Ox blood floor

I read that when settlers mad a sod house that when they finished building that they didnt need all the oxen that it took to pull the wagon therefore they would slaughter one for the meat. When they did this it was a common practice to lead it in the house and cut its throat... Then they would mop the bloodshot every crevice and corner... When the blood fried it left a hard surface much like concrete. And that when butchering subsequent animals that the blood was utilized in the same way to harden and thicken the finish.... BTY ..i have NO intentions of doing this ....EVER

I wonder how that smelled.

That sounds delightful. I wonder how it worked, and if there are non-blood earthen floor sealants that were developed to replace it.

-CK

I can not atest to the floor in a house but when we slaughter a cow the blood makes a hard patch on the ground... It drys QUICK and does not stink. Flies dont congregate for more than a day or so...

sounds a little...sticky? in high humidity, especially.

well, probably a great use of what's often treated as a waste product, then.

As for non blood ... I know that eggs and flour and milk make a paint that lasts forever ...i hav had to refinish OLD chairs and that stuff is a BITCH to sand off.

Richard Stromberg wrote:As for non blood ... I know that eggs and flour and milk make a paint that lasts forever ...I have had to refinish OLD chairs and that stuff is a BITCH to sand off.

Sounds nice! what's the ratio of ingredients in your blend? does it create a hard shell, or soak into the wood?

My father born 1927 in Texas on a pan handle area , very arid, cattle ranch told me he and his brothers room was an addition with just a floor of.clay that was cattle blood soaked. He said the floor was hard surface, had a shine, and was functional. I was just a girl and asked questions about a blood floor being nasty. He said the blood clay floor was much like linoleum.

Rally Rider wrote:My father born 1927 in Texas on a pan handle area , very arid, cattle ranch told me he and his brothers room was an addition with just a floor of.clay that was cattle blood soaked. He said the floor was hard surface, had a shine, and was functional. I was just a girl and asked questions about a blood floor being nasty. He said the blood clay floor was much like linoleum.

Very interesting. I had thought that what we call "oxblood" in Germany as a colour for houses was actually achieved by using real ox blood, but apparently it is not suitable as exterior paint - but yes, as a paint for interiors (mixed with other ingredients).
The colour denominated oxblood actually has a specific code and should more precisely be called Falun red (as typical for Swedish houses). It is made with iron complexes from mineral sources. Historical German half-timbered houses also use that colour shade.
I got that information from the German wikiepedia article: https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ochsenblut

Wow I just read the original post...my typos are epic. As no one fried the floor... as for the milk paint recipe I have no idea. I was stripping the paint off not painting them.

My great-great grandmother lived in a dirt floor, one room house (shack) in West Texas. Her family treated the floor exactly like this. I was told it had a satin sheen. Hard as concrete, and as odd it sounds to modern ears, especially without this knowledge, she swept her dirt floor every day. I remember as a young boy thinking how stupid it was to sweep a dirt floor, until I later learned the full story. They also used cattle blood as a furniture varnish. I’ve found several antique furniture items that used this technique - it gets sticky and weepy in high humidity that turns to a hard to describe sludgy looking, rippled texture once it hardens again, especially on furniture legs, spindles and chairback imprint design, where poor quality brushes allowed too much blood to puddle in the multiple chisel points. I remember a particular set of dining chairs in my grandmother’s house in the 1970’s that you would stick to in the humid summers. I was fascinated by the denim imprint that would change from tacky during summer visits to hard and permanent during other visits. It was like the chair was alive. They were my great-great grandmother’s chairs.