November, the month of Guy Fawkes, bonfires and autumn leaves, went by a different moniker during the Early Medieval period. It was known, rather descriptively, as ‘Blod-Monath’, or ‘Blood Month’ – a time deeply intertwined with agriculture, survival, and even the sacred.
The early English followed a lunar calendar, with months spanning each full moon cycle. Their year was split into two seasons: summer, when daylight was abundant, and winter, when darkness claimed more hours. The winter solstice marked the year’s start, making Blod-Monath, the eleventh month, a significant period as they braced for the long, cold winter ahead. With food sources diminishing, this month became a time of both necessity and reverence, as the people readied their resources and, as Bede recorded, offered sacrifices to their gods.
The Agricultural Importance of Blod-Monath
With winter closing in and grass growth slowing to a halt, early English farmers faced a hard truth: not all livestock could survive the colder months. While hardy animals could tough out the elements in limited numbers, resources were stretched thin. Hay, cut in summer and stored for winter, was labour-intensive to produce and not always in ample supply. Simply put, the land could only sustain so many animals until spring.
The solution was both practical and symbolic. To reduce the herd, cattle were slaughtered in late autumn, ensuring only the strongest survived while providing fresh meat for winter. This annual ritual was a crucial aspect of early English life, driven by the need for sustenance and preservation of the herd’s health. The meat could be eaten fresh in a communal feast or preserved by smoking, salting, or drying to last through the winter – a far more practical use of resources than allowing excess animals to succumb to
starvation.
For many families, the slaughter was a serious undertaking that required careful timing and the skills of a butcher who could ensure that each part of the animal was prepared without waste. The butcher’s fee was likely given in meat itself, a practical form of payment that allowed the butcher to sell or keep a share of the slaughter. The Anglo-Saxons practiced traditional Biblical proscription, ensuring the animal’s death was as humane as possible by cutting the neck with an axe, a method meant to bleed the animal quickly and thoroughly. By the end of the tenth century, this process was done with two witnesses present, showing how these customs were embedded in both religious and social practices of the time.
And nothing was left to waste: bones were cracked open for marrow, organs were cooked, and fats were carefully collected and stored. These nutrient-rich fats, including “smeru” (grease), were essential for cooking, warmth, and even healing balms. After all, what better way to face a cold winter night than with a warm stew laced with the season’s best flavours, or, as one poetic Anglo-Saxon expression put it, ‘healfne cuppan clœnes gemyltes swices’ (half a cup of pure bacon fat melted)?
Sacred Rites: When Agriculture and Spirituality Converged
While the act of slaughtering cattle was a pragmatic step for survival, it also became a ritual. According to Bede, the early English dedicated these sacrifices to their gods, merging necessity with spirituality. He wrote, in his classically disgusted tone, ‘Blodmonath is “month of immolations”, for then the cattle which were to be slaughtered were consecrated to their gods. Good Jesu, thanks be to thee, who hast turned us away from these vanities and given us to offer to thee the sacrifice of praise.’
Pope Gregory, in his advice on converting the English to Christianity, urged local bishops to allow feasts around churches as a substitute for their traditional animal offerings. He explained: ‘And because they have been used to slaughter many oxen in the sacrifices to devils, some solemnity must be exchanged for them on this account, as that on the day of the dedication, or the nativities of the holy martyrs, whose relics are there deposited, they may build themselves huts of the boughs of trees, about those churches which have been turned to that use from temples, and celebrate the solemnity with religious feasting, and no more offer beasts to the Devil, but kill cattle to the praise of God in their eating.’
Over time, Blod-Monath’s purpose shifted, but the theme of giving thanks and gathering in the spirit of community remained constant.
A Tradition Transformed
Today, the Anglo-Saxon tradition of Blod-Monath serves as a fascinating lens through which to view our own November traditions. You can rest easy knowing that here at Weald & Downland Living Museum, we don’t slaughter our resident sheep, geese or ducks over Blood Month, and will support local butchers for any of the meat used in our demonstrations; meaning the meat is still sourced sustainably, locally and traditionally.
As we prepare for our own feasts, throughout Autumn and Winter, gathering our volunteers and interpreters around tables laden with food, we seek to re-live and echo that spirit of community and gratitude. The cattle may no longer be sacrificed to old gods, but in many ways, November remains a time of appreciation for the harvest, a preparation for winter, and a time to reflect on the cycle of seasons and sustenance. 
As we look back at Blod-Monath, it’s a reminder that even as the gods and the calendar have changed, the agricultural rhythms of early English life are still present, albeit in new forms. The spirit of survival and celebration endures – so as you carve into your own November feasts, perhaps raise a quiet toast to the practicality and reverence of Blood Month. And you can join us as we do that here at the Museum! We have plenty of demonstrations and friendly volunteer interpreters that will help you learn more and experience this tradition first-hand! We salt and preserve meat for the winter, we pickle, dry and preserve fruits, we cook hearty pottages and sweet treats. Come and visit to find out more!
