of a skeleton. That realization, along with bet-
ter sequencing machines, has helped drive the
explosion in ancient DNA studies.
The Boncuklu petrous bones paid off: DNA
extracted from them was a match for farmers
who lived and died centuries later and hundreds
of miles to the northwest. That meant early Ana-
tolian farmers had migrated, spreading their
genes as well as their lifestyle.
They didn’t stop in southeastern Europe. Over
the centuries their descendants pushed along
the Danube past Lepenski Vir and deep into the
heart of the continent. Others traveled along
the Mediterranean by boat, colonizing islands
such as Sardinia and Sicily and settling south-
ern Europe as far as Portugal. From Boncuklu to
Britain, the Anatolian genetic signature is found
wherever farming first appears.
Those Neolithic farmers mostly had light
skin and dark eyes—the opposite of many of the
hunter-gatherers with whom they now lived side
by side. “They looked different, spoke different
languages ... had different diets,” says Hartwick
College archaeologist David Anthony. “For the
most part, they stayed separate.”
Across Europe, this creeping first contact was
standoffish, sometimes for centuries. There’s
little evidence of one group taking up the tools
or traditions of the other. Even where the two
populations did mingle, intermarriage was rare.
“There’s no question they were in contact with
each other, but they weren’t exchanging wives
or husbands,” Anthony says. “Defying every
anthropology course, people were not having
sex with each other.” Fear of the other has a
long history.ABOUT 5,400 YEARS AGO, everything changed.
All across Europe, thriving Neolithic settlements
shrank or disappeared altogether. The dramatic
decline has puzzled archaeologists for decades.
“There’s less stuff, less material, less people, less
sites,” Krause says. “Without some major event,
it’s hard to explain.” But there’s no sign of mass
conflict or war.
After a 500-year gap, the population seemed
to grow again, but something was very different.
In southeastern Europe, the villages and egali-
tarian cemeteries of the Neolithic were replaced
by imposing grave mounds covering lone adult
men. Farther north, from Russia to the Rhine,
a new culture sprang up, called Corded Ware
after its pottery, which was decorated by press-
ing string into wet clay.
The State Museum of Prehistory in Halle,
Germany, has dozens of Corded Ware graves,
including many that were hastily rescued
by archaeologists before construction crews
went to work. To save time and preserve del-
icate remains, the graves were removed from
the ground in wooden crates, soil and all, and
stored in a warehouse for later analysis. Stacked
to the ceiling on steel shelves, they’re now a rich
resource for geneticists.
Corded Ware burials are so recognizable,
archaeologists rarely need to bother with radio-
carbon dating. Almost invariably, men were bur-
ied lying on their right side and women lying
on their left, both with their legs curled up and
their faces pointed south. In some of the Halle
warehouse’s graves, women clutch purses and
bags hung with canine teeth from dozens of
dogs; men have stone battle-axes. In one grave,WHO WERE THE FIRST EUROPEANS? 107