They were reading the seasons and the rhythms of their prey
Hace 115.000 años, en una cueva mediterránea de la costa de Cartagena, los neandertales recolectaban moluscos con una precisión estacional que desafía la vieja frontera entre ellos y nosotros. Un análisis de isótopos de oxígeno en las conchas revela que el 80% de los caracoles fueron consumidos entre noviembre y abril, justo cuando su valor nutritivo alcanzaba el máximo antes del desove. Lo que emerge no es solo un dato arqueológico, sino una pregunta más honda: ¿cuándo, exactamente, comenzó la inteligencia ecológica a llamarse humana?
- Durante décadas, la ciencia asumió que la gestión sofisticada de recursos costeros era patrimonio exclusivo del Homo sapiens, dejando a los neandertales fuera del relato marino.
- Un nuevo estudio en las Actas de la Academia Nacional de Ciencias rompe ese consenso: los neandertales de Los Aviones no solo comían moluscos, sino que los recolectaban en el momento de mayor rendimiento nutricional, antes del desove invernal.
- La coincidencia exacta entre ese patrón estacional y el documentado en humanos modernos 100.000 años después convierte el hallazgo en un espejo incómodo para las teorías sobre la singularidad cognitiva de nuestra especie.
- Una hipótesis alternativa —que los neandertales simplemente migraban a la costa en invierno— no disuelve la sofisticación del comportamiento, sino que la desplaza hacia la planificación del movimiento estacional.
- La cueva de Los Aviones está siendo engullida por el mar en ascenso, y con ella, la evidencia física de una inteligencia que apenas empezamos a reconocer.
Durante mucho tiempo, los neandertales parecían ajenos al mar. La idea dominante era que los ecosistemas costeros exigían una alfabetización ecológica que solo los humanos modernos poseían. Esa narrativa lleva años resquebrajándose, y un nuevo estudio publicado en las Actas de la Academia Nacional de Ciencias acaba de asestarte un golpe definitivo.
En la cueva de Los Aviones, en la costa murciana cerca de Cartagena, investigadores encontraron decenas de conchas de dos especies —caracoles mediterráneos y lapas— depositadas en sedimentos de hace 115.000 años. El análisis de isótopos de oxígeno en el carbonato cálcico de las conchas reveló algo inesperado: el 80% de los caracoles habían sido consumidos entre noviembre y abril, con apenas un 5% en los meses de verano. La cueva estaba ocupada todo el año, pero la recolección se concentraba en invierno.
La razón es biológica y precisa. Antes del desove primaveral, los caracoles mediterráneos acumulan reservas de lípidos y proteínas en sus gónadas y glándulas digestivas: son, en ese momento, el alimento más nutritivo que ofrecen. Recolectarlos en invierno no es azar; es conocimiento. Es el mismo principio que rige la marisquería tradicional europea hasta hoy.
Lo que hace el hallazgo verdaderamente perturbador es la simetría histórica: el patrón estacional que siguieron estos neandertales es idéntico al documentado en Homo sapiens que habitaron la misma región mediterránea 100.000 años después. Asier García-Escárzaga, investigador de la Universidad de Burgos y autor principal del estudio, lo describe como una explotación estratégica, no aleatoria. Miguel Cortés, prehistoriador de la Universidad de Sevilla, propone una lectura alternativa —quizás los neandertales simplemente migraban a la costa en invierno huyendo del calor interior—, pero incluso esa explicación implica planificación y lectura del entorno.
La cueva de Los Aviones está desapareciendo. El ascenso del nivel del mar amenaza con sumergirla, borrando el suelo donde estas conchas han reposado más de cien milenios. La urgencia del descubrimiento no es solo científica: es también una carrera contra el tiempo para rescatar la evidencia de que los neandertales pensaban, observaban y se adaptaban —antes de que el mar se lleve la prueba.
Scientists have long wondered whether Neanderthals ever truly belonged to the coast. For decades, researchers found little evidence of them in marine environments, and the prevailing assumption was that seaside ecosystems demanded a sophistication—a kind of ecological literacy—that only modern humans possessed. That narrative has been steadily dismantled. New work published in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences now shows that 115,000 years ago, in a Mediterranean cave near Cartagena, Neanderthals were harvesting shellfish with a precision that would not appear again in the archaeological record for another hundred millennia.
The cave, called Los Aviones, sits on the Spanish coast and is now threatened by rising sea levels. Inside it, researchers found dozens of shells from two species of mollusks—Mediterranean snails and a type of limpet—scattered across a layer of sediment that can be dated to roughly 115,000 years ago. What makes the discovery remarkable is not simply that Neanderthals ate shellfish, but when and how they ate them. Using oxygen isotope analysis of the calcium carbonate in the shells themselves, researchers determined that around 80 percent of the snails were consumed between November and April, with only about 5 percent eaten during the summer months. The pattern held for the limpets as well.
Asier García-Escárzaga, a researcher at the University of Burgos and the lead author of the study, explains that the cave was occupied year-round, though probably not permanently. "There is exploitation during all seasons," he says, "but the vast majority of the mollusks, the vast majority of the shells, were collected during the coldest months of the year—from late autumn, around November, through early spring, to about April." This is not random behavior. It is strategic. It suggests that Neanderthals understood something fundamental about their food source: that timing mattered.
The reason becomes clear when you understand the biology of these creatures. Arnaldo Marín, a marine biologist at the University of Murcia and a coauthor of the study, points out that the reproductive cycle of Mediterranean snails peaks during winter months. Before spawning, the snails accumulate reserves of lipids and proteins in their gonads and digestive glands—they are, quite simply, at their most nutritious. After spawning in late spring, they lose much of that richness. The snails taste better in winter, and they are better for you. It is the same principle that governs traditional shellfish harvesting practices across Europe to this day: you collect before the spawn, when the yield is highest.
What makes this discovery so significant is that the seasonal pattern Neanderthals followed is identical to the one documented in modern humans—Homo sapiens—who lived in the same Mediterranean region 100,000 years later, during the Mesolithic and Neolithic periods. The implication is stark: Neanderthals possessed not merely the ability to exploit coastal resources, but the ecological knowledge to do so strategically, to read the seasons and the rhythms of their prey, to plan accordingly. This was not survival by happenstance. This was informed choice.
There is an alternative explanation worth considering. Miguel Cortés, a professor of prehistory at the University of Seville, suggests that Neanderthals in this region might have simply moved seasonally—heading to the mountains in summer to escape the heat and descending to the coast in winter to find food and shelter. The pattern of shellfish consumption could reflect migration rather than deliberate resource management. The climate 115,000 years ago was similar to today's, though the last Ice Age was beginning to approach. Either way, the evidence points to a level of behavioral sophistication that older theories about Neanderthals did not allow for.
The cave itself is disappearing. Rising sea levels threaten to submerge Los Aviones, erasing the very ground where these shells have rested for more than a hundred thousand years. In that sense, the timing of this research is urgent. What the shells reveal—that Neanderthals were thinking creatures, capable of observation, planning, and adaptation—arrives just as the physical evidence of their presence begins to slip beneath the waves.
Citações Notáveis
There is exploitation during all seasons, but the vast majority of the mollusks were collected during the coldest months of the year—from late autumn, around November, through early spring, to about April.— Asier García-Escárzaga, lead researcher, University of Burgos
This seasonal pattern is identical to what we see in modern human populations in the Mesolithic and Neolithic, 100,000 years later.— Asier García-Escárzaga
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why does it matter when they ate the shellfish? They ate them—isn't that enough?
Because the timing tells you they were paying attention. If you're just grabbing food whenever you're hungry, you eat what's available. But 80 percent of their catch in winter? That's a choice. That's knowledge.
Knowledge of what, exactly?
That these creatures are better in winter. More nutritious, better tasting. You can't know that without observation over time—noticing the difference between seasons, remembering it, acting on it.
But couldn't they have just moved to the coast in winter for other reasons—warmth, shelter?
Possibly. That's what some researchers argue. But even if that's true, once they're there, they're making decisions about what to harvest and when. The pattern is too consistent to be accidental.
How do you even know what month they ate them?
The shells themselves contain oxygen isotopes that vary with water temperature. By measuring those isotopes, you can tell roughly what season the mollusk was alive when it was harvested. It's like reading a calendar written in chemistry.
So we're saying Neanderthals were sophisticated enough to understand seasonal ecology?
We're saying the evidence suggests they were. Whether that came from careful observation or from following migration patterns, they clearly understood how to extract maximum value from their environment.