MAMMOTHS, MYSTERY AND TEXAS-SIZED TIME TRAVEL: WAKO

Waco Mammoth National Moment Fossil Site

If you’ve ever wondered what happens when a herd of Columbian mammoths, a flash flood, and 21st-century paleontologists all meet in Waco, Texas… well, Waco Mammoth National Monument has your answer: deep time drama with a fossilized cast of 24 large, hairy, and extremely unlucky Pleistocene mammals.

But before we get to the scientists in khakis, let’s rewind 67,000 years and meet the star of the show.

Waco Mammoth National Monument in Waco, Texas, stands today as one of the most significant Pleistocene paleontological sites in North America. 

It preserves the remains of 24 Columbian mammoths, Mammuthus columbi, and several other large mammals—including camelids, a juvenile saber-toothed cat, and smaller fauna—offering an unparalleled window into Late Pleistocene ecosystems and catastrophic mortality events.

Among the individuals identified at the site, Adult Male Mammoth Q. is one of the most impressive. In life, he would have been:

• Over 8 feet tall at the shoulder
• Approximately 10 tons in mass
• Equipped with tusks stretching up to 14 feet

As a mature bull Columbian mammoth, he likely lived a largely solitary life except during seasonal breeding periods. Columbian mammoths occupied open grasslands and savannas across the southern United States and Mexico, and Mammoth Q. would have spent his days feeding on grasses, sedges, and woody vegetation that thrived in the warm, dry climate of Pleistocene central Texas.

Sedimentology and taphonomic evidence suggest that Mammoth Q. met his end during a severe flooding event. 

The Bosque River and its tributaries were prone to flash flooding during the Pleistocene, and a sudden high-energy flow likely trapped and buried this large adult along with other isolated individuals. 

The result is an exceptionally preserved skeleton that provides key data on Columbian mammoth anatomy and population structure.

Most of the mammoths found at Waco belong not to solitary adults but to a nursery herd—an assemblage of females and juveniles that perished together in an earlier catastrophic flood event approximately 65,000–67,000 years ago. Their position within the sediments, the lack of significant post-mortem disturbance, and the articulation of many skeletons indicate rapid burial and minimal scavenging.

This makes the Waco site the only known fossil locality in North America containing a probable mammoth nursery herd, offering rare insight into social behavior, herd structure, and mortality patterns.

The site remained unknown until 1978, when local teenagers Paul Barron and Eddie Bufkin discovered a large bone eroding from a ravine near the Bosque River. Their discovery prompted the involvement of Calvin Smith, then director of Baylor University’s Strecker Museum, who recognized the bone as part of a mammoth femur.

Systematic excavation began in the 1980s and continued for decades under the leadership of:

• Dr. Calvin Smith
• Dr. David Lintz, who played a major role in interpreting the site’s multi-event deposition history
• Dr. Brenda Scott, contributing to specimen documentation
• Numerous Baylor University staff, students, and community volunteers

As excavations continued, researchers identified successive burial layers, additional individuals, and evidence for multiple flood events responsible for the mass mortality.

The importance of the site grew steadily, both for scientific research and for public education. A climate-controlled dig shelter was constructed to allow visitors to view fossils in situ, preserving the contextual integrity of the specimens.

In 2015, the site received national recognition when President Barack Obama designated it Waco Mammoth National Monument, protecting the locality and enabling continued collaboration among the National Park Service, Baylor University, and the City of Waco.

Waco Mammoth National Monument is unique in offering direct, above-surface access to an active fossil locality. Visitors can observe:

• Articulated mammoth skeletons still embedded in the original Pleistocene sediments
• The remains of a camel (Camelops sp.)
• Evidence of multiple burial events and stratigraphic layers representing different moments in site history
• Interpretive exhibits detailing paleoecology, taphonomy, and excavation history

The dig shelter provides a controlled environment that stabilizes the fossils and allows ongoing scientific research without removing specimens from their original context.

Waco Mammoth National Monument stands today as one of the premier paleontological localities in the United States, preserving the story of a herd lost to sudden environmental change and of solitary individuals like Mammoth Q. who represent the broader ecology of the Pleistocene South.

Whether for scientific research, educational interest, or a firsthand view of ancient life preserved precisely where it fell, the site offers a rare opportunity to engage directly with deep time and the processes that shape the fossil record.

DARWIN AND THE GREAT DEBATE: MEGALOSAURUS

Oxford University Museum of Natural History was established in 1860 to draw together scientific studies from across the University of Oxford.

On 30 June 1860, the Museum hosted a clash of ideologies that has become known as the Great Debate.

Even before the collections were fully installed, or the architectural decorations completed, the British Association for the Advancement of Science held its 30th annual meeting to mark the opening of the building, then known as the University Museum. 

It was at this event that Samuel Wilberforce, Bishop of Oxford, and Thomas Huxley, a biologist from London, went head-to-head in a debate about one of the most controversial ideas of the 19th century – Charles Darwin's theory of evolution by natural selection.

Notable collections include the world's first described dinosaur,  Megalosaurus bucklandii, and the world-famous Oxford Dodo, the only soft tissue remains of the extinct dodo. Although fossils from other areas have been assigned to the genus, the only certain remains of Megalosaurus come from Oxfordshire and date to the late Middle Jurassic. 

Megalosaurus

In 1824, Megalosaurus was the first genus of non-avian dinosaur to be validly named. The type species is Megalosaurus bucklandii, named in 1827.

In 1842, Megalosaurus was one of three genera on which Richard Owen based his Dinosauria. On Owen's direction, a model was made as one of the Crystal Palace Dinosaurs, which greatly increased the public interest for prehistoric reptiles. 

Subsequently, over fifty other species would be classified under the genus, originally because dinosaurs were not well known, but even during the 20th century after many dinosaurs had been discovered. 

Today it is understood these additional species were not directly related to M. bucklandii, which is the only true Megalosaurus species. Because a complete skeleton of it has never been found, much is still unclear about its build.

The Museum is as spectacular today as when it opened in 1860. As a striking example of Victorian neo-Gothic architecture, the building's style was strongly influenced by the ideas of 19th-century art critic John Ruskin. Ruskin believed that architecture should be shaped by the energies of the natural world, and thanks to his connections with a number of eminent Pre-Raphaelite artists, the Museum's design and decoration now stand as a prime example of the Pre-Raphaelite vision of science and art.

MISTER KANE AND THE ORIGINS OF CANINES

Mister Kane

The good-looking boy you see here is my dog Kane, a loveable Rhodesian Ridgeback who brought many years of happiness to my life. Fiercely loyal, funny, stubborn and oh, so charming. 

Dogs—those noble, tail-wagging companions who’ve perfected the art of begging for snacks and unconditional love—have a fossil record that’s as fascinating as their modern-day personalities.

The story of Canis familiaris begins long before tennis balls and belly rubs. Their lineage traces back over 40 million years to the Miacids, small, tree-dwelling carnivores that lived during the Eocene epoch. 

These early proto-dogs looked more like a ferret that hadn’t quite made up its mind about whether it wanted to be a cat or a weasel. From there, evolution took the scenic route—through genera like Hesperocyon (meaning “western dog”) and Leptocyon—as paws became better for running and teeth evolved for tearing meat.

Snuggle Bunnies — Mister Kane & Mozart

By about 6 million years ago, we see true members of the genus Canis: ancestors of wolves, coyotes, and eventually our best friends. Fossils of Canis lepophagus from North America show the first recognisable wolf-like snout. 

Fast forward to around 15,000–30,000 years ago, and humans and wolves began their historic friendship—one that likely started when hungry wolves realised hanging out with people meant easy leftovers. 

Humans realised wolves made excellent alarm systems (and very fluffy foot warmers).

Since then, dogs have spread across the globe, adapting faster than you can say “good boy.” From fossilized bones in Siberian caves to paw prints preserved in ancient mud, their story is one of partnership, adaptability, and the evolution of pure charisma.

WHAT IS PALEONTOLOGY? AND HOW DOES ONE BECOME A PALEONTOLOGIST?

I'm often asked how one becomes a paleontologist and what is paleontology, exactly?

Think of paleontology as the world’s longest-running detective story. 

The clues? Bones, shells, burrows, teeth, pollen, footprints, coprolites (yes, that’s fossil poo—stay with me). 

The crime scenes? Ancient seas, volcanic plains, river deltas, deserts, and the deep time between epochs. The suspects? Every organism that has ever lived. It is science and adventure and years and years of delight for the endlessly curious student of Earth.

Paleontology is the scientific study of ancient life—how it evolved, what it looked like, where it lived, how it died, and how all of that stitched together the tapestry of Earth’s ever-changing ecosystems.

How Do You Actually Become a Paleontologist?

Becoming a paleontologist doesn’t start with “discovering dinosaurs at age five,” but it certainly doesn’t hurt. Some of us get the thrill of the hunt early? Rocks in your pocket all the time? It may be the career for you. If it is, the path looks something like this:

1. Get the Right Education

• Bachelor’s degree in geology, biology, earth sciences, or a related discipline. You’ll learn to read the rocks and the critters in them.
• Field experience—dig something, anything. Volunteer with museums, join local paleo societies, take field courses.
• Graduate school—most paleontologists go on to a Master’s and often a PhD, specializing in something deliciously niche: trilobite biomechanics, Cretaceous plant communities, Ice Age megafauna, ammonite taxonomy, fossil fish… you get the idea. If your interests are more broad, consider a career in science communication or teaching versus pure paleo.

2. Build Your Skills

Paleontologists are equal parts scientist, writer, backpack-hauler, and spreadsheet wrangler. You’ll need:

• Rock hammer and chisel confidence (and the ability to avoid your own toes).
• Microscopy patience.
• Statistical grit.
• Creative problem-solving (the fossil you want is always 3 cm from where your tools fit).
• Writing chops—for papers, grants, permits, reports, and the occasional “I did not anticipate rattlesnakes” field note.

3. Find a Job in the Field

Paleontologists (and science communicators) work in:

• Museums
• Universities
• Government agencies
• Resource industry (paleo is key to stratigraphy and energy geology)
• Cultural and environmental consulting
• Science communication, film, publishing, digital modeling, education

The path can be winding. Many paleontologists are part-time researchers + part-time teachers + part-time adventurers + full-time caffeine enthusiasts.

Advice for Future Paleontologists

1. Be Curious in All Directions. Fossils aren’t just bones. They’re ecosystems, climates, chemistry, sediments, and stories. They are the catalyst to great friendships and wonderful adventures.
2. Say Yes to Opportunities. Field school? Go. Volunteer prep lab? Go. Someone needs a PDF of a 1912 journal scanned? Get it done. It might lead somewhere.
3. Find Mentors. Paleo thrives on community. Your future collaborators, coauthors, and field buddies are often the ones you meet early on. Pro tip: do not sleep with your supervisor. This may seem a little risqué to mention here, but consider yourself warned. All mentors are not created equally. If your supervisor is relentlessly hitting on you, step away.
4. Get Comfortable With Uncertainty. Fossils rarely tell you everything. Sometimes they barely whisper. It can take years to discover what you are looking for but paleo offers a lifetime of exciting discoveries.
5. Learn to Communicate. Whether you’re teaching students, giving public talks, or writing grant proposals, your ability to explain will be as important as your ability to excavate.
6. Keep It Fun. Deep time can feel overwhelming, but the work is often joyful—dusty, muddy, exasperating, hilarious, and deeply meaningful.

Back When Paleontology Was… Wild

In the early days—think late 1700s to the mid-1800s—paleontology was a bit of a glorious free-for-all. Scientists were just beginning to realize that fossils weren’t “sports of nature” or leftover pieces from Noah’s flood. They were evidence of worlds that no longer existed.

Some Highlights of the Early Era:

• Mary Anning, collecting fossils on the dangerous cliffs of Lyme Regis, quietly rewriting the history of life while the scientific establishment tried to pretend she wasn’t doing it.
• Georges Cuvier, the father of vertebrate paleontology, piecing together mastodons and giant ground sloths with uncanny intuition—and occasionally ruffling feathers along the way.
• William Smith, a canal engineer who mapped England’s geology by matching fossils layer by layer—essentially inventing stratigraphy.
• Early paleontology involved pickaxes, speculation, daring leaps of logic, polite (and not-so-polite) academic duels, and the occasional feud conducted via increasingly annoyed letters.
• By the time the Bone Wars erupted in the late 1800s between Cope and Marsh—full of spies, sabotage, dynamite, and rival field camps—paleontology was well on its way to becoming both a serious science and the world’s greatest scientific soap opera.

A Few Famous Paleontologists (and Spicy Paleo Tidbits)

• Mary Anning – Found the first complete ichthyosaur, the first plesiosaur, and early pterosaurs. Never claimed the spotlight, but history eventually corrected that oversight. Probably would have rolled her eyes at much of Victorian science drama.
• Othniel Charles Marsh – Described over 80 dinosaur species, pioneer of the Yale Peabody collections, and occasional instigator of academic chaos.
• Edward Drinker Cope – Brilliant, fiery, and sometimes too quick to publish. Once put a fossil’s head on the wrong end. We’ve all been there (well… sort of).
• Roy Chapman Andrews – Adventurer, inspiration for Indiana Jones, and leader of the Central Asiatic Expeditions that uncovered Velociraptor and the first dinosaur eggs.
• Meave Leakey – Modern paleoanthropologist uncovering human origins, reminding the world that our lineage is just as fascinating as dinosaurs.
• Jack Horner – Helped transform our understanding of dinosaur growth and behaviour, and advised on Jurassic Park, making sure the on-screen raptors were scientifically terrifying.

So—Why Paleontology?

• Because it’s the science of the past, but informs the future.
• Because fossils don’t just tell us what lived—they reveal how life responds to climate change, extinction events, shifting continents, and planetary upheaval.
• Because deep time gives us perspective: life endures, adapts, transforms, and occasionally grows hilariously large horns or sails just to keep things interesting.
• And because there is something indescribably profound about holding a fossil in your hand and realizing the last time it saw daylight, the world was unrecognizable.

If you’re pulled toward that feeling, paleontology might just be calling you. Now, where do you go if you want to be a paleontologist? If you would like to study in Canada, here are your options:

University of Alberta (UAlberta)

• One of the best paleontology programs worldwide.
• Famous for dinosaur research, fossil vertebrates, paleoecology, and the online Paleo courses.
• MSc and PhD in Earth and Atmospheric Sciences with paleo supervisors.

University of Calgary

• Strong in vertebrate paleo, paleoenvironmental studies, and Western Canadian sediments.

University of British Columbia (UBC)

• Not exclusively paleo but strong in invertebrate paleontology and paleo-oceans via Earth Sciences.

Carleton University

• Paleobiology, paleoecology, and invertebrate fossils.

McGill University

• Paleobotany, micropaleontology, evolutionary biology.

If you plan to study in the United States, these are the schools to check out:

University of Chicago

• Home of the Committee on Evolutionary Biology; leading in evolutionary paleobiology.
• Famous names include Jack Sepkoski and Neil Shubin.

Yale University

• Legendary Peabody Museum collections.
• Strong vertebrate paleontology, paleoanthropology, and macroevolution.

Harvard University

• Museum of Comparative Zoology–huge collections.
• Paleoanthropology, invertebrate paleontology, and systematics.

University of Michigan

• Excellent invertebrate & vertebrate paleo and paleoecology.

University of California, Berkeley

• World-class vertebrate collections; strong in dinosaur evolution, paleoecology, and micropaleo.

University of Kansas

• Well-rounded vertebrate and invertebrate paleo program.

University of Colorado Boulder

• Strong in vertebrate paleo and Cenozoic ecosystems.

Duke University

• Paleoanthropology, primate evolution.

South Dakota School of Mines & Technology

• Strong hands-on paleo program tied to the Black Hills Institute.

University of Montana

• Good for applied paleo and stratigraphy.

If you are thinking of taking your education in United Kingdom & Europe, here are the schools to consider:

United Kingdom

University of Bristol

• One of the world’s top paleontology centres.
• MSc and PhD programs specifically in Palaeobiology.
• Fantastic for dinosaurs, early vertebrates, and statistical paleobiology.

University of Edinburgh

• Vertebrate paleo, especially early tetrapods and marine reptiles.

University of Cambridge

• Famous for Palaeobiology, human evolution, microfossils.

University of Oxford

• Strong in paleoecology, paleoclimate, and invertebrates.

University of Manchester

• Known for paleoimaging, fossils in 3D, early dinosaurs.

Germany

University of Bonn

• Top-tier vertebrate paleo (e.g., dinosaurs, early mammals).

University of Munich (LMU)

• Evolutionary paleo, macroevolution, and fossil arthropods.

University of Tübingen

• Paleoanthropology and vertebrate paleontology.

France

Muséum national d’Histoire naturelle (MNHN), Paris

• Historic paleo institution—vertebrates, invertebrates, and paleoanthropology.

Sorbonne University

• Earth sciences with strong paleo options.

Scandinavia

Uppsala University (Sweden)

• Early vertebrates, paleoecology.

University of Oslo (Norway)

• Marine reptiles, Scandinavian fossils.

Asia & Oceania

China

Chinese Academy of Sciences (CAS), Beijing

• World-leading research in early mammals, feathered dinosaurs, and Mesozoic ecosystems.

Peking University

• Evolutionary biology with paleo research tracks.

Japan

Hokkaido University

• Cretaceous marine reptiles and dinosaurs.

Australia

University of Queensland

Marine paleo, ichnology, and fossil sharks.

Flinders University

• Vertebrate paleo, especially megafauna.

Australian National University (ANU)

• Paleoanthropology and evolutionary biology.

South America

Argentina

Universidad Nacional de La Plata

• Dinosaur-rich country; strong vertebrate paleo.

Universidad Nacional de Córdoba

• Paleoecology and South American megafauna.

Brazil

Federal University of Rio de Janeiro

• Paleoecology, invertebrates, and the famous Brazilian fossil beds.

How to Pick the Right Program

Find a supervisor whose research excites you. Your advisor matters far more than the university name. Ask around for input from fellow students and colleagues. 

Consider what kind of paleo you want to do:

• Vertebrates
• Invertebrates
• Paleobotany
• Paleoecology
• Micropaleontology
• Paleoanthropology
• Geobiology
• Evolutionary biology
• Paleoclimate
• Taphonomy
• Stratigraphy

Check the collections & field sites nearby.

• Good fossils + good mentors = a very happy graduate student.

Look at funding—seriously.

Some countries have better funding for international students than others. Some universities use international students like cash cows and charge them much more than regular students. Do your research early on so you have no surprises and a realistic idea of what your costs will be and their expectations of you.

I will be adding more to this post over the holidays as it is a question I am often asked. Once I have updated all the information, I will make it a downloadable PDF for you to keep and add your own notes to as you progress towards your career in paleontology.

THIRST OF THE LOST CONTINENT: DODOS AT THE RIVER OF MAURITIA

Dodo Birds by Daniel Eskridge

Two dodo birds—one warm brown like sun-baked coconut husk, the other a pale, ghostly white with hints of grey—stand beak-deep in the shallows of a river that winds like a silver serpent through the tropical jungles of ancient Mauritia. 

Their feet sink into cool silt and damp leaves at a rivers edge. 

The air is thick with the scent of pandanus and damp leaves, heavy enough to taste. Dragonflies hover in lazy spirals above them, iridescent flashes stitching over the water’s skin.

The brown male dodo dips first, scooping up a beakful of water with a gentle glop, while the white female one pauses, head cocked, watching a fruit drift downstream. For a moment the world feels impossibly quiet—no humans, no predators bold enough to trouble them, only the chorus of the forest and the steady rhythm of their drinking.

These feathered oddities belong to an island that itself has slipped through time. Mauritia, a now-lost microcontinent once nestled between Madagascar and India, cracked and sank more than 60 million years ago as the Indian Ocean spread and rearranged the world’s geography. All that remains today are a few scattered fragments—Mauritius, Réunion, Rodrigues—emerald crumbs left atop an ancient submerged landmass.

Dodo Birds by Daniel Eskridge

It is on one of these volcanic islands, long after Mauritia’s foundering, that the dodo evolved into its peculiar glory. Descended from flighted pigeons that likely swept in on storm winds from Southeast Asia, the dodo abandoned the sky entirely. 

With no natural predators and an island full of fruits, nuts, and fallen seeds, wings became more decorative than practical. Their legs grew stout. Their bodies rounded. Their beaks curved into the iconic hooked silhouette now etched into the imagination of every natural historian.

The brown dodo nudges the white one aside, perhaps a sign of affection, perhaps mild irritation—dodos, after all, were social birds, not the clumsy caricatures drawn centuries later. 

They waddled in flocks, nested on the ground, and lived comfortably beneath the canopy of ebony forests. Their feathers, described by early visitors as soft and hair-like, varied from gray-brown to white depending on age, sex, and perhaps even seasonal cycles.

But their peace was fragile, vulnerable to change they could not see coming.

When humans finally set foot on Mauritius in the late 1500s, they brought ships that carried pigs, rats, goats, and monkeys, all eager for eggs, seedlings, and anything edible. 

Forests were cut, nests trampled, and the trusting dodos, unaccustomed to fear, walked directly into the hands of sailors who considered them a convenient, if not particularly tasty, meal. Within roughly a century, they were gone.

But in this imagined moment—two birds drinking from a clear jungle river on an island born from a drowned continent—they live again. 

The sun breaks through a gap in the canopy, scattering gold across their backs. The white dodo lifts its head, droplets falling like tiny jewels, and lets out a soft, throaty grunt.

Here, in the cool breath of Mauritia’s shadowed past, the dodos are a symbol of loss—curious, gentle, utterly at home.

And for a heartbeat, we remember them.

Illustration Credit: This image was created by the supremely talented Daniel Eskridge, Paleo Illustrator from Atlanta, Georgia, USA. I share it here with permission as I have licensed the use of many of his images over the years, including this one. 

To enjoy his works (and purchase them!) to adorn your walls, visit his website at www.danieleskridge.com

ANCIENT AMBUSH KILLER: MACHAIRODUS

Saber-Toothed Cat, Machairodus aphanistus

The skull before you lies cradled in a glass case at the Museo Nacional de Ciencias Naturales in Madrid, Spain.

This museum—one of my most cherished anywhere in the world—houses extraordinary treasures in the heart of a city I adore.

Even at a distance, the skull seems almost unreal, its sweeping lines and lethal symmetry more like an artifact of myth than a product of natural selection.

The upper canines of Machairodus aphanistus sweep downward in a deadly curve, their bases thick and reinforced, their blades tapering into elegant, murderous crescents. 

Grooves along their sides lighten the teeth without robbing them of strength, an evolutionary compromise that allowed this ancient predator to deliver precise, slicing blows. The zygomatic arches flare outward with commanding confidence, a testament to the enormous jaw muscles that once powered the bite. Even the wide nasal opening hints at a creature ruled by scent, finely attuned to the faintest whispers of prey on a warm Miocene wind.

This skull—stripped of flesh, muscle, and fur—remains a vivid record of a predator that walked the Earth between nine and five million years ago, long before the saber-toothed icons of the Americas made their mark. 

Machairodus aphanistus lived in the shifting landscapes of the Late Miocene, a time when Europe and western Asia were giving way to broader grasslands and open woodlands. Forest canopies receded. Herds grew larger and faster. Predators had to adapt or perish, and Machairodus responded with a design both beautiful and deadly.

Unlike its more famous descendant, Smilodon, with its compact body and powerful forelimbs, Machairodus moved with the grace of a panther. It was long-limbed and athletic, relying on bursts of speed and stealth to launch an ambush. But its skull tells a more nuanced story—one of tension between speed and specialization. The tall sagittal crest reveals a powerhouse of jaw muscles anchoring deep into the bone. 

The forward-facing orbits provide the stereoscopic vision needed to track prey with extraordinary accuracy. The sheer length of the canines required a jaw capable of opening nearly ninety degrees, a gape far wider than that of any modern cat, allowing those great blades to descend unobstructed into vulnerable regions like the throat.

You will be relieved to hear that our ancestors did not hunt and were not hunted by this impressive predator. Machairodus aphanistus went extinct in the Late Miocene, roughly 5–9 million years ago.

The earliest members of the human lineage (Homo) did not appear until about 2.8 million years ago, in the early Pleistocene. Even our more ancient relatives—Australopithecines—don’t show up until 4–4.5 million years ago.

So there is a gap of millions of years between the disappearance of Machairodus and the emergence of anything that could be considered human or human-adjacent. For that, I think we can all breath a collective sigh.

Still, others were alive on the plains that were their hunting grounds. Both hunters and prey.

In the warm, open savannas of the Miocene, the world of Machairodus was alive with competition. Packs of early hyenas honed their bone-crushing skills. Bear-dogs patrolled the river valleys. Other machairodonts—kin, rivals, or both—shared the same hunting grounds. 

The herbivores were just as diverse: early horses galloped across the plains in tight herds, while rhinocerotids, camelids, and horned antelope moved in cautious groups, ever aware of shadows that shifted in the tall grass. To survive in this dynamic ecosystem, Machairodus embraced an ambush strategy refined over countless generations. It would stalk silently, using shrubs, boulders, or dim forest edges for cover. 

When the distance closed, it lunged with explosive force, using its muscular forelimbs to pin or destabilize its prey before delivering a swift, slicing bite to the neck. Death came quickly—less by crushing force and more by catastrophic blood loss.

There is a sense, looking at its skull that you are seeing an evolutionary idea mid-transformation.

Machairodus aphanistus stands at a pivotal moment in the story of the saber-toothed cats. Its body remained agile and panther-like, but its cranial features were edging ever closer to the extreme adaptations that would define later giants like Homotherium and Smilodon. It represents a crucial chapter in which nature was experimenting, refining, and pushing the boundaries of what a predator could become.

The skull contains all of this history within its bone: the open grasslands, the pounding hooves of prey, the quiet tension of ambush, and the relentless arms race that shaped predator and prey alike. 

In its silence, it speaks. It tells of a world both familiar and wild, a world where the line between beauty and brutality was sharpened to a sabre’s edge.

HOLCOPHYLLOCERAS: A JEWEL OF JURASSIC SEAS

What is most wonderful about natural science is that every fossil—every spiral, ridge, and suture—opens a window onto a vanished world. 

Take, for instance, this tremendously robust, intricately sutured ammonite: Holcophylloceras mediterraneum (Neumayr, 1871). Collected from Late Jurassic (Oxfordian) deposits near Sokoja, Madagascar, it is a marvel of paleontological sculpture, a testament to evolutionary experimentation that thrived in the tropical Tethyan seas some 160 million years ago.

Madagascar has long been recognized as a treasure trove of beautifully preserved fossils. From its Cretaceous dinosaurs to its Triassic amphibians and its extraordinary Jurassic ammonites, the island offers a richness few regions can rival. 

The spiraled shell of Holcophylloceras mediterraneum is no exception—its ornate sutures and lustrous preservation hint at a creature exquisitely adapted to the warm, shallow continental shelf of Gondwana’s eastern margin.

Like all ammonites, Holcophylloceras built its shell in a series of chambers divided by walls known as septa. These septa, when intersecting the outer shell, formed the elaborate suture patterns that make collectors swoon—tangled, fractal-like lines that resemble botanical tracings or rivers on an ancient map.

Running through each chamber was the siphuncle, a biological marvel that allowed the ammonite to adjust the gas and fluid content inside its shell. In effect, ammonites carried a set of built-in ballast tanks, enabling them to rise and sink through the water column almost effortlessly. Their final and largest chamber—the body chamber—housed the soft tissues, including the tentacles, eyes, and muscular arms.

Picture, if you will, a squid or octopus, then surround it with a coiled, beautifully ribbed shell. Now place it in a warm tropical sea filled with predators and prey, reefs and drifting plankton, and a ton upon ton of water pressing down from above. That was the world Holcophylloceras mastered.

The Oxfordian oceans surrounding Madagascar were not quiet waters. They were alive—thrumming with movement, colour, and competition. The ammonite’s elegant spiral belies the reality of its bustling neighbourhood. Some of the many animals that would have swum, crawled, hunted, or drifted around Holcophylloceras mediterraneum include:

Marine Reptiles

• Plesiosaurs – long-necked Cryptoclidus–like forms gliding between shoals of fish.
• Ichthyosaurs – such as Ophthalmosaurus, sleek torpedo-shaped hunters with dinner-plate eyes built for dim, deeper waters.
• Pliosaurs – apex predators like Liopleurodon, whose cavernous jaws could swallow a human whole.

Other Cephalopods

Belemnites – dart-shaped squid-relatives such as Hibolithes, flickering through the water column like living arrows.

Other ammonite genera sharing these seas:

• Perisphinctes
• Asaphoceras
• Physodoceras
• Aspidoceras
• Glochiceras

Each species filled its own ecological niche, from fast-swimming pursuit hunters to slow-drifting plankton feeders.

Fishes and Sharks

• Hybodont sharks – including Hybodus and Asteracanthus, equipped with crushing teeth for shelled prey and formidable dorsal spines.
• Teleost fishes – early ray-finned fishes beginning to diversify.
• Coelacanths – ancient lobe-finned holdovers patrolling calmer waters.

Invertebrates

• Bivalves – oysters, rudists, and inoceramids carpeting the shallow seafloor.
• Gastropods – from turreted turritellids to broad-shelled neritids.
• Crustaceans – shrimp, lobsters, and small crabs scraping algae from reef structures.
• Sea urchins and echinoids – spiny architects of sandy burrows.

Reefs & Drifting Life

• Sponges and corals creating pocket reefs in warm carbonate-rich environments.
• Planktonic foraminifera and radiolarians – the drifting micro-architecture of the Jurassic sea, powering food webs from below.

Ammonites like Holcophylloceras thrived in these diverse ecosystems by filling a mid-level trophic niche. They were both predator and prey—nimble enough to hunt small fish and crustaceans, yet vulnerable to larger hunters. Their greatest evolutionary advantage was their ability to regulate buoyancy, adjusting depth as easily as a modern submarine.

But their most beautiful legacy remains their shells. In death, they fell to the seafloor, where their chambers filled with sediment, minerals, and eventually time itself. 

Today, polished by erosion or revealed in limestone, they offer a perfect blend of geometry, biology, and ancient artistry.

MASSIVE ICHTHYOSAUR VERTEBRAE FROM NEVADA

The massive marine reptile vertebra you see here—broad, five-sided, drum-shaped, and heavy enough to require two hands to lift—once belonged to an ichthyosaur, one of the most impressive lineages of marine reptiles ever to patrol Earth’s oceans. 

This particular fossil hails from Berlin–Ichthyosaur State Park in central Nevada, a high desert landscape where sagebrush now whispers over ground that was once submerged beneath a warm, tropical Triassic sea.

During the Late Triassic, roughly 217 million years ago, this region lay along the western margin of the supercontinent Pangaea. 

Shallow, nutrient-rich waters supported a thriving marine ecosystem dominated by ammonites, early fish, and  ichthyosaurs.

Today, the Berlin–Ichthyosaur site is the richest concentration of large ichthyosaur fossils in North America. 

More than 37 articulated or semi-articulated skeletons have been excavated from the Luning Formation, a thick sequence of limestone and shaly carbonates that records the rise and fall of this ancient seaway. 

These rocks formed from fine carbonate mud and shell debris that settled on the sea floor, gradually entombing the bodies of these marine giants under quiet, low-oxygen conditions ideal for fossil preservation.

The site’s fossil beds preserve something even more scientifically tantalizing: multiple large individuals clustered together in a single stratigraphic horizon. 

Whether these accumulations represent mass strandings, predator trap dynamics, toxic algal events, or a natural death assemblage remains debated.

Photo Credit: The talented hand model supporting this magnificent beast is Betty Franklin. 

What you don’t see in the photo are the enormous grins we’re both wearing as we marvel over this beauty—hers because she gets to hold it, and mine because I get to capture the moment. 

Thank you, Berlin-Ichthyosaur!

WHEN GORGONS REIGNED SUPREME

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SEMENOVITES OF THE CASPIAN RIM: CRETACEOUS AMMONITES OF KAZAKHSTAN

This tasty block of Semenovites (Anahoplites) cf. michalskii hails from Cretaceous, Albian deposits that outcrop on the Tupqaraghan — Mangyshlak Peninsula, a stark and beautiful finger of land jutting into the eastern Caspian Sea in western Kazakhstan. 

The ammonites you see here are housed in the collection of the deeply awesome Emil Black. 

Their ancient provenance lies in rocks laid down some 105–110 million years ago, a time when warm epeiric seas flooded much of Central Asia and the ancestors of these coiled cephalopods thrived in shelf environments rich in plankton and marine life.

Present-day Kazakhstan is itself a geological palimpsest, a place made from multiple micro-continental blocks that were rifted apart during the Cambrian, later sutured back together, then pressed against the southern margin of Siberia before drifting to where we find them today. 

The Mangyshlak block preserves a record of these shifting tectonic identities, its plateaus and scarps reading like the torn edges of continents long departed.

The Mangyshlak (Mangghyshlaq) Peninsula is a land of structure and emptiness—high, wind-planed plateaus abruptly broken by escarpments, dry valleys, and shallow basins bleached white with salt. 

To the west lies the Caspian Sea; to the northeast the marshy Buzachi Peninsula, its wet depressions feeding migratory birds and a surprising profusion of reeds. Just north, the Tyuleniy Archipelago—a scattering of low islands—hints at the shallow bathymetry and shifting sediment loads that dominate this coastline.

Field workers on Mangyshlak often describe the region by its broad horizontality. The sky feels enormous, unbroken, a pale arch stretching over the tawny plateaus. The ground underfoot is firm but dusty, composed of compacted sandy limestones and weathered marl that break into familiar, fossil-bearing blocks. The climate is dry, the winds persistent, and visibility often perfect—ideal for spotting promising outcrops from a great distance.

Kazakhstan as a whole is a nation shaped by contrasts. Lowlands form fully one-third of its landmass. Hilly plateaus and plains account for nearly half. Low mountainous regions rise across the eastern and southern margins, making up roughly one-fifth of the terrain.

This spacious geography culminates at Mount Khan-Tengri (22,949 ft / 6,995 m) in the Tien Shan range, a crystalline sentinel marking the border between Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, and China. These far-off mountains are invisible from Mangyshlak, but their presence is felt in the broad regional tectonic architecture.

 
The Western Lowlands and the Caspian Depression

The Tupqaraghan Peninsula lies within the influence of the Caspian Depression, one of the lowest terrestrial points on Earth. At its deepest, the Depression reaches 95 feet below modern sea level, a phenomenon caused by both tectonic subsidence and the unusual hydrology of the endorheic Caspian Basin.

To the south, the land rises gradually into the Ustyurt Plateau, an immense chalk and limestone table marked by wind-sculpted buttes and long, eroded escarpments. The Tupqaraghan Peninsula itself is cut from these same sedimentary sequences—Miocene, Paleogene, and Mesozoic strata cropping out in irregular terraces that lure geologists and paleontologists alike.

This is a region where erosional processes are laid bare. Minimal vegetation allows exposures to remain clean and highly visible; many slopes are studded with ammonites, inoceramid bivalves, belemnite rostra, and the fragmentary remains of marine reptiles and pterosaurs. Expeditions here frequently report layers rich in small, well-preserved invertebrate fossils, their delicate sutures and ornamentation astonishingly intact.

 
Deserts, Uplands, and Salt-Lake Basins

Much of Kazakhstan is dominated by arid and semi-arid environments, and the Mangyshlak Peninsula is no exception. To the east and southeast of the region lie the great sand deserts that define Central Asia:

• Greater Barsuki Desert
• Aral Karakum Desert
• Betpaqdala Desert
• Muyunkum and Kyzylkum Deserts

These swaths of wind-polished grains advance and retreat across broad flats and shallow depressions. The vegetation here—shrubs, saxaul, and salt-tolerant herbs—is sparse, drawing life from subterranean groundwater or ephemeral spring melt.

In central Kazakhstan, salt-lake depressions punctuate the uplands. These basins often shimmer under the sun, their surfaces coated in chalky halite crusts that record cycles of evaporation stretching back millennia.

To the north and east the land lifts again, rising into ridges and massifs: the Ulutau Mountains, the Chingiz-Tau Range, and the Altai complex, which sends three great ridges reaching into Kazakhstan. Farther south, the Tarbagatay Range and the Dzungarian Alatau introduce still more rugged topography before the landscape resolves again into plains around Lake Balkhash.
Paleontological Richness of the Region

Kazakhstan is famed for more than its ammonites. Dinosaurian bones, trackways, and scattered pterosaur remains punctuate Mesozoic and Paleogene localities across the nation. The Mangyshlak region in particular has yielded:

• Albian ammonites
• Cretaceous bivalves
• Marine reptile fragments
• Occasional vertebrate traces

These Semenovites come from a fossiliferous belt once submerged under a warm, shallow sea—a world unfurled in silt and light where these cephalopods thrived.

Paleo-coordinates: 44° 35′ 46″ N, 51° 52′ 53″ E.

FOSSILS, FISH AND FLAMING VOLCANOES: INTERIOR BC'S HISTORIC PAST

A Bird's Eye View of BC's Interior

Once upon a geologic time—about 52 million years ago—British Columbia wasn’t the mountain-studded landscape we know today. 

Instead, imagine a steaming chain of tropical islands floating in a warm inland sea, alive with crocodiles, palm trees, and enough volcanic activity to make any self-respecting geologist swoon.

Welcome to Eocene British Columbia—where the rocks are hot, the fossils are cool, and the story of our province’s ancient past stretches like a spine from north to south, stitched together by layers of lakebed shales and volcanic ash.

Let’s start at the McAbee Fossil Beds, just outside of Kamloops. This UNESCO-designated site is a world-class window into the Eocene Epoch. 

The rocks here formed at the bottom of an ancient lake, gently collecting the remains of leaves, insects, and fish that fluttered or flopped in at inconvenient moments. The preservation is exquisite—delicate leaf veins, dragonfly wings, even the odd fish fin are preserved in glorious, paper-thin shale. It’s like nature’s own scrapbook from the dawn of modern ecosystems.

McAbee Fossil Beds with Dr. Lawrence Yang's Crew

These fossils tell us that McAbee was once warm and lush, home to dawn redwoods, ginkgo trees, and the ancestors of modern maples. 

You can see the wonderfully distinct hoodoos up above the fossil site and in this photo, you can see Dr. Lawrence Yang and crew from a field trip we did there a few years ago.

But McAbee didn't look at all like this when the fossils were laid down. 

Picture tropical rainforests thriving where today you find sagebrush and rattlesnakes. 

Yes—Kamloops was once the Kamloops Rainforest. Try putting that on a postcard.

And McAbee isn’t alone. It’s just one stop on an ancient island arc that spanned the province. 

Head north to Driftwood Canyon near Smithers, where paper-thin fossils of fish and insects record a similar story of subtropical serenity. 

A Tasty Selection of Eocene Fossils from BC

Go south to Quilchena, where you’ll find the same lacustrine (lake-formed) layers yielding fossilized leaves and fish that look like they could still dart away if you poked them. The preservation is outstanding. 

Keep going across the border to Republic, Washington, and you’re still following the same Eocene lake chain—like geological breadcrumbs leading back to a time when the west coast was a simmering stew of volcanoes and freshwater basins.

Two of my favourite Eocene fish fossils from the region are Eohiodon, a genus related to the modern mooneye, found at McAbee and Princeton. And Amyzon aggregatum, a type of sucker fish found in the varved lake sediments near Horsefly.

British Columbia has never been shy about rearranging itself. Back in the Eocene, the region was being pulled, pushed, and smushed by tectonic forces. Volcanic eruptions blanketed lakes with fine ash—excellent for fossil-making but less great for anyone hoping for a sunny day at the beach. 

Over time, these lakes filled with sediment, entombing plants, fish, and insects beneath fine-grained layers that later hardened into shale.

The result: a geological photo album spanning millions of years, now tilted and lifted into the dry hills around Kamloops.

I have only visited once since the Bonaparte First Nation took over management of the McAbee Fossil Beds. I brought them some fossils, scientific papers and shared stories of the history of the site from a paleo perspective. I shared about the folks who first leased the land and worked to expand the site, Dave Langevin and John Leahy. The many field trips there by members of the Vancouver Paleontological Society and other groups. The site has a rich fossil history deep in time but also in the last 30 years.  

Eocene Fossil Fish from McAbee

They graciously allowed me to bring some folk up to explore and shared their desire to create a visitor and research center, enhancing public programming with Indigenous cultural activities. 

The Nation aims to highlight the scientific and cultural significance of the area, with a long-term goal of making it a premier Indigenous destination. 

Kneeling in that parched, golden landscape, it’s hard to imagine it once echoed with the croaks of ancient frogs and the buzz of tropical insects. 

But each fossil leaf, precious fossilized feather, March Fly and dragonfly wing at McAbee whispers the same improbable truth: British Columbia was once a lush archipelago of volcanic islands in a balmy world, a far cry from today’s ski slopes and spruce forests.

These sites hold a special place in my heart as they are some of the few that I visited as a teen with my mother and sister. I made repeated trips over the years as the Chair of the Vancouver Paleontological Society, but those early memories are especially dear to me.

As I drive through the Thompson Plateau and see those striped outcrops of shale, I give them a thoughtful nod. They’re the leftovers of a long-vanished paradise that remains a fossil treasure trove today. 

TRACKING DIATRYMA: FOSSIL FOOTPRINTS IN THE CHUCKANUT FORMATION

Diatryma Restoration & Size Comparison

Long before glaciers sculpted the familiar ridges and waterways of western Washington, a vast subtropical delta sprawled across the region that would one day become Bellingham Bay. 

Arriving today, you see evidence of this in the many fossils to be found in the region. 

Beneath today’s scenic Chuckanut Drive lies a story written in stone — layer upon layer of siltstone, sandstone, mudstone, and conglomerate that make up the Chuckanut Formation, a fossil-rich archive of ancient swamps and floodplains.

Imagine stepping into that Eocene world. The air is heavy with humidity, thick with the scent of wet earth and resin. Towering dawn redwoods (Metasequoia) rise above a dense understorey of ferns, laurels, and figs. 

Glyptostrobus, the Chinese swamp cypress, forms stands along the riverbanks, its knees jutting from the warm, tea-colored water. 

Palms sway beside oxbow lakes where turtles and crocodilians bask on fallen logs. The landscape would look more at home in modern-day Louisiana or Belize than in the shadow of the North Cascades.

Diatryma Tracks, Washington State

The geology that preserves this lush world was born of fire, flood, and shifting plates. 

During the Eocene, the Pacific Northwest lay near the edge of the North American Plate, where fragments of volcanic island arcs — the terranes that make up much of western Washington — were accreting, colliding, and buckling under tectonic pressure. 

Rivers carried eroded sediments from the rising ancestral Cascades into broad, lowland deltas, where they built up thick beds of sand and mud. Over millions of years, those sediments hardened into rock, entombing the life that once flourished there.

Among the most remarkable of the Chuckanut fossils are footprints — delicate, fleeting impressions that speak to the creatures that wandered through this swampy paradise. One of these was Diatryma, Gastornis, a colossal flightless bird that could reach nearly nine feet tall. 

With massive legs and a deep, powerful beak, Diatryma was a relic of an ancient avian lineage that arose soon after the age of dinosaurs. They would have been most impressive to see, though they would likely chase you down for a wee taste! 

Gastornis giganteus

Descended from earlier ground-dwelling birds of the Paleocene, Diatryma and its kin once roamed both North America and Europe, their fossils turning up from Wyoming to France. 

Though once imagined as fearsome predators, new evidence suggests they were likely omnivores or even herbivores, using their beaks to crack seeds, fruits, or tough vegetation.

Diatryma shared the Eocene floodplains with a cast of strange and wonderful mammals. There were Pantodonts and Dinoceratans — heavy-bodied, blunt-footed herbivores with a primitive charm, precursors to later hoofed mammals. 

Small early horses trotted through the marshy margins, while shorebirds and amphibians left fleeting traces in the soft mud. Above it all, ancient dragonflies and early bats flitted through the dense canopy.

The Chuckanut Formation preserves this bygone world in exquisite detail — not as bones and teeth, but as fossil leaves, tracks, and impressions, the whispers of a time when Washington was a tropical delta at the edge of a newborn continent. 

Today, when you drive along Chuckanut’s winding road or hike its rocky bluffs, you are traveling through the ghost of an Eocene bayou — a landscape alive with the echoes of towering trees, swamp-dwelling beasts, and the thunderous stride of the mighty Diatryma.

Image Credit: Lead Image By Tim Bertelink - Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=49203812 edited by Fossil Huntress

Image Credit: Diatryma Restoration and Size Comparison: Gastornis giganteus: By Vince Smith from London, United Kingdom - Diatryma, a large flightless bird from the Eocene of WyomingUploaded by FunkMonk, CC BY-SA 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=28298676

ECHOES IN STONE: WASHINGTON GEOLOGY

Washington State Forest

Two hundred million years ago, what we now call Washington wasn’t Washington at all. 

It was two drifting islands — fragments of a wandering continent slowly inching their way west across the ancient ocean. 

They were vagabonds, carried on tectonic currents until, at last, they collided with the North American continent and made themselves at home.

That restless motion has never stopped. The land still breathes — slow, tectonic breaths that subtly reshape the surface of the Pacific Northwest. Every so often, that breath shudders. 

We feel it in an earthquake, a reminder that the forces that built the land are still at work, deep below our feet. The great plates grind and twist, pushing mountains skyward and sliding California ever so slightly toward the North Pole. Hello, Baja-BC.

It’s this long, dynamic dance — the great continental waltz — that sculpted the ridges, folded valleys, and mountain walls we see today. And it’s also what preserved an ancient world beneath our boots: the subtropical swamps and deltas of the Chuckanut Formation, a geological tapestry stretching some 3,000 metres thick along Chuckanut Drive near Bellingham.

Islands Riding Tectonic Plates

Layer upon layer of sandstone, siltstone, mudstone, and conglomerate record the rhythms of rivers that once coursed through a lush, steaming delta. The lower strata date back roughly 56 million years, at the very end of the Paleocene. 

The upper layers push into the early Eocene, a time when Earth was warmer and wetter than it has been since. Imagine, if you can, not the misty evergreens and glacial peaks of today, but a subtropical floodplain, dense with palms, ferns, and broad-leaved trees. 

Picture the bayou country of the Lower Mississippi, but stretching across what is now the Pacific Northwest.

This was a land of life. Ancient trees towered overhead. Vines tangled in the swamp air. The Chuckanut flora tells us of a greenhouse Earth — plants whose modern cousins thrive in Central America and southern Mexico flourished here, under the same sun that today glints off Mount Baker’s glaciers. 

Every fallen branch, every leaf buried in fine silt became part of the rock record, sealing in the whispers of an ancient climate: its humidity, rainfall, and heat.

But the plants are only part of the story. In rare and beautiful moments, the Chuckanut Formation captures motion — the fleeting steps of animals caught forever in stone. These are the Sumas Eocene trackways, discovered after landslides near Sumas in 2009. 

The Ancient Bayou of Washington State 

Among them are footprints from small shorebirds, the imprints of early equids, and tracks of curious, blunt-footed herbivores belonging to the now-extinct Orders Pantodonta and Dinocerata. 

Together, they sketch a portrait of life 50 million years ago: herds and flocks wandering the muddy margins of rivers, where soft sediment briefly held their weight before drying, hardening, and turning to stone.

One of the most striking finds is that of a delicate shorebird trackway, each print barely larger than a thumbprint, pressed into what was once the bank of a lazy river. 

It’s joined by faint impressions from an early horse-like mammal and, in other sites such as Racehorse Creek, the formidable three-toed stamp of Diatryma — a flightless bird taller than a man, and every bit as formidable as its dinosaurian cousins.

These fossil trackways are precious not just for their rarity but for what they reveal: a moment of life, caught mid-step. Unlike bones, which tell us who lived here, tracks tell us how they lived — where they walked, how they moved, even how they interacted. They are the fossilized choreography of an ancient ecosystem, preserved in mud and time.

Mt. Baker, Washington

These traces are studied and safeguarded by researchers such as George Mustoe and his colleagues, who carefully collected the Sumas trackways and brought them to the Burke Museum in Seattle. 

There, under controlled light and the quiet reverence of display cases, visitors can stand face-to-face with the footprints of creatures that trod the Pacific Northwest long before the Cascades rose above the horizon.

The landscape along Chuckanut Drive may look serene now — the sandstone cliffs honeycombed by ferns, the sea glittering beyond. 

But beneath every weathered ledge and outcrop lies a record of turbulence and transformation: continents colliding, mountains rising, rivers changing course, and life adapting in the wake.

This is land that is now forests and tides, but was once swamps and subtropical rain. The fossils remind us that the ground beneath us has always been moving, always changing, and always keeping its secrets — until the rock, split open by time or by curiosity, whispers them back into the light.

WADI AL-HITAN: VALLEY OF THE WHALES

Fossil Whale Skeleton, Wadi Al-Hitan

Egypt’s Eocene limestones captivate geologists and paleontologists from around the world. 

These pale, fossil-rich rocks hold the story of an ancient sea and the remarkable creatures that once swam through it.

Modern fieldwork in the Fayum Depression, Wadi Al-Hitan — the Valley of the Whales — and the outcrops near Giza and Cairo is revealing how the shoreline of the Tethys Ocean shifted over tens of millions of years — and how life adapted as land and sea traded places again and again.

Researchers from the Egyptian Geological Museum, the University of Michigan, and Cairo University are combining cutting-edge tools with time-honored field methods. Satellite imaging and drone photogrammetry provide sweeping, high-resolution views of the fossil beds, while detailed stratigraphic logging, sediment sampling, and fossil excavation bring the story into focus layer by layer.

Fossil Whale from Wadi Al-Hitan

The work reveals a stunning environmental transformation. 

The lower rock units record shallow marine deposits packed with Nummulites, corals, and mollusks — life that thrived in the warm, clear waters of the early Eocene Tethys. 

Above these layers, the sediments change in both color and character, grading upward into deltaic and freshwater deposits filled with the fossils of turtles, crocodiles, and early land mammals. It is a geological diary of Egypt’s slow emergence from sea to land.

Wadi Al-Hitan — The Valley of the Whales

Wadi Al-Hitan — The Valley of the Whales

Nestled deep in Egypt’s Western Desert, about 150 kilometers southwest of Cairo, lies Wadi Al-Hitan, one of the world’s most extraordinary fossil sites. 

Once part of the vast Tethys seaway, this now-arid valley was a shallow coastal lagoon some 40 to 50 million years ago, during the Eocene.

Here, teams of paleontologists meticulously map and preserve the articulated skeletons of ancient whales — including Basilosaurus isis and Dorudon atrox — whose bones often lie exactly where the animals came to rest on the seafloor. 

Over time, they were entombed in fine-grained sandstone and limestone, preserving everything from vertebrae and skulls to delicate ribs and vestigial hind limbs.

The surrounding rocks tell a parallel story. Their alternating layers of sandstone, marl, and limestone record shifts in sea level and climate — tidal flats giving way to open marine conditions, then to lagoons choked with vegetation and early mangroves. 

Geochemists analyze the isotopic composition of these sediments to reconstruct ancient seawater temperatures and salinity, while microfossil specialists examine foraminifera and ostracods under the microscope to determine just how deep and warm the waters once were.

Wadi Al-Hitan — The Valley of the Whales

Wadi Al-Hitan’s fossil bounty extends beyond whales. 

The valley has yielded remains of sharks, sawfish, rays, sea cows (Sirenia), turtles, crocodiles, and even early land mammals, offering a vivid snapshot of an ecosystem in transition — one of the last great marine habitats before North Africa began its slow drift toward desert.

The Valley of the Whales is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, protected both for its breathtaking fossil record and its haunting desert beauty. 

Walking through it feels like time travel: the sandstone cliffs glow golden in the sun, and the bones of whales lie half-exposed in the sand — silent witnesses to a vanished ocean. It is a peaceful place to visit. Bone dry, barren but with a rich history.

Fossil Whale from Wadi Al-Hitan

Every fossil, every layer of sediment adds a new brushstroke to the portrait of Egypt’s Eocene world — a subtropical paradise where whales swam through mangroves, coral reefs teemed with life, and the ancestors of modern elephants grazed along the shore.

Beneath the desert sands, these rocks still whisper the story of 50 million years of evolution, of seas that rose and fell, and of creatures that bridged the worlds of land and water — all written in stone.

Photo Credits: Wadi al-Hitan | Wikimedia Commons