If metal detecting has a universal truth, it's this: you will dig more buttons than anything else. Small, round, ubiquitous — they're everywhere. But here's the thing most beginners miss: a button can tell you more about who lived on your field than a pocket full of Victorian pennies.
The humble button has fastened clothing for over 5,000 years. From bone toggles in the Neolithic to plastic snaps in the 1960s, humans have been dropping, losing, and burying these little discs since before history began. And unlike coins, which traveled far and wide, buttons tend to stay close to home. When you find a 17th-century button in a Kent field, there's a decent chance someone local dropped it there, three or four centuries ago.
So before you toss your next "buttony thing" into the junk pouch, let's talk about what you're actually finding — and why it matters.
At its simplest, a button is a fastening device: usually circular, with holes or a shank for attachment to fabric. But within that definition lies enormous variety. Size, material, construction method, decoration, and attachment style all changed dramatically across time periods and social classes.
The Romans didn't use buttons as we know them. Their clothing fastened with brooches (fibulae), toggles, or ties. However, they did produce small bone and bronze buttons, particularly for military use and ceremonial dress.
Bone/Toggle Bronze Disc
Roman "buttons" were often more like decorative studs or toggle fasteners. Bone examples feature a single central hole. Bronze military buttons might display unit numbers or eagle motifs. If you find something that looks button-like but pre-dates the medieval period, consider whether it's actually a decorative fitting, belt stud, or game piece instead.
The medieval period saw the true rise of the button in European fashion. Initially a status symbol — expensive, decorative, and worn by the wealthy — buttons gradually became commonplace by the late medieval period.
Pewter Copper Alloy Bone Wooden
Rare and precious. Early medieval buttons were typically bone, antler, or expensive metal, worn on the garments of nobility. Single-hole toggles remained common for the masses. If you find an early medieval metal button, it's likely from high-status clothing and may feature decorative engraving.
Buttons became more common but remained relatively simple. Dome-shaped copper alloy buttons with shanks are typical. Decorative motifs might include geometric patterns, cross-hatching, or simple floral designs. Size varies from tiny (8mm) to large statement pieces (25mm+).
The age of the extravagant button. Fashion demanded rows of buttons down sleeves, fronts, and even legs. This drove mass production and standardisation. Pewter becomes common. You might find buttons with maker's marks, religious symbols, or heraldic motifs. The famous "Sutton Hoo of buttons" — the London Moorgate hoard — contained over 400 medieval buttons, showing how disposable they'd become.
The Tudors took button fashion to extremes. Henry VIII's wardrobe inventories list thousands of buttons — many jewelled, embroidered, or made of precious metal. For detectorists, this period produces some of the most interesting and identifiable buttons.
Copper Alloy Pewter Silver Glass
Simple domed buttons remain common, but decoration becomes more elaborate. You might find buttons with stamped designs — portraits, animals, ships, or religious scenes. The famous "Dudley buttons" from the Midlands feature a castle motif representing the Earl of Dudley's estates. Military buttons from this period might display pikes, swords, or regimental symbols.
The English Civil War (1642-1651) produced a particular type: the "Dorothy button" or "Death's Head" button, featuring a skull and crossbones motif. These are relatively common finds and were worn by both sides as memento mori symbols. More mundanely, plain pewter and copper alloy buttons dominate, often with simple maker's marks on the reverse.
By the late 17th century, the "loop shank" button becomes standard: a wire loop soldered to the back rather than a cast stem. This small technical change helps date finds to the Restoration period or later.
The Georgian era was the golden age of the decorative button. As manufacturing improved and raw materials became cheaper, buttons transformed from purely functional items to fashion statements. This is the period when you'll find the most variety — and the most frustration trying to identify specific types.
Copper Alloy Tombac Silver Mother of Pearl
Simple, functional, often crude. Cast copper alloy buttons with shanks dominate. Decoration, if present, is usually minimal — concentric rings, simple dots, or plain surfaces. Tombac (a copper-zinc alloy with a brass-like appearance) becomes popular for its gold-like colour at a fraction of the cost.
Button manufacturing explodes. The Industrial Revolution brought mass production, standardised sizes, and innovative materials. You might find:
Military buttons from this period are particularly collectable. A Georgian infantry button with a clear regimental number can identify specific soldiers who served in specific campaigns — Waterloo, the American Revolutionary War, colonial conflicts.
If you're detecting farmland that was inhabited during the 19th century, Victorian buttons will make up 70% of your "non-coin" finds. The Victorians used buttons for everything: coats, shirts, trousers, dresses, underwear, shoes, and accessories.
Brass Nickel Rubber Vegetable Ivory
The British Army and Navy produced millions of standardised buttons during Victoria's reign. Features to look for:
Military buttons often have maker's marks on the reverse: firms like Firmin & Sons, Jennens, or Pitt & Co. These marks can help date buttons precisely — some makers operated only during specific periods.
The Victorian middle class wore their wealth on their sleeves — literally. Look for:
The famous "Union case" buttons — made from a hard rubber compound — were popular in the 1860s-70s. They often feature detailed raised scenes and a distinctive texture. Black or dark brown in colour, they can survive surprisingly well in alkaline soils.
Modern buttons are less romantic but still tell stories. Two World Wars produced billions of military uniform buttons. Post-war plastic and resin replaced metal for civilian use. If you're detecting pasture that was farmed (or lived on) in the last 120 years, you'll encounter plenty of these.
Brass Aluminium Bakelite Plastic
Both conflicts standardised military buttons. WWI buttons often feature "GR" (George Rex) or "GVI" (George VI) crowns. General Service buttons from WWII are extremely common finds — brass, relatively undecorated, with a simple crown and "Military" or regimental marking.
Home Front buttons include ARP (Air Raid Precautions), Civil Defence, and Home Guard insignia. These are collectible but not valuable — expect to find many, keep the best, and bin the rest.
Plastic revolutionised button manufacturing from the 1950s onward. These rarely survive well in soil — they become brittle and fragment. Metal buttons became increasingly rare for civilian clothing. If you find a modern-looking metal button, it's likely military or from a specific uniform (police, post office, railway, etc.).
Metal colour helps: Yellow/brass suggests post-1700. Copper-green patina suggests copper alloy, common from medieval to Victorian periods. Dark grey/black often indicates pewter, lead, or tombac — common from 1500-1850. Silver-coloured metal might be silver (check hallmarks), nickel (post-1850), or aluminium (post-1900).
Look at the back: Many buttons have maker's marks on the reverse. A quick Google of "button maker [name]" can often date your find to within a decade. Military buttons frequently display the maker's name and location — London, Birmingham, and Sheffield were major production centres.
Consider context: A 17th-century button found near a known Civil War site has different significance than the same button from random farmland. Document where you found it, what depth, and what else was nearby.
Most buttons are worth pennies — literally. Dealers sell bags of "unsorted Victorian" for a few quid. But some buttons genuinely matter:
If you find something that matches these criteria, photograph it in situ, record the GPS coordinates, and contact your Finds Liaison Officer. A single button can rewrite local history if properly documented.
The button is the ultimate democratic artefact. Kings and peasants wore them. Soldiers and civilians. Men, women, and children. Rich and poor. They fastened armour, ball gowns, work overalls, and wedding dresses. Every button you dig represents a human moment — someone getting dressed, adjusting their coat, losing a fastening in the field.
So don't dismiss them. Clean them gently. Identify them carefully. And remember: that grubby little disc might be the only physical connection we have to someone who lived and worked on your land five centuries ago. That's not junk. That's history.
Happy hunting. And may your next signal be something other than a button — but if it is, at least now you'll know what you've found.
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