Urbanization in Reykjavík:
Post-medieval Archaeofauna from the Downtown Area
Ramona Harrison1,* and Mjöll Snæsdóttir
2
Abstract - Reykjavík, capital of Iceland, developed from a dispersed rural settlement to nucleated urban community during
the last 250 years. Prior to the mid-18th century, Iceland was a rural society that lacked towns or even substantial villages,
with seasonal market centers and elite manor farms managing economic activities for widely dispersed farms and seasonal
fishing stations. This paper focuses on two downtown Reykjavík faunal collections as part of the urban development from
the mid-17th century. The collections from Aðalstræti 10 and Tjarnargata 3c reflect some of the changes associated with
increasing population density and specialized production in a more densely populated area. Some of the finds data and history
of the town are incorporated into this text as well as a brief comparison of all the post-medieval downtown Reykjavík
collections with the archaeofauna from the 18th-century layers from the former southern bishop’s estate at Skálholt and
also with that of the fishing farm Finnbogastaðir in the Westfjords. The substantial archaeofauna from Tjarnargata 3c and
Aðalstræti 10 help identify the nature of these two sites and t heir role in the emerging town.
1CUNY Graduate School and University Center, 365 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10016, USA. 2Fornleifastofnun Íslands,
Bárugata 3, 101 Reykjavík, Iceland. *Corresponding author - ramona.harrison@gmail.com.
Introduction
This paper provides an overview of early modern
period zooarchaeology in what is now downtown
Reykjavík from the past 40 years. Two archaeofauna
from the late 17th to 19th centuries, Tjarnargata 3c and
Aðalstræti 10, are discussed in detail, as these collections
best reflect site economies associated with
the development of Reykjavík from village to town.
Tjarnargata 3c and Aðalstræti 10 were both excavations
led by the Icelandic Archaeological Institute
with faunal analysis undertaken in the NORSEC and
NABO laboratories at CUNY’s Hunter and Brooklyn
Colleges. While all the post-medieval sites from
Aðalstræti and Tjarnargata are briefly introduced
with their faunal collections included in the major
taxa and domesticates overview, only the two sites
with large enough counts of faunal remains are discussed
in detail.
Tjarnargata 3c provides an insight into the fishprocessing
activities and reflects an urban refuse-accumulation
site, and Aðalstræti 10 possibly mirrors a
set of households occupied by the workers employed
in one of the emerging factory businesses. The two
sites are not the single farmsteads encountered often
in Icelandic archaeology from the Settlement era
through the 18th century and beyond, but instead functioned
as integrated parts of a larger community dependent
on that community’s specialized production
and consumption of certain animal food products.
Settlement and Trade in Early Modern Iceland
Iceland was settled in the later 9th century by colonists
from Scandinavia and the British Isles, who
established an economy based on both farming of
domestic stock imported from Europe (cattle, sheep,
goats, pigs, horse, dog, cat, and probably chickens
and geese) with some cultivation of barley and on
uses of wild resources (fish, sea mammals, local and
migratory birds). While the documentary records of
sagas and annals become contemporary with events
described (and thus more reliable) only after 1100
AD, the early phases of settlement in the Viking
Age are increasingly well documented by archaeology
and paleoecology (Dugmore et al. 2005, 2007;
Lawson et al. 2005, 2007; McGovern et al. 2007;
Simpson et al. 2001, 2002). The early farms were
clearly inter-linked by exchange, as marine fish, sea
mammal, and shellfish remains have regularly been
recovered from sites far inland on sites dating from
first settlement (Harrison 2009; McGovern et al.
2007, 2009), but towns or permanent market centers
did not develop during the Viking Age in Iceland as
they did in Ireland.
During the first half of the 13th century there was
considerable strife and power-struggles between different
leading families in Iceland, documented in the
so-called Sturlunga collection (Vigfusson 1878). In
1262, Iceland became subject to the medieval kingdom
of Norway, and part of the formal submission
agreement stipulated the number of ships that should
visit Iceland annually. In the high Middle Ages, most
trade and exchange took place at seasonal centers
around the coast, the best documented of which is
Gásir in Eyjafjord (Harrison et al. 2008, Roberts et
al. 2009, Vésteinsson et al. 2010), which operated
from ca. 1200–1400. Gásir had some proto-urban
characteristics (concentrations of booth-like structures
used for a range of activities, street-like trackways,
and a large wooden church) and may well have
had a local impact as farmers shifted stock-raising
strategies to provision the traders and sailors, but the
2012 Journal of the North Atlantic No. 19:1–17
2 Journal of the North Atlantic No. 19
settlement remained small and seasonal, and unlike
for contemporary European trading towns and emporia,
coins remain conspicuously absent from the Gásir
assemblages (Harrison et al. 2008, Roberts et al.
2009, Vésteinsson et al. 2010). Such seasonal trading
stations remained the dominant form of overseas
trade throughout the Middle Ages, with local magnates
acting to concentrate and redistribute imported
goods in an economy that probably stood somewhere
between chiefly redistribution—characteristic of the
Viking Age—and the fully monetized economies of
the rising trading towns in Europe.
The country later followed Norway (also Greenland
and the Faeroe Islands) into a union with Denmark
in 1380. For the following centuries, Iceland
belonged to Denmark and was managed as a colony
with increasing home rule in the early 20th century
that resulted in Independence in 1918 under a common
king with Denmark and finally the establishment
as a Republic in 1944. During the 14th and
15th centuries, Iceland had considerable contacts
with England and Germany, and merchants of both
nationalities were active on the island, appearing in
the documentary record in trade disputes with each
other, Danish administrators, and sometimes the
Icelanders (Þorsteinsson 1970). Hanseatic records
of combined fishing and trading ventures to Iceland
in the 15th century indicate local-level exchange
of fish and woolen goods for imported grain and
alcohol, but these seem to have been also carried
out at seasonal stations without significant urban
development (Mehler 2007). From the beginning of
the 17th century, the main trading activities went via
Denmark, and the merchants tended to be Danish
(or at least subjects of the Danish king), with an official
monopoly (1602–1787) followed by continued
mercantilist protections down to 1854 (Aðils 1919,
Karlsson 2000). This trade monopoly period has
been blamed for slow economic growth and shortages
of affordable imports. However, the discovery
of early 17th-century non-Danish (probably Basque)
whaling shore stations also clearly involved in local
trade (apparently especially in tobacco and pipes),
suggest that the monopoly was somewhat permeable
(Edvardsson 2010). The whaling stations remained
seasonal and never developed into towns or extensive
settlements.
Icelandic archaeology, especially the artifact collections,
reflects this phenomenon: there is a general
Icelandic twist to the finds recovered from domestic
excavations. One does come across artifacts of a
general European type; items that were to be found
in other parts of Northwestern Europe tended to find
their way to Iceland as well, during the Viking Age
and also during the later periods (i.e., Sveinbjarnardóttir
1993). Yet there are generally fewer examples
of each type, and often the artifacts found in
Iceland are generally simpler or cheaper types than
their mainland European counterparts. This general
finding may be indicative of a small dispersed population
that did not provide a concentrated market,
relative poverty of most Icelandic consumers, or
a generally restricted set of trading opportunities
(Mehler 2007). Some of the Icelandic churches did
possess high-quality objects such as Limoges cloisonné
crucifixes (Þórðarson 1934), English alabaster
carvings (Nordal 1986:85–128), and (by the 16th
century) painted and carved altar piece sets (usually
German; Líndal 1974:39, 127). Fragments of German
stoneware vessels and some redwares are found
in many medieval and 16th-century contexts (Sveinbjarnardóttir
1993), but these are fairly rare finds.
By the early 17th century, imported ceramics and the
first kaolin tobacco pipes become increasingly common,
and by the 18th century, layers at Reykjavík,
Skútustađir, and Skálholt yielded abundant fragments
of Chinese porcelain, European painted and
transfer-printed ceramics, glass vessels, and Dutch
and English pipes (Hambrecht 2011, Lucas 2002:51,
Mehler 2003). The development of Reykjavík in the
late 18th and early 19th centuries thus should be seen
as part of a wider integration of Iceland into the mercantile
world system.
Reykjavík History
The present capital of Reykjavík had its beginnings
as a farming site in the Viking Age, preserving
a rural character throughout the Middle Ages.
The settlement began to expand beyond a scattering
of nearby farms in the 18th century (Karlsson
2000:182) The farm of Reykjavík (or Reykjarvík or
just plain Vík) is mentioned in medieval Icelandic
writings, mainly in the Íslendingabók (written in
1120–30 by Ari Þorgilsson) and in the Landnámabók
(thought to be written in the 13th century by more
than one author). Both of these works, only preserved
in later manuscripts, describe Reykjavík as
the location chosen by the first settler of Iceland for
his farmstead. In both works, this settler is called
Ingólfur, whose patronymic most likely was Arnarson
(Benediktsson 1968). Little is known about the
farm of Reykjavík through the Middle Ages. None
of the “Sagas of Icelanders” are set in the area, and
the chiefly competition described in the Sturlunga
compilation played out in other parts of the island
(Jónsson 1929).
The Danish crown acquired the farm of Reykjavík
in the early 17th century. It continued being
used as a farm and was rented out to one or
more farmers (Jónsson 1929:44). Nearby Danish
royal properties at Víðey, Nesstofa, and Bessastaðir
housed the head medical staff and the royal
governor. The first two properties were settled
2012 R. Harrison and M. Snæsdóttir 3
by Danish officials around the 1750s, around the
time the Reykjavík factories were established; the
governor´s seat at Bessastaðir had been there for
longer (under various names), and by the late 18th
century, all three boasted substantial buildings
with tile roofs in Danish style and many imported
artifacts (Finsen and Hjort 1977, Hallgrímsdóttir
1991, Ólafsson 1991). These three properties are
all today within the greater Reykjavík area, but
were originally dispersed Icelandic manor farms
or monastic centers, and do not form an architectural
core of an administrative district. Other farms
were established within the present-day Reykjavík
area, but their exact age is often unknown. By the
time the first Icelandic census was taken in 1703,
there were 25 farms as well as 40–50 cottages or
dependent farms in the greater Reykjavík area,
which represented a substantial but still unnucleated
settlement concentration as well as the
seat of colonial adminstration (Teitsson 1974).
In the mid-18th century, a company owning
manufacturing enterprises was established in Iceland
with the main aim of manufacturing woolen
goods for export. Several prominent Icelanders
were shareholders. The crown provided the company
with land in Reykjavík for these new business
ventures (Björnsson 1998,
Róbertsdóttir 2001). The two
farmers renting the farm occupied
by the manufacturing
enterprises were evicted, and
a number of new buildings
were erected and some of the
farm’s old buildings reused
for the factories’ purposes.
Several other houses in the
neighborhood were already
inhabited by members of
the factory staff by the time
the house in Aðalstræti 10
was built. In 1760, the manufacturing
enterprises employed
almost 100 persons,
most of whom were involved
with wool-processing; other
workers were making rope
and building boats (Björnsson
1998:84–85). The main
trading station in the neighborhood
was moved to the
factory village, and despite
its rather limited size, Reykjavík
was formally assigned
town status in 1786 by the
Danish crown. Soon after,
institutions such as a school,
the high court, and even the
Icelandic bishop moved to the town by the end of the
18th century. In the 19th century, Reykjavík remained
one of a growing number of small towns and villages
emerging in Iceland, mostly centering on fishing and
commercial ports. Reykjavík´s eventual rise from
small port town during most of the 19th century to its
explosive growth in the 20th century as the commercial,
cultural, and political center of Iceland (with
a 2009 population of just below 118,500; Statistics
Iceland 2009) represents a rapid transition of what
had been an overwhelmingly rural society to a primarily
urban society within a few generations (Jónsson
and Þorsteinsson 1991). Although one might
expect little archaeology preserved in a town center
consisting largely of 20th-century buildings with
deep foundations, a number of older timber buildings
dating to the older settlements in Reykjavík
have survived, and the potential for urban archaeology
remains in many areas of the downtown district
(i.e., Roberts 2001, Snæsdóttir 2007).
Reykjavík Archaeology Covering the
Post-medieval Period
The site of the original farm is in the old town
center, which lies in a depression between the sea
Figure 1. Reykjavík at beginning of 19th century. (Jónsson 1929 after Ohlsen and
Aanum 1801). Note the reversed orientation of the map.
4 Journal of the North Atlantic No. 19
and a small lake, and the land rises both west and
east of that area. The relatively narrow strip of land
between lake and sea mainly consists of a gravelbank,
which is thought to have been formed only
1200 years ago, meaning that it was relatively new at
the time of settlement. Before its formation, the lake
was a small fjord (Einarsson 1974:44, Hallsdóttir
1992:12). There has been evidence for changes in
the sea level in and around Reykjavík, very likely
due to the rising sea level and sinking of the landmass,
for a considerable amount of time (Einarsson
1974:42–44). Recent research indicates that this
change in sea level is now 3 mm per year, but can
have varied through time (Einarsson 2006).
Archaeological investigations in the old center
of Reykjavík in the later part of the 20th century
and during the last decade have revealed building
remains and deposits from older settlements.
Figure 1 is a map of Reykjavík from 1801. There
are only two streets: Aðalstræti (Main Street) runs
north–south, and Hafnarstræti (Harbour Street) follows
the shoreline. The new church is shown in red
(as it is stone built) and is located just north of the
lake (or right below it on this picture). The other
stone building is the prison (later used as a government
building), also depicted in red and located to
the northeast of the lake. East and west of the “town
area” proper, a number of small cottages and farms
can be seen. (The map in Figure 1, drawn by Ohlsen
and Aanum in 1801, was published in Jónsson 1929;
the map has no page number and is located on the
opposite side of page 160).
In 1971–1975, an archaeological
investigation more substantial than
anything that had happened before
(i.e., Grimsson and Einarsson 1970,
Þórðarson 1938–1939) took place on
a few of the plots marked on Figure
2. Structural remains from different
settlement periods were uncovered.
Three buildings dated to the 10th century
and 4–5 were more recent, but
still pre-1500. Among the remains
were, however, also parts of foundations
of a building dating to the factory
period (Nordahl 1988).
In 2001, an area at the southern
end of Aðalstræti, Aðalstræti 14–16,
was excavated in connection with
the planned building of a hotel and
restoration of an older timber house.
Remains of factory buildings from
the 18th century as well as a Viking
Age hall were uncovered. The Viking
Age ruin was surprisingly well
preserved, and the decision was
made to conserve the hall beneath
the modern and restored buildings,
where it can now be experienced as
part of an exhibition, run by the municipal
museum of Reykjavík (www.
Reykjavík871.is).
In 2005, a small house at Aðalstræti
10, (farther north of Aðalstræti
14–16), built in the 18th century
and the last standing structure from
the factory period, was about to be
restored and rebuilt. An archaeological
investigation of its surrounding
area showed that the 18th-century
structure had been disturbed in
the 20th century (Gísladóttir and
Roberts 2005). However, beneath its
Figure 2. Map of excavation sites and coring points in downtown Reykjavík
(Roberts 2001:6). Map legend locates only the sites discussed this paper (for
a more thorough description of the numbered area, see Roberts 2 001:7).
2012 R. Harrison and M. Snæsdóttir 5
(wooden) floors, layers of mixed peat ash containing
artifacts and animal bones (Harrison et al. 2008)
were recovered. No traces of medieval or Viking
Age remains were found.
Much of the information presented so far was
aimed at giving a general history of the excavation
work done in the Reykjavík town center in the later
20th and early 21st century. A recent excavation that
commenced in 2008 in the downtown area close to
these sites is about to be published, and its results are
thus not yet included in this paper.
The Archaeofauna
The zooarchaeological data presented here comes
from the analyses of collections from post-medieval
archaeological sites in Aðalstræti and Tjarnargata.
The various sites will be introduced and their faunal
collections briefly discussed. Only sites with a NISP
(number of identified specimens) of 5000 and above
are discussed at length.
Aðalstræti 8
The 1987 rescue excavation at Aðalstræti 8 in
downtown Reykjavík revealed three occupational
horizons whose latest phase consisted of a rubbish
pit and contained a small archaeofaunal sample
(Hallgrímsdóttir 1987). All these remains were
found to be early modern or later, the oldest context
probably dated to the 18th century. The Aðalstræti
8 archaeofauna produced a NISP of 98 out of a
TNF (total number of fragments) of 257 (Amorosi
1996:183–185, 620). Due to the limited context information
and the small collection size, Aðalstræti 8
materials are not included in this paper.
Aðalstræti 14–16 (AST 14–16)
Before reaching the settlement period deposits,
the excavators at Aðalstræti 14–16 encountered
cultural deposits from the modern period, the 19th
century, and from two discrete early modern deposits,
roughly divided into pre- and post-1764 phases.
Only the latter two periods contained quantifiable
faunal remains (Tinsley and McGovern 2002). These
are shown separately in Figures 3 and 4.
The early modern deposits from the excavation at
Aðalstræti 14–16 did not contain extensive amounts
of faunal remains. Nevertheless, a trend towards a
prioritization of fish over domesticates for consumption
can be observed, especially in the period from
ca. 1764–1800 and several combined phases dating
to ca. 1500–1764 (Tinsley and McGovern 2002:2).
The year 1764 marks a fire in the area, resulting
in the burning and subsequent rebuilding of structures
on the factory grounds. Structural evidence
indicates site activity in form of a building dating
to either the late 17th or early 18th century. That ruin
was found underneath the mid-18th-century or post-
Figure 3. Early modern Icelandic major taxa comparisons.
6 Journal of the North Atlantic No. 19
1764 buildings. Cultural layers associated with very
early textile manufacturing activities date to ca.
1750–1764 (Roberts 2001:66–76).
The post-1764 phase can be associated with
the rebuilding of the factory structures after a fire
as well as increased industrial activity. The 19thcentury
and 20th-century deposits relate to the more
recent history of Reykjavík, but the limited number
of archaeofaunal remains from these contexts cannot
contribute further to the discussion.
Aðalstræti 10 (AST 10)
In connection with renovation work, a rescue
excavation at Aðalstræti 10 was carried out in 2005
(Harrison et al. 2008, Snæsdóttir 2007). Work at
Aðalstræti 10 revealed early modern cultural deposits
mainly consisting of household waste from the
period before the house was built. The site is dated
to the 1700s until about 1754–1762, and is therefore
contemporaneous with the latter phases of the early
modern-period deposits at neighboring Aðalstræti
14–16. All of the Aðalstræti 10 contexts were located
underneath a wooden floor. Although this floor
had likely been replaced several times, at one time
it could be associated with the original house from
the 1760s whose scheduled renovation enabled and
made necessary an investigative archaeological excavation.
The site’s archaeofauna was quite variably
preserved and will be discussed below. The midden
deposit predates the house on this plot by a few
years. The pottery and clay pipes found in the midden
support the recent dating of the building to 1758
or later: One of the pipe fragments bears a maker’s
mark that was only in use between 1758 and 1764
(Ahlefeldt-Laurvig 1980) and can therefore be used
as terminus post quem. This date coincides with the
historian Björnsson’s conclusion that this house was
established in 1762 (Björnsson 1998:102–103).
Tjarnargata 3c (TJR 3c)
The Tjarnargata 3c excavation was another rescue
excavation made necessary because of planned
construction. During the excavation, a large midden
deposit was uncovered. The midden seems to have
accumulated over a long period of time, from the
17th to the 19th century. The collection was partially
sieved, but because of restricted funding and
time, only a sample of the total faunal material was
recovered. This sample comprised 100 kg of animal
bones and represents one of the larger archaeofaunas
recovered in Iceland. Although the oldest layers of
the site were probably associated with activities of
the initial farm operation, most of the younger midden
layers were likely formed in connection with a
specialized fish-processing site, revealing predominantly
skeletal parts of fish mixed with some domestic
refuse (Mehler 2000, 2003; Pálsdóttir 2008;
Perdikaris et al. 2002; Snæsdóttir 2000).
Figure 4. Early modern Icelandic domestic mammal comparisons.
2012 R. Harrison and M. Snæsdóttir 7
The finds from this site have been analyzed by
Natascha Mehler (2000), who writes that most of
the excavated pottery remains were red earthenware
tripod skillets or pans dated to the end of the 16th to
the 18th century. Very few pottery fragments were of
more diagnostic ware types (i.e., Siegburg, Raeren,
gesandete Irdenware), and the whole finds group
can be dated between the early 17th until the early
19th century, roughly coinciding with the time of
the Danish trade monopoly in Iceland. The pottery
fragments predominantly belong to cooking wares,
and the origin of most of these ware types was either
Denmark or coastal Germany (Mehler 2000).
Basic species break downs
The early modern sites Tjarnargata 3c and Aðalstræti
10 produced a larger amount of elements than
the other downtown sites, and despite a reliance on
domesticates for consumption, especially on caprines,
the presence of fish skeletal elements proportions
by far outweigh those from all other species
(Table 1).
Figure 3 compares the Aðalstræti and Tjarnargata
post-medieval and modern collections with the 18thcentury
deposits from the Finnbogastaðir (FBS) farm
in the Westfjords, NW Iceland, associated with fishing
stations (Edvardsson et al. 2004), and the 18thcentury
deposits from the southern episcopal farm at
Table 1. Basic species breakdowns for Tjarnargata 3c and Aðalstræti 10. Note that the bird and fish species information is represented in
Tables 2 and 3, respectively.
TJR 3C, AST 10,
17–19th century mid-18th century
English common name Latin name NISP NISP % NISP NISP %
Domestic mammals
Cow Bos Taurus (L.) 387 0.58 64 0.92
Horse Equus caballus (L.) 10 0.01 4 0.06
Pig Sus scrofa (L.) 19 0.03 5 0.07
Dog Canis familiaris (L.) 40 0.06 2 0.03
Sheep Ovis aries (L.) 8 0.01 48 0.69
Goat Capra hircus (L.) 2 0.03
Sheep/goat Caprine family 727 1.08 461 6.66
Total domestic 1191 586
Seals
Harbor seal Phoca vitulina (L.) 1 0.00
Seal species Phoca species 4 0.01 1 0.01
Total seal 5 1
Whales
Great whale 2 0.00
Whale species 12 0.02
Total whale 15
Other mammals
Arctic fox Alopex lagopus (L.) 3 0.00
Brown rat Rattus norvegicus (L.) 15 0.22
Birds
Identified bird species (see table 2) 30 0.04 34 0.49
Bird species indeterminate Aves species 54 0.08 102 1.47
Total bird species 84 136
Fish
Identified fish species (see table 3) 24,811 36.89 1533 22.15
Fish species indeterminate 38,819 57.71 4463 64.49
Total fish species 63,630 5996
Mollusca
Periwinkle Littorina littorae (L.) 5 0.01
Clam Mya species 85 0.13 1 0.01
Barnacle sp. Balanus sp. 5 0.01
Mussel Mytilus edulis (L.) 2229 3.31
Mollusk species indeterminate Mytilidae species 10 0.01 185 2.67
Total mollusk species 2334 186
Total NISP 67,261 100.00 6920 100.00
Large terrestrial mammal 367 67
Medium terrestrial mammal 1075 711
Small terrestrial mammal 9 4
Unidentified mammal fragments 756 6036
Total number of fragments (TNF) 69,468 13,738
8 Journal of the North Atlantic No. 19
early modern archaeofauna from Tjarnargata 3c and
the Aðalstræti sites is therefore of interest. The Tjarnargata
3c pig skeletal element distribution analysis
has revealed a prevalence of meat-rich elements
instead of parts of the entire skeleton and likely indicates
import of hams or other cured meat products
to the emerging town (Perdikaris et al. 2002). This
finding may represent import from Denmark, but the
prevalence of cured pork products as ships stores in
the early modern period leaves open a wide range of
potential sources.
The Aðalstræti site reflects some examples of
what may be at least semi-professional butchery:
an early application of a meat saw (T.H. McGovern,
Human Ecodynamics Research Center at the CUNY
Graduate Center, New York, NY, USA, January 2008
pers. comm.). The two caprine elements found in
context (051) show marks from a saw blade and are
skeletal element portions indicative of bones associated
with meat cuts (for more information, see Harrison
et al. 2008:20). Animal bones sawn with meat
saws were also found in the early modern Skálholt
archaeofauna (Woollett and McGovern 2003:8). As
Deetz (1996:171) has memorably argued, a major factor
in his 18th-century “Georgian transition” to early
modern meat-consumption patterns was the provision
of standardized cuts of meat produced with large
meat saws (themselves certainly imports to Iceland),
which could be presented on formal (ideally matching)
place settings at the dinner table. Down to the late
19th century, most Icelandic farm families ate from
individual wooden coopered bowls held in their laps
while sitting on the edge of their bedsteads: no formal
tableware was required (Lucas 2010). Much meat
was consumed as stews, and marrow was extracted
by percussion or by perforating ends of metapodials
with a knife point. The individual diners’ spoons or
work knives were used in final consumption in all but
the most elite and Danicized households. This consumption
pattern probably accounts for the observed
continuity in patterning in butchery and consumption
marks between medieval and most early modern Icelandic
archaeofauna. These at least semi-professionally
butchered sawn elements in early modern Reykjavík
thus suggest significant alteration in foodways
as well as possible off-site butchery, and may reflect
consumption patterns of managers or modernizing
households, but it is surely also significant that the
great majority of the bone elements recovered from
both sites show more traditional butchery pattern.
A Developing Urban Ecosystem?
Not only did the early modern Icelandic residents
of downtown Reykjavík experience increased
contact with “Georgian” consumption patterns, Enlightenment
ideas, and mercantilist global econom-
Skálholt (SKH), SW Iceland (Hambrecht 2009). The
Finnbogastaðir farm’s archaeofaunal profile (NISP
= 6410) falls somewhere between the one from the
households at Aðalstræti 10, and the fish-processing
remains from the middens at Tjarnargata 3c, i.e., a
dependence on both domesticates and fish products,
with a heavy reliance on the latter. The large proportion
of fish fragments combined with a considerable
number of mollusks that were potentially used for
bait points towards a site heavily involved with fishing
and fish processing. The Finnbogastaðir faunal
remains indicate a site heavily relying on seafood,
with gadid fish the most abundant (Edvardsson et al.
2004:9). The two post-medieval Aðalstræti 14–16
assemblages (ca. 1500–1764: NISP = 654; ca. 1764–
1800: NISP = 540), on the other hand, share certain
similarities with the zooarchaeological profile at early
modern Skálholt (NISP = 6806), indicating higher
consumption of domesticates versus fish products
(Hambrecht 2006). Skálholt was a major elite manor,
a large school, and the episcopal residence farm.
In early modern times, it was a major center with
probably one of the largest non-urban population
concentrations in Iceland, and most of the analyzed
collection probably derives from provisioning the
bishop’s immediate household (Hambrecht 2011).
The Skálholt archaeofauna likely thus reflects highstatus
consumption patterns rather than that of either
contemporary smaller farms or fishing stations.
Domesticates
Figure 4 displays the domesticate profiles of
the downtown Reykjavík collections in comparison
to the same two early modern faunal collections
as above: Finnbogastaðir and Skálholt. In general,
the Aðalstræti sites’ domesticate profiles resemble
the one from the 18th–19th-century farm at Finnbogastaðir,
with the cattle proportion comprising less
than 20% of the total domesticates in all sites. The
big difference between the site in the Westfjords and
those in the downtown area is that a small number of
pig elements was recovered in the southern collections,
but none in the one from Finnbogastaðir.
The Tjarnargata 3c domesticate profile shares
similarities with the one from Skálholt in the larger
proportion of cattle, but the approximately 35%
cattle percentage at the downtown site clearly falls
far short of the almost 50% cattle percentage of domesticates
at Skálholt, almost certainly a reflection
of status. After the 13th century, most Icelandic sites
show a decline of cattle relative to sheep and goats
(caprines), but there is much variability by region
and status. Generally, in Icelandic archaeofaunal
collections, pig bones become very rare after the earlier
Middle Ages, and pig keeping in Iceland seems
to have effectively ended in early modern times (i.e.,
Harrison 2009). The presence of pig bones in the
2012 R. Harrison and M. Snæsdóttir 9
stræti 10. Among the various species present are
bones of Fulmar (Fulmaris glacialis), a bird species
generally considered to have first appeared in Iceland
in the 18th century. The Aðalstræti 10 archaeofauna
shows high diversity in birds, including smaller
auks, sea gulls, ducks, and geese. The seabird species
could be caught from nearby bird cliffs that are found
everywhere in Iceland (Kristjánsson 1986:115, 354).
Some of the domestic and visiting ducks and geese
likely were found at the little lake called Tjörn, located
directly southeast of the sites (see Fig. 1). The
collection included several domestic chicken bones
(which are rarely found in Icelandic archaeofauna;
Harrison et al. 2008), and it is possible that the goose
bones may also represent domesticated birds. Some
of the sea gulls may have been killed in defense of
fish-drying racks, and their bones in these Early
Modern middens need not necessarily represent food
debris.
Fish
The faunal collections from Tjarnargata 3c and
Aðalstræti 10 differ considerably in absolute numbers,
but both are dominated by fish bones. Only
26% of the total fish remains from Aðalstræti 10
could be assigned to species or family level. At
Tjarnargata 3c, 40% of the total fish were assigned
to either species or family.
Although the Tjarnargata 3c archaeofauna
contains a wider variety of fish species of the two
sites, both collections are clearly dominated by
gadid remains. Almost 60%
of speciated Tjarnargata
fish are Atlantic cod (Gadus
morhua), and Haddock
(Melanogrammus aeglefinus)
dominates the Aðalstræti
fish collection (more
than 25% of speciated fish)
(Table 3 shows the two
sites’ fish assemblages).
These percentages may be
better understood as frequency
ratios between the
two species: at Tjarnargata
3c, the cod versus haddock
ratio is 4.5:1. The Aðalstræti
cod versus haddock
ratio is 1:1.34.
Thus, the Tjarnargata 3c
site has substantially more
cod bone than haddock,
while at Aðalstræti the proportions
are nearly equal.
ics, but they also appear to have encountered some
of the negative environmental aspects of globalized
urban life. Tooth marks of large rodents (larger than
the house mice imported with the Viking Age settlers)
are common on bones from Aðalstræti 10 and
at Tjarnargata 3c. Skeletal remains of Norwegian
brown rats (Rattus norvegicus) at Aðalstræti 10 are
possibly a result of bioturbation (the rats’ burrowing
into deposits at some time after context deposition),
but their presence on site suggests an expanding
commensual pest problem (Lucas 2003). Rats were
also found at roughly contemporary contexts at
nearby Bessastaðir, the Danish Governor’s mansion
(Amorosi et al. 1992). The multiple dog bones
(representing several individuals) recovered from
Tjarnargata 3c may also represent problematic relations
with other human commensuals. Dog remains
are common in pre-christian burials in Iceland, and
their tooth marks are widespread on bone fragments
of other species at all periods, but dog bones are exceptionally
rare in midden deposits or other casual
dumps. It would appear that most Icelandic farm
dogs were neither consumed nor thrown on middens
at death, and the finds of the remains of multiple
individuals in the Tjarnargata 3c deposit may reflect
the beginnings of the semi-feral dog packs that were
to later concern Danish administrators and eventually
lead to a 20th-century ban on dog keeping within
Reykjavík (Ragnarsson 2010:51).
Birds
Table 2 displays the bird bone assemblages from
the early modern sites of Tjarnargata 3c and Aðal-
Table 2. Post-medieval bird species table excluding non-speciate d elements.
TJR 3c, AST 10,
Identified bird species 17th–19th century mid-18th century
Common English name Latin name NISP NISP% NISP NISP%
Fulmar Fulmaris glacialis (Erch.) 13 43.33
Cormorant Phalacrocorax carbo (L.) 2 5.88
Mallard duck Anas platyrhynchos (L.) 2 5.88
Duck family Anatidae species 5 14.71
Goose family Anseridae species 3 8.82
Whooper swan Cygnus cygnus (L.) 1 2.94
Ptarmigan Lagopus mutus (L.) 3 8.82
Common gull Larus canus (L.) 3 10.00
Herring gull Larus argentatus (L.) 3 10.00
Kittiwake Rissa Tridactyla (L.) 1 2.94
Gull family Larus species (L.) 4 13.33 1 2.94
Razorbill Alca torda (L.) 1 2.94
Guillemot family Uria species 1 2.94
Puffin Fratercula arctica (L.) 6 20.00
Auk family Alcidae species (L.) 2 5.88
Golden plover Pluvialis apricaira (L.) 1 3.33
Plover family Pluvialis species 7 20.59
Wren family Troglodytidae sp. 1 2.94
Domestic chicken Gallus gallus (L.) 4 11.76
Total identified bird species 30 100.00 34 100.00
Bird category (incl. unidentified bird spp.) as % of total site NISP 0.12 1.96
10 Journal of the North Atlantic No. 19
near absence of head parts of haddock from either
site represents a strong “consumer” pattern not
duplicated in Iceland apart from far-inland collections
around Lake Mývatn 60 km from the shore
(McGovern et al. 2007, Perdikaris and McGovern
2008). This finding suggests that despite the proximity
of the shore and active fisheries, the residents at
these sites were consuming fully prepared haddock
rather than actively fishing for haddock themselves
or purchasing unprocessed
fish. The cod-element distribution
indicates a ratio of
head to body near normal
(50:50% ratio) at Aðalstræti,
but a clear surplus of heads
to body at Tjarnargata 3c.
While some of this cod bone
deposition may reflect onsite
consumption of whole
fish, surpluses of head bones
normally are associated with
fish-processing points and
fishing stations in Iceland
(Krivogorskaya et al. 2005,
Perdikaris and McGovern
There is also a strong contrast between the two sites
in the distribution of elements of the two species
(Fig. 5) The ratio of premaxillary (mouth parts) to
cleithrum (near the gill slits) bones have been used
to track the distribution of heads (normally cut off
and discarded near the landing point or associated
with the consumption of whole fish) vs. body parts
(which contain the cleithrum under all processing
methods: Perdikaris and McGovern 2008). The
Figure 5. Aðalstræti 10 (AST 10) and Tjarnargata 3c (TJR 3c) comparisons of specific skeletal elements: premaxiallae
can be associated with the presence of fish crania; cleithra can be associated with presence of post cranial elments of fish
(discussed in Perdikaris 1998;Perdikaris et al. 2002, 2007, 200 8).
Table 3. Post-medieval fish species table excluding non-speciated elements.
TJR 3c, AST 10,
Identified fish species 17th–19th century mid-18th century
Common English name Latin name NISP NISP% NISP NISP%
Cod Gadus morhua (L.) 14,643 59.02 298 19.44
Haddock Melanogrammus aeglefinus (L.) 3308 13.33 402 26.22
Saithe Pollachius virens (L.) 498 2.01 10 0.65
Ling Molva molva (L.) 1098 4.43
Torsk Brosme brosme (L.) 7 0.03
Gadid species Gadidae 5105 20.58 822 53.62
Atlantic Halibut Hippoglossus hippoglossus (L.) 40 0.16
Flatfish Pleuronectidae 96 0.39 1 0.07
Wolfish Anarchichas lupus (L.) 16 0.06
Total identified fish species 24,811 100.00 1533 100.00
Fish category (incl. unidentified fish spp.) as % of total site N ISP 94.60 86.65
2012 R. Harrison and M. Snæsdóttir 11
to caudal. This finding would reinforce the head
vs. body indicator of the premaxilla vs. cleithra
proportions for cod from the same contexts and
would suggest that a round dried cod product was
being exported. The haddock vertebral distribution
at the same site appears to reflect a “consumer”
pattern of probably round-dried fish. The Aðalstræti
10 cod vertebral distribution is nearly a mirrorimage
of the Tjarnargata 3c cod distribution, with
far more vertebral elements present than thoracic.
While the total fish sample size is much smaller
than at Tjarnargata 3c, this cod vertebral distribution
in combination with the premaxilla vs. cleithra
distribution suggests a “consumer” rather than a
“producer” profile for cod at Aðalstræti 10, probably
in a flat dried form. The haddock vertebral element
distribution at Aðalstræti 10 is less neat than
the haddock vertebral distribution (again probably
due to sample size), but there is again a clear indication
that the whole vertebral column was being
regularly discarded, suggesting consumption of a
headless round dried product.
Figure 7 represents cod live-size reconstructions
based on Aðalstræti 10 and Tjarnargata 3c cod
dentaries. The Tjarnargata 3c data was published
previously (Perdikaris et al. 2002:20–23), but the
graph is used to demonstrate how well the cod
2008). Especially at Tjarnargata 3c, the disproportionate
concentration of cod fish heads vs. body elements
suggests a major admixture of fish-processing
waste.
Analysis of the distribution of cod and haddock
vertebral elements (caudal = tail, precaudal = mid
body, thoracic = upper body) aids investigation of
the question of local consumption vs. preparation
for export. Two major fish-cutting and preserving
methods were used in early modern Iceland:
a headless round dried product (usually called
“stockfish”) and a headless flat dried (sometimes
also salted) product (when salted called “klipfisk”).
The round dried product (especially desirable
for export) tended to have much of the lower
vertebrae (caudal and precaudal) included, with
only the cranial and upper vertebrae (thoracic) being
cut away and discarded at the processing site.
The flat dried product was spread open to dry, and
most of the upper thoracic and many precaudal
vertebrae filleted away at the production site leaving
mainly caudal vertebrae to travel with the dried
product. The graph in Figure 6 displays the relative
proportions of Haddock and Cod vertebrae of both
sites. The Tjarnargata 3c cod distribution appears
to reflect a clear “exporter” profile, with a significant
preponderance of thoracic vertebrae relative
Figure 6. Presentation of Tjarnargata 3c and Aðalstræti 10 vertebral proportions. Only analyzed Haddock and Cod vertebrae
are compared.
12 Journal of the North Atlantic No. 19
It is never easy to distinguish fishing for export
vs. fishing for subsistence, as most fisher folk also
provision their households with fish—but often
using the less salable species or size classes. On
producer fishing sites in the West Fjords at Gjögur
and Akurvík, these two patterns of production for
export and for local consumption have been clearly
identified in very large archaeofauna through the
combination of head vs. body distribution, vertebral
element distribution, and reconstructed live
size (Amundsen et al. 2005, Krivogorskaya et al.
2005). In this case, it does seem possible to identify
three patterns: 1) refuse from the production
of a round dried cod product at TJR3c that seems
to have been exported, leaving the heads and upper
vertebrae behind (Fig. 7); 2) local consumption of
headless round dried haddock at both Aðalstræti
10 and Tjarnargata 3c; and 3) consumption of both
whole and headless flat dried cod (probably mostly
smaller individuals) at Aðalstræti 10. Note that the
Tjarnargata 3c deposit thus suggests large-scale
fish processing for export, while the Aðalstræti 10
collection suggests a generalized consumer profile
rather than heavy direct involvement in the growing
fishing industry.
The substantial numbers of shell fish at Tjarnargata
3c (2334) relative to Aðalstræti 10 (186)
indicate that the creators of the TJR 3c midden were
live-size reconstructions from this site fit the suggestion
that this assemblage contained remains of
commercially produced round dried cod fillet. The
ideal cod live size for producing a dried fish fillet
ranges between 600–1100 mm (Perdikaris 1999,
Perdikaris et al. 2002), while the range of 400–700
mm represents the live size suitable for a smaller,
flat dried cod or haddock fillet (Perdikaris and
McGovern 2008). The Tjarnargata collection also
produced hundreds of cod cleithra and premaxillae
used for live-size reconstructions, and all matched
the cod live-size lengths based on dentaries. The
latter element was chosen for a comparison with the
Aðalstræti 10 cod assemblage. Only 8 cod dentaries
were useful for a live-size reconstruction, and no
argument for production of a dried cod fillet is attempted.
The graph suggests, however, that most of
the few Aðalstræti 10 fish heads, represented here
by dentaries, likely came from cod fish that at best
fit the smaller dried fish fillet. These few Aðalstræti
10 cod dentaries may represent whole fish brought
to the site and prepared there to be either eaten
immediately or to be processed for consumption at
a later time.
In modern times, Icelanders have tended to export
cod (especially larger individuals which would
dry well in the round) and consume haddock and
smaller cod at home (i.e., Gunnarsson 1983:70–71).
Figure 7. Tjarnargata 3c and Aðalstræti 10 cod length reconstructions based on dentaries. (Cod live-size reconstructions
are based on work by Wheeler and Jones 1989, Leach 1986, Morales and Rosenlund 1979) .
2012 R. Harrison and M. Snæsdóttir 13
probably heavily involved in bait preparation as
well as in processing the catch for export and local
consumption (Kristjánsson 1985:36–71). This
distribution further strengthens the impression that
the TJR3c deposit was largely created by the fishingindustry
workers, though some shellfish remains
probably also reflect human food debris.
Site Provisioning
The results of the zooarchaeological analysis in
combination with the available documentary information
suggest that the people living in the households
associated with Aðalstræti 10 and Tjarnargata
3c were most likely involved in wool working or
fish processing in the factories established in early
modern Reykjavík.
The Aðalstræti 10 caprine skeletal element distribution
(Fig. 8) indicates that the majority of the
elements were most likely not from animals kept
and slaughtered on site. Very few caprine cranial
and foot elements were found in the Aðalstræti 10
archaeofauna, usually an indication that animal
portions were brought to site rather than live animals
slaughtered there. A large percentage of hind
and forequarters portions are present, suggesting
meat cuts associated with the shoulder and pelvic
area as well as the upper longbones of fore and
hind limbs. These animals were likely butchered in
a fashion that allowed for fairly standardized meat
cuts to be distributed to consumers as suggested
by the saw marks discussed earlier. The relatively
small vertebral and rib proportions in Figure 8
are due to NABO protocol suggesting a lumping
of elements that are not morphologically distinct
enough to be analyzed to species or family level
into MTM (medium terrestrial mammal) categories
(NABO 2009). This method keeps analytical errors
at a minimum. Nevertheless, this caprine skeletal
element distribution shows a higher percentage of
rib and vertebral fragments than others do (i.e.,
Perdikaris et al. 2002), and it is therefore possible
that cuts associated with the hind and forequarter
sections of the animals included a certain amount
of meat portions attached to vertebral and rib
bones.
The food-waste assemblages associated with
the Aðalstræti 10 households signify thus that
their occupants were no longer involved with
subsistence farming, but rather acquired some of
their beef and mutton from neighboring farms,
most probably through personal contacts or direct
purchase. Since the factory establishments also
owned some cattle and a number of sheep and ran
their own farming operation in Reykjavík, they
probably provided a further source of meat and
other food items to the factory workers (Björnsson
1998:78). A much higher number of caprine bones
than bovid bones is represented in the Aðalstræti
10 faunal collection, possibly reflecting the gen-
Figure 8. Aðalstræti 10 Caprine Skeletal Element Distribution. MAU = “the minimum number of animal units necessary
to account for the specimens observed” (Lyman 1996:511).
14 Journal of the North Atlantic No. 19
eral Icelandic animal consumption pattern in early
modern times. Pork was likely consumed on occasion,
potentially by the few Danish employees
working as specialists and managers at the Reykjavík
workshops (Björnsson 1998:84–82). The Aðalstræti
10 and Tjarnargata 3c haddock remains suggest
that the people living in these areas consumed
processed haddock products, which were possibly
retained for domestic utilization, while dried cod
products were exported
The relatively diverse bird assemblage is notable
and may reflect a mixture of bird consumption
by humans and birds scavenging. Downtown
Reykjavík is very close to both the ocean, and the
little lake called Tjörn that houses many species of
water fowl, some which may have frequented the
lake since the time it emerged about 1200 years
ago (Nielsen 1992:31–41). We know that birds,
especially sea birds, were consumed by the inhabitants
of Reykjavík in the 19th century (Þórðarson
1938–39:167–171). Sea cliffs populated with sea
birds can be found anywhere in Iceland, and local
seabird consumption was very likely also practiced
during earlier occupation periods, when livestock
herds still needed to be brought up to sustainable
sizes (Kristjánsson 1986:354).
The archaeofauna from Tjarnargata 3c is of an
entirely different nature than the one from Aðalstræti
10. Out of a total NISP of 67,261, the fish
percentage amounts to nearly 95% of the total faunal
distribution and clearly indicates that the area
surrounding the site was predominantly involved
with cod fish processing and eventual export from
the site (Perdikaris et al. 2002), as was the case at
Finnbogastaðir farm in the Westfjords (Edvardsson
et al. 2004:15).
In contrast, the Aðalstræti cod skeletal element
pattern indicates an occasional consumption of a
fresh fish, either self-caught or acquired from one
of the factory-owned fishing vessels, but also consumption
of a cod product obtained in already processed
form. Faunal preservation at Tjarnargata 3c
was excellent, and the archaeofauna analyzed from
the site is thus the best representative of the initial
deposition of faunal remains from all the Reykjavík
archaeofaunal collections currently published.
Conclusion
During the post-medieval period, the available
zooarchaeological collections allow us to identify
consumption patterns within the first proto-urban
population of Iceland. At least some residents were
now performing specialized tasks, predominantly
in wool-working factories, on fishing vessels, and
in fish-processing facilities connected to the manufacturing
businesses rather than being full-time
subsistence farmers or fisher/farmers (Björnsson
1998:56–60). The Icelanders working in the factories
encountered Danes at least in their work space,
as the latter were often employed there as foremen
and administrators. These Danes may have imported
cultural perceptions and customs from the European
continent, and they may have also influenced
the Icelanders´ food habits, i.e., their occasional
consumption of pork hocks (Perdikaris et al. 2002).
Many of the staff were paid in food or clothing and
may have supplemented their usual food supply with
the occasional fresh-caught fish, sea mammal, and
bird. There is evidence that the leaders of the factories
complained about the Danish merchants being
unwilling to sell them provisions, and thus the companies
had to arrange the food supply themselves
(Róbertsdóttir 2001:148), and some of the patterning
in these archaeofauna may well represent the result
of these efforts. This involvement may have been
increased during the later years of the factory period
in the early 1760s when the trading company took
on the administration of these enterprises (Björnsson
1998:96–97).
The two sites chiefly discussed in this paper
clearly differ from each other: the Tjarnargata 3c
archaeological record can be associated with fishprocessing
activities for an exported cod product
(i.e. Perdikaris et al. 2008) and reflects an industrial
production profile. The midden found under the
Aðalstræti 10 building on the other hand displays a
consumption refuse area created by people working
for the developing manufacturing enterprises
(Innréttingar). These people were no longer living
on individual farmsteads, but instead participated
in larger communities in smaller spaces, eating the
prepared cuts of meat and filets of fish available to
them, possibly being communally provisioned as
part of their pay. While much more zooarchaeological
data from what has become downtown Reykjavík
awaits publication, this paper may serve to indicate
the richness of these data for aiding understanding
of the processes of urbanization and early phases of
the development of the urban lifestyle now familiar
to so many modern Icelanders.
Acknowledgments
This paper was made possible by the generous support
of the CUNY Northern Science and Education
Center, the UK Leverhulme Trust, and grants (0527732,
0732327, 0352596, 0234383) from the US National Science
Foundation, Office of Polar Programs (Arctic Social
Sciences Program), Archaeology Program, International
Polar Year Program, and Human and Social Dimensions
of Global Change Program, as well as the Icelandic Mil2012
R. Harrison and M. Snæsdóttir 15
lennium Fund. Thanks go to the students for their help
sorting the Aðalstræti 10 archaeofauna: E. Alexander, F.
Feeley, M. Gorsline, M. Hicks, and S. Mitrovic, and to
Albína H. Pálsdóttir. Further thanks go to Dr. Thomas H.
McGovern and Dr. Sophia Perdikaris at the Hunter and
Brooklyn College CUNY NORSEC laboratories for their
continued support and advice and use of their facilities.
Dr. McGovern was incredibly helpful with paper revisions.
Thanks to Guðrún Alda Gísladóttir and other staff
at the Institute of Archaeology, Iceland (FSÍ) for all their
expertly help and to Eileen Westwig at the American
Museum of Natural History for her kind assistance with
comparative specimens. Thanks to Howell M. Roberts
for his help with the cover photograph.
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