Unearthing Ancient Fossils: A Reflection on the Giants in My Life

By Steven Wade Veatch

I remember a scorching summer afternoon in 1992, when, with my new wife Shelly and mother-in-law Karen, I walked on a trail that meandered down the hill known as Cope’s Nipple—named after the 19th-century paleontologist who explored this site for dinosaur bones. People refer to the area as Garden Park, and it is located a few miles north of Cañon City, Colorado. 

With my mother-in-law in tow, I took the lead and attempted to be on my best behavior. She was visiting us from Interlochen, Michigan. As we walked, her presence loomed over me, casting a shadow that seemed to stretch endlessly. The air was heavy with her silent intensity, making the surroundings feel eerily quiet. I imagined a pleasing scent in the air. It reminded me of my mother-in-law's garden in Michigan. This added a mysterious touch to the atmosphere. It felt as if every step we took was heavy, as if her presence alone had a gravitational pull. My thoughts went back and forth between making a good impression on her and conjuring in my mind—since we were walking on a dinosaur graveyard—a spike-tailed Stegosaurus defending himself from an Allosaurus.

Depiction of an Allosaurs prowling about in Garden Park
during the Jurassic Period. AI generated image.

As I walked through this area, memories flooded back from two years before when I had explored it with a friend. As we made our way up a hill on that sunny day my friend and I unexpectedly came across a hilltop ornamented with an abundance of petrified wood. The sight was mesmerizing, with the hill covered in these ancient, hardened remains of trees. The wood appeared as if frozen in time, its intricate patterns and textures on full display. The crisp sound of our footsteps echoed through the stillness of the hilltop, adding an eerie ambiance to the scene. A faint scent of earthiness lingered in the air, reminding us of the long history embedded in these petrified remains. As we gently touched the wood, a cool, smooth sensation greeted our fingertips, connecting us to the past. We were the first ones to see all of this petrified wood. If someone had been there before us, all the wood would probably have been taken.

Shelly and Karen kept up with me as we continued to descend Cope’s Nipple. The scorching sun baked everything in a relentless heat. While we were going down a gentle slope, Shelly and Karen talked about how different this landscape was than the woodlands and humid air of northern Michigan. Shelly vividly recounted to her mother the harrowing encounter she had had a year before, when a venomous rattlesnake unexpectedly lunged at her on an earlier trip here. She urged her mother to remain vigilant and attentive while going down the pathway.

It was the hottest part of the day as we continued to walk along the trail that now cut through a dark-red disintegrated siltstone, part of the world-famous Jurassic-age Morrison Formation. Insects buzzed under an intense Colorado blue sky. A scorpion scurried with a quick dart beneath a cracked slab of siltstone, its jagged edges leaning against a smooth cobble of quartz. Time seemed to slow down in the heat, and seconds lingered in the dry air. 

I had been here in the spring of 1991 with a prospector buddy. On that day, while ascending a ravine, we stumbled upon huge heaps of bentonite clay. It had rained the night before, and the clay had swollen up to five times its normal size. Nodules of a lilac-purple St. Stephen’s agate were bulging out of the swollen, wet clay. I crawled up the side of a clay mound and plucked out one of these agates. As I held it to the sunlight to see the concentric layers inside, I slipped and slid down the slick clay on my backside. Wet, cement-like clay covered my back to my head. There was no way to wash it off, and it was solidifying in the arid air. My wife had a lot to say about this when I returned home. She also wanted to see this place, Garden Park, the next time I went.

Now my adventure with my wife and mother-in-law heated up. The dirt-covered path, lined by piñon pine, was in the middle of a dinosaur graveyard and was under the protection of the Bureau of Land Management—no fossil collecting allowed. I couldn’t imagine dinosaurs once ruled this dry, semi-arid land covered with yucca and cactus. As we walked along the trail Shelly’s voice poked into my consciousness. She had just bent down to pick something up from the side of the path. She was describing it to her mother: “It’s cone-shaped with a subtle curve. It has a pointed end.” She continued, “The other part of this is not pointed. There is a serrated edge.” The word SERRATED thundered across my consciousness. I asked her if I could see it. She handed it to me. I knew at once she had stumbled upon an extraordinary find—a pristine Allosaurus tooth, a relic from a formidable dinosaur that once reigned supreme in Garden Park’s prehistoric ecosystem. The ancient fossil, with its sharp edges and intricate ridges, exuded a sense of raw power. As I held it in my hand, I could feel the weight of its history, imagining the ferocious battles it had fought. The sight of the tooth gleaming in the sunlight transported all of us back to a time when mighty dinosaurs roamed the land. The faint scent of earth and ancient fossils lingered in the air, arousing a sense of awe and excitement. 

It was now time to finish the hike. We left the hotter, drier landscape for a riparian environment. Four Mile Creek greeted us as it sliced its way through a scenic valley adorned with cascading layers of limestone, siltstone, and sandstone. The gentle sound of flowing water filled the air, harmonizing with the rustling of cottonwood leaves along the creek bank. The earthy scent of wet soil along the stream mingled with the refreshing aroma of the nearby vegetation. As we stood there, we couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe and wonder at the natural beauty surrounding us. 

The day changed, it shifted into something new. Shelly’ discovery was important. You don’t find an Allosaurus tooth every day. My mother-in-law had a breakthrough in how she thought about me. She enjoyed our day together and listening to me talking about a vanished ecosystem filled with dinosaurs.

And I discovered how fortunate I was to have these two women in my life.

Ancient Weevil Pupal Cases: Trace Fossils from Australia’s Pleistocene

Curious pupal cases made by prehistoric weevils, together with worm burrows, are found as trace fossils in rock exposures of the Upper Bridgewater Formation along the western coastline of the Eyre Peninsula in South Australia (Flint, 1992; Flint and Rankin, 1991; Rankin and Flint, 1992).  According to Parker and Flint (2005), the Upper Bridgewater Formation is a middle to late Pleistocene aeolian calcarenite (a wind-blown, consolidated gritty calcareous sandstone).  These trace fossils are found inland from the coast for a distance of about 40 km.  Microscopic analysis of these ancient pupal cases shows they are made of gritty sand and gravel that were cemented by calcite over thousands of years.

Fig. 1. Fossil pupal cases from the Bridgewater Formation resemble small elongated eggs.  These cases have a hole where the fossil organism exited.  The trace fossils are characterized by their strong cementation and a hollow interior.  Scale in mm. Specimen from the S. W. Veatch collection. Photo by S. W. Veatch.

These cases are thought to have contained the pupae Leptopius duponti, a medium-size, soil-inhabiting weevil or snout beetle of the family Curculionidae. The Curculionidae are one of the largest families of organisms, with at least 44,000 described species (Grimaldi and Engel, 2005).  Adults of most species of this family have a characteristic elongate snout or nostrum.  At the end of this well-developed snout is a small pair of mandibles for biting and chewing food.

Taxonomic Classification:
Kingdom        Animalia
Phylum          Arthropoda
Class             Insecta
Order             Coleoptera
Suborder       Polyphaga
Superfamily Curculionoidea
Family           Curculionidae
Subfamily Leptopiinae
Genus           Leptopius
Species         duponti

The adult female Leptopius duponti not only relishes the foliage of acacia trees as food, but also carefully lays her eggs on the leaves.  When the larva hatch, they move underground to feed on roots. When they are ready to pupate, they form a chamber or pupal case out of the soil.  After their metamorphosis, they cut a hole near one end of their pupal case to leave and then burrow to the surface, where they quickly climb the acacia trees to feed.

The pupal cases are usually too delicate to survive for any length of time, but, occasionally, some of the empty cases remain underground where they become petrified by calcite.  (Tilley et al., 1997).  Some of these pupal cases in the Upper Bridgewater Formation are estimated to be 40,000 to 100,000 years old.

Fig. 2. Leptopius duponti is common in Australia, where they are called “wattle pigs.” 
The body length of Leptopius duponti averages 20 mm. 
These slow-moving weevils are plant eaters.
Photo by David Nelson. Used with permission.

References cited:

Flint, R.B., 1992, Elliston, South Australia, Sheet SI3-6, South Australia Geological Survey, 1:250,000 series, explanatory notes.

Flint, R.B. and Rankin, L.R., 1991, Kimba, South Australia, Sheet SI53-7, South Australia Geological Survey, 1:250,000 series, explanatory notes.

Grimaldi, D and Engle, M. S., 2005, The Evolution of Insects: New York, Cambridge University Press, 689 p.

Parker, A.J. and Flint, R.B., 2005, Yardea, South Australia Sheet SI53-3, Geological Survey of South Australia, 1:250,000 series, explanatory notes.

Rankin, L.R., and Flint, R.B., 1992, Streaky Bay, South Australia Sheet SI53-2, South Australia Geological Survey, 1:250,000 series, explanatory notes.

Tilley, D. B., Barrows, T.T., and Zimmerman, E.C., 1997, Bauxitic insect pupal cases from northern Australia.  Alcheringa 21, p. 157-160.

Timeless Trees at Florissant, Colorado

The huge petrified Sequoia stumps near Florissant stretch the limits of my understanding. I’m left with only wonder, like a poem I can’t explain. Under the dominion of a clear blue sky, the afternoon light ricochets off the stone, displaying the myriad beige and brown hues of the fossil stumps. Their stony surfaces contrast with tufts of grass that surround them. The nearby orange-red bark of ponderosa pine and the scent of the forest adds another layer of magic, while silent mats of pine green moss cluster in the shadows.  Pale lichens cover some of the stone tree rings.  The warm summer air buzzes with insects.

Figure 1. View of the Florissant Fossil Beds National Monument's 
iconic "Big Stump." Photo by S.W. Veatch.

For me, the stone trees are a portal where the past joins with the present, and time seems to have stopped.   I imagine how it all began 34 million years ago when a cluster of nearby volcanoes, once dormant, erupted.  It started with a blast of ash and fiery molten rock shooting out from awakened vents. The air became heavy and dark, as plumes of grey ash hazed eastward towards what would become Florissant. Rainfall mixed with loose sediments on volcanic slopes, forming mud—the color of morning coffee—that rushed down the slopes of the volcanoes at speeds of up to 90 miles an hour. Ash rained out of the sky and mixed with the spreading mud. The mud popped and hissed, while it spilled over ledges, covered rocks, and stretched heedlessly into the Florissant valley.

A wreckage of plants and animals tumbled in the mud’s advance as it invaded the forest of tall Sequoias. It turned the area into a surreal, harsh, hellish place, wiping out local populations of oreodonts, rhino-like brontotheres, and small horses. Birds, struggling to dodge the devastation, flew skyward from the branches of trees that stood above the mud. Tendrils of steam rose out of the jumbled mess of mud that surrounded the bases of the trees. The weight of the mud pressurized and squeezed the wood.  Over time, silica in the mud penetrated the wood, leaving behind the remnants of the ancient forest we encounter today.

I first saw the petrified trees when I was in grade school. I came back often with my family to look at them again.  This relic stone forest changed me. I studied fossils and rocks because of them. And I learned from them. I now realize how mankind is a force of nature and how we can alter landscapes, just as the ancient mud and ash did so long ago at Florissant. Our addiction to fossil fuel has altered our planet’s atmosphere and contributes to changing global climate. Florissant’s Sequoias are extinct because of climate change, and these trees encourage us to contemplate our annihilation as the planet experiences rates of extinction not experienced since a meteor wiped out the dinosaurs.
         
At the stone stumps, I take a few minutes to listen, where the sounds of the chirping birds, chattering squirrels, and the soft whispers of breezes exist with the noises of development—homes being built, cars moving and dogs yapping. I can also hear the petrified forest—it speaks of an Earth that is always in a state of change, but this protected ancient forest (a national monument now) also provides a place where change slows down, at least for me. As I look at the fossilized trees, I sense a calm as they release me from my ego and create an awareness of the wonderful things I can discover outside of myself.         

Figure 2. Dynamite was used the early twentieth century to expose this stump.
The use of explosives resulted in the shattered texture of the stump and
required the use metal bands to hold it together. Photo by S.W. Veatch.

The Mystery of Genevieve: The Golden Dinosaur from the Depths of the London Mine

Steven Wade Veatch
and
Teresa L. Stoiber

The legend of “Genevieve,” a fossilized dinosaur not only made of stone—but also of gold—began on July 3, 1932. That was the day W. K Jewett, owner of the London Mine near Alma, Colorado, stopped at the Antlers Hotel in Colorado Springs and made the official announcement of its unearthing. The story was picked up by the news services, and word of the fantastic  find spread through the scientific world like a prairie fire.

The golden dinosaur was discovered by William White, 700 feet underground—deep in the London Mine (W. K. Jewett, 1932). Curiously, the miners had been using the creature’s nose as a lamp holder, not realizing there was a "dinosaur" (if that is what it was) there. White, a hard rock miner, believed at first he was looking at two stumps. In reality, it was a dinosaur lying on its back with its limbs at an angle of 75 degrees. Eager to retrieve it from its rocky tomb, miners blasted it out of rock at the 700-foot level of the London Mine with dynamite. The explosion shattered the specimen. Bits and pieces of the dinosaur were hoisted to the surface, where curious crowds gathered to see the prehistoric monster.

As the story goes, a geology professor at Colorado College, Robert Landon, traveled to Alma so he could examine Genevieve—an extraordinary record of a former world. The measurements he made revealed that the animal was 18 feet (5.4 m) long and 6.5 feet (2 m) high (W. K. Jewett, 1932). The creature had a long neck that supported a small head. It also had a long tail.

Fig. 1. The only known photo of Genevieve taken in the basement of Cutler Hall, Colorado College.Photo credit: Colorado College Tiger, August 12, 1932. Page 3. Courtesy of Colorado College Tutt Library, Special Collections.

Jewett, who gave to the city of Colorado Springs the Patty Jewett golf course, presented the dinosaur to the Colorado College museum (Skeleton of Dinosaur, 1932). The 16-ton dinosaur reached Colorado College by truck, where a crew of men carefully carried it to the basement of Cutler Hall. College technicians spent countless hours in the basement, where they enthusiastically cemented together what the newspapers hailed as the rarest find ever made in paleontology (Genevieve, Colleges Latest Acquisition Now Ready to Receive Callers, 1932). After the repair of the fossil dinosaur, it was moved to Colorado College’s museum and put on display (Will Bring Dinosaur Here Late this Week, 1932).

There is a real mystery that surrounds this dinosaur. In the 1960s, the museum closed and Genevieve’s display was removed. No one seems to know what happened to this specimen. Was Genevieve smelted down, put in the basement archives and forgotten, or taken to a professor’s house for a private collection?  The mystery of her disappearance still stands to this day.

Three critical questions must now be answered: Was Genevieve a dinosaur, where did she go, and was she really made of gold? The past would not easily give up these secrets, including unfortunately, the origin of its lovely name.

An article, from Greely, Colorado’s Tribune-Republican, dated July 2, 1932, stated the dinosaur remains were made known to Mr. Jesse Figgins, Director of the Colorado Museum of Natural History (noted for for his work on the famous Folsom archaeological site in New Mexico), who said this unusual dinosaur fossil must be the remains of a marine reptile. Nowhere in the article does it report  that Genevieve was made of gold—but it does state that she was shattered when dynamited out of the mine, and that restoration wasn’t expected to take long.

When asked about Genevieve, Colorado College archivist Jessy Randall said she had been questioned about her before. The last time was in 2004, when Geology Professor Emeritus Bill Fischer, former chair of the geology department, was still alive. Fischer gave this response:

“The one man who would have had the answers, Professor Bob Landon, died in 1995, and all of the people associated with the college museum are also deceased. . . I never heard of the specimen during my 50-year association with the school, and I suspect that it really was never installed in the museum and that the college newspaper account that ‘it was resting on a pedestal in the museum’ is totally false. From the photograph, one can see that with 16 tons of matrix and bone it would have taken months if not years to prepare the specimen for display. Now for a few thoughts as to the fossil itself. First of all, it is not a dinosaur and probably not a rhynchocephalian reptile. The photograph is of very poor quality, but my best guess is that it may have been a Phytosaur—but regardless of the correct identification it was a very valuable find, and I am sorry if it ended up in a smelter. . . Good luck in your search and sorry I couldn't be of more assistance.” Signed: Bill Fischer.

Sadly, it looks like Genevieve’s case has gone cold. The museum has long been closed, and those associated with the museum are deceased. It is doubtful that she was made of gold—but she was found in a gold mine, the source of a good rumor and the basis for a great story surrounding her mysterious existence and disappearance.

Although Genevieve remains a mystery, this article has dug up and weaves together most of what is known and speculated about her. Although her real story has been buried with the museum workers and gold miners who have passed away, there are still a few miners who, while relaxing at a local saloon, fondly ponder the puzzle of Genevieve. They raise their shot glasses and make this toast to the miners who found Genevieve, the golden dinosaur: “May you always stand on ore and your labors be in vein.”

Acknowledgments

The authors thank Danny Alfrey for bringing Genevieve to our attention back in 2011. We also appreciate Ben Elick’s help in obtaining the photograph of this mysterious fossil.

References Cited

Find Skeleton of Dinosaur in Ore of London Mine. (1932, July 2). Colorado Springs Gazette, p. 2.

Genevieve, Colleges Latest Acquisition Now Ready to Receive Callers. Made Presentable by Profs. (1932, August 12). Colorado College Tigers

W. K. Jewett Gives Skeleton of Prehistoric Animal to Colo. College Museum. (1932, July 3). Colorado Springs Gazette, p. 2.

Will Bring Dinosaur Here Late this Week. (1932, July 6,). Colorado Springs Gazette, p. 5

Fagopsis longifolia: an Extinct Species from Florissant

Fagopsis longifolia is one of the more common fossil plants found in the Florissant Formation. Located 35 miles west of Colorado Springs, Florissant Fossil Beds National Monument has one of the most diverse fossil deposits in the world—more than 1,700 different species have been described from this ancient lake deposit. Fagopsis, a genus that became extinct at the end of the Eocene, is thought to have been a member of the beech family (Fagaceae). Originally identified as the water elm, Planera, these fossil leaves were assigned to the genus Fagopsis.

Fagopsis longifolia is one of the most abundant fossils found in the Florissant Formation. The length of the leaves are 5 to7 cm (1.9 to 2.75 inches); and the width is from 2.5 to 3 cm (1 to 1.2 inches). Specimen FLFO3129a, Florissant Fossil Beds National Monument. Image by Russell Wood.

Fagopsis is known from just 30 other fossil specimens from the North American Eocene. Although Fagopsis longifolia is among the most abundant fossils at Florissant, this species has not been found anywhere else in the world. Fagopsis thrived along the prehistoric Florissant streams and the edges of ancient Lake Florissant, dropping its abundant leaves onto the water. Towering redwoods (Sequoia) also grew around the borders of the lake and along streams.

This brochure, featuring one of the Sequoia stumps of the Florissant fossil beds, was used to attract visitors to the fossil beds when it was a tourist attraction. Huge, petrified Sequoia trees are the largest fossils found in the monument—some have the largest diameter petrified trees known. Brochure image courtesy of the Beth Simmons collection.

Fossil plants, just like Fagopsis longifolia, provide important information about paleoclimate and the uplift history (paleoelevation) of the Rocky Mountains in the prehistoric past. Fagopsis represents plants found in a moister climate than the cool, dry climate of Florissant today. Based on characteristics of Fagopsis and other fossil plants, scientists have estimated the mean annual temperature at Florissant during the Late Eocene at approximately 10.7° to 14°C (51.2° to 57.2° F) with an estimated paleoelevation of 1,899 to 3,299 meters (6,230 to 10,500 feet) Note: there is counterevidence from non-floral studies that propose different mean annual temperatures and paleoelevations. Researchers are still working on this problem] Florissant also represents a time period just before a major cooling of the world’s climate that occurred during the end of the Eocene and at the dawn of the Oligocene .

Fossils of Fagopsis longifolia are found between layers of paper-thin lake shales in the Florissant Formation from the latest part of the Eocene (34 million years ago).  Most of the Florissant fossils are detailed compression and impression fossils of insects and plants. Image by Donald Miranda.

The conditions of ancient Lake Florissant led to exceptional fossil preservation and preserved a number of fossils—like Fagopsis longifolia—that are used by researchers as proxies or useful indicators for reconstructing ancient environments and understanding biological evolution, paleoclimate, paleoelevation, and climate change.







A Short Note On: Fossil Spiders from Florissant

The order of Araneae (true spiders) are represented as a large and diverse group in the 34.1 million-year-old Florissant Formation. Spiders were among the earliest animals to live on land. They are thought to have evolved about 400 million years ago from primitive ancestors that emerged from water to live on land. Spiders are arachnids—not insects, however both spiders and insects belong to the largest group of animals on Earth, the arthropods.


Florissant is well-known for its fossil spiders. More than 150 specimens of spiders have been found in the Florissant shales.


This Eocene-age fossil spider is a male, based on the swelling of the pedipalps. Many fossil spiders are impressions that are barely discernable.  Toni Clare, owner of the commercial quarry north of the Florissant Fossil Beds National Monument, collected the specimen shown above in 1997. Florissant Fossil Beds National Monument specimen number 2971A. Photo: R. Wolf.

When spiders die their legs normally curl under their body. Florissant spiders, like the image of one above, have their legs extended—rather than curled up. Scientists argue that the extended legs of Florissant’s spiders suggest the waters of ancient Lake Florissant, during the latest Eocene, were warmer or more acidic than normal; the likely cause may have been from thermal vents associated with area volcanism or from ash falls.
It is difficult to assign Florissant’s fossil spiders to a genus and species based on their external features observed in the paper shales. Since microscopic characteristics cannot be seen in the fossil impressions at Florissant, an outline morphometric study, using carapace (dorsal exoskeleton) shape and leg characters, has been effective in making family placements of fossil spiders.

All spiders have two well-divided body sections: the cephalothorax (prosoma) followed by an abdomen (opisthosoma). The abdomen contains the digestive and reproductive systems and on the ventral surface near the apex are spinnerets that deliver small threads of silk.

Silk has many functions such as making intricate webs that capture prey, encasing eggs, and building elaborate nests or burrows. Spiders with a distinctive silk organ, called a cribellum, are included in a special group called the Cribellatae. The fossil spider in figure 1 has a cribellum and belongs to this group.

Spiders have eight walking legs, all attached to the cephalothorax. On the front of the cephalothorax are the mouth, fangs to bite prey with, and eyes. The first pair of appendages—the chelicerae—are used for piercing, handling prey, and injecting venom. The second pair of appendages, the pedipalps, are used for mating and are much larger in male spiders than in females.

All species of spiders are predatory—spiders that do not spin webs, such as wolf spiders and tarantulas, stalk or ambush their prey. Spiders feed by a process known as external digestion. When spiders catch an insect, they inject venom that paralyzes their prey. The spider’s venom also contains digestive enzymes. These enzymes liquefy most of its victim’s insides so the spider can feed on this mixture of nutrients.

Spiders were once a part of an ancient ecosystem at Florissant that has long since vanished; the only record of it is held in the fossil beds. Some of the spiders that lived there built elaborate webs; several built tunnel-like lairs under rocks or under the dead leaves littering the primeval forest floor, while others lived on rocks or trees. Some of the spiders ultimately turned into fossils. More exciting discoveries of these remarkable fossils will no doubt occur and add to our understanding of this prehistoric ecosystem and creatures.