Was the world ending?
This is surely what 15-year-old Walker must have wondered in the early morning hours of December 16, 1811. He and his buddy Jean Baptiste Zebon were on a hunting trip not far from where they lived in what is now southeastern Missouri. They’d pitched their tent by a lake and had been sleeping soundly.
Suddenly, violent shaking jolted them awake.
Outside, they were greeted by a sight almost too terrible to comprehend. The earth was rolling toward them—like towering waves in the ocean. Trees were crashing down. The usually calm lake had been whipped into an angry churn. Spouts of water shot straight up into the air. Walker and Jean Baptiste clung desperately to whatever tree branches they could grasp as the shaking earth tossed them about like rag dolls.
Finally, after what must have seemed like an eternity, the ground grew still.
As the two friends took in the devastation around them, they could hardly believe they were still breathing.
Then their thoughts turned dark.
Were they the only ones left alive?
Walker and Jean Baptiste knew they had just survived an earthquake. What they did not know is that they were living in one of the most earthquake-prone places in North America.
Today, when most Americans think of earthquakes, it is likely California that comes to mind. But earthquakes can—and do—strike in the middle of the country.
The area where Walker and Jean Baptiste lived was inside what geologists today call the New Madrid seismic zone. It spans parts of what are now Missouri, Arkansas, Kentucky, and Tennessee. Earthquakes have occurred there for thousands of years—and still do. Most are too small to cause damage or even feel. But every 200 to 600 years, severe quakes seem to strike.
The earthquake of 1811 had a magnitude of at least 7.4, making it one of the biggest in U.S. history.
And it was only the beginning.
Over the next four months, some 2,000 tremors would shake the area. Two would be at least as large as the earthquake on December 16.
Thousands of cracks would tear open the ground. Floods would destroy forests and towns. Tremors would be felt from New Orleans to New York City. The shaking would rattle the walls of the White House and ring bells in Charleston, South Carolina.
This disaster would come to be called the New Madrid Earthquakes.
Was the world ending?
That’s what Walker must have wondered the morning of December 16, 1811. He was 15 years old. He and his buddy Jean Baptiste Zebon were on a hunting trip. They were not far from where they lived in what is now southeastern Missouri. They were sleeping in a tent by a lake.
Suddenly, violent shaking woke them.
Outside their tent was a terrible sight. The earth was rolling toward them—like towering waves in the ocean. Trees were crashing down. The calm lake had been whipped into an angry churn. Spouts of water shot straight up into the air. Walker and Jean Baptiste clung desperately to tree branches as the shaking earth tossed them about like rag dolls.
Finally, the ground grew still.
As the two friends looked around at the destruction, they could hardly believe they were still breathing.
Then their thoughts turned dark.
Were they the only ones left alive?
Walker and Jean Baptiste knew they had just survived an earthquake. But they could not have known that they were living in one of the most earthquake-prone places in North America.
Today, when most Americans think of earthquakes, they probably think of California. But earthquakes can—and do—strike in the middle of the country.
Walker and Jean Baptiste lived in an area that is inside what geologists today call the New Madrid seismic zone. It spans parts of what are now Missouri, Arkansas, Kentucky, and Tennessee. Earthquakes have occurred there for thousands of years—and still do. Most are too small to cause damage or even feel. But every 200 to 600 years, severe quakes seem to strike.
The earthquake of 1811 had a magnitude of at least 7.4. It was one of the biggest in U.S. history.
And it was only the beginning.
Over the next four months, some 2,000 tremors shook the area. Two were at least as large as the earthquake on December 16.
Thousands of cracks tore open the ground. Floods destroyed forests and towns. Tremors were felt from New Orleans to New York City. The shaking rattled the walls of the White House and rang bells in Charleston, South Carolina.
This disaster would later be called the New Madrid Earthquakes.