Archaeologists working in southern Spain have identified what appears to be the first direct physical evidence of an elephant in a confirmed Punic-period archaeological layer on the Iberian Peninsula. A single bone from an elephant’s right forefoot, recovered from earth dated to the Punic period, ties the presence of an elephant to a specific site in Córdoba and adds a rare material data point to debates long dominated by ancient texts and coin imagery. While the find does not by itself prove a specific commander or battlefield use, it narrows the discussion to a place, a layer, and a specimen that can be studied directly.
A Bone Beneath a Hospital
The discovery happened almost by accident. In 2020, a required excavation ahead of construction work at Cordoba Provincial Hospital turned up an unusual specimen at a site known as Colina de los Quemados. Buried under a collapsed adobe wall in stratigraphic unit SU 324, researchers found a carpal bone, roughly 10 cm in size, from the right forefoot of an elephant. The stratigraphic context places the bone squarely within the Punic period, the centuries when Carthage projected power across the western Mediterranean and deep into the Iberian interior.
What makes this find so striking is its setting. Colina de los Quemados is an oppidum, a fortified settlement typical of pre-Roman Iberia. Elephants are not native to Spain, and the study describes this as an unusually direct example of elephant remains from a Punic-period context on the peninsula. The bone was not found in a random deposit or a much later Roman context. It sat beneath a wall that had collapsed during or after the settlement’s active period, sealing it in place. That stratigraphic seal is what gives the find its evidential weight, because it ties the bone to a narrow window of history associated with Carthaginian activity in the region.
From Ancient Texts to Physical Proof
For centuries, the story of Hannibal’s war elephants has rested almost entirely on the accounts of ancient historians like Polybius and Livy. Those writers described Hannibal assembling his forces in Spain before his famous crossing of the Alps in 218 BCE, and they noted the presence of elephants in his army. Coins minted in Carthaginian-controlled territories sometimes depicted elephants as well, offering indirect support. But coins and literary references are not the same as bones in the ground. Skeptics have long pointed out that ancient authors sometimes exaggerated or borrowed details from one another, and that numismatic evidence can reflect propaganda as much as reality.
The peer-reviewed study reporting this find, published in Journal of Archaeological Science: Reports, directly addresses that gap. By documenting a physical elephant remain in a confirmed Punic archaeological layer, the researchers move the question from “did Carthaginians bring elephants to Spain?” toward “where exactly did those elephants go, and what happened to them?” That is a fundamentally different kind of inquiry, one grounded in material evidence rather than textual interpretation. The paper’s title itself signals this shift, referring to “the elephant in the oppidum” as a way of highlighting how unexpected and significant the presence of such an animal is at an inland Iberian settlement.
Why Cordoba Changes the Map
Most popular accounts of Hannibal’s elephants focus on the dramatic Alpine crossing or on battles in Italy. Far less attention has been paid to the logistics of moving these animals through Spain itself. Cordoba sits well inland, along the Guadalquivir River valley, a natural corridor connecting the coast to the interior. The presence of an elephant bone at Colina de los Quemados suggests that Carthaginian forces, along with their animals, moved through or stationed themselves at settlements deep inside the peninsula rather than staying exclusively along coastal routes.
This has implications for how historians think about Second Punic War-era logistics in Iberia. Elephants require enormous quantities of food and water, and moving them through arid or mountainous terrain would demand planning, local support, and infrastructure. If elephants were present at an inland oppidum like Colina de los Quemados, it could indicate more extensive inland movement or staging than is often emphasized in popular retellings. The bone, in other words, is not just a curiosity. It is a data point that could inform models of Carthaginian military organization in Spain and encourage researchers to look for similar evidence at other Punic-era sites along the Guadalquivir and its tributaries.
What One Bone Cannot Tell Us
A single carpal bone, however significant its context, leaves many questions open. The study is explicitly preliminary in its scope, and the authors acknowledge this in the paper’s own framing. There is no DNA or isotopic analysis reported yet that could determine the animal’s precise species or geographic origin. Without that data, the bone supports the presence of an elephant in a Punic-era layer but cannot yet specify where it came from or how it arrived at the site.
Critics may also note that a single bone does not prove the presence of a living war elephant at the settlement. It could, in theory, represent a traded object, a trophy, or a fragment transported from elsewhere. The stratigraphic context argues against casual deposition, since the bone was sealed under a collapsed wall rather than sitting in a mixed or disturbed layer. But until additional remains or complementary evidence emerge from the same site or nearby Punic settlements, the interpretation will carry some degree of uncertainty. That is not a weakness of the study so much as an honest reflection of what archaeology can and cannot establish from a single specimen.
A Starting Point, Not a Final Answer
The real value of this find may lie less in what it proves today than in what it opens up for future research. Targeted excavations at other Punic-period sites in the Guadalquivir valley could test whether the Colina de los Quemados bone is an isolated anomaly or part of a broader pattern. Geophysical surveys and systematic faunal analysis at known oppida along Carthaginian supply routes might turn up additional elephant remains, or at least clarify the kinds of animal resources Carthaginian forces relied on in Spain.
For now, the bone stands as a rare, concrete bridge between the dramatic narratives of ancient historians and the quieter, stratified record beneath a modern hospital. It anchors Hannibal’s elephants not just in legend but in a specific place and layer of earth, inviting archaeologists to re-examine inland Iberian sites with fresh eyes. Whether future digs uncover more elephant remains or instead highlight just how exceptional this case is, the Cordoba discovery ensures that debates over Carthaginian warfare in Spain will increasingly be argued not only in libraries, but also in the trenches of ongoing fieldwork.
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*This article was researched with the help of AI, with human editors creating the final content.
