FOSSIL BIRD REMAINS FROM SOUTHERN VANCOUVER ISLAND

Stemec suntokum, a Fossil Plopterid from Sooke, BC

We all love the idea of discovering a new species—especially a fossil species lost to time. 

As romantic as it sounds, it happens more often than you think. 

I can think of more than a dozen new fossil species from my home province of British Columbia on Canada’s far western shores that have been named after people I know who have collected those specimens or contributed to their collection over the past 20 years. 

British Columbia, Canada, is a paleontological treasure trove, and one of its most rewarding spots is tucked away near the southwestern tip of Vancouver Island: the Sooke Formation along the rugged shores of Muir Beach.

A Beach Walk into Deep Time

Follow Highway 14 out of the town of Sooke, just west of Victoria, and you’ll soon find yourself staring at the cool, clear waters of the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Step onto the gravel parking area near Muir Creek, and from there, walk right (west) along the beach. The low yellow-brown cliffs up ahead mark the outcrop of the upper Oligocene Sooke Formation, part of the larger Carmanah Group.

For collectors, families, and curious wanderers alike, this spot is a dream. On a sunny summer day, the sandstone cliffs glow under the warm light, and if you’re lucky enough to visit in the quieter seasons, there’s a certain magic in the mist and drizzle—just you, the crashing surf, and the silent secrets of a world long gone.

Geological Canvas of the Oligocene

The Sooke Formation is around 25 to 30 million years old (upper Oligocene), when ocean temperatures had cooled to levels not unlike those of today. That ancient shoreline supported many of the marine organisms we’d recognize in modern Pacific waters—gastropods, bivalves, echinoids, coral, chitons, and limpets. Occasionally, larger remains turn up: bones from marine mammals, cetaceans, and, in extremely rare instances, birds.

Beyond Birds: Other Fossil Treasures

The deposits in this region yield abundant fossil molluscs. Look carefully for whitish shell material in the grey sandstone boulders along the beach. You may come across Mytilus (mussels), barnacles, surf clams (Spisula, Macoma), or globular moon snails. Remember, though, to stay clear of the cliffs—collecting directly from them is unsafe and discouraged.

These same rock units have produced fossilized remains of ancient marine mammals. Among them are parts of desmostylids—chunky, herbivorous marine mammals from the Oligocene—and the remains of Chonecetus sookensis, a primitive baleen whale ancestor. There are even rumors of jaw sections from Kolponomos, a bear-like coastal carnivore from the early Miocene, found in older or nearby formations.

Surprisingly, avian fossils at this site do exist, though they’re few and far between. Which brings us to one of the most exciting paleontological stories on the island: the discovery of a flightless diving bird.

The Suntok Family’s Fortuitous Find

In 2013, while strolling the shoreline near Sooke, Steve Suntok and his family picked up what they suspected were fossilized bones. Their instincts told them these were special, so they brought the specimens to the Royal British Columbia Museum (RBCM) in Victoria.

Enter Gary Kaiser: a biologist by profession who, after retirement, turned his focus to avian paleontology. As a research associate with the RBCM, Kaiser examined the Suntoks’ finds and realized these were no ordinary bones. They were the coracoid of a 25-million-year-old flightless diving bird—a rare example of the extinct Plotopteridae. In honor of the region’s First Nations and the intrepid citizen scientists who found it, he named the new genus and species Stemec suntokum.

Meet the Plotopterids

Plotopterids once lived around the North Pacific from the late Eocene to the early Miocene. They employed wing-propelled diving much like modern penguins, “flying” through the water using robust, flipper-like wings. Fossils of these extinct birds are known from outcrops in the United States and Japan, where some specimens reached up to two meters in length.

The Sooke fossil, on the other hand, likely belonged to a much smaller individual—somewhere in the neighborhood of 50–65 cm long and 1.7–2.2 kg, about the size and weight of a small Magellanic Penguin (Spheniscus magellanicus) chick. The key to identifying Stemec suntokum was its coracoid, a delicate shoulder bone that provides insight into how these birds powered their underwater movements.

From Penguin Waddle to Plotopterid Dive

If you’ve ever seen a penguin hopping near the ocean’s edge or porpoising through the water, you can imagine the locomotion of these ancient Plotopterids. The coracoid bone pivots as a bird flaps its wings, providing a hinge for the up-and-down stroke. Because avian bones are so delicate—often scavenged or destroyed by ocean currents before they can fossilize—finding such a beautifully preserved coracoid is a stroke of incredible luck.

Kaiser’s detailed observations on the coracoid of Stemec suntokum—notably its unusually narrow, conical shaft—sparked debate among avian paleontologists. You can read his paper, co-authoried with Junya Watanabe and Marji Johns, was published in Palaeontologia Electronica in November 2015. You can find the paper online at:

 https://palaeo-electronica.org/content/2015/1359-plotopterid-in-canada

The Suntok Legacy

It turns out the Suntok family’s bird discovery wasn’t their last remarkable find. Last year, they unearthed part of a fish dental plate that caught the attention of Russian researcher Evgeny Popov. He named it Canadodus suntoki (meaning “Tooth from Canada”), another nod to the family’s dedication as citizen scientists. 

While the name may not be as lyrical as Stemec suntokum, it underscores the continuing tradition of everyday fossil lovers making big contributions to science.

Planning Your Own Expedition

Location: From Sooke, drive along Highway 14 for about 14 km. Just after crossing Muir Creek, look for the gravel pull-out on the left. Park and walk down to the beach; turn right (west) and stroll about 400 meters toward the sandstone cliffs.

Tip: Check the tide tables and wear sturdy footwear or rubber boots. Fossils often appear as white flecks in the greyish rocks on the beach. A small hammer and chisel can help extract specimens from coquinas (shell-rich rock), but always use eye protection and respect the local environment.

Coordinates: 48.4°N, 123.9°W (modern), which corresponds to around 48.0°N, 115.0°W in Oligocene paleo-coordinates.

Why Head to Sooke? Pure Gorgeousness!

Whether you’re scanning the shoreline for ancient bird bones or simply soaking in the Pacific Northwest vistas, Muir Beach offers a blend of natural beauty and deep-time adventure. For many, the idea of unearthing a brand-new fossil species seems almost mythical. 

Yet the Suntok family’s story proves it can—and does—happen. With an appreciative eye, a sense of curiosity, and a willingness to learn, any of us could stumble upon the next chapter of Earth’s distant past.

So pack your boots, bring a hammer and some enthusiasm, and you just might find yourself holding a piece of ancient avian history—like Stemec suntokum—in your hands.

References & Further Reading

Clark, B.L. and Arnold, R. (1923). Fauna of the Sooke Formation, Vancouver Island, B.C. University of California Publications in Geological Sciences 14(6).

Hasegawa et al. (1979); Olson and Hasegawa (1979, 1996); Olson (1980); Kimura et al. (1998); Mayr (2005); Sakurai et al. (2008); Dyke et al. (2011).

Russell, L.S. (1968). A new cetacean from the Oligocene Sooke Formation of Vancouver Island, British Columbia. Canadian Journal of Earth Sciences, 5, 929–933.

Barnes, L.G. & Goedert, J.L. (1996). Marine vertebrate palaeontology on the Olympic Peninsula. Washington Geology, 24(3), 17–25.

Kaiser, G., Watanabe, J. & Johns, M. (2015). A new member of the family Plotopteridae (Aves) from the late Oligocene of British Columbia, Canada. Palaeontologia Electronica.

Howard, H. (1969). A new avian fossil from the Oligocene of California. Described Plotopterum joaquinensis.

Wetmore, A. (1928). Avian fossils from the Miocene and Pliocene of California.

KELP FORESTS AND CARBON SINKS

Walk along any rocky beach on the Pacific coast after a storm, and you’ll likely find a treasure trove of kelp washed ashore—long ribbons of glossy brown seaweed, glistening in the sunlight like strands of mermaid hair. 

Some pieces stretch for meters, still tangled with small shells and bits of driftwood, while others hold tight, bulbous floats that once kept them buoyant in the underwater forests just offshore. 

When the tide recedes, the air fills with the unmistakable scent of iodine and salt—an ancient perfume carried by the sea.

Kelp is a brown alga, part of the group Phaeophyceae, which evolved roughly 150 to 200 million years ago. 

While kelp itself doesn’t fossilize easily (it’s soft-bodied and decomposes quickly), its ancient lineage can be traced through molecular and microfossil evidence. The earliest relatives of kelp likely appeared in the Jurassic seas, when dinosaurs ruled the land and the oceans teemed with ammonites. 

Microscopic spores and chemical biomarkers in sedimentary rocks tell scientists that brown algae were already photosynthesizing in shallow coastal waters long before the first mammals appeared.

Giant kelp, Macrocystis pyrifera, holds the title for the fastest-growing marine organism on Earth—it can shoot up more than half a meter a day under ideal conditions! 

These towering underwater forests provide shelter and food for thousands of marine creatures, from tiny snails to sea otters, who wrap themselves in the fronds to sleep without drifting away.

Back when I used to scuba drive a lot around Vancouver Island, they were one of my favourite places to explore as those underwater forests were teeming with life.

If you’re beachcombing in British Columbia, Alaska, or California, you might find bull kelp, Nereocystis luetkeana, recognizable by its long, whip-like stipe and single round float. It’s edible and surprisingly tasty. The blades can be dried and used like seaweed chips, while the bulb can be sliced thin and pickled—an oceanic delicacy with a salty, citrusy crunch. 

Other edible seaweeds you might encounter include sugar kelp, Saccharina latissima, which has a slightly sweet flavor, and ribbon kelp, Alaria marginata, often used in soups and salads.

On the foreshore near where I live on Vancouver Island, we have loads of sea lettuce. Sea lettuce, Ulva spp., is one of the ocean’s most vibrant and inviting greens—a delicate, translucent seaweed that looks like bright green tissue paper fluttering in the tide. 

Sea Otter in a Kelp Bed

When you find it washed ashore or swaying just below the surface, it shines an almost neon hue, catching the sunlight in shimmering waves of jade. 

Its thin, ruffled fronds are only a few cells thick, soft to the touch, and often cling to rocks, shells, or docks in intertidal zones where saltwater and freshwater mingle.

Unlike the giant brown kelps that form towering underwater forests, sea lettuce is part of the green algae group (Chlorophyta), sharing pigments more closely related to land plants. 

It grows worldwide in temperate and tropical waters and thrives wherever nutrient-rich water flows—estuaries, tide pools, and shallow bays. When the tide goes out, you might see it draped over rocks like sheets of emerald silk, drying slightly in the sun and releasing a faint, oceanic scent.

Sea lettuce is entirely edible and a favourite among foragers and coastal chefs. Fresh from the sea, it has a mild, slightly salty flavour with a hint of sweetness—similar to spinach or nori. It can be eaten raw in salads, lightly fried until crisp, or dried into flakes and used as a natural salt substitute. 

In many coastal cultures, from Ireland to Japan, Ulva has long been part of traditional cuisine. It’s also rich in vitamins A, C, and B12, along with iron and calcium—proof that sea greens can be as nutritious as they are beautiful. When my little sister was living in County Cork, she shared pictures of folk bathing in tubs of icy sea water and seaweed as a briny health spa treatment.

From a scientific perspective, sea lettuce plays an important ecological role. It provides shelter for small marine creatures like snails, shrimp, and juvenile fish, and it helps absorb excess nutrients from the water, which can help reduce harmful algal blooms. 

However, when too many nutrients enter the ocean—often from agricultural runoff—sea lettuce can grow explosively, creating dense “green tides” that blanket shorelines.

Its lineage stretches deep into the fossil record as well. While soft-bodied algae like Ulva rarely fossilize, green algal relatives appear in rocks over 1.6 billion years old, making them some of Earth’s earliest photosynthesizers.

Beyond their culinary and ecological roles, kelp forests act as powerful carbon sinks, pulling CO₂ from the atmosphere and storing it in the deep ocean. They also buffer coastlines from storms and provide nurseries for fish populations that support global fisheries.

As you stroll the shoreline and your toes brush against that slippery tangle of golden-brown ribbons, remember—you’re touching the living descendant of an ancient lineage that’s been swaying in Earth’s oceans since the age of dinosaurs—beautiful, ancient and tasty!

ANKYLOSAURS: ARMOURED, PLANT-EATING DINOSAURS

Ankylosaur — Armoured Plant-Eating Dinosaur

Ankylosaurs were armoured dinosaurs. We find their fossil remains in Cretaceous outcrops in western North America. They were amongst the last of the non-avian dinosaurs.

These sturdy fellows ambled along like little tanks all covered in spiky armour. They munched on foliage and were the original lawn mowers — 68 - 66 million years ago.

They reached about 1.7 m in height and weighed in at 4,800 – 8,000 kg. You can see the club at the end of their tail that they used to defend against predators. It would have packed quite the wallop.

The lovely illustration you see here is by the supremely talented Daniel Eskridge, shared with permission. You can see more of his work at www.fineartbydaniel.com.

GRACEFUL, GLIMMERING ACROBATS OF THE SKIES: DRAGONFLIES

Dragonflies are graceful, glimmering fliers we see as sparkling bits of colour darting over ponds and streams, but these agile insects have a history that stretches deep into Earth's prehistoric past—far earlier than the first dinosaurs ever walked the land.

These beauties are amongst the oldest groups of flying insects known to science. 

Their fossil record gives us an incredible glimpse into how flight evolved and how these remarkable predators have remained successful for over 300 million years.

From giant griffinflies soaring above Carboniferous swamps to the shimmering dragonflies zipping around your backyard pond, these insects have endured massive planetary changes and extinction events. 

I found my first dragonfly fossil up near Kamloops, British Columbia, Canada, at the McAbee Fossil Beds in the late 1990s. It was a thrilling moment that I remember well to this day.  

The origins of dragonflies date back to the Carboniferous, roughly 320 million years ago, when Earth was dominated by vast swampy forests filled with giant plants, amphibians, and weird yet wonderful arthropods.

The earliest known dragonfly relatives come from this time. But they weren’t quite like the dragonflies we know today. These ancient insects belonged to a now-extinct order called Protodonata, or "griffinflies," and some were true giants.

One of the most famous fossil dragonfly-like insects is Meganeura, a massive predator from around 300 million years ago. With a wingspan of up to 70 centimeters (28 inches), it’s often called the largest insect to have ever lived.

Meganeura looked and behaved much like modern dragonflies, with powerful wings, sharp mandibles, and excellent eyesight—perfect for catching prey mid-flight. But unlike modern dragonflies, Meganeura lacked some of the refined flight control structures and wing coupling mechanisms we see in living species.

One reason for their size likely comes down to oxygen levels. During the Carboniferous period, atmospheric oxygen was much higher than today—about 35%, compared to our current 21%. This allowed insects, which breathe through small tubes called tracheae, to grow much larger than they can now.

As oxygen levels decreased over time, the enormous sizes of insects like Meganeura became unsustainable, and dragonflies gradually evolved into smaller, more maneuverable forms.

By the Jurassic period (~200 million years ago), the ancestors of today’s dragonflies had begun to appear. These early representatives of the order Odonata had split into two main groups:

• Anisoptera – what we now call true dragonflies
• Zygoptera – damselflies, their more delicate cousins

These insects had developed more sophisticated wing structures and jointed flight muscles, giving them the remarkable agility we see today. Fossils from this time show dragonflies that look strikingly similar to modern species.

Dragonfly fossils have been found all over the world, preserved in ancient lake beds, fine-grained shales, and even amber. Some of the best specimens come from:

• Germany’s Solnhofen Limestone (Late Jurassic) with its remarkable preservation
• China’s Liaoning Province (Early Cretaceous)
• Montana and Colorado, USA (Late Cretaceous to Paleogene)

These fossils often show remarkable detail, including wing veins and body segmentation, offering a rare glimpse into insect anatomy from millions of years ago.

They’re also key indicators of freshwater ecosystem health, which makes understanding their history even more relevant today.

LIVING FOSSILS: METASEQUOIA

Autumn is a wonderful time to explore Vancouver. It is a riot of yellow, orange and green. The fallen debris you crunch through send up wafts of earthy smells that whisper of decomposition, the journey from leaf to soil.

It is a wonderful time to be out and about. I do love the mountain trails but must confess to loving our cultivated gardens for their colour and variety. 

We have some lovely native plants and trees and more than a few exotics at Vancouver's arboreal trifecta — Van Dusen, Queen E Park and UBC Botanical Gardens. One of those exotics, at least exotic to me, is the lovely conifer you see here is Metasequoia glyptostroboides — the dawn redwood. 

Of this long lineage, this is the sole surviving species in the genus Metasequoia and one of three species of conifers known as redwoods. Metasequoia are the smaller cousins of the mighty Giant Sequoia, the most massive trees on Earth. 

As a group, the redwoods are impressive trees and very long-lived. The President, an ancient Giant Sequoia, Sequoiadendron giganteum, and granddaddy to them all has lived for more than 3,200 years. While this tree is named The President, a worthy name, it doesn't really cover the magnitude of this giant by half.   

This tree was a wee seedling making its way in the soils of the Sierra Nevada mountains of California before we invented writing. It had reached full height before any of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, those remarkable constructions of classical antiquity, were even an inkling of our budding human achievements. And it has outlasted them all save the Great Pyramid of Giza, the oldest and last of those seven still standing, though the tree has faired better. Giza still stands but the majority of the limestone façade is long gone.

Aside from their good looks (which can really only get you so far), they are resistant to fire and insects through a combined effort of bark over a foot thick, a high tannin content and minimal resin, a genius of evolutionary design. 

While individual Metasequoia live a long time, as a genus they have lived far longer. 

Like Phoenix from the Ashes, the Cretaceous (K-Pg) extinction event that wiped out the dinosaurs, ammonites and more than seventy-five percent of all species on the planet was their curtain call. The void left by that devastation saw the birth of this genus — and they have not changed all that much in the 65 million years since. Modern Metasequoia glyptostroboides looks pretty much identical to their late Cretaceous brethren.

Dawn Redwood Cones with scales paired in opposite rows

They are remarkably similar to and sometimes mistaken for Sequoia at first glance but are easily distinguishable if you look at their size (an obvious visual in a mature tree) or to their needles and cones in younger specimens. 

Metasequoia has paired needles that attach opposite to each other on the compound stem. Sequoia needles are offset and attached alternately. Think of the pattern as jumping versus walking with your two feet moving forward parallel to one another. 

Metasequoia needles are paired as if you were jumping forward, one print beside the other, while Sequoia needles have the one-in-front-of-the-other pattern of walking.

The seed-bearing cones of Metasequoia have a stalk at their base and the scales are arranged in paired opposite rows which you can see quite well in the visual above. Coast redwood cone scales are arranged in a spiral and lack a stalk at their base.

Although the least tall of the redwoods, it grows to an impressive sixty meters (200 feet) in height. It is sometimes called Shui-sa, or water fir by those who live in the secluded mountainous region of China where it was rediscovered.

Fossil Metasequoia, McAbee Fossil Beds

Metasequoia fossils are known from many areas in the Northern Hemisphere and were one of my first fossil finds as a teenager. 

And folk love naming them. More than twenty fossil species have been named over time —  some even identified as the genus Sequoia in error — but for all their collective efforts to beef up this genus there are just three species: Metasequoia foxii, Metasequoia milleri, and Metasequoia occidentalis.

During the Paleocene and Eocene, extensive forests of Metasequoia thrived as far north as Strathcona Fiord on Ellesmere Island and sites on Axel Heiberg Island in Canada's far north around 80° N latitude.

We find lovely examples of Metasequoia occidentalis in the Eocene outcrops at McAbee near Cache Creek, British Columbia, Canada. I shared a photo here of one of those specimens. Once this piece dries out a bit, I will take a dental pick to it to reveal some of the teaser fossils peeking out.

The McAbee Fossil Beds are known for their incredible abundance, diversity and quality of fossils including lovely plant, insect and fish species that lived in an old lake bed setting. While the Metasequoia and other fossils found here are 52-53 million years old, the genus is much older. It is quite remarkable that both their fossil and extant lineage were discovered in just a few years of one another. 

Metasequoia was first described as a new genus from a fossil specimen found in 1939 and published by Japanese paleobotanist Shigeru Miki in 1941. Remarkably, the living version of this new genus was discovered later that same year. 

Professor Zhan Wang, an official from the Bureau of Forest Research was recovering from malaria at an old school chum's home in central China. His friend told him of a stand of trees discovered in the winter of 1941 by Chinese botanist Toh Gan (干铎). The trees were not far away from where they were staying and Gan's winter visit meant he did not collect any specimen as the trees had lost their leaves. 

The locals called the trees Shui-sa, or water fir. As trees go, they were reportedly quite impressive with some growing as much as sixty feet tall. Wang was excited by the possibility of finding a new species and asked his friend to describe the trees and their needles in detail. Emboldened by the tale, Wang set off through the remote mountains to search for his mysterious trees and found them deep in the heart of  Modaoxi (磨刀溪; now renamed Moudao (谋道), in Lichuan County, in the central China province of Hubei. He found the trees and was able to collect living specimens but initially thought they were from Glyptostrobus pensilis (水松). 

A few years later, Wang showed the trees to botanist Wan-Chun Cheng and learned that these were not the leaves of s Glyptostrobus pensilis (水松 ) but belonged to a new species. 

While the find was exciting, it was overshadowed by China's ongoing conflict with the Japanese that was continuing to escalate. With war at hand, Wang's research funding and science focus needed to be set aside for another two years as he fled the bombing of Beijing. 

When you live in a world without war on home soil it is easy to forget the realities for those who grew up in it. 

Zhan Wang and his family lived to witness the 1931 invasion of Manchuria, then the 1937 clash between Chinese and Japanese troops at the Marco Polo Bridge, just outside Beijing. 

That clash sparked an all-out war that would grow in ferocity to become World War II. 

Within a year, the Chinese military situation was dire. Most of eastern China lay in Japanese hands: Shanghai, Nanjing, Beijing, Wuhan. As the Japanese advanced, they left a devastated population in their path where atrocity after atrocity was the norm. Many outside observers assumed that China could not hold out, and the most likely scenario was a Japanese victory over China.

Yet the Chinese hung on, and after the horrors of Pearl Harbor, the war became genuinely global. The western Allies and China were now united in their war against Japan, a conflict that would finally end on September 2, 1945, after Allied naval forces blockaded Japan and subjected the island nation to intensive bombing, including the utter devastation that was the Enola Gay's atomic payload over Hiroshima. 

With World War II behind them, the Chinese researchers were able to re-focus their energies on the sciences. Sadly, Wang was not able to join them. Instead, two of his colleagues, Wan Chun Cheng and Hu Hsen Hsu, the director of Fan Memorial Institute of Biology would continue the work. Wan-Chun Cheng sent specimens to Hu Hsen Hsu and upon examination realised they were the living version of the trees Miki had published upon in 1941. 

Hu and Cheng published a paper describing a new living species of Metasequoia in May 1948 in the Bulletin of Fan Memorial Institute of Biology.

That same year, Arnold Arboretum of Harvard University sent an expedition to collect seeds and, soon after, seedling trees were distributed to various universities and arboreta worldwide. 

Today, Metasequoia grow around the globe. When I see them, I think of Wang and all he went through. He survived the conflict and went on to teach other bright, young minds about the bountiful flora in China. I think of Wan Chun Cheng collaborating with Hu Hsen Hsu in a time of war and of Hu keeping up to date on scientific research, even published works from colleagues from countries with whom his country was at war. Deep in my belly, I ache for the huge cost to science, research and all the species impacted on the planet from our human conflicts. Each year in April, I plant more Metasequoia to celebrate Earth Day and all that means for every living thing on this big blue orb.  

References: 

• https://web.stanford.edu/group/humbioresearch/cgi-bin/wordpress/?p=297
• https://humboldtredwoods.org/redwoods

SHAGGY TITANS OF THE GRASSLANDS: BISON

Bison move across the prairie like living storms, vast and steady, with the weight of centuries in their stride. 

Their dark eyes hold a quiet, unwavering depth—as if they’ve looked into the heart of time itself and carry its secrets in silence. Look into the eyes of this fellow and tell me you do not see his deep intelligence as he gives the camera a knowing look.

Shaggy fur ripples in the wind, rich and earthy, brushed by sun and shadow, a cloak woven from wilderness. When they breathe, clouds rise in the cold air, soft and ephemeral, like whispered promises that vanish but leave warmth behind.

There is something profoundly romantic in their presence: strength wrapped in gentleness, endurance softened by grace.  To watch them is to feel the wild itself lean closer, reminding us of a love as vast as the horizon, as eternal as the ground beneath our feet.

When we think of bison today, images of great herds roaming the North American plains come to mind—dark, shaggy shapes against sweeping prairies. But the story of bison goes back far deeper in time. 

These massive grazers are part of a lineage that stretches millions of years into the past, their fossil record preserving the tale of their rise, spread, and survival.

Bison belong to the genus Bison, within the cattle family (Bovidae). Their story begins in Eurasia during the late Pliocene, around 2.6 million years ago, when the first true bison evolved from earlier wild cattle (Bos-like ancestors). 

Fossils suggest they descended from large bovids that roamed open grasslands of Eurasia as forests retreated and cooler, drier climates expanded.

The earliest known species, Bison priscus, or the Steppe Bison, was a giant compared to modern bison, sporting long horns that could span over six feet tip to tip. These animals thrived across Europe, Asia, and eventually crossed into North America via the Bering Land Bridge during the Pleistocene Ice Age.

The fossil record of bison stretches back about 2 million years in Eurasia and at least 200,000 years in North America, where they became one of the most successful large herbivores of the Ice Age. Fossil evidence shows that at least seven different species of bison once lived in North America, including the iconic Bison latifrons with its massive horns, and Bison antiquus, which is considered the direct ancestor of the modern American bison (Bison bison).

Some of the richest fossil bison deposits come from Siberia and Eastern Europe – home to abundant Bison priscus fossils, often preserved in permafrost with soft tissues intact. They are also found in Alaska, USA and in Canada's Yukon region – where Ice Age bison fossils are found alongside mammoth, horse, and muskox remains.

The Great Plains of the United States and Canada are rich in Bison antiquus and later species, often in mass bone beds where entire herds perished. We also find their remains in California and the American Southwest at sites like the La Brea Tar Pits. La Brea preserves bison remains from the Late Pleistocene and their museum of the same name has a truly wonderful display of Pleistocene wolves. Definitely worthy of a trip!

One particularly famous fossil site is the Hudson-Meng Bison Kill Site in Nebraska, where remains of over 600 Bison antiquus dating to about 10,000 years ago provide a window into Ice Age hunting practices and herd behavior.

By the end of the Ice Age, many megafauna species disappeared, but bison endured. Bison antiquus gradually gave rise to the modern American bison (Bison bison), which still carries echoes of its Ice Age ancestors. Though smaller than their Pleistocene relatives, today’s bison remain the largest land mammals in North America.

FOSSILS WHALES FROM SOUTHERN VANCOUVER ISLAND

Modern Whale Vertebrae

The air is heavy with salt spray at Muir Creek, just west of Sooke on southern Vancouver Island. Waves tumble over barnacle-crusted boulders, and eagles wheel overhead. 

Thick layers of sandstone and conglomerate preserve a rich assemblage of marine fossils. Local collectors have long explored these beaches, spotting fossilized ribs and vertebrae protruding from the cliffs. 

My first trip here was back in the mid 1990s with the Vancouver Paleontological Society. It is a regular haunt for the Victoria Paleontological Society and other regional fossil collecting groups.

It’s a place where the modern Pacific feels timeless—but buried in the cliffs are the remains of creatures that swam here more than 25 million years ago. 

They are whales, yes, but not quite the whales we know today. Their bones tell the story of an ocean in transition and of whales caught mid-evolution—halfway between toothed predators and the filter-feeders that now dominate the seas.

Southern Vancouver Island’s fossil-bearing rocks belong largely to the Sooke Formation, a marine deposit dating to the late Oligocene (around 25–23 million years ago). At that time, much of the region lay beneath shallow coastal waters. Sediments settled over the remains of sea creatures, entombing shells, bird bones, shark teeth, and occasionally the massive bones of early whales.

These are not fossils of the gigantic blue whales or humpbacks we know today, but their ancestors—smaller, stranger, and crucial to the story of whale evolution.

One of the most remarkable finds from Vancouver Island is Aetiocetus, a small whale that lived during the late Oligocene. Aetiocetus is a classic “transitional fossil”—a whale that still had teeth, yet also shows evidence of developing baleen. This makes it a key player in understanding how modern filter-feeding whales (like gray whales and blue whales) evolved from their toothed ancestors.

Imagine a creature about 3–4 meters long, sleek like a dolphin but with a skull showing both sharp teeth and grooves that hint at primitive baleen plates. It likely hunted fish and squid but may have supplemented its diet by gulping in small prey from the water column. 

Fossils of Aetiocetus have been found in Oregon and Japan, but southern Vancouver Island provides some of the northernmost evidence of this important lineage.

Alongside these early baleen whales, researchers have also found evidence of primitive odontocetes—the group that includes dolphins, porpoises, and sperm whales. These small, agile predators were experimenting with echolocation, the same sonar-like ability modern toothed whales use to hunt in dark or murky waters.

The whales preserved on southern Vancouver Island belong to a lineage with an extraordinary backstory. Around 50 million years ago, in what is now Pakistan and India, the ancestors of whales were land-dwelling, hoofed mammals (related to early hippos). Over millions of years, these animals waded into rivers and seas, evolving into the fully aquatic forms we recognize as whales.

By the time the Sooke Formation was laid down, whales had already colonized oceans worldwide. But the fossils here capture them in the middle of another transformation—the split between toothed whales (odontocetes) and baleen whales (mysticetes). Vancouver Island’s cliffs are, in a sense, a library shelf containing one of evolution’s most important chapters.

Fossil Gastropods, Photo: John Fam

Standing at Muir Creek today, it’s hard not to draw parallels between past and present. Offshore, humpback whales spout on their summer migration. Orcas patrol the Strait of Juan de Fuca, hunting salmon with precision. Gray whales feed along kelp beds in shallow waters. These are the direct descendants of the fossil whales entombed in the cliffs.

That continuity of life—millions of years stretching unbroken from fossil Aetiocetus to the humpback breaching offshore—gives southern Vancouver Island a special place in the story of the Pacific.

The cliffs of Muir Creek and other fossil sites are constantly eroding, revealing new fossils—but also destroying them. Without careful collection and preservation, many specimens are lost to the sea. 

It is for this reason that we encourage citizen scientists to report significant finds rather than attempt to remove them — and in the case of the Muir Creek fossil site, to avoid collecting from the cliffs. 

Fossils are protected under British Columbia’s Heritage Conservation Act, meaning they belong to the province and its people.

Next time you stand on those windswept cliffs, watching an orca’s dorsal fin slice through the surf, remember: you are standing on an ancient whale highway. Beneath your feet, locked in stone, are the bones of their ancestors—whales that swam here long before the Salish Sea had a name.

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

CRUISIN THE FOSSIL FREEWAY: ALASKAN PALEONTOLOGY

Alaska, often called the "Last Frontier," is not only home to staggering wilderness and modern megafauna like bears and moose—it’s also a treasure trove of prehistoric life. 

From marine reptiles that swam in the Arctic seas to duck-billed dinosaurs that thrived in polar forests, Alaska’s fossil record paints a vivid picture of life at high latitudes during deep time.

Alaska’s geological history is a complex collage of terranes—fragmented pieces of crust that accreted onto the North American plate. This makes the state an exceptionally diverse fossil site, with deposits spanning from the Paleozoic to the Cenozoic. 

Some of the most significant fossil discoveries in Alaska come from:

• Prince Creek Formation (Late Cretaceous): One of the northernmost dinosaur-bearing formations on Earth, located along Alaska’s North Slope.
• Liscomb Bonebed: A hotspot for Arctic dinosaurs, discovered in the 1960s and later explored in detail by Kirk Johnson and colleagues.
• Tuxedni Group (Jurassic): Marine invertebrates, including ammonites and bivalves, are common here.
• Chickaloon Formation (Paleocene): Known for its beautifully preserved fossil plants, including fossilized redwoods and Metasequoia.

One of the most astonishing aspects of Alaskan fossils is the presence of polar dinosaurs. During the Late Cretaceous, the Arctic Circle was a much warmer place than it is today, but still experienced months of darkness. 

Herbivorous dinosaurs such as Edmontosaurus, Ugrunaaluk kuukpikensis (a newly named hadrosaur species from the North Slope), and Pachyrhinosaurus lived in herds in this high-latitude environment, while predators like Nanuqsaurus hoglundi, a smaller relative of T. rex, prowled the dark forests.

These animals were uniquely adapted to life in extreme conditions. Evidence from bone histology suggests that these dinosaurs had growth cycles influenced by the harsh Arctic climate—some may have hibernated or experienced slowed metabolism during the winter months.

Kirk Johnson’s research, alongside collaborators such as Tony Fiorillo and Roland Gangloff, has been central in understanding how these polar ecosystems worked. Johnson has led expeditions into the Arctic wilderness, collecting fossils and reconstructing ancient environments based on plant fossils, sedimentology, and isotope analysis.

Fossil Plants and Climate Clues

While dinosaurs grab the headlines, the fossilized flora of Alaska is equally important. Johnson is particularly renowned for his work on fossil plants, which he has used to reconstruct past climates and landscapes. In the Chickaloon Formation, for instance, fossilized leaves, cones, and wood fragments tell the story of an ancient rainforest-like environment that thrived just after the age of dinosaurs, during the Paleocene.

A paper of interest he co-authored with Dr. David J. Nichols—a distinguished paleobotanist and palynologist with the U.S. Geological Survey whose research significantly advanced the understanding of fossil pollen, spores, and Cretaceous-Tertiary boundary events. 

Over his career, Nichols became known for his expertise in using fossilized plant micro remains—such as pollen grains and spores—to reconstruct ancient ecosystems and trace climatic and environmental shifts through geologic time. 

His collaboration with Dr. Kirk Johnson on the Prince Creek Formation in northern Alaska combined his palynological skills with Johnson’s macrofossil plant research, providing a comprehensive view of Late Cretaceous polar flora and their ecological significance. 

Nichols’ meticulous work helped illuminate how vegetation patterns responded to ancient climate change and extinction events, making his contributions invaluable to studies of high-latitude paleoecology and Earth system history.

• Johnson, K. R., & Nichols, D. J. (2008). Plant fossils from the Prince Creek Formation, North Slope, Alaska: Implications for Late Cretaceous polar ecosystems. In: "Studies on Fossils in Arctic Environments." Geological Society of America Special Paper 442, pp. 155–170. DOI:10.1130/2008.442(10)

This paper documents high-latitude Cretaceous flora, revealing that Alaska once supported lush forests, with taxa such as Metasequoia (dawn redwood), ferns, and angiosperms flourishing under a warm polar regime. These fossils help scientists understand long-term climate dynamics and serve as analogs for future warming scenarios.

Marine Reptiles and Cretaceous Oceans

In southern Alaska, Jurassic and Cretaceous marine sediments have yielded remains of ichthyosaurs, plesiosaurs, and large ammonites. These fossils suggest that Alaska’s ancient seas were home to thriving marine ecosystems. Fossil localities near the Talkeetna Mountains and along the southern coast contain rich assemblages of mollusks and marine reptiles, providing a window into life in northern marine ecosystems during the Mesozoic.

The Role of Citizen Science and Indigenous Knowledge

Much of Alaska’s fossil record has been unearthed through the combined efforts of scientists, local fossil hunters, and Indigenous knowledge holders. Collaborative research involving Native Alaskan communities, especially in regions like the North Slope, has been critical in facilitating fieldwork, protecting fossil sites, and sharing discoveries with local schools and museums.

Kirk Johnson: Bringing Alaska's Fossils to the Public

Kirk Johnson’s contributions extend beyond fieldwork. He is known for making paleontology accessible and engaging to the public. He co-authored Cruisin’ the Fossil Freeway with artist Ray Troll, a visually wild and informative tour of North American paleontology, including Alaskan fossil stops. Johnson has also hosted PBS documentaries like Making North America, in which Alaskan geology and fossils play a key role. 

To get your copy of Cruisin' the Fossil Freeway, here is the link:  https://www.amazon.ca/Cruisin-Fossil-Freeway-Kirk-Johnson/dp/1555914519

Additional publications by Johnson and his work in Alaska include:

Johnson, K. R. (2002). A North American perspective on the Cretaceous-Tertiary boundary in terrestrial settings. Geological Society of America Special Paper 361.

Fiorillo, A. R., & Gangloff, R. A., & Johnson, K. R. (2000). The role of polar dinosaurs in Mesozoic ecosystems: A synthesis. Journal of Vertebrate Paleontology, 20(3), 34A.

Alaska’s fossil record is one of the most compelling in the world, telling stories of survival and adaptation in the face of darkness, isolation, and dramatic climatic shifts. 

Whether it’s a duck-billed dinosaur enduring polar nights or a fossil leaf bearing witness to ancient greenhouse climates, each discovery contributes to our evolving understanding of Earth’s history. Thanks to scientists like Kirk Johnson and their ongoing efforts, we can explore these icy time capsules and better appreciate the deep-time legacy of the Last Frontier.

MIGWAT: SLEEK, PLAYFUL SEALS

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). Their ancestors walked on land before evolving to thrive in marine environments.

The fossil record suggests that pinnipeds first emerged during the Oligocene epoch, 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 of the Pacific Northwest, seals are known as migwat, and fur seals are referred to as xa'wa.

PORT HARDY: TIME AND TIDE

One of the most beautiful areas of Vancouver Island is the town of Port Hardy on the north end of the island. 

Just outside Port Hardy further south on the west coast is the area known as Fort Rupert or Tsaxis—my home community. 

It was here that the Hudson's Bay Company built Fort Rupert both for trade with the local First Nation population and the allure of potential coal deposits. 

I headed up to the north island this past week to stomp around my old haunts, visit with family and get in a bit of late season kayaking. The town was much as I remembered it. There have been changes, of course. I lived up on Wally's hill above the reserve at Tsaxis beside the old cemetery. 

My wee childhood home is still there and I am very pleased to see that the earthly home of my ancestors is well maintained. The cemetery is groomed and cared for but the land surrounding it is overgrown and it took me a few minutes to orient myself to see where things used to be. Where the old Hudson's Bay Company Fort and its iconic chimney were in relation to the graveyard. 

A lifetimes worth of memories came flooding back. Those from my earliest years and then later when I returned to kayak, fish and scuba dive in these rich waters.

My plans of blissful days kayaking and taking photos of the scenery were altered by hurricane-force winds. Still beautiful, but chilly and choppy.

The beachhead here was clocking 120 km winds so I did a brief visit to the homestead, the graveyard and Jokerville then headed home to light the fire and hunker in as the storm blew through. 

Port Harty and Fort Rupert have an interesting history and how you read it or hear it truly depends on the lens that is applied. This has been the ancestral home to many First Nation groups. Mostly they were passing through and coming here to dig up delicious butter clams, roots, berries and other natural yummy goodness. Years before Port Hardy was settled at the turn of the century it was the home to the Kwakiutl or Kwagu’ł and part of my heritage. 

Alec and Sarah Lyon operated a store and post office on the east side of Hardy Bay. A 1912 land deal promoted by the Hardy Bay Land Co., put the area on the map and increased its population. By 1914, 12 families had settled, built a school, sawmill, church and hotel. 

The community of Port Hardy is situated within traditional Kwagu’ł First Nation territory. It is also home to the Gwa’sala-‘Nakwaxda’xw First Nation. In 1964 all the First Nations communities were amalgamated and forced to relocate from their traditional territories by the federal government, for administrative reasons. 

The First Nation families were told that it would cost less for education, easier for medical help, and the government would help with housing, but it turned out to be a hidden agenda designed to assimilate the various groups into Canadian society — or face extermination. Several years of threats and promises later, the Gwa’sala and ‘Nakwaxda’xw reluctantly gave in to the relocation, but the government didn’t keep their promise for adequate housing. 

There were five homes for over 200 people on the Tsulquate Reservation. The Gwa’sala traditional territory is Smith Inlet and surrounding islands. ‘Nakwaxda’xw traditional territory is Seymour Inlet, the Deserter’s Group, Blunden Harbour, and surrounding islands.

There was limited access to the community until the logging road connecting Port Hardy to Campbell River was paved in December of 1979. As a child, travelling to visit my grandmother in Nanaimo meant eating eating dust behind logging trucks all the way from Hardy to Campbell doing about 40 kilometres an hour, then a stop at the Dairy Queen in Campbell River for a banana split, and on again on the old Island Highway.

Port Hardy’s population grew to a little over 5,000 residents during the Island Copper Mine years (1971-1995). The former mine site is located 16 kilometres south of Port Hardy on the shores of Rupert Inlet. The open-pit porphyry copper mine employed over 900 employees from Port Hardy and the surrounding communities. Today, the former mine has been transformed into a wildlife habitat and pit lake biological treatment system (BHP Copper Inc., 2010). The Quatsino First Nation manage the property and their Economic Development Board is exploring options for its use. 

The Quatsino First Nations have conducted several feasibility studies around the implementation of a puck or brickett mill onsite, utilizing the existing infrastructure, which includes six industrial buildings.

Today, Port Hardy serves as the crossroads for air, ferry and marine transportation networks, and serves as the gateway to the fast-growing Central Coast, the Cape Scott and North Coast Trails, and BC Ferry’s northern terminus for the Discovery Coast run and Prince Rupert. It supports several traditional and emerging sectors and remains rich in natural resources and community spirit.

Every corner of the Port Hardy region is enriched with culture and history. Starting with the two welcome poles in Carrot Park, both carved and replicated by Calvin Hunt, a Kwagu’ł artist who is based in Tsax̱is. 

From here and along the seawall are interpretive signs with Kwak’wala words for various wildlife, such as salmon, bear, wolf, and orca. At the end of this walk is Tsulquate Park. 

From here you can see across Queen Charlotte Strait; the ocean highway and lands of the Kwakwa̱ka̱ʼwakw. Port Hardy was named after Vice-Admiral Sir Thomas Masterman Hardy (5 April 1769 – 20 September 1839) who served as the captain of H.M.S. Victory in the Royal Navy. 

He served at the Battle of Trafalgar and held Lord Nelson at the end of that battle where Nelson died in his arms. Though he never visited this island community, it bears his name today. 

A ten-minute drive from downtown Port Hardy, in the neighbouring community of Fort Rupert, is the village of Tsax̱is. This is the current home of the Kwagu’ł First Nation. Here lies elaborated totem poles and the big house; a venue where First Nations ceremonies take place, such as the potlatch. 

The potlatch is a First Nations constitution that determines our politics, our government, our education, our medicine, our territory, and our jurisdiction. Potlatch is a complex event with several ceremonies, which are still practiced in buildings like the Tsax̱is big house.

On the front porch of the village of Tsax̱is is Tayaguł (Storey’s Beach). Along this waterfront were several villages, which are depicted on map (pictured below) by Mervyn Child, a Kwagu’ł artist. 

Across the way and middle of K’ak’a (Beaver Harbour) are Atłanudzi (Cattle Island), Ḵ’ut’sa̱dze (Peel Island), Ḵ’a̱msa̱x̱tłe (Shell Island), and Uxwiwe’ (Deer Island). Once the words are broken down and translated; the names of these islands are unique to their environment, as they’re part of a story that belongs to the Kwagu’ł.

Where: Port Hardy, British Columbia. 50°43'27"N, 127°29'52"W

GULLS ON THE FORESHORE: TSIK'WI

A gull cries in protest at not getting his share of a meal

Gulls, or colloquially seagulls, are seabirds of the family Laridae in the suborder Lari. 

The Laridae are known from not-yet-published fossil evidence from the Early Oligocene — 30–33 million years ago. 

Three gull-like species were described by Alphonse Milne-Edwards from the early Miocene of Saint-Gérand-le-Puy, France. 

Another fossil gull from the Middle to Late Miocene of Cherry County, Nebraska, USA, has been placed in the prehistoric genus Gaviota. 

These fossil gulls, along with undescribed Early Oligocene fossils are all tentatively assigned to the modern genus Larus. Among those of them that have been confirmed as gulls, Milne-Edwards' "Larus" elegans and "L." totanoides from the Late Oligocene/Early Miocene of southeast France have since been separated in Laricola.

Gulls are most closely related to the terns in the family Sternidae and only distantly related to auks, skimmers and distantly to waders. 

A historical name for gulls is mews, which is cognate with the German möwe, Danish måge, Swedish mås, Dutch meeuw, Norwegian måke/måse and French mouette. We still see mews blended into the lexicon of some regional dialects.

In the Kwak̓wala language of the Kwakwaka'wakw, speakers of Kwak'wala, of the Pacific Northwest, gulls are known as t̕sik̕wi. Most folk refer to gulls from any number of species as seagulls. This name is a local custom and does not exist in the scientific literature for their official naming. Even so, it is highly probable that it was the name you learned for them growing up.

If you have been to a coastal area nearly everywhere on the planet, you have likely encountered gulls. They are the elegantly plumed but rather noisy bunch on any beach. You will recognize them both by their size and colouring. 

Gulls are typically medium to large birds, usually grey or white, often with black markings on the head or wings. They typically have harsh shrill cries and long, yellow, curved bills. Their webbed feet are perfect for navigating the uneven landscape of the foreshore when they take most of their meals. 

Most gulls are ground-nesting carnivores that take live food or scavenge opportunistically, particularly the Larus species. Live food often includes crab, clams (which they pick up, fly high and drop to crack open), fish and small birds. Gulls have unhinging jaws which allow them to consume large prey which they do with gusto. 

Their preference is to generally live along the bountiful coastal regions where they can find food with relative ease. Some prefer to live more inland and all rarely venture far out to sea, except for the kittiwakes. 

The larger species take up to four years to attain full adult plumage, but two years is typical for small gulls. Large white-headed gulls are typically long-lived birds, with a maximum age of 49 years recorded for the herring gull.

Gulls nest in large, densely packed, noisy colonies. They lay two or three speckled eggs in nests composed of vegetation. The young are precocial, born with dark mottled down and mobile upon hatching. Gulls are resourceful, inquisitive, and intelligent, the larger species in particular, demonstrating complex methods of communication and a highly developed social structure. Many gull colonies display mobbing behaviour, attacking and harassing predators and other intruders. 

Certain species have exhibited tool-use behaviour, such as the herring gull, using pieces of bread as bait with which to catch goldfish. Many species of gulls have learned to coexist successfully with humans and have thrived in human habitats. Others rely on kleptoparasitism to get their food. Gulls have been observed preying on live whales, landing on the whale as it surfaces to peck out pieces of flesh. They are keen, clever and always hungry.

NASAL SACS AND CHILLY WATERS: HOODED SEALS

If you frequent the eastern coast of North America north of Maine to the western tip of Europe, along the coast of Norway near Svalbard you may have glimpsed one of their chubby, dark silver-grey and white residents. 

Hooded seals, Cystophora cristata, are large phocid seals in the family Phocidae, who live in some of the chilliest places on Earth, from 47° to 80° N in latitude. 

These skilled divers are mainly concentrated around Bear Island, Norway, Iceland, and northeast Greenland. 

In rare cases, we find them in the icy waters in Siberia. They usually dive depths of 600 m (1,968 ft) in search of fishy treats but can go as deep as 1000 m (3,280 ft) when needed. That is deep into the cold, dark depths of our oceans. Sunlight entering the sea may travel as deep as 1,000 m (3,280 ft) under the right conditions, but there is rarely any significant light beyond 200 meters (656 ft). This is the dark zone and the place we find our bioluminescent friends. 

Hooded seals have a sparse fossil record. One of the first fossils found was a Pliocene specimen from Anvers, Belgium discovered in 1876. In 1983 a paper was published claiming there were some fossils found in North America thought to be from Cystophora cristata. Of the three accounts, the most creditable discovery was from a sewer excavation in Maine, the northeasternmost U.S. state, known for its rocky coastline, maritime history and nature areas like the granite and spruce islands of Acadia National Park. A scapula and humeri were found among other bones and thought to date to the post-Pleistocene. 

Of two other accounts, one was later reassigned to another species and the other left unsolved. (Folkow, et al., 2008; Kovacs and Lavigne, 1986; Ray, 1983)

The seals are typically silver-grey or white in colour, with black spots that vary in size covering most of the body. 

Hooded seal pups are known as, Blue-backs as their coats are blue-grey on the back with whitish bellies, though this coat is shed after 14 months of age when the pups moult.

FIRST NATION, INUIT, METIS, MI'KMAQ L'NU

In the Kwak̓wala language of the Kwakwaka'wakw, speakers of Kwak'wala, of the Pacific Northwest, seal are known as migwat — and fur seals are known as x̱a'wa.

Hooded seals live primarily on drifting pack ice and in deep water in the Arctic Ocean and North Atlantic. Although some drift away to warmer regions during the year their best survival rate is in colder climates. They can be found on four distinct areas with pack ice: near Jan Mayen Island, northeast of Iceland; off Labrador and northeastern Newfoundland; the Gulf of St. Lawrence; and the Davis Strait, off midwestern Greenland. 

The province of Newfoundland and Labrador is home to the Inuit, the Innu, the Mi'kmaq L'nu and the Southern Inuit of NunatuKavut, formerly the Labrador Inuit-Metis. The Hooded Seals that visit their traditional territory were a welcome source of food and clothing. In Mi'kmaw, the language spoken in Mi'kma'ki, the territory of the Mi'kmaq L'nu, the word for seal is waspu.

HOODED SEAL HABITAT

Males are localized around areas of complex seabeds, such as Baffin Bay, Davis Strait, and the Flemish Cap. Females concentrate their habitat efforts primarily on shelf areas, such as the Labrador Shelf. 

Females reach the age of sexual maturity between two and nine years old and it is estimated that most females give birth to their first young at around five years of age. Males reach sexual maturity a little later around four to six years old but often do not mate until much later. Females give birth to one young at a time through March and April. The gestation period is 240 to 250 days. 

Blue-back, Hooded Seal Pup

During this time the fetus, unlike those of other seals, sheds its lanugo — a covering of fine soft hair that is replaced by thicker pelage — in the uterus. 

These young are precocious and at birth are able to move about and swim with ease. They are independent and left to fend for themselves immediately after they have been weaned.

Hooded seals are known to be a highly migratory species that often wander long distances, as far west as Alaska and as far south as the Canary Islands and Guadeloupe. 

Prior to the mid-1990s, hooded seal sightings in Maine and the east Atlantic were rare but began increasing in the mid-1990s. From January 1997 to December 1999, a total of 84 recorded sightings of hooded seals occurred in the Gulf of Maine, one in France and one in Portugal. 

From 1996 to 2006, five strandings and sightings were noted near the Spanish coasts in the Mediterranean Sea. There is no scientific explanation for the increase in sightings and range of the hooded seal.

Cystophora means "bladder-bearer" in Greek and pays homage to this species' inflatable bladder septum on the heads of adult males. The bladder hangs between the eyes and down over the upper lip in a deflated state. 

The hooded seal can inflate a large balloon-like sac from one of its nostrils. This is done by shutting one nostril valve and inflating a membrane, which then protrudes from the other nostril. 

I was thinking of Hooded seals when contemplating the nasal bladders of Prosaurolophus maximum, large-headed duckbill dinosaurs, or hadrosaurid, in the ornithischian family Hadrosauridae. Perhaps both species used these bladders in a similar manner — to warn predators and attract mates.

Hooded seals are known for their uniquely elastic nasal cavity located at the top of their head, also known as the hood. Only males possess this display-worthy nasal sac, which they begin to develop around the age of four. The hood begins to inflate as the seal makes its initial breath prior to going underwater. It then begins to repetitively deflate and inflate as the seal is swimming. 

The purpose of this is acoustic signaling. It occurs when the seal feels threatened and attempt to ward off hostile species when competing for resources such as food and shelter. It also serves to communicate their health and superior status to both other males and females they are attempting to attract. 

In sexually mature males, a pinkish balloon-like nasal membrane comes out of the left nostril to further aid it in attracting a mate. This membrane, when shaken, is able to produce various sounds and calls depending on whether the seal is underwater or on land. Most of these acoustic signals are used in an acoustic situation (about 79%), while about 12% of the signals are used for sexual purposes.

References: Ray, C. 1983. Hooded Seal, Cystophora cristata: Supposed Fossil Records in North America. American Society of Mammalogists, Vol. 64 No. 3: 509-512; Cystophora cristata, Hooded Seal", 2007; "Seal Conservation Society", 2001; Kovacs and Lavigne, 1986.

Mi'kmaq Online Dictionary: https://www.mikmaqonline.org/servlet/dictionaryFrameSet.html?method=showCategory&arg0=animal

KI'A'PILANO: STONE, BONE & WATER

Cretaceous Plant Material / Three Brothers Formation

Vancouver has a spectacular mix of mountains, forests, lowlands, inlets and rivers all wrapped lovingly by the deep blue of the Salish Sea. 

When we look to the North Shore, the backdrop is made more spectacular by the Coast Mountains with a wee bit of the Cascades tucked in behind.

If you were standing on the top of the Lion's Gate Bridge looking north you would see the Capilano Reservoir is tucked in between the Lions to the west and Mount Seymour to the east on the North Shore. 

The bounty of that reservoir flows directly into your cup. If you look down from the reservoir you see the Capilano River as it makes its way to the sea and enters Burrard Inlet.

The Capilano River on Vancouver's North Shore flows through the Coast Mountains and our coastal rainforest down to the Capilano watershed enroute to Burrard Inlet. The headwaters are at the top of Capilano up near Furry Creek. They flow down through the valley, adding in rainwater, snowmelt and many tributaries before flowing into Capilano Lake. The lake in turn flows through Capilano Canyon and feeds into the Capilano River.

Today, for many, the Capilano River is the clear, cold water with which we fill our cups. But not so long ago, this Kia’palano, this beautiful river, was the entry point to Homulchesan, traditionally called X̱wemelch'stn, whose name means fast-moving water of fish and the domain of Douglas fir trees and the wild sacred salmon who spawn here.

Capilano Watershed & Reservoir

Sacred First Nations Land

This area was once the exclusive domain of the Coast Salish First Nations —  xʷmə?kʷəyəm (Musqueam), Skwxwú7mesh (Squamish), and səlilwətaɬ (Tsleil-Waututh) Nations until the early 1800s. 

The Musqueam First Nation are traditional hən̓q̓əmin̓əm̓ speaking people who number a strong and thriving 1,300. Many live today on a wee slip of their traditional territory just south of Marine Drive near the mouth of the Fraser River. 

The Secwepemc or Shuswap First Nations are a collective of 17 bands occupying the south-central part of British Columbia. Their ancestors have lived in the interior of BC, the Secwepemc territories, for at least 10,000 years.

The Coast Salish First Nations have lived in this region for thousands of years — from the mouth of the Columbia River in Oregon to north of Bute Inlet. They ancestors of those who live here today braved the cold, following the receding of the ice to forge new roots, build villages and strengthen their connections to this land.   

It is to the Squamish Nation that we owe the name of Capilano which is an anglicized version of Kia'palano. 

In Sḵwx̱wú7mesh snichim or Skwxwú7mesh, their spoken language, Kia'palano/Capilano means beautiful river. 

Chief Kia'palano (c. 1854-1910) was the Chief of the Squamish Nation from 1895-1910 — and Chief of the territory where this beautiful river flows — Sa7plek.

 

The Cleveland Dam — Capilano River Regional Park

Many things have changed since then, including the Capilano River's path, water levels and sediment deposition. For the salmon who used this path to return home and those who depended on them, life has been forever altered by our hands. The Capilano River still runs with Summer Coho, Spring & Summer Steelhead and Autumn Chinook. The small numbers of Spring/Summer Steelhead are maintained through catch and release and may one day reach their former levels of plenty along Vancouver’s North Shore. Elsewhere, we are beginning to see a rewilding of Vancouver with the return of the salmon to our rivers these past few years. 

It is a hopeful recovery from an amazing creature and their will to not just survive but thrive. Marina Dodis, a local film maker has done a wonderful job of recording that rewilding in her film, The Return. I'll pop a link below for you to watch it. I'm sure you'll enjoy it as much as I did.

We have Ernest Albert Cleveland to thank for the loss of that salmon but can credit him with much of our drinking water as it is caught and stored by the dam that bears his name. It was his vision to capture the bounty from the watershed and ensure it made its way into our cups and not the sea. 

Both the water and a good deal of sediment from the Capilano would flow into Burrard Inlet if not held back by the 91-metre concrete walls of the Cleveland Dam. While it was not Ernest's intention, his vision and dam had a secondary impact. In moving the mouth of the Capilano River he altered the erosion pattern of the North Shore and unveiled a Cretaceous Plant Fossil outcrop that is part of the Three Brothers Formation.

Capilano River Canyon & Regional Park

Know Before You Go

The fossil site is easily accessible from Vancouver and best visited in the summer months when water levels are low. 

The level of preservation of the fossils is quite good. The state in which they were fossilized, however, was not ideal. They look to have been preserved as debris that gathered in eddies in a stream or delta.

There are Cretaceous fossils found only in the sandstone. You will see exposed shale in the area but it does not contain fossil material. 

Interesting, but again not fossiliferous, are the many granitic and limestone boulders that look to have been brought down by glaciers from as far away as Texada Island. Cretaceous plant material (and modern material) found here include Poplar (cottonwood)  Populus sp. Bigleaf Maple, Acer machphyllum, Alder, Alnus rubra, Buttercup  Ranvuculus sp., Epilobrium, Red cedar, Blackberry and Sword fern.

Capilano Fossil Field Trip:

From downtown Vancouver, drive north through Stanley Park and over the Lion’s Gate Bridge. Take the North Vancouver exit toward the ferries. Turn right onto Taylor Way and then right again at Clyde Avenue. Look for the Park Royal Hotel. Park anywhere along Clyde Avenue.

From Clyde Avenue walk down the path to your left towards the Capilano River. Watch the water level and tread cautiously as it can be slippery if there has been any recent rain. Look for beds of sandstone about 200 meters north of the private bridge and just south of the Highway bridge. The fossil beds are just below the Whytecliff Apartment high rises. Be mindful of high water and slippery rocks.

Visiting the Capilano Watershed and Reservoir:

Visitors can see the reservoir from Cleveland Dam at the north end of Capilano River Regional Park. You can also visit the Capilano River Hatchery, operated below Cleveland Dam since 1971.

IN THE HEART OF THE CITY, A WILD MIRACLE AWAITS — THE RETURN, a film by the supremely talented Marina Dodis

There is something astonishing happening in the city of Vancouver. Largely unnoticed amidst vehicle traffic, industrial sites and construction, wild salmon are returning to their ancient spawning grounds.

Once an important salmon bearing area, this watershed became severely degraded as the city grew. The run collapsed and was declared “dead”. As salmon are iconic for people in British Columbia, concerned citizens became engaged. The rewilding has begun to pay off. After disappearing for 80 years, people can now witness the autumn spectacle of these powerful swimmers fighting to reach the streams they hatched in. To have a salmon run taking place within city limits is almost completely unique in a metropolis of this size.

Filmed with a quiet, observing lens over many years, "The Return" takes us into hidden enclaves of wilderness within the city, where tiny salmon smolts shimmer beneath the water's surface. Now that they have come back, their future is in our hands.

Link: https://madodis.wixsite.com/the-return?fbclid=IwAR349gFSZtmb3FN4iZRP6AGLyTH0O7MQnQbY-Prup6Qa0ICUzdhaw3vCkSk