Why didnt this 2000 year old body decompose Carolyn Marshall
In 1984, two field workers discovered
a body in a bog outside Cheshire, England.
Officials named the body the Lindow Man
and determined that he’d suffered
serious injuries,
including blunt trauma and strangulation.
But the most shocking thing
about this gruesome story
was that they were able to determine these
details from a body over 2,000 years old.
Typically, decomposition would make
such injuries hard to detect
on a body buried just weeks earlier.
So why was this corpse
so perfectly preserved?
And why don’t all bodies
stay in this condition?
The answers to these questions
live six feet underground.
It may not appear very lively down here,
but a single teaspoon of soil
contains more organisms
than there are human beings on the planet.
From bacteria and algae
to fungi and protozoa,
soils are home to one quarter of Earth’s
biodiversity.
And perhaps the soil’s most important
inhabitants are microbes,
organisms no larger
than several hundred nanometers
that decompose all the planet’s
dead and dying organic material.
Imagine we drop an apple in the forest.
As soon as it contacts the soil,
worms and other invertebrates begin
breaking it down into smaller parts;
absorbing nutrients from what they consume
and excreting the rest.
This first stage of decomposition
sets the scene for microbes.
The specific microbes present
depend on the environment.
For example, in grasslands and farm fields
there tend to be more bacteria,
which excel at breaking down
grass and leaves.
But in this temperate forest
there are more fungi,
capable of breaking down
complex woody materials.
Looking to harvest more food
from the apple’s remains,
these microbes release enzymes
that trigger a chemical reaction
called oxidation.
This breaks down the molecules
of organic matter, releasing energy,
carbon, and other nutrients
in a process called mineralization.
Then microbes consume the carbon
and some nutrients,
while excess molecules of nitrogen,
sulfur, calcium, and more
are left behind in the soil.
As insects and worms eat
more of the apple,
they expose more surface area
for these microbial enzymes
to oxidize and mineralize.
Even the excretions they leave behind
are mined by microbes.
This continues until the apple
is reduced to nothing—
a process that would take one to two
months in a temperate forest.
Environments that are hot and wet
support more microbes
than places that are cold and dry,
allowing them to decompose things
more quickly.
And less complex organic materials
break down faster.
But given enough time,
all organic matter is reduced
to microscopic mineral nutrients.
The atomic bonds between these molecules
are too strong to break down any further.
So instead,
these nutrients feed plant life,
which grow more food that will
eventually decompose.
This constant cycle of creating and
decomposing supports all life on Earth.
But there are a few environments too
hostile for these multi-talented microbes—
including the peat bogs
outside Cheshire, England.
Peat bogs are mostly made of highly
acidic Sphagnum mosses.
These plants acidify the soil
while also releasing a compound
that binds to nitrogen,
depriving the area of nutrients.
Alongside cold
northern European temperatures,
these conditions make it impossible
for most microbes to function.
With nothing to break them down,
the dead mosses pile up,
preventing oxygen from entering the bog.
The result is a naturally sealed system.
Whatever organic matter enters a peat bog
just sits there— like the Lindow Man.
The acid of the bog was strong enough
to dissolve relatively simple material
like bone,
and it turned more complex tissue
like skin and organs pitch black.
But his corpse is otherwise
so well-preserved,
that we can determine
he was healthy, mid-20s,
and potentially wealthy
as his body shows few signs of hard labor.
We even know the Lindow Man’s last meal—
a still undigested piece of charred bread.
Scholars are less certain about
the circumstances of his death.
While cold-blooded murder
is a possibility,
the extremity of his injuries
suggest a ritual sacrifice.
Even 2,000 years ago,
there’s evidence the bog was known
for its almost supernatural qualities;
a place where the soil beneath your feet
wasn’t quite dead or alive.