I've been a member of the Dinosaur Mailing List (DML) and VRTPALEO internet mailing lists for over 10 years. They're fantastic resources, both for learning about the latest news in paleontology as well as a means to get connected with colleagues in far-off locales. In addition to being a fantastic resource, the lists are also a fantastic opportunity for people to make a big fool of themselves (however inadvertantly). Not that it will do any good, but this post is devoted to a discussion of recommended "do's and don't's" on these lists. Maybe I'm just old and crotchety, but here goes. . .
PDF Requests: Half of the traffic on the lists these days are requests for this or that PDF. It's easy to sympathize with the requests - after all, many of us work under library limitations of one sort or another. But. . .why not just write the author? It gives him or her a big ego boost, and it doesn't clutter up the list. As for requests for some obscure German monograph from 1903 on emu ovarian histology. . .if it's not findable on Google, there probably isn't a PDF available. How about trying a library?
Proofreading: it looks r3ally unprofesionil 2 send messages like this to a mailing list. You never know who is reading - or what they think of you based on your emails. Keep your correspondence professional - in content, grammar, and capitalization.
"Me too": If you agree with someone's post, let them know in a private email. Don't tell the rest of the world - it clutters the inbox!
Inane speculation: I know, I'm a fun-killer--This problem is particularly prevalent on the DML. But I really don't care to see a debate about whether or not Chuck Norris could beat Velociraptor in a cage match. In fact, discussion of theropods should pretty much be banned in general. Ornithischians (and sauropod vertebrae), please.
Not checking the reply address: I've done this more than once, to my embarrassment. VRTPALEO automatically replies to the list - not the sender. It happens to all of us!
What to do, then?
Exhaust other options first. Of course the lists are for finding information - but the members won't do the research for you. Make a good-faith effort to research your topic before making a request! People are really helpful, especially for those who have clearly done a little background reading.
Be part of the community. The neat thing about VRTPALEO and DML is that anyone can make a contribution. It's fun to know the answer to someone's question, and learn that your reply was really useful.
Check the reply address in your email program. Did I mention this already? Man, I'm embarrassed by that time I didn't. . .
And I'm off to the field tomorrow!
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Saturday, August 30, 2008
How to Write a Paper (link)
Dave Hone's excellent blog, Archosaur Musings, has a post on how to write and publish a scientific paper. It's a great insider's view to the publication process - I certainly couldn't have said it better myself!
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Book Review: The Life of a Fossil Hunter
Fieldwork is one of the real pleasures for many paleontologists, as well as the source of endless headaches. The weather is nearly always hot, the fossils beneath concrete-hard sediment, and vehicles have a way of breaking down at inopportune times and places. But when you find that prize specimen. . .wow! A paleontologist's lifestyle is tough to explain - and I've found few books that really do the field justice.
The single best book on field paleontology, bar none, is a little gem by Charles H. Sternberg. The Life of a Fossil Hunter, published in 1909, is one of the few popular paleontology books that I've read cover-to-cover, multiple times. What is it that makes this such a pleasure to read and re-read?
In short, Sternberg's love of fossils comes through in every page. During his long and productive career, he collected everything from fossil leaves to synapsids to dinosaurs. Yet, it isn't just this interest in the past that fascinates me as a reader. Most revealing is the honest, unvarnished look at the field. One particularly gripping chapter discusses the ups-and-downs of an expedition to the Permian beds of Texas. Initial successes were followed by weeks of barren outcrop. Then, when all hope seemed to be lost, a spectacularly productive horizon was found, with specimen after specimen of Diplocaulus and other critters. Anyone who has worked in the field knows the sinking feeling caused by an unproductive horizon - and the joy upon finally finding something!
A major highlight of the book is its insight into the early days of fossil collecting in the American West. Edward Drinker Cope is prominent, and is humanized (and idolized) in Sternberg's telling. You learn of a man with a great sense of humor, bravery, and support for his collectors. You also see some incredibly risky (and stupid) tasks in the field. . .striking off across the badlands in the middle of a moonless night, for instance. Although some of the descriptions of interactions with Native Americans are rather racist by modern standards, the tales also convey an accurate depiction of the mood of the day among travelers and pioneers in those days. Fieldwork in the western US is rugged, but nowhere near the level that it was in the 1870s!
The book also excels in bringing the long-dead back to life. Although some of the prose (here and throughout the book) is rather old-fashioned, it still conveys the vivid imagination of the author. "Watch that ripple! It is caused by a shoal of mackerel scurrying in toward shallow water, in a mighty column five feet deep. They are flying for their lives, for they have seen behind them their most terrible enemy, a monster fish with a muzzle like a bulldog's. . ." [p. 59, describing Xiphactinus audax, a fish from the Western Interior Seaway] My only disappointment is that such reconstructions are scattered sparingly throughout the book, and largely in its opening half.
Finally, Sternberg's oddly modest pride in his accomplishments permeates the entire text. "I shall perish, but my fossils will last as long as the museums that have secured them." (p. 248) This was not a man who demanded first authorship on every paper (or even authorship), or naming rights, or any of the other privileges common in academic paleontology today. All he asked for was simple acknowledgment of his role in the collection, preparation, and preservation of the fossils. Most popular accounts of paleontology are written by the "big shots" - stories by the anonymous field collectors and preparators are usually lost in the shuffle. As a window into a vanished age of paleontology, a conversation with a famed paleontologist, and an unparalleled look at the joys and travails of fieldwork, The Life of a Fossil Hunter is certainly on my list for a third (and fourth!) read-through.
Read on-line or get a free PDF of The Life of a Fossil Hunter from Google Books.
The single best book on field paleontology, bar none, is a little gem by Charles H. Sternberg. The Life of a Fossil Hunter, published in 1909, is one of the few popular paleontology books that I've read cover-to-cover, multiple times. What is it that makes this such a pleasure to read and re-read?
In short, Sternberg's love of fossils comes through in every page. During his long and productive career, he collected everything from fossil leaves to synapsids to dinosaurs. Yet, it isn't just this interest in the past that fascinates me as a reader. Most revealing is the honest, unvarnished look at the field. One particularly gripping chapter discusses the ups-and-downs of an expedition to the Permian beds of Texas. Initial successes were followed by weeks of barren outcrop. Then, when all hope seemed to be lost, a spectacularly productive horizon was found, with specimen after specimen of Diplocaulus and other critters. Anyone who has worked in the field knows the sinking feeling caused by an unproductive horizon - and the joy upon finally finding something!
A major highlight of the book is its insight into the early days of fossil collecting in the American West. Edward Drinker Cope is prominent, and is humanized (and idolized) in Sternberg's telling. You learn of a man with a great sense of humor, bravery, and support for his collectors. You also see some incredibly risky (and stupid) tasks in the field. . .striking off across the badlands in the middle of a moonless night, for instance. Although some of the descriptions of interactions with Native Americans are rather racist by modern standards, the tales also convey an accurate depiction of the mood of the day among travelers and pioneers in those days. Fieldwork in the western US is rugged, but nowhere near the level that it was in the 1870s!
The book also excels in bringing the long-dead back to life. Although some of the prose (here and throughout the book) is rather old-fashioned, it still conveys the vivid imagination of the author. "Watch that ripple! It is caused by a shoal of mackerel scurrying in toward shallow water, in a mighty column five feet deep. They are flying for their lives, for they have seen behind them their most terrible enemy, a monster fish with a muzzle like a bulldog's. . ." [p. 59, describing Xiphactinus audax, a fish from the Western Interior Seaway] My only disappointment is that such reconstructions are scattered sparingly throughout the book, and largely in its opening half.
Finally, Sternberg's oddly modest pride in his accomplishments permeates the entire text. "I shall perish, but my fossils will last as long as the museums that have secured them." (p. 248) This was not a man who demanded first authorship on every paper (or even authorship), or naming rights, or any of the other privileges common in academic paleontology today. All he asked for was simple acknowledgment of his role in the collection, preparation, and preservation of the fossils. Most popular accounts of paleontology are written by the "big shots" - stories by the anonymous field collectors and preparators are usually lost in the shuffle. As a window into a vanished age of paleontology, a conversation with a famed paleontologist, and an unparalleled look at the joys and travails of fieldwork, The Life of a Fossil Hunter is certainly on my list for a third (and fourth!) read-through.
Read on-line or get a free PDF of The Life of a Fossil Hunter from Google Books.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Off to the Field (and a Poll)!
As of tomorrow, I'm off to the field again for another two weeks or so. For your entertainment in my absence, I've opened up a poll until my return. My cynical side wanted to ask, "Which of these is the most overrated tool in paleontology?" But, I'm [usually] nicer than that (but I won't stop you from electing overrated technologies in the comments!).
See you in a few weeks.
See you in a few weeks.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
GPS Essentials
And we continue on with fieldwork-related posts. . .This one will probably be old hat for some of the more experienced readers out there, but I figure it doesn't hurt to lay it out for those who are curious, or those who are perhaps new to the fold. I'm talking about taking GPS coordinates!
In my last post, I discussed the importance of taking the right kinds of field photographs for documentation. A second important facet of good field documentation is GPS coordinates. Just like with photos, not all GPS coordinates are created equal.
When taking coordinates, whether they're for your own records or in order to pass them on to a colleague, context is everything. When I take a GPS coordinate in the field, I note several things:
-Coordinate system. What system are you using? Lat/long? WGS coordinates? It's self-explanatory, but at least be aware of the coordinate notation.
-Time. I always write down the time of the GPS reading. I suspect that time doesn't matter horribly in most cases, but I like to have it in the field notes "just in case."
-Accuracy. GPS units will often give you a readout of the estimated accuracy of your current reading (usually between 3 and 5 m, on the best of days, for my little Garmin). I always write this down; it's especially important to know if your coordinates might be drastically off (due to weather, topography, trees, etc.).
-Machinery. What GPS machine are using to take the readings? This is useful for real GPS geeks, who may want to know the type of firmware, software, conversion algorithms, etc.
-Datum. This is really, really critical, and a piece of information that is often neglected. NAD27? WGS84? It's all cryptic letters and numbers, but noting the datum is crucial for a person to be able to relocate your site or map it properly. Each of these datums are based on a different ellipsoid model for the surface of the earth. There isn't space to talk about the logic and meaning behind the different systems (see a decent review here), but suffice it to say that the difference between coordinates in two different datums may be tens of meters. Believe me, it's frustrating to get a set of coordinates without knowing the datum - it can be nearly as bad as not having any coordinates at all!
In my last post, I discussed the importance of taking the right kinds of field photographs for documentation. A second important facet of good field documentation is GPS coordinates. Just like with photos, not all GPS coordinates are created equal.
When taking coordinates, whether they're for your own records or in order to pass them on to a colleague, context is everything. When I take a GPS coordinate in the field, I note several things:
-Coordinate system. What system are you using? Lat/long? WGS coordinates? It's self-explanatory, but at least be aware of the coordinate notation.
-Time. I always write down the time of the GPS reading. I suspect that time doesn't matter horribly in most cases, but I like to have it in the field notes "just in case."
-Accuracy. GPS units will often give you a readout of the estimated accuracy of your current reading (usually between 3 and 5 m, on the best of days, for my little Garmin). I always write this down; it's especially important to know if your coordinates might be drastically off (due to weather, topography, trees, etc.).
-Machinery. What GPS machine are using to take the readings? This is useful for real GPS geeks, who may want to know the type of firmware, software, conversion algorithms, etc.
-Datum. This is really, really critical, and a piece of information that is often neglected. NAD27? WGS84? It's all cryptic letters and numbers, but noting the datum is crucial for a person to be able to relocate your site or map it properly. Each of these datums are based on a different ellipsoid model for the surface of the earth. There isn't space to talk about the logic and meaning behind the different systems (see a decent review here), but suffice it to say that the difference between coordinates in two different datums may be tens of meters. Believe me, it's frustrating to get a set of coordinates without knowing the datum - it can be nearly as bad as not having any coordinates at all!
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Taking Good Locality Photographs
I'm back from the field for just a week, and all of that fieldwork has put me in the mood for. . .a post about fieldwork!
For those of you field paleontologists, you know what I'm talking about. Someone out hiking or prospecting saw some really cool bones sticking out of the rock. They didn't have a GPS. . .but they did have a digital camera. So, they shoot a photo of their groundbreaking discovery and proudly email it to you with a scan of a marked-up topo map. You open the email with trembling fingers, and this is what you see:
It's a pretty good photograph. . .there are pens for scale, clearly indicating the fossils that were found. Lighting is good, and resolution is excellent. But for purposes of relocating the site? Useless!
What's missing? Context, context, context! A closeup of the rock or the eroding bones is interesting, but it doesn't tell you a thing about what side of the ravine the bones were found on, how high up, or anything else. A friend and I once were sent out to relocate some dinosaur bones found by an amateur paleontologist. He had emailed a GPS point and a close-up photo of the bones similar to what I've pictured above (all good things to do!). But. . .we spent a good solid two hours trying to relocate the fossils - and never succeeded. The GPS point (assuming we were even given the right datum, or hadn't miscopied the coordinates - that's a topic for another post!) was in the base of a wash, and the photo (even though uselessly close-up) indicated the specimen was on one side or the other of the wash. The photo showed a nice hadrosaur rib, but no larger context.
Here's an example of a better field photograph. Note the fact that the photo shows the overall context of the site - crucial for relocating the correct horizon later, or when compensating for a bad GPS coordinate. If you could read the field notebook of the character who is providing the scale in this picture, you'd see that he is writing down: 1) date and time of the photograph; 2) general direction that the camera is pointing; 3) location of the fossils relative to a landmark in the photo such as a backpack or mound of rock; 4) file number of the digital photo on the camera; and all sorts of other useful informational bits. I've learned from bitter experience that these data (and then some) are what makes the difference between a useful piece of the scientific record and a pretty snapshot. The close-ups are still necessary as field documentation, but they're often secondary in importance to the broader pictures.
So the lesson here? Take good field photographs with lots of visual context - and record the important data that will be necessary for complete recall later (never trust your memory).
For those of you field paleontologists, you know what I'm talking about. Someone out hiking or prospecting saw some really cool bones sticking out of the rock. They didn't have a GPS. . .but they did have a digital camera. So, they shoot a photo of their groundbreaking discovery and proudly email it to you with a scan of a marked-up topo map. You open the email with trembling fingers, and this is what you see:
It's a pretty good photograph. . .there are pens for scale, clearly indicating the fossils that were found. Lighting is good, and resolution is excellent. But for purposes of relocating the site? Useless!What's missing? Context, context, context! A closeup of the rock or the eroding bones is interesting, but it doesn't tell you a thing about what side of the ravine the bones were found on, how high up, or anything else. A friend and I once were sent out to relocate some dinosaur bones found by an amateur paleontologist. He had emailed a GPS point and a close-up photo of the bones similar to what I've pictured above (all good things to do!). But. . .we spent a good solid two hours trying to relocate the fossils - and never succeeded. The GPS point (assuming we were even given the right datum, or hadn't miscopied the coordinates - that's a topic for another post!) was in the base of a wash, and the photo (even though uselessly close-up) indicated the specimen was on one side or the other of the wash. The photo showed a nice hadrosaur rib, but no larger context.
Here's an example of a better field photograph. Note the fact that the photo shows the overall context of the site - crucial for relocating the correct horizon later, or when compensating for a bad GPS coordinate. If you could read the field notebook of the character who is providing the scale in this picture, you'd see that he is writing down: 1) date and time of the photograph; 2) general direction that the camera is pointing; 3) location of the fossils relative to a landmark in the photo such as a backpack or mound of rock; 4) file number of the digital photo on the camera; and all sorts of other useful informational bits. I've learned from bitter experience that these data (and then some) are what makes the difference between a useful piece of the scientific record and a pretty snapshot. The close-ups are still necessary as field documentation, but they're often secondary in importance to the broader pictures.So the lesson here? Take good field photographs with lots of visual context - and record the important data that will be necessary for complete recall later (never trust your memory).
Friday, July 4, 2008
Fieldwork!
I'm off to the field this evening, and will return in a little over two weeks. Not that any readers of this blog aren't used to the occasional unexplained hiatus. . .
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)