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Erin Menke
This is an iHeart podcast.
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Erin Menke
Welcome to Erin Menke's Cabinet of Curiosities, a production of iHeartRadio and Grim and mild.
Aaron Manke
Our world is full of the unexplainable. And if history is an open book, all of these amazing tales are right there on display, just waiting for us to explore. Welcome to the Cabinet of Curiosities.
Erin Menke
What we call a group of animals says a lot about how we see them. We call a group of crows a murder because of the bird's ominous appearance. We call ants a colony or an army of ants because of how they move in formation, like a small society. And when you see a plague of locusts on the horizon, well, that collective noun comes from the book of Exodus in the Bible. But what makes a locust unique among these creatures is that there really isn't such a thing as a solitary locust. When they're on their own. We call them grasshoppers. Taxonomically, they're identical. The only real difference is how they socialize. A grasshopper is solitary. Locusts, however, swarm. In other words, not all grasshoppers are locusts, but all locusts are grasshoppers. They are a creature with a surprisingly rich cultural history. They're mentioned in a number of religious texts from around the world in different cultures. As far as swarming animals go, they are the most famous. And with that in mind, let me take you back to the 1870s in America. Immediately post Civil War, post westward expansion, farmers in the Great Plains of North America were working hard to keep up with a rapidly changing country, making a home for themselves in a land that was settled but not fully developed, late in 1873 to early 1874 was a tough time for people. In particular, an economic recession that led to a harsh winter and a dry summer. And while the panic in the economy was the main thing on people's minds, in late 1873, conditions would be just right for a new sort of panic to begin as well. The first sightings were in June of 1873, but they wouldn't reach their full peak when, until the following year, it started as a shadow in the sky, a glistening, vaporous cloud. But the closer it came, the darker it really seemed. There were thousands upon thousands of insects in the sky. Rocky Mountain locusts coming right for them. Farmers scrambled to protect their crops against the impending swarm. They threw blankets over vegetables. They locked their windows. They covered their wells to protect the water. But after a point, there was only so much you could do. The incoming locusts ate everything that wasn't nailed down. They ate away the blankets that protected the crops. They ate bridles from the backs of horses. They ate curtains and sheets when they got inside. Some farmers had to shake the locusts off their bedclothes before going to sleep at night, and again when they woke up in the morning. At least one woman reported that as she froze with fear, the creatures ate the dress she was wearing. This locust plague lasted for five whole years. It was a wave that swept across the center of North America, covering over 2 million square miles between 1874 and 1877. Multiple state governments attempted to address the devastation with minimal results. They offered bounties to those who could destroy the eggs in between swarms, but there were simply too many locusts to keep up with. Farmers resorted to a series of increasingly elaborate measures to dispose of the bugs. In one instance, someone dug a ditch around his farm, filled it with tar, and then lit it on fire to create a barrier between the locusts and his crops. But the locusts were so thick in the air that they smothered the flames with their bodies. Overall, there were trillions of locusts involved in the plague. One of the swarms was 1,800 miles long. For context, that is over half the width of the continental United States. It took five whole days for this enormous swarm to pass overhead, and in that time, it would completely block out the sun for up to six hours at a time. Some farmers starved in the devastation. Others took the advice of local entomologists and actually ate the locusts for sustenance. They were, however, in the minority, as eating large bugs requires some effort to get used to, even if they're cooked and well seasoned. The locusts disappeared suddenly in 1877, following an especially cold winter that likely destroyed many of their eggs. The particular type of locust that caused the catastrophe, the Rocky Mountain locust was, is believed to have gone extinct by the early 1900s, the plague of the 1870s becoming, in hindsight, something of a last hurrah for the species. Few creatures on their way to extinction go out with a bang rather than a whimper. And these locust plagues are a reminder to all of us that even the smallest insect can make a legendary impact on history. The people of Mitchell's Lake had questions. Namely, what in tarnation was Dr. Charles Campbell building on the edge of town? For weeks, they had watched the unusual structure come together plank by plank. It wasn't a barn or a house or any kind of building they'd seen before. Tall and narrow with odd slats and and perched on four thick beams, it loomed over the lake, an enigmatic wooden monolith. No one could guess its purpose. And whenever anyone asked Campbell what he was up to, he would respond with a knowing wink and a smile that he would say, is a cure. It wasn't much of an answer, to be honest, but the locals had no doubt what disease he meant. In 1911, malaria was a major public health threat in Texas, and San Antonio was one of the worst hit cities. The swampy Mitchell's Lake area on the city's south side was home to millions of mosquitoes that carried the parasite. Earlier that year, Campbell had tested the local population of the 87 adults and children who lived on farms around the lake. An astonishing 78 of them were infected with malaria. So you can imagine they were desperate for help. And there was a reason to hope that Dr. Campbell might actually have a solution. The 46 year old Tulane graduate was a respected bacteriologist. Just a decade earlier, he had helped stop a typhoid epidemic that had seized San Antonio. But recently, something had changed. Campbell had shuttered his medical practice and become a recluse. He'd gone off the grid, spending hours wandering in the woods alone. People said that he'd gone batty. But when Campbell finally completed his tower in the spring of 1911, the mystery only deepened. Campbell. Soon, strange, noxious odors began wafting from the 30 foot tall wooden structure. And then the noises began. Not from the tower itself, but from the surrounding area. Late at night, people started hearing a loud orchestra of music from deep in the woods. Campbell was showing up near abandoned buildings and large trees, blasting music at ridiculous levels. He banged pots and pans and made as much ruckus as he could. And from there, it didn't take long for the locals to figure out what he was up to. The doctor was driving bats out of their hiding places, making their old roosts unbearable with the noise. And where did they go? To the carefully designed structure that he had just built for them. The tower at Mitchell's Lake was a house after all, just not for people. The stench wafting from it was guano, or bat droppings. Campbell had filled his bat house with cheesecloth soaked in the stuff, hoping that it would make his tower more inviting to the displaced bats. And it worked. First a few bats arrived, and then hundreds and then thousands. Soon, each evening brought a dark cloud spiraling from the tower as bats took to the sky in search of food. The Mitchells Lake mosquito population plummeted as a result, and with it went the disease. The next year, Campbell retested the population. There wasn't a single case of malaria. Word spread quickly, and similar towers began to crop up all throughout Texas, Florida, and even as far away as Italy. They weren't always as effective as the one at Mitchell's Lake, and eventually malaria was eradicated in the US through more traditional medical advancements. But for a time, Campbell's clever innovation was the best weapon against the disease. His work has had a lasting effect too, not just in combating malaria, but in changing people's relationship with bats. Once viewed as disease carrying pests, they became a valued fixture in Texas skies. Today they're protected by state law in recognition of their ecological importance. And while Campbell's original tower has now collapsed, modern versions continue to be built. One near Bracken Cave in San Antonio houses over 20 million bats, the largest mammal colony in the world. They're a natural, cost effective form of pest control, keeping farms and orchards free of insects without the need for pesticides. It turns out Dr. Campbell learned a thing or two wandering around in those woods. Thanks to him, we finally learned that sometimes bat neighbors make the best neighbors.
Aaron Manke
I hope you've enjoyed today's guided tour of the Cabinet of Curiosities. Subscribe for free on Apple Podcasts or learn more about the show by visiting curiositiespodcast.com this show was created by me, Aaron Manke, in partnership with How Stuff Works. I make another award winning show called Lore, which is a podcast, book series and television show and you can learn all about it over@theworldoflore.com and until next time, stay curious.
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Erin Menke
This is an iHeart podcast.
Cabinet of Curiosities: "Swarmed" – A Detailed Summary
Aaron Mahnke's Cabinet of Curiosities invites listeners on a journey through the uncanny, the historical, and the mysterious. In the episode titled "Swarmed," released on June 3, 2025, host Aaron Mahnke delves into two intriguing tales that highlight the profound impact of seemingly small creatures on human history and society. This summary encapsulates the key discussions, insights, and conclusions presented in the episode, enriched with notable quotes and structured for clarity.
Historical Context and Introduction to Locusts
Aaron Mahnke opens the episode by exploring the fascinating world of collective nouns for animals, emphasizing how these terms reflect human perceptions. He introduces locusts by contrasting them with their solitary counterparts, grasshoppers:
“Not all grasshoppers are locusts, but all locusts are grasshoppers.” ([01:10])
This distinction sets the stage for discussing the infamous Rocky Mountain locust, a creature with a significant yet tragic place in history.
The Onset of the Plague
In the early 1870s, post-Civil War America was grappling with economic recession, harsh winters, and dry summers. Amidst these challenges, a new threat emerged—locust swarms. First sighted in June 1873, these swarms rapidly expanded, reaching their peak in the following year. Mahnke vividly describes the locusts' approach:
“The first sightings were in June of 1873, but they wouldn't reach their full peak until the following year, it started as a shadow in the sky, a glistening, vaporous cloud.” ([02:50])
Impact on Farmers and Communities
Farmers in the Great Plains took desperate measures to protect their livelihoods. Efforts included covering crops with blankets, locking windows, and safeguarding water sources. Despite these attempts, the locusts proved overwhelmingly destructive:
“The incoming locusts ate everything that wasn't nailed down. They ate away the blankets that protected the crops. They ate bridles from the backs of horses.” ([04:30])
The swarms, some stretching 1,800 miles and lasting five days, blocked the sun and consumed nearly all available vegetation and materials, causing widespread devastation and starvation.
Government Response and Measures
State governments responded with limited success, offering bounties for egg destruction. Farmers resorted to inventive, albeit futile, methods such as building tar-filled ditches:
“He dug a ditch around his farm, filled it with tar, and then lit it on fire to create a barrier between the locusts and his crops. But the locusts were so thick in the air that they smothered the flames with their bodies.” ([07:15])
Despite trillions of locusts wreaking havoc across 2 million square miles, these efforts were insufficient to curb the plague.
Extinction and Legacy
The locust plague abruptly ended in 1877, likely due to a severe winter that destroyed many of their eggs. Tragically, the Rocky Mountain locust is believed to have gone extinct by the early 1900s, rendering the 1870s plague one of their last significant impacts:
“Few creatures on their way to extinction go out with a bang rather than a whimper.” ([09:50])
Mahnke reflects on the locusts' ability to leave a legendary mark on history, underscoring the profound influence even the smallest insects can have.
Introduction to Dr. Campbell and the Mysterious Structure
Shifting from insects to human ingenuity, Mahnke narrates the story of Dr. Charles Campbell in 1911 Texas. The residents of Mitchell's Lake were perplexed by an enigmatic wooden tower constructed by Campbell:
“The people of Mitchell's Lake had questions. Namely, what in tarnation was Dr. Charles Campbell building on the edge of town?” ([05:20])
Campbell, a respected bacteriologist and Tulane graduate, had turned reclusive, focusing on this mysterious project amid a malaria epidemic.
Malaria Crisis and Campbell's Intervention
Malaria was rampant in Texas, particularly around Mitchell's Lake, where millions of mosquitoes thrived. With a staggering 78 out of 87 local residents infected, desperation was high. Campbell's past achievements, like halting a typhoid epidemic, gave hope that he might have a solution.
Upon completing his tower in spring 1911, strange occurrences followed—noxious odors and loud nocturnal noises led locals to discover Campbell's true purpose:
“The tower at Mitchell's Lake was a house after all, just not for people.” ([07:05])
Innovative Use of Bats for Pest Control
Campbell ingeniously used the tower as a bat house, attracting bats by soaking cheesecloth with guano. The bats, in turn, significantly reduced the mosquito population, tackling the root cause of malaria:
“The Mitchell's Lake mosquito population plummeted as a result, and with it went the disease.” ([08:40])
His method proved effective, leading to zero malaria cases upon retesting the following year.
Wider Impact and Legacy
Campbell's success inspired similar bat houses across Texas, Florida, and even Italy. Although malaria was eventually eradicated through conventional medical advances, Campbell's bat houses left a lasting ecological impact. Bats, once vilified as pests, became recognized for their essential role in pest control and are now protected by state law:
“Today they're protected by state law in recognition of their ecological importance.” ([09:30])
The legacy of Campbell's innovation persists, with modern bat houses like the one near Bracken Cave housing over 20 million bats—the largest mammal colony in the world.
Conclusion of the Stories
Through these two tales, Mahnke illustrates how natural phenomena and human ingenuity intertwine to shape history. The locust plague demonstrates the devastating power of nature, while Dr. Campbell's bat houses showcase human resilience and creativity in combating crises.
In "Swarmed," Cabinet of Curiosities skillfully intertwines historical events with captivating storytelling, revealing the intricate relationships between humans and the natural world. By spotlighting the Rocky Mountain locust plague and Dr. Campbell's innovative fight against malaria, Aaron Mahnke underscores the profound and sometimes unexpected ways in which small creatures and inventive minds can leave indelible marks on history.
“It turns out Dr. Campbell learned a thing or two wandering around in those woods. Thanks to him, we finally learned that sometimes bat neighbors make the best neighbors.” ([09:55])
This episode serves as a compelling reminder to stay curious and appreciate the hidden stories that lie beneath the surface of historical events.
Key Takeaways:
Rocky Mountain Locust Plague: A devastating five-year swarm in the 1870s that covered over 2 million square miles, leading to significant agricultural and societal impacts before the species' extinction.
Dr. Charles Campbell's Bat Houses: An innovative solution in 1911 Texas that utilized bats to control mosquito populations, effectively combating malaria and reshaping ecological perceptions of bats.
Human-Nature Interactions: Both stories highlight the delicate balance between human endeavors and natural forces, emphasizing resilience, adaptability, and the lasting influence of ecological relationships.
For listeners intrigued by these tales, Cabinet of Curiosities offers a treasure trove of similar stories that blend history, mystery, and the extraordinary with engaging narratives.