Cartoonist Gary Larson can help you understand some of the key problems for archaeologsits who try to interpret artifacts from the past. How do we really know what something is? Just because something shares a similar form with something we think is familiar, how do we really know that is is that object? Contexts can help; ethnographic analogies can help. But it truth, sometimes we just don't know.

Gary Larson, famous for his The Far Side cartoons, had his own experience with this problem. Hopefully he won't mind if his Cow Tools cartoon and his discussion of it is used to help you see the problem!

Here's what he and some of his readers had to say...

The "Cow tools" episode 'is one that will probably haunt me for the rest of my life. A week after it was published back in 1992, 1 wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere and die. Cows, as some Far Side readers know, are a favorite subject of mine. I've always found them to be the quintessentially absurd animal for situations even more absurd. Even the name "cow," to me, is intrinsically funny.

And so one day I started thinking back on an anthropology course I had in college and how we learned that man used to be defined as "the only animal that made and shaped tools." Unfortunately, researchers discovered that certain primates and even some bird species did the same thing-so the definition had to be extended somewhat to avoid awkward situations such as someone hiring a crew of chimpanzees toremodel their kitchen.

Inevitably, I began thinking about Cows, and what if they, too, were discovered as toolmakers. What would they make? Primitive tools are always, well, primitive-looking-appearing rather nondescript to the lay person. So, it seemed to me, whatever a cow would make would have to be even a couple notches further down the "skill-o-meter."

I imagined, and subsequently drew, a cow standing next to her workbench, proudly displaying her handiwork (hoofiwork?). The "cow tools" were supposed to be just meaningless artifacts-only the cow or a cowthropologist is supposed to know what they're used for.

The first mistake I made was in thinking this was funny. The second was making one of the tools resemble a crude handsaw-which made already confused people decide that their only hope in understanding the cartoon meant deciphering what the other tools were as well. Of course, they didn't have a chance in hell.

But, for the first time, "Cow tools" awakened me to the fact that my profession was not just an isolated exercise in the comer of my apartment. The day after its release, my phone began to ring with inquiries from reporters and radio stations from regions in the country where The Far Side was published. Everyone, it seemed, wanted to know what in the world this cartoon meant! My syndicate was equally bombarded, and I was ultimately asked to write a press release explaining "Cow tools." Someone sent me the front page of one newspaper which, down in one corner, ran the tease, "Cow Tools: What does it mean? I was mortified.

In the first year or two of drawing The Far Side, I always believed my career perpetually hung by a thread. And this time I was convinced it had been finally severed. Ironically, when the dust had finally settled and as a result of all the "noise" it made, "Cow tools" became more of a boost to The Far Side than anything else.

So, in summary, I drew a really weird, obtuse cartoon that no one understood and wasn't funny and therefore I went on to even greater success and recognition. Yeah-I like this country.

Some reader comments...