AVES: LIVING DINOSAURS

Cassowary, Casuariiformes

Wherever you are in the world, it is likely that you know your local birds. True, you may call them des Oiseaux, pássaros or uccelli — but you'll know their common names by heart.

You will also likely know their sounds. The tweets, chirps, hoots and caws of the species living in your backyard.

Birds come in all shapes and sizes and their brethren blanket the globe. It is amazing to think that they all sprang from the same lineage given the sheer variety. 

If you picture them, we have such a variety on the planet — parrots, finches, wee hummingbirds, long-legged waterbirds, waddling penguins and showy toucans. 

But whether they are a gull, hawk, cuckoo, hornbill, potoo or albatross, they are all cousins in the warm-blooded vertebrate class Aves. 

The defining features of the Aves are feathers, toothless beaked jaws, the laying of hard-shelled eggs, a high metabolic rate, a four-chambered heart, and a strong yet lightweight skeleton. The best features, their ability to dance, bounce and sing, are not listed, but it is how I see them in the world.

These modern dinosaurs live worldwide and range in size from the 5 cm (2 in) bee hummingbird to the 2.75 m (9 ft) ostrich. 

There are about ten thousand living species, more than half of which are passerine, or "perching" birds. Birds have wings whose development varies according to species; the only known groups without wings are the extinct moa and elephant birds.

Wings evolved from forelimbs giving birds the ability to fly

Wings, which evolved from forelimbs, gave birds the ability to fly, although further evolution has led to the loss of flight in some birds, including ratites, penguins, and diverse endemic island species. 

The digestive and respiratory systems of birds are also uniquely adapted for flight. Some bird species of aquatic environments, particularly seabirds and some waterbirds, have further evolved for swimming.

Wee Feathered Theropod Dinosaurs

We now know from fossil and biological evidence that birds are a specialized subgroup of theropod dinosaurs, and more specifically, they are members of Maniraptora, a group of theropods that includes dromaeosaurs and oviraptorids, amongst others. As palaeontologists discover more theropods closely related to birds, the previously clear distinction between non-birds and birds has become a bit muddy.

Recent discoveries in the Liaoning Province of northeast China, which include many small theropod feathered dinosaurs — and some excellent arty reproductions — contribute to this ambiguity. 

Still, other fossil specimens found here shed a light on the evolution of Aves. Confuciusornis sanctus, an Early Cretaceous bird from the Yixian and Jiufotang Formations of China is the oldest known bird to have a beak.

Like modern birds, Confuciusornis had a toothless beak, but close relatives of modern birds such as Hesperornis and Ichthyornis were toothed, telling us that the loss of teeth occurred convergently in Confuciusornis and living birds.

The consensus view in contemporary palaeontology is that the flying theropods, or avialans, are the closest relatives of the deinonychosaurs, which include dromaeosaurids and troodontids.

Together, these form a group called Paraves. Some basal members of this group, such as Microraptor, have features that may have enabled them to glide or fly. 

The most basal deinonychosaurs were wee little things. This raises the possibility that the ancestor of all paravians may have been arboreal, have been able to glide, or both. Unlike Archaeopteryx and the non-avialan feathered dinosaurs, who primarily ate meat, tummy contents from recent avialan studies suggest that the first avialans were omnivores. Even more intriguing...

Avialae, which translates to bird wings, are a clade of flying dinosaurs containing the only living dinosaurs, the birds. It is usually defined as all theropod dinosaurs more closely related to modern birds — Aves — than to deinonychosaurs, though alternative definitions are occasionally bantered back and forth.

The Earliest Avialan: Archaeopteryx lithographica

Archaeopteryx, bird-like dinosaur from the Late Jurassic

Archaeopteryx lithographica, from the late Jurassic Period Solnhofen Formation of Germany, is the earliest known avialan that may have had the capability of powered flight. 

However, several older avialans are known from the Late Jurassic Tiaojishan Formation of China, dating to about 160 million years ago.

The Late Jurassic Archaeopteryx is well-known as one of the first transitional fossils to be found, and it provided support for the theory of evolution in the late 19th century. 

Archaeopteryx was the first fossil to clearly display both traditional reptilian characteristics — teeth, clawed fingers, and a long, lizard-like tail—as well as wings with flight feathers similar to those of modern birds. It is not considered a direct ancestor of birds, though it is possibly closely related to the true ancestor.

Unlikely yet true, the closest living relatives of birds are the crocodilians. Birds are descendants of the primitive avialans — whose members include Archaeopteryx — which first appeared about 160 million years ago in China.

DNA evidence tells us that modern birds — Neornithes — evolved in the Middle to Late Cretaceous, and diversified dramatically around the time of the Cretaceous–Paleogene extinction event 66 mya, which killed off the pterosaurs and all non-avian dinosaurs.

In birds, the brain, especially the telencephalon, is remarkably developed, both in relative volume and complexity. Unlike most early‐branching sauropsids, the adults of birds and other archosaurs have a well‐ossified neurocranium. In contrast to most of their reptilian relatives, but similar to what we see in mammals, bird brains fit closely to the endocranial cavity so that major external features are reflected in the endocasts. What you see on the inside is what you see on the outside.

This makes birds an excellent group for palaeoneurological investigations. The first observation of the brain in a long‐extinct bird was made in the first quarter of the 19th century. However, it was not until the 2000s and the application of modern imaging technologies that avian palaeoneurology really took off.

Understanding how the mode of life is reflected in the external morphology of the brains of birds is but one of several future directions in which avian palaeoneurological research may extend.

Although the number of fossil specimens suitable for palaeoneurological explorations is considerably smaller in birds than in mammals and will very likely remain so, the coming years will certainly witness a momentous strengthening of this rapidly growing field of research at the overlap between ornithology, palaeontology, evolutionary biology and the neurosciences.

Reference: Cau, Andrea; Brougham, Tom; Naish, Darren (2015). "The phylogenetic affinities of the bizarre Late Cretaceous Romanian theropod Balaur bondoc (Dinosauria, Maniraptora): Dromaeosaurid or flightless bird?". PeerJ. 3: e1032. doi:10.7717/peerj.1032. PMC 4476167. PMID 26157616.

Reference: Ivanov, M., Hrdlickova, S. & Gregorova, R. (2001) The Complete Encyclopedia of Fossils. Rebo Publishers, Netherlands. p. 312

SPIRIT BEARS OF CANADA'S WEST COAST

Mist clings to the moss-draped cedars, and the river below churns with the silver flash of salmon fighting upstream. 

Then, out of the shadows, a pale figure steps onto the slick stones—a spirit bear, its coat glowing against the emerald forest like a ghost made flesh. 

Each movement is unhurried, deliberate, as if the forest itself pauses to watch. Water beads and slides down its fur, its great head lifting to catch the scent of fish on the wind. 

In that moment, the rainforest hushes—ravens fall silent, even the river seems to soften—leaving only the sound of your breath and the soft trickle of a nearby stream as you realize you are witnessing something few people on Earth ever see.

On the temperate rainforests of British Columbia’s central and north coast, a rare white-furred black bear (Ursus americanus kermodei) roams among towering cedars, moss-draped hemlocks, and salmon-rich rivers. 

Known scientifically as the Kermode bear but more commonly called the spirit bear, this unique subspecies of the American black bear holds both biological and cultural significance. Their pale coats, the result of a genetic variation, have captured global fascination while remaining deeply rooted in the traditions of local First Nations peoples.

Spirit bears are not albinos; rather, their distinctive white coat results from a recessive allele in the melanocortin 1 receptor (MC1R) gene. 

To display the white fur, an individual must inherit the allele from both parents. Roughly 10–20% of the Kermode bear population in some regions are white-coated, though overall only about 1 in 10 black bears in the subspecies carries this trait. The remainder are typically black-furred, indistinguishable from other American black bears at a glance.

Spirit bears inhabit the Great Bear Rainforest, one of the largest remaining intact temperate rainforests in the world, stretching along British Columbia’s remote central and northern coast. 

They are most frequently found on Princess Royal Island and Gribbell Island, as well as smaller portions of the surrounding mainland. These regions offer a rich mosaic of old-growth conifer forests, rivers teeming with salmon, and sheltered estuaries that provide food and cover.

Like other black bears, spirit bears are omnivorous generalists. Their diet changes seasonally:

• Spring: young vegetation, grasses, sedges, and roots.
• Summer: berries (salmonberries, huckleberries, blueberries), insects, and carrion.
• Autumn: spawning Pacific salmon (Oncorhynchus spp.), which form the most critical food source for building fat reserves before winter denning. Salmon runs sustain the bears and also fertilize the forest. Bears often carry fish into the understory, leaving behind nutrients that enrich soil and feed trees, mosses, and invertebrates—a classic example of nutrient cycling.

Spirit bears are generally solitary, though feeding grounds such as salmon streams may bring multiple individuals together. Unlike coastal grizzlies, they tend to avoid confrontations, relying on patience and stealth while fishing. Interestingly, recent research suggests that spirit bears may enjoy a fishing advantage: their pale coats are less visible to salmon in bright daylight, allowing them to capture fish more efficiently than darker bears.

In late autumn, spirit bears retreat to winter dens, often dug into hollow logs, root systems, or natural rock shelters. They enter a state of torpor rather than true hibernation, slowing their metabolism while occasionally rousing during warmer spells. Cubs are born during this denning period, usually in January, and remain with their mothers for 1.5–2.5 years.

For millennia, the white bear has held deep spiritual and cultural meaning for First Nations peoples of the Pacific Northwest, including the Gitga’at, Kitasoo/Xai’xais, and Heiltsuk Nations. 

Known as moksgm’ol among the Gitga’at, the spirit bear is revered as a reminder of the Ice Age, when the land was blanketed in snow and ice. Oral traditions tell that Raven made one in every ten bears white to remind people of the time when glaciers ruled the earth, teaching humility and respect for nature.

Today, First Nations guardians continue to play a central role in protecting spirit bear habitats, leading stewardship programs, guiding visitors, and sharing cultural teachings. Their leadership was instrumental in the establishment of conservation agreements that limit industrial development and preserve the Great Bear Rainforest.

Though not classified as endangered, spirit bears are vulnerable due to their limited genetic distribution and reliance on intact rainforest ecosystems. Logging, habitat fragmentation, and declining salmon populations pose risks. The protection of their habitat through the 2016 Great Bear Rainforest Agreement and ongoing Indigenous stewardship has been critical in ensuring their survival.

Viewing Spirit Bears — Because of their rarity and remote habitat, spirit bears are challenging but not impossible to see in the wild. Some of the best-known viewing opportunities include:

• Princess Royal Island – the largest concentration of spirit bears.
• Gribbell Island – often called the “mother island” of the white bear.
• Kitasoo/Xai’xais territory near Klemtu – guided spirit bear tours led by Indigenous stewards.

Tourism is strictly managed to reduce disturbance and ensure that viewing supports conservation and local communities.

The spirit bear is a striking example of how biology and culture intertwine. Its unique genetics, ecological role in the rainforest, and place in Indigenous oral traditions make it an emblem of both natural wonder and cultural heritage. 

Protecting the spirit bear means safeguarding the Great Bear Rainforest itself—a living system where salmon, cedar, eagle, wolf, and bear are inseparably linked.

WHEN GORGON REIGNED SUPREME

Step back into the deep Paleozoic—an era that began some 540 million years ago with oceans bustling with trilobites, early fish, and soft-bodied wonders, while the continents themselves hosted little more than humble mats of mosses and fungi. Life’s great drama was still mostly underwater.

Fast-forward 240 million years, and the evolutionary landscape had transformed dramatically. 

Vertebrates had conquered the land, ecosystems had diversified, and Earth’s surface teemed with reptilian innovators, amphibians the size of crocodiles, and the early ancestors of mammals. Among these emerging terrestrial titans strode the Gorgonopsians, or “Gorgons”—ferocious sabre-toothed therapsids that dominated the Middle to Late Permian, from about 265 to 252 million years ago.

These were no sluggish proto-reptiles. Gorgons were highly specialized predators, boasting elongated canine teeth worthy of any future saber-toothed cat, powerful jaws, and sleek, muscular bodies built for pursuit. Their anatomy blended the primitive and the prophetic: reptile-like postures paired with early mammalian traits such as differentiated teeth and strong jaw musculature. 

Their clawed limbs, keen forward-facing eyes, and cutting-edge predatory adaptations placed them firmly at the top of the Permian food chain. In a world long before dinosaurs, they were the undisputed apex hunters.

My own fascination with these remarkable creatures was ignited by Gorgons, Peter Ward’s wonderfully wry and insightful dive into the ancient landscapes of South Africa. Ward’s vivid tales of fieldwork in the blistering, bone-dry vastness of the Karoo Basin—ancestral home of the Gorgons—captured both the hardships and the sheer exhilaration of unearthing deep time. 

His descriptions of sunburn and scientific revelations in that arid world made me laugh more than once. It is a highly enjoyable read.

The Great Karoo itself is a geological and paleontological marvel. This enormous, semi-arid expanse formed within a vast inland basin roughly 320 million years ago, at a time when the part of Gondwana destined to become Africa lay draped across the South Pole. 

Layer upon layer of sedimentary rock accumulated as glaciers advanced and retreated, rivers meandered, lakes dried, and ecosystems rose and fell. Today, those layers read like a grand evolutionary chronicle, preserving a world populated by beaked herbivores, hulking amphibians, and the charismatic, toothy Gorgonopsians.

This was a pivotal chapter in Earth’s history—just before the catastrophic Permian-Triassic extinction swept away nearly 90% of life. Yet in the twilight of the Permian, before that great dying, the Karoo thrived with innovation and ecological complexity. It was a world where the early steps toward warm-bloodedness were being taken, where synapsids (our own deep ancestors) were experimenting with new forms, and where the Gorgons reigned supreme.

FOSSIL BEES, FIRST NATION HISTORY

Welcome to the world of bees. This fuzzy yellow and black striped fellow is a bumblebee in the genus Bombus sp., family Apidae. 

We know him from our gardens where we see them busily lapping up nectar and pollen from flowers with their long hairy tongues.

My Norwegian cousins on my mother's side call them humle. Norway is a wonderful place to be something wild as the wild places have not been disturbed by our hands. Head out for a walk in the wild flowers and the sounds you will hear are the wind and the bees en masse amongst the flowers.   

There are an impressive thirty-five species of bumblebee species that call Norway hjem (home), and one, Bombus consobrinus, boasts the longest tongue that they use to feast solely on Monkshood, genus Aconitum, you may know by the name Wolf's-bane.

In the Kwak̓wala language of the Kwakwaka'wakw, speakers of Kwak'wala, and my family on my father's side in the Pacific Northwest, bumblebees are known as ha̱mdzalat̕si — though I wonder if this is actually the word for a honey bee, Apis mellifera, as ha̱mdzat̕si is the word for a beehive.

I have a special fondness for all bees and look for them both in the garden and in First Nation art.

Bumblebees' habit of rolling around in flowers gives us a sense that these industrious insects are also playful. In First Nation art they provide levity — comic relief along with their cousins the mosquitoes and wasps — as First Nation dancers wear masks made to mimic their round faces, big round eyes and pointy stingers. 

A bit of artistic license is taken with their forms as each mask may have up to six stingers. The dancers weave amongst the watchful audience and swoop down to playfully give many of the guests a good, albeit gentle, poke. 

Honey bees actually do a little dance when they get back to the nest with news of an exciting new place to forage — truly they do. Bumblebees do not do a wee bee dance when they come home pleased with themselves from a successful foraging mission, but they do rush around excitedly, running to and fro to share their excitement. They are social learners, so this behaviour can signal those heading out to join them as they return to the perfect patch of wildflowers. 

Bumblebees are quite passive and usually sting in defense of their nest or if they feel threatened. Female bumblebees can sting several times and live on afterwards — unlike honeybees who hold back on their single sting as its barbs hook in once used and their exit shears it off, marking their demise.

They are important buzz pollinators both for our food crops and our wildflowers. Their wings beat at 130 times or more per second, literally shaking the pollen off the flowers with their vibration. 

And they truly are busy bees, spending their days fully focused on their work. Bumblebees collect and carry pollen and nectar back to the nest which may be as much as 25% to 75% of their body weight. 

And they are courteous — as they harvest each flower, they mark them with a particular scent to help others in their group know that the nectar is gone. 

The food they bring back to the nest is eaten to keep the hive healthy but is not used to make honey as each new season's queen bees hibernate over the winter and emerge reinvigorated to seek a new hive each Spring. She will choose a new site, primarily underground depending on the bumblebee species, and then set to work building wax cells for each of her fertilized eggs. 

Bumblebees are quite hardy. The plentiful hairs on their bodies are coated in oils that provide them with natural waterproofing. They can also generate more heat than their smaller, slender honey bee cousins, so they remain productive workers in cooler weather.    

We see the first bumblebees arise in the fossil record 100 million years ago and diversify alongside the earliest flowering plants. Their evolution is an entangled dance with the pollen and varied array of flowers that colour our world. 

We have found many wonderful examples within the fossil record, including a rather famous Eocene fossil bee found by a dear friend and naturalist who has left this Earth, Rene Savenye.

His namesake, H. Savenyei, is a lovely fossil halictine bee from Early Eocene deposits near Quilchena, British Columbia — and the first bee body-fossil known from the Okanagan Highlands — and indeed from Canada. 

It is a fitting homage, as bees symbolize honesty, playfulness and willingness to serve the community in our local First Nation lore and around the world — something Rene did his whole life.

FOSSIL FISHAPODS FROM THE CANADIAN ARCTIC

Qikiqtania wakei, a fishapod & relative to tetrapods

You will likely recall the amazing tetrapodomorpha fossil found on Ellesmere Island in the Canadian Arctic in 2004, Tiktaalik roseae. 

These were advanced forms transitional between fish and the early labyrinthodonts playfully referred to as fishapods — half-fish, half-tetrapod in appearance and limb morphology. 

Up to that point, the relationship of limbed vertebrates (tetrapods) to lobe-finned fish (sarcopterygians) was well known, but the origin of significant tetrapod features remained obscure for the lack of fossils that document the sequence of evolutionary changes — until Tiktaalik. 

While Tiktaalik is technically a fish, this fellow is as far from fish-like as you can be and still be a card-carrying member of the group. 

Interestingly, while Neil Shubin and crew were combing the icy tundra for Tiktaalik, another group was trying their luck just a few kilometres away. 

A week before the eureka moment of Tiktaalik's discovery, Tom Stewart and Justin Lemberg unearthed material that we now know to be a relative of Tiktaalik's. 

Meet Qikiqtania wakei, a fishapod and close relative to our dear tetrapods — and cousin to Tiktaalik — who shares features in the flattened triangular skull, shoulders and elbows in the fin. 

Qikiqtania (pronounced kick-kick-TAN-ee-ya)

But, and here’s the amazing part, its upper arm bone (humerus) is specialised for open water swimming, not walking. 

The story gets wilder when we look at Qikiqtania’s position on the evolutionary tree— all the features for this type of swimming are newly evolved, not primitive. 

This means that Qikiqtania secondarily reentered open water habitats from ancestors that had already had some aspect of walking behaviour. 

And, this whole story was playing out 365 million years ago — the transition from water to land was going both ways in the Devonian.

Why is this exciting? You and I descend from those early tetrapods. We share the legacy of their water-to-land transition and the wee bony bits in their wrists and paddles that evolved to become our hands. I know, mindblowing!

Thomas Stewart and Justin Lemberg put in thousands of hours bringing Qikiqtania to life. 

The analysis consisted of a long path of wild events— from a haphazard moment when it was first spotted, a random collection of a block that ended up containing an articulated fin, to a serendipitous discovery three days before Covid lockdowns in March 2020.

Both teams acknowledge the profound debt owed to the individuals, organizations and indigenous communities where they had the privilege to work — Grise Fiord and Resolute Bay— Ellesmere Island in Nunavut, the largest and northernmost territory of Canada. 

Part of that debt is honoured in the name chosen for this new miraculous species. 

Aerial View of Ellesmere Island

The generic name, Qikiqtania (pronounced kick-kick-TAN-ee-ya), is derived from the Inuktitut words Qikiqtaaluk and Qikiqtani which are the traditional place name of the region where the fossil was discovered. 

The specific name, wakei, is in memory of the evolutionary biologist David Wake — colleague, mentor and friend. 

He was a professor of integrative biology and Director and curator of herpetology at the Museum of Vertebrate Zoology at the University of California, Berkeley who passed away in April 2021. 

Wake is known for his work on the biology and evolution of salamanders and vertebrate evolutionary biology. 

If you look at the photo on the left you can imagine visiting these fossil localities in Canada's far north.

Qikiqtania was found on Inuit land and belongs to the community. Thomas Stewart and his colleagues were able to conduct this research because of the generosity and support of individuals in the hamlets of Resolute Bay and Grise Fiord, the Iviq Hunters and Trappers of Grise Fiord, and the Department of Heritage and Culture, Nunavut.

To them, on behalf of the larger scientific community — Nakurmiik. Thank you! 

Here is the link to Tom Stewart's article in The Conversation & paper in Nature:

• Stewart, Thomas A.; Lemberg, Justin B.; Daly, Ailis; Daeschler, Edward B.; Shubin, Neil H. (2022-07-20). "A new elpistostegalian from the Late Devonian of the Canadian Arctic". Nature. doi:10.1038/s41586-022-04990-w. ISSN 0028-0836.
• Stewart, Thomas. "Meet Qikiqtania, a fossil fish with the good sense to stay in the water while others ventured onto land" The Conversation. Retrieved 2022-07-20.

Image One: An artist’s vision of Qikiqtania enjoying its fully aquatic, free-swimming lifestyle. Alex Boersma, CC BY-ND

Image Two: A new elpistostegalian from the Late Devonian of the Canadian Arctic, T. A. Stewart, J. B. Lemberg, A. Daly, E. B. Daeschler, & N. H. Shubin.

A huge shout out to the deeply awesome Neil Shubin who shared that the paper had been published and offered his insights on what played out behind the scenes!

CLALLAM BAY FOSSIL HEIST

Vertipecten fucanus (Dall, 1900)

Some water-worn samples of the bivalve Verdipectin fucanus, Clallam Formation, Clallam Bay, Washington State. Miocene.

It all began one gloriously sunny summer weekend when the planets aligned, the calendar gods smiled, and my mother and I were simultaneously free. 

Naturally, this meant one thing: we were going fossil hunting. I still get out collecting regularly but back in the day it was every weekend of the year with the bigger trips planned a few years in advance. 

Many of those were "reckie trips" scouting out new localities. The Olympic Peninsula was duly scouted and now it was back to the regular haunts. 

We rattled down through Port Angeles and set up camp at the Lyre River—mosquitoes, campfire smoke, and all the rustic feels. 

I took Mom on a grand tour of my favourite haunts: Majestic Beach (where we found some amazing fossil whale verts), a private-land site with ghost shrimp claws and urchins (with permission), and finally down to Clallam Bay and its dreamy beach exposures.

The Clallam Formation stretches along the north coast of the Olympic Peninsula, tracing the rugged edge of the Strait of Juan de Fuca from Slip Point at the eastern end of Clallam Bay to the headland of Pillar Point. Here, sandstone beds push the coastline outward in a subtle bulge, their weathered flanks dropping abruptly to a broad, wave-washed bedrock platform.

Pillar Point, Clallam Bay

Imagine standing on that foreshore: waves crash rhythmically against the stone, sending up bursts of cool spray. The surf’s deep, steady thunder pulses underfoot, while the sharper cries of gulls wheel above, carried on the wind. 

The air is rich with the briny scent of kelp and cold saltwater, a sharp, clean smell that settles in the back of the throat. Each retreating wave leaves a gleaming sheen on the rock, swirling with foam before sliding back to the sea.

Its cliffs and tidal benches have long drawn geologists—and especially paleontologists—who were captivated by the formation’s abundance of beautifully preserved fossils. 

William Healey Dall, a pioneering American geologist and paleontologist whose career spanned more than six decades. Dall loved to explore this rugged bit of coastline, studying and describing many of the mollusks now known from the Clallam Formation, adding his work to the early scientific tapestry woven from these windswept rocks.

He became one of the most prolific describers of North Pacific mollusks, naming hundreds of new species—from marine snails and clams to chitons—many of which still bear the names he assigned or honour him through genera such as Dallina and Dallididae. His work laid much of the early scientific foundation for the paleontology of the Pacific Coast.

Retracing his footsteps and to catch the tides just right, we collected in the early afternoon, blissfully unaware that we were setting up the perfect comedy plot twist. 

After a full day of hauling home the ocean’s Miocene leftovers, we decided to stash some of our fossil booty under a log—just until morning. A little paleo treasure cache. Perfectly safe. Nothing could possibly go wrong.

The next morning, we strolled back down the beach, coffees in hand, ready to retrieve our hoard like triumphant pirates.

Enter: A very enthusiastic gaggle of high school students.

There they were, marching toward us, each clutching a fossil like they’d just won the geological lottery. “Look what we found!” they cried, beaming, displaying our carefully cached treasures.

Yes. Our stash. Our carefully curated, lovingly positioned, absolutely-not-meant-for-public-consumption stash.

But honestly? They were so thrilled, we couldn’t help but be charmed. Besides, most of what I collect ends up in museums or teaching collections anyway. These young fossil hunters had simply… expedited the process. Efficient, really.

We gathered the Verdipectin together for one glamorous group photo, wished the kids well, and sent them off with pockets full of deep time. 

And our grand prize for the weekend? Some very fetching water-worn whale vertebrae—one of which was briefly enscripted into service as the crown of the King of the Lemon People, while my mother created elaborate beach sculptures to our shared amusement.. All in all, a perfect weekend.

Image: Vertipecten fucanus (Dall, 1900) is the most characteristic mollusk in assemblages from the Clallam Formation.

BEARDED SEALS OF SVALBARD

The Bearded Seal

Bartrobbe — the bearded seal (Erignathus barbatus) — is a familiar and charismatic presence in the high Arctic waters surrounding Svalbard, Norway. 

Large, solitary, and unmistakable with its luxuriant moustache of stiff vibrissae, this species is superbly adapted to life along the drifting margins of sea ice. 

Adults can exceed 400 kilograms in mass, with thick blubber for insulation and broad, flexible foreflippers that allow them to haul out on ice floes or shallow shorelines with surprising ease.

Bearded seals are benthic specialists. Rather than chasing fast-moving prey in the water column, they forage along the seafloor, using their extraordinarily sensitive whiskers to detect vibrations and textures in soft sediments. 

Their diet reflects this lifestyle and includes clams, mussels, polychaete worms, crabs, shrimp, snails, and demersal fishes such as sculpins and flatfish. Powerful suction feeding allows them to extract prey directly from shells or sediment, leaving distinctive feeding pits on the seabed—clear signatures of their presence even when the seals themselves are out of sight.

The Bearded Seal

Unlike many other pinnipeds, bearded seals are not strongly colonial. Outside of the breeding season they are largely solitary, loosely distributed across ice-covered continental shelves. 

Mating occurs in spring, typically from April to May, when males establish underwater display areas rather than surface territories. 

Courtship is acoustic: males produce long, haunting trills and sweeping calls beneath the ice, audible over kilometres, to attract receptive females. 

After mating, implantation of the embryo is delayed, a reproductive strategy shared with many seals, resulting in a total gestation of roughly 11 months. 

Pups are born the following spring on drifting sea ice and are remarkably precocial, entering the water within hours and weaned after only two to three weeks—one of the shortest lactation periods among seals.

In the fossil record, bearded seals belong to the family Phocidae, a lineage that diversified during the Miocene as cold-adapted marine ecosystems expanded in the Northern Hemisphere. 

While Erignathus barbatus itself does not appear as a clearly identifiable species until the late Pleistocene, its ancestry is represented by fossil phocids from Miocene and Pliocene deposits across the North Atlantic and Arctic margins. 

Fragmentary remains—skulls, mandibles, and limb bones—document the emergence of large, bottom-feeding seals adapted to shallow continental shelves, particularly in regions influenced by cooling climates and seasonal ice. 

Pleistocene deposits in northern Europe, Siberia, Alaska, and Arctic Canada contain remains attributable to Erignathus, telling us that bearded seals expanded their range alongside advancing ice sheets during glacial cycles.

Today, Bartrobbe and its kin remain tightly bound to Arctic sea ice, making them sensitive indicators of environmental change. Their long evolutionary history, traced through shifting climates and frozen seas, underscores just how finely tuned they are to the rhythms of ice, sound, and sediment in the polar oceans—a living echo of the Arctic’s deep past.

THE LOST SEA BENEATH THE PYRAMIDS: TETHYS

Tethys Ocean

Long before the first pharaohs ruled the Nile, Egypt lay beneath the warm, shallow waters of the Tethys Ocean—a vanished sea that once divided the ancient supercontinents of Gondwana and Laurasia. 

Stretching from what is now the Mediterranean to the Indian Ocean, the Tethys existed from the late Paleozoic through the early Cenozoic, roughly 250 to 50 million years ago.

The concept of this long-lost ocean was first proposed in 1893 by Austrian geologist Eduard Suess, one of the founders of modern geology. While studying the distribution of marine fossils in rocks found high in mountain ranges such as the Alps and Himalayas, Suess realized that these fossils—corals, ammonites, and foraminifera—must once have lived in a vast tropical sea. 

His revolutionary conclusion: the mountains had been uplifted from the floor of an ancient ocean that no longer existed. He named this vanished sea the Tethys, after the Greek sea goddess and wife of Oceanus.

Evidence for the Tethys Ocean comes from both geology and fossil assemblages. Layers of marine limestone rich in Nummulites, ammonites, and other marine fossils are found across Europe, North Africa, and southern Asia—often thousands of meters above current sea level. 

These rocks record an ocean teeming with life during the Mesozoic and early Cenozoic, later compressed and folded as the African, Indian, and Eurasian plates collided to form the Alps, the Himalayas, and the Zagros Mountains.

Its tropical lagoons once hosted coral reefs, sea urchins, mollusks, and the foraminifera that would later become Nummulites. As these tiny organisms lived, died, and settled onto the seafloor, their calcium carbonate shells accumulated in thick beds of lime mud. Over millions of years, these sediments hardened into the fossil-rich Eocene limestones that now form much of Egypt’s geology—including the very stone quarried for the pyramids of Giza.

Today, the remnants of the Tethys survive as the Mediterranean, Black, Caspian, and Aral Seas, but its story lives on in every fossil-bearing limestone block of the Great Pyramid—a geological time capsule of an ocean that vanished long before humankind emerged.

COLOSSAL TOMBS: THE PYRAMIDS OF GIZA

Aerial View of the Great Pyramids of Giza

From above, the Giza Plateau unfurls like a map of human ambition etched into the desert. 

Three monumental pyramids dominate the landscape — the great limestone giants of Menkaure, Khafre, and Khufu — their geometry so precise that even from orbit they align almost perfectly with the stars of Orion’s Belt.

To the south stands the smallest of the trio, the Pyramid of Menkaure, built for the grandson of Khufu. Its base once gleamed with granite casing stones — a mark of royal distinction. 

Just north of it rises the Pyramid of Khafre, easily recognized by the remnants of its original white Tura limestone casing that still clings to its summit. 

Great Sphinx of Giza

At its feet lies the enigmatic Great Sphinx, carved directly from the bedrock, guarding the necropolis for over four and a half millennia.

Towering above them all is the Great Pyramid of Khufu, or Cheops, the oldest and largest of the three — a structure so immense that it remained the tallest man-made monument on Earth for nearly 4,000 years.

Surrounding these colossal tombs are smaller queens’ pyramids, each one dedicated to the royal consorts who shared the pharaoh’s lineage and legacy. Scattered among them are mastabas — flat-topped rectangular tombs built for nobles, priests, and royal officials who served Egypt’s rulers in life and sought to rest eternally in their shadow. 

From the air, these secondary tombs form a vast honeycomb of stone, extending outward from each pyramid like satellites around a planet, all oriented toward the rising sun and the eternal life it symbolized.

Seen from above, Giza is both breathtaking and humbling — a city of the dead built to last forever, surrounded by desert sands that once lay beneath the warm waves of an ancient sea.

THE PYRAMIDS OF GIZA: FOSSILS IN STONE

Built to endure the tests of time, the pyramids of Giza stand as some of the oldest and last remaining wonders of the ancient world. 

Rising from the desert sands of Egypt’s Giza Plateau, these monuments were constructed from a masterful blend of limestone, granite, basalt, gypsum mortar, and baked mud bricks—materials quarried both locally and from distant sites along the Nile, including the red granite of Aswan.

Their smooth, once-glimmering exteriors were clad in fine-grained white limestone quarried from Tura, just across the river. This stone was prized in antiquity for its purity and brilliant color, chosen for the facing stones of Egypt’s wealthiest tombs. 

But beyond its beauty lies a story much older than any pharaoh. The Tura limestone is made almost entirely of the fossilized shells of Nummulites—single-celled marine organisms whose remains whisper of Egypt’s ancient seas.

First described by Lamarck in 1801, Nummulites are large foraminifera—amoeba-like protists with calcareous, chambered shells (or “tests”). In life, they resembled tiny white discs, their interiors patterned like concentric rings of a sliced tree or the cross-section of a shell. 

During the early Cenozoic, millions of these creatures thrived in the warm, shallow waters of the Tethys Sea. When they died, their calcium carbonate shells settled to the seafloor, accumulating over millennia. Layer upon layer, they were compacted and cemented by time and pressure into limestone—the same rock later quarried to build the tombs of kings.

Nummulites Foraminifera Fossil

It is astonishing to imagine that the Great Pyramid of Khufu (or Cheops), the largest and oldest of the Giza pyramids, built during Egypt’s Fourth Dynasty around 2560 BCE, is composed largely of the fossilized remains of microscopic life forms that lived some 50 million years earlier. 

The pyramid itself—a monument to human ambition—is, quite literally, built from the remains of ancient seas.

Nummulites are commonly found in Eocene to Miocene marine rocks across southwest Asia and the Mediterranean region, including the fossil-rich Eocene limestones of Egypt. In life, they ranged in size from a mere 1.3 cm (0.5 inches) to an impressive 5 cm (2 inches), and in some Middle Eocene species, up to six inches across—astonishingly large for single-celled organisms. 

Their size reflects an evolutionary adaptation: by expanding their surface area, they enhanced diffusion, allowing for more efficient nutrient exchange across the cell membrane. Many also harbored symbiotic algae, much like modern reef-dwelling foraminifera, further fueling their growth through photosynthesis.

Nummulites Foraminifera Fossil

These fossils, once the inhabitants of the ancient Tethys, later became both material and metaphor for Egyptian civilization. Nummulite shells were sometimes used as coins, and their very name—derived from the Latin nummulus, meaning “little coin”—speaks to this connection between life, economy, and art.

The Great Pyramid’s inner chambers tell a different geological story. The central burial chamber housing the pharaoh’s sarcophagus was constructed from massive blocks of reddish-pink granite transported from Aswan, nearly 900 kilometers upriver. This stone, denser and stronger than limestone, helped support the immense weight of the pyramid’s structure.

In 2013, archaeologists made a discovery that breathed life back into these ancient logistics: a 4,600-year-old papyrus scroll found in a cave some 700 kilometers from Giza. 

The document—addressed to Ankh-haf, half-brother of Pharaoh Khufu—records the journey of a 200-man crew tasked with transporting limestone from the Tura quarries to the Giza Plateau. After loading the stone blocks onto boats, the workers sailed down the Nile, where as many as 100,000 laborers waited to haul the two- to three-ton blocks up earthen ramps toward the construction site. It is a rare and poetic glimpse into one of humanity’s most ambitious building projects—and into the transformation of fossil limestone into enduring architecture.

Even in antiquity, the project stirred strong opinions. Writing centuries later, the Greek historian Herodotus visited Egypt and chronicled Khufu’s reign in his Histories. He described Khufu as a cruel tyrant who closed temples, oppressed his people, and forced them into servitude. According to Herodotus, 100,000 men labored in three-month rotations to quarry and transport the stone, while another decade was spent constructing the grand causeway leading to the pyramid—a feat of engineering almost as impressive as the monument itself.

Modern estimates suggest that 5.5 million tonnes of nummulitic limestone, 8,000 tonnes of granite, and 500,000 tonnes of gypsum mortar were used to complete the Great Pyramid. Whether viewed as an act of divine devotion, human hubris, or cruel genius, its creation also represents one of the largest—and most extraordinary—paleontological extractions in history.

For within its weathered stones, the fossils of an ancient sea still rest, silent witnesses to both deep time and the enduring reach of human imagination.

LIMESTONE AND LIGHT: EGYPT BEFORE THE PHARAOHS

Much of Egypt’s history is carved in her rock. We think of Egypt as ancient—a land of pharaohs, pyramids, and hieroglyphs etched in stone—but the land itself tells a far older story. 

Long before kings rose and dynasties fell, before the Nile carved its fertile ribbon through desert sands, the foundations of Egypt were being forged deep within the Earth.

Egypt, officially the Arab Republic of Egypt, occupies the northeastern corner of Africa, with the Sinai Peninsula extending beyond the continental boundary into Asia. 

It is bordered by the Gaza Strip and Israel to the northeast, the Gulf of Aqaba and Red Sea to the east, Sudan to the south, and Libya to the west. To the north, the Mediterranean Sea opens toward Europe—Greece, Cyprus, and Turkey—while across the Red Sea lies Saudi Arabia and, beyond the Gulf of Aqaba, Jordan.

To understand Egypt’s true antiquity, one must look not to its monuments, but to its bedrock. 

Five hundred kilometres southwest of Cairo, the flat sabkha plains stretch toward the horizon, scattered with wind-polished pebbles and eerie limestone pillars—natural monuments of a different kind. 

This striking karst landscape, weathered by time and the desert’s relentless breath, tells of ancient seas, tectonic upheaval, and long-vanished ecosystems.

Once the breadbasket of the Pharaohs and now scarred by oil pipelines and rusted trucks, this land has seen empires rise and vanish. Beneath the sand and relics of human ambition lies a deeper record—a geological archive of oceans, volcanoes, and shifting continents.

The story begins deep in time, during the Archaean Eon, when the Earth’s crust was first beginning to cool, between 4 and 2.5 billion years ago. The rocks from this period, preserved as ancient inliers in Egypt’s Western Desert, are among the oldest on the African continent. Later, during the Proterozoic, when oxygen was only just beginning to fill the planet’s atmosphere, new rocks were laid down in the Eastern Desert—igneous and metamorphic foundations formed when bacteria and marine algae were the dominant life on Earth.

These ancient crystalline roots form the basement complex upon which Egypt’s later history—both geological and human—would unfold. 

Over this foundation lie younger Palaeozoic sedimentary rocks, followed by widespread Cretaceous outcrops that speak of warm inland seas and lush river deltas. 

Still younger Cenozoic sediments record the rhythmic rise and fall of global sea levels—cycles of transgression and regression that alternately drowned and exposed the land. 

Each layer marks a new chapter in the story of water, time, and transformation. It is from these Cenozoic limestones, formed some 50 million years ago in the shallow seas of the Eocene epoch, that the stones of the Great Pyramids were quarried. Composed largely of the fossilized remains of ancient marine organisms—especially the large, coin-like foraminifera known as Nummulites—these rocks are both geological and biological archives. 

Every pyramid block is built from the remains of an ancient ocean, each fossilized shell a fragment of life that once thrived beneath the waters of the long-vanished Tethys Sea.

The pyramids of Giza, with their luminous exteriors of fine-grained white limestone from the quarries of Tura, stand as enduring testaments to human ingenuity and Earth’s deep-time creativity. They are monuments raised from the bones of microscopic life, shaped by hands that would have been surprised to know they were building with the remnants of a vanished world.

From the glittering deserts of Giza to the fossil beds of the Fayum, Egypt’s landscapes tell stories written in stone—of ancient oceans, shifting continents, and the eternal dialogue between life, death, and time. The Great Pyramid may have been built for eternity, but its foundations were set in motion eons before humanity’s first spark.

Beneath the gaze of the Sphinx and the shadow of Khufu’s towering pyramid, the story of Egypt’s limestone deepens. Those pale, gleaming blocks that once caught the desert sun are more than architectural marvels—they are the fossilized remains of an ancient sea, built from the microscopic shells of creatures that lived and died millions of years before the first pharaoh dreamed of eternity.

It is here, in the very stone of the Great Pyramid, that Egypt’s human history meets Earth’s geological past.

TOP 10 CANADIAN FOSSIL FINDS

Canada, with its vast and varied landscapes, is a treasure trove of prehistoric wonders. 

From towering tyrannosaurs to exquisitely preserved marine creatures, the fossil record here is not only rich—it’s legendary. 

It is hard to choose our best fossils as there are so many. I have my personal favorites, some found by me, some by good friends and others that rank high simply by my having the good fortune to be there at the moment of discovery. 

These ten fossils stand out not only for their scientific value but also for the astonishing stories they tell about life on ancient Earth. Whether entombed in the Rocky Mountains, buried beneath Arctic permafrost, or hidden in coastal cliffs, each discovery shines a light on a world lost to time.

Honorable mentions are many for a list of this type. Dave Rudkin's find of the Isotelus rex, the largest known trilobite definitely ranks. There are some very fetching crabs and ammonites who deserve mention. As does the First Record of an Oligocene Chimaeroid Fish (Ratfish) Egg Capsule from Vancouver Island . 

The isopod found by the deeply awesome Betty Franklin that is getting ready for publication by Torrey Nyborg is another superb example and makes my personal list. He also has an unexpected fossil lobster in the cue to write up that I found in the South Chilcotin many moons ago, so I will add that here to remind him! 

On that note, Dr. Dave Evans has a paper in the works on the first dinosaur from Vancouver Island found by our own Mike Trask that will hopefully be out soon. There is a new paper by Phil Currie et al. on the fossil fauna from the Eager Formation near Cranbrook that bears mentioning as well as the work being done by Chris Jenkins, Chris New with Brian Chatterton on the Upper Cambrian fauna near there. We can add all the finds from Tumbler Ridge, Wapiti Lake and Miguasha National Park as well.

Oh, so many options!     

So, this is by no means a complete list, but if you are wanting to check out the fossil bounty that Canada has to offer, it is a wonderful place to start!

1. Scotty the T. rex (Saskatchewan)

Discovered in 1991 near Eastend, Saskatchewan, Scotty is the largest and most complete Tyrannosaurus rex ever found in Canada—and one of the oldest individuals known of its species. Weighing an estimated 8,800 kg and measuring over 13 meters, Scotty was a bruiser of a predator. The fossil is housed at the Royal Saskatchewan Museum.

Reference: Funston, G. F., Currie, P. J., & Persons, W. S. IV. (2019). An older and exceptional specimen of Tyrannosaurus rex.

2. The Burgess Shale Fauna (British Columbia)

This World Heritage Site near Field, BC, offers a snapshot of the Cambrian Explosion (~508 million years ago), preserving soft-bodied creatures with extraordinary detail. Marrella, Opabinia, and Anomalocaris are just a few of the iconic oddballs discovered here by Charles Walcott in 1909. The site reshaped our understanding of early animal evolution. The fossils from this site have the most wonderous, albeit wacky, body plans see the world over!

Reference: Conway Morris, S. (1986). The community structure of the Middle Cambrian phyllopod bed (Burgess Shale). Paleontology, 29(3).

3. The Courtenay Elasmosaur (British Columbia)

Unearthed by my good friend Mike Trask along the Puntledge River in 1988, this long-necked marine reptile from the Late Cretaceous is one of BC’s most famous fossils—and its first major marine reptile discovery. Now housed at the Courtenay and District Museum, it inspired a new wave of paleontological exploration on Vancouver Island. 

Mike gets the credit for this find and the founding of the first paleontological society in British Columbia (VIPS), the British Columbia Paleontological Alliance (BCPA) and inspired us all with his incredible curiosity and zest for life. He passed earlier this year and is incredibly missed!

Reference: Arbour, V. M., & Trask, M. (2023). A new elasmosaurid from the Late Cretaceous of British Columbia. Canadian Journal of Earth Sciences.

4. Dakota the Dinosaur Mummy (Alberta)

This extraordinary hadrosaur (Edmontosaurus annectens) found in 1999 features fossilized skin and soft tissue impressions. While partially excavated in North Dakota, it crossed into Canadian paleontological territory through the collaborative work between Canadian and American scientists. The mummy-like preservation gives unique insight into dinosaur musculature and skin texture.

Reference: Manning, P. L., et al. (2009). Mineralized soft-tissue structure and chemistry in a mummified hadrosaur. Proceedings of the Royal Society B.

5. Zuul crurivastator (Alberta)

Discovered in 2014 in Montana but now part of the Royal Ontario Museum collection due to fossil trade agreements, Zuul is an astonishingly complete ankylosaur with preserved skin and tail club armor. Named after the Ghostbusters demon-dog, it’s as fierce as it is beautifully preserved.

Reference: Arbour, V. M., & Evans, D. C. (2017). A new ankylosaurid with exceptional soft-tissue preservation. Royal Society Open Science, 4(5).

6. Tiktaalik roseae (Nunavut)

Tiktaalik roseae, discovered on Ellesmere Island in Nunavut in 2004, is one of the most important fossils ever found for understanding the transition from life in water to life on land. 

Unearthed by a research team in truly inhospitable icy conditions and led by palaeontologist Dr. Neil Shubin, alongside colleagues Dr. Edward Daeschler and Dr. Farish Jenkins, the fossil was the result of years of careful planning, geological mapping, and fieldwork in the Canadian Arctic. 

Dating to roughly 375 million years ago, Tiktaalik lived during the Late Devonian, a time when vertebrates were beginning to experiment with shallow-water habitats and the edges of ancient floodplains. 

Its anatomy beautifully captures this evolutionary moment: a fish-like body with scales and fins, paired with a flat head, a mobile neck, sturdy rib bones, and limb-like fins containing bones that resemble a primitive shoulder, elbow, and wrist. 

These features tell us that Tiktaalik could prop itself up in shallow water or along muddy banks, making it a remarkable transitional form between earlier lobe-finned fishes and the first true land vertebrates. The discovery not only filled a key gap in the fossil record but also demonstrated how evolutionary predictions — and careful scientific teamwork — can lead directly to groundbreaking finds.

Reference: Daeschler, E. B., Shubin, N. H., & Jenkins, F. A. (2006). A Devonian tetrapod-like fish and the evolution of the tetrapod body plan. Nature, 440.

If you have not had the pleasure, pick up a copy of some of Shubin's books, Your Inner Fish — a classic read with the amazing tale of this fossil's discovery and Shubin's journey in paleontology. And, the follow up, Some Assembly Required: Decoding Four Billion Years of Life, from Ancient Fossils to DNA. And his most recent work, a gift to me this past Christmas from my good friend Karen, Ends of the Earth. All three are on Amazon and both a delight to read!

7. Nodosaur from the Suncor Mine (Alberta)

In 2011, miners at a Fort McMurray oilsands site uncovered the best-preserved armored dinosaur ever found. The 110-million-year-old nodosaur is so well-preserved it looks like a sleeping dragon, with skin impressions, armor, and even stomach contents intact.

Reference: Brown, C. M., & Demarco, N. (2017). The rise of fossil preservation in Alberta’s oil sands. National Geographic, May Issue.

8. The Joggins Fossil Cliffs (Nova Scotia)

These coastal cliffs reveal the Carboniferous "Coal Age" (circa 310 million years ago) with fossilized trees, trackways, and even the oldest known reptile, Hylonomus lyelli. Declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site, Joggins provides unparalleled insight into early terrestrial ecosystems.

Reference: Carroll, R. L. (1964). The earliest reptiles. Journal of Paleontology, 38(1).

9. Parksosaurus (Alberta)

One of the lesser-known but scientifically significant dinosaurs from Alberta, Parksosaurus was a small, agile herbivore named after Canadian paleontologist William Parks. It contributes to our understanding of small ornithopods in the Late Cretaceous of North America.

Reference: Boyd, C. A. (2015). The systematic relationships and biogeographic history of ornithischian dinosaurs. Paleobiology, 41(3).

10. Blue Beach Fossils (Nova Scotia)

The Blue Beach site near Hantsport yields some of the oldest known tetrapod trackways in the world, from the Late Devonian to Early Carboniferous period. These fossils document early vertebrate life coming onto land.

Reference: Mansky, C. F., & Lucas, S. G. (2013). A review of tetrapod trackways from Blue Beach. New Mexico Museum of Natural History Bulletin, 61.

Canada’s fossil discoveries span more than half a billion years of life on Earth. They showcase evolutionary milestones—from the earliest invertebrates to apex dinosaurs, marine reptiles, and the first vertebrates on land. 

The fossils are the Rosetta stones of our country, unlocking the secrets of life's history.

PLAYFUL SEALS: MIGWAT

Seals—those sleek, playful creatures that glide through our oceans and lounge on rocky shores—are part of a remarkable evolutionary story stretching back millions of years. 

Though we often see them today basking on beaches or popping their heads above the waves, their journey through the fossil record reveals a dramatic tale of land-to-sea adaptation and ancient global wanderings.

Seals belong to a group of marine mammals called pinnipeds, which also includes sea lions and walruses. 

All pinnipeds share a common ancestry with terrestrial carnivores, and their closest living relatives today are bears and mustelids (like otters and weasels). 

While it may seem unlikely, their ancestors walked on land before evolving to thrive in marine environments. It takes many adaptations for life at sea and these lovelies have adapted well. 

The fossil record suggests that pinnipeds first emerged during the Oligocene, around 33 to 23 million years ago. 

These early proto-seals likely lived along coastal environments, where they gradually adapted to life in the water. Over time, their limbs transformed into flippers, their bodies streamlined, and their reliance on the sea for food and movement became complete.

In Kwak'wala, the language of the Kwakwaka'wakw First Nations of the Pacific Northwest, seals are known as migwat, and fur seals are referred to as xa'wa.

POETRY IN MOTION: ORCA

There are days here on the coast when the sea turns to slate, and the light slips low behind Vancouver Island, and that is when they come. 

Black fins cutting clean arcs through the water, moving with a calm that feels almost ceremonial. 

The water barely whispers around them. Gulls quiet. Even the currents seem to soften. 

To watch a pod of orca move through the water is magical. I was once lucky enough to be right down at the dock when a lovely Mamma and her new baby swam within 20 feet of me. 

I squealed out loud at that breathtaking sight. So very special. I have been so very lucky to have many of those experiences growing up on the coast, and they never fail to leave me awe-struck. 

Orca, Orcinus orca, are the ocean’s most cosmopolitan dolphins — yes, dolphins — and they have been cruising the seas in recognisable form for millions of years. In the fossil record, their lineage appears clearly by the Pliocene. 

A species called Orcinus citoniensis, described from fossils in Italy and dating back roughly three to five million years, shows us that these powerful hunters were already evolving the robust skulls and teeth suited for taking down large prey. 

Their broader family tree stretches deeper still into the Miocene, when early dolphin ancestors were diversifying in ancient seas that looked nothing like today’s familiar coastlines.

And yet, for all their evolutionary gravitas, there is something profoundly intimate about seeing them here at home. 

The Southern Resident pods, the Bigg’s (transient) orca, the subtle differences in dorsal fins and saddle patches that let devoted watchers recognise individuals as old friends. 

Orca are matriarchal, led by wise elder females who carry cultural knowledge — hunting strategies, travel routes, even dialects — passed down through generations. They are not just apex predators; they are keepers of memory.

Their black-and-white colouring may help camouflage them, breaking up their outline in the shifting light of the sea. 

They have the second-largest brain of any marine mammal, and distinct ecotypes do not interbreed, even when they share the same waters. Some specialise in salmon, others in seals, and their teeth tell the tale — worn differently depending on diet. 

They can live remarkably long lives, especially the females, who may guide their pods well into their 80s or beyond. 

Longevity, it seems, has its advantages when you are teaching your grandchildren how to read a tide rip.

When I watch them glide past at dusk, the Narrows breathing in and out with the tide, I cannot help but think of the fossil ancestors entombed in stone and the unbroken thread that connects them to these living, breathing beings. 

Deep time meets present moment in a single exhale of mist. 

The sea holds their story — and on evenings like this, if you are very still, it feels as though it is willing to share it.

FOSSILS, LIMESTONE AND SALT: HALLSTATT

Hallstatt Salt Mines, Austria / Permian Salt Diapir

The Hallstatt Limestone is the world's richest Triassic ammonite unit, yielding specimens of more than 500 ammonite species.

Along with diversified cephalopod fauna  — orthoceratids, nautiloids, ammonoids — we also see gastropods, bivalves, especially the late Triassic pteriid bivalve Halobia (the halobiids), brachiopods, crinoids and a few corals. We also see a lovely selection of microfauna represented. 

For microfauna, we see conodonts, foraminifera, sponge spicules, radiolaria, floating crinoids and holothurian sclerites —  polyp-like, soft-bodied invertebrate echinozoans often referred to as sea cucumbers because of their similarities in size, elongate shape, and tough skin over a soft interior. 

Franz von Hauer’s exhaustive 1846 tome describing Hallstatt ammonites inspired renowned Austrian geologist Eduard Suess’s detailed study of the area’s Mesozoic history. That work was instrumental in Suess being the first person to recognize the former existence of the Tethys Sea, which he named in 1893 after the sister of Oceanus, the Greek god of the ocean. As part of the Northern Limestone Alps, the Dachstein rock mass, or Hoher Dachstein, is one of the large karstic mountains of Austria and the second-highest mountain in the Northern Limestone Alps. It borders Upper Austria and Styria in central Austria and is the highest point in each of those states.

Parts of the massif also lie in the state of Salzburg, leading to the mountain being referred to as the Drei-Länder-Berg or three-state mountain. Seen from the north, the Dachstein massif is dominated by the glaciers with the rocky summits rising beyond them. By contrast, to the south, the mountain drops almost vertically to the valley floor. The karst limestones and dolomites were deposited in our Mesozoic seas. The geology of the Dachstein massif is dominated by the Dachstein-Kalk Formation — the Dachstein limestone — which dates back to the Triassic.

Hallstatt and the Hallstatt Sea, Austria

There were several phases of mountain building in this part of the world pushing the limestone deposits 3,000 metres above current sea level. The rock strata were originally deposited horizontally, then shifted, broken up and reshaped by the erosive forces of ice ages and erosion.

The Hallstatt mine exploits a Permian salt diapir that makes up some of this area’s oldest rock. 

The salt accumulated by evaporation in the newly opened, and hence shallow, Hallstatt-Meliata Ocean. This was one of several small ocean basins that formed in what is now Europe during the late Paleozoic and early Mesozoic when the world’s landmasses were welded together to form the supercontinent Pangea. 

Pangea was shaped like a crescent moon that cradled the famous Tethys Sea. Subduction of Tethyian oceanic crust caused several slivers of continental crust to separate from Pangea, forming new “back-arc basins” (small oceans formed by rifting that is associated with nearby subduction) between the supercontinent and the newly rifted ribbon continents.

The Hallstatt-Meliata Ocean was one such back-arc basin. As it continued to expand and deepen during the Triassic, evaporation ceased and reefs flourished; thick limestone deposits accumulated atop the salt. When the Hallstatt-Meliata Ocean closed in the Late Jurassic, the compression squeezed the low-density salt into a diapir that rose buoyantly, injecting itself into the Triassic limestones above.

The Hallstatt salt diapir and its overlying limestone cap came to rest in their present position in the northern Austrian Alps when they were shoved northward as nappes (thrust sheets) during two separate collision events, one in the Cretaceous and one in the Eocene, that created the modern Alps. It is from the Hallstatt salt diapir that Hallstatt, like so many cities and towns, gets its name.

Deposits of rock salt or halite, the mineral name of sodium chloride with the chemical formula of NaCl, are found and mined around the globe. These deposits mark the dried remains of ancient oceans and seas. Names of rivers, towns and cities in Europe — Salzburg, Halle, Hallstatt, Hallein, La Salle, Moselle — all pay homage to their connection to halite and salt production. The Greek word for salt is hals and the Latin is sal. The Turkish name for salt is Tuz, which we see in the naming of Tuzla, a salt-producing region of northeastern Bosnia-Herzegovina and in the names of towns that dot the coast of Turkey where it meets the Black Sea. Hallstatt with its salt diapir is no exception.

The salt-named town of Hallstatt sits on the shores of the idyllic Hallstätter Sea at the base of the Dachstein massif. Visiting it today, you experience a quaint traditional fishing village built in the typical upper Austrian style. Tourism drives the economy as much as salt as this area of the world is picture-perfect from every angle.

Space is at a minimum in the town. For centuries, every ten years the local cemetery exhumes the bones of those buried there and moves them to an ossuary to make room for new burials. The Hallstatt Ossuary is called Karner, Charnel House, or simply Beinhaus (Bone House). Karners are places of secondary burials. They were once common in the Eastern Alps, but that custom has largely disappeared.

Hallstatt Beinhaus Ossuary, Hallstatt, Austria

A collection of over 700 elaborately decorated skulls rest inside the ossuary. They are lined up on rows of wooden shelves that grace the walls of the chapel. Another 500 undecorated skulls, bare and without any kind of adornment, are stacked in the corners.

Each is inscribed and attached to a record with the deceased's name, profession and date of death. The Bone House is located in a chapel in the basement of the Church of Saint Michael. The church dates from the 12th century CE. 

Decorating the skulls was traditionally the job of the local gravedigger and an honour granted to very few. At the family's request, garlands of flowers were painted on the skulls of deceased as decorative crowns if they were female. The skulls of men and boys were painted wreaths of oak or ivy.

Every building in Hallstatt looks out over the Hallstätter Sea. This beautiful mountain lake considered one of the finest of Austria's Salzkammergut region. It lies at the northern foot of the Dachstein mountain range, sitting eight-and-a-half kilometres long and two kilometres wide. The shoreline is dotted by the villages of  Obertraun, Steeg, and Hallstatt.

The region is habitat to a variety of diverse flora and fauna, including many rare species such as native orchids, in the wetlands and moors in the south and north.

Linked by road to the cities of Salzburg and Graz, Hallstatt and its lake were declared one of the World Heritage sites in Austria in 1997 and included in the Hallstatt-Dachstein Salzkammergut Alpine UNESCO World Heritage Site. The little market village of Hallstatt takes its name from the local salt mine.

Hallstatt, Salzkammergut region, Austria

The town is a popular tourist destination with its quaint shops and terraced cafes. In the centre of town, the 19th-century Evangelical Church of Hallstatt with its tall, slender spire is a lakeside landmark. You can see it here in the photo on the left.

Above the town are the Hallstatt Salt mines located within the 1,030-meter-tall Salzburg Salt Mountain. They are accessible by cable car or a three-minute journey aboard the funicular railway. There is also a wonderful Subterranean Salt Lake.

In 1734, there was a corpse found here preserved in salt. The fellow became known as the Man in Salt. Though no archaeological analysis was performed at the time — the mummy was respectfully reburied in the Hallstatt cemetery — based on descriptions in the mine records, archaeologists suspect the miner lived during the Iron Age. This Old Father, Senos ph₂tḗr, 'ɸatīr 'father' may have been a local farmer, metal-worker, or both and chatted with his friends and family in Celtic or Proto-Celtic.

Salt mining in the area dates back to the Neolithic period, from the 8th to 5th Centuries BC. This is around the time that Roman legions were withdrawing from Britain and the Goths sacked Rome. In Austria, agricultural settlements were dotting the landscape and the alpine regions were being explored and settled for their easy access to valuable salt, chert and other raw materials.

The salt-rich mountains of Salzkammergut and the upland valley above Hallstatt were attractive for this reason. The area was once home to the Hallstatt culture, an archaeological group linked to Proto-Celtic and early Celtic people of the Early Iron Age in Europe, c.800–450 BC.

Bronze Age vessel with cow and calf

In the 19th century, a burial site was discovered with 2,000 individuals, many of them buried with Bronze Age artefacts of amber and ivory.

It was this find that helped lend the name Hallstatt to this epoch of human history. The Late Iron Age, between around 800 and 400 BC, became known as the Hallstatt Period.

For its rich history, natural beauty and breathtaking mountainous geology, Hallstatt is a truly irresistible corner of the world.

Salzbergstraße 1, 4830 Hallstatt.  https://www.salzwelten.at/en/home/

Photo: Bronze vessel with cow and calf, Hallstatt by Alice Schumacher - Naturhistorisches Museum Wien - A. Kern – K. Kowarik – A. W. Rausch – H. Reschreiter, Salz-Reich. 7000 Jahre Hallstatt, VPA 2 (Wien, 2008) Seite 133 Abbildung 6. Hallstatt Village & Ossuary Photos: P. McClure Photography ca. 2015.

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Bernoulli D, Jenkyns H (2009) Ancient oceans and continental margins of the Alpine-Mediterranean Tethys: deciphering clues from Mesozoic pelagic sediments and ophiolites. Sedimentology 56:149–190