Who owns these bones




















The conflict wouldn't be so serious if the West's fossils weren't so accessible. Its barren expanses of rock are a gigantic graveyard which have yielded some of the most important paleontological discoveries. Como Bluff, Wyo. Billions of tracks run across Colorado - the Dinosaur Freeway. Montana was home to the bloodthirsty and sickle-clawed Deinonychus, the horned Torosaurus, and the world's most extensive litter of baby dinosaurs and egg shells. Although children and perhaps their parents think of dinosaurs as indigenous to museums of natural history in big cities, the West is beginning to get some credit for its fecundity.

Western paleontologists Bakker and James Kirkland have named dinosaurs "Utah," "Denver" and "Wyoming," after their burial grounds. Flanked by their mighty finds, the dealers brag about the science they have taught themselves and their ability to survive in the outback. The men - the collectors here are almost all men; the few wives and girlfriends in attendance tan by the pool - scoff at the idea that they threaten what they love. Eroding fossils are a "burning virgin forest," says Mike Triebold, president of the American Association of Paleontological Suppliers, and "we are all firefighters.

Stuart Grieve, a nervous man who sells slabs of fossil fish, grew up in a small Western town and built a fossil collection from his after-school forays and solitary weekend walks. Since jobs in ranching and mining were fading fast, he decided to turn his hobby into a living. The people here aren't shy about criticizing professors who use taxpayers' money to fund their studies, but are too busy writing grant proposals to spend time on the ground.

And they say professors are jealous of commercial dealers' freedom to roam the land. The snobbery hurts, Boyce tells me. Academics discriminate against his friends "for being hillbillies Commercial collectors, who sell all over the world, appeal to many of the independent, anti-government rock hounds. They live in the same small towns, join the same rock clubs and even work together. Rock hounds don't make a living from fossils - many are still miners or ranchers - but they get involved with dealers for some side cash.

Smaller dealers buy many of the fossils I see displayed from rock hounds; larger dealers hire local amateurs to work digs. Commercial dealers attribute their tight relationship with these amateurs to the gem and mineral shows. You can pet it, touch it. The academics To many professional paleontologists, this isn't education or even commerce: It's destruction of knowledge for private gain. Collectively, paleontologists have spent over a century hunting, preparing and investigating these prehistoric creatures.

They've fought wars with their colleagues over matters that seemed at the time to be impossibly arcane. They've sat through scholarly meetings and pursued money from foundations, wealthy individuals and government. They have spent their lives digging for things that, until recently, most people thought had no value. Together they've written the ultimate - if incomplete - history of the million-year reign of the dinosaurs.

Through it all, they said, one of their goals was to get us interested - to get us to share their passion for knowledge and preservation. They've succeeded beyond their expectations. To some paleontologists, their wish has become their nightmare. In a basement study lined with books, in the heart of Colorado's richest dinosaur fields, paleontologist Brooks Britt writes his reports, leaving occasionally to go upstairs to a lab where volunteers painstakingly remove dirt from bones.

His fossil collection inhabits the labyrinthine underbelly of the Museum of Western Colorado in Grand Junction. If the surface bones are gone, we don't know the dinosaur is underground. Other paleontologists argue that the commercial collectors give nothing back to the science that has fostered their passion for fossils and their market. Only 0. Commercial dealers will find a set of dinosaur tracks and sell them as individual footprints, he says.

But a few paleontologists support commercial collectors and rock hounds. Bakker was a consultant on the screenplay of Jurassic Park and wrote a best-selling nonfiction book, The Dinosaur Heresies. Unlike Bakker, most academics alienate rock hounds by ignoring the amateurs. The typical dig uses volunteer undergraduates for physical labor, rather than locals, and gives nothing back to the community. This annoys British paleontologist and fossil dealer Terry Manning, who comes annually to Tucson and thinks American paleontologists should use the energy and skills of rock hounds and even commercial dealers.

James Kirkland is trying to broaden paleontolgy's supporters. Since discovering the bloodthirsty Utahraptor - a large velociraptor like those that terrorized Jurassic Park - he has worked to popularize dinosaurs.

As part of that effort, he set up shop in this small town in dinosaur country. His plans include a popular magazine, like Audubon, that would relate tales of the most recent discoveries and digs. But even Kirkland draws the line at opening public land to commercial dealers.

I also have to teach and curate a museum," says Kirkland. Scientists must store every piece of dinosaur they find forever, and provide public access to their collection. Commercial collectors, he says, "have an incredible advantage over curators. Land-management agencies allow scientists to collect on public land, but the permitting system is so complex that it defeats many academics. Commercial dealers say they're locked out and must rent private land, mainly from ranchers interested in royalties and, perhaps, a famous discovery.

Both groups have pushed legislation to further their cause. Members of the Society of Vertebrate Paleontology supported a bill in which would have allowed only paleontologists to collect vertebrate fossils on public land.

Attacks on the bill sent a shock wave through the academic community. The Senate was bombarded with letters from a new national organization, the American Lands Access Association. The bill was severe, elitist and anti-American, said the letters. It died in committee. The Access Association "speaks for a lot of poor people with a four-wheel drive and a tank of gas," according to Bob Cranston, its secretary. The debate over the bill is cast in traditional Western terms: From the commercial and amateur collectors' side, the scientists' bill was another attempt to close off Western land.

Cranston and his allies visited gem and mineral rock shops and shows. But "rock hounds alone are not enough," says Cranston, "so we turned to the Blue Ribbon Coalition and solicited every snowmobile rider, jeep driver, everyone who uses public lands. Contributions from these groups and commercial dealers helped send a lobbyist to Washington, D. In early February, coinciding nicely with the Tucson show, the bill was introduced.

It would allow rock hounds and commercial collectors to apply for permits to dig on public lands. But no one would need a permit to take fossils from the surface using hand tools.

The bill's proponents at the Ramada tell me the final draft makes huge concessions to the scientific community. But Krause, the head of the Society of Vertebrate Paleontology, disagrees. He points to the heart of the problem - the honor system.

Commercial and amateur collectors would be compelled to hand over all scientifically unique fossils to a federal land-management agency. The agency would then bring the fossil to a seven-member "National Fossil Council," which would have only one member chosen by the Society of Vertebrate Paleontology. The council would determine which fossils are scientifically "unique" and should be protected. Krause calls the bill "paleontologically naive" because it assumes that only rare and large fossils are important.

He says that paleontologists studying the functional morphology of a common fossil or the paleoecology of an area would need hundreds of non-unique fossils.

To generate opposition to the bill, the Society of Vertebrate Paleontology cites a survey of Americans who were asked what they would do if they owned a ranch and found fossils on the ranch or on adjacent grasslands. Would they give them to a museum? Keep them? Sell them? The overwhelming response was against allowing fossil collecting for profit.

In Tucson, Triebold holds up the survey and laughs. An "East Coast thing," he calls it. Kirkland admits that he and his fellow scientists are at a disadvantage in this fight. From the matrix and formation, "I know which fossils come from the land I manage out in Colorado," says Armstrong. Ja, we hebben wel 25 flappen die je open kan doen ook al zitten ze met een nieuw boek nog wel eens vast dus wees voorzichtig. Elke flap brengt weer wat nieuws. De illustraties niet alleen van de flapjes maar ook de gewone illustraties vond ik erg leuk.

Het is soms grappig getekend maar ook vaak serieus en gedetailleerd. Ik heb echt genoten van dit boek. Een berg dingen wist ik al, maar ik heb ook weer wat nieuwe dingen geleerd. Zeker een aanrader dit boek! Jong en oud zullen dit boek erg leuk gaan vinden.

Hou jij van botjes? En wil je er meer van weten? Lees dit boek! Luukkuarvoitukset ovat vaikeita aikuisillekin. Aug 31, Fernleaf rated it really liked it Shelves: skulls , natural-history , kids.

A great introductory book for young naturalists, although the illustrations aren't highly technical and are downright wonky in a few places. Talks about what skeletons are and how they differentiate from exoskeletons, then covers several major limb groups skulls, limbs, hands, feet and takes a special look at swimming and flying animals, and a few other specifics. Th A great introductory book for young naturalists, although the illustrations aren't highly technical and are downright wonky in a few places.

There are many fun factoids, the kind of thing I would have loved as a child. Despite some of the illustrations being a little off or maybe they were just drawn from weird angles the science seems pretty spot on.

This would be a great book for a science-minded middle school-er, or a middle school science classroom. There is some terminology to overcome, but it's not all jargon. I bought it for my preschooler with my supervision. Apr 17, Vinkkitonttu rated it really liked it Shelves: vinkkarihylly , tietokirjoja , kuvia-on. Mainiosti toteutettu ja sopiivauvasta vaariin kenelle tahansa, joka on kiinnostunut luista.

Houkutteleva kansi sai nappaamaan mukaansa. Kirja on lapsille suunnattu ja se vaikuttaa alkuunsa mielenkiintoiselta. Mohamed Lotfy rated it really liked it Jul 15, Jill rated it really liked it Oct 09, Lyndi rated it liked it Sep 14, Nofreeusernames Nofreeusernames rated it it was amazing Jun 24, Marianna Ferreira-Aulu rated it it was amazing Jun 14, Kit rated it really liked it Apr 24, Donna rated it liked it Dec 18, Janika Puolitaival rated it really liked it Jul 20, Jacky rated it really liked it May 31, Laura Craft rated it it was amazing Aug 12, ThomBa rated it really liked it Dec 28, Jonna rated it liked it Mar 09, Gillian rated it really liked it Jan 14, Sandy Vandeplassche marked it as to-read Aug 20, Marleen Coussens marked it as to-read Dec 08, Magali marked it as to-read Dec 08, Km marked it as to-read Feb 04, Fien added it Jan 07, Katerina marked it as to-read May 05, Uzu Mie marked it as to-read Jul 18, Kelli added it Aug 26, Olie added it Sep 12, X marked it as to-read Oct 27, The Wee added it Jan 10, Cassie added it Jan 31, Marianne marked it as to-read Mar 22, Kathleen marked it as to-read Mar 23, Peter Green marked it as to-read Jul 29, Ana JJ marked it as to-read Oct 29, Greyson marked it as to-read May 03, There are no discussion topics on this book yet.

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