Had an interesting weekend field trip to Ringgold, Georgia, where
Ordovician and Silurian rocks are well exposed in a huge cut on the
interstate highway. The leaves had "peaked" about a week earlier, but were
still glorious on Taylor Ridge (yes, the same Taylor Ridge of Civil War
fame in the Atlanta campaign, about 30 miles southeast of Chattanooga).
Our little group broke up for a while to study different parts of the
outcrop. Larry Herr and I collected and photographed trace fossils, and
Tony Martin measured trace fossils in another area. Larry and I examined
some rocks that had fallen down recently and decided to take Tony there to
see them after lunch.
Over lunch, I told the others about my experiences as a graduate student
studying this highway cut. I spent about 5 weeks here, and every time I
return, the memories come flooding back. I would spend a day with my nose
to the rock, which was all in shades of gray. I carefully recorded slightly
bluish grays, greenish grays, reddish grays, and pure grays. Then returned
to the camp, where every color was as vivid as could be. The sun was so
yellow, the sky was so blue, the trees were so green.
I also told them about the frustrations of seeing unique or beautiful
objects destroyed by hammers. The highway cut is frequently visited by
college classes and fossil collectors. For some reason related perhaps to
search images or to the way people see and recognize objects, a person
wanting to see a fresh surface of rock is more likely to hit something
interesting and distinctive with a hammer than a typical, bland section of
the cliff. You have to be trained to examine representative samples instead
of focusing on the "wow" stuff. This makes for some really frustrating
times on commonly visited outcrops, I said. You can find a neat fossil or
sedimentary structure in the cliff, one that no one could remove without
special equipment, and be sure that someone will take a whack at it.
(Cameras really are the best way to "collect" some objects!)
An hour and a half later, back on the outcrop, we met a pair of fossil
collectors from Chattanooga. They were looking for trilobites in a layer
that is rich in brachiopods, but has never once yielded a trilobite to my
knowledge. Oh, well, they seemed to be happy enough with the brachiopods.
When a stone half the size of my fist came down and hit my knee, I decided
that the conversation was over. I also decided to visit the terrace above
them next, instead of the terrace below, as I'd originally planned.
A few steps onward, and what did we see? Well, we didn't see what we
expected to show Tony, that's for sure. The boulder that had an interesting
and rarely seen, but unfossiliferous phosphatic layer exposed had been
smashed into smithereens in a useless search for trilobites. The several
ordinary boulders next to it were untouched. Larry and I were dumbfounded;
an hour and a half earlier, the boulder had been intact. I wasn't struck
speechless for long. It certainly was striking to have the lunchtime lesson
driven home.
Experienced and well-trained amateurs and scientists can agree on this, I
think: Inexperienced and untrained amateurs and scientists can cause a lot
of damage while they are learning. I don't mind that so long as they do
learn. I remember how patient (or resigned) my own teachers were on
occasion. Rocks, shells, it doesn't matter which; the principle is the
same.
A positive way to train collectors is for clubs to host speakers on the
subject of collecting methods, including good collecting habits. The
Geological Survey of Alabama has run three workshops on fossil collecting
for high-school teachers, including conservation of fossils, and other
groups have run similar workshops in other states. The Red Mountain Museum
used to have a close connection with the Birmingham Paleontological
Society, taking them to outcrops, training them gently in conservation, and
reaping the benefits of volunteer work. The Utah Geological Survey and
Denver Museum of Natural History (Colorado) offer innovative programs to
certify volunteer collectors, who then train others. I am optimistic about
these programs, which are paleontological. Does anything analogous exist
for collectors of living mollusks?
Andrew K. Rindsberg
Geological Survey of Alabama
Tuscaloosa, Alabama, USA
All places mentioned above are in the United States. Ringgold is in the
southern Appalachian Mountains.
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