FUN WITH FOSSILS

Today I thought I'd take a break from slaving in the garden and do something completely different, perhaps something relaxing and less physically demanding than shoveling and pushing a wheelbarrow around. With this in mind, I volunteered to go fossiling with my daughter the paleophile, envisioning a nice leisurely stroll on the beach with maybe a break for lunch at some seaside cafe. Ah, rest and relaxation, just what I need.

Unfortunately I overlooked the fact that, to a dedicated ammonite-hunter, fossiling is SERIOUS BUSINESS. Let me explain this: if you've ever worked on a chain gang, you've already enjoyed the equivalent of what passes for entertainment in the world of fossil collectors. Breaking rocks in the hot sun, to be exact. In fact, the poor slobs with the leg shackles actually have it a lot easier, because they get to crack rocks in the blazing heat WITHOUT also lugging along a giant bag of hammers, chisels, extra clothing, umpteen bottles of water and a variety of unhealthy snack items. Plus a ten-pound purse full of change (since the stupid slot machines stopped taking quarters, I'm just not motivated to clean it out anymore).

Yeah those prisoners had it pretty good, the old warden probably let them rest once in a while, but an enthusiastic fossiler will unmercifully flog you onward in search of the elusive Bostrychoceras or Eupachydiscus. "Oh, look - just over there" (looks to be about 2 kms away) "just past that enormous impenetrable wall of razor-sharp barnacle-encrusted boulders, my friend found the most AWESOME Nostoceras!" Oh, goody - I'm sure we too will find a dozen or so when we get there. Trudge trudge. Pant pant. Onward.

I learned a lot on this trip. Mainly that the reason fossils are still around after millions of years is that they're good at hiding. Oh yes, they're cagey little buggers all right. Hiding under seaweed, disguising themselves as oysters. Embedding themselves in rock formations and jumping out of the way when you try to remove them, causing you to hammer your thumb and invent a bunch of new swear words. No wonder no one's ever captured a live specimen.

Aside from discovering that it's entirely possible to whack yourself in the shin while aiming in the totally opposite direction, I learned that my tolerance for crawling around on hot rocks like a lizard is a lot higher than I thought. We spent five hours out there, which is about four and a half hours past my usual limit for sun exposure (I will know who to blame for those future wrinkles coming my way), but I actually had fun. I got to spend the day with my daughter, which doesn't happen nearly often enough, and I learned a whole pile of impressive new paleo words.

Our efforts did not go unrewarded, either - we didn't find a Nostoceras (not for lack of dragging Grandma through the tide pools), but we did come home with an assortment of fossils, most of which I got to keep. Luckily for me, a specimen has to be pretty unique to be worth adding to Paleogirl's collection, so I get them by default (although I'm pretty sure she would have beat me insensible with a rock hammer if I'd tried to make off with a Nostoceras).

So at the end of the day, here I am: dehydrated, sunburned, barnacle-scraped and exhausted, but by God, I've got a pretty fine Baculites sitting on my desk in front of me. Now how cool is that?