For nearly all of human existence, whenever the sky suddenly went dark during the middle of the day, everyone immediately stopped whatever they were doing.
Our ancient ancestors followed the movement of the Sun and other celestial bodies as though their lives depended on it—often enough, they did. They knew that there was a close correlation between what happened above and what happened here on Earth, even if they didn’t fully understand why.
So, whenever the Sun disappeared unpredictably in the middle of a bright day, the event wasn’t a fascinating scientific spectacle so much as a sure sign of a coming cataclysm.
Even animals were (and are) freaked out by an eclipse. It seemed like nature itself was thrown out of whack.
Naturally, myths and legends sprung up to explain the underlying reason behind the phenomena. Our minds are eager to make sense of things, and we became great storytellers over the ensuing thousands of years.
In the same way that we can see bioluminescence in fireflies and anglerfish, we see the convergent evolution in mythologies of the ancient world, especially surrounding eclipses.
In Mesoamerica, the Maya (and their cultural descendants, the Aztec) thought that a jaguar was devouring the Sun. Similarly, in ancient China, it was a dragon that was attempting to swallow the Sun whole. On both sides of the world, similar rituals were created to appease these existential threats (as they saw them).
Norse mythology told of giant wolves chasing the Sun and Moon relentlessly, and whenever one of them caught their prey, another eclipse would occur. Indigenous North American cultures told of celestial bears and squirrels catching their respective heavenly body.
One of my favorites is the Vietnamese myth of a giant frog devouring the Sun:
All of these diverse cultures around the world developed rituals designed to scare the dangerous, powerful predator away so that the Sun could shine again, crops could grow, and order would be restored to the world. They made lots of noise to scare the monster away, and some of these early rituals are still with us today, albeit in very different forms.
Across all of these cultures, people became more and more curious over time. They began to tell of when the last eclipse was, and eventually someone figured out that you could track them in a predictable manner.
The Maya, Babylonians, and Chinese all independently developed systems for predicting when the next eclipse would be. There was a feeling that this event was important for existential reasons, so our ancestors were allowed to pursue their mathematical and scientific interests.
In the name of superstition, science took a huge step forward.
Have you ever seen a solar eclipse? Do you have plans to try to glimpse April 8th’s eclipse? If you’re not in the path of totality, when is the next eclipse due? Thanks to all that science, we don’t have to wonder!
Want to read more about the eclipse? Check out Krista’s piece over at
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Mostly surreal. Even after studying what to expect from a total eclipse, I was gobsmacked. What I didn't anticipate, though I read about it, was how quiet everything became, making ambient noise disappear. I didn't have a camera with me, as I wanted to experience it more than capture it. 1500 miles round trip, but it was worth it!
Saw the full eclipse in Oregon in 2017. It’s something I will never forget. The animals didn’t go crazy, but they did stop chirping and croaking. I think I remember the sound of crickets. I would love to see another one (eclipse, not crickets, although they’re ok, too).🦗