Millennia went by and our collection of tools kept increasing: gravers, borers, and scrapers; arrows, knives, and spears of all kinds. Every tool allowed us to live in new places. With fish hooks made from ivory we could live by the coast. With sewing needles made out of bone we could make furs and live in the tundra of Asia. In time we followed the wooly mammoth across the ice and found a whole New World.
We crossed the icy-covered Bering Strait into America no later than 10,000 b.c., just as the glacial blankets were retreating towards the pole. The world was warming, and other species struggled to adapt. The mammoths disappeared, as did the megathere, the saber-toothed cats, the American lions, and the mastodons. But we had no trouble adapting to the changes and in the end we thrived. Nobody knows whether we pushed those other animals towards extinction. All we know is that our campsites were filled with their bones.
And so, at the end of the Ice Age, having started in Africa, we now lived on every continent on Earth, save the coldest one at the bottom of the world. The mammoths and the mastodons were gone, but we hunted other prey. And now everywhere we went, we met ourselves, and all other ape-descendants were gone. There were 4 million of us then, spread-out all over the world, living much as we had lived for the last 40,000 years, and entirely unaware of the wrenching changes that were to come.
We crossed the icy-covered Bering Strait into America no later than 10,000 b.c., just as the glacial blankets were retreating towards the pole. The world was warming, and other species struggled to adapt. The mammoths disappeared, as did the megathere, the saber-toothed cats, the American lions, and the mastodons. But we had no trouble adapting to the changes and in the end we thrived. Nobody knows whether we pushed those other animals towards extinction. All we know is that our campsites were filled with their bones.
And so, at the end of the Ice Age, having started in Africa, we now lived on every continent on Earth, save the coldest one at the bottom of the world. The mammoths and the mastodons were gone, but we hunted other prey. And now everywhere we went, we met ourselves, and all other ape-descendants were gone. There were 4 million of us then, spread-out all over the world, living much as we had lived for the last 40,000 years, and entirely unaware of the wrenching changes that were to come.
At first, farming was a giant leap backwards. The reedy weeds that passed for crops back then were nothing like the hypermarket corn that you can buy today. But hunting was a source of protein only if the hunt succeeded, and it’s no surprise that we liked the idea of food that couldn’t run away from you.
Eventually, of course, we got better at growing food. But more amazingly, eventually food got better at feeding us. Every spring we planted many different seeds. At harvest time, we could see that some seeds resulted in a better crop than others. The next season we planted the seeds from the best crop. Thirteen-thousand years later we realized what we had done: We had selected the genes that were best at feeding us. We genetically engineered our food in 11,000 b.c. In that way we domesticated barley, grapes, and olives in the Near East; we cultivated soybeans, cabbage, and plums in China; and we grew maize, squash, and chili peppers in Central America.
Even animals were not immune from our influence. Wolves came by our campsites from time to time. Those that attacked us, we killed; those that were friendly, we fed. By 10,000 b.c. the wolves at the fringes of the campsite had turned into dogs sleeping by the fire. Cats, ever more independent, joined us 4,000 years later. The mammoths were dead, but the dogs, the cats, the sheep, the goats, and the cows now lived. The world was being shaped by our hands, consciously or not, and not for the last time.
With our newly altered crops and our loyal animals, getting enough food to eat no longer required sixteen hours a day. For the first time in our history there was a surplus of food. More importantly, we were no longer walking around the world following game to hunt. Our campsites became more permanent and soon they turned into villages. Those two changes in our lives, the surplus of food and the emergence of villages, led to the greatest transformations in our history. Civilization lay ahead.
Eventually, of course, we got better at growing food. But more amazingly, eventually food got better at feeding us. Every spring we planted many different seeds. At harvest time, we could see that some seeds resulted in a better crop than others. The next season we planted the seeds from the best crop. Thirteen-thousand years later we realized what we had done: We had selected the genes that were best at feeding us. We genetically engineered our food in 11,000 b.c. In that way we domesticated barley, grapes, and olives in the Near East; we cultivated soybeans, cabbage, and plums in China; and we grew maize, squash, and chili peppers in Central America.
Even animals were not immune from our influence. Wolves came by our campsites from time to time. Those that attacked us, we killed; those that were friendly, we fed. By 10,000 b.c. the wolves at the fringes of the campsite had turned into dogs sleeping by the fire. Cats, ever more independent, joined us 4,000 years later. The mammoths were dead, but the dogs, the cats, the sheep, the goats, and the cows now lived. The world was being shaped by our hands, consciously or not, and not for the last time.
With our newly altered crops and our loyal animals, getting enough food to eat no longer required sixteen hours a day. For the first time in our history there was a surplus of food. More importantly, we were no longer walking around the world following game to hunt. Our campsites became more permanent and soon they turned into villages. Those two changes in our lives, the surplus of food and the emergence of villages, led to the greatest transformations in our history. Civilization lay ahead.
Author and Credits: George Moromisato