SVP 2006

I've survived yet another meeting of the society of vertebrate paleontology; replete with "team Canada dinner," auction, after hours parties and actual scientific lectures. I'll provide more details in an upcoming post, but suffice it for now to say that it was one of the funnest meetings that I've been to and that I am too tired to really go into things now, as the only sleep I've gotten in a while were a few stolen winks on the flight back.

Just My Luck

I am a man of extreme luck; it is always extremely good or extremely bad, but always extreme. Today, Friday the thirteenth, cleche day of bad luck, turned out to be quite misfortunate for me. By way of exposition, it is important to know that I was planning on going on a company camping trip to Sequoia national forest today after work. I have been looking forward to this for over a month. From here it follows that it would be somewhat annoying to find that the socks which I had placed in the dryer the previous night were still damp this morning. Furthermore, because I had so much to get into the car in preperation for the trip, I forgot my watch on the coffee table; bothersome but not infuriating. Once I got to work, it just sucked. It was by far one of the most frustratingly boring seven hours of my life. After said time, I had one keep-worthy fossil compared to usually ten or so in an equivalent span. I've had other jobs (ie Disneyland) where I had to stand around doing nothing for long stretches, and long stretches of fossil hunting in the past that bore no fruit, but in both those cases I could still at least make an effort. If I had tried today to get to the spot where I knew there to be fossils, then in all likelyhood, I would have been reduced to a thin red smear in the dirt. Consiquentially, I just had to stand there, watching giant yellow caterpillars chew through some exceptionally rich fossil beds.
On Fridays, I always leave the site early so that I can drop off my week's worth of fossils at the office in Pasadena before 5pm. So, there I am, on the 210 freeway, just entering the city of Pasadena, when I hear a loud pop and sputter from my engine compartment. After maneuvering through 5 lanes of traffic and limping off the highway, I parked in a residential area and discovered that at least one head gasket has completely blown, the engine coolant has been shot out and so has one of the spark plugs. My car is now good for parts, that is all. AAA wanted $9 per mile to tow my van back to Fullerton, but given that that was close to 40 miles away I opted not to get the tow that evening. So here I am, on the raggedy edge as they say. At least I didn't break down near the camp site (where I am confident that cell phones would be usefull only as an object to throw at someone). My dad also offered to let me take his car up to the forest, but I declined. I need to get the van back to Fullerton this weekend and I need to make up my mind whether I spend the money to get it fixed or get it replaced.

Update

Not much to say here; I just thought that I'd update the blog just for its own sake.
anyway, here are a couple of pictures of the two gems that I've found at work. They are (in case you can't tell) a bird and a crab. The bird is especially rare and only a handfull of articulated specimens have been found from this age. The crab deserves note just because its the only arthropod that I've found in the six months at this site.



















By the way, I'm going to the SVP conference in Ottowa this year but don't have a place to stay since the host hotel was all booked up. If anyone reading this, out there in the blogosphere is going to SVP and has space in their hotel room, please let me know.

Norton Simon

The Norton Simon Museum of Art houses one of the largest collections of fine art (as opposed to modern art) outside of Europe, and yet, I haden't heard of it until last week when I visited the museum with my Grandparents. Interestingly, the museum is only a few miles, if that, from the office in Pasadena where I drop of my paperwork and fossils every week. When I asked other people about it and they, even the art student that I asked, hadn't heard of it. But there it is, holding some of the most valuable paintings and sculptures in the world. If you are ever in the LA area and have a sence of class, go see the collections of the Norton Simon Museum. It is well worth the trip. Not only that, but unlike the Luvre or the Metrapolitin museum of art, the Norton Simon museum wont be crowded.

Work

Life is pretty decent for me here in So. Cal. First of all, I get paid to do what I love. Second of all, heavy equipment does the majority of the actual work for me. The down side however is that for every one fossil that I find, another 99 are likely destroyed by the machines without my ever knowing of their existance. Another disadvantage is that just about everything that I find has been run over by a bulldozer once prior to discovery. Other items, still in situ (their original place in the rock) are impossible to remove from their resting places intact and consiquentially need to be glued back together.
These days, all I work with is fish from the Yorba member of the Puente formation. I practically eat, sleep and breath the light tan shale.


For scale ; The orange dot in the lower left hand corner is a person, the white line is a drain pipe.

Title Change

I'm changing the title of the blog since I'm no longer a Califorian far from home. I've been back in California long enough and I intend to stay here long enough to warant a title change. That said, I think "The Hermit Crab" is a good title. It's just a working one for now, until I come up with something more fitting. After all, I'm not nearly as much of a hermit as I could be or as I was when I was living in a van down by the arroyo. That, and I'm not as craby as I Could be. I'd appreciate sugestions. It will let me know at least that I still have the occassional reader.

Sting ray deprives reptiles of just deserts

Steve Irwin, the crocodile hunter, is dead. He was not eaten by a crocodile, bitten by a snake or mauled by a goana. Instead, he was stung by a sting ray off the Australian coast. This is not the way that he should have gone. It just goes to show that there are old nature guys and bold nature guys but no old, bold nature guys.

Why are there so many mf snakes on this mf plane?

I'm bored, so I've decided to acquiesce to Sparks' request for people to make a list of great movie quotes. I however have decided that a good twist would be to imagine Samuel L. Jackson saying each line with his own unique inflection. This just goes to show that Mr. Jackson really could be in any movie, ever.
1. "We're gonna explode? I don't wanna explode!" - Serenity
2. "We represent the lollipop guilde." - Wizard of Oz
3. " I am your father." - Star Wars
4. "I am Sparticus!" - Sparticus
5. "Pinky, are you pondering what I'm pondering?" - Pinky and the Brain
6. "I think so Brain, but where are we going to find a duck and a hose at this hour?" -Pinky and the Brain
7. "You shall not pass!" - The Lord of the Rings
8. "And the snozberries taste like snozberries" - Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory
9. "I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti." - Silence of the Lambs
10. "It belongs in a Museum!" - Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade

Jeepers!

Some days, life gives you little treats. The figure at the left appeared in the most recent issue of the Journal of Vertebrate Paleontology in an article on binocular vision in theropods.
I'm not going to say that this picture didn't belong in a scientific paper. Quite the contrary, I believe that more scientists should have a little sense of humor about their work. I'm sure that these guys and, no doubt, the journal's editors have a sense of humor because they would otherwise not have pictured the skull with it's jaws open; they would have just cropped it at the snout as in figure A.

example of the law

Mel Gibson's arresting officer, the one who wrote the report that included Gibson's alleged anti-semetic ranting, is himself jewish. Normal irony or maximum irony?

NO means Maybe

At work, I find a fair number of crummy fossils that I don't even bother to collect, or collect and later decide that it wasn't worth it and consiquentially discard. Withouth knowing this though, a few of the machine opperators have been asking for fossils for their kids or girlfriends and others. So far, I've made it clear that I can't give them anything that is scientifically significant (i.e. worth keeping) but that I can give them other pieces, which I have. One fellow though seems oddly persistant. He asks for stuff everyday, even badgers me for fossils, goads me into giving them to him; and if success is an indicator of skill, then he's good at it too. Frankly, his tactics are cheesey. "Oh man, ya know, I like getting these things from the person who finds them because I learn so much more, and I've seen you work harder and find more than all the other palea . . . paleontologixsts at any site, and you find the most . . ." It's not that stroking my ego is effective, it's just that I give him stuff to shut him up and make him go away. What iritates me most however is that he's taking my kindness for granted. Even recently, now that they're moving earth in an area that doesn't have as many fossils, the guy still asks for pieces of what I'm finding (currently re-sedimented petrified wood) and I have to politely tell him no, but I might end up giving him a small piece just to get rid of him for the time being.

a bad influence

Lately, a tremendous amount of my megalomaniacal tendencies have been boiling to the surface. Really, I haven't talked as much about laying waste to vast stretches of citiscape since I lived with Hydrass and Bento. I just guess that when I'm on my own I sort of mellow out, but in the company of others I develope the strong urge to domineer over them. And I don't mean domineer in the way that Bush controls republicans, I mean it more as in the way that Chaney does it; with a shotgun intermediary and an overdose of fear and oppression. Beware world, giant robots are on their way. All I need is a few million dollars for parts, research and developement.

Prepare for the Worst

Yesterday (friday) was an awesome day. One so good that something freakishly horrible, if not widely fatal must surely happen to ballance things out. What made it so great was what I found at work. Everyday, the construction workers ask me if I've found any dinosaurs yet. The fact that the rocks that I'm digging in are much too young for dinosaurs means that I usually have to answer in the negative. Yesterday I was finally able to answer "yes." In fact, I found a fossil bird (descendant of the dinosaurs). For those of you who don't know, this sort of thing is rare, extremely rare, rare enough that many paleontologists working in rocks of the right age go their whole careers without finding one. The specimen isn't anywhere near perfect. In fact, it's only about half complete. The specimen includes one leg, the hip, most of the spinal column, most of the ribs, but is missing the skull, wings and pectoral girdle. In life, it would have been about the size of a sparrow or smallish jay.
I only wish that I could provide a picture as proof of my discovery, but sadly, the company issue camera has stopped working this week, thereby inhibiting me from photo documenting any specimens.
The bird is now in the Pasadena office of SWCA where it will wait until donated to a museum. If you're wondering why it's there and not now in my personal collection, believe me when I say that I was tempted to keep it and tell nobody. However, if I did, I would never again be able to aquire a fossil and justify the expense or unethical chanel through which it came by saying that the fossil stood a better chance of being studied with me than some other collector.

Dang!

I'm glat that this happens to other people too.
A great little comic strip

Ghoti = Fish

As perhaps I've mentioned previously, at the site that I'm working, I find a fairly large number of fossil fish. I find fish every day; I'm dissappointed if I don't find one before lunch. Perhaps as a consiquence of this, my brother asked me last week if I'd like to go fishing with him on a 3/4 day boat out of San Pedro. Yesterday I woke up at 4:00 am and we drove other to my parents' place to pick up my Dad and after breakfast we got to the pier at about 5:15. It was at this point that my brother informs us that tickets for the boat don't go on sale unil 6. That was fine since we had no idea how crowded it might be and wanted to get a place. At 7:00 the boat left the dock, and we started fishing for baracuda at about 9:00. People were pulling in fish all around us, but neither my brother, my Dad or I ever got more than a bit from a fish that subsiquently let go of the bait.
Later, we went to an area and started fishing for sculpin. It almost seemed that my dad and I were having some sort of sick competition to see who could bring up the smallest fish, since every other fish that we brought up was smaller and smaller than previous ones. And so, things went on fairly well until about 11 when, despite calmer seas than anyone would have right to ask for, I succumbed to sea sickness and lost my breakfast. I even had to hand my pole (with a fish on the line) to my dad so that I could spend a few minutes in dry heaves. It was only then that I remembered being sick the last time that the three of us went fishing.
Ultimately, I lost all heart for fishing and just focussed on not inverting my esophagus amid dry heaves. Yes, this is real quality time. At the end of the day, we brought home 15 sculpin and 1 baracuda. Once filleted, it amounted to a somewhat pathetic quantity of meat, of which I got half; my brother abdicated his share since he never actually cought any fish of legal size. We could have gotten more fish if we bought salmon for $18 per pound at Ralph's. But then, I wouldn't have anything to write about and I wouldn't be able to say that I've now been hit in the head with two fish in one day.

When Harriet Met Charlie

I'm sad to comment that Harriet, the Galapogos tortoise brought back by Charles Darwin 173 years ago, has died of acute heart failure. It has been popularly suggested for a long time that these animals could live for over 200 years, but no specimen has been kept long enough to actually be sure. One thing that interests me is that some people are reporting that Darwin brought back the tortoise as a baby, while others contend that she was already mature when collected. If the later is true, then it is certainly possible that she was over 200 when she died. The question seems to be now "what do we do with the 330 lb corpse?" Some might argue that burial would be the most respectful thing to do, but I think that a large amount of information can be extracted from this incredibly ancient animal. For instance, tissue samples should be taken for genetic analysis, which would be useful for studies of genetic drift among galapogos tortoises, or useful for studies of aging. Furthermore, each of the organs would tell talented researchers a bit about aging and reptile health. The massive skeleton should be deposited in a museum; either in Brisbane or London.

Never trust the people at Home Depot

I was at a plant sale last weekend, and noticed there was a single large, columnar cactus cutting for sale. Intrigued, I inquired as to its origin. The salesperson told me they were from South America, and could be propagated by simply planting the cutting in some sandy soil. It sounded like a fun project, an a good one for a hermit who likes to take off for weeks on end (when they are not slave to a work-a-day lifestyle), so I picked up one and was on my way.
When I got home, I began scouring guidebooks and the internet for more information on cactus care and growth. I found one webpage on the succulents that were spiritually important to South American indigenous cultures, with a picture that looked a lot like what I had just brought home. Excited to begin propagating this thing, I took a picture of it, planning to take more pictures as it grew and budded off into different sections. It was a rather innocuous cactus, and I wondered why it was so important to the cultures of the lands from whence it came.
Finally, I found another webpage that matched the description of this cactus. The picture was identical to my newly purchased cutting. The cactus, either Lophophora williamsii or Anhalonium lewinii, was said to contain large quantities of mescaline.

the rest of the story in fullpost

Wanting confirmation of this identification, I decided to take the cutting over to my botanist friend’s house. I thought it strange that a mescaline-filled cactus would end up at a plant sale at the storefront of a chain hardware store. I wrapped it up in tissue paper that evening, and set out. As I walked, I rounded a corner and noticed several police officers standing on the corner by the donut shop I was approaching. Nervous, as I suspected my new purchase contained enough illegal drugs to put me away for a long, long time, I quickened my pace. They were eying me quizzically.
There was nowhere to turn. My instincts told me to get off the street as quickly as possible; however, that would have likely aroused their suspicions, as they had seen me see them eying the package under my arm. Having had a previous encounter with the LA County Police Department, I was not eager to incite their wrath. As I approached, one officer spoke to me.
“OK, we just gotta know, what is that package you’re carrying under your arm?”
Mescaline, I replied in my head, and looked at him blankly, trying to appear as though I wasn’t sure I was being addressed. He stepped in front of me, making it obvious that I was the target of his inquiry.
“You, see, my buddies here have a bet going. One thinks it’s a bottle of wine, and the other thinks it’s a sub sandwich.”
I decided to go for it.
“It’s a gardening cactus!” I replied, and unwrapped the oblong cutting and handed it to him.
“Hey guys, come check this out! You were both wrong! It’s a cactus!” I watched in horror as the three officers passed around the cutting, laughing at their mistake, and I mumbled something about my aunt giving me a cutting. After an eternity, satisfied, they handed it back to me.
I fumbled it. The cutting smashed open on the sidewalk. The officers apologized, and said they hoped my aunt’s plant was big enough to handle having another cutting taken. I walked off in the direction of my botanist friend’s house until I was out of sight, then looped around and went back home, as I had nothing to show him.
Then I remembered the photo I had taken, taken back when I dreamed of an illustrated cactus-growing project how-to, since my “How to Deflesh a Magpie” photographic tutorial received such rave reviews. I emailed it to my botany pal. The next day I got a reply.
Indeed, it was a cactus full of mescaline, and probably could have sold it to some dirty patchouli-scented hippie for a ridiculous amount of money. Oh well.
Incidentally- phenethalamine, the "love drug" in chocolate and Root Beer is only about three methyl groups away from being mescaline.

Readers? What readers?

Sorry for not posting anything lately, but life hasn't really presented me with anything that has enough energy to motivate me to write. In response to this work a day lifestyle I ask for you, my friends and readers, to do one of two things. Please either suggest something for me to write about or write a post as though you were me and submit it for me to post. Submissions may be made to wgelnaw@gmail.com. I'll call it guest post week or something, but as long as people submit stuff, I'll likely post it, no matter how asinine. The funnier or more exciting the better. For those of you who actually know me, this is a good chance for you to practice roasting a colleague.

Everyone's Blind But Me!

Does being able to see things that others don't mean that you're crazy or that you just have good eyes. If it's a dark grey fish on medium grey shale - good eyes, if it's UFO's - crazy. Things are kind of weird at work. I'm the only one there who doesn't actually contribute to effictive developement of the land, I'm the lone conserver. As such, nobody ever asks me anything besides "did you find any dinosaurs today." I've given up telling them that they're digging in the completely wrong rocks to find dinosaurs and that only a small handful of dinosaur bones have even ever been found in California. Mostly the foreman and the grade checker just sort of stare at me as they go by and as I walk around in a seemingly aimless pattern with my head down like I'm some sort of doped up mental patient who's wondering why the doctors ordered his shoe laces be taken away. That kind of person doesn't belong in a construction zone, but I do though. So the looks are kind of weird and the fact that conversation has degraded to one guy telling me about telling me about running marathons and another guy telling me how stupid Stalin was for ordering his air force to shoot down any UFO that they encountered because alian ships would be impervious to human weapons.
Other than that, I'm getting pretty good at dodging the machinary (not that I was failing to do so before). One might be surprized to discover that a bulldozer can actually sneak up on you, at least when you've got the roar of the two engines of each of 6 scrapers in your ears. Fear's a hell of a motivator though. When I realized that I was about 15 feet and three seconds away from being a greasy smear int the dirt I managed to climb up the trench wall pretty fast. I dare say that a coked up spider monkey couldn't have done it any faster.

Taxation Without Justification

I received my Canada Revenue Agency tax refund today. It's nice to receive a check, it just blows that it is about one tenth of what it should be. I was supposed to get back all of withheld pay, which amounted to over two thousand dolars. Instead, I got a check for $216. The real problem is that I work during any hours that I might be able to call up the CRA to correct this mess or at least find out why I'm getting the shaft.
In other news, work is going well except that the direct deposit of my pay seems to take a while. I did however get the check re-embursing me for the gasoline used in driving to and from the job site. I'm also slowly increasing the number of snakes in my comparitive collection. It has now gone from 0 to 3; two western pacific rattle snakes and one california king snake. I would have a couple snakes from South Dakota in the collection if it weren't for a little incident involving the snakes and several birds and mammals and the fact that I left them in a freezer that didn't have any electricity going to it for a week. Oh well, c'est la vie I suppose.