Animals of the Past

by Frederic A. Lucas

Bones of the Great Auk and Rytina, which are quite extinct, would hardly be considered as fossils; while the bones of many species of animals, still living, would properly come in that category, having long ago been buried by natural causes and often been changed into stone. And yet it is not essential for a specimen to have had its animal matter replaced by some mineral in order that it may be classed as a fossil, for the Siberian Mammoths, found entombed in ice, are very properly spoken of as fossils, although the flesh of at least one of these animals was so fresh that it was eaten. Likewise the mammoth tusks brought to market are termed fossil-ivory, although differing but little from the tusks of modern elephants.

Many fossils indeed merit their popular appellation of petrifactions, because they have been changed into stone by the slow removal of the animal or vegetable matter present and its replacement by some mineral, usually silica or some form of lime. But it is necessary to include 'indications of plants or animals' in the above definition because some of the best fossils may be merely impressions of plants or animals and no portion of the objects themselves, and yet, as we shall see, some of our most important information has been gathered from these same imprints.

Nearly all our knowledge of the plants that flourished in the past is based on the impressions of their leaves left on the soft mud or smooth sand that later on hardened into enduring stone. Such, too, are the trails of creeping and crawling things, casts of the burrows of worms and the many footprints of the reptiles, great and small, that crept along the shore or stalked beside the waters of the ancient seas. The creatures themselves have passed away, their massive bones even are lost, but the prints of their feet are as plain to-day as when they were first made.

Many a crustacean, too, is known solely or mostly by the cast of its shell, the hard parts having completely vanished, and the existence of birds in some formations is revealed merely by the casts of their eggs; and these natural casts must be included in the category of fossils.

Impressions of vertebrates may, indeed, be almost as good as actual skeletons, as in the case of some fishes, where the fine mud in which they were buried has become changed to a rock, rivalling porcelain in texture; the bones have either dissolved away or shattered into dust at the splitting of the rock, but the imprint of each little fin-ray and every threadlike bone is as clearly defined as it would have been in a freshly prepared skeleton. So fine, indeed, may have been the mud, and so quiet for the time being the waters of the ancient sea or lake, that not only have prints of bones and leaves been found, but those of feathers and of the skin of some reptiles, and even of such soft and delicate objects as jelly fishes. But for these we should have little positive knowledge of the outward appearance of the creatures of the past, and to them we are occasionally indebted for the solution of some moot point in their anatomy.

The reader may possibly wonder why it is that fossils are not more abundant; why, of the vast majority of animals that have dwelt upon the earth since it became fit for the habitation of living beings, not a trace remains. This, too, when some objects—the tusks of the Mammoth, for example—have been sufficiently well preserved to form staple articles of commerce at the present time, so that the carved handle of my lady's parasol may have formed part of some animal that flourished at the very dawn of the human race, and been gazed upon by her grandfather a thousand times removed. The answer to this query is that, unless the conditions were such as to preserve at least the hard parts of any creature from immediate decay, there was small probability of its becoming fossilized. These conditions are that the objects must be protected from the air, and, practically, the only way that this happens in nature is by having them covered with water, or at least buried in wet ground.

Fig. 1.—Diplomystus, an Ancient Member of the Shad Family. From the Fishbed at Green River, Wyoming.
From a specimen in the United States National Museum.

If an animal dies on dry land, where its bones lie exposed to the summer's sun and rain and the winter's frost and snow, it does not take these destructive agencies long to reduce the bones to powder; in the rare event of a climate devoid of rain, mere changes of temperature, by producing expansion and contraction, will sooner or later cause a bone to crack and crumble.

Usually, too, the work of the elements is aided by that of animals and plants. Every one has seen a dog make way with a pretty good-sized bone, and the Hyena has still greater capabilities in that line; and ever since vertebrate life began there have been carnivorous animals of some kind to play the rôle of bone-destroyers. Even were there no carnivores, there were probably then, as now, rats and mice a-plenty, and few suspect the havoc small rodents may play with a bone for the grease it contains, or merely for the sake of exercising their teeth. Now and then we come upon a fossil bone, long since turned into stone, on which are the marks of the little cutting teeth of field mice, put there long, long ago, and yet looking as fresh as if made only last week. These little beasts, however, are indirect rather than direct agents in the destruction of bones by gnawing off the outer layers, and thus permitting the more ready entrance of air and water. Plants, as a rule, begin their work after an object has become partly or entirely buried in the soil, when the tiny rootlets find their way into fissures, and, expanding as they grow, act like so many little wedges to force it asunder.