HOW BIG WAS MEGALODON? MEASURING A SHARK WE HAVE NEVER SEEN WHOLE

Massive Megalodon Shark

If you were sitting on the side of a 25-metre swimming pool and looked down to see a shark, this fellow would fill one end to the other. 

It is wild to consider that megalodon would leave just a wee bit of room at either end of the pool. He would fill it entirely! The image you see here on the left is a reconstruction that gives you the scale of these amazing animals.

At a proposed 24.3 metres, megalodon would make that a rather crowded pool. Fortunately, this is an exercise we can do from dry land.

The 24.3 estimate comes from a scientific reconstruction, not an animal measured from nose to tail. No complete skeleton of Otodus megalodon has been found. 

To estimate its size, researchers work with teeth, rare vertebrae and comparisons with other sharks. The difficult part is deciding how those surviving pieces fitted into the body of the living animal. [1, 2]

A TOOTH GIVES US A STARTING POINT

Megalodon Teeth Comparison

In our previous article on megalodon teeth, we looked at what their shape and preservation can reveal. Measuring the shark behind them requires another step: a relationship between the size of a tooth and the length of its owner.

Researchers have used great white sharks to develop those relationships. Apply an unsuitable equation to different teeth from one animal and the results can disagree dramatically.

A 2021 study by Victor Perez, Ronny Leder and Teddy Badaut tested an established crown-height method on teeth belonging to a single megalodon. It returned lengths ranging from 11.4 to 41.1 metres. The animal had not changed size between calculations; the method was producing inconsistent answers.

The team developed an approach using the combined crown widths of associated teeth. Applied to an exceptionally large isolated upper tooth, their method produced an estimated maximum of about 20 metres. [3]

THE BACKBONE COMPLICATES THE PICTURE

Teeth are not our only evidence. A specimen in Belgium preserves 141 associated vertebral centra: the central parts of the vertebrae. These offer a rare opportunity to investigate megalodon beyond its mouth.

In a 2024 reassessment, Phillip Sternes and colleagues highlighted a problem. An earlier estimate placed the entire shark at about 9.2 metres, yet the reconstructed length of its incomplete vertebral column was about 11.1 metres.

The preserved backbone could hardly be longer than the whole animal.

The discrepancy challenged the use of great white proportions as a guide. The authors argued for a more elongated body than the familiar bulky reconstruction. Without the missing head, tail and remaining vertebrae, however, its precise outline remains uncertain. [4]

WHERE THE 24.3-METRE ESTIMATE COMES FROM

In 2025, Kenshu Shimada and colleagues examined body proportions across 165 living and extinct shark species. They used comparisons within megalodon’s broader shark order to estimate the missing parts around the Belgian vertebral specimen. Their reconstruction placed that individual at approximately 16.4 metres.

They then scaled from it to larger vertebrae reported from Denmark, arriving at a possible length of about 24.3 metres for the larger animal. Their analysis also supported a relatively slender body.

This is why a longer megalodon does not simply mean stretching a great white photograph. The proportions are part of the question being investigated. The authors describe their conclusions as working hypotheses for further research. [1]

A MISSING SPECIMEN RETURNS

The Danish fossils have a story of their own. Excavated at Gram in 1978, the vertebrae were damaged during a later move and thought lost. Their rediscovery allowed researchers to examine surviving material directly.

A June 2026 study confirmed a reported vertebral diameter of 23 centimetres. An important measurement behind the size estimate could now be checked against the specimen itself.

The paper also explored growth, producing a theoretical attainable length of 28 metres. That figure needs particular care: the growth model is highly tentative, and it does not document a shark that actually reached that length. The authors recommend retaining 24.3 metres as their most reasonable estimated maximum, pending better skeletal evidence. [2]

HOW BIG WAS AN ORDINARY MEGALODON?

A proposed maximum does not describe every member of a species. A particularly large fossil attracts attention precisely because it may represent an exceptional individual. The Danish animal is interpreted as a rare size outlier, rather than a template for every adult megalodon. [2]

We should also ask what a number refers to. Is it an estimate for one fossil individual, a proposed maximum for the species or a theoretical growth limit? Those answers cannot be exchanged without changing the meaning.

Nor are estimates from different methods the two ends of a single measured range. The 20-metre and 24.3-metre figures come from different evidence and assumptions. Putting them side by side is useful; treating the space between them as a settled answer would hide the research behind them.

MEASURING THE UNCERTAINTY

For now, the answer is that megalodon was enormous, with recent vertebral research proposing an exceptional maximum of approximately 24.3 metres. We should keep “estimated” beside that number. A decimal place can make a reconstruction look more exact than its underlying evidence allows. [1, 2]

When we see a life-sized model or an illustration, we can ask which fossils informed it, which proportions were borrowed from living animals and where the reconstruction fills gaps. Those questions make the image more interesting. We begin to see the decisions behind the animal’s outline.

So return to the swimming pool for a moment. The comparison gives us room to appreciate the scale. The fossils tell us why we are still discussing exactly how much room this shark would need.

Next in the series: What Did Megalodon Eat? Bite Marks, Whales and Fossil Clues.

Explore the collection in Megalodon: A Guide to the Giant Shark.

RESEARCH AND FURTHER READING

1. Shimada, K. and colleagues (2025). Reassessment of megalodon’s possible size, form and biology. Palaeontologia Electronica, 28(1):a12. DOI: 10.26879/1502.
2. Shimada, K., Elstrup, M., Lauridsen, H., Sørensen, T. and Siversson, M. (2026). Rediscovery of gigantic megalodon vertebrae from Denmark. Palaeontologia Electronica, 29(2):a27. DOI: 10.26879/1674.
3. Perez, V. J., Leder, R. M. and Badaut, T. (2021). Body length estimation from associated fossil dentitions. Palaeontologia Electronica, 24(1):a09. DOI: 10.26879/1140.
4. Sternes, P. C. and colleagues (2024). White shark comparison reveals a slender body for megalodon. Palaeontologia Electronica, 27(1):a2. DOI: 10.26879/1325.

MEGALODON TEETH: WHAT ITS GIANT TEETH CAN TELL US

Megalodon teeth

A megalodon tooth is a wonderful thing to hold in your hand. The broad crown, thick root and finely serrated edges give us a sense of the animal behind it, even when the rest of that animal is missing. 

Some of the largest teeth approach 18 centimetres in length. That is a substantial piece of dental equipment, especially when we consider that whales were among the animals on the menu.

But size is only the beginning. Look closely at a tooth and we can begin to separate several stories: how it functioned in a living shark, where it sat in the mouth and what happened after it settled into the sediment.

ROOT, CROWN AND CUTTING EDGE

The pointed blade is the crown. Beneath it, the heavy root anchored the tooth in the mouth. Fine serrations run along the crown’s cutting edges, although these may be worn or missing in a fossil specimen.

On the inward-facing surface, near the junction of crown and root, a band called the bourlette provides another useful feature to examine. 

A broad triangular crown, fine serrations, a substantial root and this band help specialists recognise a typical megalodon tooth. Identification depends on the combination of features, along with comparisons and geological context. A large triangular tooth alone is not enough.

Shark teeth are made of dentine with a hard outer covering called enameloid. These mineralised tissues preserve much more readily than the cartilage forming most of a shark’s skeleton. We therefore have an abundance of teeth to study, while complete megalodon skeletons remain unknown.

A SHARK THAT KEPT REPLACING ITS TEETH

Sharks produce replacement teeth throughout their lives. As teeth are lost, others move forward to take their place. Megalodon shed thousands over a lifetime, leaving many opportunities for teeth to be buried and preserved.

This changes how we read a find. A loose fossil tooth does not necessarily mark the place where a shark died. Its owner may have lost it while feeding or during normal tooth replacement, then carried on swimming. The tooth began a rather different journey, into the sediment and eventually the fossil record.

SMALL POINTS, LONG HISTORY

The familiar megalodon blade developed within a lineage of megatooth sharks whose teeth changed through time. Some earlier forms carried small side points, called lateral cusplets, beside the main crown.

In a study of 359 fossil teeth from Maryland’s Calvert Cliffs, researchers traced a gradual decline in those cusplets through millions of years. The broad, serrated cutting tooth we associate with adult megalodon emerged through a lengthy transition.

Juvenile megalodon could also have cusplets, which complicates identification. Their presence does not automatically place a tooth in an earlier species. We need to consider variation within an animal’s life as well as changes across an evolutionary lineage.

The broad blade and serrations are consistent with cutting flesh. They help us understand how the teeth worked, but a loose tooth cannot identify its owner’s last meal. For that, we turn to other evidence, including bite marks on fossil bones and chemical clues preserved in tooth tissues.

WHY ARE FOSSIL SHARK TEETH DARK?

Fossil teeth often catch our attention because of their colour. Browns, greys and blacks reflect burial conditions and minerals in the surrounding sediment, rather than the colour of the living shark’s smile.

The root and crown can respond differently during fossilisation, so one tooth may preserve contrasting colours. Fossilisation does not require every part of the original tooth to be replaced by new minerals, either. Some of its original mineralised tissue can remain.

Colour belongs to the history of preservation. On its own, it cannot establish a precise age or confirm the species.

WHEN A SCHOOL LESSON CHALLENGED THE MEASUREMENTS

One of the most appealing megalodon research stories began with a classroom exercise. Palaeontologist Victor Perez and teacher Megan Higbee Hendrickson used replicas of teeth from one megalodon to help students calculate the shark’s length. Depending on which tooth they measured, the answers varied wildly.

The students’ arithmetic was not the problem. The exercise exposed limitations in the equations being used.

Teeth vary in size and shape around a shark’s mouth, so their original positions matter when we use them to estimate body length. Perez and colleagues went on to investigate a method based on tooth width. Their work offers a useful reminder that a fossil measurement and an estimate of a whole animal are different things. The estimate depends on a model, and that model needs testing.

A small tooth does not automatically mean a baby shark, either. It could come from a smaller individual, occupy a different position in the jaw or be missing part of its original structure. Context makes the measurement useful.

TAKE A CLOSER LOOK

Choose a clear tooth photograph, ideally showing both faces and a metric scale. Find the root and crown, then examine the edges. Are the serrations intact? Is the tip complete? Can we see the bourlette? What differs between the two faces?

Make a note of what is visible before deciding how it happened. A broken tip is an observation; an encounter with a particular prey animal is a proposed explanation that needs more evidence.

That distinction is useful well beyond shark teeth. It allows us to enjoy a fossil for what it preserves while recognising how much remains to be learned. With megalodon, one tooth can bring us close enough to study the cutting edge of an animal whose full outline is still a matter of research.

We will explore that missing outline in our next instalment, How Big Was Megalodon? Measuring a Shark We’ve Never Seen Whole.

Explore the growing collection in Megalodon: A Guide to the Giant Shark, or begin with Is Megalodon Still Alive? 10 Big Questions About the Biggest Shark.

FURTHER READING

• Florida Museum of Natural History: Fossil Shark Teeth and Are shark teeth fossils true fossils?.
• Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History: Megalodon specimen and dental tissues. The catalogue retains an older scientific name.
• Perez and colleagues (2017): Late Miocene chondrichthyans from Lago Bayano, Panama.
• University of Florida (2019): Research on the evolution of megatooth shark teeth.
• Florida Museum (2021): The classroom exercise and megalodon size estimates; Perez, Leder and Badaut (2021): Estimating lamniform body size from teeth.
• Natural History Museum, London: What can shark teeth tell us?.

Lead Image: Megalodon Teeth: Image Asset ID: 2099621176

TRILOBITE EYES: THE ORIGINAL STONE-COLD STARE

The ancient oceans were full of watchful eyes. Some bulged. Some perched on stalks. And some belonged to animals that looked at the world through crystal lenses.

Meet the trilobites.

Armoured, joint-legged and occasionally extravagantly spiny, these marine arthropods had a remarkable approach to eyewear. Many built their eye lenses from calcite.

Yes, a mineral.

Long before anyone peered through a magnifying glass at a fossil, that fossil’s original owner was doing a little mineral-assisted looking of its own.

CRYSTAL CLEAR, AT LEAST IN PRINCIPLE

Calcite is a form of calcium carbonate, familiar to geologists as a common mineral in sedimentary rocks. In trilobites, it also became part of an optical system.

Transparent calcite could transmit and bend light. The arrangement and structure of the lenses helped make that material useful for vision.

Aspidonia shildtiere by Ernst Haeckel, 1904

These were biological structures grown by a living animal. The lenses did not simply become mineralised millions of years after death.

That distinction is rather delicious: part of the reason we can study these ancient eyes is that their owners built durable lenses while they were still using them.

Imagine leaving behind your spectacles for palaeontologists to examine hundreds of millions of years later.

Quite the extended warranty.

ONE EYE, MANY LITTLE WINDOWS

Most sighted trilobites had compound eyes, with numerous lenses arranged across a curved surface. The general idea will be familiar if you have ever admired—or attempted to discourage—a fly.

Each lens faced a slightly different direction. Together, the visual units helped the animal gather information about its surroundings.

Different trilobites invested in very different arrangements. Some had relatively modest eyes. Others sported large, bulging visual surfaces.

There was no single standard trilobite view of the world. An animal moving over the seabed faced different visual challenges from one swimming above it.

Where is the food? What moved beside me? Is that shadow something with an appetite?

Practical questions. Particularly the last one.

EYES ON STALKS: A BOLD FASHION CHOICE

Then there is Asaphus kowalewskii, an Ordovician trilobite whose eyes rose above its head on long stalks.

It looks as though someone fitted a small armoured animal with a pair of periscopes.

Raised eyes could have helped a trilobite look above the immediate surface around its body. The familiar picture of this animal watching from a partly buried position is an interpretation of its anatomy, rather than a behaviour we have directly witnessed.

Still, those stalks invite a splendid mental image: a quiet seabed, a little movement in the sediment, and two eyes maintaining a deeply suspicious watch.

Prehistoric neighbourhood surveillance.

THE TECHNICAL BIT WITH THE EXCELLENT NAME

Many trilobites had closely packed lenses in eyes called holochroal eyes.

Certain trilobites, including Phacops, had another arrangement known as schizochroal eyes. Their larger, more distinctly separated lenses have attracted particular scientific interest because of their complex construction.

You do not need to memorise the terminology to appreciate the important part: trilobite eyes were varied, specialised structures.

Researchers examine their shapes, materials and internal details to investigate how they worked. Occasionally, exceptional preservation reveals structures beneath the lenses, bringing us closer to understanding the living visual system.

Exactly what the world looked like to a trilobite remains a harder question.

A fossil can preserve a lens. It cannot hand us a recording of an Ordovician afternoon.

SOME SKIPPED EYES ALTOGETHER

For all this optical extravagance, some trilobites had no eyes.

Sight offers fewer advantages where useful light is scarce. Blind forms may have inhabited dark water or lived in ways that made other senses more valuable.

Evolution accommodates both towering eyes and no eyes at all, depending on the circumstances.

The ancient ocean had room for several approaches to getting through the day.

A LITTLE FACE-TO-FACE TIME

Next time you see a well-preserved trilobite, give its head a closer look.

Those small raised surfaces may preserve individual lenses: tiny remnants of an animal’s connection with its surroundings.

Once, light passed through them while a living creature searched, moved and responded to the sea around it.

Now we lean over the rock and look back.

Hundreds of millions of years between us, and still an opportunity for a little eye contact.

Which would you choose for your own ancient-ocean adventure: crystal compound eyes, periscope stalks, or the confidence to navigate without either?

OREODONTS: MOUNTAIN TEETH & ANCIENT OREGON

Cast of Oreodont, John Day Formation

With a pig-like body, a sheep-ish silhouette and a distant connection to camels, an oreodont is a lovely reminder that ancient life did not always fit neatly into familiar categories. 

These curious mammals were enormously successful, leaving abundant fossils in places as far apart as South Dakota’s Badlands and Oregon’s John Day country. 

The specimen you see here is a cast of an oreodont fossil from the John Day Formation—a chance to meet one of the characters that browsed ancient Oregon long before its present landscape took shape.

Oreodonts lived in North America from roughly 40 million to 5 million years ago, spanning much of the Eocene through the Miocene. They belonged to the artiodactyls, the even-toed mammals whose living members include camels, bison and bighorn sheep. 

Oreodont Reconstruction

Many oreodonts had four hooved toes and sturdy, short-legged bodies. Camels are generally considered their closest living relatives, though the relationship is a distant one. No family reunion invitations have been forthcoming.

Their teeth reveal a plant-eating lifestyle, with cheek teeth suited to processing vegetation such as leaves and shoots. Some oreodonts may have gathered in herds, offering a little collective protection against predators, including the formidable cat-like nimravids. 

Being a herbivore required a balance between finding something delicious and avoiding becoming something delicious yourself.

What’s in a name? What’s in a tooth?

Despite the tempting association, oreodonts have nothing to do with chocolate biscuits dunked in milk. Their name combines the Greek roots for “mountain” and “tooth”, referring to the peaks and ridges of their molars. Think miniature mountain ranges tucked into a mouth. The tooth connection appears in familiar words such as dentist and orthodontist, though I suspect an oreodont orthodontist would have needed a particularly sturdy chair.

Teeth are among palaeontology’s most useful clues. Their size, proportions and arrangement of cusps and ridges can help distinguish one animal from another, sometimes down to species. Yet a single tooth does not always provide a tidy answer. A recent study of John Day oreodonts excluded certain isolated teeth from its analyses because they were too easily confused between groups. A good identification depends on knowing both what a feature reveals and where its limits lie.

There are intriguing clues elsewhere in the skull, too. Some oreodonts, including Leptauchenia, possessed greatly enlarged auditory bullae—the bony capsules enclosing the middle-ear cavities. These structures have been studied for what they might reveal about hearing and habitat. Enlarged middle-ear cavities can improve sensitivity to lower-frequency sounds in living mammals, but they do not, by themselves, tell us the size of an extinct animal’s external ears. Fossils invite us to listen carefully, even when their owners have been silent for millions of years.

The browsers of John Day

In Oregon, the John Day Formation preserves an extraordinary sequence of changing environments. Its middle and upper portions contain major fossil assemblages dating from approximately 30–18 million years ago. Volcanic ash, stream deposits and ancient soils accumulated across landscapes that became cooler and drier over time. The beautiful blue-green claystones of the Turtle Cove Member owe their colour to celadonite, a mineral formed during alteration of the volcanic ash. A lovely palette for a remarkably rich fossil archive.

Eporeodon occidentalis

One of the region’s familiar oreodonts is Eporeodon occidentalis, a stocky browser with four hooved toes and prominent canine teeth. Its imposing tusks accompanied a set of cheek teeth built for processing plants. 

Across the Turtle Cove landscape, oreodonts shared wooded and more open habitats with three-toed horses, mouse-deer and an assortment of predators. These communities changed through the millions of years preserved in the rock; they were never one enormous prehistoric gathering frozen in time.

Then there was Agriochoerus, a wonderfully unusual oreodont relative with curved claws instead of hooves. Its limb anatomy suggests that it could climb, perhaps using trees in a way comparable to living tree kangaroos. That interpretation gives us a delightful possibility: a sheep-sized browser taking its leafy dining arrangements upstairs. With nimravids in the neighbourhood, the option may have had considerable appeal.

Fresh research is still refining this story. A September 2026 study by Meaghan M. Emery-Wetherell, Nicholas A. Famoso and Joshua X. Samuels documented a major change around the Picture Gorge ignimbrite, a volcanic rock layer that helps researchers correlate the fossil-bearing beds. Agriochoerus disappeared locally, the large terrestrial Promerycochoerus arrived, and Eporeodon persisted but became smaller. 

Oreodont Diversity in the Kimberly Member

Regional oreodont diversity peaked in the Kimberly Member, roughly 26.6–25.5 million years ago, with as many as five species represented during that interval.

Each of the fellows you see on the left bear a familial resemblance to their peers but with slight differences.

That is what makes an oreodont fossil—or a carefully made cast—such a compelling introduction to deep time. 

Follow those mountain teeth into the surrounding rocks and an entire world begins to emerge: leaves overhead, ash settling through the air, and unfamiliar animals going about the wonderfully ordinary business of staying alive.

Lead Image: Cast of an oreodont fossil from the John Day Formation, Oregon. Oreodonts were extinct plant-eating mammals whose distinctive cheek teeth inspired their name, “mountain teeth”. This lovely was cast by Rod Bartlett, Vancouver Paleontological Society, back in the mid 2000s.

BEFORE THE FIRST FOSSILS: THE MISSING CHAPTER OF ANIMAL LIFE

Mongolian Base Camp

Somewhere in the immense stretch of time before familiar shells, claws and skeletons, our earliest animal ancestors began their evolutionary adventures. Finding out when they appeared is another matter entirely.

How do you find the beginning of a story when its opening pages may never have been preserved?

A study published in Science Advances on 2 October 2026 brings that question into sharp focus. Led by Orin M. Lole Durbin and colleagues, the research suggests that animal origins could extend back roughly 800–700 million years—considerably earlier than their widely accepted body fossil record. 

Crucially, this is an estimate from evolutionary analyses, rather than the discovery of an 800-million-year-old animal. The distinction matters. Deep time already has enough mysteries without us accidentally issuing a birth certificate.

Consider what a fossil actually tells us. A recognisable animal preserved in dated rock establishes that its kind existed by that time. It does not necessarily reveal when the lineage first evolved. Your oldest surviving family photograph works much the same way: it records someone’s presence on a particular occasion, without marking the beginning of the family.

An empty photograph is trickier. Was nobody there, or was the camera pointing elsewhere?

For palaeontologists, that is a serious question.

In China, the approximately 590-million-year-old Weng’an Biota preserves microscopic organisms with remarkable detail, yet contains no definitive animals. Its apparent silence has been used to help limit how far back animal origins could extend. The reasoning depends on an assumption: animals living then would have been preserved and recognised in those deposits.

Enter Mongolia, carrying a rather awkward piece of evidence.

Mongolia's Lake Khövsgöl

The researchers investigated microfossils from the Kheseen Biota, an assemblage dated broadly to about 550–526 million years ago. 

The Kheseen Biota comes from northern Mongolia, where rocks of the Kheseen Formation crop out in a discontinuous belt stretching roughly 250 kilometres along the western side of Lake Khövsgöl. 

These rocks record a world very different from the lake landscape we see today: an ancient marine basin where carbonate sediments, mud and phosphate-rich deposits accumulated. 

Within those phosphatic rocks, microscopic organisms were preserved in extraordinary detail, leaving a tiny window into an ocean that vanished more than half a billion years ago. It is a wonderfully humbling contrast—a vast geological landscape holding some of its most revealing secrets at a scale smaller than a grain of sand.

Its preservation and microscopic inhabitants resemble those of Weng’an. It, too, lacks definitive animals.

But here is the delicious complication: animals unquestionably existed somewhere in the world during that younger interval. Their absence from Kheseen cannot mean that the entire animal kingdom had yet to evolve.

It is rather like inspecting a beautifully preserved guest list from a gathering of botanists and concluding that nobody on Earth was a dentist.

The record may be excellent. The sample may still be selective.

Kheseen’s missing animals could reflect the environments represented, the conditions of preservation, or a combination of factors. Whatever the explanation, the comparison weakens the argument that Weng’an’s missing animals provide a dependable limit on animal origins.

This is where living animals enter our fossil detective story.

Researchers can compare genetic differences among species and use evolutionary models, anchored by fossil evidence, to estimate when their ancestral lineages separated. This approach is called a molecular clock.

Think of it as a clock that requires careful setting. Fossils supply reference points; assumptions about the oldest plausible ages also influence the answer.

The team tested older geological constraints in these analyses. Their results supported an origin for animals approximately 800–700 million years ago, demonstrating how strongly the estimated timing depends on the maximum ages supplied to the models.

That possibility takes us towards an extraordinary chapter of Earth history. The interval overlaps the approach to, and beginning of, the Cryogenian Period, associated with the immense glaciations popularly called Snowball Earth. Animal beginnings might therefore belong to a world entering some exceptionally dramatic climatic upheavals.

Imagine the challenge of finding such an ancient beginning. We are asking rocks to preserve something recognisable, survive geological upheaval, become exposed where someone can investigate them, and then yield a clue we know how to read.

A demanding filing system, geology.

The next step is to keep searching across different ancient environments and kinds of preservation, bringing body fossils, traces of activity and chemical evidence into the conversation. The precise age of animal origins remains unresolved.

For me, that uncertainty is part of the wonder.

Every fossil is a surviving fragment of a much larger world. Sometimes the most compelling discovery is realising how much of that world could still be missing.

The opening pages of our animal story may be out there.

We are learning where—and how—to look.

Image: Mongolia's Lake Khövsgöl by sayursaying.com

BLOOD, BONES & CREATURES OF THE DARK

A spooky adventure with the Fossil Huntress

Gather close, curious creatures. Tonight, we’re slipping into the shadows to meet animals whose lives are every bit as fascinating as their spooky reputations.

Our journey takes us from a vampire’s roost to the deep ocean, through the forests of Madagascar—and back into the fossil record.

Bring your curiosity. Perhaps leave your neck covered.

VAMPIRE BATS: DINNER WITH A BITE

Before Dracula donned his cape, evolution had already produced a flying mammal with a taste for blood.

Only three living bat species feed exclusively on blood. And their table manners deserve a little clarification: vampire bats make a small cut with sharp front teeth, then lap up the blood with their tongues. Think tiny midnight diner with very particular menu requirements.

But these little creatures have a surprisingly tender side. A successful feeder may share some of its meal with a hungry roostmate by regurgitating blood.

Yes, it sounds like a dreadful dinner invitation. For a hungry bat, it can be a lifesaving gift. Even vampires benefit from having good friends.

A VAMPIRE IN THE FOSSIL RECORD

Giant Vampire Bat, Desmodus draculae

Of course, this is the Fossil Huntress, so we must rummage through a few ancient bones.

Meet Desmodus draculae, an extinct giant vampire bat with a scientific name worthy of its own horror film. 

Larger than today’s common vampire bat, it inhabited parts of the Americas during the Pleistocene, with fossil finds stretching from Mexico to Argentina.

Picture an Ice Age landscape as daylight fades. Somewhere beyond the shelter of your fire, a vampire bat takes flight.  

Giant Vampire Bat, Desmodus draculae

Its fossil remains offer a tantalizing glimpse of an Ice Age world where vampire bats shared the landscape with giant ground sloths, armoured glyptodonts, heavy-bodied toxodonts, ancient horses and elephant relatives called gomphotheres.

Which of these ancient giants might have supplied a midnight meal? 

Horses seem plausible candidates, given that living vampire bats feed on them, while researchers have suggested that ground sloths—and even glyptodonts—may have offered accessible feeding sites around their feet. A glyptodont’s bony armour would have put much of its body off the menu, but softer, exposed areas could have left an opening for a determined diner.

Toxodonts and gomphotheres add to the intriguing possibilities, though we cannot confidently identify them as meals—or rule them out simply on the assumption of thick skin. The precise menu of Desmodus draculae remains a mystery.

Imagine a tiny winged visitor finding a vulnerable patch of skin on a sleeping Ice Age giant. The fossil record has excellent material for a Halloween story. It practically writes itself!

VAMPIRE SQUID: A CLOAK IN THE ABYSS

Vampyroteuthis infernalis

Now, down we go into the deep sea to meet Vampyroteuthis infernalis. Its scientific name translates to “vampire squid from hell.”

A rather dramatic introduction for an animal that eats drifting debris.

Despite its name, the vampire squid drinks no blood. It isn’t a true squid, either, but belongs to a separate branch of the cephalopod family tree. Its dark body and webbed arms give it a wonderfully cloak-like appearance.

Its dinner is “marine snow”: sinking organic material that includes the remains of tiny organisms and fecal particles. Yep, this fellow eats poop. Two slender feeding filaments help gather this falling feast from the surrounding water.

Vampire Squid drawn by Carl Chun, 1911

Imagine dressing like a gothic sea lord, receiving a name that promises eternal terror, and spending your evenings quietly collecting leftovers.

The image you see here on the left is a vampire squid (Vampyroteuthis infernalis) from the work of Carl Chun, a German marine biologist who led the pioneering Valdivia deep-sea expedition of 1898–1899. 

Chun formally described the species in 1903, and it was he who gave it a scientific name that translates to “vampire squid from hell”—quite the introduction for a little creature that spends its days gathering drifting ocean leftovers. 

His expedition helped reveal the extraordinary abundance and diversity of life hidden in the ocean’s dark depths. I am oftly fond of cephies of all kinds but this fellow holds a special place in my heart as a Halloween icon with a very practical approach to recycling.

THE AYE-AYE: SOMETHING TAPPING IN THE TREES

Aye-aye, Daubentonia madagascariensis

For our final encounter, we enter Madagascar’s nighttime forests.

There, an aye-aye (Daubentonia madagascariensis) moves through the branches. This nocturnal lemur has large ears and an extraordinary, slender middle finger—an appearance seemingly assembled for a moonlit ghost story.

Then comes the tapping.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The aye-aye taps wood and listens for clues to hidden cavities where insect larvae may be waiting. Once it locates a promising spot, it gnaws through the wood and uses its specialized finger to extract a meal. That mysterious scratching in the darkness? Someone looking for a grub.

Its unusual appearance conceals an ancient family connection. Aye-ayes are primates, related to Madagascar’s ring-tailed lemurs, sifakas, indris and tiny mouse lemurs. Their lineage branched away early from that of all other living lemurs, leaving today’s aye-aye as the sole surviving species of its family, Daubentoniidae. More distant relatives include the lorises and galagos of Africa and Asia.

And there was once a larger relative tapping through Madagascar’s ancient landscapes.

The extinct giant aye-aye, Daubentonia robusta, is known from subfossil remains found in southern and southwestern Madagascar. These relatively recent ancient bones reveal an animal with remarkably robust limbs, estimated to have weighed roughly two-and-a-half to five times as much as its living cousin. Imagine meeting that larger silhouette on a moonlit branch.

For deeper roots, we must look beyond Madagascar. Researchers have proposed that Plesiopithecus, a primate from Egypt around 34 million years ago, and Propotto, known from younger Miocene deposits in Kenya, were ancient relatives of the aye-aye lineage. These are proposed evolutionary relatives, rather than fossils of the modern aye-aye itself, offering tantalizing clues to an African chapter in its family history.

The fossil trail remains patchy, with enormous gaps in Madagascar’s early primate record. But the clues we do have make that little tapping sound all the more remarkable: a living animal finding its supper with adaptations shaped by a long and extraordinary evolutionary history.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

A midnight snack, with deep roots. That mysterious scratching in the darkness?

Someone looking for a grub.

A LITTLE WONDER IN THE DARK

A bat that shares its blood supper. A deep-sea “vampire” gathering marine snow. A forest primate tapping for hidden treats. An extinct vampire waiting to be discovered in ancient sediments.

Nature gives us plenty to shiver about—and even more to wonder at.

This Halloween, spare a little admiration for the creatures behind the costumes. Their adaptations, appetites and ancient histories tell stories no haunted house could invent.

Which would you join for a midnight adventure: the vampire bat, the vampire squid or the aye-aye?

Happy Halloween from the Fossil Huntress. May your treats be plentiful and your fossil finds delightfully frightful.

Image: A Vampire Squid (Vampyroteuthis infernalis) drawn by Carl Chun, 1911. Chun formally described the species in 1903, giving it a scientific name that translates to “vampire squid from hell”—quite the introduction for a little creature that spends its days gathering drifting ocean leftovers. His expedition helped reveal the extraordinary abundance and diversity of life hidden in the ocean’s dark depths.

KUMIMANU: THE GIANT PENGUIN THAT TIPPED THE SCALES

Kumimanu adapted from Nobu Tamura

Some penguins belong on postcards. This one deserves its own weigh station.

Around 57 million years ago, an enormous penguin swam through the seas of what is now Aotearoa New Zealand. Known from fossils described in 2023 as Kumimanu fordycei, this ancient marine lovely had an estimated body mass of around 150 kilograms.

That is a great deal of penguin.

The researchers’ calculations placed it among the strongest contenders for the heaviest penguin ever discovered. Its fossils come from rocks dated to between 59.5 and 55.5 million years ago, during the late Palaeocene—a time when life was exploring new possibilities following the extinction of the non-avian dinosaurs.

A GIANT HIDING INSIDE A BOULDER

The story begins with fossil-bearing boulders on the coast of North Otago, on New Zealand’s South Island.

Palaeontologist Alan Tennyson of the Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa collected the penguin fossils studied by the team in 2016 and 2017. Locked inside the rock were clues to an ancient community of seabirds, including one exceptionally large individual.

Researchers created three-dimensional digital models of the bones to help study their anatomy. Among the remains was a remarkable humerus—the upper wing bone—that offered a way to investigate the bird’s size.

For those of us who love fossils, there is something especially pleasing about this part of the story. A boulder on a beach can hold the remains of an animal that once breathed, hunted and moved through a world we will never see.

The rock keeps its secrets until patient eyes and careful preparation bring them into view.

HOW DO YOU WEIGH A FOSSIL PENGUIN?

There are practical difficulties with asking a bird that has been dead for millions of years to step onto a scale.

Instead, palaeontologists look for relationships between the dimensions of bones and body mass in living animals. Those relationships can then help them estimate the mass of extinct relatives.

For this giant penguin, calculations using the length and width of the humerus produced estimates of approximately 148 and 160 kilograms. These are estimates with uncertainty, rather than a precise reading of the animal’s weight. Even so, both point to an exceptionally hefty bird.

Its height is less certain. We do not have a complete skeleton, and a heavy penguin is not necessarily the tallest penguin.

For comparison, large emperor penguins—the biggest penguins alive today—can weigh around 45 kilograms. Our fossil heavyweight could have outweighed three of those substantial birds combined.

WINGS FOR WATER

Penguins descend from flying birds, but their ancestors gradually became specialists in moving through water.

Once flight was lost, staying light enough to become airborne was no longer a requirement. Larger bodies became possible, and there were potential advantages to growing big.

A bulky, warm-blooded animal loses heat more slowly relative to its volume than a smaller one. For a bird spending time submerged, retaining warmth could make a considerable difference. Researchers have suggested that this may have helped drive the early evolution of giant penguins.

Greater size also raises intriguing questions about diving and feeding. Could these birds reach food that smaller penguins could not? Their bones invite us to investigate, although we cannot yet reconstruct their daily lives in detail.

AN ANCIENT PENGUIN WITH A DIFFERENT FLIPPER

The specimen described as Kumimanu fordycei was discovered in 2017, encased in a hard concretion. Fossil preparator Al Mannering carefully freed its bones from the rock.

The remains include a humerus, a vertebra and portions of other wing, shoulder-region and leg bones. They are now held at Te Papa in Wellington.

Those wing bones reveal an animal with some ancestral features, including flipper bones that were less flattened than those of living penguins. This was an early member of the penguin evolutionary story, with a combination of features different from the birds we know today.

The name fordycei honours New Zealand palaeontologist R. Ewan Fordyce and his contributions to understanding ancient life.

A LITTLE SCIENTIFIC NAME DETECTIVE WORK

There is a further twist to our giant’s story.

In a 2025 study, Gerald Mayr and colleagues questioned whether Kumimanu fordycei should be recognised as a separate species from the previously named Kumimanu biceae. They argued that the differences in size and bone shape could fall within the variation expected within one species.

They therefore considered K. fordycei likely to be a junior synonym of K. biceae. In everyday language, that means the newer name may refer to the same species as the older name.

This is part of the fascination of palaeontology. Finding a fossil begins a conversation. Further specimens, comparisons and analyses can change how we interpret it.

Whether these remains represent a separate species or an especially large individual of an already named one, the bones still belonged to an extraordinary penguin.

A BEACH WORTH VISITING—FROM A SAFE DISTANCE IN TIME

I have a soft spot for fossils that overturn our everyday expectations.

We know penguins as charismatic seabirds: diving, calling, tending their young and bustling about on shore. Then the fossil record introduces a relative with enough heft to make us reconsider the whole picture.

Somewhere along an ancient New Zealand coast, a very large bird once emerged from the sea. Millions of years later, pieces of its skeleton emerged from stone.

A beach boulder, a patient preparator and a remarkable wing bone have given us a glimpse of that encounter.

And what a lovely great penguin it was.

WYOTEUTHIS: THE CHUNKY BELEMNITE FROM THE JURASSIC SEA

Wyoteuthis linsterorum, holotype

Some fossils make you pause because they are beautiful. Others catch your eye because something about them simply does not fit.

Two unusually stout fossils from Wyoming have done just that, revealing a newly named marine animal with a wonderfully distinctive shape—and an unexpected place in the history of ancient oceans.

Meet Wyoteuthis linsterorum, a squid-like cephalopod that lived around 160 million years ago. Its scientific description was published in September 2026, giving a name to a creature whose story had been waiting decades to unfold.

A belemnite with a little extra roundness

If you have collected belemnites, you may know their smooth, pointed guards: the solid internal structures that often survive after the softer parts of these marine animals have disappeared.

Wyoteuthis takes that familiar form in an unusual direction. Its guard is remarkably broad, reaching about six centimetres across. The researchers describe these as the thickest belemnite guards yet known.

Wyoteuthis linsterorum

That makes it a wonderfully chunky fossil, though a thick guard does not automatically tell us how large—or how round—the living animal was. Reconstructing its soft body remains a more uncertain undertaking.

An ancient family with a late-surviving branch

The surprise goes beyond its proportions.

The fossils belong to the Megateuthididae, a belemnite family that flourished earlier in the Jurassic but had largely disappeared before Wyoteuthis lived.

These specimens reveal a surviving branch of that family in the northeastern Pacific region. 

Their discovery adds a small but significant piece to our understanding of where ancient marine lineages persisted.

There is something deeply pleasing about that. A fossil can be both a physical object you hold in your hand and evidence that changes the shape of a much larger story.

Two finds, decades of curiosity

The first specimen was found in the late 1990s by Dr Burkhard Pohl. A second, discovered by fossil collector Cliff Linster, was donated to the Wyoming Dinosaur Center in 2019.

Together, they helped researchers recognise a new species. The name linsterorum honours Cliff and his family. Cliff died in June 2026, before the research was published.

The study brought together Alexey Ippolitov, Jessica Lippincott, William Wahl and Dean Lomax. Both fossils are reported on display at the Wyoming Dinosaur Center in Thermopolis.

For those of us who love looking closely at fossils, this is a lovely reminder to stay curious about the familiar. An odd shape deserves a second look. So does the specimen that refuses to fit neatly beside its neighbours.

Sometimes, a new chapter in the history of life begins with someone noticing that one fossil looks a little different.

Suggested image caption

The unusually stout guard of Wyoteuthis linsterorum, a newly described Jurassic belemnite from Wyoming. Image: Ippolitov, Lippincott, Wahl & Lomax (2026), Figure 5, Papers in Palaeontology. Source, CC BY.

Further reading

Ippolitov, A. P., Lippincott, J. L., Wahl, W. R. & Lomax, D. R. (2026). ‘The big chunky belemnite’: a new relict megateuthidid from the Oxfordian (Late Jurassic) of Wyoming, USA, and its place in the evolutionary history of the group. Papers in Palaeontology, 12, e70123.

Figure 5: Wyoteuthis linsterorum, holotype specimen. Image: Ippolitov, Lippincott, Wahl & Lomax (2026), Figure 5, Papers in Palaeontology. Source, CC BY. The holotype—the specimen used to name the species—with photographs and CT sections.

Figure 6: Wyoteuthis linsterorum gen. et sp. nov., paratype, WDC JSI-22.  The second specimen, showing its chunky shape and internal anatomy.

SINOSAUROPTERYX AND ARCHAEOPTERYX: FEATHERS, FOSSILS AND THE ORIGINS OF BIRDS

Sinosauropteryx and Archaeopteryx

A feather can change how we see an entire animal.

Preserved beside a delicate skeleton, its faint outline tells us something bones alone cannot: this ancient creature wore plumage. 

Two remarkable fossil animals, Sinosauropteryx and Archaeopteryx, have helped transform our understanding of dinosaurs and the origins of birds.

One was a small predator with a fuzzy coat and a striped tail. The other had feathered wings, sharp teeth and a long, bony tail. 

Together, they invite us to look beyond the familiar image of dinosaurs as entirely scaly giants—and look a little more closely at the birds outside our windows.

SINOSAUROPTERYX: A DINOSAUR IN A FUZZY COAT

Sinosauropteryx lived in what is now northeastern China approximately 125–122 million years ago, during the Early Cretaceous. About a metre long, much of that length taken up by its slender tail, this small theropod walked on two legs and hunted little animals. A fossil preserving a lizard in its stomach offers a wonderfully direct glimpse of dinner.

But the feature that made Sinosauropteryx famous lies around its skeleton.

A fringe of fine, filamentous structures traces parts of the body: the remains of a simple feather covering. These were unlike the broad, neatly vaned flight feathers of a raven or eagle. They would have given the animal a soft, fuzzy appearance.

First discovered in 1996, Sinosauropteryx became a landmark in the study of feathered dinosaurs. Here was evidence that plumage extended beyond early birds into other dinosaur branches.

That distinction matters. A feather covering does not automatically make an animal a flyer.

Research on the preserved colour patterns has also revealed alternating bands along the tail, a darker back, a lighter underside and a dark facial marking described as a “bandit mask.” These patterns suggest camouflage played a role in its life. Countershading—a darker upper surface above a paler belly—can reduce the visual effect of shadows, helping an animal blend into its surroundings.

Even through stone, we can begin to recover something of this little hunter’s appearance.

ARCHAEOPTERYX: AN ANCIENT WING IN LIMESTONE

Travel farther back, to approximately 150 million years ago, and we meet Archaeopteryx.

Its fossils come from the Late Jurassic limestones of southern Germany, particularly the celebrated Solnhofen region. These deposits preserve extraordinary details, including the impressions of feathers surrounding delicate bones.

Look at an Archaeopteryx fossil and the wings immediately catch your eye. Long feathers spread outward from the forelimbs, giving the animal an unmistakably birdlike outline.

Then look again.

There are teeth in the jaws, clawed fingers on the wings and a long tail supported by a series of vertebrae. This combination of features makes Archaeopteryx especially valuable for understanding the early evolution of birds.

Its name means “ancient wing”—a fitting name for an animal that has prompted generations of palaeontologists to ask how dinosaurs took to the air.

Could it fly? Research examining the internal geometry of its wing bones supports active, flapping flight. Its capabilities and wing stroke, however, differed from those of modern birds. The evidence points towards short flights rather than the sustained aerial journeys we see in many birds today.

FEATHERS BEFORE FLIGHT

There is a delightful wrinkle in this story: the fuzzy, flightless Sinosauropteryx lived millions of years after the winged Archaeopteryx.

They do not form a simple sequence in which one became the other. Evolution branches. Different dinosaur lineages lived with different combinations of feathers, skeletons and ways of moving.

The broader fossil record shows that feathers were present in dinosaurs that could not fly. Early plumage may have helped with insulation, display and other functions before feathers became part of the equipment for aerial travel. The flight feathers of birds belong within that longer evolutionary history.

Birds are living theropod dinosaurs. The chickadee investigating a branch, the gull turning above the shoreline and the raven watching you with considerable interest all belong to a dinosaur lineage that survives today.

FOLLOWING THE STORY IN OSLO

If your travels take you to Norway, the Natural History Museum in Oslo, or Naturhistorisk museum, offers an opportunity to explore this connection between dinosaurs and birds.

The museum has featured Sinosauropteryx and Archaeopteryx through reconstructed displays, bringing their feathered forms into three dimensions. Its exhibition material describes a downy Sinosauropteryx model, while reporting on its bird evolution displays documents a fully feathered Archaeopteryx reconstruction. These are representations of the ancient animals; visitors should check individual labels to distinguish models, casts and original fossils.

The museum’s current permanent exhibition, Evolution of Life, is housed in Brøggers hus. It follows life through geological time, exploring changing ecosystems and important evolutionary developments among animals and plants. Fossils provide the clues connecting these ancient worlds.

Located at Sars’ gate 1, 0562 Oslo, Norway, the museum grounds include the Botanical Garden. Beyond palaeontology, visitors can explore exhibitions on animals, minerals, geology and climate. Tøyen metro station is approximately a six-minute walk from the southern entrance in Monrads gate. Check the museum’s official website for current exhibitions, opening hours and admission information, particularly if you hope to see a specific display.

Lead Image: Asset ID: 2704872271

SEA DRAGONS: THE REMARKABLE MARINE REPTILES OF ANCIENT OCEANS

Long before whales travelled our oceans, extraordinary marine reptiles hunted beneath the waves.

Some had enormous eyes. Others had long, tooth-filled jaws, powerful flippers and streamlined bodies beautifully adapted for life at sea.

Among the most remarkable were the ichthyosaurs, whose name means "fish lizards."

These ancient marine reptiles looked remarkably like modern dolphins, although they were not closely related to them.

Their story is one of evolution's most fascinating experiments.

MEET THE ICHTHYOSAURS

Ichthyosaurs first appeared during the Early Triassic, more than 240 million years ago, and survived until the early Late Cretaceous.

Their ancestors were land-dwelling reptiles that returned to the water, eventually evolving bodies wonderfully suited to an aquatic existence.

Many developed streamlined shapes, powerful tails and paddle-like limbs.

Their resemblance to dolphins is an example of convergent evolution: unrelated animals independently evolving similar features because they face similar challenges in their environments.

A streamlined body is rather useful when your dinner is swimming away from you.

GIANTS OF THE ANCIENT SEAS

Not all ichthyosaurs were small, dolphin-sized hunters.

Some became enormous.

The Late Triassic ichthyosaur Shonisaurus popularis, known from Nevada, reached impressive lengths and inhabited seas that covered parts of western North America.

Even larger ichthyosaurs have been proposed from fragmentary remains, although estimating their full size is difficult when scientists have only a few bones to work with.

These discoveries remind us how much remains hidden in ancient marine sediments.

BABIES BORN AT SEA

One of the most wonderful things we know about ichthyosaurs comes from fossils preserving mothers with developing embryos.

These animals gave birth to live young rather than returning to land to lay eggs.

Some remarkable specimens even preserve evidence of birth.

Imagine the extraordinary circumstances required for such a fleeting moment to become part of the fossil record.

It is a rare window into the lives of animals that disappeared tens of millions of years ago.

WHAT DID THEY EAT?

Many ichthyosaurs hunted fish and squid-like cephalopods, using their sharp teeth to seize slippery prey.

Some species had different tooth shapes and feeding specialisations, suggesting that ichthyosaurs occupied a variety of ecological roles.

Fossilised stomach contents and coprolites — fossilised faeces — can help palaeontologists understand what ancient predators ate.

Even prehistoric poop has a story to tell.

THE OCEANS STILL HOLD THEIR SECRETS

Marine reptile fossils have been discovered across the world, including spectacular specimens from British Columbia.

The Triassic rocks of northeastern British Columbia have yielded important ichthyosaur fossils, including the giant Shastasaurus sikanniensis.

Each new specimen helps scientists reconstruct the ecosystems of ancient oceans, the animals that inhabited them and the remarkable evolutionary changes that unfolded beneath the waves.

FOSSIL HUNTRESS FIELD NOTE

Ichthyosaurs were reptiles, not dinosaurs. Dinosaurs were primarily terrestrial animals, while ichthyosaurs belonged to a separate evolutionary lineage that became highly specialised for life in the sea.

They shared their oceans with ammonoids, fishes and many other marine creatures whose fossils we can still discover today.

Image: Ichthyosaur Fossil Asset ID: 2547389153

HARRY'S FOSSIL ROOM: ANCIENT TREASURES AND THE ART OF FOSSIL PREPARATION

Baltic Amber. Photo: Harry Tabiner

There is something rather wonderful about people who can hold a small piece of stone or amber in their hands and see an entire ancient world waiting to be revealed.

My friend Harry Tabiner, based in the United Kingdom, is one of those people. 

A passionate fossil collector with a particular fondness for amber and fossil preparation, Harry has a wonderful eye for the tiny details that make our prehistoric world so fascinating.

Through his Instagram page, Harry's Fossil Room, he shares glimpses of his collection and the remarkable creatures preserved within it.

And some of those creatures are very small indeed.

A PASSION FOR ANCIENT LIFE

For many of us, collecting fossils begins with curiosity. A curious shape in a rock, an ammonite along a shoreline or a fragment of something that once lived in an ancient sea.

Then comes the wonderful question: What exactly have I found?

That curiosity is part of what makes fossil collecting so rewarding. Each specimen is a little mystery, with clues to its identity, age, environment and evolutionary history.

Amber with Insect & Plant Inclusions

Harry's interests include both fossils preserved in rock and the extraordinary world of amber, where ancient insects and plant material can remain suspended in fossilised tree resin for millions of years.

His enthusiasm for preparation and polishing adds another dimension to collecting. Rather than simply admiring a specimen as it is, Harry enjoys the careful work that helps reveal what lies beneath its surface.

POLISHING WINDOWS INTO THE PAST

One of the things I particularly admire about Harry is the care he puts into his amber collection.

Harry polishes many of his amber specimens himself, carefully working their surfaces to reveal the ancient treasures preserved within.

Amber is fossilised tree resin, and while some pieces are naturally transparent, others have weathered or cloudy surfaces that obscure their contents.

Careful polishing can improve clarity, allowing collectors and researchers to examine the delicate inclusions inside.

Insect in Amber. Harry Tabiner

It is a process that requires patience. Amber is relatively soft and can scratch, crack or suffer damage from excessive heat during polishing. Removing too much material may also damage an inclusion close to the surface.

The reward for this careful work can be extraordinary.

A seemingly unremarkable piece of resin may reveal tiny insects, plant fragments or other evidence of an ancient forest ecosystem.

And that is where the magic of amber really begins.

A GOLDEN WORLD FILLED WITH ANCIENT LIFE

Among the specimens Harry has shared is a beautiful, clear piece of Baltic amber containing an assortment of fossil insects and abundant plant material.

Held between his fingers, the golden resin glows with warm yellow and honey-coloured tones. Dark fragments of vegetation extend through the amber, creating a miniature landscape of ancient organic material.

At first glance, the specimen is beautiful simply as an object.

Look more closely, however, and an entirely different world begins to emerge.

One of Harry's close-up photographs reveals a delicate insect preserved within the amber. Its body, wings and fine wing veins remain visible, offering a remarkable glimpse of a creature that lived millions of years before humans appeared.

These tiny details are scientifically valuable. Wing venation, body structures and other anatomical features can help palaeontologists identify ancient insects and understand their evolutionary relationships.

The specimen is also a reminder that fossil discoveries are not always enormous bones or spectacular skeletons.

Sometimes the most remarkable stories are found in something small enough to fit between your fingers.

THE ANCIENT FORESTS OF THE BALTIC

Baltic amber is among the world's best-known fossil resins.

Much of it is associated with Eocene deposits, approximately 34–48 million years old, although the precise age and geological history of individual pieces can be complicated.

During the Eocene, northern Europe supported forests very different from those we know today. The climate was generally warmer, and the region was home to diverse communities of plants, insects and other animals.

Resin produced by ancient trees occasionally trapped small organisms or fragments of vegetation.

Over geological time, some of that resin was buried, chemically transformed and preserved as amber.

Today, these golden pieces offer remarkable insights into ancient forest ecosystems.

Scientists have identified thousands of kinds of organisms in Baltic amber, including beetles, flies, ants, spiders, mites and numerous other tiny creatures. Plant fragments, pollen and other inclusions provide additional clues about the forests themselves.

Together, these fossils help reconstruct ecosystems that disappeared tens of millions of years ago.

THE ART OF FOSSIL PREPARATION

Arnioceras semicostatum block

Harry's interest in fossil preparation reflects another fascinating aspect of palaeontology.

Finding a fossil is often only the beginning of the journey.

Many fossils remain partly or almost completely enclosed in surrounding rock, known as the matrix. Sometimes you get a great split when you hit them with your hammer and sometimes not.

The gorgeous Arnioceras semicostatum multi block shown here is a great example. It was found by Harry many years ago on the Holderness coast. It’s chock-o-block with colourful calcite filled ammonites. 

The block did not split well on his first attempts but on this occasion Harry was still delighted with the outcome because there were very few broken ammonites.  

Preparing them involves carefully removing that material while protecting the fossil.

Depending on the specimen, preparators may use fine hand tools, magnification, specialised pneumatic equipment or other techniques.

The work requires patience, precision and an understanding of how the fossil and surrounding material respond to different tools.

Some specimens can take many hours, days or even longer to prepare.

And while polishing amber is quite different from removing rock around a fossil, both activities share an important principle: careful preparation can reveal details that would otherwise remain hidden.

For those of us who love fossils, watching a specimen emerge is one of the most satisfying parts of the process.

It is a wonderful combination of science, craftsmanship and curiosity.

THE PEOPLE BEHIND THE FOSSILS

Dactylioceras ammonite

One of my favourite things about the fossil community is the people.

Over the years, I have met wonderful collectors, researchers, preparators and enthusiastic fossil hunters who generously share their discoveries, knowledge and photographs.

Some work professionally in palaeontology. Others pursue their interests in their spare time, building collections, learning preparation techniques and exploring the extraordinary history of life on Earth.

There is room for all kinds of curiosity in this community.

Harry is one of those enthusiasts whose interest in ancient life is reflected in the time and care he devotes to his specimens.

His amber and fossil photographs are a lovely example of how much there is to discover when we look closely.

A piece of golden resin becomes a window into an ancient forest. A tiny insect becomes evidence of an ecosystem that flourished millions of years ago. A lovely Dactylioceras ammonite is revealed from a nodule.

And the careful work of a collector helps bring those details into view.

FOLLOW HARRY'S FOSSIL ROOM

If you enjoy fossils, amber and the fascinating process of revealing ancient life, you can follow Harry's work through his social media pages.

Instagram: Harry's Fossil Room

Facebook: Harry Tabiner — Tabfish

Thank you, Harry, for sharing these beautiful amber and fossil photographs and for helping us appreciate the extraordinary details preserved within these golden windows into the past. You continue to inspire me daily!

FOSSIL HUNTRESS FIELD NOTE

Amber inclusions can preserve remarkable three-dimensional details, including insect wings, antennae, legs and even tiny hairs.

Unlike conventional fossils, which often preserve mineralised hard parts or impressions in rock, amber can retain the external structures of small organisms with exceptional clarity.

The age of amber depends on the deposit where it formed. Baltic amber is generally Eocene in age, while some other deposits are considerably older.

For anyone interested in fossil collecting, amber offers a fascinating opportunity to explore the smaller inhabitants of ancient ecosystems.

Photographs: Harry Tabiner / Harry's Fossil Room. Reproduced with permission. 

A stunning Arnioceras semicostatum multi block found by Harry Tabiner many years ago on the Holderness coast. It’s packed with colourful calcite filled ammonites. The block didn’t split very well but on this occasion Harry was still delighted with the outcome because of there being very few broken ammonites. And, just look at those colours! Breathtaking.  

Dactylioceras ammonite in a nodule. 10 cm across and displayed inside the nodule were it has been for the last 185 million years. Originally from the Lower Jurassic Upper Lias of the Yorkshire coast but found as a glacial erratic on the Holderness coast by Harry Tabiner many years ago and expertly prepped October 2026.