Sunday, January 6, 2019

The Trouble with Language

Growing up, my mom made me a promise. She was a French teacher, and a linguist. She promised me that if I took French, starting in Kindergarten, and stuck with it all the way through grade school, she would take me to France.

Parents, be careful what you promise your children. I did this, and have attempted to at least stay familiar with the language through reading since I graduated high school. It's ended up being useful; while most scientific journals that I need are in English, I've run into several that have been in French that I've needed to read.

Sure enough, after the first year of my master's, we got around to taking that trip. Now, we've both been out of practice for so long at this point that speaking was REALLY hard (especially for me!) But after a couple of days we were at least able to make ourselves understood. We visited a beautiful island abbey, the Dordogne valley (an area famous for its early human remains and cave paintings), and Paris. 

On one of the first days that we were exploring the countryside, we went to Mt. St. Michel. It is a beautiful little abbey on an island with gorgeous architecture and a rich history. As I said, we've both been a bit out of practice for a while now, so we ended up choosing to take the English tour. My science French vocabulary? Pretty good. My history and architecture vocab? Um.... not.... not good. It turned out to be a good decision. However, these weren't English speakers who just decided to come and work at a historic site in France. These were French speakers who were better English speakers than I could even hope for my foreign language skills to be. And I am very, very thankful to the folks that we met for either helping us learn new words or speaking English when we were really lost. But it was this tour where I ran into an odd translation that would follow me for the remainder of the trip, and brought up something that I will continue to keep in mind as non-English speakers visit places I work.
The tour guide began explaining the origin of letters carved into bricks that were outside the abbey. They were written by the people making the bricks, and used to keep track of which workers made how many. This was related to how much they would be paid. However, he kept referring to the letters as "tracks." 
Alright. I could see someone calling these tracks in a English, at least in a somewhat sense. He wasn't wrong, it just caught me off guard. I didn't think anything of it until we continued into the abbey and he repeatedly used the word referring to carvings, maker's marks, tool marks, and the masonry that kept the stones together for so many centuries. Again, none of the ways that he used the word were technically wrong, but it isn't the first word that I would've thought to use. So that evening, we looked up the word for "track" in French. My guess was that the word used for track had a broader meaning in French than it does in English. 
If you have ever taken a foreign language course, you know that simply plugging what you want to say in a translating tool won't get you the best grade.

Oh, it might give you a useful word. But it also may conjugate that one verb wrong, put those words in the wrong order, or even give you a different vocabulary word than your teacher intended for you to use. Other than the fact that programming computers to properly account for grammatical correctness in a single language is complicated, translations are almost never cut and dry. There's one reason right there already. Idioms, colloquial phrases, and imagery are not always shared between cultures. In addition, words almost never translate directly and simply.


This isn't uncommon. What a single word may be able to represent in our language may require more specificity in another language, and what many words may represent in our language with slightly varying connotations may be the same, single word in that same other language.


The word that means "track" in French is "une empreinte." And while "tracks" is one meaning, and the most direct translation of it, it can also have the connotation of trace, print (as in tracks or finger prints), impression, cast, step, mark, step... you get the idea. So it was no surprise that we continued to see this word elsewhere.

I saw it at cave art sites, where it referred to "traces" of people, as well as when cut marks made by people in bones were involved. It showed up in Paris at an exhibit about dinosaurs in reference to both trackways and skin impressions. It was used at multiple museums in reference to impressions (or compressions) of leaves and invertebrates.
And, of course, it was in an exhibit about trackways in caves. However, this exhibit was not only about "tracks." It was about trace fossils in general, and included the impressions of rain drops. So apparently "une empreinte" can also refer to trace fossils in general.

To further complicate matters, the verb form of the word, "empreindre," can mean to mark, to leave a print.... etc...

However, the word "une empriente" does not ever translate to tracks as in "train tracks." It more closely reflects the meaning of "trace." 

Moral of the story? Language and culture further complicate the communication of science, and should be kept in mind. However, seeing how scientists in other countries use language can give us a window into how others understand science, and sometimes offers us another way to see the world.

Tuesday, August 9, 2016

...And I'm gonna make it home tonight!

 Today was the long drive, and there's still a lot to see and do in Maryland.

A couple of months ago, I went to a conference and met some folks from Dinosaur Park, a county maintained site that is an active excavation. The park is run completely on citizen science, opening its doors to the public to help. No one can take anything home; everything is kept and eventually put aside for research, because everything tells a part of the story. A lot of the collection goes to the Smithsonian. They've found dinosaurs, and there's wood everywhere from it being swampy. It dates back to the early Cretaceous. It's not likely that the dinosaurs were local here; they're bones likely washed down from further inland because of their deposition. It's been excavated on and off since the days of Marsh, who found the state dinosaur, a sauropod, here. There was so little material that he lost interest and went west, but the finds are just frequent enough to keep the interest of the public-and more eyes means that more can be found.

We also stopped at the Marine museums, explored collections, and saw some beautifully done exhibits. The best part on display was the Megaladon. I'm used to just seeing a jaw, and maybe an outline to demonstrate their length. These guys decided to reconstruct the cartilage structures that have replaced the bones and very rarely preserve, giving you the idea that this thing could probably have actually lived.

So how long was he?

There's a wide variety of estimates, ranging from 30 to 65 feet.  A modern great white shark will hit about 15-20 feet, max. This particular group takes a more conservative estimate and built their shark to reflect the lower end of this spectrum, awaiting evidence that they were bigger. Biological models right now suggest that a shark any bigger would start to fall apart, assuming it was just a blown up version of the Great White Shark. That said, the Great White may also be closer to the mako's than to the Meg. So something was likely different.

We just don't have any evidence of what. And so we look and wait.

 Speaking of looking, Maryland is a great place to do a little beach hunting, and we happened to hit the museum during a rain. I don't recommend going near Calvert Cliffs after a big rain or storm, but the beaches a little further down from them are a great place to look for teeth and fossils at this point. There wasn't a lot this time, but I did find some ray plates and teeth.

Another summer ended at the beach. Perfect.





Sunday, August 7, 2016

Deja vu


So as I mentioned, today meant a visit to the Academy of Natural Sciences, now related to Drexel University (known among paleontologists for their work on sauropods in Argentina, particularly and recently Dreadnoughtus.) The visit was made particularly special by the current choice of special exhibit.

The museum has other things, but mostly dinosaurs are everywhere. It has the collection of plants brought back by Lewis and Clark, a lot of taxidermy and diorama's (which are great, unless you're in an area that has a really awesome zoo and are thus spoiled by seeing these exotic animals actually alive...), a butterfly room, collections related to Leidy and Cope.... and then they were splitting at the seems with dinosaurs. Including a lab that was on display, animatronics (which small children kept referring to as the "real" dinosaurs), and the first mounted dinosaur.

Of course, such a place has a large draw for children and their parents. But it was worth being the biggest kid in the room to visit such a significant place in paleontological history.

Back in the early days of paleontology in the United States, a man named Foulk caught wind of a large bones found by a farmer and went to investigate. This led to the discovery of what was then the most complete dinosaur ever found. It was a duck billed dinosaur. He reconstructed it as a biped that walked a lot like a kangaroo, supporting its weight on its tail (look behind the triceratops frill in the picture to the right for a painting of his best guess.) It makes me laugh, it reminds me a lot of the giant ground sloths.

Here's how we would posture one today with the bones that he had available to him pictured.

So many people came to see the dinosaur that the museum actually had to start charging admission in a wild attempt to slow down the masses of traffic; the entry fee was ten cents.

The Academy of Natural Sciences, aside from having what was the first  mounted dinosaur, was also the home institution of Leidy and later his prodigy student, Cope. In case you've missed out on my other stories about them, Cope and Marsh had a bitter rivalry between them. They raced to name as many dinosaur species as possible while also bashing each other in the newspapers. Leidy actually would have been a third great mind in this rivalry had he not gotten sick of the mudslinging and decided to pursue something where there weren't people at each others throats. His other interests, like plants and insects and other things, sounded like a pretty calm field. They had a pretty good exhibit about his and Cope's contributions to science. Not being in Marsh's territory and being the home of his opponents, however, his name is only mentioned in passing.

It was a great time to visit the museum because in addition to the already beautiful dinosaur exhibit, there was a travelling exhibit visiting the museum filled with more (anamatronic) dinosaurs! They focused on stories, things that don't have the full consensus of the rest of the scientific community yet, including the "dueling dinosaurs" and Cleveland Lloyd Dinosaur Quarry.

Hey, that's familiar...

The story from the quarry that they chose to include was the predator trap; predators getting stuck in the mud while trying to get to their prey, which in a classic example is either stuck or already dead. It's one of the oldest hypotheses, although not necessarily well supported one way or another. Not that any of the other stories are well supported in this case.

Speaking of the quarry, after this it was down to Maryland to visit my lovely geologist friend Kaitlyn, the one and same that I interned with last summer. Of course, we couldn't get Mac to fly out from CA to meet us, but it was the first of hopefully many Quarry Crew reunions. Miss you already, Kaitlyn!





















Saturday, August 6, 2016

Science in History

So after a couple of higher-stress weeks at the end of work, my research was wrapped up, conclusions were drawn, presentations were made, and bags were packed.

Time to go home.

Don't get me wrong. I had a lot of fun in the big apple. But its not my home state. Of course, neither were Nebraska or Utah. But really. NYC is the polar opposite of home in more ways than I can count. It's just time to get back to clean smelling air and less crowded streets. And a couple of projects that need write-ups. And planning for graduate school. And...oh yeah. Apparently the life planning that goes into getting married sometime in the not too distant future.

Yeah...that too. Looks like I have a busy year ahead.

Those of you who have loyally kept up with my posts over the past couple of years know what this means! It's time for the seemingly-annual paleo-nerd road trip that I drag whichever poor parent decides to help me move home on!

Today was more about spoiling the part of me that is into the history of paleontology, actually. You see, back before the Civil war (and partially stretching back to before the Revolutionary war), paleontology was just being born and was just being adopted by the great thinkers of the world. George Cuvier was developing comparative anatomy and geology, Darwin was alive, extinction was still being hotly debated as fact or fiction, and men could literally be anything and everything they wanted to be. At least, gentlemen could. Those who were well-read, well, they read. Everything. And the collected. These were jacks-and masters- of all trades, men like Ben Franklin, George Washington, and Thomas Jefferson. Thinkers like these men formed the American Philosophical Society, literally right next door to the very building in which they would sign our Declaration of Independence. What may sound boring (I mean.... philosophy?) was actually a center of science and research, as well as thinking, that still funds a wide variety of research today.

They also have a small museum and happen to be celebrating a birthday. I had to see.

This is where the first dinosaur on American soil would be announced and pondered, where Cope and Marsh would hotly debate anything and everything, and where men got their footholds to boost them into the world of the thinking.

Having only one exhibit hall, what they actually put on display for the public rotates. Education just isn't the main function here. But what they put on display is incredible. While not paleontological, they were showing off their huge linguistics collection, notes and papers written by Jefferson and others, including notebooks from the expedition of Lewis and Clark, recording the languages of the Native Americans. Jefferson feared that these languages would be lost, but also hoped to trace the origins of these men through their languages. Arguments written flattering these cultures were meant to convince Europe that America wasn't a degenerate nation that shrank anyone who came to the young country (propaganda that was being circulated to keep people from wanting to voyage to the land of the free.) Lewis and Clark were also instructed to find fossils-and the extinct beasts that they were from, living- for this same reason, to find the something big, strong. The mammoths. The giant lions that were thought to have existed (until Cuvier wrote back to say that the "teeth" Jefferson had were from giant sloths.) Jefferson went to his grave believing that these beasts were still alive, that extinction was false and that somewhere, his country had large, majestic creatures rivaling those of Africa.

In his defense, there was a lot of unexplored territory at the time of his death. It's about like someone believing that aliens could possibly exist somewhere on the grounds that there is more universe than we'll ever be able to see.

I actually came to Philadelphia 11 years ago with my parents and sister, and I remembered that I had to get a Phily Cheese Steak, see the Liberty Bell (which turns out to have a story just as true as that of Cherry Bounce, for those of you familiar with Raleigh history and myths), get a post card stamped at Franklin's post office....

And that led to a fossil.

Behind his post office is an entire area dedicated to his life. Basically, his properties are still preserved. His post office is still a USPS post office. His print shop stands. His home is.... gone. But outlined! And a property that he and his wife used to rent out showcases archeological finds from the area. Particularly things that were thrown out in the garbage....

....down the privy.... yuck.

And because of an unfortunate accident, I found a bone.

Franklin, like many of the other founding fathers, was a thinker and a scientist. And a collector. It turns out that he had a mastodon tooth, sent to him while he was in Europe, from Ohio (possibly from Big Bone Lick, where I went two summers ago on my way to Nebraska.) And... whoops! It got thrown down the privy.

Eww...

It wasn't in the rental house with the other artifacts, but thanks to a couple of very, very helpful park rangers, I managed to track it down to the Benjamin Franklin Museum, conveniently located next door. It was well done, showcasing his many inventions, discoveries, and sense of humor. But I had forgotten that he collected bones as well.

Thank you, archeologists.

Fun fact: he also had the connections that allowed for the path of Venus to be mapped from different vantage points world wide, which then helped him calculate our distance, and that of other planets from the sun.

On the way home, we also passed this guy, an animatronic dinosaur advertising an exhibit at the Academy of Natural Sciences. Looks like another stop in Phily is in order tomorrow morning :)














Tuesday, July 19, 2016

Ancient Times, Modern Problems

Photo credit Danielle Bowman

This past weekend was busy. I had my boyfriend and his family visiting up here in NYC, and it was eventful to say the least. While exploring Central Park and climbing around on some of the boulders there, though, we had no idea what the impact was of what we were walking on. However, limits were placed on the seemingly endless metro system and skyscrapers millions and millions of years before the city was ever dreamed of. And before there was anyone to do the dreaming. All because of these rocks.

Jacob and I, not expecting any connection to be made to our walk, got the wild idea to go down to the transit museum in Brooklyn. This is what happens when you start spending time with a history major. When we first walked up to it, all we could do was wonder why the transit museum didn't have a transit station right next to it.

Then we looked down and realized that it was because the museum was actually a re-purposed metro station itself.

This isn't always the reason for there to be or not to be a metro station in a given space, though. Actually, the entire city is limited by rocks that started forming over 550 million years ago. Sediments (dirt!) deposited were hardened millions of years later into a harder rock, called schist, that makes up the boulders in central park and the bedrock underneath the city. Another continent ran into ours, pressing the sedimentary rock until it became more solid. It is extremely hard to cut through, and it was only more recently that this could be done with machines. Machines or handtools, they dulled easily, which posed challenges to the workers.

This rock, at least, is stable because its so hard, so when it can be cut through, the tunnels are pretty stable.

It isn't the only kind of rock present, though. formations that formed later aren't as hard, and have a habit of crumbling. This was extremely dangerous when the tunnels were initially being dug, especially when the walls caved in below the level of the rivers. Since then, they've been stabilized, but it makes constructing anything in them extremely dangerous.

To help with this, geologists and engineers took core samples so that they could plan ahead for the problems that they could potentially face, and know what they were going to be digging through in that area.

This isn't the only way that the past shaped the present. The skyline is also shaped by it. The height of the buildings is actually determined by the depth of the bed rock. Its what determined New York Cities unique skyline; buildings can only be built so tall when the foundation's depth are limited by how deep construction workers can dig before hitting the bedrock. You can actually predict the geology below based on the height of the buildings on Manhattan.

It makes for an interesting story, dating back to just before the first vertebrates appeared in the fossil record. As a result, it doesn't involve the dinosaurs, or any other animal to leave behind a fossil. I haven't heard anything about plants being found in the tunnels, either. So just to include some fossils, there's a dinosaur hiding in this antiquated metro card that was in the museum. Find him!!





Friday, July 8, 2016

Glowing Secrets


 Today the museum took its various summer research program students on a field trip. That included the biology students like me! And so we hopped on the bus and jumped the state line over to the Sterling Hill Mine in New Jersey.

The mine is no longer active, but its one of the oldest mines in the country. It ran from 1646 to 1986, going out of business so recently that one of the tour guides was one of the miners. The rock is metamorphic, a sort of marble, or very compressed limestone that originally formed around hydrothermal vents, just like you can find at the bottom of the ocean today.


Its a pretty common looking cave at first, although the bats are kept out of the area that people can tour for the health of both and it is definitely manmade. But it is wet, dark, full of rock, and covered in stalactites (top!), stalagmites (bottom!) and flowstone (which runs down the walls.) All three are formed by water dripping through the walls, carrying minerals and taking roughly a week to get from the top to where they drip off the rock. When the rate of formation is well understood, core samples can be taken and oxygen isotopes (molecules of O2 that are different weights) can be used to tell whether it was a wet or dry year. Lighter weights indicate a wet year, heavier indicate a dry year. This also gets used in bones and teeth in animal fossils.

Because the cave is marble, it is really hard rock. As a result, there were parts of the mine wall that the men working in it could not access for the first two hundred years that it was worked. (Note that the hardness of the rock led to a remarkably low death rate even before labor laws went into place, though it was still significant.) Meanwhile, the lowest chambers of the mine had to be constantly pumped out at costs reaching millions of dollars a year. However, for a long time the mine was still profitable; it produced iron that was needed for common use and eventually World War II, There have also been various other resources through the years that have only ever been able to be found here.

That includes minerals that just so happen to be fluorescent. That means the chemical composition of the rocks reacts with specific wavelengths of ultraviolet light, the same waves that can burn you if you're exposed to extreme sun for too long (so don't stick your eyes under these lights! They are stronger than normal black light!!). We're not really sure exactly what about their chemical composition leads them to glow like they do; some do, while those from other mines may not. But they are impressive to look at.

See, they start out looking like this.....














And then you hit the lights and turn on a UV light....











And then someone artsy comes along....

 A little bit of history for you; Edison had a mine nearby where he found a way to separate out zinc ores, giving even higher purity's than those that are world famous for coming from the area. He spent two million dollars in the process, found that it was profitable as a result, and "had fun doing it." He also developed not just a light bulb, but also one that could be used in the mine safely. It didn't rely on a flame, and had a battery pack like your car battery that could last for up to twelve hours. This, new laws, better ways to detect dangerous gas in the air, a mechanism for men to use to breathe longer in a low air situation, better supports, and various other inventions that came with time greatly improved the safety of the job. Its not perfect, even to this day in other modern and active mines, but its better than it was.

I should mention that we had the privilege of collecting florescent minerals while we were there. Now I need to get a UV light to look at them with!











My Story (Very briefly...)

Lots of people claim that they wanted to be paleontologists at the age of 3. So did I. The problem is, I never really grew out of it. My third birthday party had dinosaurs. Everywhere. I grew up digging in fossil dirt from Aurora, NC, looking for coral and shark teeth. I practically lived at my local science museums (and still do, only now I get to do research, fossil preparation, and work in collections!) When local paleontologists discovered a dinosaur with a "fossilized heart" (no longer considered such) when I was little, I got to meet the man who led the work. And then, years later a dinosaur bone with soft tissue turned up. I was officially hooked.
No longer was I dreaming about dinosaurs. I was actively pursuing the science behind prehistoric creatures. I didn't want to read about it, I wanted in on the action. So I started working at the museum, and finally going on my own adventures. And thus, I needed a place to share them and maybe inspire others the way I was inspired. I have gone from watching fossils be prepared from one side of the glass at the museum to working on them on the inside of the glass. I am a student working toward my goal. I can finally start to call myself a paleontologist.