PALM TRUNK MOULD

George Mustoe of the Burke Museum preparing to make a mould of a palm trunk that once gew in the wetlands that bordered an ancient river.

ERBENOCHILE ERBENI

A spectacular specimen of the trilobite Erbenochile erbeni. This impressive fossil arthropod shows unusual schizochroal eyes characteristic of the genus.

Family Odontopleuridae, Odontopleurid trilobite from the Lower Devonian, Emsian, 408 to 393 MYA, Bou Tiskaouine Formation, Hamar l”Aghdad Limestones, Taharajat, Oufaten, Djebel Issoumour

EARLY EXPLORERS ON HORNBY ISLAND

Villains, tyrants and heroes alike are immortalized in the scientific literature as researchers don each new species a unique scientific name — and rename geographic sites with a settlers' mindset. 

If you pick through the literature, it is a whose who of monied European explorers literally making a name for themselves, sometimes at great cost to their rivals. 

This truth plays out on British Columbia's West Coast and gulf islands and on Hornby Island, in particular. 

The beautiful island of Hornby is in the traditional territory of the Pentlatch or K’ómoks First Nation, who call it Ja-dai-aich, which means the outer island — a reference to Hornby being on the outside of Denman Island off the east coast of Vancouver Island. 

The island is a mix of beach and meadow, forest and stream. While I often walk the lower beachfront, this island boasts a lovely and very walkable mixed forest that covers its higher ground. 

If you explore here, off the beaten path, you will see a mix of large conifers — Western Hemlock, Grand Fir and Lodgepole Pine on the island. Of these, the Western Red Cedar, Thuja plicata, is the most prized by First Nations. It is the Tree of Life that provides bountiful raw materials for creating everything from art to homes to totems and canoes. 

If you explore these forests further, you will also see wonderful examples of the smaller Pacific yew, Taxus brevifolia, a wee evergreen that holds a special place in the hearts of First Nations whose carvers use this wood for bows and paddles for canoes.

Many spectacular specimens of arbutus, Arbutus menziesii, grow along the water's edge. These lovely evergreens have a rich orange-red bark that peels away in thin sheets, leaving a greenish, silvery smooth appearance and a satiny sheen. Arbutus, the broadleaf evergreen species is the tree I most strongly associate with Hornby. Hornby has its fair share of broadleaf deciduous trees. Bigleaf maple, red alder, black cottonwood, Pacific flowering dogwood, cascara and several species of willow thrive here.

There are populations of Garry oak, Quercus garryana, with their deeply lobed leaves, on the southern end of the island and at Helliwell Provincial Park on a rocky headland at the northeast end of Hornby. 

Local First Nations fire-managed these stands of Garry oak, burning away shrubs and other woody plants so that the thick-barked oaks and nutritious starch-rich plants like great camas, Camassia leichtlinii, could thrive without any nutrient competitors. 

Only about 260 acres (1.1 km2) of undisturbed stands of older forests have been identified on Hornby. They amount to roughly 3.5% of the island's surface area. There are roughly 1,330 acres (540 ha) of older second-growth stands on the island, roughly 19% of the island.

Most of the trees you see on the island are Douglas fir, Pseudotsuga menziesii, an evergreen conifer species in the pine family. My Uncle Doug recognized this tree species because of how much the bark looks like bacon — a food he loved. The common name is a nod to the Scottish botanist, David Douglas, who collected and first reported on this large evergreen.

Captain George Vancouver's Commission to Lieutenant

Sadly for Douglas, it is Archibald Menzies, a Scottish physician, botanist, naturalist — and David's arch-rival, whose name is commemorated for science. 

He is also credited with the scientific naming of our lovely arbutus trees. 

Menzies was part of the Vancouver Expedition (1791–1795) a four-and-a-half-year voyage of exploration commanded by Captain George Vancouver of the British Royal Navy.

Their voyage was built on the work of James Cook. Cook was arguably the first ship's captain to ensure his crew remained scurvy free by implementing a practice of nutritious meals — those containing ascorbic acid also known as Vitamin C — and meticulous standards for onboard hygiene. 

Though he did much to lower the mortality rate amongst his crew, he made some terrible decisions that led to his early demise. Cook was the poster child for British colonialism and Valentine's gone horribly wrong. He was attacked and summarily killed on February 14, 1779, during his third exploratory voyage in the Pacific. Having foolishly considered the "natives" as specimens and not human beings, he met his end while attempting to kidnap the Island of Hawaii's monarch, Kalaniʻōpuʻu. 

During the four and a half year Vancouver Expedition voyage, the crew and officers bickered amongst themselves, circumnavigated the globe, touching down on five continents. Little did they know, for many of them it would be the last voyage they would ever take. 

The expedition returned to a Britain more interested in its ongoing war than in Pacific explorations. Vancouver was attacked by the politically well-connected Menzies for various slights, then challenged to a duel by Thomas Pitt, the 2nd Baron of Camelford. 

The fellow for whom the fair city of Vancouver is named never did complete his massive cartographical work. With health failing and nerves eroded, he lost the dual and his life. It was Peter Puget, whose name adorns Puget Sound, who completed Vancouver's — and arguably Cook's work on the mapping of our world.

And while it is now called Vancouver the city has many names as it falls within the traditional territory of three Coast Salish peoples — the Squamish (Sḵwxwú7mesh), Tsleil-waututh and Xwméthkwyiem ("Musqueam"—from masqui "an edible grass that grows in the sea"), and on the southern shores of Vancouver along the Fraser River, the Xwméthkwyiem.

If you would like to explore more of the history of eponymous naming from Linnaeus to Darwin, to Bowie himself, take a boo at a new book from Stephen B. Heard, "Charles Darwin's Barnacle and David Bowie's Spider. It is fresh off the press and chock full of historical and pop-culture icons.

References: The City of Vancouver Archives has three George Vancouver documents of note:

• The Commission, dated July 10, 1783, appointing him fourth Lieutenant of the HMS Fame (this is the official document confirming a field commission given to him May 7, 1782)
• A letter to James Sykes (a Navy Agent in London) written from the ship Discovery (not the same Discovery used by Cook) while in Nootka Sound near the end of Vancouver’s exploration of the West Coast, October 2, 1794. Vancouver states that they have determined that the Northwest Passage does not exist, which was one of the main goals of his voyage
• A letter to James Sykes written from Vancouver’s home in Petersham, England, after his voyage, October 26, 1797 

ARNIOCERAS AMMONITE: CANADIAN ROCKIES

CAMPING UNDER THE STARS

TRIASSIC PAPER CLAMS FROM PINE PASS NEAR TUMBLER RIDGE

Triassic Paper clams, Pardonet Formation

In the rugged foothills of Pine Pass, near the small northern British Columbia town of Chetwynd, the rocks tell a story from over 200 million years ago—a story written in shell just a short walk from the main road. 

Here, in outcrops of the Pardonet Formation, the remains of once-living bivalves called paper clams—or “flat clams”—paint a vivid picture of life in the Late Triassic seas.

During the Triassic, roughly 237–201 million years ago, these delicate-shelled bivalves of the genus Moinotis, specifically Moinotis subcircularis, thrived in shallow marine environments. 

Their thin, flattened shells resemble wafer-like sheets, earning them the common name “paper clams.” 

Despite their fragile appearance, they were ecologically tough, colonizing vast seafloor regions after the Permian-Triassic mass extinction—Earth’s most catastrophic biodiversity crisis. In the wake of devastation, paper clams became pioneers in new marine ecosystems, spreading widely across the Triassic world.

At Pine Pass, the Pardonet Formation captures this resilience in stone. The strata—composed mainly of silty shales and fine-grained sandstones—represent an ancient seabed deposited along the western margin of Pangea. These rocks are part of the larger Western Canada Sedimentary Basin and are well known for their rich fossil assemblages, including ammonoids, conodonts, and marine reptiles. Yet, among these Triassic relics, it’s the paper clams that often dominate.

A short scramble up the rocky slope near the highway reveals bedding planes glittering with thousands of tiny, overlapping shells. They lie perfectly preserved, their paper-thin forms cemented into the matrix as though frozen in a whisper of time. Each shell records a pulse of ancient life in a warm, shallow sea teeming with invertebrates.

Our field stop at Pine Pass was a spontaneous detour en route to a paleontological conference in nearby Tumbler Ridge—a region equally famed for its dinosaur tracks and marine fossils. What was meant to be a quick roadside break became a fossil feast. 

Within minutes, we were crouched among the rocks, gently tracing our fingers over Moinotis subcircularis—delicate, symmetrical, and as hauntingly beautiful as the day they settled on the Triassic seafloor.

GASTROPODA

LION: PANTHERA LEO

 

PARASAUROLOPHUS WITH A PEARL EARRING

 

ICHTHYOSAUR EVOLUTION

During the early Triassic period, ichthyosaurs evolved from a group of unidentified land reptiles that returned to the sea.

They were particularly abundant in the later Triassic and early Jurassic periods before being replaced as a premier aquatic predator by another marine reptilian group, the Plesiosauria, in the later Jurassic and Cretaceous periods.

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!

EOCENE PLANT MATERIAL

GULLS ON THE FORESHORE: T'SIK'WI

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ON THE GLOVE

GROUSE GRIND

HIKING THE CHIEF