Across southern Britain, there are hills that do not rise from nature’s hand but from human gathering—mounds built not of stone or earth, but of broken bones, discarded pots, and ash from ancient fires. These are middens: massive prehistoric rubbish heaps left behind by Bronze Age and early Iron Age communities. To the untrained eye they may look like grassy hillocks scattered across Wiltshire, the Thames Valley, and beyond. But to archaeologists, they are extraordinary time capsules, silent witnesses to a time when people traveled vast distances to feast together.
These middens are not the remains of ordinary meals. They mark enormous communal gatherings, the likes of which Britain would not see again until the medieval period. Through the charred bones and scattered fragments of pottery, they whisper of journeys across the island, of livestock driven for days to reach these gathering grounds, and of people forging connections in the face of a changing world.
Unlocking the Secrets of Middens
A groundbreaking study by archaeologists from Cardiff University has breathed new life into these ancient mounds. Using isotope analysis—a scientific method that traces chemical markers preserved in bone—they have been able to identify where the animals consumed at these feasts were raised. Each region of Britain has its own chemical “fingerprint” embedded in its water, soil, and plants. As animals graze and drink, those markers become part of their bodies, surviving even thousands of years later.
By comparing these isotopic signatures, researchers discovered that the animals represented in these middens came from remarkably wide catchments. Some pigs roasted at Wiltshire’s great midden at Potterne had traveled from as far as northern England. Cattle found at Runnymede in Surrey bore isotopic traces showing they too had been brought from distant regions. Yet other middens, like East Chisenbury near Stonehenge, were stocked mainly with sheep raised locally.
The findings reveal not just what people ate, but how these feasting sites functioned as hubs within broader social and economic landscapes. Each midden was distinct, each reflecting different networks of connection and identity.
Potterne: A Monument of Pork
The midden at Potterne is among the most spectacular. Covering an area equal to five football pitches, it is estimated to contain as many as 15 million bone fragments. The sheer scale of the deposit testifies to gatherings of immense size and significance. Pork was the dominant fare here, and the pigs came from across Britain, suggesting Potterne was a magnet drawing in communities far and wide.
The presence of pigs from multiple regions indicates that Potterne was more than a local site of feasting. It was a center of exchange, a place where producers and families converged, perhaps to affirm alliances, to trade, and to reinforce shared cultural identities during a time when older systems of value, like bronze, were losing their power.
Runnymede: The Realm of Cattle
By contrast, Runnymede in Surrey tells a different story. Here, cattle were the preferred animals for feasting, and isotope evidence shows that many of them were not local. Just like Potterne, Runnymede drew animals from afar, but its focus on cattle suggests it played a complementary role in the wider network of communal events.
The choice of animal was not merely practical—it was symbolic. Different species represented different forms of wealth, status, and identity. To bring cattle to Runnymede was to demonstrate participation in a tradition that bound regional communities together, solidifying networks that extended far beyond the immediate landscape.
East Chisenbury: Sheep at the Edge of Stonehenge
Ten miles from Stonehenge lies East Chisenbury, a monumental mound packed with the remains of hundreds of thousands of animals. Here, however, the story shifts once more. Unlike Potterne or Runnymede, East Chisenbury was dominated by sheep, and isotope analysis shows that most of them were raised locally.
This suggests that East Chisenbury was deeply tied to its surrounding community, relying on local flocks rather than animals driven across the island. It may have served as a more localized hub of feasting and ritual, grounded in the rhythms of its immediate environment, yet still monumental in scale.
Feasting in a Time of Change
The Bronze Age was ending. The value of bronze was collapsing, and with it, the networks of trade and prestige that had once underpinned society. Farming, livestock, and the land itself became the new foundation of wealth and power. In this turbulent time, communal feasts took on enormous importance.
According to lead author Dr. Carmen Esposito, these middens were more than trash heaps—they were linchpins in the landscape. They sustained economies, expressed cultural identities, and reinforced relationships between groups. By gathering, eating, and discarding together, communities created visible monuments to their unity and survival.
Professor Richard Madgwick describes this period as a possible “feasting age,” a time when social cohesion was built around massive communal consumption. In an era of uncertainty—marked by climatic instability and economic transition—feasting provided a stage for communities to come together, forge bonds, and reaffirm their place in a changing world.
The Power of Middens
What makes these middens extraordinary is not only their size but their meaning. They are reminders that feasting is not trivial. Food is never just sustenance; it is identity, politics, and belonging. The Bronze Age communities who built these middens were not merely discarding bones—they were creating monuments of connection.
The scale of the debris is astonishing, yet it is also deeply human. Every bone fragment represents a meal shared, a story told by the fire, a relationship strengthened. The middens endure because they are made not just of matter but of meaning.
A Mirror to Our Own Time
In studying these prehistoric mounds, we glimpse ourselves. We, too, gather to share food in times of uncertainty. We, too, build our identities through rituals of consumption, whether at family tables, community festivals, or global celebrations. The middens remind us that the act of feasting—so central to human life today—was just as vital thousands of years ago.
They also show us the resilience of communities in times of upheaval. When bronze lost its value, people turned to what endured: land, livestock, and shared tradition. In doing so, they left behind middens that became part of the British landscape, monuments to survival through unity.
Middens as Monuments of Belonging
Today, archaeologists see more than rubbish in these prehistoric heaps. They see the echoes of laughter, the smoke of fires, the taste of roasted pork or mutton carried on the wind. They see people gathering in the shadow of change, building not only mounds of refuse but mounds of memory.
Each midden tells a different story—of pigs from distant fields, of cattle driven across rivers, of sheep grazing in familiar pastures. Yet together they tell a greater tale: that in the face of uncertainty, human beings have always turned to one another, to the simple yet profound act of sharing food, to remind themselves of who they are.
The middens of Bronze Age Britain are not just archaeological sites. They are reminders of what it means to be human. They are proof that in gathering, in feasting, in building together, we create legacies that endure for millennia.
More information: Diverse feasting networks at the end of the Bronze Age in Britain (c. 900-500 BCE) evidenced by multi-isotope analysis, iScience (2025). DOI: 10.1016/j.isci.2025.113271. www.cell.com/iscience/fulltext … 2589-0042(25)01532-9
