Australians are the world’s oldest continuous living culture.

What is the oldest continuous culture in the world? Some might say it’s the Egyptians, since they’ve been kicking around for several thousand years, or perhaps the Indians living along the Indus River Valley — one of ancient history’s greatest (and least-known) civilizations. However, the real answer lies far away from these centers of ancient wonder, in the Land Down Under, among that continent’s first peoples — the Aboriginal Australians. A study in 2016 by an international team of researchers gathered genomic data that showed this group first arrived on the continent some 50,000 years ago, after leaving Africa about 70,000 years ago. 

However, it’s worth noting that Aboriginal peoples are far from a homogenous unit. After the first peoples arrived on the continent, they quickly spread across Australia, forming isolated pockets that developed independently of one another. By the time Europeans arrived en masse in the late 18th century, some 200 nations of Aboriginal Australians — each with their own language — lived throughout the continent. But that diversity goes beyond just tribes or nations; a study in December 2023 concluded that Aboriginal peoples have high levels of genetic diversity compared to European or Asian populations. 

Unfortunately, Aboriginal Australians continue to struggle compared to non-Indigenous Australians, and experience an eight-year shorter life expectancy, poorer health and educational outcomes, and other ill effects stemming from colonialism and mistreatment. But if the past 75,000 years have taught us anything, it’s that Aboriginal Australians are a resilient culture, and they aren’t going anywhere. 

There are no snakes in Ireland.

For the estimated 30% of Americans with ophidiophobia (fear of snakes) — one of the world’s most common phobias — Ireland may seem like heaven on Earth. That’s because throughout its entire modern history, the Emerald Isle has been home to precisely zerosnake species. Although one of the nation’s most popular legends tells of St. Patrick driving serpents from the island in the fifth century CE, snakes haven’t slithered along Ireland’s soil since at least before the last ice age. 

Ireland’s geological history makes it perfectly inhospitable for snakes. During the last ice age, the northern latitudes of the British Isles were just too cold for ectotherms (animals dependent on the sun to warm their bodies), so these creatures migrated south. As the ice age receded, glaciers retreated to the poles, and water levels rose; the land bridge to Ireland became submerged around 8,500 years ago, whereas the land bridge to England stuck around for 2,000 more years, allowing snakes more time to migrate north as the planet warmed. This is why England has endemic snakes, while Ireland does not. (New Zealand and Iceland lack snakes for similar reasons.)

However, this doesn’t mean you won’t run into any snakes in Ireland. While the island has no endemic snake species, it isn’t illegal to have one as a pet (like it is in Hawaii) — in fact, pet snakes were seen as a status symbol in Ireland during the 1990s. With many people setting their pet snakes free during the economic recession around 2008, it’s possible a few populations of snakes are slithering about, though not nearly in large enough numbers to threaten Ireland’s ecosystem or its residents.

The eagle once depicted on U.S. coins was a real eagle named Peter. 

N ot unlike Leo the Lion, who roars at the beginning of many a movie produced by MGM, the eagle seen on early U.S. coins was a real creature with a surprisingly common name: Peter. In a rather patriotic confluence of events, none other than an eagle took residence at the U.S. Mint in the 1830s — roughly 50 years after the bald eagle was added to the national seal. The noble raptor would reportedly while away his days at the mint before being shooed away after working hours. As he and his human colleagues would eventually find out, however, industrial workplaces are no place for birds. Peter was mortally injured after his wing was caught in a coining press in 1836, and died a few days later despite workers’ best efforts to save him.

But his story does not end there. Peter’s friends and colleagues were not ready to say goodbye to him, as he’d become both a companion and mascot, so they hired a taxidermist and placed his stuffed remains on display in the building’s entrance; he still inhabits the current Philadelphia Mint. Historians believe the eagle featured on the silver dollar issued from 1836 to 1839 was based on the “magnificent specimen” that was Peter, as was the Flying Eagle one-cent piece issued in 1857 and 1858 — a fitting tribute to a bird who clearly inspired many.

The “Cinderella Story” in “Caddyshack”

The juvenile humor of Caddyshack isn’t for everyone, but even the harshest of critics can applaud Bill Murray’s improvised performance in the “Cinderella story” scene. Provided minimal instruction — the script simply reads, “The sky is beginning to darken. CARL, THE GREENSKEEPER, is absently lopping the heads off bedded tulips as he practices his golf swing with a grass whip” — Murray proceeded to narrate an imaginary broadcast about an underdog who wins golf’s prestigious Masters Tournament with a miracle finish. If not quite as powerful as, say, Sidney Poitier’s “You don’t own me” speech from Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner, the monologue encapsulates the delightfully goofy mindset of Murray’s minor but memorable character.

Doctors warned women of developing “bicycle face” from cycling in the 19th century. 

SCIENCE & INDUSTRY 

The modern bicycle — originally called a “safety bicycle” because it wasn’t as treacherous as a big-wheel penny farthing — was invented in the 1880s, ushering in the 1890s bike craze in America. Cycling was especially popular with women, as it offered a freedom they didn’t have before, such as easier means to travel where they pleased, go on unchaperoned dates, or skip church. Female cyclists also began wearing bloomers under skirts, which, in the eyes of some who disapproved, were a little too close to pants. The popularity of cycling (and its implications for women’s empowerment) caused something of a moral panic. Men weren’t immune — some religious leaders worried about physical exertion, competitiveness, and performance-enhancing drugs — but women got the bulk of the ire. Cycling, some medical authorities claimed at the time, could lead to uterine displacement, or a new condition called “bicycle face.”

Descriptions and alleged causes of bicycle face varied; according to one magazine, a woman suffering from the malady would be “usually flushed, but sometimes pale, often with lips more or less drawn, and the beginning of dark shadows under the eyes, and always with an expression of weariness.” One physician said that those suffering from bicycle face have “an anxious look and an unwholesome pallor.” Others said that symptoms include a clenched jaw and bulging eyes. Nobody was immune to bicycle face, but women were considered much more susceptible. Theories as to the cause included overexertion from trying to keep the bike balanced, bad posture, or even a more spiritual cause: riding bikes on the Sabbath. Fortunately for cyclists, the crisis subsided in the early 1900s as the bicycle became more commonplace and hand-wringers turned their anxiety toward automobiles — and, naturally, “horseless carriage face.”