And that proud look as though she had gazed into the burning sun,
And all the shapely body no tittle gone astray.
I mourn for that most lonely thing; and yet God’s will be done:
I knew a phoenix in my youth, so let them have their day.
–William Butler Yeats
Before the industrial revolution, between the 17th and 19th centuries, the life expectancy of Norwegian peasants followed an unusual pattern. The records show they would drop every ten or so years, before bouncing back up again three years later. This wasn’t the result of a weird disease affecting the farmers and fishermen of the fjords, nor the consequence of periodic bouts of war. Instead, the answer may have been hovering over them. Continue reading