I was out on one of my permissions one Sunday afternoon when I heard a distinctive high-pitched ping, from my metal detector, in my headphones. It was on one of my favourite pastures, a field that had yielded a fair few interesting finds over the years. The signal was clear and strong, and as I knelt down to investigate, I couldn’t help but feel that familiar surge of excitement. What treasures might the soil be hiding this time?
I carefully cut a neat plug of turf and flipped it over. A quick sweep with my pinpointer told me the object was still in the hole. Gently, I began to tease apart the soil, my fingers working carefully to avoid any damage to whatever lay beneath. And then I saw it – a flash of dull metal peeking out from the earth. As I carefully extracted it from its resting place, I realized I was holding a crotal bell.
Crotal bells, also known as rumble bells or rumbler bells, are a fascinating find for any detectorist in England. These small, round bells have been a part of our history for centuries, each one telling a story of the people and animals that once traversed these very fields.
The term ‘crotal’ comes from the Latin word ‘crotalum’, meaning a rattle or bell. These bells are hollow and spherical, with a small metal ball or pebble inside that creates the distinctive ringing sound when shaken. They’re usually made of bronze or brass, though I’ve occasionally come across copper ones as well.
The history of crotal bells in England dates back to at least the 13th century, though they became more common in the 16th and 17th centuries. They come in various sizes, typically ranging from about 15mm to 50mm in diameter, though I’ve heard of some larger ones being found. The one I discovered that autumn morning was on the smaller side, probably around 20mm, with a pleasing patina that spoke of its age.
But why do we find these bells scattered across our countryside? Well, their uses were as varied as their sizes. One of the most common uses was as warning bells on horse-drawn vehicles. Before the age of motorised transport, these bells played a crucial role in road safety, particularly on narrow country lanes.
Imagine, if you will, a quiet country road on a foggy morning. Visibility is poor, and the soft ground muffles the sound of approaching hooves and wheels. This is where the crotal bell comes into its own. Attached to the horse’s harness or the vehicle itself, the bell would ring with each movement, alerting other road users to the approaching conveyance.
I remember finding a particularly large crotal bell a few summers ago while detecting along an old cart track. It was easy to imagine the sound of these bells ringing out as a wagon made its way along the rutted path, the noise a warning to anyone else using the route.
The size of the bell often corresponded to the size of the vehicle. Smaller bells, like the one I found that morning, might have been used on lighter vehicles like gigs or small carts. Larger bells, sometimes several inches across, would have been fitted to heavier vehicles like delivery wagons.
The method of attaching these bells varied. On smaller vehicles, they were often hung from a small leather-and-iron harness bracket positioned above the horse’s collar. For larger wagons, the bells might be driven directly into the wooden frame of the vehicle itself.
Crotal bells weren’t just for road safety, though. They were also commonly used as animal bells. Farmers would attach them to the harnesses of horses, cattle, and sheep. The tinkling sound helped them keep track of their animals, especially in areas where visibility might be poor due to fog or dense vegetation.
I’ve found quite a few of these bells in pastures over the years. Each time, I can’t help but imagine the scene – a herd of sheep grazing on the hillside, the gentle tinkling of their bells carried on the breeze, helping the shepherd locate his flock even in the thickest fog.
Another interesting use for smaller size crotal bells was in falconry. They were attached to the jesses (the thin leather straps) on a hawk or falcon’s legs. The sound of the bell would help the falconer locate their bird, especially if it was hunting in heavy cover. It’s a romantic thought, imagining a noble lord or lady out hawking in these very fields centuries ago, guided by the delicate chime of a crotal bell.
Identifying crotal bells can be a bit tricky, especially if you’re new to the hobby. The most common type you’ll find while detecting is the ‘petal’ or ‘rumbler’ type. These have a characteristic shape with a loop at the top and a body divided into segments that resemble flower petals. The number of petals can vary, but four and six are the most common.
When it comes to dating crotal bells, it’s not always straightforward. Their basic design didn’t change much over the centuries, which can make precise dating challenging. However, there are some clues you can look for. Earlier bells, from the medieval period, tend to be more crudely made. By the 16th and 17th centuries, the craftsmanship had improved, and you’ll often find bells with more intricate designs or even maker’s marks.
I remember finding a bell a few years back that had a clear maker’s mark – ‘R.W.’ stamped on the body. After some research, I discovered this was likely the mark of Robert Wells, a bell founder from Aldbourne in Wiltshire who was active in the late 18th century. It’s moments like these, when you can connect a small object to a specific person from hundreds of years ago, that really bring history to life.
The manufacturing process of these bells evolved over time. The older ones were often forged, which gave them a slightly irregular shape. Later bells were cast, resulting in a more uniform appearance. If you’re lucky enough to find one with its clapper still inside, you might notice that it’s not always a metal ball. Sometimes, it could be a small pebble or even a piece of fired clay.
Cleaning crotal bells requires a gentle touch. The patina that builds up over time is part of their charm and historical value, so you don’t want to be too aggressive. I usually start with a soft brush to remove any loose dirt, then give them a gentle wash in plain water. For any stubborn dirt, a soak in distilled water can help. I avoid using any harsh chemicals or abrasive cleaning methods, as these can damage the bell and reduce its value to collectors and historians.
As I sit here, turning over in my hand the crotal bell I found this morning, I’m struck once again by the tangible connection to history these small objects provide. This bell might have tinkled from the harness of a plough horse, warned travelers of an approaching wagon, or perhaps it hung from the jesses of a hunting falcon.
Whatever its original purpose, it now serves as a reminder of the rich tapestry of life that has played out in these fields over the centuries. And as I carefully place it in my finds pouch, I can’t help but wonder what other stories might be waiting to be unearthed on my next detecting trip.
So, fellow metal detectorists, keep your ears tuned for those signals. You never know when you might be lucky enough to uncover one of these fascinating little pieces of history. And when you do, take a moment to really look at it, to feel its weight in your hand, and to imagine the lives it might have touched. After all, that’s what this hobby is all about – not just finding objects, but uncovering the stories they have to tell.
