on getting a wire feed welder so that I could work on her outside, but the money I was going to use for that (from selling my car) got sucked into other things. So either Betty has to move back inside to get finished in the Spring, or a wire feed welder has to fall from the sky. I think she is close to being done and I think I've got most of the pieces I want to use.

Betty in the yard in Ann Arbor (April 2015).

Taking her apart to be moved up north as we were preparing to move south (May 2015). The kids did not want to see the big dinosaur go.

I don't who these people are, but they were having a good look while was Betty was parked somewhere in Michigan (May 2015).

Betty crossing the Mighty Mac (May 2015).

Betty enjoying a beer with her new friends in the Upper Peninsula (August 2015).

Dragonflies are my favorite insects: I watch them, read about them, and attempt to photograph them when opportunities present themselves (you can see some of my Michigan dragonfly photos here; some from South Carolina are here). I started my dragonfly sculpture in Ann Arbor right after I finished the triceratops. I actually made this one with the goal of selling it. I thought I had sold it when we moved, but the money didn't materialize until after I had already taken it apart, moved it, and put it back together. The price went up after that, and I ended up keeping it. And now I'm glad I did.

I started building the head by trying to get the profile shape I wanted. The green piece is another motorcycle part (tail light assembly?). The gray is a piece of a satellite dish (parts of which I also used in Eileen). The angle at the bottom is formed by a piece of garage door hardware. 

There were several unsuccessful attempts at making the eyes. I tried pieces of hubcap, then builing them up from pieces of wire and bicycle chain. Those both looked terrible. Eventually I ended up forming them from odd pieces, focusing on the overall shape instead of being clever. I like the way they turned out.

​This photo shows the dragonfly after it tipped over the crane and fell on me (August 2011). I had to have the boom fully extended to position the dragonfly over the stand, and I neglected to put the pins in the legs of the crane, thinking it wouldn't matter because "it's not that heavy." The alert observer will notice a motorcycle parked in the foreground and a brachiosaurus being built in the background. This is a fertile, cluttered environment that makes it difficult to find space to extend the legs of one's shop crane.

Some of my favorite dinosaurs are Ceratopsians. This post describes the creation of my triceratops sculpture. It was my first attempt at something large, and still has great sentimental value to me even though I would now do it much differently. It mad the trip to Columbia and is currently in my backyard.

The head: finished (May 2011).  I was pretty happy with this. ​

The triceratops finally moves out of the garage (May 2011). ​

The triceratops at her post, guarding the iris (May 2011).  The gray pipe on the right rear leg is a piece of a satellite dish I found on the railroad tracks.

​

​I've been making things for as long as I can remember. My capacity to create what was in my head took an uptick in 2010 when I bought a stick welder and I had some space in the garage to start working with scrap metal.  I had no formal welding training but managed to build several large sculptures (without seriously injuring myself) before we chose to move. Our next house was a rental, so I ditched much of the scrap metal I had collected, stored the rest, and parked my sculptures in my mother-in-law's backyard in Ann Arbor.  The house we bought a year later had limited space and no 220-volt outlet for the welder: the sculptures moved back but the workshop stayed packed up. I eventually bought a wire-feed welder but found I had very little time/energy as I was commuting back and forth to Grand Valley State as a Visiting Assistant Professor teaching a 4/4.  

Now that we're settled in Columbia I've been able to pick up my hobby again with some regularity. I built the rabbit that I'd been saving up parts for, and I'm now working on a large Tyrannosaurus rex. I've missed creating for the sake of creating, and I feel fortunate to be able to do it again.

When I first got into the hobby, I created a website to go along with it. I put a lot of work into that site (building a lot of it "by hand" rather than using templates), but I've found that I've rarely visited it in the last few years even though I continue to pay for it.  So I'm going to migrate some of that content here as blog posts that I can refer to more easily when I want to see photos of what I've done. If you're only here for the archaeology (or the pseudo-archaeology), just hold your nose or close your eyes or do whatever you need to do to ignore the sculpture posts.

Update (12/26/2016): I'm no longer updating the list of sculpture-related posts on this page. See this page for a maintained list.

Here's a list:

• Triceratops (Eileen)
• Dragonfly
• Brachiosaurus (Betty)
• Rabbit
• Tyrannosaurus
  • In progress (6/9/2016)
  • In progress (6/16/2016)
  • Almost done (7/1/2016 
• Crow
  • "Upcoming Interview with "Jasper Magazine," and the Crow Is Done (I Think)" (7/22/2016)
  • "My Crow Sculpture Won First Place at the South Carolina State Fair" (10/9/2016)
• Triceratops head (9/5/2016)
• Pachycephalosaurus
  • Almost done (10/22/2016)
• Various media
  • "Columbia Man Turns Trash into Art" (Mary Sturgill, WLTX, 7/12/2016)
  • "Welding Past and Present" (Chris Horn, USC Today, 7/12/2016)
  • Blog post about sculpture story on WLTX 19 (7/13/2016)
  • "Man Builds Incredible Triceratops Lawn Art out of Daughter’s First Bicycle" (Eliza Murphy, Good Morning America, 7/18/2016)
  • "Profile on Andy White – Anthropologist, Archaeologist, and Artist" (Mary Catherine Ballou, J​asper Magazine, 7/24/2016) 

With 2016 almost half over, it's fair to ask again about the status of the Ancient Artifact Preservation Society's promised report on the evidence for the ancient Roman occupation of Nova Scotia. The original Boston Standard story from December 2015 stated, after all, that the report "is scheduled to be published in full in early 2016." That "early 2016" timeline for publication was confirmed in an Ancient Origins article in January. I also remember being told we'd see the report in the "spring" or "early spring." but I don't have the energy to try to track down those statements.

And it doesn't really matter: as the year nears the halfway mark and the formal beginning of summer approaches, the clock is running down on even the most generous publication timeline.  My falsifiable hypothesis is that we will never actually see the promised report (fifteenth of Nevuary, anyone?). I think Pulitzer's timing for pumping the sword story in December of 2015 was driven by his desire to get as much attention as possible prior to the appearance of the item on The Curse of Oak Island in the following January. Ironically, the spotlight he placed on the sword brought to light new data that quickly and fatally undermined his ironclad guarantee that it was a "100 percent confirmed . . . smoking gun" artifact.  Within days of the original Boston Standard story, it was obvious to any reasonable person that the "ancient Roman sword from Nova Scotia" was nothing of the sort.  Never one to let facts get in the way of a good story, however, Pulitzer has stood by the sword for months and continues to do so. I can't help but think that the enthusiasm for releasing the full report has been significantly diminished, however.

With hopes for release of the fabled "white paper" evaporating and the recent documentation of the thirteenth Fake Hercules Sword (and because my kids woke me up at 3:00 a.m. and I couldn't get back to sleep), it seems like a good time to take a look back at some great moments in Swordgate history. These are just a few of my favorites in roughly chronological order.

There were, of course, many other great moments in Swordgate both in terms of the overall story and the personal connections that I made (I didn't mention Peter Guezen's poster series, Killbuck's cartoons, the individuals who lent me their swords for analysis, Pulitzer's bizarre Periscope broadcasts, the great contributions of thinking and data from the readers of this blog, and the interactions I had with numerous people from Nova Scotia and elsewhere who have taken an active interest in the puzzle of the Fake Hercules Swords. I don't know when and if anything like this will happen again, but I won't bet against it.  I'm sure there are others besides me who count the whole experience as a good one. 

I wasn't planning on writing a blog post today. If I did get around to writing one, it was going to be about sea turtles and coastal hunting-gathering economies.  But then I found a link to the story "The Problem with Nephilim-Pigs" (published by SkyWatchTV, which bills itself as performing "Investigations into prophecy, discovery, and the supernatural") as I was going through emails and it seemed important that I pass it on to those of you who, like me, have your antennae up for something other than what you're supposed to be doing on a Friday morning. 

As a fan of both giants and pigs, I was disappointed to see that the Nephilim-pig story was much less exciting than the headline suggested. It consists of a single paragraph stating that our ability to manipulate the genes of animals is running ahead of our discussions of the ethical issues raised by such behaviors.  That's it. There's no direct mention of Nephilim, angels, the End Times, super soldier pigs, or any of that stuff in the actual text. What actually is the problem with Nephilim-pigs? You left me hanging, SkyWatchTV. Yawn.

So what was the point?

Most of my readers will be unsurprised to learn that the listed author of the piece ("SkyWatch Editor") simply copied, pasted, and rearranged content from a legitimate story, modified the headline, and slapped the mess on a page as "news."  The "read more" link takes you to a June 3rd article in Slate titled "The Problem with Super-Muscly Pigs."  Here's a side by side comparison:

Given all the jibber-jabber circulating in the Nephilim whirlpool about genetic engineering, etc., our friend SkyWatch Editor didn't have to do anything to earn his/her paycheck but crib some technical-sounding sentences from the original and insert "Nephilim" into the headline. Genetic engineering = satanic . . . message sent with no need to expend precious calories producing anything original. Pack up your CopyCat and head home for an early lunch!

I'm sure there's a technical term for this strategy of producing "original" content via copy/paste and a headline change, but I don't know it. So I'll just call it what it is: lazy and deceptive.

SkyWatchTV gets an F on this assignment. Please write something original about Nephilim-pigs and resubmit for partial credit.

I spent the day working on my Tyrannosaurus rex sculpture. I'm sorry if you're waiting on me to do something or answer something or read something: I needed a day off, and it's summer, and there's an unfinished T. rex in my garage.

I've still got a lot of work to do on the body, but I spent most of the day working on the head.  The head has been hard to get going on for a couple of reasons: (1) it's an important part and I want to end up with something I'm really happy with; (2) I'm using an aluminum gas tank (from an outboard motor) as the "base" to build from.  I can only weld ferrous metals, so I've had to devise ways to anchor some steel parts to the aluminum in order to start working toward the shape and look I want. I chose to use the gas tank because it is about the right shape and size and it's a momento of a day trip I took to Bay City, Michigan, with my daughter a long time ago.  And it's light, which is important because I need to keep the weight of the sculpture down at the extremes since it will be standing on two legs.

Anyway, I finally got around to forming the basic shape of the head with steel rods (mostly scraps from old cooling racks) and some pieces of sheet metal and other odds and ends. I've got the protruding teeth roughed out (the mouth will be closed) and I've got a framework for the mandible.  The mandible isn't attached to the head yet and the head isn't attached to the body because it's still easier to work on them with the ability to turn them upside down, etc. 

I'm pretty happy with the way this is turning out. I've got plenty of bendable steel rod to form the rest of the contours, but I'm starting to run short on interesting sheet metal. Tomorrow is a "machine comes along and scrapes up everyone's curb trash piles" day in Columbia, though, so I may spend the morning scouting around for some interesting scrap so I can finish this thing soon.

We all knew it would happen at some point, and finally our wait is over: the thirteenth Fake Hercules Sword has finally surfaced!  What does that mean?  No-one really knows. But with this ominous omen and summer gas prices expected to plummet, it's probably as good a time as any to load your mini-van with weapons, stock up on canned goods, and head for your bunker.

News of Sword 13 (the Alejandro Sword) came to us via a comment by Alejandro on this blog post a few days ago while I was on vacation. Thankfully, alert citizen, Spanish speaker, and Friend of #Swordgate Pablo Raw followed up on Alejandro's comment and gathered information and photos about the sword.  Thanks to both Pablo and Alejandro - I owe you both a beer (if you've been keeping score at home, you'll know that I now owe Pablo two beers).

Here is a portion of Alejandro's account as he emailed it followed by Pablo's translation:

"Ésta espada en concreto, me refiero a la famosa espada ceremonial, si bien no era más que una mera reproducción, tenía cierto encanto. La adquirió en un viaje a Italia, en concreto a la ciudad de Pompeya. No puedo precisar si salió de la sección de souvenirs del Museo Arqueológico Nacional de Nápoles, de un vendedor ambulante, o de la misma ciudad Pompeya; pero puedo asegurar que las palabras literales de este buen amigo cuando me la obsequió fueron: “Ya tienes una espada de Pompeya”. De lo que no hay duda alguna es de que esta espada fue adquirida en Italia. Todo esto sucedió hace unos 20 años aproximadamente, la fecha exacta no puedo recordarla, pero aseguro con certeza que llegó a mis manos allá por 1996. Desde entonces luce entre mi colección."

"This specific sword, (I’m talking about  the ceremonial sword), it was clearly a reproduction, but  it  had a certain charm  to it. He got it on a trip to Italy, specifically in the city  of Pompeii. I can’t tell if it came out of the souvenirs store of the National Archaeological Museum of Napoli, a street vendor, or just somewhere in the city of Pompeii, but I can  tell that his literal words when he gave it to me where: “Now you  own  a  sword from Pompeii”. There is no  doubt  that  the sword was acquired in  Italy. All this  happened 20 years ago approximately, the exact date I can’t remember, but I can assure that I got it around 1996. Since then, it is part  of my collection."​

Here are some photos of Sword 13:

Sword 13 appears to be a copper alloy sword with a heavy artificial patina that has been worn from the high spots to expose the underlying brass (followers of this blog will remember how the self-proclaimed Commander of the world's best "professional treasure hunting" team misidentified the exposed brass on the Nova Scotia sword as gold). The Hercules figure preserves more detail than the cast iron Design Toscano swords, but appears crudely cast/finished with some prominent mold seams in the areas between the head and arms, some filled-in areas (e.g., to the left of the tail of Hercules' lion skin), and some pits that are not present on the Design Toscano sword (e.g., on the back of Hercules' head).

As far as the blade goes, I don't see any of the anomalies used to the define the Type J swords (i.e., the Nova Scotia Sword, the Italian eBay Sword, the Florida Sword, and the France Sword).  A side-by-side comparison of Sword 13 with the 3D model of the Italian eBay Sword suggests that the blade of Sword 13 is the shorter of the two.  The blade of Sword 13 appears to be shaped like the the blade of the Design Toscano sword, but lacks some of the distinctive characteristics of the Design Toscano example that I have in my office. 

Where does Sword 13 fit in the grand scheme of Fake Hercules Swords?  It looks to me at first glance as if it belongs pretty comfortably with what we're calling Type CS (which includes the Spain Sword, the Florida eBay Sword, and the Cvet Sword).  These are copper alloy swords with blades that are shorter than those of the Type J sword and lack the casting anomalies used to define Type J. I have yet to examine any of the Type CS swords first-hand.  

We have a purchase date and location for the Alejandro sword (1996, Pompeii) that fits pretty nicely with the purchase date and location reported for the Cvet Sword (2004, Pompeii). (Although we never got a good photo of the Benjamin Sword, purchased in 2005 in Pompeii, I suspect it is also a Type CS based on the apparent blade length.) We know that the Type F swords (California and Sonja) were for sale in the 1970's. And we know the Design Toscano swords are still being made today. I think the most reasonable hypothesis is that the Type J swords were probably produced sometime between the 1970's and 1990's, with the Alejandro Swords and the other Type CS swords being a later generation.  Maybe something like this:

That's just a hypothesis, of course, but one that I think it's consistent with everything we now know. As I wrote back in January, we would expect the hilt dimensions of the Type CS swords to be intermediate between those of the the Type J swords and the Design Toscano swords if Type CS really does fall between the two in a generational copy chain. I think the photos that Alejandro sent are good enough to derive some measurements that I can compare to those I have from other swords. I'll try to do that soon and provide an updated database.

Thanks again, Alejandro and Pablo. Nice work!