After the Second World War, Japan was in a bad state. The people were demoralized, American troops had occupied the country, and the economy was just devastated. Entire cities were leveled to the ground. But amidst the devastation emerged a little beacon of hope.

A coastal city called Minamada, just a day's drive from where the atomic bombs dropped.

Minamata had grown into an industrial powerhouse, churning out chemicals used to make everything from plastics to perfume.

Employment was up. Smokestacks chugged away. The place was thriving.

Until one day in 1953, an unusual affliction took hold. This affliction would be Minamatta's canary in the coal mine. But instead of canaries, the victims were cats.

The cats had begun to dance, or that's the best way people could describe it.

Meet writer and filmmaker Caitlin Swaljay.

The reality was much more sinister than it sounds.

What looked like cats dancing was really convulsions, uncontrollable and uncoordinated

body twitches and spasms.

They drooled, spun in circles, and flung themselves into the sea, in what the residents

of Minamana described as cat suicide.

The cause of this dancing cat fever wasn't demonic possession or a sudden love for dancing.

It was a case of environmental poisoning.

And the poison was Mercury.

From Science Friday, this is science diction.

I'm Johanna Mayer.

And I'm Caitlin Swalj.

Today, we're talking about the word mercury.

Thank you. Today, we're talking about the word mercury. The once town, now city, of Minamata, had a serious problem on its hands. This mysterious illness was

slithering its way in, first affecting cats and then every living creature in the city.

Pigs got sick. Birds fell dead out of the sky. And over a few years, the symptoms took a turn

...