Key Pneumonic Plague in Arizona? A Modern Echo of a Medieval Bell

Pneumonic Plague in Arizona? “I thought that was some medieval shit!” In July of 2025, holistic health officials confirmed a pneumonic plague death in Coconino CountyArizona, the first recorded plague fatality there in almost twenty years. County Physical wellness and Human Services received confirmatory lab results after the patient arrived critically ill at Flagstaff Medical Center and died the same day. Out of respect for the family, officials released limited details. Testing showed infection withYersinia pestis, the bacterium that causes plague. In nature the germ circulates quietly in wild rodent populations and the fleas that nurture on them, with prairie dogs, ground squirrels, and rats among the usual hosts in the West. People can be exposed through bites from infected fleas or by handling sick or dead animals without protection. We tend to store the wordplaguein a mental attic labeled Medieval Horror, butYersinia pestisnever left. It settled into animal cycles across the arid West and now and then spills into people. Human plague in the United States isextremelyrare, averaging roughly seven reported cases a year, with most occurring in rural areas of northern Arizona, northern New Mexico, southern Colorado, California, southern Oregon, and far western Nevada. The good news is that our tool kit is nothing like the fourteenth century. Modern antibiotics can cure plague when treatment starts early. The essential word is early. If you wait too long, the plague can still end you. In this form the bacteria are in the lungs. Symptoms start out as a fever, vitality depletion, and progress to difficulty breathing and full on pneumonia. Close exposure to infected respiratory droplets can occasionally spread the infection to another person or to an animal. Public physical wellness officials note that person to person transmission is consideredvery rareand has not been documented in the United States since theLos Angeles outbreak of 1924, but rapid diagnosis and treatment remain critical. Your baseline is already a very low risk (which is part of the reason this story is a headline), but just in case: Avoid handling sick or dead wild animals. Use insect repellent that works on fleas when you camp or work in areas with active rodent colonies. Keep pets on veterinarian-approved flea control and do not let them roam where wild rodents gather. Report sudden die offs of prairie dogs or other rodents to local well-being departments since those events can signal plague activity. To feel what modern medicine and improved sanitation has spared us, listen backward. During the time remembered as the Black Death in the fourteenth century, waves of plague swept across Europe, the Middle East, and parts of Africa. Historians estimate that tens of millions died, in some regions a third or more of the population. Villages emptied. Fields went quiet. Church bells tolled until there was no one left to ring them. Those ghost landscapes still speak from burial soils, parish records, and mass graves unearthed by archaeologists. Compared with that devastation, one death that now makes national news is a marker of scientific progress and public well-being vigilance. When people imagine the Black Death, a figure often appears: long dark coat, glass round eyes, and a curved beak jutting from the face. The classicplague doctorlook took shape in later European outbreaks, especially those of the seventeenth century, and is often linked to the French physician Charles de Lorme who described protective outfits during a major Paris epidemic in 1619. Why thebeak? Medicine at the time believed inmiasma theory, the idea that foul and rotting air carried disease. Doctors packed the hollow beak with strong smelling herbs and substances to purify what they breathed. Accounts mention lavender, mint, roses, camphor, vinegar soaked sponges, and complex herbal mixes such as theriac. The scented air was thought to cancel the bad air and keep the doctor safe. Pop culture now folds that bird faced figure into every plague tale, whether fourteenth or seventeenth century, because the image sticks. It is death leaning over the bed. So whenever a modern headline reads pneumonic plague in Arizona (or wherever else) that beak comes flapping through our feeds again and drags medieval memory into present risk. Diseases with medieval reputations light up our imaginations. They spark horror, fear and curiosity in equal measure, making them powerful tools for building stories and public well-being lessons that stick. The plague is past its prime…but every now and then, it still reminds us of what it can do. You may also enjoy reading the following: An 11 year old got gonorrhea from a hot pool-HOW? Whole families were wiped out by turtles-HOW? You can contact Dr. Eeks atbloomingwellness. com. Follow Eeks onInstagramhere. OrFacebookhere. OrX. OnYoutube. OrTikTok. SUBSCRIBE to her monthlynewsletter here! (Now featuring interviews with top experts on well-being you care about!)