Europe’s Low Rivers Reveal Stones Marked With Centuries of Drought Warnings

As rivers in central Europe fall to unusually low levels, stones carved with centuries-old warnings are once again visible along their banks. Known as “hunger stones,” the markers were placed or inscribed to record exceptionally dry conditions. Their dates range from the 15th to the 20th centuries, and some stones were marked repeatedly as low-water episodes returned decades apart. One of the most prominent examples resurfaced earlier this month along the Elbe River in Oberposta, a district of Pirna, Germany, southeast of Dresden. The stone carries several low-water inscriptions, including one dated 1707. Euronews described it as one of Germany’s largest and best-known hunger stones. Other stones have reportedly appeared this summer near Leverkusen, south of Cologne, and in Dolní Žleb, a Czech village near the German border. The same period of low water has also revealed objects and remains including Nazi warships, woolly mammoth bones, a steamboat known as “Sava’s Titanic” and an ancient Roman bridge, according to Smithsonian Magazine. The stones were more than historical records. Vlastimil Pažourek, director of the Děčín Regional Museum in the Czech Republic, told Al Jazeera in 2022 that many carried names, initials, years or lines showing the water level. Such markings drew attention to the risks posed by dry conditions, including reduced work and income for people who towed and worked on ships. One Elbe stone in Děčín bears a particularly stark inscription carved in 1904 by F. Mayer, a boatman and innkeeper: “If you see me, weep.” According to reporting cited by Smithsonian Magazine, Mayer apparently installed a beer tap and charged visitors to see the exposed stone. Contemporary coverage said groups gathered on it, raising concerns that repeated foot traffic could wear away the markings. The inscriptions also appear to have preserved useful measurements. A 2020 study in *Climate of the Past* found that 11 water-level measurements carved into the Děčín stone between 1868 and 1957 closely corresponded with independently recorded figures, differing by only a few centimeters. Together, the stones offer an unusual physical record of earlier droughts—and a reminder that some river communities once treated the appearance of exposed rock as a warning about the hardships ahead.