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.

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.

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.

FROGFISH: THE FISH THAT WALKS, FISHES AND SWALLOWS ITS DINNER WHOLE

Frogfish ready for its next meal

FROGFISH: THE FISH THAT WALKS, FISHES AND SWALLOWS ITS DINNER WHOLE

Imagine a fish that looks like a sponge, walks like a rather disgruntled frog, carries a fishing rod on its head and can swallow another fish almost as large as itself.

Welcome to the wonderfully peculiar world of frogfish.

These extraordinary little predators belong to the family Antennariidae, part of the anglerfish order Lophiiformes.

They are relatives of our fabulous red-lipped batfish, although frogfish have largely abandoned the lipstick in favour of camouflage.

And what camouflage it is.

Some resemble colourful sea sponges. Others look like algae-covered rocks, lumps of coral or bits of seaweed that have seen better days.

But beneath those wonderfully deceptive disguises lurks one of the ocean's most astonishing ambush predators.

A FISH THAT PREFERS WALKING

Most fish spend their lives swimming.

Frogfish, apparently, did not receive that particular memo.

Instead, many spend their time perched on rocks, coral or the seafloor, using their modified pectoral fins to shuffle about.

Their pelvic fins can also help them brace and move across the bottom.

The result is a rather charming, if somewhat ungainly, underwater walk.

Imagine a little fish in an oversized sponge costume stomping about the reef, occasionally stopping to glare at passing marine life.

Some frogfish can swim when necessary, and a few use jet-like propulsion by forcing water through their gill openings.

But why bother swimming when dinner might come to you?

THE MASTER OF DISGUISE

Painted Frogfish, Master of Disguise

Frogfish are among the most remarkable camouflage artists in the marine world.

Their bodies may be covered in bumps, fleshy projections, irregular markings and colours that help them blend into their surroundings.

The hairy frogfish, Antennarius striatus, can sport long, skin-like appendages that make it resemble a shaggy clump of seaweed.

The painted frogfish, Antennarius pictus, may resemble a brightly coloured sponge.

And the giant frogfish, Antennarius commerson, can grow to roughly 38 centimetres long, making it a rather substantial lump of apparently innocent reef decoration.

Some frogfish can change colour over time, although this is not the instantaneous colour-changing performance we associate with certain cephalopods.

Their disguise serves two purposes.

It helps them avoid being noticed by predators.

And it allows them to remain almost invisible to unsuspecting prey.

There is something wonderfully unfair about being eaten by what you thought was a sponge.

THE FISH WITH A FISHING ROD

Now for one of my favourite evolutionary inventions.

Frogfish have a modified dorsal-fin spine called an illicium, which acts rather like a miniature fishing rod.

At its tip is a lure called an esca.

Depending on the species, this lure may resemble a worm, a tiny fish or another tempting morsel.

The frogfish waves its lure near its mouth, hoping to attract the attention of a hungry little fish.

The unsuspecting visitor approaches.

Closer.

Closer still.

And then — GULP.

Dinner disappears.

No chasing. No elaborate pursuit. No need to book a table.

Just a fishing rod attached to your head and an extraordinary amount of patience.

THE FASTEST DINNER IN TOWN

Frogfish possess one of the most impressive feeding mechanisms in the animal kingdom.

When prey comes within range, a frogfish can rapidly expand its enormous mouth cavity, creating suction that pulls the unfortunate visitor inside.

The strike can happen in just a few milliseconds.

Their mouths can expand dramatically, allowing some frogfish to consume prey approaching their own body size.

They may even eat other frogfish. Family dinners must be rather tense. Imagine inviting your cousin over for lunch and discovering that you are lunch.

This astonishing feeding system is an example of suction feeding, a technique found in many fishes but taken to remarkable extremes by frogfish.

Their specialised jaws and expandable mouths allow them to capture prey with very little warning.

One moment, a small fish is investigating a promising-looking worm. The next, it has vanished into what appeared to be a harmless lump of coral. Nature can be wonderfully inventive. And occasionally rather rude.

WHO ARE THEIR RELATIVES?

Frogfish are members of the order Lophiiformes, the anglerfishes.

Their extended family includes some of the most peculiar creatures in the ocean.

There are the red-lipped batfishes, which walk across the seafloor looking permanently unimpressed.

There are monkfishes, with enormous flattened heads and mouths designed for swallowing unsuspecting prey.

And there are the famous deep-sea anglerfishes, some of which use glowing lures to attract prey in the darkness.

Not all anglerfishes live in the deep sea, and not all have glowing lures.

Frogfish generally inhabit tropical and subtropical marine environments, often around reefs, rocky bottoms and other habitats where camouflage is particularly useful.

They have taken the anglerfish family's remarkable fishing apparatus and turned it into a wonderfully effective tool for ambush hunting.

One branch of the family lives in darkness.

Another wanders about wearing lipstick.

And the frogfish sits disguised as a sponge, waiting for something edible to make a terrible decision.

FROGFISH IN THE FOSSIL RECORD

Now let's travel back through deep time.

The living frogfish family, Antennariidae, has a limited fossil record. We cannot trace every modern frogfish species neatly backwards through millions of years of preserved ancestors.

But the broader anglerfish lineage has a fascinating fossil history.

One particularly important fossil is Histionotophorus bassani, an extinct anglerfish known from the Eocene deposits of Monte Bolca in northern Italy.

The Eocene Epoch lasted from approximately 56 to 33.9 million years ago.

The famous Monte Bolca fossil beds preserve an extraordinary assemblage of marine fishes from roughly 50 million years ago, when the region was part of a warm marine environment.

Among the remarkable fossil fishes described from Monte Bolca are early representatives of the anglerfish lineage, helping palaeontologists understand how this unusual group evolved.

These fossils are not necessarily direct ancestors of living frogfish.

Instead, they provide evidence that the wider evolutionary group to which frogfish belong was already present in ancient Eocene seas.

There is an important difference between finding a fossil of a modern family and finding an older fossil belonging to its broader evolutionary lineage.

Both are valuable, but they tell us different parts of the story.

Frogfish themselves are difficult to document through fossils, partly because their delicate skeletal structures and the environments in which they live do not always favour preservation.

That leaves some wonderful questions.

When did their extraordinary camouflage evolve?

How early did their ancestors begin using specialised fins to walk along the seafloor?

And when did their fishing apparatus become the highly effective hunting tool we see today?

Fossils, comparative anatomy and genetic research all help scientists investigate these questions.

Perhaps one day an extraordinary fossil frogfish will emerge from an ancient seabed and help fill another gap in this remarkable evolutionary story.

I do hope it looks like a sponge.

FIVE FROGFISH FACTS TO IMPRESS YOUR FRIENDS

1. Frogfish can fish for fish. Their modified dorsal-fin spine carries a lure that helps attract prey directly towards their mouths.

2. They can swallow astonishingly large meals. Their expandable jaws and rapid suction feeding allow some species to consume prey approaching their own size.

3. They are masters of disguise. Depending on the species, frogfish can resemble sponges, algae, coral or other parts of their marine surroundings.

4. They have unusual ways of moving. Many use their modified fins to walk or brace themselves, while some can also propel themselves through the water by expelling water from their gill openings.

5. They are related to deep-sea anglerfish. Although they generally live in shallower environments, frogfish share an evolutionary history with some of the strangest predators in the deep ocean.

THE JOY OF BEING EXTRAORDINARILY ODD

What I love most about frogfish is how beautifully they demonstrate the creativity of evolution.

Here is an animal that has evolved a remarkable combination of camouflage, specialised movement, an extraordinary feeding mechanism and a fishing lure built directly into its anatomy.

Its relatives appear in fossil deposits tens of millions of years old, connecting this modern marine oddity to an ancient and wonderfully diverse evolutionary lineage.

And although the fossil record has yet to reveal every chapter of the frogfish story, the living animals offer a marvellous glimpse of what millions of years of adaptation can produce.

Some fishes evolved for speed. Others for long-distance migration.

The frogfish evolved to look like a sponge, wave a fishing rod and swallow dinner whole.

And somehow, that seems like a perfectly respectable life choice. 

There are extraordinary stories waiting beneath the waves, beneath our feet and within the ancient rocks that preserve our planet's remarkable history.

Speaking of wonderfully unusual relatives, meet the red-lipped batfish, Ogcocephalus darwini, a Galápagos fish with scarlet lips, walking fins and a face that looks permanently unimpressed. 

Discover its extraordinary evolutionary story in our Fossil Huntress article, RED-LIPPED BATFISH: THE FISH THAT WALKED INTO A BEAUTY SALON.

WITCHES’ FINGERS: THE FOSSILS THAT FELL FROM THE SKY

For some of us, our very first fossil found in the field was a belemnite. Smooth, elongated and rather pleasing to the eye and to hold, these little treasures have a way of turning a casual beach walk into a lifelong fascination.

For Dallin Young, that first find started his fossil obsession—and I know exactly how he feels!

Imagine picking one up without knowing what it was. A slender stone finger. A pointed dart. Something curious enough to slip into your pocket and carry home.

Long before palaeontology offered an explanation, finds like these inspired some wonderfully imaginative stories.

In parts of Europe, belemnites became known as witches’ fingers, devil’s fingers and thunderbolts. Some people believed they had fallen from the sky during thunderstorms. Others kept them as charms, hoping a stone thunderbolt might protect their home from lightning.

With Halloween approaching, these curious fossils deserve a moment in the candlelight.

Their real story takes us beneath an ancient sea.

MEET THE BELEMNITE

Belemnites were squid-like marine animals belonging to the cephalopods, the group that includes living squid, octopuses, cuttlefish and nautiluses.

Picture a streamlined swimmer moving through seawater, eyes watching for movement and arms reaching towards a meal.

Inside its body was a supporting shell with several distinct parts: a tongue-shaped extension called the pro-ostracum, a chambered cone called the phragmocone, and the solid, pointed guard, or rostrum, towards the rear.

That last piece is the familiar fossil many of us recognise.

Squid also have an internal supporting structure, but the dense guards of belemnites gave these ancient animals something particularly durable to leave behind.

WHY DO WE FIND SO MANY LITTLE “BULLETS”?

After a belemnite died, its softer, squishy parts were often scavenged or decayed before they could become fossils. The solid guard had a much better chance of surviving burial.

This helps explain why a complete belemnite is an exceptional discovery, while isolated guards are common in some Jurassic and Cretaceous rocks.

Each little dart represents part of an animal that lived in a vanished marine world, preserved in sediments that eventually became stone.

It is rather lovely to think that something so small can carry an entire sea into your hand.

A WORLD OF FIRST FINDS

One of my favourite things about sharing fossils is hearing where you have found yours.

When I previously wrote about belemnites, readers brought together a wonderful little map of discoveries.

Arno Martini shared finds from northern California, while Anne Glenn finds them in Wyoming. Georg Laki has collected them from Early Jurassic rocks at Gasperich in southern Luxembourg, and Scott Carpenter and his daughter collect them along the Jurassic Coast.

Juanjo Ugalde Robledo finds them in La Rioja, Spain, and Gabriel Santos collects them in Peniche, Portugal. Rossi Franco spotted one embedded in building material at the Bank of Italy in Genoa—a lovely reminder that fossil discoveries sometimes happen in the middle of a city.

Here in British Columbia, Lloyd Rempel and I have found them too, including at Harrison Lake.

Different places, different ancient seas, and that same small thrill of recognition: there you are!

HOW TO RECOGNISE ONE

Look for an elongated fossil that tapers towards a point. Many resemble a bullet or dart, though their shapes vary between different kinds of belemnite.

A broken specimen may reveal calcite arranged in a radiating pattern. At the broader end, some specimens preserve a conical cavity that once held the chambered phragmocone.

Colour alone will not identify one. Their shades vary with preservation and the surrounding rock.

And despite their tooth-like appearance, these fossils are pieces of an internal shell.

FROM THUNDERBOLTS TO ANCIENT SEAS

There is something deeply human about finding an unfamiliar object and reaching for a story that might explain it. A pointed fossil becomes a witch’s finger. A stone uncovered after rain becomes a thunderbolt. Something strange and beautiful becomes a charm to keep close.

Today, we can recognise the animal behind the folklore while still enjoying the wonder that inspired those earlier explanations.

The next time you spot a little stone dart among the pebbles, pause for a closer look. You may be looking at the remains of a swimmer from the age of dinosaurs—or the beginning of your very own fossil obsession.

Was a belemnite your first fossil find? I would love to hear where you found it.

AMMONITE QUESTIONS ANSWERED: SHELLS, SPIRALS AND ANCIENT TIMEKEEPERS

A spiral in stone can stop you in your tracks. Follow its curve and the questions arrive almost immediately. What lived inside? Why the ribs? And how can a shell tell us anything about the age of a rock?

Ammonites reward that curiosity. Their fossils preserve clues to ancient animals, vanished oceans and the passage of geological time. 

Here are ten questions to start your exploration, with a few favourite Fossil Huntress stories along the way.

WHAT WAS AN AMMONITE?

Imagine a sea animal with a soft body, arms around its mouth and a shell it carried wherever it went. That was an ammonite! 

Many ammonites had a shell curled into a spiral, a little like a tightly rolled garden hose. Some shells had ridges or spines, while others were much smoother.

Ammonites were relatives of today’s squid, octopuses and cuttlefish. These animals belong to a group called cephalopods. Ammonites are extinct, which means none are alive today. We learn about them by studying their fossils.

Inside the shell was a row of little spaces called chambers. Think of rooms separated by thin walls. The ammonite’s soft body lived in the largest room, near the shell’s opening. As it grew, it added a bigger room and closed off the old one behind it.

The older chambers held gas and some liquid. Together, they helped the ammonite stay afloat in the sea instead of sinking to the bottom. Scientists call this buoyancy. Its shell was both a protective home and part of its floating equipment!

For a look inside, visit Ammonites: Chambered Beauty, now illustrated with examples of chambered shells and different coiling patterns.

CAN I MEET A LIVING AMMONITE?

Only in your imagination. Ammonites are extinct, with most disappearing during the mass extinction about 66 million years ago. The fossil shell in your hand is evidence of an animal whose world has gone.

IS A NAUTILUS AN AMMONITE THAT SURVIVED?

A tempting thought, but no. A living nautilus also has a chambered shell, yet it belongs to a different cephalopod lineage. Similar shells do not make the animals interchangeable.

Meet these living shelled cephalopods in Nautilus: Nautilidae.

HOW CAN I TELL WHETHER A FOSSIL IS AN AMMONITE?

Begin by observing rather than naming. Look for the overall shell shape, ribs or other ornament, visible chambers and suture lines. Examine both sides and the edge when possible. Record its size and what is known about the rocks it came from.

A spiral is a clue, not a verdict. Other shells and natural forms can resemble ammonites, and incomplete fossils may need a specialist’s eye. Compare the examples in Chambered Beauty before settling on an identification.

WHY DO SOME AMMONITES LOOK LIKE HOOKS OR KNOTS?

The familiar flat spiral was only one possibility. Heteromorph ammonites developed open coils, hooks, helical forms and extraordinary bends. These were characteristic growth patterns, rather than shells that accidentally went wrong.

Explore Heteromorph Ammonites, then meet the wonderfully tangled Nipponites mirabilis. Research into its buoyancy and balance offers a glimpse of how such an unlikely-looking shell might have worked in the water.

WHAT ARE THOSE LACY PATTERNS?

Some fossils reveal lines that resemble branching rivers or finely cut leaves. These are sutures, marking where the internal walls between chambers met the outer shell wall. They are different from the raised ribs on the outside of the shell.

Those delicate-looking lines trace a three-dimensional structure inside the shell. The chamber walls, called septa, were folded where they joined the outer wall. One long-standing idea is that these folds acted like internal bracing, helping the shell resist the surrounding water pressure, which increases with depth.

But more elaborate lace did not necessarily mean a stronger shell or a deeper-diving ammonite. Mechanical studies have produced mixed results: extra folding can reduce stress in the outer shell wall while increasing stress in the septa themselves. The relationship between sutures, shell strength and living depth remains debated—a beautiful pattern with a scientific mystery still tucked inside. For a closer look at the evidence, see research on ammonite septa and water pressure.

Their patterns vary among ammonites and help palaeontologists distinguish groups. Explore the detail in Sutures, Ridges and Lobes.

HOW CAN AN AMMONITE HELP DATE A ROCK?

Some ammonite species were widespread but existed for comparatively short intervals of geological time. Recognising them can help scientists correlate rock layers in different places and establish their relative ages. This use of fossils is called biostratigraphy.

The fossil does not carry an exact numerical date. Its identity is one piece of evidence considered alongside the surrounding geology. Read more in Ammonite Time Keepers: Index Fossils.

HOW BIG COULD AN AMMONITE GROW?

Ammonites came in an amazing range of sizes. Some were smaller than a coin. Others grew shells wider than a bicycle wheel! A famous giant called Parapuzosia seppenradensis, found in Germany, preserves a shell about 1.74 metres across—roughly the height of an adult. Even that huge fossil is incomplete.

Size alone does not tell us an ammonite’s age. Different species grew to different sizes, and a small fossil might be a youngster or a fully grown member of a small species.

Meet a Canadian giant in The Giant Fossil Ammonite of Fernie. Can you imagine a spiral that big?

WHAT DID AMMONITES EAT—AND WHAT ATE THEM?

Not every ammonite had the same menu. Some ate tiny animals drifting in the water, called plankton. Scientists have found the remains of tiny crustaceans and a baby sea snail near the mouthparts of a fossil Baculites, a straight-shelled ammonite. That is a wonderful clue to an ancient meal!

Other ammonites may have eaten larger prey or scavenged food. Their diets probably varied, and scientists study their jaws and rare food remains to work out what they ate.

Ammonites could become someone else’s dinner, too. Marine reptiles, including some mosasaurs and ichthyosaurs, ate them. Their shells offered protection, but could not keep every hungry hunter away.

Meet one of those ocean hunters in Mosasaur of Vancouver Island, or explore the research into an ammonite’s last meal.

HOW DOES AN AMMONITE BECOME A FOSSIL?

Imagine an empty ammonite shell settling onto the sea floor. Mud or sand buries it. Burial can help protect it from being broken apart, although most shells never become fossils.

Over a very long time, the sediment around the shell can harden into rock. Sometimes parts of the original shell survive. Sometimes minerals replace the shell. In other cases, the shell dissolves but leaves its shape behind. Sediment or minerals filling the inside can form a cast—like a model of the space inside the shell.

Later, erosion can wear away the surrounding rock and reveal the fossil. Some ammonites are preserved inside rounded lumps of cemented sediment called concretions. Discover these natural time capsules in Ammonites in Concretion.

KEEP THE QUESTIONS COMING

Ready for a little fossil detective work? Pick an ammonite photograph, trace its spiral with your finger and sketch what catches your eye. Ribs? Spines? Lacy lines? Gather your clues before giving your fossil a name. Every good mystery begins with a closer look—and one more question!

Have a question you'd like answered? Drop me a message over on Facebook or in the contact form at www.fossilhuntress.com. 

For the permanent FAQ, photographs and a collection of related stories, bookmark Ammonites: A Guide to Ancient Oceans.

THE PYRAMIDS OF GIZA: FOSSILS IN STONE

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nummulites Foraminifera Fossil

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

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

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

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

Nummulites Foraminifera Fossil

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BARNACLES: CUVIER TO DARWIN

Barnacles All Closed Up

One of the most interesting and enigmatic little critters we find at the seashore are barnacles. 

They cling to rocks at the waters' edge, closed to our curiosity, their domed mounds like little closed beaks shut to the water and the world.

They choose their permanent homes as larvae, sticking to hard substrates that will become their permanent homes for the rest of their lives. 

It has taken us a long time to find how they actually stick or what kind of "glue" they were using.

A clever fellow from Duke University's Marine Laboratory in Durhan, North Carolina finally cracked that puzzle. Instead of chopping up barnacles to see what makes them stick, he observed and collected the oozing glue from some Amphibalanus amphitrite as they secreted it.

Remarkably, the barnacle glue sticks to rocks in a similar way to how red cells bind together. Red blood cells bind and clot with a little help from some enzymes. 

These work to create long protein fibres that first blind, clot then form a scab. The mechanism barnacles use, right down to the enzyme, is very similar. That's especially interesting as about a billion years separate our evolutionary path from theirs.

So, with the help of their clever enzymes, they can affix to most anything – ship hulls, rocks, and even the skin of whales. If you find them in tidepools, you begin to see their true nature as they open up, their delicate feathery finger-like projections flowing back and forth in the surf.

Barnacle Cirri Seeking Tasty Plankton

Those wee feather-like bits you see are called cirri. Eight pairs of these thoracic limbs help barnacles to filter tasty bits of plankton from the surrounding water into their mouths.

Barnacles are cirripedes, a kind of crustacean that is covered with hard plates of calcium carbonate. Named for their cirri, they live stuck to hard surfaces in and around our world's oceans. 

While they do not look like crustaceans, they are definitely part of this taxonomic grouping that includes crab, lobster, crayfish, prawn, krill, and woodlice.

BARNACLES IN KWAK'WALA

In the Kwak̓wala language of the Kwakwaka'wakw, speakers of Kwak'wala, of the Pacific Northwest, barnacles are known as k̕wit̕a̱'a and broken barnacle shells are known as t̕sut̕su'ma.

BARNACLES IN THE FOSSIL RECORD

They have an old history. Their ancestors can be traced back to animals such as Priscansermarinus that lived during the Middle Cambrian – some 510 to 500 million years ago. I found my first barnacle fossil at a fossil site called Muir Creek on the south end of Vancouver Island. 

The wonderfully accessible foreshore fossil exposures at Muir are Oligocene, 20-25 million years old. This is about the time that barnacles can be found more readily as skeletal remains.

One of the reasons for the limited number of barnacle remains in the fossil record is their preferred habitat – high energy, shallow ocean environments. These tend to see a lot of tidal action that leads to erosion and barnacles being broken apart, slowly eroded down to bits too small to recognize for what they are.

One of the fossil remains we do find are not the barnacles themselves, but trace fossils of acrothoracican barnacle borings from Rogerella. These are commonly found in the fossil record beginning in the Devonian right up to today. Rogerella is a small pouch-shaped boring (a type of trace fossil) with a slit-like aperture currently produced by acrothoracican barnacles. 

These crustaceans extrude their legs upwards through the opening for filter-feeding (Seilacher, 1969; Lambers and Boekschoten, 1986). They are known in the fossil record as borings in carbonate substrates (shells and hardgrounds) from the Devonian to the Recent (Taylor and Wilson, 2003).

Barnacle Ancestry Goes Back to the Middle Cambrian

FROM MOLLUSCA TO ARTICULATA

For those of you who enjoy leaning into the geeky history of how we came to understand barnacles, I shall indulge you.

Barnacles were originally classified by Linnaeus and Cuvier as Mollusca, but in 1830 John Vaughan Thompson published observations showing the metamorphosis of the nauplius and cypris larvae into adult barnacles. He noted how these larvae were similar to those of crustaceans.

In 1834 Hermann Burmeister published further information, reinterpreting these findings. The effect was to move barnacles from the phylum of Mollusca to Articulata, showing naturalists that detailed study was needed to reevaluate their taxonomy.

Charles Darwin took up this challenge in 1846 and developed his initial interest in a major study published as a series of monographs in 1851 and 1854. Darwin undertook this study, at the suggestion of his friend Joseph Dalton Hooker, to thoroughly understand at least one species before making the generalizations needed for his theory of evolution by natural selection.

BARNACLES IN A NUT SHELL

Barnacles live life with unwavering commitment. Once they find the perfect spot on a rock, pier, whale, ship's hull, or unsuspecting sea turtle, they glue themselves down with one of the strongest natural cements known and settle in for good. There are no second thoughts, no moving to a nicer neighbourhood with a better view. Home is home.

These remarkable little crustaceans are suspension feeders, rhythmically sweeping tiny morsels of plankton and organic debris into their mouths using feathery, jointed legs called cirri. Those waving "feet" you see flicking through the water are actually highly specialized feeding appendages, tirelessly combing the sea for dinner. When the tide retreats, they pull those cirri safely inside and clamp their tough calcareous plates shut, waiting patiently for the ocean to return.

Now, about romance... barnacles have perhaps the most awkward dating life in the animal kingdom. 

Being permanently glued to a rock makes meeting new partners something of a logistical challenge. 

Evolution solved this problem in spectacular fashion: barnacles possess the longest penis relative to body size of any animal on Earth—sometimes extending eight times their own body length. It is an extraordinary adaptation that allows them to reach neighbouring barnacles without anyone having to leave home. 

If your love life depended on never moving from your favourite rock, you'd probably evolve some creative solutions too. I was speaking with friend and colleague, Adrienne Schmidt about this just today. 

After mating, fertilized eggs develop into tiny free-swimming nauplius larvae that drift through the plankton. As they grow, they transform into the cypris stage—a curious little explorer whose sole mission is to find the perfect place to settle. 

Once it chooses its forever home, it secretes its remarkable natural cement, attaches for life, builds its protective shell, and begins the whole wonderfully peculiar cycle again.

For creatures that spend their adult lives going absolutely nowhere, barnacles have evolved one of the most fascinating lifestyles in the sea.

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!

CLALLAM BAY FOSSIL FAUNA

Panopea abrupt (Conrad, 1894)

This lovely large fossil bivalve is Panopea abrupta (Conrad, 1849) an extinct species of marine mollusc in the family Hiatellidae, subclass Heterodonta.

This fossil specimen was collected from lower Miocene deposits in the Clallam Formation on the foreshore bordering the Strait of Juan de Fuca near Clallam Bay, Olympic Peninsula, northwestern Washington. 

The oldest recorded specimen of one of their modern relatives lived not too far from here in the Strait of Juan de Fuca. That lovely was an impressive 168 years old.

A geoduck sucks water containing plankton down through its long siphon, filters this for food and ejects its refuse out through a separate hole in the siphon. Adult geoducks have few natural predators, which may also contribute to their longevity.

In Alaska, sea otters and dogfish have proved capable of dislodging geoducks; starfish also attack and feed on the exposed geoduck siphon.

Clallam Bay is a sleepy little town on the northwestern edge of the Olympic Peninsula. It was founded back in the 1880s as a steamboat stop and later served as a Mill town. If you are planning to visit the fossil exposures, head to the edge of town where it meets the sea.

Once at the water's edge, head east along the shore until you can go no further. You'll find marine fossils in the sandstone on the shore and cliffs. Mind the tide as access to the fossil site is only possible at low or mid-tide. You'll have to swim for it if you time it poorly. Clallam Bay: 48°15′17″N 124°15′30″W.

Near this site, there are many additional fossil localities to explore. 

In Sequim Bay, you can find Pleistocene vertebrates as well as Miocene cetacean bones near Slip Point. Near the Twin Post Office, you can find Oligocene nautiloids and bivalves (2.5km west in the bluff); You can find crabs including, Branchioplax in the Eocene limestone concretions from Neah Bay.

References: Addicott, Warren. Molluscan paleontology of the lower Miocene Clallam Formation, northwestern Washington, Geological Survey Paper 976.