Vol 4 Ep 90 - Pre-Columbian North America

Today we journey back to Pre-Kalamean North America long before European contact to explore the rich and diverse civilizations at once thrived across the continent. From the cliff dwellings of the ancestral Puebloans to the intricate canal systems of the Ho Ho calm and the distinct pottery of the Mogu-Yoon, the southwest tells stories of ingenuity and resilience. Being east we are uncovered the Adina and Hope Hill cultures known for their elaborate burial mounds and far-reaching trade networks. Further south the Mississippi and culture built sprawling urban centres like Cahokia, complete with towering earthen mounds. And in the Arctic the Dorset and Thule peoples adapted to some of the harshest environments on earth laying the foundation for modern inuit cultures. Join us now as we unravel the legacies of those remarkable civilizations and reshape our understanding of North America's deep past. The history of the world podcast written and presented by Chris Hasler. Vol. 4, the Medieval World Episode 90, Pre-Kalamean North America By the close of the First Millennium BCE, a rich and diverse tapestry of cultures had woven itself across the immense continent of North America. Up in the far north where the world bites with icy winds and endless white, a remarkable people known as the Dorset had spread their influence. They were the undisputed masters of what is now Canada, Greenland and the intricate Arctic archipelagoes nestled in between. These weren't just survivors, they were truly skilled hunters of marine mammals, seals in particular. Imagine thriving in one of the planet's harshest environments, relying on ingenuity and deep knowledge of the sea. Their predecessors collectively known as the "Independence Cultures" had braved northern Greenland as early as the Third Millennium BCE, but crucially they didn't possess the same advanced hunting technologies as the Dorsets. Instead they leaned more heavily on caribou and other land dwelling animals to keep themselves fed. As the Dorset refined their tools and techniques, especially the use of ingenious harpoons, their life-giving soapstone lamps essential for light and warmth, and their clever snow-blocked dwellings, the precursors to igloos in many ways, they gradually expanded their reach. They gently displaced earlier groups and settled into new icy frontiers. Over two thousand years ago their way of life was largely nomadic, with temporary camps dotted along the vast Tundra. But as their methods improved they began to construct more permanent homes, though these remained seasonal shifting with the great migrations of animals and the relentless rhythms of the Arctic year. It was a careful balancing act between mobility and resilience in an unforgiving landscape. We'll definitely return to the far north later in the episode, but for now let's shift our gaze a little further south. Heading down into the heart of the continent, specifically the region where modern day Ohio, Kentucky and West Virginia famously converge, another remarkable culture was taking shape, the Adina. Their exact timeline can be a little hazy around the edges, but by the first millennium BCE they stood out as among the earliest communities in this part of North America to adopt a more settled agricultural lifestyle. They found particular prosperity along the incredible fertile banks of the Ohio River. Adina society appears to have been quite stratified, we found strong archaeological evidence pointing towards a clear social hierarchy. There elaborate burial customs and the deliberate construction of those distinctive earthen mounds strongly suggest the existence of a ruling elite, almost certainly supported by a workforce engaged in communal labour. The presence of grave goods, sometimes surprisingly sophisticated, speaks volumes about their extensive trade connections, linking the Adina with neighbouring cultures right across the eastern woodlands. They weren't isolated, they were plugged into a wider world. As the centuries gracefully passed the Adina culture gave way to a more complex and far-reaching phenomenon, the Hopewell. Emerging around the turn of the first millennium CE, the Hopewell peoples didn't just replace the Adina, they expanded upon Adina traditions in almost every conceivable regard. The earlier simpler mounds evolved into true grand geometric earthworks constructed with a remarkable position, and on a scale that still astounds archaeologists today. Their burial rituals became far more elaborate, their artworks more refined and intricate, and their trade networks simply astounding. Unlike the Adina who still relied to some degree on foraging for world foods, the Hopewell became more intensely agricultural. They cultivated maize with increasing efficiency and crucially began storing surplus food in purpose-built granary structures to support their communities through the harsh winter months. Their ceremonial centres, often surrounded by clusters of smaller settlements, played a central role in social cohesion, providing vital spaces for ritual, for communal feasting, and perhaps even for crucial diplomacy between different groups. As their populations expanded, so too did the inherent need for social order. Ceremonial spirituality likely reinforced the established hierarchy, offering shared beliefs and practices to bind the community together, and legitimise the power of their elite leaders. The Hopewell continued the tradition of mound building, but these were now often the sites of highly ritualised burials, sometimes preceded by remarkably staged funerary rights. In some poignant cases, the deceased were placed in channel houses, wooden structures where the bodies would lie in state. Offering sometimes quite opulent might include anything from practical stone tools to exquisite imported ornaments. After a period of mourning, the channel house was deliberately burned, a dramatic act, and then an earth amount was carefully constructed over the ashes and remains. Some bodies were cremated and buried in ceramic vessels, but burial practices as you might expect varied considerably by region and by the individual status. The precise nature of Hopewell's spiritual beliefs, especially regarding the afterlife, is a rich topic of scholarly debate. However, the sheer abundance and diversity of grave goods undoubtedly suggest the profound concern for the dead, and with what lay beyond this mortal coil. These artifacts also vividly reveal the staggering reach of Hopewell trade. Copper and iron ore journeyed from the Great Lakes and the Midwest, silver from what is now Canada, obsidian all the way from the Rocky Mountains, mica from the Appalachians, and even precious marine shells and shark teeth from the distant Gulf Coast. This was a civilization of enormous influence and ambition, stretching across a vast portion of the North American continent, connecting disparate peoples through shared ideas and valuable goods. We'll be circling back to both the fascinating Dorset peoples and the influential Hopewell culture later in the episode, but for now let's continue our journey through this captivating prehistoric landscape. The Southwest Over the coming episodes, you're in for a real treatise will be delving into the remarkable world of the pre-Columbia mound builders of North America, including the impressive rise of the Mississippi culture. But now we're shifting our focus decidedly westward to the arid sun-baked lands of what is now the American Southwest to explore the captivating world of the ancestral Poeblones, particularly during their fascinating basket-maker and Poeblow periods. It's a truly compelling chapter in human history, especially for those with an interest in the early civilizations of North America. So imagine this, after the close of the last Ice Age, the first humans arrived in the Southwest. These pioneering hunter-gatherers known to historians as Paleoindians were hardy souls who pursued the terror in Megaforner of the era, mammoths, mastodons, and the now extinct giant bison. But as climate shift and these great beasts gradually vanished, whether due to overhunting or changing environment, these early peoples were forced to adapt and adapt they did with remarkable ingenuity. Over thousands of years they transitioned from large-game hunting to smaller prey, and crucially began experimenting with agriculture. By around 2000 BCE, we see the domestication of maize, squash, and other vital crops taking hold. Though these were often supplemented with wild seeds, fruits, and nuts meticulously gathered from the bountiful, if challenging environment. To distinguish this increasingly agricultural phase of the Southwest, historians coined the term basket-maker, named quite fittingly for their exceptional woven baskets which became absolutely vital for food-gathering, storage, and preparation. As technology developed, spurred in part it seems by interactions with neighbouring cultures to the south, particularly in what is now Mexico, farming took on an ever more prominent role, and the semi-sedantry lifestyle slowly began to take hold. But the basket-makers weren't just skilled at weaving everyday baskets, they also crafted remarkably intricate bags, robust sandals, and warm blankets, some of which were so tightly woven that they could actually hold liquid and withstand heating, making it possible to boil food even without pottery. Small hamlets began to dock the landscape, although populations remained relatively sparse and widely dispersed, a testament to the vastness of the region. What makes the basket-maker era particularly intriguing from an archaeological perspective is its surprising lack of pottery, a real rarity among early agricultural societies. While ceramics were common elsewhere in the ancient world, these early southwestern peoples relied almost exclusively on woven goods for their everyday tasks. That began to change during the basket-maker-three period, around 500 CE when pottery finally emerged, and gradually though not entirely, replaced baskets for storing food and water. Yet basket-tree itself never truly disappeared, far from it. The craft continued to evolve, producing items that pottery simply couldn't replicate, such as lightweight portable containers and durable footwear that were essential for their way of life. By this time, the shift from a primary focus on hunting and gathering to a more farming-centric lifestyle had become quite pronounced. Turkeys were domesticated, not only as a crucial food source, but quite possibly for their valuable feathers as well. Villagers grew larger and more permanent, and archaeological evidence points to the construction of rudimentary stockades, suggesting a burgeoning need for defence, perhaps against raiding parties or territorial disputes. There were other technological advances too. The at-lattle that clever spear-throwing device that greatly increased leverage in accuracy was gradually replaced by the bow and arrow, a genuine game-changer for both hunting efficiency and a lass for conflict. Villagers became more structured, with purpose-built storage facilities indicating careful planning and astute food management across the seasons. The four corners region, that iconic geographical nexus where Arizona, New Mexico, Utah and Colorado famously meet, was the heartland of the ancestral pro-blowings, including these pioneering basket-maker communities. As their influence spread, they inevitably encountered two other major cultures to the south, the Ho Ho Combe of Southern Arizona, and the Mogu-Yone of Southwestern New Mexico. Now, the Ho Ho Combe in particular are known for their striking cultural similarities, with the great mesamerican civilizations. Perhaps the clearest evidence of this intriguing connection lies in their construction of ball courts, a hallmark of sophisticated societies such as the Maya and the TOT-Wakanas. Through these interactions, it's highly likely that the Ho Ho Combe adopted or at least adapted, advanced irrigation techniques, a truly vital development for survival in the utterly parched Sonoran desert. Their irrigation systems are the stuff of legend, complex gravity-fed and canal networks that genuinely rival those of contemporaneous civilizations in Europe and Asia. Using nothing more than basic tools and immense communal labour, the Ho Ho Combe engineered canals that stretched for miles, meticulously channeling precious water from rivers to distant fields with remarkable efficiency. They mastered the delicate balance of flow control, flood management and sediment removal, all without the benefit of modern hydrological theory. Though these intricate systems naturally required regular upkeep, the initial construction alone was a feat of extraordinary ingenuity and perseverance. As for where these incredible skills came from, well that's still a matter of lively scholarly debate. It's entirely plausible some argue that the Ho Ho Combe developed them independently, innovating purely in response to environmental necessity. Yet the striking similarities with Mesoamerican techniques and the undeniable presence of Mesoamerican artifacts in Ho Ho Combe sites strongly suggest that cultural exchange, if not outright direct influence, played at least some part in this remarkable story. The Ho Ho Combe irrigation system was nothing short of a marvel and astonishing feat of ancient engineering that allowed them to cultivate a truly wide array of crops. We're talking staples like beans, cotton, maize or corners you might know it, and squash. This ability to produce an agricultural surplus likely made trade not just desirable but absolutely essential, especially with the highly sophisticated Mesoamerican societies to their south. Take cotton for instance, it was highly prized and easily transportable, making it a perfect commodity. It may well have been traded for exotic goods such as shimmering, copper, razor sharp obsidian and the captivating blue of turquoise and even marine shells which held significant ritual and aesthetic value. And perhaps most tantalising of all is the evidence of macaws in Ho Ho Combe's settlements, these vivid tropical parrots are native to Mesoamerica, hundreds of miles away. The presence suggests a vast trade network reaching deep into southern Mexico and hints of an enduring cultural exchange that went far beyond the occasional exchange of goods. Inspecies of a deep connection, a constant flow of ideas and items. Now while the Ho Ho Combe clearly bore southern influences as seen in their ball courts and distinctive feature of Mesoamerican cultures, they also shared architectural traits with their northern neighbours the ancestral Puebloans. Like the early basket-maker societies they built pit houses, those clever semi-subterranean dwellings dug into the earth. Yet unlike the basket-makers whose pottery emerged relatively late, the Ho Ho Combe developed a remarkably distinct ceramic tradition known as Red on Buff. Characterised by beautiful red designs painted on a pale, buff-coloured background, is one of the instantly recognisable hallmarks of their cultural identity. Meanwhile to the east, we find the Moguillon people, who occupied the Moguillon mountains of New Mexico and the surrounding Highlands. The Moguillon were perhaps the very first South Western culture to truly embrace ceramics, producing striking membras black on white pottery, often decorated with captivating geometric patterns and remarkably lifelike depictions of animals and humans. These pieces are true works of art, their name like Simonian archaeologies drawn directly from geography, in this case, the Mimbraes River that flows through the region. Though relatively close in proximity, the Ho Ho Combe and the Moguillon cultures diverged in several key areas. The Ho Ho Combe, as we've heard, thrived in the desert lowlands, meticulously mastering irrigation to harness water from rivers. The Moguillon, by contrast, inhabited more mountainous terrain, where rainfall was more consistent but far less predictable. As a result, they primarily practiced rain-fed agriculture and retained a great resilience on hunting, adapting their diet to their highland environment. Culturally, the Moguillon seemed to have had weaker ties to missile-american civilizations. While the Ho Ho Combe built those intriguing ball courts and adopted other southern influences, such features are notably absent for most Moguillon settlements. Their trade networks were less expansive and signs of direct cultural contact with Miss America are relatively rare. This suggests a more localized development, though still deeply connected to the wider south-west. Turning back to the ancestral Puebloans, formerly referred to rather controversially as the Anasazi, we find another distinct culture of the American southwest. The term Anasazi originates from a never-hoe word, often interpreted as ancient enemies or foreigners, and today most scholars rightly prefer the more respectful label "Ancestral Puebloans". It's important to acknowledge the sensitivities around archaeological terminology. By the end of the first millennium CE, the Ancestral Puebloans were increasingly integrated with their regional neighbours, the Ho Ho Combe, Moguillon and others. As the basket-maker period waned, pottery became widespread with the Puebloans developing their own distinct black-on-white ceramics that, while visually similar to some Moguillon pottery, had their own unique flair and regional styles. It's a subtle but important distinction that archaeologists can trace. Much like the Ho Ho Combe, the Ancestral Puebloans had to contend with incredibly arid conditions, but unlike their desert dwelling neighbours, they never developed those colossal large-scale irrigation systems. Instead, they practiced meticulous rainwater harvesting, using cleverly designed gutters, channels and systems to collect and store precious water during times of scarcity. Though rudimentary irrigation techniques did exist, they were limited in scope and sophistication, compared to the Ho Ho Combe's great networks. Another fascinating architectural contrast lies in their ceremonial structures. The Ho Ho Combe, as we discussed, favoured platform mounds, likely used from religious and administrative buildings. By contrast, the Ancestral Puebloans, and indeed the Moguillon, constructed "keyvers", large often subterranean chambers used for ritual gatherings and community events. These could range from shallow pit-like structures to fully underground rooms with carefully designed ventilation and access points, serving as the spiritual heart of their settlements. Interestingly, the site of Pakeme, a Moguillon location located near to days northern Mexico, both ball courts and "keyvers" have been found, suggesting a truly fascinating blending of cultural traditions. Pakeme also features platform-like architecture reminiscent of mesamerican temple platforms, which may well have had parallels among the Ho Ho Combe, albeit constructed from more perishable materials, hence their rarity in the archaeological record. Despite shared cultural ties and centuries of contact, each group clearly retained distinct architectural preferences. By the 8th century, the Ancestral Puebloans began to abandon their traditional pit houses in favour of above-ground dwellings, built from sturdy adobe and carefully shaped stone blocks. It was these innovative settlements that inspired the Spanish word "pueblo", meaning simply "village". Over time, these Puebloans became increasingly elaborate, a testament to their growing populations and evolving social structures. By the 2nd millennium, the Ancestral Puebloans were constructing multi-story stone complexes, some quite literally tucked into the sheer cliff faces of the Four Corners region. One of the most breathtaking examples is "Mesa Verde", in present-day Colorado, where these astonishing cliff dwellings form a kind of vertical village, a true masterpiece of prehistoric architecture. Further south, in Chaco Canyon, they built monumental buildings of up to four stories, with hundreds of rooms, all connected by roads that radiated out across the desert, like spokes on a wheel. These grand complexes served not just as homes, but as vital ceremonial and administrative centres, truly uniting the scattered Puebloans world into a cohesive whole. The Mogu-Yoon II followed a similar architectural trajectory, especially after 1000 CE, building multi-room and cliff dwellings that mirrored the Puebloan style, complete with keepers for ceremonial use. It shows how ideas could spread and be adapted. In contrast, the Ho Ho Calm retained a unique mixture of traditions. While they did transition to above ground, rectangular dwellings, they continued to use pit houses well into their later periods. This unique blend of old and new desert adaptation and far-reaching trade truly makes the Ho Ho Calm stand apart from their Puebloan and Mogu-Yoon counterparts. In the American Southwest, cultures such as the San De Guito and later the Cochise were busy laying the groundwork for the great societies that would follow, the ancestral Puebloans, the Ho Ho Calm and the Mogu-Yoon. Now, this period wasn't yet boasting bustling cities or glittering temples, but it was a time of significant change. People were beginning to adopt more sedentary lifestyles, no longer constantly on the move, but starting to settle at least seasonally. Permanent villages were still rare, but the signs were there. The rise of social hierarchies, ceremonial spaces, craft production and crucially-trade networks, agriculture was gradually taking route, though most communities still depended on hunting and gathering to survive. Of course, North America is vast, with everything from open plains to dense forests and towering mountains, and so this cultural evolution unfolded at different paces across the continent, but now let's go back and remind ourselves of one particularly intriguing region, the Eastern Woodlands, birthplace of the mound-building cultures. Fast forward to around 500 BCE and we find ourselves in the Ohio Valley, where a significant cultural shift was underway into the Adina culture. These early mound builders were among the first to fully embrace agricultural village life. They constructed impressive earthworks, many of them for ceremonial burials, and developed increasingly sophisticated exchange networks, stretching far beyond the Ohio River Basin into present-day West Virginia, Kentucky and Indiana. The mounds themselves came in all shapes and sizes, circular rectangular, even polygonal. Some concealed burial chambers, others may have supported temples, council houses or public gathering spaces. They weren't just piles of dirt, they were carefully engineered monuments that reflected social order, spiritual beliefs, and a deepening sense of place. Pretty remarkable. By around one CE, a new cultural force emerged, the Hope World Culture, building on Adina traditions, the Hope World took earthwork construction and trade to astonishing new heights. Just how extensive were their networks? Well, imagine obsidian from the Rocky Mountains, mica from the Appalachians and seashells from the Gulf Coast, or converging at Hope World ceremonial sites. These were not isolated villages, but hubs of connectivity plugged into a continent-wired web of exchange, ritual and symbolism. Hope World Earthworks became more ambitious. Both in scale and design. Some were geometrically precise while others formed massive ethyges of animals cobbled into the very landscape. Many of these structures were aligned with astronomical events. A striking example is the octagonal earthworks in Newark, Ohio, which track the lunar standstill cycle, a rhythm of the moon's rise and set points that unfolds over 18.6 years. This wasn't casual stargazing, it was careful observation over generations etched permanently into the earth. Around the middle of the first millennium, a transformative innovation arrived, the bow and arrow. Whether it was borrowed from the plane's culture to the west, the subartic people to the north, or independently developed within the eastern woodlands, it revolutionised both hunting and warfare. Compared to the old spear and act, the bow was lighter, more accurate and easier to use. It leveled the playing field and in some cases reshaped social dynamics, favouring agility and skill over brute strength. A true game changer if ever there was one. As the Hopewell culture declined, it didn't vanish so much as fragment and diversify. Across North America, regional cultures emerged, each with its own identity. In the great lakes, the Black Duck culture developed distinct ceramic traditions. In the upper Midwest, the effigy mound culture created vast animal shaped earthworks, number more famous than the serpent mound, a sinuous snake-like monument that winds its way across an ohio ridge, possibly constructed by the fort ancient culture. It's truly a site to be hold. Meanwhile further east, irrequire in societies were flourishing. These were the peoples who would later play pivotal roles in the early interactions with European settlers in the 17th century. But of all of these cultures, one would rise to dominate much of the Midwest and South East, not just in size but in complexity, the Mississippians. The Mississippian culture which began to flourish around 800 CE represented a monumental leap forward in social organisation, agriculture and urban planning. These were expert maize cultivators, and with food surpluses came population booms. Their cities grew larger than anything previously seen north of Messau America. At the heart of it all was cahokia, in present day Illinois, a sprawling metropolis of tens of thousands. Its crowning glory was monks mound, a gargantuan earthwork rising over 30 metres high, covering an area larger than the great Pyramid of Geese's base. Imagine the sheer effort required to construct it, by hand using baskets to carry earth over the course of decades, absolutely staggering. But always not peace and plenty, palisades or defensive walls encircled parts of cahokia hinting at conflict, perhaps over resources, political power or territory. Great cities after all attract both opportunity and danger. Alongside its political and agricultural might, the Mississippian world gave rise to a rich artistic and spiritual tradition known as the South Eastern ceremonial complex. Through intricate copper plates carved shells and finely crafted pottery, they expressed a cosmology full of mythical beings, celestial symbols and animal spirits. These were not mere decorations, they were statements of belief linking the earthly and the divine. Every symbol told a story, every object had a meaning. The complex gave spiritual coherence to a culture spanning hundreds of miles and dozens of communities. Now let's be honest, North America is simply far too vast and varied, for us to explore every indigenous society in one city. With hundreds of distinct languages, customs and histories across the continent, we'd need an entire podcast series just to scratch the surface. But don't worry, we'll be revisiting many of these cultures in our next volume as they come into contact, whether through diplomacy, trade or outright conflict, with the arrival of European explorers, settlers and let's be frank, invaders. The first half of the second millennium was a time of enormous change, marked by significant migrations that quite literally redrew the cultural and territorial map of North America. Take the Apache and Neverho peoples, for example. Their roots can be traced to what is now southern Canada, but over time these Atabaskan-speaking groups migrated southward, eventually they would settle in the American Southwest, adapting to desert life with remarkable resilience. Their arrival would bring them into contact with long established civilizations such as the Ho Ho calm and Puebloan peoples, leading to both cultural exchange and competition, a classic case of dynamic interaction. Memo in the far north, another migration was underway. The Thule people, skilled hunters of Wales, Seals and Warris, were moving steadily eastward from Alaska. They entered the lands once inhabited by the Dorset culture, with their striking art and Arctic adaptation. By around the 13th century, the Thule had reached as far as Greenland with their technological edge, particularly in harpoon craftsmanship and dog sled transport. This enabled them to thrive in some of the planet's harshest environments. They are widely regarded as the ancestors of today's Inuit peoples. Now here's a question for you all. Could the North's explorers, those hardly Icelanders and Greenlanders of the early medieval period, have encountered the Thule? The Evidencey Scant and largely circumstantial, I'll admit, but we do know that the North's reached the coasts of Newfoundland by around 1000 CE, establishing a short-lived settlement at Lons-O Meadows, and we know that the Thule were expanding eastwards at roughly the same time. So did North's and Inuit ancestors cross paths. We may never have definitive proof, but the idea of two seafaring peoples meeting on the icy fringes of the New World is certainly one to stir the imagination. Perhaps they swapped stories or traded a few trinkets, or maybe just waived from a distance. Further south, but still well within what is now Canada, the Creed culture was coming into its own, expanding across fast territories, stretching from wooded, boreal regions to the open plains. Known for their adaptability and political acumen, the Creed would become key players in the early fur trade long before European ships began clogging North American harbours. As skilled negotiators and seasoned travellers, the Creed became vital intermediaries linking indigenous nations with European traders. Their networks of exchange carried out by canoe, overland trail and frozen river would come to define the commercial heart of the continent for centuries to come. A truly impressive logistical feat powered by people who knew the land intimately. And so we come to the cusp of a new and turbulent age. By the 17th century the ambitions of European powers had shifted decisively towards conquest. No longer content with maps and rumours, they came seeking territory, resources and dominion. Much like their colonial projects in Africa, Asia and the Caribbean, these ventures would be carried out with a mix of curiosity, greed and violence, forever altering the course of North American history. It's a sobering thought but one we must confront. But that is a tale best saved for our next volume, where the old world meets the new and the consequences ripple across the continents. Thank you very much for listening to this week's episode of the History of the World podcast about pre-Columbian North America. What did you think of it? Was you happy with the summary or did you think we left bits out or should we have included more? Do we cover it well? Let me know your thoughts and opinions. Do email in its history of the world [email protected]. Now if you enjoyed the podcast, if you appreciate the podcast and you want to support the podcast, that'd be fantastic. Visit our website, historyoftheworldpodcast.com. Click on the Patreon link and make monthly contributions, just sign yourself up. And you'll become a lifelong member of the history of the world podcast, the Limonati, and you will qualify for gifts and rewards. You can also follow the podcast on social media. We're on Facebook, X, Instagram, TikTok, YouTube, Tumblr, Threads and Mastodon. And just as I mentioned earlier, I'm always keen to hear your feedback about anything to do with the podcast. So I do encourage you please to drop me a line at the history of the world podcast at mail.com. And your feedback will be discussing our history of the world podcast debrief episodes, of which we haven't had many recently, but I'm hoping to not quiet out in the next few days. So we can catch up and welcome those history of the world podcast, illuminati members, the new ones, and talk a little bit more about the background of the podcast and what we're doing, what we can expect from the rest of the year. So do please tune in for that. Anyway, that's all for this week. Thank you very much for listening. Really do appreciate you taking the time to listen to this wonderful episode. Next time we'll be exploring a little bit more about pre-Columbian mound builders. It will be a recreation of a previous episode. So we now fit that into the jigsaw puzzle that is volume 4. So that'll be next time. But until then, thanks a lot for listening and be good. The history of the world podcast is represented by Chris Haslow. Please consider making a financial contribution by going to the history of the worldpodcast.com website and clicking on the Patreon link. Emile the show at History of the World podcast at my.com. And don't forget to join our social media at Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and Tumblr. See you next time.