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Krampus: Southern Germany,  Alpine Tirol and   Austria 

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Krampus: Southern Germany,  Alpine Tirol and   Austria 

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You can hear (and smell) them before you even see them. ‘The Krampus are coming!’ You quickly follow the rhythmic clang of cowbells, turn the corner and then … you’re face to face with a demonic horned creature, half man, half beast. The pungent aroma of goatskin assaults your olfactory senses, a carved mask with flashing eyes, sharp teeth and protruding tongue leers in your face, daring you to take one step closer. You never forget your first encounter with the Krampus!

You take a step back as he raises his claw to you, then – thwack! Quick as a flash, your legs are stinging from the whack of a birch twig. Yes, you’ve been naughty, and the Krampus is here to punish you, and you’ll have bruises to prove it.

The origins of the Krampus are a little hazy; mythology is filled with half-human, half animal creatures with supernatural powers, and although on first sight the Krampus resembles a goat-like devil, he’s very much a product of the rural farming traditions and identity of the Alpine Tyrol in southern Germany and Austria. The costumes are made using materials to hand: goatskins, horns, leather, wood and cowbells. The name is derived from the Old German word for claw, which in itself has a lovely scratchy sound, and you certainly don’t want those claws anywhere near you!

While there’s some wishful romanticising that the Krampus derives from pagan roots, it’s firmly part of a Catholic heritage, cemented in the 19th century as a form of religious social control. The Krampus is the sidekick of St Nicholas, and the pair would go house to house on St Nicholas’ Day, 6 December, testing children on their religious knowledge, rewarding the good ones with sweets, or inflicting punishment on the bad ones. In the 19th century, mass-produced postcards featured a fearsome Krampus with a basket on his back delightedly running off with a bawling child.

The 19th century was a time of huge interest in creating ‘traditions’, pageantry and ‘folklore’, and the Krampus was a ripe subject for postcards and other cheap mass produced commodities such as Christmas figurines, including pictures of ‘sexy’ Krampuses luring willing women to who knows what furry horny fate.

The early 20th century saw a continued interest, but this dropped away until a revival in the 1970s with the founding of many local Krampus groups, both rural and urban, and a surge of interest in the 90s at the start of the mass digital era. This fed a desire to be part of a tradition with its own local customs, however doubtful the origins of that ‘tradition’ may be.

Today you’ll find different types of Krampus events: staged performances with pyrotechnics, often accompanied by loud rock music; the run or Lauf (controlled or otherwise), where a horde of Krampuses run through town; the visits of St Nicholas with his Krampuses to pubs and restaurants echoing the practice of house visits.

The events in the city are family-friendly, but if you’re looking for something less tame, it’s out in the villages and the harder-to-find runs where the true jeopardy lies: the Krampuses run wild, whipping you from behind when you least expect it, running over rooftops and pouring out of windows; there are no stewards, no health and safety regulations, just unbridled chaos and woe betide you if you get in their way!

Melitta Dennett 2025

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Perchtenlauf takes place in the week leading up to St Nicholas Night, the 6 December. This primordial, dark festival is celebrated within the eastern alpine region of Austria called the Tirol, and the final celebration takes place in the small town of Rattenburg. The rite involves local troupes of men collectively called Pässe, or as an individual group, a Pass.

These devilish troupes consist of a Hexe (witch), a group of Perchten (who dress in heavy cornflower suits and carry huge drums made from lorry radiators) and the Trommler (horn blowers who wear suits made from real goat fur). The costumes are reflective of the wild, mountainous surroundings. The Perchten and Trommler also wear devilish horned wooden masks, which are carved by local artisans. The horns are taken from the wild rams and goats that once roamed the mountains.

It is easy to confuse the Perchten with the Krampus as they wear similar devilish masks. The key difference is that the tradition of  Krampus is derived from the Catholic tradition, and this rite is based on the interrogation catechism, which is a test carried out by the local priest to ascertain if a child has been good or bad. If they are good, the children receive a present; if bad, they are punished by the Krampus. In contrast, the Perchten pay homage to the pagan goddess Perchta, who is a dopple Gesicht, meaning that she has two faces representing good and evil or the dark of winter and the light of summer, the sun and the moon. In folklore, Perchta was mostly seen as a theomastix, a goddess who was a punisher of slovenly women who hadn’t spun their wool properly. Perchta would split a housewife’s belly open and eat her guts if she was not up to scratch!

In the safety of modern-day Austria, the goddess Perchta is channelled through the figure of the Hexe, who is followed by his entourage of drumming Perchten and horn-blowing Trommler. The intent is to beat the bounds of their villages, thus protecting the local farmland from the evil spirits that may lie in the darkness of the mountains.

The aural aspect of the ritual is just as important as the visual display. Not only do the Perchten and Trommler wear heavy suits, but they also wear huge cowbells around their waists, which they use their whole body weight to ring at certain points of their performance.

Leading up to 6 December, the various Pässe beat their drums and dance around the Tyrolean villages, appearing outside the village swimming pool, fire station or local Spar!

Despite the different Pässe wearing similar attire, it becomes apparent that each Pass has its individual personality and sound, and this is usually down to the influence of their Hexe.  Nevertheless, when they all descend upon Rattenberg on the eve of St Nicholas, the sight and the sounds are all physically and mentally encompassing. Rattenberg is an old medieval town, and as the Perchten move cumbrously through the streets, their horns make nefarious-looking shadows against the ancient walls.  The dances of the Hexen are equally spellbinding as they shamanically dance within the circle of Perchten, blowing fire into the night sky. Eventually, the crescendo of the drumming spirits everyone away to another realm and, for me, it is always difficult to come back again!

Suzanne Rolfe, 2025

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The Buttnmandl and Kramperl of Berchtesgaden

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The Buttnmandl and Kramperl of Berchtesgaden

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There is an old tradition in the Bavarian alpine region of the Berchtesgaden valley, where on the days before Christmas, groups of young men aged 16 and older, who have never been married, disguise themselves in sheaves of hand-threshed straw, like giant walking wheatsheaves. They wear carved wooden and fur masks resembling the faces of fantastical forest beasts with the snouts and tusks of wild boar or the long horns and beards of goat-like creatures. They hang large, noisy cow bells, some weighing up to 45 pounds, around their waists that clang with every movement, and they carry switches of birch, which they call ‘the rod of life’, to whip the legs of anyone who gets in their way. They are the Buttnmandl. ‘Butten’ means ‘rattling’ or ‘shaking’, referring to the bells, from which they get their name. It is an honour to be chosen as a Buttnmandl and it is usually other members of the group who choose which other young men can join them.

Hitler banned this local tradition, which had long and deep Celtic pagan origins. The roots remained strong, however, and, thankfully, were brought back to life and carry on to this day. The local tradition is not commercialised and is completely free to experience – although you have to find out where to go and be in the right place at the right time. It is not performed to attract tourists but rather to frighten away the dark and menacing spirits of deepest darkest winter, to protect livestock and harvests and to bring noise and life to the icy gloom.

On the morning of 5 December, spectators assemble in front of the Bischofswiesen mountain infantry barracks. Angels on horseback accompany a brass band on a horse-drawn wagon, heralding St. Nicholas who appears wearing the robes and mitre of a bishop, flanked by his trusty servant Rupert, wearing a woodsman-like costume, and two little angels, usually young girls, who toss sweets into the crowd.

Then, following St. Nicholas’s orders, the Kramperl round up the Buttnmandl to get them ready for their run through the mountain villages. The Kramperl are like Krampus, they wear furs and horned masks as opposed to the straw of the Buttnmandl. They have soot-blackened hands, which they smudge across the faces of spectators and they keep both the Buttnmandl and the crowd in check with their switches.

Noisily, the Buttnmandl set off through the valley, rustling their hay and clanking their bells, howling, growling and roaring. The menacing Kramperl run alongside them, keeping the group together and pushing anyone who needs some help running up a hill.

When night falls, various groups of Buttnmandl and Kramperl run rampant through the villages, roaring, growling and clanking through the streets, littering hay all over the roads and pavements, going from house to house, farm to farm and pub to pub, doing private visits, scaring away the bad winter spirits, and no doubt the children too.

Kerry Boettcher, 2025

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