Long before the invention of the wheel, before fire was fully mastered, and long before humans carved their first symbols into cave walls, our distant ancestors were already shaping the bones of the world around them. For millions of years, hominins have fashioned tools from the remnants of the animals they encountered—bones, tusks, and ivory transformed not just into instruments of survival, but into symbols of ingenuity and adaptation.
The idea of crafting tools from bone and ivory might seem obvious today, but it marks one of the earliest expressions of human-like cognition. While early stone tools have often stolen the spotlight, bones—softer, subtler, and more fragile—have carried their own quiet narrative. Until recently, archaeologists believed that the deliberate shaping of ivory for tools was a relatively late innovation, appearing primarily in the Upper Paleolithic, about 40,000 years ago. But an astonishing discovery from the banks of the Southern Bug River in Ukraine has challenged this timeline, opening an intriguing window into a much older world.
It all began with a dig in Medzhybizh, a quiet town steeped in history and nestled among the gentle hills of western Ukraine. Beneath its soil lies Medzhibozh A, one of several ancient sites dotting the Paleolithic landscape of the region. Discovered in 2011 and excavated periodically until 2018, the site quickly emerged as a treasure trove of early human activity. But it was not until researchers began analyzing seemingly ordinary faunal remains that the deeper story began to reveal itself.
Amid the modest collection of bones and stone flakes, Ukrainian archaeologists Dr. Vadim Stepanchuk and Dr. Oleksandr O. Naumenko identified something curious: a collection of 24 ivory fragments, hidden among the refuse of early human life. These fragments were recovered from the site’s upper cultural layers—identified as Layers I, II, III, and V—which, based on geology, paleontology, and electron spin resonance (ESR) dating, were estimated to be around 400,000 years old. That alone was intriguing. But closer examination told a more electrifying story.
Of the 24 ivory pieces recovered, 11 bore unmistakable signs of intentional modification. Six had been struck in ways that suggested knapping—typically a stoneworking technique. Three showed evidence of the “bipolar-on-anvil” technique, a method where an object is placed on a hard surface and struck from above to produce flakes. Two were ivory flakes, while one was shaped into a sharp point and another into what resembled a small core—the part from which flakes are intentionally removed.
Each piece hinted at a level of deliberate craftsmanship, of repeated actions performed not randomly, but with purpose. For Dr. Stepanchuk and Dr. Naumenko, the implications were immense. Ivory—harvested from the massive, thick tusks of Ice Age mammoths—had been used by ancient toolmakers nearly 400,000 years ago. This date pushed the known use of ivory as a tool-making material back by hundreds of thousands of years.
Prior to this discovery, the oldest confirmed ivory artifacts came from Neanderthal contexts dated to around 120,000 years ago. Some of these, like a pointed ivory fragment from the Crimean site of Zaskalnaya V, hinted at early experimentation. But nothing matched the age—or the complexity—of the Medzhibozh A artifacts.
The site itself spans a vast time frame, covering multiple Marine Isotope Stages (MIS), with the oldest cultural traces dating to MIS 35–21, and the youngest linked to MIS 11—a stage roughly 400,000 years ago. If the dating holds true, these Ukrainian ivory fragments represent not just a regional curiosity, but a global paradigm shift in our understanding of early technological experimentation.
What makes the discovery even more fascinating is the choice of material. Ivory, while beautiful and iconic, is not particularly well-suited for toolmaking when compared to flint or quartz. It’s softer and more brittle, with a Mohs hardness rating of 2–4 (depending on whether it’s dentin or cementum), compared to 7–8 for flint and quartz. Small ivory tools perform poorly in terms of cutting efficiency and durability. So why would early humans choose to work with it?
Dr. Stepanchuk suggests that necessity may have driven innovation. The area around Medzhibozh A is not particularly rich in high-quality lithic raw materials. The ancient hominins who lived there might have faced a scarcity of usable stone and turned to ivory—an abundant byproduct of mammoth carcasses—as a potential alternative. But it wasn’t just about making do. The ivory artifacts reflect an effort to apply conventional stone-knapping techniques to an unconventional material.
Indeed, some ivory pieces show evidence of rotation, trimming, and retouching—tactics typically associated with skilled flintworking. The presence of bipolar-on-anvil reduction, a rather advanced method for such an early date, reinforces the idea that the toolmakers weren’t just randomly smashing bones. They were experimenting, testing, and adapting.
Yet the story doesn’t end with practical necessity. The researchers offer an alternative, more socially nuanced hypothesis: some of the ivory pieces might not have been tools at all, but learning aids or even toys. In modern anthropology, the idea of “play” in prehistoric societies has often been overshadowed by the search for survival-related behaviors. But if children mimicked adults through play, they may have produced pretend tools as part of their cognitive and social development.
Dr. Stepanchuk elaborates on this idea, noting that the miniature ivory pieces, while shaped with care, were not especially useful. Perhaps they weren’t intended to be. They may represent moments of imitation—children copying their elders, testing their hands, learning the mechanics of a skill that would one day determine their survival. If this interpretation holds, the Medzhibozh A ivory pieces could be among the earliest evidence of cultural transmission and social learning through material culture.
Of course, in archaeology, extraordinary claims require extraordinary caution. The authors themselves acknowledge that there’s always the possibility of error. Could these pieces have been modified by natural processes—gnawing, trampling, or geological pressure? Could they have migrated into older layers through disturbances or sediment shifts? Such questions are not uncommon in paleoarchaeology, where the difference between artifact and geofact (naturally shaped object) can be vanishingly small.
Yet the researchers remain confident. The specific modifications, the sequence of processing, and the resemblance to known stone-knapping techniques all point to intentionality. Moreover, there is no compelling evidence of layer mixing or reworking that would undermine the artifacts’ dating.
Taken as a whole, the Medzhibozh A discovery invites a fundamental rethinking of early hominin behavior. Far from being crude scavengers limited to stone tools, these communities displayed flexibility, creativity, and perhaps even a form of technological curiosity. They explored the limits of their environment—not just by adapting to it, but by manipulating it, experimenting with it, and perhaps even teaching others through it.
In the broader context of prehistoric archaeology, bone and ivory tools are often overshadowed by their stone counterparts, whose sharp edges and durability have preserved them better through time. But softer materials, when they survive, provide a richer glimpse into the subtleties of early life. They show not only how our ancestors survived, but how they learned, adapted, and maybe even played.
The valley of the Southern Bug River, once home to woolly mammoths and ancient hominins, now offers a unique echo from a distant past. From humble ivory fragments emerge stories of ingenuity, of experimentation, and of the earliest stirrings of cultural complexity. Medzhibozh A may not be a famous name in popular science, but its silent ivory speaks volumes about who we once were—and who we were becoming.
More information: Vadim N. Stepanchuk et al, The Earliest Evidence of Deliberate Ivory Processing Dates Back to Around 0.4 Million Years Ago, International Journal of Osteoarchaeology (2025). DOI: 10.1002/oa.3403