The Rich History of "Where There Is Nothing"

From a distance, the Dabous rock outcrop seems generally unremarkable, and fittingly characteristic of the Tenere desert in which it's found. The Tenere, which literally translates to "where there is nothing," is, today, a barren expanse of desert stretching for several thousand miles between the borders of the Sahara and the Air mountains. The area was not always this arid, nor so seemingly desolate, however, as archaeological research from a nearby extinct lakebed has demonstrated.

Excavation at the once-aquatic site, later dubbed Gobero, began in 2000 by a team led by dinosaur paleontologist and geologist Paul Sereno. Rather than discovering remains of ancient reptiles, however, they encountered a Neolithic burial ground spanning several millennia and featuring two distinct groups (both culturally and ethnically) whose periods of occupation can be accurately mapped onto ancient climatic shifts in the green-ness of the Sahara.

During the early holocene, Gobero was occupied by the Kiffian people. Individuals were generally broadly built and up to 2 meters tall, making them well suited to their hunting lifestyle. Corpses were tightly bound and buried in a utilitarian manner, without associated grave goods. The group did have, however, a sophisticated material culture, complete with bone harpoon points and hooks, as well as a distinctive ceramic style characterized by elaborate wave-like lines. Around 8,000 years ago, the region began to desiccate and its occupation by the Kiffians came to an abrupt halt.

Arid conditions persisted for about 1,000 years, during which the region bore a generally resemblance to what is seen today. Around 6,000 years ago, however, the return to more favorable climates enabled a second occupation of the site by the Tenerian people. The group was distinct from the areas prior occupants both ethnically and culturally. Individuals were of a shorter, leaner build and were cattle pastoralists in addition to engaging in hunting and fishing. Their ceramic culture was less aesthetically motivated than that of the Kiffians, but had a unique material culture which was equally sophisticated. They are associated with a multitude of green rocks found at the site, which were used to make various tools; the discovery of the origin of such stones, which were sourced from the Alallaka quarry 160 km north of Gobero, has informed the understanding of the Tenerians as engaged in systems of long distance trade. The burials, too, bear a marked difference to those of their predecessors as they feature grave goods, evidence of a more developed symbolic dimension to the ritual.

These findings, in addition to providing invaluable depth to our understanding of the history of human occupation of the Sahara as it correlates to the region's changing climate, are key to explaining the origins and significance of the world's largest known petroglyphs. Carved into the sandstone base of the Dabous outcrop are two life-sized giraffes, a male and a female, the larger of which (the male) is over 18 feet tall. First reported by Christian Dupy in 1987, the carvings have continued to deteriorate since their discovery as a result of human pedestrian traffic, graffiti, and the stealing of several fragments for sale on the black market.

The petroglyphs, which Dr. Jean Clottes has estimated to be 7,000-10,000 years old, were produced through several different carving techniques. The deep lines were carved with flint tools, which were harder than the sandstone rock, while petrified wood chisels, found in the sand surrounding the outcrop, are presumed to have been used to wear down groves and polish the rock's surface.

It is hard to object to calling the carvings anything but monumental. Incised on the rock floor of the Dabous outcrop, they are only wholly visible from above; this vantage point, which would be uncommon in the daily lives of their creators, imbued the carvings with a sense of significance, likely even of the supernatural. Lines running from the mouth of each giraffe to small, stylized, anthropomorphic figures have been cited as possible evidence of the ritual use of the carvings by shamans. The line, it is argued, could be a symbolic representation of the transferal of attributes associated with the giraffe, such as the gift of foresight or predication.

Such arguments, while supported by modern ethnographic analogies, cannot be definitively proven. In fact, any theory about the symbolic significance of the carvings are ultimately speculative. We do not know who created them, and we certainly do not know why. Nevertheless, the discovery of the nearby Gobero site, whose occupation overlaps with the estimated date of the carvings' production, has shed invaluable light on the enigmatic depictions.

(A comparison of Kiffanian and Tenerian skulls)

Its discovery gives rise to a myriad of questions concerning the giraffes, such as whether it was the Kiffians or Tenerians who created them. Both groups had the technology to produce such sophisticated carvings, and both had symbolic material culture. The personal ornamentation of the Tenerians, along with their engagement in long distance trade, implies a degree of social complexity which could be cited as evidence for the development of increasingly complex rituals involving such monumental representations. This argument is also supported by the extent of their occupation of the area (about 3,000 years).

The comparative ceramic cultures of the two groups seem to evince the alternate argument, that the Kiffanians created the carvings. The abstract designs on the pottery are the only images associated with either group, and the Kiffian style appears more aesthetically-motivated than that of the Tenerians.

Either argument would be strengthened by evidence that the supposed creators came to the area from a region in which similar carvings, rituals, or giraffe-symbols were found. Serano et al analyzed the skull morphology of both groups, and compared the results to those which characterized various populations in Western Africa. The Kiffian skulls were characteristic of remains from Mali, Mauritania, Maghreb Caspian, and Maghreb Iberomaurusian; the Tenerian skulls could not be associated with any of the tested populations, and further research is needed in order to determine their heritage.

Neither the style nor subject of the carvings were necessarily an external innovation which was then brought to the region, however. The argument for local innovation is supported by the recent realization that the area surrounding the Dabous outcrop is littered with similar, smaller-scale carvings and paintings (see image above). Regardless of the origin of this cultural practice, the degree to which it flourished in the region is indisputable.

Several millennia after the end of its holocene-era occupation, the Tenere desert became a transient home to the Tuareg operators of the Trans-Saharan trade route. Rather than tuareg, an arabic term which means "abandoned by god," these traders called themselves imohag, "free men" in their native tongue. Such histories of the region have been known to westerners for centuries, a fact to which the writings of Herodotus testify. The shift in focus, and therefore valuation, from such cosmopolitan narratives to ones concerning small-scale, tribal societies, however, is as novel as it is necessary.

In 2000, in response to their deteriorating condition, the Bradshaw Foundation endeavored to preserve the carvings by making a mould of them. Immediate action was necessary because of the rate of deterioration; in addition to producing casts in the best possible condition, the process would aid preservation efforts by generating publicity about the site, making its protection a priority. In addition to the mould, the foundation funded the digging of a well which would supply water to a local tribe. The plan was for members of the tribe to act as guides and protectors of the carvings, and by establishing a dependable water source, they were able to ensure the potential for future, grass-roots preservation efforts.

The first cast made from the mould was returned to Niger, and given to the nearby town of Agadez. The town chose to install the cast at their ariport, where it has become a symbol of the heritage of the surrounding region. The Tenere is far from the barren land its name suggests. Narratives of trade span millennia, and ritual sacra 10,000 years old are as compelling as any modern image. Between preservation (i.e. of the surrounding smaller-scale rock art) and excavation (i.e of the 115+ remaining Gobero graves), further efforts are needed to flesh out the story and protect its various chapters, but it seems hard to object to the assertion that such projects seem well on their way.

All images have click-through links to their sources. If any of them are not working, however, it can be assumed that all images of the giraffe petroglyphs (and associated projects) came from The Bradshaw Foundation and images from the Gobero site came from Project Exploration: People of the Green Sahara. Higher resolution images from the Gobero site can also be found in a post from Archaeology.net.

Skull surgery, the hot new trend.

Examples of 16th century trepanation instruments.

There is a wealth of historical records of the presence of trepanation in many cultures. For the uninformed, trepanation is the (somewhat outdated) process of putting a hole in the skull of a living person, mostly for surgical practices, although the process tends to have more spiritualistic roots. It has been known for a while that the earliest signs of this skull-drilling have been found in numerous forms and in various parts of Europe, South America, the Middle East, and even some parts of Egypt and greater Africa, with findings dating as far back as 3000 B.C. in the Danube River basin, and as far back as 11,000 B.C. in modern-day Morocco. However, a recent archaeological study released this past August suggests evidence of trepanation in a previously unforeseen location.

Anthropologist Efthymia Nikita, along with her colleagues at the University of Cambridge, recently published a paper in the International Journal of Osteoarchaeology outlining the analysis of three skulls of Garamantian men, excavated by past researchers near the ancient capital of Garama (currently southwestern Libya). The skulls contained various styles and sizes of holes and indentations. The Garamantes were a people who thrived in the northern Sahara from around 1100 B.C. to 600 A.D. The paper can be found in its entirety here. *NOTE: a subscription to the journal may be required to view the paper. Columbia students can follow this link, and search for "Evidence of Trephinations among the Garamantes."

Perforation (arrow 1) and depression (arrow 2) in the skull of a Garamantian young adult male.  (Nikita et al, p3) 

In the article, Nikita and her team have surmised that the holes studied in two of the three skulls (Individuals GER011.T20 and TAG012.T3) are concrete evidence of the practice of trepanation in the northern Sahara (Nikita et al, p5). This is an important find for a number of reasons. First, it backs up the evidence of North African trade routes from 2000 - 3000 years ago, since the dates on these artifacts match up with those of other findings of trepanation in other parts of Africa and southern Europe/the Mediterranean. Second, it establishes the fact that humans and material goods were not the only things crossing trade borders during this era.

Trepanations (arrows 1 and 2) in individual GER011.T20. Through a lengthy analysis by Nikita's team, this was discovered to be the skull of a middle-aged man, around 55 years old. Noticeable signs of healing indicate a "successful" surgical procedure, in that the patient survived. (Nikita et al, p3)

According to this article about the finding from Science News, Nikita stated, given the evidence of these trade networks, that "the knowledge of cranial surgical techniques must have been among the cultural traits that spread among populations." This is a significant reveal with regards to the migration and mutation of culture in Africa. The expansion of certain medical practices, including this ancient form of skull surgery, contributes to the various other ideas spread through migration and trade, such as various forms of artisanship.

Most people in the medical community would say that trapanning, being the oldest form of surgery known to man, and once thought to cater an unbelievably wide range of medical circumstances, is somewhat of an obsolete practice. Despite this, there is a group that still thinks it to be a perfectly reasonable practice. The International Trepanation Advocacy Group (ITAG) firmly supports the practice, under the hypothesis that "making a[n] opening in the skull favorably alters the movement of blood through the brain and improves brain functions which are more important than ever before in history to adapt to an ever more rapidly changing world." That debate, however, is for another time.

(As a side note, the wonderfully cliché relaxing background music on ITAG's website provides a great distraction from their sub-par grammatical structure.)

The Gentlest Exploitation

One longstanding difficulty in dealing with Africa as a focus of study is its representation, as it has a history of having its history rewritten by outsiders, from explorers to colonialist powers to anthropologists in the modern day. Sometimes it can be easy to spot the heavy hand of Western influence on the African past and its present image, but often the effects are more insidious--and therefore all the more unsettling. I'd like to look at two examples of well-intentioned exploitation of African peoples and their representation: anthropological interaction with the Hadza of Tanzania, and the popular film The Gods Must be Crazy. 


The Hadza are a community in Tanzania that subsist mainly by hunting and gathering, adhering relatively closely to practices that for most of the rest of the world are buried in antiquity. This has led them to be the focus of many anthropologists with points to prove about Homo sapiens' technological and social past. However, their use as an archaeological case study is problematic, as often anthropologists' desire to preserve their "primitive" society results in keeping them impoverished--they are discouraged from the beneficial practice of cattle herding, and since archaeologists don't want to disturb the subsistence patterns that make them so special by compensating their time and involvement with food, the Hadza are often given things of little use for their participation. Planting the Hadza, a contemporary people, in the past is not only a fallacy but a disservice to their history.

A photo from National Geographic's Hadza album, which literally illustrates the temporal paradox surrounding this people: in one photo Hadza hunters wear cargo shorts and plastic sandals, while National Geographic's main article says that these "hunter-gatherers live 10,000 years in the past."

Similarly, in The Gods Must be Crazy (1981), the Kalahari bushmen are depicted as a people outside the world--a people so unlike us in our greed, materialism, and labor-saving devices that they seem more like children than anything else. The film received favorable reviews from many critics but was critiqued by Toby Alice Volkman in a review which discussed its negative impact and implications--mainly in its controversial portrayal of black Africans as either primitive innocents or bumbling gunmen. As Volkman concludes, "[the] San (Kalahari bushmen) are very much of this planet and of this moment. The denial of this reality allows South Africa to continue to dispossess them of their autonomy, their history, and their land."

Two San natives inspect the Western materialism that has touched their community in the form of a glass cola bottle.

Through African Eyes

My first comprehensive course in archaeology was an exposure to a field that was very much unfamiliar to me—a world of highly distinguished archaeologists, anthropologists and other specialists along with their span of theories, hypotheses and suppositions, as well as a myriad of data analyses and interpretations regarding material remains and the archaeological record. Guiding me throughout the semester was my TA, an African graduate student from Cameroon, who had met with me to discuss the topic for my final paper: the passage of time as seen through the eyes of the rural Luo people of western Kenya. I thought that I would begin with a “powerhouse” introduction of key concepts constructed by prominent scholars such as Lévi-Strauss, Bradley, Gosden, Shanks and Tilley, only to be cutoff abruptly. “No, no, stop!” he said. “Stop thinking. Tell me simply what the Luo are perceiving, that is all.” Startled by his comments, I said nothing (most likely I was too afraid to speak much less think). And it was then that I realized how much my “enlightened” perspective was considerably embedded and strangled within the “static” notion of contemporary Western thought. Yet, how do you look beyond yourself, beyond what you know so well? What exactly does it mean to see through African eyes?

These questions bring to mind an article written in 1993 by social anthropologist Tim Ingold titled, The Temporality of the Landscape. It’s a wonderful study reflecting on the active nature of time within the living environment whose focus also attempts to bridge unifying themes between archaeology and anthropology through an adoption of what he calls a “dwelling perspective” in which the landscape becomes “an enduring record of—and testimony to—the lives and works of past generations who have dwelt within it, and in so doing, have left there something of themselves.” Moreover, Ingold asserts that human life is, after all, a process that involves the passage of time, and for both the native dweller as well as the archaeologist, the landscape relates a story. “It enfolds the lives and times of predecessors who, over the generations, have moved around in it and played their part in its formation.” So in essence, is the archaeologist able to peer through ancient indigenous eyes by “walking around in their shoes,” accessing a past embodied within the earth itself as well as within its material culture?

Considering this question makes me think of the ancestral San and their ardent interaction with the landscape through the multitudinous artistic creations painted boldly across cave walls and boulders throughout southern Africa. Indeed the San clearly impose their wills on these rock faces, rarely conforming to natural backgrounds, for instance, by their extension of outline and color from dark original surfaces onto light exfoliation scars, disregarding any contrasts or for that matter, paintings from previous artists thereby superimposing their conceptions on top of others and embedding the San’s indelible imprints upon the landscape and upon time. In my own effort to envision “a walk in San footsteps,” I dissect photographs of images, and admire the artist’s skill as well as study the composition itself: subject, gender, color, dimensions, ruminating on any possible inherent meanings residing in the works. To enrich my appreciation, I review perspectives from scholars who have endeavored to look through San eyes such as David Lewis-Williams, who describes the graphic rock art as collages of entoptic imagery construed by shamans in trance, generating a kind of “universal ethnography” shared by all humans as these perceptions are not culturally specific; and from John Parkington, who believes that even though the paintings may be informed by an altered state, they are deliberately constructed, built up through a series of choices, and to acquire an understanding of San subjectivity, i.e., achieving an insider’s view, you must consider motive as well as meaning and composition as well as content (Parkington 1989). An additional insight by Africanist Peter Garlake, who asserts, “In Zimbabwe, I have given more weight to the paintings as visual conceptualizations. I see the art as reflecting wider concerns than trance, though focused on the nature of spiritual energy or potency” (Garlake 2002) which compels me to wonder what exactly inspire and propel forces outside the trance state. Yet among these persuasive interpretations, what plainly emerges for me about African rock art is how these “stimulated” visions are as personal as they are unique, individualized experiences. Essentially these artworks even as products of trance encounters or largely informed by them, regardless of whether there is implicit meaning and conceptualization, reside only within the shaman’s own physical eyes with which he is incapable of sharing a direct and specific view of these visual images with others. Perhaps this is where the “act” of creating art becomes a channel for unveiling these intimate insights for those around him and for posterity as he deftly applies paint upon the “canvas.” Indeed no matter how much we try to walk within the footprints of the past, we will never know precisely what is truly perceived much less experienced. And what seems evident is how this vibrant, vivid San rock art has been intentionally endowed throughout the landscape of their time and reaches out to us in the here and now.

Shaman in a Trance, painting by Jean Haynes



This contemporary rendition of a trance-induced shaman emphasizes the eyes that Haynes depicts as two “opaque windows” that will soon illuminate the shaman’s personal experiences through his creations of rock art.

After much “walking” (and a little running), I did finally write about the perception of time conceived by the rural Luo people of western Kenya. And I surmised by the paper’s grade that my TA knew I did my best, that is, I did my best to see through African eyes.

(All photographs are from Google Images)

Selam’s Tools

In 2000, a 3 year old Australopithecus Afarensis female named “Selam” (also nicknamed Lucy’s baby) was found in Dikika, Ethiopia. Discovered by Zeresenay Alemseged, the fossils and remains have been dated at 3.3 mya, 120,000 years older than those of “Lucy”. Found merely miles away from Hadar, Lucy’s site of discovery, her specimen corresponds well with that of Lucy’s. Selam skeleton suggests that she was bipedal as well as adapted for tree climbing. The state of the ancient bones, found 400 kilometres northeast of the capital Addis Ababa, suggest she was buried in a flood, which may also have caused her death.

"It represents the earliest and most complete partial skeleton of a child ever found in the history of palaeoanthropology," says Dr Zeresenay Alemseged

Jumping 10 years to 2010, an equally exciting discovery was made in the Afar region of Ethiopia right by the site where Selam was found. Fossils of ancient bones were unearthed with grooves and cut marks, evidence of the use of tools to cut meat away from the bone. Intriguingly, these fossils date back to 3.4 million years ago. Prior to this find by the California Academy of Sciences, the oldest evidence of butchering with stone tools dates to about 2.5 million years ago.

This significant find shows that stone tools were used much earlier than previously thought. Alemseged says it is likely that Selam herself carried stone shards (microliths) and even could have contributed in the butchering the animal remains.

http://www.abc.net.au/science/articles/2010/08/12/2980846.htm

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Selam_%28Australopithecus%29

Naming Names

Zimbabwe is the only country named after an archaeological site, yet although Great Zimbabwe itself dates back to 13th-15th centuries CE, the country has only been officially called by that name since 1980.  From 1923 until 1965, it was a self-governing British colony known as Rhodesia.  Then, in 1965, the country’s white minority declared independence from England illegally, and operated as the Republic of Rhodesia - reinforcing the association with Britain’s chief colonial industrialist, Cecil Rhodes, who founded the British South Africa Company in 1889.  Under the prime minister Ian Smith, and despite UN sanctions, it remained a white supremacist state until 1979, when the black majority came to power under Robert Mugabe.  It was only then that the new country was named after the great pre-colonial ruins that more than anything symbolized the ancient connection to the landscape of the native African population.

The need to name and classify is essential to humans; there is even thought to be a gene for it.  Whenever naming is required, the wheel is reinvented in order to precisely reflect the essence of what the thing or idea being named is.  Fixing its place and defining its identity with specific clarity is essential in order to ensure that when the thing is called by whatever name it is given, no other hands rise in acknowledgement.  In theory, a name reflects the discrete individuality of that which is named; thus Americans saddle their children with badly spelled invented names, although they refuse to amend the Constitution which is seen as written in stone, while France formally regulates the use of the French language through the Académie française and had, until quite recently, an enforced national policy governing acceptable and legally permitted given names.    

Names signify specific individual things.  Churches, temples and mosques are all sacred spaces first, then houses of worship, and then buildings.  But not all buildings are houses of worship, and not all houses of worship are either churches, temples or mosques, and, of those, not all are sacred spaces.  The old nightclub, Limelight, on 18th  street and 6th Avenue was an Episcopal church that was deconsecrated, and repurposed, so that although it remains a building that appears to be a house of worship -indeed, it’s a rusticated brown stone Gothic church with a typical pointed arch door that looks like dozens of other Episcopal churches-  it is no longer the latter, since it is not a sacred space.  Recent developers have made it into an indoor mall while maintaining the church exterior.  Now it is a building that looks like a church -is a church- but functions as an agora, and is neither a house of worship, nor a nightclub, although it could still become a sacred space if the shopping is good enough.  Names and nouns represent things and ideas that are concurrent interdependent parts of both greater categories and smaller groups.  Since these relationships can be of incalculable number, and are simultaneously fluid yet permanent, it is essential that names and nouns maintain their fixed and discrete autonomy.  If one word is changed, everything linked to it is transformed through kinetic reaction.

Assigned names maintain order.  Otherwise, it’s like writing about musicians such as , the Artist (Formerly Known as Prince),  Prince,  or TAFKAP,  and Sean Combs, aka Diddy, P. Diddy, Puff Daddy and now Diddy-Dirty Money.  But that was his name in March.  After that it was Swag, the first expiration-dated name, to be used for one week only starting 5/24/11 and reverting to Diddy  on 6/1/2011.  This analogy is not merely cute, it’s appropriate.  If naming reifies that which is named, then changing its name transforms it to some degree into something else.  Whether it changes so subtly that the shift is invisible, or completely to the point of unrecognizability,  it is nevertheless made fundamentally different.  The act of  of renaming causes uncertainty, shifting the point of view by destabilizing the taxonomic equivalent of the lowest common denominator of language, which is the noun, be it proper or common.

The geographical area currently known as the State of Israel has formerly been known as, in no particular order, Palestine, the British Mandate, the Palestinian Mandate, the Roman Province of Palaestina, Παλαιστίνη, Israel, Canaan,  Philistia, and the Kingdom of Jerusalem, among numerous others.  It has been in the possession of  the empires of Egypt, Greece, Rome, France, Syria, Turkey, Germany, England, and of the Hittites, Assyrians, Babylonians, Mesopotamians, Holy Romans, Byzantines, Ottomans and Mamelukes, at one time or another, and sometimes more than once.  These nomenclatures represent different rulers, their assorted points of view,  and the various desires of past and current territorial occupiers.  Each different name in each different language describes a separate perception of what that landscape represents to the speakers of that language; how it defines the conception of the named place in relation to the observer-speaker.  The names given to the area are not mere translations of the same word and identical ideas, but subtly and profoundly different interpretive identifiers of the same place as viewed by different parties and subject to the idiosyncratic characteristics of the language as well as the time in which the words themselves were forged.

The French named the Eastern Mediterranean le Levant to signify it as the place where the sun rises.  Levant means rising, and the sun really does seem to rise from there, especially if you’re viewing dawn from Western Europe.

Ibis and the Sacred Animal Necropolis

The Ancient Egyptians are known for their intricate human mummies and their complex journey in the underworld. However, there has been evidence of animal mummies as well. Animal cults, in Saqqara during the Late Period, were at their height. Saqqara is an ancient burial ground in Egypt with numerous pyramids, including the world famous Step pyramid of Djoser. It reflected a period of less troubled times. As Dr. Ikram stated in her book, Divine Creatures, shrines, temples, the embalming and burial of animals were an expression of religious nationalistic feeling. This Late Period with the Greco-Roman Period was decorated with votive animal mummies given as gifts to the gods. Tons of animals were embalmed during this time: fish, cows, bulls, sheep, cats, dogs, baboons, jackals, ibises, falcons, hawks, crocodiles, shrews, scorpions, and snakes were all included. Most of these animals were chosen because they had something to do with or had a specific relati

on to the Egyptian gods. Animal mummies were important throughout rituals from the beginning of the Ptolemaic period, around 305 BC, through to the Roman period.

I have always been extremely fascinated with the

Egyptian depiction of animals and their roles as gods. It just seems like a beautiful concept to look for admirable traits in nature and identify with animals. When I went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art earlier this month, I noticed a particular shelf of animals displayed. The animals were so tiny and carved so intricately, I could not fathom the kind of craftsmanship that goes on to make these. Each of these creatures are so finely detailed, it is absolutely incredible. In search of focusing on one animal in particular, I chose the ibis bird because there is so much literature about ibis mummies and how Egyptians valued this bird and preserved the ibis to the afterlife.

There are over 5 million ibis mummies at Saqqara

and it is estimated that there were over 10,000 birds buried annually in ibis catacombs. Another discovery from the Third Dynasty shows ibis mummies in lidded pottery only 700 meters away from the Step Pyramid enclosure. One large tomb of the Third Dynasty had the remains of sacrificed bulls around it and fragments of Ptolemaic-Roman offering pots with the remains of ibis mummies. Another excavation showed the skeleton of another bull laid on clean sand and hundreds of ibis mummies in their lidded pots. Some of them were elaborately wrapped with appliqués connecting them with Thoth and Imhotep. This complex is known as the South Ibis Catacomb. Cemeteries filled with mummified

ibis birds have been found at Abydos and near Hermopolis.

The ibis bird, which belongs to the stork family, was regarded in particular as sacred and worthy of burial and mummification. Ibis is also a hieroglyphic symbol. Revered in ancient Egypt, Ibis was associated with wisdom and the ibis-headed god Thoth, who was the scribe of the gods, god of learning, and a deity. Thoth gave the hieroglyph of life to Osiris. Thoth could also be represented as the baboon and North Saqqara was a burial place for both animals.

These burials and shrines at Saqqara became a place pilgrims would come for to pay respects to, especially to the god Thoth. At Saqqara, the cult of the relatively unknown deity Thutmose, a young ibis, was particularly popular among women.

Ibis mummies were mummified with their feet grasped and plunged into a vat of liquid resin. Then they were elaborately wrapped in linen bandages. Often times they were placed into ceramic jars which later were placed into catacombs. Some of the mummies were set rigid with palm-ribs, which was the same technique used on human mummies. Mummification of the ibis included desiccation and evisceration. Large volumes of ibises have been found and understood to have been specially reared in or around the temples. At the Sacred Animal Necropolis at Saqqara, several ibis eggs in a courtyard have been identified as the ibis hatchery. Ibis temples have also provided information for specific breeding sites.

Anthropologists and archaeologists are debating and tackling the questions why the extreme increase in animal mummies happened during the Greek and Roman rule. Edward Bleiberg, the curator of Egyptian, Classical and Ancient Near Eastern Art and the Manager Curator of Ancient Egyptian, African and Asian Art of the Brooklyn Museum suggests there is a connection with traditional ancient Greek animal sacrifice, since these Egyptian animals were certainly sacrificial since x-rays show that the majority of them died young in a violent death. Was there a fusion of a new culture? Archaeologists are still researching the significance of these animal mummies.

Below is a video link describing the process of animal mummification:

Dr. Salima Ikram Explains How Animal Mummies Were Made

Sources:

Giakoumis, Melina. "Return of the (Brooklyn) Mummies." Archaeology Magazine. 16 Aug. 2010.

Ikram, Salima. Divine Creatures. Cairo: American University in Cairo, 2005.