Notes from Montana
M. Schweitzer's Field Notes

July 7 - Hell Creek

I left Bozeman about noon today, after running multiple errands in town. I have had enough of town life already, tho I have not really been "in town," and have worked from my place in the country as often as possible, with only the company of horses and mules, dogs and cats. But, the badlands call me, and I am anxious to go again. I took highway 90 east toward Billings, but this time kept my eyes open for the Big Timber turnoff--last time out, I absolutely bypassed the little town, and ended up almost to Billings before realizing it. It can happen when the roads are straight and the scenery is distracting--to me, anyway.

So, the by now familiar road stretched out before me- Big Timber to Harlowtown has some relief, some curves, and it is still relatively green, tho it is concentrated near the Yellowstone river. Then on to Lewistown, the cow-town that sits and Montana's very center, geographically. From there, the Crazy Mountains fill my windshield as I head east on highway 200, and there we hit flat. I like the drive better than that to Malta, and it feels shorter. But it is still long, flat, dry.

The first signs of Hell Creek Formation begin a ways outside of Jordan, with the drab, featureless grey of the underlying Bearpaw Shales giving way to the silver and tan and reds that indicate terrestrial deposits: and dinosaur hunting grounds. I pass small creeks that are not usually named for people or battles, like back east, but for more mundane things. In my wanderings across Montana I have passed Deer Creek, Elk  Creek, Sheep Creek, Bear Creek, Squaw Creek. Here we find Sagehen (it's a prairie bird) Creek, of course Cow Creek (lots of cows) and Calf Creek, Horse Creek, Box Elder (both a bug and a tree) Creek, Bug Creek (ugh, 'nuff said), and of course Devil's Creek and Hell Creek--and the realistically named--Big Dry Creek. Even the names of the small towns up here reflect both the hopeful (Grass Range) and realistic (Sand Springs) names inherited by the early settlers. Also Big Timber and Plentywood, both in the midst of the prairie, where trees are anything but big and plentiful, except near the river. I stopped to top off my gas tank, and ran into Bob and half the crew, heading down to join Jack Horner in Ekalaka, where a T.rex or two are awaiting discovery. Then, I headed out of town.

"There are TWO roads going north, one a few miles out of town, the other 25 or 30 (mind you, there is a BIG difference out here between 25 and 30 miles..). Take the second one, except there are lots of farm roads going north, so don't take any of them (???). The road you want is by a big gravel pile. If you pass the rest stop (and presumably the gravel pile) you went a little too far (oh, like 20 additional miles--out here, I guess that is a little ways). There is a big sign with a lot of ranch names on it, and it is a gravel road?a GOOD gravel road (as opposed to???). Go 20 or 30 miles. You will pass a "moose crossing" sign (moose---HERE?) but just keep going past it till you come to a mailbox. Turn right. Go a ways further till you see camp". All I can say is, it's a good thing I grew up here..

The crew was still out when I drove in, and only Laura, our resident cook and opera singer, was here. I set up my tent over the hill--hot, but not as hot as yesterday when it reached 112 in town. This was NOT heat index, it was base temperature.

My tent has three tent poles that crisscross and when you bend them in place, the tent sorta sets itself up. But of course as soon as I did that, the wind came up. I had only staked one corner so I could position it, and my tent was flapping around like a giant balloon tethered by that one lone stake. Once again, I was very glad no one was around to see me try to wrestle it to the ground and pin it down. I finished and went to help with dinner about the time the crew drove in, so it was fun to see folks I hadn't seen in a year and get caught up--but not so fun when I learned that last night they caught and killed a very large rattlesnake right by where I pitched my tent. I guess it can't bother me now, but I will certainly be more cautious!

It was easy to fall asleep, for sure, but about 2, I woke to tiny taps on the tent--my only thought was, "I love sleeping when the rain is falling." That didn't last, as the wind came up again, and the rain increased in  intensity til being inside the tent was like listening to a thousand tap dancers on a glass floor. Ugh.  Eventually, my exhausted brain got the message from my head that it was getting wet. It was raining hard, yes but not hard enough to force the water thru the rain fly. Hmmm. It took awhile for me to realize that I had left the rainfly front open to catch the breeze, which was now driving the rain in thru the screen and onto my head, pillow and sleeping bag. I got wetter trying to figure out how to zip it, but finally got it mostly down.

June 6 - Flying Out

Well, the rains from last night have lingered, and in fact the weather has deteriorated rapidly. We spent the morning checking out some land for potential prospecting, in hopes that the weather would clear, but not only did in not get better, the land turned out to be all marine sediments. Since dinosaurs didn't live in oceans, that turned out to not be useful. But, the scenery was spectacular.

At last it looked like we might take off. Checking radar, weather, and farmer's opinions, we loaded up at the Malta airport, and headed out.

AAAAAAA! I forgot to unpack my camera once we were inside! I missed 2 hours of incredible scenery...But, the weather was increasingly iffy as we headed south, and so my colleague decided to touch down in Lewistown to see if we could wait it out. Camera was the first thing I did. These small airstrips often leave a car for pilots to use to get to town, and this was no exception. We found the keys hidden in the car, and drove the five or so miles to town for lunch, keeping one eye on the sky the whole time.

Back from lunch, more computer checking, and we finally decided to make a go for it.

So, off we took from the Lewistown airport, heading south by way of Big Timber so we would have an option for landing if the visibility or wind worsened.I am still amazed at how green it is. It is even more apparent from the air. It surely has been a huge relief to the farmers here to have so much moisture. It has been years since things looked so pretty! Yes, it is still pretty bleak, compared to the green of NC, but for this part of the state, it is impressive!

We headed south, and made it to the pass about 13 Cherokee 7045 Romeo waiting for take-off miles from Big Timber. But visibility was worsening and the rain picked up, and all of a sudden, just as we were to fly through a narrowing in the hills and on down, the clouds lowered like a cement gate. Doug said "guess what, we are heading back to Lewistown." But, things lightened up north a bit, and so we decided to try Harlowtown, a teeny tiny farming town (pop. 1000) that would save us an hour or so. We would try again in the morning, when the weather would either get better, or worse, depending on who you listened to.

We decided not to take any chances, and try to stay the night. so, we called a small, family operated hotel (no one left a car at this airport! Or gas, or anything else). So, about 20 minutes later, a car comes bumping down the gravel road from town, and the young hotel owner was there to pick us up. A quick bite of cheese and chips, a soak in a real, hot bathtub, and I was out. Until 2 am, when I was awakened by a dull roar, like a train bearing down on the town.

Except it didn't pass, like a train--it just kept building and building. For 3 hours, it blew strong and steady. It was a long night, and I could just imagine my colleague in the room down the hall, having nightmares about heading out the next morning to find his little plane wadded up like a crushed tin can. But finally it blew itself out, and by 7 am when we checked radar, it looked possible, so off we headed, on a flight path that would follow the Crazy Mountains down over Livingston, and over the Bozeman pass, and on in--wow--that is all I can say.
 
Well, that is it from the field in Montana. The snow line here on June 7, 2007 is about 5000 ft, and here in town it is hovering around 45F. There are more dinosaurs waiting, but the next trip in about 3 weeks will be east, not north, (I think?you never really KNOW), to the Hell Creek, and the land of the Tyrannosaurs.

June 5 - moving the jacket

Ugh. Morning. I try to ignore the pale pink crawling slowly across my tent wall. It is too early to get up, even for field work, but it is worthless trying to go back to sleep. So, I slowly try to unfold and sit up without breaking any bones. I look for some article of clothing that is not sand filled, and get ready for another day. Coffee. I need coffee. Normally, I love to fall asleep to crickets and coyotes, and wake to the meadowlark song. However, this morning I am not particularly happy with them.

Ok, breakfast, with coffee, and then we pack lunches, fill water jugs, apply sun screen, and pile in the back of "Grey" (as opposed to "Brown", the other field truck up here. We paleontologists are nothing if not creative). We bounce around the pickup bed, trying to stay balanced amidst the boards and ropes and buckets and boxes and picks and shovels, up rutted paths and down again. Then, we jump down and begin to cart all of that down precarious paths to quarry level. We have run into a cement hard concretion layer just below the bone, and we have to try to break through it to see if more bone is beneath. Oh, I am hoping for more dinosaur. However, after an entire morning of ringing rock hammer, pick and shovel against this stuff and making about two inches of progress, I am willing to let the darned thing stay there.

But, after lunch, Bob breaks out the BIG jack hammer, and it goes much faster. The bend, scoop, straighten and toss is back, but harder. These cemented chunks are HEAVY.


At last we decide that there is nothing there. Last year, we knew we had a dinosaur leg, thigh, shin, ankle and toes, all lined out as in life. But this year we found no other sign of dino bits anywhere. The fossil record is capricious indeed.Either it had eroded away before we found it last year, or it would stay hidden until the prairie winters finally made headway into the concretion llayer. We were not going to do it. So, we proceeded with the take-out protocol.

Because this bone will be used for molecular studies, we took 3-5 inches of sediment that normally would ave been cleared away to lighten the jacket. We covered that with tinfoil to keep outside contamination to a minimum. Then we applied plastered burlap in long strips, smoothing and adding layers as it formed to the bone and began to harden. After that, for support and stability, we added two 2x4s, and plastered them to the jacket. Then, it was time to let that dry fully and stabilize, so the exhausted crew--some of us more exhausted than others--took a lunch break on the bluff.

The hard stuff remained to be done--the quarry was cut into a cliff face, and was about 15 feet below the truck that would take it back to camp! Now, graduate students are good for a lot of things, but there is a limit to what even they can do, and scaling a cliff with a 750 pound jacket goes beyond that. But--first things first, and that was to finish the jacket.



So, once the top had hardened and stabilized, the next step was to flip the jacket, so that we could plaster the other side. That involved undercutting the sandstone pedestals upon which it rested, making a tunnel under the main body of the jacket, and plastering that. Then, pressure from a crowbar would flip the jacket. Now comes the truly innovative step. Bob, quarryman extraordinaire, had the foresight to buy the hood of an old truck. His plan was to use it like a giant sled--gulp. If he is wrong--my precious bone will slide 25 + feet to the bottom of the canyon, taking out anything in its path! So, we had to do a couple of things to  prepare to flip our dinosaur drumstick. First, we had to measure the truck-hood sled, to be sure that the jacket would fit.

Then, we had to jack-hammer a path in the lip of the quarry, so it would slide. THEN we had to flip the jacket, and then plaster.

So it was with bated breath I watched (and took pictures) as they worked to turn the jacket onto the waiting sled...



and FINALLY...SUCCESS!. Ok, that is the EASY part of the hard part. Well...umm. wait. The jackhammering, picking, shoveling, was hard. This was hard. But...what was REALLY tough lies ahead...because...This is PART of the slope that it has to go up; only about the lower ¼ is visible in this picture!

So, we plastered the other side of the jacket on its truck-hood sled, and let it dry to figure this out. We trussed up our femur like a poorly wrapped birthday present, with multicolored chains and nylon ropes and belts, strapping it firmly to the hood and leaving enough chain to wrap to a thick nylon rope-cord thing (yes, good technical language, I know, but what DO you call those things?).

The other end we bound to "Grey," our trusty field truck. Laid down two 2-x-4 tracks for it to run up, and then got out of the way. Here is our neatly wrapped present. We are delaying the ultimate test of Bob and Nels' engineering ingenuity--gulp. Well, in the worst case scenario, I won't have to GRIND my bone before I subject it to my tests...

Well, ultimately we can put it off no longer. The sun is sinking, rain is forecast, and the crew is ready to break camp and move to the next site. After a REAL scary start, when the hood caught on a rough cut in the side of the quarry, lo and behold--look! There it goes! From here, to here...

Then, it was time to pack up the quarry (15 trips up and down the cliff face with equipment on our backs), and my favorite thing--I got to drive the 6-wheeler back! Yay! I love it. I have a lead foot in a car, and a lead thumb in an ATV!

But, we made it! Then, it is back to camp--hot, dusty, aching...and to a brief break for dinner, prepared by our opera singing cook (Nels's wife). Then, the major undertaking of breaking camp and moving out before the rains hit--by then it was dark, and as we headed over the roads to the hiway and all the way into town we were surrounded on all sides by sharp forks of lightening streaking the sky. It was a scene from a movie, eerie, and spectacular, and the type of storm designed to make humans seem small and insignificant. My pilot colleague and I got rooms in a malta hotel--a wonderful place right out of the 50s. OH! HOT SHOWER!!! REAL BED...HOT SHOWER!

And, in the morning, a plane ride to look forward to...

June 4

June 4

We got to the Andisaurus site about 8 am. The crew had unloaded most of the equipment before I got there, so only carting it down the hill on our backs remained. Nels, who was the crew chief on my favorite Brex dig, is trying to bring field paleontology into the 21st century. He is doing 3-D laser scanning of the site, with pictures every 20 seconds to document progress and monitor things we might miss.



At left you can see our crew, or part of it, inspecting our bone find at the end of my first day. We were looking for evidence that there was more dinosaur to go with the articulated foot and leg we took out last summer.

Even though the crew had removed about 10 feet of the soft sand before I got there, there was still at least 5 to go to get to the level of bone. Bend, scoop, straighten, toss, bend, scoop, straighten, toss...hour after hour, stopping only long enough to let the jackhammer loosen more of the back wall. There is not a lot of talking in the quarry. Most people are just trying to get the work done. Occasionally though, we get rather choice comments. After about the 15th faceful of sand, Lee started singing: "Just a spoonful of silicates makes the medicine go down..." (you get a little loopy from the sun out here). During a short lunch break, I took the time to walk around and just drink in the emptiness, majesty and beauty of this stark land.



Looking down at my feet, I saw prairie flowers. They are all tiny, and ephemeral. They have to grow quickly, because there won't be enough water for long to keep them alive. But if you take the time to look close,  they are incredibly beautiful.



As we get closer to the bone level, things slowed. Finally, about 6 pm, amidst a lot of protest from Nels, we decided we had gone far enough. Oh...I don't think I have a muscle that doesn't hurt! I know that I will need my legs for fieldwork, and stamina, so I make a point of running all year round so that I am in shape for the ups and downs of prospecting in the badlands. But--I forget about my arms and shoulders, and now I am paying. It was a rough first quarry day for me, but we took down 5 feet, and tomorrow should show whether or not more dinosaur remains hidden.

It was hot most of the day with the sun beating down as we worked, reflected off the buff sands of the quarry walls. I am sunburned, with hands that feel permanently claw shaped and back permanently bent. The sand on my face has sand on it, and no shower is in sight till we are done. Whoever invented wet-wipes, I am  forever indebted.

But, after cleaning up, and making a slight dent in the first several layers, there is hamburger on the grill, and the food tastes especially good. Even the sleeping bag on the leaking air mattress sounds lovely. The sunset is beautiful, and I am looking forward to sleep sooo much.



Ah, but the night was again not so restful. After about two hours of exhausted unconsciousness, my dreams were penetrated by the yips and howls of a passing band of coyotes. They have high pitched barks, so much that it is almost hard to take them seriously as predators. Each one tries to outdo the other for loudness, and the cacophony went on for at least an hour. They sound quite close, and I am glad Barney, my cat, is safely back with the horses and dogs, not here.

2007 Begins - June 3

June 3 (Sunday)

Well, late last night I found a message on my phone. No mistaking Bob?s voice, like gravel in a cement mixer. "Hey Mar, we will be down to that femur by then end of tomorrow,so you need to get up here."  So my plan was to leave around noon for the 6 hour drive, afterchurch, a run, and packing up. Then, my colleague called--we had talked about me driving his rig here to leave, as he has property here--then later in the week he would fly up and fly me back. Gee. Drive MY car 6 hours up and 6 hours back alone, or drive HIS car, and take 1.5 hours to fly back...easy decision. The exchange, however, took longer than I thought and I was two hours late leaving Bozeman.

Then, I got so lost in the scenery and the views of springtime in Montana that I drove right past the Big Timber turn off. Added another 40 or so miles I didn't need to drive...but eventually I got away from the people and the population. From about 20 miles out of Roundup until the outskirts of Malta, the thin ribbon road stretched straight and true, without a bend in sight as far as the eye could see--which, out here is virtually forever. I think I saw 20 vehicles on the road in all that time--all pick-up trucks of course. I guess no one wanted to be driving on such a perfect Sunday. There are probably 2 turns in the road between Roundup and Malta, separated by 200 miles or so. We don't go lateral here, and the only relief from the long straight stretches is vertical. Crest a hill, and it is like cresting a wave on the ocean--the whole flat world falls beneath, and one can see forever because there are no obstacles--only the curvature of the earth. Except the waves are green, and sage-brush scented. At last I see the Little Rockies rising up north of Zortman: the second turn!  And for the next 50 miles, I parallel them--peaks jutting against the evening sky, one cone-shaped that I have been told is an extinct volcano.

Miles and miles and miles with no radio coming in that this car can detect--then suddenly, the wild seeking for signal stops and I hear, "Welcome to 88.8, Native Voices, serving the Lakota peoples," followed by beautiful native drumming and music. It was hauntingly beautiful. Sigh. Only in Montana.

Oh, the wildlife I see on these lonely prairies! The small herds of pronghorns, buff and bright white, with short black horns that fork at the end--they are enjoying all the fresh tender grasses the recent rains have brought. And the muledeer. We don't see to many white-tails in this part of Montana, but the mulies replace them.

They are bigger, usually, and as their name implies, they have great big ears. The birds are prolific!  Pheasant and grouse and turkey for game birds, and countless prairie birds. In the late summer it gets so hot, and dry that it seems nothing could survive except bugs. But they are food for the birds, and once again I marvel at how different birds are in their physiology, from equally warm blooded mammals. That reflects, I guess, their histories, with both groups coming to warm-bloodedness through different means and different ancestors. And, thinking about birds makes me think about dinosaurs!

Then, finally the traffic picks up and I enter the thriving metropolis of Malta Montana. It's another 20 miles to camp, leaving the highway and driving thru prairie and cows on deeply rutted trails through the short grass and sage until I see tents. I have been watching the thunderheads build since the mountains--many hot days are followed by intense afternoon or evening showers. Quick but so welcome and cooling. It was a race between me and the rain to get the tent up. And setting up these lightweight back-packing tents is a real challenge in the wind. Hint: when trying to put those snap together tent poles in a thunderstorm, do NOT hold them straight up in the air...guess I looked a lot like a lightning rod. But, as the last stake on the rainfly went in, the rain hit, and I crawled in, nice and dry. There is nothing like listening to rain beat down on a tent, while you are safe and cozy and isolated within.

As quickly as it came the storm was over, and soon we were gathered for an absolutely delicious meal: fajitas from steak cooked on the grill, and all the trimmings. How many field camps have a bona fide opera singer for a cook? That is another story... Then, back to the tent and bed, but it was a short night. First it was the crickets, then with the very first vague light, the meadowlarks began their singing, and by the time it was daylight, I felt like I was in a Disney cartoon, there were so many birds singing LOUDLY outside my tent! I am exhausted, and feel like I slept not a wink--but no sense staying put--time for coffee, breakfast in the cooktent, and a day of hard labor. Yay.

Malta - Last Day

8/06

It was cool when we woke up this morning. The promise of rain in last night's clouds was misleading, and it was still and dry. Eggs with salsa, fruit, and LOTS of coffee, while we laid out the topo maps and tried to see where we could access the most promising bluffs. There is not as much exposure available as I had hoped. Still we have found enough evidence of bone that it is worth a more prolonged prospecting trip, I think.

We head south from the little cabin, after packing up all our gear and cleaning to remove all traces of our visit there. It is a great base camp, and I hope that we can use it again next summer to better explore the area here. There is a lot to think about for the next field season. I have learned that few who come out here are adequately warned about the dangers, discomforts, inconveniences and mosquitoes. So, I will have the winter to think over student requirements:  a basic first aid course, field safety seminars, adequate provisions, etc. But the chance to be so removed from civilization, and to watch pre-history quite literally unfold beneath your feet will appeal to some, I hope. I can't wait.

We have walked out new bluffs. Beautiful exposures that speak of massive rivers, or maybe beaches, and organic rich, swampy areas. Wind has scoured the capstone into beautiful sculptures that magnify the original cross bedding. No bone, except for some very tiny ossified tendons and a very small dromeosaur tooth. All isolated float, but still testimony to those that once inhabited the plains of Montana.


Sandstone sculptures created by wind and weather.

Then, we are on the road, 3 hours back to Lewistown, the about-half-way point, by way of the beautiful, stark and wild Missouri breaks country. Much more treed and with greater topographical relief, home to mountain lions, deer, elk, bear, eagles and other raptors. The waters of the mighty Missouri cut deep bluffs in the resistant rocks, and the canyons are steep. As we approach Lewistown, we see the first signs of the deep green that shows irrigation has made it to these plains. Water is more plentiful and available, and the land changes accordingly. Then on to Big Timber (an odd name for a town with hardly any trees!), and from there the road follows the beautiful Yellowstone River, all the way to Livingston. Livingston sits at the base of the Paradise Valley. I don't know what most people envision for Paradise, and some might say cities of gold, but for me, it is the rugged sharp mountains, peaks still snow covered most of the year and shining white against the blue big sky, and green valleys, with trees and meadows, rivers and lakes..just like this. So, it is aptly named.

Then, it is on to Bozeman, and my summer home, where my wonderful friends put up with my frequent absences and my cat. Barney is not speaking to me, whether because I have abandoned him once too often, or whether he senses his time as a mountain cat is almost ended for another year, I don't know. But, I unpack my field gear for storage, and say good bye to another great season, and summer, in the Big Sky country I know and love so well. Soon, another school year, with new students and exciting research, and the classes I love to teach.

Such a change of pace! I will have a lot of new stories and experiences to share with my students. It should be a good year.


See ya next year!

Malta - Day 6

8-8-06

Why is it always so easy to wake up here? The very first sign of changing light, and I am wide awake and ready for the day. The little wind-up clock reads 4:45, so I force myself to stay in bed and drift till 5:30, but then I can't stand it any more. I get up and dress and start the coffee--the most important morning item. Then, it is eggs over the Coleman, and we are ready for the day. It is cool, with dark clouds in the sky and a breeze--maybe it will rain. My boss eyes the sky, and asks if he will need to stake the tent. Hmmmm. I don't think it will storm, so I say no, and we get ready to leave.


Early sunrise, looking back toward the cabin from the entrance to the prospecting area

It was a great day for prospecting. We revisited most of the sites from last time, but also walked out the bluffs across the road from the cabin, a new site. I am glad my boss is here to help me interpret the geology a little. My one geology class was "Introduction to Earth Surface," a 101 class I took in 1987. I am a little shaky with interpretations and reading the rocks, but with help from lots of friends and colleagues, I think that I can understand what I see here now. The bone-producing units are sandstone river channel sediments, bounded at the base by grey muds and on the top by capstones of densely cemented sands. The bones weather out from the channels and are carried downhill as pieces of float, where a trained eye can recognize them as different from weathered rocks.

We are out in the field by 7am, walking across the dry grass, crunching underfoot. We head up the first bluff. I led for a while, but then my boss went in front---for about 30 yards, when he jumped and made this incomprehensible "gaaaa" sound. Then he turned and said, "Do you hear the rattlesnake?" It was hard to distinguish from the hoppers and dry grass until I was almost upon it, but there, coiled, with black tongue darting in and out to taste our smells, was a huge western diamond-back rattler. I truly didn't think about getting his picture until we were well past, and I wasn't going to go back with my camera. Note to self. Let boss lead. He may make the finds first, but he also makes more convenient snake bait.

We gingerly made our way around the angry snake, and his head on top of his tightly coiled body turned slowly to watch our progress. Phew. Now I see the difference easily between this rattler and the bull that invaded my outhouse last week. We did find dinosaur bone, and identified the layers from which it was weathering. I collected a few diagnostic pieces for teaching, but there is nothing in place, and by about 11 we have walked out all the exposures in the immediate area. However, as we rounded one bend, there was a concentration of bones weathering out, and unmistakable signs of an invader!

Someone else was looking along these bluffs. There was a very nice femur, just the front part weathering out from the hill, but both ends intact, and some other miscellaneous bones. Marks of a pick and a plastic bag filled with float and debris! Because this land is privately owned, only our team has permission here, so we will report this to the landowners.

Next, it is back to Fanny Hill, where I can show my boss the complete formation exposed, and hope that we can better interpret where we are in section. We revisit the old bone bed, a quarry my former student worked from which at least 7 dinosaurs had died and become disarticulated. The site also included large logs--fossil wood, against which the dinosaur bones had come to rest in some long ago river channel, building up behind the log and getting quickly buried. There are many microenvironments here so it will make a good study for differential preservation. Then, we return to the bluff for lunch and an incredible view of the badlands, and the Milk River wending its way through the shales of the Cretaceous Claggett Sea, cutting down into the muddy sediments of the Cretaceous inland sea, its banks lined with the only green out here.


Cottonwood Creek before it drains into the Milk--and the trees concentrate around the only water anywhere

It is still overcast, and cool, with a light breeze--perfect weather for dinosaur hunting! After lunch, we head to the Andisaurus site, walking out the ridge of sandstone that has been productive. I find another bone or two embedded in the sandstone wall, but they are not associated with anything else, and mostly fragmented. I think this is another case of "leverite" bone, and I do.

We walk out the backside bluffs. We have lost our cloud cover, and it is heating up intensely. Our presence causes major trauma to the cows watering there, and they make their displeasure known--loudly, and long. Again, we see more bone. There are lots of dinosaur bones here, but none that seem significant for collecting, as they are little more than isolated fragments. Then, we check out one more site, the one where both Andi and Paul found significant bones. The first thing I see as I walk down the draw is a large bone--the distal articulating end of a long bone-probably tibia, just at the base of where the others were. I don't know how we missed it before. I think that both sites bear much more exploration. All in all, a good day, and I am feeling more confident in understanding where we are in section, and what layers will be most productive. We had about 8.5 hours of solid walking, up and down bluffs and gullies, scrabbling across loose talus and grabbing on to sage or juniper to prevent unstoppable slides, with only 20 minutes or less for a lunch break. We have both taken a few falls, so it is probably safest to stop before they get worse.

So, we headed back to camp about 4, to find my boss' tent upside down and about 30 feet further away from the cabin. I forgot that I predicted no wind, and recommended no staking. Boss didn't forget. We relaxed and tried not to move more than necessary, until weather and we were cool enough for cooking. I decided once again to take my chances with the outhouse, and after today's encounter with the rattler, a bull snake wasn't quite so scary of a thought. But, no snake greeted me. Still I caught movement, and looked just in time to see a grey blur disappear into an abandoned toilet paper roll. A frightened deer mouse cautiously extended his nose out the other end, and when I tried to shoo him with the end of my rock hammer, he jumped inches off the ground, and tried to run up the seat instead of out the door. Finally, he got the message, and ran away. Safe. Until I sat down, THEN noticed the other mouse, frantically trying to follow his friend out the door, but getting disoriented and running right for my shoe--which was, of course, attached to my leg. Still, better mouse than snake. I am giving up on outhouses.

Next, a great meal of spaghetti with veggie sauce, fresh grapefruit, and cold drinks from the cooler. Now we are watching the sun go down and the dark clouds move in. Last night was a full moon, and the prairie grasses were silver. The coyotes sung us to sleep, and it was beautiful and peaceful. Tonite, I don't think we will be able to see the moon. It wasn't supposed to rain, but it sure looks threatening. I am not sure where we will explore tomorrow. But I think we will head back to Bozeman tomorrow evening, rather than Thursday morning. I will welcome the shower!

Malta - Day 5

8/7/06

I met my boss at the airport about noon. His job is to check out this field area for its potential as a working site and training area for students. I have this sneaking hunch that, when it is 97 and 110% humidity in Raleigh, day or night, his REAL reason for coming here might enhanced by the promise of 55 degree mornings, and our late summer 4% humidity. He got the rental car from the Bozeman airport, and followed me down the 20 or so winding miles of country back roads to get to the ranch where I am staying for the summer. I had fun showing him how "real westerners" drive! Montana has only had an official speed limit for about 5 years or so. I learned fast. I mean, FAST.

I had most things ready to go, so we loaded all the gear into the rental, and headed east to Big Timber then straight north in an unbroken line for Malta. A slightly different route this time, but still just as straight and bleak. Two and a half hours of getting caught up on department issues (lots of changes), Raleigh news and politics (ummm...), and North Carolina weather (hot, wet, humid and 95 degrees since late May, perhaps cooling to 90 in the evenings), then we stopped in Lewistown for gas and food. I love this little cow-town, sitting completely alone in the geographic center of the state, an anomaly for its beautiful stonemasonry and very few timbered buildings. There are no trees here for building materials, and in the days of the Copper Kings and the building of the railroads, there were even less. But, you can see the pride that the immigrant settlers took in their handiwork, and the talent they brought from their homelands. The buildings still stand 150 years later, with all their intricate designs and embellishments intact.

Food, gas and ice-filled coolers later, we head north again, for another 2 ½ to 3 hours, and again the familiar names pop up on the road signs. This way to Winnet, straight ahead to Malta, past Zortman, Harlowton, Judith Gap...we stop in Malta for an ice cream cone, and head on to the little cabin once again. Not much has changed--but there is a newspaper on the bed we didn't leave, and we had to call the manager for the key. Out here, you trust the neighbors, it's the newcomers and passers-through that make the padlocks a necessity.

So, we unloaded and sat on the little porch in our borrowed chairs, fighting mosquitoes and watching the incredible prairie sunset, only tearing ourselves away from the view after the colors had all faded to black. One thing I am so impressed with is the absence of human sounds. Wind in the tall, dry grasses, prairie birds singing their night songs, crickets and frogs, but no television sounds, no booming music, no cars, no voices.

Dinner was mac-n-cheese over the Coleman stove, and finally bed, in the cooling night. The sun goes down, and mosquitoes come out in force, but the temp drops rapidly, until it is quite cool. My boss struggles to put up his tent in the dark, cussing out mosquitoes every other second, and me--I am in the cabin. Hot, but I had a bed! This is the kind of boss-employee relationship I like!

Malta - Day 4

7/30/06

It is Sunday, but the routine is the same here. Wake with the first hint of a lighter sky, throw off the blanket with its covering of mosquitoes. Walk outside in the grey dawn to use the bathroom (still not brave enough for the outhouse again), dry grass crunching underneath bare feet.

Back to the cabin to clean up and get ready for the day--I make lunches, Lonnie makes coffee (MUCH more important at the moment than breakfast or lunch). Watch the sun come up over the badland  exposures, and the sky turn from night dark to light grey to brilliant red, then the burned light of full sun. Pack the packs, fill the water bottles, check for specimen bags, and we are off.

Today we are walking out two new coulees we haven't seen before, and then will come back and explore the ridge across from the cabin. We hope to end a bit early today, head to town for showers, then one of the local landowners has invited us to a barbecue. It is a good chance to meet more of the folks around here, something I really enjoy.

It was a great day. Hot, and the morning was kind of disappointing, we didn't find much of anything. I was tired, and didn't walk at the pace I did yesterday, but took some breaks to just look around and enjoy the view. Then, walking back to the vehicles, I ran into Paul, who said Andi had found what appeared to be more bone, but she wasn't sure so could I come look.


Vince, excavating Andi's second great find! Arrow shows femur shaft.

Well, what a great find--two in a row from the newbie! The bone was absolutely pristine in preservation, coming out from the wall of a sandstone channel, and it had all the hallmarks of being theropod (meat eater). It was in a channel lag, mixed in with other bone and some wood. So, Vince decided to work it back, and the rest of us looked over the rest of the face. Soon, another was spotted. I scrambled up on a ledge,  took one look, and it made my day! A beautiful Albertosaur tooth, shining in the sand wall, serrations obvious in the sun.


At last! A theropod tooth!

Then, another bone, found by Andi's dad Paul, and then, Vince said "there's more bone behind this one."  So two mini quarries revealed a lot of bone, all very well preserved. Full inventory and identification awaits, but it was a good day. 

 
Vince and Paul, with part of jacketed limb! The Millers outdid the old hands!

Some of the local folks had a barbecue for us at the end of the day, out at the reservoir. It was quite a production! They grilled some of their own free-range beef, on an amazing contraption that was part railroad car, part covered seating, part oven, and part massive grill, all on wheels. Barb and Gary really went all out, cooking an amazing spread for not only us, but some other orphan geologists they picked up from Greece and other faroff places, as well as a host of "locals." 

The discussion was quite---lively--and we got a lot of insight into various political opinions. I was busy trying to change subjects a lot. And, I was busy trying to avoid mosquitos. I made the mistake of walking down to the shoreline to wade, and they were lying in wait, hordes and hordes. They followed me back to the barbecue in a large grey cloud. Everyone gasped and ran for cover, leaving me standing outside. However, Barb, our host, provided the best remedy yet for my welted legs and arms--pure apple cider vinegar, applied directly to the bites! I was surprised, it really did work. I wonder if it works as a repellent as effectively? It is annoying to walk the badlands smelling like a pickle for no reason. But then again, pickle scent is better than what we USUALLY smell like by the end of the day. All things even out.

I will be back in the Judith River one more time before returning to Raleigh. My last of field work until next summer. Hopefully that will be another productive, yet shorter trip. And, hopefully I will have more finds to report.

Malta - Day 3

7/29

We walked out two coulees today. In some areas we found fragments of bone weathering out, some quite large, but we could not see any more bone or parts, just lots of "float" bone. All the bone belongs to hadrosaurs, or "duckies", the duckbilled dinosaurs that were so plentiful around here that they have earned the name "cows of the Cretaceous". As soon as I heard that, I determined never to study them. I mean, cows are BORING, but even for hadrosaurs, there is something absolutely amazing about being the first human ever to touch the bones of something so old and once alive.

It was windy all day, and not a cloud in the sky. The wind was great, because it kept the hordes of man-eating mosquitoes from doing as much damage as they could have without it, and kept the horse and deer flies to a minimum. The latter are not remotely affected by bug spray, and, to be honest, neither are the mosquitoes. At all. I think that if a chemical company wanted to test the efficacy of their sprays, there would be no better place than the Milk River in the height of summer. And, it seems that I am that piece of fly paper that one hangs from the roof to draw all the flies, so others aren't bothered. Except, I draw mosquitoes. Sigh. I guess someone has to.


Lunch break. HOT. No shade. Predatory cows eyeing our sandwiches.

When we had no luck at the first coulee, we split into groups and walked all the draws draining into Horse Camp Coulee. Some of us more reclusive types went alone, and we covered a lot of ground--so much that I feel confident saying there are NO dinosaurs at that level at all. But, Walt had the best experience of us all. He walked to the end of the draw, and came upon a stand of small bushes. He heard some rustling, and looked up in time to see a cougar dart out and up the hill away from him. He said that this was the biggest cat he ever saw, on a par with some of the African lions, and was within 30 feet--fortunately, going the right direction--away! Suddenly all of those fresh scattered cow and deer bones I had been seeing took on new meaning.

We ended the day with a trip to better exposures, on BLM land. We wanted to get an idea of how the strata were inter-related, and that was where we could see the whole section, from the base Claggett Shales to the top capstones. The Judith looks completely different there, and the cut-aways are spectacular. The land goes on forever, split only by the sharp green lining the meandering Milk River, highlighted against the parched yellow grasses. Bob found a petrified log, complete with knots in the surface, that I will pass on to a colleague who studies fossil woods. Maybe this find will eventually get her out here!

Then, at the end of another hot, dusty, dry, and not so fruitful day, we headed back to the cabin. The dogs were tired, and grateful for the chance to just sleep in the shade. We started to get dinner, and I decided to take advantage of a few minutes of down time to walk the 1/8 mile to the outhouse on the property. I was reliving the day, and not paying much attention to my surroundings. I struggled to get the spike out of the lock on the door, and wandered in rather absentmindedly, my mind on other things entirely, when I heard a rustle in the outhouse and a sound similar to crackling parchment, only LOUD. I looked up to see a 5 foot snake crawling up the wall right by the seat! Ok, so I AM a girl, I screamed. "There's a rattlesnake in the outhouse!". I was really glad that Bob and Lee had decided to pitch camp outside our cabin. They both came running. Bob, who is always prepared for anything, brought his pistol. By then, I had quit shaking, and hollered "let me get my camera!" and raced off after them. They gingerly opened the squeaky door, and sure enough, there was the snake, down from the wall now, and wrapped around the seat and sidewall. Ugh.


I DON?T need to go, after all!

But, Bob and Lee started laughing, sympathetic as usual--"it's only a bull snake, what are you so upset about?" Hmmm. I don't CARE that it wasn't a rattler. I don't think I will be able to go to the bathroom for a month! A 5 foot snake of ANY race and gender is not going to be my friend in the outhouse.

Ah yes,THIS is the glamour of paleontology.

The sun is just setting over the horizon, the dishes are done, and we are once more enjoying the peace and cool of the evening on the porch. What a life!. When I was young, I used to pray that I would not have an ordinary life. That prayer has surely been answered, though not in the way I expected. But life is good. And you sure never know what waits around the bend. I am blessed. And I am grateful.

Malta - Day 2

7/28

The sun is rising--what a great night! Now, the red light of sunrise comes in from the opposite side of the one-room cabin. I think it will be hot today, but there are dark purple clouds hanging low over the bluffs, and they could either dissipate as the day progresses or hold the violence of wind and hail and lightning and rain that is common here. Those storms don't last long, but you REALLY don't want to get caught in them.

I just remembered---whenever I have mentioned to my friends out East that I will be prospecting out of Malta this summer, they have this very awed and impressed response. I couldn't understand that until one said he didn?t know there were dinosaurs in that part of Europe! Since I grew up here, in Montana, I didn't think at all that maybe someone might confuse the two. Malta Montana is NOT the Malta they are thinking of at all, just a prairie town built around cattle and railroads, right up here on the highline next to Canada. I don't think they'd be too impressed if they could see us now!

Time for coffee and packing for the day. More later.

Boy it was HOT! You know, they compare heats and it is always "well it's a dry heat", but they forget to tell you that that dry heat that makes it bearable out here sucks every drop of moisture from every orifice. Cells cannot produce enough moisture to balance that drained from the body by heat and wind, and 4% relative humidity. Fingernails crack and peel, skin turns scaly, and windburn is a constant companion. I was thinking today that there is a kind of mystique to paleontology:  a romantic, "Indiana Jones" notion. But, there isn't much romance in a man (or woman) who has a permanent bend at the neck from always looking down, leathered skin from too much sun, squinty eyes from looking into the distance against the sun, and the far-away dreaminess that comes from always looking for that next great find just beyond the next horizon--oh, and did I mention the welts from mosquitoes and flies, the scratches from scrambling up scree on all fours, and the constant odor of bug spray and calamine lotion? Not the most "romantic" vision.

We had a productive day. First, what appears to be part of a skull--to my best guess, hadrosaurian. Next, Leah, one of the Museum crew, found a beautiful vertebra with a still-attached neural spine, in a vertical sandstone face.


Miller Lite and her find of a great articulated foot and leg!

How lucky for her--the face of the cliff was in the shade most of the day, with a gentle breeze to keep things cool. The rest of the crew were encouraged with the finds, and scattered across the rest of the coulee, coming back around the other side about 1 pm, when the sun was at its peak and the heat was blazing. First, Paul found a very large rib, but the find of the day went to Andi (Miller Lite), a newbie to paleo. She found 3 large and articulated metatarsals (foot bones), with some phalanges (toe bones) off one end, and the tibia (shin) and part of a femur (thigh) heading back into the mountain. We usually give our dinosaurs field names, so this one has vacillated between "Andisaurus" and "PeeJaysaurus", the latter after her dad. Paul, our preparator, set to work getting it ready to field jacket, and I took off by myself to explore more.


Andi's find in more detail! Cool!

In the city, I can barely find my way out of a parking lot, but here in the badlands, somehow it is easier for me. I walked a long ways, head down and eyes squinty, and finally started noticing bone chips. Soon I saw the end of a bone, disappearing into the hill. I dug out a bit--a beautiful long bone began to take shape. The way it splintered gave me hope that it was perhaps a theropod!I love the big meat-eaters most. But we won't know till it's prepared a bit more, or maybe we won't be able to tell because the ends are both missing. For now though, I can hope. We don't have too many meat eaters from this part of the formation--and you can never have too many Albertosaurs!

Even tho we enjoy our little hunting cabin with no electricity or water, we headed to town for the glorious and unplanned luxury of borrowed showers. Only one day, but those showers felt heaven sent. Then back to the quiet of the little porch where we watched the sun fade and the stars come out, one by one. My friend Bob--the finder of B-rex and a long time buddy, is here to help with prospecting, and we laughed and caught up late into the night, with Lonnie and Lee no doubt thinking we were crazy. It was good, and I sure had no trouble falling asleep!

Montana as I see it

Night Sounds