The gift-giving frenzy is pretty much over, and I am reminded of all those who might receive fossils as presents. For my part, no fossils this year (I buy, find, or trade my own), and all my fossil-related gifts were indexed on collecting attire. Chances are, if one is trying to build a serious collection, there will be some taxa that are just so remote, or collected from sites that no longer exist, it may necessitate having to purchase them. In this one part quickie-guide, one part PSA, I'll point out the issues with buying and selling for those not as familiar with the practice. It is much more than avoiding fakes. This is broken into six main sections. Walls of text are sparsely broken up by the occasional image. I have bought and sold fossils, and there is nothing wrong with that. I collect legally, and abide by good ethical practices while selling. Many of my collecting comrades who also sell fossils on the side (or as a primary source of income) have rock solid ethical practices as well. Some may argue that purchasing versus self-collecting is somehow impure, that it supports unethical practices among diggers and (re)sellers, and that the specimen stripped of its confirmed trail from site to display makes it of little scientific value (and just a decorative curiousity). We can field those objections as we go along. I have built a lovely and representative collection of trilobites through self-collection, trades, and purchases. And, I can happily say I have developed warm and mutually beneficial friendships in each of these areas. 1. The Ethics of Buying (and Selling) Why buy fossils? Why sell them? It is important to understand the motivation behind acquiring and collecting fossils in the first place. What is your reason? Is it for study? Is it as an homage or appreciation of the paleontological bounty of the earth in its deep time history, to marvel at the process of evolution of early life? For some, fossils are akin to other forms of collecting, like collecting stamps, coins, hockey cards, comic books, ceramic figurines, souvenir spoons, etc., with the main difference here that fossils are not made by humans and not created according to some standardized manufacturing process. A closer fit may be those who collect natural artifacts like minerals or sea shells. There is nothing intrinsically wrong or unethical about collecting as a practice, and the psychoanalysts might be quick to point out that it is really a form of projection whereby the individual is trying to recollect the pieces of their fragmented self in order to achieve completeness. But that aside… Not everyone is lucky to live in wildly fossiliferous parts of the world. For instance, living in the Canadian Shield leaves mostly igneous and metamorphic rock lying around; someone in Iceland is not going to find any Paleozoic, or even Mesozoic, riches; Hawaii is miserable for finding trilobites. Even in some areas where fossils are said to be, one might have no access on account of urban development, a thick post-glacial blanket, no legal quarry access, or areas designated by government bodies as being under their protection (and thus no collecting allowed). Even if one has access to fossils in one’s area, the selection may be limited; one could focus on just one formation for years or decades, but one can also expect the fauna to get a bit repetitive. If one is trying to build a global collection of, say, crinoids, then it is necessary to source crinoids from different geologic periods and geographic locations. That is not always easy, and it is certainly not cheap. Buying for study purposes does happen, but this can be a bit trickier. It very much depends. Buying the usual commercial grade material, like Mosasaur teeth, polished Madagascaran ammonites, Knightia fish, those big Ordovician Moroccan Flexicalymene, the typical Elrathia kingii from Utah, etc., [fig 1] is standard common stock sold at just about every rock shop and show. It sells because it is common and cheap to acquire, and with a low enough price point it allows for more brisk sales among would-be buyers who are either not as familiar with fossils (but think them cool) or are of more modest means (or simply reluctant to put down the real dollars for a high quality specimen). From a collecting perspective, these are entry-level conversation starters, but don’t expect serious collectors’ pulses to suddenly go racing when shown these. The one thing all these specimens have in common is that they have little to no scientific value. Those selling them did not likely dig these specimens themselves, but purchased them in bulk from reseller companies who purchase from the diggers at shockingly low prices. Not only are they ridiculously abundant and have long ago been studied to death, but what is lost as the specimen trades several hands is provenance information, which is about 90% of any scientific value of a fossil. More on that later in this post. Fig 1:Typical rock store stock. Images from around the web. When it comes to my own buying practices, I always buy my own as opposed to trusting in gifts. Others might mean well, but I prefer the control I have over making the decision to deliberate on the authenticity of the specimen, quality, and its “fit” for my collection. I also prefer to have a closer relationship with the seller where trust is developed, and almost always if they are diggers themselves. As to why people sell fossils… Well, why does anyone sell anything? To make money, of course. If there is demand for something, chances are someone is going to capitalize on that and supply the market. But in a more fine grained understanding of motivation behind sales, we can probably split sellers into two main types: those who do it as a living, and those who do it on the side. The former are those who may run a rock shop, and/or who operate tables on the rock show circuit, and/or those who sell premium pieces to private, deep-pocketed clients. Of the latter type (where I would class myself), those who sell surplus items to defray the collecting expenses (tools, prep equipment, gas, time, etc.). What one should understand is that those who sell for a living may also have the same expenses as the casual “on the side” seller-collector if they also dig and prepare their own. These would be capital expenses to keep operating, whereas a profit margin must also serve the needs of household costs and basic living expenses. So the question of “why are fossils so expensive?” can easily be answered when considering those who do it for a living depend on this for their full income. They must always be calculating risk versus reward, and will factor in expenses and time as part of any collecting venture (is it really worth thousands of dollars to go to site x and collect specimens that sell for dirt cheap?). Following from this, there are sellers who are less than scrupulous. Leaving discussion of fakery, forgery, and dishonesty to a separate section below, there are some sellers who act like mercenaries in shadowing other collectors to learn of new sites to pillage, or getting competitors locked out of certain sites. There is a very good reason why serious collectors and sellers should not post site information anywhere online, and to share any honey holes only among those one intimately trusts. Fossil selling can be a merciless, cutthroat business, and I can say that having one’s site cleaned out or access removed is nowhere near as ruthless as it can be. I have heard and seen much worse. The ethics of buying and selling may bump against the “purity” question. This is a hot topic among those who are part of the SVP with respect to the high stakes drama concerning dinosaurs. And, the more lucrative the market, the more drama one can expect. But setting the extremes like this to one side, there are some ethics to consider, the first being whether or not collecting or sale of fossils from an area is legal. There are many countries around the world that have restrictions on the collection and sale of what they deem scientific or national heritage material, the flouting of those laws resulting in massive fines or even imprisonment. For instance, China prohibits the sale and traffic of vertebrate fossils (and sellers can get by this by either selling from Hong Kong, or in making forgeries). Here in Canada, most provinces have restrictions, and some areas are absolutely illegal to collect from. For example, the Burgess shale in BC [fig. 2] is under the protection of Parks Canada, and even taking a small piece from the site can result in a $30,000 fine. In Alberta, all fossils are the property of the province, and one needs to apply for a disposition to be able to remove them from the province — and these dispositions are not easy to obtain for anything more than common invertebrate fossils. Even those who collect in Alberta know that, should they move to another province, the fossils have to stay! In Nova Scotia, the famous fossil sites like Joggins absolutely prohibit collecting, and that visitors report interesting finds to the staff there so that it can be investigated. In essence, fossil collecting the world over has more restrictions than freedoms, and thus adds to logistical challenges, supply issues, competition, and price. The other ethical question stemming from this would be that the commercial side of fossils deprives us of scientific discovery. This is a specious argument when taken to the extremes of an exclusive disjunction. First of all, not all fossils are scientifically significant. For instance, the likelihood of a Penn Dixie Eldredgeops rana being somehow new to science is near probability zero unless there is very good reason (and ample material) to suggest a species variation that can be erected. Second of all, casual and commercial collectors have contributed to science in the past and continue to do so. This is why nurturing the “pro-am” (professional-amateur) relationship is so vital. Most palaeontologists do not have the time or funding to be in the field all the time, and certainly not everywhere. They have other duties like work in the lab, graduate student supervision, courses to teach, university service, curation duties, etc. The casual and commercial collectors are the eyes and hands in the field, and when that relationship is fostered, it can result in mutually beneficial collaboration. “But they are amateurs! They don’t know the first thing about proper extraction methods or keeping accurate records!” One cannot underestimate the knowledge and skills of several dedicated collectors in being able to do just that. For high end sellers, it is actually essential to record and relay accurate provenance information as part of the justification of the price. Careful extraction is also essential as damage to the specimen from poor practices reduces price drastically. If there are misgivings about the practices of non-professionals, one idea is to provide some kind of training certification program on the basics. Some sites protect the interests of both parties in the pro-am relationship by allowing collectors to dig and keep specimens, but to remand those that are deemed to be of scientific significance. But in most cases, there is some benefit to the collector if the species turns out to be new to science, and the collector might enjoy the honour of having it named after her or him. Suffice it to say, if it were not for the non-pro collectors, paleontological knowledge would be seriously impoverished. There is an entirely other and very large issue about donations to institutional repositories that I won’t take up here. Fig 2.: You can't touch this unless you want to bring down upon yourself the hammer-time of the law. Pictured here is a fossil from the Burgess shale (Smithsonian) 2. Provenance Information Whether one is buying or selling, consider that the extrinsic value of the specimen is 90% provenance. Where as it collected? In what formation and member? Without that information intact, it is really just a neat paperweight. Many have been the museums that have dumped tons of fossils in the trash because there was no provenance information attached, and that means they cannot be valid for study. One gets what they pay for when it comes to common stock at a rock shop. Yes, the Mosasaur tooth is from Morocco. Yes, the polished ammonite is from Madagascar. As to who dug it, in what couche or layer, it is not likely to be anything more than a guess. If one is buying (or selling) higher end specimens, provenance is an absolute must. It is for this reason I prefer to buy from other diggers because they are familiar with the material and are more likely to be meticulous in keeping good records (which facilitates their ability to find more good specimens) [fig. 3]. In some ways, it is like buying a used car or a house, and wanting to know the history (how many accidents has the car been in? Was there ever a murder at this house?). More importantly, the true value is the provenance. As an illustration, the trilobite Eldredgeops rana is considered a common phacopid, with a wide faunal range (Ontario, New York, Ohio, Michigan). And yet I could sell a nice prone one from Penn Dixie for maybe $50-100 bucks (if it is puffy and of good size), but the exact same species from the Dundee Formation of Ontario that is complete should probably retail for $300-500. Why? Location, location, location (as the real estate mantra goes). Finding a complete example in the tough, parsimonious dolostones and limestones of the Dundee is incredibly uncommon compared to finding one at Penn Dixie (or finding hundreds over a few days!). The preservation may also be different, showing other interesting morphological details. Who is going to plunk down hundreds of dollars on an otherwise common phacopid that can be got for under $100? The specialist collector who understand the value of the provenance. A general rule is this: the more one is willing to spend on a fossil, the more insistence there should be on accurate provenance information. And this becomes even more important from a legal sense when considering specimens that are currently illegal to collect or sell, but where there is an allowance for those if they come from old collections (collected prior to legal restrictions). Fig. 3 Not only do I know exactly where this was found geographically and stratigraphically, but I know who collected and prepared it. 3. Glittering Generalities and Sell-Words In a competitive market, it is common that marketing techniques are used to oversell the value of an object. Why should I buy your Elrathia as opposed to anyone else’s Elrathia, particularly if yours is of poorer quality and yet costs more? Cue the sexy selling terms used to lure and persuade would-be buyers. A visit to sites like eBay show this in action. And, in a variety of cases, the claims can be true. For example, some fossils are exceptionally rare, the preparation is of a high quality, and so forth — just as advertised. Many other times, the claims are false. A good test is to strip any of the seller verbiage of the glittering generalities, the superlative adjectives, and consider the specimen objectively. Here are some terms to be suspicious of:
4. Pricing and the Fossil Market — Questions on Value One of the most common questions among those who are motivated to collect fossils for purely speculative purposes is, “how much is it worth?” Unlike human made collectibles, there isn’t really a kind of price guide as one would find for, say, comic books, baseball cards, and coins. And it also depends on what we mean by value. For example, I have collected fragments of trilobites that are likely new to science, and thus have a high scientific value, but not likely aesthetically pleasing enough to fetch a high dollar value. At other times, the value is in the prep, the provenance, relative scarcity of supply, etc. There are a number of criteria one can consider in how to sufficiently “price” objects that are not identical (as in the case of standardized production of objects like coins).
So how are prices calculated? Generally informally by seeing what others list similar or same specimens for. Prices may also fluctuate on the basis of access and availability. For instance, some sites have been exhausted or now completely forbid access, thus driving up the price of those pieces collected in the heyday. Other sites are unique and control the supply that is released to create the conditions of scarcity and value, such as some Silurian trilobite sites in New York state. Other sites are ridiculously remote and costly to get to. Sometimes the price is reflective of the relative scarcity or abundance of pristine and intact specimens. Determining what a fair price should be, and what the market can bear, takes a lot of research. In recent years, more Chinese trilobites have entered the market, but it is more challenging to pin a fair price until they have been market tested a bit more. Leaving aside the novelty factor, it may be speculative, and one can encounter Chinese trilobites of the same species ranging anywhere between a dollar and a few hundred dollars. In the 1990s it was Russian and Moroccan trilobites that went through market testing, and over time maybe new areas will open up. There is an art to setting prices so as to make some profit from doing it. Some sellers seek to undermine their competition in under-pricing specimens, but that ultimately becomes self-defeating given the relatively small size of the market. What this does is sets up a baseline expectation. If, for example, I flood the market with a whole bunch of Ceraurus that I sell for 10 bucks each, that will be the expected price for that species on offer by any seller. Not only have I ruined my own ability to sell at a decent profit, but I’ve impaired the ability of others to do the same. Most of us as collectors, buyers, and sellers have that informal consensus notion of what specific fossils are worth. There are also enough of us to keep prices relatively stable due to the effects of market equilibrium. This is achieved fairly well on even sites like eBay where a trilobite that is underpriced will likely be seen as a steal by other buyers who know the usual price, and the bidding will get it closer to that actual price (in most cases). A trilobite that is overpriced will generally languish unsold on sites like eBay, possibly becoming re-listed ballast until the seller comes to the realization a price reduction is needed to move it. The reseller trap applies here, though: some resellers buy up fossils on speculation for far too high a price, and this prompts them to resell at a slight profit. If they bought it at too high a price, their chance of flipping it for higher is very low. A note on inflated pricing Some starry-eyed, entry-level or wishful thinking type sellers try to list their fossils at nosebleed prices, which is fine if the specimen is truly rare, of high quality, and beyond reproach. But, if the going market rate is about $20 for a specimen of similar quality and one is listing at $2,000, then that’s a problem. An entry-level seller should do some research first on what the market will bear, and set aside any unrealistic expectations. Apart from these occasionally languishing (for years!) on sites like eBay on a constant re-listing basis cluttering up the stuff on offer, the worse scenario is if an uninformed person actually buys it at that price. That is, in essence, price gouging and terribly dishonest if the seller knows that item is marked up ridiculously high just in order to exploit the rubes for their “dumb money.” This creates ill-will (if the buyer eventually discovers they’ve been had), and risks casting all sellers in the same light. Fig 4: Time matters in preparation. This Koneprusia featured on trilobiti.com is a true prep masterpiece. There is no restoration or paint. Every crisp detail is preserved without over-blasting, right down to the delicate pustules. Fig 5: Compare the Gerastos here. The one on the left was a quick, crude prep. The one on the right was meticulously done. This is the difference between a 10 dollar bug and one in that merits a three figure price. 5. Fakery, Restoration, and Disclosure In an ideal world, every fossil would be preserved perfectly with all its parts intact. There would be no postmortem scavenging, nor disarticulation from the forces of nature. In this ideal world, the hammer would always strike true on every split to reveal a flawless specimen that doesn’t even need prep. As we know, reality is messy and full of disappointment. In most cases, fossils are fragmentary, broken, partially obscured by matrix, and full of problems. Have a walk on any spoil / talus pile to find the rejects of a thousand splits. There is no doubt that the lucrative appeal of fossils can tempt some to engage in practices to appease demand through extensive restoration, compositing, or outright fabrication. It is however important to note the differences. Simply put, restoration adds real or handmade parts, compositing restores significant missing parts with other genuine parts, and fabrication uses no genuine parts at all. The process of restoration is a common and acceptable practice. It may be employed to replace a missing spine or pleural segment on a trilobite, or be much more extensive. The caveat here would be that any restoration is clearly indicated to the buyer. When tastefully and unobtrusively done, it can lend aesthetic appeal to the specimen. When done poorly, it is a distracting aberration. Contrary to popular belief, performing a restoration does not always boost the profit for the preparator who is selling the specimen. Restoration is a fine art and skill that also takes time to perform, and in an ideal world it would be preferable to prepare a fully intact specimen without having to do any restoration at all. It actually takes more labour, although the expectation is that the price should be less because there is less of the authentic fossil present. The process of compositing is more of a grey area. When used as part of the restoration process, the same caveat about honest disclosure remains true. Compositing entails taking components of the same species, of the same (or very, very similar) size and transplanting them to replace the missing part. This is a preferable route if the missing piece is far too complex in detail to perform a suitable and convincing restoration using epoxies, fillers, and carving. In most cases, compositing may be used to create an entirely new (artificial) specimen. That is, a cephalon taken from one specimen is added to the thorax of another, and then maybe the pygidium of a third specimen is added. These “franken-bugs” are still within the bounds of good ethics if there is full disclosure that the constitutive parts have been pieced together. One would also expect that any compositional piece is priced appropriately, and nowhere near what an intact single-source specimen would be. The process of fabrication is where ethics generally fall down, with a few exceptions. Fabrications are entirely acceptable if it is advertised as a replica. In fact, some museums will provide a replica of an important donated specimen to the finder. In the trilobite world, the most commonly fabricated examples do come from Morocco. However, not all Moroccans who create these are being unethical as they may sell them clearly indicating they are replicas; it is more the unscrupulous sellers who purchase these and pass them off as genuine specimens. The most commonly fabricated trilobites are those like the giant Cambrian Cambropallas telesto (occasionally sold as Andalusiana), the large lichid Acanthopyge sp., that is almost never found complete naturally, the classic Moroccan Devonian “pizza pie” where they are all conspicuously arranged, and of course the highly coveted spiny / neat trilobites like Dicranurus, Psychopyge, Walliserops, etc. links to examples here: www.fossilmuseum.net/collect/faketrilobites3.htm www.amnh.org/research/paleontology/collections/fossil-invertebrate-collection/trilobite-website/the-trilobite-files/fake-trilobites These fabrications are done in plaster, resin, and in more recent years even 3D printed (or laser printed on rock with respect to insect fossils). The early crude examples are fairly easy to suss out, and even resin-casted trilobites can be discerned by a careful examination of the shell for telltale resin bubbles, a lack of detail in the eyes (for those species that had schizochroal eyes specifically), and the lack of a discovery crack. The Moroccantrilobites that are least likely to be fabricated are the common ones that sell for very cheap, like many of the Devonian proetids and smaller phacopids. A note on spines The impressive spines on some Moroccan trilobites are definitely part of their alluring appeal. That being said, the trilobites also occur in matrix that is brutally hard (harder than the shell in many cases), and are found by splitting rocks and finding them in outline (no, they do not split out nice and clean along bedding planes! — hence the discovery crack mentioned above). Having prepared a few of the simpler Moroccan trilobites, I can appreciate the enormous challenges they present! When it comes to spines, in many if not not most cases, the spines are broken off, prepared separately, and glued back on. The same can be said for Russian trilobites with long eye stalks such as Asaphus kowalewskii and Cybele spp. In all, this is an acceptable practice, and it would be honest to disclose that detail to a prospective buyer. More important, however, is to disclose if the spines are entirely fabricated. 6. The Importance of Being Honest Trust is the hardest to gain, easiest to lose. If buyers and sellers can remain honest, the system works very well. My preference is to buy from those I trust, and most of them are diggers and preparators like me. There is no question of any of us withholding information from reasonable queries. Sure, junky $5-10 trilobites don’t require being interrogated on every detail, but be prepared to ask or answer questions concerning the higher priced premium items. For my part as a seller, and the part of those I purchase from, it is reasonable to inquire about provenance and not be given ambiguous information. “Some dude sold it to me who said he found it in Germany somewhere” is not sufficient for a specimen that is offered at four figures. If one is selling specimens one is preparing themselves, take photos of the process. It need not be excessive in taking a shot every five minutes, but an in situ photo, a photo or two of the intermediary steps, and the final product is a way of putting one’s cards on the table in full disclosure. Beware those who refuse to provide any photos of the preparation process, and never hesitate to walk away. Honesty also translates to accuracy in information. I’ve seen sellers list items that were not as advertised. Leaving aside delusional people selling round river rocks as dinosaur eggs, some sellers with a bit more knowledge will sell specimens with assumed taxonomy that is more a hunch, but is stated with a kind of definitive authority.This creates all sorts of problems. Some will use this tactic unscrupulously to effectively “invent” new species so as to attract the completist-style collector. Sure, why bother trying to market yet another Greenops barberi when one can call it Greenops n. sp., or G. newfandanglensis and justify a markup? Well, its dishonest. Sometimes that occurs more out of ignorance, relying on old information when the taxon has been long since reassigned. I see many examples of Phacops rana floating around, for example. For those who are not as informed, they may be tempted to buy it, thinking it is different than the Eldredgeops rana they purchased before despite it being the same thing. Obviously, species splitting (real or fictitious) benefits the seller! Or, there are instances when sellers rely on the old seller-given names. A good example is the Silurian trilobite Coronocephalus where the species name is wrongly given as jastrowi as opposed to gaoluoensis. In the end, it is the reputation of the seller, and the reputation of the fossil market in general, that is at stake. Far be it from anyone to be able to impose and enforce a kind of fossil selling code of ethics, although those who are frustrated may be tempted to give it a go. It really comes down to personal responsibility, reflected in the old wisdom of caveat emptor if one is a buyer, and understanding consequences if one is a seller. I am going to end this post with a fictitious example of a very, very bad ad copy of a specimen for sale. This is not real, but an illustration only! A dozen problems: Super Huge top museum quality isotelus rexEasy to spot the issues here!
(1) Use of meaningless superlatives; (2) This is not an I. rex at all, and certainly the subspecies is made up by the seller; (3) Exaggerated prep time to inflate value; (4) This thing is almost entirely restored with an epoxy (most of the cephalon, both eyes, half the axis, and done poorly to boot); (5) I would not want to visit a museum that mirrors the quality of this specimen!; (6) It comes with a Certificate of Meaninglessness; (7) The actual taxon (Isotelus "mafritzae") is not considered rare; (8) Superfluous statement aimed at those who have absolutely no knowledge of trilobites whatsoever; (9-10-11) Hopelessly vague on provenance; (12) An obscene price for junk, with a fittingly obscene shipping cost. ***BONUS MATERIAL*** A few buying tips can't hurt for those seeking to hunt the postal formation or the rock shops and shows. 1. If you don't feel comfortable with the price, don't buy it. If you can negotiate a lower price, do so, but if it threatens to send you into debt, just pass on it -- maybe take a screenshot or photo and admire it on your device. 2. It may seem like a one of a kind specimen, but unless it truly is, don't settle for a subpar example. Sometimes waiting for the next one is better than leaping on the one right in front of you. 3. Buy right the first time. It is tempting when just starting out to buy crappy examples just for the sake of having them. There is no harm or shame in holding off until you are more comfortable -- from a financial and collecting standpoint -- to invest in the nice(st) example. If you buy a crappy one for cheap now, in the years to come as your collection grows in quality, you'll only be spending more on a better replacement. One wow-factor specimen is worth far more to a collection than the equivalent price for ten scrappy ones. 4. Get in the habit of asking questions. The more money you will be spending, the more information you need. If buying online, it is entirely reasonable to inquire about provenance details and even preparation photos. If those requests are refused, take your money elsewhere. A lack of disclosure is possibly a sign of hanky-panky. 5. Nurture your seller relationships. Find a few you can get to know and trust. You may find you will get better deals on account of customer loyalty. 6. Treat your close sales connections like you would your best collecting honey hole. Remember that you put in the time and effort to develop your relationship to a trusted seller as in (5) above. Throwing them additional business is a good thing, but always ask first if you can include another buyer if using a private communication channel for buying and selling. Indiscriminately telling the world about the side deals you do with a particular seller is a recipe for having others scoop the good offerings by that seller, or perhaps the seller feeling a bit put out by a sudden barrage of would-be buyers expecting the same special deals that were offered to you out of trust. . 7. Don't bother badmouthing bad sellers anywhere publicly online. If they are fraudsters, report them, but don't go on some doxxing crusade on social media, as that just invites a world of possible legal trouble. If you've been defrauded, exercise whatever rights you have (if you purchased using PayPal, there may be a way of getting a refund or stop-order; eBay has similar mechanisms), and make a point to never buy from them again. You can warn your collecting friends, for sure, but that should be purely verbal. 7. Look at auction histories. If you are interested in a specific item, have a look at what they sold for in the past. Also have a look at the seller's past items. 8. Ask a friend. If you have a friend who has been collecting as a buyer and/or seller for some time, and you are unsure about taking a chance on a purchase or at what to price your own specimen at, getting an informed opinion is helpful. As of yesterday, December 16th, I gave the last swings of the hammer before returning home and putting the tools to bed for winter, thus calling the season. 2021 has been an interesting year with some notable surprises. It has also been quite active, although not as much as lockdown 2020, and with more quiet periods and less new prospects. In essence, the year was a due diligence one in returning to various key sites, but there are plans to get 2022 back into the more widespread exploration and discovery that marked the 2020 season. Looking over the many pages of field notes, I can say things weren't idle. I did visit several new sites, a lot of them more miss than hit, or tapped out fairly quickly. In terms of numbers: Season duration: 292 days Days in the field: 67 (down from 82 in 2020) Trilobite species encountered: 32 (down from 40 in 2020) New trilobite species field collected: 9 (down from 12 in 2020) New trilobite species added (collected, gifted, purchased): 45 Trilobites Encountered in the Field 2021 (BOLD = NEW)
PART 1 of 4: FIeld Collecting___________ And now time for the month by month accounting, being somewhat circumspect about locations. February This was just a practice run at the end of the month to a site I had bookmarked for followup. I certainly jumped the gun as the site was still covered in snow, with only a few rocks showing. Nothing of note was found, but the early thaw meant a welcome early start to the season. March I managed to get out 9 times this month, all to local/regional spots in the Devonian, spanning early Devonian (Bois Blanc Fm) up through the Hamilton Gp. I encountered all my usual fragmentary hits. I would have to say the find of the month goes to this mostly complete Pseudodechenella sp. that is massively distorted -- but still a rare find in a very busy near-shore interval in the Dundee Fm. April The season begins to heat up along with the weather, and I was out for 10 days. It was also at this point the pandemic meant more restrictions to travel, but I managed to get out pretty far before all those took effect. The first half of the month saw me on my first multi-day trip adventure, my first time up in the Silurian of northern Ontario with its distinct fauna roughly equivalent to that of Anticosti Island. The big draw are the encrinurids, of which I can say I had found a nice assortment. The remainder of April was local/regional site visits. Pictured above, top row: a rare and lovely fragment of Ekwanoscutellum sp., a cheek of Distyrax sp. Bottom row: a complete Rielaspis elegantula freed from its matrix, and a ventral weathered specimen of an Encrinurus sp. The find of the month would truly come to shine brightly only after it was prepared by my friend MT in late summer. This is pretty much a museum piece: an assemblage of Rielaspsis elegantula containing evidence of 15 individuals(!). This might also qualify as my find of the year. May Although the season started strongly, the month of May seemed to fall into the ditch, which is not uncommon for me given that I generally have to run a course that month (this year, it was two courses). Compounding the silence of the hammers was the ongoing travel restrictions due to Covid, putting plans to do a major Quebec trip on ice as the provincial border was closed. I only managed to get out 4 times this month, and just two of those was a return engagement up north where the pickings were slimmer this time around. We still managed to find a few pieces. Here is a cheek-less Rielaspis I prepared: - June Historically, June is a kind of second wind to the season (with the looming awareness that, with summer's beginning and the longest day of the year, half the year is over and days get shorter again). Just when it seems the season is just beginning, it's time to buckle down and get some collecting in since fall semester is just around the corner! June saw me out for 8 days, most of those just around the summer solstice to the Quebec City area the second the provincial border reopened. It was go time. We visited some old sites, and prospected some newer ones. Some good finds were had. Top row: a 5 cm (two inch) Flexicalymene senaria, pretty much a giant for the species here. And one of many Ceraurus pleurexanthemus found that I still seem to be preparing. Bottom row is a rare sponge (the mass of spicules) that has yet to be formally described, and this true giant Isotelus gigas that would be the find of the month and in the care of my prep friend MT. This enrolled monster may exceed 10 inches on the roll. That is truly massive for Quebec. July Not much to show for this month. I managed to get out just 4 days, two of which were up in the Manitoulin area where I didn't find very much at all since nothing had changed from what we had picked over the year before. July is also brutally hot and sticky, so field time is not as pleasant. August It seems almost silly to include this month at all since I only got out once, and just to show a visiting friend a local spot. If May saw my season fall into a ditch the July-August stretch almost seemed as productive as the depths of winter. September The school bell was ringing, and so it was back to campus for in-person teaching. Gone were the prerecorded lecture days of 2020 when I could vanish for a week-long trip during the start of prime fossil collecting season. I still managed to get out 7 times despite work obligations, but all of it local/regional. Not my find, but a field comrade of mine bumped into this one on our occasional Sunday afternoon prospects. A complete ventral Pseudodechenella sp. is nothing to sneeze at, and particularly so in a crappy horizon of the Dundee Fm that is high-energy, dominated by bits and brachs. I made an epoxy cast of this one for my display area. October This is the third wind phase of the season, or the panicked-squirrel-looking-for-nuts-because-winter-is-coming phase. The temperature is perfect, the autumn colours beautiful, the bugs less of a nuisance, and the flora thinning out to permit more site visibility. I managed to get out 11 times this month, making it the top month for days in the field (followed by second place April with 10 and third place March and November with 9). October involved both extensive local site visits and a return engagement to the north for round 3 of Silurian searching. The local trips were in some very ugly rock (at least ugly for Bois Blanc Fm), but resulting in two surprise finds from the same ditch. The northern Ontario Silurian trip might have been a complete bust if not for me finding something truly spectacular. Two new dalmanitids for me. The one on the left was suggested to me as Neoporobilium n. sp., but still hard to say. The one on the right is a large (~7-8 inches wide) cephalon of Anchiopsis tuberculatus. I prepared this one as I suspected it was a Distyrax sp. Turns out I was right, judging by the pygidial spine fork. * Cough* *Splutter* If the Rielaspis plate was the find of the year, this one is vying to be a real contender. Currently in the hands of a skilled preparator, it remains to be seen if this one (and some skin in the negative) can be prepared as one piece or as a split. This one may not seem terribly exciting until one realizes this is likely a complete Ekwanoscutellum (or a scutellid at any rate), perhaps the only one ever found in the Thornloe Fm. Rare fragments do appear (I have a few), but this is a one of a kind find, and likely of scientific significance as well. November The Temiskaming trip of mid-October was my last multi-day, far-from-home trip of 2021, so November was all about local spots, which was all I could manage given my teaching obligations. With the loss of my Terataspis site, I have been resigned to the massive hoard of parts I have in my collection, many of which are in various states of preparation. And yet a visit to two very nearby spots (within 15-20 minutes from home) yielded a healthy number of Terry parts. Pictured here is the steinkern of a positively enormous median glabella (bigger than a golf ball). The beekite rings are neat, and I do have the shell on the counterpart. There is also more of it inside the rock, too, but it is also set in brutal chert. I am swimming in Terry pieces, for sure. December Once we hit this month, it is very touch and go. In fact, it is considered very lucky to have any collecting days in December. By the end of November, we got dumped on by snow, but a warm spell burned that off and made things intermittently pleasant. I managed to get out 3 times, as there were many days when the temperatures were very near or below freezing, it was raining or snowing, or I had to grade papers. It simply is not a wise decision to plan more than a day in advance for collecting trips, and certainly not for any multi-day far-from-home ones when weather is very borderline. Also, with the new Omicron variant taking hold, the prospect of travel restrictions being reintroduced is a very real one. In all, from a field collecting perspective, a mixed bag. I didn't get out as far/often as 2020, with just 5 multi-day trips (Temiskaming x3, Quebec City, Manitoulin). I took a number of other photos, but mostly for my own records and not for public sharing. Extensive planning is in the works for 2022. Part 2 of 4: The Purchase FormationNot all are pictured here, and some have multiple angles. I missed taking a photo of a Koneprusia, and there are several other pieces I purchased unprepared that I can show in part 3. Some of them are higher quality replacement specimens (such as Asaphus kowalewskii -- this is one nice 8 cm prone!). These range from Russia to Morocco, England to Nevada, USA, and Yunan province (China). The sources are many, but mostly from trusted diggers and field comrades. No, I won't caption them as all of them were included in previous posts this year, with the exception of the very last one, which is an Austerops sp. from the Jorf locality, Morocco. Still, a list of acquisitions that are new to the growing collection (one shy of 200 species) is never out of season. Roll call!: “Unspecified trinuclueid” Asaphus acuminatus Asaphus bottnicus Asaphus broeggeri Asaphus lamanskii Asaphus sulevi Austerops sp. Calymene breviceps Calymene clavicula Comura bultyncki Dysplanus acutigenia Dysplanus babinoensis Ectillaenus katzeri Encrinurella Ingsangensis Illaenus atavus Illaenus plautini Isabelina glabrata Kainops sp. Kendalina greenensis Koneprusia dahmani Lonchodomas mcgeheei Megistaspidella triangularis Niobella plana Ogyginus corndensis Ogyginus sp. Palaeolenus Lanlenoisi Paralejurus elayounensis Placoparia turneminei Pseudobasilicus planus Pseudocybele nasuta Ptychopyge lesnikovae Ptychopyge volchovense Sinocybele sinensis Stapeleyella inconstans Subasaphus platyurus Trinucleus abruptus PART 3 of 4: Fresh from the labI don't have the best tools in the world, and it is amazing I can achieve the results I can with some less than optimal equipment. I've made mistakes, but I've fortunately not botched a single specimen this year. Preparation takes a long time, and with my tools it takes even longer. But, as one of my field comrades like to say, "if prep was easy, everyone would be doing it." This year marks the first one that I did not prep even one Eldredgeops rana. There are some pieces I know are too important for me to risk doing myself, or require much more sophisticated equipment I don't own, so those are sent to the pros. Me? I do mostly amateur work, but here are my (completed, not ongoing) projects of 2021: An Asaphus latus Asaphus latus Asaphus punctatus Asaphus punctatus Asaphus cornutus Illaenus sp. Calymene breviceps Mrakibina cattoi Flexicalymene senaria Dysplanus acutigenia Paralejurus elayounensis Rielaspis elegantula Elrathia kingii Ceraurus pleurexanthemus with brachiopod hitchhikers. This one has a new home. Onion paper thin Ceraurus pleurexanthemus Flexicalymene senaria Ceraurus pleurexanthemus (sustained field-related extraction mishap) Tiny and crushed Flexicalymene senaria Illaenus plautini Dysplanus babinoensis Pliomera fischeri Asaphus expansus robustus with healed pleural injury. Ceraurus pleurexanthemus And to close out the year in the box, this large (~3 inch) Reedops. A time lapse, and some static images. Part 4 of 4: Doodle BugsI didn't put pencil to paper all that much this year (but now that I've committed to giving the prep tools a rest until the new year, and since collecting is finished, I guess I can get back to it). In fact, just three drawings for 2021, the first of which (the lichid from Jorf) has been reassigned by Allart van Viersen in a May 2021 paper. So, overall, not a bad year with some field activity, postal formation goodies, work at the bench, and even some illustrations. I don't think there is any doubt that I have chosen to specialize in trilobites. Apart from one sponge photo in the mix here, it seems that I have my niche!
So upward and onward to 2022. Time for me to close things out with some drawings in the mean time, and to get heavily into trip planning. |
Kane Faucher
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February 2024
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