There is some evidence that the first people to inhabit North America might have been subject to a comet impact. H. G. W. Burchard* reports that a comet seems to have hit about 13 millennia ago, creating, among other features, parts of the Great Lakes and the Carolina Bays, the latter those mysterious circular and oval water-filled depressions on the coast. At the time, North America had very few residents. Those who inhabited the continent had dangers like wolves and bears on their minds, probably not objects from outer space. To protect themselves they gathered in shelters.
Of course, a similar impact would devastate the economy from the Great Lakes to North Carolina today. That another such strike hasn’t occurred since North America’s population explosion has been the good fortune. Such events are rare though the airburst of a tiny asteroid over Chelyabinsk in 2013 probably has current residents occasionally checking the skies for a now unlikely but expected danger. A bit of ice or rock that travels thousands of miles per hour doesn’t have to hit the ground to create a harrowing shockwave or to harrow the minds of those who live through the event.
Since the time of comet that Burchard identifies there have probably been other impact events across the planet, most of them small and in the oceans and definitely most of them unreported. Near misses also occur all the time. That we who live outside Chelyabinsk don’t concern ourselves much over whether an asteroid or comet or roving band of wolves will ruin our picnic is a testimony to the rarity of such dangers capable of impacting human life. But, of course, someday a wolf will bite someone or an asteroid will hit with more devastation than the Chelyabinsk rock.
Our concerns are generally more earthbound and centered more on collisions with people. Therein lies our sense of helplessness that mirrors our inability to prevent a comet or asteroid impact or to completely avoid a chance encounter with dangerous animals. It seems that collisions are built into human interactions and that most people who are struck by a human bolide are like the people of Chelyabinsk: Relatively innocent of any malice and unsuspecting that they are in the path of an incoming object, but afterward always aware that a collision is possible. From serious home invasions through road rage incidents and arguments over the placement of hedge between yards, all such impacts make us residents of a worldwide Chelyabinsk. We are a species that is somewhat edgy because an apparently random event can disrupt life in both small and large ways. Maybe the people of Chelyabinsk should keep in mind that their city was founded as an area of protection from Bashkir bandits whose unprovoked attacks on trade routes were no more predictable than a rare comet strike.
That we increasingly look for an impact after being impacted is natural. Conditioning is a reality to which we all succumb. Reconditioning is especially difficult when an impact is both unexpected and life-altering. Surviving without constant anxiety is difficult in a highly populous country that is also open to natural dangers. Wolves, coyotes, and bears aren’t really a problem for the majority of people in North America, but ticks and mosquitoes are, and inimical viruses and bacteria can show up anywhere anytime, just like bolides.
Those few residents of North America 13,000 years ago might not have been either directly or indirectly impacted by Burchard’s comet. Maybe all they heard and saw was a loud bang and a flash. In contrast, our vast numbers make almost daily human impacts inevitable. It’s one thing to be hit by a ball of random space rock or ice or bitten by a wolf and quite another to be impacted by a conscious individual with harmful intentions, such as Bashkir bandits going after goods along a trade route.
Probably 13,000 years ago those same unexpected human impacts occurred. Our largely gregarious and interdependent nature makes even small populations gather, as some did in the Meadowcroft Rock Shelter at the time of the comet’s strike. No doubt the early residents of the shelter were mutually concerned about attacks by bears and wolves. Those in the shelter chose the inevitable human impacts over nature’s. The people of the Urals also chose interpersonal impacts of their community over the dangers of roving bands of bandits. As a coincidence, Bashkir derives from the term “main wolf.”
Our nature seems to make an even redistribution of population across the stretches of any country unlikely. We might lessen, but we won’t eliminate anxiety by decreasing the number of people per acre. It just takes two people to make a society. That is, we’re not going to change the interdependent and gregarious nature of our species. We will continue to gather in shelters for convenience and protection. The gathering will always indicate a choice: We seem to prefer human impacts over Nature’s, regardless of the potentially greater danger and more frequent nature of the former over the latter.
Natural disasters like tornadoes, hurricanes, earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, and animal attacks occur. Occasionally, a comet will strike. But gathering together in a common shelter in spite of the penchant to impact one another negatively, appears to be our only recourse to find mutual protection. It’s us against the wolves, even the ones that might unexpectedly fall from the sky.
Burchard, H.G.W. (2017) Younger Dryas Comet 12,900 BP. Open Journal of Geology, 7, 193-199. https://doi.org/10.4236/ojg.2017.72013
Of course, a similar impact would devastate the economy from the Great Lakes to North Carolina today. That another such strike hasn’t occurred since North America’s population explosion has been the good fortune. Such events are rare though the airburst of a tiny asteroid over Chelyabinsk in 2013 probably has current residents occasionally checking the skies for a now unlikely but expected danger. A bit of ice or rock that travels thousands of miles per hour doesn’t have to hit the ground to create a harrowing shockwave or to harrow the minds of those who live through the event.
Since the time of comet that Burchard identifies there have probably been other impact events across the planet, most of them small and in the oceans and definitely most of them unreported. Near misses also occur all the time. That we who live outside Chelyabinsk don’t concern ourselves much over whether an asteroid or comet or roving band of wolves will ruin our picnic is a testimony to the rarity of such dangers capable of impacting human life. But, of course, someday a wolf will bite someone or an asteroid will hit with more devastation than the Chelyabinsk rock.
Our concerns are generally more earthbound and centered more on collisions with people. Therein lies our sense of helplessness that mirrors our inability to prevent a comet or asteroid impact or to completely avoid a chance encounter with dangerous animals. It seems that collisions are built into human interactions and that most people who are struck by a human bolide are like the people of Chelyabinsk: Relatively innocent of any malice and unsuspecting that they are in the path of an incoming object, but afterward always aware that a collision is possible. From serious home invasions through road rage incidents and arguments over the placement of hedge between yards, all such impacts make us residents of a worldwide Chelyabinsk. We are a species that is somewhat edgy because an apparently random event can disrupt life in both small and large ways. Maybe the people of Chelyabinsk should keep in mind that their city was founded as an area of protection from Bashkir bandits whose unprovoked attacks on trade routes were no more predictable than a rare comet strike.
That we increasingly look for an impact after being impacted is natural. Conditioning is a reality to which we all succumb. Reconditioning is especially difficult when an impact is both unexpected and life-altering. Surviving without constant anxiety is difficult in a highly populous country that is also open to natural dangers. Wolves, coyotes, and bears aren’t really a problem for the majority of people in North America, but ticks and mosquitoes are, and inimical viruses and bacteria can show up anywhere anytime, just like bolides.
Those few residents of North America 13,000 years ago might not have been either directly or indirectly impacted by Burchard’s comet. Maybe all they heard and saw was a loud bang and a flash. In contrast, our vast numbers make almost daily human impacts inevitable. It’s one thing to be hit by a ball of random space rock or ice or bitten by a wolf and quite another to be impacted by a conscious individual with harmful intentions, such as Bashkir bandits going after goods along a trade route.
Probably 13,000 years ago those same unexpected human impacts occurred. Our largely gregarious and interdependent nature makes even small populations gather, as some did in the Meadowcroft Rock Shelter at the time of the comet’s strike. No doubt the early residents of the shelter were mutually concerned about attacks by bears and wolves. Those in the shelter chose the inevitable human impacts over nature’s. The people of the Urals also chose interpersonal impacts of their community over the dangers of roving bands of bandits. As a coincidence, Bashkir derives from the term “main wolf.”
Our nature seems to make an even redistribution of population across the stretches of any country unlikely. We might lessen, but we won’t eliminate anxiety by decreasing the number of people per acre. It just takes two people to make a society. That is, we’re not going to change the interdependent and gregarious nature of our species. We will continue to gather in shelters for convenience and protection. The gathering will always indicate a choice: We seem to prefer human impacts over Nature’s, regardless of the potentially greater danger and more frequent nature of the former over the latter.
Natural disasters like tornadoes, hurricanes, earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, and animal attacks occur. Occasionally, a comet will strike. But gathering together in a common shelter in spite of the penchant to impact one another negatively, appears to be our only recourse to find mutual protection. It’s us against the wolves, even the ones that might unexpectedly fall from the sky.
Burchard, H.G.W. (2017) Younger Dryas Comet 12,900 BP. Open Journal of Geology, 7, 193-199. https://doi.org/10.4236/ojg.2017.72013
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