Up From the Bogs...

My friends know me well. They are aware of my fascination with all things dead, thus my office is littered with their ghoulish gifts. There are the numerous objects sporting skeletons: from coffee mugs, to post cards, to bone-shaped candles. And then there are the actual dead critters that line my shelves: the beautiful skulls of alligator, raccoon, and turtle, along with my latest acquisition – from the leftovers of a physician’s anatomical collection – a bowl made from a human skull set atop a pelvic bone. It’s a beauty.

But some of my favorite oddities are found on my windowsill. There reside the corpses of a giant spider, a hairy moth, and the crème de la crème, my mummified lizard collection. The lizards had the misfortune of becoming trapped in our office basement. They were fairly fresh when found and I had the joy of watching them mummify over the accompanying weeks. Now their desiccated little bodies adorn my windowsill and keep me company throughout my busy day.

Mummies are cool. We’re all familiar with the classic Egyptian mummies: those meticulously tended bodies surrounded by a litter of elaborate grave goods. But what I find even more fascinating are the mummies produced by nature. I’m talkin’ bog bodies.

As a bioarchaeologist, I’ve spent years studying the skeletons of ancient Floridians. Most of my research has focused on the remains from Windover, a seven-thousand-year-old pond cemetery from which 168 well-preserved skeletons were excavated. (See April’s Ancient Agony). The pond provided the perfect environment for the preservation of bones: a neutral pH and a thick, anaerobic layer of peat in which the bodies were carefully placed.

Bog bodies are from similar settings. They too come from “wet sites,” yet the peat bogs that have produced these bodies, namely sites throughout northern Europe, tend to be acidic due to the presence of Sphagnum moss. The moss prevents bacteria from decomposing soft tissues, leaving behind skin, internal organs, and clothing, and providing virtual windows into the past.

The bogs are not formal cemeteries. Most appear to be the dumping grounds for those who met violent ends. Because of the remarkable preservation, many still exhibit the tools of their demise. Leather thongs used for asphyxiation, garrotes for strangulation, and ropes for hanging are recovered, still encircling the necks of their ancient victims. And when I say ancient, I mean ancient – some even date back ten thousand years.

Let’s take a closer look at a few of these amazing bodies.

Way back in 1879, the remains of a woman were discovered in a bog in Denmark. She apparently died over two thousand years ago, her body marred by repeated hacking wounds, her right arm torn from her body. A similar fate awaited a sixteen-year-old girl who was strangled and dumped in a bog in Holland. She was recovered in 1897, still wrapped in her worn, woolen cloak, the cloth used to strangle her still bunched around her throat.

Straddling the borders of western Germany and the Netherlands is Bourtanger Moor. Today, the moor is a vast nature preserve, but back in 1904, the bog produced the shriveled remains of two men, found side by side. We don’t know how one of the men died, but the other suffered a stab wound large enough to cause his intestines to escape up through his chest. Not a happy ending for this duo.

But one of the most famous (and well-preserved) of all bog bodies was discovered in 1950 by a peat cutting crew near the village of Tollund in Denmark. Tollund Man, as he came to be known, was a middle-aged man, just over five feet tall, who died around 400 B.C., apparently from strangulation. The four-foot-long braided leather strap used to choke him was left in place; faint indentions are still visible in the skin around his neck. He sports a small cap made from sheepskin, worn fur-side-in, probably to keep his head warm through the frigid Denmark winters. Two delicate leather straps hang from each side of the cap and you can just picture him securing them beneath his chin on cold, windy days. A leather belt still adorns his waist; the rest of his clothes were dissolved by the bog.

His face is extremely lifelike, as if he had simply stopped for a quick nap. His eyes are closed, his face relaxed. Even the stubble on his chin is intact and if you stare at him long enough, you can almost imagine his eyes fluttering open as he awakens from his two-thousand-year siesta. The excellent preservation extends beyond the superficial. His stomach and intestines provided clues to his last meal, which took place about twelve hours prior to his death. Thirty different types of plants were identified, including oats, barley, and flax. Two adventuresome archaeologists in 1954 took it upon themselves to recreate Tollund Man’s last meal, but their efforts were rewarded with a dish described simply as “dreadful.” Gotta give them credit for trying…

And Tollund’s face isn’t the only body part that is beautifully preserved. His feet are perfect wax-like renditions, his toenails still visible. He spent much of his life barefoot. The pads of his feet are well worn and show scars from previous injuries. His body is tucked on its left side, his legs curled, arms bent. Parts of his skeleton remain, the bones protruding along his extremities, his ribs visible beneath his glossy flesh.

Archaeology, and more specifically, bioarchaeology, can reveal much about the past through the skeletons left behind. And when those skeletons happen to remain fleshed, they provide a more intimate glimpse of ancient life. To look into the face of an individual who lived thousands of years ago, before cars and planes and computers, is a truly wondrous experience.

So the next time you’re traipsing through a bog, be on the lookout. You just might stumble upon the past.

Here's an exciting read on the subject featuring our buddy from Tollund!