Deer Pearl Type S madstone

The madstone would stick to the wound and draw the poison out

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Applying the madstone to the arm of a girl bitten by a rabid dog.

Right up till the early years of the 20th century, a bite from a rabid animal could strike terror in the hearts of Appalachian residents. Rabies slowly destroys the nervous system. It finally attacks the spinal cord and its victim may froth at the mouth, scream and fight. Before Louis Pasteur developed a successful vaccination in 1885, death from rabies was a forgone conclusion, unless a madstone could be obtained. This trusted folk medicine gets its name from the delirious behavior caused by hydrophobia, a condition produced by the rabies virus.

“The mad-stone? People believe it will cure snakebites and hydrophobia,” hunter Ben Lester told the authors of ‘The Heart of the Alleghanies’ in 1883. “Here’s one. It was found in the paunch of a white deer I shot this fall was a year ago; and, mind you, the deer with a mad-stone in him is twice as hard to kill as one of ordinary kind. Five bullets were put in the buck that carried this one.”

Ben Lester’s madstone, “smooth and red, as large as a man’s thumb, and with one flat, white side,” was technically a calculus, a stone-like object sometimes found in the stomach of animals who chew their cud.

According to beliefs surrounding this folk medicine, a madstone from a brown deer will work in a bind if another cannot be found. A better grade of madstone comes from a white or spotted deer. The very best madstone comes from an albino or witch deer.

'R.L. Steel/1829' is scratched into one end of this light brown trapezoidal madstone; '809' is scratched into the other end; it was originally stored in a small black leather pouch.
‘R.L. Steel/1829’ is scratched into one end of this light brown trapezoidal madstone; ‘809’ is scratched into the other end; it was originally stored in a small black leather pouch.

To treat someone bitten by a rabid animal you’d boil the madstone in sweet milk and then, while it was still hot, apply the stone to the wound, states Douglas Mahnkey in ‘Hill and Holler Stories.’

“If the dog was actually mad, the stone stuck to the wound and would draw the ‘pizen’ out,” he continues. “Once the stone was filled with the poison it would drop off, and it was again boiled in sweet milk and applied to the wound. The milk would turn green. This process was repeated until the stone no longer adhered to the wound.”

Madstones have always been greatly prized by anyone fortunate enough to come into possession of one, and would be handed down in the same family for generations. Before Pasteur’s immunization came to North Carolina in 1915, some owners charged up to $100 for lending a madstone, or required a $1,000 bond to guarantee its return.

And in North Georgia “Faith Cochran advertised his madstone every week in the county paper. People came from as far away as Alabama to be treated,” according to Floyd C. Watkins and Charles Hubert Watkins in ‘Yesterday in the Hills,’ a portrait of farm life in Cherokee County at the turn of the twentieth century.

Two madstones
The Mad Stones of Vacherie [LA] featured in “Dixie Roto Magazine” June 19, 1949. 

“It looked like a worn creek rock about the size of a partridge egg with a chip broken off one end. Faith dipped the stone in milk and stuck it to the wound. After it had sucked out the poison, it dropped off the wound.”

Worn creek rock? What happened to white deer calculi? Dr. Thomas M. Owen, Director of the Department of Archives and History of the State of Alabama, in a letter dated September 22, 1917, wrote:

“Some of these stones are reputed to have been taken from the stomach of a deer, but they were in fact nothing more than native rock, worn smooth, and which, because of their porosity, were capable when heated of drawing out or absorbing liquids.”

We know today that rabies is caused by a virus that is usually spread through contact with an infected animal’s saliva. Whether madstones were made from deer stomach calculi or rock, was their ability to absorb quickly and efficiently the real issue, was it a chemical reaction (the tight bonding of the madstone to the wound and the milk), or some combination of both?

sources: www.nchealthandhealing.com/topic/33/
http://thelibrary.org/faq/files/momadstone.cfm
www.rootsweb.ancestry.com/~okmurray/stories/mad_stone.htm
www.smokymountainnews.com/issues/02_06/02_01_06/mtn_voices.html
www.folkmed.ucla.edu/FMDetail.cfm?UID=22_4353
“Yesterday in the Hills,” by Floyd C. Watkins, Charles Hubert Watkins, Quadrangle Books, 1963
“The Heart of the Alleghenies, or Western North Carolina,” by Floyd C. Watkins, Calvin S. Brown, A. Williams & Co., 1883
“Hill and Holler Stories,” by Douglas Mahnkey, S of D Press, School of the Ozarks, 1975

More articles on folk medicine:

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Queen of the Meadow cures all(Opens in a new browser tab)

She was a great Herb Doc, the main Doc of the county(Opens in a new browser tab)

7 comments

  1. I’m doing a book tour and in a discussion yesterday someone mentioned madstones. I had heard about them as a child but they were never explained to me. I’m grateful to see this!

  2. I was told that madstones also came from the head of toads and frogs. Flat, triangular and smooth. My grand father had one but I do not know where he got his.

  3. My grandfather had two which my great-great-great grandfather brought back from India when he was a sea Captain in the late 1700s, bringing spices and silks to America. My grandfather was know in the local area for having these and people would come to him for venomous snake bites, rabid dog bites and other severe infections. The stone would attach itself to the wound, drawing out the poison or infections until it was “full” and would fall off. The stone was then soaked in water to cleanse and reapplied. Supposedly if would only attach itself once it had been cleared of the fluid it had extracted and then would reattach until it was once again full and needed to be cleansed. Granddad said he always felt it was made from some sort of bone or pumice – but so far, no one really knows.

  4. My Grandfather is Native American. We have used a madstone ( not for rabies) but other venomous bites. I learned about a madstone long before we had internet, just by information passed down from generation to generation. As the little information I have found pretty well describes the characteristics of one and how to use one. It kinda looks like bone marrow on the flat side. It was taken from a white deer.

  5. I think I have one of these called madstones. I got it from my grandmother. I already had tried it to myself back when I was bitten by a dog.

  6. The mad stone of Vacherie is real, it was used on my dad in 1982, and on my mom in the 1950s, and on many people in more recent times.

  7. I have one and looked for it after a patient I had told me about it!! Found it the very next day!!

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